#anton for some reason came up beside me and was like singing along and i was like omg thats so good!!! u rock!!

[kyuala]

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO i just woke up from a dream where mark was my bf how do i go on living like normal after this 😭😭😭😭

[skultrashfics]

reader x dexter slow dancing in the living room 😭😭 (i’m listening to nothing matters when we’re dancing by the magnetic fields and it popped into my head)

Here you go Anon! Thanks for introducing me to the song :) <3 

Pairing: Dexter Vex x Reader Chapter: 2/? Word Count: 1055 Themes: Fluff, Dancing, Romance 

Awkwardly Anton had woken you up for breakfast, subtly making sure that you were alright being alone with Dexter. That morning had been nothing but embarrassing for you for all different sorts of reasons, but you pressed on after kicking Dexter out of your room so you could get dressed. You were not about to hop on that train just yet, especially not when you were so self-conscious about how badly your body had been stained black and blue with bruises from the attack. 

You showered and got dressed, pulling on a cute pair of floral trousers that flew around your ankles like a skirt, with it you wore a small yellow top which accentuated your figure and hit the bruises particularly well. You were pretty pleased with yourself and headed down to the small dining area in front of the bar to see Dexter and Anton in the middle of a friendly chat with their breakfasts half-eaten. Beaming you sat down beside them, rejuvenated with energy after sleeping so well that night. “Good Morning”, Anton nodded to you and you nodded back in response. “Breakfast smells great today Anton! I love welsh rarebit”, you inhaled the scent from your plate heartily before picking up a slice and eating it. Dexter chuckled at you, “Ah she’s got a point nobody makes it quite like you Anton”. Shudder was shaking his head trying to hold back what seemed like a laugh, “Both of you stop trying to sweet-talk me. I know about everything that happens in this hotel. So I am warning you now-”, he pointed his finger at the both of you raising his eyebrows suggestively but he was dead serious. Dexter held his hands up in surrender, “Hey I didn’t do anything! I swear. Besides it is a private room Anton, you can’t blame just me if something happens”. At this point, you were staring into your rarebit so intensely that it could have suddenly burst into flames. Your hands pressed down on your legs harshly as you refused to look up at either of them, ‘why did we have to talk about this now? Or at all?’, you thought. Dexter sighed and his voice relaxed as he was serious for a moment, “Nothing is going to happen, I’m not stupid. I don’t want to rush y/n into anything and I really do care for her. So that’s that. Ok?”. He held your hand under the table trying to help you relax, and it helped a little. Shudder nodded seemingly happy with how the discussion went, “Y/n I apologise, I did not mean to embarrass you at all”. Taking a deep breath you shook your head, “No it is alright. We are all adults here, but I do happen to agree with Dexter. What happens in my room is due to my decision and I will not be forced into anything and nor will I be forced out of it”. He two men seemed to appreciate how forward you were and Dexter squeezed your hand again smiling at you softly, “Well I guess you sure told me”. Even Anton couldn’t help but laugh this time and the mood at the table once again grew lighter. 

Later in the day, you were sipping some wine and reading a book in the sitting room, it was nice to take some time for yourself to think about everything that had happened over the past couple of days. How you had almost been murdered over a misunderstanding, how you had been escorted from your home to travel the world in The Midnight Hotel, how for the first time you came to terms with your feelings and were dating Dexter Vex. One of the most charming men you had ever had the pleasure to meet. Right now, regarding everything, life was beginning to feel pretty exciting. It was certainly different from how stable and routine it had been before. “Y/n?”, Dexter called out peeping his head round the door. He grinned immediately as he saw you and walked over gazing at you sweetly, “Would you mind if I sat?”, he asked. You gestured to the empty space behind you but he ended up sitting on the floor more or less in front of you, “Could I put some music on?”. He gestured to the old record player in the corner of the room and you smiled eagerly, “That sounds nice actually…”. As he dashed over he scanned through all the different records until he came across one that seemed particularly interesting. He popped it onto the record player and a soft ukelele melody started to fill the room. It was sweet and gentle and your heart skipped a beat as Dexter started singing along to the words, “Dance with me my old friend~ Once before we go…”, softly he approached you and held his hands out. You laughed softly and shook your head, “Oh no… Don’t go getting all mushy on me”, you smirked. Not faltering for a second Dexter brushed the book out of your hands and taking care not to lose your page he put it down and pulled you onto your feet. Softly and slowly he guided you round the room, keeping pace with the song. It was nice being led into small twirls and you couldn’t help but smile widely. He pulled you in closer and your arms were laid to rest on his shoulders while you swayed to and fro to the music. “You’ve never been more beautiful~”, he sang into your ear as you glided across the room. Closing your eyes you fully let him take control in his lead and you relaxed in his grasp as he sang, “Nothing matters when we’re dancing~”. The words of the song echoed around your head as you realised how wonderful this moment was. The way he held you made you feel so cherished and wanting to return the favour you looked up into his eyes and leaned up to kiss him. He kissed you back holding you steady as the song came to a close, “I love you y/n”, he whispered lowering his arms with your hands held firmly in his grasp. Blinking away a whispy blur of tears you rested your head on his chest, “I love you too Dexter”. 

[let-it-raines]

Hey! I saw your answer to anon about musician Killian and of course had to go reread it. And if I may be so bold, may I request the Mystery Musical Man from Killians point of view?

Of course you can request it from Killian’s POV! It made for an easy prompt request to fill. lol. 💙

Original Prompt: CS fic where someone walks by a street musician every day in her way to work and she always bring him coffe and something to eat because she thinks he’s poor and could use some help, but actually he’s like a super star and just plays in the street for fun?

Part one: Mystery Musical Man 

-/-

The first time she places a cup of coffee at his feet and a five dollar bill in his guitar case, he nearly stops singing “Can’t Help Falling in Love” and asks her for her name, but he doesn’t, the music continuing to roll off of his tongue and his fingers as she walks away, her golden hair falling down her back and nearly reaching the top of her black pencil skirt. He’s noticed her before. She walks this route nearly every day, and she usually comes by when the streets are pretty empty. It’s the same reason that he plays early in the morning on Murray Hill. It’s New York City so it’s crowded, but it’s not a madhouse.

Or maybe it is, and he’s got no clue since he’s distracted by the blonde woman who walks by him five days a week. She’s usually dressed professionally, modest skirts and pants with blouses, and if he had to guess, the sneakers on her feet are only for her walk to work and not what she wears all day. He’s got no bloody clue what it is that she does for a living, but he’s curious about her.

He stays curious about her as the weeks pass by and she continuously brings him cups of coffee from The Bean. It’s always black, and even though he usually likes a little milk in his coffee, he learns to accept it with a kind smile and nothing else. Many times he almost talks to her, asks her for her name, but despite the fact that words are constantly flowing out of his mouth as he sings, the words are never the ones that he wants to say.

“What’s your name?”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Why do you buy me coffee every day?”

He wants to ask that last question even though he knows the answer. She thinks he’s a struggling musician playing on street corners for tips, and while he is a musician playing on a street corner, he’s not struggling nor truly asking for tips. It’s been years since he had to do that, but he remembers the struggle of needing to supplement his income and get a little extra cash on the side. He honestly didn’t think he looked too poor off, but he does usually walk here from his apartment and wear torn jeans and a battered Yankees cap. Maybe he should dress a little more nicely, but then again, then the beautiful lass might not buy him coffee anymore.

He swears that one day he’ll talk to her.

She is his muse after all.

-/-

“We want you to do a concert,” Arthur tells him as he sits in his recording label’s office in Los Angeles with Will, Robin, and Anton sitting in the chairs next to him.

“We don’t have any new music,” Robin points out, leaning forward in his chair. “Why would we do a concert without any music?”

“You have new music,” Arthur sighs as he takes a sip of his tea from behind his desk, a view of the ocean behind him. “You’ve got enough for half of a set, which will be a perfect preview of the album for when Killian finishes writing it, and then you can mix in old favorites. This will keep you all relevant.”

He chuckles a little bit at that, but he always does whenever he has to talk business. He plays guitar and sings songs and writes lyrics because he enjoys it. Yes, the success and adrenaline of playing in front of thousands of people is wonderful and he wouldn’t trade it in, but at the end of the day, none of that matters if he’s not enjoying making music. That’s what it’s always been about. His mum taught him to play the piano and his brother taught him to play the guitar, and he never feels closer to them than when he’s playing. Really, he never feels closer to them than when he’s standing on the street singing songs form decades past because they’re the songs his mum always had on in the house whenever she would cook or do laundry to make it all a little more exciting.

His mother used to always be dancing with this beatific smile on her face and laughter on her lips, and he likes to remember her that way instead of weak and pale in a hospital bed. It’s the same with Liam. Killian likes to remember him refusing to dance with their mum, too old and too proud, before eventually giving in and dancing. It’s easier than remembering the knock that came to his apartment door with two Naval officers standing outside.

It’s happier too.

Music has always been his safe haven. It’s how he’s processed things, how he’s fallen in love and how he’s healed from broken hearts. It allows him to put his thoughts and feelings into a set of lyrics that go along with a melody, and maybe, just maybe, it makes all of that heartache feel a little further from home while still keeping it close where only he knows every meaning behind each word and note in a song.

Having the White Sails take off and be successful has been amazing, more than he could have ever dreamed of, but as Arthur asks them to play some of his new songs to a crowd full of people, all he really wants to do is play them on the sidewalk and have the pretty lass with green eyes and a beautiful smile hear him sing.

He’s rather fascinated with her and the coffee she always brings him, and most of the songs he’s written in the past few months have been partially written about her. A part of him wonders if she listens to much music as she has never recognized his face or his voice, but he’s not conceited enough to think that everyone on the street should know who he is. He likes the anonymity.

Just maybe not with her.

“We don’t need to be kept bloody relevant,” Will groans, his accent coming out a little stronger than before. “We are relevant. I haven’t worked my arse off for – ”

“Where and when?” he interrupts, an idea sparking in his mind.

“What now?”

“Where and when do you want us to do the concert? If we’re going to play some of the new songs, I need to fine tune them, and I’ll need a couple of weeks for that.”

Arthur smiles, and it’s the one Killian recognizes as it meaning something big.

“Two months from today in Madison Square Garden. Our marketing team is ready to drop both promotion and ticket sales tonight.”

“Do it.”

He spends the next twelve days in the recording studio trying to fix his songs and make them perfect. They won’t be. They’ll still need some work before they officially go on the album, but he thinks he likes them for now. He also thinks that he likes the tune that he can’t get out of his head about the woman with emerald eyes and hair that shines in the morning light, and he makes a promise to himself to actually speak to her when he returns home.

-/-

The morning after he gets back to New York, he takes his guitar and walks then ten blocks to his usual spot, deciding that today is a Queen day, and sings acoustic versions of most of their hits. He’s in the middle of We Are the Champions when he sees her. She’s got headphones in and only one cup of coffee in her hand. He didn’t tell her that he’d be gone for weeks, but honestly, he didn’t really know that he would be. It was only supposed to be a weekend. Besides, they don’t know each other. Just because they have this routine doesn’t actually mean anything.

Right?

She stops to watch him play, and there’s barely another soul around as he finishes out the song, letting the music die as his fingers stop moving.

“Where have you been?” she asks, her voice a pitch lower than he thought it would be. He likes it.

He quirks an eyebrow, shocked at her speaking, before he flashes her a smile and looks down at her coffee mug before looking back up to those emerald eyes with a smirk painted on his lips. “Did you miss me?”

She shrugs, and he has to stifle his laugh. He can’t believe they’re finally speaking after dancing around each other for months. Or really, singing around each other. There has been no dancing involved. He bets she’d be a good dancer.

“I guess so. I didn’t – I stopped buying your coffee. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, love. I wasn’t around. Wouldn’t want you to waste your money, but I did miss you and your coffee.”

He obviously doesn’t have a filter, but he’s somehow comfortable talking to her.

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely,” he sighs, encouraged by the little spark of excitement in her eyes. “They don’t make black coffee in LA, and they don’t have pretty lasses bring it to you.”

It’s been a solid year since he flirted with a woman, but he thinks he’s doing alright. Because that is what he’s doing. Flirting. He’s missed it.

“What a pity,” she mumbles, her cheeks flushed red even as he can tell that she’s downplaying her reaction. “I wonder how you survived.”

She’s got spunk. He likes her.

(Spunk? Does he suddenly live in the 1950’s?)

“The hardest few weeks of my life honestly. I didn’t think I was going to make it.”

She laughs, a real, genuine laugh, and if he could turn that into a melody to have forever, he would. Hopefully he’ll get the chance to make her laugh again.

Hopefully this conversation isn’t a one-time thing.

It’s not.

The next day she brings him his coffee, and they chat for a little while, stumbling into the fact that they both enjoy comedies more than any other genre of television, though he does love a good historical drama every now and then. But she’s a fan of shows like The Office and The Good Place, so they talk about last week’s episode before she has to go to work. It goes like that for a few more days, and in those days he learns that her favorite food is a grilled cheese hold all of the fancy toppings and that she runs every other day after work. If she doesn’t, she’ll apparently go crazy. He gets that. She obviously sits at a desk most of the day, and he would go crazy staying still for that long.

It’s a Tuesday when he finally learns her name. He’s between songs, his throat a little scratchy, when she shows up, so instead of placing his coffee on the ground like she usually does, she hands it to him.

“Thank you, love.”

“Yeah, no problem,” she mumbles before bringing her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes darting anywhere but to him. He takes a sip of his coffee, the liquid warm and soothing on the way down, and just before he finishes swallowing, she blurts out, “what’s your name?”

It takes him back a bit, but mostly all he can think is finally.

“Killian,” he answers, flashing her a smile. “And you?”

“Do you not have a last name?”

He thinks on it a minute, debating whether or not he wants to tell her his last name. He doesn’t think she knows who he is, or maybe she does and doesn’t care. Either way, he doesn’t want this little routine between them to change. He comes out here in the mornings for himself, but he would be remiss to think that he didn’t also make his way here to the same spot every morning to see her.

“I do,” he slowly begins, tapping his fingers against his coffee cup. “I just didn’t think you’d care.”

“I care. I’m Emma Swan if that helps.”

Emma Swan.

He likes it. God help him he thinks he might like her.

Is thirty four too old to have a crush?

“Jones then. Killian Jones.”

Her lips twitch, threatening to pull up into a smile, and he already knows that he’s got a smile painted on his lips. “Did you phrase it that way so you could say your name like James Bond?”

He winks. “I guess you’ll never know.”

They continue on as usual, getting to know each other over their ten minute chats every weekday. She brings him his coffee, he calls her Swan, and on the days when he’s in the middle of a song when she walks up, he changes the lyrics to her name to make her smile. It works every single time, and no part of him cares that it’s a little cheesy.

He’s a little cheesy when he’s tired. They’ve been having rehearsals during the day and during some nights, and it’s exhausting. It’s been awhile since they’ve played outside of a recording studio or one of their living rooms, so it’s a bit frustrating for them not to be perfectly in sync. It’s just one night, though, one show, and as time nears for it, he finally starts to feel like they’re getting ready.

But in the mornings he desperately needs his coffee from Emma, the family lawyer (how badass is that?) who still doesn’t seem to believe him when he tells her that he’s a musician.

So one morning, a week before the concert, when there’s a practical monsoon taking over Manhattan, instead of staying in his apartment, he makes his way to the closest The Bean shop in hopes that he can see Emma. It might be taking it a step too far, but honestly, it’s not the craziest thing he’s ever done for a woman.

He sees her when she walks in, her red rain coat dripping with water, and he tugs at his beanie while she talks to the barista who points over at him. Emma’s head twists to look in his direction, and she stalks her way over to him, plopping down in the chair across from him.

“So you stalking me now?” she laughs as her eyes come into contact with his. “Because I’ve got to say, I’m not sure the coffee I bring you every morning is worth all of the hassle.”

He gives her a lopsided grin, knowing that it’s charming, and reaches up to scratch at his ear, adjusting his beaning again. “I’m not stalking you. I, well, I can’t perform in all of this rain, and I still needed my coffee fix.”

“How’d you even figure out it was this store? You know this is a chain, right?”

He shrugs. “Google, some powers of deduction, and a whole lot of luck.”

“Well color me impressed mystery musical man.”

What in the world did she just call him? Mystery musical man?

He can’t help but laugh, and it ends up being louder than he expected, making several people stare at him. His ears are suddenly far too hot under this beanie.

He’s not alone, though. He can see the blush on Emma’s cheeks. “Um, nothing.”

“No, no,” he teases, leaning forward on the table and waggling his brows while flashing her another smile, completely amused and besotted by this entire situation. Man is he glad that she’s not mad that he showed up here. “You called me mystery musical man. Swan, I didn’t know you had a nickname for me.”

“Yeah, well, I went a few months not knowing who you were. What was I supposed to do?”

“Ask me my name.”

“I did…eventually.” He shakes his head from side to side as he smiles, remembering to slide her coffee cup over to her. “So, um, can I ask you a question? And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Sure, love, but I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t tell you unless you’re about to ask me some deep, personal secret like if I’ve ever dyed my hair.”

She snorts into her drink. That’s not quite as melodic as her laugh, but he likes it just the same. “No, no. I’d never ask such a deeply personal question, but I do, um, what the hell is it that you do for a living?”

His brows furrow as he clicks his tongue. Wow, she really doesn’t believe him. “Didn’t we talk about this already? I’m a musician.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but do you do anything else besides performing before eight in the morning? I know this is rude, but I’m just…curious.”

“Tis not rude,” he admits, hoping to calm her. She doesn’t need to feel awkward around him. He hopes that she doesn’t, that they’re friends, that they have…potential. “What someone does for a living is basic conversation. But seriously, no. I’m a musician, and I do play more than the mornings. That’s honestly just for fun.”

“So where do you play? I’d love to come see you.” He raises his brows, curling the right side of his lips into a smirk and closing his eyes halfway as he stares at her, trying to get her to blush like she was earlier. “To see you play,” she clarifies, hiding behind her mug. “I’d love to see you play.”

She’s adorable, and he’s utterly, officially charmed.

“I know what you mean, love. I, um,” he hesitates, knowing that what he’s about to tell her could change their relationship but wanting to tell her anyhow, “I haven’t had many gigs lately, but I am playing on Friday night if you’d like to come.”

“Really?” she asks excitedly. “Where?”

He clenches his teeth down and looks up at the ceiling, trying to figure out what to say to keep some of the mystery alive so she’ll be more likely to show up to the show. He is mystery musical man after all.

“Tell you what, love, I’m going to get you some tickets for you and a friend, and the address will be on them. Does that work for you?”

“It makes you seem like the definition of mystery musical man.”

“Yeah, well, that’s apparently who I am.”

They chat for a little while longer before he walks with her to work, holding his umbrella over both of their heads, and when he realizes that she’s not sure how to say goodbye, he boldly leans down and brushes a kiss against her cheek that he swears lights his entire body aflame.

-/-

Adrenaline runs through him for all of Friday. He’s nervous. He’s a professional, and he’s so damn nervous that he might vomit as he paces back and forth in their dressing room after sound check. He’s not sure if it’s the combination of pre-show jitters and showcasing new songs or if it has to do with him wondering whether or not Emma is going to show up tonight. It’ll be fine if she doesn’t. Really, it will.

But he wants her here.

He’s got feelings for the woman, and he’d like for her to know what it really is that he does, no more vague secrets.

“How much coffee did you drink, Jones?” Will chuckles, calmly propping his feet on a coffee table and taking a sip of his water. “You’re vibrating.”

“No coffee. I’m tired.”

“He invited a lass,” Robin not so helpfully supplies.

“I should have never told you, you arse.”

“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t have known how to get her tickets.”

He rolls his eyes and keeps pacing. This is all going to be just fine. It has to be. The show will be fine, great probably. Two songs in, and he’ll be back to his normal self on stage.

And it’ll be a damn good time.

And Emma will be here.

“Hello, everybody,” he says into the microphone when they’re finally on stage minutes later, lights blaring down on him and the audience talking under a loud murmur as he takes several deep breaths and plasters a smile on his face. “I’m so glad you all can be here tonight. I know it’s been awhile since we performed, but it took a bit to get some inspiration for our new songs, though I finally found some lately. So I thank you for being patient with us. I’m Killian Jones, and we are The White Sails.”

-/-

After the concert he’s on a high that he hasn’t felt for a long time, his body practically buzzing with excitement and a little bit of the rum he drank before the show. It went well, the new songs getting a good reaction, but now that he’s changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt and has had time to digest all of that, all he can think about is the fact that Emma bloody Swan is waiting outside in the hallway for him.

His mates are going to tease him about this for a solid month.

It’ll be worth it.

He steps out of the dressing room, his hand already at his ear with nerves, and walks right toward Emma and who he assumes is her friend.

“I’m sorry I didn’t buy you coffee,” she blurts out before her eyes widen, the mortification practically broadcasted on her face.

He shrugs and laughs, unable to help himself. “That’s okay, love. I think maybe you can have a pass this time.” He leans forward and wraps his arms around her, embracing her and hoping that he doesn’t smell too much like sweat when he hasn’t taken a shower. Emma smells like vanilla. He’s never noticed that before. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she answers as she pulls back, “that was incredible. You’re incredible. I’m just entirely confused.” He expected that and is about to address it when the woman next to Emma coughs, and they both turn to look at her. “And this is Ruby Lucas,” Emma tells him.

“Nice to meet you, mystery musical man. I came with to make sure my girl wasn’t going to get murdered tonight.”

“Totally understandable,” he laughs, reaching for Ruby’s hand. He forgot to take off his rings from the show, and he feels them against her skin. “That’s why there were two tickets. To prevent the murder, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Emma interrupts, and his attention turns back to her, “I just have a lot of questions.”

“Well Swan, maybe I have some answers. Do you – ” Arthur calls his name behind him, and he twists to look at him to see him motioning his hand. “ – can you and Ruby wait here while I do a bit of quick business?”

“Sure. That’s fine.”

He jogs off to talk to Arthur, hopefully telling him that this won’t take long because he’d rather be talking to Emma than to Arthur about what he’s sure is some deadline for the new album.

“Great show, Jones,” he greets, clapping his hand and pulling him in for a hug and patting his back.

“Thank you. It went better than I thought it would.”

“It always does. The new songs were great. The label loves them. We ended up sold out on tickets and merch tonight. That was what was unexpected. Not the show going well but us having an audience.”

“Quite a lot of faith you’re putting in me there.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, always the realist. “You know what I mean. I just wanted to let you know that and that we have a meeting with the label tomorrow.”

“God, please tell me that it’s in the New York office. I’m not flying cross country tomorrow.”

“It’s in the New York office,” he sighs, smiling a little bit. “At one. Make sure Will shows up.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“Good, go back to talk to your girl.”

He almost protests, but instead he winks at Arthur and starts making his way back to Emma who is probably going crazy with thoughts right now. She gets up to greet him, and before he can even open his mouth to apologize for leaving, she’s wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him, her lips soft against his. It takes him far too long to kiss back, the moment shocking him, but when he does, he tries to keep it soft and slow, treating her with all of the care she deserves instead of pushing her back up against the wall and devouring her. Though, now that he knows how Emma kisses, he wants to do that too. His lips caress hers and his hands reach up to cup her cheeks before threading into her hair while hers does the same, another pleasant buzz spreading across his skin.

He absolutely cannot believe that he’s kissing Emma Swan.

Drinking all of that black coffee without creamer was totally worth it.

When she pulls back, he growls, not able to stop himself as he chases her lips and rests his forehead against hers, breathing in even though he knows that she’s taken his breath away.

Maybe he gets a little cheesy all of the time.

“So the whole being in a band thing really did it for you, huh?”

“No,” she promises, quickly brushing her lips against his again while her fingers keep playing with his hair. He’d like to keep doing that for a long time. “I don’t care about that. It’s awesome, but I don’t care.”

“Yeah?” he asks, all of his nerves over the whole thing beginning to fade away. Maybe this will all work out.

“Yeah. All I really want is to buy you a coffee.”

He laughs against her lips, unable to help himself. Tonight is a good night.

Tonight is a damn great night.

“You know what, Swan? I think I can buy this time.”

He and Emma get coffee two days later. He buys despite her protests, and it goes on like that for days and weeks and months as coffee dates turn into actual dates and dates turn into overnight stays and overnight stays turn into moving in together. Eventually moving in together turns into getting married, and all along the way he writes far more songs than he thinks he has in his entire life, filling albums with his love.

Emma Jones is a fantastic muse.

[razensky]

                                                In Silence We Sing 

                                                               Prologue 

“Darling, have you gathered your things yet?” The caring mother peeked inside the azure room that was occupied by a young lady and an army of governesses that tended to her outfit, hair, soft make-up, and diction. Her lips were parted to form a loud vowel sound before she froze upon seeing her mother’s reflection in the large mirror nearby the wide-open window. 

“Not yet.” The lady stated, grinning as she broke free from the women’s skillful hands and ran to her mother, barely catching herself as the long skirts of her dress tried to trip the poor creature. Her mother caught her in a warm hug, one of those that the girl barely received since she had to keep the formal mask until the constant guests of her home left. 

Today was a morning like every other. The young lady had to wake up with the same amount of eyes meeting her, dressing her, curling her golden locks into elegant formations that seemed to differentiate from each other every day. Today she wore a silky water-chestnut gown that adorned her small but strong figure with a thick line of white pearls around her neck, a gift from yet another friendly gentleman that met rejection last week. The man was truly mannered, alas the young lady made a promise to respect herself and believe in things of logic, rather than love. 

Yes, perhaps love was a trend in the midst nineteenth century, but Camilla-Anastasia Karoleva had none of that. Her mind was clear and filled with books she found in her father’s private library, the precise kind men today found peculiar. They asked why the young lady read philosophy instead of romance, to which she replied with a smile, stating that blind love foolishly presented on ink-filled pages was just a fairytale. The promised princes on white horses in their shining armors never arrived at her doorstep when she turned sixteen, and a ravenous stranger with jet-black chevelure and glowing eyes of a king never climbed into her window to amuse her in the night. 

Instead, she saw the plagued streets of Moscow, filled with sorrow and joy where love was but a myth and poverty slithered around the gravel, hiding its hideous face from the pure golden footsteps of the modern bourgeoisie.  Camilla had the privilege to become one of those lucky few, born into a family of an important governmental task-refiner whose reputation was held at the highest degree. However, she wasn’t spoiled like her neighbors or the couple from Saint Petersburg that brought expensive gifts every time they visited. Camilla was pure, disciplined by her mother whose secret was safe within the family’s darkest depth. 

“Dearest, you must gather your things until dinner, you are leaving, don’t you remember?” Her mother smiled, softly stroking her daughter’s back that always soothed the child when she had nightmares. 

“My cousin in Warsaw?” Camilla sighed heavily, recalling yet another mansion she had to move into for a tough choice between fifty bedrooms. The amount of money those people possessed made her head spin, alas Camilla remained silent, thanking heavens that she was drowning in golden boredom rather than painful maroon. 

“I know, you are not fond of her, but your father decided it is best for you to escape Moscow’s monotone fog.” The mother shook her head as both women knew they were not the ones to make the choice. “Besides, he wishes to conduct restorations to our home-”

“Again?” Camilla cut off, her bright blues widening; her father just finished organizing the new rooms and yet he was doing it again? Ridiculous.

“As I said,” the mother continued patiently. “Your father doesn’t wish you to have a headache from the loud noise that will occur from early in the morning to midnight. Thus, you will join your cousin Katerina for five days.”

“Five days? Mother, what will you do? You are a living creature as well, and your migraines are much worse than mine!” The woman crossed her arms, pouting at her mother as she began to suspect that there was something she wasn’t stating, hiding it behind a thick curtain. 

“I am the chief conductor of the decoration orchestra, my sweet.” The older laughed quietly and nodded for the women that remained in the back to once more occupy her daughter with her morning routine that she failed to finish. “Now please, get ready, there are guests in the Juno Room.”

“Who is it this time?” Camilla sighed, still concerned by the fact that there was an odd vibe about her mother that summoned concern in the young Karoleva. Was it that strange smile that played on the woman’s rosy lips, or that shadow in her hazel eyes that sent a shiver down the young one’s spine, causing her to think that there was the unknown to wonder about. 

“You wouldn’t believe me, but we have a new face show up in Moscow.” The woman chuckled, stopping at the exit door and looking back. She caught Camilla’s curious eyes, watching them closely before giving a soft disapproving shake of her head. “Along with your familiar Duke Valentine, a friend of his came by. He goes by the name of Anton Razensky, supposedly a famous surgeon that arrived from Kazan. I’ve never heard of him, but his family’s name is written on the estates all over the Empire.” 

“Where do they get the money?” Camilla-Anastasia blinked briefly, confusion appearing on her face as the name Razensky barely moved any string of memory in her all-knowing head. It was as if the new family emerged from the shadows behind the Cathedral and suddenly made itself known to the growing world.

“You can ask the doctor if you are brave enough.” The mother smiled, knowing already that the curiosity within Camilla’s chest always took the best of her. No matter how intimidating men were in her life, the young lady managed to bicker with them in a tongue of pure adulthood even at the age of twelve. Now, a bright eighteen-year-old, Camilla was capable of anything. Anything but love, which of course, her mother disapproved of. 

“Oh, I shall.” The blue eyes lit up with initiative, they watched as the mother vanished behind the door, leaving the governesses to their interrupted job and Camilla to her endless pondering. What was it that her mother hid from her, was the young lady really going to Warsaw to wait for her father to finish some insignificant restorations, or was there a reason Camilla should fear? And who was this Razensky that no book spoke of, even the medical ones that the girl never showed interest in but still indulged from time to time in order to summon a desire to fall asleep on a warm windowsill? 

“Ah! Hurry with the corset please, my curiosity is killing me!” Camilla urged on, irritating one of the women as she was tasked with the bindings this morning. A deep breath, a sigh from the ribs, and the woman stood watching her elegance bloom in the mirror. A smile graced her shining lips with a tiny tint of peach, her rosy cheeks barely needed a touch of blush, and her hair was a golden mane of braids twisted into one big ornament at the back of her head. Ah, the young beauty, so delicate and so innocent.

She always spun once around herself, to let the squirts spread their petals before shrinking down; she wasn’t greedy with her looks, she always knew when to stop gazing at the Russian beauty that men labeled her as on the busy streets. Camilla smiled at her reflection; if only there was a man who insulted her once so that she could feel vulnerable for the first time. Alas, where was such a man?

With that thought, Camilla thanked her maids yet again with a soft curtsey and hurried out the door, her tiny heels clicking against the polished parquet of the maroon hallways before she reached the large golden living room: usually the first room where the guests were taken. There, by the large white fireplace, stood her parents, the Duke, and the man who was the center of curiosity. 

He was tall, even taller than Camilla’s father, with short caramel hair that seemed to freely roam in a classic mess of an elegant gentleman. He wore a tranquil blue frock in style à la France: true fashion digger, as Camilla concluded. His back was straight, trained to show the power and influence he possessed, and his eyes, dark-blue and penetrating like the daggers from her father’s collection. 

“Ah, and you must be Camilla-Anastasia?” A sudden velvet voice filled with the exotic honey of the East piqued the girl’s attention as she realized that this stranger was speaking to her. She blinked, focusing her gaze on the man but never losing her balance. No way in heaven will she let him know that she lost her feeling of the present world as she was studying him; no man deserved such honor from the girl!

“Anton Razensky.” Camilla replied right away, sinking down to a curtsey and letting the man approach to grasp her hand and press it against his soft warm lips. For some reason, the touch felt fake, as if the man wasn’t expressing affection, in fact, nothing at all. Camilla cocked her head to the side only to notice the same sharp eyes watching her in the meantime. Had he realized that she knew? Hopefully not. 

“I see that you know of me.” Anton melted into a rather charming grin, the kind that made ladies of society swoon with feathery fans in their hands, but Camilla stood her ground, she barely had any reaction. She threw a smile back at him, however, almost mimicking his nature. 

“As of fifteen minutes ago. My mother said there was a new face in Moscow, I couldn’t help but wonder where have you been all this time. I haven’t heard of you.” The woman smiled, placing her hands behind her back to interlace her fingers together. 

“Camilla.” Her father strong voice appeared, but was hushed by the lady’s quick glance as both of them knew she will not back away from her questions, never even apologize afterward. Razensky searched her face in the meantime, a grin now but a soft side smirk that meant that the girl awakened his curiosity. She could tell, he liked her already. 

“My family originated in Moscow, actually, but our father, the lover of romance that he was, moved to Nice for a while to then meet my mother in Paris. He moved back to Russia recently, purchasing a few estates over the country to get back into his true spirit. He is a businessman you see, but he doesn’t like to announce himself loudly.” Anton seemed to speak in one breath, as if it was a well-recited script he prepared the night before, knowing that such question would come up eventually. 

“That explains it. I also heard you are a doctor.” Camilla didn’t stop, she refused to acknowledge everyone else until her curiosity was satisfied. Anton was a handsome devil, but she was far more interested what his life was like and what he made of himself. 

“I am indeed. Performed surgeries in France and a few smaller cities in Russia. I would tell you the details, but I’m afraid your ladyship wouldn’t-”

“Tell me every gruesome detail, Monsieur Razensky, I am excited to hear them, though I am sure you are a busy man, so perhaps another time.” Camilla finished for him instead, hinting a bit of French as if she wasn’t afraid to switch to the romance tongue and speak to Anton about how a body was saved from a rotting limb or a bloody wound. She read enough books to forget what it was like to twist her nose in disgust, all there left, was a pity for those ladies that squeaked at the sight of mice. 

“My, I am sorry for underestimating you.” Anton was taken aback by the sudden confidence and absence of a coquette pink on her cheeks, something the Russian was so used to. She was quite different, quite the type he actually enjoyed speaking to. “I shall await our next conversation, but I heard you have packing to go to Warsaw? My brother is in Warsaw as well, perhaps you can trade a hello from me.” He bowed his head, planting a farewell kiss on Camilla’s hand, knowing that the girl’s curious appetite was once again sparked. 

“You have a brother?” The rest of the audience in the room seemed to become a part of the private conversation, even the Duke himself allowed a glance of surprise. 

“Anton, you didn’t tell me you have a brother.” Valentine inquired, chuckling to himself. “There are so many things I am yet to learn, old friend.” 

“Indeed there are, V.” Anton threw over his shoulder with a grin and turned back to the young lady. “The reason why my brother is such a secret is because he spends days in the library, studying his sanity away. He loves psychology you see, considers to change the world one day.” He smirked and crossed his arms. “Warsaw has yet another source of wisdom, so he is there for a few days to retrieve it. You will find him in the shadows, young lady, believe me.” 

“I shall search then. Pleasure meeting you, sir-”

“Call me Anton, gorgeous,” Razenskt smirked and submitted to the need to kiss her hand again, this time longer. “It’s a pleasure to become  your friend in such a short time.” 

“Who said you were my friend?” Camilla teased, though her tone remained neutral; she knew he was right. 

“Your eyes never left me during our conversation. I take it I am far more interesting than I think.” Anton straightened up, laughing along with the girl and only shook her head at him.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, Anton. You might lose the privilege of banter.” 

“Oh, how could I allow? I mustn’t speak now. Bonne voyage, mademoiselle.” They exchanged another smile, gazing at each other a while longer before separating. Camilla nodded at her father and Duke, meanwhile giving her mother a delicate gesture of her hand before she vanished in the hallway with a brief farewell, laughing on her way to her room where she soon buried her face in the pillow, grinning like a fool.

 Oh this Anton, he did make her blush indeed!

[doomedandstoned]

Fallout Ritualist:

A Visit with Mikko Kääriäinen of Cardinals Folly

~By Billy Goate (Editor in Chief)~

Photographs by Jouni Parkku

There's something about that voice. Mikko Kääriäinen (best known as Count Karnstein) of the Finnish band CARDINALS FOLLY croons like a stern master with ice water for blood. Dare not knock on the door of his estate seeking shelter from the tempest. His singing incites shivers as he wails and thrashes about, bemoaning the wiles of the devil and the fate of foodhardy thrill seekers. Mikko joined our own Stephanie V. Cantu for her podcast Crypt of Despair last year and I was eager to get to get a proper interview with him in these pages. Come with me now, into the shadows to a domain where doom is law and riffs conjure soul-stealing specters. This is the twisted realm of Cardinals Folly...

You draw significant inspiration from mysticism and the occult. What are your own beliefs about the supernatural? And while we're on the subject, have you ever encountered something uncanny, unearthly, or otherwise unexplainable?

I guess it's mere curiosity that has brought this devious individual and many others on the brink of great things. Teenage rebellion is a pathway to many things you will be able to truly understand later on, to expand your consciousness to unnatural levels. I believe in the devil as an ideal collaborator in spiritual rebellion -- a dark power of nature, relentless illumination, self-deification, and resistance of the right-hand path. A cultivated inspiration and idol for individuals like us. Of course, The Master will always take care of its own, the truly initiated and dedicated, and therefore things will always happen. From everyday charms to weirder incidents. I don´t want to pick out anything special, for it´s not about bragging how weird your life has been. That´s the naturality or unnaturality of this kind of mind -- you just live it. Nothing is that strange anymore. That´s almost like a Biblical term to me, at this point. Reference based on the many, the majority, what they would think.

Interesting. I’m guessing you’re well read on the occult. For the novice, what tomes would you recommend for reading? I’m guessing Dennis Wheatley’s novels will be among them, given the band's name.

Well, for someone willing to get both a factual and fictional overall briefing about the western esoteric and occult practices, I recommend the following starters:

Stephen Flowers: 'Lords of the Left-Hand Path' (1997)

Dennis Wheatley: 'The Devil and All His Works' (1971)

Don Web: 'Overthrowing the Old Gods: Aleister Crowley and the Book of the Law' (2013)

Trevor Ravenscroft: 'The Spear of Destiny' (1972)

Anton LaVey: 'The Satanic Bible' (1969)

H.P Blavatsky: 'The Secret Doctrine' (1888)

Eliphas Levi: 'Transcendental Magic: Its Doctrine and Ritual' (1855)

Dennis Wheatley: 'The Devil Rides Out' (1950) or 'Strange Conflict' (1941)

How long have you been singing and playing bass? I'm curious about what lit the fire inside of you to get started with both.

I started everything with this band. I needed a vision of a band to make happen, to actually give a damn. Never been one of those bedroom metal musicians. Cardinals Folly and its early version symbolize my musical career. I simply started to play bass and sing when we started playing doom in 2004, without having any experience. To be honest, the more I see in this life, the more I like my choices. There´s a shitload of stagnated bands out there. Bands with members who can play, but are pretty clueless about anything else. I´m glad I had no specific pattern to start laboring when we started. I´ve learned it all myself along the way, which certainly suits me very well. I´m a person of my own. Our heaviest influence among traditional doom bands was Reverend Bizarre, when we started. Reverend Bizarre was emerging in Finland and it felt the closest thing to us. Of course, there are also typical old school legends like Saint Vitus, Pentagram, Cathedral, etc., but Reverend Bizarre was so present, especially in our early works. Now all that really remains from their influence is the cinematic gothickry, but that I love too much to ever let it go. Besides, it´s nothing that unusual in metal, generally. They just did it really well, I want to do it even better -- really combine the themes and the music.

Holocaust of Ecstasy & Freedom by Cardinals Folly

I admit I’m a little late to the game. The Coven was the original incarnation of Cardinal’s Folly, right?

You could say so. The idea didn´t change one bit and we simply continued with a new drummer and new moniker. Like I said, we were total newbies back then to everything regarding functioning as a band, so we made up a proper fitting name hastily in our excitement, without giving it too much thought. Our first drummer left and we got a new one, who was really into doom and very experienced with the underground. So we forged our visions stronger and had more artistic approach. I found the true name for us and we set the course to where we are today.

Around 2012-2013, there was a complete change of line-up. Was the future of Cardinals Folly in doubt at that point in time?

I´ve always been very demanding regarding people´s input in Cardinals Folly. I never chose to be the leader of the band. It came naturally, because of my level of ambition, temperament, and vision. Cardinals Folly is my baby, and I was never truly happy with the input of the previous members. Our guitar player had no time to really play in a band and since we took our name in 2007, our drummer had always had self-doubts about his playing and we always argued about many things. He´s a friend of mine still, and probably always will be, but we weren´t exactly the dream team, musically. I was always pushing forward and he was stalling.

With Juho joining in guitar around 2012 and Joni in drums 2014, we got the right dedicated members to push things forward. The future of Cardinals Folly has never truly been in doubt, as it´s always been a major creative outlet for me. But you can speculate if I had made it to this point without these guys. Probably not. The band would exist anyway, but you kind of need the lineup to truly make it something. After all, band life is about sharing our views, rehearsing, talking crap, playing live, doing records, drinking together -- that´s what it is to me.

So how did you come to meet your current partners, Juho and Joni? You’re the primary songwriter, naturally, so I’m curious how these two contribute to or otherwise enhance your musical ideas.

They both just answered the ads I had left. I really like that I didn´t take them into the band because of some guaranteed friendship. They weren´t old fishing buddies. That sort of thing is overrated, when it comes to band members. Also, if the band has ambition, it can fuck over the friendship or the friendship can fuck over the band, if you know what I mean. You need brutal honesty, sometimes. Making music like Cardinals Folly is about ambition and vision, so it doesn´t help one bit if you´re a great guy otherwise. Previous members were perfect examples of that.

Juho trained on a few songs on acoustic guitar over the weekend up north at his parents and returned early from his holiday to make it to the audition down south, where he nailed everything totally. Joni did the same, without missing a beat. The musical collaboration and understanding is on a very high level here. An exceptionally high level that even most pro musicians can´t reach with each other for different personal reasons. I´ve seen this. We can together spice up the original idea and structure for a song without changing the atmosphere or screwing anything over. We simply enrich it with good flavors. I or Juho come up with a few matching riffs and we complete the song usually as a group, throwing in riffs and fixing the arrangements for whole band. The original idea remains, but grows some muscle around itself.

Lyrics sometimes exist already before the song, but usually some interesting theme pops up after the feeling I get from the music and I finish the lyrics in a frenzy of inspiration from that. In my opinion, combining the music with the fitting and believable lyrics of a similar atmosphere is very important. If you fuck that up, you´re not in the game anymore. Our approach is similar and we talk the same “language,” because we´re not educated musicians, but three guys on a mission they all completely understand, both spiritually and musically. I feel we´re a real band -- a three-piece unit. We work everything together, despite of who wrote the original ideas. Nothing is ever personal. We understand our art and wish to push it forward. That is the priority in Cardinals Folly for us all, despite also being friends. It's very easy for me to say this, since it´s nothing, but a transcription of what happens in the world of Cardinals Folly nowadays.

You balk at trendiness in music, “laughing at stoner/retro trends as Cardinals Folly since 2007.” In “Hyperborean,” there is the declamatory “No Trends!” in the chorus. Obviously it’s an important sentiment to you.

It feels very natural to me, that a metal band not only plays hard, but also views hard. With my current understanding of the music I´m doing, I certainly wouldn't settle for less, in any way. This is my chosen lifestyle. Metal music in general is dominated by trends, which is understandable, but spoils the danger and excitement levels of this kinda music completely. I´ll be honest with you, I rarely even listen to new doom anymore. I do still get excited when I hear something totally ass-ripping, like the new Caskets Open album, for an example, but mostly you can predict the moves of the bands, even their behavior. The whole thing is just like my mom making a metal band, and as much as I love my mom, she´s not cut out for this. I feel I need to look elsewhere if I want inspiration. I´m over 30, but I´m still a rebel. I just don´t feel it enough.

Are you coming across many acts that are going their own way, perhaps even a little misunderstood? We’d love to know about bands in Finland, in particular, that have earned your respect and patronage.

Well, just to make it short by recommending some Finnish bands you might not know about: Caskets Open, Seremonia, Kohti Tuhoa, Vinum Sabbatum, Slave Hands, Chestburster and why don´t you also check out the Lithuanian band Hellhookah, because so far Arnas is the only one staying up and downing vodka later than I do! Great people, great band.

Coalition of the Anathematized by Cardinals Folly / Church of Void / Acolytes of Moros

Cardinals Folly has been prolific, releasing a new full-length every two years. Last year, you brought us virtually two albums worth of songs, if you include that fantastic split with Church of Void and Acolytes of Moros. Are you tapped out or do you have more songs in the works for us? If so, it would be amazing if you could give us a hint about the material you’re toying with.

Well, I would never consider us being “tapped out” at this point, regardless of the song situation, since we´re hungry and nasty bastards, one of the few bands actually living the shit! Every week we do something, be it rehearsal, studio, a live gig, or just sitting at a bar together, getting nutty ideas.

And to back this up, I will humbly say that our fourth album, Deranged Pagan Sons, which will wipe the floor with all our previous works, will be released in the fall of 2017 on CD via Nine Records and LP via Topillo Records. Fresh start with couple of up-and-coming Euro labels and the very finest we can offer. Eight tracks and 48 minutes of brutal, barbaric, heavy, in-your-face doom metal. The songs are the best, the sound is the best, and for the first fucking time ever, I don´t really even hate my vocals.

That’s awesome news! I think I speak for many when I say I can't wait to give the new record a spin. As we wrap up the conversation, anything you'd like to share with fans, or at least those who by now are becoming curious?

Later this year, you gotta face our new album in all its power. Join the doom metal cult Cardinals Folly and its ventures. Ride with the doomed ones! Retreating from it doesn´t do good for your metal credibility, so I suggest you open yourselves to it. Dance with the devil. It can´t be ignored anymore. We are going to blow off some steam and live to win, even if some boring jerks keep saying it´s a sin.

Thank you for spending time with me and the Doomed & Stoned readers!

The pleasure was all mine, and will be.

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