#but like. its the. living up to the landau name

[elegyofthemoon]

idk why it took me till ascending serval the last time to realize her ascension material is the silvermane badge and 😭

[justblades]

⌕ INSATIABLE HUNGER, 18+

⟢ DAY 2 OF SPECIAL 2K EVENT — where in they basically use you to please themselves

⟢ CHARACTERS : gepard, welt & jing yuan x gender neutral! reader

⟢ WARNINGS : EXPLICIT, MDNI. not proofread.

GEPARD LANDAU

being a silvermane captain is a role not everyone can live up to - to be rid of greed, irrationality and trivial feelings is a masterpiece in its own that gepard landau undoubtedly attained. he always lives up to his name, a solid foundation the belobog citizens can rely on.

naturally, it gets tiring having to be resilient at all times. although he may not act like it's eating his resolve bit by bit the more his stress and fatigue piled up, he heard an unsolicited advice from one of his men. the advice wasn't aimed at him, it was just a conversation he accidentally eavesdropped in. they were two regular soldiers resting for a moment, blabbering about the most nonsensical things.

"have you heard? there's numerous glory holes at the bar recently built in the deepest alley of the administrative district!" one says and the other cackles, "glory holes? like where you put it in and get stimulated in return?" those sentences are all gepard could remember. he attempted his best at being undercover and not give away his identity as he slowly descends further into the back alley.

he thought it was something absurd, not until the blond slips his dick into the hole - his very own girth being encompassed with tightening walls. gepard's breathing becomes jagged, his strong hands tightly clasped on the wall separating him and the incognito glory hole. his brows furrow once he feels the 'glory hole' move, pushing in and out of his dick, already making such sloppy noises.

flushed pink tint brushes from ear to ear the longer he was pleasured in this eccentric setup. the male profusely sweats as climaxing feelings rush onto the throbbing crown of his dick. unintentionally, "i-i'm so . . clo—" slips out of gepard's lush lips and only felt his flames of desire fueled the moment he got to hear the person from the other side answer, "go ahead, cum inside me." the approval seals the deal, he bucks his hips forward with such a powerful thrust, filling your hole with his shape and seed. it was immensely gratifying to be filled up - you couldn't help but chime in, "come again soon . ." gepard only fixes his clothing, still embarrassed having to resort to this but he was already reconsidering.

WELT YANG

the old man happened to be roped in a series of bizarre situations, a scenario he must play along with in order to unravel the secrets of a particular world the astral express happened to stop by. unfortunately, the person welt must scrutinize was someone lecherous, reaching to the point where he pulled the old man to a particular bathroom stall which granted him a face painted of confusion from the brunet's features.

his wrinkles become more prominent at how his brows knit, "what are we to do exactly here, mister?" welt's voice pierces through the thick tension sitting in the air, fixing his black rimmed glasses with his index. "see that partition over there, mr. yang? go there and you'll know what's next." the person replies with a shit eating grin at the end. welt heaves a deep, blue sigh - following suit, just to play along.

not until a particular sight graces his vision, tongue sticking out of a hole, waiting for a visitor to lap in. he looks back and could see that he was still being watched, there is no other choice. with a swift movement, he brings all of his clothing down and slightly tap his erection on the surface, the saliva meeting with his cock's veins was warm, tracing goosebumps all over his skin.

how long has it been exactly? he didn't want to think of that and only spiraled further into pleasure to the point that he rocks his pelvis along with the glory hole's motions, his tip, cock's body and balls being smothered with edible lubricant and saliva all at the same. as the person from the other side of the wall continues to stimulate the old man, more guttural moans bubble from his throat.

"a glory hole . . the name might be misleading for new people . ." the brunet says, accompanied with sloppy noises echoing inside the stall. a question crosses your mind in the midst of the slick blow job you're giving, curious about the male's age as his husky voice and breathy sounded a lower timbre. however, no matter the age— he tasted rather perfect. his cum spills into your throat, a balanced taste of sweet and sour explodes like firecrackers in your tastebuds.

JING YUAN

everyone has secrets, even the luofu general jing yuan himself. whenever he's not on duty which happened a little too frequently— he'd find himself rousing such a lustful act in his own abode. a personal toy he calls whenever he's bored, horny or downright stressed. among those three circumstances, he yearns for his glory hole.

you had no idea you'd be the general's property— after all, it was a shady job offer at the beginning. but what kept your sanity at bay however is the fact that your identity is kept hidden; the payment was more than decent, it estimates up to six digits. it's a job you're happy to have but in contrary, not to boast to narrow minded people.

as you're summoned again by the silver haired, you carefully bend over and made sure the hole is adjacent to your entrance. with one smooth thrust, your hole was intruded by the familiar one, no other than jing yuan's. you clap a hand at your mouth from how a moan tried to escape out, but the more the sex prolonged, the more inevitable it was for you.

jing yuan huffs and exerts more power to his cock, basically jackhammering into your walls. he was long, thick and hot, from one stroke along he had you whimpering under his power, moreso follows are feelings of admiration for the general. "you're not permitted to speak, i know." his abrupt sentence catches you rather off guard.

"but you can let those moans out once in a while . ." the male proclaims, proceeding to quicken his pace with intentions of garnering more lewd sounds coming out of your mouth. you willfully oblige and let it all out, your noises of arousal and satisfaction chime into jing yuan's ears as if you were playing a sweet, melodic tune. "very good." he says, immediately feeling like cumming despite the session starting just five minutes in.

my masterlist !

[meaningofaeons]

Hello! Congrats on 500 follows, you deserve it! Can I visit the cat cafe with Gepard to play with a tortoiseshell munchkin + order a hot cocoa? You probably have a ton of other requests atm so feel free to pass!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ weathering the storm

⊹ character(s) - gepard landau ⊹ word count - 746 ⊹ notes - gn!reader, meet cute, reader is implied to be part of an affluent/noble family, soulmate au wherein you have a countdown on your wrist until you meet your soulmate (technically until you get within a close enough proximity to them)

⊹ katze's 500 follower writing cat-baret

hiii! thank you so much omg <3 (ﾐΦ ﻌ Φﾐ)∫ I hope you enjoy your "cat cafe date" with gepard, I had a lot of fun with this one!!

It was a cold day as ever on the ever-frozen planet where you resided, but for some reason, it permeated your flesh even as you ran through the Belobog alleyways.

The monstrous footsteps of the Fragmentum beasts were not far behind, and you were not keen to end your days at the flaming blade of the Shadewalker.

However, as luck would have it, you found yourself backed into a corner. You slumped to the floor, pressed against the stone wall.

As though reveling in your terror, the beast's footsteps slowed, brandishing its weapon menacingly as it prepared to swing the blade down upon your head.

You squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for the worst.

Then, a small chime resounded, and your eyes once again shot open.

Your soulmate counter... had reached zero.

As if on cue (or perhaps perfectly so, considering the way the soulmate counter seemed to interfere with fate itself), several Silvermane Guards had appeared, taking care of the beasts with no small measure of ease.

In the midst of them all stood none other than Gepard Landau, who was now right before your eyes. He had frozen the monster before you to ice, knocking it to the ground as it vanished into ash.

"Are you alright?"

A gloved hand reached for you, and you took it with just the slightest ounce of hesitation. A twinge of recognition shone in ocean blue eyes as he spotted you, but even if he acknowledged it, Gepard made no verbal mention of it.

"I'm... I'm okay."

Was... Was the eldest son of the Landaus your soulmate?

"That's good to hear."

His soft smile sent a shiver down your spine, but not the kind that the violent winters of Belobog instilled within you every day.

No, it was... warm. Oddly so. And it was accompanied by a distinct warmth in your chest, as well.

"Um... I—"

Before you could even get ahead of yourself, ask about the counter upon your wrist, the blonde had summoned over a combat medic among the ranks of his subordinates, asking him to patch up your scrapes.

You felt your heart drop a bit.

Right. There were so many guards here... Sure, you hadn't exactly "met" any of them in the same way as Gepard, but soulmate counters had been known to end after only close proximity, not necessarily a full meeting.

Any one of these guards could be your soulmate, and you hadn't a clue which.

"I'm sorry, you were going to say something?" Captain Gepard questioned kindly, still holding on your hand.

Some part of you dearly hoped that it was indeed he who was your soulmate... but with no way to check his wrist, you figured only to relent for today.

You could ask around later... You had friends in the Silvermane Guards. Surely, you could garner the names of the ones present, and discover which was your soulmate that way.

"No... no, no. I'm okay. Thank you very much for saving me."

"I was only doing my duty. Do you live near here?"

"Yes, I live close by."

Gepard nodded. "As much as I would like to ensure your safety myself, unfortunately I must stay and continue patrolling in case anyone else is in danger. I will send some trusted guards to accompany you, so please be at ease."

"Thank you so much."

And with that, you were led away from the kindhearted Captain, questions swirling in your mind, just waiting for answers.

—

"Sir, your wrist—!"

Gepard paused as his fellow guard spoke up, his eyes going wide.

His subordinate was most likely referring to the small gash left behind after the earlier scuffle, but something else had caught the blonde's eye.

Right in the spot where the Fragmentum monster's weapon had sliced his long-sleeved uniform open, his countdown lay motionless on his flesh, all numbers now at zero.

How long had it been as such?! Certainly not for too long, as he had obviously long since met every guard here—

It hit him.

The Captain whipped his head around at once, but you were long gone, likely already being escorted home by one of his many subordinates.

Despite the lack of surefire confirmation, however, Gepard was almost certain he knew precisely who you were. He tried not to let the heat rising to his cheeks show, lest the fluttering of his heart become obvious to all.

"...I suppose I should pay their family a small visit."

[sakuyomihana]

⋆˙⟡ Tangled Threads Of Hearts ⋆˙⟡

Hello everyone~! The update for chapter 1 is finally up, sorry for keeping you guys waiting! Thank you for all your support, I was honestly not expecting so many likes on my prolouge chapter! I'll do my best to continue updating this series, stay tune~ *Disclaimer: This is an original work done by me. Pls do not steal it or repost it anywhere else. Thank you and have a happy reading day~!

Chapter 1: Reunions & First Meetings

Year 2023, Spring

Location: AstralEx High School

  Excited chatters could be heard from the students around you as they made their way through the school gate. Many were about which classes they were in, some were even about them being nervous about starting as first year students.

AstralEx High School is a prestigious school known for churning out many excellent, talented and outstanding students every year. And it really lived up to its name.

Looking over the time sheet that was provided by the school at the start of the year, you scrolled through the contents and found what you were looking for.

‘Guess my first period is homeroom with Mr Yang’'.

Smiling to yourself, you were glad that your homeroom teacher was Mr Welt Yang yet again. He was a very interesting, wise and intriguing teacher that you had looked up to since your first year here and you enjoyed the subjects that he teaches in.

Just as you were about to head into the building, you heard a familiar voice screaming your name excitedly from behind. You didn't need to turn around to know who it was, as the figure immediately glomped you into a bone crushing hug.

“[NAME] CHAN, I missed you so much~!”.

“Quiet down, March.. Hah, it hasn't been that long since we last saw each other…”, another familiar yet exasperated voice interjected.

“Ahaha, it's alright Dan Heng. Sure, it hasn't been long but I missed you too~”, you chuckled and returned the hug with one of your own.

“Bleh~, see [Name] Chan agrees with me~!”.

“*sigh*.. What am I gonna do with the two of you..?”.

The familiar sight of your two best friends fooling around with you, had made your day even brighter. The bright and energetic female, March 7th and the cool and reserved male, Dan Heng had both been your closest companion since day one. The sight of the two bickering over you had never failed to make you smile everyday.

“Now, now.. Why not join us in this group hug, Dan Heng? It's warm and fuzzy~”, you decided to tease the stoic male a little.

“!”, a blush immediately crept out to his ears and cheeks.

“Yeah~! Come on~!”, March chimed in.

You both knew that he has a soft spot for you and using that on him wasn't fair but he still agreed, while it may be embarrassing for him to admit.

“*huff* Fine..”.

And thus, the three of you ended up in the group hug.

Feeling warm and fuzzy from the contact, the three of you finally separated and began heading for your first period. Funnily enough, you all were in the same class yet again for another year.

Chatting again like old times, the three of you walked to class together. Meeting familiar faces along the way, you exchanged greetings and wished each other all the best for whatever's coming up. Amongst them, were your childhood friend, Gepard Landau; fellow literature club member and the student council president, Bronya Rand and her childhood friend, Seele.

It was a surprise that all of you ended up in the same class for your final year, not that you mind but you really appreciated all the company and support that you are getting for you to survive yet another year in this school.

Picking the seats that were the closest to the window, with you in the middle, March and Dan Heng beside and behind you respectively, Gepard in front and the other two somewhere else in the room, you guys took your seats and got ready for homeroom. Mostly everyone that were currently in class, were familiar faces that you had seen before but there were also a few in particular that you had never met before. An example would be this silver-haired male that you had never seen before your entire life. He was standing around and looking for a seat albeit nonchalantly.

“Who is that? I have never seen him around school before..”.

Girl took that question out of your mouth, just as you were about to ask the same thing. What can I say, great minds think alike. But Dan Heng would beg to differ that you were definitely better than March.

“Maybe he's a new student.”, Dan Heng replied, not looking up from the book that he was reading.

“Wow, transferring in straight at the start of the third year. He looks kinda hot actually~”.

“March..”, we all deadpanned.

“Tehee~”.

Lightly chuckling at March's usual antics, you slowly turned to look out of the window, taking in the beautiful view of spring in front of you. Seemingly lost in thought for a moment, Gepard spoke for your mind.

“Itching to recreate this scenery, are you?”.

“!”.

“Aha, you got me.”.

Smiling sheepishly at how easily it was for him to read you, you turned away from the male in front of you and back to the scenery before you.

“It just looks so beautiful.”.

“Yeah, it sure is.”, he acknowledged.

‘But not as beautiful, without you in the picture.’.

He kept that thought to himself, hiding it with a light chuckle.

Beaming back at him, you took out your sketchbook and began to sketch. Your smile had always had an effect on his heart, he wanted to protect it so bad. Trying to keep himself sane, he turned back to the book in front of him as he held back the blush that had already crept up to his ear. Thankfully, nobody had noticed.

Gepard and his older and younger sisters, Serval and Lynx had known you since you were little as your parents knew each other and were friends. Thus, hangouts became very frequent. The both of you did everything together before you were separated in middle school. The young man had already fallen for you when he first laid his eyes on you and he just fell harder as you grew up. You could say that you were his love at first sight, something that started out as a crush before turning into full blown affection, when you guys grew older.

He did try to make his move on you twice upon the urging of Serval, so that she would stop teasing him about it, however, those attempts had failed as your very over-protective older brother that loved you too much had always been the third wheel, interrupting the moments where you two were together.

Not that he wished to give up but he was bidding for the right time to tell you how he truly felt. And now still wasn't and so he waited.

The school bell finally rang, signaling that lessons were about to begin.

You had just managed to finish a rough sketch of the final product and began keeping your materials as Mr Yang took his place at the front of the class.

“Good morning, everyone. I am Welt Yang and I am your homeroom teacher for the rest of the year. To all the students that had been with us since the very beginning, I hoped that you all had a great holiday and a good rest and now it's the start of a new year here in AstralEx High. All of you are now third year students, I truly hoped that whatever we had teached you over the span of two years had not been forgotten and will be put to good use.”.

Everyone in the classroom felt the weight of the words spoken and we resolved ourselves yet again, to not disappoint his expectations of us.

“Now, seriousness aside, I would like to welcome some of the new students that we have here with us today. Let's start off with some short introductions from our lovely students and get to know one another a little better.”.

Each individual student took turns to introduce themselves and what are some of their hobbies, through a game of lottery.

Gepard: “Hi, my name is Gepard and my hobby is taking care of plants and cooking.”.

Bronya: “My name is Bronya and my hobby is reading books.”.

Seele: “The names’ Seele. Er, Hobbies..? Nothing really..”.

March 7th: “Hi, I'm March 7th! But you can call me March! I like to take pictures of all the cute and memorable things in the world!”.

Dan Heng: “Dan Heng and reading..”.

‘Ah, this is so boring..’, someone thought.

->>>>>>>>>

 ‘Ah, this is so boring..’.

The silverette yawned for the 4th time since the day had started. Rude, you all may say but that's just how he felt about all of these.

Caelus had been transferring in and out of different schools for as long as he could remember, as his mother was constantly moving around to different countries due to her job. Not that he could blame her but he's just kinda sick of all this constant moving. He hoped that this was the last, quote unquote hoped, you never know what life brings you.

Due to this, he never bothered making many friends as it was just too bothersome and he didn't need to touch on his emotions. This was not the first time that he had experienced this introduction thing that apparently was a requirement for him to get to know his classmates better.

Stifling another yawn, he watched yet another student introduce themselves to the class. But this time, he was starstruck.

You: “Hello, my name is [Name]. And I like to read and draw in my free time.”.

‘Who was this goddess that had just descended upon him?!’.

You were an ethereal beauty, a sight to behold. He had never met someone whose beauty could ever surpass yours in his life before. Your gentle eyes, smile and voice were like music to his ears and heaven to his sight.

Unable to tear his eyes away from you, it took like a few coughs from Mr Yang, from a light one to a hard one, to snap him back to his senses. Feeling all eyes on him, he started feeling nervous and his palms began to sweat. It didn't help that there were a few piercing glances sent his way and especially yours, he found himself stumped.

Taking in a deep breath, he pulled himself together and stood up..

“H-hi, the names’ Caelus. and er.. my hobby is gaming?”.

He swore that he saw something lit up behind Mr Yang's glasses but he couldn't care less about that now. Fuck, he just wanted to dig a hole and hide in there after such a embarrassing display（＞д＜）!

->>>>>>>>>

Location: AstralEx High School, School Gate

  The first day of school had just flown by like a blur... You were now walking towards the entrance of your school with your friends, as excited chatters filled the previous hallways after such a long day.

You were grateful that Headmasters Himeko and Pom Pom decided to let all the students off earlier today, thus allowing you to head home with all of your friends.

“Mmm! So what will you all be doing after this?”, March asked as she stretched her sore arms a little.

“Seele and I will be heading off first, there's somewhere that we want to go to.”, Bronya was the first to respond.

“Aw man, just as I thought we could all hang out together today.. *sigh*”.

“Maybe next time, March~”, Bronya chuckled lightly at the dejected girl.

“I'll be heading home directly.”.

“Sorry March, Gepard and I have to go somewhere too.”.

“Aw man~”.

Everyone chuckled at the poor girl. 

Truthfully, you wanted to accompany your friend, however, you already had made plans with Gepard to visit Serval's repair workshop and later on have dinner with both families, yours and his.

Gepard on the other hand.. seemed slightly distracted by something and that did not go unnoticed by Seele.  

Deciding to tease the man a little, she linked arms with you and Bronya, snickering as she did so.

“?”.

“Looks like someone is a little distracted~ Why don't you join us, [Name]? Man doesn't seem to remember that he has a date with you~”, she snickered teasingly.

Catching on to what Seele was trying to do, Bronya decided to play along too.

“Ufufu, that's very true~ Shall we?”.

“E-er, wait what?!”, that finally snapped the man out from his stupor.

Seeing his panic expression, everyone burst out laughing, including the usual aloof Dan Heng.

“Ugh..”, the blonde groaned from embarrassment and face palmed himself to hide his blushing face. 

It did not help that you were laughing as well.

“Ahahaha, come on guys.”.

Just hearing your laughter was enough to make the latter redder than a tomato and his yearning heart flutter. The intense laughter died down after a while, as they tried catching their breaths.

“Come on man, just what were you thinking or so distracted by, that you completely zone out on us?”, Seele asked as she wiped away her tears.

“Yeah, Geppie! Tell us tell us!”, March exclaimed with sparkles in her eyes.

“Urgh.. Please don't call me that.”.

“Now now, girls. Stop teasing him already, I'm pretty sure that he has a good reason, right?”, you quickly interjected.

“Y-yeah..”.

“Alright, alright~ Whatever you say but I'm pretty sure we all know the answer. Right, Cold Dragon Young?”, the purplette finally gave in but not before teasing the other male first.

“Hmph..”, the latter chose not to respond.

The conversation finally let up after a gruesome amount of jokes and teasing. With the sky slowly turning an orange hue in the background, the little group began to disperse and everyone left on their merry way.

After the rest had left, it was only just you and Gepard left at the school gate. The once noisy atmosphere had now turned into a comforting silence between two friends.

“Are you sure you are alright though? If you are not feeling well, I can let Brother know that maybe we can shift this annual dinner to another date.”, you asked, breaking the silence as you shared your concern.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Really.”, he replied with confidence.

“Really?”.

“Yes, really. Thank you for your concern but I'm really fine now.”, he chuckled as he ruffled your hair.

Puffing up your cheeks at how he had just ruined your hair, (to which he found adorable) you let out a little sigh before smiling again as you fixed your hair. Just as Gepard was sending Serval a message, notifying her that you guys were going to head over to her shop soon, you suddenly remembered that there was someone that you were supposed to meet.

“Oh right, I forgot that I was supposed to meet Tingyun for a little bit after class ended! Sorry Gepard, do you mind waiting here alone for a bit? I'll be right back.”.

“It's alright, go on ahead. I'll be right here if you need me.”.

“Thanks! I'll be back in a jiffy!”.

And off you went. He honestly didn't mind following you to find your friend but he thought you girls might need some girl time, so he chose to keep his mouth shut and let you go on your own. Taking this time alone, he thought back to events that had happened earlier in the day...

->>>>>>>>>

Location: AstralEx High School, Classroom Hallways

  There were still students frolicking around the hallways and classrooms as you traced back your steps to find your friend, Tingyun. It was unfortunate that this time around, the both of you didn't share the same classes, thus leading to this moment.

You sent the girl a text message as you continued down the hallway, praying that she would respond asap. You were already running a little behind schedule and you didn't want your blonde friend to wait for you for too long, so you quickened your pace. Thinking back to earlier, you wondered what exactly had gotten your male friend to be so out of sorts. He may have said that he was alright but you were still a little concerned. Unable to pinpoint exactly why, you gave up and returned back to the task at hand.

“ Tingyun <3

                                     You:

                                     Hey, I'm here. Whr r u?

Tingyun:

Hi love! I'm outside the classroom that's next to yours~

You:

                                     Okay~ I'm heading over now! “.

Picking up the pace, you headed straight for your classroom. Upon reaching your destination, you finally caught sight of your foxian friend's familiar silhouette. As you got closer, you realized that she was having a conversation with another student, deciding to not intrude on them, you stood a little ways further from the two.

It did not take long for your friend to notice your presence behind her, with that she quickly wrapped up the conversation with the student and headed over in your direction. She bided her time a little and after making sure that the student had already left the premises, she then pounced on you without restrain.

“Love~!!! You are finally here, it’s been too long~!”.

“Hehe, yeah~ I miss you too~!”, you returned her tight squeeze hug with one of your own.

Nuzzling you as her fluffy ears and tail twitched with affection, you felt ticklish from the contact that you let out a cute giggle.

“Ahaha, Tingyun stop! It tickles~!”.

She kept on nuzzling you for a few more minutes and finally letting go when you were out of breath.

“I can’t help it~ You are just too cute to be denied~”.

“Oh, Tingyun~ my love.”.

And she started nuzzling you again.

“Ahaha-haha!”.

She kept at it for another few minutes or so when she finally stopped. By the time it was over, you were panting and wheezing from the lack of air. Taking in and letting out a deep breath as you calmed yourself, you managed to regain your breathing.

“Gosh, that was awful.”, you pouted at your friend while she giggled in amusement.

Smiling wryly, you then proceeded to take something out from your school bag. Emerald eyes shimmered in anticipation as you passed it to her, a small white envelope. You could tell how excited and happy she was with the way her eyes lit up in appreciation, *sigh* the things you would do for her.

“It was kinda hard trying to lie to Brother about this, especially when he knows how adamant I am to his affections, be it at home or in public.”.

“But you still did~ Which means that he didn’t suspect a thing~!”.

Well, at least she’s happy, that’s all that matters.

“Now~ don’t worry your pretty little head~ I’ll of course keep my end of the bargain!”.

Yes.., that’s all that really matters.

“Wait for my good news~! Bye, love~”, with a little wave and there she goes.

‘Well, with that settled, let’s head back. Gepard should be starting to worry by now.’, you thought to yourself as you imagined his panic expression when he finally sees you, given how late it was.

Lightly chuckling to yourself, you set foot back to the school gate..

‘Hah~ The day is finally over.. Let’s hurry home and- Hmm? Is that-’.

End Of Chapter 1: Reunions & First Meetings.

********************

*Author's Note: I'm sorry for the message part of the story for mobile viewers, the entire paragraph was made to fit for desktop!

[yaravella]

More Than Anything Pt. 2 - Gepard Landau

Gepard Landau x Reader x Blade // pt. 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Warning: suggestive, angst, unrequited love, modern au, y/n is a female

Synopsis: One day Serval brought you home and you have been a part of Gepard's life ever since. When he discovered he had feelings for you, it seemed it was too late.

Masterlist

[Song mentioned: Imagination by Foster the People]

So, his name is Blade, probably not his real name, but that’s what they called the guy as. Your senior in the music major. A new drummer in his sister’s band. Tall, wears black a lot, and is quite talented in music. Can play most instruments but specialized in drum and bass. Met you last semester and had been dating for a few months. Seemingly going serious with your relationship. 

Gepard thanked Pela, his cousin who worked in the college magazine and knew most students on the campus. Apparently, this Blade guy is a hot shot in music major that Pela had interviewed once. Somehow, the facts make Gepard even more depressed. Feels like you are not gonna break up with him soon. 

So, he did his best to avoid you. Which is the hardest thing to do since it feels like you are practically living in his house. Filling every nook and crane in his house. In his mind. Now Serval had found a decent drummer to replace Sampo, who sometimes plays like he’s chased by the devil, the band started to hang out more often in his sister's studio. Gepard had to bitterly admit that the guy sounded amazing. The more reason not to be home when he was around. 

Avoiding you alone is hard, now he had to avoid you and that boyfriend of yours. You had formally introduced him to the guy. With a sheepish smile, you said his name and introduce him as your boyfriend. He hated it so much he practically can feel his blood boil as he shook the guy’s hand. Lucky bastard. 

He still can’t stand looking at you and that guy. It’s sickening. Every time he caught the scene with both of you together, his hands would be all over you. Around your shoulders, on your waist, groping your thighs. It’s sickening. It’s so clear that he’s just after your body. Don’t seem you realize it though. You always look at him like he has gifted you the sky and its stars. Don’t you see, he is just some guy?

Maybe he’s just bitter though. He wished that was him. 

Gepard used to watch your gig every weekend in Dunn’s bar, but lately, he rarely did. You started to realize it, asking him why you never saw him anymore in the crowd. He was busy with his assignments, his boxing training, dating… The last reason was something he made up to conjure something in you. Maybe you would be jealous hearing that? However, all you do was smack his arm playfully and said, “Little Gepard is busy being a casanova, huh?” 

One time, he brought his date to one of your gigs. To show you that he was indeed the casanova, just like your corny label for him. To prove that he didn't actually want and need you.

She is a pretty girl from the biology faculty. Not prettier than you though as you sing one of his favorite songs on the stage. You wear a black tank top, not the one you frequently wear before. Probably you bought a new one, the collar was slightly different. Your black skinny jeans wrapped on your legs like it was a second skin. Dancing slowly to the song, your performance never failed to hypnotize him. 

“I see us dancing by ourselves

We do it better with no one around, 

Just you in my imagination.”

At that point, he didn’t care about his date anymore. He was imagining himself wrapping his arms around your waist, bringing you close to his body, dancing. Whispering how much he wanted you. Raining kisses alongside your jaw, tugging your black choker with his teeth and snapping it from your neck. Biting your tender skin to elicit a moan out of your pretty little mouth. 

All his thought were ruined once you ended your performance and Blade came up from behind you, stealing a deep kiss as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. As if he was mocking Gepard for his imagination. As if he was claiming you and there was no room for Gepard, even if it’s only in his imagination. 

Gepard’s jaw tightened before he downed the rest of his drink. The girl beside him, his date, was clapping before tugging his sleeve and whispering, “They look so cute...” clearly a comment that didn’t help his current situation. 

He thought he met your eyes for a second. But before you had a chance to really comprehend his presence, Gepard already got up from his seat, grabbing the poor girl that he actually didn’t care one bit.

[Soo I choose Blade to be the boyfriend since he fits being in the band so well~ Writing another chapter because I can't brush aside Gepard from my mindddd! Anyway, I hope I can give some action in the next chapter *cough*]

[yuniemaki]

we never got to say goodbye (i'll see you soon)

Rating: G Series: Honkai Star Rail Pairing: Serval/Cocolia Tags: Grief/Mourning, spoilers for Belobog arc Word count: 1k

Crossposted on AO3

Summary:

Serval’s hand stops, lingering on her name. “But this isn’t goodbye, is it?” she whispers, “It’s just a ‘see you soon’.”

In which Serval visits Cocolia's grave and reflects on the loss of a dear one.

Beyond the gates of Belobog, the cold is harsh and unforgiving.

Serval trudges through ankle-deep snow, wrapped in three layers of thermal wear. The icy wind whips at her blond hair, throwing her tresses into a frenzy, and flings snow onto her goggles and mask. An endless field of white stretches out before her, framed only by towering iron gates and mechanical remnants that matter no longer.

Even after the Stellaron’s destruction, the Eternal Freeze remains. 

You don’t need to go, Gepard had said, it’s over. 

“I have to,” Serval mutters to no one, stubbornly placing one foot in front of the other. I have to see the place Cocolia took her final breath— 

There. A silhouette in the blinding white, unmoving in the sweeping winds of Jarilo-IV. Serval quickens her pace, stomping through the snow until she reaches the metal wreckage lying at the peak of a snowy hill. The raging blizzard has long swept away all traces of battle, and the Stellaron has long been sealed by the trailblazers. 

But there, snuggled in its center, within the loving arms of this wreckage… lies a single tombstone. 

Serval doesn’t know what she expected. Perhaps a foolish part of her hoped to see Cocolia again, even if it’s just an echo. Perhaps she thought some piece of Cocolia lived on in the snowstorm. 

Or perhaps she still believed Cocolia would wait for her.

Of course not. After that day, there was no place in the Supreme Guardian’s heart for her, for Serval. Despite the cold, Serval perches herself on a small metal platform, staring at the tombstone now covered in snow. It's funny how she had an entire speech planned for this moment, including a long portion where she'd intended to yell at her grave. Yet when she's finally here, standing where Cocolia did before she left this world— Serval can't say a single word. It all clumps together into a thick lump in her throat. 

She manages a, “You know, Coco…” before her breath stutters. It has been years since she even uttered that nickname. Her eyes sting with tears.

They are two halves of a whole. If they were born in seasons, Cocolia would be born in winter, and Serval in summer. Where Serval had the passion to start new things, it was Cocolia who would see them to fruition. It was Cocolia, all those years ago, who forced Serval to go through with her rock’n’roll dream. To start a band, to run a gig. It was Cocolia who gifted her the guitar of her dreams, who turned her ideas into reality. And Serval loved her for it. 

But when she became the Supreme Guardian— 

A pause, in which Serval struggles to compose herself. “I… I still don’t understand what happened to you. I thought…”

I thought sealing the Stellaron would bring you back. 

Serval laughs, as bitterly as the blizzard bites at her fingers and toes. “I keep telling myself I’m over you, but how can I be? We shared everything. Until—”

She tears up at the memory. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Cocolia, the newly appointed Supreme Guardian of Belobog, was seated in a chair far too large for her, with the light of day at her back. Serval, smartest of the Silvermane Guards, was standing before her, livid. “You cannot do this,” she’d said, “Cutting off the Underworld like this… we’re dooming half of our people to die!”

“You dare to question my decision, Serval Landau?” 

Cocolia’s voice. So uncaring, so dismissive, it felt like a spear of ice piercing through Serval’s heart. Before she took the mantle of leadership, before she entered Qlipoth Fort… Cocolia had been different. She had been warm and tender and full of life.

“We are meant to protect the people,” Serval declared, “How is this—”

“This is our only option,” Cocolia had cut her off, swift and harsh. “And nothing will change my mind.”

“What about the Fragmentum? Shouldn’t we be fixing that instead of dividing our people?”

“The Fragmentum is the very reason I’m closing off the Underworld,” the Supreme Guardian had replied, rising to her feet. In her eyes, Serval saw nothing but ice, as cold as the Eternal Freeze. A chill had run down her spine. “We are done here.”

Serval took a step back, shivering. “Why, Cocolia… why have you grown so cold…?”

Something flared in that icy gaze. A hint of regret, perhaps. “Serval Landau… you were my most cherished friend.” Cocolia turned away, facing the light of her window. Serval remembers this clearly, for she looked nothing short of being a goddess bathed in wintry light.

Yet her next words would slip into her like a knife between her ribs, lodging into her heart like a shard of glass: “But there is no place for you in this new world.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“It’s like becoming the Supreme Guardian robbed you of life,” Serval whispers, shaking the memory off with a sigh. “I just…”

What is the point? Serval doesn’t know anymore. She stayed in Belobog for Cocolia, because Cocolia was still here, even if the Supreme Guardian wouldn't see her. It brought Serval comfort, at least, to know that Cocolia remained in Qlipoth Fort, watching over Belobog. But now she’s gone.

Serval reaches up, rubbing the tears from her eyes before putting her goggles back on. “Bronya found… the guitar,” she chokes out, “The one you made for me.” She lets out a hollow chuckle. “I can’t believe you kept it, you sentimental idiot.”

The tombstone does not answer.

She unhooks the strap, taking out the silver guitar. “I took it back to Neverwinter… gave it a little tuning.” Serval takes off her gloves, wincing as the freezing winds snap hungrily at her fingers. “It still works.” She strums the guitar, and smiles at the familiarity of the crisp, nasal tones it produces. 

“Remember our first gig? You were so nervous about being the bassist…” 

But we had so much fun, in the end. 

Serval strums out a tune, the first song they’d ever played together. She remembers looking back to see Cocolia strumming the bass guitar, a radiant smile on her lips. She remembers how the theater’s lights had shined, just for them, and all the magic they made that night. How the crowd had roared and cheered, how Cocolia’s breath had been taken away. How they'd danced into the night, hands entwined, and laughed till dawn.

How Cocolia had shyly pulled her close while she fumbled for the keys to their room, and pecked her ever so lightly on the lips. 

So much hope. So much life. 

Robbed from her in a single day, when she lost her daughter and her joy. The mantle of Supreme Guardian and its forbidden knowledge sank into her heart like a shard of ice, seeping away the warmth in her eyes.

Serval thinks about the possibilities often. If only she’d been more persistent. If only she’d tried harder. What if she’d written letters to Cocolia after being fired, instead of starting her own workshop and closing her heart away? What if she’d continued pursuing her study of the Stellaron in private? Could she have found a way to save Cocolia? Could her sacrifice have been avoided? 

Does any of this matter? She is gone.

The dead do not come back.

“I came to tell you something,” Serval finally says, clutching the guitar tightly in her bare hands. The cold has wormed its way into her fingers, and she can barely feel them. “Coco, I'm leaving. I don't know how long I'll be. So I thought I'd visit you first, because…” Her voice trails off. She bites back a sob.

The howling wind whips her hair into a frenzy. Serval stays motionless before the tombstone, like a piece of discarded metal.

“We never got to say goodbye, Cocolia…” Serval lays the guitar in the snow, running a hand across the tombstone. Snow falls away to reveal a simple epitaph, for such a complex woman. 

Here lies Cocolia Rand, 13th Supreme Guardian of Belobog.

Serval’s hand stops, lingering on her name. “But this isn’t goodbye, is it?” she whispers, “It’s just a ‘see you soon’.”

She gets to her feet, staring at the wreckage embracing Cocolia’s grave. It reminds her of a cradle, like a mother sheltering her innocent babe. 

Cocolia gave her life for Belobog, but this sanctuary means nothing to Serval now. To let go, she must leave Belobog. Leave Jarilo-IV. If she travels with the Astral Express, studies the Stellarons— she might yet find the answers she seeks. And perhaps, someday, she will find the strength to return to the land Cocolia so loved, more than she ever loved Serval herself.

Serval musters up a smile, and gives the tombstone a wave. “So… wait for me, okay? I’ll see you soon, Coco.”

I’ll see you soon.

[amelikos]

Some character notes and episode notes for HZ031, writing them down for future reference.

Diana told everyone about Laplace and the rumors around it, and how it supposedly guides ships lost in the mist with its song. She chased that mystery when she was younger but never found Laplace, so she eventually gave up on it. I feel like so much of Diana's story now is finally chasing all these things she gave up on in the past (she talked about how she gave up on finding things related to the Six Heroes long before the story started), and to have a real possibility at seeing these mysteries unfold. She was alone in the past, but now she is surrounded by other people who can support her in that quest, which is nice. It fits in well with the talk she gave Tepen in HZ028, that it was never too late for him to go on adventures again. I feel like this applied to her as much as it did to him, because she also gave up before trying again.

Diana befriending Dot and Liko being impressed by that was cute. I like how Liko finds new reasons to admire her grandma. I feel like Diana was also looking out for Dot by asking her to look for information, since Dot was frustrated at being tricked by Spinel in HZ027. She probably thought that Dot would want to "make up" for it. I also noticed that Dot seems to downplay her achievements a bit and doesn't accept compliments easily by saying things like "it's easy to find this stuff online". It feels like she is shy about being praised, but she is slowly accepting that what she is doing is stuff that only she can do and that it's actually impressive.

Liko, Roy, and Dot were all excited in their own ways about meeting Laplace, which was cute. Dot is showing more of her feelings, step by step, and actually acknowledged that she is curious about Laplace. I also liked that Roy casually brought up that he already met a Laplace before when he was still living on his island and that they were nice and playful. Hearing casual anecdotes from the past like that shows that characters had their own lives before meeting the group. Liko also wondered if she could befriend Laplace and ride one. Liko and Roy both assumed that Laplace would be easy to befriend since it's a Pokemon that helps guide lost ships, but Landau told them not to make assumptions.

I liked the way everyone shared their observations about the white mist incident, which eventually led them to the truth. Roy telling Friede that some Pokemon stole Hogator's berries, Landau managed to identify the Pokemon and brought up their names, and Liko and Roy confirmed that they both saw them when Friede showed pictures of them. Friede pointing out that these Pokemon aren't supposed to live on the ocean, and Diana adding that they supposedly don't live nearby either. Everyone adding bits and pieces here and there: wondering if they are actually wild Pokemon or not, speculating that the white mist might have been a Pokemon move and not a natural phenomenon, etc. Everyone was involved and shared what stood out the most to them in that situation. Friede and Diana seemed to be on the same wavelength (they both seem to share the same reckless side, in a way), and I liked how everyone else trusted Friede's plans and followed his orders even if he didn't immediately explain his thought process. They really believe in him.

The way the Six Heroes tales are deconstructed in a way has been interesting so far. Laplace's story started off as hopeful and set it up as a Pokemon who is usually kind and saves and guides lost ships with its song but it lured us into a false sense of security and it turns out that the Laplace they've been looking for was purposefully using the mist to distract people on the ships and steal food. It's intriguing that all the Six Heroes we've met so far have shown anger and didn't start out by showing "heroic" traits. Liko pointed out that Rayquaza seemed angry in HZ006, Oliva was as well since the forest was burned in HZ011, Galar Fire seemed to lash out out of sadness in HZ022, and now Laplace doesn't seem friendly and tricks others. It makes me think that there is probably more to Lucius's story that we don't know about. Laplace seemed hurt too as it was covered by scars, so I wonder if it was already like that when traveling with Lucius or if it only happened after being awakened by Rayquaza? It feels like Laplace and some of the other Pokemon from its group have been hurt by humans and stick together to protect each other.

[awellboiledicicle]

I made The Young Master's human parent.

His name is Kent and he used to be a poor sailor on the surface, living in Chapman's between voyages. AKA he bunked under the stairs for most of it. The attic room was an upgrade Ms. Chapman gave him mostly out of the good of her heart when the Fall happened. Before he was a poor sailor, though, he'd wanted to take up book selling like his mother had wanted. But, well, here he was.

He ended up excelling as a census taker largely because he was very good at charming people by leaning on his people skills. Which he then tried to apply to Pages, largely through thorough paperwork and a frankly eyebrow raising level of detail in his forms. Every day. Because the "oh he big" reaction is true through time and setting. Also because he likes its voice.

He could do without the censorship, but deep down he's a reasonably selfish person. And he likes Griz's idea to change things from inside. So he ties himself to the ministry and saves Archie through Parliament and Griz's plan.

He and the Landaus no longer speak due him being unable to find an alternative suspect, but also because-- well. "Its not a crime you were murdered" is one fucking hell of a slap in the face.

[kidakumajodevil]

Ed Wood Review

This time I’m reviewing a biopic: Tim Burton’s Ed Wood! The genre is one of my least favorite; I generally avoid watching them. It’s hard to pin down a particular reason: maybe I just prefer to escape to fantasy world’s, or that presenting a real person’s history in such a dramatized fashion for entertainment doesn't sit well with me. However, Ed Wood intrigued me, and I decided to give it a watch for the reasons I’m featuring on Bloody Sunday: much of it deals with the production of 50’s era Horror B-Movie’s (particularly the legendary “so bad its good” movies of the titular director)…and Bela fucking Lugosi. And woe and behold, just like with Shadow last week, I ended up watching it twice in a row. 

The premise of our film is that our hero Ed Wood (played wonderfully by Johnny Depp in what I believe to be his finest role) is struggling in Hollywood; he has infinite ambition/determination…and not much of anything else. Despite this, he has an uncanny ability to inspire loyalty in the people historically associated with his name: much of the movie follows him meeting these people and gathering a consistent crew willing to help him forge his “visions” (as misguided as they often are.) They get into all kinds of hilarious hijinks: like stealing a octopus from Universal as a set decoration, Ed getting funding for his movies by converting to the Baptist faith, or even just showing the domestic lives: each and everyone of them a fun, entertaining character in their own right (My second favorite being Maila Nurmi, AKA Vampire! Played excellently by Lisa Marie). Most of the movie follows this “slice of life” format, but we did sorta get a centralized plot in the form of Ed’s many struggles. There’s a very sweet subplot about Ed coming to term with his “cross-dressing”. And the movie, while using it for comedy, presents it a very respectfully tone that is quite unlike how LGBTQ people were usually shown in the later 1990’s (an amusing parallel to Ed’s own shockingly progressive, if horrible, Glen or Glenda.) Ed is sweet, adorable, and quite sympathetic…and sadly overshadowed in his own movie.  

You all know it was coming: Bela Lugosi (played beautifully in the literal Oscar-winning performance of his life by Martin Landau) is the heart of this movie for me. There’s so many facets to his role: as a big horror geek, all the references to Dracula and his other classic movie roles made me chuckle. Bela himself, on the other hand, made me howl with laughter. His jokes and physical performance are a hoot…and then you get the serious side. Bela’s at the end of his life: a fading relic, who is considered obsolete by Hollywood at large. You can see in his weary face all the demons he’s fighting: his morphine addiction, his financial problems, his rage, his sadness, but most of all his loneliness. I don’t want to spoil things, but I was reduced to a sobbing mess near the end. And through it all, Ed’s always there comforting him sheltering him. And Bela looks out for Ed too, in his own way. Ed as a character is a little bit overshadowed by his other half, but I believe the relationship these two men have is the true soul of everything in the movie. And even after Bela is buried in the darkness of his trademark cape, he casts his shadow over the rest of the film. This dissonance, between comedy and heartfelt happiness (and tragedy) is the movie’s most remarkable feature. 

On the technical side, this is such a great movie: I enjoyed just being able to look at on my screen. The decision to film it in black and white gives it a gloriously pulpy mood: grounded for a Tim Burton movie, but still having his trademark gothicness. This film is a true homage to that black and white era of horror, down to its soundtrack (with the legendary SWAN LAKE, Op.20 being a recurring motif), and that makes it watchable alone without all these other amazing elements.

Tim Burton occupies a weird spot for me. I like many of his movie’s…but he wasn’t a childhood mainstay of mine. As a result of this relationship, he was in the “good director, but overrated” camp. This movie has single-handedly reversed my opinion: he’s a great director, and this is his best movie. I came for the horror…and stayed for Bela. And the many, many things that make this an awesome cult film. I give it my bloody recommendation!

[tartlette1968]

The History of Music, from the Very Beginning to Now. The 11th of February, 2014, Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band at the Adelaide Entertainment Centre.

Floating in space, hurtling around an insignificant ball of gas we call a star, a tiny little planet spins soundlessly in the vacuum of space. Third one out, with a little satellite of it's own, the blue green planet tracks through space, circling the star again and again. Life started on this planet millions of years ago, and the creatures and plants hum through the business of living and dying, over and over again.

There emerged, on this planet, a species of ape that, after millions of years of changing, growing, and moving grew a brain. From this brain there came communication, really good communication, the transfer of ideas. Maybe then came the recognition of patterns--patterns of time, as season followed season, as day followed night followed day followed night, patterns of light, of colour, and patterns of sound. Then the ape became something called human.

And this human had hands, and fingers, and it made patterns, patterns of colour, patterns of light, and this ape had ears, and it could hear patterns of sound, and with it's hands, one day, it discovered it could make patterns of sound as well. Humans could sing, and the singing was good. Humans could clap, and bang and stomp, and that was good, and when some sang, and others clapped, some danced, and that was good. With their hands humans could make marks, and shapes, and put sound and language into sight, into pictures and symbols. Humans found they could make these patterns of sound into sight, into patterns of marks, and then there was music--and the music was good. Music travelled, and music changed and music grew, and everywhere the human went, music followed, and that was magic.

Humans built, and the humans made objects, and some of those objects made music, and one day a human made an object that made music, and that object was called the guitar, and the guitar was good. Years past and the human was clever, and a human learnt to capture sound, and recording was born, and recording was wonderful, and the record was born, and the record was amazing. Humans were really clever, and humans captured movement, and they put captured movement with captured sound, and that was good. Humans made radio, and humans made television, and that was mostly good. The humans made electricity, and humans learnt how to make sound with electricity, and then the electric guitar was born, and it was very good.

On Thursday, the 9th of May, in 1974, a human who bore the name of John Landau, went to a rock show where a very particular human was singing, and performing with an electric guitar. Very soon after, that human brain, full of promise, and all the full weight of the legacy of the human past, put symbols together--all that history of scratching, and all those discoveries stretched across the centuries, and all those nights and days of the making of sounds, of the moulding and shaping of hand, and eye, and ear, and brain met and melted and burst, and Landau declared:

"Last Thursday , at the Harvard Square theatre, I saw my rock 'n' roll past flash before my eyes. And I saw something else: I saw rock and roll future and its name is Bruce Springsteen. And on a night when I needed to feel young, he made me feel like I was hearing music for the very first time."

The time passed, the years turned, and music came and went, and people danced, and people sang, and people bought records. People watched television, and people watched music, and people watched music on television. People listened to music.

In 1984 on an ordinary day, an ordinary human walked into an ordinary store selling very ordinary take-away food. In that ordinary store, up on a shelf sat an ordinary single speaker radio, and at that very moment, that radio played a very particular recorded song, it was called "Dancing in the Dark" and that moment was very good.

In 1985 that human got his hands on an album, and that album was called "Born in the U.S.A." and that moment was good.

And the years went by, and the human bought many albums, and they were all good.

On the 11th of February, 2014--just last night, that human went to a concert to see Bruce Springsteen, and that was amazingly awesomely unbelievable.

The day saw the temperature rise above 40°C for the twelfth time that summer, an all time record. The air was still hot, and, sitting on the scooter, I lifted my visor at every red light to get a little relief from the stifling heat inside the helmet. I made my way to Port Road, excitement racing through me. For some reason, the only song I could think of, while I was riding along the road, was Dire Straits' "Telegraph Road." In my head I saw the yellow concert ticket peeking out the top of my wallet that sat in the top box, behind me. I throttled the scooter around the corner, looking for a place to park, trying to avoid the steep parking fees they charged at the Adelaide Entertainment Centre. I was thankful for my motorbike license, as I saw a row of cars, angle parked. Next to the first car was a white triangular space, out of bounds for a car, but perfect for parking the scooter. With the bike parked, my jacket packed with my helmet, I made my way down the street, towards the Centre. People in small groups hummed and buzzed along, no doubt we all shared a common destination. I glimpsed people in Springsteen T-shirts, and there was no doubt about where they were going.

The mouth of the Entertainment Centre opened wide to swallow the steady stream of people presenting tickets. A bright LED hoarding above the long line of glass doors flashed upcoming shows. Once inside I made my way to the merchandise counter, and bought a shirt and the USB wristband that, in a few days I would be able to fill up with a complete recording of tonight's performance.

People moved about, but, while it was busy, the crowd was easy to move through, and I made my way to the entry gate, and then up to my seat.

Slowly, achingly slowly, the seats filled up. Tonight was a sell-out, a full house. Months ago, we waited in front of the computer as sections were released, slowly, waiting until this seat came up for purchase. People filed in, and soon there were people all around me. The sea of red empty seats became a multicoloured quilt of faces. Down on the stage the road crew moved around, checking microphones, thrashing every now and then on a guitar, or crashing and thumping on the drumkit. Behind the stage, over the railing, a sign appeared that paid tribute to Clarence "The Big Man" Clemmons, and Danny "The Phantom" Federici, the two members of The E Street Band that were no longer with us.

We had been asked, ages before, to make up signs requesting our favourite song. I couldn't make up a sign, I couldn't pick just one favourite, though I suppose "Play All Of Them, Bruce" might have sufficed. When you're a fan of Springsteen, any time you hear a song of his, anywhere, it just reaches you.

The lights went down, and the crowd went wild, and then we heard the man himself, "Why is it so fucking hot here?"

There he was, on stage, guitar in his hands. He once said the first time he looked in the mirror and liked what he saw was when he was holding a guitar. Next to him, off to his left, stood "Miami" Steve Van Zandt, dressed for all the world like it was a mild spring day, jacket, scarf around his neck, and a bandana covering his head. A little further left was Gary W. Tallent, with his bass. To Bruce's right stood Nils Lofgren, and Tom Morello. Behind him was "The Professor" Roy Bittan behind a white grand piano; and in the centre of the stage, immovable, solid and thumping sat Max Weinberg, beating and artfully striking his modest drumkit. I took in all of this in a split second, and I didn't have to explain a thing to the people around me, they all knew what I knew, and there we were.

This was it, I felt goose bumps run down my body, because this was the first ever true rock concert I had ever been to. A few years ago I had the amazing experience at the Clipsal 500 RocKwiz concert, where I saw "Born to Run" performed live, for the first time in my life, and that was amazing--but tonight, this was the real thing, the more real thing, the complete immersion and embrace of what music is, what rock and roll is.

I can't give you the sound, I can't give you the amazing breath taking moment in "Tenth Avenue Freeze-out" when pictures of the late great Big Man himself were flashed onto the screens, or the roar of respectful approval that greeted Jake Clemmons every time he took on the task of recreating his uncle's great work on the saxophone. There was the moment when "Born to Run" surged out into the cavern of the Centre, and we sent it back to him, from the opening chords to the final "whoah oh whoah".

There was a rule, once, that at a concert, all the light had to be thrown onto the stage. There was a rule, once, that the artist was the act… the performers and the audience were divided, cleft in two. There was an order, the tight demarcation betwixt us and them. Fences were put up, walls stood strong and oppressive and the crowd was kept out there. With the spotlights in their faces, the artists could only see black. But that is not this night. There is no wall, as Bruce and Steve and Tom walked down the runway, as Bruce crowd surfed back to the stage, and we were one, we were all, we were undeniably a part of the show. We needed nothing more than a nominal nod of the head from Steve to rise up off our butts, and dance, and sing, and live… all of us bright, all of us alive. People held up their signs, asking that Bruce and the band take a little step this way in their song catalogue, or that way. This was immersion, this was interaction. There was no set list, at a moment's notice, the band would launch into a song, any song they wanted, any song we wanted.

After two and half hours or so, they wound down, but winding down for the E Street Band means jumping on the gas, song after song being jammed together without a stop, and we were standing, we had been standing, and we weren't about to sit down.

Last century, Tom Morello and the band, Rage Against the Machine completely deconstructed "The Ghost of Tom Joad," and reassembled it as a spitting, growling indictment of big economics. They put fire and anger behind Bruce's lyrics. Here, tonight, we felt the licking fire, as Bruce and Tom took us to another place, where we can rail and rant against the greed and deliberate myopia of a bitterly hard world run into the ground by big business, where we will see the character from "The Grapes of Wrath" keeping true to his promise. And the song never lived like it does tonight.

Then the lights came up, the band took a bow, Jake Clemmons getting every drop of respect and understanding and love he deserved, and they sauntered off… for a moment. And now we knew we had to pay… if we wanted them back we had to EARN IT, so we yelled, we clapped, we howled, we made noise, we stomped, and then, in the darkness, the man returned with a question:

"Adelaide! Have you had enough?"

And as one voice we replied, "No!!"

"Have you had enough?"

"No!!"

Satisfied we had earned it, the man gave a nod and the band returned. And they rocked all over again.

"Steve!! I see a request… I see a request!!!" Bruce yelled, while the band played, and all it took was a point at a sign, a nod of the head and the band launched into "Ramrod" without missing a beat.

Then the band bid us all a goodnight, but Bruce stayed, with his guitar, and his harmonica, and he said goodnight in the best way he could.

"Adelaide," he said quietly, "The E Street Band loves you."

The very last song fluttered and breezed around the auditorium, fully lit, to absolute crystal sharp silence--an acoustic "Thunder Road".

All through the concert, hanging behind the stage from the seats behind the stage, hung a simple, hand painted sign in blue letters on white, and it simply said "Thanks Bruce". No one could put it better.

And then the Entertainment Centre, having well and truly lived up to its name, emptied, with a buzz, and with thousands of smiling, beaming people.

As the planet turned and hurtled through space, the only planet in the Universe to have seen a Springsteen show, we headed out into the heat, because, although the day had gone, the heat had not.

Adelaide woke up the next morning, still hot, and readying itself for concert number two, but that is someone else's story.

[casuallyhome]

So I ended up listening to the whole video, and it was so good I just translated the whole thing. Here it is :

Bruce Springsteen. I know Bruce Springsteen very well. It's been 35 years I've been living with him. 35 years ; everytime something important happens to me, he fucking manages to be here. Or if he can't come himself, he sends a song. Sometimes, just two rhymes. But every time, be it for something happy or a headache of an issue, one way or another he manages, he stays by my side through the thing.

35 years it's been lasting, and never, not even once, did he let me down. He's like that, Brucie. He's a dude, I can tell you, you can count on him. And what's more, to tell you what kinda dude he is, he doesn't only do it for me, he also does it for millions of other people. I don't know how he manages it, this fucker. To stay like that by the side of everyone through their life, and still find the time to put teddy bears in the glove box of his tall howling redhead, and raise them once she's churned them out...

Some day I'll ask him, we'll see what he tells me. But yeah, anyway, that's how it is, Bruce and I. It's been 35 years we've been like this, you see ? Peas in a pod. And I know he's also like that for many others, and y'know what ? I don't give a fuck, I'm not jealous.

35 years. 35 years, you ask me who my favourite artist is, every time directly what comes out is : Bruce Springsteen. If I thought about it, there's a chance I'd say something else, but it just comes out on its own. I answer : Bruce Springsteen. I can't help it, I didn't get to choose. Neither did he, mind you.

That's how it is. It's him I love the most. I love him, for the same reasons millions of other people do. I like the beneficial effects his work has on me, I like the cleverness at play, the fundamental honesty, the righteousness never found wanting in regard of the intentions, the generosity almost always spared of sappiness, the irrefutable sincerity of the undertaking, the innocence preserved in spite of the years, the first degree played straight.

I like the fact that all of this is 50% due to an exceptional gift, and everything else, the whole 150% remaining, only work, work, and again work, humble, methodical, steady, adding up to the 200% to which the artist got us used. I love the example he and his band set, the way they respect themselves, and us, by respecting their art and their profession.

I listen to him like others do a cure of magnesium. Not that he emits energy waves or some bullshit like that ; but the show of his professional consciousness constitute every time an uplifting booster shot, a wake-up call and a cheering, a recall to arms, to simple but efficient fondamentals.

I like to watch Bruce Springsteen work, do his job. Every time it gives me the courage to go do mine ; or at least, disqualifies every bad reasons or phony excuses I gave myself not to.

I think I'd like Bruce Springsteen less if he didn't one day cross path with the abominable Jon Landau, his manager. About Jon Landau, the word likeable doesn't come first. Beside, he would be glad to read that, so much he, for 35 years, has been playing his ungratifying part with the delight of an actor expected to take up to role of the bad guy in the next James Bond. Still, without Landau, there'd be no Bruce Springsteen as we know him.

Beside, Bruce Springsteen only becomes really interesting with Jon Landau, only once Jon Landau comes to see him and tells him, "You know what, I've seen Bruce Springsteen's future -- its name is Rock & Roll. So starting now, you're gonna do simpler, more direct, less poetous self-publishing auteur ; you're gonna read too, I made you a list, and just so you'll have some peace and quiet to do all that, I'll take care of the rest. Especially the annoying stuff. I'm your portrait in the attic that grows old instead of you, your garbageman, your bodyguard. All the glory's for you, all the shit's for me, and we share the dough. What do you think ?"

It pisses you off but that's how it is. When you like Bruce Springsteen, without always knowing it, without having any say in it, what you like is also in part Jon Landau.

The first time I saw Jon Landau in real life was in Toronto, end of July '84. I'm gonna make it as short as possible.

For almost 10 years I worked for Rock & Folk, including 7, from '83 to '90, as a correspondant in New York. And out of these 7 years, before I went to live in the West Side Harbour of Manhattan, during a year and a half I lived on the other side of the river in Hoboken, New Jersey ; the state that saw the birth of Bruce Springsteen, precisely. In short, end of July '84, the dude from CBS calls and tell me, "Right now I'm in Toronto, and soon you will be too because you're interviewing Bruce Springsteen tonight."

What you got to know is, at the time, not a single french paper has yet had an interview with Springsteen. Not even De Caunes for TV, to give you an idea. Not that the French wouldn't like it ; it's just that Landau don't see the point. So there, the dude tells me, "You're interviewing Springsteen tonight". I say "Okay". I am Kundun, the chosen one !

I rush to get the plane. I arrive in Toronto just in time for the start of the concert -- tip-top, the concert. After the show the CBS guy introduce me to Landau, "That's the Frenchman who's gonna do the interview," and Landau says "We don't call this and interview, we call this a hello." "A hello ?" "Yes, a 'hello, you got two minutes'", and he fucks off. I say to the CBS guy, "What the hell ? 'We call this a hello you got two minutes' ?" ; the CBS guy is as stunned as I am.

We're lead to the restroom of the baseball arena where the show had taken place. Two, three minutes go by, and the tour manager comes to deliver the Boss - "See you in two" - and exits with the CBS guy.

First question ; the dude answers. Second question. He starts to answer, the door reopens. It's already the tour manager coming to get him back, I just can't believe it.

These manners are supposed to be prohibited by the Geneva Convention.

And that motherfucker Springsteen, with a big smile, who gets up and, two-faced like only these asshole fucking Yanks know how to be, reaches his hand out to me and tells me it's been a pleasure to meet me.

A pleasure, yeah, right, you asshole, I'm on the verge of murder or a crying fit, and there, all that comes to me is to tell the truth. The thing I wouldn't have had the presence of mind to come up with if it wasn't true ; I say "Oh, fuck, it was short but I guess it's better than nothing. Damn, the guys will pay me two, three once I tell them about it back home in Hoboken, New Jersey."

And there, him : "A Frenchman in Hoboken ? You live in Hoboken, New Jersey ? Where ?" "Well, 8th street, between Hudson and Washington. Why ?"

He pauses. "Oh c'mon, sit back down". He sits down himself, and he signals the tour manager that it's okay, everything's under control. I don't know how much longer he stayed after that, 5, 10 minutes, but enough so that the following month Rock & Folk had enough stuff to make its front page with : Bruce Springsteen, exclusive interview.

So I like Bruce Springsteen because he practices regional preferencial treatment. You live in New Jersey, you get the interview ; you don't, you can go back to your mother's.

I like not liking a lot of things about him. For instance, I like that his recent "Heavy Rock" albums are mostly kinda rubbish. Like here, the new single, it's nice, but hey I got it 40 times already. That's okay, everyone sounds like a broken record one day or another.

I like that his shows are shortening. He doesn't have the health for a 3h and a half like back in the day anymore ; me neither, I'll tell you. I like that we don't agree on everything. It gives me the illusion that our relationship is an adult one, that I lose neither my temper nor a sense of derision about him ; that I can exercise my right to inventory.

I like that he's fallible without ceasing to be reliable. Reliable on the essentials, fallible on bullshit.

4 years ago, after the release of Devils and Dust, Springsteen went on a solo tour, giving by himself, in Bercy, one of the strongest representation I've seen him play.

So he plays in Paris ; he had a day off the next day and he tells Antoine, "So I'm alone, no wife, no manager, why don't we have ourselves a nice dinner tomorrow night ?"

Antoine very generously tells me to come and here we find ourselves 6 at the restaurant : Antoine and his future wife, my old buddy Elliot Murphy and wife, His Serene Bossness, and yours truly !

The interesting thing here, it's the total normality of the dude, how quickly you forget you're in front of Springsteen. You're just with a cool Yank, almost the same generation, who's listened to the same music, seen the same movies, and read some of the same books ; and here we are gossiping like deckchair ladies, trading anecdotes on some of our shared heroes. Sometimes Springsteen or Murphy recalling setbacks from their beginnings, sometimes Antoine and me recounting the goings-on behind the scenes of interviews done together or separately.

I bring back the "Hello" story. Springsteen, "Oh, c'mon, I mean, Hoboken, it deserved a compensation, it was kind of an obligation."

Springsteen answering with a lot of grace to questions about his own career, in a less guarded way, with more messing around than during interviews. A real sens of derision, even some traces of mischief -- we all really let loose on Lou Reed. And moreover, taking the crack well himself when it was his turn to be dealt one -- never a mean one, mind you.

Lightning never strikes twice in the same place, and there's no reason for these circumstances to come up again, but I like the paradox because I think it's all to the guy's credit. You spend an evening with Bruce Springsteen, and after 5 minutes, you forget you're with Bruce Springsteen. You're just with a cool guy. So cool, that guy, that he could just as well be Bruce Springsteen, you wouldn't see the difference. You'd still be spending a good evening.

Any French-speakers know what's being said here around 6:10? And maybe at the end where the author meets Bruce again at a dinner party?

(youtube keeps recommending me french bruce content and i keep stubbornly trying to translate them lmao)

[brokehorrorfan]

Blu-ray Review: Alone in the Dark

Not to be confused with the 2005 video game adaptation of the same name, 1982’s Alone in the Dark has all the makings of a horror classic. It’s written and directed by Jack Sholder (A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy’s Revenge, The Hidden), stars screen greats Jack Palance (City Slickers), Donald Pleasence (Halloween), and Martin Landau (Ed Wood), features a special effect by Tom Savini (Dawn of the Dead, Friday the 13th), and was the first production shepherded by New Line Cinema (A Nightmare on Elm Street, The Lord of the Rings). It would be notable for all the talent involved even if it was bad - but it's a genuinely great genre outing. Scream Factory aims to change the tide on the under-seen picture with a Collector's Edition Blu-ray.

The film follows psychiatrist Dan Potter (Dwight Schultz, The A-Team) to his new position at a new-age psychiatric hospital known as The Haven. Its righteous founder, Dr. Leo Bain (Pleasence), uses unorthodox methods to get through to patients - or voyagers, as he refers to them - that other doctors have written off. Potter is stationed on the third floor, where the potentially dangerous individuals are housed: paranoid schizophrenic veteran Frank Hawkes (Palance), pyromaniac ex-minister Byron Sutcliff (Landau), child molester Ronald Elster (Erland van Lidth, The Running Man), and serial killer John "The Bleeder" Skaggs (Phillip Clark).

Under the delirious belief that Potter killed their old doctor and that they are next, the patients plot to kill him first. A power blackout allows them to make an easy escape, followed by riots through the city where they blend in. The last act feels a bit like Night of the Living Dead, as Potter and his family - wife Nell (Deborah Hedwall, Mare of Easttown), liberal sister Toni (Lee Taylor-Allan, Stargate), and young daughter Lyla (Elizabeth Ward) - are trapped in their house with the armed killers lurking outside, then it slowly becomes a home invasion as the madmen make their way inside one by one.

Slasher is the easiest way to classify Alone in the Dark, but that's not entirely accurate. Produced during the subgenre's golden age, the movie certainly contains key slasher elements but also eschews several of its tropes. Notably, it centers on adults rather than teenagers, college kids, or young adults. Coincidentally, it’s set in a town called Springwood (pre-dating A Nightmare on Elm Street by two years) and features a killer donning a goalie mask (arriving the same year Jason Voorhees picked one up in Friday the 13th Part III).

Sholder shows remarkable control in his direction for a feature debut, delivering a tight 93 minutes with a couple of chilling stalk-and-slash scenes. Working with cinematographer Joseph Mangine (Alligator, Q: The Winged Serpent), the film features some beautiful, blue-tinted nighttime sequences. The score, composed by Renato Serio (The Pumaman), is begging to be pressed on vinyl. Its main theme is reminiscent of The Exorcist's "Tubular Bells" with hints of Italian prog rock and John Carpenter influence.

Schultz is considerably more restrained than his over-the-top Murdock from The A-Team, but he’s understandably overshadowed by - and billed below - the bigger names. Palance, per usual, commands attention every time he's on screen. Pleasence’s Dr. Bain is the inverse of his Dr. Loomis from Halloween; one is convinced his patient is pure evil, the other believes they are harmless. Landau adds further gravitas. Brent Jennings (Lodge 49) plays the ill-fated third floor security guard, while a young Lin Shaye (Insidious) pops up as the first inmate Potter meets. Punk band The Sic Fucks appear as themselves, performing the infectiously macabre "Chop Up Your Mother" and more at a nightclub.

Alone in the Dark has been newly scanned in 2K from the interpositive with DTS-HD Master Audio stereo sound for Scream Factory's Collector's Edition Blu-ray. It features reversible artwork with a new design by Hugh Fleming that leans into the slasher elements and the ominous original poster art. A new interview with Sholder is one of the best director featurettes in recent memory. The sharp, 40-minute piece offers detailed anecdotes about the Friday the 13th's inspiration, the original script being set in New York City, how editing The Burning taught him how to make a horror movie, and more.

Sholder's archival audio commentary from the 2005 DVD is also included. A lot of information from the interview is repeated, but the longer form allows him to go into greater detail. Film historians Justin Kerswell (author of The Slasher Movie Book) and Amanda Reyes (author of Are You In The House Alone?: A TV Movie Compendium) provide a new audio commentary in which they analyze the subtext of the film. A new featurette finds former Fangoria editor-in-chief Michael Gingold visiting the New Jersey filming locations (including one later used in Orange is the New Black) as they appear today.

Both new and archival interviews with The Sic Fucks vocalist Russell Wolinsky and back-up singers Snooky Bellomo and Tish Bellomo show the band members taking pride in their small part in horror history. An archival chat with actress Carol Levy is also included; she recounts playing the libidinous babysitter in addition to her work in other productions, then shows off her ability to put her legs behind her head. The theatrical trailer, TV spot, two radio spots, and a gallery of stills round out the extras.

Alone in the Dark is available now on Collector’s Edition Blu-ray via Scream Factory.

[starry-sky-stuff]

Word Tag Game

I was tagged by both @zmlorenz and @drippingmoon so I'll combine their words: great, glow, group, quest, and hero

Great:

In Want of a Wife:

“Not one for risk?”

Cecily’s eyes flickered across the table to find Laurence giving her a slanted grin. It was entirely discourteous of him to not only be ignoring the people sitting next to him but to be eavesdropping on her conversation. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“I don’t believe in taking risks if there isn’t a certainty of reward.”

“Certainty? Very few risks have any certainty to them,” Lord Ainsley pointed out.

“The greater the risk, the greater the reward,” Laurence put in. “If you never take any risks you’ll never know what you could’ve gained.”

“If I never know what I missed out on then I won’t have anything to miss.”

“Well,” Lord Ainsley said, drawing her attention back to him. “I suppose Harry McCalmont can afford to throw away money for the chance of an even greater gain.”

Glow:

In Want of a Wife:

The sunlight streamed in through the windows of the greenhouse, illuminating Cecily in a holy glow. She looked perfect, like this was where she belonged. Laurence could see it now. Riding together in the morning, visiting her in the greenhouse while she worked to distract her, dining together every night and waking up to her every morning.

Group:

In Want of a Wife:

Laurence watched the group ride away, even as their landau continued down the path in the opposite direction. Once Cecily was out of sight, he turned back to his mother and sister, both of whom appeared barely able to hold back their comments.

“Cecily looked very fetching today,” Dottie remarked.

“She looks fetching everyday,” Laurence muttered.

Quest:

A Flame in the Forest:

Mariya had read enough stories to know that starting out a quest with unkindness to someone in need rarely ended well. As Vladimir always told her, kindness visited on others always finds its way back to the giver.

“Come. Sit,” she invited.

The samodiva eyed her warily, then cast a longing look at the fire. Weighing up her options, she clearly decided warmth was worth whatever danger Mariya might pose, for she edged closer and sat down on a rock just outside the salt circle.

“What’s your name?”

“Zorya,” she replied, in her soft, silky voice. “Yours?”

“Mariya.”

“What are you doing out in the woods, Mariya?”

“What are you doing out here?”

“I live in the woods.”

“Maybe I live in the woods too.”

“Do you?”

“Absolutely not, I need modern day amenities. Like a toilet.”

“You mean you don’t appreciate a ditch.”

“Not if I’m shitting in it.”

Hero:

A Flame in the Forest:

Dmitri Pavlovich Bakulin had rode into her village on a blistering hot summer’s day like a hero ripped from the pages of a storybook. Mariya had known nothing of Dmitri. Perhaps that was the real reason he sought a peasant bride who would be ignorant of his reputation. Only once they’d married had she heard the whispers. Of duels with disgruntled spouses, raucous nights with the soldiers in his regiment, and a trail of former lovers.

No mother with any sense would marry her daughter to such a man, and no woman with any sense would take him. But she’d been sixteen and in her naïveté had believed her mother godlike, some omnipotent figure who knew so much better than she did. Years later she would realise her mother was just as human as the rest of them.

Tagging: @sleepy-night-child, @inkovert, @writingonesdreams. Your words are smart, leave, feast, and beautiful

[codenamebooks]

My Worst Books of 2021

Now for some of the most fun posts of the year, here are the 5 worst books that I read in 2021 out of 27. Of course I have to put a disclaimer that just because I disliked these books, doesn’t mean that you won’t like or even them. The pieces and ideas that I don’t like could be what you love in a book, so keep an open mind with me. From worst to better, here is my list.

1. Marked by P.C. and Kristin Cast | Goodreads

There are very few words to describe how terribly I feel about this book. It is so deeply engraved in its roots of being published in 2007 in all of the worst ways. The language used in this tries so hard to be apart of the teenage lingo at the time that, despite me being only 6 at the time, I’m sure overshot the mark. The plot could be so interesting but nothing is explained and it moves so quickly that so many details are skipped over and rushed that you can’t enjoy it. I might have enjoyed this in seventh grade when I first got it, but definitely not now.

2. The Wife Upstairs by Rachel Hawkins | Goodreads

This book was... bad for many reasons. I was expecting a crazy unfolding thriller but I got nothing more than bland, slow paced mystery. I mostly disliked the characters though, especially our main ones which made it so hard to read. The only reason I stayed was to see if the author could make up a decent solution, and I didn’t get one. Don’t forget the obsession with being rich and white and the blatant fatphobia.

3. Me Before You (reread) by Jojo Moyes | Goodreads

This was a reread for me that completely missed the original mark for me. Louisa was an insufferable main character, it was crazy that she did not think about anyone except for herself. Especially in a story about someone who is disabled and uses a wheelchair, that’s quite disturbing to read how selfish someone is around them. The banter was kitschy and cute and I enjoyed when Will and Louisa were being healthy towards each other. Other than that, it just seemed like a pity ride for a thirty year old girl who isn’t taking responsibility for anything even slightly negative in her life.

4. The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks by E. Lockhart | Goodreads

I would be lying if I said this book wasn’t fun but it wasn’t... fulfilling. I was expecting big antics around everything that was going on but some of the solutions just fell flat. Especially the ending, I wanted so much more and something more happy! It seemed like a more positive, happy go lucky private school story that seemed like all consequence and no reward. I didn’t hate it by any means, I just wanted more.

5. Stitching Snow by R.C. Lewis | Goodreads

This was just another boring book. I expected more from the retelling but it didn’t live up to the adventure that I wanted from a sci-fi princess fighting against her evil father story. There were so many peaks in the story were it could have taken off and been action and strategy packed plot, but it always fell back to calmness pretty quickly. I will say though that the fighting scenes are so beautifully under control and that the relationship and care that blossoms between Esie and our love interest (who’s name I don’t remember...) is beautiful. Out of all of these books, I’d want you to check this one out first if you want to give them a chance.

[rhodcnite]

hello  lovelies,  i'm  frankie  &  i  am  very  happy  to  be  here.  this  is  my  one  &  only  baby,  orli.  for  now,  she’ll  do !  i  finally  get  to  write  with  rachel’s  gorgeous  face ™  because  i  don’t  think  i’ve  had  the  chance  so  i’m  100%  excited  to  play  this  mama.  full  disclosure:  i’m  not  as  smart  as  orli  &  she  has  the  brains  to  be  the  powerful  woman  that  she  is,  but  i’ll  try  my  best  lmao.  anyways,  please  ❤️  this  post  if  you’d  like  to  plot  &  thank  you  for  reading  this  lame  ass  intro.

TRIGGER  WARNING(S):  mentions  a  child’s  death.

𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐈  𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐒  (  𝒔𝒉𝒆╱𝒉𝒆𝒓  )  is  a  𝐂𝐈𝐒  𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍,  𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄  year  old  𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄  𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐑  who  has  been  living  in  Moorbrooke  for  𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗  𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒.  right  now,  they  are  currently  residing  in  𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄  𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐄.  it  has  been  said  that  they  look  suspiciously  like  𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐋  𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐙  and  if  they  had  to  choose  a  song  to  describe  themselves,  they  would  choose  𝐍𝐎  𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐒  by  𝐓𝐋𝐂.

𝓽𝓱𝓮  𝓫𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓬𝓼 .

full name:     orli  seraphina  reynolds  (  née  landau  )

nickname:     none

age:     forty-nine  ;  (  49  )

date of birth:     october  27th,  1971

astrological sign:     scorpio

place of birth:     tba.

hometown:     tba.

ethnicity:     ashkenazi  jewish,  austrian-italian  (  white  european  )

nationality:     american

languages spoken:     english,  austrian  +  hebrew

religion:     judaism  (  non-practicing  )

gender + pronouns:     cis  woman  ;  she ╱ her

sexual orientation:     bisexual

romantic orientation:     demiromantic

profession:     aerospace  engineer

current location:     moorbrooke,  maine

marital status:     married

𝓱𝓮𝓻  𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂.

family  meant  everything  growing  up.  orli  was  raised  in  a  tight-knit  jewish  household.  they  had  their  moments  like  any  other  family,  yes,  but  in  her  eyes,  they  weren’t  dysfunctional.  having  two  siblings,  however,  was  a  different  story—  the  three  still  got  along.

an  honors  student  becomes  a  salutatorian.  she  was  the  second-highest  ranked  student  when  she  graduated  from  high  school.  orli’d  give  tutoring  sessions  to  students  of  all  ages;  that  was  how  she  earned  some  cash,  would  make  it  make  sense,  and  never  judged  a  book  by  its  cover.  even  at  a  young  age,  she’d  see  potential  in  people...  which  was  a  rare  thing  to  witness.

failure  is  not  an  option!  a  lover  of  all  things  space-related,  orli  made  it  as  an  aerospace  engineer  through  sweat,  blood  and  tears;  failure  wasn’t  exactly  something  you  could  easily  escape  and  has  dealt  with  all  of  them,  especially  in  the  mid-90s.

23  year  old  gives  birth  to  a  baby  boy.  not  only  did  orli  marry  the  love  of  her  life,  her  husband,  they  welcomed  their  first-born,  james,  and  it  was  overwhelming.  she  was  happy  &  postpartum  was  no  joke.  she  pulled  through  for  him,  her  little  baby  boy;  her  family.  she  finally  had  one  of  her  own.  

never  underestimate  a  girl  by  vanessa  hudgens  plays  in  the  background.  WAIT,  this  song  describes  her  perfectly,  actually.  but  so  does  no  scrubs.  👀  anyways.  moving  on.

the  reynolds  becomes  a  family  of  six.  orli,  ethan,  james,  clara,  elizabeth  &  albert  —  one  big  happy  family.  before  james  was  welcomed  into  the  world,  they’d  moved  to  moorbrooke,  maine —  a  beachside  town  seemed  ideal  to  raise  a  family,  whether  it  was  a  risk  or  not.  :-)

being  a  supportive  mother  comes  a  long  way.  orli,  as  a  mom,  is  incredibly  encouraging,  nurturing  &  protective.  she’s  allowed  her  kids  to  become  dreamers,  anything  they  wish  to  be  with  a  dash  of  positivity.  sure,  she’d  have  an  opinion...  but  as  long  as  they’re  alive  and  well,  that’s  a-okay.  however,  being  an  engineer,  she  thinks  a  bit  differently  but  is  open-minded  of  course.

works  hard,  plays  hard.  she  balances  work-life  pretty  well.  dedicates  100%  of  her  time  to  family  &  friends.  wants  to  give  her  family  memories  for  the  day  when  orli  is  no  longer  around  ...  so  she  tries  her  best  to  give  them  what’s  best;  a  good  influence  as  much  as  she  can.

death  tw.  when  tragedy  struck  the  family  with  albert’s  demise,  orli  was  heartbroken.  she  rode  in  the  ambulance  alongside  him,  but  he  died  on  the  way  to  the  hospital...  end  tw.  it  killed  her  spirit.  didn’t  work  for  a  time  due  to  the  grief.  did  everything  she  could  to  cope  with  the  loss  of  her  child.  managed  to  accept  it  and  keep  his  memory  alive  through  a  foundation  she  established.

a  house  full  of  crystals.   ever  since  then,  she’s  believed  in  healing  crystals  being  fundamental  for  physical  and  emotional  benefits.  spreading  good  energy / vibes.

𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭  𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼.

best  friend(s):  pretty  self-explanatory.

family  friends:  parents  that  have  raised  their  kids  at  the  same  time  and  spent  time  with  one’s  family;  or  just  about  anyone.

assistant:  someone  that  helps  her  keep  her  life  in  check.  she’s  not  authorized  to  have  one  but  it  would’ve  been  a  job  you  could  find  online  and  pays  them  a  pretty  good  sum  of  money...  or  they  could’ve  applied  through  the  company  that  orli  works  for.

mentee:  i’d  love  for  her  to  have  a  mentee.  it  doesn’t  have  to  be  influenced  by  science,  just  in  general.

ANYTHING  &  EVERYTHING...

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄.

first,  thank  you  for  making  it  this  far  by  reading  this  intro.  second,  orli  is  a  NEW  muse  so  forgive  this  mess  of  an  intro  lmao.  i  forgot  what  i  was  going  to  mention  but  please  plot  with  me.  i’ll  probably  write  a  better  bio  at  some  point...  in  a  few  days,  maybe.  but  anyways,  let’s  get  this  party  started  !  💃🏻❤️

p.s.  i  might’ve  fucked  up  the  timeline...  but  i’ll  get  it  organized  asap.  sorry.

[frankiefellinlove]

This is it! The whole article where John Landau writes that Bruce “is the future of rock n roll”. Long but so worth the read, to see that quote in context.

GROWING YOUNG WITH ROCK AND ROLL

By Jon Landau

The Real Paper

May 22, 1974📷

It's four in the morning and raining. I'm 27 today, feeling old, listening to my records, and remembering that things were diffferent a decade ago. In 1964, I was a freshman at Brandeis University, playing guitar and banjo five hours a day, listening to records most of the rest of the time, jamming with friends during the late-night hours, working out the harmonies to Beach Boys' and Beatles' songs.

Real Paper soul writer Russell Gersten was my best friend and we would run through the 45s everyday: Dionne Warwick's "Walk On By" and "Anyone Who Had A Heart," the Drifters' "Up On the Roof," Jackie Ross' "Selfish One," the Marvellettes' "Too Many Fish in the Sea," and the one that no one ever forgets, Martha Reeves and the Vandellas' "Heat Wave." Later that year a special woman named Tamar turned me onto Wilson Pickett's "Midnight Hour" and Otis Redding's "Respect," and then came the soul. Meanwhile, I still went to bed to the sounds of the Byrds' "Mr. Tambourine Man" and later "Younger than Yesterday," still one of my favorite good-night albums. I woke up to Having a Rave-Up with the Yardbirds instead of coffee. And for a change of pace, there was always bluegrass: The Stanley Brothers, Bill Monroe, and Jimmy Martin.

Through college, I consumed sound as if it were the staff of life. Others enjoyed drugs, school, travel, adventure. I just liked music: listening to it, playing it, talking about it. If some followed the inspiration of acid, or Zen, or dropping out, I followed the spirit of rock'n'roll.

Individual songs often achieved the status of sacraments. One September, I was driving through Waltham looking for a new apartment when the sound on the car radio stunned me. I pulled over to the side of the road, turned it up, demanded silence of my friends and two minutes and fifty-six second later knew that God had spoken to me through the Four Tops' "Reach Out, I'll Be There," a record that I will cherish for as long as [I] live.

During those often lonely years, music was my constant companion and the search for the new record was like a search for a new friend and new revelation. "Mystic Eyes" open mine to whole new vistas in white rock and roll and there were days when I couldn't go to sleep without hearing it a dozen times.

Whether it was a neurotic and manic approach to music, or just a religious one, or both, I don't really care. I only know that, then, as now, I'm grateful to the artists who gave the experience to me and hope that I can always respond to them.

The records were, of course, only part of it. In '65 and '66 I played in a band, the Jellyroll, that never made it. At the time I concluded that I was too much of a perfectionist to work with the other band members; in the end I realized I was too much of an autocrat, unable to relate to other people enough to share music with them.

Realizing that I wasn't destined to play in a band, I gravitated to rock criticism. Starting with a few wretched pieces in Broadside and then some amateurish but convincing reviews in the earliest Crawdaddy, I at least found a substitute outlet for my desire to express myself about rock: If I couldn't cope with playing, I may have done better writing about it.

But in those days, I didn't see myself as a critic -- the writing was just another extension of an all-encompassing obsession. It carried over to my love for live music, which I cared for even more than the records. I went to the Club 47 three times a week and then hunted down the rock shows -- which weren't so easy to find because they weren't all conveniently located at downtown theatres. I flipped for the Animals' two-hour show at Rindge Tech; the Rolling Stones, not just at Boston Garden, where they did the best half hour rock'n'roll set I had ever seen, but at Lynn Football Stadium, where they started a riot; Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels overcoming the worst of performing conditions at Watpole Skating Rink; and the Beatles at Suffolk Down, plainly audible, beatiful to look at, and confirmation that we -- and I -- existed as a special body of people who understood the power and the flory of rock'n'roll.

I lived those days with a sense of anticipation. I worked in Briggs & Briggs a few summers and would know when the next albums were coming. The disappointment when the new Stones was a day late, the exhilaration when Another Side of Bob Dylan showed up a week early. The thrill of turning on WBZ and hearing some strange sound, both beautiful and horrible, but that demanded to be heard again; it turned out to be "You've Lost That Loving Feeling," a record that stands just behind "Reach Out I'll Be There" as means of musical catharsis.

My temperament being what it is, I often enjoyed hating as much as loving. That San Francisco shit corrupted the purity of the rock that I lvoed and I could have led a crusade against it. The Moby Grape moved me, but those songs about White Rabbits and hippie love made me laugh when they didn't make me sick. I found more rock'n'roll in the dubbed-in hysteria on the Rolling Stones Got Live if You Want It than on most San Francisco albums combined.

For every moment I remember there are a dozen I've forgotten, but I feel like they are with me on a night like this, a permanent part of my consciousness, a feeling lost on my mind but never on my soul. And then there are those individual experiences so transcendent that I can remember them as if they happened yesterday: Sam and Dave at the Soul Together at Madison Square Garden in 1967: every gesture, every movement, the order of the songs. I would give anything to hear them sing "When Something's Wrong with My Baby" just the way they did it that night.

The obsessions with Otis Redding, Jerry Butler, and B.B. King came a little bit later; each occupied six months of my time, while I digested every nuance of every album. Like the Byrds, I turn to them today and still find, when I least expect it, something new, something deeply flet, something that speaks to me.

As I left college in 1969 and went into record production I started exhausting my seemingly insatiable appetite. I felt no less intensely than before about certain artists; I just felt that way about fewer of them. I not only became more discriminating but more indifferent. I found it especially hard to listen to new faces. I had accumulated enough musical experience to fall back on when I needed its companionship but during this period in my life I found I needed music less and people, whom I spend too much of my life ignoring, much more.

Today I listen to music with a certain measure of detachment. I'm a professional and I make my living commenting on it. There are months when I hate it, going through the routine just as a shoe salesman goes through his. I follow films with the passion that music once held for me. But in my own moments of greatest need, I never give up the search for sounds that can answer every impulse, consume all emotion, cleanse and purify -- all things that we have no right to expect from even the greatest works of art but which we can occasionally derive from them.

Still, today, if I hear a record I like it is no longer a signal for me to seek out every other that the artist has made. I take them as they come, love them, and leave them. Some have stuck -- a few that come quickly to mind are Neil Young's After the Goldrush, Stevie Wonder's Innervisions, Van Morrison's Tupelo Honey, James Taylor's records, Valerie Simpson's Exposed, Randy Newman's Sail Away, Exile on Main Street, Ry Cooder's records, and, very specially, the last three albums of Joni Mitchell -- but many more slip through the mind, making much fainter impressions than their counterparts of a decade ago.

But tonight there is someone I can write of the way I used to write, without reservations of any kind. Last Thursday, at the Harvard Square theatre, I saw my rock'n'roll past flash before my eyes. And I saw something else: I saw rock and roll future and its name is Bruce Springsteen. And on a night when I needed to feel young, he made me feel like I was hearing music for the very first time.

When his two-hour set ended I could only think, can anyone really be this good; can anyone say this much to me, can rock'n'roll still speak with this kind of power and glory? And then I felt the sores on my thighs where I had been pounding my hands in time for the entire concert and knew that the answer was yes.

Springsteen does it all. He is a rock'n'roll punk, a Latin street poet, a ballet dancer, an actor, a joker, bar band leader, hot-shit rhythm guitar player, extraordinary singer, and a truly great rock'n'roll composer. He leads a band like he has been doing it forever. I racked my brains but simply can't think of a white artist who does so many things so superbly. There is no one I would rather watch on a stage today. He opened with his fabulous party record "The E Street Shuffle" -- but he slowed it down so graphically that it seemed a new song and it worked as well as the old. He took his overpowering story of a suicide, "For You," and sang it with just piano accompaniment and a voice that rang out to the very last row of the Harvard Square theatre. He did three new songs, all of them street trash rockers, one even with a "Telstar" guitar introduction and an Eddie Cochran rhythm pattern. We missed hearing his "Four Winds Blow," done to a fare-thee-well at his sensational week-long gig at Charley's but "Rosalita" never sounded better and "Kitty's Back," one of the great contemporary shuffles, rocked me out of my chair, as I personally led the crowd to its feet and kept them there.

Bruce Springsteen is a wonder to look at. Skinny, dressed like a reject from Sha Na Na, he parades in front of his all-star rhythm band like a cross between Chuck Berry, early Bob Dylan, and Marlon Brando. Every gesture, every syllable adds something to his ultimate goal -- to liberate our spirit while he liberates his by baring his soul through his music. Many try, few succeed, none more than he today.

It's five o'clock now -- I write columns like this as fast as I can for fear I'll chicken out -- and I'm listening to "Kitty's Back." I do feel old but the record and my memory of the concert has made me feel a little younger. I still feel the spirit and it still moves me.

I bought a new home this week and upstairs in the bedroom is a sleeping beauty who understands only too well what I try to do with my records and typewriter. About rock'n'roll, the Lovin' Spoonful once sang, "I'll tell you about the magic that will free your soul/But it's like trying to tell a stranger about rock'n'roll." Last Thursday, I remembered that the magic still exists and as long as I write about rock, my mission is to tell a stranger about it -- just as long as I remember that I'm the stranger I'm writing for.