#for context in that concert they played the entire close to the edge & going for the one & yes album. and roundabout

[violasmirabiles]

anyway. theres a chance i might get to see nothing but thieves in helsinki for fucking free in february. brother and sister in law have tickets but shes gonna wait and see how she feels then cos shes gonna be seven months pregnant at that point and hes the one whos Hyped for this. i suggested a couple months back that i could go with him if she decides against it and it was a joke because we all know im broke as shit but. the two of them are very much Not broke as shit and theyre good people (fork found in the kitchen level news theyre great people and i love them). genuinely hope sister in law feels well enough to go but also this would 100% be one of those Legendary Stories their kid would hear about forever. also itd be the first time ever that the brother and i would do something like this with it being just the two of us which would certainly be an Experience

[sugar-coat-it]

Body piercer! Matty part three 

Part 1, Part 2

I missed writing for this man so much my god he is my everything. If you haven’t read the other parts, go ahead and do that first for context perhaps! 

Fem! Reader

Contains: Mutual pining, cutie newly established relationship, mention of marijuana, proud concert bf Matty, him being protective of girlie at the show, exhibitionism (light petting in the crowd), rough quickie (unprotected), public sex (bathroom), fingering and fucking on the counter, Matty puts his hand over her mouth, mirror sex, choking (with jewelry)

WC: ~6.3k

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PART THREE- Your new boyfriend takes you to a punk show, ending with a quickie in the venue bathroom

—-------------------------------------

Both you and Matty knew in your hearts that this wasn’t just a fling. Flings didn’t stay up for endless hours on the phone, knowing damn well that you both had work the next morning. Flings also didn’t think about each other for every waking minute, always sending each other sentimental messages when things reminded them of each other. And, they certainly don’t touch you the way Matty touches you: like he’s like he’s been starved of you his entire life. He’d frankly been losing his mind, constantly daydreaming at work as he stared at the Polaroid of the two of you he kept at the front desk, knowing he couldn’t stand not calling you his girlfriend much longer. Not after the past couple of weeks you’d been seeing each other had been some of the best of his life. He was so antsy over the fact that he couldn’t actually call you his that it was eating him alive, where else would he ever find someone as perfect for him as you? His work friends teased him endlessly for being so head over his platform boot heels, telling him how he needed to lock you down as soon as possible. He endearingly calls you his “favorite client”, but you’ve quickly become his favorite everything (“No. You don’t even get it, mate,” he’d said, rambling on to some poor guy whose ears he was piercing, “she's like… the light of my life, really”). But, considering that you couldn’t close your eyes without picturing his pretty brown irises staring back at you, his eyes crinkling at the edges with all his twinkling, wild mirth, you weren’t faring much better.

 Just as you’d hoped from that first night together, his sleepy eyes were in fact now a constant in your life. He asked you to be his girlfriend after taking you back to the same cafe where you’d had your blind date. Needless to say, it was an enthusiastic yes on your part, and everything has been so much brighter since, you can hardly imagine your life without all of his ruckus. Your days with him are long and lazy, and the nights are even longer, often spent wrapped up in his sheets or giggling while curled up on his couch after a smoke session.

You’ve learned a lot about Matty in the time you’ve been together. Like his tendency to leave things in your flat, his ungodly marijuana tolerance levels, and his love for his puppy Mayhem. You’ve also found that he takes his music very seriously. Listening to music is like a ritual to him, one that he refuses to partake in with “trashy” music. You call it snobbery, he calls it having good taste, and lately, he’s been trying to share that taste with you. He’s almost been subtly brainwashing you into getting into his bands, playing their songs in his car, burning some of their tracks on his CD mixtapes for you (always scrawled with cute Sharpie doodles and bad handwriting), humming the melodies of his favorite songs to you while cuddling. Honestly, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t working, you’ve found yourself adding his music to your playlists, combining your styles much like how the mohawked man has slowly rooted his way into every corner of your life. 

So of course, words couldn’t describe how thrilled he was when you agreed to see one of his favorite bands play at a punk rock show. He’d approached you with the idea tentatively, explaining that it was fine if you didn’t want to go, he’d just take one of his mates from work if so. The way his face lit up when you said yes, your heart could have burst as you watched his eyes sparkle with pure unbridled joy. Then, he leaned in and kissed every inch of your face, ignoring your giggles and protests of him tickling you while he declared how much you were going to love it. 

 When the day of the show arrived, you kept your outfit simple: baggy, ripped jeans, a white tank top, a band hoodie, and a studded belt you recovered from the depths of your closet, figuring you’d at least blend in with the grungier crowd that way. You put on one last thing to complete the look, hooking Matty’s chunky, silver chain (that of course, he’d left on your dresser) around your neck. You smile to yourself as you tuck it under your clothes, liking the feel of having him close to your heart like this. When did you become such a sap?

Meanwhile, Matty was pacing around your flat, making sure he had everything he needed and that you’d get there in time for doors. His reasoning for being punctual was much less about him than it was for you. He wanted you to fully experience being close to the stage because he knows how much you like to take pictures at shows, your constantly full phone storage being a telltale sign of that. He was going full-on concert boyfriend mode, also keeping your lipstick and your wallet in his little hip pouch so you wouldn’t have to worry about carrying anything but your phone. He’d clearly thought this through quite a lot, he’d been looking forward to it for weeks. 

A sudden kiss to his cheek quiets the hum of his overactive mind when you approach him, his furrowed brows sloping to a soft look of adoration as he insists on you standing still so he can take a good look at your outfit. He holds his fingers up in front of him in the shape of a square, squinting one eye closed like he’s framing you for a memory. Sure, the relationship was shiny and new, but something about the way he looked at you told you this wasn’t going to dull with time’s cruel hands, not any time soon at least. 

“Ohh, yeah. Very punk rock, baby,” he smiles slyly, chuckling as you roll your eyes. 

“Hardly! I don’t exactly have the wardrobe for this.”

“Shh, nonsense. You’re like a regular Joan Jett, babe. But hotter.”

“But hotter? Wow,” you laugh, now glancing down at the jewelry adorning his hands and wrists, “I like your bracelet.”

Matty cringes, sucking a breath through his teeth while looking up towards the ceiling. He recalls just how he’d obtained said bracelet as a teenager with something to prove. He was never a bad kid, just a highly restless one who got bored too easily. Besides, he never got in any real trouble since his parents would have strung him up by his toes otherwise. 

“Erm, thanks. I think I nicked it when I was a teen.”

“You were a delinquent!?” you exclaim, causing Matty’s loud laughter to ring through the apartment.

“That’s a strong term, innit? Let’s call it… misguided… and stupid. Now c’mon, out the door, miss.” 

You shake your head playfully as he shoos you out of the flat, imagining a younger version of your boyfriend getting into all sorts of mischief. You can almost perfectly picture his toothy, boyish grin as he runs around the streets of his hometown with his mates by his side, freckle-faced and carefree, his curls in an unruly mop on his head. You wonder if you would have gotten along with him in his younger, wilder days. An odd part of you hopes he still would have liked you. 

“Why do you still have it?” you ask as you start your walk to the train together. “What can I say? I’m unbelievably sentimental.”

The train ride is quiet, you share his wireless earbuds and listen to music side by side. The deal was that the queue of songs switched back and forth, you got to play one song, then him. He leans his head against your shoulder, the muss of hair atop the shaved sides of his head grazing your neck. He almost falls asleep as you start to scratch the top of his head. But, inevitably, all of his energy comes rushing back to him when the train comes to a halt. Immediately, he’s grabbing your hand to bound down the street to the venue, shouting about how good of a spot you’re going to get. 

—---------------------------------------------

Once inside, at a glance, you don’t exactly fit in here. A sort of insecurity festers in you as you eye some of the girls dressed in spikes and leather, they looked like they belonged here, and so did your boyfriend. But, you try to shake it off nonetheless, even if you didn’t feel nearly as cool as you wanted to. This place was like the high council of people who exclusively wear clothes with tears in them.

Matty stands close behind you as you pack in with the rest of the grungy-looking crowd. His hands are on your hips as he glances around, making sure that you have enough space to stand comfortably. He knows how these shows can get, and he’s made it his personal mission to make sure no one ruins the experience for you. He shoots a look at any guy who tries to stand too close to you, the coldness of his stare sending them inching away from your personal space with cowardice. In an instant, the mean look is wiped off his face as he glances down at you, seeing how happy you seem to be there with him. He leans down, the cool metal of his chain grazing your neck as he speaks near your ear, just loud enough so you can hear him over the buzz of chatter throughout the venue. 

“Can you see alright?” he asks, giving your hips a little squeeze. 

You nod with a smile, having a fairly clear view of the stage. You’re only about three rows back thanks to Matty’s punctuality. You turn your head, grasping the necklace around his neck gently before pulling him down further so you can kiss his cheek. A grin breaks out on your boyfriend’s face, he can’t help but chuckle at your little move, he loves it when you get bold with him. His lips brush against your ear as he murmurs “little minx” before standing back up to his full height.

Matty talks over the pre-show music as he tells you a bit of background about the bands playing tonight, prattling on about who plays what and what makes them so cool. You listen to him with an enamored look plastered on your face, nodding along even when you have no clue what he’s talking about, but what else is new? It only makes you adore him more with every detail rattled off from the depths of his mind.

“... and this one here I don’t know shit about, to be honest. I reckon they’re probably fine though,” he shrugs, showing you the lineup on his phone. 

You squint at the screen, tapping your nail against one of the names you recognize because of him. You blink up at him prettily, knowing he’s going to get a kick out of what you say next.

“This is the one with the guy who plays the drums with two pedals, right?” you recall, tilting your head at him, knowing damn well that you’re laying it on thick. 

“Yes!! Yes, exactly,” he beams, his eyes instantly lighting up before he presses an enthusiastic kiss to your temple, “That’s my fuckin’ girl. The coolest girlfriend.”

Soon, the show begins, and Matty lets out an excited whoop as the first band makes their entrance, the one he’d bought the tickets for in the first place. He lets go of your hips, taking a small step back to give you the room to dance if you want to. He’s so considerate of you, it makes a glowing sort of warmth swell in your chest. You glance back at him and he gives you two thumbs up, his face scrunching up with a grin that’s so earnestly Matty, you have to resist the urge to just grab him and kiss him till your lips are raw right in the middle of the crowd. Not to mention how fucking good he looks tonight, his tank top allowing his tattooed arms to be on full display, and it should be illegal how tightly those black leather pants cling to his legs.

Your attention turns back to the stage as the first notes ring through the small venue, grungy guitar chords echoing off of the walls. Nothing gives you the same feeling as live music does, the pure thrill it makes rush through you is unmatched (sorry, Matty). The music is harsh, it grates on your ears, but in the best way possible. It’s invigorating, fucking electrifying, it’s thrumming in the hollow of your chest. You feel alive. Matty leans over to see it all happen from just a step away, watching the stage lights reflect in your eyes. He hadn’t looked at the band once, this was far more mesmerizing than anything that could be happening up there. You’ve completely captured his attention, and when you start bobbing your head to the beat and singing along to the chorus, Matty almost drops to one knee right then and there. He’s already mentally noted that this song will in fact be played at your wedding reception.

As the set goes on, his eyes stay on you for the majority of the time, he’s just so taken by watching you have this much fun hearing his music, which is now your music too. He’s simply beaming with pride. Every time you look back at him with that thrilled look on your face while you’re moving to the rhythm only solidifies to him that you’re his absolute dream girl. And of course, he’s having the time of his life too. Matty mouthes along to all of the words, nodding his head in a way that makes his quaffed mohawk bounce with his movements. And, shit, it’s hot in the crowd, you can feel the heat radiating off of the bodies moving around you. The hoodie you brought may have been an oversight, you can practically feel your mascara melting off of your lashes. 

The show goes on, and when the moshing in the middle of the crowd gets increasingly rowdy, one man gets shoved and sent hurtling past the bodies between you and the mosh pit. You quickly hold your hands out to brace for the impact, knowing this can’t end well as you prepare to meet your leather-jacketed doom. The man is visibly very intoxicated and he would have stumbled straight into your body from the momentum if Matty’s hands hadn’t shot out to block him, catching him by his shoulders.

“Oi! Watch where you’re fuckin’ going, fuck’s sake!” Matty spits, sending him back toward the pit with a light push. 

Now, had Matty done his fair share of moshing and getting absolutely catapulted into other people at breakneck velocity? Yes. It’s not even entirely the guy’s fault that he almost crashed into you, he was pretty drunk and didn’t have his wits or his balance about him, but in Matty’s mind, he might as well have tried to tackle you to the ground WWE style. 

“I could have caught him!” you argue over the music, laughing at the bitter look on your boyfriend's face.

Matty raises an eyebrow at you and shakes his head with an amused smile, but doesn’t argue. Maybe you could have, but he wasn’t about to let some sloshed idiot break his girlfriend's back because that’s his job, dammit. 

The band’s set is finished with a bang, the final chords echoing in your ears as you try to catch your breath from moving almost nonstop, your heart thundering against your ribs. You turn around to face Matty with a giant grin plastered on your face, letting out a breathless, excited laugh. He just chuckles, eyeing the strands of hair sticking to your face from the sheen of sweat, your smudged makeup rimming your wide eyes. He’s not in much better shape, his tank top is clinging to his body like a second skin. By this point, your hoodie feels like it has its own climate, and you’re dying to peel it off. 

“Fun?” he asks, as you start to lift the fabric over your head.

“Oh my god, yeah,” you breathe, your voice muffled by the hoodie. 

“I-”

His next words die in his throat as his eyes immediately snap to your chest, his breath catching as he spots the clear outline of your nipple piercings through your drenched, white tank top and- was that one of his chains around your neck? He feels a stir in his tight leather pants as his mouth slightly drops, he can’t remember ever being so instantly and completely turned on. Heat ripples through his body, climbing up to his face as he shamelessly stares at your tits. Not only were you showing off his skillful work, but your pretty neck was adorned with the chain he’d forgotten all about at your place. It might even look better on you than it does on him.

 You’re tying your hoodie around your waist when you catch the look on his face, your brows knitting together with confusion till you follow his gaze and find your piercings proudly displayed through your shirt. As the realization dawns on you, you look up at your boyfriend with a coy smile. Matty shudders, lust crowding his mind as he struggles to come up with a coherent thought, one that isn’t wildly pornographic. He can actually feel his hands tense with the urge to grasp, to lay claim to you with his fingertips. You simply look up at him through your lashes, watching him short-circuit right before your eyes. 

Before he has the chance to say or do anything, the next band comes onto the stage, the crowd roaring to life a second time. You give him a knowing look before turning back around to face the direction of the music. Matty swallows hard, raking a hand through his mohawk like he’s grappling with demons… and losing.

The music is nothing more than a pulsing beat in his skull, his attention is fully on the back of your head. He begins to inch forward to you, his hands finding a home on your hips while you vibe to the beat. He brings your hips back against him, feeling your movements stutter as the protrusion in his trousers presses into your ass as if to say “Feel what you did to me?”. You get the message loud and clear, draping your weight against him, your head lolling back against his shoulder as you both rock to the beat of the drums, sweaty skin to sweaty skin. Matty’s hands begin to wander, mapping over the damp fabric of your tank top, up your stomach, over your ribs till- oh. You gasp, the stage lights strobing under your closed eyes as he squeezes your tits through your top. Matty can distinctly feel the barbells through the thin fabric, it drives him fucking wild. Your lips part as you melt into him like honey, your skin feels like it’s on fire as the music blares through the venue. Your stomach swoops when he dares to flick the piercings with his fingertips, danger humming in your veins as he gets bolder, as if you’re not surrounded by a sea of people. Your eyes snap open, you quickly glance around to find that everyone’s far too enthralled with the show to notice, not that Matty would give a shit if they did. No one can hear the way you whimper when he pinches your nipples. You stare down at the large hands that possessively grope your breasts, feeling a throb resound between your thighs. 

“Matty, you said this was the band you don’t know, right?” you call to him, your voice uneven and unnaturally high-pitched. 

His heavily lidded eyes look almost black with the way they darken as he reads between the lines. Even if it was one of the bands he liked, he’s pretty sure absolutely nothing could stop him from doing what comes next, not when his dick is this hard, and you’ve teased him this salaciously. Wordlessly, Matty lets go of your chest and grabs your hand, leading you through the crowd towards the exit. He moves fast, the urgency in his strides and on his face likely making people move out of the way quicker. You’d feel concerned about losing your spot up front if your mind wasn’t so scrambled with need, your legs rushing to keep up with your lanky boyfriend. 

Your head is spinning as he swiftly leads you into the nearest gender-neutral bathroom. Matty’s hands are on you the moment he closes and locks the door, he’s all over you in every sense of the term. You breathe in the musk of his sweat between the melding of your lips. The kiss is messy, it’s searingly hot as he desperately licks into your mouth, his fingertips digging into your hip bones. He backs you up blindly until your hips meet the bathroom counter, his hands reaching to undo the hoodie tied around your waist and toss it aside without breaking the kiss once. You didn’t think you could get much hotter than you were in the crowd, but now you’re burning up from the inside with white-hot desire.

Matty hastily turns you around to face the bathroom mirror, tagged with graffiti and littered with lipstick prints at the border. It was clear that the space was well-loved, but clean. A culmination of every aspiring artist and sticker enthusiast in the area, almost no spot on the wall was left untouched. Your eyes are drawn away from the decor as Matty grasps your jaw from behind you, turning your head to make you meet the almost feral look in his eyes through the mirror. He holds you that way as he leans down to press dire, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, his other hand snaking down your front to unbutton your pants. The feeling of his tongue stud soothing over faded love bites only makes you weaker in the knees. Matty fumbles with the zipper of your jeans for a moment before he shoves the clothing down your legs, the fabric pooling around your ankles. It’s clear that he’s not wasting time with his usual delicate, worshiping caresses of your thighs while he undresses you, this is an electrified frenzy. 

“No bra, baby? Is that how you want to play?” he mutters, his lips grazing the column of your neck teasingly. 

“I-I didn’t-” you begin to protest, only to be cut off by your own moan as he gives a rough pinch to your nipple through your top.

Matty follows the curve of your midsection with his hand, intense honey-colored eyes locked on you through your reflection, the image swirled at the edges with colorful spray paint. A shudder reverberates through your body as his fingers venture lower, dipping below the waistband of your soaked panties. Your body instinctually arches backward against his, mewling when his calloused fingertips brush against your swollen clit. It’s like he can light up every one of your senses with just a graze, your breath getting shallower by the second. You feel his stiff cock twitch in his trousers as you press yourself impossibly closer to him, every inch of his glowing skin flush against your back. Matty continues his loving assault on your neck as his thick digits gather the arousal pooling between your thighs. Your dazed vision trails downward as you stare at his hand shoved inside your panties from behind you, watching the fabric shift with every movement of his skilled hand. You whine as he circles your slit before beginning to sink his slicked fingers into you, your eyes squeezing shut as the dizzying pleasure thrums in your veins. 

“Shhh. You know how much I love your pretty noises, baby, but be good, okay? Can you do that? Don’t want anyone to know what we’re up to, do you?” he murmurs, dragging his plush bottom lip against your ear lobe. 

You nod wordlessly, afraid that if you open your mouth, noise will overflow from you uncontrollably, his fingers being knuckle-deep in you is just too damn good. If you don’t control yourself, anyone outside could hear you, could know how good your boyfriend is filling you with his fingers, satisfying you to your very core. The thought of it alone makes your heart hammer in your chest harder. You don’t want them to know… because that would be wrong, it would be undignified… it’d be… kind of hot.

 His digits stretch you open as he begins to diligently pump them in and out of you, curling them towards the spot that he knows will make you see stars. He works quickly, his pace is almost feverish from his determination to make you fall to pieces as efficiently as he can. Matty’s other hand is groping your breast, squeezing the fullness of it, his rings pressing into your flesh through your thin tank top. You bite down on your lip hard enough that you think you might tear the flesh open, desperately trying to keep your whimpers quiet. Matty’s gaze on you is cautionary, his eyebrows slightly raised like he’s testing you, seeing just how much you can take. 

The last of your defenses come crumbling down as the pad of his thumb presses against your clit, the flood of sensations making a moan burst from your throat as he begins to draw tight circles on the bundle of nerves. In an instant, Matty’s hand is off of your chest and is clasped over your mouth, muffling any noise. Fuck.

“I mean it. Pipe down, or I’ll stop,” he says sternly, smirking at you as he feels your walls flutter around his fingers. 

“No- no, please don’t stop,” you babble against his palm like the idea of it was simply unbearable.

Matty’s hand stays firmly over your mouth as he withdraws his fingers from inside you, ignoring the way you squirm in protest, whining uselessly. He tugs your ruined panties down your legs, letting them join your pants in a heap around your ankles. It’s almost embarrassing how you can hardly contain your desire, but he likes it that way, knowing how needy you are.

“Matty, please, fuck, need it,” you mumble, and he can see the way your desire is clawing at you from the inside just from a glance.

“Be patient for me, my love,” he smiles, hurriedly pulling himself out of his uncomfortably skin-tight pants with his free hand, “You’ll get what you want. Being stuffed full with my cock, hm?”

You whimper as Matty nudges your legs further apart with his foot, leaning you forward over the counter onto your elbows. He whistles lowly at the sight of you, his eyes following down your spine, over the curve of your ass, and to your dripping pussy. You tremble slightly as he reaches between your legs, collecting your honey on his fingers before spreading it over his shaft, slicking himself with your arousal. A whine vibrates against the palm Matty holds over your mouth as you swing your hips in a desperate attempt to entice him. He just chuckles darkly, keeping his hand securely in place as starts to guide his cock through your folds, the head kissing your aching clit as he rubs it back and forth. 

Matty doesn’t waste a second longer, you can hardly process it before he’s pushing inside of you, gasping as he fills you inch by inch. His fingertips press into the side of your face as he tightens his hold on your mouth to muffle your mewls, watching as your lashes flutter, your face contorting with pleasure. He can feel your hot, heavy breaths fanning into his palm, your chest heaving as he bottoms out inside of you. Matty groans loudly, tossing his head back as he’s fully surrounded by your velvety warmth, forgetting his own volume rules that he’d set for you. Hypocrite.

“Oh, fuck, you feel so good,” he sighs, reaching to pull your tank top over your breasts, “Stay like that for me, yeah? Wanna see your perfect tits.”

He barely allows you a moment to breathe before he’s snapping his hips against you roughly, letting out a strained grunt with every thrust. Sensations trickle up your spine like flickering flames as a muffled cry spills out of you. Matty angles his hips just right, hitting so deep inside you that you feel as though you’re being split open by each drive of his cock, it’s mind-numbing. Your whole body jolts against the counter with his purposeful movements, the edge of the porcelain biting into your hip bones. He can hardly focus on just one thing, his gaze darting from where he’s disappearing inside of you, to your gorgeous face, to your breasts. Matty’s raspy voice makes your eyes refocus on him, you watch in the mirror as he licks his teeth like he wants to devour you whole.

“You see how pretty you look? No, no, sweetheart, don’t look at me, look at yourself. God, isn’t she pretty?” he drawls, “You look so sexy, wearing my chain like that while you’re taking my cock.”

At his instruction, you meet your own eyes through the reflection, your eyebrows sloping as you realize that he’s right, you do look pretty when he’s fucking you. Your rosied cheeks, your blown pupils, your glowing skin… and your boyfriend’s hand over your mouth. Your chain bounces against your collarbones in tandem with your pierced tits, it’s no wonder he’s loving this position so much, he gets to watch everything at once. While you’re gazing at yourself, Matty reaches around and begins to rub two fingers on your clit, swirling them in intoxicatingly quick figure eights. You watch your own eyes go wide as the pleasure ricochets through your bones, making you light-headed. This must be the expression Matty lives for when he’s got you like this, the face to his sweetest wet dreams. You’re almost mesmerized by seeing yourself get railed to high heaven, it’s sort of an odd feeling.

In one swift motion, Matty lets go of your face and grasps the chain around your neck, pulling it taut against your throat from behind, ripping a shocked cry from your lips. 

“Ohh, she liked that one,” he grins lazily, tilting his head back with a groan as he feels your walls clamp down on him like a vice, “Shit, not gonna last if you keep doin’ that, god damn.”

It feels like he’s stolen the air directly from your lungs as he lightly chokes you with the silver links you’d so slickly “borrowed” from him. Even just the slight restriction of oxygen has you reeling, your eyes rolling back as your hands claw at the counter, your whole body buzzing with mortifying heights of exhilaration. It’s a dizzying combination of thrill and precarious risk as Matty keeps a tight hold on the chain while fucking you with such vigor that you don’t feel attached to your body, the counter being your only loose grasp on reality. It only makes every drive of his cock feel that much more visceral, the tension coiling tighter in your belly. Heat prickles at your cheeks and the bridge of your nose at the purely obscene sounds of him thrusting into your sopping cunt, skin on skin echoing through the small space while his fingers abuse your clit.

It’s all building up so fast, quicker than usual due to Matty’s frenzied rhythm, his hips meeting yours again and again, unrelentingly. You bite back a wail as the tension so deep inside you reverberates in crackling pangs, threatening to break you to pieces as you arch backward. Your hips writhe against his hand both like you’re chasing the friction and trying to thrash away from its intensity. He can tell you’re on the edge of euphoria, teetering with every swipe of his fingers, every slam of his hips. He gives the chain a harsh tug, knowing it’ll send you spiraling into the depths of pleasure just beyond your fingertips.

“Fuck!” you gasp, one of your hands flying to grip his wrist as your mind goes impossibly blank, your nails digging into his skin, “I’m gonna- I-I can’t!”

“Shit, me too, angel. So close. Oh, fuck, cum for me, sweet girl. Cum for me while I fill you up,” he grunts, a burst of energy coming over him as he manages to piston into you even more brutally. 

It crashes over you like a thunderous wave, spiraling through you from your dizzied head to the tips of your curled toes. He lets go of the chain, putting his hand over your mouth again to stifle your cry, the disorienting rush of oxygen almost making your knees give out from underneath you, and they just might have if Matty hadn’t kept you supported against the counter. It feels like pure white light is fizzling under your eyelids as Matty makes you reach the stars with your climax, dousing you in pulsating bliss as you clench around him tightly. He lets out a deep, animalistic sound as he spills inside of you, warmth flooding your insides as he fucks you through your orgasm, his rhythm beginning to falter from the effort. 

“Fuuuck!” he hisses through gritted teeth, along with other breathy strings of profanities. 

Slowly, his body stutters to a stop, giving one last roll of his hips before he collapses over you as delicately as he can, enveloping you with his chest to your back. He lovingly presses kisses to the back of your neck as your head hangs forward slightly, both of you gasping to catch your breath. 

“H-holy shit, babe. You’re so good…you’re fucking incredible,” he mutters, seeming just as dazed as you are. 

He can’t seem to stop complimenting you and loving on you as he keeps you held up with his hands on your hips, rubbing little circles into your skin as you both come down from the highest of highs. The afterglow clouds your head in a way that makes you feel like you’re floating with Matty being your only anchor to the ground. 

“Matty…” you mumble, reaching back blindly for his face.

“I’m right here. Right here, love,” he whispers, guiding your palm to his cheek. 

You smile warmly as you feel the scruffy sides of his head at your fingertips, Matty keeping his hand over yours sweetly. At the same time you both glance upwards at the mirror, letting out simultaneous giggles as you appreciate the state you’re in. He leans to kiss your cheek, peering into your eyes adoringly through the reflection, pulling your top back down over your breasts. 

“Oh my god… we’re a mess,” you snort, rubbing aimlessly at your runny mascara with your free hand.

“You mean you’re a mess, I look damn good,” he jokes, starting to slowly ease you both back up into a standing position. 

You both let out a breathy sound as he pulls out of you slowly, his cum beginning to streak down your thighs. Of course, Matty stares, swallowing thickly like he’ll never quite get used to the sight while he shimmies back into his pants. Diligently, he reaches for a handful of paper towels, keeping a gentle hold on your hip. You reach to try and smack his arm when he laughs at the way your legs are trembling, your knees wobbling due to how hard he’d railed you. He dodges the blow, grinning at you triumphantly.

Matty gently wipes away the residue of his pearly release, whispering a hushed “I know, I know” when you squirm at the sensitivity. Once he discards the paper towels, he kneels down to pull your underwear and your jeans back up, kissing his way up the outside of your leg as he does so, looking into your eyes with a playful glint. He kisses you deeply while he buttons your pants with nimble hands, not even letting you lift a finger as he takes care of his girl. You throw your arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss as he teases his tongue piercing along your bottom lip just to make you shiver. 

“My perfect girl,” he mumbles against your mouth.

You stay in the bathroom for just a little longer, kissing and whispering sweet things to each other while your bodies fully come down, Matty shouting at whoever keeps intermittently knocking on the door to fuck off. You can’t help but feel a little tinge of guilt in your stomach for “christening” the restroom the way you did, but you highly doubt you were the first. 

After he reassures you that the makeup streaked down your cheeks is “hardcore” and that you should leave it the way it is, you finally leave to re-enter the show (not before one final, drawn-out kiss, of course). Your boyfriend keeps you close by his side, his fingers interlocked with yours as you find yourselves at the very back of the pit, scattered with only a few other people. Matty guides your arms around his neck, grinning at you like a fool as you start to rock back and forth to the rhythm of the drums. His smile is infectious as he leans in to rest his forehead against yours, singing to you when the song reaches its chorus. He looks incredibly dorky as mimics the wail of the guitar solo, swinging his hips while his hands rest comfortably on your waist, almost like you’re about to slow dance. You tell him as such and Matty just tosses his head back with a laugh like a little kid. His eyes are sparkling, but not just from the iridescent stage lighting, it’s the look he gets only when he’s with you. You feel your heart swell in your chest as you continue to dance like you’re the only two in the venue, and he looks at you like you’re the only woman in the whole world. 

—-----------------------------------------

SO I was a liar and I did write another part. I intended this to be a blurb but I had so many more thoughts about them and their relationship eeeeee

The ending was soooo “do you wanna dance, dance at the back of the hall”

I love them. I need them to be happy forever actually. 

This one is dedicated to my lovely lovely friend B (@haveyouseenherlately) thank you so much for the ideas, you get body piercer like no one else, queen. Love you!!!

Go check out her stuff if you haven’t it SLAYS <3

[topweeklyupdate]

TØP Weekly Update #142: A Formidable Album (5/21/21)

So... how 'bout that album release week?

There's so much to cover; the release of nine new songs, the hype that's building for the World's Best Band to return to the stage, and (if we're able to come up for air) the massive speculation of what the future brings for our band.

I'm gonna get right into it, laying out my thoughts regarding this bold new album and covering all the most notable news from the week. I'll be sharing my (mostly) positive opinions about Scaled and Icy under the Read More line; I hope they're the start of a fun conversation with all of y'all who have stuck around through this last year.

Scaled and Icy Review

First, my general thoughts on the album: It's good! Really good. Do I think it's a no-skip like Vessel or a cohesive piece of art like Trench? Absolutely not! But it's also not the potential misfire that I worried that we might be getting when I first heard "Saturday" (more on that later); I think all of the songs are at least good, and some of them are downright great tracks that hold up with anything else that our band has ever released. It is also indisputably very different, but I think that generally works pretty well. Many of the songs evoke '60s rock or Britpop sounds and structures that you can tell Tyler is still trying to navigate, but I think he does a very solid job at adapting them to suit his strengths- namely his lyricism and knack for melody- rather than change to suit them. Unfortunately, this does result in a bit of square-peg-in-round-hole syndrome at times; most of the rap verses on the album feel like they're here just to fulfill an obligation to fans who would be mad if they weren't here, and most of the songs that use them are the weakest ones in the project.

"Good Day" plays a major role in getting the rest of the album to work as well as it does. Its gradual ramp-up, introducing the sound that will be used throughout the rest of the album. Its playfulness belies its message about how one can project a somewhat false optimism for oneself in the midst of tragedy: the type of dark stuff in a bright package that Tyler is so so good at. It's perhaps not an instant classic, but I am excited to see how it comes across when it's eventually used as a show-opener. 9/10

I've of course already discussed "Shy Away"; an anthemic, inimitably catchy track that I just wish had a bit more going on under the hood. Still going to be so good to hear thousands of voices scream "An 'I LOVE YOU' that isn't words!" someday. 9.5/10

"Choker" definitely took a little bit to grow on me. I think part of that was a bit of disappointment from over-inflated expectations and the environment I was in when I first heard it. With further listens, I fall more and more in love with the melody of the song... well, most of it. Like the rest of this album, the biggest weakness in the song is when Tyler tries to tick the box of having a rap verse; it just feels really out of place, unfinished, and almost amateurish, and it doesn't end the song on the note that it really should. Without it, it'd be one of my favorites on the album; with it, "Choker" is a solid 8.5/10.

Speaking of unfinished-sounding songs really hurt by their rap verse: "The Outside". There's a definite something to the vibe of the song, but that seemingly nonsensical verse is one of the two weakest parts of the entire project for me. The way the song meanders only adds to the feeling that there wasn't as much energy and attention paid to it compared to other parts of the project. It's pretty easily my least favorite track on Scaled and Icy, and the only one I might regularly skip. I've also seen plenty of people saying it's the best song on the album, so please tell me why I'm wrong! 6.5/10

"Saturday", as mentioned above, had me really nervous about this album. Like "Choker", it's grown on me a bit since I first heard it, in part because it fits better with the context of the rest of the album. However, this one really does feel undercooked lyrically and overreliant on the novelty of using a disco-inspired sound that seems to chase trends more than almost any other TØP track. The inclusion of that very sweet audio clip from Jenna boosts the song in some ways, but also adds to the disappointment in others; there are many other songs on this project that would be more worth surrendering time watching Friends. Thankfully, those come next. 7/10

"Never Take It" is fascinating. I never thought I'd hear a Rolling Stones-style song from Tyler Joseph featuring a gd guitar solo of all things, and it actually sounds pretty great. However, I also predict that this song will see some of the greatest critical scrutiny out of all the songs on the album. The lyrics seem to be Tyler's criticism of the media for playing up division in our society, but he's extremely vague when discussing which entities are spreading said division and ultimately recommends that people "educate yourself, but never too much". I'll be honest: maybe it's the fact that it sounds like something my dad would listen to, but it feels like this would get tons of play on Fox News. Since it makes specific reference to the events of last summer, it's hard not to feel like song is at least partially inspired by Tyler's brush with cancellation last year. Maybe I'm reading too deeply into it, but those reservations come from the song's lack of specificity, which is an issue of songwriting more than politics. They hold me back from truly loving a song that still manages to be one of the most exciting the band has ever put out. 8.5/10

"Mulberry Street" seems like the perfect realization of the entire album's intended tone. It is so pleasant, so lush while also simply produced, full of great lyrics, metaphors, and imagery. It really brings the whole project together, even if it's missing That One Line to really move this up to the top tier of the canon. 9.5/10

"Formidable" is the best song on the album and one of two songs I would truly rank in the top tier of the band's canon. Extremely pleasant and brimming with well-crafted lines to make your heart swoon. Jenna (and Rosie) is (are) a lucky gal(s). Or is it about Josh? Who's to say? 10/10

"Bounce Man" is just plain wild. I think Tyler's smuggling someone to Mexico to escape the feds? The playfulness of it all really covers up any frustration I might have with the clarity; it makes it clear that there's not really stakes here, just vibes. 8.5/10

"No Chances" sees the album take a turn that I'm sure the Reddit Clique is going to have an absolute field day with; it and "Redecorate" both sound quite different from the rest of the album and evoke enough elements of Trench to make me think that's it's actually possible that all this 'SAI is Propaganda' stuff might actually have something to it... until I actually pick apart the lyrics, then I'm even more confused. The song has some of the best rapping on the album, though that's not saying much (the feng shui line is a groaner right out the gate) and the gentle pre-chorus is really pleasant. I still haven't made up my mind on whether the chorus is effective or just plain goofy. This one might get worse or better on repeat listens, impossible to say for now. 7.5/10

"Redecorate" rounds out the album by opening with a Clancy quote (Tyler, you bastard), firmly setting this as a coda to Trench more than the album we just listened to. The rest of the song is really storytelling, with Tyler describing a bunch of people who are struggling deeply. The idea of "redecorating" here stands for how they are faced with the option to clean and resort their own spaces and lives or leave that to their loved ones to do after they're gone. By the time it gets to the album's name drop, you begin to wonder how much of this is potential autobiographical of the last year. It's moving stuff, a callback to some of the great strengths of the band's discography. 10/10

If I average those scores all up, this project ranks below almost every album among the Pilots discography on my rating scale, very narrowly edging out Self-Titled. That's still a very solid 8.6. Scaled and Icy is a very good album on first listen. We'll see how I feel about it after having a little more time to sit with it, but I've rambled enough: let's move through the rest of the week's news.

Other News

Of course, there was a lot else going on this week! To accompany the release of "Saturday", Zane Lowe over at Apple Music dropped an interview with Tyler. As usual, Zane did a pretty solid job of getting to the heart of the craft and the creation process. However, Tyler also wound up skirting a lot of the questions to just talk more about how much he loves being a dad, which makes me happy; if the cost of getting a little less attention and mental energy devoted to the music is that little girl getting all of his attention, that's honestly preferable for me.

The album rollout is not even close to over. Later today, the concert will be streamed live. It's our first real performance that we've gotten from the band since 2019, but the previews that we've seen have completely exceeded any of my expectations, and really anything that we've seen from the band. It appears that they've transformed the entire arena (which I think is the ol' Schott at Ohio State) into a whole TØP world, with different sets laden with Easter eggs and a cast of backup dancers. If the website can hold up to the traffic (and I acknowledge that might be a big ask), this could really live up to Tyler's promise of this being the best livestreamed concert ever.

Oh, and this guy dyed his hair pink.

What a time to be a fan. Catch you all tomorrow.

Power to the local dreamer.

|-/

[toxoiddiamond]

J O E L // P O R T E R // N Y C R O F T Is your character holding on to something in the past? Can he or she forgive? ◇ He is definitely holding on to some resentment towards his mother– and also toward his father, who he's never actually met, due to the fact that his dad skipped town shortly after Joel was born. In a way, he's forgiven his father, because he finds it easier to forgive someone he's never even known. But he has never really forgiven his mother for her neglect, her constant drug use (even allowing/encouraging him to use, especially if her druggie friends were around), and for the fact that she simply never cared what happened to him. She only started trying to come around when he first got famous, but he made it very clear to her that she was not welcome in his life and she would never get a dime from him. She responded by trying to attack him in the tabloids, offering up "exclusive interviews" where she claimed Joel had shut her out for no reason and describing him as a problem child, a runaway, etc. Luckily that kind of backfired on her as she definitely came across as less than sane in her interviews, so Joel never even bothered to respond to her attacks. Name an event in their childhood that has shaped them into the person they are today. ◇ He would say there are two events in his childhood/teenage years that really shaped him– one good event, and one not-so-good. The first is that he once snuck into a rock concert when he was ten years old, and was so mesmerized by literally everything about it– the musicians, the energy of the crowd, the music itself– that he can still vividly remember it and take himself back there. According to him, sneaking into that concert totally changed his life. The second event occurred when he was nearly fourteen. His mother was pretty deep into drugs at this time, and she ran with a really bad crowd. A couple of her "friends" wound up convincing Joel to get high with them, so he only remembers the night in bits and pieces. What he does remember is being taken away somewhere and being absolutely terrified– he's blocked out most everything else. He woke up the next morning on a park bench and was able to walk himself home. His mom didn't realize he'd been gone and pretty much brushed off the entire incident. What animal would be their "Patronus" or "Spirit Animal" is?/What kind of Pokemon would they have? ◇ His patronus would be a Jack Russell Terrier, and his Pokemon would be a Pikachu~ Do they open up freely with their emotions, or do they bottle it up until they burst? If they do hold it in, what is usually their breaking point? ◇ It really depends on the situation– sometimes he’s very open about what he’s feeling, especially if he’s drunk or high. He also tends to be more open with his positive feelings, expressions of love or happiness, etc. The negative feelings tend to only come out when he’s under the influence, and oftentimes he ends up saying things he doesn’t mean. He definitely needs to work on expressing his negative feelings in a more constructive way (like, you know, when he’s sober~). What do they smell like? ◇ He likes to wear a couple of spritzes of cologne, usually Spicebomb by Viktor & Rolf. It’s also pretty obvious when he’s been drinking, as he’ll often smell of whiskey or gin, not to mention cigarette smoke. How do they deal with illness/pain? Will they soldier on with two broken arms or will a cold put them out for days? ◇ He usually does his best to soldier on even if he’s sick or hurt. This has led to him quite literally passing out from exhaustion after pushing himself too hard for too long. It’s also part of the reason why he tends to self-medicate with alcohol and drugs– it’s easier to just drink the pain away or take drugs to make himself feel better instead of actually allowing himself to rest and heal. What’s their opinion on musicals? ◇ Joel has a surprising love for musicals, actually. He’s picky about them, but there are a few that he absolutely adores and can sing every song from start to finish. His favorite musical of all time is A Chorus Line (he was lucky enough to see it live and he would never admit this, but he cried like a baby), followed closely by Guys and Dolls. What is the most expensive thing they’ve purchased? Was it worth it? ◇ His guitar is definitely the most expensive item he’s ever bought– an ESP LTD EC-1000 in a custom color (light blue on the edges, fading into black in the center). The company tried to give it to him for free, but he insisted on paying– he’s always found it silly when people give him free things when he can afford to pay for it. He’s had the guitar for over a decade now and it’s become sort of iconic, so he’d say it was worth the money. What do they like to ridicule? What do they find stupid? ◇ Joel usually isn’t one to ridicule people– he likes to tease, but only in good fun. However, he will openly ridicule music snobs, music critics, etc., because he doesn’t believe that any one type of music is better or worse than any other– just that it all comes down to taste and opinion. So he really can’t stand people that make fun of others’ taste in music, and makes it a point to tell them so. Does your character have any secrets? If so, are those secrets holding them back? ◇ He doesn't have many secrets– it's not even a secret that he has a drug and alcohol problem, thanks to the fact that the media was all over it every time he went to rehab. He keeps his personal life as private as he can, but it seems no matter how hard he tries, his secrets always come out in the end. How is your character’s imagination? Do they daydream a lot? Do they like to reminisce? Are they more grounded in reality? ◇ Joel definitely has his head in the clouds a lot of the time, especially when he's high. In fact, part of the reason he has such a hard time getting clean/sober is that he loves the feeling of being disconnected from reality. It makes him feel safer, as if nothing is real and nothing can hurt him. Whereas when he's sober, everything feels more real and it's harder for him to deal with. He (falsely) believes that he writes better music while high as well, and while he has written some great songs while under the influence, he is also more than capable of writing great songs while sober. Did their parents name them after anyone/thing? Does their name mean anything? Do they like their name? ◇ His parents didn't really name him after anyone or anything in particular– they just liked the sound of the name "Joel" so they went with it. His name can mean either "the Lord is God," or "he that wills and commands." He doesn't mind his name at all. Is your character afraid of death? ◇ He has a complicated relationship with the idea of death. He’s had suicidal ideations since he was a teenager, even attempted it when he was fourteen, and always ends up going back to the idea of killing himself. But at the same time, he is terrified of death, always worries over the idea of there being some kind of afterlife where he’ll be punished for all the shitty things he’s done. Is your character touchy-feely with everyone? Or is personal space a huge deal? ◇ Joel isn’t touchy-feely with just anyone, but he is definitely affectionate with those he’s close to. His band members get a lot of hugs and cheek kisses, and anytime he’s with Riley, he’d definitely be holding Riley’s hand at the very least. He is okay with strangers touching him in certain contexts (an arm around him or a hug for a picture/selfie, a handshake, etc), but otherwise he prefers not to be touched at all by strangers. Do they like music? What is their favorite style of music/What are their favourite band(s)/artist(s)? ◇ When it comes to music, Joel is very open-minded and interested in a lot of different genres. Although he prefers to play rock music, he loves everything from pop to R&B to dubstep, and appreciates each unique genre for what they have to offer. He is a little picky in regards to the artists he listens to, but he would never judge anyone for having a different opinion or liking things he doesn’t care for– he is a firm believer that music is completely subjective. How do they react to making mistakes? How do they react to people pointing out mistakes they’ve made? ◇ He makes a lot of mistakes. Like, a LOT. The one thing that can be said for him is that once he’s had a chance to think his actions over, he is always very apologetic and admits he was wrong. At that point, if someone were to point out his mistakes, he would agree with them and be very shamefaced. But if someone points out his mistakes/calls him out before he’s ready to have that discussion, he gets very defensive and will likely storm off.

[mr-hoebot]

Watch the Stars - Chapter One

Pairing || Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor x OC

Note || Uhm. So. I’m really fuckin apprehensive about posting this. I have never dabbled in RPF before because it’s so...controversial and I totally get why. In this case, I’m really not writing about the real people involved here, but the biography that was based off of them? Which is still about real people. I was basically inspired by the movie if that makes sense, and I’m writing entirely in the context of the movie. This is 100% fictionalized and not meant to offend anyone. Julie-Anna is just a character who popped into my head. 

So anyways. I don’t encourage involving any actual real-life people in fiction written online, and all that. I just figured that the BohRap fandom seemed like a pretty nice place. So I thought I’d give it a shot and see if you guys will like, accept me into your fold or whatever. 

Summary || After playing a show on Halloween night in New Orleans, Queen’s drummer takes off on his own and is solicited by a very unusual woman who is definitely going to drive him crazy. 

Content || Past parental abuse, drinking, drugs, sexual assault (not romanticized in any form), smut. 

It’s late. Julie-Anna Ackerton doesn’t know what time it is, she just knows that it’s late because the sky has been dark for a while now. She checks it every now and then for the aliens. There���s nothing.

Maybe next time.

In a tiny gas station restroom a few hours earlier, she sprayed on perfume that smells like artificial candy apples, tried and failed not to smudge her eyeliner, and pulled a ratty faux fur coat on over her dress. Now she’s standing out on the middle of the road, heels in hand. They started hurting her feet after some time and she’s not getting any clients tonight anyways.

New Orleans is even buzzier than usual tonight, and it’s not just because of Halloween. There was a concert on at the Municipal Theater and she can feel the ground shaking, hear the cheers of the crowd, feel the wild excitement of people pouring out of the venue, chattering to each other about how amazing it had been.

Julie realizes just then that she can add it to the list of things she’s never done. Never been to a concert. The list just keeps growing longer.

1. Never been really kissed for real for real for real.

2. Never had a beautiful dress like a princess, just like in the movies.

3. I can’t give you the whole list. It would go on forever!

Well, Julie might not have a beautiful princess dress, but she has a silky negligee coming apart at the seams. She shifts her coat off her shoulders and starts walking, pausing by a car with a few men inside.

“Any of you gentlemen looking for a good time?” It doesn’t sound at all like her, but it’s what she’s supposed to say. Still, it never comes out as sultry as it’s meant to. She always sounds too eager and soft.

“I’m spoken for, honey.” The man in the front puffs on a cigarette. “Get lost.”

Concerts are usually a good night for business, but this one is proving to be a bust.

“Are you looking for a good time?”

“Would you like some company tonight?”

“I’m feeling lonely. Could I hitch a ride?”

None of it matters. All the chatter in the world hasn’t gotten her anyone, and Julie is getting desperate. Slowly, she’s drifted away from the bright lights of the main streets and fallen into the shadows behind Halloween costumes and concert memorabilia.

Julie steps out of an alley and keeps walking, keeping her eyes out for any parked cars that might contain possible clients. She scans the area and sees several people drive by, a few drunken stragglers stumbling home with their arms around each other, a woman shouting at her boyfriend.

And a car parked right up on the curb.

Julie fluffs up her hair and tries to saunter forward, imagining herself looking very beautiful and irresistible. Isn’t that what she needs?

The car window is rolled up, so she taps on it a few times to get the driver’s attention. When it rolls down to reveal a blonde man with red eyes, smoking a cigarette, she feels her heart skip a few beats.

Wow wow wow! This isn’t for the list of things I’ve never done. But wow!

“Can I help you?” the man asks. He looks exhausted. Bad news.

“Um.” Julie opens her mouth, then shuts it, suddenly finding herself forgetting her lines. “Oh! Yes. I remember. Are you looking for some company tonight?”

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t need to pay for company.”

“Oh,” she replies dejectedly, “Oh. Yeah. I guess not.”

Before she can say anything else, the man is rolling the window up. The car still doesn’t move though, and just as she starts to walk away, she’s hit with the realization that she needs a ride back home. She hitched one into town with a trucker driving in for the night, but he’s long gone now.

Julie spins around on her heel and stumbles back over to the car to tap on the window again. When the man rolls the window down, he looks irritated. “What?”

“Let’s trade.”

“Trade what?”

“Could you take me home? Please? I’ll make it worth your while. Do you know what worth your while means? I’ve learned it’s very persuasive.”

He stares at her in confusion, “Are you serious? I’m not having sex with you to give you a ride home.”

Julie swallows the lump in her throat that’s started to form. Tonight hasn’t brought her anything but bad luck and she’s going to need to pay rent soon. “Please? Oh, it won’t take long. I would walk but I get lost a lot, especially in the dark. Once I got lost and walked into a small pond. I stood there very confused because I didn’t know why my feet and legs were wet. And then I said, ‘Oh Julie-Anna Ackerton, you walked into a pond! That’s why your feet and legs are wet!’ Then I looked for frogs, but I didn’t find any. But I know my address. It’s-“

“Okay, okay!” The man puts his hand up. “Get in. I guess I need to drive somewhere anyway.”

She claps her hands excitedly. “Thank you! Thank you so much! You’re very nice! Very, very, very nice. Very, very-“

“Please just get in.” He actually looks like he might smile. “Julie-Anna Ackerton, huh?”

“That’s right,” Julie says cheerfully, opening the door to the other side and getting in. The car smells like cigarette smoke, so she rolls the window down. “Do you like my name?”

“Sure I do. It’s a nice name.” He starts to drive but extends one hand to shake hers. “I’m Roger.” “It’s real nice to meet you,” Julie shakes his hand excitedly and slips her coat off of her shoulders. “Why’re you just sitting in your car?”

He shrugs. “It’s not mine. I rented it. I needed to drive, clear my head. It was kind of a wild night.”

“Did you go to the concert? I saw lots of people going. I’ve never been to one before, but I think it would probably be magic and beautiful. I really like music. Did you have fun?”

Roger looks over at her, surprised. “Well, yeah. I mean, kind of.”

“You kind of had fun?”

“No, I mean-I kind of went to the concert. I mean, I played it. I’m the drummer for the band.”

Julie gasped, her inner voice telling her to calm down, even thought it was just so, so hard. “How neat! I wish I could be a drummer. Or a singer. Or a movie star. Or a goddess. I just want to be a beautiful beauty queen. Do you think I could be a beauty queen?”

“Oh yeah. Definitely. Why aren’t you one?”

Julie sighs sadly. “I don’t have a beautiful dress or a special talent, and you need those, I guess. But if I close my eyes really tight and try to dream, I can imagine that I’m Miss America, y’ know? And it’s so beautiful. I look like a superstar.” She emphasizes the last word with all the reverence and adoration of someone talking about a religious icon.

“I’m gonna be a superstar one day,” she tells him.

Roger laughs and turns a corner, “I don’t doubt it.”

“Are you going to be a star too?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I feel like I already am, but I guess that could be me getting ahead of myself. Fifteen minutes of fame and all that. I’m just trying to enjoy it while it lasts.” He falters a bit, looking unsure.

“Aren’t you?” Julie asks.

“Aren’t I what?”

“Enjoying it.”

“Oh. Well, sure. I am. I just…I don’t know. I was kind of stressed out tonight. I don’t think I played as well as I could have. I got in a fight with our guitarist. Things were loud and we were drinking…” he shuts his eyes for a moment before focusing again on the road and sighing, “I guess I just needed some time to myself. So. Rented a car and here I am with you. Which was not part of my plan by the way.”

“Sorry,” Julie says cheerfully, “But maybe I can make you feel better. I can tell you a joke.”

“You don’t have to-“

“What’s red and moves up and down?” Without waiting for an answer, she hurriedly says, “A tomato in an elevator.”

Roger snorts, “You’ve got to be joking.”

“I am. It was a joke.”

“No, I mean-nevermind. That was really funny, Julie-Anna.” It comes out with obvious sarcasm.

“Oh, you can just call me Julie,” she says, “Everyone does except for Dad, and he doesn’t really like me that much.”

“I’m sorry. Speaking of, where did you say you lived again?”

Julie-Anna lists out the address, the same old place on the edge of town that she’s been for ages. The same place she always will be, until she’s a famous beauty queen.

[the-story-of-five-lights]

Osaka dome fanaccount 180218

I’m writing this after getting some food in my stomach while sitting under the covers in my hotel room and looking out at the night lights in Osaka. I feel incredibly grateful I got to experience these concerts. I know what it’s like to be sitting at home streaming and wishing you could be there, because that’s usually where I am. And I know this time, even though there was a lot of apprehension, so many people wanted the chance to support SHINee in person. I’m thankful I got that opportunity, and I hope I was able to bring at least a portion of all of your well wishes for SHINee into the Dome along with me.

Today was so much easier. Infinitely easier. I’m sure there are people who won’t feel the same, but I feel lighter and more hopeful tonight than I did yesterday. I’ll try and write about some things I didn’t before so I’m not too redundant.

SHINee had an easier time tonight. I won’t pretend it wasn’t difficult for them or they don’t feel a huge weight of grief, but they smiled and were more at ease and teased at each other and clearly felt better than they did yesterday. Even if some smiles were forced, I don’t believe for a second they all were. Yesterday, pulling that band-aid off, made it impossible for them to hold the pain in, and today was a lot less raw.

Because SHINee seemed to be doing better — and probably because many of us knew what to expect — the mood of the concert was dramatically different. We were able to feed off each other’s energy and be more comfortable. Because of that, I was able to pay much more attention during the high energy and joyful parts of the concert today.

So, on to the concert itself:

The opening VCR is really beautiful. Whoever worked on it did an excellent job.

Colors of the Season was more stable vocally today. SHINee starts out standing in a line on stage with spotlights on them, and I realized it was the only time other than the end that they stood on the flat stage like that. During the song, the stage lifts them up high toward the lights before lowering them back down.

I didn’t talk about this before, but I really liked the medley of songs with the clock ticking in the background they played during the first break. It was a look back, and the way they edited the audio was really haunting. It hurt, because I couldn’t help but think of happier times, but I also don’t want to ever forget those memories. I liked that they had little audio snippets of their history. A reminder.

When they came out and started Stranger, the mood was already better than the 17th. I was seated about 10 feet from the middle track that they traveled down a lot and close to the front stage, so I could see their expressions well. The stage moved out towards the center and Key was faced toward my section. He went up close to the edge of the stage (this always makes me so nervous!!) and hyped us all up a lot. Right before the lights went out, he smiled at us, and I felt something loosen in my shoulders. It was clear that today would be different.

I saw a lot of people say Taemin seemed angry-sad yesterday, and I’d have to agree. I don’t think he was pissed, but he seemed closed off and like he was trying to focus on hitting his marks well. He already seemed more, I guess, normal at this point in the concert. He also started shedding clothes, so. You know. Definitely more back to normal. I saw the other members do something to perk him up a few times in like the first half hour of the concert, but after that he was running well on his own steam.

They had their short first ment, which had the same content as the first night but was nowhere near the same. Yesterday they stood in a stiff line with their hands folded together, often looking down when it wasn’t their turn to speak. Today, Onew smiled softly when he spoke (again, I felt such relief), and Key also seemed to have an easier time.

This next part, the Jonghyun tribute, was of course still hard, but I still found it easier than yesterday. I think this was in large part because I knew what to expect, but SHINee held it together the whole time and I think that also contributed. Kimi ga Iru Sekai was the most heart-wrenching for me. Just the image of them standing around the empty center platform is a lot. I saw Key mouth “I love you” when they turned to face Jonghyun’s spot. I thought I must’ve misunderstood because it definitely looked like I love you in English, but since he said it later I think it really must’ve been. It seems like he was doing that throughout the concert, because other people spotted him doing the same at different times.

If I didn’t love Diamond Sky before, I do now. Making that diamond shape has become absurdly meaningful, and raising up my hand alongside SHINee and the music and all the other Shawols in the crowd was so powerful. It’s not a feeling I want to forget any time soon.

The fanlights all changing color to a medley was next and was so cool. I love these wi-fi controlled lights and hope someone got a video of it for you guys. They did all sorts of cool things throughout the concert, like shifting into the shape of multi-colored stars across the stands and flashing like cameras and turning into a shifting rainbow along to Colorful.

SHINee came back out and performed Sherlock. This is one of the songs I thought would be difficult for them to cover, but they did a really good job both nights.

Love Like Oxygen was next, and I completely forgot about this yesterday but it was one of my favorite parts. They sing up to the bridge and then the music pauses and the lights dim. Some deep blue ones go on and the stage they’re on rises. They stay frozen in place and this eerie, haunting music reminiscent of the earlier “journey through our past” medley plays. Then Jonghyun’s vocals played out so clear and pure and echoed through the whole stadium. Only after that do the lights come back up and they continue on with the rest of the song. It was a beautiful, subtle tribute and indicative of how they did their best to incorporate him throughout the concert.

Hello was a lot of fun, and they were smiley and joking through all of it. Lots and lots of cute fanservice. Same for To Your Heart, and the crowd got really into it.

I wrote yesterday that the Dazzling Girl - Lucky Star - Downtown Baby trifecta was fun and one of the only happy parts of the concert. And I still feel they did a great job with it yesterday, especially in the context of such an emotionally harrowing concert. But today was ENTIRELY different. The girl next to me had also attended the day before, and we kept making big eyes at each other because it felt like we’d stepped into another concert altogether. I can genuinely say I had fun during these songs. After yesterday, I’d kind of been dreading the second day, but suddenly I had this big smile I couldn’t get rid of. SHINee was just out there giving it everything. Taemin was grinning and messing around with fans. He also shouted something at the beginning of one song, and I have no idea what it was but the whole place laughed. Which was really nice <3 Onew was pulling silly faces and waving his arms like crazy at everyone while going around on the carts. At the end of Lucky Star, he moved around the blocks (they got it on Star!) so that they said “Stay” then he hopped up on them and did that one move from Danger with his arms flung behind his back. He stayed like that for a good five long seconds too like a total goof. Key was being so sweet and soft to people he passed by and kept the energy up. He was far away from me the whole time, so I saw less of him sadly. I watched Minho a lot up in his hot air balloon, and he kept pointing to people and telling them to smile and then giving them a thumbs up and a firm, approving nod when they did it. He reminded me of a dad lol. He was really, really emotional and almost serious, kept putting his hand to his heart, and I could feel how much he loves us. Seriously.

Next was the dancers’ solo (which was good!) and then Hitchhiking which is still so. cool. The part where they’re on opposing stages coming closer together and having a dance-off… SO COOL. I was sat right in the middle of it so I got the perfect viewpoint. It’s almost like they’re each daring the other pair to go harder, and they got really into it. I don’t have too much to say about the rest of the songs in this part other than they definitely kept the energy up.

They went away for a while again and we chanted “SHINee”, and then Shaband came out and led us in clapping and starting to sing Sing Your Song. Still love this one at concerts <3 Yesterday, we only sang it a capella once, but today they had us keeping going just “once more” like four times. (Key helped us keep going when we faltered.) It was beautiful. The whole place was full of singing, and they stopped for a while and let us do it alone. Minho took out his in ear to hear better, and Taemin smiled really genuinely. Onew had sparkly eyes. You could tell they all wanted to hear it.

I’m With You was a return to something a bit more solemn. The lyrics have taken on a real poignancy. It almost feels like a message to Shawols.

There was another short ment, and once again they were more at ease than before. There were some small smiles and little laughs from shawols. They introduced the new song, and I’m looking forward to everyone getting to hear it clearly. It’s great and catchy, and I think I liked it even more the second time.

Then came Replay with all the old footage on the screens. It wasn’t just old performances of Replay — they had all sorts of meaningful moments like the first Tokyo Dome concerts, all the way back to debut days. This was still hard for me, and they didn’t look at all happy during it.

SHINee went around and did their bows and once again were smiling and waving soooo much at everyone. Much different from yesterday. They stood and talked, saying mostly the same thing as yesterday with a few additions. But their attitude was very different. They weren’t standing so stiffly in a line (like they were nudging each other and silently communicating things as they normally would more) and they spoke more comfortably.

Key said “I love you” to Jonghyun in English and sent kisses up to the sky. At one point, the others must have thought he was done talking, because they bowed and Key looked at them like “huh? what?” and shawols laughed.

After each one of them was done speaking everyone shouted their names loudly and cheered for an extended amount of time. I think everyone wanted to get across our support as much as we could. The cheers were especially loud for Onew.

Before they went backstage, we started chanting SHINee as loud as we could. Minho took out BOTH of his in-ears to listen and Taemin clapped his hands high in the air in approval. They waved goodbye and the curtain/partition came down to block them.

We kept chanting for them until they came out to perform the last song. As soon as the lights lit up the mic stands, people all over started shouting “Jonghyun”, just like we’d shouted for the others when they finished speaking during the ending ment.

This song will always be a gut punch. I knew by this point that they were singing “I’m by your side” and Jonghyun’s last line was “I’m by your side always”. This song hurt the most and there’s no contest. They performed it beautifully. At the very end, Key began to cry and put his head down. Minho looked at Jonghyun’s empty place while the recording of his voice played. He really had a rough time too, but not until they’d already finished singing. Yesterday we were silent (well, crying) while they put their roses on their stands and left, but today people shouted for them. I heard plenty of people shout “Jonghyun” again.

It’s a hard way to end the concert, although it’s fitting. The lights come up and they start playing other music, and you’re left there in this other headspace. I didn’t talk to anyone for a few minutes while I gathered myself.

So while today may not have been exactly easy as we might’ve used to think of it, it was definitely easier. There was more genuine happiness. Yesterday I was nearly left feeling like I couldn’t see a way forward, but not today. I’m feeling a lot more optimistic.

I’m glad I got to go to both shows. I think we all needed yesterday, even though it sucked. It didn’t feel good at all. But I think maybe we needed to let it out, all together, and I’m including SHINee in that. Having done that, it was like we were allowed to try and be a little happier. Yesterday was straight-up raw, barren, cold pit in the stomach grief. Today still had a lot of sad, but it was at least a little bit more peaceful feeling. There were still moments where I felt pretty scraped up. But we’re always going to have those.

I hope if you were listening along you could feel the energy change. It was really palpable. Shawols were more ready, and SHINee seemed more ready too. They really managed to turn an experience I was dreading — after that first day, I wasn’t sure I could do it — into something beautiful and touching and honestly, genuinely fun for good parts of it.

Please don’t mind me getting a little personal here, but sometimes I have doubts. I trust SHINee a lot, and I find that they’re generally very open and honest with us. But occasionally I’ll have a little niggling doubt that they’re just saying something because they feel like they have to. I know it’s k-pop — I know that’s not uncommon.

But there are a few things I know for a fact after all of this:

They love each other. (Although I never doubted this)

They love us.

They love this group and treasure what it means to them.

I know that’s all true.

I can’t predict the future, and it’s all scary right now. But I can at least hold on to those things. They tried so hard to reassure us through these concerts, and I think they were also trying to reassure themselves. I hope we did enough for them. I don’t know if we can right now. Before they went off stage, Minho and Taemin put up their pinkies in a promise and we put ours up in return. I really want to keep that promise, no matter what.

They did Jjong proud. I didn’t have a lot of expectations one way or another going in to this. I just wanted to be there. But the concert was put together beautifully and thoughtfully. They did this unimaginably difficult thing with so much bravery, and my heart’s full because of it. I think I cried more writing all this up than I did all day today, just because I’m so incredibly touched by what I saw. I keep having images flash through my head of their earnest expressions, and their smiles, and their little moments of communicating with shawols. I’m in awe of what a special, unique thing we have.

I’ll join the streaming crowd next week for the Tokyo concerts. Until then and forever, let’s keep doing what Minho asked and remember Jonghyun, our wonderful, shining diamond in the sky and fifth member of SHINee.

[gdelgiproducer]

DOTV AU: An Exercise in Alternate History (Part VII)

Parts I, II, III, IV, V, and VI offer more detailed context. (To briefly sum up why these posts are happening: alt history – as in sci fi, not “alternative facts” – buff, one day got the idea that DOTV could have turned out hella different if Jim Steinman looked for a star lead in other places, decided to reason out how that might work.) This is still getting a good response, so I’m gonna keep the train rolling.

Parts of the AU timeline established so far:

Instead of stopping at recording two songs from Whistle Down the Wind on a greatest hits compilation, Meat Loaf wound up taking more of an interest in Steinman’s new theater work than he did in our timeline, and through a series of circumstances found himself volunteering to play Krolock in the impending DOTV when Jim poured out his woes to him about needing to find some sort of star to attract investors. At a loss for any better ideas, Jim accepted Meat’s impulsive proposal, but not without resistance from his manager, David Sonenberg, who proposed Michael Crawford as an alternate candidate. Through quick thinking on Meat’s part, and inspiration on Jim’s, Crawford left the room accepting an entirely different role than he walked in hoping to get, leaving Krolock still open for Meat.

There was a brief speed bump, when Meat disliked Jim’s English script for the show, but after meeting with the original German author Michael Kunze and convincing Jim to compromise, things were on the road to being back on track… at least until 9/11 occurred.

Following a brief hiatus, everyone involved met to re-assess their options. The current game-plan was to put the new script on paper, schmooze with potential investors or producers, and put together a new creative team. Preferably not all at the same time, but with the crunch on, they’d do whatever needed to be done.

So far, the schmoozing has gone well, but everybody that Meat, Jim, and the crew would like to be involved is tentative. The newest conclusion is that they need to show them there’s a working show, and a concert of selections from the score seems to be the route they’re taking, possibly financed by an unlikely source.

Continuing the alternate DOTV timeline, a little differently this time! This time we get a feature on the concert from the New York Post’s own Michael Riedel. Take it away!

VAMPIRES: NEW MUSICAL BLOOD by Michael Riedel

If you’ve heard the buzz on the Rialto of late, you’d be forgiven for wondering if you were having a particularly nasty acid flashback. Dance of the Vampires, a new $15 million musical of the macabre based on the 1967 Roman Polanski movie The Fearless Vampire Killers, is already a monster hit in Austria and Germany, and it’s starting to gather steam here in the States as well, with some... we’ll call it unlikely... star power attached. After all, what other musical (even in a preliminary concert presentation) can boast Courtney Love as an emcee slash investor, and such disparate names as Meat Loaf and Michael Crawford as co-headliners?

Admittedly, Meat Loaf’s presence is slightly less surprising, as the driving force behind the show is Jim Steinman, who wrote Mr. Loaf’s classic Bat Out of Hell albums as well as the lyrics for Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Whistle Down the Wind.  He has written the score and is co-adapting the book for Vampires with playwright David Ives (All in the Timing), who is also currently at work with Steinman for Warner Bros. on a musical version of Batman, from German dramatist Michael Kunze’s original script. He also co-directed this concert with Starmites composer Barry Keating, though early reports that Steinman would be co-directing the eventual Broadway run with Jane Eyre creator John Caird have ultimately been dismissed.

“Roman directed it in Vienna, but he can’t work here because of his legal problems,” Steinman said, referring to Polanski’s indictment for statutory rape in the 1970′s. “He may be the first director who can’t work over here because of a statutory rape charge.” When queried about who then would be directing the New York run, Steinman was tight-lipped, but among those in attendance at the evening’s proceedings was Urinetown’s Tony-winning helmer, John Rando, who is now rumored to be in talks for the slot. Said Rando of the new show, “It takes the vampire myth and pokes fun at it, but it also embraces it. Its message is about the excesses of appetite. It has wit and an edge to it. I’d love to be involved!”

The presentation (at the 499-seat Little Shubert Theatre, about half a mile west of Broadway; events like this cause us rightfully to wonder why it doesn’t see more use) for a by-invitation-only crowd was kicked off by Ms. Love, Hole rocker and widow of Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain, in memorable form. Says a source in attendance, “You could sum it up in two words: too drunk. She was literally falling over. She wasn’t coherent at all.” Managing to gather herself enough to announce that Dance of the Vampires is a musical for people “who think musicals suck,” she didn’t manage to say much else of importance. “It just became a little too sloppy, and she was removed.” Insiders report that Steinman’s manager, David Sonenberg, who is also one of the show’s producers (and a first-timer at that), worried that those involved would be seen as taking advantage of a troubled addict. Ms. Love’s performance did little to dispel this perception. Lucky that representatives from noted L.A.-based promoter Concerts West, major music manager Irving Azoff (who numbers The Eagles, REO Speedwagon, Journey, Christina Aguilera, and Sammy Hagar among his clients), film and music mogul Jerry Weintraub, and Broadway’s own Barry and Fran Weissler were in attendance; a cash infusion from such sources may well be needed to save face if she can’t “live through this,” to twist a phrase from her 1994 album of the same name.

In addition to Sonenberg, already attached to Vampires on the producing side are Andrew Braunsberg (another first-timer, who also produced Polanski’s 1971 film version of Macbeth), Leonard Soloway, Bob Boyett (Sweet Smell of Success, Topdog/Underdog), Lawrence Horowitz (Electra, It Ain’t Nothing But the Blues), and Barry Diller and Bill Haber’s USA Ostar Theatricals. Boyett, a TV producer turned legit entrepreneur, used the phrases “trial by fire” and “going to war,” perhaps because while some novice producers just put up the money, get the credit and run, Boyett says he’s been taking the process very seriously: “I went to all the meetings and learned, like it was grad school.” While some Hollywood types find Broadway “less cutthroat,” Boyett finds it “more restrictive.” He mentions the sheer physical space of the theaters but also all the rules and regulations: "I’ve dealt with unions all my life, but I do find Actors’ Equity is very restrictive to the creative process.” Further, he regrets that Vampires will not have an out-of-town tryout. “I loved the experience of taking Sweet Smell of Success to Chicago,” he says with real enthusiasm, as if the project ended happily. “It was helpful to have the critics say what they did.” Not that Boyett thinks the right message from the critics got to the creative team. 

As for Boyett’s teammates, Bill Haber attended on behalf of USA Ostar, and although he wouldn’t consent to a formal interview, he couldn’t resist answering one question -- and it has nothing to do with Dance of the Vampires. Why is Haber’s other fall production, Imaginary Friends by Nora Ephron, being called a play if it has six songs by Marvin Hamlisch and Craig Carnelia? “It has nothing to do with how many songs there are,” he shot back. “It has to do with the fact that if you took all the songs out, it still works and you still have a play.”

And all this before we even get to the show itself. Vampires is your typical erotic musical about an innocent girl (played this evening by impressive newcomer Mandy Gonzalez, currently standing by for the role of Amneris in Aida and late of Off-Broadway’s Eli’s Comin’) choosing between two lovers, in this case an older, aristocratic vampire (Loaf, whose appearance here marks the first time he has worked with Steinman in theater since the early Seventies) and a hunky young grad student (Max von Essen, who reportedly also appeared in the Steinman/Caird-helmed reading in April 2001) under the tutelage of a rather intensely wacky vampire hunter (Crawford). Given the level of Loaf’s obvious commitment to the piece, it is surprising that his manager (Allen Kovac, of Left Bank Management) was a no-show, and in that light, rumors that Loaf has yet to formally sign on the dotted line for Vampires (in spite of previous announcements to the contrary, no less) prove even more curious. Calls to Kovac’s office were not returned. The rest of the cast, boasting some fine voices indeed, was filled out by assorted Broadway names and members of Meat Loaf’s long-time touring band, The Neverland Express, which also provided accompaniment for the evening under the crisp musical direction of veteran rock bassist Kasim Sulton (best known for his work with Todd Rundgren and Utopia, among others).

Speaking of the music: the score, as per Steinman’s usual style, is appropriately big and Wagnerian, with plenty of luscious, operatic melodies, including one familiar favorite that sticks out like a sore thumb: Steinman’s famous “Total Eclipse of the Heart,” under whose operatic pretensions I swooned as a teenager. “I couldn’t resist using it,” he says of a song that goes, ‘Once upon time there was light in my life / But now there’s only love in the dark.’ “I actually wrote it for another vampire musical that was based on Nosferatu, but never got produced.” Close listening to the CD sampler for interested investors also reveals a rehash of the vigorous “Tonight Is What It Means to Be Young,” his song for the film Streets of Fire, which I saw in Los Angeles in 1984 and sent me racing along Mulholland Drive to keep up with the propulsive beat.

As for the new stuff, maybe 50′s rock ‘n’ roll with a 70′s preen isn’t what the 80-year-olds who constitute Broadway’s audience want to hear (and Jim’s rock-mock-Wagnerian shtick admittedly tends to play better in London and Las Vegas than in Manhattan), but my sources say they knew from the first number --  an angelic trio with a beguiling (what did they used to call it?) melody and some expert (the Andrews Sisters used to do it) harmony -- that this would be my kind of score. Frankly I’m glad; since the prehistoric vinyl days, Steinman has been the guy I keep calling for to rejuvenate, or just plain juvenate, the Broadway musical, in a world where the musical theater establishment pronounces old ABBA records a hip pop sound.

The book, while reportedly in better shape than the April reading, is something else again. From the excerpts on display last night, the mix of bawdy humor and eroticism still needs fine-tuning. Says Sonenberg, “By the time we open, it will be a new version of the show, significantly changed with a view toward a New York audience, but right now it plays very much like the original in several respects.” Adds David Ives, “The German production is probably more faithful to the film, but it’s a fairly humorless show, with people getting hit on the head with salami. And I’ve been brought in to take out the salami and put in the chorus girls, without veering into camp in the process. Now it’s just a question of finding the balance, which, needless to say, isn’t easy. But I like what we’ve accomplished so far: Meat’s character is vastly different, a much more multifaceted, dynamic, complete figure. We’ve also made other changes and cuts and restructured the show into a book musical, with dialogue; the original is all sung. I think we’ve made it a much more interesting story.”

Time, as always, will be the ultimate arbiter of fate.

[writesandramblings]

The Captain’s Secret - p.101

“The Memory of Your Heart”

A/N: There is a scene referenced in this chapter that took place in episode 15 and was not included in this fanfic. Just want to make sure the non-show watchers know they didn't miss anything I wrote; the scene didn't really fit in this story except as a moment of reminiscence. If you rewatch this scene with a mind towards the context it's presented here, though, it really is pretty unnerving.

I'm at the big Star Trek convention in Vegas if anyone wants to drop me a line.

Also, hey, did you catch that the titular captain is Saru? Yep. Planned that one from day one. He ended up with a different secret than originally intended because Lorca lived, but it was Saru all along.

Full Chapter List Part 1 - Objects in Motion << 100 - The Captain’s Secret 102 - Only Then Am I Free >>

The lobby of the opera house was stunning. Swirl-patterned windows rose three and a half stories tall with terraced levels of curving wood and white walls that caught the reflected light of the moonscape outside. Blue and purple plants native to Vorasa system cascaded down like a waterfall of life from the top level, weaving down towards the garden on the first level with bursts of orange and green flowers.

"This is incredible," breathed Tilly, barely able to catch her breath at the sight of it.

Next to her, Stamets was more concerned with the tickets. He smacked his hand twice on the side of the holoticket and the seat numbers fritzed into view along with live directions to reach them. "There we go."

"Couldn't you just live here? If there were beds, I mean, and..." She trailed off, uncertain what else living in a space this immense would require.

"It is stunning," admitted Stamets. There was a time when he might have come here and found the architecture preferable to the music. Now he felt capable of appreciating both.

"Wow," said Tilly, head tilted up towards the ceiling, her feet following the movement of her eyes across a series of rippling metal ribbons arranged along the ceiling. There was a soft impact as she backed into another guest, almost tripping over the trailing hem of a gown. The Bolian she had collided with turned to look at her with wide-eyed surprise. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking—"

The Bolian smiled at Tilly. "It's fine," the woman assured her, sweeping the shimmery, peacock purple fabric of her floor-length gown to the side. "Your first time?"

"Yes," Tilly nodded, excitement overcoming her fluster.

"Enjoy your visit," said the Bolian kindly and resumed her conversation with her companion.

Stamets watched the exchange with a smile of his own. "Making new friends everywhere we go," he gently teased. "Shall we find our seats?" They followed the instructions on the ticket to the middle terrace level and the far left of the auditorium. The theatre itself was shallow but tall—as tall as the lobby—with multiple levels of seating stacked almost on top of one another so every seat had a view of the stage, with the preference being for the audience to be above the performers but a stone's throw back, rather than deep and far away as most theatres on Earth. Elegant scalloping behind the stage directed the sound from the base up towards the top. At the moment, the sound consisted of a gentle, whispering murmur of patrons seeking seats and the orchestra members taking their places, punctuated by notes of instrument tuning,

"We're so high up," said Tilly, feeling slightly queasy. It was impossible not to feel a momentary sense of acrophobia. The theatre was the polar opposite of Discovery's low, modest ceilings and the scalloped back wall of the room created the illusory sensation of leaning over the stage below in a mild optical illusion.

"At least we're not on the front row," said Stamets, because merely standing at the front row of any section was enough to create the sensation of teetering at the edge of a cliff. Species prone to inner ear imbalances like humans were advised to avoid those seats entirely.

They took their seats, Stamets smart in his tuxedo and Tilly looking the picture of elegance in a long black dress and attached capelet. Her red curls were pulled back into a ponytail big enough to be a halo. Stamets listened to the whisper in the air and for a moment it felt like he might hear Culber if he listened closely enough. "Thank you for doing this with me."

"I'm honored you invited me," said Tilly, consulting her program.

The conductor arrived to brief fanfare. As the lights dimmed and the stage came to life, a triumph of horns and flutes played their spirited invitation to the world of Puccini's La Bohème and were joined almost immediately by the voices of the performers.

The notes floated upwards through the air. The movements of the singers were balletic when viewed from above, carefully choreographed to suit the swirling aesthetics of classical Kasseelian culture, and Tilly was soon lost in the music even if she did not understand the exact words.

Stamets was lost in the music, too, but he could barely see the performers through the watery field of his eyes and soon closed them, imagining he was in another time and place with a different companion. He settled back against the plush velvety material of the seat and heard partly the music and partly the memory of Culber, his mind's eye picturing the doctor's smile and the brush of stubble across his jaw. The opera house was forgotten in favor of the soft blue lights of their shared quarters late at night. Moonlight settings they had called it, and the singing became a backdrop to a far more beautiful moment.

Stamets’ eyes only opened when the version of Culber in his mind said, "Come on, we're missing the show."

At intermission, they refreshed themselves with a pair of drinks as Tilly fretted about the wisdom of drinking at all. Taking a bathroom break while the performance was ongoing seemed a terrible social faux pas.

"You're overthinking," Stamets told her.

"You know what? I am!" She downed her drink in one go. "Whew!"

Tilly turned, looking across the crowd to see what else people did during opera intermissions besides imbibe alcohol and saw something on the far side of the terrace that made her face light up with recognition. "Is that..."

Stamets turned in the direction she was looking. Even across such a large room, it was hard to mistake the form of a lului as anything else and impossible to deny the familiar shade of grey-blue epithelial tendrils beneath the gossamer strands of the lului's semitransparent shawl. She was stretched up to the height of a human with the support of a cocktail table. Beside her stood a humanoid in a full environmental suit leaning with one arm on the table and the other on his hip, an angled black cape hiding the slight offense of the environmental suit's vulgarity against the sea of well-dressed operagoers.

"I think it is! Lalana!"

"Don't—" But it was too late. Tilly was already waving her arms to get Lalana's attention and the lului, with her massive eyes that took in whole vistas at a glance, had seen them first. Stamets felt his heart drop.

Approaching the table, Tilly was startled to find she recognized the alien's style of environmental mask. She had seen one exactly like it once before. "Hello Sylvia and Paul!" said Lalana. There were three empty drink tumblers on the table, though how many had gone to Lalana and how many her companion was unclear. (The answer, of course, was that none of the alcohol had gone to Lalana.)

"Fancy meeting you here," was Tilly's cheerful reply. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Omen. May I introduce Paul Stamets and Sylvia Tilly. They were with me during my time on Discovery."

"Pleasure," said Omen, his voice a low metallic timbre that seemed to hint at a darkly wry tone.

Stamets considered the masked figure. The height and build checked out. "I think we've met once before," he ventured. "You were with Lalana when she came to visit my research station the first time. Before Discovery."

There was no audible reply, but the masked figure tilted his head to the side and Stamets could well imagine the dry and disapproving frown.

"Was that where you got the idea?" asked Tilly. Lalana's head twisted in a manner indicating confusion. Tilly gestured to her own head to supply some visual context to supplement her verbal deficiency. "The—Memory Alpha."

"Why, yes," said Lalana. "Omen's species was the source of the design." She began clicking her tongue in a private joke. Lorca figured it out after a moment and shook his head with annoyance at the lameness of essentially saying the design was a human one.

The coincidence was too much. Stamets shot Lorca a sidelong glare. "What brings you here?"

"I am very much a fan of live music, especially singing," Lalana answered. "Gabriel and I used to attend concerts when we would visit Risa."

"Lorca liked opera?" said Stamets, incredulous.

"You're telling me people enjoy this caterwauling?" shot back Lorca, absolutely confirming his identity to Stamets.

"People with good taste," Stamets retorted, though Culber's love of opera had not been something they shared while the doctor was alive. It was only now that Culber was dead and the sound of opera brought him back to life in Stamets' mind that the engineer found he could appreciate the genre fully. "I wouldn't think this would be of interest to... someone like you."

"Likewise," was the response from under the mask. Tilly reacted with momentary surprise at hearing the word, which she associated with O'Malley.

Lalana was untroubled by the tenseness between Lorca and Stamets and said, "I am enjoying it very much!"

"Me, too!" bubbled Tilly, launching into an excited discussion of the specifics with Lalana that lasted until the lights flashed to signal the end of intermission, another one of those Earth customs that had successfully migrated across the Federation as an easily understandable universal cue.

Lalana's presence Stamets could almost understand, but he seriously wondered what Lorca had been doing there. Thankfully, when he and Tilly returned the following year for what soon became an annual pilgrimage, Lorca and Lalana were both blissfully absent.

2259.

They had unleashed a monster into the galaxy. Philippa Georgiou, every bit the bloodthirsty, murderous, opportunistic tyrant she had always been, spent the first few months learning the ins and outs of the universe she had landed in, playing along with the charade requested of her by Starfleet, and when she was satisfied she had enough of an understanding of her circumstances and her enemies, she left a trail of corpses in her wake that sent a ripple of fear across the whole of the Federation.

For the first few weeks after the initial refugee camp massacre, no one suspected it was her. It was not until the massacre repeated in another system, on another planet, that the rumors began to swirl across subspace of a great Starfleet captain gone inevitably insane after a full year of Klingon prison.

Then the rumors shifted subtly, the fringes of the story changing as a new version emerged. Georgiou was not insane, they said, but rather, the sanest person in the universe. She had seen the truth of what was required in the wake of the Klingon conflict and hers was not a way of madness but of strength: a galactic necessity if they were to prevent the Klingons from reorganizing against them in the future.

The Federation, these rumors further claimed, was being taken advantage of by the Klingons and various non-member states. The aid being offered to others was not being returned with anything of value and non-citizen refugees were illegally flocking to Federation worlds, straining resources already depleted by the recent war and taking what rightfully belonged to the Federation's full, legal citizens.

Georgiou was like a virus, her actions and ideas a contaminant, but this time, her contamination had spread far beyond Cornwell, Sarek, and the other wartime leaders who had approved her hydro bomb proposal in the waning days of the war.

Some flocked to this bold legend, exactly as Georgiou knew they would, because they saw the recent Klingon conflict as a sign of things to come and they longed for the authoritarian strength of someone who would crack down on the Federation's enemies in every way possible.

Others retaliated to this evolution of the narrative by doubling down on the claims of insanity. There could be no other explanation for a mental break so total, so complete, and so bloodthirsty.

A further subset of the population saw this new version of Georgiou as proof of the dangers posed by humans and their viral genetic instability and wondered if perhaps the solution to the problem was something else entirely.

Then there were those who knew the truth of who and what Georgiou truly was.

"You must track her down," ordered Admiral Sherak. "You are the only crew who understands what we are dealing with."

"Yes, admiral," Saru agreed, but after three weeks they were no closer to stopping Georgiou and the death toll had risen to seventy-two. Saru and Burnham were forced to confront the fact their knowledge of this universe's original Philippa Georgiou was not translating into an understanding of the Terran emperor.

In the ready room, Burnham standing across the table from him and a fresh cup of salted tea between them, Saru decided it was time to consider a more drastic measure. "Perhaps it takes a Terran to track a Terran," he mused.

Petrellovitz's little behavioral experiment—approved by Sarek at the time of its proposal—had lasted only seven months on Discovery. In the end, it was not Petrellovitz's lack of morals and systematic disregard for experimental safeties that had doomed the venture, it was Michael Burnham's enduring tendency to regard herself as knowing better than everyone around her and correlating habit of inserting herself into every aspect of ship missions and operations under the auspices of this assertion.

Put another way, Petrellovitz could not get along with this universe's Michael Burnham, and Burnham equally did not get along with her. Petrellovitz was used to a version of Burnham that relied on her for science, not one that tried to tell her how to run her own projects. The two were constantly at odds with one another in a way that went far beyond the rivalry Burnham and Saru had been locked into back on the Shenzhou.

They might have continued in this battle of wills indefinitely but Burnham and Petrellovitz were both too clever for that and had come to the mutual conclusion they simply needed to be on different ships. That, thought Saru, was an exemplary conclusion to the experiment that reflected well on both of them. Petrellovitz had since transferred to the USS Lemaître, where she was now a chief science officer.

"I mean, I can help you, but you should ask Omen," Petrellovitz told them over the holocomm. "Keeping tabs on the emperor was never really my thing." Her thing had been the opposite, avoiding the emperor at all costs.

That was what Saru had been afraid of. It seemed there was no way around it in the end. "I assume you can still contact them?"

Petrellovitz hummed and bounced slightly. Being in this universe had revealed an irreverent edge to her personality that had never been able to fully manifest in the mirror universe. "I can. Mac likes to hear from his sister every now and again. In return, I'd like the full, unredacted mission report from your recent jaunt on Nirros V and detailed scans of the next five magnetars you encounter. I'll send my specifications."

"I agree to your terms." Nirros V was more a curiosity than anything else. The incident was not classified, but several personnel details had been purged to protect the privacy of those involved, piquing Petrellovitz's interest. Saru knew she would keep the salient details to herself. She might even reply to him with some insights into how the crystalline entity had caused the polarity instability in the transporter stream.

"What do you think this means for our old experiment?" Petrellovitz wondered aloud.

"It means all Terrans are different," said Burnham, "same as all humans." Petrellovitz smiled at Burnham and terminated the call.

"Send Petra a copy of our Nirros V report as soon as possible," ordered Saru, but Burnham could not leave until she had asked one more question.

"Who or what is Omen?"

"That information is highly sensitive. There is still a chance they will not respond to our request. If they do not, then there is no need for me to tell you."

Four hours later they had coordinates for a rendezvous and Saru was forced to reveal the truth. The look of horror on Burnham's face made clear she interpreted this as a betrayal. "I saw his body."

"What you saw was Einar Larsson. A gruesome ruse on Lalana's part, assisted by Mr. Groves."

Burnham shook her head, still reeling from the shock. "The Lorca I knew would never have been able to lie low this long." In her ideation of Lorca, he was a self-aggrandizing, egotistical manipulator who had thrust himself to the forefront of the Federation's war with the sole intent of using that mythos to schism and conquer the Federation once the Terran Empire was under his sway. At least, that was what she had to believe to justify the way she had watched Georgiou stab him through the chest. Sometimes she still saw his face in her dreams, his eyes twisted with pleading desperation as he reached towards her.

"Perhaps you did not know him as well as you thought," suggested Saru.

"How could they keep this from me?"

Saru sighed in almost human fashion. "I know it has always been a great difficulty for you to 'put yourself in another's shoes,' but I implore you, attempt to do so now. There was no benefit to telling you this. A decision was made by persons higher-ranking than either of us that Lorca's existence must be kept secret. It was my duty to abide by it."

"You know how he was—is obsessed with me."

"I am your captain," said Saru, but warmly, in a tone that felt like a knowing smile, because theirs was now a long friendship centered around mutual respect. "Captains must be able to keep secrets. I have not held many, so I hope you will forgive me for the one. If I thought he posed any threat to you I would have told you regardless. If you do not wish to be present when he is, there is no need for you to see him."

"No," said Burnham, "I'm the first officer on this ship and I'm the reason Georgiou is here in the first place. This mission is more my responsibility than anyone's."

She was worried, though, what seeing him would do to them both.

They waited at the rendezvous point for hours. Even Saru began to doubt if anyone was coming. Then a small, V-shaped cruiser devoid of any identifying marks and with a disabled transponder dropped out of warp almost on top of them and requested to dock. Saru and Burnham waited at the airlock.

None of the three figures on the other side of the airlock were entirely familiar. There was a pale, yolky yellow lului with a splash of darker yellow on its chest and red on its hands, tail, and head. Beside it stood a humanoid in a black and grey environment suit and rebreather helmet with silver latches. A tall grey alien with long, raven-black hair and red eye slits dressed in a navy-blue gown brought up the rear of the group—a Misellian.

"Greetings, Captain Saru," said the lului. "I am Lolalen, and these are my companions Omen and Aeree."

"Changed my mind," remarked the helmeted alien beside the lului in a metallic voice, turning on his heel.

"Captain!" said Burnham. The helmeted figure paused mid-stride. There was a chance that word had not been for him, but Burnham could imagine he wanted it to be.

"Perhaps we should convene in the conference room to discuss the specifics," suggested Saru.

Once the doors were closed and the official record disabled, all pretext was dropped. Lalana shifted back to her usual blue-grey and Lorca hesitantly removed his helmet. There were streaks of silver peppered throughout his hair and the years had crinkled some new lines onto his face, but the eyes were the same.

He did not hold Burnham's gaze. Half a second after their eyes met he looked away, focusing instead on the polished sheen of the conference table, the objects on the side of the room farthest away from Burnham, and finally the stars outside the window as he went and stood there with his back to the assembly. When he spoke, he addressed and responded only to Saru and his crewmates, treating Burnham as if she were some sort of void in the room.

Burnham did not take her eyes off him. She could not understand his behavior.

"We don't need your help," Lorca declared. "We can get her on our own."

"Then why haven't you gone after her before now?" challenged Burnham. "I thought you hated the emperor."

Lorca's fingers twitched behind his back. Burnham could just make out the enduring frown of his reflection. "Why indeed," he sighed to no one in particular, as if her question had come drifting in through the window on some cosmic wind.

"Because there could not be any question as to who had killed her," said Lalana. "We will help you, but only if you leave us out of all reports, official and otherwise, and take all credit for stopping her."

Burnham was confused. "You don't want people to know it was you."

Truth be told, he had always been a self-aggrandizing, egotistical manipulator, and he still was, but he had been forced to temper this against the realities of living on the fringe.

"It would be counter to our role in the universe," said Lalana.

"I was addressing Lorca."

At last he spoke to her, but his eyes remained locked on the stars outside. "Then you're shit out of luck, Burnham, 'cause there is no Lorca. But if you want to put a line in there about the great and mighty Captain Omen, you be my guest."

"Omen," said Burnham. "As in a portent of fate. You haven't changed at all."

Lorca snorted so hard he got saliva in his nose. Burnham was entirely missing the trick to the name. He turned away from the window, keeping his back to Burnham, and addressed the Misellian sitting at the conference table. "Ree! You handle the specs." He grabbed his helmet from the table and stormed out.

"Let him go," Lalana advised Saru and Burnham. "He did not want to come."

Burnham looked at Lalana with pity for how little the lului knew about anything. "That may be what he wants all of us to believe, but that does not make it true. The Gabriel Lorca I remember was obsessed with me."

"Oh, Michael Burnham, it was not that he was obsessed with you, it was that he loved someone who had your face. And when you have lost someone you love, it is such a comfort to still be able to see their face."

The problem, Lorca informed them all once he had calmed down, was that they were trying to track Georgiou down. "You don't track Georgiou, you draw her out to you."

They knew roughly what region of space she was in. From there, it was a simple matter to falsify a set of refugee transfer records, disguise the stealth cruiser as a transport, and fabricate a distress signal for a fake engine emergency.

"Can't be subtle about it. She doesn't go for subtle. Whatever you put in that message, you gotta clobber her over the head with it."

"If it's too obvious, she'll see through it," said Burnham.

"Trust me," said Lorca to Saru. He was still pointedly avoiding looking at Burnham.

While the real refugees hitched a ride on Discovery to somewhere more welcoming than this region of space, Burnham and three of Discovery's security officers boarded the cruiser.

"Welcome aboard the Hayliel," said Lalana.

The ship was dark both inside and out. Its interior felt like being in a hole deep underground rather than the infinite reaches of space and the passages that made up the ship's veins were so narrow Burnham and her entourage could only walk in a single file. It was claustrophobic, dimly lit, and eerily quiet. It felt very Terran.

They arrived in the cargo bay and encountered a fourth crewmember: a young human woman who smirked up at them as she expertly cleaned and reassembled a rifle weapon. "The great Michael Burnham," said the woman, identifying herself as "Simi the Starkiller."

The security officers were permitted to wander the ship freely because, as Lalana said, "Anywhere that you are not allowed, you will not be able to enter." It was an opportunity to familiarize themselves with the layout of the ship and prepare for the coming trap.

Lorca was on the bridge, sitting in the captain's chair and gnawing on his finger in agitation. Burnham took up a position just off to his right, almost but not quite in his eyeline, and kept watch on him from the corner of her eye. He remained clearly displeased by her presence even if he was refusing to actively acknowledge her.

He was not the only one to take issue with the mission. "I am under no obligation to help with missions I do not agree with," said Aeree from what appeared to be an operations station. "That's not the deal. Give me the shuttle. I can still make the rendezvous with Jochrat and complete our objective."

Most humans would not have recognized what Lorca and Aeree were discussing, but Burnham had grown up on Vulcan and knew a Romulan name when she heard one. Exactly what had Lorca and his friends been up to?

"I'm amending the deal," said Lorca. "You want Mac to find out what you did to that cat? No? Well then, you're staying here."

Aeree said in a tone so cloyingly sweet it felt like it was dripping sugary ichor, "You cannot hold that over my head forever, Omen."

"You don't eat a man's cat!" Was that anger or exasperation in Lorca's voice? Burnham could not decide which.

"Even I know that, and I once ate a man," clicked Lalana from the helm controls.

Aeree hissed softly. "Very well, but you are warned," she said nebulously. Burnham was reminded of Lorca's time commanding Discovery. Then, as now, he had created a highly contentious ship environment. She failed to realize that this was a game to them all, and that it had been a game back on Discovery, too, with the sole difference that all the participants on the Hayliel knew they were playing. In time, Lorca would do something that Aeree could hold over his head and the balance of power would be restored between them and perhaps even tip in the Misellian's favor.

They waited. And waited. Lorca's agitation grew to a boiling point and Burnham felt it necessary to point out that the reason the ploy had not worked was likely him. "Our message was too obvious," she announced. "She realized it was a trap."

Lorca jumped up from the captain's chair and stormed out of the room.

"Why did you do that," Aeree hissed at Burnham. "Do you think Omen does not see that possibility?"

"It needed to be said," said Burnham.

Aeree's reply was unequivocally firm. "If everyone in a room knows something, it does not need to be said. You only say things when you think people need to know them and do not already. Do you think we were born yesterday, little Earth child, or that there is any thought in your head that has not already filtered through ours? What are you in the face of a thousand years of experience?"

"Ree, that's enough." Lorca had turned around almost immediately after leaving the bridge and heard most of the exchange from the entryway. "Burnham, with me."

The cruiser was not very big and there were few places to go. Burnham put a hand to the phaser on her hip as she trailed Lorca. She couldn't tell Lorca's mood completely from his back, but his voice was grimly resigned. "Sorry 'bout that. Aeree's a little protective. I'd say she's harmless, but... Her bark is entirely less than her bite."

"If you try anything, I will defend myself," Burnham warned.

Lorca did not respond. Their destination turned out to be a tiny mess hall, surprisingly bright compared to the rest of the ship, with white walls and silver fixtures. A silver table with bench seating took up most of the space. Lorca hit a switch just inside the door and the lights dimmed halfway, shifting the room from glaring white to a more neutral warm cream color he found tolerable. He slid past the table and plucked two cups from a storage cupboard. "When my Michael got tense, it was usually because she was getting peckish."

Burnham watched Lorca's shoulders as he poured coffee into the cups and rummaged for something to serve with it, settling on some sweet rolls. "I'm not your Michael."

"Ree's not wrong. When everyone knows something, sometimes it doesn't need to be said." He pushed one of the coffee cups towards her and sat down at the table.

At last they were sitting across from each other and it became clear the reason he had been avoiding her so thoroughly. He gazed at her with a mixture of melancholy, longing, and relief. A faint smile touched his lips.

This time, Burnham looked away. He sniffed in mildly derisive amusement at her discomfort. "So this is what it's come to. You hate me that much."

When their eyes met again, hers were steady and cold. "I barely think about you. You're nothing but a bad memory that I put behind me a long time ago."

He frowned in annoyance, a frown she remembered from seeing it many times on Discovery, and Burnham was glad; she knew hearing she never thought about him would hurt more than suggesting she possessed any emotion towards him at all. "After everything I did for you," he said, shaking his head. "Without me, you'd still be languishing in Federation prison. Your adopted dad'd be dead in the Yridia nebula, and you wouldn't be back in Starfleet serving as first officer on that ship. A ship I gave you. You ungrateful..." He grabbed his roll and bit off a large chunk, chewing on it angrily.

Burnham was shocked. "You expect me to thank you?" she realized.

He washed the roll down with a swig of coffee and sniped at her, "That'd be a start."

"After everything you did." Burnham shook her head.

"Because of it," he countered.

"You lied. To me, to Starfleet, to everyone."

"What was I supposed to do? You think if I'd waltzed up and said, 'I'm not from this universe,' they'd've given me a ship? I'd have been poked and prodded like a goddamn specimen. I only did what I had to do to get a command."

"You were using us to get back to your universe."

"As if!" He rolled his eyes. It had been the plan, and then it wasn't the plan, and then it was again. The plan had therefore existed in a state of Schrodinger-like uncertainty, both true and untrue, until events had forced it to become a last-ditch desperate effort to retain control of his own destiny. That was all he had ever wanted, really. Control for himself to make up for a life where he'd had none. "I just wanted to keep my goddamn ship." He sighed. "Maybe win that war for you. The right way."

"By bringing the Terran Empire here to 'save' us just so you could turn around and crush us beneath your heel and become emperor of two universes."

"Now that," said Lorca, "sounds like something the other you would've come up with. Maybe I could've managed it. Imagine, the might of two universes united, the possibilities." That was one way things could have played out and he would have been entirely satisfied to make it so. There was no denying it was a solution he had considered. "But if I had..."

If he had gone through with that course of action, he would have lost her. The only thing he had left of Michael. In the end, he'd lost her anyway, but at least it was not because he had intentionally set them down a path towards that inevitability.

"Then what was your plan?"

"Well, now you'll never know, will you."

Had he been feeling more generous, he might have told her his secret. There had never been one plan, there had always been twenty. His brilliance was in coming up with plan after plan so that in the moment, he could make the most of whatever fate had presented him in a way that seemed intentioned. He made the plans and fate chose among them.

Burnham glared at him as she sipped her coffee. Despite his denials, she felt she knew the truth. He was a liar and had always been.

Another sigh. "I didn't bring you in here for this. When I first became this universe's Gabriel Lorca, someone gave me a gift. A story. Funnily enough, a story was the gift I gave my Michael. It's time I gave you one, too."

A lie, she thought to herself, but the story he told felt true.

"I've got a scar on my back. From an agonizer, handheld. Spot where it is, can't quite reach it myself. Which is exactly what the person who put it there intended. She liked to put scars in that spot so her victims would have to debase themselves by asking for help to get rid of 'em. I even did a few times. I hated that scar so much. Every time I got rid of it, she'd put it right back. The last time she put it on my back was just before I came here. Now, I coulda had someone in this universe remove it the minute I arrived because no one here knows what the scar is or what it means, but I didn't. You know why?"

Burnham waited, sensing he did not require her to ask the question.

"She had the same scar on her back. My Michael. I swore I'd keep it until I took down the person who gave it to us both. So thank you, Burnham. It looks like now I finally get that chance."

Knowing that Georgiou was in the habit of marking people on their backs like chattel was disturbing but Burnham held herself firm and said coldly, "That doesn't excuse what you did. Georgiou told me how you groomed the other me."

Lorca's stare was uncharacteristically surprised. "Did she? That's funny. You ever think Pippa mighta been describing herself?"

Until this moment, Burnham never had, because she couldn't possibly imagine the original Captain Georgiou doing anything like that.

Then she remembered a moment before she, Georgiou, Tilly, and Tyler had beamed down to Qo'noS to deliver what turned out to be a hydro bomb. How Georgiou had lit up at the sight of Tilly, stroked her hair, called her "Killy" in a way that sounded like a personal pet name. A knot of revulsion formed in Burnham's stomach. "No. You tricked the other me."

"You don't give the other you enough credit. I couldn't make that girl do anything she didn't wanna do. You have that in common. And she... she always knew she had me wrapped around her little finger." Lorca smiled, his eyes faraway as he recalled his Michael. He had committed a cardinal sin where the other universe was concerned, just not the sin Burnham thought he had. Sins were defined a little differently for Terrans. "She was the one wanted to be emperor. I was just happy to help."

Burnham instantly saw the flaw in the logic he was offering. "She was the emperor's heir. She didn't need your help."

"You think she was Pippa's one and only? Georgiou was fickle and vindictive. Still is, thanks to you. Michael and I lasted longer than most. Didn't mean we were safe. So we took a gamble. Together." He closed his eyes. "I still see her sometimes. My Michael."

If only Burnham had stayed with him in the other universe and taken up the mantle of emperor. He wished he could have seen some version of Michael on that throne. His end goal had always been to remove Georgiou and replace her with someone who would not debase him, threaten his life constantly, and take away the things he loved. Someone who would allow him the autonomy to fly freely across the expanse of the stars. Michael had exceeded his expectation in every regard.

Aeree's voice came over the comms. "Omen, we detect them."

Lorca's eyes snapped open and he smirked confidently. "Time to put on a show."

At the show's conclusion, Georgiou was flat on her back in the middle of the Hayliel's cargo bay, pinned mostly beneath a cargo crate, with Lorca's boot on her wrist and a Romulan disruptor pistol aimed at her head. Burnham stared at this reversal of fortune with panic. "No!"

"King of the misfits," Georgiou said venomously, reviving an old nickname of Lorca's. In their universe, that was what he had been: leader of the aberrations who pursued things other than power. People like Matthew Kerrigan, Jackson Benford, and Emellia Petrellovitz. There were plenty around him who were there for power, but enough that weren't to earn them revulsion.

"Emperor of nothing," he responded.

"Do it," Georgiou hissed.

Burnham walked slowly towards Lorca, her hands outstretched in a plea, her own phaser set to stun. "There's no reason for us to kill her."

"She had her chance," said Lorca. "You really wanna give her another one, Michael?"

"Yes." A chance to go to Federation prison, but a chance nonetheless.

"You didn't give me a chance."

Burnham stopped. There were always signs, of course. Pahvo, the Yridia nebula, Corvan, his attempts to rescue, protect, and help her. Moments that to Burnham were obfuscated by his darkness, his cruelty, his contempt for the people around him, and his apparent obsession with her.

She raised her phaser into the air in a sign of peace. "I'm giving it to you now."

He holstered his disruptor and stepped away. At last, long last, Burnham could see who he was.

At the end of it all, Burnham made an offer she did not expect to make. "I cannot offer you what you had with your Michael, but... If you wish to communicate..."

"No. You've been talking to Lalana." He turned towards her, years of sadness reflected in his eyes. "You know what the worst thing in the universe is? Watching the face of someone you love turn against you. I look at you and I see..." His voice began to break. "You standin' there, staring at me... I just wanted one more moment with her. One last moment. I gave you back the stars and you wouldn't even give me that!"

She could see that moment, too. A terrified face, staring at her with shocked betrayal, falling to the floor with a wound worse than the physical hole in his chest.

"I don't want to see you. I don't wanna be near you. I wish I'd never—" But he couldn't finish that sentence because it wasn't true. "I wish things had been different. But I want you to know, I forgive you."

Burnham stared at him, confused.

"For thinking the worst of me."

2260.

"We are not far from Risa," said Lalana. "We should visit Sollis and Caxus. They have been asking to see you." As with Stamets and Tilly and that seemingly calculated encounter on the Kasseelian moon, Lorca was abiding by the strict rules set out by Starfleet. He scrupulously avoided contacting anyone from his time on Discovery or the other Lorca's life.

Lalana had made no such agreement. When O'Malley mentioned where Tilly and Stamets were headed, Lalana brought Lorca to give him the chance to antagonize Stamets one last time as a small consolation gift. Also because, as much as Lorca loved pushing Stamets' buttons, he still liked Stamets in his own way.

The thought of visiting Risa made Lorca uncomfortable. Out of all the people who had known the other Lorca, he had not managed to trick any of them for very long, and by all accounts, Sollis and Caxus knew the other Lorca very, very well. He pointed this out.

"Do not worry," said Lalana. "It is you they wish to meet. I knew they could keep a secret and so I told them who you were."

"That wasn't your secret to tell," Lorca chided.

"Wasn't it?"

In the end, they could not go to Risa because it was too much a risk. Sollis and Caxus came to them, beaming aboard the Hayliel after very carefully confirming Lalana was standing far enough away that there was no danger of materializing where she was standing. Lorca shielded his eyes from the blinding white light of the transport. Since they were not headed down to the planet, he had seen no reason to spray his eyes that morning and now he was being rewarded with a wincing pain for his sulking laziness.

"Sollis and Caxus, it is so wonderful to have you on my ship at last. May I introduce Gabriel Lorca?"

Lorca lowered his hand and squinted at their guests, unsure what to make of them as his eyes adjusted.

He froze with his arm hovering in the air. It was her. Impossibly, unbelievably, and miraculously her, and because Risians lived much longer than humans, she looked much the same as she had back then. Those unmistakable emerald-green eyes, the cascade of wavy honey-brown hair, sun-kissed skin and a smile that made you want to drop everything and run to wherever she was.

These details had been entirely diminished in the version of her he had once known, but here they were presented in full radiance, and she was even more stunning.

"You're Sollis?" he asked.

Sollis smiled. "Like the word 'solace' in your language, meaning comfort."

Lorca had never known her name. In his universe, it was likely she had never had one. Many slaves were never given names or were taken from their parents at such young ages they never knew them. If he could have chosen a name for her, though, it would have been exactly that. Solace was what she had been, the other version of her, for that brief moment until Georgiou took her away and created a wound that lasted until he found new purpose in Michael. Now, here she was again, entirely restored. He could scarcely breathe at the sight of her.

Sollis could tell there was something more to this than a mere first meeting. She could see the pain and shock and sensed it was connected to her. There was a lopsidedly helpless yet hopeful smile on Lorca's face, a wish he could not speak, and a despair just beneath it.

She decided to do something about it. She approached, arms raised, and hugged him. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she said.

He wrapped his arms around her after a moment, returning the hug more tightly than he should have. Her hair smelled faintly of flowers and the sea. Destiny, he decided. It was destiny. "I've missed your face," he said softly in a whisper only she could hear.

She smiled and closed her eyes, because even if this was not her friend Gabriel Lorca, there was no denying she felt the same. "I missed yours."

Standing to the side, Lalana and Caxus watched this display of desperate familiarity without judgment. Caxus touched a finger to his lips in a pensive motion Lalana recognized all too well. "This Gabriel is a little more of a one partner person," she advised.

"That's disappointing," said Caxus mildly.

"Nn. He is a very good Gabriel Lorca, but he will never be our Hayliel, not entirely."

Caxus reached over and twined his fingers around Lalana's tail. "There was only one Hayliel Lorla."

Watching Lorca and Sollis with unblinking eyes, Lalana pressed her hands together thoughtfully. She was reminded for a moment of Mischkelovitz's sacrifice—a sacrifice intended to save some other version of Gabriel Lorca in what Mischkelovitz believed was the original timeline. If Mischkelovitz was right, then maybe there were two Gabriel Lorcas in the world she had gone to, and maybe one of them was Hayliel.

Except John Allan had gone back in time to the Triton and put Hayliel in Lalana's path. That probably meant in the original timeline, Lorca and Lalana had never met and shared the things they shared here. If so, there was only one Hayliel Lorla, and he was gone.

How happy she was to have ever known him. How much she wished to see him again. All she had left was his reflection from the other universe.

Part 102

[meeedeee]

Final Fantasy FXV: Thoughts RSS FEED OF POST WRITTEN BY FOZMEADOWS

When I first heard that FFXV was going to break with franchise tradition by having an all-male central team, I was more than a little surprised. Final Fantasy has always been distinguished as much by its memorable – and central – female characters as by any other element; which is why, somewhat paradoxically, I never felt particularly angry about the switch, either. As a whole, video games are still male-dominated in a way that frequently sets my teeth on edge, but Final Fantasy has a strong line of credit with me: whatever my thoughts on the state of gaming as an industry – and while criticism of Square Enix’s decision in this context is nonetheless valid – I felt I could still attempt the game itself.

Thus far, at roughly eight hours in – which is, I’m aware, not very far at all – I’m enjoying myself immensely, though possibly not in a way that was intended. And in order to satisfactorily explain why that is, I first need to say a little about my history with the franchise.

The first Final Fantasy I ever played was VIII, which always made me something of an oddity among my friends: unlike everyone who started the series at VII or earlier, I had no established sense of how the combat system ought to work, and so took the VIII model, which was a widely-hated departure from canon, as my yardstick for the series. This meant I was not only frustrated by the traditional setup used in VII and IX, but irritated by the more cartoonish character designs. Which isn’t to say that I disliked either game, exactly: just that they were always less beloved to me than VIII and, later on, X and XII, whose advanced graphics and combat systems more closely resembled what VIII had been trying – with, admittedly, more ambition than success – to achieve.

Even now, XII remains my favourite Final Fantasy. The writing and voice acting were both incredible, and even though Vaan, rather than Ashe, was the POV character, I loved the departure from canon that made him a non-romantic participant in her narrative. By contrast, XIII was a clusterfuck, so much so that I quickly set it aside as unplayable: the writing was naff, the voice acting melodramatic (with the single exception of Sazh), the premise confused and the combat frustratingly garbled. I couldn’t understand how the best aspects of XII had been so thoroughly disregarded, and as such, I never bothered with the sequel, which makes XV the first new Final Fantasy I’ve played since 2010.

Aesthetically, then, XV is paying a great deal of homage to my favourite games in the series – VIII and XII – which predisposes me to love it. The opening premise of an invading empire and a missing heir to the throne is evocative of both Galbadia and Archadia, with Noctis’s early quest to recover lost weapons from ancient tombs running a close parallel to Ashe’s quest in XII. The fact that Noctis, Prompto, Ignis and Gladio spend the game driving around in a sports car might seem ridiculous on the surface, especially if you’ve got a preference for the airships of VII, IX and XII, but only if you’ve forgotten the convertibles and jeeps of VIII, where driving on the worldmap was also a feature, and where fancy cars were a staple of the more dramatic cutscenes.

In fact, there’s always been something of a roadtrip vibe to a lot of the Final Fantasy games, and not only in terms of the main party journeying thither and yon across multiple fictional worlds. The many flashbacks to Lord Braska’s pilgrimage in X show him broing it up with Auron and Jecht (to whom Gladio bears more than a superficial physical and vocal resemblance), while their decision to sphere-capture their adventures is a clear forerunner to Prompto’s photography. VIII didn’t lack for female characters, but the initial SEED test features a grumpily all-male party, with Squall, Zell and Seifer forced into a temporary alliance. Squall and Zell were always something of an odd pair, but delightfully so, and their dynamic has been revived – and, I’d argue, improved – in the byplay between Noctis and Prompto. Likewise, Ignis’s dry drawl and dryer expression are more than a little reminiscent of Balthier, though his dutiful priorities make him a closer equivalent to Auron and Basch.

In other words, the four protagonists of XV are themselves a homage to the male relationships of previous Final Fantasy games, and quite clearly so. Together, they interact much as you’d expect of a quartet of twentysomething men, joking and snarking at each other in equal measure. The writing and voice acting aren’t as good as XII, but they’re nowhere near the abysmal mess of XIII. I’d peg them as being on par with X: naff at times, but somehow endearingly so, and overall engaging. Granted, the background plot is complex – it helps to have watched the prequel movie, Kingsglaive, and there’s also an accompanying anime series – but part of what makes the quartet watchable is how clearly established their friendship is: we’re getting to know the characters by how they know each other.

As far as the gameplay and levelling systems go, I’ve got no complaints thus far. Even without being able to run through the full tutorial for fighting – my version kept glitching when it came to learning how to warp – I’ve still found it intuitive to use. It’s a dissimilar combat system to most FF games, in that it’s not turn-based, but neither is it as blindingly fast-paced or poorly-designed as the system used in XIII, and the ability to warp to targets makes for some engaging tactical options. It helps that I’ve just come off a huge Dragon Age: Inquisition jag: my preferred approach to combat in both games can best be described as “running in headfirst with a large sword and hitting things until they fall down,” with magic and projectile weapons left on auto until or unless I’m specifically forced to use them. Players who favour different tactics might have more complaints to level here, but for my purposes, it works just fine.

But what I’m really loving about XV is the extent to which – I assume unintentionally – it’s both hilarious and heavily queercoded.

I’ll deal with the latter first, because it’s arguably the more contentious point. Let me be clear: I’m not for one second giving Square Enix props for deliberately creating queer representation here, because I don’t think for a second that it’s what they actually meant to do – or at least, if they’re trying to muddle vaguely in that direction, then they haven’t had the guts to confirm it. Culturally, the lines we draw been homosocial and homosexual behaviour tend to be as historically arbitrary as they are fiercely policed, with any overlap subject to argument on both sides. But cultural differences is, I suspect, a large part of why XV reads the way it does: the game is originally Japanese, and in trying to cater to both Japanese and Western masculine ideals, Square Enix has wandered into what plays as a rather spectacularly queer compromise.

First and most obviously, there’s the wardrobe issue. Clearly, the all-black leather aesthetic is meant to look Manly and Cool and Deeply Heterosexual In A Traditionally Masculine Way, and if the designs were simple, functional and militaristic, then that would probably work, even given the youth and beauty of the characters (more of which shortly). But Final Fantasy, like a great many Japanese properties, is famous for its distinctive clothing designs, which means the characters look less like soldiers and more like scene kids en route to a metal concert. Specifically: Noctis and Prompto look like they shop at Hot Topic, Ignis is wearing Cuban heeled boots, driving gloves and seme glasses (seriously) and Gladio consistently looks like he’s posing for a Grindr photo. Like. I’m aware that he’s meant to be the most hypermasculine  straight male self-identification fantasy of the four, what with the scar and the tattoos and the devastatingly Japanese mullet, but generally speaking, ripped guys in open leather shirts and tight leather pants are more visually reminiscent of Mardi Gras than the military. I’m just saying.

The fact that you can customise their outfits (to a degree), and that picking a new wardrobe changes their stats, isn’t a new development: in fact, it’s something the franchise first introduced with dress spheres in the all-female X-2, which makes its presence in the all-male XV a subtly pleasing symmetry. And yet it runs up against a standard of masculine gaming: changing your armour is one thing, because armour is Manly, but changing your clothes – which, stat bonuses or not, is what we’re functionally talking about – is something else entirely. It’s a truly strange demarcation, because there are plenty of instances where video game characters change outfits of their own accord, in cutscenes or for plot-specific purposes, or where the change represents a specific, all-over upgrade. But the option to alter the appearance of male characters for largely aesthetic reasons – to change how they look to you, the player, in clothes that are recognisably modern and fashionable – is not, I suspect, a common feature of games aimed at heterosexual men, nor is the in-game implication of the characters toting around a bunch of fancy matching outfits a particularly straight-coded thing.

And, okay. Even though we queer folk often telegraph our identities through fashion, there’s a degree of reductive stereotype inherent in judging sexuality on the basis of clothing choice, and if that were the only issue here, I wouldn’t have brought it up. (Except, of course, to point out the truly delightful ridiculousness of watching four goth boys run around the countryside in full club gear, often while complaining about the temperature. It’s like they’re headed for Glastonbury with monsters.) But the queercoding of XV is a package deal: it’s not just the clothes, but the clothes in combination with the characters themselves, the dialogue they’re given, and the way the four of them occupy the game.

Specifically: Final Fantasy is a gaming franchise that’s well aware, historically speaking, of its very large female fanbase. Even though the majority of the games have male protagonists, they’ve traditionally been designed for a straight female gaze – and more, I would argue, a teenage female gaze, given that the characters are usually in their teens or very early twenties – in line with aesthetics more Japanese than Western. Former heroes like Cloud, Squall, Zidane, Tidus and Vaan might be formidable warriors in-game, but they’re never beefed up: they’re overwhelmingly built lean, with much longer, more stylised hair than you typically see on masculine Western characters. They wear jewellery – often visible in their base character designs, and not just as a hidden accessory slot – and offhand, aside from various weird lines around Cloud crossdressing in VII, I can’t think of any real instances of sexism or misogyny from those characters that aren’t actively shut down. In fact, the number of female characters in the earlier games ensures that, in addition to any love interests, the leading men also have platonic female friends – something that’s still damnably unusual in most forms of media, let alone in video games.

All of which, thus far, holds true in XV, too: Princess Lunafreya, Noctis’s intended bride, is his childhood friend, as is Gladio’s sister, Iris. When the game begins, Noctis and his friends are travelling to meet Lunafreya before their (politically arranged) wedding; when everything goes awry because betrayal and empire, they’re forced to regroup and end up hanging out with Iris, who has escaped to the city of Lesallum. That’s where I’m up to so far, and what immediately stands out to me, as someone who spent a not inconsiderable portion of their adolescence and early twenties hanging around single straight guys, is the fact that the quartet barely ever talk about women at all. And the thing is, I can see why it’s been done! Final Fantasy has a heavy female fanbase, and in any case, they’re not the sort of games where the male soldiers sit around reminiscing about sexual conquests. But contextually, because of the way the game is presented – four friends driving and talking shit in real time, mocking each other, while initially on the way to see one of them married – the lack of talk about sex or romance of any kind is jarring.

Which isn’t to say the subject of women never comes up at all; it’s just that, when it does, the overwhelming impression is of dialogue written with a female audience in mind, but without any awareness of the queercoding implications of its delivery by these particular male characters. This means, for instance, that there’s a scene where the boys find a magazine article about Lunafreya’s wedding dress, and all of them start cooing about how beautiful it will be; Ignis notes that the dress is bespoke, designed by Vivienne Westwood, and Prompto starts enthusing about how pretty Lunafreya will look in it. In Hammerhead, the buxom mechanic Cindy, whose character design is clearly meant to please the straight male players, is someone who, in real life, you’d expect a bunch of straight boys on an ostensible stag trip to talk about. Except that they never do; and instead, the one time there’s a reference made to Gladio “chatting someone up,” it turns out to be a grumpily endearing scientist who wants you to go catch some frogs as penance for interrupting her research.

And then there’s Noctis taking a tour of Lestallum with Iris. Throughout this mini-quest, you’re given a set of binary conversational options to either encourage Iris in her enthusiasm for the town, or to disapprove. Then, at the end, she coyly suggests that being on the tour was almost like a date – an assertion you can either play off lightly, or outright deny: pointedly, there is no option to agree. If you deny, she laughs and says “you could at least play along for once,” suggesting that Iris knows Noctis isn’t interested in her and is willing to tease him about it – an odd thing to include, if you don’t want the audience to wonder about his preferences.

A little earlier in the game, Prompto asks Noctis what he ought to take more photos of: apart from declining, the only options are “me” (meaning Noctis), Ignis or Gladio. Again, there’s a gameworld logic to this – the photos are ultimately viewed by the player, who gets to pick which character they want to record the most – but in terms of the impact in setting, this is not an outstandingly heterosexual moment. Very possibly, there exists a group of straight bros whose designated photographer is happy asking, “Hey bro, which of our friends do you want to see more in pictures?” in an established No Homo way, and if so, more power to them. But if you want to find a context where that sort of exchange is an everyday thing, then look no further than the queer regions of Instagram. (Plus, it’s kind of conspicuous how often Prompto, when assessing the day’s photos, comments on how good Gladio the Perpetually Shirtless looks.)

And then there’s the occasional quirks of dialogue and voice acting: choices that, again, would be minor on their own, but which collectively become suggestive of something specific. Early on, Cor sends Gladio, Prompto and Ignis to make a distraction at a military blockade while he and Noctis sneak inside: the gambit is successful, and when the group reunites afterwards, Gladio says cheerfully, “The Niffs couldn’t keep their eyes off us!”. To which Ignis quips, in reference to Noctis and Cor’s arrival, “You spared us their attentions.” Offhand, I can think of about a dozen different ways to word that exchange that don’t remotely brush up against innuendo, and which are far more colloquially and contextually apt besides. The eyes/attentions combo is the kind of thing you’d expect a pair of femme fatales to say after seducing the guards and knocking them out in an action movie. (The fact that we don’t actually witness the initial distraction only adds to its ambiguity.) And yet, this is what they’ve gone with.

Other examples are smaller, but they all add up. Whenever you find new ingredients for Ignis to cook with, he stops to announce, with particular vocal flamboyance, that he’s just thought up a new recipe (exclamation mark!), and whips out a notebook to jot it down. (“I’ll taste test for ya,” Gladio says, in a playfully growling tone that always seems to have one eye on the bedroom.) And then there’s Prompto, who I’m inclined to think of as a confused bisexual puppy, whose voice turns dreamily fanboyish when discussing Cor’s exploits, and who gets just as excited on receiving Cor’s praise as he does at the prospect of seeing Lunafreya in her pretty wedding dress.

Put this all together, then, and what you have are a bunch of young men who are, by Western standards, more pretty than handsome, dressed in fashionable clothes and accessories that are more evocative of queer or queer-friendly subcultures than not, and who care enough about their appearance to have multiple outfits on hand at any given time. (You can, if you’re willing to sacrifice an accessory slot to aesthetics, buy hair gel for them to use.) These men are knowledgeable about fashion, have a platonic concern for the women they encounter, are constantly photographing one another for each other, have zero comments to make about the stupidly hot female mechanic unless they’re praising her competence, and whose idea of “chatting someone up” apparently means “talking to the grumpy frog lady about the local wildlife population”. This isn’t me leaping to conclusions, here: in the immortal words of Buffy Summers, I took a tiny step and there conclusions were.

All of which is a way of saying that, thus far, I’m delighted with Final Fantasy XV, though not in the ways I’d expected. The characters and setting are a homage to my favourite games in the series, and while I worried the absence of female characters would grate on me, our quartet of bumbling chocobros is stupidly endearing. At this point, Noctis is functionally useless as a prince: even when he’s recognised, the local yokels have no qualms about asking him to take their deliveries or run their errands, and while random sidequests are an RPG staple, they’re usually somewhat tailored to the protagonist’s perceived status. In FFXV, everything is rendered hilarious by the fact that Noctis is a prince, and is seen as a prince, and is still being asked to catch frogs in a swamp and grab shit from some random marketeer’s broken van.

(He’s also gloriously introverted: in dealing with people, his responses usually vary from monosyllabic to resigned disinterest, but when you come across a stray cat in need of feeding – a tiny sidequest that’s a deliberate throwback to Squall doing likewise in VIII – he talks to it at greater length and with more enthusiasm than he otherwise displays with anyone.)

As far as I’m concerned, FFXV is a magic road trip with a bunch of queer boys who have their wardrobes together, but not their shit. I can identify. And so, I suspect, can everyone else who’s fallen into the trashpile of this visually beautiful, thematically mishmash game. I honestly don’t care about the random anachronisms, like the fact that they’re carrying smartphones and fighting magic robots, but still using paper maps and newspapers, to say nothing of using a fucking dog as a messenger for vital correspondence through a warzone – or rather, I do care, but only because the clear discontinuity of it somehow plays as a feature instead of a bug. The entire thing ought to be ridiculous, and it kind of is, but pleasingly so, like a cat in a Halloween costume. The characters don’t take each other seriously, which frees the player up to do likewise – to laugh with them, rather than at them. And frankly, I’ll take that over XIII’s self-important melodrama any day of the week.

  from shattersnipe: malcontent & rainbows http://ift.tt/2mJ436t via IFTTT

[martechadvisor-blog]

Lessons from SAP’s Digital Transformation to Drive an ‘Even Better Customer Experience’

  While SAP’s ‘Even Better Customer Experience’ strategy guides their digital transformation efforts, Employee and Partner Experience remain central to CX success. SAPs Chief Digital Officer and I talk about the ideal balance between data, analytics, technology and martech tools to deliver winning Customer Experiences well into 2020 and beyond. Digital transformation is not new. In fact, we hardly hear about it anymore because it is so mainstream – each business leader is responsible for digitization of their business at the front and back-end – it’s not the domain of one or two in-house evangelists alone. So, of course, we were intrigued when we heard that SAP has a Chief Digital Officer. SAP is at the forefront of technology and cutting-edge customer experience initiatives. What could a CDO be expected to bring to the table, and what are the lessons for enterprises building their CX story in a changing digital world?

Bertram Shulte, the Chief Digital Officer at SAP, is responsible for helping the entire organization deliver one seamless digital customer experience. As the facilitator of change that needs to occur on many levels within this complex behemoth of a company, he oversees digital customer strategy for SAP across sales, customer success, and support. According to Bertram, the CDO’s mandate is to “drive ‘cross-functional change projects’ in key organizational processes, by leveraging the opportunities digital technology presents. The CDO is tasked to be the driving force in a company’s digital transformation journey, including shifting the company and functional stakeholders into a digital mindset.” His view indicates that digital transformation is far from done – because space itself is evolving, the meaning and complexity of digital transformation will continue to evolve as well. It’s going to remain WIP for companies that don’t want to stop pushing the boundaries of what CX can be or do.

An ‘Even Better Customer Experience’

I ask Bertram to share with us the key milestones in SAPs own Digital Transformation journey so far.  Given the sheer size and complexity, how does a CDO cut through all the many things to focus on, and prioritize the things that really matter? “As a global company, SAP’s digital transformation journey looks different than smaller organizations.  However, that (size) doesn’t mean that we can’t simplify the buying process for our customers and provide top-notch service for every Individual, at scale. A key driver is the desire to put the customer first.” So, what does he prioritize, in his role as CDO at SAP?

“My top priority has been to deliver a successful no-touch or low-touch experience for our customers - in close concert with our field sales organization. This approach supports our goal of a real ‘omni-channel experience,’ and digital is one of the channels supporting the entire customer lifecycle.”

This is a tricky one. I’ve been talking to several CMOs about this new challenge of finding the balance between automated, digital, no-touch customer interactions – what with the chatbot, AI and Duplex wave - and the need for real human contact. For example, T-Mobile’s recent unCarrier initiative promises that you will only talk to real humans when you contact customer service.

Bertram gives me the SAP perspective on this. “While there are points during this lifecycle where a personal, face-to-face connection is preferred by the customer, 80 percent of our customers want digital access, and our digital transformation enables them to interact digitally with us for all their needs.” Of course, it comes back to understanding your customer and their expectations before designing the Experience. “SAPs highest digital transformation priority in 2018 has been to create an ‘even-better customer experience’ – one with more transparency and a streamlined path to purchase. Take SAP’s ‘no-touch’ direct purchasing method. A customer looking for an analytics solution, for example, can go to SAP.com, find a full product section with transparent pricing; purchase the product; and receive a purchase confirmation. The whole process is seamless. Clear calls-to-action lead into a fully integrated try-and-buy experience right on the product page.”

Also read: Who benefits from Chatbots? Customers or Employees?

Transforming our Approach to Digital Transformation

Digital transformation no longer means just automation and efficiencies at scale. Today, digital transformation centers around Experience at both – the back end and the front end. Bertram agrees that Experience is a multi-functional priority that directly impacts business outcomes. While there is a clear business case to prioritize and invest in CX, Bertram reminds us that for an ‘even better CX,’ businesses need to prioritize partner and employee experiences too. “As you build experiences along the buying journey you have to prioritize that for customers, employees, and partners, building a unified experience that simplifies and improves interactions for all parties involved.”

Sound good to me, I think, but what are the practical challenges in really aligning the larger organizational outcomes with functional outcomes when it comes to experience-led digital transformation?

At SAP, Bertram tells us, the obsessive focus on customer experience is the guiding north star and sets the priorities across the organization. “Anytime a company is implementing a new protocol – whether it’s a new way for customers to buy online (external) or new procedures for engaging with partners (internal) – how a business handles this change internally will drives success or failure of the program. Internal infrastructure (i.e., processes and policies) is a large part of what drives digital experience for customers.”

My takeaway is that whether the experience we are out to deliver is internal or external, while the guiding north star must be the Customer Experience; the starting point must an internal stakeholder experience that sets it up the initiative for success.

Also read: When Legacy Brands meet Digital Transformation: Insights for a Smoother Journey

Data, Analytics, MarTech and AI: the core components of a technology-enabled CX strategy

Today, we operate in a time where seamless digital CX is supported by intelligent analytics to drive true personalization. Thanks to an unprecedented democratization of AI/ML technology, supported by huge volumes of omnichannel data, the ideal CX is well within sight. Unfortunately, many CMOs are still held back by SaaS ‘Frankenstacks’ built in days when martech tools brought agility and freedom from IT they never enjoyed before. What would Bertram advise a CMO looking to balance the data, technology, and tools to deliver winning experiences?

“To begin, CMOs must put their customer needs first. That helps frame the story. This means managing and delivering a seamless customer interaction across any channel.

Next, comes the data. Building a cohesive data management strategy can be one of the most challenging jobs for any C-level executive. CMOs must navigate Customer Relationship Management (CRM), Customer Data Platforms (CDP), identity resolution, third-party customer data, and assess all viable data management solutions. Data carries the holy grail; have a clear framework where and how your customer data, profiles, and all other master data resides, and fiercely stick to it. Such a framework also provides the flexibility to play with various pilots and yet remain consistent in everything you do.

When it comes to the tools and martech stack, aside from starting in the data layer, CMOs should put themselves in the role of the customer. The customer doesn’t care how complex or integrated the underlying technology is – she only cares about an amazing experience. CMOs can start by visualizing every step of the customer journey, prioritizing what truly matters to a customer, then implementing that vision. If you map out what the customer wants, the underlying technology falls into place. All of SAPs no-touch motions are powered by a new digital customer experience that incorporates multiple SAP systems, integrated into one seamless customer experience. Start with the customer, and the technology stacks follow.”

And what about Enterprises that don’t have the sophisticated technology that SAP can access because they happen to make it themselves? What typical missteps do CMOs in less ‘tech-savvy’ industries – from hospitality to the automotive sector - make when it comes to building a technology-enabled Customer Experience (CX) strategy in the digital, connected world?

Also Read: CX, Data and Tech: 3 Key Digital Transformation Imperatives for CMOs

“The most common is when non-tech companies ignore technology. Many companies and CMOs think that if their direct business falls outside the purview of technology, then it’s okay to ignore, which couldn’t be further from the truth. In reality, it may be even more important to get the CX technology right since it’s usually a lower priority, and therefore not updated and thought about with any regularity.

Another common mistake is an overreliance on transporting the old ways of doing business into a new digital format. It’s not as simple as cut and paste. What works for a non-digital CX strategy may not translate well to a digital CX strategy.”

Wrapping up, I ask Bertram what’s next for SAP in personalized CX? While leveraging data, analytics, AI/ML technology and ever more integrated martech tools will remain central to the effort, what are the new directions he is tracking personally? “ With the rich data available today, and the advent of Machine Learning we can now provide a meaningful context for all players. We’ll be able to build a recommendation engine that can rely on ALL customer experiences and real facts. It will help us to recommend our customers the right solutions, the right set-up of these and the right extensions to solve their business problems - and with more reliability than would have been possible for any guru. The scramble to produce these types of data and analytics offerings is already underway, and by 2020, it will feel like the California Gold Rush of 1849.

Also read: An Audience-Centric Approach to Digital Transformation at Cisco

And I also think you’ll see more companies, especially in the non-tech and non-software industries, make digital a priority. This means more companies will name a chief digital officer. And I welcome it – there’s plenty of room at the CDO table!”

We agree. With AI/ML in the mix, the next gold rush for everyone will be intelligent recommendation engines in both – the B2B and B2C space. The seamless ‘next best step’ for the best possible outcomes in any customer interaction, powered by data, analytics, AI technology, and the right execution tools. And, as we always like to say at the end of such conversations, we’ll be tracking that space!

Also read: Disruption, Digital and the B2B CMO: with Lauren Sallata, CMO, Panasonic

Bio: Bertram Schulte, SAP Chief Digital Officer and Head of SAP Digital

Bertram has been with SAP since 2005, and aside from his current role, has also served as SAP’s senior vice president and chief of staff (Product & Innovation Executive Board Office) and SAP’s vice president of Strategy Management. Bertram is an experienced and passionate technology strategist with a strong background in marketing, sales, analytics, performance optimization, finance and operations over 20 years. His areas of expertise include Digital Transformation and Technology, Business Strategy, and Change Management

This article was first appeared on MarTech Advisor

[listening-through-the-lens]

What were our very best live shows throughout 2017?

photo Jim Jacob

  By Rob Dickens

  Smoke On The Water

I had seen only a few shows on water before – the North Mississippi Allstars on the Steamboat Natchez paddling up the Mississippi River off New Orleans. It was when bassist Chris Chew was in the band.  Man they funked it up.  (I loved that era of the band – check out Hernando (2006)).

Another musica nautica adventure featured the wonderful English guitarist and songwriter Martin Simpson.  On a flat watercraft along the upper reaches of the Thames near Windsor, he, along with master player Andy Cutting, gave us a wondrous insight into the best English folk. (The set proceeded while the boat went through a few river locks and paused when, on the captain’s orders due to passing under a VERY low bridge, the entire assembly sat on the floor as the vessel’s roof descended to our heads).

I mention this because my shows at sea experience have been blown out of the water (pardon the pun) by not one music cruise but two, back to back, in 2017 – same port, same ship, same cabin even.

  The Big Four

The Cayamo and Outlaw Country Cruises were spiritual revelations in February.  So much great music, at such close quarters, with a bunch of music-loving colleagues.  The bar therefore was set very high early in the year.  The other two great sources of live shows were AmericanaFest in Nashville in September and The Festy Experience near Arrington Virginia just after.

  Back To The Well

Our Total Tennessee Tour dug deep into music roots this year and provided a timely reminder of where some of this wonderful stuff that we love came from.  We stayed on in Nashville to go to The Opry and Music City Roots, visited Memphis (Gracelands, Stax, Sun Studio, Ardent Studio), Loretta Lynn’s Ranch, Clarksdale (Red’s Lounge, Ground Zero, Delta Blues Museum) and deep into The Blue Ridge Mountains heritage trail (Bristol, Galax, Abingdon) – hell, we even stopped off in Chattanooga.  This provided me with a re-education, a re-positioning of where all this fits.  It enhanced what I saw even more.

  What was I thinking?!

It was the last evening of The Festy Experience.  I had a writing deadline and a monster trip home the next day (30+ hours).  It was raining steadily – there were acts on that I had seen before for the next three hours, at the end of which Billy Strings was due.  I packed up early – big mistake!

  Sound Advice

There were a couple of exceptions – once at The High Watt and twice at the Cannery Ballroom, but the sound at AmericanaFest was again remarkably good, sound engineers seemingly invisible moving from one set to the next with aplomb.

  Some disappointments

Wanda Jackson on the Outlaw Cruise demonstrated that it best we all concentrate and rejoice in her legacy and that further live appearances, based on the ship performances, are not necessary.  Amanda Shires‘ set at the Station Inn during AmericanaFest 2017 was meandering.  Jason Eady‘s show at the aforementioned Cannery Ballroom was absolutely ruined by the sound no matter where I stood.  Buddy Miller and Rodney Crowell were both absent from the Americana Honors and Awards Show due to illness.  Van Morrison‘s acceptance of his Americana Honor (I won’t use the term ‘speech’ as that would be misleading) was awkward and frigid.  Steve Earle kept checking his watch during one show even while he was playing the guitar – it broke the spell.

  The loudest

Easy.  Deke Harp at Levon’s Bar and Grill in Clarksdale.  Even the food covered its ears!

  The best story-teller

Justin Hayward (Moody Blues) had some great stories – early band, War Of The Worls soundtrack and touring with Cream.

  Honorable mentions

Hard to fit everyone into twenty, as some wise person once said.  Here are some terrific shows that got edged out:

Tim O’Brien Caravan Music Club Melbourne Aus

Rosie Flores (with Sophia Johnson), Outlaw Country Cruise

Lucinda Williams, Outlaw Country Cruise

Teskey Brothers, Music On The Hill Melbourne Aus

Doug Seegers, The Mercy Lounge Nashville TN (AmericanaFest)

Nick Forster and Danny Barnes, The Festy Experience

Carl Anderson, The Festy Experience

Robbie Fulks, The Caravan Club Melbourne

Christian Lopez, Cayamo Cruise

  All photos Rob Dickens except where noted

  The BEST

20. Paul Thorn Band – Cayamo Cruise, Somewhere At Sea – 22 Feb

    I’ve seen Thorn play quite a few times.  Always love his enthusiasm, his folksy rock and blues vibe, no pretensions, nothing but uplifting messages.  So embraceable.  On the Cayamo Cruise, we attended the Stardust Theatre waiting patiently for the long-drop red velvet curtains to let go of their embrace and see beyond.  Finally they parted like the Red Sea and we were greeted by a screen and engrossing mini-doco featuring Thorn and focussing on his pre-music, accomplished boxing career.  He then appeared in person and announced that his permanent break with The Ring led him to his debut Hammer and Nail which he, in order to celebrate its twentieth anniversary, would perform the entire album front-to-back, with the whole set recorded.  It was a celebration for him and, without a shred of doubt, everyone in that room.

  19. Lori McKenna – 3rd & Lindsley Nashville TN @ AmericanaFest  – 14 Sep

    Now here’s a songwriter!  Ten albums to her name, she has remained in Stoughton, Massachusetts despite the amount of time she spends in Nashville, so grounded is she with her extensive family and possibly being able to captures insights afresh living away from ‘the business’.  That has not stopped her garnering considerable success – her songs covered by Alison Krauss, Faith Hill, Tim McGraw and Keith Urban.  Number one Billboard hits, a CMA Award, a National Songwriter Association International gong and her first Grammy attest to her craft.

Her latest album The Bird & The Wire is highly acclaimed and adds to her already impressive set of achievements.  This night she was humble, engaging and warm, with plenty of banter that provided context to her evocative stories.

  18. Frank Solivan & Dirty Kitchen – Fern Tree Gully Bowls Club, Melbourne Aus – 21 Nov

  Frank Solivan with Caleb Klauder in Nashville – photo Jim Jacob

  A Grammy-nominated, twice IBMA-award winning (for the coveted Best Instrumental Band) outfit from Washington DC.  As well as being a super group of musicians, their repertoire extends way beyond traditional bluegrass, mixing pop, rock and other standard fare effortlessly.  I have seen them live a few times now, both in Raleigh NC and Nashville TN but tonight had a little edge to it.  Perhaps it was the modest setting, the small but adoring audience, the collaborative willingness to share the stage with the support act and other musicians or their sheer joy of travelling around Australia for the first time and ending their tour this night.  Whatever the reason, it was special.

  17, Big Star and Friends – Cannery Ballroom, Nashville TN @ AmericanaFest – 12 Sep

  Big Star drummer Jody Stephens at Ardent Studio in Memphis, a few days after the AmericanaFest show

  In 2010 an all-star band unearthed the original scores, assembled an orchestra and performed fabled cult band Big Star’s album Third.  Following the death of front man Chilton just before a scheduled SXSW performance in 2010, performer friends came to play the gig in his honor.  A concert documentary film Thank You, Friends: Big Star’s Third Live…And More followed and screened at AmericanaFest 2017.

The day following the film, the concert at the Cannery Ballroom was performed in its entirety, featuring the original Third conductor Carl Marsh and core players including sole surviving Big Star member Jody Stephens along with Mike Mills (REM), Mitch Easter (Let’s Active), Chris Stamey (the dB’s) and Pat Sansone (Wilco) to name a few.  The Third performance was followed by a set of Big Star hits with many special musical guests.  Two hours of magic.

  16. Joe Ely Band – Outlaw Country Cruise, Somewhere At Sea – 26 Feb

    ‘Twas a breezy night on the ship’s deck.  The Joe Ely Band members were in cracking form.  This Texas legend with his distinctive chants and unique blend of Texas country, honky tonk, rock and Tex-Mex held our attention with ease.  Ely’s long-time band cohorts were tight, prancing around the stage ready to pounce (well, except for the drummer).  It had been a while since I caught him at Antone’s in Austin TX.  Absence DOES make the heart grow fonder!

  15. Jerry Douglas Band – The Festy Experience, Infinity Downs Farm Virginia – 8 Oct

  Jerry Douglas – photo Rob Dickens

  A new album (out just in the latter part of this year) What If represents another significant departure and music adventure for the redoubtable musician, producer and collaborator extraordinaire.  The Jerry Douglas Band contains some of finest players in the land which reminded me of the sheer unadulterated virtuosity of Punch Brothers.  Jerry was plugged in and a far cry from his more well-known bluegrass/country contributions.  Tonight he was channelling his early influences Weather Report and Chick Corea.  There was jazz fusion, Douglas’ party vocals and some highly inventive covers.  For the record, the other band members are Doug Belote (drums), bassist Daniel Kimbro, violinist Christian Sedelmyer, Mike Seal electric guitarist.  Spell-binding!

  14. Bottle Rockets – Outlaw Country Cruise, Somewhere At Sea – 21 Feb

    The Bottle Rockets make their music sound simple.  Almost hay seed primal. Maybe that is the attraction.  It is anthemic, lyrically cut-to-the-bone and contains a wave of sound that picks you up and dumps you if you’re not on your mettle.  Pleasing us since the early 90’s, this St Louis, Missouri-based power four piece has been a stalwart of the thumping roots rock movement for a long time, well before it came into fashion in fact.  This was my first viewing and after many attempts of travelling across the Pacific.  ‘1000 Dollar Car’, ‘Welfare Music’ and, most of all, ‘Dog’.  I must see them again – it was too much to take in.

  13. David Luning – Music City Roots, Franklin TN 19 Sep

    David Who? Former American Idol contestant?  Hmmm.  Well, consider me blown away by this unique rocking storyteller from California’s Sonoma County.  Covering fast and slower material with aplomb, he has that knack that the best comedians have when telling a joke – using space and timing to gripping effect.  The thundering ‘Bet It On Black’, the pleading ‘Danger’ and the reflective and majestic ‘Be Like Gold’.  Go see him or buy his album Restless – or do both.

  12. Larry Cordle, Carl Jackson with Val Storey and others, The Station Inn Nashville TN – 11 Sep

    A wonderful band steeped in country, gospel and just about anything good.  Larry Cordle is an acclaimed songwriter, singer, stalwart – Carl Jackson the same with guitar sidekick and close friend to Glen Campbell to add to his bio.  Many guests including Campbell’s daughter Ashley (god-daughter to Jackson), the honeyed voice of Val Storey, even a visiting Irishman got up and sang a love song to his wife in the crowd (I admit it wasn’t a musical highlight of the night, but a glorious example of community and song).  When someone sang Glen’s last release ‘Adios’ with Ashley in the crowd, it proved to be one of the heightened emotional moments of the year.  AND this core outfit does this show EVERY MONDAY NIGHT.

  11. Courtney Marie Andrews and Joe Pug, The Spotted Mallard Melbourne Aus – 13 July

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  I’m not sure why this tour pairing was arranged and how.  Joe Pug, the Austin Texas troubadour who has graced these shores a considerable number of times before returning on the back of his release last year Windfall.  The younger Courtney Marie Andrews, hailing from Phoenix Arizona, whose debut album in 2016 Honest Life was a serious eye opener.  Tonight was the fifth stop on an eight-date tour of Australia, with both artists largely in solo acoustic guitar mode, except for Pug on keyboards for a spell.  Eminently good vocals and songwriting through the night with not a dip in excellence to be seen.

  10. Old 97’s Outlaw Country Cruise, Somewhere At Sea – 27 Feb

  The next set after The Bottle Rockets (see above) in The Stardust Theatre.  The new album from Old 97‘s released almost to the day – we got a wonderful opportunity to hear just about all the new material plus plenty of the old stuff too.  Energy, passion, songwriting with messages crystal clear and highly agreeable.  Much of it delivered at their renowned breakneck tempo but their sensitive side shone through as well.  I heard that their later show on the pool deck was even better!  Holy cowpunk!

  9. Infamous Stringsdusters – The Festy Experience, Infinity Downs Farm Virginia – 6 Oct

    The Infamous Stringdusters were from around these parts but have since spread themselves a little, with Brevard North Carolina now their base. But they are hometown picks for sure.  In fact, they formed the backbone of the festival schedule.  Members comprise guitarist Andy Falco, banjo man Chris Pandolfi, Andy Hall (dobro), Jeremy Garrett (fiddle) and Travis Book (double bass) and together they are formidable.  Roving around the stage with ease, they break out of any restrictions that other bluegrass outfits may feel hidebound by.  A set list with plenty of covers, all of them distinctive and cleverly chosen.  The band’s jamming was spectacular.

  8. The Mavericks – Outlaw Country Cruise, Somewhere At Sea – 26 Feb

    This one’s easy.  The sail-away show of the Outlaw Cruise.  Shots of something or other handed out to every passenger before it started.  The large ship moved, as if propelled by the irresistible sounds of The Mavericks, gliding through the air and now across the water.  What they do is make every moment a joyous one.  If you can’t get uplifted when The Mavericks are playing, you need medical help or give up music.  Funnily enough, the band mis-timed the set and walked off thinking they were done but plenty more was to come.  They called a team huddle (see above) and proceeded with nary a scratch.  A guest appearance from Steve Earle didn’t hurt either.

  7. Lee Roy Parnell – Music City Roots, Franklin TN – 19 Sep

    Texas country rocker Lee Roy Parnell looked the goods.  His interview prior to the set was informative and gave me the impression that he doesn’t like being messed around.  He carried that onto the set., fiery guitar perfectly attuned to that unique Texas take on many genres of which I never tire.  His new CD Midnight Believer was on display with pride and it was a joyous opportunity to set my eyes and ears on someone who surprisingly is not a little (or a lot) more well-known.

  6. Son Volt – The Corner Hotel, Melbourne Aus – 12 Oct

  Jay Farrar – photo Jim Jacob

My first time with Jay Farrar in band mode.  I had enjoyed a couple of acoustic shows over the years but this was revelatory.  This night I made a decision to leave my notebook behind – determined not to write anything down as it would prove to be a distraction.  It was a prudent call at the time as the band’s power interplay was astoundingly good but doesn’t help me now as I write this with only my memory to guide me.  I have a lot of friends that were there or saw the band at Out On The Weekend festival just before who rate this as one of their best concerts EVER.  If you want any information about the set list or other details, leave a comment and I’ll get my expert buddies onto the job (they know who they are).

  5. Patty Griffin and Friends – Cayamo Cruise, Somewhere At Sea – 24 Feb

    The ‘Patty Griffin and Friends’ session included Griffin, Buddy Miller, Rodney Crowell, Lee Ann Womack, Emmylou Harris and Jedd Hughes (crack Australian guitarist).  In the round, sharing songs, stories, emotions.  I was in the front row (thanks Sixthman!) and it seemed like the shortest set possible.  More more!

  4. Americana Honors and Awards – Ryman Auditorium @ Americanafest, Nashville TN – 13 Sep

    Again, a magnificent cornerstone for AmericanaFest, held on the Wednesday night.  After five of these in a row, you can get a little picky (I rate the 2014 Show with Ry Cooder in the All-Star band as my favourite).  Performers on this star-studded night were: Old Crow Medicine Show, Jim Lauderdale, Brent Cobb, Lori McKenna, Iris Dement, John Prine, Marty Stuart and His Fabulous Superlatives, Sam Outlaw, Amanda Shires, Billy Bragg/Joe Henry, Graham Nash with the Milk Carton Kids, Drive-By Truckers, Aaron Lee Tasjan, The Lumineers, Robert Cray, Hurray For The Riff Raff, Margo Price, Jason Isbell and Van Morrison.

There was more but the list above is enough to justify a special night’s work.

  3. Guy Clark Tribute – Cayamo Cruise – Somewhere At Sea – 21 Feb

  Melody Duncan of The Mulligan Brothers during the Tribute

  I had just finished reading Without Getting Killed or Caught: The Story of Guy Clark (Tamara Saviano) and his departure became raw again.  The tribute set was stunning and emotional – contributions both musical and personal from Steve Earle, Rodney Crowell, Emmylou Harris, Sarah Jarosz, Aaron Lee Tasjan, Brian Wright, Angaleena Presley, Paul Thorn and others.  Another of the seemingly shortest sets of the year but it actually stretched to ninety minutes. A wonderful emotional farewell to a legend.

  2. Drive-by Truckers – The Festy Experience, Infinity Downs Farm Virginia – 7 Oct

    A ninety minute blast that ended my busy festival day.  I had seen Drive-By Truckers at the Cannery Ballroom as part of AmericanaFest just three weeks earlier (it seemed much longer) but tonight surpassed that one by a home stretch.  Perhaps due to the beautiful setting here and my proximity to the stage hence the ‘immersion factor’.  The light rain started almost at the same time as their opening greeting.  They were pretty angry in the lead up to the release of their last album, the elegantly simple titled American Band and that was BEFORE the US Presidential election and its aftermath, not to mention a number of controversies and incidents down South during 2017.  Tonight they really wanted to make a statement – ‘Black Lives Matter’ prominently displayed with pride.  And so they did.  Patterson Hood and Mike Cooley strode the stage with a Southern Rock majesty.  This correspondent spent most of the time in the photography pit.  A recent song “This Perilous Ride” was potent, a blistering version of one of my favourites “Ronnie and Neil”, the driving “Ever South”, “Tom Petty’s “The Waiting” and the closing protest “Hell No I Ain’t Happy”.

  Brian Wright – Fond Objects @ Americanafest, Nashville TN – 17 Sep

Not many words required for this.  Brian Wright, guitarist for Aaron Lee Tasjan, solo artist and co-founder of Cafe Rooster Records at just about the last set of AmericanaFest 2017 – see below:

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  What ya reckon? Tell me if you were at these shows and what you think

How ’bout your own faves of 2017?

  What were our very best live shows throughout 2017?

***

Best Live Shows 2017 What were our very best live shows throughout 2017?

[nickistryingtobeawriter-blog]

First Piece.

So here’s a piece that I wrote for my creative writing class this past semester. It’s creative nonfiction, so all the stuff here is all me. I figured if I show you guys some personal stuff early, you might be able to connect to me more. Maybe. I dunno, here it is.

In my relatively short time on this big blue planet of ours, I’ve fallen in love exactly two and half times. The half comes from this one time I told a girl I loved her and then she cried and dumped me, so I don’t really consider it that legitimate. The other two times are...well, they’re complicated.

Let’s just go ahead and start with the first time. I fell in love with a girl back in high school, a friend of a girl that I’d been casually interested in for a couple of months. When I saw her beneath the harsh lights of that high school gym, wearing a brown leather jacket and her long brown hair blown over her eyes, I felt like I’d fallen a million stories in a matter of seconds. She smiled at me with the cutest little smirk I’d ever seen, her skin so virtuously white I’d thought I’d go blind. I was sitting there with the basketball pep band, face covered in horrific acne, wearing clothes roughly two sizes too big for me, and here was this girl that, from the moment I saw her, made me feel so inadequate for love that I felt the need to run to bathroom and change into a better outfit right then and there.

The first time we ever hung out was in a Barnes and Noble in January. We were freezing cold and so bundled up we could hardly see each other’s faces. She’d told me once that she loved bookstores, so I brought her to the only bookstore I knew. She was wearing this beautiful black parka with faded skinny jeans and a bright white tank top. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her the entire time we were there. I remember when she called me over to the psychology section and pointed out different personality match-ups. She’d taken a few guesses with mine, and she’d found out that our personalities would be perfect fits for each other. I don’t think my heart has ever beat faster than it did in that moment.

Ultimately, I loved her for about four years, give or take. It was a rollercoaster of an experience, and in a lot of ways she shaped me to be the person I am today. But it ended. After asking her to my senior prom, a cute little high school dream I’d had for years, she said yes. I was ecstatic, and my mind was jumping between the variety of outfits, pictures, dances, conversations, and everything else we could possibly have on this upcoming magical night. But then she got distant, and her excitement faded to a sad distance I couldn’t fully understand. And then, the week before the dance, she bailed. And I realized that she’d never loved me. It wasn’t really a shocker, since we’d never actually dated. I’d been a friend, a shoulder to cry on, a companion for life’s hardships. I thought I’d make a perfect boyfriend for her. But I guess she didn’t feel the same.

After that, I was in a kind of emotional freefall, my affections being directed at anything that could distract me from the intense pain I was feeling. Some girls had shown some interest, but I was either too stupid or too heartbroken to really engage in any real connection with them. Ironically, the one time I did, I came back to the dorm one night to find her making out with a friend of mine on one of the couches in the lounge. Her response to having led me on for two weeks and having me believe that I might have found a connection again? “I couldn’t help myself, but maybe if things don’t work out with him, we could give it a shot ;).” That winky face still haunts me to this day.

At this point, I’d essentially all but given up on love. It was a stupid, overly complicated emotion that was just going to cause me more heartbreak and hurt than it was going to bring me any sort of joy. Which is an unbelievably stupid attitude for a boy who was 18 years old and had only just started college. I got asked on a couple dates, but I’d just imagine that they were friendly meet-ups and quietly put them down. It was nothing personal, I just couldn’t put myself out there again.

And then came Love Number Two. Just like Love Number One, I remember the first time I saw her almost like a photograph, every small detail so vivid and unforgettable. She was short, 5’3’’, with recently cut maroon hair, the red slowly fading into the edges. She was wearing a grey beret, which I was later rather curtly told was “absolutely not a beanie,” and a navy blue one piece dress with small white dots speckling the surface. When I saw her, I almost thought that she had come out of a movie, this picturesque woman with a fashion sense and features I hadn’t even dreamed existed.

The first time I ever asked her out, I took her on a walk with me around campus. It was a chilly September night, with some leaves already starting to fall as we stepped beneath the trees. We lived on the same floor, so after 10 or 11 awkward minutes of me being a moron and not getting to the point, I figured we should just go back to the dorm. And then she asked me to keep walking with her, as if she knew that I was just being a moron and not getting to the point. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally asked her to coffee. It was in front of the Chinese place on the town square, and I remember seeing the neon lights reflected in her smile after I finally got the words out. She said yes, of course, and so our romance began.

Things started off so simple, with tiny hand brushes and the occasional bit of eye contact making me squirm from how cute she was. I was so convinced that she could never like me that I was doing my absolute best to seem like the nicest guy on the planet. She had to tutor? I’d bring her a cookie and coffee before her shift. She had a long night of homework? I’d make her a playlist and write her a note to read for a distraction. She needed to drop off a paper? I was the first person to offer to walk with her. Before long, I was just convinced that she was playing me, using me for my try-hard kindness. And then we went to the concert.

It was a mess of people, random students frantically running around in circles to the beat of the drums that were blasting through the venue. We were sitting in the back, happily watching the carnage unfold before us, occasionally laughing at the odd person that fell out of the crowd. I thought we were going to keep sitting up there, the flashing lights and loud songs our own personal symphony of madness, playing every note to be more entertaining than the last. And then she grabbed my hand. It was sudden, and she was obviously terrified. But I was swimming in euphoria from the first moment our hands touched. We spent the night holding hands and laughing, enjoying each other’s company even more now that the truth was now out in the open. A couple days later, we finally decided to date. Shocker.

A few months passed, and everything that I’d imagined a serious relationship to be was coming true before my eyes: I was meeting the family, her father was a terrifyingly muscular man who was asking me how I treated his daughter, her dog kept attacking me every time I stepped in the door. A future with her just seemed so certain, so concrete that I’d never given it a second thought. She was always so certain that I was her “Last One,” the only man she’d ever need. Her confidence was so intense, I even bought into it for a while.

And then came the compromises. They were small first, like how I hated St. Louis but she wanted to be close to her parents, or that we’d have three kids because four was too many and two wasn’t enough, or that I had to become a business major because my dreams didn’t seem concrete enough for her, or that I needed to talk less because my opinions annoyed her, or that I should find new friends because she didn’t like the ones I had. To be fair, that last one was pretty understandable considering the context that it came in, but it was still a pretty tough situation to put me in. Everything about me she didn’t like was slowly being sanded away, my kinks removed to make me a “better boyfriend,” as she put it. “Love is sacrifice!” It was almost like her motto every time she pulled apart another one of my dreams so she could put in one of her own.

And yet, I was happy. I loved her like crazy, and she seemed like the only girl that understood me. Yeah, we’d fight sometimes, and occasionally my overwhelmingly stupid nature would win out and I’d do something that would piss her off for a few days. And yeah, she’d get mad if I fought her a bit on something I did that she didn’t like, but she’d always prove herself to be right in the end. All in all, life was good. I was content. If this would be my future, I’d be ok with it. Compromise.

And then the complications came in. This point in the story is usually when I lose people, because what I did was probably one of the most ruthless, stupidest, and worst things I’ve ever done. To clarify, I didn’t cheat, because even shitty men like me have some standards. But I did probably the most irredeemable thing I have ever done in my entire life: I broke her heart.

Love Number One had stepped back into my life in a friend capacity, checking in on the desolation she had left in her wake all those years ago. She was sorry about everything, and she wished she could have gone back and changed what she’d done, and she was so sorry that she’d hurt me. And I believed her. Not completely, mind you, but enough for me to reminisce on the “good old days” of my unrequited love. Even in hindsight, they were pretty shitty, all things considered. I’d been dragged along, beaten emotionally, torn down, put back up, given false hope and more for four whole years. But I hadn’t compromised. Not once. I was always me when I loved Number One.

It took me a couple of weeks, but I finally got the courage to bring it up to Love Number Two. She told me that my concerns weren’t really concerns, and that I was just looking for an excuse to fight with her. She’d compromised just as much with me, working out her future to make sure that I could be happy. St. Louis would be great for me, and I could just hang out with her more instead of spending time with my horrible friends. Absolutely nothing was wrong for her, and I was just being stupid. And it broke my heart to see how blind she was.

On the Saturday of that week, she told me she wanted to marry me. She was drunk, mind you, but I’d never seen her so determined to make something happen in her life. She smiled the biggest smile I’d ever seen when she told me. And then on the next day, I told her we needed to break up. I told her that she was pushing me towards a future I wasn’t ready for, and that I needed to live my life more before I could commit to something like that. I can still see the pain etched on her face, and the tears rolling down her cheeks and the sobs she was trying desperately to keep quiet and her hands balled up into tiny fists like boulders about to crash down on me. I remember hugging her, feeling her tears soak through my shirt and her body shake uncontrollably as she realized the gravity of what was happening. She couldn’t hold me tight enough, and I was desperately hoping she’d let go. She was wearing a red shirt and jeans. It’s like a photograph.

“Please don’t leave me.” Those were the words that broke me. I cried for hours. I didn’t eat. I didn’t sleep. Everything reminded me of her. Telling people would get me sympathy, but it wasn’t what I needed. It didn’t help that she’d try to call me every day in hopes that I’d changed my mind, that we could have a second chance. “I love you” was like nails on a chalkboard for me, bringing tears to my eyes and a tightness to my chest that made it hard to breathe even the smallest breath. Even seeing a sidewalk that we’d walked on before tore me up, thinking back on all of the memories and joy that I was throwing away by ending things like I did.

See, that’s what people never tell you when you break up with someone you love. They say you feel so relieved, so glad that you made the right decision, so happy that you can both move on. I felt like a walking piece of shit who had just ruined the one good thing that was keeping his life together. And the worst thing was the people were trying to help me in the worst ways possible. Friends? “Let’s throw a party and get you laid.” Girls I’d known? “You want to go get some coffee sometime?” School? “Your personal life should not affect your academics in any way.” It was like I was getting the shit kicked out of me every day for doing what everyone was telling me was the right thing to do.

And that’s how love is. It’s a pain, and it’s messy, and it hurts, and it’s hard, and did I mention it really really hurts? Even after a couple of months of coping, I barely got out of the abyss that I’d thrown myself into. I had to realize that I’d made the right decision for myself, maybe not for her, and that I needed to stop compromising. My motto was a quote a friend had given me: “Maybe she was perfect, but she wasn’t perfect for now.” Looking back, it doesn’t totally make sense, but I held tighter to that wisdom than anything else in the world.

Ultimately, I guess the reason I wrote this was to be catharsis, to show what love can mean to different people. Because love for me means wanting so desperately never lose someone that I can hardly go a second without wanting them next to me. Love for you may mean just wanting to wake up next to someone that always make you smile when you see them, or maybe just being able to hold hands with someone that makes you laugh. It’s this infinitely shifting mystery, love. It never seems to be what you expect, and when it is, it comes at the strangest times.

And what about my life now, you may be wondering? After being such a terrible person to the last girl he loved, did some other poor girl fall under his spell? Actually, that’s kind of what happened, and it turned out far more surprising than I could have imagined. Because Love Number One finally came around, after 6 freaking years. We’ve been dating for 9 months now, I can honestly say I’ve never loved anyone like I love her. She challenges me, she surprises me, she leaves me breathless by simply walking into a room or smiling her gorgeous little smirk at me. I can finally see a future with another person, and I can’t go a second without thinking about how amazing a life with her would be. It’s...it’s honestly beyond words sometimes.

I remember when I finally got to see Love Number One again after being away from her for so long. It was a brisk May night, the moon shining brightly down on the lake across the street from her house. I was wearing a hoodie and shorts, the lamest combination I could have worn, and she had no idea that I was waiting outside to surprise her. I’d come home a day early, ready to shower her in the compliments and affection I’d never been able to before. My shaking hands knocked on the door, and she opened it, not prepared for what was on the other side. She was wearing a beige cardigan, some yoga pants, a spoon of ice cream, and the most shocked expression I’ve ever seen. And then she jumped in my arms and held me tighter than I’d ever been held before. I remember it like a photograph, and its the last photograph I’ll ever need.