#but then i moved them both to my indie multi and it made sense to have them be connected

[cosmicloved]

IT’S TIME FOR MIN’S OFFICIAL INTRO... a mintro, if you will. KIM MINWOO, KNOWN AS MIN; 25 YEAR OLD POPSTAR, MEMBER OF POP DUO SO:DA. this is a muse i made back in march 2019 (for an rp group that never got off the ground, wherein i was a co-admin) and then reworked for my multimuse later the same year. for the past year or two, he hasn’t had a faceclaim so, although i’ve continued to work on this character in my head/outside of tumblr, i haven’t spoken about him much. this post is a rehash of the original intro i posted when i added him to the multi in 2019 but updated to be more accurate in 2022. please click the read more to learn about min!

FIRST!! I want to be clear that Min is not a K-Pop idol, he’s a popstar. Technically, he started off in the K-Pop industry, is still managed by a Korean company and was trained under that system but to describe him that way is no longer accurate. I don’t remember why I did it this way but that’s how it has been since 2019 and I’m not about to change it now. I know there’s a whole Fictional Idol Community or whatever but Min will be in no way connected to that. I’m happy to write threads set in Korea if need be because he likely travels there a lot but he is based in the US and lives in LA. (i’m also very aware there’s already a k-pop idol called min and i mean no disrespect to her or miss at all. however, idols CAN share names and minwoo is a fictional man anyway.)

BASICS

full name is kim minwoo (김민우 / 金玟雨 / kim min-u) but he goes by MIN, both as a stage name and a nickname. call him either min or minwoo, he doesn’t really care either way. (he’s fed up with people pronouncing the W...it’s silent...) he was born on the 12th June 1996. he’s 25 years old.

min is tomo’s best friend. tomo, having a lifetime of awful hollywood experience on min, was one of the first friends he made after moving to LA and they were both around the same age. they’re very close and i’m very happy to bring min back bc they were supposed to be kind of a package deal for a while.

min isn’t a bad guy and he’s professional. he treats his staff well. basically, he’s not an out-and-out jerk. HOWEVER, there’s definitely...........a glimmer of bastard about him. i actually don’t like writing out a muse’s personality like this bc it feels limiting and i prefer to just let that come out in the writing but i’d probably sum min up as...essentially good but definitely has a bit of an attitude. nobody can tell if he’s a jerk or he just can’t read a room. however, he IS often consciously annoying.

min actually grew up in the UK. born in seoul, moved to a london when he was four and then moved back to seoul when he was thirteen and then to LA when he was nineteen.

he’s the second youngest of four siblings and the only boy. i haven’t named his older sisters but his younger sister is about four years younger than him and her name is nabi (she was the only sibling born in london). his mother is a hairdresser and his father is a teacher.

min is autistic. i, the writer, am also autistic and i wanted to see an annoying popstar boy with autism. this is my wish. i do not want to see any weird ableist bullshit bc i’ve had this issue with autistic muses in the past -_________-  but the idea that all autistic muses have to be sweet and nice and well-behaved is NOT something to which i’d like to subscribe. it’s infantalising and gross. however, i would like to write min as a realistically flawed person without him being painted as a Mean Weirdo.

CAREER

he’s a member of the pop duo, SO:DA. why are they a duo? bc i like duos. moving on. SO:DA debuted in south korea back in 2015 but the company made the decision to move it abroad a year later in an attempt to globalise their output. it’s hard to consider them as a k-pop group as they’ve been based in LA for 5 years now and they release music entirely in english.

the group’s name was originally short for SOL & DAL, taken from the french word for sun (soleil) and the korean word for moon, but they dropped it after the move abroad. min was the member who represented the moon while his partner in the group was the sun. they’ve sort of kept the concept in terms of visuals and all the rest but they mostly don’t speak about it.

he’s a vocalist, maybe an occasional rapper, but his main selling points are his dancing and his looks, the latter being something about which he’s more bitter than he lets on. (he pretends to eat it up but he actually finds it pretty frustrating, a direct contrast to tomo who loves being the designated Pretty Boy so long as it’s not in clean, shiny way; if ur gonna call min pretty a bunch of times, compliment him somewhere else too at least once if u don’t want to end up on his list of enemies. he’s petty.)

i like to thing SO:DA is a group with a good, strong emphasis on dance. i just think dance is cool and interesting so i want my oc to be a good dancer :)  maybe i will make him collab with mio (not a typo, i do mean mio -- i realise her name is close to min’s) someday. for my own amusement.

EXTRA TRIVIA

he’s not great at interviews, despite them being a fairly sizeable part of his job. it’s not that he can’t be funny or charismatic on camera but structured interviews and min don’t really click. he’s become known for giving sort of irrelevant / off-kilter answers to interview questions or for looking at the interviewer / his groupmate instead of the camera / audience. sure, he has kind of an attitude because he likes to act Cool and Famous but he’s also not actually that adept at being a celebrity.

min isn’t allowed to do wild shit in public or else his management will come down on him like a tonne of bricks but he likes the idea of the Bad Boy image so he kinda...mooches off of tomo for the street cred. like they’re genuinely best friends and he’s not using tomo or anything shitty like that but i can’t say that min doesn’t enjoy being seen as trouble by proxy.

he’s not as adventurous as tomo in general but he still likes to tag along with tomo to parties and clubs when he feels like it. there’s never any pressure for him to go if he doesn’t want to, esp because he doesn’t get that much free time, but he likes hanging out with tomo. despite his aloof attitude towards most other people, he also doesn’t mind helping tomo out when he’s drunk because he likes feeling reliable. min’s used to being treated like an irresponsible child or like he’ll smash into pieces if he does something wrong so it’s almost liberating to look out for someone. (that said, it goes both ways -- tomo has definitely punched a guy for bothering min before.)

min got banned from club penguin when he was ten for saying fuck. (more than once bc saying it once only gets you banned for 24hrs.) it was his first experience with resenting authority for enforcing their rules on him 😔  i don’t know why i always include this fact, besides it being one of the first things i ever came up with for min, but i feel like it’s an important reflection of who he is. a deliberate pain in the neck.

he likes to keep this sort of...mysterious, tortured image but his upbringing was actually fairly ordinary. he gets on with his family and loves them a lot. nobody’s dead, there’s no awkward relationships.

he has two siamese cats. they have their own instagram account that’s about 40% run by min and 60% run by his manager when they have nothing better to do (usually after min has spammed them with pictures he’s taken). this has actually resulted in them having to separate their channels of contact by purpose; one messaging service will be used for important stuff, one will be used for casual stuff, one will be used exclusively for social media (cat pics & selfies), so on and so forth.

min’s management is just very controlling and overbearing & he’s totally overworked but hahaha we’re just going to ignore that bc arguing with the people in charge means risking your dream career in music & potentially losing it all, esp bc you skipped out on uni and fucked up a lot of high school just to pursue this job hahaha let’s just internalise that shit and get on with it.

actually drinks too much coca cola. that probably explains the stroppiness, as well as his awful sleeping patterns. i remember early on, i had this whole cherry coke aesthetic for him which is funny because he doesn’t even drink cherry coke. just regular coke. not coke zero. not diet coke. only regular coke. he hates pepsi.

min claims to be a vegetarian. min is not a vegetarian. the backstory there is pretty simple; min’s fussy. he has particular tastes. most kinds of meat, esp red meat, do not fall into his OK Zone. instead of having to suffer through important, fancy meeting dinners with posh steaks and not being allowed to use his fussiness as an excuse, he started claiming he was a vegetarian. people seemed to be more accepting of that. the only trouble is that he’s now widely known as a vegetarian when he doesn’t actually give a shit. the only people who know he’s bullshitting are his friends. he just wants a mcdonald’s double cheeseburger.

min lives on a diet of utter shit. he’s contractually obliged to eat healthily when preparing for promotions so he doesn’t just fuckin collapse on stage from malnutrition. pls eat a vegetable. he doesn’t have any issues with food, just for the record. he would just really prefer to live off snack food because. i don’t know.

[lexpressobean]

The thing about writing fanfiction for me is that once I start a multi-chapter fic (tho I've only ever posted a grand total of 2 ever lol both still unfinished rip OTL) I apparently never brainstorm enough. Or too much! 'Cause by nature I live for "what ifs" and it's wrecking me lol, I can't move on...! But this is a Modern AU setting and now I can't stop developing Shibi and Shino in a general sense (and Shibi's involvement is very minor compared to other characters too like I need to chill??) But I guess this goes for my Modern AU in general, so here's are some thoughts no one asked for!

One big HC I have is that Shibi is a well renowned musician, and Shino also has a lot of talent in music as well. This is because in my head, though Aburame and their hive can communicate to some degree, they're also known to be affected by their respective Aburame's emotions. And they audibly buzz and get excited by it all and I seemed to unfailingly liken all that to vibrations, like of musical sounds, and then it kinda leads up to that fidgeting a person might do when they get very emotional or passionate but can't voice it because they need to stay quiet or simply don't know how to talk about something. In general I think both Shibi and Shino are decent enough communicators when it matters, but they ARE pretty quiet people. And I feel like one of the best ways to release and express otherwise pent up emotional tension and energy is by straight up blasting music to drown out everything else. And it feels even MORE satisfying by the end of it when you're the one who was actually putting out the notes!! Anyone can make noise, but truly inspired music is such a trip! Every single note accounted for (even the "rest" notes!!) symbolizes 1 kikaichu and so just the idea of being able to read and produce music and bringing it all to life just makes complete sense to me and fills me with serotonin when I think about Father/Son jamming sessions between them...!!!

more specific nonsense under the cut because idk how to shut up lol

And! And despite this being a Modern AU HC thing, it looks like Shino's actually been shown to semi(?)canonly play an electric guitar, and I've become fond of the idea of Shibi's first instrument being a bass guitar too~

Of course if that's the case, OBVIOUSLY Shibi would be a multi-instrumentalist. Obviously. And what I've been thinking is that by the time Shino is an adult. Shibi'd be a seasoned Film Score Composer. I feel like unless you're quite the music or movie fan, or work in the business, you probably aren't gonna be super into the composers in comparison to the actors and directors that work on the same movie lol So to the general public, Shibi Aburame isn't a name that brings out stars in anyone's eyes. But if you know, you know, and boy does Shibi have his work cut out for him. He's in demand for lots of those box office hits.

Also YES Shibi can sing, and he knows it, the man isn't the least bit shy to acknowledge it! But he never committed singing as a major part of his career as much as playing because that's just the kind of guy he is. These days he won't sing unless it serves a purpose in brainstorming for his next project or if he's in the privacy of his car/home, but even then it's more just soft but super accurate harmonizing on his part to a radio or stereo or whatever. But if Shino ever needed comforting, especially as a small child, he'd never hesitate to lull Shino back into calm with songs that he either liked or maybe made up together if the situation was appropriate. And ocassionally he'll start to sings at Shino as a means to annoy his son because why talk when you can sing to get your point across?? He's not always a serious guy, sometimes he can get soft too...!

Shino? Can also sing and play well without much effort at all. Though Shino didn't take it up as a career like Shibi did, and not as many instruments, Shino is definitely his father's son and is just as musically inclined. He could've if he wanted to but found he a had a strong preference to percussion and string specifically, and even then prefered plucking and strumming versus bowing strings, but his favorite bowed string is a cello! And being part of the newer generation, he might mess around with a laptop software/button pad/launchpad if he's feeling particularly inspired or wants to challenge himself a little more. But his bestest baby is the first electric guitar he bought on his own ;o;

Shino is more likely to sing at any given time in comparison to Shibi, but he's still usually alone, whether wiping off the board after class, doing chores, or maybe grading papers. Kiba and Hinata have both caught him doing so since they first met him, and Hinata compliments his talent when she does, but Kiba starts to dis his choice of music when he realizes Shino sings a lot older or obscure music "like a fucking hipster!" Shino doesn't dis Kiba's personal taste in music as much as disses Kiba for his lack of open mindedness and it makes Kiba rethink everything when Shino is able to play the melody of every song Kiba throws at him the first time he comes over to his house. Shino is very eclectic in his taste of music, but some of Shino's favorite genres for singing are indie pop, blues (especially older ones), and the occasional toned down but no less accurate musical number or power ballad just imagine him whisper singing fcking "Jukebox Hero" while he's scribbling notes vvvvrrmm.

Unlike Shibi or Shino, Torune isn't so big on making music as he is listening and writing poetry/lyrics DON'T TELL ANYONE SHHHH FCKIN SH. It's not that he doesn't have talent, he can also sing rather well and owns karaoke night, he is karaoke king! It not quite a discipline problem as it is a drive thing as he never seriously touched more than two instruments. He can manage about 4 chords on guitar, just enough to impress, but oddly enough he was drawn to and became terribly enamored with Shibi's vibraphone. He studied that thing profusely and whenever he comes back to visit from college and after, he always comes back to it and plays it as if he never skipped a day of practice. Will probably own his own vibraphone at some point for sure! So scratch that, it's simply a Family Jam Session I guess!

Idk, I'm ranting again lol

[pluto-fics]

Promise (M)

One Shot | GrungeGuitarist!Jimin x Reader 

(established relationship)

Genres: fluff, romance, smut

Rating: 18+ (M) for explicit sexual content

Word Count:  9,062 words

Warnings: tooth rotting sweet fluff, profanities, mild dirty talk, smut, light nipple play, dry humping, fingering:fem receiving, unprotected sex (stay safe), slight creampie, softdom!Jimin

A/N: This is a re-upload after I have taken down the original for editing purposes and strongly inspired by the 200414 MiniMoni VLive, because Jimin looked great and I’m weak for that man. You may need to see a dentist after reading this because this is pure teeth rotting fluff, my friends. Jimin is a true softie for (Y/N) here lol.

You still remember the first kiss you shared with him. That one night, when you met on the playground in your neighborhood, sitting beside eachother on the swings as Jimin told you about his big dream for the first time. He wants to succeed with his band. He dreams of a future as a well-known guitarist. And back then you had told him that you did not think of it as a silly wish. You believed in him back then when your teenage self agreed to stay by his side, and you still do to this day. This was also the moment in which he knew – he was madly in love with you.

Looking back on your last years of dating Jimin, you could not deny what a cliche rebel couple you were. Instead of asking you to prom, your boyfriend skipped the whole event with you and his bandmates to break into the football field of your school that night. But you did not regret it one bit. The memory of your friends chasing eachother on the field and lying in the grass to look up at the starry night sky was as vivid and precious to you as no other. That same night you saw the first shooting star of your life while holding Jimin’s hand and begging him to tell you what he had wished for. Yet, he never told you, to this day. Instead, he said “Let’s stay like this forever” and gave your hand a meaningful squeeze with the reflection of the stars above shining in his eyes. 

His words from this night turned into a promise you both made and kept.

You were there for each one of his band’s gigs in small bars and scene clubs. You were there for many of their band practices, too. And now you are there to witness their first big breakthrough as the opening act to an increasingly popular indie band.

Holding Taehyung’s bass guitar, you watch his attempt to fix his hair. He must have applied half a can of hairspray by now and you doubt that even a single strand would budge during the show. However, Taehyung wants to be safe. “This is our big deal! The most important performance we have ever had yet!” He wants to give it his all, just like the other members. 

You turn and look at Yoongi, who is sitting on the couch in the corner of the small dressing room while tapping his drumsticks onto his thighs in concentration. Having known him for as long as the other boys, you quickly realized that he is wearing his “lucky charm” – his signature worn out leather jacket. He wore it to their very first gig, wore it daily during finals week and he also wore it that fateful night you all skipped prom together. The memories place a nostalgic smile on your lips.

Meanwhile, Jeongguk keeps pacing around the room while mumbling the lyrics to their latest song. He may be the youngest of them all, but he is a real multi-talent. It's almost like magic, the way he is so damn good at everything if he just wants to succeed at it. Eyeing his guitar on its stand next to Jimin’s, you can't help but wonder where your boyfriend, the main guitarist of this band, has gone to. He had left the room about 20 minutes ago, saying he was going to the toilet real quick, but he has not returned since. “Thank you,” Taehyung smiles as he takes his bass from you. “Is Jimin still gone?” He then asks. Nodding, you already make your way to the door. “Yes, but I’ll go check up on him.

Striding through the cramped halls backstage, you make your way to the men’s toilets. And just when you raise your hand to knock on the door, it opens to reveal the man you have been looking for. 

“(Y/N)?” He was clearly startled. You sigh in relief. “It’s been over twenty minutes, just what in the world were you doing in there?” you ask, sensing that something was wrong. Seeing the deep red tint on his bottom lip, you can already guess what he was doing. Biting his lip when he got nervous was one of his habits. And judging by how red it was, he must have been gnawing on it like crazy. Since he does not respond, very aware of how easily you could read him and his body language, you decide to ask straight away. “How bad is it?”

You almost see the heavy weight on his shoulders as he says “Very bad… Baby, I can’t mess this up. Not this time. It would ruin everything we’ve worked so hard for.” A compassionate smile finds its way to your lips. “You’re always worrying so much. Jimin, you’ll do great. I am one-hundred percent sure of that, alright?” Noticing the doubtful glimmer in his eyes, you continue “You’ve worked so hard for this very moment. Don’t dread it, enjoy it. When you guys go up on that stage, I want you to relish that moment. Because this is going to be the first time of many more to come.”

His lips slowly curve upwards as he nods slowly, “Alright.” You smile and pull him into a hug, feeling the fast rhythm of his heartbeat as he too holds you close. “No matter what’s going to happen, I am and will always be your biggest fan” you say. Chuckling, he moves a hand to gently cup your cheek and look at your face. “I know. Thank you for being here, (Y/N).” A second passes in which you smile at eachother, before he leans in to kiss you. 

“Ugh, are you serious? We’ve only got ten minutes to go through the setlist before we go on stage, so move your ass back into the dressing room before it’s too late!” 

The two of you immediately part at the sound of Yoongi’s aggravated voice behind you. You know that he did not mean to be rude, yet the sharp sound to his words really shocked you for a second. Seems like Jimin was not the only one who was nervous to the bone. You see Jimin sending you an apologetic smile before rushing after his hyung. Shaking your head, you make your way to the stage already, not planning to interfere in this special moment your boyfriend and friends would share right before the show now. You could still wish each one of them good luck when they go up there, after all.

From your spot next to the stage you had a perfect view not just on the boys, but on the audience as well. And you could not feel any prouder of your friends. They had introduced themselves a little awkwardly, but as soon as the chorus to their first song started the audience was going completely crazy. They loved it. And you could tell how much joy the boys felt in that moment. 

As the songs got heavier, the movements of the crowd did the same. They even formed a small moshpit at some point and tried to shout along to repetitive phrases of the last song’s chorus.

It was clear that Jeongguk did not lie when he told the audience how much he loved them for being so welcoming and wild. And so did the rest of the boys, bright smiles painted on their sweat covered faces. 

You almost could not believe your eyes as you watched them on stage. They looked like absolute rockstars already, the sweet boys you have known for such a long time suddenly looking so grown up. Finally, your eyes lock on your boyfriend, cooly jumping onto a platform at the front of the stage to play his solo. As he throws his head back while playing the longest note of his solo, you can see the sweat running down his neck and strands of his once well-styled hair sticking to his skin. In this moment, he looks like the very definition of ‘sinful’, reviving memories of the last time you had seen him like this － in a wholly different context. But these thoughts have to wait. 

When they finally play the last tunes of their performance, the crowd cheers loudly – the sound of hundreds of people cheering for your friends and filling your heart with immense joy and pride. You too are cheering as they come down the stairs, sweat dripping from their brightly smiling faces. “That was incredible!” Taehyung exclaims with a voice of true ecstasy. Jeongguk nods, patting his friend’s shoulder as the two of them give you a high-five while passing you to get back to the dressing room. You greet Yoongi with a big grin and loud “You did amazing!”, happy to see him beaming one of his rarest gummy smiles back at you as he slings one arm around you in a rushed hug while thanking you before he follows the others. 

The main act is already approaching to go on stage as you almost tackle Jimin the second he gets off of the stairs. “You were unbelievable! I told you you’d do well!” you cheer as he laughs wholeheartedly at your enthusiasm. “I feel like I’m in heaven, did I die on stage?” he asks as he hugs you tight, his entire body still trembling due to the rush of adrenaline. 

You laugh and kiss his cheek, then his nose, honestly just aiming at random spots on his face as you do so. “I’m so proud of you, Jimin” you say as he’s grinning widely. 

After a few minutes of basically shouting praises and cheers at one another and then making fun of Jeongguk for suddenly crying tears of happiness, the boys watched the concert from beside the stage with you. They even were asked back onto the stage for a few songs during the encore, which the audience clearly enjoyed just as much as the performance prior to that. On your way to the hotel you guys would stay at for the night, you checked the boys’ band profiles online and could not have been any prouder when you saw the follower counts continuously rising on each one of them. 

The other band had invited your friends to an after party at the hotel’s bar and after an hour or so you decided to let them have this moment to themselves. Especially since you were already getting tired anyway. So you went to Jimin’s and your room instead. Honestly, you could not believe it yourself either. The four men you have been supporting for more than five years, basically since the day they decided to practice and start a band together, finally are so close to their goal. 

You take a quick shower and wrap yourself in the hotel’s bathrobe before drying your hair and starting your basic skincare ritual in front of the mirror above the sink. As usual, you get lost in your thoughts while massaging the cleanser into your skin and rinsing it off, thinking about how much has changed within the past couple of years. You first met Jimin in high school, both of you being friends with your classmate Jeongguk and naturally meeting eachother at his parties or during lunch breaks. That was how you made friends with Taehyung and Yoongi, too. Even though you did not share any classes with even one of them, you became friendly with them very quickly. 

This friendship held for many years. You graduated, went to college, shared many memories together – and here you are today.

While you were so lost in your thoughts and washing your face, you did not hear the door to your hotel room as someone entered. So when you come out of the bathroom, you nearly have a heart attack as you see someone rummaging through your boyfriend’s suitcase. Until you realize that it is Jimin himself. “Hey” you greet him casually, a little confused by why he is here and not with the others. Turning around, he beams a smile at you, greeting you back. “Did your after party end already?” you ask and take a seat on the edge of the bed as you watch him collect his sleepwear. “Not really” he says, “I just didn’t feel like staying much longer.”

You are about to ask if something had happened. But then Jimin already stands in front of you with a grin and kisses the top of your head, one of his hands dropping to your exposed thigh. His thumb is slowly rubbing circles into your skin as he looks you in the eyes. “And I thought we could celebrate in a different way tonight…”

There it is. That signature smirk on his lips as he awaits your reaction, just like the smirk he would send your way every now and then when he was on stage earlier. He knows that you like the attitude he holds on stage, that you watched him and his every move closely.

And quite frankly, this is not the first time you are feeling this way. After the boys’ very first gig you nearly jumped Jimin the second he came off stage. You would be embarrassed, but who could blame you? Whenever your sweet boyfriend steps on stage, it is as if he takes on a different persona. His cute eye smiles and giggles get replaced by a sinful smirk and bedroom eyes. Even the way he walks or pushes his hair back looks so different on stage in comparison to the man you know off stage. 

You mirror his smirk as you nod and cup his face to pull him in. “Sounds great” you say before kissing Jimin and feeling the upcurve of his lips against your own. His hand on your thigh glides down to the back of your knee as his other hand softly pushes you down by your shoulder. He leans down to capture you against the mattress with your leg on his hip as the kiss grows heated. 

Wearing only the flimsy bathrobe, you moan into the kiss when you feel his crotch moving into your own, the rough material of his ripped jeans eliciting a raw sensation against your exposed skin. Detaching his lips from yours, he moves on to your jaw and neck, following an imaginary trail as he leaves wet kisses on his way down. Your hands wind through his messy hair as the back of your raised thigh is being kneaded by his hand. 

“Seems like you planned for this to happen tonight” he accuses you with a smirk before untying your robe, wanting to see your body that’s hidden underneath. “Tell me, did you enjoy today’s show?” You nod and help him with the knot in your belt. “Use your words, baby” he then says, stopping your hands by engulfing them with his as he looks at your face expectantly. “Yes. I enjoyed it a lot” you say, not trusting your voice with the way his dark eyes lock with yours. 

He nods once, satisfied with your answer and places a kiss on your collarbone as he lets go of your hands and opens the robe. “Did you like my solo performance, too?” he asks, kissing down to the valley of your breasts and sinking his hips to yours again, pressing the prominent bulge in his jeans against your pulsing core. You sigh in pleasure as you whimper. “Yes. Very much.” Now kissing around your left nipple, he moves a hand to your other breast, stimulating your right bud by softly rubbing and twisting it between his fingers. Holding onto his shoulders and arching your back with a mewl, you press your chest to his lips and he sucks on your bud before licking around it. “What part of my performance did you like best, baby?” he asks, his voice nearly a whisper before he continues to work his magic on your sensitive chest. Moaning at the stimulation, you grind your hips against his and say “I liked it all… But your h-hip thrust during “Lie” nearly had me drooling.”

He chuckles and glances up at your face. “You mean this one?” He asks and pushes his clothed crotch into yours by re-enacting the skillful bodyroll he had shown on stage. You moan and nod, wishing for him to finally take off some of his clothes too. “Yes!”

Caressing your sides, he kisses down your stomach before sitting up and looking at your exposed body while licking his lips. "Just how much did you enjoy the show? Did you get wet?” His face does not look as playful as it did mere seconds ago. Instead, his gaze looked almost serious, yet filled with lust. Feeling your cheeks burn, you guess you must be bright red in the face as you avert your eyes and nod bashfully. “I couldn’t help it…” you admit quietly. 

When you hear a rustling noise above you, you see Jimin pulling his shirt over his head, the delicate silver necklace with the letters of your name dangling from it getting caught in the fabric for a second, dropping the shirt somewhere near the bed before he leans down once again. His face now just a hair’s width away from yours, he doesn’t give you the chance to fully admire his toned body when he smirks. “If that turned you on already… Then how wet are you right now?” he asks, sounding as if he expects you to answer when his hand slides down your stomach, over your pelvis to where you wanted it most. You whimper at the soft touch of his fingers, your core feeling so sensitive after the rough thrusts of his jeans clad crotch. 

“So wet. Just for you” you moan, remembering how much he likes to be reminded that he is the only one who ever makes you feel this way. Jimin likes to be in control during sex. He loves it when you're obedient, like you are his and his alone. Humming at your response, he slowly moves his fingers up and down your slit before drawing small but firm circles around your clit. Gasping for air at the sudden pleasure, you hold onto his arm. Nearly fearing that he might move it somewhere else if you don’t hold it in place. He knows your body like the back of his hand, as you do his. Both of you know every sensitive spot, every little mole and every trick on the other's body, understanding how to make the other feel good. “You’re such a good girl for me, huh? Only having eyes for me, getting this wet only for me…” His voice is deep and his fingers relentless as he stimulates your clit until your thighs begin to tremble. “Do you want me to make you cum like this, baby?” He asks you and inserts a finger into your dripping hole, his lips now next to your ear as he places a kiss on your temple. You moan louder, shaking your head. “No… I want more. Jimin, please!” 

He smirks and adds another finger, scissoring and curling them inside of you.  “More? How much more do you want?” He asks “More, like this?” and pumps them knuckles deep into your pulsing core before he adds a third finger, stretching you nicely and rubbing your walls to find the spot that has you seeing stars. 

The moan of his name that leaves your lips sounds like a beautiful melody to Jimin’s ears as he kisses your cheek. “Please, Jimin! I need you. Need you so bad” you beg, desperately wishing for him to just fill you up with his cock instead.

His fingers push into your most sensitive spot, rubbing it with every following thrust of his fingers as it has you arching your back off the mattress and mewling in delight and frustration all at once. “Please, Jimin!” you repeat, clumsily trying to unbuckle his belt. Chuckling, he pecks your lips and whispers an “Ok” before pulling his fingers from you and locking eyes with you as he moves them to his mouth, sucking them clean one after the other with a low hum. Your breathing picks up as you watch him and you pull him closer by his shoulders. The feeling of his lips on yours is what occupies your mind completely as you share a messy but passionate kiss. Opening his belt and jeans before pushing all of it down his thighs, along with his boxer briefs, Jimin doesn't let off of your lips until the very last second. 

You smile at your lovely boyfriend before following the trail of fading marks and bruises you had left on his neck two days ago down, only to swallow at the sight of his fully erect dick, the tip an angry red as it’s leaking pre-cum and the shaft a width that stretches you so deliciously every time. “Fuck” you groan as you drop your head back, craving the feeling of him inside you so bad, it’s ridiculous.

“Spread your legs for me, baby. I want to see you” you then hear Jimin say, as his hands already hold onto the back of your thighs to push them apart. You bite your lip in anticipation and open your legs wide, watching the way he takes in the sight. “Look at the mess you’ve made… And we’ve barely even gotten started …” he groans, watching you gush and clench around nothing in anticipation of what’s to come. He holds onto his shaft and moves it up and down your folds. A movement that has both of you sighing in pleasure. When he aligns his dick with your wet hole, he moves to hover above your face again and your arms wrap around his neck as he pushes into you slowly. Inch by inch, he stretches you further, the drawn-out moan leaving your throat and your clawing hands in his black hair a clear evidence of the blissful feeling it elicits. 

“Fuck, you’re always so tight for me, baby. Feels so good” Jimin growls through his teeth, eyes closed as his forehead rests on yours. He is holding back the urge to fuck into you right from the start, you can tell. He bottoms out, dropping his head into the crook of your neck and waiting a second or two for you to get used to his size. When you move your legs to wrap around his hips, he gets the sign and slides out until only the tip is left inside before thrusting all the way back in. You moan in unison as he keeps up a steady rhythm, repeating this motion over and over again. 

When his pace reaches a high, his hands move to your thighs, pushing them further up towards your chest to reach deeper into you. You release a broken moan of his name at that, feeling his dick deep inside you as he fills you with each of his thrusts. Sinfully wet sounds of skin hitting skin and your shared moans fill the room. “Shit, I’m getting close” he pants out inbetween lustful grunts and groans.

You nod, implying that you too are nearing the end, unable to use your words as the only sounds leaving your throat right now are euphoric moans and whimpers. Keeping up his fast rhythm, he moves a hand down inbetween you both to rub his thumb around your swollen clit in quick movements. “That’s it, cum for me (Y/N).” You almost shout out when you feel the coil in your lower belly snap as you come undone, your body shaking and your eyes rolling back to the point where all you see is white. 

Riding out your orgasm, you feel Jimin holding on your waist tightly and increasing the pace of his now erratic thrusts until he cums with a broken moan, buried deep inside of you as he fills you with several spurts of white. Resting his head on your chest, he pants in synch with you as you both try to recover from your climax. Your hand glides through his hair on the back of his head mindlessly, caressing and massaging his skull until he moves to pull out and fall down beside you on the bed. 

“Was this the kind of celebration you’ve been thinking of?” you ask, turning onto your side to cuddle into his bare chest. His arms instinctively wrap around you, holding you close and caressing your back. “No, this was better” he says with a cocky smile and kisses your forehead. “And so much better than any after party, too.”

You close your eyes as you listen to his heartbeat slowly going back to it’s normal pace. “I’m really proud of you, Jimin” you then mumble into his skin. He chuckles. “Did I fuck you that good?” Frowning and pinching his arm, you say “No!”, resulting in a genuine laugh from him. “I mean because you’re so close to fulfilling your biggest dream. You’ve come so far, baby.”

His amused smile becomes gentle as he nods and moves his hand to stroke your head, his hand smoothing down the nest that has formed on your head. “Do you remember the night on the football field?” he suddenly asks, his voice almost a whisper. Opening your eyes before you nod, you smile softly. “Of course…” Playing with a strand of your hair, he goes on. “That night, we saw a shooting star. And I wouldn’t tell you what I wished for.”

You grumble. “Yeah, I’m still curious.” Chuckling once again, Jimin says “Back then… I didn’t wish for our band to succeed. I didn’t wish for a chance as a musician. I didn’t wish for anything that I’d usually wish for.” Listening, you move your head to face Jimin. “All I asked for was for you to stay with me. All the way.”

Feeling the beating of your heart increasing in pace and your eyes starting to water, you were left speechless. “But then… We made that promise. I kept my wish from you, thinking it wouldn’t become true if I told you. That’s so ridiculous, isn’t it?” he says, smiling in shame when he realizes how superstitious this was. You shake your head, giggling quietly. “It is ridiculous, because you definitely wasted a chance for a wish there.” you say, looking him dead in the eye as he mocks offense. “I promised to stay with you forever. And I’m not one to break promises, ever.” Extending your pinky finger, you hold it up to your heads.

“Alright, same for me” Jimin smiles, now an amused curve to his lips rather than the bashful smile from before, and links his pinky with yours before refreshing the seal of your old promise with a kiss to your lips. 

"You know... This is the cheesiest thing you have ever said after sex." you suddenly deadpan, grinning at your embarrassed boyfriend's blushing cheeks as you both break out into quiet giggles a second later.

Thank you for reading this One Shot. Let me know how you liked it! 

Find more fics like this in my Masterlist and follow @pluto-fics​ to be updated about future uploads. Read you soon!

– Pluto 🌑

[debbiechanclub]

First Impressions, Second Chances, Part 1 (BTOOTxLBBF crossover)

SURPRISE! The long-awaited Best Two Out of Three x Local Bad Best Friends crossover is here! @freshlysqueezedmox and I were not planning on posting this tonight, but I was working on it and decided that we had enough to post the first part, so here we are. That’s right--this is going to be a multi-part crossover fic! Can you tell I’m excited? Because I am 😁

This is dedicated to the anon who suggested months ago that Sam and Alex should meet. I hope this lives up to your hopes and expectations, and I hope everyone enjoys!

First Impressions, Second Chances

Part: 1/?

Pairing: Chuck Taylor x OFC x Trent Beretta x OFC...? Something like that? You know our shit is complicated, y’all.

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Angst; some language; alcohol use

Check out my masterlist here and Summer’s here!

Tag squad: @hotyeehawman @comeasyoudar @heelchampbucks @librathepheonix13 @gabbynorth98 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @exe-sadboi-exe @junglecassidy @hurricanranabaybay @siwonineedmoney @linziland13 @bec0m @betsy-bradock​

Philadelphia, 2015

To say Sam was nervous would be a gross understatement. Her stomach had been twisted into a perpetual knot for the last week, and it was so bad tonight that she actually felt a little sick. Maybe she should have stayed in. She had a match tomorrow, after all—and it was a big match. A huge match, actually, her first match back on the indies after leaving WWE; and she didn’t feel nearly as prepared for it as she would have liked. Her original opponent had broken her wrist and they’d had to book a replacement at the last minute. She should be at home watching match footage of her new opponent, not out on the town with Chuck.

But Sam knew she wasn’t actually this nervous because they’d changed her opponent. She was nervous because Chuck was taking her to meet his friends. His best friends, as he’d put it.

“What if they hate me,” she whispered to him as they walked down a sidewalk in West Philadelphia. He looked over at her and rolled his eyes. 

“They aren’t going to hate you, Sam,” he said with a shake of his head, a small smile pulling at his lips. “I actually think you three are quite similar.” 

That piqued her curiosity. “Oh really?” she questioned as seriously as she could, trying to hide the smile that was attempting to make its way onto her face. “How so?” 

“Well, you’re all gigantic pains in my ass, for one,” he answered. Sam’s eyes grew and she elbowed him in the ribs, making him wince. “Ow! Not even in town thirty minutes and you already want to fight. It’s nice to see some things never change.” 

“Nice to see you’re still an asshole,” she grumbled as she looked down at the pavement below their feet.

Chuck smiled down at her. “Yeah. But I’m your asshole,” he said as he threw his arm around her shoulders. Sam couldn’t help but grin in return. 

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Dusty.” 

She leaned into him as they walked, and silence grew between them as her thoughts began to wander again. He wouldn’t tell her who they were meeting—just that they were his friends, fellow wrestlers, and she needed to meet them. She’d tried like hell to get their names from him all last night and again today when she’d finally made it to his place, but his resolve was unwavering. He said he didn’t want her drawing conclusions about them from what she could dig up online before she’d even met them. Which is exactly what she would have done if he’d told her their names. He knew her too well. 

“This is it,” Chuck announced as they came to a stop just outside the door of a bar; their bar, as he’d called it. He pulled it open and gestured for her to go first. She stopped just inside to turn around and look up at him.

“Are they here yet?” she asked as he moved to stand beside her.

“No... at least I don’t think they are.” He glanced around as he pulled out his phone. His fingers flew over the screen before he locked it again and looked down at her. “Where do you want to sit?” He tipped his head in the direction of the tables. She just shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t know, where do y’all normally sit?”

His eyes scanned the room again. He led her over to a corner booth and they both sat just as his phone dinged. Sam tried to nosily peek at the screen when he checked it, but he caught her and turned it away so she couldn’t see. She sat back with a hmph.  

“They’re a couple blocks away,” he said as he laid the phone screen-down on the table.

Sam sighed and looked down at her hands. The knot in her stomach twisted tighter.

“Hey,” Chuck softly said. “You good?” 

She pulled her lips into a tight smile. “Peachy,” she sarcastically returned. 

He huffed a laugh and wrapped his arm around her shoulders again. “Thank you for coming.”

Sam couldn’t help herself. “That’s what she said.”

Chuck rolled his eyes. “I really mean it, Samantha!” He gave her a gentle squeeze. “I know you’ve been nervous about this weekend for two months, and this is probably the last place you want to be before your first match back. So thank you for being here.”

He drew small circles on the exposed skin of her shoulder as he spoke. Sam’s stomach gave a little flutter. “Nervous? Me? Please. I don’t have one single nervous bone in my body. And you’re wrong,” she said as she nudged him with her elbow. “I wouldn’t want to spend tonight with anyone else. I know I acted like I didn’t want to come out… but I’m glad I did.”

A smile slowly spread its way across Chuck’s face. “Yeah?” he softly asked. Sam just hummed in agreement. 

But to say she was nervous would be an understatement.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex couldn’t have gotten to the parking garage a minute sooner. She always forgot how long the drive was from Roanoke to Philadelphia until she had to do it again. She got out of her Jeep and let out a satisfied groan as she stretched her legs and back. The sooner she could get a drink in her, the better. 

“Alex!”

She whirled around at the sound of her name. A smile tugged at her lips when she spotted Trent walking toward her. She met him halfway and pulled him into an excited hug. “Greggy!”

“Hey,” he said as he gave her a squeeze. “Long time, no see.”

“I know!” She playfully shoved his shoulder as they pulled apart. “You left me for Japan.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile. “How many times do I have to tell you that you should come wrestle over there, too? I know they’d love you.”

Alex felt her cheeks tinge pink and she looked away. “Yeah, yeah,” she returned. “But you know I have my heart set on NXT.”

Trent sighed. “Yeah… I know,” he grudgingly admitted. “And they’d be stupid not to sign you.”

Alex beamed up at him. “Aw. Thanks, Greggy. Actually, I’m wrestling someone tomorrow who used to—”

She was interrupted when they both got a text. Alex glanced down at her phone, already in her hand. It was a message from Chuck in their group chat.

Hurry up, losers, we’re here.

“Jeez,” Trent muttered to himself. Alex bit back a smirk as she watched him type a response. Soon after, her phone sounded with his message.

Alex just got here, we’re at the parking garage.

“Come on, let’s go before we get in trouble,” he said to her as he pushed his phone back into the front pocket of his jeans. Alex grinned, and they fell in step next to each other as they exited the parking garage into the evening air.

“So, do you have any idea who Chuck’s mystery guest is?” she curiously asked as they walked. She knew absolutely nothing about this person who Chuck wanted them to meet, and it had been driving her insane. She didn’t like when things were purposely kept from her—it made her nervous—and she hoped Trent could give her a clue as to the person’s identity.

But, unfortunately, he shook his head. “Nope.”

She let out a frustrated huff. “Why is he being so cloak-and-dagger about it?”

Trent shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“It’s gotta be a girl he’s dating.”

He shot her a look of surprise when she said that. “What?” 

“Think about it!” she proclaimed. “Why else would he go through all this trouble to introduce this person to us? Nothing else makes sense.”

That had to be it. Their lives were so intertwined with each other that it was the only logical answer: Dusty had a girlfriend, and he wanted to introduce her to his best friends. But, judging by the look on Trent’s face, he wasn’t so sure.

“I don’t know,” he repeated. "I would know if Chuck was seeing someone. He's my best friend."

Alex’s eyebrows arched. "Ouch."

A corner of his mouth quirked up. "One of my best friends," he amended.

"Better," she nodded. “But I’m telling you, it’s gotta be a girl.”

“Well, we’re about to find out,” he said as they arrived at the bar. He reached for the door and pulled it open, and Alex stepped inside, stopping just inside the entryway so she could look around. She spotted Chuck in a corner booth—and let out a gasp.

“What?” Trent asked as he came to stand next to her.

She grabbed his wrist. “It is a girl,” she whispered with an excited nod toward the booth. They could barely see her side profile, but it was definitely a female sitting with Chuck, with brown hair that fell just past her lightly tanned shoulders. Alex cocked her head, curious. Somehow, she thought she looked familiar. But it didn’t matter. She’d been right.

“I told you Dusty has a girlfriend,” she said with a triumphant grin at Trent. But he didn’t seem to even register what she’d said. He stared straight ahead at the booth, his dark eyes wide and unblinking. Alex squeezed his wrist to get his attention. “Greg.”

“What?” He looked at her as if he’d come out of a daze. She arched a brow.

“You alright?”

He nodded. But the look on his face said otherwise. “Yeah. Go ahead and sit down; I’ll get our drinks. You want your usual?”

He started backpedaling away before she could even answer. “Yeah, thanks,” she returned, and he disappeared toward the bar.

“Oookay,” Alex said to herself. But she ignored Trent’s suddenly strange behavior and made her way toward the booth. Chuck spotted her and waved, a giant grin on his face as he slid out from the booth.

“Dusty!” She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. Outside of Adam, Chuck was her best friend on the entire planet. She’d met him and Trent at a PWG show last year, and the rest was history. She couldn’t imagine her world without them now.

“Hey.” He wrapped her up and momentarily lifted her feet from the floor. “How was the drive?”

“Long,” she breathed in response. “I swear it gets longer every time.” She pulled away from him and glanced toward his lady friend, eager to get a better look. And, suddenly, she knew why she looked so familiar.

“One, that’s what she said. And two, Alex, this is—”

“Samantha McKay,” Alex said, cutting Chuck off. “I knew you looked familiar.”

Sam smiled up at her from the booth. “Please, call me Sam,” she insisted in a lilting Southern accent. “And you’re Alex Hawthorne.”

Chuck glanced between them, obviously confused. “You two know each other?”

“Well, not personally,” Alex clarified. “I know her from watching WWE.”

Chuck’s brow furrowed. “Well how do you know Alex, then?” he asked Sam.

She grinned. “Well… we’re actually wrestling each other tomorrow.”

Chuck’s eyes grew wider than Alex had ever seen them. “No shit. You’re Sam’s first opponent back on the indies?”

She nodded, proud of herself. “Guilty as charged.”

Chuck’s smile nearly split his face in two. “Well, what the fuck? I knew I had a good feeling about this!”

Alex couldn’t help but share in his excitement. It was a pretty crazy coincidence that his new friend—girlfriend?—who he’d wanted them to so badly meet just so happened to also be her opponent tomorrow. 

But then her brow furrowed with a thought. “Well then you must know—”

“Greg!” Chuck proclaimed. “I was wondering where the hell you were.”

“I went ahead and got our drinks,” Trent returned as he appeared next to Alex. He handed her an amber-colored beer. She accepted it with a smile.

“Thanks, Greggy.”

He gave her a tight smile. And then he looked at Sam. Sam stared back, noticeably tenser than she’d been a few seconds ago. Alex glanced curiously between them.

“I was just about to say that you must know Chuck’s new friend,” she said to Trent.

“Shit, I didn’t even think about that,” Chuck realized. “Were you two in WWE at the same time?” 

Trent nodded. “Yeah, we were.”

Alex’s eyes flicked back to Sam. She nodded in agreement and took an awkward sip of her drink.

“Well, this is perfect, then!" Chuck proclaimed, completely oblivious to the shift in the atmosphere. He was too excited. "Sam and Alex are wrestling each other tomorrow, too! How crazy is that?”

Trent pressed his mouth into a thin line. “Pretty crazy,” he stiffly returned. But again, Chuck didn’t notice as he sat back down in the booth. Alex started to sit next to him—but Trent grabbed her hip and gently pushed her to sit next to Sam instead. She sent him a questioning look as they both slid into the booth, but he ignored it, keeping his expression blank. Stoic. 

Alex took a drink of her beer. There was weird energy between Trent and Sam; she could sense it. And she had a feeling she knew exactly what it was about.

* * * * * * * * * *

How long did it take to walk two blocks? The knot in Sam’s stomach grew more and more painful with each passing second and her thoughts were going a mile a minute. What if Chuck had brought her here to introduce her to a girl he liked? No, that couldn’t be it. She could read him like a book, and that wasn’t the vibe she was getting. But the fact that he refused to tell her anything… it definitely made her wonder.

She glanced at the bar. Chuck had gone to get their drinks—and he’d left his phone on the table. She stared at it, tempted. Was his password still the same? 

But before she could pick it up and try, her phone rung in her pocket. She shifted in her seat and reached behind her to pull it out. A picture of Orange Cassidy lit up the screen, his face flushed and drunk. Chuck had sent it to her back when they’d been in China and she’d immediately set it as her contact photo for Jim. She smiled as she answered the call.

“Hiya, Clementine,” she practically sang into the phone. Orange chuckled on the other end of the line. 

“Hey. Are you with Dustin?” 

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed as she glanced over to the bar where Chuck still stood waiting for their drinks. “Yeah… Why?” 

“Tell him I’m going to be a little late.”

Her face scrunched further in confusion. “Late to what?” she asked. It prompted a sigh on the other end of the line. 

“He didn’t tell you, did he?” 

Sam’s frustration grew as she looked back at the bar again. Chuck turned around, two drinks in hand. And then it clicked.

“You’re coming tonight!” she excitedly proclaimed.

Orange laughed. She already knew what he was thinking.

“Yeah, I know. That’s what she said,” she smiled. But then her eyes widened. “Hey, if you’re gonna be here tonight, then do you know who else—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Chuck set their drinks on the table and abruptly snatched her phone from her hand.

“Hey! That’s my fucking phone!” she proclaimed. But he just grinned and held it up to his ear.

“Jim? Hey.” He paused, listening as Orange spoke on the other end. “Yeah, I took her phone,” he said with a look at Sam. She glared back at him. “Okay, we’ll see you when you get here.”

He hung up and handed her back her phone. She snatched it from him. “Asshole,” she muttered.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “You know he would have told you.”

“Yeah,” she groused. “I know.” She grabbed her glass off the table and took a sip of the mixed drink. Chuck looked at her out of the corner of his eye and started to say something—but then his attention was drawn to the door. A giant smile lit up his entire face as he stood from the booth and waved. Sam froze. His friends were here, whoever they were. But before she could turn around to look, someone launched themselves at Chuck and pulled him into a hug. 

“Dusty!”

Sam looked up. It was a girl. Long dark brown hair fell down her back as Chuck squeezed her tightly and picked her up off the ground. Sam swallowed a lump in her throat as the two of them talked, getting lost in her thoughts again. But then the girl turned around, and Sam’s eyes went wide with recognition.

“Alex, this is—”

“Samantha McKay,” the girl said with the slightest Southern drawl. It was her. “I knew you looked familiar.”

“Please, call me Sam,” Sam said with a smile. “And you’re Alex Hawthorne.” 

Chuck’s face screwed up in confusion. “You two know each other?” he asked as he looked between them. 

“Well, not personally. I know her from watching WWE,” Alex clarified as she looked back at him.

“Well how do you know Alex, then?” he asked Sam.

She grinned, happy that Chuck was finally the one who didn’t have a clue. “Well… we’re actually wrestling each other tomorrow.” 

His eyes grew wide as saucers. “No shit.” He turned to look at Alex again. “You’re Sam’s first opponent back on the indies?”

She nodded proudly. “Guilty as charged,” she confirmed. The look on Chuck’s face was priceless. Shock mixed with genuine happiness. 

“Well, what the fuck? I knew I had a good feeling about this!” A huge smile broke out on his face, making Sam chuckle as she watched him. His excitement was practically radiating off of him as he looked between the two of them. But when Sam looked over at Alex, she found her brow furrowed in confusion. 

“Well then you must know—”

But before she could finish her sentence, someone walked up behind her, catching Chuck and Sam’s attention both. “Greg! I was wondering where the hell you were.” 

Sam’s stomach dropped and her face blanched. Greg? Trent? She blinked, but the person she saw standing next to Alex didn’t change. It was him. Her ex. She was absolutely beside herself.

She reached for her drink with a shaky hand as Trent spoke. “I went ahead and got our drinks.” She saw him hand Alex a beer out of the corner of her eye.

“Thanks, Greggy,” she smiled. Sam choked as she swallowed. Was Trent with Alex?

“I was just about to say that you must know Chuck’s new friend,” Alex said with a curious glance at him. Sam sat up straighter, putting the pieces together. Clearly, neither Alex nor Chuck knew that she and Trent used to sleep with each other. And Alex might be sleeping with him now, she thought. Great.

“Shit, I didn’t even think about that,” Chuck piped up, pulling Sam back out of her thoughts. “Were you two in WWE at the same time?” 

He looked between Sam and Trent. Trent answered first. “Yeah, we were.” His voice was devoid of any emotion as he spoke. It stung Sam, more than she would have expected it to. She tried to ignore it as she nodded and took a long sip of her drink. She could feel Alex watching her.

“Well, this is perfect, then!” Chuck giddily proclaimed. He looked at Trent. “Sam and Alex are wrestling each other tomorrow, too! How crazy is that?”

Sam dared to look at Trent. He stiffened. “Pretty crazy,” he said, just as monotonously as before.

But Chuck was too overcome with excitement to notice how unenthused Trent seemed to be in her presence. He sat down on the opposite side of the booth and Sam slouched, painfully aware of everyone’s movements. Alex started to sit next to Chuck—but Trent deliberately nudged her to sit next to her instead. It shouldn’t have bothered her, but it did. Alex scooched in next to her and Sam looked down, fidgeting with a string on the hem of her shirt. She felt someone nudge her leg underneath the table. She looked up and saw Chuck watching her with that beaming smile of his. She returned it as best she could.  

She reached for her drink again. The tension in the air was palpable. She knew Alex felt it too—she could tell by the suspicious look on her face that she did. But at least Chuck was oblivious.

She wondered how long that would last.

[sinceileftyoublog]

Philippe Cohen Solal & Mike Lindsay: A Pop Tribute to Outsider Art

From Left: Mike Linsday, Hannah Peel, Philippe Cohen Solal, Adam Glover; Artwork by Gabriel Jacquel

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Outsider visual artist and writer Henry Darger’s fame was essentially happenstance, so it’s fitting that Philippe Cohen Solal’s decades-long obsession with Darger is chock full of coincidence. In 2003, the member of longtime neotango group Gotan Project found himself with a day off on tour in New York City and decided to venture over to the American Folk Art Museum, a choice that would change his life and culminate in Outsider (¡Ya Basta!), April’s collaborative album with Tunng’s Mike Linsday, the first adaptation of Darger’s words in music. 

At the museum, Solal, unaware not only of Darger but of outsider art in general, saw a Darger work, and, as he told me over the phone earlier this year, “fell in love.” Looking closer at the details of the work, he saw something he recognized: the name Kiyoko Lerner, who had lent the work to the museum. The very same name of a woman he was set to meet the next day in Chicago as recommended by a mutual friend back in Paris. The friend suggested they meet due to their love of tango. “We met and talked a bit about tango,” he said, “but quickly, I asked her about Henry Darger.” She began to tell him exactly who she was, the story that’s become increasingly well-known in the annals of Chicago cultural history.

Lerner and her late husband Nathan (himself a prominent Chicago photographer) were Darger’s landlords; Nathan discovered Darger’s work in his “very messy room” shortly before Darger’s death in 1973, most notably his 15,000+ page novel In The Realms of the Unreal as well as his magazine-traced illustrations and watercolors accompanying the book. (The book, a fantastical epic about child slave rebellions, would go on to inspire visual artists and musicians for decades; indie rock band Vivian Girls took their name from characters in the book, and Darger would even be referenced in The Venture Bros.) Nathan immediately knew he had something special, and he and his wife took control of Darger’s estate. Darger would start to become formally recognized by the art world, his work prominently featured in museums and documentaries. Nathan died in 1997, and Kiyoko would continue to operate as head of the estate and donate her collection to various museums across the world.

In 2006, Kiyoko flew to Paris and met up with Solal at the first Darger exhibition in the city, at La Maison Rouge. It was immediately when he left the show that Solal had the idea to make music inspired by Darger’s art. “At the time, I didn’t [even] know that [Darger] wrote lyrics,” Solal said. “I had no clue.” In reference to Darger’s war between children and adults, Solal had the idea to write “adult music for children,” or vice versa, and wrote a track that wouldn’t even end up 15 years later on Outsider. He visited Kiyoko at her Chicago apartment. “I spent a few days immersed in his art. I didn’t know precisely what I wanted to do, and then I discovered he wrote lyrics. It very much changed the project.” Nobody had thought to put Darger’s lyrics to music, and Solal wanted to put his stamp on the increasingly large pool of reinterpretations of or references to Darger in the arts and culture world at large. Kiyoko put him in touch with art historian Michael Bonesteel, who led Solal to more lyrics.

Not wanting to go at it alone, Solal got the idea to do a collective project adapting Darger’s lyrics to music with various friends. He reached out to the likes of Calexico’s Joey Burns and Lambchop’s Kurt Wagner, but Lindsay was the one who really stuck. Solal and Lindsay were fans of each other’s bands, and the latter visited the American Folk Art Museum while on tour at Solal’s recommendation, he himself rediscovering Darger’s work. In 2015, there was another Darger retrospective at the Paris Museum of Modern Art, and Kiyoko, who attended, suggested to Solal that he reveal his song adaptations of Darger. “I didn’t tell her I only had one song at the time,” he laughed. That was his inspiration to reach out to Lindsay. “I thought maybe I’d do a 5-track EP. I called Mike and reminded him of my project and asked him, ‘Are you ready to work on that with me?’”

Solal and Lindsay separately wrote the melodies and basic arrangements of the songs that would end up on Outsider, and they recorded and produced the record together. Lindsay introduced Solal to Northern Irish musician/singer/multi-instrumentalist Hannah Peel, who would voice the Vivian Girls. Solal asked Adam Glover, a singer he knew through his manager, to be the voice of Darger himself. (“He was very young...but he can sing like Sinatra or Dean Martin,” Solal said.) The four created an album with Darger’s words using traditional pop instrumentation and song structures but also children’s instruments; Peel even created her own music box to play some of the melodies. Sometimes, the words were spoken, as on “Hark Hark, My Friend, Cannon Thunders Are Swelling”, while other times the vocals are isolated in harmony, as on “We Sigh For The Child Slaves”. “We know more about Darger as a painter and visual artist, so it was important to have Darger as a storyteller,” Solal said. Furthermore, the group wanted to capture the raw spirit of Darger’s art by rendering the voices distorted, shifting their pitch to make them sound almost out of tune. The instrumentation, meanwhile, ranges from slinky electric guitars to strings, and even barroom-style piano on the penultimate “We’ll Never Say Goodby” [sic]. “With our small team, it was lean and simple to do this music,” said Solal. While most of the titles and words were taken directly from Darger, down to the spelling of “Goodby”, the album touches on Solal’s story, too. Instrumental interlude “851 Webster Avenue” is named after the address of Lerner’s apartment Solal visited for the first time, when his fascination with Darger really took off.

Solal can’t exactly pinpoint what ever fascinated him about Darger, both in general and as the world changes, but he has some clues. “At the time, what was interesting to me was it was clear [Darger] was a self-taught artist, and maybe I felt a bit moved by that because I’m a self-taught musician,” Solal said. “I never went to music school, but I understood that without any specific art education or practice at an art school, you can create something...Henry Darger is an amazing example of someone who created his own world.” Darger’s style of illustration, his drawings traced from magazines, made up for the fact that he wasn’t a technically great drawer, and it complemented his heightened sense of color. Moreover, Solal feels kinship with some aspects of Darger’s childhood. Part of the inspiration for In The Realms of the Unreal was that Darger himself was sent to an asylum that put children to work. “When he was a kid, everybody called him crazy,” said Solal, “But I’m sure he didn’t think he was crazy. I remember when I was 9 or 10, I thought I was crazy. Nobody called me crazy, but I thought I was.” He found commonalities in, simply, being misunderstood.

Solal also questions what it means to be an “outsider” artist; in reality, Darger spent most of his time inside, confined in a room creating fictional worlds. Funny enough, according to his diaries, he was fascinated with the weather, tracking the accuracy of the predicted versus actual weather, but that’s about all for the outside world. On the day JFK was killed, for instance, Darger had nothing about it in his diary entry. He chose to interact with the world through the magazines he would trace, and through collections of items like Pepto Bismol bottles, National Geographic issues, and broken glasses. He wasn’t much for interpersonal relationships. Not only was Nathan Lerner unaware of Darger’s artistic enterprises, but neither were the young artist couple with whom Darger actually shared his apartment. Solal thinks that Darger’s resistance to presenting himself as an artist was as a result of his childhood experiences. “If the outside world was not so mean to him, maybe he’d be less scared to show who he was to the rest of the world, even just to his neighbors,” he said. “It’s funny that we call him an outsider. He was more an insider but was protecting himself from the outside world.”

Perhaps, subconsciously, the more that creative folks learn to look through Darger’s eyes, the less likely his, or any genius goes unnoticed. Solal remarked that many of the folks involved in Outsider almost had to “unlearn” their craft. Andrew Scheps, who mixed the album, at first didn’t know the context and gave Solal and Lindsay a product that was “too clean;” Lindsay explained Darger’s story and the importance of having strange-sounding narrative effects in the records. “When he worked [after that] on the mix, we found Henry was back in our songs,” said Solal. The individuals involved in coming up with animated videos for each of these songs, French animator Gabriel Jacquel with art direction by Pascal Gary (aka Phormazero), also had to abandon their fundamentals and learn to draw like Darger. Overall, exploring his work provides admirers like Solal the opportunity to dig deeper, from figuring out how to bring Outsider on stage to “finding new ways to tell the story,” like podcasts, interactive maps, short films, and Spotify playlists of Darger’s favorite music. “This man is full of mysteries,” he said. “I hope my future is Outsider for a while.”

[tothedarkdarkseas]

D'you feel like Gorillaz has become more gentrified? Like, they've really reversed a lot of the character design from Phase 1 imo. I can sort of see where "soft boy Stu" is coming from; looking at Humility versus Tomorrow Comes Today, there has been a huge departure of character. Same with Noodle (who is showing more cleavage than any other phase) and Murdoc (who seems to take himself MUCH less seriously). What do you think?

Hi anon! This has been tough for me to answer because there’s such a tension in the fandom right now, and as ever, I’m sort of the most useless type of person who falls a bit in the middle. I’m just doing a bit of stream of consciousness here, so I’m sorry if it’s ever unclear!

To start, I want to clarify that I do understand what you mean by “gentrification” in a more colloquial media setting like this, and I don’t want to seem pedantic, or like I’m picking on you or disagreeing-- but for me, “gentrified” is not really the word I would use to describe Gorillaz. Again, that isn’t me try to point to the dictionary and contest the meaning on paper, words evolve with us as our usage of them evolves, and in this context I’d infer it as meaning the project is being made more profitable for white and upper-class voices at the chief cost of devaluing marginalized people. Now, I know we’re talking about the characters here, but... Gorillaz is always a bit weird to talk about because it’s such a multi-faceted project, and I do have some regretful feelings that the work of hundreds of people often goes dismissed in the full scale of the “is Gorillaz bad actually” conversation. I do apologize if it seems like I’m willfully misconstruing the question to push the subject, I promise that isn’t my intent and I’ll get back on topic-- it’s just something I’d like to express some appreciation over while we’re discussing the good and bad of the project. There aren’t many bands in existence, and none on their level of mainstream fame in the English-language market, who bring this many POC artists to the forefront, heavily featuring not just superstar crossover collaborators but smaller indie or unknown artists performing on a larger stage without being asked to compromise the culture in their music. The fact that Song Machine has three non-English languages featured on different tracks, including Xhosa, is pretty cool and not something you often stumble across. That doesn’t mean the band, real or fictional, is perfect by any stretch-- but I’ve never gotten the sense that the collaborators are being used by Gorillaz or asked to follow only what they’re told, but that the band backs the collaborators in making the music they bring to them.

I recognize that’s not entirely on topic for this question, but it’s sort of aimed at the broader conversations happening right now I guess. Like, we’ve all been seeing a lot of strong feelings about the band by now, haven’t we? So er, y’know, hot on the heels of this album, I just wanted to ramble about my opinion on the band’s side of it, and whether Gorillaz as a band has lost what makes them special. As far as the music goes, no, I don’t personally feel that way, so I’m still pretty jazzed on this album.

As for whether the characters have been moving in reverse or stagnating-- I’d have to agree, yes, I look at soft boy Stu and it feels pandering. That isn’t necessarily to discount that anything of value has come from Gorillaz since then, they’re just... rather inconsistent. Truthfully, it’s difficult to speak to because I do have to take into account that my vision of the characters isn’t really entirely in-line with canon, even the older canon, but is much less so with the newer stuff. I can’t say there aren’t moments that have frustrated me, between art or interviews-- and it’s the things I know earn me ire to express because it is a selfish want, it’s the cute stuff people like that I often don’t, and so I have to step back and assess what is an objectively (or as close to objective as we’ll get) disagreeable direction, and what simply doesn’t gel with what I want the characters to be. I think it’s very often the latter, but of course there’s part of me-- as there is with near everyone in the fandom-- who thinks that something I really dislike is inarguably not as compelling. On the flipside, there have been bits scattered here and there that did gel with my ideas of the characters (this refers primarily to Stu and Murdoc) that seemed completely reviled and rejected when they happened. Er, so the wishy-washy thing I’m getting at is: yes, Gorillaz is surely different. In particular Stu is written and drawn quite differently, to the extent that there is a completely fractured image in the fandom of what “in character” means for him, and I’m not always happy with everything we get. I’ve had to just “distance” myself from canon-- which, to be quite honest, even though this is a popular mindset with shippers I don’t actually say it with much pride. I do have a sense of embarrassment at how it sounds for me to say it “doesn’t matter” if it’s in-character when I guess I’ve wished that I was... I don’t know, doing some kind of good and thoughtful thing for the character and his potential, rather than just writing him as an OC, which is what it increasingly looks like I’m doing. (Hell, it increasingly is what I’m doing, and I don’t love to feel that way but in the effort of honesty I do recognize it.) For Murdoc, I don’t personally mind his presentation nearly as much, though I can see how he’s leaning more cartoony by the day. While there were some missed opportunities for better Debunked sessions, better interviews, or better videos, I haven’t been totally wrong-footed by him either. At worst, the jokes we’ve gotten from him have felt a bit toothless, and at best I’ve also felt like there were some winners in there. I’d be glad to simply ignore the “plot” around the portals, but even when engaging with it, I can see the idea behind having Murdoc aimlessly chase them-- maybe for profit, maybe for control, maybe just because they exist around him and it is his core driving need to take and to have. That isn’t to say it’s handled as well as it could be, but I sort of just... look past it to be frank with you, haha. It hasn’t been spoiling me on Murdoc, I suppose. That’s just my own feeling, though.

I’m staying optimistic that the almanac will have some funny Murdoc bits, but I’m more nervous about Stu’s parts of it. I have hopes and fingers crossed, but I also have a lot of fear based on the direction Stu’s gone in for a while now. Yes, it does bum me out quite a lot, I admit. Hope springs eternal, though, and I do still perhaps foolishly believe that Jamie and the writers have a bit more love for mumbling, zombie-faced, “a bit thick” laddish Stu than they do for the soft boy and they might make some efforts to give us something. Touch wood.

If I’m being honest though, despite taking issue with a lot of choices I haven’t lost my love of Gorillaz as a project partly because I sort of think we’ve had rose-tinted glasses toward previous phases, and there is some extent of editorializing that goes on about the band’s history. I think Gorillaz’s plot writing now is pretty bad, but I also think Gorillaz’s plot writing has always been pretty bad. I think it rides on the characters like it has always ridden on the characters, and it is uneven in that respect because it has always been uneven. I think these statements-- that it is worse now, and that it is not actually a steep decline-- both feel true for me, but I can’t say how true they feel for you! And that’s alright! Just my two cents. It’d be a lie to say I’m thrilled with everything over the past two years or so, but it’d also only be hurting myself to lean into the frustration and force myself to become more upset if I have the ability to compartmentalize and make my peace.

[wordywarriorwrites]

Chapter 20: Evermore

Masterlist: The Boss of Brooklyn  A03 Story Link Author: @wordywarriorwrites​ Summary: When it comes to being The Boss, James Buchanan “JB” Barnes rules with an iron fist. For him, there’s no room for sentiment, and certainly no time for distraction, even if it is in the form of an old flame. Steve Rogers had bowed out of the life a long time ago, but a twist of fate brings him right back into the fold, and face-to-face with a man he once loved. When a game of cat and mouse turns into a matter of life and death, both will be forced to decide whether they’ll be loyal to the business, or faithful to each other. A/N: Bucky Barnes Mob Boss AU. Stucky. For: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan Star’s Multi-Fandom Follower Celebration with the prompt, “Why did you do it?” & @sherrybaby14 Sherry’s Fall Into You Challenge with the prompt, “Show me. Prove that you can handle me.” Warnings: Language, violence, drug use, alcohol, smoking, explicit sexual content, illegal activities. *Re-blogs are welcome. Plagiarism isn’t. *

One Month Later…

The Tuileries and Carousel Gardens, adjacent to the Louvre, between the museum and the Place de la Concorde – that’s where Mason tried to convince Steve to meet him for the final time.

It was a very public and neutral spot, but there was nothing impersonal about the situation they’d found themselves in. Mason had explained the photographs and made recompense to Bucky, and for the sake of his own sanity, Steve accepted it, and felt the subject was closed. Mason, on the other hand, believed they had unfinished business to discuss, and wanted to talk about it in person.

As Steve stared out at the view of the Eiffel Tower, Mason went on speaking, and pointed out the facts as he saw them. He believed they were good together, the attraction was mutual, and in the short time they’d been in each other’s company, they’d been happy. To him, it was as simple as that, and he couldn’t understand why Steve would choose to give it up so precipitously.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Steve told him. “And you won’t change my mind.”  

The hedged response hung in the air for some time before Mason called out the proverbial elephant in the room. He asked if he was going back to Brooklyn to be with Bucky, and since Steve still respected him enough to be honest, he didn’t lie. Mason was a tenacious man, but he wasn’t ignorant, and he didn’t press for further explanation.

“Tu retournes chercher ton cœur,” he bemoaned. “I cannot be angry at you for that.”

The conversation ended as amicably as he could’ve ever hoped for, and when Steve hung up the phone, he was suddenly hit with a mixture of relief and apprehension. He wasn’t just leaving France and what might’ve been; he was returning home to the unknown, and the uncertainty of it all was overwhelming.

He and Bucky and been in a bubble. Two weeks of in-patient observation, two weeks of out-patient recovery, and a final post-op physical to determine whether or not he was well enough to travel. A month of nothing more than one-on-one talking, listening, and getting used to each other all over again.

Steve had nearly forgotten what it was like to be so in tune with someone, and there were moments when he would look at Bucky and feel as if there had been no time, distance, or animosity between them. They had never been nor would they ever be strangers, and their shared experiences had bonded them in profound, inexplicable ways, but they weren’t delusional about the effort they’d have to put into making it work. They’d hurt each other severely, and neither of them could erase that pain or rebuild several years’ worth of trust overnight, but the true test of their mettle would be when they got back to Brooklyn…

A soft knock on the adjoining door brought Steve back to himself. He called out that it was open, and a moment later, the subject of his thoughts stepped out on the balcony.

Bucky excitedly declared the doctors gave him a clean bill of health. Steve nodded at the good news, which was followed up by Bucky stating they could leave as soon as that very evening. He must’ve made a noncommittal sound, because the following morning was also deemed acceptable.

“Or we could stay forever,” he offered nonchalantly. “I could become a Moulin Rouge dancer, and you can, I don’t know – paint nude portraits of Frenchmen with their poodles.”

Steve turned to him and furrowed his brow, “I’m sorry - what?”

Bucky laughed and shook his head, “You worried about going home?”

“Honestly? Yeah, I am.”

The Families and the West Indies were still very sore subjects, but they hadn’t tip-toed around them. Bucky knew Steve didn’t want to fall back into old habits and Steve knew Bucky had to get back to running the business that had been sorely neglected in his absence. Playtime was well and truly over, and pretty soon, choices would need to be made that would impact them both.

“We don’t have to figure it all out right away.”

“You know that’s not true. They’re going to expect--”

“The decision isn’t theirs to make,” Bucky interjected bluntly. “And the seat will remain vacant until you say you want it back or you tell me to fill it.”

“And you think they’ll just accept that?” Steve countered.

“They’ll do what I fucking tell them to do.”

An unwavering declaration and an absolute unwillingness to bend – a terse retort that was both the long and the short of it. Bucky had essentially issued a blank check with no void date, and in the event of a battle, he’d be colonel, cavalry, and cannon fodder. A Boss always shouldered the brunt of the weight, and until Steve decided he wanted to carry a share of it, a debate was pointless.

He let Bucky know that he preferred to return to New York the following day, and once the itinerary was finalized, Bucky declared he reeked of hospital chemicals, and wanted to take a shower. After so many weeks of being a de-facto caretaker, Steve followed on reflex. He entered Bucky’s bedroom on autopilot, headed straight for the bathroom, gathered towels, turned on the water, and put down the bathmat.

Like an old-school English valet, Steve undressed Bucky with impartiality that had been easy to maintain because of the discomfort it caused and the need to be mindful of the wounds. Shoes, socks, jacket, tie, belt, pants, and shirt – practice had made the process efficient, but when Bucky dropped his boxers without warning, and invited him to join him in the shower, the detachment Steve had sensibly developed nearly evaporated.

“Please,” Bucky insisted.  

Steve could’ve ignored the entreaty had he not met Bucky’s eyes and saw it wasn’t sex he was after this time. A blatant, vulnerable expression had bled across his features, and the emotion was too real and raw to put words to. Steve knew just by the set of Bucky’s jaw and the way he held his breath that he didn’t want to be coddled or nursed anymore.

Getting undressed and beneath the spray had been the easy part. The dimness of the heat lamp; the steam within the glass enclosure; the complexity of intimacy; and the simplicity of a familiar and welcomed touch – it was a different kind of nakedness and it exposed them both.  

French, triple-milled soap rinsed down the drain and the Egyptian cotton bath sheets were forgotten on the floor at the foot of the bed. They settled into the double king-sized mattress, beneath a down comforter, and atop of too many damn pillows. Bucky rested on his side, back pressed to his chest, and Steve couldn’t stop himself from placing a protective hand over the still-healing injuries.

Bucky’s contented sigh was what Steve fell asleep to, and when he woke several hours later, darkness had fallen, but the room was subtly glowing. The glimmering light from the Eiffel Tower had created sparkled patterns over the ceiling, walls, and bed, but the splendor wasn’t what held his attention.

Blankets kicked off, flat on his stomach, and face buried in a pillow – a repose that was wholly innocent and utterly tempting. The rich scent of Bucky’s soft skin, the warmth of his body, and the reassuring sound of his every inhale and exhale -- he was painfully stunning and completely captivating, and even without asking, Steve could sense he’d also been wakened by the light show.

“Does this happen every night?” Bucky muttered.

Steve made a noise in the affirmative and Bucky let out a huff of annoyance. Bare skin cradled by golden light flexed and moved across the sheets, and he listened and observed as Bucky stretched and groaned beside him. Dark, unkempt hair gave way to a furrowed brow and sleepy eyes, but Steve’s amorous perusal was brought to an end when he abruptly rolled away, grabbed the blanket, and covered himself from shoulders to toes.

Though they were mere inches apart, Bucky’s actions had put a discernable, unspoken distance between them. He’d hidden both his expression and his body, and when the lights of the Tower finally stopped glittering, the room dimmed considerably, and the tension turned palpable.

“I want you,” Steve rasped into the darkness.

“Do you?”

There was no trace of brashness in his voice; if anything, he brooded, as if he were unsure whether or not the passion Steve had for him had somehow lessened. Their journey had left them both shaken and broken, but the one thing Steve knew for sure was that his desire for Bucky had never been lost along the way. He responded to the question not with words, but with deliberate action, and started by pushing the covers down and out of the way.  

Steve roved his palms and tongue purposefully and hungrily from the crook of Bucky’s neck to the base of his spine. When Steve rolled him onto his back, he repeated the process, and reclaimed Bucky’s body. Steve buried his teeth into his abs, coaxed bruises from the flesh of his hipbones, and used his hands and mouth until he beckoned gut-wrenched pleas of mercy that prompted Steve to release him long enough to issue a guttural demand.

“Come for me, Buck,” he ordered lowly. “Come for me right now.”

Bucky’s surrender and his orgasm hadn’t just been a physical release; it seemed to free him from whatever doubts he may have had and revived his confidence. He basked in the afterglow for a few minutes before he got up, rushed to the bathroom, and returned with a bottle of lube and a handful of condoms.

Both were tossed down in the middle of the mattress, and Steve’s heart raced when Bucky crawled back into bed, and kissed him until his brain shorted out. The force and intensity of it sent him falling back against the pillows, and he couldn’t help but moan as Bucky sucked hard on his tongue and stroked his erection from base to tip.

“Nobody else is allowed to have you,” Bucky panted as he issued a sharp bite to his lower lip. “And I will kill anyone who tries to hurt you or take you from me.”  

The possessive assertion was punctuated with a particularly tight squeeze, and the highhandedness continued with hot, open-mouthed licks and nips that blazed a path down his chin, to the base of his throat, and across his chest.

Steve was completely lost in the officious tenor of Bucky’s voice and caress, and by the time he opened the lube and really started working him over, Steve was painfully hard, and hanging on by a thread. Bucky continued to take his time, used his fingers with pitiless and relentless accuracy, and didn’t roll on a condom until he was wrecked and had all but blathered and begged for it.

Situated on his knees, Bucky nudged his thighs wide apart, and guided himself inside until he was seated deep. Bucky intertwined their hands and pinned Steve’s arms above his head. Chest-to-chest; eyes locked and focused; an unhurried rock and roll of hips; heady, potent kisses that left them both breathless and a little dizzy. Steve hovered with Bucky over the precipice -- desperate, unafraid, and more than ready and willing to fall -- and when he did, Bucky fell right along with him.  

“I love you,” Bucky whispered against the shell of his ear.

Steve closed his eyes and let out a ragged breath, “I love you, too.”

Translations: Tu retournes chercher ton cœur – You’re going back for your heart.

Epilogue: The Bosses

Everything: @jennmurawski13​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​

Steve Rogers: @patzammit @hearttoearth​ The Boss of Brooklyn: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety​ @captain-rogers-beard​ @lilliannaansalla

[hopeunderstoodmymoxie]

Intro

I’ve thrown another muse together in .2 seconds and I love her so she’s on the indie scene now!!! She’s open for RPing. Mun info and rules are on my page as well!

Stats

Name: Paige Taylor King/Violet North (Work only)

Age: 33

FC: Tabria Majors

Birthday: May 29th 1988

Birthplace: Chicago, Illinois

Location: Niles Illinois

Height: 5’10

Occupation: Dancer/Vlogger

Siblings: Sonjya, Levi, Neil

Parents: Lela (January 29) and Salvatore Calhoun (November 13)

Hobbies/Likes/etc…

True crime/Cold Case Files/ID Network

Mysteries

Board/Card games

Bubble baths and wine

Puzzles

Pole Dancing

Tennis (played it in school and as an adult first summer job was at a country club)

Starters, Asks, Rules Verses

About Paige

Personality Type: ISTJ - The Detective

nosy, bossy, loyal, determined, motivated, persistent, independent, intuitive, pragmatic, catty, vindictive, gossipy.

Polyamory - Paige is poly, she has never exactly believed in the idea of monogamy. Even while dating Lucian, she had other partners who caught onto him faster than she had. They tried to tell her and that's how she put the pieces together.

Paige King, the first of the King children was born to struggling parents barely making it by as it was. In a tiny cramped apartment in a bad area of Chicago, both parents barely had time to be home. They worked dead end jobs, and soon saw the birth of their second child. Despite their money and living troubles the King parents made sure their children had the best life they could give them. The King Children had no idea they lacked anything until certain school ages. It didn’t hit Paige until her tween years as she had mostly grown up with other kids in their situation. The King family, now becoming four, had moved to a slightly better housing situation. They each had rooms. Paige and Sonja shared rooms and Levi and Neil had their own room. The house was by no means new or fancy. As luxurious as three rooms sounded It barely had enough space. Their parents rotated jobs, when one was out of work, the other worked. Until their mother landed a full time position in an office job and climbed up the corporate ladder. By this time Paige had developed her own sense of who she was. She loved an audience. She could keep them entertained as well as herself. She came up with elaborate stories, mysteries that were solved one way or another. Some, getting a little convoluted to the annoyance of the neighborhood children and her siblings. She had her main friends by now as well and was blossoming in school. Head of student council, and in as many after school clubs she could fit herself into, Paige kept herself busy, active, and sociable. Her parents expected good grades from their children. They wanted college and good jobs for them. Even if Paige had too many ideas for her future then she could keep up with, she was destined for college and she saw herself accepted into Michigan state. College was her scene. She got along with her roommates, her classes were far from easy but she welcomed the challenge. She did feel like a small fish in a big ocean… but she was making her home there slowly. Paige met a boy named Lucian, in trade school to become an electrician, the field her father loved and respected but he was a con artist. He stole from Paige’s family, and she had to drop out of college as there was no money for her to finish out the remainder of the year. It was a multi-year con and he nearly destroyed Paige’s relationship with her family in the process. Paige packed up her things and moved to Niles in an attempt to restart her life. She found beauty vlogging and exotic dancing as ways to pass time and make money. More so the vlogging at first and then the dancing. While uncertain where her career will go, Paige is happy with her life and trying to mend the broken relationships.

[yr-bed]

Referencesreferencesreferences

Lauren Oyler is my favourite living critic, and I’m excited to read her debut novel Fake Accounts. I’ve been reading a lot of the press around it, including this interview with The Atlantic where she answers the question “ To what extent do conspiracy theories and fiction relate to each other?” thusly

To great extent! You could say conspiracy theories are like bad fiction, which attempts to tie everything up and explain it all. Neither leave room for randomness or pointlessness or meaninglessness. But life is full of all these, and our desire to eliminate them leads us down narrower and narrower paths.

There’s also a tendency to read symbols and metaphors in life the way we read them in fiction, which creates all sorts of problems. When you read symbols and metaphors in fiction, you know where they came from: the author. If you find a symbol or metaphor in life, you might start freaking out about where it came from and what it really means. The specifics of the stories conspiracists tell tend to camouflage the more interesting elements about them, which to me are all about (1) motivation—why am [I] being told this?—and (2) their unstable relationship to the real: Some aspect of this could actually be true, or come from something real. Both are essential elements of fiction as well.

Which, first of all, is a characteristically incisive read on the proliferation of conspiracy theories within modern western political discourse. It also resurfaced in my mind today, a couple of weeks after I first read it, whilst scrolling through the Genius entries for songs from Black Country, New Road’s hot-off-the-press debut album, For the first time.

I really really like For the first time. Opening your debut album with an instrumental called “Instrumental” and ending with a song called “Opus” are a sandwich of baller moves. “Track X” is what a love song written by Steve Reich might sound like. I’m not the only one to notice that considerable changes had been made to the lyrics and arrangements of pre-album singles “Athen’s, France” and “Sunglasses,” the latter of which was one of my most-listened songs in 2019 and 2020, if Spotify’s records are to be believed. Not being smart enough to figure out the changes for myself, and heeding Jarvis’s First Law, I went over to the often-ironically-named Genius with the expectation that the site’s membership may well have crowd-sourced annotations which would do the heavy analytical lifting for me. 

[Adam Curtis voice] And then, something strange happened. Well, maybe not strange, but sort of interesting. The problem with Genius has been well documented by more intelligent documenters than I, as are the potential pitfalls of crowdsourcing knowledge in general. In this particular instance, the phenomena I happened upon wasn’t the proliferation of white boys clumsily trying to pick apart the internal rhymes and culturally-specific reference points of trap songs, but a form of context collapse typical of a lot of so-called cultural critiques you get on the Internet of 2021.

Talking to everyone and talking to no-one has lead to a curious reading of Black Country, New Road’s lyrics (part of a verbose, hyper-referential scene that primarily exists in my head, alongside Squid). Rather than drawing on the specific socioeconomic and cultural context the band exist in, and which they often directly call out in their music, there’s a grasping to read symbols and metaphors in an almost wilfully literal and dull fashion. And imho it sucks!

Above is a representative example from the Genius page for the single version of “Sunglasses.” It’s a song which wields the cultural signifiers of comfortable middle class existence in modern Britain with equal parts disgust and familiarity. Amongst The Guardian-friendly reference points are Nutribullets, single malt whiskey, complaining about mediocre theatre and, in the killer of an opening line, multi-part Danish crime dramas of the sort that air on BBC Four. All of these work in concert to produce, in the words of frontman Isaac Wood, a portrait of a family of “wealth or affluence.” Crucially, however, not one “written from a critical or even external position,” which is one of the more interesting aspects of the song (and the band in general), occupying as they do a self-reflexively privileged position not dissimilar to the Metropolitan Liberal Elite’s satirical voice of choice, Stewart Lee. It makes things slipperier, harder to gain purchase on. The mix of the specific and abstract in the song is intentional: you’re never going to uncover a “true meaning,” but you can at least get a sense of what they’re trying to communicate.

What the ironically-named Genius annotators choose to focus on, however, is not this fairly obvious deployment of cultural symbols amidst an otherwise allusive and elusive set of lyrics, but unpicking precisely which six-part Danish crime drama is being referenced. I will charitably admit that yes, perhaps there is a specific show Wood is referencing in his lyrics here, but: who gives a shit? That’s besides the point! “Knowing” that he’s singing about something called The Jack of Hearts doesn’t add anything to the song (it also belies a further cultural ignorance in that the phrase is clearly used here, paired with The Fonz, as a somewhat-ironic iconic “Cool Guy”). Susie Sonts would be spinning in her grave if she got anywhere near this shit.

In “Against Interpretation”, one of the foundational texts which informed my way of thinking about art and criticism and I would argue is crucial in navigating the anaemic and non-confrontational symbol-chasers of today, Susan Sontag rails against the “contemporary zeal for the project of interpretation [...] often prompted by an open aggressiveness [...] The old style of interpretation was insistent, but respectful; it erected another meaning on top of the literal one. The modern style of interpretation excavates, and as it excavates, destroys.” 

This is the dominant interpretative style of now. From politics to indie rock, there is a harried, prescriptive and literal approach to making sense of things, of settling on rote and superficial readings. A symbol has a literal meaning; A means A; references are not poetic allusions, but puzzle boxes to be cracked open and, once they have, mastered and then returned, inert and unusable, to the shelf. There are fewer attempts to approach texts in good faith, or to acknowledge the broader context in which people act and create, a bastardised deployment of Barthes which makes the word significantly less interesting, as opposed to the other way around. Do you think the couplet “Trips to B&Q with your other half / This is how the other half lives” in Squid’s “Houseplants” is part of a similarly vicious-yet-complicit takedown of middle class life, or calling out Jacob Riis’s 1890 work of photojournalism “documenting squalid living conditions in New York City slums”?

There is a disengagement with context and, in its place, an analytical approach which -- in this instance -- appears to me to also shirk engagement with the “randomness or pointlessness or meaninglessness” of some of the cascading cavalcade of references, veiled and otherwise, culturally and personally specific, which is one of the most entertaining aspects of Black Country, New Road’s music. Instead it’s about finding a definitive meaning, often through the filter of other reference points which are not actually appropriate or relevant, as a sort of attempt to assert dominance over a text. As the conspiracy theorist incorrectly applies close reading to chaotic reality in order to create a kind of order, so the Genius annotator manages to lack the ability to apply close reading to a chaotic text. To further co-opt Oyler’s words, the paths ought to be sprawling off in all directions, rather than narrow and meticulously signposted.

Anyway. Back soon to actually talk about the changes made between the single and album versions of “Sunglasses” and “Athen’s, France,” with reference to Evangelion and Car Seat Headrest’s Twin Fantasy (Mirror to Mirror)/ (Face to Face)!

[javionxander25]

Now You See Gemma Chan

Moving between blockbusters and indie hits, Gemma Chan has kept one foot in stardom and one in anonymity. But this year, she's going famous full time.

BY ,ALICE WIGNALL 06/01/2021

When is a celebrity not a celebrity? When you’re Gemma Chan, of course – or so says Gemma Chan. ‘I don’t think of myself like that at all,’ she says. ‘My life is fairly low-key.’ What, because you don’t drive a gold Cadillac? She laughs. ‘I don’t live in a mansion, I don’t have an assistant,’ she says. ‘All that kind of stuff.’ Beauty Truths With Gemma Chan by Elle UK Previous VideoPlayNext VideoUnmute Current Time 0:39 / Duration 6:34 Loaded: 25.84% Fullscreen CLICK TO UNMUTE I remain unconvinced, and mount my counterargument, ticking off the evidence on my fingers: one, a starring role in an enormous movie franchise (Sersi in Eternals, part of the world-conquering juggernaut that is the Marvel Cinematic Universe, due for release in late 2020 but Covid-delayed until late 2021); two, a new contract with L’Oréal Paris as an international spokesperson; and, three, another recently announced UK ambassador role with Unicef. Guaranteed blockbuster, cosmetics contract, high-profile charity patron: this is the star-making Big Three; the trifecta of global fame. Come on, I say. This year, your face is going to be everywhere. ‘Er, yeah,’ she says, looking genuinely quite alarmed. MARCIN KEMPSKI Chan's path to this point has been one of steady progress, rather than precipitous acceleration, which is maybe why she finds it hard to contemplate the quantum leap her career is about to take. At 38, and with more than a decade and a half of experience behind her, she’s done it all: BBC bit parts (including Doctor Who and Sherlock) and a breakout TV role in Channel 4’s Humans; high-brow theatre and big-budget films (in Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and, indeed, a previous Marvel movie, as the sniper Minn-Erva in Captain Marvel. The two characters are unrelated but, as she points out, ‘I was painted blue for that whole job, so it’s not like I’m very recognisable’), but nothing on a scale likely to upend her life. The closest she’s come to that so far is her performance as Astrid in 2018’s surprise smash hit Crazy Rich Asians, which made $238.5m against a budget of $30m and became the top-earning romantic comedy of the Noughties. ‘[Because] Crazy Rich Asians did so well internationally, I definitely felt a shift at that time,’ Chan says. ‘Like, on the Captain Marvel press tour, not being able to walk through [Singapore] airport. Then again, things have settled and the slight craziness of that time has gone away. I do feel like I can – touch wood – go about my life normally now.’ MARCIN KEMPSKI The biggest impact, she says, was professional: ‘Before Crazy Rich Asians, I wasn’t being considered for lead roles in feature films. There [is] a very select group of actors in that pool and I wouldn’t even get an audition, I wasn’t in that conversation. Whereas now... I’m being talked about for certain things and then you may meet the director, or you at least get to have your shot. So that feels a bit different.’ Her most recent project is certainly the kind of job you can imagine being fought over in casting rooms around the world: hey, how would you like to get on a luxury cruise liner with acclaimed director Steven Soderbergh and a killer cast including, oh, I don’t know, Meryl Streep and make an intelligent comedy drama about betrayal, responsibility and enduring love? Who wouldn’t? But Chan was the one who was picked for Let Them All Talk, which was filmed on board the Queen Mary 2 as it crossed the Atlantic from New York to Southampton. It tells the story of a lionised novelist, played by Streep on magisterial form, en route to collect a prestigious writing award in England, accompanied by two old friends and her nephew. Chan is her recently promoted literary agent, who has also bought a ticket for the crossing, in the hope that she can clandestinely find out what her secretive client’s much-anticipated next book is about. I wasn’t being considered for lead roles in feature films ‘Obviously I jumped at the chance,’ says Chan. ‘It was a dream project.’ Though not a stress-free one: ‘A lot of the dialogue was improvised,’ says Chan. ‘There’s a scene, a lunch in New York with Meryl, which was actually the first scene that I shot. So I arrived on set and the restaurant was full of 200 extras; you could hear a pin drop. I went in and sat down, then Meryl came in and sat down, and we just had to improvise a scene. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a clenched bum! I was petrified. There I am, with possibly the greatest actress of all time, and... “Action!”’ There is an alternate timeline, of course, in which Chan genuinely isn’t famous. If she’d followed the path that her early years suggested, her current life would be, if not stress-free, less likely to include head-to-heads with multi-time Oscar winners. MARCIN KEMPSKI Raised in Kent to Chinese parents, she attended an academically selective school before studying law at Oxford. She also played violin to a high standard and swam competitively at a national level. All in all, the perfect image of a relentless high-achiever, bound for success in a stable career – until she took a post-graduation gap year swerve into acting, at first with evening classes, then a full-time course. Even now – when the gamble has decisively paid off – she sounds tentative when discussing her original ambitions to act. She did some am-dram at school, ‘but never thought, I could do this for a job.’ Embarking on her acting studies, the idea of a career was there, but ‘at the back of my mind’. That might be because this period of Chan’s life was fraught: her parents were alarmed that she declined a training contract with a prestigious London law firm, and thought she was making a mistake. Perhaps she still finds it hard to unequivocally state that the path she chose is not one they initially approved of. ‘The key for both of them and therefore for myself, and my sister, was the importance of education,’ she says. ‘It allowed my father to have a completely different life to his father, mother and some of his brothers and sisters. Both of my parents are immigrants who came from very humble backgrounds,’ she adds. ‘They definitely instilled in me a work ethic from a young age and a sense of, “The world doesn’t owe you a living, you have to make your own way.” At one point in my dad’s childhood, he was homeless. My amah, his mum, raised six kids on her own. They had absolutely nothing, they lived in a shack on a hillside in Hong Kong. I’m one generation away from that.’ You can sense the shadow of the lawyer she could have been when she talks, and almost hear the weighing up of pros and cons she has done to determine what steps to take. Of L’Oréal Paris, she says: ‘I have been a little bit cautious when it comes to brand partnerships and things like that. I wanted to wait till it felt like it was right. [I chose] L’Oréal because the brand stands for uplifting women and empowerment and they have a strong philanthropic side to what they do, such as their partnership with The Prince’s Trust.’ MARCIN KEMPSKI She talks about carefully considering joining the Marvel universe, knowing it could mean giving over a share of the next 10 years of her life (‘You’re not signing up for one film, because they have additional films and spin-offs and they cover themselves’). She chooses her words with utmost caution when talking about Eternals: ‘Marvel is pretty strict about these kinds of things and I’ve got an non-disclosure agreement like that,’ she says, miming a massive wodge of a legal document. She insists that alongside this diligence there’s a flip side to her personality: ‘I have a slightly rebellious nature. I wasn’t always the best behaved and, yeah, I do work hard but I’m also quite chaotic. Hopefully I’ve found a bit of balance but when I was younger I was like, “I’ll leave it as late as I can, then I’ll pull an all-nighter.” That’s kind of the person I was.’ It’s impossible to tell if this ‘rebellious’ streak would register on most people’s radars, or if it was only noticeable in the context of her own – or her family’s – high standards. I suspect you’d have to know her very well to find out, and she’s far too protective of her private life to make peeking through the veil a possibility. Despite – or perhaps because of – two long-term relationships with high-profile men (she dated comedian Jack Whitehall from 2011 to 2017, and has been in a relationship with actor Dominic Cooper since 2018), she doesn’t discuss her personal life. It’s not exactly a state secret – she makes mention of ‘my partner’ when talking about what she did in the first lockdown (volunteering pretty much full-time for her friend Lulu Dillon’s charity, Cook 19, delivering meals to London hospitals) and Cooper makes the odd appearance on her Instagram account – but she’s certainly not going to give rolling updates on her romantic life. Anything I share could become a story on a slow news day ‘Over 10 years, you learn the importance of privacy, what you choose to share and what you don’t. When you start out, you don’t even know what is important to keep for yourself – I didn’t anyway – whereas now I think there are certain things that I absolutely know, “That’s mine and it’s private.” For me, my comfort level is to have a clear distinction between what is for me and what I’m happy to talk about.’ I ask if she’s had any bad experiences with the press. ‘Nothing too horrendous, but some experiences of not having my wits about me. I’m aware now that anything I say could become a clickbait headline – well, on a slow news day.’ MARCIN KEMPSKI (As if to prove her point, in the week that we talk, Jack Whitehall makes headlines in multiple news outlets in the UK – and, indeed, around the world – for making an off-hand comment in an episode of his Netflix show that he ‘could have got married’ to Chan, but he ‘f*cked up my chance of that’. And, given that this was midway through a global pandemic, it wasn’t even a particularly slow news day.) What she's happy to share on her social media – in fact, what makes up the bulk of her feeds – are her thoughts on a range of social and political subjects, from domestic abuse campaigns, to equal access to education, to Black Lives Matter, to protesting against anti-Asian racism. Which doesn’t always go down well: ‘Every time you say anything political, if it’s in the most uncontroversial way, you’ll be criticised for it; you need to be prepared for that. Every time I post something [like that], I lose followers, so it’s probably not the best business sense...’. But she’s not going to stop: ‘I want to highlight things that are important to me but without preaching. I’m still working it out, how to be an advocate in the most effective way.’ MARCIN KEMPSKI I ask if she feels hopeful about the future, given the myriad challenges she mentions. She pauses. ‘I’ve definitely struggled and felt hopeless,’ she says. ‘I think most of us have realised how powerless we are in terms of the day-to- day governing of our [country]. There no longer seems to be any accountability; there’s a lack of shame. Things that a minister or an advisor would have resigned for 10 years ago, now there are no repercussions. That’s incredibly frustrating, especially when people’s lives are at stake. But, I do have hope – mainly because of the next generation. They’re more politically aware than I was, more involved. Often in the media the most boorish voices seem to monopolise headlines, but actually there are decent people who want to make things better for their fellow humans. There are more of them than youmight think. During the pandemic, obviously it was a terrible time, but there were things that sprung up on a local community level of people trying to help each other. That was encouraging.’ Every time you say anything political, you’ll be criticised for it And, of course, last year Black Lives Matter protests pushed questions about race and identity to the forefront as never before. How does Chan feel about her own role in increasing representation as a British Asian? ‘I get moments where I think, I wish we didn’t have to talk about race anymore. In the same way I wish we didn’t have to talk about why it’s unusual to have a female lead. Why is it still the exception? Why is it still so unusual to have half of the human race being centred in these stories? It seems ridiculous to still be flagging that as a talking point.’ She talks about a structure that actor Riz Ahmed has described: on tier one, a minority actor will play stereotypical, reductive roles. On tier two, your race is still prominent, but the character is nuanced and well-rounded. ‘And the holy grail is tier three, where you’re just viewed as a human. But, while we’re still working towards that goal of much more equal representation, it’s going to be something that we have to be more consciously aware of, and it is going to be part of the conversation.’ It’s a classic Gemma Chan answer. I can feel the burn of her frustration, and I see how she’s thought through her best approach. She’s got a goal, and she knows how to get there. MARCIN KEMPSKI As for her own goals – well, there’s a packed schedule ahead: when we talk, she’s about to join Florence Pugh and Chris Pine for director Olivia Wilde’s follow-up to Booksmart, Don’t Worry Darling. Then, when the pandemic allows, there are the delayed back-to-back shoots for Crazy Rich Asians 2 and 3, not to mention the release of Eternals. She’s also set up a production company, which is working on a range of projects focusing on ‘women whose stories haven’t been given their due, who are these unsung heroes of history’. She loves producing (‘You get a bit more control’), so much so that one day it might be all she does. ‘There may be a point where I want to take a step back from the acting side and, if the producing is established by then, that would be great.’ Hmm, I think. The thing about being globally famous is that once you are, it’s kind of hard to stop. But if anyone can manage blockbusters one month, normal life the next, it’s someone with a big brain, a ton of experience and her eye on the prize. Someone a bit like Gemma Chan. So, when is a celebrity not a celebrity? We might be about to find out. Gemma is an international spokesperson for L’Oréal Paris and the face of Revitalift Filler Day Cream. ELLE's February 2021 issue hits newsstands on January 7 2021.

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[zoehodgkins25]

Now You See Gemma Chan

Moving between blockbusters and indie hits, Gemma Chan has kept one foot in stardom and one in anonymity. But this year, she's going famous full time.

BY ,ALICE WIGNALL 06/01/2021

When is a celebrity not a celebrity? When you’re Gemma Chan, of course – or so says Gemma Chan. ‘I don’t think of myself like that at all,’ she says. ‘My life is fairly low-key.’ What, because you don’t drive a gold Cadillac? She laughs. ‘I don’t live in a mansion, I don’t have an assistant,’ she says. ‘All that kind of stuff.’ Beauty Truths With Gemma Chan by Elle UK Previous VideoPlayNext VideoUnmute Current Time 0:39 / Duration 6:34 Loaded: 25.84% Fullscreen CLICK TO UNMUTE I remain unconvinced, and mount my counterargument, ticking off the evidence on my fingers: one, a starring role in an enormous movie franchise (Sersi in Eternals, part of the world-conquering juggernaut that is the Marvel Cinematic Universe, due for release in late 2020 but Covid-delayed until late 2021); two, a new contract with L’Oréal Paris as an international spokesperson; and, three, another recently announced UK ambassador role with Unicef. Guaranteed blockbuster, cosmetics contract, high-profile charity patron: this is the star-making Big Three; the trifecta of global fame. Come on, I say. This year, your face is going to be everywhere. ‘Er, yeah,’ she says, looking genuinely quite alarmed. MARCIN KEMPSKI Chan's path to this point has been one of steady progress, rather than precipitous acceleration, which is maybe why she finds it hard to contemplate the quantum leap her career is about to take. At 38, and with more than a decade and a half of experience behind her, she’s done it all: BBC bit parts (including Doctor Who and Sherlock) and a breakout TV role in Channel 4’s Humans; high-brow theatre and big-budget films (in Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and, indeed, a previous Marvel movie, as the sniper Minn-Erva in Captain Marvel. The two characters are unrelated but, as she points out, ‘I was painted blue for that whole job, so it’s not like I’m very recognisable’), but nothing on a scale likely to upend her life. The closest she’s come to that so far is her performance as Astrid in 2018’s surprise smash hit Crazy Rich Asians, which made $238.5m against a budget of $30m and became the top-earning romantic comedy of the Noughties. ‘[Because] Crazy Rich Asians did so well internationally, I definitely felt a shift at that time,’ Chan says. ‘Like, on the Captain Marvel press tour, not being able to walk through [Singapore] airport. Then again, things have settled and the slight craziness of that time has gone away. I do feel like I can – touch wood – go about my life normally now.’ MARCIN KEMPSKI The biggest impact, she says, was professional: ‘Before Crazy Rich Asians, I wasn’t being considered for lead roles in feature films. There [is] a very select group of actors in that pool and I wouldn’t even get an audition, I wasn’t in that conversation. Whereas now... I’m being talked about for certain things and then you may meet the director, or you at least get to have your shot. So that feels a bit different.’ Her most recent project is certainly the kind of job you can imagine being fought over in casting rooms around the world: hey, how would you like to get on a luxury cruise liner with acclaimed director Steven Soderbergh and a killer cast including, oh, I don’t know, Meryl Streep and make an intelligent comedy drama about betrayal, responsibility and enduring love? Who wouldn’t? But Chan was the one who was picked for Let Them All Talk, which was filmed on board the Queen Mary 2 as it crossed the Atlantic from New York to Southampton. It tells the story of a lionised novelist, played by Streep on magisterial form, en route to collect a prestigious writing award in England, accompanied by two old friends and her nephew. Chan is her recently promoted literary agent, who has also bought a ticket for the crossing, in the hope that she can clandestinely find out what her secretive client’s much-anticipated next book is about. I wasn’t being considered for lead roles in feature films ‘Obviously I jumped at the chance,’ says Chan. ‘It was a dream project.’ Though not a stress-free one: ‘A lot of the dialogue was improvised,’ says Chan. ‘There’s a scene, a lunch in New York with Meryl, which was actually the first scene that I shot. So I arrived on set and the restaurant was full of 200 extras; you could hear a pin drop. I went in and sat down, then Meryl came in and sat down, and we just had to improvise a scene. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a clenched bum! I was petrified. There I am, with possibly the greatest actress of all time, and... “Action!”’ There is an alternate timeline, of course, in which Chan genuinely isn’t famous. If she’d followed the path that her early years suggested, her current life would be, if not stress-free, less likely to include head-to-heads with multi-time Oscar winners. MARCIN KEMPSKI Raised in Kent to Chinese parents, she attended an academically selective school before studying law at Oxford. She also played violin to a high standard and swam competitively at a national level. All in all, the perfect image of a relentless high-achiever, bound for success in a stable career – until she took a post-graduation gap year swerve into acting, at first with evening classes, then a full-time course. Even now – when the gamble has decisively paid off – she sounds tentative when discussing her original ambitions to act. She did some am-dram at school, ‘but never thought, I could do this for a job.’ Embarking on her acting studies, the idea of a career was there, but ‘at the back of my mind’. That might be because this period of Chan’s life was fraught: her parents were alarmed that she declined a training contract with a prestigious London law firm, and thought she was making a mistake. Perhaps she still finds it hard to unequivocally state that the path she chose is not one they initially approved of. ‘The key for both of them and therefore for myself, and my sister, was the importance of education,’ she says. ‘It allowed my father to have a completely different life to his father, mother and some of his brothers and sisters. Both of my parents are immigrants who came from very humble backgrounds,’ she adds. ‘They definitely instilled in me a work ethic from a young age and a sense of, “The world doesn’t owe you a living, you have to make your own way.” At one point in my dad’s childhood, he was homeless. My amah, his mum, raised six kids on her own. They had absolutely nothing, they lived in a shack on a hillside in Hong Kong. I’m one generation away from that.’ You can sense the shadow of the lawyer she could have been when she talks, and almost hear the weighing up of pros and cons she has done to determine what steps to take. Of L’Oréal Paris, she says: ‘I have been a little bit cautious when it comes to brand partnerships and things like that. I wanted to wait till it felt like it was right. [I chose] L’Oréal because the brand stands for uplifting women and empowerment and they have a strong philanthropic side to what they do, such as their partnership with The Prince’s Trust.’ MARCIN KEMPSKI She talks about carefully considering joining the Marvel universe, knowing it could mean giving over a share of the next 10 years of her life (‘You’re not signing up for one film, because they have additional films and spin-offs and they cover themselves’). She chooses her words with utmost caution when talking about Eternals: ‘Marvel is pretty strict about these kinds of things and I’ve got an non-disclosure agreement like that,’ she says, miming a massive wodge of a legal document. She insists that alongside this diligence there’s a flip side to her personality: ‘I have a slightly rebellious nature. I wasn’t always the best behaved and, yeah, I do work hard but I’m also quite chaotic. Hopefully I’ve found a bit of balance but when I was younger I was like, “I’ll leave it as late as I can, then I’ll pull an all-nighter.” That’s kind of the person I was.’ It’s impossible to tell if this ‘rebellious’ streak would register on most people’s radars, or if it was only noticeable in the context of her own – or her family’s – high standards. I suspect you’d have to know her very well to find out, and she’s far too protective of her private life to make peeking through the veil a possibility. Despite – or perhaps because of – two long-term relationships with high-profile men (she dated comedian Jack Whitehall from 2011 to 2017, and has been in a relationship with actor Dominic Cooper since 2018), she doesn’t discuss her personal life. It’s not exactly a state secret – she makes mention of ‘my partner’ when talking about what she did in the first lockdown (volunteering pretty much full-time for her friend Lulu Dillon’s charity, Cook 19, delivering meals to London hospitals) and Cooper makes the odd appearance on her Instagram account – but she’s certainly not going to give rolling updates on her romantic life. Anything I share could become a story on a slow news day ‘Over 10 years, you learn the importance of privacy, what you choose to share and what you don’t. When you start out, you don’t even know what is important to keep for yourself – I didn’t anyway – whereas now I think there are certain things that I absolutely know, “That’s mine and it’s private.” For me, my comfort level is to have a clear distinction between what is for me and what I’m happy to talk about.’ I ask if she’s had any bad experiences with the press. ‘Nothing too horrendous, but some experiences of not having my wits about me. I’m aware now that anything I say could become a clickbait headline – well, on a slow news day.’ MARCIN KEMPSKI (As if to prove her point, in the week that we talk, Jack Whitehall makes headlines in multiple news outlets in the UK – and, indeed, around the world – for making an off-hand comment in an episode of his Netflix show that he ‘could have got married’ to Chan, but he ‘f*cked up my chance of that’. And, given that this was midway through a global pandemic, it wasn’t even a particularly slow news day.) What she's happy to share on her social media – in fact, what makes up the bulk of her feeds – are her thoughts on a range of social and political subjects, from domestic abuse campaigns, to equal access to education, to Black Lives Matter, to protesting against anti-Asian racism. Which doesn’t always go down well: ‘Every time you say anything political, if it’s in the most uncontroversial way, you’ll be criticised for it; you need to be prepared for that. Every time I post something [like that], I lose followers, so it’s probably not the best business sense...’. But she’s not going to stop: ‘I want to highlight things that are important to me but without preaching. I’m still working it out, how to be an advocate in the most effective way.’ MARCIN KEMPSKI I ask if she feels hopeful about the future, given the myriad challenges she mentions. She pauses. ‘I’ve definitely struggled and felt hopeless,’ she says. ‘I think most of us have realised how powerless we are in terms of the day-to- day governing of our [country]. There no longer seems to be any accountability; there’s a lack of shame. Things that a minister or an advisor would have resigned for 10 years ago, now there are no repercussions. That’s incredibly frustrating, especially when people’s lives are at stake. But, I do have hope – mainly because of the next generation. They’re more politically aware than I was, more involved. Often in the media the most boorish voices seem to monopolise headlines, but actually there are decent people who want to make things better for their fellow humans. There are more of them than youmight think. During the pandemic, obviously it was a terrible time, but there were things that sprung up on a local community level of people trying to help each other. That was encouraging.’ Every time you say anything political, you’ll be criticised for it And, of course, last year Black Lives Matter protests pushed questions about race and identity to the forefront as never before. How does Chan feel about her own role in increasing representation as a British Asian? ‘I get moments where I think, I wish we didn’t have to talk about race anymore. In the same way I wish we didn’t have to talk about why it’s unusual to have a female lead. Why is it still the exception? Why is it still so unusual to have half of the human race being centred in these stories? It seems ridiculous to still be flagging that as a talking point.’ She talks about a structure that actor Riz Ahmed has described: on tier one, a minority actor will play stereotypical, reductive roles. On tier two, your race is still prominent, but the character is nuanced and well-rounded. ‘And the holy grail is tier three, where you’re just viewed as a human. But, while we’re still working towards that goal of much more equal representation, it’s going to be something that we have to be more consciously aware of, and it is going to be part of the conversation.’ It’s a classic Gemma Chan answer. I can feel the burn of her frustration, and I see how she’s thought through her best approach. She’s got a goal, and she knows how to get there. MARCIN KEMPSKI As for her own goals – well, there’s a packed schedule ahead: when we talk, she’s about to join Florence Pugh and Chris Pine for director Olivia Wilde’s follow-up to Booksmart, Don’t Worry Darling. Then, when the pandemic allows, there are the delayed back-to-back shoots for Crazy Rich Asians 2 and 3, not to mention the release of Eternals. She’s also set up a production company, which is working on a range of projects focusing on ‘women whose stories haven’t been given their due, who are these unsung heroes of history’. She loves producing (‘You get a bit more control’), so much so that one day it might be all she does. ‘There may be a point where I want to take a step back from the acting side and, if the producing is established by then, that would be great.’ Hmm, I think. The thing about being globally famous is that once you are, it’s kind of hard to stop. But if anyone can manage blockbusters one month, normal life the next, it’s someone with a big brain, a ton of experience and her eye on the prize. Someone a bit like Gemma Chan. So, when is a celebrity not a celebrity? We might be about to find out. Gemma is an international spokesperson for L’Oréal Paris and the face of Revitalift Filler Day Cream. ELLE's February 2021 issue hits newsstands on January 7 2021.

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[onlinedigitalstore2]

Now You See Gemma Chan

Moving between blockbusters and indie hits, Gemma Chan has kept one foot in stardom and one in anonymity. But this year, she's going famous full time.

BY ,ALICE WIGNALL 06/01/2021

When is a celebrity not a celebrity? When you’re Gemma Chan, of course – or so says Gemma Chan. ‘I don’t think of myself like that at all,’ she says. ‘My life is fairly low-key.’ What, because you don’t drive a gold Cadillac? She laughs. ‘I don’t live in a mansion, I don’t have an assistant,’ she says. ‘All that kind of stuff.’ Beauty Truths With Gemma Chan by Elle UK Previous VideoPlayNext VideoUnmute Current Time 0:39 / Duration 6:34 Loaded: 25.84% Fullscreen CLICK TO UNMUTE I remain unconvinced, and mount my counterargument, ticking off the evidence on my fingers: one, a starring role in an enormous movie franchise (Sersi in Eternals, part of the world-conquering juggernaut that is the Marvel Cinematic Universe, due for release in late 2020 but Covid-delayed until late 2021); two, a new contract with L’Oréal Paris as an international spokesperson; and, three, another recently announced UK ambassador role with Unicef. Guaranteed blockbuster, cosmetics contract, high-profile charity patron: this is the star-making Big Three; the trifecta of global fame. Come on, I say. This year, your face is going to be everywhere. ‘Er, yeah,’ she says, looking genuinely quite alarmed. MARCIN KEMPSKI Chan's path to this point has been one of steady progress, rather than precipitous acceleration, which is maybe why she finds it hard to contemplate the quantum leap her career is about to take. At 38, and with more than a decade and a half of experience behind her, she’s done it all: BBC bit parts (including Doctor Who and Sherlock) and a breakout TV role in Channel 4’s Humans; high-brow theatre and big-budget films (in Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and, indeed, a previous Marvel movie, as the sniper Minn-Erva in Captain Marvel. The two characters are unrelated but, as she points out, ‘I was painted blue for that whole job, so it’s not like I’m very recognisable’), but nothing on a scale likely to upend her life. The closest she’s come to that so far is her performance as Astrid in 2018’s surprise smash hit Crazy Rich Asians, which made $238.5m against a budget of $30m and became the top-earning romantic comedy of the Noughties. ‘[Because] Crazy Rich Asians did so well internationally, I definitely felt a shift at that time,’ Chan says. ‘Like, on the Captain Marvel press tour, not being able to walk through [Singapore] airport. Then again, things have settled and the slight craziness of that time has gone away. I do feel like I can – touch wood – go about my life normally now.’ MARCIN KEMPSKI The biggest impact, she says, was professional: ‘Before Crazy Rich Asians, I wasn’t being considered for lead roles in feature films. There [is] a very select group of actors in that pool and I wouldn’t even get an audition, I wasn’t in that conversation. Whereas now... I’m being talked about for certain things and then you may meet the director, or you at least get to have your shot. So that feels a bit different.’ Her most recent project is certainly the kind of job you can imagine being fought over in casting rooms around the world: hey, how would you like to get on a luxury cruise liner with acclaimed director Steven Soderbergh and a killer cast including, oh, I don’t know, Meryl Streep and make an intelligent comedy drama about betrayal, responsibility and enduring love? Who wouldn’t? But Chan was the one who was picked for Let Them All Talk, which was filmed on board the Queen Mary 2 as it crossed the Atlantic from New York to Southampton. It tells the story of a lionised novelist, played by Streep on magisterial form, en route to collect a prestigious writing award in England, accompanied by two old friends and her nephew. Chan is her recently promoted literary agent, who has also bought a ticket for the crossing, in the hope that she can clandestinely find out what her secretive client’s much-anticipated next book is about. I wasn’t being considered for lead roles in feature films ‘Obviously I jumped at the chance,’ says Chan. ‘It was a dream project.’ Though not a stress-free one: ‘A lot of the dialogue was improvised,’ says Chan. ‘There’s a scene, a lunch in New York with Meryl, which was actually the first scene that I shot. So I arrived on set and the restaurant was full of 200 extras; you could hear a pin drop. I went in and sat down, then Meryl came in and sat down, and we just had to improvise a scene. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a clenched bum! I was petrified. There I am, with possibly the greatest actress of all time, and... “Action!”’ There is an alternate timeline, of course, in which Chan genuinely isn’t famous. If she’d followed the path that her early years suggested, her current life would be, if not stress-free, less likely to include head-to-heads with multi-time Oscar winners. MARCIN KEMPSKI Raised in Kent to Chinese parents, she attended an academically selective school before studying law at Oxford. She also played violin to a high standard and swam competitively at a national level. All in all, the perfect image of a relentless high-achiever, bound for success in a stable career – until she took a post-graduation gap year swerve into acting, at first with evening classes, then a full-time course. Even now – when the gamble has decisively paid off – she sounds tentative when discussing her original ambitions to act. She did some am-dram at school, ‘but never thought, I could do this for a job.’ Embarking on her acting studies, the idea of a career was there, but ‘at the back of my mind’. That might be because this period of Chan’s life was fraught: her parents were alarmed that she declined a training contract with a prestigious London law firm, and thought she was making a mistake. Perhaps she still finds it hard to unequivocally state that the path she chose is not one they initially approved of. ‘The key for both of them and therefore for myself, and my sister, was the importance of education,’ she says. ‘It allowed my father to have a completely different life to his father, mother and some of his brothers and sisters. Both of my parents are immigrants who came from very humble backgrounds,’ she adds. ‘They definitely instilled in me a work ethic from a young age and a sense of, “The world doesn’t owe you a living, you have to make your own way.” At one point in my dad’s childhood, he was homeless. My amah, his mum, raised six kids on her own. They had absolutely nothing, they lived in a shack on a hillside in Hong Kong. I’m one generation away from that.’ You can sense the shadow of the lawyer she could have been when she talks, and almost hear the weighing up of pros and cons she has done to determine what steps to take. Of L’Oréal Paris, she says: ‘I have been a little bit cautious when it comes to brand partnerships and things like that. I wanted to wait till it felt like it was right. [I chose] L’Oréal because the brand stands for uplifting women and empowerment and they have a strong philanthropic side to what they do, such as their partnership with The Prince’s Trust.’ MARCIN KEMPSKI She talks about carefully considering joining the Marvel universe, knowing it could mean giving over a share of the next 10 years of her life (‘You’re not signing up for one film, because they have additional films and spin-offs and they cover themselves’). She chooses her words with utmost caution when talking about Eternals: ‘Marvel is pretty strict about these kinds of things and I’ve got an non-disclosure agreement like that,’ she says, miming a massive wodge of a legal document. She insists that alongside this diligence there’s a flip side to her personality: ‘I have a slightly rebellious nature. I wasn’t always the best behaved and, yeah, I do work hard but I’m also quite chaotic. Hopefully I’ve found a bit of balance but when I was younger I was like, “I’ll leave it as late as I can, then I’ll pull an all-nighter.” That’s kind of the person I was.’ It’s impossible to tell if this ‘rebellious’ streak would register on most people’s radars, or if it was only noticeable in the context of her own – or her family’s – high standards. I suspect you’d have to know her very well to find out, and she’s far too protective of her private life to make peeking through the veil a possibility. Despite – or perhaps because of – two long-term relationships with high-profile men (she dated comedian Jack Whitehall from 2011 to 2017, and has been in a relationship with actor Dominic Cooper since 2018), she doesn’t discuss her personal life. It’s not exactly a state secret – she makes mention of ‘my partner’ when talking about what she did in the first lockdown (volunteering pretty much full-time for her friend Lulu Dillon’s charity, Cook 19, delivering meals to London hospitals) and Cooper makes the odd appearance on her Instagram account – but she’s certainly not going to give rolling updates on her romantic life. Anything I share could become a story on a slow news day ‘Over 10 years, you learn the importance of privacy, what you choose to share and what you don’t. When you start out, you don’t even know what is important to keep for yourself – I didn’t anyway – whereas now I think there are certain things that I absolutely know, “That’s mine and it’s private.” For me, my comfort level is to have a clear distinction between what is for me and what I’m happy to talk about.’ I ask if she’s had any bad experiences with the press. ‘Nothing too horrendous, but some experiences of not having my wits about me. I’m aware now that anything I say could become a clickbait headline – well, on a slow news day.’ MARCIN KEMPSKI (As if to prove her point, in the week that we talk, Jack Whitehall makes headlines in multiple news outlets in the UK – and, indeed, around the world – for making an off-hand comment in an episode of his Netflix show that he ‘could have got married’ to Chan, but he ‘f*cked up my chance of that’. And, given that this was midway through a global pandemic, it wasn’t even a particularly slow news day.) What she's happy to share on her social media – in fact, what makes up the bulk of her feeds – are her thoughts on a range of social and political subjects, from domestic abuse campaigns, to equal access to education, to Black Lives Matter, to protesting against anti-Asian racism. Which doesn’t always go down well: ‘Every time you say anything political, if it’s in the most uncontroversial way, you’ll be criticised for it; you need to be prepared for that. Every time I post something [like that], I lose followers, so it’s probably not the best business sense...’. But she’s not going to stop: ‘I want to highlight things that are important to me but without preaching. I’m still working it out, how to be an advocate in the most effective way.’ MARCIN KEMPSKI I ask if she feels hopeful about the future, given the myriad challenges she mentions. She pauses. ‘I’ve definitely struggled and felt hopeless,’ she says. ‘I think most of us have realised how powerless we are in terms of the day-to- day governing of our [country]. There no longer seems to be any accountability; there’s a lack of shame. Things that a minister or an advisor would have resigned for 10 years ago, now there are no repercussions. That’s incredibly frustrating, especially when people’s lives are at stake. But, I do have hope – mainly because of the next generation. They’re more politically aware than I was, more involved. Often in the media the most boorish voices seem to monopolise headlines, but actually there are decent people who want to make things better for their fellow humans. There are more of them than youmight think. During the pandemic, obviously it was a terrible time, but there were things that sprung up on a local community level of people trying to help each other. That was encouraging.’ Every time you say anything political, you’ll be criticised for it And, of course, last year Black Lives Matter protests pushed questions about race and identity to the forefront as never before. How does Chan feel about her own role in increasing representation as a British Asian? ‘I get moments where I think, I wish we didn’t have to talk about race anymore. In the same way I wish we didn’t have to talk about why it’s unusual to have a female lead. Why is it still the exception? Why is it still so unusual to have half of the human race being centred in these stories? It seems ridiculous to still be flagging that as a talking point.’ She talks about a structure that actor Riz Ahmed has described: on tier one, a minority actor will play stereotypical, reductive roles. On tier two, your race is still prominent, but the character is nuanced and well-rounded. ‘And the holy grail is tier three, where you’re just viewed as a human. But, while we’re still working towards that goal of much more equal representation, it’s going to be something that we have to be more consciously aware of, and it is going to be part of the conversation.’ It’s a classic Gemma Chan answer. I can feel the burn of her frustration, and I see how she’s thought through her best approach. She’s got a goal, and she knows how to get there. MARCIN KEMPSKI As for her own goals – well, there’s a packed schedule ahead: when we talk, she’s about to join Florence Pugh and Chris Pine for director Olivia Wilde’s follow-up to Booksmart, Don’t Worry Darling. Then, when the pandemic allows, there are the delayed back-to-back shoots for Crazy Rich Asians 2 and 3, not to mention the release of Eternals. She’s also set up a production company, which is working on a range of projects focusing on ‘women whose stories haven’t been given their due, who are these unsung heroes of history’. She loves producing (‘You get a bit more control’), so much so that one day it might be all she does. ‘There may be a point where I want to take a step back from the acting side and, if the producing is established by then, that would be great.’ Hmm, I think. The thing about being globally famous is that once you are, it’s kind of hard to stop. But if anyone can manage blockbusters one month, normal life the next, it’s someone with a big brain, a ton of experience and her eye on the prize. Someone a bit like Gemma Chan. So, when is a celebrity not a celebrity? We might be about to find out. Gemma is an international spokesperson for L’Oréal Paris and the face of Revitalift Filler Day Cream. ELLE's February 2021 issue hits newsstands on January 7 2021.

Luxury Designer Clothing, Handbags . Like this article? Sign up to our newsletter to get more articles like this delivered straight to your inbox. In need of more inspiration, thoughtful journalism and at-home beauty tips? Subscribe to ELLE's print magazine today! SUBSCRIBE HERE

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[jezfletcher]

1000 Albums, 2020: Albums #10-1

Here they are, my Top 10 albums of the year. As always, these are the top 1% of all the albums I heard this year which means, at least statistically speaking, they must be pretty good. The other thing that means they’re good is the fact that, well, they’re all just very good.

#10. Joe Wong - Nite Creatures (baroque pop)

This is one of the albums I heard as part of the period this year where I was up a lot in the middle of the night with a hungry, cranky baby. And it’s a hauntingly good soundtrack for the wee hours of the morning. It has a psychedelic wash to a lot of it, and orchestral-sounding arrangements that blur the line between strings and guitar, plus harp from Mary Lattimore. It has a rich slate of moving harmonic progressions, in the way that I like in the best dreampop. Wong’s voice is a pleasingly melted-chocolate baritone, which works well with the atmospheric swirl. Wong has a history as a composer for TV and film, and you can definitely see the influences of that in this work.

My top track (I have several) is Day After Day, elevated as it is by the presence of an oboe—an underutilised instrument. But other tracks are excellent as well, for example, the title track Nite Creatures, which almost sounds like what The Go! Team would write if they took a lot of LSD in the 70s. Other standouts are Dreams Wash Away, Nuclear Rainbow and Sleeping.

Recommended Track: Day After Day

#9. Luis Pestana - Rosa Pano (experimental electronica)

A fantastic sonic journey, Rosa Pano sounds atmospheric and theatrical from the very first moments, starting with a low drone, before bringing in tuned gongs, atonal synth scrawls and heavily processed vocals. This is never an album that feels weird-for-the-sake-of-weird though—it uses the more challenging elements as dramatic devices. For every moment of atonal noise, there’s a plunge into the cool clear waters of restrained melody. And yet at every moment, I feel like I’m leaning forward in anticipation of that next unexpected element. Pestana does an amazing job at drawing things out just longer than you expect, or giving you exquisite moments of crashing relief. I’ve not felt this level of control over experimental electronica since Roly Porter’s 2016 album Third Law, which also ended up near the top of my end-of-year list.

In some senses this almost feels like the 2020 equivalent of a classic album like Mike Oldfield’s Tubular Bells. It’s experimental, but has the feeling of narrative to it—elusive though the story might be, something is developing across the scope of the album. As such, it’s difficult, honestly to pick out individual elements—even though Sangra, for instance, contains some of the best bits in the album, it’s even better when it seamlessly moves into Arde Asa. Ao Romper da Bela Aurora brings in choral elements that shock you back into a remembrance of humanity, and Asa Machina provides an engine-like consistency moving you towards the finale. At 31 minutes, it absolutely packs a punch for its short running time, and is absolutely the kind of thing that you can (and perhaps should) consume at once, whole. It’s also the kind of thing I would love to see performed live one day. Hearing this boom over you in a dark room, sharing the experience with other audience members, would be a pretty incredible thing.

Recommended Track: Sangra

#8. Sufjan Stevens - The Ascension (art pop)

It has been a long time since we’ve had a proper solo release from Sufjan Stevens. In fact, his last album, Carrie & Lowell was actually the year before we started listening to 1000 albums a year. So The Ascension felt like a moment that was long coming for the music project. Better yet was the fact that unlike the subdued folk of his 2015 effort, this one feels more like the spiritual successor to his second-to-last album The Age of Adz. That was an album I adored (and saw him perform twice in concert), so I jumped into The Ascension with a great deal of joy. It has Stevens’ trademark ethereal but strident vocals, and layers upon layers of drifting synths. But there’s still a sense that there’s pure folk at its heart. The presentation might change, but so many of these songs you feel would survive either this level of heavy production, or Sufjan singing them with a guitar and no backup.

There are many tracks I love in here, including Make Me An Offer I Cannot Refuse, Tell Me You Love Me, and the harmonically challenging Ursa Major, which feels like the vocals and backing track are in constant tension with each other. I’m going to single out Lamentations though, which adds a surprising rhythmic element to what would otherwise be an extremely subdued, downtempo track.

Recommended Track: Lamentations

#7. MisterWives - Superbloom (indie pop)

In some ways, MisterWives is a victim of its own success with me. For a start, after so loving their 2017 album Connect the Dots, this was labouring under extremely high expectations. Moreover, while I generally try to hold out on listening to singles if I know that an album is imminent, I couldn’t stop myself from picking up the first trickles that came from this album, and then the half-album EP release that preceded it. Which meant that by the time it actually came around to listening to Superbloom, I’d heard approximately 50% of it already. I had missed that moment when all the goodness crashed on me at once. Of course, it’s still an extremely good album—but if the world were a fair and equal place, you feel like this should be a pure lock for my Album of the Year. 

There’s still plenty of great, thoughtful but mostly upbeat pop in this album. Danceable tracks like It’s My Turn and Love Me True are tempered by more atmospheric numbers like Valentine’s Day and Decide to Be Happy, the latter of which feels like it’s channeling a lot of 90s RnB, in the best possible way. Another thing, which made me realise this wasn’t the standout album of 2020, is that it’s an extremely long album (it’s 19 tracks, and over an hour in length), and the quality isn’t entirely consistent. This almost certainly means that tightening up the album would improve the overall quality. As a whole album, it suffers, even though as a collection of great tracks it packs more of a punch, perhaps, than some albums above it in this list.

Recommended Track: It’s My Turn

#6. Lola Marsh - Someday Tomorrow Maybe (Israeli noir pop)

For a long time this year, this was considered the front-runner for me. Coming out as it did in February, and being a clearly great album, everything released later was always compared to it: “is this as good as Lola Marsh’s album?” was a tacit question whenever a new great album came up. This survived most of the challenges, and winds up still in my top ten after what’s been a great year of music. This has excellent moments of songwriting, delivered with a sense of ennui, very appropriate for 2020, even though it was released before the pandemic truly took hold.

There are moments of exceptionally subdued folk songwriting, and elements which expand into rich dramatic presentations. Tracks like Like in the Movies start out with a beautifully simple melody and then build in a series of vast smash cuts to an ecstatic conclusion. The best track, however, is the opening track Echoes, which is melodically beautiful and develops in a number of unexpected but harmonious ways. They seem to know it’s the best track too, because they rework it into the more melodic, less rock-driven closing track Where Are You Tonight?. In some senses it feels like cheating to use the same song twice, but a) it’s such a great song that you don’t mind hearing it again, and b) the reworking is so skillfully done that it feels like both are worthy inclusions on their own merits. But it’s a great album, and one that still feels, 10 months later, like one of the very best of the year.

Recommended Track: Echoes

#5. Dyble Longdon - Between a Breath and a Breath (chamber folk)

This is a bittersweet album, a collaboration between vocalist Judy Dyble of Fairport Convention, and David Longdon, a multi-instrumentalist from the group Big Big Train. Shortly before its release, Dyble died, meaning that this was and is always going to be the only release we get from this duo. And that’s a damn tragedy, because this is a phenomenal album. It is even better as a collaboration, because there’s an inspired synergy between Dyble’s sweet trad-folk vocals and the sumptuous and rich arrangements from Longdon. There’s always a connection between the two, so it never feels like the simple folk qualities are being overwhelmed by post-rock ostentatiousness—often there will be interplay between the vocals and Longdon on flute, for instance, which connects the two elements beautifully.

Best though is the fact that they can use these elements to balance each other, or provide contrasts that generate immensely moving moments of drama. There’s the epic 11-minute France for instance, which feels symphonic in scope, or there’s my personal favourite, Obedience, which ties a beautifully sweet and simple folk tune with an immense prog-rock crescendo. But the album overall is a journey in itself. It’s incredibly sad that this is only perfect moment of collaboration we get from these two.

Recommended Track: Obedience

#4. Hugo Kant - Far From Home (downtempo nu-jazz)

I’m genuinely surprised with how well this held up, but I also remember how much I immediately fell in love with this album when I first heard it (in brief snippets when screening the week’s new releases, and then again when I listened through in full). This is a fabulous set of music, building rich soundscapes around punching downtempo breakbeats. You will notice jazz flute a lot in some of my top picks this year, and here’s another one which uses it extensively. But there’s a rich instrumentation overall here—woodwinds are part, but there’s more of the orchestra utilised at various points where it’s required to provide drama, or an upsurge in emotion from swelling strings.

Even better is when non-Western influences are incorporated to broaden the scope of the sound, or when there’s a deep groove to the bassline that drives a track forward despite anything else going on, such is the excellent Everything Is Transformed. My personal pick is personally High Gravity, which is probably more motif-based, and driven more by its percussion. It’s a high point for me, but others will probably consider tracks like Melancholia, or The Second Sun as more representative of the album overall. But whatever you pick from this album, you’re likely to find something good. It’s an eclectic but extremely enjoyable outing.

Recommended Track: High Gravity

#3. The Lemon Twigs - Songs For The General Public (alt rock)

This is a genuinely fabulous collection of tracks. It’s less of a thematically linked album than some of the others on this list, but the hit rate is quite phenomenal, especially given it’s quite a long album. There’s a genuinely beautiful throwback quality to a lot of these tracks—they feel often enough like they’re unstuck from time. Is this a long lost track from the late 60s psychedelia? Perhaps it’s pop rock from the 80s? Maybe, just maybe, it’s an ultra-hip interpretation of the last 70 years of music from the year of our lord 2020? Whatever it is, it’s exceptional songwriting for the most part, delivered with almost a kind of glam swagger that evokes the early albums of music project darling Kyle Craft.

Singling out tracks is both easy and hard to do, because I love so much of this album. The lead single The One is a particular favourite, but I grew to especially love the meter-shifting Only a Fool the more I heard it. Plus you can’t deny that it starts strongly with the one-two punch of rock driven sing-along Hell On Wheels followed by sunny pop Live in Favour of Tomorrow. But you have to also consider the cabaret charm of organ-or-maybe-calliope heavy Why Do Lovers Own Each Other?. You can see the bind I’m in. It was, to some extent a bit of a surprise to find this as high as it is on this list, but when I look back on the smorgasbord of goodness available from it, it absolutely feels like a correct choice for a Top 3 Album of the Year. 

Recommended Track (aw jeez… let’s go with): Only a Fool

#2. King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard - K.G. (microtonal psychedelic rock)

The first time I really got into King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard was in 2017, which was happily the year where they set out to record 5 albums in 12 months. What struck me then was that this was a technically brilliant band that managed to maintain a stunning level of quality when you’d expect them to be prioritising quantity. The standout from 2017 for me was Flying Microtonal Banana, their first experiment with non-Western microtonal tunings for their instruments.

Their successor to this, K.G., also done with microtonal tunings, is even better, and it’s perhaps the moment when my generalised love for King Giz turned into something genuinely special. This is a remarkably fine collection of music, played as a zero-gap set and running the gamut from heavy prog rock to swirling psychedelia, 90s electropop and metal. Everything is tinged with the alien from the unexpected xenharmonics, but everything is also bolstered by the technicality of the performers. It’s very easy for this kind of thing to become a mess—to lack structure or to get caught up itself too much. This does none of that, and stays crisp and polished right through to the slamming finale, The Hungry Wolf of Fate.

Recommended track: Intrasport

#1. Ada Rook - 2,020 Knives (electropop concrète)

In my mind, there’s no better album to summarise the year we’ve just had than this sprawling, angry and claustrophobically intimate album from Ada Rook. Rook has been prolific this year, releasing an album as part of the duo rook&nomie towards the very end of 2019, producing and mastering albums for an array of artists whom I’ve also enjoyed, and even turning her hand to industrial grindcore under the name crisis sigil. But nothing is better than 2,020 Knives. There’s a wrenching sense of trauma at the core of these songs—lyrically they can be by turns devastating, heart-breaking or strangely life-affirming. But they’re placed in a strong, aggressive punch of industrial electropop, laced with guttural screams of existence that seem to perfectly match the state of the world in 2020.

It’s not a satirical album though, and it’s not obviously trying to make some sweeping statements on the state of the world. Instead, it’s clearly a deeply personal album—but there’s such quality in the songwriting, the beautifully polished production, the complexity of the rhythms, that something connects and then we start to see our own reflection in Rook’s. And if it connects and hits as often as it does for me—well, it ends up your #1 album of the year. It’s a perfectly fitting album for the year that was 2020.

Recommended track: Reverie (JH Ligation Experiment 1)

And there we have my top albums for 2020. Stay tuned for my top 50 (!) tracks of the year, which I’ll post over the next couple of days. After the Christmas break, I’ll also post my longer list of albums #31-100, and my list of tracks #51-100.

I’m also in the process of collating a playlist of my top tracks of the year, which I’ll post after all is revealed.

[musicblogwales]

WATCH: LOW ISLAND // ‘In Your Arms’ (Live from the Stone Room) 

Today, 2020 PPL Momentum artist Low Island share an intimate and captivating live version of their latest single In Your Arms (Live from the Stone Room); created with long-term collaborator Ben Ogunbiyi in rural France.

“We shot this video with filmmaker and our long-term collaborator Ben Ogunbiyi, when we were locked down in together in France earlier this year. In Your Arms is almost 3 years old; one of those songs that’s been kicking about for ages in multiple versions - the only thing that remained fairly consistent was the lyrics. We finally finished recording the track in France before the first lockdown. We returned to France just before the second lockdown where we spent the best part of a month rehearsing and filming a load of live videos into the small hours - this was born out of those sessions.

There was a strange sense of groundhog day - the house was incredibly remote so the only interaction we had with the outside world was through the news. Each time we were there, countries the world over were preparing themselves for lockdowns. It felt like we were in a kind of bunker, blindly making music whilst the world was falling apart.” explain Low Island.

Reminiscent of the swirling textures found on Radiohead’s A Moon Shaped Pool as well as the modulating synths from Caribou’s Suddenly, ‘In Your Arms’ sees the Oxford quartet intertwine wonderfully, with guitars and synth lines hazily blending together as Posada’s silky voice glides on top. The sorrow of a lost twenties, a prominent theme across their music, is evident; ‘In Your Arms’ mourns people moving on and times changing with staggering musical clarity, but there’s hope among the chaos and the loss, too:

Posada: ‘In Your Arms is a love letter to my childhood bedroom. It’s about how objects or spaces that are important to us can get tangled up in our past and present, and how the memories and emotions they evoke can both comfort us and weigh us down. I find this to be particularly true of spaces we associate with childhood - they are heavy, often with so many contradictory feelings which complicates our relationship with them. This combination of comfort and oppression through nostalgia was at the heart of the conversations we had with Patrick about the video. We talked about artists like Rachel Whiteread and Robert Kipniss, playing with everyday objects and abstracting them to take on new meanings.’

Patrick previously collaborated with Low Island during their Low Island and Friends tour back in 2017. His work has been featured widely in exhibitions in spaces like Cafe Kino and Hamilton House in Bristol, and he has recently directed videos for bands such as Zooni and Kwoon.

The new track follows fresh on the heels of the band’s triumphant return with Don’t Let The Light In, which has received wide support across BBC 6Music and Radio 1, appearing on playlists such as Spotify’s New Music Friday and The Indie List , as well as featuring on the soundtrack of FIFA 2021.

Creating a bubble in rural France, the band rented a barn and locked down together, allowing them to continue writing and recording music over the course of this year. This recording is born out of those sessions, produced entirely by the band themselves and mixed by Matt Wiggins (Holy Fuck, Porridge Radio, Glass Animals).

As well as working on new material, the band have spent their time in France learning everything they could about the music industry and, like so many artists, working out how to survive in the post-Covid landscape. Out of this was born their own label, Emotional Interference, allowing them to fully take the reins over their own destiny. Accruing a “small-scale production company’s worth of stuff,” from across their career, and with the ability to create their own light show, produce and conceptualise their own videos, and record and produce their own music – as well as having the music industry know-how to handle their affairs – Low Island have become a DIY machine.

Recent recipients of PPL’s Momentum Grant, Low Island is made up of singer and multi-instrumentalist Carlos Posada, producer Jamie Jay, bass player Jacob Lively and jazz drummer Felix Higginbottom. Their off-kilter electronics have been lauded by NME, Wonderland, The Independent, The Times, The Line of Best Fitand more. Their last EP featured in 6music’s Lauren Laverne and Tom Robinson’s highlights of 2019, and was accompanied by a critically acclaimed UK tour in collaboration with Arts Council England. A full live performance from the tour is available here.

FOR MORE INFORMATION

Facebook.com/LowIslandMusic

Twitter - @LowIslandMusic

Instagram - @LowIslandMusic

Low Island on Spotify

LowIslandmusic.com

[ahoforhavoc]

Patience

Prompt #56 - "What if I told you I’ve been in love with you since I was eleven?”

Requested By: @themistrollsin || Requested For: Pete Dunne Words: 3103 Contains: angst, language warning || this is DEFINITELY going to be a multi-parter. i know it's late for the schedule but hopefully the length makes up for that. things have been pretty hectic with work and the holiday coming up and i'm definitely in love with the idea of where this is going so, keep your eyes peeled for future parts! i have a four day weekend coming up next week so it'll definitely have some headway made.

2005 - Birmingham, England

It had been a year. A young Peter England had been sitting on this feeling of fluttering butterflies that threatened to rip his stomach in two for one year now. You had been his best friend since you were five; seven years of time put in. But, he felt like that was long enough to know. You'd gone from strangers to friends to best friends and Pete was sure the future would only get better for you if you stuck it out but... friendship wasn't enough anymore.

It really started to hit him the prior year. You'd left for the Summer for camp and came home different. Worldly. Matured, to a young mind. The time away had made the difference, though. He'd gone from having you there every day to not having you there, communicating through the rare text and post card. Absence really made the heart grow fonder, and he wanted to make sure that you knew how much you meant to him.

He had a single flower in his hand, the stem clutched to his palm, and the edge of his palm pressed to the small of his back. Today was the day: the day he would do something about those fluttering, jittery feelings.

Today was the day he was ready to admit to the world, admit to himself, and admit to you... that while he couldn't be too certain what love is? He's pretty sure that he's in it with you.

He'd dressed up as best he could. His nicest jeans, and a shirt that wasn't filthy. A few pimples on his face showed the nerves he'd been dealing with while he mulled over his decision for the anxious days he'd spent trying to plan just what to do and how to handle this.

Those plans were torn asunder when he saw young you, sitting on your porch with your face in your palms. You were weeping, and Pete felt his instincts kick in as he approached you and climbed the two stairs to reach you.

"Y/N," He said, a look of hurt in his eyes as you lifted your weary head and your eyes were bloodshot, cheeks stained with tears. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Peter, I-" your lower lip trembled, a mourning sob escaping you before you could finish.

"What? What is it?!"

He asked with a frighteningly cruel look in his eyes. You were important to him - his best friend. One of his only friends. No one could upset you like this and get away with it! You could see this side of him. It was something different. But, your breath caught in your chest, while words failed to find you. Unfortunately, answers didn't fail to find Pete as a few movers exited your home with boxes stacked on top of each other and pressed to their chests.

"Ay, lad. Move outta the way!" The mover said to Pete, prompting the young boy to move. It all made sense now.

"You... you're moving..." He said, piecing things together, his heart racing and panic in his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me!?"

"I didn't know, Peter!" You said, hating the look of hurt in your best friend's face. "My mum just told me that she'd been packing while I was away. Dad got a transfer, and now... we're leaving. I swear, I didn't know."

"So, where are you going?" He asked, biting back a palpable frustration that left him red in the face.

"America." You answered, frightened.

"AMERICA?!" He bellowed. "Why?"

"I told you. My dad was transferred..." You sobbed, brushing at your waterline with your fist, sniffling. "We didn't get a say in the matter. Now, I just... I know I'll never see you, or my mates again and I'll have to learn new customs, and..." you completely lost your train of thought, overwhelmed.

"We'll still see each other." He promised, taking a knee on the stair before you, trying to comfort you. "We'll video chat. And we'll..." He was lost for promises, taking a moment to let the dead air linger. "I don't know, but we'll make something work. You're my best mate, Y/N. And we'll find some way to do something. In fact, you're kind of like..."

He fiddled with the flower in his hand, his fingers trying to feel if the petals were still in one piece. He knew he'd been squeezing the stem with all of his might to resist letting out a guttural howl of agony at the crushing blow he'd been deal with the news. He lost his train of thought when you looked at him with glassy eyes that had a hint of red veins showing on their surface from just how long you'd been sitting on the step.

That devastated him. It made him feel like he failed you. Somewhere, it lurked in the back of his mind he couldn't save you from this fate. But that was a small voice of reason in a sea of screaming.

"You're kind of like... more than my best mate, y'know? You're just... and me? And I-"

Pete was tongue-tied while you looked at him, confusion never more evident than at this moment. He cleared his throat, a small blush taking over his face.

"What I'm trying to say is that... I think that... n-no, I know that I-"

"Y/N!" You could hear your father bellow out. Pete nearly shrieked with frustration, tugging at his short hair.

"Hi daddy." You lowered your head, ashamed that you'd been crying.

"Oh, hello Peter." He turned his attention to the boy, knowing the two of you were best friends. He hadn't suspected a thing. "How are you today?"

"I've... been better, sir," he said, looking down to Y/N. "Is it true you're leaving?"

"Well, yes, lad. The last of the bags have been packed. We're gettin' ready to head to the airport now and then our stuff will be shipped to us post-haste." He said, with a smile on his face.

"Wait, now?!" Peter asked, shock and frustration on his face. "But, what about Y/N's school? Friends? What about all of that?"

"Don't be silly, boyo. The school year's only just begun and it's a new adventure for us all. It's a wonderful opportunity; you'll know all about them when you get older, I'm sure." He smiled, turning his attention to you. "But, Y/N, we need to go. Your mum is already packed and waiting for us at the airport. If we don't leave now, we'll miss our flight."

You sighed. That was kind of something you were hoping for; but, you knew it wouldn't change a thing. Picking yourself up from your spot on the step, you wrapped both arms around the neck of your best friend, the one who would no longer live right down the street from you. The one who would no longer visit you spontaneously. The one who would no longer be there for you as he had been your entire lives. In a quiet, broken voice, you said after a sniffle. "Goodbye, Peter."

He hugged you tightly. Not wanting to let go. Not wanting to accept this goodbye. But your father's hand on your shoulder prompted you to break that hug, as he led you to the car while your attention was turned down to the pavement. As your father entered the car to cart you to the airport, Peter removed the flower from his back pocket. He dreaded the fact he'd not given it to you. Looking at it in frustration and mourning as you turned the corner and left his life for what he could only presume would be forever... he threw it down on the ground, stomping on it hard.

"I'll find you, Y/N. Somehow... some way... some day... I'll find you and tell you everything you didn't get to hear today."

Peter pledged. He had a good idea too for how to make that dream a reality.

Wrestling.

His passion. It was what he aspired to do, waiting until the following year to be able to start training. If he were good enough... he'd get to see the world. He would get to find you.

present day, 2017

As the years passed... you and Peter hadn't made too good on your promise, unfortunately. As you got older, things fizzled out. His training schedule had gotten more intense, and your school work had taken priority. You made new friends. Local friends. Ones easier to be around, out of convenience. You'd grown to care about them a lot, but it didn't mean you didn't ever feel like you were completely home.

No, home for you was England. England in all of his gray overcast skies and dreary weather. All of its hustle and bustle and banter. You'd always been homesick, but never able to do anything about it, until now.

You were an adult now. Your father's decisions no longer bared down on you. You'd earned the money to go home. It was a round-trip visit, because the life you had now was back in the states. But, you'd never stopped being homesick. Twelve years was a long time, though. They felt like they'd flashed in both an instant and the blink of an eye. But, it was on the train that you saw a poster advertising the WWE UK Champion, Pete Dunne. You studied his features while he posed with the title hanging from between his teeth in a burgundy singlet and a faux fur vest. He seemed familiar... too familiar.

You'd been a casual wrestling fan since you were young, thanks to it being almost all that Peter had ever talked about. It seemed practically criminal not to check out an indy show. The UK Scene had exploded and it was always all over the radio, printed publications. Plus... prices were reasonable enough.

And that's when you saw him... and in person, it clicked.

Pete Dunne was Peter England. The boy you grew up with. The boy who not only talked about his dreams but actually made them a reality. A quick check on your phone confirmed it and you had a new, vested in the show you'd gone to on a complete whim. Watching him and leading the cheers in an arena where he was normally booed. Of course you caught his eye more than once. He knew how this worked by now... there was always someone ironic, cheering for the heel. BUT, you did it... almost in an out-of-place way. Off-tempo, all alone, like a sore thumb.

When the match ended, Pete showed his nastier side, attacking his opponent after the match with a brutal series of sledgehammer shots followed by a Pedigree. He hoisted his UK title in the air while his fist rested on his jaw, making the crowd - minus you - boo out loud. When the show ended, a number of fans had gone to meet the talent for pictures. There was only one line you wanted in, though: Pete's.

It felt like forever to get to the front, Pete scowling and snarling with every fan beforehand, indulging in a picture but clearly distant and with anywhere else he'd rather be. When you arrived to the front, you pocketed your hands into your jeans. Pete avoided eye contact with you, beginning to pack up his shirts and photos as if you weren't even there.

"Peter England..." You said, with a smile.

"It's unbecoming to call a wrestler by anything other than their wrestling alias." He said, coldly, while packing his stuff into boxes and crates.

You frowned at his response, and planted your hands onto the cloth-covered table, leaning in. "Pete, don't you recognize me? It's me! Y/N. We grew up together in Birmingham, and-"

"I know who ya' are." He said, stacking a few 8x10's neatly against the table, planting them into the box. "Doesn't change anything, though."

"Pete..." You frowned; even if he didn't seem hurt, you knew him well enough to know his body language and the small signs. "Mate, are you okay? I don't ever seem to recall ya' bein' so cruel and nasty."

"It's mate now? You're not Americanized after over a decade Stateside? I thought for sure I'd be your 'friend' at this point. If that." He locked the box with a padlock to assure no one got into it and stole his merchandise; it was the bread and butter of an indy worker. "It's been a long time, Y/N. People change. Not always for the better."

He lectured you with a coldness and cruelty, pulling the tablecloth you were leaning on and you had face-planted the table.

"What's gotten into you? You were absolutely heartless to that lad out there, you're nasty to me. What's changed so much?"

"You don't get it at all, do you?"

You frowned. It had never been your way to admit shortcomings, failures, or defeat, but he had you cornered. You were in his world now, expecting things to be the same as they were twelve years ago. It couldn't happen. You knew that. It didn't mean you were ready to accept that that was reality, though.

"I'm the fuckin' bad guy. I'm SUPPOSED to be 'absolutely heartless.' The difference is that I do that for a show purpose. YOU do that because it's who you are."

"It's who I am? What the fuck are you talking about?!" You defended yourself, anger booming in your voice, security approaching but backing down at a wave of Pete's hand. "This is the first time I see you in twelve years and this is what you have to say to me?"

"It's not the first time it HAD to be. You grew bored of me after what? Three months? Maybe six? I tried calling you. Those calls went ignored. Emails, letters, all the same. I wanted to wrestle not just because it was my passion, but because I hoped I'd find you. But... I didn't. I couldn't find you, unless you wanted to find me too. Now, I'm living the dream, and you come back into my life without a phone call, without an ounce of any type of effort to show you give a fuck?"

"I don't want your money, if that's what you're implying, Peter!" You scowled right back at him, hurt that he'd even suggest it.

"You don't want my money, Y/N. I know that. You don't want my time. You don't want shit from me. It was fucking clear years ago. Nothing's different now than it was then."

"What has gotten into you? I know we've grown up but you're acting like it was my fault that my dad got transferred to the states. People grow up. They get different hobbies. They build a life for themselves. I never meant to cut you out. The time zone was a huge role in that, and my grades, and my career-"

"All excuses. Those things applied to me too, and I STILL put in the effort. Because you were worth it to me." He emphasized further. "Were."

He began to fold up the table that you'd pulled herself up from, pushing it to the side. Anything to keep his hands busy and himself in check from all of the resentment he had for you. He finally made eye contact with you, for the first time since you arrived and were something other than just a face in the crowd.

"Remember the day you left? We were on your porch."

"Yeah. That was the worst day of my life. I've never been so gutted."

"I was talking to you and your father pulled you to the towncar while the movers towed your stuff out. You drove away from me. Left me on the sidewalk, staring at your car while you left." He looked to the floor, his nose crinkling in anger. I had something to say to you, but I never got to say it. And you... you certainly never made it easy to get it off my chest."

"Oh, you have something to say to me besides all that you've let off your chest now?" You asked, offended, both arms folded under your chest. "Why not just open the ENTIRE can of worms, Peter? You've already made it clear that coming here and seeing you was a waste of time. So why not just tell me what you've been holding onto for so long that's made you such an inconsolable little prick?"

He grinned, turning his focus to you with a cold, dark gaze. "What if I told you I’ve been in love with you since I was eleven?"

"Well I'd... what?" You said, proving you hadn't been listening, but planning your next response and to defend yourself. "What did you just say?"

"I know you heard me. I've spent years pining after you, and hating that I NEVER got to tell you what I wanted to say. And you... you just never cared enough to find out."

"Is this true?" You asked, examining him in shock.

"It was. I was never a priority for you, Y/N. And like I told you. People change."

He pulled his bag up over his shoulder now, and took hold of his trunk of merchandise with his other hand, keeping it in tow behind him.

"Peter... I don't know what to say. I had no idea. But, you know, it... it wouldn't have changed anything. We were just kids. And I had no say in the matter. And things are different now..."

"They are. I'm not some lovesick little fucking twat any longer, and you're not who I wanted you to be. You wasted your time coming here, Y/N. Now, go home."

He pulled his bag behind him, heading for the parking garage area where his car was waiting. You watched the boy who was your best friend leave without so much as a glance back or a goodbye, having answers to questions you never wanted asked or answered. Rubbing at your teary eyes with your sleeve, you followed security on the way out of the building.

[oneweekoneband]

A Cursory Look At Dinosaur Jr.’s Impact & Influence, Pt. 1: From Great to Good to Not-So-Good to Cultural Fallacy

Warning: You are about to read some gross oversimplifications of complex cultural phenomenons in order to stay on task.

When a band levels a profound musical influence on both its real-time surroundings and a future of younger artists, often there is new ground being broken in the process but when the extraneous impact manifest itself in the work of contemporaries or future entities, what results is far more complicated and multi-tiered than just a bunch of bands putting forth lesser versions of the ground broken by the influencer, aka the imitators. Impact can manifest itself in other ways that speak to the integrity and importance of the influenced. While it’s the gateway through which the garbage eventually does arrive, don’t assign an entirely negative connotation to imitation. 

Due to Dinosaur Jr.’s lack of real peers from 1985 to 1987 (at the earliest), what they were doing was so beyond the proverbial “next-level” that it left plenty of wiggle-room for imitation of the good-to-great variety. Please note: The imitations I put in a less-than-flattering light will fall under the banners of “categorically bad” and “aggressively mediocre” but of course I will not be wasting any of your time differentiating between the two. Also...this didn’t really happen until the major label feeding frenzy of the early-to-mid-90s, which itself happened (more or less) on the back of a band that was clearly influenced by (and opened for) Dinosaur Jr.

(Note: There are a great many bands of the last ten years that carry the mark of Dinosaur Jr. but you don’t have all night to sit here scrolling through this thing and focusing on the same time period as I have all week makes better sense. What I’m trying to say here is that it’s a space thing and in no way whatsoever do I truck in the “new music sucks” mindset so favored by my similarly-aged peers.)

(Second Note: I have decided not to feature any songs by Buffalo Tom, a band that garnered the nickname of “Dinosaur Jr. Jr.” and had Mascis producing a lot of their early work. Too obvious an inclusion, but not a bad band with some stuff worth seeking out).

Ok...let’s get going...

The best case scenario is when an inspired creative force takes the influence of a band like Dinosaur Jr. and turns it into something mind-shatteringly new and important, as was the case with My Bloody Valentine. Like Husker Du before them, early Dinosaur Jr. left a huge mark on the underground/indie scene in the UK (and elsewhere in Europe) when they first went over in late-1987, right before the release of You’re Living All Over Me. My Bloody Valentine had been working towards something for the previous 2 - 3 years, going from their beginnings as a misguided gothy post-punk band through several EPs of increasingly-intense and interesting takes on the then-popular C86 twee-pop/dream-pop movement (think a dreamier version of The Wedding Present). 

Then MBV reemerged in 1988 as another beast altogether and changed the entire landscape of underground rock with two EPs (You Made Me Realize and Feed Me With Your Kiss) and a full-length, Isn’t Anything, of paramount historical importance. MBV principal force Kevin Shields has said many times that this line of demarcation in his band’s trajectory was greatly influenced by seeing Dinosaur Jr. live as well as You’re Living All Over Me. Mascis and Shields have worked together in different capacities plus shared many tours and stages over the last quarter century.

“Feed Me With Your Kiss” (from the EP of the same name and full-length Isn’t Anything, both released in 1988)

Because the previous type of example is rare, let’s move onto the Dinosaur Jr. influence showing up as something stuck between imitation and inspiration that nonetheless produces some great music. What this means is that it will not be immediately identifiable as something influenced by Dinosaur Jr., but neither was it the sort of thing so world-beating that it launched its own sub-genre (like MBV). A good example of this is Doug Martsh’s two bands, Treepeople and the band he’s better known for leading, Built to Spill. Like Shields, Mascis and Martsch would go on to become colleagues and pals in the musical landscape they have shared over the last who-knows-how-long, but in the beginning, You’re Living All Over Me had a life-altering effect on the latter, who told Esquire in 2015...

"I must have listened to that record about 10 times before I liked it at all. And then I loved it. So much music was that way back then. Things took a long time to grow on me. There wasn't that much stuff where I knew I liked it right away. Nowadays I can tell right away if something's for me or not for the most part. But back then even stuff that was clearly good took a while to understand and appreciate. All of a sudden one night this album made sense to me. The thing I noticed at first was just how the guitar solos were way louder than everything. That I did appreciate right away. It was kind of the perfect meshing of punk rock and classic rock and pop music to me. It had this lo-fi, crappy-sounding thing and was pretty aggressive but it had these melodies and this classic-rock sensibility to it. Every song is great. Every guitar solo is perfect. I love that record."

In the early-90s, Martsch would find where he needed to be with the still-active Built to Spill, but before that he did some great work with Treepeople, whose several releases between 1989 and 1992 remain overlooked gems of guitar-driven post-hardcore. Check out the best one below...

Guilt, Regret, Embarrassment (full-album, Treepeople, originally released in 1991)

A few other early or concurrent bands of note heavily influenced by Dinosaur Jr. Mach I would be regional buddies The Blake Babies and pre-fame Lemonheads. This great cover of “Severed Lips” appears on the latter’s 1991 EP, Rosy Jack World EP

Blake Babies “Severed Lips” (Dinosaur Jr. cover)

Former Blake Baby Juliana Hatfield had a decent solo run in the 90s and turned in this version of You’re Living All Over Me’s signature rager “Raisins” on 1992 EP, Forever Baby.

Uncle Tupelo is largely, if not unfairly, credited with launching the “alt-country” sub-genre of the 90s (the precursor to what is now the mainstream “Americana” movement) as well as being the pre-history proving grounds for Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy and Jay Farrar of Son-Volt. Uncle Tupelo was hugely influenced by Dinosaur Jr. This isn’t all that apparent in the band’s recordings, though Uncle Tupelo did have a habit of ending their ‘89 - ‘91 live sets with a loyal cover of “Freak Scene”, as heard below…

Uncle Tupelo covering Dinosaur Jr.’s “Freak Scene”, live in St. Louis 3/20/91

Moving into the 90s a tad, the excellent but still-obscure Further and slightly better-known Eric’s Trip were both amalgams of the then-exploding lo-fi sub-genre, shoegaze, thick guitar craziness for some fantastic noise-pop that owed a considerable debt to early Dinosaur Jr.

Further “Don’t Need A Rope” (from 1992’s griptape album)

Eric’s Trip “Sunlight” (from 1993 album Love Tara)