#helped me out of a style funk so I’m still slapping it down

[nibeul]

Biggest art style influences?

uhhh tatsuki fujimoto, david aja, @/tzitzki, @/11thsense, @/cranitys, tmnt rise… just going off the top of my head rn, there’s definitely more

[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep10: Kaiba Embarrasses Himself on International Television Again

We start off this duel by teasing us into believing that this is a part of a theme park:

The Kaiba theme park is a weird mix of actual horrorscapes and animal crossing cutesy stuff...you can really tell what parts were Mokuba and what parts were Seto in this park.

But Leon takes it well, just kinda standing there as he’s done this entire arc--being a general forgettable nice boy who just...doesn’t do anything. Like he gets up, he plays cards, he sits down. Having him on top of a rock with melodramatic Little Mermaid waves crashing at his feet is laughably the opposite of Leon’s whole vibe.

Leon just seems like the type that listens to coffee shop ambient Youtube videos when he wants to amp himself up. This kid appears to attend a private school...somewhere...I think, and just went to a dueling competition in his school outfit because he literally doesn’t have a style of his own hanging in his closet.

Like Yugi wears his school outfit, but he does that ironically, to off-set the amount of makeup and hair spray he has in his hair. Leon wears the school outfit maybe because he admires Yugi so much, but is like “time for my rogue bow I wear in my hair. That’ll scare my competition.” He completely missed the point of the 00′s alt school outfit scene.

I do way too much art to not see the imagery. I feel like this is half my job, and playing “where’s the hidden Freudian meaning?” is half the fun of going to any art museum.

(read more under the cut)

Anyway, Seto got tired of no one paying any attention to him, so he stepped out of his 14-monitor mancave, he very quickly pulled his Dragon outfit out of the (dirty) laundry, flicked a couple sea crabs out of his pockets, spritzed it with Febreeze and called it “good enough.”

Like, is it just me, or has dragon jacket greyed out a tad from last season? Like it’s starting to get a little...worn? Like what funk is coming off of Seto Kaiba right now?

Also notice that he brought his giant stash of cards to the duel. He’s going to put on this show as if he’s not going to pull out the giant stash of cards. But like...he’s going to pull out the giant stash of cards. Like Hell boring ass Leon is going to play his deck of Candyland characters again.

Leon is declared a winner on Technicality and it’s like.

Damn Seto, for reals?

So congrats, Leon, you did literally nothing, again, and yet you mystifyingly  persist on this show. Clearly you aren‘t going to grow a second head out of that ponytail like professor Quirrel in the last act of this arc.

That’s when Yugi’s hazy memory recalls something from the Before Times of “that time period before I was possessed by a needy ghost that eats up 3/4 of my memories and time.”

So Schroeder is Atari. Neat.

Also, this makes Zigfrieds outfits a hell ton more endearing when you realize he’s this Willy Wonka game company owner making toys for children. Kinda makes you wonder why Seto’s such a stick up the ass in comparison when it’s like--dude Kaiba, maybe you could learn a thing or two about whimsy. It could really help out your inconsistent park.

Anyway, Kaiba quickly realized who hacked the park and so, understandably, he asked Zigried to leave, which...backfired?

Y’all card culture is a lot. Everyone in the audience covered their faces in shame because they were so embarrassed by Seto Kaiba and I’m like...not sure why? Because he didn’t do a duel? Against this guy who snuck into his tourney not unlike Rex and Weevil? This asshole?

Recall that the last time Seto played a guy who had a fake name it was Marik freakin Ishtar and he killed a LOT of people (actually, it was Alister, pretending to be Pegasus, but he also killed a lot of people so that still tracks). Card culture can’t seem to learn from their mistakes, although Seto clearly sees the problem with dueling a professional hacker in a digital card game on a hologram that may or may not be able to murder you. At least its not a magic.

And so, tired of being humiliated on television, Seto decides to bust out the dueling gloves (well, not those gloves. You know what I meant) and use the equipment he BROUGHT WITH HIM and clearly never intended not to use in the first place.

(I hope you enjoy this dutch angle that wasn’t quite dutch enough, so it just looks like they’re lounging)

Roland patiently walks over from...somewhere? I don’t know where Roland comes from whenever he pops up, but he waltzed over to hold onto this suitcase as if that’s a formal part of his job.

I say this so often but like...I don’t know what Roland’s job is. He’s like a valet/butler/duel referee/duel cheerleader/CEO/and I will spend the rest of this series trying to understand it. Part of me is like...could Roland be a temp worker at an agency who just gets rehired for a different Kaiba Corp job every couple of weeks?

That weird ass fourthKaiba, I will never understand Roland.

Just one letter away from being a Zigfriend, Kaiba. Just one letter away. I know this because I misspell friend a LOT.

Zigfreind? Zigfriend? Damn it, both of them look the freakin same to me, this sucks! Why can’t I spell friend without autocorrect!?

Just the amount these two fight when Seto clearly barely even remembers who this guy even is.

Leon shows up in the seats, pretending that he’s totally cool about winning on a technicality right after Zigfried went on a rant about how shameful, irredeemable, and mortally embarrassing winning on technicalities are.

He seems to take it pretty well, smiling, sitting next to Rebecca, and then dissolving right into the background because this kid’s whole deal is being way too nice to exist on this show.

Y’all we just had that art meme where people were redrawing that “How to draw manga face” and guys...that’s what our anime used to look like.

I mean look at that uncomfortable chin there, that tapers in for some reason. Those eyes melting off of her face. The lack of any 3d sense. This was an anime ideal for a very, very long time.

Anyway, the “how to draw manga face” is a perfect masterpiece and never needs to change. (But it is fun to make fun of it although I guess the person that drew it was actually a kid, which makes sense from a publishing perspective to have a kid make a book about how to draw stuff for kids.)

We see a little flashback of Schroeder and why he hates Seto Kaiba, and can I just say, I kind of love this little outfit. Kind of a shame that it’s stuffed into a flashback.

Which is when we found out that Zigfried thinks Seto Kaiba did a plagiarism.

Which is hilarious because it was Gozaburo Kaiba who was plagiarizing Seto, so like...who did it first?

OK guys. Lets talk about this.

APPARENTLY, there was some sort of contest to work with Pegasus...kind of like an architecture contest (which is a thing, when a city is doing a big project, they send out a call, and big firms will compete to see who builds it) and I GOTTA know what Pegasus��� theme was.

Like did he say to all the little rich kid geniuses “I would like something that makes my cards ALIVE, can you do that?” Then when Pegasus got a hell ton of holograms and was he like “But ALIVE--it makes it alive, right boy?” And when he was shaking the hands of each stupid kid was he like “So if I hypothetically put my dead wife on a card and slapped it into the machine--could she EXIST. Like...enough? I just need her to legally exist is all, and not like..literally of course...but enough literally to be a sin against God, can you do that?”

I just want to know if Willy Wonka Wonderkid Von Schroeder had any idea he was creating a resurrection chamber for a dark wizard. Like he has no idea that he dodged getting his business bought straight from under him and his soul shoved into a card. And it’s not like Schroeder was going to abduct Yugi’s Grandpa and ensure that Yugi would be there to save him down the road. Like I’m pretty sure Schroeder would have been sacrificed waaay before that whole island contest even went down.

Zigfried got so freakin lucky. I can’t believe he’s mad. But then again...

...the man swims in milk pools so like...maybe his logic center is busted? Maybe he wanted to die in a horrific murder island? I don't know what Zigfried is into, but I do know that because Zigfried doesn’t have millennium rod powers linking him to the millennium eye--so would it have mattered? There’s destiny reasons that Pegasus chose Kaiba.

Course...we never found out where the scales ended up, have we? We think it’s Shadi, but have we seen Shadi bust those out since Season Zero?

Man that would be a good plot twist that will absolutely not happen.

Yo, make horse guy into a dark wizard, show, I dare you!

Anyway, that’s all for now, but if you want to read from the beginning, here’s the link:

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

[asphalt-cocktail]

For the Sake of content- Chapter 10

Chapter 10- Uncertainty and the Test of Time.

Summary: After walking in on your long-term boyfriend, Harrison, cheating on you and then losing your job the following day; your find yourself broke, jobless, and single for the first time in a long while. In order to make ends meet, your best friend since college, Freddie, suggests you start soliciting explicit photos of yourself, not only to help boost your confidence but to help pay the rent for his band mate’s apartment you just moved into.

A/N: Hi friends! I know this took me forever but honestly this chapter hit a little too close to home for me to begin to feel comfortable writing. But today I finally worked up the courage to write it and oh boy let me tell you it is SAD. But dont worry this fic will have a happy ending! Also if you can figure out the era of Roger I am transitioning too bonus points to you! Sorry it is so short, it was  difficult for me to write this emotionally and took a lot out of me. 

Pairing: Roger Taylor x F!Reader

Warnings: Language, ANGST, longing, just a lot of sad feels, (dont worry there will be a happy ending), Mentions of smut but no actual smut in this chapter, alcohol mentions, not proof read

Word Count: 1.9k

The following morning you woke up, your sinuses feeling gummy and throat dry.

Glancing at the clock you made a mental note of the time, much too late for you to still be in bed. Your stomach clenched when you heard the door open and despite want to stay in the warm cocoon of your bed you felt yourself moving on your own. The sudden urge to see Roger flooded over your body and you shuffled out the bedroom, quickly thinking of some excuse you could make to be out here with him. Fluidly you moved to the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of water out of the tap.

“Hey.” You said setting your cup down and watching him set his keys on the kitchen table.

He grinned up at you “Hey,” he responded back. Your gaze watched him as he moved through the house with out much of a second thought before he retreated to his room, “Hey I’m going to be gone for a few days.” His muffled voice called.

“Where are you going to be?” You called back sitting on the kitchen table. You didn’t know if your stomach hurt from being hungry or from what you knew Roger’s answer was going to be.

He came out with a backpack slung over his shoulder “Oh, I’m going to stay at Dominique’s for a little while.”

You pursed your lips and nodded your head, “Oh, well have fun.” You said flashing him a closed mouth smile.

He didn’t give you a second glance before leaving the house.

Your heart clenched, why would you be so upset over your friend leaving for a few days? Roger had his own life and you needed to respect that. Those thought played over and over in your brain for the remainder of the day and it seemed like no matter how often you thought them they never seemed to get through to you and the more you felt nauseous.

You didn’t know how many days passed until Fred had showed up pounding on your door.

You opened it and were immediately met with a grimace “You look like you haven’t left your bed in three days.” He said pushing his way past you and letting himself in to your ‘shared’ apartment.

“Well how many days has it been since Sunday?” You asked rubbing your tired and slightly swollen eyes.

“Three.” Fred said pointedly.

You plopped on the couch, “Well then you’re right.”

Your friend’s eyes narrowed as he looked at you, “What do you mean I’m right?” He said sitting next to you, “What’s got you in a funk?”

You felt his intense gaze as you averted your eyes from him, looking down at your feet and playing with the hem of your shirt. “It’s nothing.” You responded before letting out deep sigh. “What brings you over?” You asked lightly slapping your hands on your thighs.

Fred gave you a weird look, his brow eyes intently taking in every bit of your body language, “I you haven’t talked to anyone since Saturday night.” He said a light frown gracing his sharp features.

You shifted awkwardly, “Wow, crazy,” you remember your phone, sitting on your nightstand and on do not disturb, “Are you sure?” you asked knowing the answer.

Fred stood up, “Get up.” He said grabbing your limp arm and tugging you reluctantly to your feet, “Go shower and then we’ll continue talking.” He said pushing you towards the bathroom not caring you had no change of clothes.

The bathroom door shut behind you and you looked in the mirror, you really did look like shit. Your skin looked dry and dark bags hung under your eyes and your hair looked dirty. You frowned and turned the water on hot, as hot as it could go, undressed and stepped in.

The hot water soaked your body and burnt your skin, yet it didn’t hurt; it felt strangely cathartic. You inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, feeling tears beginning to well in your eyes. You covered your face with your hand and a sob wrecked through you, shaking your body and causing you to lean forward.

Your shoulders shook with sobs and your tears mixed with the water, washing away the evidence of your crying. You tried your best to curb your sobs but choked them out anyways. It hurt. Knowing Roger had sex with you and dropped you the moment he saw someone better come along. Like always, you were second best.

Your brain processed what had happened in the last few months of your life. Walking in on your boyfriend Harrison, breaking up with him, moving in with Roger, becoming a cam girl, having sex with Roger a lot, sharing soft intimate moments with him, and now sitting here on the floor of your shower crying with your knees into your chest as the cold water ran out.

This was a new low moment to say the least.

A knock on the door shook you from your endless thoughts, you sniffed and rubbed your face before standing up, “What?” You called back.

“What’s taking you so long? There’s no way you still have hot water.” Fred shouted back.

He was right, you didn’t and you hadn’t even started washing yourself. You suffered through the cold water and washed your hair and body, cleaning it of the filth and emotions.

As soon as you had your towel wrapped around you Fred opened the door and tossed a bottle of his nice moisturizer at you, “You always feel better after you moisturize.” He said and shut the door one again.

He was right, your skin looked dewy and no longer crusted with sleep and sweat. You felt clean like a breath of fresh air, but your mind continued to remind you of how alone you were in this apartment. The two of you sat on your couch once again, this time you were clean and in fresh clothes.

Freddie splayed his hands on his pants, “So,” He started out, “When were you going tell me that you and Roger have been sleeping together?”

You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you “What are you talking about?” You asked trying to hide your nerves.

“I saw a picture. I know what the both of you look like naked it isn’t hard to tell.”

Heat crept up the back of your neck and spread from your face to the tips of your ears and your mouth opened and closed as you tried to find your words, “Is that what this is all about?” Freddie asked maintaining his intense gaze.

You averted your gaze from his and stared hard at the floor. Fred grabbed you and forced you look at him, “Listen, [Y/N], Dominique is a manipulative witch that knows how to wrap Roger around her finger” You stared into his intense brown eyes, “She doesn’t have shit on you and never will.” He let go of your face and you didn’t move, “She sweeps in and sinks her dirty claws into Roger’ soft heart and takes advantage of him.” He picked some lint off his pants and paused before he continued, “No one likes her.” He added.

You took Freddie’s words to heart, he seemed genuine and you had already learned previously that Dom was not well liked among the boys. At the end of the week Roger returned, presumably to get a new bag of clothes.

To say you were shocked to see him was honestly an understatement. You gaped at him when he walked through the door “What the fuck happened to your hair?” You asked looking at him.

His long choppy hair was now short and wild on his head, Roger rushed past you, “Do you like it? Dominique said it looked better this way.” He said moving to his room.

You couldn’t help but follow him and lean on his doorway, “Dominique told you to cut your hair short so you did?” your voice was laced with disbelief.

Roger glanced back and you and nodded his head, “Yeah.”

You rubbed your face with your hand, “Do you know how insane that sounds? She is literally telling you how to dress, Roger.” You frowned deeply, “What happened to changing your clothes three times a day and not wearing the same pair of shoes every week, or waking up an two hours before you need to open the store to style your hair.”

Roger didn’t look back at you and continued to stuff clothes into his duffle bag, “I know, but that isn’t efficient.”

An audible scoff left your mouth, “Efficient?” You gaped at him, “Since when did you care about efficiency?”

Roger’s head whipped towards you, “Since when did you care about what I do with my life?” He said, a nasty tone dripping from his words.

You didn’t like this. Not one bit. “What is that supposed to mean?” You asked following with your arms crossed over your chest.

Roger turned on his heel and looked at you, “It is supposed to mean that you shouldn’t care about the other women in my life.”

You clenched your fists, “Roger, Dominique doesn’t care about you and by the end of next week you’ll be back here sulking in your room and bitter like you first were.”

Roger clenched his teeth, his blue eyes now ignited with fire, “Why do you care? We aren’t together and we never were. Get over it.” He hissed before slamming the door behind him.

Your stomach tightened as his words as they rammed into you like a truck. Your mind flashed back to the moments to intimate to be just sex.

Roger cupped your face as you clung to him, your body trembling as he leaned against your headboard with you on his lap. He kissed your face, your nose, eyes, and cheeks. “God, you are so fucking beautiful.” He said pressing his lips fully against yours as the two of you clung to each other.

---

You laid your head in Roger’s lap as the two of you laid across the couch while some shitty movie played in the background. You had a bowl of popcorn in your lap and threw pieces as Roger tried to catch them, every time he missed, they would lightly plop on your face. You didn’t care about the salty butter dirtying your skin. Roger awkwardly craned his head down, his long dyed hair framing the sides of your face and tickling the skin. Your nose scrunched and Roger laughed softly before kissing the tip of your nose.

---

Another night at the bar, spent dancing until it was either very early or very late. The two of you clung to each other with an arm wrapped around the other’s waist, your steps swaying and causing the two of you to stumble and laugh.

---

The first time Roger slept in your bed; you woke up to his already wild hair looking now untamable while soft snores left slightly ajar mouth. You brushed his hair back and he pulled you into his chest as he kissed your shoulder and buried his face into your back.

These moments were far too intimate to be just sex or to be just two friends. Your brain felt muddied; did he not feel the same? Did he still think of this as a business arrangement?

You felt dizzy from all of the questions that flooded your brain and soon began to feel helpless.

If Freddie was right, Roger would be back within the next week saying ‘you were right [y/n]’

But until then, your feelings could only stand against the test of time and uncertainty.

[sinceileftyoublog]

Doug Clifford Interview: Shuffle & Flow

Photo by Brent Clifford

BY JORDAN MAINZER

For All the Money in the World is a time capsule. The album, written by Creedence Clearwater Revival drummer Doug Clifford and Greg Kihn Band bassist Steve Wright, was recorded in 1986 but won’t see the light of day until the end of the month. Since then, it’s been waiting in Cosmo’s Vault--the self-proclaimed storage area for Clifford’s unreleased music--until the right time. “There’s some good music on this album,” Clifford told me over the phone earlier this month. “Right now, more than ever, we need some good music that’s uplifting and makes you feel good.” Plus, for Clifford himself, the tunes have barely scratched the surface: “To me, it’s still new.” 

After Creedence Clearwater Revival broke up in 1972, Clifford released a solo album and later joined the Don Harrison Band, which also featured former CCR bassist Stu Cook. In 1995, he and Cook formed Creedence Clearwater Revisited to play CCR songs live without singer John Fogerty, who retained artistic control over CCR. Revisited’s last show was in February 2020 in Mexico, and based on what Clifford told me, that’s likely their last, at least in this version, as Clifford is suffering from Parkinson’s Disease. All in all, though, he’s ready to move on from those songs, instead choosing to look into different parts of the past. Last year, he unearthed his lost second solo album Magic Window. And now, with For All the Money in the World, released under the name Clifford/Wright, he’s beginning to revisit a series of recorded writing collaborations whose release never came to fruition.

Though Clifford/Wright was formed around the rhythm section, the rest of the band that plays on the album is nothing to sniff at: guitarists Greg Douglass (Steve Miller Band), Jimmy Lyon (Eddie Money) and Joe Satriani and keyboard players Tim Gorman (The Who) and Pat Mosca (Greg Kihn Band). The lead vocalist picked for the project was Keith England, whose emotive howl ties it all together on the title shuffle and stadium anthem “I Need Your Love”. While the first two songs sound like something you might expect to be recorded in 1986, other tracks operate under different styles and recording aesthetics. The rockabilly echo of “She Told Me So” lies in stark contrast to the ripping guitar jaunts of “Lost Pride Fever” and “Weekends” and the funk snap of “You Keep Runnin’ Away” and “Just In The Nick Of Time”. Indeed, some songs on here sound like they could be Steve Miller or Eddie Money jams, but for the most part, they sound like lost relics of rock radio, comfort food for troubling times.

Clifford hopes For All the Money in the World is more than nostalgia, though. For one, he’s “calling the shots,” releasing the album on his own label, Cliffsong Records, with a distribution deal through Bob Frank Entertainment. “It’s like a publisher’s outlet for the songwriters involved,” he said. “It’s really kind of exciting.” His hopes are that the songs do land on today’s rock radio or do well streaming so they can release it on vinyl. “I still get a kick out of it,” Clifford said about hearing his songs on the radio. Not bad for somebody who started playing in bands at age 13. And while it’s very much not a CCR album, he’s excited for CCR fans to hear it, okay with the long-disbanded legendary outfit as the connecting bridge for listeners. They might just come away with a new favorite song.

Pre-save/pre-order For All the Money in the World, out August 27th, here, and read my conversation below with Clifford, edited for length and clarity.

Since I Left You: I was struck by the variety of styles on this album. You think to yourself, “What would music written around the 80′s sound like?” There’s some of that, but there are other sounds, too. Do you remember consciously trying to write in a number of styles?

Doug Clifford: Yes, because we were trying to get a record deal. We were the only writers in the group, and we wanted them to know we could write more than just “Bad Moon Rising”. There’s really not much in there that sounds like Creedence. With Steve Wright on bass, that changes a lot of things. It puts a different spin on it from the standpoint of the house the songs are built on, the rhythm section. It’s exciting. I listen to it as if it’s another band. [laughs] Normally, I don’t do that. Steve passed away in [2017], so we won’t do any more writing or playing, but this album is a chance to hear a great bass player and songwriter. I’ve got three terrific guitar players in there, too, Joe Satriani, Greg Douglass from Steve Miller Band, and Jimmy Lyon from Greg Kihn and Eddie Money. A guitar extravaganza. A lot of good stuff coming from this record.

SILY: Not only does the record sound different from CCR, but I heard a lot of the other projects the players were involved in, like Eddie Money and Steve Miller.

DC: Yeah, but when we were doing the writing, those guys weren’t in the band. Steve Miller is one of my best friends. He loves “She Told Me So” on this record. He sent me an email all excited that said, “I was dancin’ around my studio! You still got it!” [laughs] I love that guy.

SILY: I like songs like that, that have a little more of a shuffle.

DC: That would be [the title track], too. I love shuffles.

SILY: You’ve said people need songs like this at a time like now. When you wrote and recorded them, did you know you’d put them away for a while?

DC: Not really. If you’re a songwriter, you want to have versions of your songs that sound radio-ready instead of just [recorded on] an acoustic guitar. I produced everything that we wrote, so we had good versions of our work and presented it that way. The idea was not to put these things out as albums, but for record companies. Then you’d go out and play, and they’d send their A&R guy. Steve didn’t want to play in any of the clubs we’d have played in, and you need a band that plays, so that started the tailspin of this project. [After that,] I did a solo singer-songwriter album [Magic Window], and I did projects for areas that had overgrown forests and droughts. I had kids that were going to school. So I sort of slowed down on the music and slapped [these songs] in Cosmo’s Vault. That’s where they stayed till a year or so ago. I [finally released Magic Window], but nothing happened because...COVID hit, and it really changed everything. There’s been enough time that we’re all living through the virus that it’s time to hear [For All the Money] on the radio to make me feel good. It’s a labor of love that all songwriters have. Allowing people to hear the excellent musicianship of Steve Wright playing bass. There’s a little difference in my playing as well. It’s fun, really enjoyable.

SILY: When you were originally writing the lyrics and instrumentation, were you going for a feel-good, uplifting type thing?

DC: When you’re looking for someone to invest in you and put you on their label, you want them to like your music, too. I’ve never been a guy to write songs that make you feel bad. [laughs].

SILY: What were you looking for in a vocalist, and why did you end up going with Keith?

DC: We were so fortunate to have Keith in many ways. He was the youngest guy we were working with. I would be the guy to teach him the songs, as the writer of the words. He had to sing those words and get the idea of the song across, which is a big job for any singer. He took special care to get the essence of the song. It makes a big difference to learn the words and melody. I took extra time to write the melody, because I’m putting the words out there, and a lot of time, the melody would depend on what the words were. You have to give the singer places to breathe. I gave Keith liberty to let me know if something wasn’t working for him vocally, to sing it the way he was comfortable. He always came through. The idea of a song is like a chapter in a book. It has to have meaning and a certain ambiance and feel to it. That’s at least my approach to writing and performing, really. He nailed every song in a very professional approach. That’s not an easy thing to do, especially over 11 songs. 

There are other songs in the vault from the sessions that he did. He was the only singer we had. I’d like to see success, not just for myself and Steve, but for Keith. He was the only guy on the session that wasn’t in a band that had a Gold or Platinum album, and he’s very deserving of it. I’d love to see this thing be successful on that level because I’d love to walk up to his front door and knock on it and hand him a Platinum album. He’s still trying to do it. He has been for 30-some odd years. He can still hit most if not all of those notes. He doesn’t complain about it, he just stays at it, trying to get to that spot. I’d like to see that happen for him.

SILY: This album was recorded in a number of different studios, and some tracks do sound a bit lower-fi or raw. Did the difference in sounds among the tracks correspond to the different studios you recorded in?

DC: Not really for that reason. What’s really important is trying to get an attitude out of a certain song. It is rock and roll after all. The sound of the studio wasn’t something that dictated the direction.

SILY: At what point did you decide to name the album after the title track?

DC: That song, the first time I heard it, it was one of those that Steve said, “Listen to this!” He had the chorus and the lyrics. [sings] “For all the money in the world, girl / For all the kisses in the sea, baby...” I went, “That’s a hit.” Whenever I play that song for people, they all say, “That’s a natural hit.” Being a shuffle adds a lot to do with it. Shuffles have a magic to them. You just can’t help but tap your foot. Your body moves with it. The approach to have it be a shuffle is right up my alley. Creedence didn’t ever do one, and I always wanted to have a shuffle to record. There it was! It was a natural as the first song on the record. The second one that’s out now is a different type of song, to show the album’s versatility, but I had an inkling that it might be a good idea to name it after the first song on the album.

SILY: At what point did you come up with the order of the tracks?

DC: Listening. [laughs] That’s very important. Again, they’re like chapters in a book or story. I did a lot of shuffling around--there’s that shuffle again--seeing which order played best. It took a while, but that’s something worth spending time on. You want to get it right.

SILY: You’ve said any of these songs could be a single. Do you have a favorite?

DC: [The title track] is probably my favorite for that reason. It’s simplistic in its style, and usually, those are the best ones, the easiest ones to understand, though everybody has their own understanding of music. It is art; you can look at a painting, and 10 different people can have different opinions on it. It’s the same with music. Each song has a different meaning to a different person. That’s great; that way you can touch millions of people instead of 10.

SILY: What’s the story behind the album art?

DC: The story behind the album art is my son [Grady Clifford] did it and I needed a cover. That’s it! I didn’t tell him anything. When I saw it for the first time, I just went, “Wow!” He’s very talented. He did the Revisited cover. Whenever I need art, I don’t tell him what to do. He just does it. My wife [Laurie Clifford] is an artist, too. She did the artwork for [CCR]’s first album. Very recently, she got it in the de Young Museum. They had a show of album covers from the 60′s. The Clifford family has a drummer and artists. One of the things about going from vinyl to CDs is the art is a pretty good size. I miss a lot of aspects of the packaging. I have a couple of good album cover folks within the confines of the house here.

SILY: What’s next from the vault?

DC: A project I did with the same songwriting concept. Two of us did all the writing. The other guy was Bobby Whitlock. I’ve got a Bobby Whitlock album with a group we had for a short while. Bobby’s wife didn’t like living in the East Bay. She wanted to live in the Northeast. Happy wife, happy life, so we had to split when we were close to getting a deal. Another addition to Cosmo’s Vault!

[bug-ocs]

i’d found a relationships ask meme a loooong time ago and i kinda reworked it to be more like an interview-style between danny and eli...so...here’s some really cheesy shit below the cut (AND SORRY IT’S SO DAMN LONG, RIP MOBILE)

Who made the first move and how?

Danny: He slipped me his business card while I was at work. I-it doesn’t sound all that great, but it was really smooth how he handled it, ya know?

Eli: Ah, Dansha. You flatter me. I was so nervous, I was sure you’d notice.

Danny: *laughs* See, that’s why you impress me! I didn’t notice at all! Smooth as always. And after giving me nothing but compliments the whole time? How could I say no…

Who is the most insecure and what makes them feel better?

Eli: *turns to Danny with a gentle smile*

Danny: *sighs and slowly raises his hand* Eli’s really good about getting me out of my funks, though. He always knows how to say just the right thing.

Who is the most romantic?

Danny: *immediately turns to Eli*

Eli: *laughs* Oh, come on, Dansha, give yourself a little more credit! You’ve hand-made pasta for a lavish Italian dinner! You’re romantic in your own way, lapochka.

Who can’t keep their hands to themselves?

Danny: *blushes* I-I dunno why. I’ve always been like that…

Eli: So handsy…It’s very endearing. You wouldn’t expect it from him, but he always has his hands on me!

Who says ‘I love you’ first?

Eli: Ah, that was fun, wasn’t it? I don’t have trouble saying it at all, but Dansha is a little more…reserved, so naturally I said it first.

Danny: *slaps forehead* I can’t believe I didn’t say it back at first…I knew I did, but…

Eli: *pats his shoulder* Ah, it made it all the more special when you finally did, and I knew you meant it with all your heart.

Who would you ask if y’all ever had a threesome?

Danny: *groans*

Eli: *laughs* Well, we—

Danny: We’re not talking about this. Next question.

What do y’all get up to on a night out?

Eli: Ah, we’re both such homebodies…

Danny: Yeah, a “night out” for us is like…getting dinner and then chilling at the bar for a while. Might do some shopping if it’s early in the evening.

Eli: I do enjoy watching you peruse the cooking aisle at Bed Bath and Beyond.

What do y’all like in bed?

Danny: *blushes and stammers* Wh-wh—I-I didn’t know I’d be asked these kinds of questions! I-Isn’t that a bit personal?

Eli: *sighs* I’m pretty vanilla as far as most things go, but Dansha—

Danny: Shut up!

What is the most embarrassing thing y’all have done in front of each other?

*They both groan*

Eli: Well…thankfully I got it out of the way pretty early…I was having a very intense conversation with Danica about my…um…you know, I was sorting through my feelings when we first starting dating and Dansha…he showed up about halfway through and heard a bunch of it…You’re so good at pretending you didn’t hear anything.

Danny: *clears throat* Hear what?

Eli: *smiles gently* Well, Dansha, what about you?

Danny: There’s quite a few that come to mind, but I’m still not over the ramen incident…

What do y’all hide from one another?

Danny: *scowls at Eli*

Eli: *chuckles* Yes, sometimes I hide my favorite snacks in the night stand, but I’m just doing what needs to be done! I can’t have him taking my snacks all the time! He loves his hot chips.

Danny: Then just buy two bags!

Eli: I do and you just eat both of them!

When did y’all realize y’all should get together?

Eli: Immediately. I saw him walk up to my table and I knew he was the one.

Danny: Eli…come on…

Eli: I’m serious! There was an angelic glow around you from the ceiling lights and everything. I don’t think I’d ever fallen that hard before.

Danny: *hiding his flushed face in his hands*

Well, Danny? What about you?

Danny: I, uh—y-y’know, I’m kinda…it takes a little longer for things like that with me a-and while we were definitely dating, I had this awful thought in the back of my head that he was just kidding, a-and I knew! I knew he liked me because he said it and did things that made me believe it! But the first time I really believed it was when I cooked a meal for him. *He blushes and hides his face behind his shoulder* No one had ever been that enthusiastic about my cooking before, and…I dunno, it sounds cheesy but it just felt like a little sign, you know? A little reassurance that we were a good match, I guess.

When one of y’all has a cold, what does the other do?

Eli: It’s pretty obvious, no? Dansha pampers me with all my favorite foods. Hand-cooked by the pro chef himself!

Danny: Ah, Eli knows better than to try to hand-make ramen—which, of course, is the only logical thing to get me when I’m sick—so he always goes out of his way to stop by Aitsumoto, no matter how long the line is… It’s quite sweet…

When y’all watch a film what do you choose and why? Who gets the final vote?

Danny: If it were up to me, we’d be watching cooking shows on YouTube, but we watch those every night anyway… I’m not a big movie buff, so I usually let Eli decide, and we always somehow end up watching cheesy romcoms from the late 2000s.

Eli: It’s when they peaked! You can’t get better than The Proposal!

When y’all fight, how do you make up?

Eli: *waves his hand dismissively* Oh, easily. I just have to bring him ramen.

Danny: He's not wrong…but likewise, I just bake him croissants. They have a tendency to be my pastry of choice for metaphorical olive branches, and he knows how much work goes into them.

Where do y’all go on your first date?

Danny: Ah, we went to Aitsumoto…I’d been hanging out at the bar for a few weeks and finally worked up the nerve to actually ask him to hang out when neither of us were on the clock.

Eli: I thought it was very sweet of him to take me to his favorite restaurant. Food means a lot to him, and I felt like I got to witness something intimate, watching him eat the famed ramen he always talked about.

Danny: *hides his face and groans* God, I’m so used to going by myself. I can’t believe I ate like that in front of you. Especially when we’d just started dating!

Eli: *laughs* I felt like I was intruding!

Danny: It’s a wonder you still wanted to go anywhere in public with me after that.

Eli: *whispers behind his hand* It was actually very cute.

Where does your first kiss happen?

Eli: *dreamily* His apartment…he made such a fantastically romantic meal, all from scratch!

So, you kissed him first, Eli?

Danny: *clears throat* Ah, n-no…that was, uh…that was me…

Eli: *chuckles* Give him a heartfelt compliment, and he’ll do any—

Danny: O-okay, next?

Where do y’all first have sex?

Danny: *groans, head in hands* Please, I didn’t know we’d be talking about—

Eli: My apartment, this time. A little bit more privacy, you know—?

Danny: No more! I’m not talking about this anymore!

Why do y’all fight?

Eli: Usually over stupid miscommunications. I have a tendency to shut down when I’m upset, and Dansha isn’t great at using his words sometimes.

Danny: Yeah…guilty as charged. Usually once the emotion dies down, one of us tries to come at it from a different angle and we both realize we’re being stupid.

Why do y’all need to have a serious chat?

Eli: It’s…usually about Vice stuff. I’ll notice Dansha isn’t acting himself, or I’ll say something that is unintentionally antagonizing.

Danny: We’ve got it down to a science at this point. Gen’s helped us a ton, too. And Eli knows I’m not great at…talking about stuff, so I’m really thankful for his patience.

Eli: *kisses the back of his hand* You’re worth every second, lapochka.

Why do your friends get annoyed with y’all?

Danny: That! What he just did! His cheesy little—augh, God! *groans into his hands*

Eli: *shrugs his shoulders with a smile* I mean every word, but it’s still quite fun to dote on him in front of his friends. They say they can’t stand it, but I know they think it’s cute, too

Why do y’all get jealous?

Eli: Well, I don’t get jealous…*turns to Danny*

Danny: *throws his hands up* He’s a hot bartender! How can I not be jealous when every goddamn customer flirts with him?! God, sometimes I swear he milks it just to see me get riled up!

Eli: *mouths* I do.

Why do y’all fall a little bit more in love?

Eli: It might seem like a cop-out answer at this point, but watching him cook. All the cute little facial expressions he makes to himself when he’s thinking or concentrating. It’s all very endearing. I can taste the love he puts into his dishes, especially when he cooks just for me. I feel like I see a very real part of him not many people get the chance to, and every time I see it, I fall a bit more in love.

Danny: That, what he’s doing now. He’s so open and honest and affectionate, and I’m not used to that. He’s so selfless and has such a giving heart, and…I just feel so lucky I get to be with him. He…makes me want to love myself. He makes me want to be a better person!

Why does it work between y’all?

Danny: He’s willing to put the work in with me. Loving him is easy, but I know I can be—

Eli: I’ve told you a million times, Dansha. Loving you comes naturally to me, and if there’s any effort involved, you’re worth every bit of it.

[kingstylesdaily]

Five Burning Questions: Harry Styles Earns His First Hot 100 No. 1 With 'Watermelon Sugar'

During a pivotal year of his solo career, Harry Styles has notched another monumental achievement: his first No. 1 single on the Billboard Hot 100 chart.

As “Watermelon Sugar,” the standout track from Styles’ sophomore solo LP Fine Line, lifts 7-1 on this week’s Hot 100 tally, Styles tops the chart for the first time, after previously reaching a No. 2 peak as a member of One Direction. After starting his solo career with his classic rock influences on his sleeve, Styles has become a fixture at pop radio in 2020, with both “Watermelon Sugar” and “Adore You” becoming ubiquitous top 10 hits this year.

How shocking is the ascent of “Watermelon Sugar”? And what could the song mean for Styles’ future at the Grammy Awards? Billboard staffers answer these questions and more below.

1. On a scale of 1-10, how surprised are you that “Watermelon Sugar” is the song to finally give Harry Styles his first Hot 100 chart-topper?

Andrew Unterberger: Three months ago, it would've been a 10 for sure. Types of songs that don't usually go to No. 1 in 2020: fourth official singles, songs that have already dropped off the Hot 100 for multiple months after debuting, rock (or at least rock-based pop) songs. "Watermelon Sugar" was each of 'em, and even as recently as last week, I'd have been, like, an 8 about it going all the way to No. 1 -- even with a viral video, good audio-only streaming numbers and huge radio support, it seemed to have hit a ceiling outside the top 5. But a concentrated fan campaign and some good chart timing have put it over the top, and maybe I shouldn't be so surprised by that in 2020 after all.

Jason Lipshutz: I’d give it a 7 -- not because of any deficiency or quirk with the song, but because of its circuitous route to the top of the Hot 100 chart. Styles performed “Watermelon Sugar” for the first time on Saturday Night Live on Nov. 16, 2019, and released music videos for three other Fine Line songs before finally returning to it in May. That’s an incredibly slow burn -- to provide some context, “Watermelon Sugar” was released the same weekend as the ill-fated Charlie’s Angels reboot! -- and an unlikely path to pop ubiquity, to say the least.  

Joe Lynch: I guess 9? It's super catchy and easy to get into, but it's just not the vibe of most 2019-2020 Hot 100 toppers – although given that Taylor Swift's "Cardigan" cozied up to the top slot last week, perhaps we're at a point in the pandemic where people are specifically turning to something that's a far cry from the top 40 norm for a break in monotony.

Lyndsey Havens: I'd say a 6. Three years ago (and still today) I thought that "Sign of the Times" could have and should have topped the chart, and then I thought that "Adore You" might finally do the trick. But people do say "third time's the charm" for a reason, and it makes sense that, after two strong top 10 singles, the continual growth of Fine Line well into 2020 and the strong promotional push, that this summer-ready, breezy pop-rock track has claimed the chart's top spot.

Stephen Daw: I'm clocking in at a solid 5 — it's surprising (to me, at least) that it took Harry Styles this long to log his first No. 1, but as soon as I heard "Watermelon Sugar," I was confident that, if a song off of Fine Line was going to reach the top of the Hot 100, it would be this one.                               

2. The success of Styles’ second album, Fine Line, has been one of the biggest stories in mainstream pop this year -- the album is still in the top 10 of the Billboard 200 chart eight months after its release. Why do you think Styles’ sophomore solo LP has resonated so well this year?

Andrew Unterberger: I wish I knew -- as do record company folks around the world, I imagine. It's a very good album and Harry is an extremely likeable star, but nothing about an album that feels largely like a tribute to '70s pop-rock and post-peak Paul McCartney would've struck me as an album to take him to that next level of stardom. He's just a star -- one with a big-enough gravitational pull to bend the mainstream to him -- and I won't underestimate him so easily again.

Jason Lipshutz: In 2020, artists like Dua Lipa, Lady Gaga, Selena Gomez and 5 Seconds of Summer have all released top-notch pop full-lengths... but I have returned to Fine Line more than any of them. Part of that has to do with its sense of uplift and enthusiasm during a particularly trying year -- shout-out to “Treat People With Kindness” for snapping me out of some grade-A funks -- but Fine Line’s songs are stronger than those of Styles’ self-titled debut, the pacing is immaculate, the hits are far more effective and Styles is more comfortable in his own, ‘70s-pop-channeling skin. Fine Line is part throwback, part comfort food, part magnetic artistic presence, and remains an excellent front-to-back listen.                                

Joe Lynch: I think he's in a great spot in his career: not only has his 1D fan base embraced his maturing sound (which, to be fair, isn't a tough sell – this is very accessible pop-rock), but his gender-bending, classic rock-worshiping fashionista persona has expanded his listenership beyond the realm of card-carrying Directioners. Plus, it's an album that's crafted to last: this is meticulous studio pop that mostly eschews the tiresome trends and tricks most producers feel obligated to slap on a recording to make it feel “contemporary.” Fine Line occupies its own lane instead of competing against two-or-three new sound-alike albums a month.

Lyndsey Havens: Harry is the "perfect" pop star: his One Direction past earned him a built-in (and very dedicated) fan base, he’s mysterious enough but generous with his content, queen Stevie Nicks has become his number one fan, and, of course, he delivered an album filled with fantastic pop-rock hits and ballads. When Harry Styles arrived, fans had to adjust to Styles' sonic pivot. But by the time he delivered Fine Line, both Styles and his fans had matured -- and those pop-rock roots he planted years prior were in bloom. There was no adjustment period, and in my opinion, that allowed Fine Line to be immediately and repeatedly consumed.

Stephen Daw: There's a lot to be said for Harry's massive, mobilized fan base, and for his status as a burgeoning pop auteur in the modern era. But I think both of those facts only help uplift the fact that Fine Line is simply a great album. The songs aren't pigeonholed into one specific sound, yet they retain this classic, pop-rock finish to them that passes the minivan test; there's something for parents and kids in all of these songs.                                

3. Styles’ other Fine Line hit, “Adore You,” peaked at No. 6 earlier this year, and comes in at No. 12 this week. Are you a “Watermelon Sugar” person or an “Adore You” person?

Andrew Unterberger: I think "Adore You" is the better song, but I'm glad that "Watermelon Sugar" was the song to get him to No. 1. "Adore You" was the dead-center top 40 single -- and even "Falling" could've caught some post-"Someone You Loved" radio spillover -- but "Watermelon Sugar" is just pure Harry. He couldn't have asked for a better, more validating single to affirm his superstardom.

Jason Lipshutz: Hard to pick one, but give me “Watermelon Sugar” for the higher sing-along quality. Watching Styles perform Fine Line in its entirety at the Forum in Los Angeles last December included an arena of fans shouting “Watermelon sugar, HIGH!” -- and this was before the song was a chart-conquering hit. I suspect “Watermelon Sugar” is going to be a euphoric live staple in the coming years, which gives it the edge for me.                                

Joe Lynch: Definitely "Watermelon Sugar,“ a perfect, laid-back summer jam that gently uplifts without ever demanding attention. "Adore You" is solid but tailored for a specific topic, whereas "Watermelon Sugar" is the kind of softly buoyant treat that floats well in a variety of contexts.

Lyndsey Havens: I find it interesting that the two songs off Fine Line to stick around the chart's upper echelon are a bit similar-sounding. One of my favorite things about Styles is the risks he'll take, best evidenced by his debut solo single "Sign of the Times,” but also by Fine Line tracks like "Lights Up," "Falling" and "To Be So Lonely." But that's exactly what makes me a Harry Styles fan -- he's no one trick pony (insert joke about him heading in more than one direction), and while "Adore You" and "Watermelon Sugar" may not showcase his range, they've both become Styles standards for me. But to finally answer the question, I have to go with "Adore You" for the lyrics alone. I mean.... how can you compete, or argue, when he pleads like that?

Stephen Daw: They're both excellent songs, but if I had to pick, I'm partial to "Adore You." Sonically, the groovy bass line and stylized guitar riffs hit me right where I live. Lyrically, I respond a lot more to the "strawberry lipstick state of mind" than I do to something that "tastes like strawberries on a summer evening." But they both have strawberries in there, so it's a win either way!                                

4. Styles is now the second member of One Direction to score a solo No. 1, following Zayn with “Pillowtalk.” If you had to choose one of the other members -- Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson -- to someday score a No. 1 single, who would you put your money on?

Andrew Unterberger: Can't say the prospects for any of them reaching the Hot 100's peak are looking particularly robust right now, but if I had to choose one, I guess I'd say Liam. He has connections throughout the pop world that could result in him finding his way onto the right collab -- with buddy Post Malone, perhaps -- to find his way back to the top. Rooting for Louis, though! Go Louis!

Jason Lipshutz: I’m going to zag a little and go with Liam Payne, who scored an unexpected top 10 hit with the Quavo team-up “Strip That Down” and has been trying to recapture that magic in the years since. Payne’s solo debut didn’t offer any other standout singles, but he’s proven capable of headlining a rhythmic pop single that sticks around at radio, and I wouldn’t be shocked if he does so again over the next few years.                                

Joe Lynch: That's a tough question, because I could see Liam or Louis hopping on a track as a featured artist that goes all the way to the top. But if we're talking primary credited artist, it's gotta be Niall Horan, who has demonstrated probably the most solid catalog and sonic cohesion thus far of those three. Not saying it seems likely, but then again, when Fine Line dropped, who thought "Watermelon Sugar" would sweeten up the top spot on the Hot 100?

Lyndsey Havens: Justice for Niall's "No Judgement"! I played that song a lot when it first came out. But I actually think it's a smarter financial move to bet on Liam Payne, considering his strategy of collaboration. He's worked with Zedd, Quavo and Alesso, among others, and I wouldn't be all that surprised if in another year or so he lands on a track -- or a remix -- that shoots to No. 1 for the star power alone.

Stephen Daw: While Liam is the only other member to get one of his songs into the Top 10 of the Hot 100, I'm putting my chips down on Niall. Heartbreak Weather turned out to be a pretty fun record, and I remain convinced that "Black and White" is going to have a second life (much like "Watermelon Sugar”)!                               

5. Finish this sentence: at next year’s Grammy Awards, Harry Styles’ “Watermelon Sugar” will __________.

Andrew Unterberger: ...be shut out. It may score Harry his first nomination or two -- either solo or with 1D -- but considering how the Recording Academy has given him the cold shoulder so far, and seeing how overlooked he was even among this year's VMAs nods, I don’t know if I see him taking home his first Gramophone for it. (Uh-oh, looks like I'm easily underestimating him again -- never mind, I say the song sweeps.)

Jason Lipshutz: ...be nominated for record of the year, and Fine Line will be nominated for album of the year, and justice will have finally been served to Styles, who has yet to garner a single nomination over the course of his career. Will either win? It’s too early to say, but I like Fine Line’s chances at this point. 

Joe Lynch: ...sow seeds of discontent; the Grammys will continue to ignore Harry Styles, and the fans will unleash their exasperation on Twitter with the machine gun-rapidity of a cartoon character spitting out watermelon seeds.

Stephen Daw: ...probably get nominated for record of the year. It would be worthy of a spot in the song of the year and best pop solo performance categories as well, but something tells me that if one of his songs were to be nominated for those categories, "Adore You" stands a better chance. While it would be great to see Harry win, if he were nominated in this category, he'd likely be going up against the likes of Dua Lipa, Taylor Swift, Lady Gaga, The Weeknd and/or Megan Thee Stallion, and I just don't think he'd be able to clinch the ROTY win with that kind of competition.

Lyndsey Havens: ...still taste like strawberries on a summer evenin’.               

source: Billboard

[that-cheer-up-anon]

Got any good music recommendations? I'm always hungry for new music!

lately I’ve been listening to a lot of Japanese rock/pop, so if you wanted more English stuff I’m sorry. I’ll get the English stuff out of the way first though

here’s some youtube links to artists and songs that I’ve been listening to lately or just remembered I love:

Tally Hall Early 2000′s wackiness which I hold dearly. Unfortunately they only have 2 albums, but I absolutely love every song on the first album (EVERY SONG SLAPS AND CHEERS ME UP) and I have a few faves on their second. Rob Cantor (Actual Cannibal Shia LeBeouf dude, yes him) is in this band.

1st Album: Marvin’s Marvelous Mechanical Museum Just listen to the entire album. It’s just so good.

2nd Album: Good & Evil - Never Meant To Know - You And Me - Cannibal - Turn The Lights Off

Miracle Musical Basically the same guys from Tally Hall so yeah it’s still weird but GOOD.

Hawaii Part II - Full Album - The Mind Electric - Labyrinth - Isle Unto Thyself - Dream Sweet In Sea Major

Kishi Bashi A lot of his music involves using a loop pedal, since he initially started off w just him, his violin, and loop pedals. Due to incorporating loop pedals in most of his work it takes a long build up. Not sure how to describe his sound other than ethereal melancholy folksy pop? 

Philosophize In It! Chemicalize With It! Say Yeah Honeybody M’Lover Bright Whites Manchester This Must Be The Place (cover) 1 - (Studio version) This Must Be The Place (cover) 2 - Album Audio (bc I like both versions) 

Austin Weber I like to listen to his stuff when I’m kinda just in a depressed lying in bed/on the floor w only the moon as my companion reaching out to me through the cracks of my blinds kinda mood, you know? W extended imperfect vocal runs and reverberating guitar solos sometimes w increasing cymbal smashes before the song ends? Yeah that kinda vibe, although he has some nice weird bops too

I Don’t Want To Miss You (Like I Do) Love Songs For No One Using The Internet For French Goodbye (Balcony Version) Moving On THIS MAN FLEW TO JAPAN TO SING ABBA IN A BIG COLD RIVER - Mamma Mia (cover) (the backstory for this is that he and his long term girlfriend were planning to take a trip to Japan, but she told him that she had been cheating on him so he dumped her and he took his dad instead who filmed the video. What a champ.) My Friend Asleep On The Couch

Phum Viphurit Sorta happy dissociating chill vibes

Lover Boy (this song helped me during uni) Long Gone (also helped me during uni)

Half.Alive I love their music videos. Makes me appreciate interpretive dance a lot more. At first a lot of people were calling them knock-off Twenty-One Pilots, but idc bc they sound good

I Still Feel Alive (groovy and helped me during uni. LIGHTING, CHOREOGRAPHY, AND COSTUMING DUDE) Aawake At Night (good lying down depressed w a enough rock to signal me to cry if I need it song) The Fall (^ refer to above annotation) Arrow Runaway (the story in the music video makes me fEEL) Will Joseph Cook Pop. Yes plenty of fans in the comments have joked asking if he will cook. No he won’t.

Girls Like Me (helped me get through uni too) The Dragon (political song. Real gen z and millennial mood) Take Me Dancing (music video has me office job dreaming even though I know I’d probably hate it)

SIAMES Indie pop. Love their music videos and inspires me to continue thinking about animation.

The Wolf (This music video helped me get through uni. Had a crying breakdown in a park to this song on repeat. Not really appropriate for a breakdown though?) Summer Nights

OKAY NOW THE JAPANESE STUFF

Eve  J-rock. I love their music videos. Inspired me to actually draw some hands and feet studies 

As You Like It We’re Still Underground Dramaturgy The Secret About That Girl Snow Leo

Yorushika J-rock. Deals w depression and suicide themes.

Say It - About someone whose friend committed suicide and is reminiscing and reflecting on how they know they’ll never see their friend again, finding it hard to accept it, and how maybe if they had paid more attention they could've seen the signs and prevented it, asking their friend to “say it” more clearly. Incredibly depressing but I LOVE THIS SONG SO MUCH Semi-transparent Boy

Bradio FUNK! GLITTERY AND TACKY PATTERNED SUITS! GREAT AFRO! INFECTIOUS SMILES!  HECK YEAH DUDE!

Flyers Golden Liar Makkana Car Chaise (Bright Red Car Chase) Overnight Superstar 幸せのシャナナ  Shiawaseno Shanana (Shanana of Happiness) O.TE.A.GE.DA! (Basically throwing your hands up in frustration like “Whatever! I give up!” and honestly MOOD)

Frederick J-rock. Repetitive and catchy.

Only Wonder (had this on repeat so much I’m sure my siblings hated me) Oddloop Rererepeat Owarase Night (Basically means Finish Night. He says a lot of stuff about needing to finish something NOW, so it’s kinda like this is the last night to finish stuff)

Asian Kung-Fu Generation J-rock. Love the instrumentals. Also the album art? Gorgeous.

Re: Re: A Flower Named You (ABSOLUTE BANGER)

OKAY NOW FOR INDIVIDUAL SONGS

Medaka no Mita Niji - Kozue Takada (The Rainbow That The Kilifish Saw) (I have cried to this but also I’m an emotional mess so take that as you will???) インコ / 高田梢枝 - Inko by Takada Kozue (HAVE DEFINITELY CRIED TO THIS) Shissou - Last Alliance (Sprint) (Yes this is the credit song for Ouran High School Host Club. The opening guitar riff gets me every time. I’m nostalgic. Sue me.) Crying For Rain - Minami (GIVES ME SERIOUS YUI VIBES WHICH I LOVE) Yellow -  Yoh Kamiyama (I love the art style and the way they animate hands. This music video and Eve music videos are what made me inspired to draw hand sketchdumps)

I don’t remember what time I started to answer this but it is now 1:40 am now and I hope you give some of these songs and/or artists a shot. Hope I helped you find something new!

[honestsycrets]

Not My Scene || 5CW: Hvitserk

❛ Author’s Notes | fulfillment: party with hvitserk, masturbation with panties, right one too late.

❛ pairing | hvitserk/reader

❛ word count | 4661

❛ genre | angst

❛ summary | once upon a time, hvitserk cheated on his girlfriend. what a mistake that was.

❛ warnings | mention of drugging, mention of cheating, crazy margrethe, crazy freydis, reader is biiiiitch, but a lovable bitch

He could have stayed home. After all, house warming parties weren’t really his style. They were just excuses to booze up. Which, shit, he had. His brothers were busy arguing over wine coolers. Ivar insisted that they were a pussy man’s drink with malt liquor while Sigurd insisted that they could have heavier alcohol if they wanted to! Then were wine coolers really wine coolers or malt coolers?

Ugh. This whole thing was giving him one huge headache and he wasn’t sure it was the frozen tequila lemonade swirled with raspberries that he had downed. It was… well, it was you. You were slinking around wearing a cute tule minidress complete with a black matching cincher. A silky bow around your waist and--

Wait, he recognized that leather jacket.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t been the one wearing it that first day he met you, swirling around in chunky black ankle boots that you were also wearing just by chance.

“Hvitserk!” He hears a group of your friends call out to him. His big brother Bjorn and Ubbe were in the fray. “Come take a picture with us!”

When Ubbe was there, he made it really hard to say no. So biting the bullet and carrying on, he made his way over to the group with his hands shoved in a freshly new hoodie.

“Stand by (Y/N)! For old times sake!” Your bubbly asian friend calls out and before he can really deny her, her adorably pudgy frame pushes him in beside you.

“Come here, bun-bun.” You pose cutely beside him, the side of your breast against his flat chest. “You’re not wearing a white shirt, today, white shirt?” You tease like old times, letting the ache of his heart beat for the times which… things were easier. When you loved him. He looks down to his black v-neck, laughing softly.

“No, guess I’m not.” He notes.

One! Two! Three! The blinding light of a flash marks the end of a photo. You reach onto the top of your head, flicking down holographic bug eyed glasses.

“Nice to see you again!” You wink at him then bubble on past the thin, stringy purple curtains back to the kitchen of your home. He wonders, and yet he knows, you feel nothing for him after falling apart in college.

You had your scene.

He had his.

With an aching sigh in his chest, Hvitserk turns the corners up the stairs to your bathroom. He could do with a cold splash of water to drag him out of this funk. It wasn’t as if Ubbe hadn’t taken to Bjorn. Sigurd and Ivar were begrudging company in their drinking contests-- spiting each other and loving each other all in one.

Climbing up the hardwood stairs, he comes to the bathroom. Locked with the flicker of a bright yellow light and obscene-- faster, faster off the lips of a couple. He almost thinks its some dude getting his rocks off but then, you like that? The other voice has an equally feminine quality.

Shit, he feels himself grow beneath his pants. He knows its wrong to harass a couple that may or may not be lesbians. So instead of beating down the door, he spots another room. The second he walks into it he knows its a mistake.

You always loved fairy lights. White ones to contrast against your favourite lavender, royal purple and cerulean blue. Deep and vivid while still being light and dainty. Quirky-- like you. He travels his fingers along the airy white of your furniture.

That one he pounded you into while your father was downstairs, claiming that the door better stay open. Then the armoire where… and mistakenly he ambles that way, sliding the metal dangling moon on top of your long cabinet that sits on top of the wooden piece to pull out the one place where you always kept them.

His fingers run across pretty, stringy panties. The other will be the same, he assumes. You always kept bras in one place and panties with another. Your sex toys would be in a sneaky-not so sneaky pouch and god, you would sneak into your bed at night and ride a fat dildo just for him on really good nights. Send him the video while you thought he wasn’t looking.

God damn.

His favourite panties always were those stringy, aqua cheekies with the cut outs. They weren’t there. He closes back up despite catching sight of all of the pretty white, powder pink and dark blue and purple panties that he bought you once upon a time. There’s some other obscure colours even. But his curiosity brings him to your galaxy clothes bin, searching between mini skirts and leggings until he finds what he’s after… his favourites.

Used and soiled by your sweet cunt, he shudders to think of where these might have been. Hvitserk hopes that they weren’t where he thought they were.

Bun-bun. Bunny.

He can hear that stupid nickname. What was it? For your love of bunnies or his man bun that had been chopped off the moment you messaged him, we’re over. God, it burns, it burns. He comes to your bed, squeaking as he lays upon it.

But it wasn’t all bad. There were good times! How cute you dressed up as his very own playboy bunny once. He sucks in air at that very memory on this very bed, shaking your puffy faux fur tail at him. Which really wasn’t a tail but a cheap marketing ploy for a beautiful fucking anal plug.

He should really not be here but thank god he locked that door because the heavy steps outside your door as he loosens his pants would have been killer. Beside your bed is a desk, bearing stupid little k-beauty masks and sweet vanilla lotion. He pumps a bit into his hand, drawing the panties around his cock. To his shock-- there’s still a moist spot.

Did you wear them to bed?

With another man?

A woman?

Or were you being the woman he remembered, watching your favourite porn on x-videos or hentai haven or whatever it was. Your body would grind down upon the chair, a bullet grazing your lips up to your slutty clit for love and shit, he knows how much you used to love gangbang porn.

Shiiiit. He tugs his cock, turning in the bed to turn his nose into your lavish silk pillows. Good for the hair, or some shit. He inhales sharply, working his fist harder and reliving the moments he was so able to lay in bed  with you… once upon a time ago. His strokes lose focus, falling apart in the richest of his memories.

“Bunny?”

Oh no. His nose is still deep in your pillows when he dares turn his face to you. Shock wears your beautifully done up face-- that purple highlighter accentuating your cheek bones and adorably innocent white glitter of your eyes. Shit, he squeezes his dick in his hand.

“You’re not…. You are!” You flick off those bug eyed glasses, tossing them aside as you take a few steps closer. He cringes, turning onto his forearms and backs up as if that can help him find the right words.

To be in your bed-- jerking his cock off.

With your panties.

“I… was… uh.” Hvitserk runs his hand through his slicked back hair, trying to find the right words. You pluck your panties off of his dick, flicking them in another direction. He nearly leaps out of his skin when you fist the root of his cock, sinking onto the bed.

“No need to say anything.” You hum, slapping the head of his dick against your glossed lips. “You missed me, BunBun.”

He wishes he could come up with something, but the only words are a shocked moan when you shove his dick into your wet, hot mouth. Hvitserk cringes, trying his best to still upon the bed. He can’t help himself, kicking out his legs as you suckle him down. It’s a show, taking him as far as you can take and then lifting up off of him like he was nothing.

“Please… no.” He whines at the absence of your lips upon him. But then, your lips sloppily kiss down his shaft in the same way he used to make whilst eating you out. Your mouth makes its way down to his balls, suckling one. Instant pleasure hits him like a train, causing him to uncomfortably shift. His hands search out for the top of your head but then-- you take ahold of his shaft. It’s too much-- it’s too much to have your lips upon him, migrating from one side to another, then on top of his his tip to devour him whole.

“Stop, stop stop!” He shouts for you to stop. Instead of helping though, you ignore him. He spills into your mouth with a great shout, painting the cavern of your mouth with his seed. Your lips seal around his cock, suckling the remains of his excitement down.

Damn.

“Shit.” He curses as you sit up. You push the remnants of his excitement into your lips and despite having gone soft-- its almost as if he wants to go hard allll over again. Your lips quirk into a wicked smile.

“You’re as easy as I remember.” You say, bouncing off of your bed and going into the connected bathroom. He hears you in the bathroom messing with your brush and toothpaste.

“What are you doing?” He asks from your bed— as meek as the bunny he was named after.

“Cleaning your spunk out my mouth, what do you think?” You say. A few minutes later, you resurface from the bathroom fluffing your hair a bit.

“Well? Get out, Bun Bun.” You busy yourself with applying a bright, popping lipstick. “If we get caught, it’ll be all your fault.”

You were kicking him out without talking of that? Whatever that was… it was random. He tucks himself away into his pants and you toss him your panties to confuse him further. You pop the door of your room open, flicking your glasses back on.

“Keep them as a momento. Since you’ll never get my pussy again, slutty bun. Maybe Margrethe is out there somewhere.”

I was drunk!

It was his fault.

All of this-- losing you, sleeping with Margrethe. Yeah, he knew that you were in your right to break up with him. But as he composed yourself in your bathroom, he kept convincing himself that there was something there.Most women would have tossed him out on his ass if there hadn’t been! Not sucked him off.

Even with all that in mind, he wished he could remember actually sleeping with Margrethe. This was the exact reason you kicked him out of your shared apartment at the time-- throwing trash bags of his shit out the door with. Every time that he tried to recall it, it was like descending into a deep black abyss. Perhaps guilt had done him in. Water is cold on his skin, sweat on his body mattifying. He digs into his jacket pocket, covering himself in what you always called a whore’s bath of cologne.

Fuck this… fuck this. Why couldn’t he… remember? Why!?

“Hvitserk.”

Behind him, Ubbe stood with his latest fling. A curvy, dark skinned girl with beautiful waved curls that wave in front of her face. Her slanted eyes dark and obscure… but she was warm. Different from what he was used to seeing on Ubbe’s arm.

“Yeah.” He smoothes out his hair, a few stray honey locks in his eyes.

“Laarni and I are going home.” Ubbe slides his arm behind the small of her back, leaning in to plant a small kiss on her head. Her plump lips spread into a sickly bright smile-- and of course it did. They were happy. “Margrethe and Freydis are here. Are you coming home?”

“I’ll be fine.” He says, staggering from behind the couple. “I just need a drink.”

Against his better judgement, Hvitserk stays.

Freydis and Margrethe were an unlikely sort of friends. He can’t say how they really got to know each other, only that as he sways down the steps, they cluster about drinking. Freydis chitchats beside her boyfriend Eric.

“--a little cherry makes it all better.” He catches the tail end of Margrethe’s words. “Hvitserk!”

Shit, fuck. She’s here. Hvitserk gives a light smile as he turns into the cluster of friends. Beside them is a cooler of drinks. He slips down to pick up a beer, popping it open and standing beside them. Margrethe sticks to him like a magnet, one that he quickly shaves off of his arm.

“Uh, I think I gotta go…” He murmurs an excuse for himself. Past Freydis’s sassing bob and Eric’s smooth hair, he finds you standing in the way you always used to when you watched him. A pop of your hips out, weight on one hip and your nail to your lip. The other held some kind of hard liquor. You shift the glass around between your manicured fingertips, tilting your head like the time you overheard he ate a pound of sourbelts at the mall.

“Why? Do you have someone new?” Freydis asks, bobbing her hair in a sassy little bob.

“No, I just…”

“Margrethe is here to take care of you.” She cuts him off, running the back of her hand over Margrethe’s soft cheek almost affectionately so. The touch could even be called tender. The thought whizzes by his head that the two must have been sleeping together because god, Margrethe leans into the touch.

“Uh, no I-- I think I’ll go home.” He slurs. “Lemme just go get a snack before I call a uber. I’m kinda wasted.”

Before he can move, Margrethe grasps his shoulder. She reaches out to take his drink, holding it with a sickingly bright smile that Hvitserk can’t see past.

“Get me some too! I’ll hold your drink.”  

Against his better judgement, he slips off to the kitchen. If it means getting away from Freydis, he would do anything. There was something… wrong about her. He couldn’t place it. It would just take a little bit, he reasons. Then he could get away from them. Besides he swore that there were wings when he came in earlier!

“Okay.”

Something didn’t sit well with you.

Yeah, Hvitserk wasn’t your responsibility any more. You should have just left things where they were in that room. He could have your panties and Margrethe’s pussy. Who cared! You certainly didn’t-- but in the same breath…Hell yeah you cared, that was the bitch that he cheated on you with.

You convince yourself to focus on what you were talking about. But of the corner of your eye, you catch something that doesn’t set well with you. Freydis digs into her glittering handbag, handing Margrethe something small. A vial that is smaller than her finger. Margrethe fiddles with the top, cracking the plastic top open… and then she spills it within what you were sure was Hvitserk’s drink. She swishes it around just enough that the liquid might mesh with whatever he has been drinking. There’s no guessing what that was.

“Sis, take a picture with us!” Your twin brothers call out to you. Ahh, shit. Being popular wasn’t all what it was cracked out to be.

Before you could get back to Freydis and Margrethe, Hvitserk came back with a plate for his once fling. Margrethe took it from his fingers, handing him his drink. Hvitserk sets his hand into his pocket.

“It’s kind of salty.” He motions, chugging down his drink. His face scrunches up tight. “So is this shit.”

“Must’ve gotten one of those skunk beers like me.” Eric nudges Hvitserk’s arm with a closed fist. Innocently Hvitserk thinks nothing of it. Shit, it happened. He moves to toss it into a recycling bin when you grab his wrist tight.

“Shit!” He jumps, heart pumping. “(Y/N), where did you come from?”

“Did you drink that?” You ask, light strobing off of your lovely cheeks. His face contorts as if he can’t understand why you were so protective over a drink. Maybe it was yours?

“Uh… was I not supposed to?” He asks.

“We were just leaving!”

From his side, Margrethe clings to his arm. You almost throw back something at Hvitserk, but he’s the first to insist that he wasn’t going with her. Desperately he looks toward you as if concerned that you would believe her-- her over him. Reasonable, you think. You recognize the glazing look over his eyes little by little. Just like last time.

“The fuck you are, you ratchet little bitch.” You sneer.

“Excuse me?” Margrethe rolls her neck around, a pink bob of hair bobbing on her head. Hvitserk looks between his ex and well, his other ex.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re playing with?” You snap her hand off of Hvitserk’s toned upper arms. A small, hope filled smile creeps onto his face-- but not at all for the reasons that he originally hoped.

“(Y/N), I’m uh, I’m fine.” He deflects the impending fight. Beside Hvitserk, Freydis and Erik creep closer. It should have been intimidating, but pushing Hvitserk behind your arm you ball up your fist. He staggers back from your arm shielding him.

“Get out of my damn house.”

It’s the first and last warning. Freydis looks toward Erik as if to threaten him-- but with two muscular twin brothers pushing past those clustered around the fight, Erik takes the high road. Sensing her boyfriend’s skepticism and perhaps having some of her own, Freydis reaches for Margrethe’s hand, pulling her in the way of the door.

“Come on Margrethe.” She says. “You can see Hvitserk later.”

The pathetic little whimper signals the fact that yeah, they’re leaving. As you turn back to Hvitserk, it’s with the realization that the glazing of his eyes has only thickened. If what you thought was true, was really true, time would be on your side.

“Are you okay, Bunny?” You ask.

It’s slow at first. The sluggish way he scratches the back of his head, arms like heavy weights. Everything in his body slowly begins to feel weaker, more prone to accidental brushes when his perception is throne off.

“I don’t feel so good. I’m sleepy.” Hvitserk’s speech shifts, almost pleasured. “But you look good. Real good.”

You shift around Hvitserk, bringing his arm over your shoulder. You grasp his waist to help him up the steps to your bedroom.

“Let’s go to my bedroom, okay?” You ask.

“For fuckin’?”

“Not quite, bunny boo. You’re drunk baby.” You respond in a smooth, quick response.

“I want it. I miss that tasty fucking pussy on my face.” Well, at least he wasn’t agitated.

Whatever it was that they had slipped into his beer, you couldn’t say. But knowing Hvitserk and his fear of doctors, you take him up to your room. Your brothers pull open the door and help you lower him onto the bed. Hvitserk’s drops his hands at his sides, laying limply upon your bed while you slip off his shoes.

“You okay, Hvitty? I’m going to change you, okay?” You slip off his socks, loosening the button to his belt. His eyelids are heavy with his need to sleep but he still manages to nod at you loosely.

“Okay… Does this mean I get a kiss? I got a headache…” He whispers while you strip him off his pants. His pasty legs are still beneath the fabric-- even more when you pull them away. You’re not entirely sure how the loss of motor function doesn’t bother him.

“Kiss?” He whines heavily while you walk over to your dresser. His old basketball shorts in your dresser being one of the main items. You lift up from his hips to place a gentle kiss on his lightly damp forehead.

“Kiss.” You affirm. At long last Hvitserk smiles loosely, but its not without its drawbacks. The heaviness of his eyes begins to overtake him. How did I get here? Before he can even get the answer to that question, he loses himself to the wave of exhaustion.

If this time was like last time, so you feared, Hvitserk wouldn’t remember anything from the next day. On the top of your bed was a thick, green blanket. Black shadowing makes the outline of a cutesy kitten with pearly white fangs mewing at the viewing party. You drape it over Hvitserk’s body, watching his respirations closely.

Through the night, it all becomes obvious.

Catching Hvitserk in bed with the claim that… he couldn’t remember anything. Back then it seemed like a handy excuse for a man that was caught in bed with his woman. Why not? You had caught him in his ball faced lie! What man woke up in bed with a woman and could not remember any details of the affair?

Apparently, Hvitserk.

The next morning comes as a shock to Hvitserk, puking his brains out into the trash receptacle on his edge of the bed the second he woke up. He felt his mind wandering… and again, that black hole of space owns his head.

Except this time, it’s not with Margrethe. Its your perfumed pillows under his head. Your quirky sheets and most importantly, your body by his. In his daze, he can hardly appreciate the fact that yeah, it wasn’t her this time.

“Shit… what happened?” He collapses upon the pillows at long last. You lay beside him, hands on your chest. A plain black slip covers your body-- evidence that he didn’t fuck you. If he had, shit, that thing would have been chucked onto the floor. His favourite was spooning naked with you, after all!

“What do you remember about the night I caught you cheating?”

That was a hell of a way to wake up the morning. Reflecting back upon it, the whole… weekend was a blur. He could hardly tell down from up or left from right. Not that he thought that you needed to know how he handled that night after catching him in another woman’s bed. No woman deserved that.

“I don’t remember. You… I guess you found me in bed with her when you came home from your overnight shift. So you broke up with me then and there.” Hvitserk states with stale emotion as if he’s reading lines handfed to him out of a book. Of course you knew that!

“Before that.” You roll onto your side with eyes following the fuzzy line of his sideburns down to his jaw.

“I don’t.” He states uncomfortably. What kind of man was he to… to… “Do we have to talk about this? You didn’t explain how I got here.”

As he points it out, you don’t have the heart to tell him why. Really why, not because of what happened that night. What could have happened before was what frightened you. What did Freydis, Eric and Margrethe want with your Bunbun? What had they planned to do to him?

“The girls drugged you.”

Hvitserk turns to face you in the bed and meets you with uncertainty. No, not uncertainty glinting in his innocent grassy eyes. That was… fear inking his irises. After all, it… if it was true… that could only mean one thing to him. Hvitserk wasn’t going crazy like Ivar and Ubbe told him he was while recounting the story.

It wasn’t because he was a whore who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. That wasn’t the reason that he lost time with the one woman that changed his traitorous body from succumbing to lust. No, he hadn’t just… laid on his back and slept with someone else because he wanted to. The whore, skank, slut, easy, she’s better off without you at school. It wasn’t him.

“What… what do you mean?” He dares to ask, knowing indeed the answer to his own irrelevant question.

“She was planning to rape you, Bunny. If I… hadn’t been watching, Erik and Freydis would be in bed with Margrethe and you.” Your words settle like a heavy stone in his gut. Of course, he always speculated there was more.

But… this? Margrethe would do this to him?

He never thought he broke up that cruelly with her for Margrethe to ruin his world. Not just his world, but to strip away something that belonged to him: his memory. For so long Hvitserk did not believe his own brain. He lays there, staring at the smooth lines of the top of your room.

“She… raped me.”

It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense. Your hands come over his waist, winding around him to hold him nice and tight. His hand falls down to the one around his waist.

“It’s okay Bunny.” You soothe. “It’ll all be okay.”

It certainly didn’t feel okay. Not when he considered all that he lost. Yet…

“Don’t tell Ubbe. You know my brothers.” He glances over his shoulder, tears pricking his eyes that he holds still. If Ubbe found out then the rest of his brothers would surely know. Sigurd could hold no secrets and he fears what Ivar would spill with that big mouth of his. Because, after all, what kind of man allowed himself to be drugged by a woman? He was meant to be a protector. To protect YOU. Not the other way around.

“You should tell him.” You whisper, setting your cheek upon his shoulder. “In your time.”

All this time he thought he drank too much.

“Maybe one day.” Hvitserk nudges his arm over his cheek, rolling into his shoulder to dry the wet lines of his shame. You know that he would not. Pressing him-- after all that he had gone through, that would have been a mistake. After a decisive moment, you reevaluate everything.

“Bunbun?”

Hm? Hvitserk grunts in his response.

“Was that the only time you… “cheated” on me?” You question with great skepticism. That wasn’t cheating. Of course you knew that was a woman that worked hard with at risk youth who had gone through the same experiences as your sweet, adorable bun. Who was now much less of a Bunbun than he used to be.

“Why would I do that?” Hvitserk turns back around. The tears he spilled earlier are dry and now, well, he only shows his outrage to the assumption that he had done it upon his own. Not exactly the most graceful of appeals but he knows the manner in which you speak. If there was any doubt of that-- he rather take care of this pesky issue now.

“I never gave you reason before then. (Y/N) if I ever did you should have asked me! I wouldn’t lie to you. You are the only reason I would cut my bun, (Y/N). The only one!”

Sure, he never did. But in your concern for going through that feeling again, kicking Hvitserk out with trash bags of his things, slouching against the cold walls of your constricting apartment… you had to ask. You hold his green eyes in an accusatory glare, searching out the sign of his fault. There’s none.

“Then… you can come back home.” Your hands travel behind his head, picking at the short little bits of hair that have been making a sad little ponytail.

“What?” He murmurs. A smile escapes his lips, growing until you give him a little tug. “You serious?”

“But first you have to grow out your hair, Bun!” You exclaim. What kind of bun didn’t have a proper bun!

“Done and done.”

@two-unbeatable-beaters, @igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok (no mix), @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @titty-teetee, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @piebytheocean, @strangunddurm, @atequilahead, @rekdreams247, @justacrush, @ivarswonderlust, @peachesnpisces, @elenawrit, @equalstrashflavoredtrash, @roxxck, @dylanowhyyien, @ilvebeenabad, @vikingsmania, @huntingbears, @my-little-wolfe, @seize-the-droid, @moondustmemories, @colourmeinblue, @ilvebeenabad, @queenmissfit,  @hallowed-heathen, @neeadinghugs, @mblaqgi, , @triumphantreturnofpies, @dmv49, @attorneyl, @iconicvaleria-blog, @lovelynerdytraveler, @tierneygonzalez, @zabee113, @meganjudee, @sdcyumyum, @ms-allenbrown, @pancake-blonde, @ivarswickedqueen, @starkiddreamer, @austenkingmylady, @thisisparadisemylove, @pinkrockstar19, @jeowjungkook, @end-of-night, @yaminax-kuss-a , @gruffle1, @arses21434@natalie-rdr, @tempt-ress, @thevikingsheaux, @poisonedjoinery, @smokealone, @chewythecatus, @laughinglikenialler, @lefrenchfrye, @mybarnesmyhero, @vengefulflange, @imcreepininyourheartbabe, @therealmrshale, @that-goodgirl, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @athroatfullofglass @igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok, @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @cbouvier23, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @end-of-night, @gruffle1, @lol-haha-joke @arses21434,  @smileyparrots, @Moosemittens13, @miss-artemis-wild, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @wonderwoman292, @wish-i-was-a-mermaid, @fangirls94, @mcuimxgine, @killerb00sdeath, @heartbeats-wildly, @boo20017, @acacheofstrange, @shaelyn102, @astoryoffireandlight, @smokealone, @shaelyn102

[flyaway-33]

Yesterday-- Part 3

Story summary: Pre-Smile Era. You and Roger are best friends with benefits after having met at a dorm meeting the first night at university. The two of you navigate the newfound freedom of life away from home and learn more about each other and yourselves than you ever expected. 

Part 3 Summary: With the stress of finals and the holidays taking a toll on everyone, Roger cracks and you learn something about him that no one else knows. 4.4k words.

Warnings: language, angst.

Disclaimer: This is only a work of fiction and in no way has anything to do with the lives of the real people with these names or anything they have said or shared. 

You woke up in Roger’s bed for the millionth time that semester. This time hadn’t been sexual just like many other times hadn’t, just two friends comforting each other through the stress of the approach of your first finals in university. They were going on this week and the workload was taking its toll on both of you, causing tensions to run even higher than they had been between the two of you and your respective roommates. Roger’s had up and moved out after how in a fit of frustrated rage Roger had collected his roommate’s trash and dirty clothes off the floor and piled it all up on his pillow. You’d been there trying your hardest not to laugh as Roger and you sat on his bed, pretending to study as his roommate had come home to discover the prank of retaliation. Roger had acted aloof as though he didn’t know of or even notice the stack of garbage piled on the neighboring bed. Dale, the offending roommate hadn’t said a word, as he was terrified of Roger for no real reason that you were aware of. He’d started slamming shit around, packed his bags and left, returning a few days later for the remainder. You and Roger had been rolling with laughter when the door slammed behind him. Since then you had practically been living with Roger in his dorm room rather than your own, but he was growing distant and you were concerned.

Roger stirred beside you, he was the one against the wall this time, and he rolled over to face it, pretending to be asleep. You sighed heavily. This funk he had been in was starting to make you feel insecure about yourself. Was he sick of you? Did he still want you around? You got up and stretched as you walked over to the dresser, as you had taken over the empty one that had been his roommates, and you pawed around in the top drawer for a pair of pants to slip on over the underwear you’d slept in. You slipped on a worn and comfortable pair of jeans, left your camisole on as your top, and paused to stare at lump under the covers that was Roger.

“Rog,” you sighed after a moment. “I know you’re awake.”

He rolled over and looked up at you with a neutral expression but didn’t speak. He didn’t look happy or sad, he just looked unbelievably tired.

“Do you want me to leave? Its okay if you need some space.”

His blue eyes clouded in surprise and confusion as he studied your expression. “I wouldn’t ever ask you to leave!” His voice was thick and gravelly with sleep and stress.

“Why are you acting like you don’t want to hang out with me any more then?”

“Am I?” He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Why do you say that?”

“You’re distant, you’re not communicating, or messing with me— nothing!. You’re not acting normal at all, Rog. I’m worried about you.” You crossed your arms in front of your chest and stood beside his bed so your hips rested against the side of it.

He took a shuttering sigh and looked down at his lap. “I guess I’m just under a lot of pressure, okay? Medical school is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

“Okay. We have a full day of studying today so we’ll put those worries to rest. Go get your shower.” You shooed him out of the bed, taking his spot, and smirked as he begrudgingly grabbed his towel and shower caddy and trudged out of the room. His answer to your concern didn’t satisfy you, but you were certain you would be able to get to the bottom of this, especially since you had ways of pulling answers out of him.

The day of studying was going painfully slow for both of you. You’d started the day by quizzing Roger with his anatomy flash cards, then he’d quizzed you on art styles and famous artists who’d pioneered them. When you got to ancient art history however, you studied alone, simply reading over your notes, but you weren’t taking any of it in and hours ticked by. You eventually resorted to rewriting your notes and copying pages of text to force yourself to read the words on the page, while Roger was busy staring at the pages of a large chemistry book. He began nervously thrumming his fingers on the desk and you glanced over to see that his expression was one of frustration. His brow furrowed and his lips twisted into a deep frown as he tried to take in the information on the page. Normally his subconscious drumming habit didn’t bother you whether it be with his fingers or pencils, but with how much you had to do and how reluctant your brain was to focus already it was grating on your nerves. 

“Rog, could you quit that for a bit?” You used a sweet, gentle voice, trying your hardest to tread lightly around him, noticing how tense he was. 

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” He stopped for a moment but started right back up barely a minute later. He didn’t realize he was doing it. You let him continue for a few minutes but the nonstop monotone tapping eventually started to make your skin crawl and you weren’t even trying to focus on your notes anymore. 

“Roger!” You shouted in frustration, slapping your hands down on the desk. 

His reaction shook you to your core. 

“Bloody FUCK!” He yelled, leaping to his feet, his desk chair clattering backward behind him as he grasped the cover of his chemistry book and hurled it across the room. You watched in horror as he aimed a violent kick at his waste basket and it also soared across the room, landing with a loud clang, crumpled papers flying in every direction. “I can’t FUCKING DO THIS.” He wailed in anger as he reached out and in one sweep cleared his desk, books, papers, pencils, and all, covering the floor. 

“R-Roger!” You cried, jumping to your feet as he aimed another kick at his bed frame, making it slide several inches across the floor. You had never seen him act this way and it scared you to death. “Roger Meddows Taylor.” You said firmly, though your voice shook slightly in fear. “Stop right this second.”

He paused and looked over at you. His usually sweet, innocent baby face was red from anger and every one of his muscles from his neck down were tensed, making him appear much bigger than he really was. He was nearly unrecognizable. The anger faded from his eyes and they momentarily softened as they bore into yours before tears welled up and he squeezed them shut, falling to his knees among the aftermath of his tantrum. 

“Roger,” you said again, going to him. 

“I’m—I’m so sorry,” he choked out, barely able to form a word. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” you sat beside him and put your arm over his shoulders, winding your fingers into his hair and pulling his head down to rest on your shoulder. “Apologize to your room.” It was meant to be a tease but it came out much more deadpan than you intended. You felt him shudder against you and knew it was a silent sob. “Please tell me what’s going on. Something isn’t right. I can tell.” Your other arm snaked around him, holding him tight. His entire body was still tensed and it broke your heart feeling the physical manifestation of his emotions as you clung to him. “Its alright, Rog, just tell me so I can help you.”

“I don’t know,” he breathed hesitantly. 

“Oh come on, you can tell me anythi—“

“Its not that, I literally don’t know!” His voice was rising again and he tried pulling away from you, but you pulled back and his tears flowed faster as your hand in his hair kept him pinned down, massaging soothing circles into his head. 

“Okay,” you tread carefully, “whats worrying you? Something you can’t get out of your head even if you don’t think it’s it. Be honest. What’s hurting you? Just think.” As someone who suffered from quite a bit of anxiety  you could relate to the pain he was feeling and it broke your heart. You had learned to identify your stressors and knew you had to help him get to the bottom of his. 

He was silent for a few moments and you let him be, knowing if you were going to get anything out of him you had to be patient. The tears had stopped and it was safe to say the tantrum was over, but you were still wary of upsetting him any more than he already was. 

Finally, with his voice breaking slightly, he spoke: “I feel stupid.” You’d expected that, finals were tough on him. 

“Okay,” you proceeded with caution, “well first off, Roger you’re one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met. Med school is hard but you’re absolutely killing it without even trying. I wish I had half the natural intellect that you have.”

He let out a heavy sigh and swallowed thickly. “Thanks, but, that’s not the only thing. It’s just the icing on the cake making everything worse ‘cause my self esteem is shit right now…”

“What else?” You gently smoothed his hair down in soothing strokes where your fingers had tousled it when trying to calm him. 

“I’m— I’m afraid to go home.”

You hadn’t expected that. “What? Why?”

“It doesn’t matter okay, I—“

“Yes it does matter, Roger. What the hell? Tell me why.”

“I— I don’t want to.”

“Rog, you do not get to make me watch you kick shit around like a child and not tell me what is going on with you.”

He pulled away from you and gave you a look filled with betrayal. He got to his feet and began to pick up the trash that had been strewn all over the floor and replace it into the now dented and battered waste basket, shame coloring his cheeks as he looked anywhere but at you. “I would just rather not talk about it.” He finally said as he put the basket down beside his desk where it belonged. He paced over to the door where his book had landed and gingerly picked it up, smoothing the crinkled pages and closing it carefully. The bed was the final thing to be corrected, and he pushed it back the few inches it had moved so that it was wedged in the corner once more. “I’m sorry.” He sighed as he settled back into his desk chair, still refusing to look at you. 

At this point you were getting angry and you jumped to your feet and scooped your stuff off of the spare desk. “Whatever it is you’re going through, Roger, I wish you wouldn’t act like a fucking baby.”

At your words he stiffened and sat unnaturally still and silent, just taking any abuse you were throwing at him. “Grow up.” You spat, turning on your heel and fleeing through the door, instant regret flooding you, but held back by the dam of your pride. 

It wasn’t fair of you to act this way just because he didn’t want to share something with you and you knew it, but you were hurt. Since the very first day you’d met, you and Roger shared everything. The good, the bad, the ugly. There was nothing going on in either of your lives that the other didn’t know about full disclosure, and it hurt that he was keeping something from you that had him so upset. You felt like he didn’t trust you anymore and you didn’t understand why. 

You stormed up the stairs to your floor and slammed your door behind you upon entry. You felt fine about your first final in the morning so you tossed your books to the floor and fell dramatically onto your bed. Amy looked up from her own book, confused. 

“What’s up with you?” She asked. 

“Roger’s being a dick.” You grumbled, rolling onto your side and hugging your pink duvet to your chest, wishing it was the soft gray throw blanket that you always stole from Roger that smelled like him. It was his favorite but it was your favorite too. 

“Ah, all’s not well in Roger-land. I see. What’s up?” She inched to the edge of her bed, dangling her legs over the side and abandoning her studying to stare at you in interest. 

“He just threw the biggest temper tantrum and won’t tell me what’s wrong! I swear he’s an actual toddler.”

“What was he upset about?”

“Finals…” you trailed off as the rest wasn’t yours to share. “Something else was bothering him but he wouldn’t tell me. He cried.”

“Roger Taylor cried??” Amy exclaimed, nearly falling off her bed from the shock of the juicy gossip. You wished you hadn’t told her. 

“Yeah. He just wouldn’t tell me what was going on so I called him a baby and left.”

“What the fuck.”

“I know, he was being ridiculous.”

“No I mean what the fuck, your best friend and not to mention one of the cutest boys on campus was reduced to tears and you called him a baby? What the hell, Y/N?!”

You were taken aback by her harshness but you immediately realized that she was completely right and your heart ached from the fact that you had added to whatever internal turmoil he was dealing with. “What should I do?”

“Go apologize and make him feel better.”

You looked at the clock. It was getting late and you had to get to sleep for your final tomorrow. You knew if you went down to Roger’s you’d be up all night. So you shook your head. “Its getting late. I’ll go see him tomorrow on my way out.”

Amy gave you a pointed look before getting under her covers and turning off her lamp. You did the same, wondering if you’d made the right choice. Your heart ached, knowing the state Roger was in just a floor below you, and you knew you had made it much worse.

At the first sound of your alarm you were up and rushing to get ready. You wanted to try to make it down to Roger’s room before he left for his final so that you could apologize. Rushing around you pulled on a pair of overalls with a lime green sweater beneath them and slipped on your go to white converse. Pulling on a large coat and your backpack you rushed out the door, tearing down to his room. You pounded on the door the moment you reached it and pressed your ear against it, straining to hear any movement inside. Nothing. You tried the handle desperately but it was locked and you knew you’d missed him. Head hanging low you continued on to face your first final of the week without seeing him, and as soon as you were finished you ran to the library to wait at the secluded back table at the library that the two of you would often camp out at when you both had a lot of school work. As soon as you sat down you pulled out your notebook and hastily flipped to the page where you and Roger had plotted out your finals week together, your schedule in purple ink and his in blue. A sigh of relief escaped your lips when you noticed that he had a final an hour before yours this morning, so him not being in his room wasn’t because he was trying to avoid you. He had the schedule written in his notebook as well. You had another final in an hour and he was done for the day, so you knew that if he wanted to find you, this is where he would come. 

You tried to relax and cracked open your ancient art history textbook, staring blankly at a page on the Archaic Period. Scanning the seemingly never-ending information felt like it was frying your brain, and you knew you were totally unprepared for this exam, and you knew there was no way you could memorize all of this information for every period of art from the start of recorded history to the 19th century. You felt panic rising in your chest as your thoughts began to cycle through all of your concerns: the final, Roger, traveling home, Roger, buying Christmas gifts, Roger. Where was he? He still hadn’t come to find you and you felt horrible. 

You dropped your face into your hands and held your breath, trying as hard as you could to suppress the tears that threatened to spill and you choked down the sob trying to force it’s way out of your chest. Your lungs felt tight and you knew you needed to try to breathe but you felt like you couldn’t and knew that you’d cry if you tried. You refused to cry in the library around prying eyes. You sunk down, your arms folding on the table and your head resting in them, hiding, feeling small. Valuable studying time ticked by, and you didn’t know how long you laid like that, but you nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt a hand touch your shoulder. 

“Y/N.”

Your eyes met his in surprise and you studied him closely for a moment. His hair was disheveled, eyes red-rimmed, and clothes the same from yesterday. He didn’t look like himself, sitting there across from you.

“Y/N, are you okay?” His voice was gravely and tired, and guilt flooded you knowing that you should be the one asking him that. 

“You came,” you breathed, wanting to soak his image in. “God, Roger I am so sorry. I should have never said what I said—“

“It’s alright,” he interrupted you. “I’m alright.”

“I really am sorry.”

“I know.”

“I missed you this morning.” You reached out cautiously to smooth his messy hair. “You haven’t showered.” Not that he stunk or anything, but Mr. “tactile” Roger Taylor rarely if ever skipped his hygiene routine and it was unsettling to see him in this state wearing yesterday’s clothes.

“I’ve had a rough few hours, I didn’t sleep,”  he sighed, looking away. “Are you alright?” He asked again, changing the subject and returning his eyes to meet yours. “I saw how you were laying.” He knew you too well. 

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t believe you, but okay.” He took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Hey, so after your next final you’re done until Friday, right? Come by my room when you’re finished with it, I’ll get takeout for us.”

“Okay,” you smiled at him genuinely. You just wanted to spend time with him no matter what emotions were running high or what confusion or secrets were overwhelming either of you. You had missed him.

“We can… we can talk, if you still want to know.”

“Of course I still want to know.” Selfish, but you couldn’t help it. At this point you felt like you needed to know or you’d go crazy.

“Okay,” he got to his feet and hesitated, studying you for a moment. “You might want to get going. Good luck, you’re going to do great.” He leaned in and pressed a chaste good luck kiss to your forehead. 

“Thank you,” you sighed. Getting to your feet you threw your arms around him for a relaxing, rejuvenating hug, before scooping your books back into your bag and taking off to your next exam, feeling more confident after having seen Roger.

You rushed through your exam, finding it much easier than you expected and you rushed back to the dorm building as soon as you were finished and ran straight to Roger’s door. You didn’t knock and came right in, finding him laying on his back on the bed gazing blankly at the ceiling as the radio played softly beside him on the desk. Across the Universe by The Beatles Floated through the small speaker. Music always relaxed him and he would do this: just sit alone with the radio playing staring into nothing when he needed to decompress. The catatonic state he would sometimes go into when he did so made you uneasy but it always improved his mood so you couldn’t complain. Roger nearly jumped out of his skin when you barged in interrupting his peace, but when he saw who it was a small smile formed on his perfect pink lips. “Hello, darling,” he cooed lightly, seeming much more relaxed than he had over the past several hours.

“Roggie! Where’s the take out you promised?” You jumped onto the bed, letting your backpack land with a heavy thud on the floor. 

“By the heater to keep it warm. How do you think you did on your final?” Roger got to his feet and went to pick up the brown take out bag from where it sat on a chair in front of the radiator. 

“I actually think I did okay. I knew more than I thought I would.”

“Thats great! I’m glad to hear it.” There was something off about his tone now, it wasn’t as relaxed as it had been mere seconds ago and he seemed to be forcing the cheeriness in his voice as he got the food out and set it on his desk, growing more tense by the second. You jumped up and pulled a chair up to the desk as he settled back on his bed with his noodles and a pair of wooden chopsticks, pushing the food around it the container.

“How are your finals going?” You eyed him carefully , looking for any subtle reactions he may have. Knowing him so well you could read his face like an open book and you could see the weariness returning to his soft blue eyes. “They’re alright. I think I did okay today.”

“That’s good.” The conversation was drier than any conversation you’d ever had with him, it felt foreign and wrong making dumb small talk with someone you were so close to. You sighed, growing impatient with the elephant in the room. “Talk to me, Rog.”

“I am,” he protested, his eyes snapping up to yours.

“You know what I mean.” Staring him down you hoped the concern you felt for him overpowered the frustration showing through your expression. “You don’t keep secrets from me and you’re worrying me.”

“It’s hard to talk about.” His cheeks were growing pink and he returned his hard glare back to the container of noodles he was still stabbing with the chopsticks. Fidgeting was a constant habit of his that always worsened and became destructive when he was nervous: peeling labels off cans and bottles, breaking pen caps, and worsening holes in clothes were just a few of the things you’d seen him do when he was nervous, and it pained you to see how uncomfortable he was.

“Okay,” proceeding with caution, thinking before speaking, being careful with your choice of words: those were ways to coax him into explaining himself. “So, are you afraid to go home because of your grades?”

He shook his head no.

“Someone in your hometown you don’t want to see.”

“Not really.”

“Your parents?”

His eyes met yours briefly at that suggestion but darted away before you could read them.

“Roger, are you afraid of your parents?” Shock was all you felt as you examined him and knew that you’d guessed right.

“I— They—“ he stuttered, searching for how to explain himself. “They’re wonderful, they only want the best for me but at home, stress gets the best of them, I guess. I don’t know how to explain it properly.” He wouldn’t meet your eyes and he continued stabbing his food.

“Do they hurt you, Rog?” You gently placed a hand on his arm as you spoke softly, and he froze under your touch, his eyes glued to the hand that rested on his skin.

“No… Not physically.”

“Please help me understand.”

His eyes finally met yours and you could see that they were glazed with unshed tears, red rimmed bringing out the vibrant blue tones in his irises. Those eyes so full of life and soul looked broken. “They fight. All the damn time and sometimes it gets violent. My dad— he gets mad at me too sometimes, thinks some of the things I do will ruin my future and he lets me hear it.”

“Oh, Rog—“

“I know its normal for parents to fight and for them to ride your ass and want the best for you, but I hate going home, Y/N.”

“Come ‘ere” you got back up onto the bed and pulled him to your chest, holding him tight as though you could keep him safe just by holding him and never letting go. The hurt in his voice and the trembling of his body as he let you into this exclusive, very secret part of his life scared you, knowing these were big emotions and you weren’t sure how you could help him. It was more than you had expected. “Come home with me,” you blurted. “You don’t have to go home, Rog. Come home with me.”

A/N: if you read this please send me a dm or an ask/anon ask. I just want to know if people are reading. Comments & critiques would be a plus, too. I’m still trying to figure out Tumblr and I don’t know  if I’m doing something wrong or if my writing just sucks.

[imaginesebastian]

Oh, Anna!

Anonymous asked: okay heres my idea...the reader helps bucky after he learned that someone he dated in the 40s recently passed by taking him out on the town and then romance ensues (;(;(;(;

A/N: I’m going to assume by those winky faces that you mean smut, and that I can do. ;) Enjoy!! (also the title is referring to Anna by Harry Styles which is a great song)

Warnings: Smut, cussing, the usualllll

Bucky combed his hair back, much like he used to back in the day. Turning on his razor, he carefully trimmed his beard down and examined his outfit in the mirror in front of him. 

“Bucky, you look great. Let’s go.” You rolled your eyes, leaning against the doorframe while your best friend’s vanity got the best of him. 

You enjoyed it, though, being able stare at him subtly while he worried about his look. “That’s easy for you to say,” he groaned, “you look great in anything and everything.” 

You smiled, “I know.” You pulled him by his sleeve and gripped his hand tightly in yours. 

It was the first time that Bucky was going out on the town in forever. You were the one to convince him, after weeks of not being able to get him out of his room. He had recently learned of his first love’s passing, and he took it pretty hard. You were there for him when he wanted someone, but other than that he kept to himself. 

Before then, you two were notorious flirts. He would smack your ass, you would run your fingers through his hair. You were never official, you hadn’t even joked about being together. It was unspoken, but you had a craving for his touch. 

Ever since he started hiding in his room, it felt like a piece of you was missing. You were more than happy to bring him out of his funk. 

Bucky nervously popped his neck, following you down the stairs while he waved goodbye to Steve. Steve rose an eyebrow and you shot a wink in his direction before closing the door and feeling the cool night weather against your skin. 

“Okay, first up; we’re going to a bar to let you loosen up a little.” You started, leading him down the street and into a bar. 

“(Y/N), could you please stop worrying about me. You promised that we’re just going to have fun.” Bucky gave you a reassuring smile, and you allowed yourself to shake away your worry. He ordered four shots, handing two to you and taking two for himself. 

The alcohol was warm, burning your throat but feeling good as it went down. 

Soon enough, you found yourself dancing next to the jukebox. You felt good, slightly tipsy but enjoying the fruity drink in your hand. Bucky had found himself in the middle of a game of pool, drinking beer and making jokes with the two men he was playing with. 

The cuffs of his button up were rolled up his arms, exposing the shiny metal and grabbing your attention. You stopped dancing, feeling sweat drip off your chest while your flow-y blue dress swayed softly following your movements. 

One last gulp of your drink, and you found yourself sauntering over to Bucky and his new friends, resting an elbow on Bucky’s shoulder. “Hey darlin’, how’s it going?” 

You smiled at the use of his petname, “It goes,” you turned your attention to the two men, “any chance I could steal him for a little one on one?” 

Bucky raised an eyebrow. 

“Of pool.” You smacked the back of his head lightly, going to the next pool table. 

“Are you sure you can win against me?” Bucky huffed his chest out to act intimidating. You giggled in response, handing him a poolstick, “You break.” 

Bucky smiled, “Tell you what, if you win then I have to buy your drinks for the rest of the night. If I win,” you gulped nervously, “you have to lay a little kiss on my cheek.” The liquid courage had certainly brought back the old Bucky. 

“Deal. But I’ll win.” 

“There’s only the eight ball left, (Y/N). Are you gonna give it up?” Bucky spoke cockily, while you bent over the table directly in front of him. You could feel his eyes on you, watching you steadily aim the stick at the ball. 

With one steady stroke, you successfully hit the ball into the corner socket. You turned around to celebrate, only to see Bucky chuckling while pointing at the table. You gasped, turning around and seeing the white ball slowly roll into another socket. “Fuck.” 

“Don’t act like you didn’t want to lose.” He grinned, holding his cheek out to you. 

You pursed your lips, leaning forward and just as you were about to press your lips against his skin, Bucky’s face turned and your lips collided with his. 

You pulled away quickly, your jaw dropping while Bucky chuckled silently. “Buck!” 

“(Y/N)!” 

An internal conflicted had arose, you debated fighting him on it, slapping him and walking away. You weren’t sure about being a rebound, if you could even consider it a rebound. Or, jumping on him just to feel your skin against his again. 

“You can’t just-- you shouldn’t have-- Aw, fuck it.” You grabbed his neck and immediately you heard his poolstick drop, his hands on the curve of your back. 

A shock was sent from your lips down to where his fingertips touched your body. 

“Whoo! Get it, Bucky!” The two men hooted at Bucky and suddenly you were very aware that you were in the middle of a public bar. 

“My room’s the farthest from anyones,” Bucky whispered, “you can be as loud as you want.” 

With those words, you allowed him to walk you back to the tower. As you walked you occasionally kissed, but his hands never left your body. He was hungry for you, and you were not complaining at all. 

The elevator ride was difficult, you knew you were under a camera and Bucky struggled to keep his hands a safe distance from you. Your best friend had become more than that in a matter of seconds. It was long awaited but somewhere deep down you both knew that it was coming eventually. 

The elevator dinged and you two practically sprinted to Bucky’s room. Giggles were shared between you two before you lifted your hair up and turned your back to Bucky. 

“Zipper, please.” You whispered. 

Suddenly it had become real for Bucky, he was about to sleep with his best friend. Butterflies flew in his stomach and he had instantly sobered up. 

With a shaky hand, he carefully unzipped the blue fabric, softly following down your spine. 

Your skin came into view, the dress sliding off your shoulder and he couldn’t help but nibble on the back of your neck. His rock hard chest felt comforting against your shoulder blades while he led you silently to his bed. 

“Are we really about to do this?” You asked, almost incredulously. “Only if you want to.” He whispered. There was a small glint in his eye and you grinned, pulling him down to you level. 

His hand squeezed your breast, your nipple hardening upon his touch. It didn’t take long for both of you to be completely undressed. 

Bucky paused for a moment, taking in you body beneath his. He leaned into you, a kiss pressed lightly to your lips before he pushed softly into you. 

Bucky was in complete euphoria, he closed his eyes and moaned, one of the hottest sounds you had every heard. His arms shook beside your body, he struggled to keep himself up. He felt his strength deteriorating with ever thrust.

 A breath fell from your lips, pulling Bucky back to reality. “Fuck.” He groaned, biting his lip. You covered your mouth, insisting on keeping quiet despite the fact that Bucky said you could be loud. 

“Please baby, I need to hear you.” He was desperate for vocalization. 

“Bucky I--” you were cut off by Bucky’s hand reaching in between you two and rubbing your clit harshly, “Oh god!” You finally moaned, arching your back into him while he sped up his moments. 

“Do you like this? Do you need more?” he said breathlessly, grinning once he saw pleasure cross your features. You couldn’t hold back anymore, squeezing around him once your orgasm hit. 

Your whole body had gone limp, all your strength being mustered up to grip Bucky’s bicep tightly in your hand. Once again, his lips had met yours and in a hurried burst of passion, Bucky released and collapsed on top of you. 

You repeated his name under your breath, stroking his hair while he caught his breath. 

Bucky and you had both fallen asleep soundly, his soft snoring lulling you to the best night sleep you had ever had. 

It was hot. Way too hot. 

You gasped as you woke up, feeling weight on top of your chest. You panicked for a moment, but soon remembered the night you two had. 

Bucky was still asleep beside you, so you very carefully slid out from under his arm.

A shirt from Bucky’s closet was slipped over your head. You used his brush to brush out your matted hair and freshened up in his bathroom. Bucky stirred in his bed, his eyes opening to see you standing in front of him. 

“Hey big head.” You said, getting down to his level and kissing him softly. 

“Hey.” His voice was groggy, but his smile was huge. 

“Think we should go out there soon? People have been knocking on your door all morning.” You laughed, allowing him to pull you back onto the bed. 

“But you look so good in my shirt. I would hate to have to share you with everyone else.” He tugged at the hem of the shirt, exposing your torso. You couldn’t believe you were in this situation with him. It felt so normal, you couldn’t complain.

“Don’t worry,” you smirked, “I’m only yours.” 

[storiesandgarbage]

Chapter 5 - Rescue You

A Trip to Asgard

Pairings: Featuring: Avenger!OC // OC x Steve Rogers, OC x Loki Laufeyson

Style: Multi-chapter fic // Chapter  4 / ?

Word Count: ~2 k

Warnings (chapter specific): Mentions of a battle. Fun intrusions from ya fave Asgardians, a boring chapter 

Summary: A Sunday afternoon spent at the mall is all Amelia wants for today but her plans get skewed just a bit when a rather inconvenient attack on Asgard occurs.

A/N: Hi my lovelies! I’m sorry this chapter is never what I imagined it to be, but the next chapter is everything you never knew you needed! I’m hoping the funk that I’m stuck in will pass soon enough! I appreciate you all reading my work. It means more than you know!

Please, as always hit me with asks, requests are open and so is my taglist! Thank you for reading and for your support x

Chapter 1  I  Chapter 2 I  Chapter 3  I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5  I  Rescue You Masterlist  I Main Masterlist

A peaceful Sunday. That’s all Amelia had wanted was one peaceful Sunday out on the town. It appeared that the team would never get that lucky. The group was spread about the outlet mall which Amelia insisted had something for everyone. She begged them to go, to spend some quality time with one another and relax. She forbade the gym that morning; making everyone sleep in and then cooked breakfast for the lot of them with all their different tastes taken into account.

 “I want to have a good day.” She said when they pestered her about her motives. Everyone seemingly decided that they would let her have her way because it was much simpler than continuing to argue. And to her credit, everyone was having fun and relaxing. Loki and Thor had found a small shop with “authentic” relics from the times of old and were making fun of their historical inaccuracy together. The shop owner shushed them every time their laughter bubbled over. Tony had drug Steve into a virtual golf driving range and they were competing with each other for the longest drive. Bucky sat on the side and watched them bitterly, having been disqualified after being caught using his metal arm to increase his swing strength significantly. Bruce had cornered a group of tech geniuses at a Best Buy and was teaching them about how to hack their phones to get endless free content and data. Having picked up Peter on the way, Vision and Wanda were taking him shopping for “proper clothing”, didn’t that young man know how to dress? Was he taking fashion advice from Tony? Amelia, Natasha, and Clint made their way through several different stores together before settling in the cafeteria with slushies and hot pretzels.

           Everything was fine, until Amelia caught sight of a TV broadcasting the news.

Three large words lined the bottom of the screen and there was a lump stuck in Amelia’s throat. “Attacks on Asgard”, it read. She put down her pretzel and stood immediately, bolting for the relics store in search of Loki and Thor, when she found them they were holding a bust that was to be of Thor but the nose was hilariously large. They looked up at her as she approached them, breathless.

           “Amelia? Are you okay?” Loki’s concern was immediate.

           “Asgard,” Amelia got out, “something is happening.” The two men looked at each other before leaving the store with Amelia in tow. They got to the nearest store with a TV and saw the news broadcast.

           “It seems that early this morning invaders of some kind landed on the shores of New Asgard and began attacking the citizens.” The newscaster said. Thor didn’t listen any further, he was already out the door of the store and and summoning storm clouds to the area when Loki and Amelia caught up to him.

           “Thor, wait,” Loki said, “we will get the team and go together.”

           “There is no time to waste brother, our people are in danger, we must go to them.” With his words Thor raised a fist into the air and grabbed onto Loki’s arm, Amelia reaching for Loki’s hand at the last second, just as a bolt of lightning met Thor’s fist and the three of them appeared moments later on the beachy shore of New Asgard.

           After Ragnarok Thor and Loki brought their people to Earth and forged a new land, a previously uninhabited island that now boomed with life. They called the land “New Asgard,” a bit obvious if you asked Amelia but who was she to judge?  New Asgard was known for its trading systems and the services which the Asgardians could provide, techniques mastered over their civilization’s time which most Terrans could not begin to grasp. New Asgard was a beautiful place, an amazing contribution to society as a whole, which is why Amelia couldn’t understand, couldn’t process what was happening in front of her.

Smoke filled her lungs almost immediately while still on the beach. The small buildings which had sprung up all over the island were up in flames. People immediately ran to the beach when their crown royalty appeared before them. Frantic shouting and pointing toward the island’s center told them where they needed to go. Amelia reached out and placed her hand on several of the citizens, their cuts and bruises faded. She continued the action as she followed Thor and Loki further inland.

“What is this Lok?” She asked in a hushed tone as the hurried along.

“I really don’t know.” His tone showed his anger and the underlying fear for his people. She quickly squeezed his hand before veering off to help another group that looked injured.

She had no weapons of her own so her help in the fight to come would be limited to healing those involved as they went. As they approached the main town square the sounds of destruction rang loudly in their ears. Loki seemed to read her mind and quickly handed two of his daggers he conjured to Amelia before sprinting off behind Thor, it was certainly better than nothing but the wounded were her main concern. Running through rubble and taking care of anyone she could find became her routine. She dragged men away from the fray as best she could and healed them. Their Asgardian blood assisted greatly in the process and she was thankful, if it weren’t for the adrenaline she wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.

Some time later the fighting seemingly stopped, or at least the noise had. The sudden silence made fear spread from Amelia’s core, the ending of the fight had one of two outcomes and there was only one she could bear. Standing up from the man who was no longer bleeding underneath her Amelia began to scan the surroundings for any sign of her boys.

Thor approached first beaming and bleeding and Amelia breathed a short sigh of relief until noticing that Loki did not follow immediately behind his brother.

“Loki is on the other side of that ridge, searching for  people to be healed.” Thor brushed off Amelia’s attempts to get to a large wound over Thor’s eye. “Let’s go find him.”

The pair took off running in the direction Thor led. Coming over the ridge Amelia took in the sight of the entire battle for the first time. Rubble covered every square inch of the plaza. No structure stood intact fully. The antagonist was effectively thrown to the side, nothing left to see here type of fashion.

“You said he’s okay right?” Amelia’s strained voice broke through the silence of the pair. They hadn’t found Loki yet and the longer time went on the sick feeling in Amelia’s stomach grew. Catching sight of jet black hair under a golden helmet was all she needed. Her body moved without reservation toward him.

“Loki!” She exclaimed and he turned in time to catch her when she lunged at him. The hug was fierce and she nearly crushed him with her arms, legs wrapped around his waist and he hugged her back just as tightly.

“You scared me,” she breathed into his neck and he laughed.

“My sweet girl, you scared me. You dragged an Asgardian man fifty feet through a fire fight.” She laughed at him in return and shook her head at him as he set her back down on the ground.

“You shouldn’t have been distracted by me,” she chastised and turned to survey the scene around her. Most of the Asgardians were on their feet, helping one another up and healing on their own while a few others approached Thor and told him that they needed his healer.

Amelia quickly obliged and took care of anyone she could find. Loki stayed by her side while she worked to keep a close eye on how exhausted she became, not wanting to let her push herself too far.

“They will heal the small wounds themselves, dear.” He gently reminded her when she was still trying to touch everyone even as Loki practically carried her to a bed, her eyes drooping.

“I’m fine.” She stated as she drifted off to sleep, still fighting Loki’s gentle touch, pushing her shoulder down onto the mattress.

A few hours later Amelia woke up to the sound of laughter and talking just outside of the window. She sat up quickly and took in the room with bleary eyes.

“You shouldn’t watch people sleep ya creep.” Laughing Amelia threw a pillow which Loki deflected with ease.

“I wasn’t watching you sleep. I was simply sitting in a room where you were also sleeping.” The smirk on his face was evident even in the dimly lit room.

“What’s going on out there?” Amelia ignored his taunting and looked toward the window where more laughter bubbled over.

“A celebration, I guess you could say.” He stood and offered hand to her she took it and threw back the covers on the bed before standing. He took her outside where a large fire was glowing and seemingly the entirety of Asgard was gathered around eating, drinking, and enjoying one another’s company. When Loki led Amelia outside she was greeted with many cheers and pats on the back.

“Our true hero!” A voice called from behind her that she didn’t recognize. “Fandral the Dashing,” a blond man offered his hand to Amelia and she took it, “but you can call me any time.” He winked and Amelia blushed under his gaze.

“Get out of the way ya raging idiot,” A much larger man pushed Fandral and offered his hand to Amelia, “Volstagg ma’am. That’s Hogun over there, and Lady Sif!” He slapped the shoulder of a staggeringly beautiful woman who stood at his side, looking over Amelia.

“Amelia,” she said to all of them and smiled. Loki was still standing next to her and exchanged hugs with his friends before turning back to Amelia.

“Let’s get you some food and caffeine, yeah?” Amelia nodded vigorously and allowed Loki to place his hand on the small of her back, leading her toward a table covered with food. “I called the team, let them know what happened and that we were all okay.”

“Good, good,” people kept stopping and thanking Amelia for her actions throughout the fight and she could only insist that it wasn’t any big deal at all and she was sure anyone would do the same. Loki smiled proudly at her every time she responded in that way, knowing that she was special and that there weren’t many people like her, not many at all.

Night had fallen over New Asgard many hours ago but Amelia, Loki, and Thor still remained, listening to the stories of their people old and new. Heimdall shared the stories of a young Loki trying to sneak out of Asgard at seemingly every turn, much to Loki’s embarrassment.

“I am no longer much for running.” Loki admitted to himself more than anyone but Heimdall nodded at him, grinning.

“I know this, probably more than even you.” The man winked at him before letting Thor tell one of his many stories of battle throughout the years. Amelia yawned and rested her head on Loki’s, watching Thor intently while he spoke.

“At least we get to have at least a peaceful Sunday night.” Loki offered before wrapping an arm around her, giving her a squeeze.

Amelia nodded and sighed in content, “And you got to share Asgard with me,” she whispered to her friend, “it’s more than I ever dreamed.”

Loki wanted to correct her, tell her that this wasn’t Asgard, but he paused before he did, looking around at his lifelong friends, his people, everything about the moment which surrounded them and he knew that it was Asgard. Asgard isn’t a place. It’s a people.

[urlsaremeaningless]

Starters from Love Händel Songs

I should've known From how I felt When we were together And even more when we were apart

You tiptoed in And you got under my skin

I put up barriers To shield my emotions

A wall that you could never break apart

When I was a boy, down in South Illinois, I heard a man playing blues

He had an old guitar, but not a dollar to his name

making music so sad, but he was happy just the same

if you want a happy life, you gotta learn to sing the blues

Daddy said when he was my age,  "Boogie-Woogie" was the thing

I asked my daddy for a guitar, I begged and I plead, 

I said I wanted to play the blues, and he just nodded his head.

Just take the blues, throw out your hip, and add a little swing

music has the power, that without it, he'd a-sworn that he'd a never met my mom and I'd a-never been born

This is Psychedelia; It's where the guitar solo came from

I made it go "wakka-wakka"  'till it was so good it was bad

I kept learning all the powers my guitar had

Just make a face, and slap that bass, you can make that rhythm bump

It can make you clap your hands, it can make you get up and dance

If you wanna shake your booty, my friend, you gotta give the funk a chance

It's grungy, and it's nasty, full of bad attitude

the music has the power to change your life forever!

Your parents will think you're crazy

your neighbors will think you're rude

I don't need to tell you what you already know

you're the one with style

you're the whole darn show

next to you, their looks are a crime!

they say true beauty, it comes from within

But you have to be comfortable in your own skin!

I exfoliate with this exotic cream

I look like a dream

You have to admit, he looks pretty darn good

We need you back on bass guitar

no two people are like each other

So don't be a lookalike copying another

Unless, of course, you're copying me

'Cause that gives you individuality

are you back in the band

maybe if I can find my old leather

you're saying that you don't have rhythm

listen what you're doing right there

With that stamp and a book You've got a real nice hook

Sounds to me like you've got rhythm to spare

I've got as much rhythm as that chair

I have no idea what you're talking about

What happened to me was a tragedy

I don't have to be a millionaire

Look, I got a sweet deal going on here

I got all the books that I can read

All these sweet old ladies and this carpet from the 80's--What more could a librarian need?

You're kidding me right, y-you're kidding me

Don't you see what you were doing right then?

That's a wicked groove you were starting to move

Mister, you got rhythm times ten

I think perhaps that you're not listening

It's no big crime, I just can't keep time

I'm telling you I lost the beat

I don't need my face on a T-shirt Or hit a power-chord guitar

They were screaming my name

I guess it's a shame 

but I don't need to be a rock star

Sounds like rhythm to me!

Seems like they all agree!

But you're laying down Some funky syncopation!

It's time for you to rock A brand new generation

Would you just go join the band?

Hey, I got rhythm! 

If you're feeling lost down in your soul

If you need a little something to make you feel whole

Just remember who you were when you were in control

Just get together with some friends, and play some Rock and Roll!

it helps me get back that spirit they stole

Music makes us better & Brings us together

I owe my life to Rock and Roll!

my brother was an expert from the start.

I lacked finesse

I still got no coordination

You can scramble my molecules

I'm just passin' through!

Don't skirt around the edge,

I don't let it ruin my day

Never admit defeat!

I got a quantum-physical solution just for you!

now there's no use denyin'

There's only one thing we care about

Reach out and hug your neighbour

Reach out and pat a dog

Help that old lady across the street

Now it's Tri-State, Bi-State, Tri-State, My State

We're in a hurry

So many sights to see But not a whole lot of time

It's a real whirlwind tour

Don't you blink or you won't see 'em

I wish that we could stay and have some fun

we gotta keep chasin' the sun

He is completely out of style

All mouth and teeth, but he don't smile

He's out of place almost everywhere

Both ridiculous and sublime

if you're quiet, you can hear the call

it's all about you.

Your eyes make me melt with a wink

I know that I can be high-strung

you're still here with me now

Let's make some more memories!

it was so controversial

A platypus in a fedora!

Hey you know that guy! 

It took you long enough!

Seven minutes! 

Sign on the bottom!

Its the regulation box! 

Here's our card!

He's on his way! 

He's gotta save the day!

We're singing what he's doing!

So it looks like we might have a new career before us!

From a pop-metal band to a rockin' Greek chorus!

We'll take that to go, with extra dipping sauce

There's a whole world of things to do out there!

Almost as cool as a genie in a box

Good thing we stopped in time

Speculative fiction is such an addiction

It's gonna be a mechanized mêlée

When we get through you're gonna know it's true

The more metallic they are the harder they fall

don't mess with me 'cause I'm a whole lot of trouble

I'm a whole lot of trouble when I'm backed up against the wall

you better prepare For an automaton annihilation

You think you're gonna take us down?

You gonna ride that rail out of town

I'm gonna break you down And sell you for scrap metal 

'Cause your momma was a blender

your dad was just a washing machine

I'm gonna take you to a chop shop down town

I think you better check your fluids 'cause I know you're sweatin'

I will deactivate ya because I kinda hate ya

Don't wanna beat around the bushes

Cause your sister is a fridge, and you know her light is always on

I'm really on a mission

I got some breaking news

When I'm through you're gonna need more than a new transmission 

I'm gonna mess you up and devastate your hard drive 

I'm teaching you a lesson

Rip out your CPU and show it to you still processing

This is a Robot Riot!

[independentartistbuzz]

INDIE 5-0: 5 QUESTIONS WITH MUNK DUANE

Boston based Recording Artist, Producer and Film Composer Munk Duane has a style deeply rooted in late 60s and early 70s Soul and Pop, with unapologetic nods to legends such as Curtis Mayfield, Marvin Gaye, Prince and Stevie Wonder, crafting a sonic atmosphere that is traditional in inception and modern in execution. Channeling spirits of the past and filtering them through a 21st century aesthetic, Munk manifests an evolution by daring to experiment in hybrids. 

We got together with him to ask some questions and talk about his most recent release Sweet Tooth.

1.) You are an extremely versatile, charismatic and unique artist, with your sound rooted in the early 60s/ 70s Soul and Pop. How long did it take you to hone in on your style and sound, and what advice do you have for other artists who are trying to figure it out?

Why thank you! I've been a fan of Motown since I was a kid, especially around the era of Marvin Gaye's album " What's Going On" and "Talking Book" through the "Songs In the Key Of Life" period of Stevie Wonder. This is when these artists stepped into a more musically ambitious and socially aware light. Prince was my number one influence from the time I was a teen. The final piece of the "Soul puzzle" that defined me though was a chance meeting with Jame Brown. When I was about 16, I was walking out of a music conference in New York with my Father. A limo was just pulling up. A man and his entourage emerged and he made a beeline for me. I was holding a notebook that I used for the conference and I'm sure he thought I was coming toward him for an autograph. The man gingerly steps up to me, grabs the notebook out of my hand with a huge, warm Cheshire Cat smile on his face, and says something to me I can't quite make out. I looked down and saw that he had written what he had just said. "God loves you. James Brown". I was completely naive as to who he was at this point, still being young and inexperienced. After he walked away, I looked at my Dad, speechless and puzzled. He gave me the old Italian Father "slap upside the back of my head" and said "you have no idea what just happened, do you? That was The Godfather of Soul, James Brown". After this encounter, I dove headlong into his discography, learned that he was one of the main influences of MY main influence, and completely fell in love with Soul, R&B and Funk. As far as advice to anyone trying to figure out what their sonic identity is, I would simply ask "What is the music that made you want to make music?". After my third album, I became super busy writing on spec for television. I was good at fast, high-quality, turn-arounds and capturing the vibe of established artists that these productions didn't have the budget for, without sounding like a knock-off. In TV, you generally have to respond to these creative briefs from Music Supervisors and Publishers in less than 24 hours, so developing a methodology to crank out content super fast is critical for any reasonable success in spec licensing placements. After several years, I wanted to get back to focusing on my next release as an artist but when I sat down to write, I was horrified to find that my mind was completely blank. Without a creative brief and the parameters of "who I needed to sound like" and the ungodly deadlines, I discovered that I had forgotten who "I" was as an artist. After several false starts that included a complete album that I shelved upon completion because it was miles from who I actually am, I stopped writing altogether and just took some time to try and remember why I got into this in the first place. Marvin Gaye's "Inner City Blues" lead me back to my musical genesis. The emersion of Alt R&B, born of Neo-Soul and artists like Anderson .Paak, Childish Gambino and Leon Bridges were sign posts telling me that the music closest to my heart never went away and continues to evolve. Just be who you are with no apologies or trend-chasing. 2.) Your single, "Dangerous" was inspired by your battle with COVID-19 in March. Tell us more about the virus, and how you were able to overcome it and still release music.

COVID kicked my ass. I contracted it in the early wave when the medical community still did not know what they were dealing with. I saw two doctors via telemedicine, and one in person, who ALL told me I didn't have it, so of course I didn't quarantine from my family and transmitted it to my wife and kids. It wasn't until antibody tests became available months later that I had a positive confirmation. It took me 6 weeks to shake the worst of the symptoms from radical temperature shifts, extreme fatigue, uncontrollable coughing to the point where I couldn't speak without a fit, loss of smell and taste and finally labored breathing like an elephant was sitting on my chest. I was still compromised for a few weeks after the worst of the symptoms had subsided (I still ran out of breath quickly and my limbs were like jelly). Probably 8-10 weeks in total. I was completely untreated, and was left with whatever my body's natural ability to fight it was. Thank goodness we're a little smarter about it now but it's still scary as hell. The ONLY good thing as a result was getting to be at home in my studio for so much time, due to the cancellation of gigs. Losing the income was painful but having an extended period to write and record whatever I wanted to was a gift. As I started to feel well enough, I began to write my thoughts in lyric form about the false narratives we were being fed at the time. As I was the sickest I'd ever been in my life, our President was telling anyone who would listen that COVID was a hoax. "Dangerous" began to write itself. In the span of a few weeks I had it completed and wanted to release it while the message was still timely. 3.) Your newest release "Sweet Tooth" is such a smooth track, tell us about the writing/ recording process.

Thank you. This was around the time that the remaster of Prince's "Sign O The Times" was about to drop, along with 63 unreleased songs from his vault. That album is an inspirational mile marker for me and I simply wanted to write an homage to my hero. It was not my intention to copy him as much as capture the way he could make you feel and reinterpret that feeling through the filter of my own capabilities and taste. I set out to let an infectious, clean and quirky groove drive the shape of the song. More often than not, I write "backwards" compared to the school of traditional songwriting. Instead of starting with chords, lyrics and melody, I sometimes start with groove, bass and vibe. If that excites me enough to flesh it out into a song, the piece will survive. It's not a hard and fast rule as much as a bi-product of beginning my musical experience as a bass player. I need to feel it in my bones first. The rhythm has to make me want to tell a story. It comes from a primal place. On "Sweet Tooth" the rhythm led me to the synth layers and sound design which took me further down the road to that odd, falsetto chorus hook with the violin pluck in the stops. I was just allowing my eccentricity full reign. That verse melody and those harmonies fell directly in line afterward. From a Production standpoint, I was channeling a bit of Danger Mouse into FINNEAS to explore how much articulation and sonic separation I could create in the sound palette for this one. 4.) You've had some tracks that are centered around some heavier topics, but with this latest record, you took more of a fun and flirty turn, tell us about the inspiration behind it.

The last thing I want to be is a "one trick pony". The human condition is a spectrum of feelings and experiences. I could change the vibe of each song sonically but if I stayed in the same lyrical wheelhouse all the time, it would have the opposite of the intended effect. Yeah, I could be in my "Shame Against The Machine" mode very easily, but I'm super self-aware of becoming preachy, predictable and one dimensional. All work and no play makes Munk a dull boy. 5.) Your music has had some incredible placements, like The 70th Annual Tony Awards, NCIS, Hawaii Five- O, and so much more. What is on the "Munk Duane - 5 Year Goals" List?

As much work that is behind me, I'm convinced my best work is still ahead. I'm taking in so much of the exponential advancements in music technology and it's blowing my creative mind wide open with possibilities. It's like going from a box of 4 Crayolas to a box of 120. I feel like infinite opportunities lie ahead if I'm bold enough, and there aren't enough hours in the day to explore them all, and this is coming from a guy who stays up until 3 or 4am creating until he slumps over the console. Given all of that, I want to continue to diversify. I've had the honor this past year to contribute music to groundbreaking technology by Bose for a new earbud designed to help those with sleep disorders. This required a lot of research, exercising both my Right and Left brain. I want more of that, for sure. I'll be working on more Film Scoring projects. Getting a taste of my first Hollywood Red Carpet experience as a Composer was pretty intoxicating and yeah, if I'm being honest, I want more of that too. Occasional celebration and acknowledgement of accomplishments is something I need to work on more. I'm really bad at it and hard on myself. I'm enamoured with the return of the Title Sequence as a work of art unto itself. Work done by studios like Perception (The Black Panther, Thor: Ragnorok) and Prologue (Star Trek: Discovery, American Horror Story) inspire me as much as any recording artist does. I'm exploring ways to crack my way into that world as a Composer. Producing other artists is also in the plan, as is a full length album for myself in 2021. I'm focused on continuing to will my way into the general awareness of the music and film industries, new fans and anyone that will honor me with a listen. 

Listen to Sweet Tooth: https://open.spotify.com/track/4Q7KYh1gaKRoHolohoJQhF?si=OjGIsu2YSEOQk4byVwCYxg

Connect with Munk Duane via:

https://www.munkduane.com/

https://www.instagram.com/munkduane

https://www.youtube.com/munkduane

https://www.facebook.com/munkduane

[thisaintascenereviews]

Album Review by Bradley Christensen Amine – Good For You Record Label: CLBN / Republic Release Date: July 28 2017

If someone asked to make a list of my favorite modern rappers (if I had to make a list of my favorite rappers of all time, yeah, it would be mostly older rappers, but there are a lot of modern ones I like), you might notice a bit of a pattern. My favorite rappers tend to be on the pop R&B side of the genre, usually have a good singing voice (that really helps within their sound), and their lyrics are a mix of goofy, silly, or clever (all the while having a message to them). Rappers like Kyle, Childish Gambino (especially his early stuff, but even STN MTN / Kauai was a great project, ultimately being my favorite, honestly, because it introduced me to southern hip-hop), and Chance The Rapper are three of my favorite rappers. They all have a similar sound to them, sure, but they all execute that in a different way. Kyle is very goofy, fun, and awkward, as well as being more on the pop / R&B side of hip-hop, definitely utilizing more catchy hooks and grooves, versus hardhitting beats and bars. Chance The Rapper is very similar, but his sound extends to soul and gospel music, especially on Coloring Book (I’m still heated at myself that I didn’t really love it until earlier this year), but his rhymes are also more eloquent, social, and deeper than merely being goofy and fun. His voice, though, is very much in that vein, and I really enjoy Chance The Rapper’s very unique and weird voice / flow. Childish Gambino is very hard to pin down, especially nowadays, but he’s got a mix of everything. My point is, either way, that I love these types of rappers. That’s why I was super excited when Amine was popping in the hip-hop scene. You might know his big single, “Caroline,” which has one hell of a hook, but if you don’t, I’m not shocked, either. When I heard that song, I was immediately interested in the guy, because his voice was very goofy, fun, and silly, which matched the tone and the lyrics of the song. It’s about a fantasy woman of Amine, and he goes on about how this girl is great, but it’s such a goofy, silly, and fun song, I love it.

I’ve wanted to check out his debut LP, Good For You, but I wasn’t necessarily in the mood to pick it up. I decided to pick it up recently, and I’ve been playing it a lot the last week and some odd days. I’ve been really curious to check it out, and honestly, the curiosity paid off, because I love this album. Good For You is a great record, and it showcases exactly what I like. The thing is, too, I don’t think that Amine rips off Chance The Rapper, Childish Gambino, or Kyle, because he brings his own thing to the table. He seems to have a good balance between pop and hip-hop. The hooks are there, but the ear-catching and slapping beats that are prominent throughout this entire album are there, too, and it’s a good balance. He gets the balance down well. I mean, these songs are super catchy, but they go hard at the same time. A lot of this production is really good, and it’s a good mix between very pop-focused and hip-hop-focused. Amine’s vocals, too, are very much a player in that balance. He knows how to drop some slick bars, but at the same time, he’s got a great singing voice. I actually read that he got his inspiration to start singing from Erykah Badu, which is super cool, because it’s good that rappers want to venture into other styles of music. That’s why I love rappers like Chance The Rapper, or Childish Gambino, because they aren’t afraid to throw pop, soul, and R&B into their sound, too. Not even that they’re goofy, but they’re just more “experimental.” This isn’t your average trap rapper, basically, and that’s why I like Amine, too. His style is a breath of fresh air. Regardless, though, its sound is one of my favorite parts of the album. A lot of this LP manages to have a great balance between pop, R&B, and hip-hop. Some songs are slower, more low-key, but when this album slaps, it slaps hard. Like I said, too, Amine’s voice is another reason why I love this album. He’s a talented rapper, but he’s also a talented singer. His voice really works for me, as well as his rapping.

If I did have to pick out a weak point of the album, it might be within the lyrics, but at the same time, though, the lyrics are full of clever jokes, funny lines, and oddly eloquent moments. The lyrics aren’t terrible, and they never get to Lil Yachty-esque levels of “so bad, it’s funny,” which isn’t the kind of funny that I mean here. These lyrics are genuinely funny, similar to Childish Gambino (with him, though, Donald Glover is a writer and comedian, so it makes more sense). I found myself laughing at a lot of the lyrics, or even just chuckling, and there’s a place for that. I did find myself enjoying a lot of the lyrics, too, but I guess the lyrics aren’t super amazing. Even then, though, the focus of the album is on the mood, vocals, and the overall sound. I mentioned in my review of Calvin Harris’ Funk Wav Bounces Vol. 1 that the album, because of its funky and disco-flavored sound, that was its main focus. The album was meant to be more on the energetic and groovy side, so people listened to it less for its lyrics, and more for its overall sound. That’s how I feel here, too, even though I really do enjoy the lyrics. I mean, I love Gambino’s lyrics, Kyle’s lyrics, and Chance The Rapper’s lyrics, but I also really like their sounds, too. They’re all very groovy, catchy, and energetic, as well as fun and lighthearted a lot of the time, and that’s how Amine is, too. I really like his fun and silly tone that he puts throughout the album, but he knows when to get more poignant and deeper. He does every now and again throughout its 53-minute runtime (that is something I wanted to mention briefly, actually; this LP never feels its length, but it’s one of those albums that is engaging from track to track, so I never feel like the album’s bogged down by anything boring or lackluster), but the album manages to keep my attention and engage me throughout the whole thing. Either way, though, this LP is absolutely fantastic, and it’s one of my favorites of the year so far.

[colleydogstar]

A Ranger’s Tale - 3 - The Three Sisters

Story and all other character by @rollem-bones. As mentioned before, the log has a mix of 1st/3rd person tenses due to play styles.

Our story continues...

The standing stones. 'The Three Sisters' as Salicia explains to you when you arrive to the clearing. The three stones with their runic carvings aren't the only ones, merely the three centerpieces of a megalithic site. "Pritchard's going to do his thing," Donnel explains to you while the caster makes his way to inspect the stones and speak in strange whispers. "In the meantime, tell me what there is to you?" he questions, arms across his broad chest. It would seem, you think that the canine demihumans at least are no shorter than the humans.

 Rhodie watches with curiosity to see what Pritchard is about to do. She then looks at Donnel, slightly intimidated by a combination of now being shorter, and him just seeming a bit intimidating since they first met! "What there is to me?" She rubs the back of her head, "Not sure I follow exactly. Like... what's special about me?" She shrugs, "I'm just some guy who tries to entertain people back home. I've never really been the big adventure-y type outside of the tabletop games my friends and I would play. Was just a guy with a show and a pencil to draw when I wanted to."

 "Games?" Donnel asks. "You roll bones, then?" he gets a chuckle out of that. "A right gel she is. Maybe you'd fit in with us more'n I thought." He takes a few steps away, looking over the slightly sloped clearing around the Three Sisters. "Gel, Salicia gave you that knife. Come on over here and show me how you handle it."

 "Is it weird being called a 'gel' feels less weird than being called a girl? That's probably weird." Rhodie shakes her head, more things to get used to. She slumps a bit at Donnel's request. "Aaaaand here goes all the good things you were starting to think about me, right out the window." She takes the blade out, giving it a good moment, to judge the weight in each hand before gripping the handle. Rhodie's other hand hovers over her gripping one, almost like a guard, as she steadies her breath. This guy is way, way more knowledgeable on this stuff and is probably about to kick her ass. Still, that's probably gonna happen at some point, so better to do it now, right?

 Donnel draws his blade. A simple looking longsword. It doesn't look like the ones from the faires. It isn't ornate. It isn't costumed, it's worn and stained from oil and use. The handle is wrapped in leather and the pommel is scratched, the crossguard has clearly been used. It doesn't look cool or shiny, but it does look very used to being used. And the stocky schnauzer turns and wields it like it were made of air. "Now then. Let's not draw much blood. No use in wounding. But don't you hold back none," he says, eyes focused on you as he holds his sword cross and his bushy mustache twitches.

 Rhodie lets out a nervous laugh, "And here's where I embarrass the hell out of myself."  She takes a breath, and then goes to strike. She tries not to swing to widely, more 1/4 circle angle, than half.

 Donnel is waiting for the attack. The flat of his blade catches your arm and he steps aside, letting you slash the air with a slight push. "Fast," he remarks, keeping his guard up and waiting for your next move.

 Rhodie immediately turns and moves to get in closer. "Lighter body, feels FASTER!" She says the last part as she goes for another short swing.

 Again Donnel is waiting. You're lighter, probably stronger pound for pound, but you're untrained and the older Sergeant makes that clear when he steps into your swing and bops you on the joint of your neck and shoulder with the worn pommel of his blade, then gives you a shove back away from him. "You're green, gel. I won't be holding back next time."

 The older demihuman presses his attack. With you bopped and pushed back, he makes for a relentless assault against you, stepping in and thrusting his blade, pushing toward you to keep you on the back of your heels, or paws as the case may be.

 The setter girl lets out a yip as she's bopped, stumbling forward. She recovers in time to turn, and sees the follow-up coming at her. She goes to try and dodge to the left of the blade, twisting her body.

 Fast as you are, Donnel is a step ahead of you. His thrust, which you deftly avoid, turns into a swift elbow at your ribs. Just a bit winded, you're not licked yet. However, the older man hasn't broken a sweat yet.

 "Came in too fast, gel, can't feint like that," Donnel says, reading your motions. Your swing meets the flat of his blade, catching on the crossguard, and then you find that his open hand finds it slapping hard across your face. He steps back again and makes one more quick rush. "Let me show you how it's done," he says before he quickly reroutes his motions in mid step. Faster on his feet than he looks.

 Rhodie stumbles back with another canine yelp as she's slapped in the face. She tries to bring the blade down to defend against the sword, using her free hand to try and reinforce her grip. "Crapcrapcrap"

 The former human is starting to look panicked. She knew she was going to be outclassed in every way in this, but it doesn't really do much for her anxiety knowing that! She goes for one more attack, at the last moment, transferring the knife to her free hand as she tries to jump up and punch Donnel right in the dog nose.

 Your jumping catches him off guard. He turns, moves from you. But you're on the ground running. Running and darting. Smaller, with a smaller weapon, but you're faster than him. Still, you're expecting an attack from one direction, ducking under the blade swiftly, when right before your eyes his closed fist appears as though from nowhere.

 Rhodie grins a bit, she's starting to adapt a bit to the body. Then the fist catches her right in the dog face.

 And you go tumbling tail over tea kettle on the grass. The world spins as you've been knocked for a loop, but it focuses on Donnel looking down at you a moment later. "You got quick feet, gel," he says, reaching down to take your hand and clasp your shoulder so he can hoist you up to your paws and pat down your cloak. "But you fight like a street urchin. All slash and know control."

Rhodie grunts, holding her muzzle, and wincing as she's helped up. "Hnngh, like I said.. was all training for shows, not actual combat." She hangs her head. "Well, I'm as good as dead in this world if I ever get into trouble."

 Donnel barks a laugh, clapping you on your back. "Nonsense," he cries. "We'll learn you good, gel. You ain't too old to teach. We'll start with that little thing you got there. You ain't got the arms for Salicia's axe, but I can show you how to use a blade and a bow proper. How'd you like that?" he offers, holding his hand out to you.

 Rhodie looks at the hand, still holding her muzzle. That hurt, she hasn't been punched like that since high school. She takes Donnel's hand with her free one. "I'm all for learning if it means I don't die as an Irish Setter... or a girl..." Donnel's laughing, he's not glaring angrily at her. This is good right?

 "Good," Donnel says. He walks back over to Salicia to speak with her. He leaves you to stand on the grass while the two of them talk, and Pritchard walks about the stones, still focused on whatever it is he is doing with them.

 Rhodie replaces the blade in her belt, pausing to look over her hands and arms. Her tail sags behind her as she sits down on the ground. She pulls her legs in to rest her head on her knees as she looks out at Pritchard. She's sorta watching, but also sitting in thought.

Pritchard works, stopping at some of the runes carved into the old stone. He runs his fingertips over them and a faint silver wisp rises from them as his lips speak silent words. He's a fairly tall man, young, it's not hard to notice his hair being a grey that doesn't quite look natural, especially for his age. He stops at the second stone and the wisp rolls against the runes there, glowing faintly in his passing. He stops and looks to the side, at something, but seemingly only he can see it at the moment.

 The dog-girl watches, but not even the impressive real magic happening in front of her seems to be snapping Rhodie out of the funk she let herself slip into. At first at least. She lifts her head when Pritchard doesn't move toward the third stone. Should she ask if he's OK, or would that interrupt... ah screw it, "Everything OK, Pritchard, sir?" She calls down

 Pritchard stops. He hums and looks over his shoulder toward you. "Were you watching?" he asks. "Are you curious? If you'd like, come closer. I know this must be more alien to you, far from the dullness I'm inflicting on Salicia and Donnel."

 Rhodie gets up and cautiously makes her way over, straightening her borrowed cloak. "Completely and utterly alien. I've only seen stuff like this in stories back home. But yeah, definitely color me curious."

 Pritchard holds his hand over the runes. "These glyphs speak to old power. In reading them, in passing some of my own talent through them, I can speak in a way to that power." He looks at you and offers his hand to you. "I do this to consult with the entities of these forests to understand their concerns. This land may be owned by the Meister, but even he must pay fealty to the forces at work here."

 Rhodie looks the glyphs over, and then over at Pritchard as he talks. She reaches out to take his hand. "So the lands here are in a way, somewhat sentient?"

 Pritchard nods. "Spirits, gods, geists, what you may call them." He interlaces his fingers with yours to lift your hand up to the runes. They glow under your fingertips, or probably under Pritchard's. "Listen with your mind, not with your ears," he says, though his words sound like they come from the far end of a tunnel despite him being next to you. The world seems to pale about you, covered in a rolling fog that seems to hide shadows and shapes moving in the swirls and eddies. They watch and whisper in languages you don't understand.

 "Sooo... surrounds us, penetrates us, binds the galaxy toge-" She stops when she sees the glow, staring at their hands. "My mind... right." She takes a breath and tries to focus. "Oh.... oh wow." Comes an awed whisper.

 Pritchard pulls your hand from the runes. "Less binding and more a terribly dangerous group of forces that can demand your attention should their whims dictate, but can also help you if your needs align," he explains to you, releasing your hand.

 Rhodie nods, taking it in. She ponders, "Could their powers be along what you mentioned my first night here then? Like.. what brings the..the.. Oh, what you called me. But brings people like me here for whatever purpose they might have?"

 "It is possible," Pritchard admits with a nod. "The Three Sisters is a holy site. One of several. Older than the Meister's grounds. I may work for Silberschmidt through the Order, but I understand what really controls this forest and that's the powers that be here." He looks at the third stone. "Not much left to speak with here. There are dangers, weeds that need culling. Something is making restless dead." He sighs, looking back at you. "You will assist us, won't you?"

 "Holy site... Wow, OK, them gathered here like that makes a lot of sense then." She then thinks, and gives a small bow in direction of the pillars, hoping to show a sign of respect. "Thank you..ah.. forces.. for allowing me to listen, even if I don't understand what was said yet." She looks back to Pritchard. "I'm still not sure I won't be more of a hinderance, but I'll gladly do what I can. You three are helping me, it would be rude not to return the favor."

 Pritchard smiles at you. "Thank you, Rhodie, I appreciate that," he says, putting a hand at your shoulder before he walks off. "But with the information gained here, I think we can move on with a slight detour to put some dead back into the ground." He pauses. "Also, I'm not really a holy man, or a druid, take much of what I say with a grain of salt. My philosophy is at odds with many of theirs."

 Rhodie laughs a little, "That ok, most of the holy men on my world are at odds with each other as well. No one person is ever going to get it right by themselves. ...Wait, dead back in the ground. Like... zombies? Undead?" Her tail sags again.

 "Of course," Pritchard says in a matter-of-fact sort of tone. Indeed the undead, in such a casual manner.

[wud-u-suck-me-off-if-i]

How Queerness, Androgyny and Gender in Music Has Evolved

With the passing of 2016 came the tragic loss of some of the most distinguished rock & pop artists to have ever graced our eyes, ears and record players.

Many of our late stellar idols had at least one thing in common. From David Bowie toPrince to George Michael, they all shared a tremendous penchant and commitment towards smashing the fragile ego of masculine stereotypes, flexing genders strict binary, and denouncing sexuality as something ever to be ashamed of. This has lead to the three remaining emblematic figures within the queer community, through life and after death.

Bowie's fame sprouted not only from his prolific musical career, but also his bravery to collapse expectations through self portrait and stage persona. Dylan Jones has described his time on TOTP's as a 'dangerous figure on British TV at a point when television didn't do danger'. Bowie was elaborate to say the least; expelling his concoction of straight, gay, masculine and feminine persona's, whirl-pooling into a state that always remained an undefinable limbo. Fans were able to titillate waves of desire, a rejuvenation of the human condition and sexual vigour. Sporting heels, glitter body suits and a full face of slap was not what the common man was admitted to model. Bowieunapologetically exampled the fortitude to dismantle the sex categorisation of clothing in the 70's, making it human. His gender bending wasn't just beneficial to men aspiring for sexual liberation: He fought hard against any easy definitions, repelling labels with remarkable result, as Gucci designer Frida Giannini comments: "[His] shameless androgyny helped women express their masculine strength without losing their feminine glamour and sensuality". His alter egos flourished in style, as he paved the way for all listeners to shed their formal code of conducts and embrace his androgynous, ostentatious presentation of gender moral; striking the mainstream with full force and razing ideologies that had ruled.

A second avant-garde in normalising queerness in music was the most recent and wistfully lost George Michael. Michael's was outed by his arrest for 'lewd acts' in a public place, seized by an undercover police officer. This was in no means a hindrance toMichael's work. He used his experiences to propel the queer image shamelessly into our living rooms; positioning sex at the forefront of his brazen sexual narratives and camp portrayed disco music video 'Outside'. Michaels caricatured the drama of the situation and its fascicle idea that he should engulf utter shame. He followed up with comments in a coming out interview with CNN: "I don't feel ashamed and I don't believe I should", continuing his brash and flippant attitude towards gay sex and its media coverage.George Michael evolved from someone who hid his sexuality due to his mother's fears, claiming "Aids was the predominant feature of being gay in the 1980's and early 90's as far as any parent was concerned", before embellishing self love and bold gratification of self worth, "I'm a dirty filthy fucker and if you can’t deal with it, you can’t deal with it”.

Likewise, a final artist whom teased heterosexuality and gender solidarity from its pedestal was Sylvester. He emerged as a cosmic disco singer who brought 'Do You Wanna Funk' and 'Dance (Disco Heat)' to the international stages, ruling dance charts for a massive 6 weeks in the late 70's. From his childhood church where he was ostracised for his homosexuality, to his record label meetings, where he was pressured to 'butch up a bit', Sylvester's bombastic and androgynous figure has been assailed in his private life and career. However, this never stopped him showing up to meetings in full drag. Despite his explicit queer bravado and gender fluidity expression, his passion and music were embraced fantastically; before entering the Dance Music Hall Of Fame in 2005. Sadly, Sylvester passed away with AIDS in 1988.

Thus, the music industry in the past was adorned by male figures stirring the pot of the conventional artwork. Whereas fresher artists of today are exploding in a more female direction. As social tolerance arguably increases, groups producing music of a queerer disposition are clawing their way out of every crevice onto the mainstream playing field. LGBT music has branched off into an almost entire genre of its own; ample in burgeoning content of complex sexual flexibility created by artists who have no desire to taint themselves for anyone. This music is consequential in reaching a wider scope audience within a colourful, growing industry.

For one of our most recent artist to be catapulted into super stardom, excessive confidence and innate zeal was not always bountiful, until the non sexualised, gender-queer alter ego, 'Christine and the Queens' was born. Named after drag artists fromSoho, Heloise Letissier was allowed to unmask a serene sense of sexual awakening, the abandonment of conformity, and most importantly, fluidity of identity, all down to the adoption of this personality. The power of the androgynous microcosm of herself, as she claims in her song 'IT'; "I wanted symbolically with this song to take the place of a guy", as well as her lyrics "Cos I won, I'm a man now" exuding an honest narrative and the dexterity she doesn't believe herself would be fulfilled alone. Despite sporadic and exotic performances that Letissier describes as 'a little boy who wants to be Beyonce', the mainstream audience has lapped it up due to its subtle integration; with international ears cascading the most admiration and her biggest headline to be set in the US. Thus,Christine and the Queens has knitted the dichotomy of these two worlds together through the addictive reverence of pop music and its subsequent culture.

A fellow artist who followed suit in producing exquisite pop music riddled with beat dribbles and hooking tastes is the once frontier of Anthony and the Johnsons, now known as ANOHNI, an open transgender woman. Her emancipating track 'Drone Bomb Me' is infested with dark beats and silky synth drops, all coated by ANOHNI's epicentre vocals. She has spoken outwardly and blatantly, generating much needed discussions surrounding trans issues, stating as laconically as possible the importance of pronouns in an interview with Flavourwire: "I think words are important to call a person by their chosen gender is to honour their spirit, their life and contribution". All of which exhibits the power of a musical platform:

Last but definitely not least, we are brought to an innovator who's ascend up the pop ladder has been consumed so earnestly by so many it's hard to keep track of her ever budding successes. Shura's bloom into the music industry came about as her record'Touch', enriched with analogue synths along with the roots of a break up embedded in its foundations was plunged onto Youtube, receiving over 27 million views to present. Her home-made video that laudably presents same sex intimacy with all the spaces in between, emboldens queer love visually, flushing out left over hate with shameless exposure. This video allowed Shura the traction she deserved, blowing up into a huge queer-pop solo artist and an idol many were able to relate to.

Therefore, this radical procedure of creating normality with androgyny, queerness and gender fluidity is continuing to make sporadic and behemoth impact within the industry. As music, questionably our most expressive outlet, is used as a platform to share pain, anxieties and liberties, and allow listeners to feel safer about sexuality, that still receives hatred from those privileged enough to face it with ignorance. Without those striding forward in the limelight, less would feel as invigorated as we do down here, and thus is why celebrities perusing these avenues is as important as it is.