#had to use the rest that I had saved up during the first pandemic lockdown for rent | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hookingminor · 4 years ago

Text

4 times his friends posted you on their instagram + 1 time he did - mat barzal

a/n: I wrote this literally back in july so lets just ignore how idealistic this is regarding quarantine but im a slut for some barzy this is all fluff

word count: 4,733

summary: like the title says, some friends (with benefits?) to lovers + a tyson cameo, fluffy summer quarantine fic

tagging @davidpastrsnack so kate can get on the barzy train

To say the whole quarantine thing was an inconvenience was an understatement. School had ended online, your summer internship was cancelled, and it seemed like your summer would turn into an uneventful couple of months stuck in your apartment in, probably, the worst place to be stuck in during a pandemic: New York City.

Or so you thought.

You’d planned on having the most boring summer ever until your friend, Mat, had invited you to hole up away with him and a few friends in a lake house back in Vancouver. Well, friend was a loose term. The two of you were friends… just ones that kissed occasionally… and sometimes more than kissed. You’d met him about a year ago at a bar while he was out with his teammates after a game. A cliche meeting, but you hit it off instantly. Instead of ending up in his bed at the end of the night (which you would eventually end up at after a couple months), it turned into an exchange of numbers and an invitation to hang out later in the week.

You hadn’t thought anything of it at first, just thinking he was being friendly and wanting to end the conversation, so you were surprised to get a text the next day from an unknown number asking if you’d wanted to go on a bike ride.

Flashforward a year later and the two of you still went on bike rides together. At least, up until the pandemic started.

When the text came telling you to pack your bags for a month or so, you thought he was joking. Surely he couldn’t have meant you to join him in Vancouver over the summer? You were proven wrong when he showed up at your apartment the next day, two coffees in his hand.

“Uh, hi, Mathew,” you said hesitantly, opening your door to reveal your disheveled state, having just woken up.

“Why are you dressed like that? We have a plane to catch in four hours,” he said, pushing himself through your door, uninvited, to set the coffees on the counter.

“What are you doing here? What plane? You’re not supposed to be going out,” you reprimanded him for showing up unannounced and in the middle of quarantine.

“I told you we’re going to Vancouver, I know you read my text. Now let’s hurry up and pack, we gotta get going,” Mat rushed, already on the way to your bedroom.

You followed him after a brief moment once you’d processed what was going on. Mat had already pulled out your suitcase and set it on top of your bed by the time you entered the door. He was in the middle of rifling through your drawers and grabbing random garments to throw into the suitcase when you’d spoken again.

“You’re actually serious about this?”

“Of course I am. What better things do you have to do in a city on lockdown for an entire summer? Honestly, I’m doing you a favor,” he explained easily, turning back to grab more items.

“Oh, you’re doing me a favor? Thank you, Mat, for saving me from a summer of suffering. It’s not like I had other plans to find different internships or focus on my summer classes,” you replied sarcastically.

Mat rolled his eyes. “I am doing you a favor, and you’re doing me a favor by going. I need a hot piece of ass to get me through this, or I will lose my mind.” You slugged him on the shoulder in offense, but all he did was chuckle.

“And anyways, you can still do your classes in Vancouver. Instead of doing them locked in this apartment, you can do them lounged out under the Canadian sun. Preferably in a bikini,” he finished. You slugged his arm again, harder this time.

“In fact, you should take the red bikini, it makes your tits look amazing,” he said, noticing you shuffling through your swimsuits. You rolled your eyes at him but grabbed the red one anyway along with a couple others.

With both of you folding and packing, your bags were ready to go in record time.

“Alright, baby, let’s go.” And so you were off.

A week had gone by in total bliss. As much as you hated to admit it, Mat was right. Vacationing in Vancouver in a secluded lake house was a lot better than being alone in your apartment, even if you did still have classes to do. Mat teased you about it, but he always left you alone for a few hours in the day for you to focus on your work. Unless he really wanted something… like right now.

Mat had joined you laying on the couch while you were in the middle of annotating a book for class. He wiggled his way between your arms, causing you to break your hold on your book. He rested his head on your chest, arms wrapped around your middle, and nuzzled his face into your neck. Joining your hands back to your book and bringing your highlighter to the page, you continued to underline phrases you’d come back to later. A couple minutes passed in silence before Mat started sighing. And then he sighed again.

“What do you want?” you huffed out, closing your book with the pen marking your page.

“Let’s go swimming,” he said, pushing up to his elbows to look at your face.

“I have to finish, like, three more chapters today,” you explained.

“You can do that later. I want to go swimming now,” Mat whined.

“You know you sound like a petulant child right now, right?” you asked, moving a hand to his head, pushing his hair back as he pouted.

“Stop using big words on me. Let’s swim,” he said, rolling his eyes.

You paused to think about it for a moment, “Hmm… okay, I guess,” you said with a smile. Mat returned your smile with one of his own before hopping up to drag you to your room to change. It didn’t take much to convince you to swim. It was a really nice day out, and you didn’t really care to finish reading about 17th century philosophy.

You changed into your red bikini, Mat swapped his shorts for a pair of swim trunks, and threw on a backwards baseball cap. You went out back to join the rest of his friend group, who were in the process of loading up the boat with supplies and equipment.

“Oh, look, if it isn’t Brainiac and the Beast. Are you two finally going to go boating with us?” Tyson shouted from the dock. You rolled your eyes at his nickname they created for you and Mat. It had only been a week in Vancouver, but the chirps about you and school were tired by now.

“Princess here wants to swim in the pool, maybe next time!” you shouted back, pointing to Mat.

They laughed at your response, turning their attention back to the boat and running supplies to and from the house. You turned your attention back to Mat, who was taking off his hat and was about two seconds away from jumping in the pool.

“Mathew, stop!” you yelled out, “Get your ass over here!”

“What is it?” he asked, stopping just short of the deep end. He grumbled before marching over to you.

“You need to put sunscreen on first, dumbass,” you reprimanded. As you turned your back to grab the bottle of sunscreen, he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Mat,” you said sharply, turning back to face him with a raised eyebrow.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

You ignored him, opening the cap and squeezing lotion onto your hands. You gestured him to turn around, and you spread the lotion over it, making sure to rub it into his shoulders.

“I don’t see why I have to put sunscreen on. It’s not even that hot outside,” he muttered.

“First of all, you’re a dumbass. Second of all, heat doesn’t automatically mean the UV rays aren’t strong. And lastly, you’re white, baby, you’ll burn like a sun-dried tomato and being in water only increases the amount of sun you’re exposed to,” you explained, reaching up to rub some on his face.

“Sorry, Miss Meteorologist,” he grumbled, clearly not happy he’d lost this argument.

“One of us has to have brains. We can’t all get by on our good looks and skating ability,” you replied, slapping his cheeks when you were done for good measure.

“Okay, well, if you’re finally done,” you nodded in confirmation, “Let’s go.” He picked you up from under your thighs and ran at full speed towards the pool before you could even process what was happening. You screamed his name in protest begging him to put you down, claiming you hadn’t had time to put on sunscreen yet. He ignored you as he jumped into the deep end, dragging you with him.

You emerged from the water clinging to Mat’s wet body, your hair sopping and hanging over your face like you had come straight out of the movie The Grudge. Mat was laughing at your chaotic look, knowing you were well pissed at him. You jumped higher in the water on top of him to dunk his head under and tried your best to drown him.

It wasn’t until you were relaxing on the couch later that night doing your routinely social media scroll that you saw one of the guys recorded your sunscreen interaction by the pool, you calling Mat a dumbass, and him throwing you in the pool onto their instagram story with a caption “all these two do is fight” with some laughing crying emojis added for effect.

After a long day or hiking, you’d immediately crashed on the couch once you’d gotten back to the house, not bothering to walk all the way to your room. It was only early in the afternoon but you’d been out since sunrise, and dealing with people for hours on end had drained you. The group laughed at you as you plopped your body down onto the couch, curling your head under your arm instead of grabbing the pillow two feet away from you. The rest of them gathered in the kitchen, refueling their bodies with assorted snacks as they started popping open bottles of beer, ready to start the night. It seemed that even an entire day on their feet had not emptied them of their, seemingly endless, energy.

“Jesus Christ, we hiked for, like, six hours and you’re all still bouncing off the walls,” you sighed deeply.

“We’re about to go hit the boat and go water skiing, too. I’m assuming you’re too tired to join us?” Tyson teased.

“I will not be joining you because unlike some people, I need a nap. Now get out of here, you’re all giving me a headache,” you said, pinching your fingers on the bridge of your nose to emphasize your point.

They all snickered but kept quiet as they shuffled around, packing up more food to take outside. You heard the sliding door shut and close a few times as they ran in and out before it was finally silent. You let out a sigh of relief as you took solace in the calm quiet.

That was until you felt a pair of arms shifting you closer to the edge of the couch. You peeked one eye open to see Mat rolling your body over to give him some space as he climbed over your body to nestle himself between you and the back cushions.

“Not going out on the boat?” You asked as he tucked a pillow under the both of your heads and pulled a blanket over your bodies.

“No. They’re exhausting. I need some time for myself,” Mat replied, wrapping his arm around your middle to pull you into his chest.

“No offense, but if you’re with me, you’re not by yourself,” you explained, closing your eyes again as you settled into a comfortable position.

“Yeah, but you’re you. You don’t exhaust me,” he said quietly. You didn’t know what to say to that, so you didn’t answer. Within a few seconds you heard Mat’s breathing even out, and you followed quickly behind him into a deep sleep.

A couple hours passed in a dreamless sleep when you heard the sliding of doors and laughter travel through the house. It stirred you from your sleep and you both shifted around, letting out displeased groans.

“Are they both still asleep?” You heard one of them ask from the kitchen. Neither of you wanted to answer in hopes they would leave you two to continue sleeping.

You were sadly mistaken.

“Hey! Sleeping beauties! Time to get up!” Tyson shouted from somewhere above you.

You both groaned out a “Fuck off, Tyson,” without opening your eyes, both of you giving him the middle finger. Tyson laughed to himself and you expected him to keep bothering you, but you heard his footsteps lead away from the couch. You turned over on your other side, tucking your face into Mat’s neck before falling back asleep.

When you woke up later that evening, you checked instagram again to see Tyson posted a new story. It was the video of him bothering you two and flipping him off with a caption that said “I get no respect around here :(“

It had been raining all day. Which meant everyone was stuck inside watching movies and eating pizza. It didn’t take long for you to get bored of lounging on the couch, especially when all they wanted to do was watch Fast and Furious movies. You sat on the loveseat you were sharing with Mat, and you distracted yourself from the boring movie by tangling your hands in your hair, French braiding the strands into pigtails mindlessly. You unbraided and rebraided your hair into a fishtail after the pigtails, and then into a regular braided ponytail after that. You let yourself get caught up in daydreams as you stared blankly at the TV when Mat started tugging on your leg. Dropping your braid, you finished tying it off with a hair tie and turned to look at him.

“Let me practice on you,” Mat said quietly.

“Practice what?” You asked.

“Braiding,” he said, shuffling to sit upright. He tried to gently push you off the couch until you got the hint and moved to sit between his legs on the floor.

“You think you can do it?” You asked, ready to offer him a demonstration.

“I’ve been watching you for the past half hour, I got this,” he replied, pulling out your hair tie. You rolled your eyes at his confidence, but let him continue unraveling the strands.

Every few minutes Mat would sigh exasperatedly before pulling out the twists he’d made to start over. Eventually, he’d almost gotten all the way to the end of your hair before he sighed again, clearly fed up by how long this was taking him. You didn’t say anything as he restarted for a third time, going for a straight back braid instead of a French braid.

After another ten minutes, Mat had finally completed his simple braid, tying your hair off with the tie. He tapped your shoulder to indicate he was done, and you pulled the long tail over your shoulder to look at it.

It was a braid.

An extremely loose one where he mixed up the strand order in a couple places, but a braid nonetheless. You turned around to get back up on the couch, and you were met with his triumphant smile.

“Good job, bud,” you complimented, leaving the braid in as you resumed your previous position on the couch.

You checked your phone to find a notification of a new story tag. You opened the app to see a picture of you on the floor, staring at the TV while Mat had his hands twisted in your hair and a confused look on his face and tongue poking out of his mouth. Next to your instagram tag was “he’s been knotting her hair on purpose for 20 minutes now”

Your final exams for the summer classes you were taking were in a week. Finals stressed you out more than anything else in the world, and when you were stressed, you did a lot of baking. A lot of baking. After finishing your finals study schedule and nearly breaking down almost twice because of the amount you had to get done, you decided to start baking instead of going to sleep. So, at 3 in the morning when everyone was asleep, you’d turned on the oven and brought out the bowls.

It began with a few dozen cookies. You figured everyone could at least enjoy the cookies. Who didn’t like cookies?

Cookies turned into muffins, muffins into cupcakes, and then cupcakes into pies. By the time everyone was waking up, it was nearly eleven in the morning. You’d gone to the store twice and had taken a few twenty minute naps while you waited for your desserts baked in the oven. And right now, you were in the middle of finishing off some cinnamon rolls for breakfast

“Oh my god, what the hell happened here?” Mat had asked with a scared expression, taking note of the disastrous kitchen. You didn’t answer him as you were topping off the rolls with some icing.

A few more bodies had gathered in the kitchen and began to fill the seats at the countertop while they watched you with worried eyes.

“What?” You asked innocently, placing the plates of cinnamon rolls in front of all of them. Their eyes followed you carefully as you pulled more goods out of the oven where you were keeping them warm. Plate after plate you set on the counter, all the cookies and muffins and cakes.

“How long have you been up?” Tyson asked cautiously. You swear you’ve never heard him use a softer voice than right now.

“I’m not sure. I never went to sleep, I guess? What time is it now?” You asked, pulling out glasses for orange juice.

“Nearly noon. You seriously didn’t sleep?” Tyson asked. The others had delved into the confections, eyes bouncing between the two of you as they stuffed their faces.

“She’s stress baking,” Mat replied quietly, helping himself to a cinnamon roll.

“What the hell is tress baking?” One of the other guys asked.

“Yeah she does this when she’s stressed. Usually when finals are coming up,” Mat said, directing it more towards you than his friend. You gave him a sheepish look, deciding not to comment since he already answered for you.

Mat was used to your stress baking as it resulted in you showing up at his place in the middle of the night with bags full of pastries in the late hours of the evening. It was always against his diet and he frequently gave most of your desserts to his neighbor, but he could never tell you no when you arrived with gifts.

“Well, I’m all out of flour, so, I’m going to run to the store again to get some more supplies so I can make a chocolate cake later,” you said hurriedly.

You did a quick double check of the kitchen, flashing all the guys a bright smile before heading out the door with your purse in hand, all of them staring until the front door shut behind you.

When you came back, you found Mat in the kitchen doing the dishes and nearly all the sweets you’d baked earlier were eaten or wrapped and put away. Maybe there was a plus side to being in a home with five other people.

“Mat, you don’t have to do that,” you said, setting your groceries down and hip checking him away from the sink.

“You’re already stressed, I figured doing the dishes would take away some of that,” he said with a shrug. He continued rinsing out some bowls as you gave him a small smile.

The two of you continued to wash the dishes in silence, moving to clean the countertops when you were done. After half an hour, the mess you’d made was gone and any signs of a baking breakdown had been erased.

It was a shame you were about to tear up the kitchen all over again.

“How about this,” Mat said, noticing the frown on your face at the thought of making another mess, “Let’s have a competition.”

You quirked your eyebrow, “I’m listening.”

“You said you were making a chocolate cake, right? How about we see who can make the better cake,” Mat propositioned.

You raised both your eyebrows this time. You both knew you were the better baker by a long shot. You did have this same breakdown at least twice a year. You weren’t even sure Mat knew how to make anything that didn’t come with box instructions or included possible salmonella-inducing ingredients.

You knew what he was really trying to do. He was trying to distract you from all the stress, and he knew you couldn’t turn down a competition. You were just as bad as him when it came to winning. Thankfully, this was something you knew you’d win.

“Fine, but I hope you’re prepared to lose,” you agreed with a smile.

“I don’t know, I have been practicing my cooking skills lately,” he said, grabbing the bowls he’d just dried off.

“Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it,” you replied with an eye roll and heavy sarcasm.

You joined him in gathering all the ingredients and materials on the counter, setting up your respective stations. Mat divided the workspace in half, drawing a line in flour which made you laugh. You split the bowls between the sides and set up the ingredients on the second counter just like an actual cooking show.

“Okay, ground rules first. Half an hour to make the cakes, we bake them at the same time, and then another half hour for decorating at the end,” you explained, tying your hair back in a ponytail. Mat nodded at your statement and set a timer on his phone for 30 minutes.

“Ready.”

“Set.”

“Go!”

After about two hours, your creations were done. Well, they were supposed to be. Mat’s cake looked more or less like a brown lump coated in frosting and stripes. You’d tried your best to decorate yours with small chocolate roses, but you could’ve turned out a plain cake and probably would have done better.

“I think I won,” you stated confidently.

“You’re not allowed to decide, you’re biased! I’ll make a poll on my story,” Mat said, going to grab his phone.

“You can’t do that, your followers are going to pick yours.”

“Fine, we’ll get someone else to do it— Josty! Come here,” Mat called to his friend passing through the kitchen. He hesitantly walked over to where you were, not wanting to come in the middle of whatever you two were shouting about.

“We need you to make an instagram poll to see who’s cake looks better. Oh, and you’re going to taste test them,” you said, picking up your cake to pose for a picture as Mat did the same. Tyson sighed before realizing you two were serious and he opened his app to take a picture.

He added the photo to his story with a poll asking “Which one is better?” With two options, Y/N’s or Mat’s.

After you set the cakes back down, Tyson picked up a fork before stabbing them to pick out a chunk from each. He ate yours first, nearly moaning at the taste.

“Holy shit, this is, like, the best cake I’ve ever eaten,” Tyson said, shoveling down another forkful. You gave Mat a shit-eating grin.

“Okay, okay, try mine now,” Mat said, displeased. Tyson rolled his eyes before forking out some of his.

“Uh,” he coughed, “it’s a little,” cough, “dry.”

“What? No, it’s not! Let me try,” Mat shouted, outraged, and grabbed Tyson’s fork to try for himself.

It took him two seconds before he was spitting the cake into a napkin.

“Fine. You win,” Mat conceded, throwing a dish towel against the counter in mock fury.

You gloated for another 5 minutes, pointing out Mat’s terrible baking skills as Tyson continued to eat your cake and laugh at Mat.

You won the instagram poll too.

+ 1

It was the last week before you and Mat were flying back to New York. The past month had passed quickly, and Mat needed to get back for the start of training camps. As the summer began to end, the whole crew thought they’d spend one last day on the boat before everyone started parting ways.

It’s not like you were opposed to being on boats, but when all the guys did was water sports and no one wanted to slow down to teach you, it wasn’t as fun.

Today, however, had been quite calm as you sat against the front of the boat, a seltzer in hand as you watched Tyson wakeboarding in the back. Mat was curled up behind you as you leaned back against his chest, tanned skin shining in the summer sun. You reached back to grab the baseball cap off his head, placing it on yours to shield your eyes from the sun. You’d forgotten to bring sunglasses, and you figured Mat could part with his hat since he had a pair.

The day passed peacefully as all the guys took turns until it was sunset. Mat had joined you back on the seat, skin wet from just getting out of the water. He wrapped you in his arms before pulling you onto his lap, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Hey, Tys, take a picture of us real quick,” Mat said, shoving his phone into Tyson’s chest.

You thought nothing of it, you and Mat had taken many pictures together, and this was no different. Mat rested his chin on your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your stomach as you both gave your cheesiest smiles to the camera. A quick shutter indicated the picture was taken and Tyson gave Mat his phone back.

Mat called your name from your bed as you stood in the adjoined bathroom, finishing your nightly routine.

“Hey, do you mind if I post that picture of us on my instagram?” Mat called out.

“The one from the boat? Why?” You asked, drying off your face with a towel.

“It’s a cute picture,” he shrugged when you reentered the room.

“People are going to start talking if you do,” you warned with a cautious tone.

He paused for a second.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Mat asked quietly, looking up to meet your eyes.

You stayed silent as you climbed in under the covers.

“What are you trying to say, Mat?”

He took a deep breath, “I think you’re amazing, you know that. And we’ve been friends for so long, it kind of feels natural, doesn’t it?” His fingers began tapping against the sheets anxiously as he held his breath and waited for your response.

You gave him a small smile, moving your body around to fully face him.

“It does,” you agreed, “But if you want us to be something more, you’re going to have to ask me on a date first.”

“A date? After I’ve already gotten you into bed? What’s the point?” You knew he meant it as a joke since he could barely finish the sentence without laughing, but you gently slapped his head as he began to apologize.

“I’m kidding!” He said between chuckles, “Will you go on a date with me once we get back to New York and it’s safe to go out again?”

“I’d love to, Mat,” you replied, leaning in to give him a sweet kiss.

“I’m still going to post that photo tomorrow, though,” he said after a short pause, smiling against your lips.

The next day when Mat had gone on a fishing trip with the guys, you saw a notification pop up on your phone.

“@barzal97 tagged you in a photo”

You unlocked your phone.

“Isolation isn’t so bad when you have this girl to spend it with”

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #nhl fic #my writing #isles13

1K notes · View notes

quarantineroulette · 2 years ago

Text

The Glamour of the Ordinary: Jane Savidge’s Here They Come With Their Make-Up On and Warren Ellis’ Nina Simone’s Gum

In the early days of the pandemic, a Facebook page appeared that consisted entirely of people around the world dressing in costumes and finery to take out their trash. The page was called Bin Isolation Outing and, at its close in December 2020, it had over 900,000 members. What began as a joke among a few Australian friends quickly spread into a worldwide phenomenon, a way of injecting some frivolity and flash into a very scary, often mundane period in time.

During those early stages of the pandemic, I thought a lot about Suede’s 1996 full-length, Coming Up (this was partially because the band were intending on performing the album in full throughout the UK that fall and I kept trying to believe the pandemic would be over by then so I could fly to one, but let’s pretend I was really just tapped into this “glamour of the everyday” strand this whole time). One of the reasons I love the band so much is because of its ability to imbue the ordinary and everyday with a sense of glamour. More simply if paradoxically put, and to echo a 1993 Vox headline, “They’re ordinary, that makes them glam.”

Sometimes concurrent with this glamour of the ordinary, is an equally compelling glamorization of escape from the drudgery of the everyday. As Jane Savidge states in Here They Come With Their Make-Up On, her 2022 book on the making of Coming Up, “...(Suede) are my best means of escape from the humdrum of the everyday, even if they do write songs about the humdrum and the everyday as if our lives depended on it.” In a time when one of the few ways of dealing with the fear and uncertainty of the pandemic was trying to approach the monotony of lockdown with a little frivolity or finding escape through other mediums, Suede provided the perfect soundtrack.

Jane Savidge served as Suede’s PR Agent throughout the band’s ‘90s heyday, and is arguably the best person to write a 33 1/3-style book on a Suede album, which Here They Come... essentially is, save with a lot of insider perspective and a droller tone. In other words, it’s the perfect music book.

I know I just stated a paragraph ago that I spent a lot of the early months of the pandemic thinking about Coming Up. Now I must confess that it’s not a favorite Suede record of mine. In spite of that, it includes the first Suede song I’d ever heard (”Beautiful Ones”), the Suede song that has empowered me the most, personally (”By the Sea”), one of the band’s most definitive songs (”Trash”) and two songs that are no brainers for my “Top 10 favorite Suede songs - these are the ones - no questions asked” list (”Picnic by the Motorway” and “The Chemistry Between Us”). But the rest of the record is either “great songs but not SUEDE GREAT” (”She”) or just OK (looking at you “Filmstar” and “Saturday Night” and begrudgingly “Lazy” although I do honestly love it. No comment on “Starcrazy”). It’s a general fan sentiment, but I genuinely prefer a lot of the b-sides and kind of view the whole thing as a great pop record but also something you can put on in the background and go about your business to. For someone who loves Suede for their high drama, there’s no falling to your knees and wailing “Have you ever tried it that way?” to the point of hoarseness -- i.e. I would never scrub the kitchen sink while listening to the debut album or Dog Man Star or Night Thoughts.

And so, like all great books about music, Savidge chronicles Coming Up in such a charming and insightful way that I couldn’t help but reevaluate the record and appreciate it anew. This is in no small part to the band and producer Ed Buller as well, who offer a lot in the way of songwriting and creativity. Several times, these insights touch on the classic pop sensibilities which buoy these songs. A quote from a Guardian interview with frontman Brett Anderson which opens the chapter on “Trash” asserts, “It’s about believing in the romance of the everyday. I really wanted to make a straight-up pop record. We were listening to a lot of ‘60s pop at the time and were very much inspired by the classic three and a half minute single.”

Elsewhere, keyboardist Neil Codling mentions, in reference to “Lazy,” mentions listening to The Beatles’ “I Feel Fine” in an effort to achieve a Beatles guitar tone and says, “It had an indie sensibility and a classic ‘60s feel as well as sounding ‘90s.” He also talks about the Suede signature being “a bit of grit in the oyster, a twist in the chords or the melodies...” and it’s perhaps one of the most concise statements on one of the reasons these songs endure.

Similarly enduring and endearing is Savidge, who -- despite the aforementioned input from all members of Suede -- comes across as the biggest star, presiding over everything with wit and insight. If you’ve read either of Anderson’s two memoirs, you might notice he can get a bit florid with his words, and Savidge lovingly diffuses any threats of overseriousness here. Whether observing the “bad, bored bony” protagonist of “She” doesn’t sound very happy or reminiscing about incidents involving Elton John and a champagne cork (not as dirty as that sounds), her prose are a consistent delight. She’s also unafraid of cunningly deriding these songs that fans sometimes are a bit too precious over. In discussing “Trash,” Savidge writes that it “very much knows what it is doing -- preaching to the converted, perhaps -- but doing it with such style and grace that you couldn’t help loving it all the more.” In a way this sums up Here They Come With Their Make-Up On and Coming Up perfectly, it knows what its doing and I already love everyone involved, but its style and grace have me adoring it anew.

Perhaps nothing can be thought of as so instantly disposable as a wad of chewed gum. It’s an object that is hard to muster one thought about, but in Nina Simone’s Gum, Warren Ellis manages to rhapsodize on a piece of chewed gum for over 100 pages. Granted, this is not any old wad of gum, it once belonged to the great singer and songwriter Nina Simone, who stuck it to her piano when taking the stage at the Nick Cave-curated edition of the Meltdown Festival, which was held in London in 1999.

Ellis has a rich musical history, most famously as frontman for the Dirty Three and the most prominent Bad Seed of the 21st century, but this is his first foray into writing and hopefully not the last because his prose is eloquent and enchanting. Although a short read, I really stretched out my time with the book because I was so entranced by Ellis’ writing and, by extension, the man himself. His fascinations, his reminiscences and the occasional glimpses of his friendship with Nick Cave all made me wish that everyone had a Warren Ellis of their own.

“It’s always been other people who have brought that potential out of me. I’m the inverse of the gum somehow. It’s about connection. People who have encouraged me to be the best I can, allow me to go unrestrained. Letting ideas take flight. Letting me take flight. The wonder of playing in a band. Making music with people. I was watching something unfold in a visual way, that I sensed often as an abstract or internalised concept.”

The reverence Ellis has for those who inspired him is, well, inspiring in itself. When recounting seeing another hero, Alice Coltrane, several years after the Nina Simone gig, he writes, “Every recording I have gone into I have in my own way tried to honor her,” and “It was that moment again. Those times you think are never going to happen in your life,” and I’m sure every music lover seeing their heroes performing in the flesh can relate. I also love that, in recalling the Nina Simone Meltdown set, Ellis admits “I can’t recall much of what she played.” It’s a passing sentence but it really speaks to something about transcendence over memory, how some performances are so powerful, it’s not about what was played but rather something beyond the experience itself. In Ellis’ words, a communion.

But mostly, Nina Simone’s Gum is about collecting and the perception of objects, how something easily disposable can be charged with spiritual significance. Ellis remarks several times that, as the gum makes the rounds from a jeweler to a museum exhibition, he “became aware that the gum was bringing out the best in people.” The gum eventually finds itself on a plinth in the Hallway of Gratitude portion of Nick Cave’s “Stranger Than Kindness” exhibit at the Royal Danish Library, presented as the religious artifact it is in Ellis’ eyes. The process of managing the gum from a curatorial perspective -- from temperature control to assessing the gum’s value for insurance purposes -- is fascinating, and provokes a lot of thoughts about how settings themselves can change an object’s significance (this, paired with the overall theme of the book, reminded me many times of the New Museum’s excellent “The Keeper” exhibition from 2016).

In discussing the gum’s inclusion in the “Stranger Than Kindness” exhibition, Nick Cave writes in the book’s forward that exhibition goers will “marvel at the significance of this most ordinary and disposable of things...” Just as taking out the trash became an occasion for frivolity for some, so too can a song about the everyday become a pop anthem, and a piece of chewing gum a sacred object. The pandemic and lockdowns may have forced a lot of us to come to terms with the drudgery of the everyday, but with luck they also afforded us a few flashes of beauty amidst the mundane.

#book review #jane savidge #warren ellis #suede #nick cave #collecting #music #art

5 notes · View notes

holidaywishes · 4 years ago

Text

you finally made sense

Requested: 👍

Summary/Request: So Jacob Markstrom idea for whenever you’re ready. Because I am simple and just love the idea I would love to see how you would write friends to lovers but where Jacob has known for a while that he wanted more but the reader is much slower to come to a realization. Like maybe she realizes when someone makes a comment about how they are such a cute couple or something.

Warning: Google Translate, fluff, maybe some language?

Author’s Note: For some reason, this GIF doesn’t come up in the GIF search but I love it too much not to use, so I believe it’s from @droppedgloves and I want to thank them for it. It’s beautiful, thank you. Fun fact: I forgot what the ‘plan’ was after I wrote “here’s the plan” because I had to save it as a draft and do other stuff 😂😂 I’m not super familiar with Markstrom, so I had to spend a good full day scrolling through YouTube to watch videos and interviews of him to get a sense of his personality so I could figure out how I wanted to write him and, here’s another fun fact: I didn’t realize that video of the goalie playing with dolls (you’re the better goalie, you’re the better goalie) was actually Markstrom so that made me giggle when I was watching stuff. @mandypants95 I hope this gives you a little bit of what you were looking for. Friends to Lovers is fun to write because of all the cliché’s that come with it so I hope everyone enjoys it, even just a little bit! It’s quite long, like I told mandypants, it kind of got away on me, so just prepare yourself 😂Stay golden, loves! <3

P.S. The names of Marky’s friends are not real people, -- he might have friends with these names but I have no idea, -- I just needed to make up some names for his friends 😜

P.P.S. If you keep seeing this appear after you’ve liked it, I’m sorry. Sometimes edits need to be done because of grammar (I hate when my fics have bad grammar) and if I do it on the app, sometimes the title doesn’t save so the link gets we-- it’s a whole thing.

masterlist

the other masterlist

You met Jake his first year playing with the Canucks but it wasn’t a natural friendship like he usually explained it to everyone. He was sweet, sure, but he was also very cocky; like he knew how good he was and was eager to make sure everyone else knew. It didn’t take long, though, for him to charm his way into your life.

“JAKE!” you called as you walked through his front door

“What’s up!” he yelled from the top of the stairs

“Here’s the plan:” you started to explain, “we’re going to this bar, you’re not going to run off and leave me alone with all these strangers, we’re gonna leave when either of us decides that we’re done, got it?”

“It’s a party, (Y/N),” he laughed, “we have to interact with them”

“I know and it’s your birthday,” you added, “I’m just saying, I don’t know your friends. You can read me, I can read you, so just help me out a little, okay?”

“Fine” he sighed sarcastically before running down the stairs to meet you, bumping your arm lightly with his shoulder before walking into the kitchen to grab a glass of water

“Good” you smiled

“Great” he teased

“Look,” you sighed, leaning against his counter while he practically chugged his water, “don’t be weird. Don’t wear a suit and make me feel under-dressed, just wear jeans and a t-shirt”

“It’s my birthday party...” you scoffed

“I know, so just be comfortable” you grinned and he shook his head

“God, you’re so demanding today” he joked

“I have to be or you won’t listen to me”

“You know me too well, I guess” he smiled, forcing an exaggerated eye roll from you before you turned on your heels to make your way home. “Wait, you’re leaving?”

“Yeah” you scoffed

“You just came over to boss me around and leave? Like this couldn’t have been done over text?”

“I have to go get changed!” you laughed

“What?” he chuckled, “you just told me to dress casual”

“I know because I know you,” you admitted, “you’ll still show up looking like you’re going to some fancy event. Even in ripped jeans and a ratty t-shirt”

“I won’t” he smiled

“You will. Just let me go home and put on a dress. I’ll meet you there”

“You’ll text me when you get there?”

“As soon as the Uber turns the corner” you smirked

“Okay, see you there.”

Jacob’s P.O.V

You waited outside the bar for (Y/N) to show up for your birthday party that your friends from Sweden came in for but she was taking forever

“Where are you?” you asked impatiently

“I told you I’d text you when I was there” she sent back

“Yeah, but you were supposed to be here like 20 minutes ago!”

“There was traffic. I can’t control the traffic”

“Oh I’m sure you could if you tried”

“Yeah well, maybe next time”

“Are you close?”

“The car is just turning the corner now”

“Finally” you watched as cars paced by the bar until one black Lexus pulled up in front of you and (Y/N) stepped out slowly. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow her as she walked toward you, completely enthralled by the deep blue colour of her dress as it swished side to side. “Wait” you stopped her from walking into the bar, ahead of you

“What?” she sighed as she stepped back in front of you

“Why are you allowed to dress like that,” you gestured to her before gesturing to your outfit, “and I have to dress like this?”

“Because,” she started, a smile creeping across her face, “these are your friends. They’ve never met me before and I want to make a good impression”

“But it’s not like they need to approve of you,” you smirked, “we’re not dating”

“Oh I know,” she scoffed, “but if I look good, that makes you look good. They’ll know that you’re not failing over here because you hang out with awesome people like me” she turned and walked into the bar, grabbing your arm so she could drag you in after her. Her laugh, paired with her warm touch, sent your heart racing and you hoped she would hold onto you longer but as soon as your friends greeted you, she let go

“GRATTIS PÅ FÖDELSEDAGEN!” they shouted, grabbing you and practically tossing you back and forth between them before you noticed (Y/N)’s uncomfortable expression. You moved your hand to rest on her back

“Guys, this is my friend, (Y/N),” you said, pushing her forward so they could see her, “(Y/N), this is George, Niklas, Ollie, Sam, Malcolm, Dustin, Eric and Corey”

“Wow,” she exhaled with a laugh, looking at you as she tried to think of something to say, “forgive me if I mix up your names. Jake moves a lot faster than I do”

“Guess that’s what makes him a good goalie?” Ollie joked and (Y/N) nodded

“So you guys are just friends?” Dustin pried

“Yes” (Y/N) was quick to answer and you hoped that none of the boys noticed your face fall

“Let’s get some drinks!” Niklas exclaimed, directing (Y/N) to the bar while the rest of you followed behind them

“Så är du verkligen bara vänner?” George started, speaking Swedish so (Y/N) wouldn’t be able to understand

“Ja” you scoffed

“Av eget val?” Corey asked

“Så klart det är” you countered

“Ja? Din eller hennes?” Dustin teased

“What are you boys gossiping about?” (Y/N) laughed before you could answer, catching your eyes and a pathetic smile as the group sat at the bar

“They’re just asking when I’m gonna win the cup” you lied

“Did you guys meet here? In Calgary?” Ollie asked her, ignoring your lie

“No, actually we met in Vancouver,” she admitted with a smile, “in 2016?”

“Yep,” you added, “the end of 2016. We were instant friends”

“No we weren’t” she laughed

“What?!” you said, shocked at her confession

“Ooh, Jakey, what did you do?” Malcolm teased

“Nothing! I was a complete gentleman” you tried

“No he was,” she laughed, placing her hand on your arm to reassure you, “you were. He was very sweet but he knew I knew who he was and I didn’t really wanna give in to it, you know what I mean? But we kinda stayed in touch for a couple days, had lunch with some of my friends, he got us tickets to a game and made us feel welcome and all that. It was all very sweet”

“So what was the issue?” Malcolm asked, as if he knew something had changed

“I got a job in Calgary. I had moved to Vancouver for University but I was about to graduate and the island was a little too expensive to live on after having the loans I had. So when I moved back to Calgary, we just kinda couldn’t really become friends” she replied

“But obviously you did” Corey added

“He found me on Instagram and added me,“ she laughed and you could feel your face fill with heat, “then he just wouldn’t leave me alone”

“And then he got traded here” Sam finally added, earning a round of laughs from everyone when they realized he hadn’t said anything

“Then he got traded here. During a Pandemic, in the weirdest season of Hockey I’ve ever witnessed” she laughed

“She flipped when I told her”

“I hadn’t kept up with the trade deadline” she added

“So she was in the middle of a Zoom call or something” you continued, the two of you now telling the story together

“When I get this text”

“I wrote, purposely very cryptically, I’m coming to see you”

“And I was obviously very creeped out”

“But she still replied”

“Well, I had to figure out what the hell he was talking about!” she laughed, pushing your shoulder playfully

“Sure but you could’ve just been like ‘this is a joke’ and left it at that” you teased before she rolled her eyes

“Anyway…” she smirked, “I sent back a message asking what the hell he was talking about”

“So I told her I got traded and she sent a voice note practically screaming”

“I was excited”

“I was nervous but I was happy that I’d have a friend in the city outside of hockey”

“So I asked him when he was going to get into the city, to see if we could meet up”

“I told her”

“But then Alberta went into a weird quasi-lockdown and I didn’t want to get him in trouble”

“So we FaceTimed”

“Which we’d obviously done a million times over the years”

“We caught up”

“Planned to get together”

“Which we did, pretty soon after, and now here we are”

“Here you are” George interjected, leading you and (Y/N) to laugh awkwardly before each taking a sip from your respective drinks and Niklas pointed out a booth where everyone could sit and talk without having to crane your necks. After a while, and a few more cocktails, everyone seemed to be getting along which, honestly, made you smile; something that Ollie was all too quick to notice.

"I'll be right back" (Y/N) said with a smile before she started to push you out of the booth, leaving you with your friends and their very obvious questions

"Before you say anything," you smirked, "just don't"

"Come on" George laughed

"If you already know what we're going to say, why don't you answer the question?" Sam added

"Come on, Jakey" Malcolm teased

"Säg det" Corey added

"Säg vad?" you played dumb

"Kom igen..." Eric continued

"Ingen aning om vad du pratar om..."

"Hur länge har du älskat henne?" Dustin finally asked

"Hey!" you exclaimed when you saw (Y/N), trying to get them to forget about the question

"Hi," she said, caught off guard by your excitement, "everything okay?"

"Yeah" you answered, letting her back in before you squeezed in next to her

"You sure?" she said, furrowing her brow

"Yeah! We just wanted to get another round but wanted to make sure you were here before we did..."

"You're a terrible liar" she laughed, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear and exposing her neck

"Så... ska du berätta för henne att du älskar henne eller måste någon av oss göra det?" Sam said, causing (Y/N)'s head to ping pong back and forth between the two of you, as if she was trying to understand what he said to you

"What did he say?" she asked you, leaning into you, causing your cheeks to flush with heat

"Nothing," you said, distracted by her peach-scented shampoo and the way she didn't move away from you, clearing your throat when you realized that you were almost moving toward her, "they're just teasing me. You all have that in common”

“Yeah, something tells me that’s not what he said” she smirked, her eyes dancing between yours before she sat back up and continued talking with the guys; they told her stories about how you were as a kid, she laughed and said that you hadn’t changed at all.

“It was nice to meet you, (Y/N),” Malcolm said, “take care of him while we’re gone okay?”

“I will” she smiled

“Take care of yourself, too” Corey added

“Thanks”

“And you,” George pointed to you with a smirk, “you take care of her”

“Yeah yeah yeah” you joked

"Vi är seriösa, J," Niklas said, "Hon är för bra för dig men om du tar hand om henne ..."

"Då vet du..." Sam added, raising his eyebrows as (Y/N) called a cab

"Allvarligt killar, sluta" you sighed

"Du älskar henne" Ollie whispered

"Berätta bara för henne," Dustin said while Eric nodded his head

"Det är inte så enkelt" you sighed, watching (Y/N) continue to try to hail a cab and fail, dropping her head in annoyance

“Come on!” you heard her yell, earning a scoff from you

”Har jag varit kär i henne i ungefär två år? Ja," you confessed, "spelar det någon roll? Nej, för hon känner inte samma sak om mig och jag tänker inte tvinga henne att känna något hon inte gör”

"Tycker du inte att hon förtjänar att veta det?" Sam asked

"Vi såg hur hon såg på dig," Ollie grinned, "Jag tror att det finns några känslor där"

"Jag tror inte det" you sighed once more, looking over at (Y/N) who had successfully hailed a cab

“Jake!!” she called excitedly, a huge smile spread across her face, “come on! It was nice to meet you guys!” she called to your friends and they waved her goodbye, “Jake, I can’t keep this guy waiting forever!”

"Du bör gå" George laughed

"Hon är så bossig" Corey joked

"Ja, det är hon" you smirked, looking at her calling you to the small yellow car and telling the driver to wait just one more minute. ”Okej killar, jag måste gå. Tack för att du kom in för att önska mig en grattis på födelsedagen,” you smiled, “Ha en säker flygning tillbaka”

"Kommer att göra, Jakey," Malcolm said

“Hallå!” Niklas interrupted one last time, "Berätta bara för henne"

“Adjö” you shook your head before smiling and waving them goodbye

“Geez! Took you long enough!” (Y/N) whined, hopping into the backseat of the cab with you close behind

“Relax, I had to say goodbye. They came a long way” you replied

“Such a good friend,” she said, “can I just stay at your place tonight? I’m exhausted”

“Yeah that’s fine” you agreed, letting your hand fall next to hers, brushing her skin with your pinky and waiting for someone to break the silence

“Where to?” the driver finally asked, bringing your attention to him before giving him your address

“Your friends were nice,” (Y/N) added wearily, “they didn’t really like to talk in English though did they?”

“Their Swedish is better”

“That’s fair” she yawned, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the window. You smiled as thoughts of how your life could be with her — falling asleep next to her, caressing her skin as she slept, pushing her hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear so you could kiss her softly — but you knew she didn’t feel the same, so all you would ever be was friends.

You fell asleep in the cab next to Jacob but you could swear you felt him watching you. He did wake you up, gently, when the cab pulled up in front of his apartment.

“(Y/N)?” he whispered, “hey”

“Hi. What’s going on?”

“It’s time to go inside” he smirked

“Oh” you scoffed, pushing yourself across the bench seat and stepping out of the cab, stumbling into Jacob when you finally stood up

“Whoa” he chuckled, placing his arm around your waist to keep you from falling

“I’m sorry,” she whined as you both stepped into the elevator, leaning back against the cold metal and away from Jake. “I didn’t think I drank that much but I guess I couldn’t keep up with you guys”

“It’s okay,” he laughed and you started to drift off to sleep again, “hey, we’re almost to my place, don’t fall asleep here okay?”

“Okay” you hummed before he started to keep you awake by telling you jokes. “Oh my god, Jake, stop!” you laughed, “your jokes are awful”

“Hey! My jokes are pure gold” he countered

“Sure they are” you scoffed. When the elevator finally opened, you slowly walked out, swaying and stumbling through the hallway before Jake eventually placed his hands on your waist and guided you to the door

“Alright, here we are. Come on, drunky”

“Why aren’t you more drunk?” you finally asked, only now noticing that he seemed very sober

“I’m twice your size,” he laughed, “I can manage a bit more alcohol than you”

“Yeah but you’re like… sober. Like you didn’t drink at all” you questioned before stumbling into his chest

“Oh-kay, let’s just get you to sleep,” he said, carrying you to his bedroom

“Hey mister,” you slurred, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m putting you in bed” he said

“This is your bed, I don’t know what kind of ideas you have in your little Swedish brain”

“Don’t worry, kid,” he scoffed, setting you down on the firm mattress before tucking you under the covers, “I’ll be in the guest room”

“Wait!” you called as he started walking away, “happy birthday” you smiled, realizing you hadn’t said it to him nearly all-day

“Thanks,” he whispered and you saw him smile while he began closing the door, “now get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” The next morning, you heard him in the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as possible, rummaging around the cabinets

“Hey sleepy head!” he exclaimed

“Oh wow,” you replied softly, rubbing your temples, “why are you yelling like that?”

"I'm sorry," he whispered but it still felt like yelling, "am I annoying you?"

"What are you doing?" you asked, glaring at him while you sat down on the stool at the kitchen island

"I'm making pancakes!" he smiled

"You can't cook" you groaned, still rubbing your temples in hopes that it would cure your hangover

"Wow, rude," he joked, throwing a metal spoon into his sink and you shuddered at the ringing of the steel that echoed through the room, "do you want some aspirin?"

"Yes please" you smiled gratefully

"Here" he said, handing you a glass of water and two small pills

"Thank you," you said and he saluted you lazily, earning a scoff from you, "so what's going on today? Post birthday plans?"

"My mom is calling in soon and then I have to go to practice, we've got a game tomorrow. In Vancouver, so we're flying out this afternoon," he replied, keeping his eyes on the food in front of him while he spoke, "so the day is pretty much set..."

"Oh," you said, clearing your throat as you finished your glass of water, "okay. I'll just... leave you to it then"

"What?" he scoffed, "I didn't mean it li-- you're not gonna stay and talk to my mom? You know she loves you more than she loves me"

"Well, I am very lovable," you teased, smiling at him until your headache forced you to stop, "but I don't want to intrude or anything. I'll just grab my phone and get an Uber so I can head home"

"Stop it," he huffed, turning off the burner and walking over to you, "I'll drive you home later, just stay and chat with me and Mom" he placed his hands on your arms before his eyes focused on your own and you found yourself unable to resist his insistence; your pursed smile giving it away before you could

"Fine," you finally said, "I'll stay."

"Good" he smirked, turning back to grab you a pancake, practically tossing the plate to you. When his mom finally Facetimed him, he was in the other room so you were forced to greet her first

"Hey, Lena!" you exclaimed

"(Y/N)! Darling! How are you?" she asked, her smile so much like her sons

"I'm good, how are you?"

"I'm good! Thank you for asking," she smiled, looking past you for Jake, "now, where is my son?"

"He's probably off puking somewhere," you joked, "he really can't handle his alcohol in his old age"

"His tolerance must have lowered since moving to Canada"

"Especially when the actual alcohol percentages are so low compared to Sweden"

"I'm disappointed in him" she laughed

"Me too!" you added, laughing with her before Jake finally walked into frame, standing behind you with his arms on either side of you and his chin resting on the top of your head

"Alright you two," he smirked, "stop making fun of me"

"It's your fault," you teased, tilting your head so you were looking up at him directly, "not being in the room and all"

"When will I learn?" he joked, looking down at you before making a funny face

"Never. You'll never learn. You're impossible" you laughed, sticking your tongue out at him as he pushed your shoulder and sat down in the seat beside you

"You two are so sweet" Lena smirked

"Ma..." Jake sighed

"We are sweet, aren't we?" you replied, noticing both Lena and Jacob shake their heads; granted, with different expressions on their face

"It's not--" he started, exasperated after having clearly had this conversation with his mom more than once

"What's wrong?" you asked, confused

"I think you're the most adorable couple I've ever seen, honestly" Lena admitted and you scoffed, a blush creeping into your cheeks

"Oh, whoa," you smiled, "Jake, have you been going around telling your parents we're dating?"

"No" he sighed, closing his eyes lightly as if he was embarrassed

"I've been trying to get him to ask you out for months now but he won't do it" she teased

"Well, he wouldn't," you said, looking between the mother and son, "because we're just friends. He wouldn't want to ruin that"

"Alright mom," he said, over the back and forth, "enough of this conversation. I've got to take (Y/N) home, okay? Love you, thanks for the chat"

"Hey, Jacob!" Lena yelled before he could end the call, "we haven't spoken, don't hang up on me like that"

"I'll just.. go wait outside" you whispered, watching him sit down in front of his computer to await the disappointed words that his mom would soon say to him. You waited outside for a few minutes before checking if his truck was unlocked, sitting on the step when you saw that it wasn't and realizing that if you tried to open the door, the alarm would go off. It was another hour before Jacob finally came outside to meet you

"Sorry about that" he sighed

"That's okay. She called to talk to you, I'd be upset too if someone tried to hang up on me when I specifically called t--"

"Yeah, I get it," he said through bared teeth, "let's just go, okay? I have to be at practice soon" you furrowed your brow but got into the passenger seat, looking at him take a deep breath before starting the car. You thought about the words his mother used when she spoke about you and Jacob. You two are so sweet, the most adorable couple I've ever seen, I've been trying to get him to ask you out for months. It was all kind of odd to you. Not only that Lena had said it, or that she and Jake had clearly had the conversation before, but that he was so irritated by the whole interaction. Why was he so upset? you thought to yourself. Did he think you were embarrassed? Did he think that you would be hurt that he had never agreed to take you out on a date? Or was there something that he had said to Lena that he didn't want you to hear?

"Jake?" you said, as he drove through the city silently but he didn't respond. Soon enough, he pulled up outside of your apartment building and you hesitated before finally jumping out of the car, with just enough time to clear the door before Jake sped away from you. What the fuck? you scoffed, heading inside in hopes of clearing your head. You spent the day racking your brain about what could have gotten Jake so upset but nothing came to mind; nothing you said was rude, or at least you didn't think it was, and everything was true, so what was his deal?

"Tell me exactly what happened?" your friend, Susie, asked from the other end of the phone after you had explained the morning to her

"Again?" you whined

"Yes, again, I need to know if you're missing something"

"We went for drinks last night, for his birthday, with his friends. We all laughed and had a good time. I drank too much, stayed at his place, in separate rooms. When I woke up, we joked around like we always do, he gave me some aspirin and made some pancakes before his mom called from Sweden" you exclaimed, smirking to yourself a little while you thought of the conversation you and Lena had before Jake came back into the room. "She loves me, so we joked about Jake a bunch but then he came into the room, stood behind me and rested his chin on my head. I looked up at him and we teased each other a bit more. Lena said we were sweet, I said yeah of course but Jake seemed to.. argue with her? I don't know, Lena kept going saying that we made a cute couple but I corrected her, saying we were just friends. My exact words were to Jake 'have you been going around telling your parents we're dating?' to which he said No and then Lena said she's been trying to get him to ask me out for a while but he's always said no"

"And what did you say...?" Susie interjected, her tone telling you that she was hearing something that you clearly weren't

"I said that he wouldn't ask me out because we were just friends," you replied plainly. It was the truth, what was wrong with that? "and that he wouldn't want to ruin that"

"He wouldn't?" she questioned with a scoff before continuing, "fine. What happened after that?"

"Things got weird and tense. I let them talk alone and then he drove me home in a weird mood. He barely talked to me, he barely even looked at me!"

"(Y/N)..." she sighed, "(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N)..."

"What? What? What?" you scoffed in reply

"HOW ARE YOU SO BLIND?!" she shouted through the phone, forcing you to pull it from your ear for a minute

"What are you talking about?"

"I've seen it for years," she said, "but I always thought you knew. But you really don't, do you?"

"Know what? What have you seen for years?"

"The way you'd stop everything when he called, the way you'd schedule FaceTimes like clockwork, the way he knows your favourite colour as it changes from week to week. The fact that he could have anyone he wanted, who would want him back, but he chooses to ask you to hang out with him all the time, from a different province? A different time zone?" she explained but you were still lost

"We're friends. We like hanging out with each other and we can't really do that in person because of what's happening now. Plus, he's so busy..."

"(Y/N)!!!" she yelled again, "COME ON!"

"JUST SPIT IT OUT! I'm clearly not gonna get what you're trying to get me to get..."

"He's been in love with you for years. Probably since the two of you started really getting to know each other," she said and the words hung in the air as you tried to grasp them, "but when you said that you were just friends? He probably thought that he was never going to be anything more than that to you. Maybe he thinks he's wasted his time all these years"

"He's not in love with me" was all you could think to say

"Yes, he is," she laughed, "and you're in love with him"

"Now, hold on," you scoffed, "I'm pretty sure I would know if I were in love with somebody"

"Would you?"

"Of course I would"

"Fine," she replied, seemingly dropping the conversation, "but he is in love with you and I think you need to talk to him about it"

"And say what?" you asked

"I don't know..." she said, her smirk ever present on her words, "but I'm sure you'll think of something"

"Susi--"

"I gotta go," she interrupted, "keep me in the loop. Love you, bye!"

"WAIT!" you shouted to a now static line, "well what the fuck...?" you said to yourself. You were left alone with the thought that Jake might have feelings for you and the words that Susie tried to convince you were true

"You're in love with him, too" it was nonsense. You couldn't love Jake... It was Jake. He was Jacob Markström. Was there a part of you that found him attractive? Yes. Yeah, sure but were you in love with him? No. No, there's no way.

"FUCK!" you shouted to your empty apartment, as you paced through the living room, "why would she say that? It doesn't matter. I don't love him. I mean, he's Jake. He's just the guy who teases me for literally every move I make. So, he knows that my favourite colour changes every week, who cares? That doesn't mean anything. Sure, you knew that he loves Country music more than he's actually confessed in his interviews, but that's just what happens when you're friends with someone. And, yes, when the light hit him just right, he looked like he was covered in gold but that's not him. That's the sun... It's not like he's a god or anything, he's just got blonde hair and the sun does stuff to blonde hair..." you could feel yourself making excuses but you had to because maybe you didn't want it to be true. You couldn't be in love with him, could you? "Fuck" you sighed.

Jacob's P.O.V

You had been ignoring (Y/N) for almost a week at this point. You weren’t sure what to do or say to her knowing now, for sure, that she only thought of you as friends but you hated not having her around. She had become such an integral part of your life and not having her there just felt... wrong

“Jake, talk to me, please!” she texted and you sighed, staring at your phone and contemplating an answer but you just couldn’t think of something to say, “JAKE! I know you’re getting these messages. Just let me talk to you please. If you don’t want to say anything fine but I need to talk to you”

“Are you gonna leave me alone if I let you talk?” you finally gave in

“Yes,” she sent back, “but I need to see you to say all of this...”

“Seriously?” you scoffed

“Yes. Seriously. Please?”

“Fine. When are you free?”

“Right now!” she replied quickly

“I can’t right now. I literally just walked into the locker room, how about tomorrow?”

“How about after practice? I can meet you at the Dome...”

“Fine” you huffed to yourself

“Everything okay?” Tanny asked when he heard your exasperation

“Yeah” you sighed, holding up your phone to let him know that it was something on there

“Great!” (Y/N) added, “I’ll see you at four?”

“Yeah sure, fine” you tossed your phone into the shelf in your stall and rubbed your face in frustration

“Yo, Marky...” Chris continued, noticing your stress, “seriously man, what’s going on?”

“(Y/N) wants to meet up and ‘talk’” you replied, putting air quotes around talk

“The girlfriend wants to break up huh?” he chirped and you scoffed, shaking your head in return

“I’ve been ignoring her for like a week. I don’t know what to say to her... I’ve been able to hide my feelings for her for so long but she finally said to my mom, on my birthday, that all we’ll ever be is friends and, I don’t know, I just don’t know what to say to her. I don’t know if I can hide how I feel anymore”

“She has feelings for you, too” he said

“Yeah.. she thinks of me as a big brother”

“No,” he countered, “she has the same feelings for you as you do for her. She’s just scared to admit it”

“Why would she be scared to admit it?” you said dumbly

“Because,” he smirked, “it would mean admitting that guys and girls can’t just be friends. That there’s always some kind of attraction and that sex gets in the way”

“Sex?” you blushed

“I’m not saying you’ve had sex or that you’re going to,” he admitted, “I’m just saying, I’ve met (Y/N) before and she’s always said that she doesn’t agree with the idea that guys and girls can’t be friends because someone always wants to sleep with someone else. But if she admits to having feelings for you, then all of that becomes... hypocritical”

“She wouldn’t be that petty...”

“I wouldn’t call it petty,” he said, heading back toward his stall to continue putting on his gear, “I would call it stubborn.” By the end of practice, you were looking for (Y/N) everywhere but there was no one in the stands and you figured she must have wanted to meet you in the parking lot so you could drive her somewhere private. You took a quick shower and packed up your bag, looking at your phone quickly to see if there was anything from her but your screen was clear, forcing your brow to crease in response

“Take it easy, guys” you smiled as you made your way out of the locker room, waving to the team before catching Tanny give you a head nod. You practically ran out of the building to find (Y/N) when you saw her arguing with a security guard

“Oh, Jake! Finally. I’ve been arguing with this guy for like an hour. He wouldn’t let me in!” she explained through gritted teeth

“It’s fine. Thank you,” you said to the guard, pulling her away from him and toward your car, “what is wrong with you? You can’t argue with Security, you’re tiny. You’re not a threat, you just look like a chihuahua”

“Ha ha” she replied sarcastically

“Am I taking you somewhere to talk or what’s going on?” you spat

“Do you wanna go somewhere?” she asked

“I wanna know what you wanna talk about and then maybe I can decide if we should go somewhere” you admitted, stomping off to your car

“I wanna talk about us” she whimpered as she caught up to you. You caught her eye for just a second before shaking your head

“Get in the car” you scoffed and she did as you told her. The two of you were silent for a while before (Y/N) tried to get you to start talking but you shushed her, keeping the ride silent aside from the radio until you got to relatively empty part of Prince’s Island Park. “Alright,” you said sternly as you slammed the door shut, “talk”

“I...” she hesitated, closing the door lightly

“What?”

“I never--”

“Never meant to hurt me?” you interrupted thinking you were finishing her thought

“I never wanted to be with you...” she admitted and you scoffed in return

“Wow... thanks. Glad we could have this talk”

“No, wait, Jake, stop,” she sighed, “I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t realize how you felt until like a week ago. Apparently, everyone else around me knew but I was too stupid to see it. I thought we both wanted the same thing”

“And that was to never be with each other?”

“I thought we just wanted a friend”

“Because I can’t get my own friends?”

“Because I didn’t think you thought of me like that” she shouted

“Why not?” you exclaimed

“You never really did anything to make me think otherwise!”

“Sure I did!”

“Jake... come on. You never did anything differently...”

“I drove you places” you tried and she scoffed

“Oh no, you’re right,” she teased, “how could I not have known?”

“How about me calling on Valentine’s Day?”

“How was I supposed to know that was anything other than you having a day off?” It was a fair point, actually. She knew that you’d often lose track of days when you were on the road and, sometimes, you’d miss holidays altogether

“I never forgot your birthday!” you said as if that proved something

“And?”

“And... you should’ve known then”

“Jake, it doesn’t matter,” she sighed, “the point is that I didn’t notice until now.”

“So what?” you asked, “you wanted to talk to tell me that you never wanted to be with me? I don’t get why you couldn’t just wait for me to come to you or why you had to stop everything for this”

“Jake..”

“I mean no, you didn’t stop everything but you might as well have”

“Jake...” you heard her say, trying to get you to stop but you continued rambling

“But that’s what I do. For you. I drop everything as soon as you call or text because you need me and I like that you need me, so I stop and run to you”

“Jacob!”

“WHAT?”

“I LOVE YOU, TOO” she shouted over you, her eyes closing softly when she realized how loud she was. “I didn’t realize it until I looked back at everything and I didn’t think it was actually how I felt because, I mean, it’s you...” she chuckled, “and it’s me. We couldn’t be an ‘us’ but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted there to be an ‘us.‘ I knew you were mad, you weren’t taking my calls or responding to my texts -- even though I saw that you had read them -- and I didn’t want to make things worse but I hated not having you around to tell me that I burnt my pizza, again, or that I should eat more fish or that I was a terrible tour guide. I hated not hearing your voice everyday or seeing your smile,” you began walking toward her as she continued to ramble, your heart warm with each word that left her lips, “I was always confused why you weren’t with anyone and why I was happy that you never were but when I figured it out, everything made sense. You finally made sense...” she stopped when you stood in front of her, closing any space between the two of you

“You done?” you asked with a smirk

“I-I think so...” she stammered as your hands crept to the sides of her neck, your thumb pushing her chin up so you could lean down and capture her lips slowly. She welcomed your lips as if they had been missing from hers for a lifetime but her arms stayed at her sides for a minute longer until it was too much for her and she let her hands clutch your wrists while your tongue glided across her lip to gain access inside her mouth. She let out a small moan when her mouth opened, earning a smirk from you before your hands fell from her neck, down her body, until they cupped her ass and you picked her up; her legs instinctively wrapping your hips, mirroring her arms wrapping around your neck. You set her down on the hood of your car while your tongues intertwined with each other and her fingers tangled in your hair. It took a while for either of you to break the kiss, leaving her chest heaving as she tried to her breath

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long” you laughed as her head fell against your chest and you kissed her forehead

“And?” she asked, lifting her head back up to look at you

“It was better than I thought it would be”

“Gee,” she scoffed, pushing your shoulder playfully, “thanks”

“I think we just need to keep doing it” you teased

“I can do that”

“Good” you whispered, leaning back in to press a kiss to her lips as she smiled against your lips

“Maybe we should go somewhere private” she whispered

“Sure” you replied, distracted by the feel of her skin under your fingertips, before you moved your lips to her neck, eliciting small whimpers from her

“Jake...” she moaned and you hummed against her skin, smirking to yourself, “somewhere private...”

“Fine,” you smirked, reluctantly agreeing with you before picking her up again to carry her back into the passenger seat. You sat in the drivers seat but didn’t make any moves, half hoping that she’d pull you into the backseat and say that this was ‘private enough’ but she didn’t do that. Instead, she leaned across the centre console and kissed your cheek

“Let’s go” she whispered in your ear, making you smile before your hand found its way to her knee, stationing itself there throughout the drive. She stopped you from moving your hand further up your thigh by grabbing it, holding it with both of hers

“Hey,” you whispered, bringing her hand to your lips, “we’re gonna have a lot of fun together”

“Yeah,” she smiled, “I think so, too.”

#Jacob Markström #Jacob Markstrom #Jacob Markstrom Imagine #Jacob Markstrom fic #Jacob Markström Imagine #Jacob Markström fic #NHL #Hockey #Calgary Flames #Hockey Fic #Hockey Imagine #Vancouver Canucks #Flames #Canucks #Friends to Lovers #masterlist #the other masterlist

135 notes · View notes

deja-vux · 4 years ago

Text

Just One More Round

Jungkook x Reader Word Count: 2.2k+ A/N: This one ended up longer then intended not gonna lie. Anyways I still have a Hyunjin and Johnny one shot to post. Dont forget to check out A Thousand Days and Counting and my other one shots A Little Bit of You, A Little Bit of Me and But I Want Ice Cream if you haven’t. As always enjoy :) KPOP Masterlist

Jungkook and Y/N loved to hit up the local arcade at least once a week. Most of the time it was where they would either start or end their dates. They were such regulars that the old man who owned the arcade would always give them free plays every time he saw them walk in despite their protest. For the past two years of their relationship and the past five years of their friendship prior to them dating this place acted as somewhat of a safe haven for the two/ Unfortunately like many things that tradition of theirs would be taken away due to the global pandemic which forced the arcade to close its doors even to its most loyal patrons. At first, it wasn’t too bad; it was only supposed to be till the end of the month but even back then no one could predict the future.

Four months would pass before the arcade would open its doors again to the public again. The two scurrying to the arcade wanting their fix that they had been missing the whole time. They spent nearly the entire day playing games, their favorite being the racing and basketball games as they would take bets on who would come out victorious Jungkook winning more times than losing. Not like it mattered though cause just like every other trip he made it a point to save up his tickets until he could get Y/N a prize from the top shelf which he could today. Both Jungkook and Y/N made their way over to the prize counter hand in hand as they debated over which prize to go for, “Which one catches your attention the most?” Jungkook asked leaning against the counter wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Hm I don’t know they all look cute,” Y/N replied as she smiled feeling Jungkook’s chin rest on her shoulder.

“What about the Kirby,” he said, pointing to the round pink character in the corner.

“We have that one already. What about the Batman bear?” she suggested.

“That was the first one I gave you or did you already forget,” he teased as he mindlessly played with her fingers.

“You do have a point,” she grimaced before looking through the prizes again.

“How about the Winnie the Pooh. I know how much you like it,” he said pointing towards it hidden between a Spongebob and Pikachu plush.

At first, Y/N hadn’t noticed it but once she did there was no changing her mind that was the prize she wanted. The counter attendant made his way over greeting the pair like old friends before asking them what they were getting this time. Jungkook wasted no time in pointing out the yellow plush to the attendant. The attendant left them momentarily as he grabbed the step ladder to reach it. Once the attendant got it he gently patted the plush’s head before handing it over in exchange for his tickets. The attendant did the math letting them know they had about 20 tickets left to use and although the pair would usually save them for the next trip they decided to spend them on candies before waving goodbye to the staff and going home. Unfortunately for them, that would be the last trip for a while because just as quickly as the arcade had opened up it closed once again as the world returned to a lockdown.

Months had passed and they were about to ring in the new year. At this point, they had done just about everything they could during a pandemic from rearranging and self renovating their apartment, to learning to paint, to even learning random dances from the internet. They had even played every game on every console they owned. Now they were burnt out and bored with nothing else to do. Then as if by a miracle there was a knock on the door causing the pair to lift their heads up, Y/N was confused as Jungkook had the cheesiest grin on his face. Jungkook immediately got up running over to the door opening it and receiving the package from the postage man. Y/N, confused by his sudden excitement, got up asking what it was. He turned walking to the dining room table setting the box down before grabbing scissors to open the box. “A little something to help with our current boredom problem,” he said cutting the tape on the box.

“And what exactly is that?” she asked, attempting to peek over his shoulder.

“This,” he replied, pulling out the red box that had a picture of the Nintendo Switch on it.

“No way, weren’t these sold out cause everyone was buying them like crazy at the beginning of quarantine?” Y/N asked as she wondered how he managed to get one.

“Yeah it took a while but I managed to get one,” he replied proudly.

To no one’s surprise, Jungkook spared no expense on stocking up on as many games as he could. All from the latest releases to fan favorites. They wasted no time unboxing the switch and setting it up to charge before beginning to unwrap the games from their plastic protectors. After collecting all the trash and putting it in the box they came in they finally managed to sit down on the couch turning on the Switch and setting it up. They each set up their profile as well as the extra joy-con controllers and pro controllers as well. After that was done the two looked over the games he had bought as they attempted to choose what to play first ultimately deciding on Mario Kart. The rest of the day was spent playing the different games, some of them Jungkook came out to be the superior player while others Y/N was superior.

Months had passed and they had yet to grow tired of their new toy. One thing Jungkook was tired of though was Y/N completely obliterating him in Mario Kart. No matter how many times he played or how many times he practiced on his own he never managed to have enough skills to beat her. Even when he got close enough or managed to pass her something would sabotage him at the last second causing him to lose. Now his worst enemy became banana peels, blue shells, and Goombas walking across the track. Today more than ever he was determined to beat her. He had been playing with different random players online every day for the past 2 weeks completely dominating the competition. Not only that but he had managed to beat the competition by a good amount of distance each time. On top of that, he even made sure that he always played on the hardest settings. He felt more than ready to challenge that and so once she got home from work that day he challenged her. ”Why so I can kick your butt again, babe,” she teased in response.

“I have a good feeling that the tables will be turning today,” he stated confidently, “So is that a yes? Or are you too chicken to lose your title,” he teased smugly.

“Fine just let me shower first I smell like grease and cheap beer,” she said laughing at his eagerness.

“Ok, I’ll set it up. You wanna do our usual 8 races or you feeling like a 12 today?” he asked, turning the TV on.

“Let’s do 12, random choice,” she said after thinking it over.

“You got it,” he said.

Just as promised once Y/N finished her shower the two began playing. The first two races were won by Y/N without her breaking a single sweat. She hadn’t even panicked when she was hit by a blue or red shell. Well more like if it hit her cause sometimes she’d have a super horn to blast it away or she'd slow down enough so that second place would surpass her and get hit instead leaving them stunned as she raced ahead. Most of the time Jungkook was the victim of that tactic. The next two were close ones but Y/N managed to win one while Jungkook won the other. Finally, for the first time, he managed to beat, and on top of that, it was on her favorite track, the one she knew inside, outside, forwards, and backward. Although he was excited about the win he didn’t let it get to him knowing they still had another 8 races to go before he could claim victory. The next races were a blur as each of their competitive spirits took over. Both became focused on beating the other by tactically using their items, using hidden shortcuts, and praying that a blue shell wouldn’t be sent their way before they reached the finish line.

By the end of their 12 race match, the results were finally brought up on the screen. The two had tied their points exactly the same. Y/N sat there in shock, jaw hanging open wondering how he all of sudden got better to the point where they could tie. All of that though was interrupted by the almost synchronized rumbling of both their stomachs causing them to pull their attention away from the screen. “We should probably start making dinner,” Y/N said getting up from her seat.

Wait we have to break the tie,” Jungkook said as he pulled her back onto the couch into his lap.

“Kookie I’m hungry can’t we do that later or another day?” she said squishing her boyfriend’s cheeks as he pouted.

“Please. I’ll order us pizza if you do just one more round,” he offered knowing it might persuade her.

“Fine but the loser has to do the dishes for a week,” she said, wanting to up the ante.

“You got yourself a deal,” he said smiling.

Jungkook grabbed his phone ordering the pizza so it could be delivered by the time they finished as Y/N got comfy in his lap laying her head on his shoulder. Once he finished he grabbed their controllers handing Y/N hers. This time around they decided to choose Grand Prix mode going with the lightning cup. Y/N won Tick-Tock Clock with ease taking first place while Jungkook was barely turning the last clock to go up the ramp to the finish line. Piranha Plant Slide was won by Jungkook who had a lucky green shell to thank for his win. Grumble Volcano was a close call but Y/N ended up winning because of a last-second banana peel that caused Jungkook to swivel off the edge. Now it was time for the final race, the dreaded Rainbow Road. This was Jungkook’s final chance to at least end with a tie and save himself from the week of dish duty. The countdown finished starting the race and Y/N failed her boost causing her character to stall. Jungkook internally rejoiced as he took on first place as Y/N was in 12th. This didn’t stop her though. Once she got into her groove she quickly began climbing up the leaderboard from twelfth, to tenth, to sixth, to third. By the time the last lap had started and the theme music began to speed up, Y/N and Jungkook were now neck and neck. Every second the leaderboard would change back. and forth as they each overtook one another for first place. Just as they were about to reach the finish line they were both struck by lighting along with the other characters causing them to stall as the Toad CPU took first. The two scramble with their controls to get their character to move with Y/N taking second and Jungkook taking third. “I can’t believe we got beat by Toad?” Y/N said slumping into Jungkook's arms.

“Stupid lightning I would of beat you. I was this close,” he said motioning the distance with his fingers.

“Sure you would have. Technically I still won by points so you know what that means,” she said poking his cheek.

“Nope we never shook on it or pinky promised on it so I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said teasingly, turning away from her.

“Yeah, but you said deal,” Y/N pouted as she turned her boyfriend’s face to face her.

“Okay okay I’ll do the dishes for the next week,” He said giving into her puppy eyes, “Only if you seal the deal with a kiss and since it’s after the results of the race imma need two cause of interest,” he said pulling her closer so she was now straddling him his hand on her waist.

“I can do that,” she says smiling before leaning down to kiss him.

They were well into the second kiss by the time there was a knock on the door again signaling that their food was here. They pulled away at the second knock, leaning their foreheads against each other as Y/N blushed while pulling herself off his lap so Jungkook could get up and pay. The rest of the night was spent eating pizza and cuddling while playing Super Smash Bros as Y/N attempted to beat Jungkook so she could challenge him next.

#jeon jungkook imagine #jungkook imagine #bts imagines #jungkook x reader #au #jungkook x y/n #gamer au #kpop imagines #kpop headcanons #kpop au #kpop oneshots #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x y/n #+×DejaVu×+#deja-vux

86 notes · View notes

loving-barnes · 4 years ago

Text

RED, SUS! - BUCKY BARNES

(A/N): I mean, come on, I had to write one where the team is playing Among us.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Summary: Tony calls everyone to play the current video game trend - Among us.

Warning: language, a bit fluff at the end

Words: 2800+

FULL MASTERLIST

RED, SUS! - BUCKY BARNES

The gaming world was absorbed by the new game. Everyone was streaming it, playing with friends. It was the perfect game to play during a pandemic. Unfortunately, the illness got into the Avengers compound too. Some of the agents and workers were in isolation due to the virus. Also, even though some people could be considered as Gods, this nuisance got them too. Clint remained isolated in his room, Natasha and Wanda were sick too. Their symptoms were mild, fortunately.

Tony’s orders were strict: social distancing for at least 14 days; checking via FRIDAY if anyone was in the kitchen; no gatherings or work meetings; those not affected had to be prepared for urgent or unexpected missions; masks were necessary for the hallways and common rooms and many more.

Every day, between two and five in the afternoon, they had to remain in their rooms due to obligatory disinfection that was happening in common rooms, hallways and other rooms.

They were in the middle of their two-week personal lockdown when Tony sent everyone a message to log onto their laptops. Y/N was reading a book, slowly falling asleep when it happened. She checked her phone: Conference call, urgent, now.

Y/N knew Tony pretty well. These types of messages never meant discussing work or missions. It was something for his amusement - mostly. Unwillingly and without a choice, she turned on her laptop and joined the conference call.

Natasha: Hey, YN, you joined!

Y/N waved with a hand and then scratched her neck. She looked like a mess - baggy jumper, hair in a bun and her face looked sad and tired. In conclusion, she didn’t care less. The team saw her in her worst already - drunk and almost dead.

Sam: What happened to you, Y/N? You look terrible.

Y/N: Shut it, Wilson. I am well. This is my pandemic outfit.

Bucky chuckled. She knew it was him because she could recognize his voice and other sounds anywhere.

Steve: Tony, what is the meaning behind all of this?

Tony: I’m glad you asked. Now that you are all here, and as you can see, I wanted you to join me in an adventure like never before.

Y/N: Tony, I will not drink with you while being on a conference call.

Tony: Y/N, I am not a madman. I don’t believe in virtual drinking. No, this one does not involve alcohol. All you need is your brain and the ability to lie.

Natasha: Sounds interesting, continue.

Tony: There is this new video game called Among Us which is an online multiplayer game. This game is pretty simple, there are crewmates or impostors. Crewmates have to do tasks to win and Impostors have to sabotage, fake tasks and kill to win. The goal of the game is to identify impostors and vote them out - yes, there will be meetings where we have to vote out someone or skip. The meetings also happen when someone reports a body.

Both Wanda and Y/N made a sound that reminded of howling. They were interested.

Bucky: Come on, you really called us to play some stupid video game.

Wanda: Hey! Shush! I want to play. I am so bored in my room. I need some distraction.

Y/N: Yes, exactly. This sounds so good. Let’s play, everyone, please.

Steve: Honestly, I am bored so I will join. However, I need instructions.

Tony: Not a problem, buddy. I have already installed the game and sent you everything necessary. Just to explain one last detail. We will be on a conference call while playing. But, once the round starts, everyone has to mute their mics. When a meeting is called, you have to unmute and we discuss who to vote out and why. Once you are dead, you have to stay muted until the end of the game. At the beginning of every round, you will see whether you are an imposter or a crewmate. Don’t forget, impostors have to lie.

Y/N: Give us ten minutes to check the materials and to start the game, alright? We have some people that are not too good with this type of technology.

Y/N mocked Steve and Bucky especially. They were friends and she occasionally had to tease them. And when Sam was getting on her nerves, she would treat him the same way, if not even worse.

Clint: Oh, that is easy.

Natasha: Finally, something that will keep me occupied for more than ten seconds.

Bruce: Do I have to play?

Tony: Yes. Ten people are needed for two impostors and for it to be fun. You are playing, Banner.

Y/N: Does everyone understand?

The team simultaneously agreed, each person with a different tone. Y/N turned on the game, as well as the rest of the team did, putting on the code Tony had sent them. She spawned in a lobby, as a little lime figure.

Tony: You can also customise colours and accessories by coming to the laptop and using it.

Y/N quickly did as Tony informed them. She changed the colour to purple and put a golden crown on. It was adorable and it did represent her a little. When she was finished, the rest of the team was in the lobby. They also customised their figures to represent them.

Y/N: Oh my god, this is already so much fun.

Tony: Just to clarify - the crewmate’s vision is lower than the imposters have. The kill cooldown is 30 seconds. Voting time is 120 seconds, etc. You can see it on your left. I am starting the game and don’t forget to mute your mics.

Y/N muted her mic as the game started. She was a crewmate. They all were standing around a table. She started to move to the right. That was when she noticed a map on the screen. When she opened it, a blue map appeared with yellow exclamation marks. When she ran to the first room, she noticed a chair was illuminated with yellow colour.

"Alright, asteroids," she mumbled and did the task.

Other players passed her, or stayed near her, even Bucky’s character did. His figure was white. When she moved, he moved with her. “That’s sus,” she commented and moved down the map to find another task. Bucky was still with her until the lights went off.

“Fuck,” she whisper-shouted when the light around her was just a tiny circle. Several figures were around her and a report button appeared. She quickly clicked it.

A board with all the names showed. Wanda and Sam were dead. She quickly unmuted her mic to talk to the rest of the players. “What the fuck was that?”

Tony: Where is the body?

Y/N: Down in the O2 I believe. The lights went off and suddenly, so many people were around me. Just a report button appeared.

Steve: Who was there except you?

Y/N: I saw Bucky, who was following me - by the way, sus, Barnes. You did your asteroids way too quickly.

Bucky: I didn’t have that task, I just wanted to stay with you.

Tony: Sus!

Natasha: Steve and I were in the admin. That fucking card swipe. I failed it like ten times!

Y/N: Anyway, I think I saw Sam, Bruce and Clint with us. Now, Sam is dead.

Clint: What if it’s you?

Y/N: How dare you, Barton?

The time was slowly coming to its end and it was time to vote. Y/N had no idea who did the kill. She quickly voted skip.

Bruce: We can skip because there are still eight of us.

Tony: Banner, sus.

Everyone skipped except Tony, who voted Clint. No one was ejected and the game could continue. They reappeared in the cafeteria around the table. This time, Y/N went down, because her map showed her she had some task there. Again, Bucky followed her. He stayed at the very beginning of the room while she went in and did the card swipe task. She was lucky to finish it on her second try. Once she was finished, Bucky was nowhere to be seen.

She moved to the wires task. She heard the door to the cafeteria close. When she cleared the task, Bucky was again with her. Maybe he was just protecting her. She had no idea.

The reactor was called. It was time to fix it. Bucky and Y/N moved through storage, under the electrical where they were met with Natasha, Tony and Bruce. They all moved to the reactor where Vision was. Everyone stacked on the upper reactor while Y/N was down alone. The reactor was saved and a body was reported. Natasha and Steve were killed.

Bucky: What the hell happened? Natasha is dead and there are like four of us.

Y/N: Was that a double kill?

Tony: No, it was only Nat. Captain was killed somewhere else, obviously.

Bruce: Most of us were together except Y/N, Bucky and Clint.

Bucky: Y/N and I were in admin, doing our tasks.

Tony: What about you, Vision?

Vision: I am afraid I was alone most of the time. I did see people on cameras where I spent most of the time this round.

Y/N: Clint, what about you?

Clint: I was in… I don’t know the name but I came from the upper side of the map.

Tony: I saw Steve going the way where medbay is.

Y/N: Barton, you killed Steve!

Clint: No, I didn’t.

Tony: Barton, get out of here.

The voting was quickly coming to its end and almost everyone voted. Clint was the last one. He refused. When the time was up, the gang voted for Clint and he was ejected.

Bucky: That’s what you get.

Y/N: That’s sus.

The game continued and Y/N was almost done with her tasks. Bucky was most of the time with her, again. When the lights went out again, she had decided not to go into the electrical. She didn’t want to die. It had been a long time since something happened. No bodies were reported, the taskbar was almost full. Alone, she quickly ran to the cafeteria and pressed the report button. When the board appeared, Only Bruce, Bucky and her were alive.

Y/N: What?!

Bruce: Bucky, how could you?

Bucky: Honestly, Bruce, I saw you kill Tony. Don’t blame me for this.

Y/N: Oh no.

Bruce: Y/N, please don’t believe him, please. I am not the impostor. I was about to report the body when you hit the emergency button.

Bucky: Wow, you are such a good liar.

Y/N: No, don’t do this to me.

Both of the men voted for each other, leaving her to decide the fate of the game. Who should she vote out? Bucky was with her most of the time and she did not see Bruce a lot. It made sense it was Banner. However, Bucky could be very good at this, using tactics like being in a field.

Bruce: Y/N, you have to vote - vote for him. I am a crewmate. I saw him kill Tony in the lower reactor.

Y/N: I mean, to be honest, Bucky was with me almost the whole game. I don’t think he would be able to do this.

Bruce: No, Y/N, don’t do this. He needed you as an alibi.

Bucky: How the hell would I do that? I was by her side the whole time and did my tasks.

Y/N quickly voted for who she believed was the killer. When the results had shown, she voted for Bruce. For her, it made a lot of sense. How else would Bucky be able to do it? The rest of the team unmuted, screaming her name, laughing and making scenes. After a few seconds, the revelation came - they lost. Bucky was, in fact, the second impostor.

Y/N: I mean, fuck both of you. What the actual fuck. You fucking tricked me!

Tony: Kids calls it marinating.

Bucky: I am sorry, doll. You were the perfect person to stick with.

Y/N: Again, fuck you.

Bucky: You wish.

Sam: Wow, can you feel the sexual tension?

Natasha: Sam, why do you make such stupid comments. You are such an intelligent man.

Y/N changed her colour to Red, taking Wanda’s colour. She didn’t mind because she changed it into yellow. The next few games were funny. Two rounds Tony was an impostor. First with Steve than with Bruce. Two hours later, it was Y/N’s turn and she was paired with Bucky.

“Holy shit,” she mumbled and sighed. This was her moment and she wanted to win, fast. She created a strategy. Before she could play by it, her phone rang. Bucky’s name appeared on her screen. “Yes?”

“Well, what a dream team,” he chuckled. “What is the plan?”

“First two kills, at random. After the first report, we will make a graveyard,” she said. “Honestly, that is going to be quick and funny.”

“Sounds good. Where are you now?” he asked.

She looked at the game and then at a map. “I am in admin, pretending to fail card swipe. I will turn off the lights once someone enters and then vent.”

“I see Sam!”

“Kill him,” she encouraged him and turned off the lights. Vision came into the admin alone.

They both took their opportunity and killed both people. Y/N vented into the cafeteria and went to weapons and Bucky quickly went into the comms, pretending to do a task. A few moments later, Sam’s body was reported.

Natasha: Where is the body?

Wanda: Between O2 and shields. I think that is shields.

Steve: Any suspicions?

Y/N: I was passing by the cafeteria from medbay. When the lights were off, no one was around me.

Tony: Bruce and I were in the reactor, doing the Simon says a thing. And I will fucking kill you for the report because now I have to do it again.

Clint: Barnes, where were you?

Bucky: On my way to storage. Did my quick task in coms.

Bruce: So, no one is suspicious?

Natasha: Honestly, we can skip. There are still eight of us.

They all agreed and skipped voting. No one was ejected. When Y/N muted her mic, she went back to the call she had with Bucky. They both were laughing about the situation. “It’s a graveyard time.”

“Where should we do it?” Bucky asked.

“Reactor. After the first two kills, we will call the O2. During it, someone will come, searching for a body.”

They both ran together into the reactor. Wanda was following them. She was about to become their first victim. After they arrived at the reactor, Bruce was also there, working on his Simon says. Their kill cooldown was almost at the end.

“Come on, Buck, now!”

Simultaneously, they killed Bruce and Wanda. Y/N waited almost ten seconds and called the O2 as she mentioned. Bucky quickly closed the doors around them, to slow them down. Their kill cooldown took thirty seconds and they needed time.

The O2 was called off. They noticed the door around them opening and Tony was the first one approaching them. He reached the reactor and Bucky killed him. “One more and we win.”

“We have to hope someone else will come, otherwise they will call the button,” she explained.

They were lucky. Steve and Natasha were on their way. Y/N quickly approached them and killed Steve. With that kill, the game was over and the impostors, Y/N and Bucky, won.

Clint: What the fuck?

Natasha: How did you do that?

Tony: They did a graveyard!

Sam: Fuck you, Barnes, for killing me.

Bucky: It was my pleasure.

Y/N: Oh my god, this was hilarious. Oh, my favourite round of all we played today.

Bucky: Same.

Tony: Want another game?

Y/N: No, I want to take a break and make something to eat. We have been playing for hours. Let’s play tomorrow.

Natasha: You are right. I need to take a nap after this.

Steve: It’s almost seven.

Natasha: My nap will take until tomorrow morning.

Y/N’s phone beeped. She looked at the screen again. There was a text from the other impostor. Can I come over and watch a movie with you? It made her smile.

Only if it involves the good popcorn you make and some kisses - she replied. They had been dating for over a month and things were going great. The team had their suspicions but they had decided not to meddle in their private life. Steve was happy and Tony was overly protective of Y/N but didn’t say a word.

Y/N: I have to go. I am going to watch a movie.

Clint: Oh yeah? Can I join?

Y/N: No, I would like to enjoy it alone.

Nat: Huh, that’s sus.

Y/N: What is sus about it?

Nat: Watching a movie, alone. Why would you want to watch it alone?

Y/N: Because no one is making stupid comments during the movie I want to watch.

Tony: Red, sus.

Y/N: Alright, bye-bye friends.

She ended the call and put her laptop on the night table. Rolling her eyes, she made her bed and went to the bathroom. Bucky would come any minute and she wanted to set the place.

Who would have known this game would bring the whole team together?

#Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #Bucky #Bucky x reader #Bucky x female reader #Bucky Barnes x you #Bucky x you #Avengers x reader #Bucky Barnes x female reader #reader x Bucky Barnes #James Barnes #James Barnes x reader

131 notes · View notes

iwantitiwriteit · 4 years ago

Text

Love Lockdown - Part 5

Back to December - Part 1

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: In the December prior to the pandemic, you spend Christmas with Chris in Boston, a first time meeting between you and his extended family. You struggle with implications of seriousness this milestone has on your relationship with Chris.

Warnings: Angst, Pandemic backdrop, Profanity, healthy dose of Fluff, sprinkle of Sexual suggestiveness

Notes: So much was really working against me getting this up for y’all lol, but nothing worth having comes easy, right? Anyways, tried some new stuff I learned in some articles I read, more showing, less telling. Allusions and metaphors. We’ll see how it comes across. Christmas in October anyone? Read the previous part here!

The ding DONG of the doorbell echoes so exaggeratedly, it had to have been your imagination. No, I’m really here now. With your blood pumping loudly in your ears, you stare straight ahead at the barrier to entry, and seemingly to your happy future.

A Christmas-covered front door shouldn’t cause you this much stress, but here you were, feeling mocked by smiling snowmen and delicate, origami snowflakes.

You try to focus instead on one of the many thoughts flurrying your mind.

What if they hate me? Valid question, but sooo not the vibe right now. You go for another.

What if I hate THEM? Nice. None of these thoughts are stilling your rapidly beating heart.

“Ow! Loosen up the vice grip, will ya?”

“Oh,” you look down at where yours and Chris’ glove-clad hands are joined, releasing them almost instantly. “I’m sor—“

“It’s alright, babe,” Chris chuckles. As if you could muster a strength close enough to hurt this man. He’s sure not to let your hand get too far, taking it back into his and bringing it up to his rosy lips for a chaste kiss.

You wish you could feel it, the warmth of his lips on your knuckles, but that would mean braving the Boston blitz without a piece of your knit armour. You’re not sure you’re ready for that. You’re also not sure how he does it. He’s wearing significantly less layers than you, yet he’s perfectly content as if it’s a Summer’s day, while you are, quite literally, quaking in your boots.

He notices your shivering shoulders, knows it’s not just the cold getting to you. With his right hand in your left, and his left hand wrapped around a gift, he nudges you with his words.

“Hey,” he starts, but sees the opulent wreath on the door still has your attention. “Hey you,” he tries again. You finally look up at him. You lock your widened eyes with his ocean calm ones as he scans your face. Your brows could almost touch with how deeply furrowed you have them and your lips are fixed in a tight line.

“Typically it takes a lot to get my girl all nervous and whatnot,” he states, but you knew it was more of a question of what's up with you.

“Yeah, well… I’m not nervous, Chris.”

“Really? Cos the bruise on my hand would say otherwise,” he jokes.

You roll your eyes at him trying not to laugh. “Even if I was nervous, which I’m not, could you blame me? This is a lot. This is big. This... This is your family.” Your features soften and voice drops in volume. “I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“Impossible.”

“You sure? Think I already did by taking this long,” you mumbled. You look away, unable to hold Chris' intense gaze anymore. Being in front of his childhood home, for the first time since you’ve started dating over 2 years ago, you can’t help but feel… guilty.

No use in taking the conversation there at this moment. Especially knowing that lately it led to some sort of shouting match. The ‘I can’t’s’ and ‘next time’s’ didn’t suffice anymore.

Chris only responds with a sigh as he rings the doorbell for the second time. He looks back over to you, a snowflake floating then landing on your lash. You’re unaware of how whimsical you look to him. How well you’re going to fit in with his family and friends.

He takes his thumb to brush the snowflake off and cup your cheek. Watching as you swallow thickly, Chris moves his thumb to your throat to massage away the lump you try to move on your own. You relax into his touch, and he flicks his eyes down to your gently smiling lips then back up to your eyes. You know what he’s silently asking. Placing your hand on his wrist was your silent answer. He leans in slowly, and you wish you could stay like this, just for a little while longer. But all good things...

“Uncle Chris!” a youthful voice exclaims as the door swings open. Chris swiftly removes his suggestive hand from your neck and himself from your personal space. He prays there’s some mistletoe hanging inside.

“Hey Kiddo!” Chris huffs out as he picks the child up, replacing her spot on the floor with the present in his hand. She goes to wrap her small arms around his neck as he asks her, “Did you grow since just last night?”

“No!” She giggles as he pinches her cheeks. “I missed you Uncle Chris! You weren’t here when we woke up,” his niece pouts. You look at Chris to see him with matching puppy dog eyes and poked out lip.

“Oh, Kiddo, I’m sorry. I--”

“It’s ok,” she cut him off, causing you to chuckle at her brashness, “I saved the gift from you and your special friend to open last!”

“Well, speaking of...” Chris pulls you in closer to him by your hand, “This is her! I went to get her from the airport,” he beams down at you. The little cutie in Chris’ arm has turned more shy when speaking to you as you exchange names and a quaint handshake.

In a not-so-quiet whisper, she tells Chris, “She’s really pretty. Good job,” with an added thumbs-up and shoulder pat. You can’t fight your giggle and the heat that rises to your face, and Chris can’t fight the laughter that erupts from himself.

Chris is joined in a chorus of laughter, the foyer now filled with Evans’ of all ages, tickled by one of their youngest and no doubt happy that Chris is home… and brought company. This is it… you think.

It’d been a long while since you’d ‘met the family’, having not made it that far with the relationships leading up to this one with Chris. You wonder if it’s like riding a bike, or if you should’ve read an article on how to during your last minute flight.

In the crowd of smiling Evans’, you spot Chris’ mom and brother. You’ve met them on numerous occasions, all in L.A., and know them pretty well. However, everyone else you knew from a picture, a story or would be meeting for the first time this afternoon. There was going to be a lot of meeting, greeting, questioning, explaining…

You steel yourself for the day ahead. Chris looks at you and gives you a reassuring smile and squeeze on your hand. You reciprocate, tension releasing only the slightest as you look at his sunny face, your reminder of why this must go well.

——————————————————————————

The first couple hours you were sure would be the hardest. It was a time of first impressions, and you only get one of those. Tasked with making the rounds to about 30 or so aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, in-laws, childhood this and that, Chris wanted to make sure you met every. Single. Body. And as soon possible.

“That way, we get you comfortable faster!” He rejoiced. Chris’ excitement was always infectious so you try to let wash over and enthuse you.

You lost count of how many times you fake laughed at ‘Chris has finally brought you home! We were starting to think you weren’t real!’. But with Chris by your side, the worn out joke was just bearable. He found new ways to respond each time, no doubt to at least keep you entertained. ‘Who do you owe money, then?’ or ‘When you find a treasure, you try to keep it to yourself as long as possible *wink*’ or ‘She’s not even here… she’s a hallucination’ never failed to make you laugh or make your cheeks burn.

It’s actually really endearing to know that there was some anticipation for your arrival. Unbeknownst to you, Chris had been hyping you up to his family. Telling them your accomplishments and aspirations in your writing career, which apparently impressed them. He told them your hobbies and other passions that sparked conversations about their own, and prompted advice on your life trajectory.

All in all, breaking the ice was more delightful than you thought it would be, and hoped that by sticking by Chris’ side the rest of the day would go in that way. But the universe had other plans.

At one point, you get whisked away to the kitchen by Chris’ mom, Lisa, under the guise of needing help with some dishes for dinner. You quickly realize that it's a set-up of sorts, with most of the women of the Evans family gathered around the island putting finishing touches on their dishes and slyly sipping spiked eggnog. These are the people who you feel you have to impress.

Their chatter and laughter came to a halt as they eyed you cautiously crossing the kitchen to the spot Lisa designated you. It was only a matter of time before the interrogation began.

“So… we’ll cut straight to the chase: why is it we’re just now meeting you? You’ve been with our Chris how long now?”

“Vicky!” Lisa smacks her arm warningly. “Have you no filter? You’ll scare the poor girl off before dinner!”

Chris has told you about his infamous Aunt Vicky. “A true cream puff; soft and sweet… once you get past the tough outside,” you remember him telling you.

“It’s fine,” you start, not willing to cower from the inquiry, “Chris and I have been together 2-½ years— 3 in June. And we’ve been happily taking things slow.”

“Good on you for taking things slow. Most women would— and do— jump at the chance to lock down our Chris. But not you, you’re a woman with her own sense of self. We like that,” you’re affirmed with a wink.

Whew.

“You are as pretty as our kid spy said; thought she was exaggerating.”

“Um thank you…?”

“She’s pretty, but can she cook?”

“Carole!” Lisa warns another woman and apologizes to you with her eyes. Chris also told you about his aunt Carole, Vicky’s ‘side kick’. The two of them made for a dubious duo.

“Yeah, what’s Chris’ favorite dish of yours?” Aunt Vicky prodded.

“I can cook, but not that often for Chris,” you respond, to which you’re met with crickets and cock-headed looks. You add, “He’s out of town a lot, and when he is in town, he’s the one doing the showing and proving of why I should stay with him,” you joke (kind of), and to your relief, they find it funny.

“Oooo I like her!” Vicky and Carole say in unison, causing the kitchen of women to laugh. You really did try to keep your expectations low for this visit, not necessarily wanting to seek Chris’ extended family’s acceptance, but you can’t help the relief you feel in this moment.

The next couple hours pass of helping out with dinner dishes and dessert, giggling over glasses of cocktails and family stories. You’d narrowly avoided questions about marriage and babies, but that’s to be expected. For the first time today, you’re able to forget your worries and your boyfriend and actually enjoy yourself. Speaking of...

“Hey you,” Chris is waiting by your seat that’s next to his which he pulls out for you when you arrive at it. An early Christmas dinner is about to be served, and you and Chris are reunited at the table for the first time in hours. “Missed you,” he says with a kiss on your temple. “Can’t wait to hear about your day,” he adds. But there wasn’t much talking between you two throughout the meal, though.

No, the Evans’ family theatrics don’t allow for it. All of them talk with complete genuineness, laugh with their entire beings, opine with their whole chests, and you see where Chris gets it from. Turning to your boyfriend, you find him smiling and laughing along with the rest of the table, looking full of warmth and love. Completed by his family. Your heart gets a little heavier thinking about how he doesn’t have these moments as often as he’d like. In part by his job, yes, but a small part of you feels like you may also have something to do with that. A thought that pains you to wade in too long.

After dinner you try to help with the dishes, packing away leftovers and to-go plates. You don’t get too far, instead get shooed out of the kitchen by the elders, being told to ‘spend the rest of the evening with your man’. You oblige, realizing you barely talked to each other since earlier in the day. In your quick scan of the house, you couldn’t find him, so you shoot him a text.

Some of the kids and teenagers were gathered around some games in the den. Their antics and wittiness remind you of your nieces. They happily let you join in, and at one point, you acquired a little one on your lap as your game partner. The two of you bond over beating her cousins in these games as you school them in a few rounds of Uno, Connect Four, and Jenga.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you smile as you check it.

“Oooooo is it from Uncle Chris?” she cheekily asks as you get up, setting her on your spot on the floor.

“They’re probably gonna go make out under the mistletoe,” one of the older kids teased. The room of adolescents erupt into a fit of giggles and chorus of ‘ews’

“Are you two gonna get married?” the little cutie randomly asks you. “I heard my Grandma and Aunts talking about it!”

“Oh, wow, um… I gotta, I’ll see you all later.” With that you dash out of the room, as symphony ‘K-I-S-S-I-N-G…’ fading behind you.

——————————————————————————

The sky was shades of baby blues, pinks, purples and oranges. It’s a beautiful backdrop to the snow and ice kissed tree branches and lawns. The road had been freshly salted and freed of winter obstacles making it easier to stroll along as you and Chris often did after a meal.

It’s even more beautiful than he said, you think to yourself. For a second you wonder why you were ever hesitant to come here. There was no real reason, yet you used a million excuses. But this time around, you finally ran out.

Not that you weren’t tired of your fear. That was it. The real reason… was fear.

You look down at your boots, the ones you dust off just one week a year now. Striding beside them are a larger, more expensive pair; they too only see the snow on rare occasions. Your eyes follow up the long legs they belong to, taking in the nice slacks and chunky cable knit sweater under a heavy, well-made piece of outerwear. Your eyes finally land on the face of the man in the fine threads.

Looking at Chris right now, you’ve never seen him fit in so perfectly somewhere. But why wouldn’t he on the roads he cut his teeth on. He could make you forget every fear and every doubt you’ve ever had. Hell, he could make you forget your name on a good day. And on those days, you didn’t know what to do with all of that, what to make of it. But it’s the most wonderful time of the year, so

“Come here,” you say just above a whisper, tugging on Chris’ hand causing him to turn to you. You bring your hands to his broad shoulders, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles there. You languidly drag your right hand over to his chest as you notice a red stain on the light colored knit. “My love…” you humoredly drag out as you tap on the food stain.

“I know, I know. My mother already beat you to the scolding,” he chuckles.

“You’d think by this age you’d have learned to be more careful.”

“Hmm, now what fun would that be…” his sultry tone didn’t go unnoticed by you. Your eyes on his tailored, dinner party clothes, hoping to find a relief for your emotions somewhere between the stitches. You never know where to begin with your feelings. Surely it would be to start with the easy stuff, but it all seems hard.

You rub your hands on his chest, not quite meeting his eyes. “What’s up? Whatcha thinking about?” Chris asks with a lopsided grin, resting his hands on either side of your waist. You smile at him nervously. Before you could say anything, there’s a gust of sharp, cold wind. You clutch on to Chris’ sweater, burying your face in his chest seeking refuge and warmth.

“M’thinking about how you got me out in this damn cold! You know my southern bones can’t take it,” your whines muffled by his sweater. He chuckles at your antics.

Chris slowly drags his large palms up from your waist, and this just ensures that there are goosebumps on your skin under your layers if the wind hasn't done so already. He rests one hand on your shoulder pulling you apart just enough for you to look into his hazy blue eyes. His other hand continues it’s trek until it’s rested on the side of your neck, his thumb stroking your jaw. “I know of a way to get you warm…”

“Was this part of your plan?”

“Mmmm… maybe…” Chris leans in close, surely to kiss you, but you have other plans.

“How’s it feel to be back home?” you inquired with faux aloofness, slipping out of his hold and continuing your walk towards his mother’s home.

Chris hesitates for a second, wondering if you really just swerved a kiss from him. He clears his throat, “Uh… yeah it’s great! There’s nothing like family, I know you can agree to that. Even if they are loud… and crazy,” to which you both chuckle. “So…” he starts as he wraps his arms around your middle causing you both to waddle up the front lawn. “How do you feel? Not so bad, was it?”

“No! Far from it! I really, really love your family Chris,” you say as you crane your neck to look at him briefly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Although, I strongly disagree with some of their choices in best music of all time, but I’ll learn to get over that. I got over it with you,”

Chris spins you around in his arms, hands firmly on your waist. “I don’t care what you say; Joel is the best music Billy of ALL TIME!”

“Yeah, ok.” you retort with an eye roll to his amusement.

“I’m glad you had a good time babe. They’ve been hounding me to meet you for a while now. I’m happy we made it happen.”

The words are right there on your lips. I’m sorry it took so long. I’m sorry I acted silly. I’m sorry I was scared to take the next step. But what if I’m not ready? What if we get it wrong? Your throat is dry, as it often is when it’s time to bare a little of your soul. At least Chris always has something to say.

“I can’t wait for you to see me this nervous when I meet your family…” You don’t know if that makes you feel better or worse. Chris looks into your eyes expectantly, lovingly. His features are soft and tender, and you think it’s the most beautiful sight on a man, on this man. Your man.

Chris looks at your lips then at your eyes. There goes that silent question again. You’ve never been one to give Chris what he wants when he wants it. He’ll never admit, but it’s one of the things he loves most about you. So, in true you-fashion, you make a run for it.

He’s baffled, but doesn’t waste much time in playing into your little game. You’re laughing hysterically as you look over your shoulder to see him bounding after you on the front lawn. You high tail it around the side of his childhood home, kind of hoping he catches you. Not even you, as stubborn as you are, would want to be running forever.

Chris walks into the backyard cautiously, but not cautiously enough as he’s met with a snowball in the temple. And your maniacal laughter.

“Oh, you’re in for it now!” Chris sneers as he scoops up the most perfectly compacted snowball.

“Oh shit!” You slowly make for the backdoor, walking up the deck stairs backwards, hands up in surrender “C’mon babe, you don’t have to do this,” you plead.

“Yes. Yes, I do. Cos all I wanted was an innocent, sweet kiss.”

“I’ll give you a kiss! Just put the snowball down.”

“It’s too late, sweetheart.” The look in his eyes is sending butterflies straight to your heat. As much as you wouldn’t mind ‘losing’ this game, there’s too much at stake.

“Think of my hair!” You whine to appeal to his better nature. That gave Chris pause, but only for a moment.

“It’s in braids; you’ll be ok.” When Chris takes a step towards you, you take a step back, but instead of eating snow as you anticipate, you slip on a patch of ice and fall flat on your ass.

Chris is quick to race over to your side. “Babe! Are you ok?” he’s slightly panicked as he lifts your torso in his arms, checking your eyes for consciousness.

“Got the wind knocked out of me, but I’m fine, yeah,” you say through a dry laugh.

“Oh, thank god.” He says with a sigh of relief and a wide smile. You smile back at him as he strokes your cheek and says, “Now I won’t feel bad about this.”

“Wha—“ You see white as your face freezes over. Chris is dying of laughter as you sputter the snowball out of your mouth.

“Ha ha ha. Keep laughing... you won’t get that kiss you’re wanting so bad.” He immediately stops laughing, deflates, and pouts, causing you to giggle. “Oh my goodness! Is it that serious?” you teased him a little further. Chris was done playing, though. He stood up and folded his thick arms over his chest to show you he was serious.

You stood up too, and began to tap and poke at his shoulders, chest and stomach. Chris wouldn’t look at you, trying his best to stand firm and not smile. “Look up, dummy!” you say eventually. He acts as if he’s doing you a favor, but can’t hide his giddiness at the sight on the ceiling.

A leafy green plant, with a cluster of red inedible berries, secured with a red ribbon.

You take his face into your hands, lightly grazing your fingers over Chris’ full, trimmed beard. The world is out of focus as you and Chris are now eye to eye. Neither of you can hide your eagerness. You rub your thumb over his plump bottom lip and wonder why you would ever deny yourself this man.

Pulling him into you, the gap is closed between your mouths. The kiss is gentle, shy even, after first. It dawns on you that you’d only shared a quick peck at the airport, and before then, had gone a couple weeks missing each other’s touch.

The neediness and desire within you is heightened at the thought. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him closer. You start to get lost in him, in his warm taste and touch. You feel the yearning in Chris too. He wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly to himself. His hands start to travel to places you desperately want them to be, but he catches himself, remembering where you are.

“Let’s go say our goodbyes,” he says through an out-of-breath smirk. You bite your bottom lip and reply with a quick nod of your head.

The pair of you head inside to make your last rounds for the evening. Chris keeps it pretty brief with everyone, the both of you promising to see them again sometime soon in the new year. Early Spring seems to work for most everyone; the kids will be on spring break, Chris will be home before jetting off for a press tour, and you’ll have settled in to your new writing job, that isn’t exactly your dream gig, but a step in… a direction.

As you got into Chris’ car to head for his Boston home, waving to his family as you backed out the driveway, none of you could predict or prepare yourselves for the very different, sordid world that waits in the months ahead. How drastically it would change on grand and small scales.

You look adoringly at Chris from your spot in the passenger seat, unaware the beginning of your relationship’s treacherous slope was just a few days away. Had you known, you wouldn’t have left that kiss so soon, would’ve cherished his heated embrace a little more later tonight.

But it’s already been written.

——————————————————————————

What’d you think?

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans one shot #chris evans x reader #Chris Evans series #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x woc #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans fan fiction #love lockdown series

117 notes · View notes

mynanapost · 4 years ago

Text

Who am I? Who I am was a question I kept asking myself all my life. I figured lately that I am a transported tree, plant, land, and home that is always gravitized to Palestine. I am a citizen of the world and my passport is a threat to all the bordered states I visit or stay in. I am recognized for many things that I am not; and, I am labeled for many things that I disapprove and do not recognize. I am a star that is always censored and tracked by foreign militaries and intelligences. I am a unique reminder of the failure of the zionist progress towards the ethnic cleansing of Palestinians.

In this article, I am aiming to take you on a speed tour consisting of no more than 1200 words about the resistance mechanisms of a second generation displaced person living in Gaza and is originally from Yafa.

Fighting like a Palestinian is as tough to us as you might see on your headline news. Substantially different though, I promise. Hello, I am Wasim, I am Palestinian (I fight) and I want to make this world a better place. And I fight. The fear of being hated and judged as a Palestinian is as bad as your fear of missing out (FOMO). Our FOMO is usually one of three things, first, the fear of missing out on a strike of bombs in your neighborhood. We usually fear not being there to calm and assure our family that we are home and that they could at least not worry about us. Second, the fear of missing out a chance to buy groceries on a ceasefire. Third, not being awake or home to use the four to eight hours of electricity we get per day. This includes cooking, charging phones and laptops, using WiFi, heating water, and doing laundry.

We as Palestinians do not resist or fight through machinery. In fact, our machinery compared to others in the region might be the least effective. Hence, we use our words, education, knowledge to fight and resist. I will be resisting and fighting in this article as you tour with me.

My grandfather was forced out of his home by Zionists. And I resist. I resist and fight through presenting a negated history. Yafa, a beautiful place and also an occupied city in Palestine, is where my grandfather lived. He assured us to have hope. We fight, resist, and FIGHT trying to explain that we have the right to return home. He adds that one day he will take us all back home, may his soul rest in peace. My home in Yafa might now be a dancing club or even better a dating bar. Who knows but it is there in Yafa. He, my grandfather, would always say that if I would bring him a granddaughter, I shall name her Yafa. He would always say that she will be beautiful just like the city.

Visualizing my beloved Gaza is easy. North and East, we have IDF blockage isolating us from the rest of Palestine. West, we only have three miles of the lovely Mediterranean Sea where fishermen struggle for their livelihood and pray to get back home safe every day. And south, we have Egypt’s borders. Gaza is a piece of land that is guarded by the most powerful powers in the region. Well, it is not really guarded for our precious souls, but from them.

I survived three brutal aggressions on Gaza before celebrating my 17th birthday. We fought and resisted during and after each of these aggressions. We learnt how to fight by picking up the rubble and turning it into something to build with. We had nothing but rubble and a 4 digit number stating the number of deaths. We have constructed the roads of our seaport in Gaza with the rubble of destroyed buildings. We have also managed to turn the ash of coal and wood into building bricks that are used in construction buildings now with great demand. We as Palestinians fight our way through every aspect of our day through education, art, history, theatre, innovation and many more. We resist our ethnic cleansing by surviving, and then, by reproducing. We fight, everyday, endlessly.

To make it easier for everyone to visualize, I will use recently used concepts on world news to explain a long living experience. Curfew, as a concept, has been a huge highlight of our lives for as far as I can remember. Similar rules are imposed in the curfews set like the ones we all had during the pandemic. You can only leave when having an extreme reason to do so, however, you are assured that you will not be safe if you decide to leave, even if leaving means saving your life or the life of a loved one by going to the hospital.

The curfews were always there to remind us that we are occupied. Our usually failed ceasefires were similar to the end of pandemic related lockdowns. We try to secure food, for God knows when the next time we might have the option of leaving the house. However, unlike social distancing post-lockdowns, we hug and kiss our beloved ones knowing that it might be the last time we do so. The next digit number by one of us.

We live with post-traumatic stress disorders (PTSDs) as if they were our closest friend. These PTSDs are censored to the sound of planes, the sound of screaming, the sound of explosion and anything similar. They also adapt as part of our human nature as they develop to assure us, when being abroad, that the planes flying above us are not the same ones that were once attacking us. The PTSD is also quite conscious during New Years and other big celebrations when we do not realize that the fireworks are noises of happiness. It is exactly how we used to lie to assure our younger siblings that they will be safe. (+18) Their shock realizing the sorrow might be as bad as when children of western side of the world discover that Santa Clause is not real. (+18)

I believe most people living abroad during the Pandemic have gone through a slightly similar experience of the Palestinian’s daily struggle. Not being able to go back and feeling unwelcome in their home because there might not be space. And not being able to go anywhere else because you will always be a suspect holder. Yes, we are always suspects; accused of having a terroristic mentality. Unfortunately, we could never disprove their false accusations with a certified document saying that we are negative to their biased misconceptions. I would wait for a week and pay the 90$ for this certification. When you are a Palestinian holding dual citizenships, life changes; as I hear from my brother and witness my friends not having to stress a lot before entering any check point. Being respected and accounted for human rights are things they encounter after traveling with their other citizenship.

You could always be concise and go straight to the point. Why don't we stop fighting or why don't we just accept the peace talks. Well, lately we have been accepting of almost anything, but people would still see us as terrorists. Nonetheless, there is nothing concise about this struggle besides the daily headline news mentioning the number of dead and injured due to a “conflict”. I would have to explain all the intersections and the cross-borders and their history to be able to go through the complexity of my beloved Palestine.

In remembrance of Murid Barghouti, “Palestinians have a unique story that's similar to none of the stories of others, but one at the same time because what is shared is huge: the sense of loss, exile, being displaced, being oppressed, being voiceless, being of a negated history and geography”. - may his soul rest in peace.

#palestine #freedom for palestine #gazaunderattack #savesheikhjarrah #freedom #human rights #life #palestinian lives matter #انقذوا حي الشيخ جراح

15 notes · View notes

dustedmagazine · 4 years ago

Text

Dust Volume 7, Number 5

Sarah Louise

A week or two before this Dust’s deadline, we got our first tour announcement by email in more than a year. It was the first of deluge, as live music looks to be coming back with a vengeance starting this summer and really picking up steam around September. Meanwhile, we celebrate our newly vaxxed (or for our Canadian correspondents half-vaxxed) status with tentative steps outside. Your editor had her first beer at a brew pub in mid-May, and it was stupendous. Also stupendous, the onslaught of new music, which has, if anything, accelerated. This month, contributors include all the regulars plus a few new people: Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer, Patrick Masterson, Ray Garraty, Tim Clarke, Andrew Forell, Ian Mathers, Bryon Hayes, Jonathan Shaw and Chris Liberato. Happy spring, happy normal and happy listening!

Amulets — Blooming (The Flenser)

Blooming by AMULETS

Like a lot of us, Portland-based noise artist Randall Taylor discovered the solace of long walks during the pandemic. His work, which has always used tape degradation to explore the intersection of time, loss and technology, shifted to incorporate another source of decay: the natural world. So, in opening salvo, “Blooming,” alongside blistering onslaughts of eroded guitar sound, it is possible to hear the sounds of a fertile garden — birds, insects, air movement. You can nearly smell the flowers and feel the sunshine on your skin. “The New Normal” explores sounds of creaking, friction-y word and metal, alongside pristine chimes of synthetic tone. It is uneasy, with skittering string-like squeaks and swoops, but also deeply meditative; it shifts from moment to moment from anxiety to provisional acceptance, much as we all did last year, staring out our windows. Overall, the tone is elegiac, gorgeous, but Randall does not hesitate to introduce dissonance. “Heaviest Weight” thunders with frayed bass tones, a weight and a threat in their subliminal pulse. The contrast between that ominous sound and purer, clearer layers of melody, makes for unsettling listening—are we at war or peace, happy or sad, agitated or calm? And yet, perhaps that’s the point, that the past year has been swirl of feelings, boredom alongside anxiety, hope lighting the corners of our listlessness, the smell of flowers pleasing but faintly reminiscent of funerals. Blooming decocts this mix into sound.

Jennifer Kelly

Astute Palate — S-T (Petty Bunco)

Astute Palate by Astute Palate

Astute Palate is a hastily assembled group of rockers summoned to support David Nance in Philly on a date when he couldn’t bring the David Nance Band. Participants included Richie Records proprietor Richie Charles, Lantern’s Emily Robb, Writhing Squares/Purling Hiss/all around Philadelphia regular Daniel Provenzano on bass and, of course, Nance himself, all huddled together in Robb’s recording studio for a weekend together. None of this origin story does justice, however, to the pure liquid fire of this one-off musical collaboration, dominated by Nance’s viscous, distorted blues-inflected guitar wail, but knocked sideways by brute force drumming, wild hypnotic bass lines and the ritual incantation of Nance (and later Robb) singing. The long “Stall Out” does anything but, rampaging free-range in unbridled Crazy Horse/Allmans-style abandon for close to ten minutes without a single sputter. “A Little Proof” is somehow simultaneously heavier and more country, spinning out the soul-blues jams like a younger, unrulier cousin to MC5. “Treadin’ Schuylkill” gives Provenzano the spotlight, opening with a growling bass solo soon joined by heavy psych guitars (a nod, perhaps, to the illustrious locals in Bardo Pond). If Nance et. al. can pull stuff this fine out in a stray road warrior weekend, what are the rest of you doing with your lives?

Jennifer Kelly

Axis: Sova — Fractal (God?)

Fractal - EP by Axis: Sova

Axis: Sova is a combo of three Chicago guys plus one drum machine, which had already been inactive for two or three seasons before the initial COVID lockdown. This digital EP is their way of clearing up some business that could no longer remain undone. The title tune, “Fractal USA,” is a remake of a song from the early days, when the “band” was Brett Sova’s solo project, to full-on, no your pants aren’t tight enough rock band. They just needed you to know about the evolution, you see, so go ahead, do some scissor kicks and gurn while they windmill away; you have enough money saved up from not seeing live music to pay the inevitable chiropractor bill. “Caramel” hypothesizes that a Cluster song that’s played twice as loud and twice as long is twice as good; not sure if I agree, but it’s still not bad at all. Maybe you got a little weird after a few months of putting on your best mask for your daily trip to see if the stimulus check was in the mailbox? The Brenda Ray-meets-Old Black mash up, “(Don’t Wanna Have That) Dream,” is proof that while you were alone, you weren’t alone. If you’ve made it this far, you don’t need to have the fourth track described, so let’s just say that it’s longer.

Bill Meyer

Mattie Barbier — Three Spaces (self-released)

three spaces by mattie barbier

While perhaps best known as half of the trombone-centric new music duo RAGE Thormbones, Mattie Barbier is a member of several other combos and a sonic researcher under their own name. Three Spaces, which is a single, album-length sound file, has the air of experimentation about it. “What do I do,” one can imagine Barbier asking themself, “when I can’t play with other people?” Make music at home, and out of what’s at home, is the obvious answer. But doing isn’t the only point here; the outcome also matters, and while what Barbier has accomplished with Three Spaces sounds quite different from the RAGE Thormbones live experience, it registers quite strongly. Barbier has combined long tones and melodic fragments played on euphonium, trombone and reed organ, that were recorded both inside and outside of their home. Carefully layered, the source material combines into a sound rather like a bell’s toll, which over the course of nearly 39 minutes swells and recedes, but never quite decays; it ends with an imposed rather than natural fade-out. The sound is as deep as it is expansive, inviting the listener to let themselves fall ever father into its realm.

Bill Meyer

Beneath — On Tilt EP (Hemlock Recordings)

On Tilt EP by Beneath

One of the more pleasant surprises this year is the resuscitation of Untold’s Hemlock Recordings imprint. A vital voice in the post-dubstep fracas at the turn of the ‘10s thanks to releases from Hessle Audio’s Pearson Sound (when he was still Ramadanman) and Pangaea, James Blake, FaltyDL and Hodge to name but a handful, the label went dormant following a Ploy 12” in 2017 before the surprise announcement of Londoner Beneath’s On Tilt, which sounds every bit the sensible alliance in practice it looks on paper: These are low-end rumblers with irregular rhythms and spare melodic tics that worm their way into your brain in the best bone-humming fashion (see “Shambling” or “Lesser Circulation” for a good example). Who knows how long the return will last, but for a certain stripe of DMZ-damaged devotee and pretty much no one else, it’ll feel good to have some Hemlock in your life again. Tilt back, pour in.

Patrick Masterson

Black Spirit— El Sueño De La Razón Produce Monstruos (Infinite Night Records)

youtube

More metal comes from South America than Spain, but these Europeans clear the high bar set by Latin America scenesters. The album’s title states that it was inspired by “El Sueño De La Razón Produce Monstruos.” That can testify both to lasting influence of Goya’s art and to the laziness of the current culture which seeks inspiration only from the most popular pictorial art of the past. The track “Ignorance and The Grotesque” perfectly captures the whole mood of the disc: it balances ignorant speeds, undecipherable vocals and grotesque parts with piano interludes and doom-ish atmosphere. It would be better without the grotesque, but that’s probably part of the baggage.

Ray Garraty

Burial + Blackdown — Shock Power of Love EP (Keysound Recordings)

Shock Power of Love EP by Burial

You might worry, occasionally, that Burial was becoming a victim of diminishing returns. Here, as ever, he uses a narrow palette to create tracks that few can emulate. However, even though the music has its rewards, it doesn’t clear the very high bar that his previous work has set. Thus “Dark Gethsemane” rides a 4/4 beat, angelic murmurs, vinyl crackle and a tightly ratcheted build that morphs into a sermon led by the repeated invocation “We must shock this nation with the power of love.” As his vocal samples become more explicit, the mystery of his music fades. This is all promise and no real resolution. “Space Cadet’ likewise sounds both gorgeous and minor with its soul gospel refrain “Take Me Higher” over an old-school jungle beat. At six plus minutes it would have been enough. It continues another three with an almost cartoonish second movement that lacks the subtlety that characterizes Burial’s best work.

Andrew Forell

Colleen — The Tunnel and the Clearing (Thrill Jockey)

The Tunnel and the Clearing by Colleen

While COVID messed with most people’s lives, it was both an endgame and an opportunity for Cécile Schott, the Frenchwoman who records under the name Colleen. She was just coming out of a series of health and personal dislocations, which resulted in her being newly healthy but alone in a new town just as the lockdown came down. Clearly, this was not a time for half measures, so she selected an entirely new instrumental set-up and settled in to make a record that reflected what she’d been through. Out went the viola da gamba and melodica that have figured prominently on her last few albums; in came a Moog synthesizer, a Yamaha organ, a tape echo and a drum machine.

Colleen’s voice, of course, remains the same. Airy and precise, her delivery doesn’t match the gravity of the experiences her songs describe. But that sense of remove is, perhaps, a reflection of one of adversity’s lessons; if you don’t stay stuck, you can wind up somewhere quite different. Between the keyboards’ cycling melodies and the drum machine’s fizzy beats, the music on The Tunnel and the Clearing imparts a sense of motion that carries her light voice along for the ride, dropping painful sentiments and letting them fall behind.

Bill Meyer

Current Joys — Voyager (Secretly Canadian)

youtube

Nick Rattigan has been releasing music under the name Current Joys since 2013, and Voyager is his latest offering. It’s a dramatic and often brilliant collection of songs, bringing to mind the urgent rhythmic drive of Spoon, the dour grandeur of The Cure and the unapologetic emotional heft of Bright Eyes or early Arcade Fire. On Voyager’s standout, “American Honey,” a simple strummed backing and Rattigan’s vocal delivery are potent enough, but it’s the string section that proves devastating, cycling around for multiple punches to the gut. While more stripped-back songs such as “Big Star” and “The Spirit or the Curse” offer some respite along the way, Voyager does prove a little unwieldy. With 16 tracks clocking in at nearly an hour, the album’s execution doesn’t quite live up to its ambition. The wonky tom-tom rhythms of “Breaking the Waves” are more distracting than interesting; a serviceable cover of Rowland S. Howard’s “Shivers” feels more like an acknowledgment of influence than a striking interpretation; and the combined six minutes of the two-part instrumental title track may have worked better as shorter interludes. Nevertheless, plenty of Voyager’s tracks demonstrate Rattigan’s knack for a raw, emotive indie-rock tune.

Tim Clarke

Ducks Ltd — Get Bleak EP (Carpark Records)

youtube

Toronto duo Ducks Ltd celebrates signing to Carpark with an expanded re-release of their 2018 debut EP Get Bleak. The pair — Tom Mcgreevy on vocals, rhythm and bass guitars and Evan Lewis on lead guitar — bonded over a shared love of 1980s indie bands. Their intricately constructed guitar interplay carries the DNA of Postcard and C86 over meaty bass lines that evoke Mighty Mighty as much as Orange Juice and McCarthy. The sprightly music belies the miserablism of the lyrics that focus on FOMO, poor decisions, screen induced isolation, the corrosive impact of gentrification and gig economies. Mcgreevy and Lewis don’t wallow, however. Their jaunty jangle is a paean to the joys of jumping about and singing along with those new favorite songs that suddenly mean everything and will stick with you long after the world’s shit slopes your shoulders.

Andrew Forell

Field Music — Flat White Moon (Memphis Industries)

youtube

It’s easy to take Field Music for granted. Since 2005, the Brewis brothers have been making smartly composed and tightly executed guitar pop with obvious debts to The Beatles and XTC, and all their albums have fallen somewhere along the continuum from good to great (my personal favorites are 2010’s Measure and 2012’s Plumb). Album number eight, Flat White Moon, features the usual balance between Peter’s more pensive, bittersweet numbers with greater focus on piano and strings, such as “Orion From the Street” and “When You Last Heard From Linda,” and David’s funkier, more staccato cuts, such as “No Pressure” and “I’m the One Who Wants to Be With You.” Twelve songs, 40 minutes, tunes for days — what’s not to love? If you’ve yet to get acquainted with Field Music, Flat White Moon is as good an introduction as any.

Tim Clarke

Gabby Fluke-Mogul/Jacob Felix Heule/Kanoko Nishi-Smith — Non-Dweller (Humbler)

non-dweller by gabby fluke-mogul, Jacob Felix Heule, & Kanoko Nishi-Smith

With Non-Dweller, we have a trio of Bay-Area improvisers who certainly do not reside in one place for very long. There is an agitated freneticism about their interactions here, the performers acting like electrons seeking to release energy and break out of orbit. Each player brings a unique collection of timbres to the party with their implement of choice. Heule is a percussionist by trade yet focuses on extended techniques — mainly friction-based — as he wrests an unholy wail from the maw of his bass drum. Fluke-Mogul’s violin sways between tone generator and noise source. Nishi-Smith is a classically trained pianist who here is bowing and plucking the koto, or Japanese zither. The trio spend most of their time in sparring mode, their energies unleashed with synchrony as if in an elaborate dance. It is clear they have collaborated before. Heule and Nishi-Smith have been at it for over a decade; Fluke-Mogul joined the party in 2019. The most gorgeous moments happen when all three players are focused on friction: Heule slides across his drum, Fluke-Mogul soars with their violin and Nishi-Smith gracefully bows her koto. The energy is focused and particles collide, creating waves of tone. The players wrestle intensity into submission, and the ensuing sonorities are unmissable.

Bryon Hayes

FMB DZ — War Zone (Fast Money Boyz \ EMPIRE)

youtube

Ever since FMB DZ got shot and moved out of Detroit, he has continued to release angry music. (He may not be more productive after the assault, but he’s certainly not less so.) War Zone is his latest effort, along with The Gift 3 and Ape Season, and DZ is back in his paranoiac mode and ready for vengeance. That’s hardly unusual in this type of music but DZ stands out because he’s a bit angrier, a bit more pressing and a bit more gifted than the next man. He doesn’t outdo himself in this tape, but rather mostly follows the blueprint of Ape Season. The standout track is “Spin Again.”

Ray Garraty

Ian M Fraser — Berserk (Superpang)

Berserk by Ian M Fraser

Ian M Fraser is kind enough to provide details about how he created and edited Berserk, although relatively few listeners are going to really know what “nonlinear feedback systems and waveset synthesis” are, let alone “sensormonitor primitives auditory perception software”. And fewer still will be able to focus on what that might mean while Berserk is actually playing, because the output of those programs and systems is immediately, viscerally clear. If a computer were actually capable of going rabid, feral, well, berserk, the human mind might imagine it sounds something like this. Over four shorter tracks and the relatively epic 8:26 of “The Cannibal,” Fraser either coaxes or allows (or both) his tools into the equivalent of something like what someone who knew very little about both genres might imagine is like a power electronics act playing free jazz or vice versa. It is absolutely viscerally thrilling (albeit probably easier to repeat at this length of 16 minutes than, say, 50) and will do the track the next time you feel like your brain needs a good hard scrub.

Ian Mathers

Human Failure — Crown on the Head of a King of Mud (Sentient Ruin Laboratories)

Crown on the Head of a King of Mud by Human Failure

It’s tough to figure out if the band’s name is meant specifically to apply to D. Cornejo (sole member of Human Failure) or to the general field of human failure, which grows ever more capacious. Whatever the intent, Human Failure makes thoroughly unlovable music, pitched somewhere on the continuum that runs from the primitivist death metal to stenchcore to harsh noise. This reviewer is especially fond (yep, somehow that’s the only word for it) of the title track of this 10” record: “Crown on the Head of a King of Mud” sloughs and slogs along for two minutes, sort of like one of the ripest zombies in Romero’s Day of the Dead (1985), wandering about and slowly falling to pieces in Florida’s tumid heat. Just as that last bit of flesh is poised to slide from bone, the song unexpectedly breaks into a run. Where is it going? What’s the rush? No one knows. Things eventually bottom out into “Disassembling Morality,” a static-and-distortion laden electronic interlude that might squeak and spark for a bit too long — but then “Your Hope Is a Noose” shambles into the frame. That zombie seems to have found some equally noisome and truculent friends. They djent and pogo around for a while, and the song has a lot more fun than seems called for by the band name. Cornejo might be pissed off by the myriad manmade disasters and outright catastrophes that burden the earthball (he’s sure angry as heck about something…). But the record ends up being sort of successful, if deafening, grinding, growling stench is on the agenda. All things considered, why wouldn’t it be?

Jonathan Shaw

Insub Meta Orchestra — Ten / Sync (Insub)

Ten / Sync by INSUB META ORCHESTRA

Ten / Sync was recorded in September, 2020; not exactly lockdown time, but certainly not out of the pandemic woods. It’s no small task to keep any 50-strong orchestra going, let alone one devoted to experimental music. So, if you already have one, then having it perform during a pandemic is just another challenge among many. So, the Swiss-based orchestra assembled three groups of musicians, numbering 31 in all, and assembled their contributions during post-production. While this did not provide the social experience that IMO’s gatherings usually impart to participants, an outcome that just isn’t the same seems awfully representative of the time, right? And since one Insub Meta Orchestra subspeciality is making music that sounds like it was performed by many fewer players than were actually present, this collection of sustained chords concealing tiny actions and apparently disassembled passages is actually very representative of the ensemble’s music.

Bill Meyer

Amirtha Kidambi & Matteo Liberatore — Neutral Love (Astral Editions)

Neutral Love by Amirtha Kidambi & Matteo Liberatore

With her own group, the Elder Ones, and in Mary Halvorson’s Code Girl, singer Amirtha Kidambi shows how far you can take a song while still giving the meanings of words and the boundaries of form their dues. But Neutral Love, like her two tapes with Lea Bertucci, explores the territory outside the tower of song. The main structures for this improvised encounter with electric guitarist Matteo Liberatore seem to be a shared agreement to exclude certain options. Song form and overt displays of chops are right out; the patient manipulation of sounds is where it’s at. Liberatore opts mostly for swelling and subsiding resonations, while Kidambi spends a lot of time finding out what’s hiding at the back of her throat, drawing it out, and then tying it into elaborate shapes. Patient and eerie, these four tracks find a place adjacent to Charalambides at their most abstract, and make it their own.

Bill Meyer

Kosmodemonic — Liminal Light (Transylvanian Recordings)

KOSMODEMONIC - LIMINAL LIGHT by KOSMODEMONIC

NYC outfit Kosmodemonic is among the recent wave of metal bands attempting to effect an organic-sounding synthesis of numerous subgenres: a slurry of sludge, a bit of black metal, a dose of doom, and a hit or two of the lysergic. When it works — as it does on a number of tracks on the band’s long new cassette Liminal Light — it’s an exciting sound. Songs like “Moirai” and “Broken Crown” manage to couple tuneful riffs, dirty tone and a muscular bottom end in ways that feel thumping, groovy and pretty weird. You’ll want to bump your butt around even as you’re looking for something to break. But the tape is pretty long, and the further afield Kosmodemonic gets from that mid-tempo groove, the more middling (and sometimes muddled) the material sounds. “With Majesty” can’t quite find its rhythmic footing in its more technical passages, and the song’s sludgier sections feel like compromises, rather than interesting maneuvers. But the record begins and finishes with really strong songs. Both “Drown in Drone” and “Unnaming Unlearning” embrace scale, letting their big riffs rip. When “Unnaming Unlearning” slips into complex sections of blackened and distorted dissonance, the drama surges. Formal experiment and manipulation of mood fold into each other. The song gets interesting, even as it’s reaching for a peak. And then it ends, suddenly, violently. It’s pretty good. Your impulse is to flip the tape and hear it again, which is just what Kosmodemonic wants you to do. Well played, dudes.

Jonathan Shaw

Sarah Louise — Earth Bow (Self-Released)

Earth Bow by Sarah Louise

Asheville-based songwriter Sarah Louise wants to be your personal nature interpreter. The titles of her recordings, from her debut Field Guide through Deeper Woods and Nighttime Birds and Morning Stars are like planetary signposts pointing to a more intimate relationship with our planet as a living organism. With each successive release, her music has also become more and more organic sounding, culminating with Earth Bow, in which Louise herself is arms deep in humus, communing with birds and insects. Recordings of creation feature prominently; katydids, spring peeper frogs, a creek and various birds are credited as providing additional singing, augmenting the artist’s own mellifluous voice. For a recording in which the track titles and lyrics are focused on nature and Louise’s experiences therein, there are a lot of digital elements. Her 12-string guitar is prominent in places, but synths are everywhere: in the background, bouncing around like shooting stars, and mimicking the various fauna that they accompany. Yet the earthly and the machine-made are not juxtaposed, they are blended. The vocals, which center the recordings, tie both elements together nicely. Earth Bow is a tasty concoction, in which a variety of ingredients are married in botanical bliss.

Bryon Hayes

Le Mav — “Supersonic (Feat. Tay Iwar)” (Immaculate Taste)

youtube

Nigeria’s alté scene has been bubbling for a couple of years now on the backs of guys like Odunsi (The Engine) and Santi, and Gabriel Obi bka Le Mav is no stranger to the fray, having produced Santi’s “Sparky,” Aylø and a recurring favorite of his, singer Tay Iwar. The two have already collaborated at length (for songs off Iwar’s debut album Gemini in 2019, as well as the entirety of last year’s Gold EP), so the comfort level here is established. It shows: Iwar’s smooth-as vocals match Le Mav’s breezy piano descent and gentle rhythmic shuffle in an easygoing song that matches anything you might hear coming from Miguel, Frank Ocean or the Sun-El Musician orbit. “If it feels right, touch the sky,” Iwar suggests early on. Well, don’t mind if I do.

Patrick Masterson

Sugar Minott — “I Remember Mama” (Emotional Rescue)

I Remember Mama by Sugar Minott

At some point after Lincoln Barrington Minott had left Kingston and his early dancehall and lovers rock legacy with Studio One and Black Roots behind for cooler climates and the old world of London, he ran into producer Steve Parr at the Wackies offices. Story goes that the two decided to start up Sound Design Studio with the intent to record and mix for ads, film and music — but scant evidence of this idea exists beyond “I Remember Mama,” released on 7” and 12” in 1985 and reissued for the first time since via Stuart Leath and his long-trusted Emotional Rescue imprint. Parr does most of the work on the recording (Andy MacDonald shines on tenor sax and Paul Uden guitar in the original credits), but it’s all about the sweetness Sugar brings to the table: With backing from two accomplished performers in their own right, Janette Sewell and Shola Phillips, Minott’s naturally relaxed delivery shines through on this. “Sound Design” is a dubbier instrumental version that retains Sewell’s and Phillips’ vocals, and Dan Tyler (half of Idjut Boys) provides an even spacier, handclap-laden 11-minute remix, but while both variants are excellent, the boogie of the original is unassailable. Look for the vinyl to hit in July.

Patrick Masterson

Jessica Ackerley — Morning/mourning (Cacophonous Revival)

Morning/mourning by Jessica Ackerley

It makes sense that Wendy Eisenberg wrote the liner notes to Morning/mourning, since they and Jessica Ackerley are bound by a shared commitment to string-craft. Both have a deep idiomatic foundation in jazz guitar, but neither is willing to be confined by what they’ve learned. In the case of Morning/mourning, that means that patiently paced ruminations upon Derek Bailey-like harmonics sit side by side with frantic but rigorously scripted forays that sound a bit like Jim Hall might if he input the contents of his French press intravenously. This album’s nine tracks observe passings and new beginnings, since Ackerley pulled the recording together while in quarantine, shortly before leaving Manhattan for Honolulu, and titled some of them in tribute to a pair of guitar teachers who were taken by 2020. But in their attention to tone, harmony, velocity and structure, these pieces, like Eisenberg’s records, speak as much to intellect as to emotion.

Bill Meyer

Nadja & Disrotted — Split (Roman Numeral Records)

youtube

It makes a certain kind of sense for Nadja and Disrotted to tackle a split together; although both bands traffic in a particularly foreboding strain of doom metal, they also share a weird sort of comfort. There’s a sense more of horrible things happening around you than to you, like you’re in the eye of the storm or maybe in a bathysphere plunged to crushing depths. There is a precision to the menace, a measured quality to the noise. And they get there when they get there; as Dusted’s Jonathan Shaw pointed out in his review of Disrotted’s Cryongenics, “Pace seems to be the point.” This excellent split doesn’t shy away from these commonalities while still highlighting the distinct timbres of each act, with Nadja settling into and then returning to one of their indelibly titanic bass riffs throughout the 19-minute “From the Lips of a Ghost in the Shadow of a Unicorn's Dream” and Disrotted somehow conjuring the feeling of a massive structure corroding and collapsing on the 15-minute “Pastures for the Benighted”. When the latter slams to a half, one last hit echoing away, the listener may find themselves feeling equally relieved the onslaught is over and kind of missing both sides’ pulverizing embrace.

Ian Mathers

Nasimiyu — POTIONS (Figureight)

P O T I O N S by nasimiYu

Nasimiyu’s songs bounce and shimmy with complex rhythms, her background as a dancer and percussionist for Kabells and Sharkmuffin coming through in the intricate interplay of handclaps, breathy beat-boxing, rattling metal implements, all manner of drums and, not least, her lithe, twining vocal lines. “Watercolor” blossoms out of a burst of choral “la”s, each note allowed to flower briefly before behind cut off with a knife-edge; these are organic sounds shaped with mechanical precision. Against this background, Nasimiyu herself enters, her voice fluttery and syncopated, a bit like Neneh Cherry. The mix is full of separate elements, the backing vocals, a synthesizer working as a bass, handclaps, Nasimiyu’s singing, but the song remains light and translucent. “Feelings,” sings Nasimiyu, “I am in my feelings,” and so, for a moment, are we. Nasimiyu is half Kenyan and half Scandinavian-American, and you can hear a bit of East Africa in the surging sweetness of choral singing on “Immigrant Hustle.” But there’s a post-modern gloss over everything, as the singer brings in sonic elements from jazz, electronica, dance, pop and afro-beat. Yet however many layers are added, the sound remains bright and clear, a bead curtain of musical sensation whose elements click faintly as they brush together, but remain essentially separate.

Jennifer Kelly

Carlos Niño & Friends — More Energy Fields, Current (International Anthem)

More Energy Fields, Current by Carlos Niño & Friends

Multi-instrumentalist and producer Carlos Niño latest album which straddles and largely crosses the line between spiritual jazz and new age ambience features friends from both worlds including Shabaka Hutchings, Jamael Dean, Dntel and Laraaji. Niño, who plays percussion and synthesizer, edited, mixed and produced the album from recordings made in 2019 and 2020 in a variety of settings. The results are largely low-key soundscapes designed to assist meditation on the fields and current of the title. Much evocation of the natural world, chiming eastern influenced percussion and layers of acoustic and synthetic keys that are lovely but tend to lull. It is the slightly disruptive reeds that prick the ears here, Aaron Hall’s plangent tenor on “Now the background is foreground,” Devin Daniels’ alto phrasing on “Together” and Hutchings’ expressive duet with Dean on “Please, wake up.”

Andrew Forell

Shane Parish — Disintegrated Satellites (Bandcamp subscription)

Disintegrated Satellites EP by Shane Parish

The normally ultra-productive Shane Parish didn’t put out a lot of music in 2020, and none of what did come out was recorded that year. It turns out that he was busy giving guitar lessons via zoom and moving from North Carolina to Georgia, but we’re well into a new year and he’s back in Bandcamp. This three tune EP doesn’t declare a new direction, of which Parish has had many, so much as an integration of his interests in American folk music and far Eastern tonalities. Simultaneously familiar and alien, but above all propulsive, it serves notice that the time for reflection has passed.

Bill Meyer

Séketxe — “Caixão de Luxo” (Chasing Dreams)

youtube

The thing that gets your attention about Séketxe is… well, everything: how many of them there are (i.e., how you can’t really tell who’s in the group and who isn’t), how they’re all propellant, a musical bottle rocket bursting out of your speakers, confrontationally in your face on camera — and how much fun it looks like they’re having. Somewhere out there beyond the reaches of kuduro and Mystikal lie the Angolan barks and rasps of this youthful sextet, who trade verses (and a soothing harmony drizzled right across the madness at around 1:40) among one another over an Eddy Tussa sample on a beat by producer about town Smash Midas. What are they on about? My Portuguese is nonexistent, let alone my Luandan slang, but even I can tell that title translates to “luxury casket.” Anyway, it’s bonkers and if you’re looking for a jolt your morning joe doesn’t deliver anymore, Séketxe oughta do it. You’ll never catch me thanking an algorithm, but I guess it’s true the maths can serve it up right every once in a while. Séketxe is the proof.

Patrick Masterson

Tōth — You and Me and Everything (Northern Spy)

You And Me And Everything by Tōth

The title of Alex Toth’s solo debut, Practice Magic and Seek Professional Help When Necessary, alludes to his belief in music as therapy — that there’s an alchemy in the process, yet one that can’t necessarily be depended on to pull you out of an emotional hole when that hole gets too deep. On his new album, You and Me and Everything, all of his recent personal struggles are out in the open. There’s the tale of when he was so fucked up he couldn’t play trumpet at a family funeral (“Turnaround (Cocaine Song)”); there’s leaning on songwriting as a means to process the pain of heartbreak (“Guitars are Better Than Synthesizers for Writing Through Hard Times”); and there’s his ongoing battle with anxiety (“Butterflies”). While such heavy emotional terrain could prove hard-going, Toth approaches everything with a playfulness, a lightness of touch and a gentle haze to the production. Plus, he gets a helping hand from Jenn Wasner (Wye Oak, Flock of Dimes), who lends backing vocals to standout “Daffadowndilly,” which taps into the woozy gorgeousness of prime Robert Wyatt.

Tim Clarke

Mara Winter — Rise, follow (Discreet Editions)

Rise, follow by Mara Winter

For people with busy performance schedules, 2020 posed a problem; how do you stay busy and creative when you can’t do what you usually do? Mara Winter, an American-born, Swiss-based flute player who specializes in Renaissance-era repertoire and instruments, used it to forge a new creative identity. In partnership with experimental composer and multi-instrumentalist Clara de Asís, she began exploring the commonalities between early, composed music and contemporary approaches and developed a platform to disseminate documents of that research into the world. Rise, follow, the inaugural release of Discreet Editions, is an hour-long piece for two Renaissance-style bass flutes played by Winter and Johanna Bartz. The two musicians played long, overlapping tones with contrast attacks, pushing on until they grew so tired from hefting those woodwinds that they just couldn’t play anymore. Effectively the performance unit is a trio, since the two musicians had to accommodate or collaborate with the reverberant acoustics of Basel’s Kartäuserkirche. The church’s echo threw sounds back at the player, turning pure tones into blurred timbres. While the instrumentation is antique, the ideas about sound combination and endurance have more to do with Morton Feldman, Phill Niblock and Aíne O’Dwyer. The result is music that is simultaneously meditative and as heavy as a bench-pressing competition.

Bill Meyer

Wurld Series — What’s Growing (Melted Ice Cream)

What's Growing by Wurld Series

Some reviewers of What’s Growing, the second album by New Zealand’s Wurld Series, have managed to avoid making Pavement comparisons, but it’s hard to fathom their restraint. Brief opener “Harvester” feels like you’re being dropped mid-solo into a random Wowee Zowee track; the guitar tone on lead single “Nap Gate,” on the other hand, sounds like it's nicked straight from Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain. And while singer/guitarist Luke Towart doesn’t attempt to match Malkmus’ flamboyance in the vocal delivery department, their voices and wry lyrical observations bear a distinct resemblance to one another. “Caught beneath a dull blade / What a mess that would make” he sings on “Distant Business” before the song reaches its finale where guitar solos blast off from atop other guitar solos in an array of complementary textures. But besides being a ridiculously fun guitar pop record, What’s Growing is also threaded through with a British psych folk vibe replete with Mellotron flute — and the two styles blend seamlessly together thanks to Towart’s partner in crime, producer/drummer Brian Feary (Salad Boys, Dance Asthmatics). So, whether you're looking for a great summer indie rock record or you’ve ever wondered what the Fab Five from Stockton might’ve sounded like if they’d stuck to short songs and had more flutes, this one’s for you.

Chris Liberato

9 notes · View notes

inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years ago

Note

Heya, Steph. Um... I need advice and I trust you & your life experience, so please help me. I'm a student (no job cause *gestures at state of the world and job market*), living unhappily at home (not at risk but not the right environment for me), and though I really want to move out I am not in the headspace to do so. Same situation a good year ago (- pandemic) and once again I could have moved out but I just couldn't. There was this dread inside of me, I had some sort of physical reaction 1/? ☆

reaction to not being home. I would start shaking + crying and had trouble breathing; not sure if it was a panic attack bc I'm not an expert. I really want to move forward in life but I feel so lost. BBC Sherlock used to give me structure and a safe heaven, however, trust no queerbaiting men I guess (hindsight...). How does one figure out how to become a competent adult and where to go in the future? I can barely pick out an outfit for the day, how do I make difficult decisions? 2/? ☆

Also, should I take the step and just move out? I keep thinking of that quote "Madness is doing the same thing and expecting a different result.", since I truly have to be mad to still believe in my family's abilitiy to 'fix' me, my unhappines, or to be better people. On top of it all, I have truly peaked at my procrastination game and am now behind on everything + most of my exams are this week. 3/? ☆

[next part has been answered in this post here because I’m an idiot ~ S]

I want to pass all my exams but not just barely and now I blame my own dumbness on holding out on moving out for my potential future bad grades. Please help me, I need advice, and maybe the best pick-me-up-I-am-in-an-ongoing-state-of-stress-fic-recommedation as in your fave fic of all time (please pitch in fandom, I trust y'all). Thanks in advance and I am sorry for disrupting your ask box with my existential dread. Take care and no worries if you can't help me out this time! 4/4 ☆

--------

Hey Nonny!

First of all, again, I want to apologize for completely missing the fact that the fourth part of this ask was part of a set of asks because for some reason my brain COMPLETELY missed it. I’m such a tool. So yes, please go to the linked ask above to see my reply to that part at least.

As for the rest of your ask, I should state here that I am not a professional so all I can do is offer you my ramblings and I hope they help you out. Please, though, take it with a grain of salt <3

The answer to “how does one become an adult”? There’s no right answer. You’re sort of just thrown into this thing and you just pray to goodness it all works out.

And I get the moving anxiety, I really really do. The first time I left home for school I was a mess. It was terrible, but having a roommate helped (though I moved to a dorm, so it’s not the best “first place” LOL). That said, if you’re able to keep living where you are, especially without a job, stay there... but also don’t expect to be 100% happy. I say move out... that first step is always terrifying, but yeah, once it happens, it’s a bit less stressful, I find. But THEN you have to learn how to pay bills on time, cook for yourself, clean, etc. All are overwhelming prospects the first time around.

I suggest, since you do have so much anxiety about it, get yourself STARTED on paying your own bills, doing your own laundry, cooking your own meals... this is what my parents let me do when I lived with them. I was essentially “renting with a safety net”.

And then, get yourself a financial advisor. My bank offers it for free, and she helped me sort out my finances and money plans for the future. It was all super easy and stress free, and nowadays, you can actually set your bank accounts to do all your bill payments for you. It’s all super easy once you figure out how a bank’s app works. My advisor showed me all of this, plus set up automatic transfers between my accounts so that I always have money in my main “pay shit” account. And get a line of credit. I can’t recommend this enough. The interest is cheaper than credit cards, so I pay off all my credit cards monthly with my line of credit, and then all my debt is consolidated into that ONE credit line.

Believe it or not, financial advisors WANT you to save money, so that’s my tip: Get a financial advisor, talk to a life counsellor to help you with your anxiety, and “prep” living like an adult while living at home with that safety net.

But yes, I do think you should move out if at all possible, but don’t do it because you think it’s what you should do, especially jobless, during a pandemic / lockdowns, and while you suffer from anxiety.

You have to take care of yourself FIRST, and not expect people to “fix you”. I know that sounds awful and harsh, but one of the things I learned by having a sudden loss of a parent and the other one fucking off: Life happens unexpectedly and you will need rely only on yourself. And the sooner you sort out finances, your anxiety, and the job situation, then you will be “able to adult”.

Like I said, there’s no right or wrong way, really, and it happens differently for everyone. I suddenly found myself alone, while my sister had her boyfriend to fall back on. She also has a hard time adulting too, so having her boyfriend helped her out, while I went to the bank and talked to a financial advisor to rearrange my bank finances since I don’t have a fallback if anything ever happened. And going away for college helped too, since I already lived alone 8 hours away from my family.

*HUGS* best of luck to you Nonny. I’m so sorry you’re having A Time™. Please PLEASE take care of YOU first. Don’t beat yourself up if you have an attack again, and just gradually ween yourself into self-sustaining. *HUGS*

#steph replies #chatting with nonnies #my advice #i am not a professional #life advice #Anonymous #star nonny

14 notes · View notes

msclaritea · 4 years ago

Text

"An insurrection of upper-middle class white people | Will Bunch Newsletter

They flew from their affluent suburbs to the U.S. Capitol, ready to die for the cause of white privilege

The stunning pro-President-Trump insurrection that occurred at the U.S. Capitol less than a week ago must have been a carnival for one’s olfactory bulb, as the stinging aroma of tear gas blended with the pungent odors of the occasional joint, or maybe the piles of dung that some of the cruder mob members left in the hallways once graced by icons like Daniel Webster, Henry Clay, and LBJ. The only thing that wasn’t in the air on Wednesday was the smell of what so many have falsely tied to Trump’s authoritarian movement — any whiff of “economic anxiety.”

When fascism finally came to America in the form of an attempted coup to halt our presidential election, it came from lush-green suburbs all across this land, flying business class on Delta or United and staying in four-star hotels with three-martini lobby bars — the better to keep warm after a long day of taking selfies with friendly cops or pummeling the unfriendly ones, chanting “Hang Mike Pence!” and generally standing athwart democracy yelling “Halt!”

Long ridiculed as deplorables rising up from the muck of Rust Belt trailer parks, the Donald Trump counter-revolution has finally revealed itself as an upper-middle-class affair.

What else can one think after seeing the photo of Jenna Ryan, real-estate broker from the upscale Dallas exurb of Frisco (also a “conservative” radio talker) posing in front of the private jet that whisked her to the Jan. 6 pro-Trump rally and subsequent storming of the Capitol, where she smiled in front of a window broken by other rioters and tweeted that “if the news doesn’t stop lying about us we’re going to come after their studios next”?

Maybe Ryan is an extreme example, but her compatriots in rushing Capitol Hill on Wednesday included a father of three from another upscale Dallas suburb named Larry Rendall Brock Jr., whose 1989 degree in international relations from the Air Force Academy apparently never taught him that it’s a bad idea to be photographed leaving House Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s office in a combat helmet, tactical gear, and holding zip-tie handcuffs.

One might also expect a criminal defense lawyer like McCall Calhoun of Americus, Ga., to know that it’s surely illegal to surge past a line of cops into the U.S. Capitol, even if, as you later told a newspaper, you believed your fellow rioters wer people who “don’t want to lose their democratic republic.” Or that it’s bad form to do this after tweeting about a looming civil war or the potential hanging of President-elect Joe Biden.

Political junkies like us remember 2000′s “Brooks Brothers riot” of well-heeled GOP activists and lobbyists that successfully halted Florida vote recounting in populous Dade County. Apparently what we witnessed Wednesday was the “Pottery Barn insurrection.” As key figures who invaded the Capitol have been steadily identified over the last five or six days, it’s remarkable how many alleged lawbreakers emerged from upscale zip codes.

The stay-at-home dad husband of a physician. The son of an elected judge in Brooklyn. The owners of numerous small businesses, as well as assorted state legislators. The New York Times spent four years looking for Trump voters in Ohio diners, but apparently that’s not where they would have found failed actor Jacob Chansley, a.k.a. Jake Angeli, the infamous shirtless rioter with the painted face and horns, who reportedly hasn’t eaten since his arrest because there’s no organic food in jail.

Yes, many of the 74 million citizens who voted for the guy who then incited an attempted coup do fit the stereotype of struggling or laid-off blue-collar worker in a rusted-out rural community. But those folks aren’t the ones who can take a Wednesday off and fly hundreds of miles, let alone plunk down hundreds of dollars, to get to the nation’s hub. While the Capitol mob was bulked up with other Trumpists — including an alarming number of off-duty police officers, as well as some neo-Nazi or KKK types who’ve been around forever — it was the 401(k) crowd that formed the front line of America’s first real putsch.

If that surprises you, then you weren’t really paying attention. For the last four years, political scientists have been trying to wrap their brains around Trump’s shocking 2016 victory in the Electoral College while trying to tell us that the 45th president’s true base is a lot of things — but it’s not poor. In fact, polling guru Nate Silver noted during 2016′s primaries that the average Trump voter had a median household income of $72,000, which was both higher than the national average and also higher than the numbers that year for supporters of Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders.

Interestingly, Silver and other analysts have found that Trump performs particularly well with voters with high incomes yet often without college diplomas (although he also does better with degree holders than he gets credit for). A researcher at the University of Pennsylvania, the political scientist Diana Mutz, found that Trump voters generally weren’t struggling economically yet did feel great anxiety about their status — whether the threat was the rise of a foreign power like China or the idea that America, and its government, was becoming increasingly nonwhite.

That explains a lot. It explains why the Republican Party, arguably in a long downward moral spiral, lost its mind when America elected its first Black president in Barack Obama. It explains why so many people with the luxuries of a laptop and free time (things that actual poor folks have in short supply) look for conspiracies like QAnon to explain a society that no longer makes sense for them, or why so much of the hatred on the right is expended not at the CEOs who outsourced American jobs but at the cap-and-gown-wearing eggheads like journalists or scientists they find intellectually arrogant.

The main reason that so many reasonably well-off folks tried to shut down American democracy wasn’t because they feared losing their paycheck, but because they feared losing their white privilege. Donald Trump had promised that “I alone can fix it” — that he’d protect them from a society where Black and brown essential workers could expect help from their government during a pandemic or ask the police to stop killing them, a world that where just being white no longer guaranteed the status they were promised as kids. They truly believed that Biden, Kamala Harris, and the 82 million were going to end their white power, and they saw Jan. 6 as their last chance to save it. The Capitol still stands, but the rest of us are going to be spending decades cleaning up their mess.

History lesson

Philadelphia Police carry a protester away from a July 4, 1966 anti-Vietnam War protest held at Independence Hall. A new study proves police are twice as likely to break up a left-wing demonstration than a right-wing one, like Wednesday's storming of the U.S. Capitol.

In the end, as the FBI and other agencies step up their investigation of the Jan. 6 insurrection, there will likely be hundreds of arrests. But the now-under-fire Capitol Police arrested only 13 rioters while the attack was underway, and only a few dozen more were busted by cops for violating the 6 p.m. curfew. No one must have been more shocked by this than the survivors of the May 1971 anti-Vietnam War protests in Washington, one of the largest demonstrations in American history. In marked contrast to last week’s light police presence, the heavy-handed tactics from the administration of Richard Nixon included secretly canceling a national-park permit for the protests and then sending in a whopping 12,000 military troops to augment an already sizable police and National Guard presence. Over three days, an astonishing 12,614 people — many who were protesting peacefully and not violating any laws — were rounded up in the largest mass arrest in U.S. history. Authorities detained thousands at RFK Stadium because there was nowhere else to put them.

The shameful 1971 incident proved a point that seemed clear last Wednesday and has now been established with research: Police who are aggressive with leftist social-justice protesters treat right-wing disturbances with kid gloves. Last year’s Black Lives Matter protests as well as anti-lockdown rallies on the far right inspired the nonprofit Armed Conflict Location & Event Data Project to dig deeper. It found police were twice as likely to break up the left-wing protests, and when they did disperse a gathering, cops used force against leftists more often (51% of the time) than against right-wingers (34%.) This unequal treatment under the law is one more way that American policing is broken."

#Failed Capitol Coup #Pottery Barn Insurrection #Spoiled Ass Fuckers

7 notes · View notes

afibrunner · 3 years ago

Text

How It All Began

For more, visit my blog at 1080Park.com . . .

My story leading up to the catheter ablation procedure went something like this:

- I was in pretty good physical shape. I was in my mid-30s.

- One night my heartbeat went crazy.

- I freaked out a bit, but calmly went to my personal doctor: Google.

- It took me all of 20 minutes to diagnose myself with Atrial Fibrillation (AF).

- I decided to sleep on it, and the next day my symptoms were gone.

- I was living overseas at the time, so I was a bit untrusting of the foreign medical system.

- Despite knowing the risks associated with AF, I stupidly decided to just live with it rather than treat it.

My AF symptoms came and went over the years, often brought on by a few distinct things: Adrenaline or quickly-induced stress, certain types of alcohol, strangely enough, laying back in a very distinct position on the couch, and (I think but not certain on this one) a large intake of sugar like eating a big desert at a restaurant. My irregular heartbeat did not seem to be triggered by caffeine as far as I could tell.

If I went into AF at any point, it would automatically go away on its own. Usually overnight, but almost always within 48 hours. At first I would have instances of it once a week or so, but over the years it began happening more often. Sometimes every other day. I continued my misguided approach of ignoring it because I didn’t ever really feel very poorly during the times I was in AF . I don’t remember ever feeling tired, fatigued, dizzy or short of breath. Sometimes I wouldn’t know I had it until I put my finger on my wrist to check my heart rate. If it was steady, I was good to go. If it was beating randomly, I knew I was in AF. I could run normally, and although my times weren’t super fast I don’t remember every missing a run or a strength workout because I was in AF.

I returned to live in the United States about three years after first realizing I had AF. During a routine annual physical with my primary care physician, he picked up on my AF and freaked out. I wanted to say, “Yo Doc, simmer down now. I’ve been living with this for a long time, and it’s not even bad right now. No need to panic. But panic he did. He acted like he found something that was found something that was an immediate threat to my life. He mentioned a few things I already knew like AF puts someone at an increased risk of stroke, etc. He ordered an EKG that confirmed what he heard through his stethoscope. I had AF. My secret was now out. He made such a big deal of it that I was too embarrassed to admit I already knew I had it. He had me follow him out of the exam room into his office where he proceeded to make a call to a cardiologist he knew and recommended. Using first names, he called in an obvious favor and got me a same-day visit with this specialist in AF. My PCP bid me farewell in a somewhat dramatic fashion, proud of his accomplishment in finding the AF and saving my life. (He really is a great PCP, and although I was certain he was overreacting he my have indeed ultimately saved me from a stroke by scaring me and highlighting that AF is something that should be dealt with sooner than later.)

The new cardiologist was awesome as well. He looked at the EKG I had taken an hour before and said, “Yep, you’ve got Atrial Fibrillation.” He was awesome. He stepped me through what was happening in my heart, and then helped me feel like a bit less of an invalid. He explained that it isn’t uncommon for long distance runners to develop AF. He had a very technical reason for why you can be in great physical shape with a very strong heart, but that extreme endurance training can sometimes trigger AF. He was very positive and went through the equation cardiologists use to assess the risk of stroke to patients with AF: CHA₂DS₂-VASc. (See my resources page for more information on this risk score and how it is used.) He basically “white boarded” out an equation to assign points to certain conditions. He explained each risk factor and why they were important. I was under 65 years old, male, no history of congestive heart failure, no hypertension, no history of stroke, no vascular disease history and no diabetes. Compared to someone with no diagnosis of AF, I was still at an increased risk for stroke, but I was on the lower end of the spectrum for those diagnosed with AF. He was awesome in that he made me feel good about the fact that I was in great shape and that this definitely made me healthier than most AF patients. But he stopped just short of making me feel like I had nothing to be concerned about. He thought I would be a perfect candidate for a cardiac catheter ablation, and explained the procedure in very basic terms. He referred me to another physician who does the ablation procedures, and said he wanted me to get started on the blood thinner Xarelto, and gave me a sample pack of the drug. In his notes on this visit, the doctor wrote the following: “Patient has asymptomatic atrial fibrillation of unclear duration. His atrial fibrillation is probably related to his high vagal tone as he is a marathon runner and quite athletic. His CHADS VAS score is 0 and aspirin should be sufficient. However, I have explained to him that personally, I prefer Xeralto or Eliquis. Furthermore, I anticipate eventual cardioversion or ablation and therefore, I will start patient on Xeralto 20 mg dally at bedtime.”

I didn’t see that third physician on the same day, but his staff helped me get scheduled for a stress echo to “rule out inducible ischemia or structural heart disease.”

Approximately two weeks later I reported to the third physician for the stress echo using the “Bruce (Accelerated)” protocol. (I’m not sure what that is, but I wrote it down.) I got wired up with a bunch of cables attached to my chest and ran on a treadmill for about 13 minutes. I wasn’t in AF at the time of the test, so I felt really strong and I think I did well in the stress test. The doctor commended me for reaching stage 7 of the protocol, but I’m not sure if he was being sincere or just knew I was competitive with running and wanted me to feel better about myself. From the Doctor’s notes: “Conclusions: 1. Excellent exercise tolerance. 2. Normal blood pressure and heart rate response to exercise. 3. Negative exercise echo tor Inducible ischemia or arrhythmia.”

So that was it. I went home feeling like I had killed the test. From this point on I continued to make bad decisions. I continued to blow off my new AF diagnosis because 1. I didn’t want to be on medications or blood thinners, and 2. the thought of having surgery on my heart when three weeks earlier I had run a half marathon averaging under 8 minute miles sounded crazy to me. So I decided to do some research on ablation to figure out if I’d still be able to be a runner after the procedure.

And two weeks later the entire country went on lockdown for COVID-19.

Most elective procedures were cancelled as we all tried to figure out how we were going to get through the pandemic. I was ok with that because I felt healthy. After all, I had been living with AF for a few years already. I saw no need to panic. I just continued running . . .

On many occasions I would begin a run knowing I was in AF, and then the irregular heartbeat would be snapped back to normal at some point during the run. This happened quite often with tempo runs. I wasn’t overly concerned about it because at first I didn’t recognize a decrease in performance. Later it became a bit more noticeable, and my Garmin Forerunner 945 had a problem with my AF.

There is a feature in the Forerunner to help you watch for abnormal heart rates. You can have the watch alert you if it detects an abnormally high or low heart rate. I left this feature on. Every so often, when I was in AF after a run it would trigger the alarm. Not during the run, mind you. For some reason it only triggered the alarm after I was cooling down. Maybe it was because the watch knew I was no longer running and was worried that my heart rate was still high when I should be recovering. Keep in mind my resting heart rate was around 42 bpm at that time.

I remember being angry following a run when I was in AF because my Garmin 945 got so confused. My VO₂ Max was 54 according to my Garmin, but after a run wherein my watch got super confused, it dropped my VO₂ Max down two points to a 52. I was mad! I had a particularly bad bought of AF and ran through it. Normally during a tempo run my heart rate would take a while to increase, and then would top out at around 150 when I was running at a perceived exertion rate of about 7 on a scale of 1 to 10.

During this run my heart rate was through the roof because of the AF. I might be making this up, but I’m pretty sure my Garmin watch sent me an alert during the run saying, “Did you give your watch to someone who isn’t in very good running condition by any chance?” (I hit the back key on my watch to blow off the notification.)

Later while still in AF during that same run:

Garmin: “Are you in imminent danger or running for your life?” Me: No. Shut up Garmin, it’s just my AF making you think my HR is way high.

5 minutes later. Garmin: “Need me to call 911 for you?” No, damnit, now leave me alone so I can complete this tempo run. It’s just AF and I’ll have a much lower heart rate the day after tomorrow when I try this again.

As I mentioned, my Garmin punished me after that run by dropping my VO₂ Max by two points. I was mad, and that was the point where I decided to have the ablation procedure. All because my watch downgraded what it assessed as my VO₂ Max following one time I ran during AF. Crazy right?

Next up: Choosing my surgeon. . .

1 note · View note

thejosh1980 · 4 years ago

Text

(Seems like) Years since yesterday...

Today, 1 year ago, is a special day...

One year ago today was the last time I bought myself a new guitar... I always wanted a Guild, and as I had been touring a lot with The Cashbags I figured I could now afford it. It's blonde, with P90s and as close as I could get to one of my idols, Dave G from The Paladins.

I bought it second hand via “Ebay Kleinanzeigen”, right before a show with The Cashbags. The guy came to the venue, before sound check and I tried it out. I was in love... I bought it there and then...

I played it that night at The Cashbags show too. This was the only show I played my own guitar during all my years touring with the band. Usually I would use the band gear, as it best suited the look the band wanted (and it was easy for me, I didn't have to carry my guitar and amp to and from shows)...

It's also the only show I have so far played with this guitar...

Why?

Well that's cause of that damn pandemic.

You see, that show in Langenselbold was to become the last one The Cashbags would play with me...

I knew I was leaving the band at the end of the tour, which was at the end of April, but COVID had a different plan. It's kinda hard to explain how it felt driving to the show, a good 6 hours, with 1 or 2 date cancellations happening along the way... However, by the the next morning hotel breakfast, the rest of the tour was cancelled.

We lost 6 solid weeks of shows...

But how naive I was. I thought we'd be back at it pretty soon; dates rescheduled, last minute shows would be booked... you know the deal. But in the end, I didn't share the stage with the band again, I didn't get to say goodbye to half the band members before leaving Germany either.

Alex and I had only been married 10 days when restrictions started to begin in Germany. The full lockdown was a week or two later, wasn't it? I don't know, it's all a bit of a blur.

I was lucky, at the time, I had my studio which was all mine, so I could get out of the apartment, walk the dog and play guitar, loud... The new guitar got some action, behind closed doors of course.

You know the story, we started selling up, packing up and, eventually, moved down under...

It feels surreal to think how, at the time, we had no idea how this was going to affect us. It's quite clear the pandemic has brought out the best (and worst) in people.

I think for me, during my time in Dresden's restrictions, everything felt, well, OK. It didn't feel too bad, but I had a lot to focus on. The “goodbyes” to everyone was the hardest thing. I don't remember being under the weather, depressed or sick. I may have been, but whatever negative thoughts and feelings there were, they weren't strong during that time.

I was lucky to be one of the earlier guests on the Blue Note live stream in March, which encouraged me to do my own live streams in April and May. As unprepared as I was to learn so many new songs, it was a good focus, until it got too much.

In July we had “The Josh Fest” which was too much for my emotions. Dresden, I feel the love. I'm so thankful (and lucky) so many friends could come out for one last party. Reuniting old bands, new bands and old friends on stage, it'll go down as one of the best shows in my life. One that ended with me in tears...

When we had the first cancelled flight and rescheduled flights in mid July, I don't remember feeling too bad about it all either. I didn't like it, but our delay was only a week or two. And we had a roof over our head and Alex's family there to support us.

But once the 3rd or 4th rescheduled flight happened it started to get scary and worrying. I remember some really bad days in Meine. I had lost all hope of getting home. We were in limbo, and had little control over the situation. Our health insurances had expired, we were no longer registered in Germany and were worried constantly if the next flight would let us on. So many last minute cancellations, wears one down. I spent quite a bit of my time frustrated, depressed and helpless during those 2 months.

Once we took control, used some savings and bought ourselves new flights, we made it to Adelaide. I definitely felt better by taking action. However, another set of challenges arise, quarantine isn't fun. We were lucky with our hotel, room and food, but it's still tough... Very tough... And I sympathize with everyone who's had to go through it, especially those who are doing it under hardship.

In late September we made it mum's. We finally made it... I'd been waiting for this moment for a year (longer than originally planned of course). I made the decision to move in September/October 2019. I had achieved a lot in Europe, so many amazing adventures (good and challening) that I'll have enough memories to last a life time (if I can remember them!).

I wanted to come back and take care of my family.

When we arrived at mum's, it hit me... I was back! I didn't feel the excitement I thought I would. I felt bad for Mum. Like, shouldn't I have been crying? Shouldn't I have been screaming! “I'm baaaaaaack!!!” In the end I think it was just relief... We'd arrived almost 3 months later than expected. We needed to settle in.

I think settling in took a while. Is it still happening? Even the smell of the fresh salt air knocks you out! Lots of new things to get used to. Integration had begun. Usually I returned home for a holiday, now it was a return for good. This is a full time permanent position.

I did enjoy October through to January. Alex wasn't working, we had time to do stuff, relax... Enjoy the local scene. I don't surf every day, but definitely as often as conditions allow. I did some work, which I previously blogged about. Alex started working in December, and she loves her job... Things were pretty good...

I was, I still am, trying to get over saying goodbye to my puppy, my friends and wondering why I had little motivation to pick up the guitar...

In mid January Mijo, my little kitten, came into my life. Thanks to my wonderful wife, she knew full well I wouldn't decide to get a pet on my own, and on the responsibility to bring some fur into our lives. Damn I'm lucky.

In fact, Alex's intuition is amazing... She always seems to know know when to ask questions, when to listen, when to take action and when to bring coffee. Bless her cotton socks...

However come February I'd hit the wall. I don't know what it is, what it was.... But it's been a little while coming, and hasn't gone away. It did leave me in bed for 3 days, and don't ask me the reason, cause I can't tell you.

I've had a lot of motivation issues... I just don't feel like getting up... I have to, because I gotta drive mum to work and pick her up. Once back home, usually I drink coffee and force myself to do something, anything... I've used the excuse of “training Mijo” that I visit friends with him, but really my heart hasn't been in it. I just know I'd feel guilty if I didn't do anything...

I've had a lot of paperwork to fill out since getting home. Bank accounts and all that kind of stuff... Alex's visa (which is still on going for another 18 months or so). Also local government bureaucratic stuff I have to deal with. Taxes! I'm planning to start studying in April, but to enroll the process comes with a lot of documentation, questions and answers...

So... Lately...

I have distanced myself from everyone lately. Except for a few moments, I haven't picked up the guitar in almost 12 months. I barely do anything. Writing this blog today, has taken a lot of energy and focus to start. If it wasn't for the “anniversary” today, I wouldn't have even begun to type.

To help you understand the hole I was (and still am) in... I have been blessed with a roof over my head, food every day, a loving wife, a beautiful kitten, a loving mum (and family and friends), the beach, the sounds of birds waking me up and (mostly) great weather... But I'm still unhappy...

How could that be? Why is that?

I know I wrote a few times before, that writing has helped me process my feelings. So I figured I'd better try it. Practice what I preach!... But don't ask me how I feel, I just don't know... and it can change in a heart beat.

I got out of bed today, and I did some office work... First time in over a week... Stuff I've been putting off... I'll need to make a few calls this afternoon too... But in between I think I'll rest... Relax...

Usually, I push myself too much... I have pushed myself to the edge (again)... I've been feeling desperate, unmotivated, hopeless, helpless and, well, just plain shit... I know I gotta get out of it, but these days I'm trying a new approach: pull back, relax, rethink, rest and figure out the right balance... So far I am somewhere in the middle....

At least I think I feel better than when I was constantly powering through and not acknowledging my feelings.

I'm my worst critic, and I feel guilty if I don't “do” every day... I gotta “do” this or that... But sometimes you gotta take care of yourself... That is also a “do”... isn't it? Self care. Self love. Listening to your body.

So it's been one of the roughest years in a long time for us... hasn't it??

Damn...

Please don't do what I do and ignore the stress and pressure... What I mean is, there's been so many new things for all of us, so many new challenges, we forget how far we've come. We forget we are still here.

We have achieved so much, even if it's the fact we got out of bed today!!!

We need to be kind to each other, but more importantly to ourselves. I wouldn't treat my pet, my friends or my family as badly as I do myself, so why am I doing that?? It's gotta stop.

I gotta listen to myself when I don't feel up to it, and forgive myself for putting myself first... Rest... Reflection... Relaxing... Recuperation... Maybe then I can begin the next chore... Like filling out this damn paperwork just to get into college...

https://youtu.be/-rkq9ffBpWY - The Paladins - Years Since Yesterday

Thanks for reading,

Josh

#depression #ptsd #musicians #pandemic #anxiety #struggling #self love

3 notes · View notes