#as much as he loves the Bauhaus he has to put his hands up on that one lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crownedghostprince · 1 year ago

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Peter Maximoff x Goth!Reader Headcanons

Fandom: X-Men.

Some fun headcanons of what I think it'd be like to date Peter/Quicksilver, being a goth person.

Requests: Closed. Requested: no.

Warning(s): None! <3

Note: Enjoy! If I've written anything inaccurately, please correct me! Also reader's gender is unspecified but I do talk about 'Feminine' and 'Masculine' clothing styles.

Word Count: 1,017

[Second Person Perspective]

(Picture reposted by " Four Alignments " tumblr from 2021 and original poster deactivated their account).

♡ Peter loves your style so much. All the layers of clothing, the matching colours, how any colour you add matches the black you often prefer to wear.

♡ He loves all of your accessories and will watch you create your own and sometimes even steal you some materials for you to use.

♡ If you make pop-tab chains, necklaces, button pins, bottle cap pins, etc; he'll gift you pop-tabs from the cans of soda he drinks during his free time and bottle caps he finds laying around the place.

♡ It's always fun to see him speed around a corner, put a pop-tab or bottle cap in your hand with a smile and then zoom off again.

♡ A bit like 'Penguin Pebbling'.

♡ If you make him any jewelry or accessories, or button pins, he'll absolutely wear them.

♡ You once made him a 'Bauhaus' button pin and he's never taken it off his jacket unless he has to wash the jacket.

♡ He also borrows some of your spiked belts (basically belts you added the spikes to yourself) and wears them.

♡ You borrow his band tees, belts and occasionally his jackets when he lends you them.

♡ If you love making your own clothes and fixing them, when his clothes get old and raggedy (like about to be thrown out) he'll give them to you first so you can take the threads and use it to fix other clothes. (Or so you can cut out any patterns on it you like).

♡ Speaking of clothes, you fix any tears and rips in his shirts or pants that he often gets when speeding around bushes or exposed nails.

♡ As a date you both painted a pair of your sneakers to your liking and then coated them in paint protector until they were finished and safe from being weather ruined.

♡ If you love going to goth concerts and parties he'll 100% go with you to some of them and bop with a drink in hand.

♡ He carries hair ties on his right wrist in case yours break, safety pins attached to his jackets in case your button pins come undone and eyeliner in his pocket in case your makeup messes up.

♡ He'll paint his nails black with you and adopt any black kittens you find on the streets.

♡ If you find a stray dog he'll definitely raise the dog with you and name it something incredible like "Trucker".

♡ He'll tie your shoelaces when they come loose, hold your hair back when you're doing your makeup, help you put your necklaces on and help pin any slightly too big skirts.

♡ You and him have constant dance sessions together in his room and your playlist is a strange mix of his music and your music.

♡ It'll jump from 'Us and Them' by Pink Floyd straight into 'Spellbound' by Siouxsie and The Banshees.

♡ Going to skateparks together and having a lot of fun just messing around and trying new tricks. He loves when you pull off a kickflip or cross-over turn (depending on what you skate).

♡ You'll both celebrate Halloween by watching spooky movies and setting up fun decorations and treats. You both go candy shopping and leave them outside for trick-or-treators.

♡ Once you matched outfits as two vampires in love and another time you both dressed up like super fancy 1920s villains.

♡ Another time you both went as Morticia and Gomez Addams.

♡ He took you to see 'Scream' when it first came out in the cinemas. You two also saw 'Halloween' at a drive-in cinema.

♡ If you play in a band he'll help you practice and be your biggest fan and supporter.

♡ If you struggle to get a note when singing or learning a song on an instrument, he'll pull down one of his guitars and practice the song beside you.

♡ He loves getting drunk with you near a beach and just dancing under the stars as a radio plays beside you both.

♡ Speaking of beaches, he always carries sunscreen for you if you burn really easily. If you surf or swim professionally he'll practice beside you and you'll teach him some things you know.

♡ You taught Pete quite a few surfing tricks and he's never forgotten since. He's a naturally fast learner and surfs really well.

♡ If your favourite band has a concert and you don't hear about it he'll sneak a couple tickets behind your back and give them to you as a surprise.

♡ Also, it's certainly strange to see a goth at a Pink Floyd concert, but you still attend. They're a very welcoming community that don't mind your appearance, they're just enjoying the performance.

♡ You definitely feel less out of place at a Nirvana concert with Pete though.

♡ When he first got his license y'all immediately drove through many different cities just to listen to smaller goth bands play in bars as you both got food and soda.

♡ If you can ride a motorcycle, you definitely take him on long sunset drives through safe and beautiful back roads right beside the forests and small creeks.

♡ If y'all shoplift or graffiti because someone was horrible and y'all are getting your revenge? He'll 100% speed you both out of there the minute you grab an item or finish some graffiti art.

♡ Whilst on graffiti art, if you love it then you'll both take long walks under bridges, through alleyways and abandoned buildings and skateparks to admire the graffiti art and take photographs.

♡ If you need a model for your photography he'll pose in photos for you. During sunsets, concerts, beach days or when in a new state, you take a picture to remember the date with.

♡ You have a small scrapbook with little bats decorating the spaces between the photos as well as some press-dried roses.

♡ If you have any 'unusual' hyperfixations, or special interests, (or hobbies), he'll love to listen and learn about them with you.

#peter maximoff #fanfiction #headcanons #x reader #goth reader #x men #peter maximoff x reader

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onyxheartbeat · 2 years ago

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Most of you know that this blog is full of my writing about one man in particular. I’ve had a few men come in and out of my life over the years, mostly online relationships I’ve talked about, but there’s only one man I’ve ever loved and he’s the one most of my poems and diary entries have been about for the last six years or so. He is the one I refer to as beloved and “j” in my hashtags. I’ve talked about resenting him due to his ghosting of me off and on for years at a time, and suicidal ideation due to unrequited love a lot over the years, all of which was due to my emotions toward him. He’s the one I saw at the Bauhaus concert a few months ago.

He reached out to me a few days ago and invited me to talk and make peace. He was prepared for me to be very angry with him and he was willing to just listen. I told him I’d said everything I needed to say in my email which he said he did not read. I mostly just listened that night.

He told me about a stint in the ICU and an illness he has but I didn’t really process it. He had mentioned a few times during the visit that he’s literally dying but my mind didn’t process it. I mean, I understood it but not fully. We spent the next few days together and my world changed. He told me that he loves me. He said it so many times in so many different ways. My prayers from years ago when I still held spiritual beliefs were actualized. Everything I had ever desired and dreamed of and needed to hear from him became real, and he apologized to me in such a genuine way. He claimed his ghosting me was because he couldn’t deal with the feelings he had as a married person. He doesn’t even live in the same state as his wife, nor speak to her much, but I still understand the guilt he’s feeling.

One of the days, I came to him and he was sleeping with his breathing machine and I just held his hand. I didn’t wake him. I just held his arm for twenty minutes. Later that day, when I went home, he reached out to let me know that he’d never had someone care for him while he slept and that it meant so much to him. He said one of the best feelings he’s ever known in his life was waking up with my hand in his.

I asked what made him reach out now and he said his time in the ICU. He said it put things into perspective and that he wanted to be a better person.

The reason I’m writing this is because only a couple hours ago did I truly process that the love of my life has heart failure. I broke down and sobbed and cannot believe that seven years ago, I met someone, fell in love with them, and now they’re saying they don’t know how much time they have left. He’s planning to move to a different state in February, for family reasons. In the meantime, he and I really have no future. He pulled away a bit in the last two days and I’m experiencing some anxiety and anger about being apart from him. He was doing cocaine the few days we spent together but he stopped a couple days ago and that’s when he went quiet on me. I’m trying to be understanding about it since it finally dawned on me tonight that he’s truly sick.

Thank you for listening. I don’t know why I share all this personal stuff but it helps in some way. Please, send me good thoughts or prayers or whatever you believe will help because I just want him and I to spend time together and be in love for as long as possible together.

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seancekitsch · 4 years ago

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Powerplay: a Marko x Reader fic

part 3 of 3, previous part here

Warnings: harassment, vamp typical shit, cursing, death/killing, smut mentions, reference to the book

Marko was a good boyfriend, it turned out, except for when he wasn’t. You liked the sweet little kisses, the teasing way he snaps his jaw at you when you catch him staring, the way he holds you while you’re falling asleep even though he doesn’t have to.You like that he listens, more than your friends do. You rang another friend the other day, and were left waiting with the endless ringing again. You want to be upset, but they weren't as close as you were hoping they’d be. Your close friends were back in New York, three thousand miles and a year of working behind you. And they were Marko and his brothers now.

You love the way he keeps you safe, your protector being probably the deadliest thing you could encounter. You love the way he laughs, always joking and jovial. You always thought his smile hid a joke like some mystery, but now you're in on it too, and it's the funniest thing. There is no secret joke, just Marko seeing the world with eyes full of humor. He sees the little things, and now he shows them to you. You love the way you can speak without speaking. Silence followed by heavy laughter, kisses, and understanding.

You even love that week you were on your period and every night he ate you out until you screamed yourself hoarse.

“Marko,” you’d say, “lets ride.”

And he would obey, letting you hop on the back of his bike, always after work, always too fast. You'd like to imagine him crashing as the wind whips your hair, stings your face. What that would be like, huh. It's what you assume he feels like when he flies, free and wild in the night. He caters to your every whim, makes you feel the happiest, as long as the sun has set.

He was less a good boyfriend when he was hungry, brooding and refusing to get close to you. He would be irritable, pick fights, silent treatment. He would purposely leave you in silence, but he wouldn't ask for a taste, despite your offering. He respected you enough not to try that. Other times, he would make sure that you could hear every thought in his head. His thoughts sounded like shouts, always telling you to get the fuck away, always reminding you how vulnerable you were, how easy to kill you’d be. It's almost maddening. You never knew which nights he would be the silent ones, or which ones would be the loud ones.

“Marko,” you’d say, “This is just temporary.”

You don't even have to think the words for him to know what you mean. Or those moments during the day when it's highlighted just how different he was, would always be. He would always be twenty and handsome and having fun, with a guaranteed group of friends. With a family he belonged with. You would always age, you would have to find something else to do eventually, and you would probably have to leave Santa Carla, because he wouldn't. You could always bore him, with Marko one day realizing you can't keep up anymore. You would always be weaker, and no matter how often Marko puts you first, he always holds the power. You’re only the decision maker because he lets you be. He could always take that power back. Find someone new when you get old and he stays the same age. He will always be this way, and you will always change.

It's those nights you think of pulling away from him, and you hope he never hears those thoughts. You love him, but he’ll always say it's not temporary. It's not true.

You love Marko today.

The jingling of the bell snaps you from your thoughts, head rising only to be face to face with one of the surf nazis. Huh, guess the boys didn’t clear all of them out. This one was tall, a skinhead with an upturned pug-like nose, wearing a lot of denim with eyes alight with mayhem in his agenda. Oh, please don’t fucking break anything.

“Hey Baby,” he sneers. God, his voice was even worse than his looks and his smell.

“Not your baby,” you deadpan, wishing desperately for him and his friends to leave without stealing or breaking anything forcing a sickeningly sweet customer service tone, “But what can I help with?”

Maybe good customer service will get them in-and-out quicker.

“That hot little body of yours could help me out,” his tone is outright mocking. God, is this how dudes like these think they can pull? You can’t even hide your grimace as you flinch at the words. If there was anyone else, just one other person working tonight, this wouldn’t be happening. You know this. Working nights alone practically invited this brand of harassment.

fuckfuckfuck. It’s way too early for Marko to be sniffing around, and if you can get them to leave the next four hours of your shift will be miserable. The man laughs, and it makes your blood run cold. He leans over the counter, past the little curtain of incense haze; breaching your only barrier of safety.

“I bet it could. Couldn’t it, baby?”

His large arms press against the glass of the counter and your eyes immediately flicker from them to the back room, where your knife is. He straightens up.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You frown, meeting his eyes now.

“Do you plan on buying anything we sell?” The Bauhaus record you have playing over the speaker skips, and you almost jump. It's just enough to break the tension, the rising bile in your throat clearing.

“I come in here for you, girlie,” and he affirms what you already know. Now that half of the surf nazis were gone, they were struggling to maintain their turf on the boardwalk. So harassment and torture at their hands were on the rise. Many people over the past few weeks had been dodging them in the stores around here, and now apparently they had caught wise to that. Done with it, you take a step back, leaning yourself against the back shelf to retreat further into the curtain of nag champa.

“You can fuck off,” you offer, gaining confidence as you realize the bong behind your head was more than affordable, and if you broke it over his head, you could cover it.

He opens his mouth to respond, but-

The bell on the door jingles again. A familiar smile fades into a scowl. Marko looks like one of those greek heroes tonight, maybe if only because his presence saves you from the gross comments (or anything worse) of the shaved head across the counter. He immediately distracts the surfer from you.

“Why don’t you get outta here, buddy? Me and the lady were just discussing me trying her out later,” the man spits, and you almost gag at the mental image of that.

Marko laughs, that high pitched full body laugh you love so much.

“That’s funny, buddy,” He throws the man’s nickname back at him, “Cause that’s my old lady right there.”

You loved and hated when he called you that. Technically, you are a year older than the year he turned. The first time you all realized that, Paul gave himself a stomach ache laughing over the ‘older woman’ Marko brought home. Tonight though, the nickname brings the biggest smile to your lips.

“Damn right I am,” you chime in, “and you couldn’t take the hint.”

Marko seals the deal by striding over to where you are and pulling you into a kiss over the counter. It doesn't take much more for the surf nazi to leave, the jingling of the door opening announcing his departure.

“I’m gonna make sure we kill the rest of them before the week is out.”

He waits the three hours it takes for you to be able to lock up behind the counter with you, loosely holding your hips and following you around, only moving away from you to pick out new records when one ends.

Come over tonight, Marko thinks, and you know it isn't a suggestion. You kiss him hard on the mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him to press against you. His arms automatically find themselves around your waist, squeezing you as he eagerly returns the kiss. This wouldn’t be your first time at their dilapidated hotel, with sprawling caves and chandeliers and beautiful spray painted murals on the walls. The first time you were there, he brought you there while the others were hunting. He fucked you on any surface not covered with knick knacks they'd collected or takeout containers, leaving you to sheepishly blush while he proudly talked to the others when they returned, deep red hickies and a bite mark on your collarbone you couldn't hide. The next time, the boys and Star and Laddie welcomed you in with booze and a feast and a fun night where you had to crawl out of the cave at dawn looking like a mess. Either way, he waits for you to agree before he leads you to his motorcycle.

“Star, Why don't you just become one of us already?” Paul whined, holding his half eaten eggroll like a cigar, “You're already living with us, Mama. We just want to be friends forever.”

She scrunches her nose, smoothing the long hair of Laddie’s head in her lap. The boy was tired, their unofficial little brother or not, he was still an eight year old.

“Or maybe,” David starts, dropping down from the rim of the check in counter of the hotel, “Star can just have some fun with them and we don’t even have to do what Max wants.”

The boys all laugh, Dwayne’s shoulders turning inward, while Paul smacks Marko in the chest behind you. Whoever Max was, he was someone that could give the boys orders; something you didnt think possible besides their own little group hierarchy. You'd figured out pretty quickly that David was the leader, Marko was his right hand, Dwayne was the left hand; with Marko enforcing, playful and impulsive, and Dwayne being the level head, logical and the one who often kept the boys from fighting and made them all remember why they loved each other so much. Paul was the baby. Both literally and figuratively. He was the messiest, the most likely to slip up;. He was also the one turned last. So when Star decides to be one of them, she’ll be the new baby. Then Laddie.

“No,” Star affirms, “No, I can’t do that to Michael.”

“Michael,” David tests the name on his lips, tongue darting out to lick them after he says it. The curly haired brunette on the boardwalk had a name. Then his eyes flick to you. There's a sharpness to them that feels so different from Marko’s. David is trying to stare through you, not to look inside of your head, to look past it, to see any weakness. A challenge.

“Who’s Max?” you speak up from your spot on Marko’s lap. You can feel him tense under you, but David smiles.

“You don't know about Max? Marko, you didn’t tell her about Max?”

Marko’s hand wraps around your wrist as David continues.

“Max knows all about you, y/n. There’s a reason you're here.”

Here as in, still alive in a vampire den, or here tonight specifically?

Mind thing? You think, and Marko leans his head down against your shoulder as he nods.

“So he knows Marko and I are X-men? Is he Professor X?”

You hear Dwayne and Paul chuckle from the other side of the circle, and Dwayne mutters, “Yeah something like that,” as he swats his hand at Paul’s mesh-covered chest.

“He sired us,” David clarifies.

“You feel it right?” changing the subject, “You feel like you need to be near Marko?”

Marko squeezes your wrist in encouragement, and you nod.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

“That's not what I mean.”

You know what he means. It's the way you feel Marko before you see him, the way you can never sneak up on him.

You nod again.

“That’s what Max wanted to know. Marko, do you wanna tell her, or should I?”

What does he mean? You think and the man below you perks up.

Come with me. His palms grip your hips and gently push you to stand, and he follows suit before taking the lead.

He leads you towards the mouth of the cave, where you enter and away from any listening ears.

“So you know how David is dating Star?” he asks, voice low and close to you in the shadows.

“If that’s what they’re doing,” you joke, and he laughs along with you.

“Well, he thought they had what we have, and that's why she’s with us.” He reaches for your hands to hold them, dropping any playfulness from before.

“I’m supposed to turn you, Max thinks. He’s a lot older than us, and he says some vampires have mates or something similar to that. Others they have some deep mental connection with. The guys… we can hear each other sometimes if we try hard, because we’re a pack. I don't have to try with you and that's why Max thinks it's different.”

Turn you? Like, capital T- Turn you? Into one of them? If he turned you, you’d never see the sun again; never feel its warmth. You’d have to drink blood, and human blood at that. You’d become a killer, and you’d have to keep killing. While you aren’t innocent, killing kind of seems like it would be a stretch for you. Some of their victims had to be innocent, but would your hunger corrupt your morals one day?

It's like he can see the wheels turning in your head, ability to hear your thoughts or not.

“Y/n, you don't have to. Fuck, this was dumb to bring up. David thought you were ready, but if you don't want to I won't make you…” He trails off, visibly a little more deflated.

But if you did, you would be on the same level as Marko. All of the insecurities you have about your relationship would just… stop existing. Your relationship’s expiration date would disappear, your fears about having to leave him or him leaving you would disappear. You'd have people and a place to belong and lover and guaranteed group of friends to be a new family.

“How does it work, Marko?” your voice surprises him, and in honesty, he brought you to the mouth of the cave to give you an out. If you wanted to leave here, leave him specifically, he was going to let you.

“You gotta drink, uh, vampire blood.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You shrug.

“Are you sure? There's no take backs for this,” Marko’s voice is stern, unlike you ever heard it before.

Deadly sure, Marko.

He smiles, slowly like the moon rising in the night before it crescendos into the wide toothy grin you're so used to seeing.

Marko leads you back into the den of the cave where the others are hanging out.

Dwayne is the first to approach the two of you.

“Everything okay?”

You nod thankfully, offering him a smile.

Paul swoops in next.

“You better be tellin’ me you're joining the fam, chica!”

He tries to drape his arm around your shoulder, but Marko pushes him away playfully, both of the boys smiling.

“Let’s get this girl a drink!” Marko shouts, and the guys start up hollering and laughing.

Marko leads you back to where you had originally been sitting, his designated folding chair. He gestures to you to sit down, while he looks to David for something. Over his shoulder, you can see Star frowning as she watches on.

“Glad you got to talk it out,” David remarks as he hands a bottle of wine to Marko. Maybe you’ll be able to get used to his mannerisms in half a century. Marko hands off the bottle of wine to you, and your hands dip with the weight of it.

The wine bottle is bejeweled, another do it yourself project that the guys seem to love so much. It's heavy in your hands, dark and unseeing down the neck of it, but full. Marko crouches down between your legs, palms flat against your thighs as everyone waits with bated breath. You uncork the bottle, noticing the dark red staining on the cork, and knowing exactly what’s in it now. Two shaky hands bring the bottle to your lips, tilting your head back as you let the contents flow into your mouth, filling it. The ‘wine’ is thick, warm and salty but feels like it's already intoxicating you from just being in your mouth.

“That’s all Marko’s blood, you know,” David remarks, and you swallow deeply. All Marko. He drained his blood for you, weakened himself for you. Your eyes flicker to him, and he smiles up at you from his spot between your legs.

You smile back at him, widely, teeth stained with blood.

#my work #marko lost boys x reader #marko lost boys #marko x reader

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cquackity · 3 years ago

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THES HI HIYA :D!!!! sorry this took so long T_T however i finally listened through to all the bauhaus you recommended :D i listened to the full of mask and in the flat field, i actually wore my bauhaus hoodie to school last thursday and i felt like the coolest #girl. In the world

IN ANY CASE THOUGH; my favorite songs (in no particular order) are probably kick in the eye, in the flat field, and telegram sam. i think bauhaus's music caught me so off guard at first because their music truly just does not sound like anything else i've ever heard — most of their songs took me a few listens to even get in to, actually, their sound is just so affectionally bizarre and hollow and. well. Goth. BUT I DO REALLY REALLY LIKE IT A LOT......... thank you very much for the recommendations cause i enjoyed them so much and cannot wait to listen to more :'D my favorite song overall is probably mask's title track.. it makes me feel like i'm in a different Dimension. i love it so much

do you have any other music you'd like to share :O if you still want c!dream songs i'd like to suggest pet by a perfect circle, another apc song i know BUT I JUST. I PROMISE!! THIS ONE IS LITERALLY PERFECT I SWEAR

HELLO CALLIZINC MY ESTEEMED MUTUAL CALLIZINC!!!!!!!! HELL YES NO #Poser BEHAVIOR HERE

VERY BASED FAVORITES!! kick in the eye is just. an Absolute banger. i love the guitar in it especially id love to learn how to play it. and his voice is fucking perfect. 1000% one of the best bauhaus songs ever made. and in the flat field is def one of my tops too if not my #1 song.. it's just. so fucking cool, always gets stuck in my head. my name is dropped in it AND it reminds me of blorbo from my shows.. Has to be my fav <3 When he yells "I DO GET BORED!!!!" Like if you agree❤ personally im never bored listening to bauhaus tho Like you said i really hadnt heard anything like that song Ever before, it was my first bauhaus song and still stands out to me. Its unique they're just such pioneers of goth music it all holds up so well!!!! and Yas telegram sam luv when he howls in it........ think im just a huge fan of howling and wailing

and YAYYY i am always looking for more canon accurate c!dream songs‼️‼️‼️ YOURE SO RIGHT TOO PET IS PERFECT IMMEDIATELY ADDED TO MY PLAYLIST FOR CDREAM.. "THEY DONT CARE ABOUT YOU LIKE I DO" the way he whispered it genuinely gave me goosebumps. Can anyone hear me This is just like discduo for real. Also my favorite APC song you've sent me so far this one is sooooo fucking good..

putting my personal reccomendations below the cut so this ask doesn't get too long :]

hm hmmmm... if you're looking for more older goth rock music i like siouxsie and the banshees. they're similar in style to bauhaus for sure !!! this one especially is comparable, and it reminds me of post death c!q. obsession is my favorite by them (both the one with vocals and just the instrumenal), its a c!dream song I Love It. haven't listened to a full album by them yet but i rlly want to listen to all of A Kiss In The Dreamhouse because cascade is another rlly good one.

and if you're looking for something more like modest mouse/chasing around men with a garden house/indie rock which. i have been absolutely MESMERIZED by the beauty of indie rock lately calli. its kinda ridiculous how into this genre i am but. i've been listening to this band called Wolf Parade and I'm In Love with their album Apologies to the Queen Mary. if i could make a two part pmv!!! to Dear sons and daughters of hungry ghosts and I'll believe in anything that's c!wilbur centric... well. Im giving storyboarding a shot because those two songs are AMAZING and the way the transition is between them is on the album is SO SO SO rot inducing. something in my brain changed when i listened to this album all the way through i think. out of all the reccomendations i've handed you please place this one very gently in your pocket bcause there is just something So special about this album

#sorry this ask took me a bit to respond to i saw it and Immediately had to leave for work 😔#and then proceeded to listen to bauhaus for most of my shift #BUT THANK U FOR SENDING THIS..#these r always my favorite asks to answer #slash gen. it's so fun to ramble abt music #and if you end up listening to more b/auhaus shoot me an ask #i'm curious about their other albums too #have a wonderful night calli !!!!!!#thes answers #🎵

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southboundhq · 5 years ago

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MEET NADJA,

FULL NAME › Nadja Nuan Feng AGE › twenty nine GENDER › Cis female (She/Her/Hers) FROM › Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada RESIDENCE › Stagecoach Apartments (Outskirts) OCCUPATION › Bartender at the Coyote’s Howl Bar, Projectionist at the Moonlite Drive-In Theater NOW PLAYING › Lexicon Devil by the Germs

BIOGRAPHY,

trigger warnings: death, murder, gore, sex mention, assault, implied racism, violence, drug mention

▓ ▌now playing : good thing – fine young cannibals

it’s a whirlwind romance, so the journal of nadja’s father would tell of it when her mother finally lets her read it. megan robbie spends her year abroad at tianjin university, hoping to make a new start for her life after the death of her parents. she has no siblings to lean on for support and the once strong childhood and college friendships that had promised permanence and fortitude had failed–crumbling under the weight of complicated grief. megan finds the exchange program that will take her as far away from victoria, bc as possible. northern china connects her somewhat distantly to her mother’s mother, a woman she barely sees in her own features and hardly remembers from her own childhood. megan finds herself falling in love with the coastal metropolis.

guoqiang feng plays guitar and spends his sunny college days reading in the quad. he has long hair and wears oversized sunglasses that megan thinks only he could pull off. they take their first trip during break with some friends down to sanya on hainan island and between the romance of the salty beach air and the hum of anchor beer have the new couple swimming in the saccharine haze of young love. they don’t wait until graduation to get married.

the wedding is a tasteful, small event where everyone remarks on the glow of megan’s soft face, as it shines like the moon–even brighter than the soft cream of her delicate lace dress that floats away from her body in an a-line cut just below the knee. when guoqiang sees her the whole world melts away. in her dark hair, she wears a modern filigree comb and lets her hair cascade over her shoulders in gentle waves. they have never been completely traditional.

no one seems to notice the small changes in megan’s body beneath her bridal garb. it is not long before the wedding that baby nuan grows in her belly–just now the size of a peach pit–kicking with the thunderous force of athena banging around in her father’s head. she is guoqiang’s daughter through and through. when she is born, it is a difficult birth and megan thinks that surely all this pain is worth it. she doesn’t see her baby for hours as she hemorrhages blood and the fundal massage the nurses perform to train her uterus to do what it was engineered to after birth is excruciating. there is nothing she wants more than to be a mother, she thinks, and when she holds nuan in her arms for the first time, she knows she cannot return to work and there is nothing left for her back home in british columbia.

they name the small girl for guoqiang’s feisty mother and megan gives her the english counterpart of nadja and the middle name of her own later mother. in megan’s arms, nuan can never seem to find peace and is quieted only long enough to eat before howling for her father. megan feng cannot understand what she has done wrong, but is comforted by the soft tutting of her husband as he quiets their precocious baby girl, insisting that she is just a fussy child and only seemed preferred him because he was so often at work.

college had worked out well for guoqiang and soon he was working for future tv in tianjin. the train rides home extended his time away as did the occasional afterwork dinner or meeting leaving megan and nadja to themselves for the most part during the week. if distance made the heart grow fonder, time made the heart grow sweeter. megan was full of yearning and though she cherished her time with the fussy, mischievous toddler it soon became not enough. she yearned for stimulating conversation and found herself nose deep in any literature she could get her hands on–eager to discuss the stories with guoqiang as he entered the house late at night with slumped shoulders.

▓ ▌now playing : bela lugosi’s dead – bauhaus

the time comes where guoqiang feng is bestowed with the good fortune of moving up in the company. despite being dead tired everyday, he considers himself lucky even as the dust continues to build on his baby blue fender stratocaster. once relegated to the work week, guoqiang’s long hours continue on long business trips throughout the country. the time apart does not shatter their foundation, but it does take its toll on the young couple. unwilling to let megan and nuan come second to anything, guoqiang makes some important changes.

on most nights, guoqiang starts skipping the afterwork cocktails–coming back home from with a little more energy than before. he starts to plan a family vacation to sanya to revitalize the marriage and get some much needed rest and relaxation. megan takes the news to heart and enthusiastically begins planning their itinerary. there is a new glimmer to the feng household and even nadja seems to be less fussy–toddling around with a smiling face. she takes steps on her own and starts to speak; her first word is ‘cat.’ the fengs get a cat. nadja can hardly remember life in tianjin, but nearly every moment of her childhood includes that cat she cannot name. the gossamer wings of nostalgia obscure so many things.

the fengs are as shocked as the rest of the world when news hits of sarin gas in nagano. it’s a stark juxtaposition when held up against guoqiang’s busy work days in tianjin or megan and nadja playful days in the coastal city of tianjin. the fengs have never been to japan aside from guoqiang’s rare trips to tokyo for business. when guoqiang doesn’t return to his hotel room in tokyo on time from the train to make his night call with his family a year later, it’s the furthest thing in the world from megan’s mind. she’s certain–despite nuan mounting tantrums–that he simply stayed out too late with colleagues following an impromptu dinner. when he never makes it home, megan wonders if she should count herself lucky or unlucky that nadja does not have the words to ask the deeper questions–not yet.

as spring approaches, ushering in the reminders of trips to sanya, megan feng holds nuan firmly in her arms in a dark room. they are all that is left. everything reminds megan of him. guoqiang’s ghost is inescapable and he is present in everything she does. guoqiang’s mother nuan comes to mourn her son, but stays to help a mother and child heal. it’s too much for one woman to carry alone, but despite their grief the two mothers make a go of it together.

▓ ▌now playing : burn – the cure

every grain of sand in bohai bay carries a piece of guoqiang in it. megan cannot breathe in her husband’s shadow and, despite the love she has for her home, she knows it is time to make a new life. the goodbyes are painful, but after she is accepted to study at the university of british columbia she knows that fate has chosen a new path for her. she is blessed to leave with her daughter in tow. the cat with a forgotten name stays with nuan’s nainai in her modest house by the sea. it will be a long time before little nuan looks upon her face again.

nuan starts kindergarten in vancouver, british columbia and struggles behind her classmates. back home she was touted as gifted, if not just a little too busy, but here she feels behind. by elementary school she is taking the bus and walking home to the apartment herself while megan finishes her degree. so many kids struggle with the name nuan, even though it is the simplest thing on her own tongue. she doesn’t get to choose between nuan and nadja; it is a choice made for her by her mother and the rest of the people she comes across. it isn’t perfect, but nadja will look back later upon this time with palpable longing; it’s the only time she remembers feeling happy with her mother because, as she’ll learn in an encroaching reading assignment–nothing gold can stay.

where nadja struggles, megan thrives. majoring in literature, she puts her love of reading to good use. it doesn’t even matter that she has to start seemingly from scratch when all of her credits don’t transfer over. three years into her bachelor’s and she meets professor preston clarke and is immediately enamored by his lecture style. he is, for all intents and purposes, the quintessential cool guy professor. they meet during his office hours and discuss poetry over coffee. the romance doesn’t cross the line until graduate school, when she becomes his teaching assistant. to protect his reputation she drops out of the program and applies for a teaching program instead. megan and nadja move into his tasteful craftsman in english bay. every time preston calls her ‘naddy’ instead of nuan or nadja she bristles; she knows this man has no business playing her father.

▓ ▌now playing : lexicon devil – the germs

as nadja grows so do her problems in school. the letters seem to dance off the page like fall leaves and she is unable to sit still to focus like the other kids. the more nadja struggles, the more megan and preston push her. it only deepens the divide between them. the only balm for her anger is the occasional stretches of the year when nainai visits. it is the only time nadja freely speaks chinese in the household where her mother coddles her monolingual partner. when nainai is there, nadja does not break her toys or rip apart preston’s coffee table books–she runs into the arms of her grandmother and finds the comfort of her father. with grandma feng in the house, the tensions seem to lessen.

there’s an anger in her that is burning, stirring–embers glow now and soon they will be flames. she is talented at finding trouble. she hates her stepfather because he acts like he understands her mother and pretends he understands her. he is holden caulfield. he is jack kerouac. he is a thousand and one tired perspectives. he understands nothing. resentment mounts like bile in her throat and it coats every acrid word she speaks to her mother for choosing a man like him–for choosing that same man every time over everyone and everything else.

it’s the music that nadja channels this anger into. she spends her afternoons skateboarding of messing around on her dad’s old stratocaster. she paints her lips black and clings to anything that turns to corners of her mother’s lips downard in disapproval. nadja tells herself it’s her mother’s choice, this rebellion. it’s the choice she made when she plucked her small daughter from her father’s home and forced her into the hostile canadian soil. in that soil, megan feng becomes meg clarke. she blossoms and grows, building a home in old grief to runaway from new loss. nadja refuses the surname and stands her ground; she will not forfeit her father’s name.

▓ ▌now playing : oh bondage ! up yours ! – xray spex

freshman year brings a new sense of freedom to nadja life. skipping class to smoke cigarettes and crush beer cans under the bridge beats the annoyed sighs of teachers who think ‘nadja feng just doesn’t apply herself.’ when she runs out of cash for smokes or weed at the end of the school day, nadja skates over to the university to bum a few dollars off her stepdad. she’s done it half a dozen times this month alone and there’s nothing to suggest this day will go any differently. as she approaches his office, she zips up the black hoodie she’s altered with dental floss to cover the band shirt beneath as a small act of appeasement.

instead of finding him alone, drinking scotch and contemplating the loneliness his mediocre life affords him, nadja finds him with his hand on the thigh of another bright-eyed literature major–his position as a professor adding an attraction to him that would otherwise go overlooked. she turns sharply on the heel of her black doc martens, storming out to the parking lot to the tenured professor’s coveted parking spot. the silver sedan glistens in the spring sunshine. it’s so close to the anniversary of her father’s death, which has come and gone unmarked yet again in preston clarke’s household. april showers bring may flowers, but in the parking lot it is raining safety glass as she smashes out the windows of the sedan with the trucks of her skateboard. the clarkes have always seemed to be more interested in the status of parenthood rather than the labor love takes. it feels good to break something he loves.

when preston finds out he insists that nainai’s summer visit be cancelled and megan feels pressured to oblige; she has always only wanted harmony between preston and nadja and it seems farther away than ever. the punishment does not serve to temper her into a well-honed tool. nadja anger is a wolf lapping its own blood off the blade of a knife; the meal satiates her, but it is she who is hemorrhaging. she runs away several times before it sticks–never speaking to her mom and stepdad again when she finally manages to get out.

couch surfing with friends and surviving somewhere between traincar and tall boys of steel reserve, she joins a series of moderately popular local punk bands–unable to commit to anything for too long. it builds up her reputation in vancouver’s punk community, however, and soon she has the family she’s always wanted–a large group of friends. nadja casts off her old identity. she is finding her footing in brand new velvet burgundy docs–a kickdown from some drunk girl at a show. they’re a little too big, but with a couple pairs of wool socks, she can hardly tell the difference.

▓ ▌now playing : i love livin’ in the city – fear

by twenty-one, things have picked up for nadja. the girl has split her time between working at smoke shops and alternative cafes long enough to have obtained her ged and now she works the front door at a popular punk bar. at an average heigh tof 5′6″ the fast-talking, loud mouthed runaway has other ways to cut even the tallest men to half her size. her temper gets her into trouble, but her charisma and work ethic keep her employed.

without her parents’ finances, it becomes more and more difficult for nadja to see her grandmother and their visits are relegated predominantly to weekly skype conversations. nainai works with her granddaughter to keep up her mandarin and the girl dreams of returning home and spending the weekdays working in tianjin only to return to the calm beach town where her grandmother still lives in the house she was born in. it seems like a pipe dream, but it is one both women hold onto. it is the only dream either one has left. grandma feng no longer has any reason to speak to her once beloved daughter in law either, but there is no spite. she knows that nadja’s mother cannot bear to have the thorns of guoqiang’s death in her paws for a lifetime. grief is complicated, but better understood by those who’ve lived long enough to see enough of it.

after a few years, nadja becomes lead bartender, but the money just isn’t rolling in. the bar threatens to close and nadja begins taking night classes and setting money away in the hopes that a business degree will legitimize her enough for a business loan so she can buy the place herself. it cements her in bc, but with enough money she could at least afford to bring her grandmother out to see her on occasion. it’s not a homecoming, sure, but perhaps it is a homemaking.

▓ ▌now playing : ever fallen in love – the buzzcocks

like her mother and father before her, nadja falls in love with a boy playing guitar–spitting his own blood on the crowd of the bar like gasoline. kurt is tall and lanky with a padlock securing a chain around his throat. his long, dark hair frames his freckled face so delicately for someone with such an obtrusive frame. it’s not long before the spiteful bartender and the guitarist who lives in his van and calls himself ‘freegan’ to justify dumpster diving cheese pizzas are inseparable. he moves in quickly to her place, more or less because he doesn’t have a stable place to leave his shit when he’s on tour.

it suits her just fine when he’s away playing shows or laying down tracks on a seven inch. the bands slays and kurt and nadja have fun together. they get drunk on forties in train yards and cemeteries. they drive out to the beach and fuck in his van before tagging up the concrete retaining walls of a beachfront housing development. it seems like they might spend the rest of their lives smoking weed and cigarettes on the porch, scarfing down breakfast burritos at three am, and marathoning eighties horror movies like each time is the first time. nadja doesn’t know if she believes in love, but she thinks that maybe this is close enough. her skype calls to grandma feng become spotty in these first few months. it is the thing she will live to regret the most.

nadja becomes lax under the spell of love. coursework does not go unfinished, but she lets kurt hangout sometimes in the bar when she’s closing. eventually, her boss concedes to hire him on as a dishwasher and–though he complains about wanting a better position–he shows up to work most days more or less on time with a fresh cigarette behind his ear and an easy grin. he closes up some nights with nadja or the other bartender–a menacing looking american girl named natasha that bites her nails when she thinks no one is looking and always smells like damp patchouli and sweat.

on a moonless night in december, not long after their one year anniversary, nadja arrives to the community college to see that class is cancelled. excited to return early to the bar and surprise kurt with some burgers and garlic fries, she is crushed to find him in the arms of natasha. the pair are showered in burgers and nadja catches one of them with an empty bottle she isn’t sure she truly means to make contact with. the sound of shattered glass has always been a lullaby to an angry girl.

she’s not even all the way back to her apartment before she gets the call. nadja feng is fucking firedand kurt has given her the blame for the money he’s been skimming from the place on the sly. they’re debating on whether or not to press charges. nadja sells all of kurt’s second-rate band equipment to a pawn shop along with the things that don’t mean enough to carry on her back. she buys a plane ticket to tianjin by way of los angeles that day. with christmas lurking around the corner, it’s the best bang for her buck. nadja leaves her house keys on the empty floor. fuck leases and fuck kurt stevens.

▓ ▌now playing : spellbound – siouxsie and the banshees

the corrosive memories of kurt and natasha’s tryst are far from nadja’s mind as she finishes the skype call with her grandmother giving her the good news. understandably, grandma feng is concerned about the impulsive decision, but she knows her granddaughter well enough. even a girl as rash as a summer forest fire sometimes makes the right choice. they have dreamed of reuniting for so long, it is hard to take the news with anything but a tearful smile. nadja hears it in her voice–it colors every word. for the first time in nadja’s young life she thinks: i’m coming home.

the drive is a long one, but nadja is worried about the possibility of being forced to stay in bc due to assault charges. she can drive down the west coast and breathe in the salty air. she can eat clam strips and throw bread to seagulls in some seaside diner while she watches the tumultuous waves of the oregon coast thrash violently against the rocky shore. maybe it’ll be therapeutic, she thinks, to be one small person along a great, dark sea. a few days more. a few days and she’ll be back in tianjin and maybe she and nainai can get a new cat together. maybe the waves that beat the sands of dongjiang bay beach are softer and kinder than those in the pacific northwest.

it’s a lonely ride down and after three days of reflection and solitude, nadja feels like crawling out of her own skin. it’s too much peace for a girl born of chaos. perhaps it’s self-destruction or maybe it’s idle boredom, but when she sees the young crust punk couple hitchiking on the side of the road, she thinks fuck it, at least it’s something new and pulls over for them. they’re on the way to yuma city and she agrees to drop them off on her way to lax. they seem fine enough. she doesn’t even mind the little blue heeler they have with them, even though she’s a dyed in the wool cat person. the track marks don’t go unnoticed, but it’s nothing new to a veteran of the punk scene and nadja feng can handle anything.

▓ ▌now playing : dead end justice – the runaways

after a day on the road, the trio and their small dog throw down a few bucks to sleep in one of the cabins at a kampground of america. it’s not so bad, but the puppy whines all night and pees on the floor once in the early hours of the morning. nadja lies awake on the top bunk and she can hear the pair talking below her. wes speaking in his dopey voice, hardly whispering and maya shushing him in harsh whispers. nadja eeps her movements to the minimum and her eyes closed after she hears them pause for several moments when she readjusts. she’s certain she can smell maya’s breath for a moment as she hears the bed creak and feels a steely finger in her ribs. keeping her breaths steady, she plays opossum.

it becomes clear to her, once the bed creaks and maya starts talking again that they mean to rip her off. maya even asks wes is he’s ever wondered what it would feel like to kill somebody. nadja’s seen the way he looks at her; he’d die for her. he’d kill for her. boy, have they fucked with the wrong girl, nadja thinks darkly. covers pulled up to her chin. there’s a butterfly knife in her pocket and the shape of it has left an impression on the skin of her thigh. slowly she reaches for it and works to silently unfold it, clutching it to her chest beneath the covers when she’s through. they’re gonna pay. she’s never thought herself a killer, but she’s been a fighter since she was in her mother’s belly. let them try it, she thinks. and they do.

lying in wait, knowing it was coming doesn’t prepare her for what it will truly be like. there’s a fist in her face before she can speak, with the harsh instructions to get up. sucker punched and it’s not even four am yet. helluvah night. the punch stuns her, but she means to be ready. as wes pulls the covers from her bed, she spring on maya like a cat–butterfly knife, formerly a novelty, an aesthetic–arching blood across the cabin walls. maya has to be first, because she’s meanest. the shock will stun wes long enough for her to turn on him even though he’s bigger. somewhere in the darkness, their small dog yelps and paws at the door.

maya is easily overtaken. nadja has the element of surprise and a few inches on her. she wonders what it says about her that she can dispatch a shitty person so easily. it’s not like highlander; she doesn’t gain mystical powers when she sticks maya in the neck with that cheap butterfly knife. all she gets is blood. wes, on the other hand, he’s harder once he realizes his life is on the line. easily, he has half a foot and thirty pounds on her and he gives almost as good as he gets. nadja swallows a molar and take a hit so hard her ears ring, but she doesn’t stop. her whole life has been filled with a rage that she has let out in metered doses. tonight she lets it all out; tonight she knows she can never go back to vancouver, but she can still go home. she doesn’t stop until the dog barks at her loudly to go outside and she wonders if he didn’t trust them either.

they’d named him something stupid, like chaos or dogmeat. he wasn’t a fucking fallout canine companion even if they fancied themselves raiders. heroin and the open road, punk rock and a boxcar–she knows how romantic it all can seem. they probably thought they were mad max or negan. in the end they were just assholes. nadja feng is a cat person, but she can’t just leave this poor dog in the cabin with all that blood. he’s barely more than a puppy. nadja doesn’t know what the fuck to do with a dog, but … he is kind of cute. his blue-grey fur reminds her of an old man’s beard–a little old grandpa–and so the name, while never meant to be permanent, sticks. and so does grandpa, it seems, as he never leaves her side. they’ll have to head east, farther from the scene of the crime and buy a plane ticket from somewhere like phoenix. she chides herself as she wonders how much it costs to ship a dog to tianjin and decides fuck it, it doesn’t really matter. their friendship was baptized in blood, she and the dog belong together.

▓ ▌now playing : there is a light that never goes out – the smiths

the open road at night in the desert has an eerie quality to it and nadja is running from ghosts. phantoms who catch her easiest when she is sleeping, grandpa curled under her arm, in the back seat of her beat up muscle car. she’s never seen a place quiet like this and maybe it’d even be beautiful if she wasn’t alone–lady macbeth on the run. at least the dog’s good company, he doesn’t seem to care what she’s done and long as she feeds him. there’s something kind of nice about the newness of unconditional love.

she doesn’t call her grandmother to tell her about the change in flight plans, not yet anyway. once nainai’s voice sound on the other end, she knows she’ll burst into tears. she doesn’t deserve a grandmother like that, but she knows that an old woman can’t care for herself forever. she can at least give her that. if she can’t give her fat grandchildren and a fancy house on the beach, she can at least be there for her–if only she could find the highway.

driving and coffee, it seems like that’s all she’s known as she focuses on getting to phoenix as fast as possible. inhumanely fast, impossibly fast. it can be an alibi or an escape. there’s no way anyone’s going to believe she was the victim when they see wes’ body. too angry for too long–she’s really fucked it up this time. she doesn’t even google news reports, not wanting to know what might be waiting for her when she finally makes it to the airport and fuck, she can still not find the main highway, but there’s hope in the form of some no horse shithole named boot hill. ahead of schedule from driving like a bat out of hell, maybe she can rest for one night. maybe her demons can’t find her in this place. it’s almost a mirage–the oasis in the desert of cartoon, she thinks. who would ever think to find her in a place like this? the don’t even have a starbucks here, let alone a prison.

before she knows it, it’s been four months. nainai was understanding when she said she’d run into some bad luck and was staying in this small town. she’s just laying low of course, and she promises her grandmother everyday that she’ll be out to phoenix to catch her flight before she knows it. maybe nainai even believes it, because she says ‘my friends in la tell me there was a murder along the freeway there, be careful, sweet girl’ and nadja cringes, because she is not a sweet girl. she’s a killer and a prisoner and only one of those truths is she fully aware of in boot hill.

❝ the only thing i remember from my childhood is when you are scared, make yourself tall. i’m the tallest girl alive. i’m the tallest knife. no throat can hold me. ❞

CENSUS,

FACECLAIM › Chloe Bennet AUTHOR › Lucia

#chloe bennet #rp #rpg #bio rp #semi appless rp #{ all. }#{ local. }#{ f. }#{ over twenty. }#{ lucia. }#death tw #murder tw #violence tw #racism implied tw #assault tw

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licenselesswriter · 5 years ago

Text

From November to June CH3

January 26, 2018

- Hey - Farkle says sitting in front of Maya while she was half of her baby carrots snack.

- Hey - she replies with a simple nod before going back to her snack.

- Is she still ignoring you? - Farkle asks opening a bag of chips.

- Yep - Maya replies, taking one of Farkle's chips when he offers some.

- Have you spoken to her? - Farkle asks before taking a chip, and then another.

- Why? It's not like I'm the one who needs to apologize - Maya says, knowing exactly what Farkle is pursuing with that selected conversation.

- She felt betrayed - Farkle defends Riley.

- Cry me a river - Maya replies and gets up - when you actually want to came to talk to me as a friend, send me a text - she adds and left Farkle alone.

Knowing that he screws things again.

Maya walks outside, she needed desperately some fresh air. She sits on the bleachers in front of the brand-new baseball cages.

- Never felt you as someone who wants to try baseball - she heard to her back, and her smile grows a bit.

- Honestly, I'm here for the cute left field - she replies.

- Awww, you have a crush on me - Zay says sitting next to her - So, want to share the story or just want a silent friend? - he asks.

- A bit of both - Maya says and focuses on the grey sky of January - Farkle is totally on her side - she comments.

Zay looks up at the sky - Are you surprised? - he asks back.

- Not really - Maya answers.

They both share a laugh.

- How much for the 20 weeks? - Zay asks.

- Like 5 weeks, why? - Maya asks back.

- Well, usually at that time you get to know the gender - he explained, then look at her - What do you think it's gonna be, baby boy or baby girl? - he asks back.

- What’s with you and Huckleberry and all the questions you make? - she asks trying to avoid thinking about the sex of her future son or daughter.

- I think it's gonna be a boy - Zay says, completely ignoring Maya's question - Lucas think it's gonna be a girl, but that's not a surprise - he adds and Maya looks at him curiously.

- Maybe for you - Maya says still looking at the baseball cages - Why "Dusk till Dawn" like baby girls? - she asks and Zay looked at her surprised.

- I'm changing his contact info right now - Zay says with his usual wide smile - Looks like his family can't have anything but men, all his cousins? Men. Their kids? Men. His family? All brothers, no sisters - he explains while Maya looks surprised by the family of her friend - That's why he loves going to my house when my sisters came to visit - he adds and Maya looks at him expectantly - Only 3 boys in the family, including me - Zay says and winks at her.

- Now all the Papa Friar makes more sense - Maya says.

Zay chokes with his own saliva - I'm sorry? Papa Friar? - he asks in complete shock.

- Please don't make weird assumptions - Maya replies tiredly. Zay was not the first to suggest that - It's just a nickname, and please, keep that nickname between us - she says and Zay looks at the cages with a smile.

- Don't worry, my lips are sealed, Maya Papaya - he replies and locks an imaginary zipper over his lips.

Suddenly the snow starts to fall, and they both were forced to rush inside.

When they get inside, Riley was there, and Farkle was failing at stopping her.

- So, you can't fight your own fights now? - she asks Maya, showing a new emotion for her.

Anger.

- Well, I've always considered myself a brawler, so I pretty much have no idea what are you... - Maya says looking at her best friend.

- Next time, don't try to ruin things between me and Lucas - Riley says interrupting her.

Maya looked at Riley confused, and then her mind connects the dots - Oh, so this is about Huckleberry - Maya says and gives Riley a condescending smile, which infuriates her more.

- Don't feel superior just because we have great friends, behind that condescending look it's only a slut who got herself pregnant - Riley explodes and fastly covers her mouth.

The hall went completely silent, Farkle looked everything from the distance covering his eyes, Zay was pissed off, but in silence, and Maya, she just looks at Riley like nothing can affect her.

- Did you finish? - she asks Riley.

The brunette refuses to look back at her.

- I might be a slut, but trust me, that's none of your business Pinkie Pie - Maya says dead serious - It's my problem who I allow in my bed, not yours - she adds and walk past the brunette directly to Farkle - How lucky I am that you Love us equally, right? - she says to him in her most sarcastic tone.

When Maya left, Zay look at them both - You - he says raising his voice, startling Riley - Grow the fuck up - he says and then looks at Farkle - And you - he adds walking to the genius - Grow a pair of balls, you could have stopped her before she opened her mouth - he says in a whisper, before running after Maya.

Maya didn't have the mood to deal with the sociopathy her friend had. Thankfully for her, since she confesses her pregnancy, Shawn raised the money he usually gives her.

She runs a few blocks, with a belly barely noticeable under her winter clothes and stops in a music store. She refugees from the snow under the covered sidewalk and gets herself an Uber.

A few hours later, Maya heard a knock on her door. She takes a peek through the magic eye on her door and saw Lucas. She grabs her phone and fastly texts him. She was able to hear the "ding" of his phone, and spying through the magic eye she saw his reaction.

- Ok, first of all, I'm not that, second, my mother is not that, and third, I'm not gonna put that there, that's fucking gross and probably deadly if you consider the size of my hands - he defends himself.

- Congrats Huckleberry, you know how to read - she sarcastically says - Now go, I'm not in the mood to deal with your bullshit - she claims and walked back to her room.

Outside her apartment, Lucas let a deep sigh in exhaustion. He grabs his phone and calls Maya - Can you please open the door? - he asks her and she just hangs up.

Refusing to resign, he dials her again - Fine, you don't want to see me, I can deal with that, can you at least hear me out? - he asks, hoping for the best.

- No - Maya replies and hang up on him again.

- Fine - Lucas says outside her apartment and fastly starts to text her.

"I know you probably hate me right now, I'm sorry I meddle between you and Riley and that stupid fight that was totally Riley's fault, I tried the best but I failed, sorry, shit happens, I left homemade brownies at your doorstep, please come to pick them up, and yes, I'm gonna leave, I shit on too many things today to keep shiting on more, and again, I'm sorry".

Maya finishes reading his text and then saw the pic attached, showing where he left the paper bag with brownies. She walks to her door and peeks again through the magic eye, surprised for a second for not seeing anyone. She opens the door and realizes that Lucas really left. She picks the paper bag and delicately opened, smelling the baked goods inside - My God Mrs. Friar, I need to learn to bake like you - she says, recognizing who made her next meal.

She closes her door and gets back into her room. she puts the brownies bag on her desk and then sits on her stool. Instinctively her hands move to the painting palette Lucas gave her last Christmas. Then pour some of the oil paintings on the palette and softly let her mind wanderer on the white canvas. Blue and black softly starts to cover it, very dark, imitating her mood, and then, another brush. Little white marks over the blue and black canvas. she changes the brush again and makes some remarks in the black paint with some dark green. She cleans the brush with white paint and gets another brownie. She walks away from the canvas; she grabs her phone and sends a text. In seconds her phone buzzes, she smiles and grabs the "History of Bauhaus" book that Shawn gave her last Christmas and lay on her bed. With pretty much zero attention she starts to pass through the pages. She didn't notice how much time has passed when she heard a knock on her door, she gets up her bed and walks to the door, she opens the door and Zay was there.

- I honestly hope that you call me here only because you like my company and not because you wanted vanilla ice cream for those brownies - he says with his usual smile and bag with a pint of vanilla ice cream.

- I'm sorry I'm breaking your heart, but I'm just using you to get ice cream - she answers and let him in.

Zay gets into the apartment faking a heart attack - Ah, my poor heart - he jokes and takes off his coat and put it on the coat hanger.

- I still have brownies - Maya says.

- Awww you Love me - Zay replies with his both hands over his heart.

- Of course, I Love you, smartass - Maya replies making Zay looks moved by her words - Do you think I would let anyone get in my apartment? Oh fuck - she says when Zay smile.

- You're lucky I'm your friend because that would be a sick burn - he says.

- Yeah, yeah, I walk right into that - she says going to the kitchen for 2 little bowls.

They both walk to her room and Zay just sits in the floor while Maya lays on her bed - So, ice cream and brownies - Zay says taking a brownie from the bag Maya had, now, on her bed.

- We are not gonna talk about what happened today - she says and grabs her phone - Siri, play "In the lonely hour" - she says to her phone and a few seconds later the album starts to blast on her phone.

- Wow, Sam Smith's first album - Zay says looking at his blonde friend - That must be a hell of a hit - he adds.

- Well, I still love her like she was my sister - Maya replies putting a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.

Zay just put the bowl on the floor and get on his knees, looking at her - Cuddle? - he asks.

- Cuddle - she replies and he lay on her bed while she softly snuggles with him.

Zay put his arms around her shoulders and strokes her hair. They talk about the future, she tells him that she's not planning on getting into college, and with his experience, Zay understands why.

After an hour, Zay gets up from her bed, and after a fast trip to the bathroom he returns, stopping in front of the half-painted canvas - I can't believe he actually gets you the palette - he says and gets closer to the canvas - I've seen this place - he adds, making Maya curious.

- Really? - she asks and gets up to take a look again to her painting.

They look at the canvas in detail and Zay finally notices something that makes him choke.

- Easy there Hunkalicious - Maya says and slowly caresses his back.

Zay just looks at Maya and then back at the painting. The clear dark sky, the bright stars, and most importantly, the tress. Zay notices the curiosity on his friend’s face, "She did it without thinking" he thought to himself - Nah, it looks like a place where I used to go, but not completely the same, my bad - he lies, and Maya just looks at her stoic.

Thankfully, they both were interrupted by Katy - Hey baby girl, Zay - she says to them. Maya hugs her mother and Zay just lift his hand in a way to greet her - I'm gonna order Chinese, Zay are you gonna join us tonight? - she asks.

Zay just looks at Maya, and she smiles at him - It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Hunter - he replies.

#GMW #Lucaya #Lucaya Fanfic #Zaya Friendship #From November to June

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find-the-eyes · 5 years ago

Text

I’ll Try Anything Once: Chapter 24

Written by: ss Edited by: Allegra

That morning, Bob found Paul had already left the flat, which was relieving since he hadn’t calmed down ever since last night. Sleep only came to him after hours of tossing and turning, and even then he still woke up with sweat pooling and heart racing. Not even his presentation in class today made him as nervous as his upcoming date.

Bob had never been one for public speaking, and presentation assignments never failed to make him tremble in his seat. His fidgety demeanor did not go unnoticed by his friend sitting beside him.

“Bob, are you alright? Presentation getting on your nerves again?” Alex asked.

“No...” Bob shook his head for a bit before correcting himself. “...I mean yeah.”

Alex furrowed his brows at this. “Okay...are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Bob tried to reassure Alex. He didn’t want to make a big fuss, especially since apparently Alex had noticed that he wasn’t his collected self today. He had his first ever proper date to worry about; he didn’t need Alex giving him any extra attention. Not when it should be Paul that he was supposed to think about. Sometime during his tossing and turning the night before, Bob had come to the conclusion that maybe he really should bury his feelings for Alex. It was more than apparent now that he and Alex would never become a thing, not with Nick in the picture, but he would still appreciate having Alex as a friend. “Hey, Alex, are you free this afternoon?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I was wondering if I could drop Alvy at your place for the evening...?”

This seemed to pique Alex’s interest. He tilted his head in question. “Of course. But why?”

It took Bob a short moment before he could answer. He looked down at his clasped fingers. He was a bit embarrassed, yet he figured if he said his worries out loud it would help him overcome his anxiety. “I’m going out with Paul for the evening and apparently we can’t really bring Alvy with us.”

“Oh?” Alex had turned his upper body Bob’s way now. “Where are you going?”

“The Kelvingrove museum... I don’t think they’ll allow Alvy in though so if it’s okay, I’ll drop Alvy off at your place after class...” Bob bit his lip.

“Sure,” Alex shrugged, expression unreadable. If he thought anything about it, Bob couldn’t tell. But it was good enough for Bob and he could worry less now that he knew he was leaving Alvy in good hands. “I think Nick and Steckrübe would appreciate the extra company.” Bob pretended not to get too bothered by Alex mentioning Nick. He had other things on his mind.

Bob’s presentation went almost flawlessly, much to his surprise. As the class grew nearer to its end, Bob couldn’t even be bothered listening to everyone else’s presentations for the day. He always made an effort to listen to his peers, especially regarding academic affairs, but even talk about Bauhaus couldn’t distract him from thoughts about a certain dark haired man. When class was finally dismissed, Bob quickly said his goodbyes to Alex before they parted ways.

Bob hoped for a bit of time alone at his flat before the date to prepare himself. Maybe change his navy blue tee to a more prim button-down. But the way his key wouldn’t budge meant a key was currently dangling on the other side of the door, which meant Paul was already home. Shit. To Bob’s surprise, the door swung open before he could knock. Paul stood on the other side, all toothy smile with Alvy on a leash beside him. Bob noted the way Paul’s hair was combed tidier and the faint whiff of floral detergent from his crisp shirt.

“You’re all ready,” Bob unconsciously spoke his mind out loud.

“Yup!” Paul said. Hearing—and seeing—how enthusiastic Paul was for their date made the butterflies in Bob’s stomach flutter differently. He noticed the way Paul tried to busy his hands, moving Alvy’s leash to his right hand, a sweep to his already neat bangs, moving the leash back to the left, and then finally settling on putting a hand in his pocket instead. He’s nervous, too. Bob gave a small smile, suddenly feeling better.

“Give me five to change and then we can head over to Alex’s.” The eager nod Paul gave him almost made Bob laugh. After a quick switch to his best shirt and a glance at the mirror to make sure his hair was the right amount of casual messy, Bob was finally ready to head out.

When they reached the familiar front door of Alex and Nick’s joint flat, Bob gave a knock. The door creaked open and a nervous pair of eyes peered out. It was Nick. Bob tilted his head slightly so he could make his face seen by the shy man. He doubt Nick could see anything clearly through a crack that narrow.

“Hey, Nick. Alvy’s here.” The mention of Alvy’s name made Nick’s eyes light up. Still silent as ever, he opened the door to invite them all in. Bob heard the shuffle of footsteps from somewhere inside the spacious flat and soon Alex joined them. “As promised,” Bob passed Alex Alvy’s leash, “Alvy and Steckrübe’s second playdate.”

Nick appreciated the comment and gave a small laugh. After giving Alvy a kiss on his head, both as a goodbye and a good luck charm, Bob and Paul made their way down the stairs of the building. Their steps fell into stride as they headed to their destination.

“So, what were you up to today?” Bob asked, breaking their comfortable silence.

“Helped this lady get her lawn cleaned up,” Paul shrugged. “The pay wasn’t that good but she gave me—Ah, shit!”

Bob was taken aback by Paul’s sudden outburst. Paul had stopped, his face scrunched in annoyance. He quickly gathered himself and looked at Bob the way Alvy looked at Bob when he got caught knocking over the house plant again.

“She gave me some pie. I saved it for the occasion but...guess who forgot it back at the flat...” Paul tried his hardest not to look too gloomy, forcing an awkward grin at Bob.

After spending the entire day feeling on edge and trying his hardest to keep his cool, Bob couldn’t help but laugh. At first a grin, and then it turned into a giggle or two, and he ended up trying to hide his laughter from everyone at the bus stop. Paul’s thick brows were scrunched in confusion. Bob finally regained his composure when he noticed Paul pursing his lips and was looking down at his shoes.

“It’s okay Paul, really...” Bob tilted his head so he could see Paul, who was looking downcast. “I think it was really nice of you to save it for the occasion.”

Paul had stopped bending his head down, but he was still biting the insides of his mouth. “Yeah, but silly stupid me had left it back at our flat.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you...” Paul’s raised eyebrows indicated he didn’t believe Bob’s words, but Bob quickly interjected. “Okay, well, I was, sort of. But it was just...I was just really nervous all day for this so it all just...” he waved his hands, gesturing an outburst.

That managed to tug the corners of Paul’s mouth into a smile once more. “Feels good to know I’m a man worth getting all worked up for.”

Bob rolled his eyes and gave Paul a playful nudge. He silently thanked a higher power for the timing of the bus rolling up to the stop, because he didn’t know how long he could keep up the buddy-buddy charade with Paul the moment he’d said those words. The short bus trip to their destination offered Bob a bit of space to clear his head. He’d thought that once he arrived he would become a nervous wreck again, but he found out that the museum’s inviting presence felt like home, even if Alvy wasn’t with him this time.

As they stepped inside, Bob marvelled at the high ceiling and the displays the museum had to offer. He even almost forgave Kelvingrove for not allowing dogs in, though he still wished for the comforting grip of Alvy’s leash in his hand. He directed his mind and gaze to the hanging displays above them. He had always loved the arts, especially the visual arts. He had spent a lot of his past downtime in London wandering the silent halls of art museums, or turning the corners of an exhibition. Art had always been his place of comfort, and now to spend it with a person he would consider a good friend suddenly made the experience much more riveting.

“Oh, I like that one!” Paul pointed at a particular painting down the hallway. It was a contemporary piece, a painting of wavy lines gradually getting fainter by color. Bob had to agree, it was an aesthetically pleasing one to look at.

“Do you like the more contemporary stuff, Paul?”

Paul hummed before shrugging. “Eh, not really. I mean, I don’t really think about those kind of things. Each piece has its own special feeling and I’m just trying to enjoy it without much fuss...see, like this one here...” He made his way to another painting on the same wall and gestured at a collage piece. The rather abstract drawing was sketchy, the dark thin lines a contrast to the plain white background. “This is also great! It definitely evokes a more...” Paul tried to look for words, his hands moving as if trying to pull the words out of his mind, “a darker tone than the one before. Even though it’s a pretty brightly colored piece.”

Bob didn’t have any comment he’d like to interject. So he only nodded, taking into account how Paul viewed art. Paul went on again, commenting on the pieces they walked past. Once in a while pausing to give Bob room to comment, if he had any. But Bob was too engrossed at just watching how passionate Paul was at talking about art. He was starting to think that maybe the university was blind for turning down someone like Paul. They were inside the museum, surrounded by all these pieces, and yet to Bob the most enthralling thing he couldn’t take his eyes off of was Paul. Paul walking beside him, deep in his own thoughts and openly sharing them with Bob, the art pieces just a blur of color and shapes in the background that further complemented Paul’s boyish profile.

As they trudged their way to one of the corridors, Paul noticed Bob’s prolonged silence. He turned his head to see if Bob was listening, but he found Bob quickly looking away, the tips of his ears red. Paul was about to ask if Bob was still with him or not when Bob stopped in his tracks. His gaze was still away from Paul, but this time it was more focused at an object just a few feet away from them.

“Come here,” Bob walked his way to a plaster statue of a boy and a girl, their limbs intertwined. “This is Paul and Virginia.”

“Ah!” Paul replied in an amused tone. He noticed the change in Bob’s demeanor, the way he stood straighter and his entire face lit up. It was akin to when Bob was talking about art back in their flat just a few days ago, so Paul put on his best scholar attitude and he was all ears.

“This statue was based off Paul et Virginie, a French novel from the 18th century. This piece depicts Paul trying to carry his friend Virginia across the river.”

“Aww,” Paul cooed. “That’s very sweet of that Paul.”

“I’m sure you’re also sweet,” Bob said, only loud enough for Paul to catch a glimpse of it.

“Sorry?” Paul leaned closer to Bob, trying to catch what Bob was muttering under his breath. He swore he’d heard Bob utter his name. Bob himself only half regretted saying the words out loud. He would have liked to stay silent as usual, but he knew he had to be more engaging on his first ever date. He was at a museum with Paul, surrounded by art and with no one to judge them. There wasn’t a more perfect time for Bob to make a move, no matter how small.

“I-I think you’re also...sweet...” Bob’s voice faltered, but he braved himself to glance at Paul before shifting his gaze away again.

“Mate, you’re giving me too much credit!” To Bob’s surprise, Paul looked just as embarrassed as Bob. Bob didn’t know how nice it felt to make someone else fluster under his words, when it was always the other way around. He used this tiny boost of confidence to speak up again.

“I really think you’re a sweet man, Paul! You’ve been a really good friend to me.” And I would very much like for us to be more than friends, Bob almost said. He’d have to save that for a more appropriate time.

“You’re a really important person to me too, Bob. I really don’t know where I’d be without you.” Paul’s words had successfully made Bob’s heart flutter. The butterflies had never really left his stomach to begin with, and now there was an entire garden inside of him and Paul was the person nurturing it. He wished he could hug Paul, or hold his hand, or anything. His entire body itched from the lack of contact he desperately wanted. So they both just stood there smiling at each other, Bob awkwardly hesitating on initiating anything and Paul slightly flushed from the mushy confession.

They decided to keep walking in silence instead, Bob quietly absorbing the art and history artifacts around him with newfound rose-tinted interest. Paul had fallen into step as well, calmly enjoying the art while dropping short comments once in a while. Their comfortable silence was broken when they reached a certain part of the museum.

“Here you go, Bob. Here’s our Greece!” Paul opened his arms, as if presenting Bob with the Greek artifacts on display. They had reached the ancient history aisle. Bob had to laugh at Paul’s cheeky comment, even if it reminded him of Alex. The museum didn’t have that extensive of a collection, but what they had to offer was representative enough of what ancient Greek civilization was like. There were functional tools like household objects and war attire, but there were also objects that served more aesthetic purposes like sculptures. As they looked around, Paul seem to notice a certain pattern with the objects presented to them.

“Why are all the men naked?” Bob did a double take at Paul’s question before realizing that what he meant was the sculptures and paintings on the artifacts. He was pointing at a particular jar-like object. There were engravings of figures that were indeed in various states of unclothed. Bob racked his brain for an answer - he swore they had touched upon the subject of ancient Greece in his art history class. Then he remembered that during that particular lesson he had been too engrossed in staring at Alex to really pay attention to the lecture. Bob’s small frown deepened. Alex was barging on his thoughts once more, and in a way barging on his date with Paul.

Bob was silent for a while, deep in thought, trying to push Alex away from his mind while trying to emit an answer to Paul’s questions. He felt a warm hand press on his shoulder. Paul was giving Bob a pat on his shoulder, a small gesture that was firm in its touch yet gentle in its notion.

“It’s okay, take your time.”

“Oh! Sorry Paul. I just...I can’t really remember the exact reason why. I think it had something to do with their ideologies...”

Paul let out a small laugh. “Well, when you’re ready you know I’ll be here.”

Even if Paul hadn’t intended it to come out vaguely, Bob still flushed. Once again Bob left Paul’s words hanging, but if Paul took any offense to it, he didn’t show it. Instead, they decided to keep walking. As they reached the main lobby once more, the high glass ceiling showed signs of the sky darkening.

“Well, what do you know. it’s dark already,” Paul said, his eyes to the skies.

“We should get Alvy,” Bob replied. Paul let out a small laugh at this. Of course the first thing Bob thought of was Alvy.

“Right. And pie is waiting back home!”

Bob felt the corners of his mouth tug in relief. Even if he was sad that the date had come to an end, he would soon come back home to his two most treasured friends.

Bob fumbled with his keys for a moment before unlocking his apartment door. Alvy, who they had picked up from Alex’s place, bounded inside, barking wildly and hopping up onto the couch. Bob shut the door and locked it behind them. He tossed his keys onto the coffee table and flopped down on the couch. He smiled and scratched Alvy between the ears and under his chin. He was just as happy as Alvy to be back home from an eventful day. Paul reached from behind the couch and gave Alvy a pat as well.

Without missing a beat, Paul slipped off his shoes and made his way into the kitchen. “Pie time? I’m starving,” he groaned. Bob heard the fridge door opening.

“Sure,” Bob replied, his eyes shut. He stretched his arms above his head, making his shirt ride up slightly. Paul paused in the doorway, pie and utensils in hand, and admired the sight before him. He smiled to himself as he tiptoed into the room and poked Bob's exposed belly. Bob shrieked and flailed his arms, nearly smacking Paul in the face. He stared at Paul with wide eyes, which only made Paul giggle.

“Sorry, couldn't help it,” Paul chuckled. He laid the container down on the table and opened the lid. Immediately the inviting smell of the pie made both of the boys sit up straight. Paul grabbed a slice and then pushed the container in Bob's direction. Bob, still slightly frazzled by Paul’s antics, took a slice as well.

While Paul had gobbled up the pastry eagerly, Bob nibbled at it. Alvy sat at Bob's feet, looking up at him quizzically, hoping to get a taste of whatever Bob was eating. Bob just shook his head and stuffed the rest of the pie in his mouth.

“So, did you have fun today?” Paul asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Bob nodded. “I did. I'd been wanting to go there for a long time.” He reached for a second slice. “Great place to go for a date.”

Paul smiled. “A date, huh? Is that what we're calling it now?”

“Uhhh...yes?” Bob faltered. He felt the familiar rush of anxiety as his heart began to pound.

“Wait, really?”

“Really what?” Bob felt sick.

Paul looked at him seriously. “Like, a DATE date?”

“Yes—I—I mean— Yes?!” Bob clapped his hand over his mouth in horror as he realized what he'd just said. He leapt off the couch, letting his fork clatter to the floor, and ran down the hallway to their bedroom, not even pausing to look at Paul. He slammed the door shut and locked it before he threw himself onto his bed, hugging his pillow as hot tears slipped down his cheeks.

Fuck. Fuck fuck FUCK.

This was not the way it was supposed to happen. This wasn’t how Paul was supposed to find out. Bob’s first date ever and he had already let his true feelings slip. Paul most certainly didn't feel the same way. He would never want Bob now.

I ruined everything.

#illtryanythingonce #allfanfic #franz ferdinand #*as an aside the details about kelvingrove may not be accurate to the actual museum #we apologize! none of us has ever actually been there #ALSO KELVINGROVE WAS CLOSED FROM RENOVATIONS FROM 2003-2006 LMAO LETS JUST. FORGET ABOUT THAT SHALL WE #this is an au where kelvingrove was open in 2004 #anyway enjoy

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sometimesalwaysmusic · 5 years ago

Photo

JUNG SHADOW

We caught up with Kevin (Ex-Destroy Clocks vocalist/guitarist) to discuss his new solo electropunk project, Jung Shadow (JS). Read on about the inspiration behind the name, huge influences, and the ebbs and flows of the Ottawa music scene (Photo: 1upcloud photography).

VITALS

Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/jungshadow808

Instagram:https://www.instagram.com/jungshadow/

Twitter:https://twitter.com/jungshadow808

BandCamp: https://jungshadow808.bandcamp.com/

Latest Release: Currently Recording debut LP

Upcoming Shows: Stay tuned!

SA: How did this project come to be? JS :When my last band came to an end back in March and I didn’t know if I wanted to start another band or sell my gear and give up on making music altogether. I was pretty upset, angry and depressed about how it all went down and I really didn’t want to start all over again. While I was trying to decide what I wanted to do, I was reading about Carl Jung and his concept of Self and Shadow where basically the Self is what you present to the world and the Shadow is all the negative traits you try and hide. That kind of inspired me to use this project as an outlet to lean into all the negative stuff I was feeling and use it as a sort of catharsis. Any time I start a new project, I like to incorporate something new I haven’t done before. I had always been interested in electronic and industrial music so I figured now was a good time to buy a drum machine, trade a couple guitars for synths and it kind of just took off from there. I recorded and put out 2 singles online back in May and started booking gigs by June.

SA: Who are your biggest influences, musically or otherwise? JS: I could go on forever with this question but like I mentioned earlier, I took my name from a Carl Jung theory that inspired me with the direction of this project, plus I kind of like how it sounds like a Soundcloud rapper. Musically there are a few people that really inspired this solo venture. Justin Broadrick (Godflesh, Jesu, JK Flesh) would be a main influence on me. His ability to make layered heavy electronic fused noise was a huge jumping off point and got me into exploring some other stuff like Whtiehouse or Autechre. Ryan Patterson from Fotocrime would be another one. He came from playing in a punk band called Coliseum who I really admired. When they broke up and he started a solo drum machine goth band and that’s really where I got the inspiration to do it all myself. My favourite guitar player is Greg Ginn from Black Flag, and he also did a solo drum machine thing after they split. Seeing Youth Code a few years ago also made me realize how full and heavy your live show could still be without a more traditional guitar/drum combo. NIN was probably the first band I really got into in grade 6 so all those things made me move towards the idea of a one person project this time around.

SA: Thus far in this project, what has been your biggest success? JS: Opening for Big Business was pretty cool. I was about 3 months into doing this and got to open for a band I really love. One of the members approached me after my set and told me how much he loved a new song I played for the first time that night. It was a great reassurance that I was on the right track.

SA: On the other hand, what is the biggest challenge you've faced, and how have you dealt with it? JS: The hardest thing is finishing songs. Having no input from anyone else, if I get stuck figuring out where something should go, or how it should sound, it’s really easy to spiral out and spend 2 weeks playing with how much reverb I want to put on the kick drum or which snare sound I want to use. I’m trying to take a more Guided By Voices inspired approach where if I can’t think of anything good enough for a second verse, fuck it, the song is a single verse and a chorus and is a minute and twenty seconds. Record it and move on.

SA: How do you approach the songwriting process? JS: I’ve stepped out of my comfort zone a little with these songs. I’ve had to learn to program drums, use synths and sequencers which is all new to me, but it’s cool because it’s almost a puzzle. You might know what kind of sound you want for the drums or bass line and you have to find a way to make it with the gear you have, then find a way to be able to play it all live using loopers and sequencers. I still do the whole heavy guitar and yelling over most songs so that’s still right in my wheelhouse but I’m trying to develop a solid set of songs that don’t use a guitar, so that’s new to me and making me rethink how I write. The way electronic music is built up and written is so different than something like punk or metal so I’m trying to blend some of those elements and techniques.

SA: What are your thoughts on the Ottawa music scene? JS: I’ve been gigging pretty regularly in Ottawa for about 17 years now in various bands, and saying that made me feel old, but I’ve watched the scene swell and dwindle over the years but we are definitely in a big swell right now. We have so many amazing bands, really cool places to play and a variety of genres that are thriving here.

SA: If you had to choose, what is your favourite song you’ve written thus far and why? JS: I’ve got this new song called “Year of the Worm” that I’m pretty excited to get recorded but as for songs I’m actually finished and performing, I have one called “Ashes” that I’m really happy with. It’s got these ebbing hypnotic downtempo layers in the background, and a really cool guitar sound that doesn’t sound like a guitar at all and a really cool dance break. Probably the most pop-centric song I’ve written but it’s still really dark sounding.

SA: If you HAD to describe three artists similar to your sound for the uninitiated, which would you choose? JS: Besides the influences I named earlier, I’d say mix of End Transmission/Bright Flashes era Snapcase, Big Black and something like Bauhaus or Cold Cave.

SA: What comes next for you in 2019? All the best heading into 2020! JS: Unless something really cool comes my way, I'm taking some time off to finish recording this record and also a few songs for a split release I have in the works. Both those should be out early-mid 2020.

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50thirdand3rd · 6 years ago

Text

Writer, producer, Poptone drummer, and co-founding member of Tones On Tail and Love And Rockets takes us back to his Bauhaus roots with The Bela Session EP and his new coffee table book, Bauhaus Undead and teases a few hints at what he has in store for 2019!

Bauhaus – photo by Graham Trott

Kevin Haskins, the elusive Bauhaus drummer is quietly powerful behind his placid, penetrating expression. The jazz trained boyish younger Haskins brother who drew more inspiration from Stephen Morris than Gene Krupa paid his dues in bands with older brother, David J. before forming what would eventually become Bauhaus with friend and fellow art student, Daniel Ash and Daniel’s friend, Peter Murphy. The band’s chemistry was instant and Bauhaus began playing shows wherever they could and on January 26, 1979, the band recorded their iconic debut single, “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” at Beck Studios in Wellingborough a mere six weeks after forming the group.”Bela” was just the beginning and soon Bauhaus found fame and an early fan in the late John Peel who kept the band in heavy rotation on his legendary Radio 1 program. By 1980, the band released their groundbreaking debut LP In The Flat Field to mixed reviews further solidifying their status as post-punk icons with their dark fusion of glam, punk, jazz, dub, and disco and gained a rabid cult following among the cool kids in black on both sides of the pond.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K0bLCILyVRk%5B/embedyt%5D

Shortly after Bauhaus called it quits in 1983, Kevin and Daniel continued a fruitful collaboration in the short-lived and lightyears ahead of its time, Tones On Tail with bassist and former Bauhaus roadie, Glenn Campling. TOT scored a dancefloor hit in the US with their 1984 “Lions” b-side “Go!”.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3TJC48BRBn8%5B/embedyt%5D

Two years later, Kevin and Daniel reunited with David J. to form Love And Rockets, who found success with early singles “Ball of Confusion” and “No New Tale To Tell” before scoring a breakout hit with their ubiquitous 1989 single “So Alive” which spent 20 weeks at #3 on Billboard’s Hot 100 chart.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-L41MhFPU9s%5B/embedyt%5D

After 40 years of forward motion with not one but two highly influential post-Bauhaus bands, Kevin takes us back to his Bauhaus roots with his new coffee table book, Bauhaus – Undead “The Visual History and Legacy of Bauhaus” and The Bela Session EP which features four previously unreleased tracks along with the iconic 9:37 opus that started it all.

Photo: Jenna Putnam

50thirdand3rd: So, can we talk about Bauhaus Undead?

Kevin Haskins: A good friend of mine who works at Cleopatra, Matt Green, suggested the idea. He knew that I had this big container full of memorabilia. I was the guy who collected everything, kept everything. So, he says, “Why don’t you make a coffee table book?” “Matt, that’s a great idea.” And then he made me an offer to put it out on Cleopatra and I just felt that I would like to self-publish it. So he said, “Of course, that’s your decision. Go ahead and good luck. Wish you all the best.” And so, I went off on my merry way and so along into the process, I ran into this guy, Jeff Anderson, at gigs. And it seemed like fate kind of brought us together. On the third meeting, I said, “What do you do?” And he said, “I make box sets and re-releases for bands and so, I went to his house and I saw these amazing box sets from Sigur Rós and Roger Waters and Beck, Nine Inch Nails, The Pixies – beautiful ones! I thought “This was a no-brainer, let’s do the book together!” He was really excited working with me on that. He brought in a great design team and off we went. And I just sat down and started writing stories which I’ve never done, before.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8aOk0A4pnN8%5B/embedyt%5D

So, it all took about two years and we designed this huge book with a slipcase and it was this huge, crazy size book! Basically, we really didn’t figure out how much it was gonna cost to make and how much it was gonna cost to ship and Jeff really wanted to use his regular printers in LA. Anyway, a month before, we put on a pre-sale to raise money to have it made. A month before the pre-sale ended, I found out how much it was gonna cost to have it made and it was ridiculous, it was like over $100 to make, in the end! (laughs) I spoke to publishers after the fact, who were very impressed with how many I sold, because it was like $180 or something. But I didn’t raise enough money to get it made, so I had to refund all of the money. Then I went to a bunch of publishers and got a lot of interest from boutique publishers, but they really didn’t have the means to do what I wanted to do, but I did decide to make this book a regular size book, so that we could sell it at a decent price and make it cheap for people.

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And basically, about two years or three years after Matt gave me the idea, I went around his house and he showed me a book that Cleopatra had just put out. I think it was Hanoi Rocks or something and he said it was a great deal for this band it was really great deal and I said, “Oh Matt, could you do the same deal for me, please!” Because I was back at square one, I had nothing, but I did have a book already made, all the layout was all done, all the stories were written, it was proofread. It was just ready to print. So, I was kinda handing him a gift, really, on a plate and he said, “Kevin, I think we can do your good deal.” Which they did and it ended up coming out on Cleopatra, so I did this complete circle, so, now I know everything about printing and shipping and fulfillment companies.

50thirdand3rd: You got a real education on the process.

Kevin Haskins: Yeah, it was a mixture of extreme pain and pleasure. (laughs) I’m really proud of it, it’s over 300 pages and it has some great content. We were all very art inclined so we do a lot of drawings and doodles and I kept all those and I think that’s the stuff that’s very interesting for people. Very personal stuff like that and handwritten lyrics. And when we went to shop “Bela Lugosi’s Dead”, Daniel wrote out all the names of all the companies we went to, EMI and Polydor, all the huge companies and what they said. They all rejected us, so he wrote a kind of note to them, it’s very scruffy, very Daniel and all over the place and there’s drawings of Bubble men all over it. It ended up the last piece that went into the book. I was kind of done and he had just come back from England and raided his mum’s attic and said, “Look what I found!” I’m like, “Oh my god, I’ve gotta get that in the book, it’s so cool!” So, it’s got a lot of funny stories and great memorabilia.

50thirdand3rd: Awesome! I understand you did a book signing at Rough Trade in Brooklyn, this past summer, was it? How did that go?

Kevin Haskins: It went great! We were on tour with Poptone and I set up an In-store for my daughter’s band, Automatic, they were supporting us.

50thirdand3rd: And that’s your daughter, Lola’s band, right?

Kevin Haskins: Yes, Lola (Dompé), Izzy (Glaudini), and Halle (Saxon Gaines). And then after they played, I did a signing and it was nice, you know, it was my first time in Brooklyn if you can believe that.

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We’re playing rough trade tn bbs come through

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50thirdand3rd: Wow, how’d you like it?

Kevin Haskins: We loved it. My wife came out and we rented a really nice Airbnb and got to really walk around, check it out.

Photo: Jenna Putnam

50thirdand3rd: Very cool! How’s the response been with the book?

Kevin Haskins: Really good. Yeah, it’s been great, people love it! I don’t wanna boast but I’m very proud of it and people respond really well to it. There’s a lot of good content in it and I was really happy with the quality and the printing and everything.

50thirdand3rd: It sounds awesome and you had some of the other Bauhaus historians kind of help out, too, with the timeline, did I read that right?

Kevin Haskins: Oh yeah, a guy called Andrew Brooksbank and also I should mention Vincent Forrest and they were very helpful. Andrew is kind of the Bauhaus historian and when our old label, Beggars Banquet, put out re-releases, he always writes the sleeve notes. He’s an extremely organized guy and he’s a good writer and he created this timeline of every show and every radio, like interviews, TV appearances, that type of thing. So, that was really so valuable to me because I can’t remember what I was doing.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h5UFgXuz1Gc%5B/embedyt%5D

50thirdand3rd: Right, because you were like in the center of the storm.

Kevin Haskins: Yeah, I was. And he was a great resource and I think he gave me a few items. A few scans of this and that and also helped out in that way. So, it was nice to have fans included, there were people whose names, sorry, I can’t remember, right now, who sent me some great pieces to put in, so it was nice to include people, as well, like that.

50thirdand3rd: That’s really exciting! Seeing it all together in the context of a timeline, how was that? I imagine that would have to be a little awe-inspiring, like “Wow, I did all this!” Like, looking back on it?

Kevin Haskins: Yeah, I’m surprised at how many shows we played because I didn’t think we played that many, but, we did. We really worked! We started from nowhere and the only really then to get known was to play, you know, to get the ball rolling. So, there was a two year period where we were just slogging away. Just trying to get shows when we started, we played in the weirdest places. (laughs) Like, I got a gig, there’s a little village called Ilchester and it was a Sunday lunchtime community center and it was bright sunshine. It was in a modern kind of bland hall with big glass windows, very bright, and there were kids running around playing, parents just eating, and Bauhaus were playing to these people. It was completely ridiculous! And then Peter got us a similar thing but in a working men’s club on a lunchtime.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G5DUQuY1mf4%5B/embedyt%5D

50thirdand3rd: Oh, wow! How was that?

Kevin Haskins: After our first number, this old character, this old guy who worked there came up to us and he said, “What are you trying to do? Blow the bloody roof off? Play something that people know! You know, something we can tap our foot to!” (Laughs)

50thirdand3rd: Character building, I imagine!

Kevin Haskins: Yeah, blow the bloody roof off! So, we would play anywhere we could. Actually, and I wrote about this in the book. Really, our first show, I think went kind of undocumented. Daniel got us this rehearsal room at a teacher training college in Northampton and we were in a kind of portacabin, this kind of a prefabricated classroom, you know, it was kind of like a trailer.

50thirdand3rd: Oh, okay.

Kevin Haskins: It was outside the main building, just adjacent. And it was adjacent to the student union room where they would have bands play and they had a bar. It was winter and it was snowing, I remember, and The Pretenders were playing that night. So, we were rehearsing late afternoon and we kind of finished and we were like, “Is anybody going to see The Pretenders?” “Yeah, I am.” Kinda fancied that and then one of us had this idea that why don’t we just follow them? “What do you mean?” So, the next minute, we open the door, dragging up our gear up this, it was like an incline, covered in snow, dragging all our gear, and there was the French door, like this big glass door that opened up and we just opened the door and we just set up really fast in the corner of the room and by this time it was like 7:00. People were just coming in and The Pretenders had just done their soundcheck and we just set up and started playing. So, a crowd appeared around us, and we got about two or three songs out of the way, we didn’t have many songs, we had just started, and the student union came up and he was like, “Wait a minute, stop, what are you guys doing?” We’re like, “Oh, we’re the support band.” And he’s like, “Really?” And we’re like, “Yeah, we’re the support band.” And he was like scratching his head and like looking at us very suspiciously and he turned away and he walked away and he was kind of looking over his shoulder. And we sold it and then we’re like, “Get into the next song!” And we managed to get two more songs done and then he brought everyone from the student union and they shut us down. They said, “Hey, you’re not the support band!” So, we supported The Pretenders, punk rock Guerrilla style. (Laughs)

50thirdand3rd: That’s awesome!

Kevin Haskins: I’m sure Chrissie Hynde would’ve appreciated that. I don’t know if she heard that we did that.

50thirdand3rd: I hope she finds out!

Kevin Haskins: We were dying to play, all we wanted to do was play.

50thirdand3rd: That’s really cool! So, The Bela Session EP you recently put out, could we talk a little bit about that? I understand it was the first time you guys worked with Derek Tompkins. Like, he was really important to like Bauhaus and he produced Love And Rockets, too, right? Like he was Engineer/Producer at Beck Studios for you guys, can you tell me a little bit about that?

Kevin Haskins: Sure, we’ll start with Derek. I think we went to Beck before Bauhaus, we were in other bands, like The Craze, Jack Plug and The Sockettes, these kinds of new wave bands, but it was Peter’s first time in the studio when we went with Bauhaus. And Derek was this amazing character. I always kind of viewed Derek as our George Martin. Mainly because he was older than us and he really didn’t know anything about fads or fashions which was good because he just approached it from what sounds exciting and what sounds good. He just instinctively knew how to produce bands and also he was a bit of a rogue, he was a really funny guy, very smart, very opinionated, a bit of a rebel. And he had a great stutter, he stuttered and just consumed endless cups of coffee and cigarettes. Like really unhealthy, but he kind of like built the desk. He built of a lot of the equipment in the studios.

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So, anyway, The Bela Session was the idea of Andrew Brooksbank. He emailed me one day and he said, “What do you think about this idea? Why don’t you release the entire recording from the day you recorded ‘Bela Lugosi’s Dead’?” Three of the songs had never been released and I just said, “This is a brilliant idea! I can’t believe no one had thought about it, before!” And he said, “Yeah, it would be the holy grail of the band’s fans.” And I said, “Marvelous idea!” And for some reason, he had the original 1/4” tape and box. I don’t know how these guys get hold of these things, you know, I know they’re in good hands. And so, his idea was to use a scan of the tape box and it’s to the cover and I later thought, it would be great for the inner sleeve. So, that’s what the inner sleeve is and you can actually see the front and back of the original tape box. It’s marvelous, it’s got the aged patina and the picks, crossing things out and notes, so it’s a wonderful thing just to view.

50thirdand3rd: That’s really cool!

Kevin Haskins: Yeah, and just for the cover we came up with the idea of just doing a negative of the original cover, so, it’s white on black and yeah, so it has three unreleased songs and they’re interesting to hear because, you know, some of them, one of them, in particular, I think “Some Faces” doesn’t sound like Bauhaus, at all. It’s kind of a chirpy, bright sort of a new wave song, but it’s interesting to listen because you can kind of see a bit of an evolution. Right, like this is us. We had only formed about six weeks before, I think. So, it captures the band in a period of its formative period.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vV772Ht1Sys%5B/embedyt%5D

And we ended up going with Leaving Records which are an imprint of Stones Throw and they did a marvelous job, I think. They really chose a great kind of engineer and they’ve really been wonderful, I’m so happy with the product and also Bela hasn’t been available on vinyl for, I don’t know, twenty years or something crazy. It’s really nice to have it in record racks, again. And I just remembered another story from that day. So, “Bela” is about nine minutes long, but we actually laid down eleven or twelve minutes.

50thirdand3rd: Oh wow!

Kevin Haskins: And we kind of listened back and we thought, “This is a little bit too long.” And we could kind of imagine if we cut three minutes out of this, we’d probably be good. And Derek said, “I..I can do that!” And we were kind of naive and it was probably only our second or third time, Peter’s first time in the studio. And he (Derek) disappeared and he came back with a little razor blade and he got the tape and he laid it down and we were like looking at him like, “What’s he doing?” And then he began bringing the blade down towards the tape and we all knew we had recorded something really special and he was gonna cut the tape and we were like, “No! Stop!” “What are you doing?”

50thirdand3rd: Gasp!

Kevin Haskins: Then he like turned around and he’s like saying, “What’s your problem?” And he explained that he’s done this many times, before and not to worry, you know, you can always put it back together, again. And he did a great edit, you can’t hear the edit if you really listen out for it, though. He did a very good job.

50thirdand3rd: That’s awesome! So, if I can nerd out on you, for a sec, I know John Peel was like one of the first people to really play “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” on his show. Could you tell me a little bit about getting to go to John Peel’s studio?

Kevin Haskins: Sure, yeah. I actually devoted a story to John in my book. I cannot stress how important he was to bands such as us and I guess, after us. I mean, the airwaves were really, this was pre-internet, of course. The airwaves were really controlled just by the BBC. There were a couple of pirate stations, Radio Powerline and Radio Luxembourg that you could tune into and that was free radio but the BBC really controlled everything. They had John Peel on at 10 o’clock at night and they probably weren’t really listening to what he was doing. (Laughs) And his taste was just remarkable and I remembered he kept devoting his two-hour show to punk rock and in ’76, I think “New Rose” by The Damned had just come out and you know, there weren’t many punk records, back then, right at the beginning. So, he did this whole show and put bands that like influenced this new movement. So, there’s The Stooges and the MC5, bands like that and then he played every punk single that was out and it was a wonderful show. And he got a lot of hate mail, apparently, from hippies of the old guard saying, “How can you be playing this rubbish?” But he went on undeterred, he wouldn’t listen to anybody, he just played what he liked. So, he was invaluable to getting bands known. And it really helped us and a load of other bands.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YMuB2PjjRic%5B/embedyt%5D

So, anyway, we heard “Bela Lugosi” and I think we just drove down to London, which I think was like an hour and a half’s drive and we went to the BBC Studio building and went to reception and we said, ”We want to see John Peel” and the receptionist looked at us like, “Who…Are you kidding me?” And she said, “Oh, well, I’ll call up.” And she did and his producer said, “Oh, show them up. It’s fine” which was remarkable, really. He was in the middle of a show, so, they let us come up and to us, we were in awe. It was amazing, we were actually in his studio with John and he offered us some red wine and we had a little red wine in BBC paper cups and gave him the record and he kind of sent us on our way pretty fast. He told us he’d play it and I remember, you know, when he played it for the first time, we knew that this night was gonna do it! We all lived in this house 37 Adams Avenue, it was like a little terraced house in town and you know, we would cook these awful meals with like vegetables because we were on the dole and we didn’t have much money. And it was freezing cold in this place and it was kind of haunted, it was kind of in a slum (laughs) but we were kids, it didn’t matter. But I remember we were all huddled around this transistor radio, listening to the show when he played our song. That moment is just imprinted in my mind because it was just remarkable to hear your music coming out of a radio, you know, it was just so exciting and it was like a benchmark moment. So, now, I remember that really clearly and yeah, I paid homage to him in my book and wrote a nice piece about him.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FMLNwT4v5Rc%5B/embedyt%5D

50thirdand3rd: So, I’ve gotten really hooked on Poptone, recently and I was watching the tour livestreams you guys were doing on Facebook from last year. It looks like you guys were having fun, especially with the fans. Can you tell me a little more about how those tours have been going?

Kevin Haskins: Well, it was great but we kind of wrapped it up, over the summer. Basically, we kind of exhausted where everywhere people wanted us to play. It was great, it was so much fun! You know, Daniel’s still a very close friend of mine and we always have a laugh hanging out, we got on really well and then I was so glad to have my daughter involved (Diva Dompé). She plays bass and keyboards and backup vocals and she was amazing, she really brought so much to that project, I felt.

Photo: Paul Rae

50thirdand3rd: Yeah, she’s rad!

Kevin Haskins: She had big shoes to fill, she was playing my brother’s bass lines, Glenn Campling’s amazing bass lines, I mean I can’t say enough great things about Glenn’s playing in terms of what he brought to Tones On Tail. Like, those bass lines are just remarkable, there’s just so simple but so powerful, you know, kind of like riffs and so it was it was a great pleasure to play that music. Yeah, I knew that would be an attractive thing for fans just because we only played one little tour over a year and that was in the UK, so you know, it was fun for us to play those songs, again.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GwYq2FfsBKo%5B/embedyt%5D

And I think people really love to hear them, we had a great crew, just like a small family, and we had a marvelous time. I was really taken aback in a marvelous way with the audiences who came out to see us. They were so appreciative and towards the end, I would out after the show to the merch table and sell my book, Bauhaus Undead by Kevin Haskins, *plug*. And then I’d get to meet all these wonderful people and they were so happy and appreciative that we were doing it, so it was like a whole celebration.

It was marvelous but it’s kind of on the back burner, now. I mean it is something that we could pick up, again. We did record an album, you know, it was kind of a retrospective project, just for people who were unaware, we were playing the music from Bauhaus, Love And Rockets, and Tones On Tail and we recorded an album. We did it as a Part-Time Punks session, Part-Time Punks radio station (KXLU) in LA and then Michael Stock he also puts a club night on and he’s a wonderful guy. So, we just kind of played pretty much live and put the songs down and that’s been released out on Cleopatra Records and so, you can go to Bandcamp and buy that or listen to it.

Poptone poster by Paul Rae

50thirdand3rd: Can we talk a little about the FOXES TV show you’ve got coming up and how you got involved in that?

Kevin Haskins: Sure, yeah! So, I met Tina and Julian (de la Celle), they are the creators of the show. I met them at one of their events. They put on events around Los Angeles, they get local musicians, they’ve done kind of thematic events where they portrayed Andy Warhol’s Factory, they had a bunch of young bands get together and play Velvet Underground songs. They did the same with CBGB’s and the Bat Cave, they’re really nice people, they love music and fashion, it’s such a strong passion for them. They have a magazine called FOXES and it’s a beautiful magazine, comes out twice a year, and they get really great photographers to shoot for them and they do interviews, so, I did an interview about my book, Bauhaus Undead, my coffee table book, plug! plug!

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50thirdand3rd: Right, yeah!

Kevin Haskins: There’s a singer from the New York Dolls who goes under the name, Buster Poindexter, now, and does kind of a lounge act, he was in the issue. I think Duff from Guns ’n’ Roses and they have these great fashion spreads. It’s shot very beautifully, kind of cinematic and stylish, stylized. So, they decide to turn the magazine into a TV show because there’s nothing really to watch like that, you know. So, anyway, they approached me around September time, last year and asked me if I wanted to be a producer and music supervise and I thought it was an exciting new challenge. So, we just kind of went on from there and the three of us kind of learned how to navigate the industry and what you have to do to get a TV show made. So, it’s taken us this long to really figure that and so we made like a great concept sizzle reel where we’ve taken slotage from other shows like The Tube and fashion show footage and just still photography and it really sort of represents the aesthetic of the show. And then we worked together a treatment which is kind of PDF, you do a similar thing, just for people who don’t know what treatments are, you explain what you’re going to do, you’ll explain what the episode will look like, and the sequence of events during that episode. You put bios from everyone who’s attached to the project. Your dream hosts, presenters, so there you go! So, when Richard submitted that to the network to my agency and we’re now waiting to hear back.

[embedyt] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5cd1LlXP_pk%5B/embedyt%5D

50thirdand3rd: This sounds really cool! Can you tell me a little bit about what views can expect to hear and maybe see?

Kevin Haskins: Well, the original feel for the show is very rock and roll. Basically, Tina, Julian, and I, we love glam, punk, post-punk rock and roll, you know, that area of things. But what we’d really like to do is we’d really like to broaden it more, now. Hmm, I don’t know who would be on the first show, I know Tina loves Duran Duran, so our dream show would include them, maybe for an interview or performance. And the project has to depend on who’s available for the team.

50thirdand3rd: Of course.

Kevin Haskins: And we want to give space for unheard of bands that we really like. Actually, we did shoot my daughter’s band, Automatic.

50thirdand3rd: Oh, cool!

Kevin Haskins: They’re worth checking out. Also, there’s a band called POW! I would definitely have them on. Other LA bands, Froth, Numb.er, and then, I’d love to get Nick Cave on, for instance. You know, it’s really wide open but they’re the artists that come to mind, right now.

Photo: Jenna Putnam

50thirdand3rd: Cool, I can’t wait to check that out! So, do you have any other music projects coming up for this year?

Kevin Haskins: Well, I’ve actually been invited to kind of produce, also, I’ve been kind of involved in writing on another tv show and I can’t say much about it for obvious reasons, but it’s a comedy set in Los Angeles. One of my close friends has created it and helped me write it, now, which is something I’ve never ever done, before and it was challenging and it was fun, so, I’m excited about that. I feel that it could really work out well, so, a completely new thing, once again, like the FOXES TV thing. And I have a new musical project that I’m very excited about. I don’t know if I can say much about that, but, I’ll give you some cryptic hints. There’s primarily three of us and we’re looking for a vocalist, right now. We’ve put word out to who we really want. We’re going to be recreating music from the bands we were in and also creating new music, but the instrumentation is very particular and different from what you might expect. (Laughs) And I think I’m going to leave it at that, but it’s a teaser and you’re really the first person I’ve told about.

50thirdand3rd: Thank you very much! An Exclusive!

Kevin Haskins: And the way things are going, we’ve got quite a ways to go, there. We’re just starting out and we haven’t got a full band, yet, so it might be the fall until we play or release something but we are going to work on a release and I’m really excited about it. It’s got great potential.

50thirdand3rd: Very cool!

Pick up a copy of Kevin Haskins’ Bauhaus Undead from Cleopatra, Rough Trade, and Amazon. Pick up Poptone’s self-titled LP and follow Kevin Haskins Official Facebook and Instagram for the latest on FOXES TV, updates on his next series, and more on his upcoming music project —You read it first, here at 50thirdand3rd!

Follow Kevin Haskins:

https://twitter.com/kevinmhaskins

https://www.instagram.com/bauhausundeadbook/

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCNKf_DvhGkidQFDmnoxyO3g

http://poptone.bandcamp.com

Follow Foxes Magazine:

https://www.facebook.com/FoxesMagazine

https://twitter.com/FOXES_Magazine

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCAC2rwsSytKP6kf-olCZ4Lw/videos

https://www.instagram.com/foxes_magazine

http://foxesmagazine.tumblr.com

50THIRDAND3RD INTERVIEW: Kevin Haskins Writer, producer, Poptone drummer, and co-founding member of Tones On Tail and Love And Rockets takes us back to his Bauhaus roots with…

3 notes · View notes

e8luhs · 6 years ago

Text

IVORY TOWER.

LISTEN ON SPOTIFY (I GUESS)

YOU KNOW THE DRILL BY NOW (last edited 04.27.19)

I. POOLS / GLASS ANIMALS

shake my little soul for you now, toy and i settle up into a world of noise i’m a man of many tricks and tools and joy with a battery of guilt on which to poise

II. KATARSIS / SHE PAST AWAY

even though it is a dream you are with me tonight inside me

III. BELA LUGOSI’S DEAD / BAUHAUS

white on white, translucent black capes back on the rack bela lugosi's dead the bats have left the bell tower, the victims have been bled red velvet lines the black box

IV. THE TOWER / VIRTUAL BOY

[instrumental]

V. ONLY AS GOOD AS MY GOD / EVERYTHING EVERYTHING

if they crawl out of the mud, wash them away in a flood i'm only as a good as my god, burnt hair and more money

VI. HERE / VAST

where do i put the books? there's so many i could read, but they all are filled with lies where do i put all the lies? there's so many i could say but it seems they're in the books

VII. RED RIGHT HAND / ARCTIC MONKEYS

you'll see him in your nightmares, you'll see him in your dreams he'll appear out of nowhere but he ain't what he seems you'll see him in your head, on the TV screen and hey buddy, i'm warning you to turn it off! he's a ghost, he's a god, he's a man, he's a guru you're one microscopic cog in his catastrophic plan designed and directed by his red right hand

VIII. TOES / GLASS ANIMALS

i'm a man, i'm a twisted fool my hands are twisted, too five fingers to black hooves i'm a man, don't spin me a lie got toes and i can smile i'm crooked but upright

IX. KICKING AND SCREAMING / THE PRESETS

when i was young i was a star amongst zeroes but then i grew up and now i'm heading up river i'm gonna cover myself in mud, mud yeah, i'mma deliver

X. AMERICAN TRASH / INNERPARTYSYSTEM

i've got this planet in my hands yeah, i'll try to save it if i can i'm satisfied with myself don't care for anyone else i'm so united when i stand

XI. MURDOC IS GOD / GORILLAZ

murdoc is god murdoc is god murdoc is god johnny is dead

XII. ALL MY OWN STUNTS / ARCTIC MONKEYS

been watching cowboy films on gloomy afternoons tinting the solitude put on your dancing shoes and show me what to do i know you've got the moves

XIII. PAINT IT, BLACK / THE ROLLING STONES

i look inside myself and see my heart is black i see my red door i must have it painted black maybe then i'll fade away and not have to face the facts it's not easy facin' up, when your whole world is black

XIV. RUH / SHE PAST AWAY

half an angel, half a monster i will sleep in your bosom again half an angel, half a monster i will roam to where you are

XV. FIGURE IT OUT / ROYAL BLOOD

getting hard to sleep, but it's in my dreams but it's killing me to try and figure it out nothing better to do, when i'm stuck on you and still i'm here trying to figure it out

XVI. PERSONAL JESUS / DEPECHE MODE

feeling unknown and you're all alone flesh and bone by the telephone lift up the receiver, i'll make you a believer

XVII. LIFE ITSELF / GLASS ANIMALS

daddy was dumb, said that i’d be something special brought me up tough but i was a gentle human said that he loved each of my two million freckles when i grew up, was gonna be a superstar

XVIII. BUSINESS MAN / MOTHER MOTHER

talking ‘bout the business man, devil in a sunday hat buddy with the stupid laugh, just talking ‘bout the business man

XIX. IT’S OUT THERE AND IT’S GONNA GET YOU / THE PAPER CHASE

[instrumental]

XX. HAPSBURG LIPPP / EVERYTHING EVERYTHING

i'm checking your name off my list, i'm checking your name on my list i'm making up a reason to exist, i'm checking your name off my list you're thinking that your wife is worth a lot i'm telling you your life is worth a yacht no matter whose knife in the dark, still wanking with a robot arm i'm checking your name off my list, i'm checking your name off my list i'm making up a reason to exist, i'm checking your name off my list

XXI. HOW TO SERVE MAN / CREATURE FEATURE

let me clarify before we begin am i getting under your skin? your disposition seems a trifle bland it's time you learned how to serve man

XXII. W.U.G. / CHRIS FLEMING

he’s only comfortable with complete control and authority they should invent something for guys with this kind of affliction like a vr system where he can believe he’s in a perpetual state of giving you a tour of his house

XXIII. RADIO / ROBBIE WILLIAMS

something's happening, i can feel it moving out of time you'll hear it falling in the way you fear it jumping, thumping, shout out something jumping, thumping, shout out something

XXIV. A NEW SKY / THE PRESETS

and it's alright, it won't be long you feeling something so won't you come outside with me? and it's alright, sing like a song and now you're flying so won't you come and fly with me?

XXV. ASIMILASYON / SHE PAST AWAY

protect yourself, this plague spreads spiders everywhere come on, dig your grave look, the day wakes up again

XXVI. ANIMAL IMPULSES / IAMX

i'm tired of this human duet no civilizing hides our animal impulses

XXVII. EXXUS / GLASS ANIMALS

i can see you running i can see you running gone in the blink of my eye gone, gone, gone in the blink of my eye

XXVIII. NOCTURNE IN F MINOR / FREDERIC CHOPIN

[instrumental]

XXIX. BABY BRIDE RAG / ROAR

oh darling, i'm not so sure about our hearts aligning at sixteen years old, could this just be bad timing? puppies pining listen to me sweetheart, you are nothing when we're apart i can promise you this, when we split the town you won't be missed

XXX. WHO IS SHE? / I MONSTER

oh, who is she? a misty memory a haunting face is she a lost embrace?

XXXI. I WILL POSSESS YOUR HEART / DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE

there are days when outside your window i see my reflection as i slowly pass and i long for this mirrored perspective when we'll be lovers, lovers at last

XXXII. GO-GETTER GREG / LUDO

i've given it some thought... and i really think that you could use a guy like me in your life looking after you, a man to take you home, a hand for you to hold... and i'd never leave you alone

XXXIII. AN UNHEALTHY OBSESSION / THE BLAKE ROBINSON SYNTHETIC ORCHESTRA

some call it stalking, i say walking just extremely close behind i'm sure if i sat down and asked you, well you really wouldn't mind you've got those eyes that drive me crazy and i've got eyes to watch you sleep i brought a pack lunch and some coffee for my stakeout in your tree outside your house

XXXIV. NEIGHBOUR / MOTHER MOTHER

i am your neighbor, i can hear you i got this tin can with a string through and when you're crying, i hear your shaky breath and when you're lying i hear your heart confess

XXXV. OBSESSION / OK GO

a look so quick a movement so slight ah, it’s not passin’ fascination now it’s obsession

XXXVI. STALKER’S TANGO / AUTOHEART

i know, i know, i know, i'm always in your place but don't you see, my dear? i am your doppelgänger have your faith so

XXXVII. DEADCRUSH / ALT-J

extraordinarily pretty teeth beauty lingers out of reach you're my dc oh lee, oh man ray went cray cray over you capturing, but never captured you're my dc oh lee, oh

XXXVIII. CLUB FOOT / KASABIAN

i tell you i want you i tell you i need you

XXXIX. TEAR YOU APART / SHE WANTS REVENGE

i want to hold you close skin pressed against me tight lie still, and close your eyes girl so lovely, it feels so right

XL. PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY / VAST

i didn't want to hurt you, baby i didn't want to hurt you i didn't want to hurt you, but you're pretty when you cry

XLI. DINNER & DIATRIBES / HOZIER

that's the kind of love i’ve been dreaming of that's the kind of love i've been dreaming of

XLII. BERNADETTE / IAMX

you and me in our playhouse living in a veil, we never need to go without memories bring no joy or peace we are alone and all we need

XLIII. THIS HURTS / MINDLESS SELF INDULGENCE

oh, god i'm beautiful oh, god i'm wonderful i'm marvelous, intelligent, so why doesn't that make me feel better? i need some more, i need someone who's insecure i don't care who you are controlling you makes me better

XLIV. YANIMDA / SHE PAST AWAY

they wouldn't know, wouldn't comprehend you are with me, next to me

XLV. THE HORROR OF OUR LOVE / LUDO

i'm a killer, cold and wrathful silent sleeper, i've been inside your bedroom i've murdered half the town left you love notes on their headstones i'll fill the graveyards until i have you

XLVI. WE KNOW WHERE YOU SLEEP / THE PAPER CHASE

i don't know about you but i am hellbent, i know what it is that i must do close your eyes when we kiss ‘cause I'm prepared to set myself on fire for this

XLVII. WHAT ELSE DO I NEED / VAST

i know that you don't like me that's alright today i love you, but you bore me don't fuck up my day ‘cause i could stay right here and never ever leave, what else do i need?

XLVIII. YOU ARE MINE / MUTEMATH

there are objects of affection that can mesmerize the soul there is always one addiction that just can not be controlled

XLIX. WALLA WALLA / GLASS ANIMALS

honey honey, don’t you cry it’s a ruse all these creatures are a lie funny bunny, it’s alright i clap my hands and they’re gone into the night

L. TEMPTATION / VAST

i stand alone now, istand alone but can you save me from myself oh, please

LI. BIT BY BIT / MOTHER MOTHER

no i won’t bring too much of anything maybe a little slicker for the rain maybe just a good book and a heart to break Ii’ll make a mistress of a little wiccan thing

LII. COUNTING BODIES LIKE SHEEP TO THE RHYTHM OF THE WAR DRUMS / A PERFECT CIRCLE

don't fret precious, i'm here step away from the window, go back to sleep safe from pain and truth and choice and other poison devils see, they don't give a fuck about you like i do

LIII. STALKER / IAMX

i know you're aching to be saved from all the bullshit and banality sacredly i have watched you grow you've conquered all the self-loathing and high hopes

LIV. UNDER MY THUMB / THE ROLLING STONES

it's down to me, yes it is the way she does just what she's told down to me, the change has come she's under my thumb

LV. CHRISTMAS KIDS / ROAR

appearing unsightly with devils inside me if you ever try to leave me i'll find you, ronnie

LVI. GENGHIS KHAN / MIIKE SNOW

i get a little bit genghis khan i don't want you to get it on with nobody else but me, with nobody else but me

LVII. HAPPY TOGETHER / FILTER

imagine me and you, i do i think about you day and night it's only right to think about the girl you love and hold her tight so happy together

LVIII. TOUCHED / VAST

the razors and the dying roses plead i don't leave you alone, the demi-gods and hungry ghosts god, god knows i'm not at home i’ll never find someone quite like you again

LIX. STOP A BULLET / BLACK LIGHT BURNS

i've got something to say i've acquired a taste for watching you in pain it's pretty hard to admit it makes me feel like shit but i mean it

LX. DANGEROUS / BIG DATA

you understand, i got a plan for us i bet you didn’t know that i was dangerous it must be fate, i found a place for us i bet you didn’t know someone could love you this much

LXI. CAN’T DO / EVERYTHING EVERYTHING

he said it's up to me it's up to me, it's up to me, it's up to me, i gotta try it again! it's up to me, it's up to me, it's up to me, i gotta rip it apart! It's up to me, it's up to me, it's up to me

LXII. THE STICKS / MOTHER MOTHER

i'm getting on a mountain, baby, yeah i'm thinking of an island, maybe oh, archipelago, take me i'm looking to isolate me, terra incognita, baby i'm getting away from all the la-di-dah, la-di-dah

LXIII. ISOLATION / THE SMASHING PUMPKINS

but if you could just see the beauty, these things i could never describe these pleasures a wayward distraction, this is my one lucky prize

LXIV. BEEKEEPER / KEATON HENSON

believe me believe me, this loneliness won't go away hear me oh, woman that has gone astray gone astray

LXV. IVORY TOWER / EVERYTHING EVERYTHING

do you know what makes me happy? when i clothe you in a swarm of bees and the world is my ashtray, the world is my ashtray tonight shave my head and call me monkey let me see you with the caps lock on if we're all apoplectic then i'll be the neckbeard, alright?

LXVI. ANOTHER SET OF ISSUES / OK GO

it all seemed so perfect it all seemed like everything was right but i won’t let you leave that way, but i won’t let you but i won’t let you, but i won’t let you leave that way but i won’t let you, but i won’t let you leave

LXVII. BREEZEBLOCKS / ALT-J

do you know where the wilds things go? they go along to take your honey, la la la la break down now weep, build up breakfast now let’s eat my love my love love love, la la la la

LXVIII. DUST IN YOUR POCKET / GLASS ANIMALS

yellow nails and pinching fangs, a slimy creature lacking clad, he pulls his fingers from her mind, and lets her see, just like she was blind

LXIX. KRONOS / KEATON HENSON

i'd give you all i have if i could get it back this has been the best of me i hope you end up missing me and i'll hold on to that

LXX. I COME WITH KNIVES / IAMX

i come with knives i come with knives and agony to love you

LXXI. GREENER / TALLY HALL

telephones make you seem miles away from home all alone, i get a little meaner i leave a message at your tone, and miles away from home you get a little cleaner of me and i find a little greener shade of envy

LXXII. PROPERTY / SAY ANYTHING

don't you go leaving baby, i'll find you tell all your secrets and no one will want you it's for your own good, i know what's best for you if you won't sleep with me, there will be no rest for you

LXXIII. DESIRE / EVERYTHING EVERYTHING

i want this planet and i want it now to beat like an anvil 'til the poison's out i am a pencil-pusher with the pencil-pusher blues what the hell do i have left to lose?

LXXIV. PSYLLA / GLASS ANIMALS

i wanna make it right i wanna make you cry i follow suit, i follow suit i follow suit, i follow

LXXV. SLEDGEHAMMER / SAVANT

[instrumental]

LXXVI. SHUT ME UP / MINDLESS SELF INDULGENCE

the bass, the rock, the mic, the treble i like my coffee black just like my metal with the bass, the rock, the mic, the treble i like my coffee black just like my metal

LXXVII. SOMEWHERE ELSE TO BE / VAST

i wish i could hide from everyone is there somewhere else to be is there somewhere else to be take me in, i want out that's all i need

LXXVIII. CHOKE / I DON’T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

now shut your dirty mouth, if i could burn this town i wouldn't hesitate to smile while you suffocate and die and that would be just fine, and what a lovely time that it would surely be so bite your tongue and choke yourself to sleep

LXXIX. PATHETIC / BLAME CANDY

1460 days since we were alright you're having trouble sleeping, and i think i know why 1460 days since we were alright but now you're just pathetic, i said it you are pathetic

LXXX. NO CULTURE / MOTHER MOTHER

so can we let sleeping dogs lie? 'cause everyone believes me when i say it's mine a little wool over the eyes 'cause everyone believes me when i-

LXXXI. BLACK WEDDING / IN THIS MOMENT

i would've loved you for a thousand years i would've died for you i would've sacrificed it all my dear i would've bled for you 'til death do us part, you were unholy right from the start it's a nice night for a black wedding yeah, it's a nice night for a black wedding

LXXXII. DESTRUCTION / JOYWAVE

creeping 'round, i saw a little thing i didn't like; you tried to hide i've been creeping 'round i saw a little thing i didn't like, you tried to hide from me

LXXXIII. INTRUXX / GLASS ANIMALS

[instrumental]

LXXXIV. BREADWINNER / EVERYTHING EVERYTHING

hard liquor is my medicine it must have happened when i hit my head hard liquor for my birthday cake power, power, power, power, power

LXXXV. I CAN’T DECIDE / SCISSOR SISTERS

i'm not a gangster tonight don't want to be a bad guy i'm just a loner baby and now you've gotten in my way

LXXXVI. WITHER / SON LUX

you don't have to be afraid you don't have to be afraid like the grass beneath your feet, they will wither away

LXXXVII. WAIT UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU / THE PAPER CHASE

so go ahead, hold your breath be my guest, see if i care ‘cause it's your life, it's your body in the morning what's it to you, my sweet bijou? ‘cause if you knew what was good for you you'd stand there lowborn to drop every rampart and drawbridge

LXXXVIII. KILLER / THE HOOSIERS

i hate my work, but i'm in control i'm fearless now, but it cost my soul save yourselves, the moon is full under its power, gravitational pull

LXXXIX. WYRD / GLASS ANIMALS

you can’t run so you must hide you won’t make it back this time i sold your rope for a bucket of lemon peel, now suck it

XC. I’M DYING / VAST

not one day goes by that i don't compromise your love for the cold love of the world it's killing me through my own evil pride not one day goes by that i don't know that i'm dying

XCI. DEAR DICTATOR / SAINT MOTEL

and at the trial, there'll be no jury and all the dead are going to play witness it's not too late to say you're sorry but it's too late to truly mean it

XCII. GET OUT THE WAY / MOTHER MOTHER

i'm not anti-social i'm just tired of the people and i'm fine with rolling solo so get out

XCIII. SEVERED / THE DECEMBERISTS

i alone am the answer i alone will make wrongs right but in order to root out the cancer it's got to be kept from the sunlight

XCIV. NOBODY LOVES YOU LIKE ME / JONATHAN COULTON

air in my lungs, a cough and a wheeze holes in the bellows and blood on the keys you move along, there's nothing to see nobody loves you like me nobody loves you like me

XCV. TRUE ROMANCE / SHE WANTS REVENGE

when could you tell it was over? when did you turn on me? i'd cry if i thought it would change your mind, cry for the girl i hoped you to be

XCVI. YOU’RE ONE OF THEM, AREN’T YOU? / THE PAPER CHASE

and i believe, i believe, i believe you're one of them you're one of those things so go on and scream all you want 'cause that only excites me i'm aiming this plane for the sea, i'm taking you all with me so suffer little children, suffer little children suffer little children come and get me!

XCVII. DANCE TO THE DEATH / KINGDOM HEARTS 2 OST

[instrumental]

XCVIII. THE HOUSE IS DUST / EVERYTHING EVERYTHING

i wish i could be living at the end of all living just to know what happens, just to know what happens i would know every answer and just how far we all made it this is all my life this is all my life

XCIX. A DEATH / AN UNKINDNESS

inevitability, you are my mother bleeding seeds of sour lust onto the mounds of bleeding crust unto all that holy dust i shall return, bathed in fire

C. YUPPIE SUPPER / EVERYTHING EVERYTHING

[instrumental]

#plylsts #cataclysmalbound #unfortunate.#also my reign of terror is over! theyre all posted. were good. thank you all for coming #240 songs in TOTAL... ugh i did that. these playlists took almost 2 months to make

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televisedbirdwatching · 6 years ago

Text

Art, Design, and Craft in the Age of Machine Manufacture.

This year marks the 100th anniversary of the Bauhaus, the German Art and Architecture school famous for all your favorite architects and artists. Graham McKay at Misfits Architecture puts it this way: “The architectural media likes an anniversary and 2019 is the year we’re meant to be grateful for The Bauhaus and all it did for us.” Over two blog posts, he argues that the real legacy of the Bauhaus is in “formalizing and institutionalizing the divide between design and production.” Design, he says, “is a separate activity, isolated from manufacture, and isolated from craft.”

The Bauhaus was founded at a unique time in the history of large scale industrial manufacture. Here’s a picture of Ford Automotive’s River Rouge facility in Dearborn, Michigan. It was designed by Albert Kahn in 1917, and visited by Bauhaus founder Walter Gropius in 1928. McKay also points out that in the Victorian era, “industry became alert to the growing consumer market and began to produce all manner of household goods such as chairs, table lamps and bathtubs that previously would have been fabricated by hand.” Cars, household goods, and building materials were increasingly produced by machines in factories.

Ford’s River Rouge Plant. Built 1917.

McKay’s argument here is that the Bauhaus, capitalizing on this moment in industrial history, figured out how to “fuse the value-adding process of art with the cost-reducing process of machine manufacture:”

“Manufacturing was never the problem as that’s what factories were for. And nor was the problem one of design as people tend to buy what they’re told to. The problem was that there weren’t enough people wanting enough stuff to achieve the ‘economies of scale’ [a.k.a. profits] machine manufacture promised. The industrial world knew it wanted a direct link between industry and design and for us to accept it. All that was missing was people to design things and to tell us we needed them. And we’ve been being told ever since.”

You can buy a new Wassily Chair from Design Within Reach for $2782.00

More than just creating a market for designed goods, the Bauhaus also solidified the idea of what “modern architecture” was supposed to look like. When you think of modern architecture, something like Van Der Rohe’s Lake Shore Drive buildings come to mind.

These are buildings that are anti-craft. The point is not to highlight the unique human touch present in their manufacture. The idea is to mechanize the design, construction, and lived experience of buildings, to create “a machine for living in.”

Living in Portland, I walk through the Buckman/Sunnyside neighborhood a lot. These neighborhoods have lots of old Victorian and Queen Anne homes that were originally built in the early 1900’s (before even the first whisperings of the Bauhaus). Walking by, I am always amazed by the level of ornament and detail that went into the construction of these homes (and the upkeep required to keep them looking nice). These must be more than just mere machines for living in. Why else go to the trouble?

Not just a machine for living in.

And yet, one of the reasons that this style became popular in Portland (and other cities that experienced a population boom in the early 1900’s,) was the increased availability of ornamental wooden trim pieces thanks to machine manufacture. They also often built these houses in twos or threes to save on costs. It’s fun to imagine that each railing and trim piece on the front porch was turned on a lathe or carved by hand. This simply isn’t the case.

Further, the homes were filled with “technological kitchens, three-fixture baths (sink, toilet and bathtub), public utilities (electricity and sewers), dining rooms and closets...” all features of homes that became economically accessible to a wider group of people in the early 20th century, thanks to industrial manufacture.

Contemporarily, it seems that there’s a resurgence in handmade, small-batch items. Designers of today seem like folks who learned from the Bauhaus in school, but set out today to create homegoods with softer edges. The world is a difficult enough place to live as it is. Why not fill our millennial households with vintage southwestern prints and handmade clay pieces. Crystals. Houseplants. Bold, bright patterns.

Artifact is a lovely vintage store in Portland.

And yet, the allure of industrial, machine manufacture is apparently too much to resist. Take this pillow from Dusen Dusen, for example; sold at Portland’s WoonWinkel. The value ($110) isn’t derived from the craft involved in its manufacture. It is almost definitely made overseas- or if not, a factory in Mexico. Paraphrasing McKay here: the value is added at a later phase in the process, separate from value in materials or value in manufacture. The design is the value added that shows up in the price.

Dusen Dusen’s Arc Pillow, Small. $110 at WoonWinkel.

Hay Design’s Coffee Pot. Designed by George Sowden, available at WoonWinkel for $95. Manufactured wherever.

Recently, design firm Good Thing announced that it would be ceasing operations as an independent firm and partnering with West Elm. In this transition, head designer Jamie Wolfond has been posting on social media about this process and decision. Earlier today he posted an instagram story about the first shipping container of goods he received from China. Here’s the text of the post:

“When I started Good Thing, we were dead set of figuring out how to manufacture in the U.S. But eventually we had to decide between making the products affordable and making them domestically, and we chose the former. There were quite a few challenges in sourcing mass-produced items from China, so when we saw out first 40-foot shipping container parked outside our Brooklyn studio, it was a real relief.

This tasty-looking piece of hardware used to seal the container was the icing on the cake. The rubber-covered steel bolt had a thick head on both ends, making it impossible to remove without destroying it- a beautifully analog system for ensuring that cargo cannot be tampered with or stolen in transit. We were a bit terrified about what we’d find inside, but save for a few free lipstick-covered cigarette butts, we got what we expected.”

Sometimes the connections I’m trying to make on this blog just make themselves.

Wolfond certainly has designer-vision, seeing the beauty in this everyday object, an ‘analog’ tamper-evident seal. And yet, it seems strange to me that he is writing about the first run of goods he chose to have manufactured in China.

Maybe that’s not strange. Maybe Wolfond is right. If we want to make good design accessible, made in China becomes a necessary outcome of that objective. Perhaps partnering with a large firm like West Elm is also a necessary outcome.

The name of McKay’s blog- Misfits Architecture- comes from his focus on misfits in the architectural world: mostly, sole practitioners (v. Starchitects) who create real things that exist in the real world. Perhaps another kind of misfit, the artist-as-craftsman-and-manufacturer, simply doesn’t exist anymore. But also, maybe they never really did.

Designers have always made use of the manufacturing systems available to them. I won’t blame anybody for trying to make a profit. And yet: this is what makes the truly handmade, the truly small-batch, the truly artist-designer-craftsperson-manufacturer misfits so much more special.

Note: This week, I piggybacked quite heavily on McKay’s writings. His blog is well worth your time if you’re looking for a more strictly Architecture and Design oriented blog. More here: https://misfitsarchitecture.com/

#writing

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southboundhqarchive · 6 years ago

Photo

MEET KIMBERLY,

FULL NAME › Kimberly Qianyi Feng AGE › twenty eight GENDER › Cis female (She/Her/Hers) FROM › Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada RESIDENCE › Stagecoach Apartments (Outskirts) OCCUPATION › Bartender at the Coyote’s Howl Bar, Projectionist at the Moonlite Drive-In Theater NOW PLAYING › Can You Fake It? by Bread and Water

BIOGRAPHY,

trigger warnings: death, murder, gore, sex mention, assault, implied racism, violence, drug mention

▓ ▌NOW PLAYING : GOOD THING – FINE YOUNG CANNIBALS

it’s a whirlwind romance, so the journal of kimberly’s father would tell of it when her mother finally lets her read it. megan robbie spends her year abroad at tianjin university, hoping to make a new start for her life after the death of her parents. she has no siblings to lean on for support and the once strong childhood and college friendships that had promised permanence and fortitude had failed–crumbling under the weight of complicated grief. megan finds the exchange program that will take her as far away from victoria, bc as possible. northern china connects her somewhat distantly to her mother’s mother, a woman she barely sees in her own features and hardly remembers from her own childhood. megan finds herself falling in love with the coastal metropolis.

no one seems to notice the small changes in megan’s body beneath her bridal garb. it is not long before the wedding that baby qianyi grows in her belly–just now the size of a peach pit–kicking with the thunderous force of athena banging around in her father’s head. she is guoqiang’s daughter through and through. when she is born, it is a difficult birth and megan thinks that surely all this pain is worth it. she doesn’t see her baby for hours as she hemorrhages blood and the fundal massage the nurses perform to train her uterus to do what it was engineered to after birth is excruciating. there is nothing she wants more than to be a mother, she thinks, and when she holds qianyi in her arms for the first time, she knows she cannot return to work and there is nothing left for her back home in british columbia.

they name the small girl for guoqiang’s feisty mother and megan gives her the english counterpart of kimberly and the middle name of her own later mother. in megan’s arms, qianyi can never seem to find peace and is quieted only long enough to eat before howling for her father. megan feng cannot understand what she has done wrong, but is comforted by the soft tutting of her husband as he quiets their precocious baby girl, insisting that she is just a fussy child and only seemed preferred him because he was so often at work.

college had worked out well for guoqiang and soon he was working for future tv in tianjin. the train rides home extended his time away as did the occasional afterwork dinner or meeting leaving megan and kimberly to themselves for the most part during the week. if distance made the heart grow fonder, time made the heart grow sweeter. megan was full of yearning and though she cherished her time with the fussy, mischievous toddler it soon became not enough. she yearned for stimulating conversation and found herself nose deep in any literature she could get her hands on–eager to discuss the stories with guoqiang as he entered the house late at night with slumped shoulders.

▓ ▌NOW PLAYING : BELA LUGOSI’S DEAD – BAUHAUS

the time comes where guoqiang feng is bestowed with the good fortune of moving up in the company. despite being dead tired everyday, he considers himself lucky even as the dust continues to build on his baby blue fender stratocaster. once relegated to the work week, guoqiang’s long hours continue on long business trips throughout the country. the time apart does not shatter their foundation, but it does take its toll on the young couple. unwilling to let megan and qianyi come second to anything, guoqiang makes some important changes.

on most nights, guoqiang starts skipping the afterwork cocktails–coming back home from with a little more energy than before. he starts to plan a family vacation to sanya to revitalize the marriage and get some much needed rest and relaxation. megan takes the news to heart and enthusiastically begins planning their itinerary. there is a new glimmer to the feng household and even kimberly seems to be less fussy–toddling around with a smiling face. she takes steps on her own and starts to speak; her first word is ‘cat.’ the fengs get a cat. kimberly can hardly remember life in tianjin, but nearly every moment of her childhood includes that cat she cannot name. the gossamer wings of nostalgia obscure so many things.

the fengs are as shocked as the rest of the world when news hits of sarin gas in nagano. it’s a stark juxtaposition when held up against guoqiang’s busy work days in tianjin or megan and kimberly playful days in the coastal city of tianjin. the fengs have never been to japan aside from guoqiang’s rare trips to tokyo for business. when guoqiang doesn’t return to his hotel room in tokyo on time from the train to make his night call with his family a year later, it’s the furthest thing in the world from megan’s mind. she’s certain–despite qianyi mounting tantrums–that he simply stayed out too late with colleagues following an impromptu dinner. when he never makes it home, megan wonders if she should count herself lucky or unlucky that kimberly does not have the words to ask the deeper questions–not yet.

as spring approaches, ushering in the reminders of trips to sanya, megan feng holds qianyi firmly in her arms in a dark room. they are all that is left. everything reminds megan of him. guoqiang’s ghost is inescapable and he is present in everything she does. guoqiang’s mother qianyi comes to mourn her son, but stays to help a mother and child heal. it’s too much for one woman to carry alone, but despite their grief the two mothers make a go of it together.

▓ ▌NOW PLAYING : BURN – THE CURE

every grain of sand in bohai bay carries a piece of guoqiang in it. megan cannot breathe in her husband’s shadow and, despite the love she has for her home, she knows it is time to make a new life. the goodbyes are painful, but after she is accepted to study at the university of british columbia she knows that fate has chosen a new path for her. she is blessed to leave with her daughter in tow. the cat with a forgotten name stays with qianyi’s nainai in her modest house by the sea. it will be a long time before little qianyi looks upon her face again.

qianyi starts kindergarten in vancouver, british columbia and struggles behind her classmates. back home she was touted as gifted, if not just a little too busy, but here she feels behind. by elementary school she is taking the bus and walking home to the apartment herself while megan finishes her degree. so many kids struggle with the name qianyi, even though it is the simplest thing on her own tongue. she doesn’t get to choose between qianyi and kimberly; it is a choice made for her by her mother and the rest of the people she comes across. it isn’t perfect, but kimberly will look back later upon this time with palpable longing; it’s the only time she remembers feeling happy with her mother because, as she’ll learn in an encroaching reading assignment–nothing gold can stay.

where kimberly struggles, megan thrives. majoring in literature, she puts her love of reading to good use. it doesn’t even matter that she has to start seemingly from scratch when all of her credits don’t transfer over. three years into her bachelor’s and she meets professor preston clarke and is immediately enamored by his lecture style. he is, for all intents and purposes, the quintessential cool guy professor. they meet during his office hours and discuss poetry over coffee. the romance doesn’t cross the line until graduate school, when she becomes his teaching assistant. to protect his reputation she drops out of the program and applies for a teaching program instead. megan and kimberly move into his tasteful craftsman in english bay. everytime preston calls her ‘kimmie’ instead of qianyi she bristles; she knows this man has no business playing her father.

▓ ▌NOW PLAYING : LEXICON DEVIL – THE GERMS

as kimberly grows so do her problems in school. the letters seem to dance off the page like fall leaves and she is unable to sit still to focus like the other kids. the more kimberly struggles, the more megan and preston push her. it only deepens the divide between them. the only balm for her anger is the occasional stretches of the year when nainai visits. it is the only time kimberly freely speaks chinese in the household where her mother coddles her monolingual partner. when nainai is there, kimberly does not break her toys or rip apart preston’s coffee table books–she runs into the arms of her grandmother and finds the comfort of her father. with grandma feng in the house, the tensions seem to lessen.

it’s the music that kimberly channels this anger into. she spends her afternoons skateboarding of messing around on her dad’s old stratocaster. she paints her lips black and clings to anything that turns to corners of her mother’s lips downard in disapproval. kimberly tells herself it’s her mother’s choice, this rebellion. it’s the choice she made when she plucked her small daughter from her father’s home and forced her into the hostile canadian soil. in that soil, megan feng becomes meg clarke. she blossoms and grows, building a home in old grief to runaway from new loss. kimberly refuses the surname and stands her ground; she will not forfeit her father’s name.

▓ ▌NOW PLAYING : OH BONDAGE ! UP YOURS ! – XRAY SPEX

freshman year brings a new sense of freedom to kimberly life. skipping class to smoke cigarettes and crush beer cans under the bridge beats the annoyed sighs of teachers who think ‘kimberly feng just doesn’t apply herself.’ when she runs out of cash for smokes or weed at the end of the school day, kimberly skates over to the university to bum a few dollars off her stepdad. she’s done it half a dozen times this month alone and there’s nothing to suggest this day will go any differently. as she approaches his office, she zips up the black hoodie she’s altered with dental floss to cover the band shirt beneath as a small act of appeasement.

instead of finding him alone, drinking scotch and contemplating the loneliness his mediocre life affords him, kimberly finds him with his hand on the thigh of another bright-eyed literature major–his position as a professor adding an attraction to him that would otherwise go overlooked. she turns sharply on the heel of her black doc martens, storming out to the parking lot to the tenured professor’s coveted parking spot. the silver sedan glistens in the spring sunshine. it’s so close to the anniversary of her father’s death, which has come and gone unmarked yet again in preston clarke’s household. april showers bring may flowers, but in the parking lot it is raining safety glass as she smashes out the windows of the sedan with the trucks of her skateboard. the clarkes have always seemed to be more interested in the status of parenthood rather than the labor love takes. it feels good to break something he loves.

when preston finds out he insists that nainai’s summer visit be cancelled and megan feels pressured to oblige; she has always only wanted harmony between preston and kimberly and it seems farther away than ever. the punishment does not serve to temper her into a well-honed tool. kimberly anger is a wolf lapping its own blood off the blade of a knife; the meal satiates her, but it is she who is hemorrhaging. she runs away several times before it sticks–never speaking to her mom and stepdad again when she finally manages to get out.

couch surfing with friends and surviving somewhere between traincar and tall boys of steel reserve, she joins a series of moderately popular local punk bands–unable to commit to anything for too long. it builds up her reputation in vancouver’s punk community, however, and soon she has the family she’s always wanted–a large group of friends. kimberly casts off her old identity. she is finding her footing in brand new velvet burgundy docs–a kickdown from some drunk girl at a show. they’re a little too big, but with a couple pairs of wool socks, she can hardly tell the difference.

▓ ▌NOW PLAYING : I LOVE LIVIN’ IN THE CITY – FEAR

by twenty-one, things have picked up for kimberly. the girl has split her time between working at smoke shops and alternative cafes long enough to have obtained her ged and now she works the front door at a popular punk bar. at an average heigh tof 5′6″ the fast-talking, loud mouthed runaway has other ways to cut even the tallest men to half her size. her temper gets her into trouble, but her charisma and work ethic keep her employed.

without her parents’ finances, it becomes more and more difficult for kimberly to see her grandmother and their visits are relegated predominantly to weekly skype conversations. nainai works with her granddaughter to keep up her mandarin and the girl dreams of returning home and spending the weekdays working in tianjin only to return to the calm beach town where her grandmother still lives in the house she was born in. it seems like a pipe dream, but it is one both women hold onto. it is the only dream either one has left. grandma feng no longer has any reason to speak to her once beloved daughter in law either, but there is no spite. she knows that kimberly’s mother cannot bear to have the thorns of guoqiang’s death in her paws for a lifetime. grief is complicated, but better understood by those who’ve lived long enough to see enough of it.

after a few years, kimberly becomes lead bartender, but the money just isn’t rolling in. the bar threatens to close and kimberly begins taking night classes and setting money away in the hopes that a business degree will legitimize her enough for a business loan so she can buy the place herself. it cements her in bc, but with enough money she could at least afford to bring her grandmother out to see her on occasion. it’s not a homecoming, sure, but perhaps it is a homemaking.

▓ ▌NOW PLAYING : EVER FALLEN IN LOVE – THE BUZZCOCKS

like her mother and father before her, kimberly falls in love with a boy playing guitar–spitting his own blood on the crowd of the bar like gasoline. kurt is tall and lanky with a padlock securing a chain around his throat. his long, dark hair frames his freckled face so delicately for someone with such an obtrusive frame. it’s not long before the spiteful bartender and the guitarist who lives in his van and calls himself ‘freegan’ to justify dumpster diving cheese pizzas are inseparable. he moves in quickly to her place, more or less because he doesn’t have a stable place to leave his shit when he’s on tour.

it suits her just fine when he’s away playing shows or laying down tracks on a seven inch. the bands slays and kurt and kimberly have fun together. they get drunk on forties in train yards and cemeteries. they drive out to the beach and fuck in his van before tagging up the concrete retaining walls of a beachfront housing development. it seems like they might spend the rest of their lives smoking weed and cigarettes on the porch, scarfing down breakfast burritos at three am, and marathoning eighties horror movies like each time is the first time. kimberly doesn’t know if she believes in love, but she thinks that maybe this is close enough. her skype calls to grandma feng become spotty in these first few months. it is the thing she will live to regret the most.

kimberly becomes lax under the spell of love. coursework does not go unfinished, but she lets kurt hangout sometimes in the bar when she’s closing. eventually, her boss concedes to hire him on as a dishwasher and–though he complains about wanting a better position–he shows up to work most days more or less on time with a fresh cigarette behind his ear and an easy grin. he closes up some nights with kimberly or the other bartender–a menacing looking american girl named natasha that bites her nails when she thinks no one is looking and always smells like damp patchouli and sweat.

on a moonless night in december, not long after their one year anniversary, kimberly arrives to the community college to see that class is cancelled. excited to return early to the bar and surprise kurt with some burgers and garlic fries, she is crushed to find him in the arms of natasha. the pair are showered in burgers and kimberly catches one of them with an empty bottle she isn’t sure she truly means to make contact with. the sound of shattered glass has always been a lullaby to an angry girl.

she’s not even all the way back to her apartment before she gets the call. kimberly feng is fucking firedand kurt has given her the blame for the money he’s been skimming from the place on the sly. they’re debating on whether or not to press charges. kimberly sells all of kurt’s second-rate band equipment to a pawn shop along with the things that don’t mean enough to carry on her back. she buys a plane ticket to tianjin by way of los angeles that day. with christmas lurking around the corner, it’s the best bang for her buck. kimberly leaves her house keys on the empty floor. fuck leases and fuck kurt stevens.

▓ ▌NOW PLAYING : SPELLBOUND – SIOUXSIE AND THE BANSHEES

the corrosive memories of kurt and natasha’s tryst are far from kimberly’s mind as she finishes the skype call with her grandmother giving her the good news. understandably, grandma feng is concerned about the impulsive decision, but she knows her granddaughter well enough. even a girl as rash as a summer forest fire sometimes makes the right choice. they have dreamed of reuniting for so long, it is hard to take the news with anything but a tearful smile. kimberly hears it in her voice–it colors every word. for the first time in kimberly’s young life she thinks: i’m coming home.

the drive is a long one, but kimberly is worried about the possibility of being forced to stay in bc due to assault charges. she can drive down the west coast and breathe in the salty air. she can eat clam strips and throw bread to seagulls in some seaside diner while she watches the tumultuous waves of the oregon coast thrash violently against the rocky shore. maybe it’ll be therapeutic, she thinks, to be one small person along a great, dark sea. a few days more. a few days and she’ll be back in tianjin and maybe she and nainai can get a new cat together. maybe the waves that beat the sands of dongjiang bay beach are softer and kinder than those in the pacific northwest.

it’s a lonely ride down and after three days of reflection and solitude, kimberly feels like crawling out of her own skin. it’s too much peace for a girl born of chaos. perhaps it’s self-destruction or maybe it’s idle boredom, but when she sees the young crust punk couple hitchiking on the side of the road, she thinksfuck it, at least it’s something new and pulls over for them. they’re on the way to yuma city and she agrees to drop them off on her way to lax. they seem fine enough. she doesn’t even mind the little blue heeler they have with them, even though she’s a dyed in the wool cat person. the track marks don’t go unnoticed, but it’s nothing new to a veteran of the punk scene and kimberly feng can handle anything.

▓ ▌NOW PLAYING : DEAD END JUSTICE – THE RUNAWAYS

after a day on the road, the trio and their small dog throw down a few bucks to sleep in one of the cabins at a kampground of america. it’s not so bad, but the puppy whines all night and pees on the floor once in the early hours of the morning. kim lies awake on the top bunk and she can hear the pair talking below her. wes speaking in his dopey voice, hardly whispering and maya shushing him in harsh whispers. kimberly keeps her movements to the minimum and her eyes closed after she hears them pause for several moments when she readjusts. she’s certain she can smell maya’s breath for a moment as she hears the bed creak and feels a steely finger in her ribs. keeping her breaths steady, she plays opossum.

it becomes clear to her, once the bed creaks and maya starts talking again that they mean to rip her off. maya even asks wes is he’s ever wondered what it would feel like to kill somebody. kim’s seen the way he looks at her; he’d die for her. he’d kill for her. boy, have they fucked with the wrong girl, kim thinks darkly. covers pulled up to her chin. there’s a butterfly knife in her pocket and the shape of it has left an impression on the skin of her thigh. slowly she reaches for it and works to silently unfold it, clutching it to her chest beneath the covers when she’s through. they’re gonna pay. she’s never thought herself a killer, but she’s been a fighter since she was in her mother’s belly. let them try it, she thinks. and they do.

maya is easily overtaken. kim has the element of surprise and a few inches on her. she wonders what it says about her that she can dispatch a shitty person so easily. it’s not like highlander; she doesn’t gain mystical powers when she sticks maya in the neck with that cheap butterfly knife. all she gets is blood. wes, on the other hand, he’s harder once he realizes his life is on the line. easily, he has half a foot and thirty pounds on her and he gives almost as good as he gets. kim swallows a molar and take a hit so hard her ears ring, but she doesn’t stop. her whole life has been filled with a rage that she has let out in metered doses. tonight she lets it all out; tonight she knows she can never go back to vancouver, but she can still go home. she doesn’t stop until the dog barks at her loudly to go outside and she wonders if he didn’t trust them either.

they’d named him something stupid, like chaos or dogmeat. he wasn’t a fucking fallout canine companion even if they fancied themselves raiders. heroin and the open road, punk rock and a boxcar–she knows how romantic it all can seem. they probably thought they were mad max or negan. in the end they were just assholes. kimberly feng is a cat person, but she can’t just leave this poor dog in the cabin with all that blood. he’s barely more than a puppy. kim doesn’t know what the fuck to do with a dog, but … he is kind of cute. his blue-grey fur reminds her of an old man’s beard–a little old grandpa–and so the name, while never meant to be permanent, sticks. and so does grandpa, it seems, as he never leaves her side. they’ll have to head east, farther from the scene of the crime and buy a plane ticket from somewhere like phoenix. she chides herself as she wonders how much it costs to ship a dog to tianjin and decides fuck it, it doesn’t really matter. their friendship was baptized in blood, she and the dog belong together.

▓ ▌NOW PLAYING : THERE IS A LIGHT THAT NEVER GOES OUT – THE SMITHS

the open road at night in the desert has an eerie quality to it and kim is running from ghosts. phantoms who catch her easiest when she is sleeping, grandpa curled under her arm, in the back seat of her beat up muscle car. she’s never seen a place quiet like this and maybe it’d even be beautiful if she wasn’t alone–lady macbeth on the run. at least the dog’s good company, he doesn’t seem to care what she’s done and long as she feeds him. there’s something kind of nice about the newness of unconditional love.

she doesn’t call her grandmother to tell her about the change in flight plans, not yet anyway. once nainai’svoice sound on the other end, she knows she’ll burst into tears. she doesn’t deserve a grandmother like that, but she knows that an old woman can’t care for herself forever. she can at least give her that. if she can’t give her fat grandchildren and a fancy house on the beach, she can at least be there for her–if only she could find the highway.

before she knows it, it’s been four months. nainai was understanding when she said she’d run into some bad luck and was staying in this small town. she’s just laying low of course, and she promises her grandmother everyday that she’ll be out to phoenix to catch her flight before she knows it. maybenainai even believes it, because she says ‘my friends in la tell me there was a murder along the freeway there, be careful, sweet girl’ and kimberly cringes, because she is not a sweet girl. she’s a killer and a prisoner and only one of those truth, is she fully aware of in boot hill.

❝ the only thing i remember from my childhood is when you are scared, make yourself tall. i’m the tallest girl alive. i’m the tallest knife. no throat can hold me. ❞

CENSUS,

FACECLAIM › Chloe Bennet AUTHOR › Lucia

#chloe bennet #rp #rpg #small town rp #oc rp #{ all. }#{ f. }#{ local. }#{ lucia. }#{ over twenty. }#death tw #murder tw #gore tw #assault tw

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stoprobbersfic · 7 years ago

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patterns (jonathan x nancy, m)

patterns rated m (but not explicit) jonathan x nancy, post-season 2 (ridiculous teen romance. ridiculous teen adventures.) -i guess it would be nice to help in your escape from patterns your parents defined read on ao3

If you asked Nancy Wheeler how long she's known Jonathan Byers, she'd say forever. Since they were young, since their little brothers were even younger. She knows he likes rock music and long hair, dark colors and pretentious authors. She knows he doesn't like being called on in class, or parties, or talking all that much, or making friends. She knows he loves his family more than anything.

She knows now more than she did a year ago. She knows he hates guns and loves animals, that he's not very good with a bat but excellent with a lighter, that he won't panic under pressure and that he'll do anything for the people he loves, especially his little brother.

She knows intimate things now, too, like how he kisses, and the way his arms tremble as he holds himself above her, and how he says her name when he's inside her. She knows what his sweat smells like and his skin tastes like and where his happy trail starts and where it goes. She knows how that tastes, too.

She knows he has nightmares, and that he sometimes talks in his sleep, and that he talks more in his sleep when he's having nightmares but sometimes it's just him talking to his dog, What are we gonna do with all these pizza boxes, buddy? She knows what color red he turns when she tells him about that dream, and how pale he is when he rockets awake from nightmares. And she's learning – fast, she always learns fast – how to chase the nightmares away.

But in the months after their adventure to bring down the big baddies in the government and the most terrifying monster hunt she's ever lived through (and what does it mean she's got other monster hunts to compare it to), the months after the quiet thing between them shifts to something louder and stronger, she realizes she may not know him much at all.

+++

She made fun of him for liking the Talking Heads on Halloween but after weeks of sneaking into each other's rooms she realizes she likes them too. They make her feet bop and her chin bounce around and her hips wiggle against his. They make his hands press into her flesh and hold her against him as his smile turns into something more dangerous.

He questions her enjoyment of everything he plays that she likes – neither of them trust the other just yet in matters so personal; to make sure the Demogorgon doesn't get them, of course, but not to be honest about the Clash and Tom Cruise and the things they hold closest to their hearts - but also teases her gently for what she does gravitate toward. She teases him in return every time Bauhaus pops up on a mix tape.

She likes the cadence of David Byrne's voice and the funk-punk, as Jonathan calls it, of their songs. She puts them on and lets her body move against his until he can't pay attention to the music anymore and can only say her name against her skin, breathing into the hollow of her neck as she fits her fingers into the notches of his spine and hangs on for dear life.

She doesn't realize how obvious they are until she puts on Remain In Light one afternoon and hears one of her brother's friends – Dustin probably – exclaim "Are you kidding me?!" and it shatters the spell. They can't stop laughing and Jonathan puts on Joy Division to mourn not being able to finish what they started.

(He sneaks into her room the next night and makes it up to her.)

+++

He gets letters with flyers in them. She has no idea what they mean. He keeps them in a pile on his desk, strewn with the cassette tapes and film canisters and darkroom prints that dominate the room, and never talks about them but never throws them out either.

She finally picks up the one on top one night when they're half-studying, half-hanging out, and examines it. She doesn't know what a Naked Raygun is or what it has to do with an address on Belmont Street. She's pretty sure there's no Belmont Street in Hawkins.

Jonathan returns from the bathroom and lets out a soft "Oh" when he sees her holding it.

"Where do you get these?" she asks, holding it slightly aloft. He walks over to his bed and sits back down on it with a shrug.

"Friends."

He picks up a pile of flash cards and gestures at the spot she'd previously occupied expectantly, and she puts the flyer down, lets it go and returns to their physics test.

+++

He knows parts of Hawkins she didn't even know existed.

He takes her to see "Beverly Hills Cop" (at her behest, with plenty of raised eyebrows and snarky mumblings in the car on the way) and everybody knows his name. Their tickets are free and so is their popcorn. As they settle in she asks about it. He looks confused at her question.

"I worked here for a summer," he explains. "Plus, everyone comes into the store. We trade, kind of."

She ponders that all through the movie and every time he notices her distraction he squeezes her hand and gives her a look like he's worried something is very wrong. She's just trying to think of what store he works at. She never bothered to ask.

After the movie they go back to one of his former coworker's houses, drink beer and she watches him and laugh and joke with a small group of complete strangers and wonders if they go to her school. She wonders how no one figured out that Jonathan Byers does, in fact, have friends and that they seem pretty nice. She wonders if there's a second high school in Hawkins she doesn't know about.

That seems impossible.

He keeps an arm around her the entire time, their thighs pressed tight against each other, and makes sure to include her in jokes and stories and explain the references that fly over her head, and she's not sure she's ever heard him talk so much.

She thinks about another night like this with another boy and another group of friends and the feeling she was being intentionally left in the dark to protect a bond more important than her. She doesn't feel less important, but she does realize there's a world beyond her own she's never bothered to investigate as others have.

She's surprised how gutting that revelation is considering she once climbed through a tree into an alternate dimension and made it back alive.

+++

His patterns are different than hers, than Steve's. There aren't parties every weekend and nights with his work friends are few and far between. Usually it's just the two of them, sometimes with Will and the boys, sometimes with Joyce, sometimes with Max and Eleven and the whole gang, but mostly the two of them alone watching movies and doing schoolwork and listening to tapes and ignoring the shadows in the corners of the room.

So it's a surprise when he asks her, as they drive to school on an otherwise unremarkable Tuesday morning, if she can get away Friday night. All night.

She's caught so off-guard she can't even muster a dirty joke.

"For what?" she asks instead. He glances at her and gives her that little half smile, the one that means she's said something a little dumb and very cute.

"It's a surprise."

"A surprise?"

She tries to clear her thoughts, runs down dates and times and wonders if there's some sort of anniversary or special occasion she's missed. It's not her birthday. It's not his birthday. Unless he's being very childish it's not their anniversary.

She harrumphs softly, stymied. He lets out a soft snort, laughing at her.

He parks and she climbs out of the car automatically, hoists her bookbag, closes the door. When she looks up he's right in front of her, inches away, and she can't help but think about a weird underground bunker apartment outside of Chicago and watered down vodka. He reaches up to lightly touch the furrow in her brow.

"Don't think too hard, Nance," he says and kisses her sweet and firm. Warmth creeps from her lips down her neck and pools in the pit of her stomach. She slides one hand to his waist – long and shockingly lean, you really can't tell anything about his bones and sinew from the clothes he wears – and starts to tug him closer but he pulls away. He's still grinning that grin.

"See you at lunch," he says and walks off.

When Carol coughs out a slut as she walks past, she doesn't even notice.

+++

She tells her mom she's having a sleepover at Allie's again, and while her mother smiles and nods and coos over their (fictional) movie choices, the way she's looking at her makes Nancy think she knows exactly where her daughter will be and who's been climbing in her bedroom window for the last three months.

But she doesn't say no and Nancy ponders what that means while she waits for Jonathan to pick her up and take her to school.

She tries to get more clues out of him about where they're going but he won't say a word, just tells her "Later, later," and gives her that smile again. He's practically giddy with the secret.

They have three morning classes together and she passes him notes in every class.

So where are we going? Come on, tell me. OK, give me a hint. Just a little hint. Just ONE little hint!

He crumples up each one but his eyes dance as he does, biting his lip to hold his laughter and maybe the secret as well. She thinks about biting his lip later, revenge for keeping her in the dark. She's pretty sure it won't feel like punishment to him.

After the fifth note she crosses her arms, huffs, and refuses to look at him. She puts on the best pout she can that won't attract their teacher's attention and waits. She can feel his eyes boring into the side of her head for the rest of class, but when she finally gives in and glances his way he's not annoyed at all. He's grinning at her, in fact.

She sticks her tongue out at him. He winks.

They eat lunch on the hood of his car and skip the rest of their classes for the day.

+++

After an hour in the car that she fills with constant, unrelenting questions, he gives in and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a carefully folded piece of paper.

"Shit, Nance, you're as bad as the boys," he says as he hands it to her. "I bet Mike learned it from you."

"Probably," she shrugs, happy to have gotten something out of him. "I'm very persistent."

"Tell me about it," he mutters, and ejects the tape from the stereo to flip it over.

The paper is another one of the flyers she's seen, a list of names she doesn't recognize, another address on a street she doesn't know.

"This," he says, reaching over and tapping one of the names, "is my friend's band."

"Band," she echoes.

"I want to see them. They want to meet you. I thought… I thought we could use a night away. Kinda like… like normal people," he says.

His voice has gone soft again, quiet and unsure. She looks up at him and he's staring studiously at the highway. She hasn't seen him like this in weeks, she realizes; with her he's confident, playful, strong. If he wasn't driving she knows he'd be staring at his shoes, maybe scuffing the toe of the sneakers into the ground.

She reaches out and takes his hand, the one resting on the gearshift, laces their fingers together.

"You," she says, giving his hand a squeeze, "have never been normal."

He chuckles.

"So where are we going?" she asks. He nods at the windshield and she looks up just in time to see a sign that says "Chicago 97"

+++

The only time Nancy's ever been to Chicago was when she was a child. Her father had a weekend-long business conference and her mother suggested they all go together, their little family of four. While her father worked they went to art museums and to the top of brand new skyscrapers, looking at the grid of streets and the sparkling blue lake.

Once upon a time, before she found an older man with a steady, good-paying jobs, Karen Wheeler had studied English and Architecture, and she took 10-year-old Nancy and seven-year-old Mike around the historic neighborhoods, explaining the different kinds of columns and porches, boring them to death until they found a hot dog stand and managed to convince her to let them try Chicago-style dogs.

Her memories of Chicago are hazy around the edge, bright and sunny and filled with family. When Jonathan steers his car into city limits it is dark and the city looks nothing like she remembers.

He seems to know where he's going, which makes her wonder how many times he's made this trip before, to see his friends or a band or whatever else it is he does when he carves out a little time away from his family. Not for the first time, she thinks of how she's only really gotten to know him in the last few months, and only a tiny bit a year before that.

So much of his life is a mystery to her. She wants to know it all, to keep the knowledge behind her ribs where no one can steal it, a reminder that he's hers, all hers. She's not used to this feeling and tries to push it down, but when he glances over at her she thinks he might be able to see it anyway.

His friend's name is Shawn, he explains, and they used to work together at the store (it's the record store, she's found out, of course it's the record store, how on earth did she not know he worked at the record store where else would he work?) until Shawn graduated and went to Chicago for school. He's technically still in school, Jonathan thinks, but mostly he plays in a band and works at another record store and lives in a run-down house with half a dozen of his friends. That's where they'll be staying; they have a spare mattress in the basement.

Nancy's stomach flips and flops like it did when they left the lab and started on a quest to find a paranoid investigative journalist, and oh, she's missed this feeling.

When they arrive, a group of shaggy-haired boys spill out onto a stoop and scoop Jonathan up in hugs and shoulder claps, all talking over each other in their excitement to see him. He blushes bright red, embarrassed by all the attention, but he keeps her hand tight in his the entire time and everyone exclaims over her as well and she's pretty sure she's stumbled into the Twilight Zone.

The Twilight Zone apparently includes moth-eaten couches, a record player spinning New Order, warm beer and his sweat-slicked palm on her lower back, and she'd rather explore this than the Upside Down any day.

+++

When she was a child Chicago was big and sparkling and overwhelming. As a woman (she's grown up fast, so fast), Chicago is fun.

There's a hot dog stand down the street and they get another round of Chicago dogs and she finds out Jonathan doesn't like raw tomatoes and picks his delicately off his meal. She's not even bothered by stuffing her face, eagerly digging into the salty spicy, and blushes when he wipes a smear of mustard from the corner of her mouth.

He licks it off his thumb with dark eyes and it feels like the most adult promise he's ever made her.

The bar where the band plays in is dark and dingy, stickers all over the walls and graffiti in the bathroom. She doesn’t think it's all ages but no one asks for ID or hesitates to sell her a beer. Jonathan talks to the bartender with an ease she didn't know he was capable of, and the girl in coat check stares at her in a way that makes her realize she's probably not Jonathan's first.

Maybe not even his second.

How did he hide this from their tiny town?

He steers her into a corner as they wait for Shawn's band, head close to hers.

"You okay?" he asks. She's been quiet, she knows.

"Yeah," she says, eyes big as she stares up at him. "I had no idea."

"That I had friends?"

His mouth twists in that horrible, self-hating way she has, and she told Murray his dad was an asshole but that wasn't enough to encompass how much she hates Lonnie for what he did to his smart, sweet, beautiful older son.

"That you're cool," she says. He blushes at that and she presses close to him, feeling Coat Check Girl's eyes on her, feeling powerful, feeling real.

+++

Shawn's band is loud.

Jonathan doesn't dance, he's told her that a dozen times before, but he bops his head and shuffles foot to foot on beat and it's the cutest thing she's ever seen.

She covers her ears and stares as the sweat dripping down his neck and the way his face is open and joyful in a way she's only seen when his little brother has miraculously returned from the brink of death. He catches her staring and leans down so his mouth is next to her ear.

"Do you like it?"

She laughs, pulls back, and shakes her head.

"No!" Her grin is ear to ear.

He looks confused – happy, but confused – and she throws her arms around his neck and pulls him close.

"But I like you."

He squeezes her a little too tight and spills beer on the back of her sweater.

+++

She has no idea what time it is. She has no idea what day it is. She has no idea where she is or when she is or how she is. Her entire world is Jonathan's lips, and his hips, and how his muscles strain under his skin and how warm he is, all of him, everywhere. He kisses her neck, her collarbone, her breast, her stomach. He lowers his mouth between her thighs and she's lost, lost, lost.

She clutches at his head, fingers tangled in his hair, until she feels like her head is about to float off her shoulders and then he's suddenly above her, inside her, around her, the beginning and the end, everything, everything, everything.

She gasps his name and claws his back and the world is a sunburst and then nothing but the sound of their harsh breathing, the feel of his teeth resting on her collarbone.

"Oh my god," she manages after a moment and that pulls a laugh from them both. He bounces on top of her, a warm, sweaty blanket, as she giggles.

"I love you," he says and jerks, like he didn't mean to say that out loud, like he means to retreat. She locks her legs around his lower back to make sure he stays right where he is. Uses a hand to steer him by the cheek until they are face to face, millimeters apart, breath warm and wet on each other's lips.

"I love you," she says.

She means it.

+++

The next morning her head aches and her mouth tastes like something died in it, but she can't seem to bring herself to untangle herself from the man draped on top of her. It's too early, but she can't fall back asleep.

She feels it; how they're not children anymore.

He snores softly into her shoulder, his fingers grasping at her waist. It was the same the night at Murray's, the same most nights they've spent together since, but as she strokes her fingers through his hair – it's oily and sweaty and they both need a long shower – she realizes it's only now she feels different. In that weird industrial bunker she felt strong, she felt righteous, but now she feels… complete.

And kinda maudlin, apparently.

He hides this, she's realized. Keeps it close to his chest so the bullies and prom kings and monsters can't get it. Keeps it hidden from his mother and Will so he has something of his own, a way to define himself without anyone else's input. And he's shared it with her. Willingly. Enthusiastically.

He yelled at her once, trekking through the woods to find the monster that stole her best friend and his brother, angry and defensive and hurt. Just another suburban girl, he called her, thinking she's rebelling, really repeating all the patterns she learned from her parents. The patterns they set out for her, in what she knows they think is her interest.

She had been so angry. So insulted. So irritated with how pretentious he was being, how much bullshit he was slinging her way. And he was being pretentious, but he was also right and that made her angrier. That he dare see inside her fortress, her carefully crafted self. That he dare call her out on her hypocrisy.

He's still pretentious, but she feels freer than she ever has, feels like the opportunity to break free is closer than ever. Maybe from one pattern to another, she has no idea, but out of the pattern she's seen and resented for so many years.

God, she wishes she could call Barb. She has so much to tell her.

He stirs, nuzzles her neck sleepily.

"Nancdonwakuptoorly," he mumbles. She chuckles.

"What's that?" she whispers in the grey dawn.

"You sleep," he instructs, a little clearer. She laughs a little louder and his eyes flutter open.

"It's too early," he says again, shifting so he's covering her, hovering over her. His arms tremble with the effort because he's still mostly asleep, but he angles his mouth over hers just the same. She turns her head just in time. He makes an offended sound.

"It tastes like something died in my mouth," she says. "I need to brush my teeth."

He chases her lips until she lets him catch them and the warmth spreads through her fast, so fast. She wonders when she became this wanton.

He pulls away sooner than she'd like and gives her a bleary-eyed smirk.

"Yeah, you really do," he says and she shoves him off her, rolling out of bed and putting her feet on the concrete floor.

It's freezing but she doesn't bother to pull on any clothes, just grabs her toothbrush from her overnight bag and scurries into the tiny bathroom. She feels his eyes on her the entire way there. He waits until she gets back to fold himself around her again and she counts his breaths until she drifts off.

+++

The "Welcome to Hawkins" side is comforting and irritating all at once. Already she yearns for the little oasis they created in the last sixteen hours, but she also feels a flutter of excitement to see her brother, hear what he did with his Friday night. To see Will and make sure his eyes are clear and bright. To know everyone is still okay.

She's got her feet up on the dashboard, her left hand stroking the back of Jonathan's neck as he drives, and a comfortable silence between them. On the stereo R.E.M. moans and murmurs, notes winding around them both like a Gordian knot.

"I didn't know," she says softly.

"That I was cool?" he jokes, but his voice is just as gentle as hers. She shakes her head, turns to look at his profile with a smile. Traces the sharp edges of his jaw with her eyes.

"No," she chuckles. "That I could feel like this."

"Like what?"

"Full," she says, but that's not quite right. She searches around her head for a moment. "Happy."

"Yeah?"

She slides her fingers along his neck to his shoulder, then down his arm. He lets go of the wheel, tangles their fingers together.

"Yes." She squeezes his fingers. He squeezes back.

When they drive past Hawkins Lab neither of them notices.

+++

His face takes on new angles in the red light of the dark room. He's standing practically shoulder to shoulder with Nicole as they fight for space in the chemical trays before final assignments are due. Nancy keeps herself tightly packed in the corner, not taking up any extra space out of respect for the other photography students. But her eyes never stray from him, never stop watching. She is learning in the best way she knows how: memorization. The angles of his face, the planes of his body, the sound of his voice and the skill of his work. The things he keeps so carefully hidden from everyone else but lets her discover, uncover, like the archeologist of his life.

He glances up, catches her eye.

He's a sensitive and sweet boy, beaten down and into a shell, a thick fortress of anger and defense to keep the softest parts of him safe. She's slipped into those cracks, filled in the gaps in his defense with something warmer and gentler. In turn he's crept into her like ivy, changing the very nature of her foundation into something more open, more free.

She hopes.

He smiles. She smiles back.

#jonathan x nancy #jonathan x nancy fanfic #jancy #jancy fic #you take your hate far away from here #jonathnan byers #nancy wheeler

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