#his impression of bob dylan is really AMAZING

[wokegallagher]

noel doing rockstar impressions is one of the best things i've ever seen, i can't stop laughing

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 24/03/2024

Aphex Twin Snakes

Season 4 Episode 1 Featured on: SiIvaGunner's Highest Quality Rips: Volume L [Side A]

Ripped by Snowva

I suppose we'll round off this streak covering rips with sources I'm far too unfamiliar with, with yet one more that I, like Poké Village, discovered on my own. Yes, I admit it: I am uncultured, I am weak, and I am not yet properly educated on the world of Aphex Twin. Now, that's not to say that the artist hasn't had an impact on me all the same - it wasn't that long ago that I wrote about just how much the Season 1 rip Aphex affected me way back in 2016. So I do have a tenuous attachment of sorts to their music, yet its an attachment I only get reminded of through rips and other remixes. Aphex Twin Snakes is one of those reminder-rips, one I found on a whim just browsing the archives of the Volume L album - and it's an absolute banger.

I may not have actual investment into the Metal Gear franchise yet either, but its at this point impossible not to know of the most legendary music of the Solid series. There's of course the beautiful credits theme to Metal Gear Solid 2, Can't Say Goodbye to Yesterday - as performed by Bob Dylan (yes, by the REAL Bob Dylan!), and the long-overdue-for-coverage main theme for the series' third game, Snake Eater - but the main theme of Metal Gear Solid 2 has always felt like THE Metal Gear theme in my head. You can immediately tell something is changed in Aphex Twin Snakes - before the elements of Aphex Twin are even implemented, sound effects from the Metal Gear Solid series are sampled to create a far more prominent "beat" for the track, sort of in the vein of Banjostruck or the various Hideki Naganuma-inspired rips a la September. It's a fantastic way to transition the rip into the more jungle-y style of the Aphex Twin track used, which is Carn Marth if I'm to trust the Wiki - but attachment or not, its novelty as a jungle remix of such a proudly-orchestral piece is appealing all on its own.

The rip sells you in just the first 15 seconds alone as a distinctly different-feeling take to the legendary theme, but continues to impress throughout. I'm always caught off guard by how hard the intentional stutter in the track at little over 30 seconds in hits, and not long therafter the sound of Snake's iconic death sound from the series is used to amazing effect to punctuate the rip's change in tone. Midway through, we're even treated to a little bit of a "dialogue" in a codec call seemingly between Snake and Aphex Twin itself, only communicating through a change in music to the track Windowlicker. This is obviously not really the same thing as something like the canon-to-the-channel dialogue in Haltmanna feat. Rob Thomas of Matchbox 20, but it is a really fun surprise althesame - when Aphex Twin Snakes was uploaded, we already knew that Snake was to reappear as a character in the King for Another Day Tournament, and so this little moment of interaction from the character (or the Figment, if we're to be lore accurate) feels all too fitting, its as if he himself was shocked to encounter another source in "his" own track.

After this little interlude, Body & Blood by clipping. is added to the mix, giving the rip a vocal performance quite different in tone from the rip's first half. It was the first half that sold me, and though this shift in direction is certainly a form of escalation, it is maybe a bit too drastic for me - whenever I come back to Aphex Twin Snakes, it is the Aphex Twin part of the first half that I'm most drawn to. But I'm of course althesame thankful that we even get rips with such variety and risks taken in them (sort of like Metal Gear Solid 2 itself, hm?), and that the rip knows not to overstay its welcome. Each of these three sections of the rip get just enough time to land, and all three feel polished to a sheen. This is the first rip by Snowva I've covered on here, but if Aphex Twin Snakes is anything to go by they have an absolute knack for quality - and have helped remind me of yet another incredible artist that I need to start actually listening to.

[oliverreedmasterass]

Do you think you could write the moment Jake and his dad went to the guitar center and Jake played Sunshine of Your Love by Cream and that one guy was amazed by it cause he was 12

LOVE this concept!!

Sunshine

Words: 2k

Warnings: N/A

Jake was in his messy room, sitting on the edge of his twin bed and strumming away at his Yamaha acoustic when Kelly stuck his head in. 

“Are you playing Heart?” he asked, hardly able to contain his awe. Jake quickly dropped his hands down to his side in surprise and gave a small nod. 

“Yeah,” he murmured. Kelly widened his eyes and let out an impressed chuckle. 

“I think it’s time.” 

“Time?” Jake asked as he carefully set his guitar behind him on the bed. “Time for what?” 

“Time for you to get an electric,” Kelly replied. This made Jake spring to his feet. 

“Are you serious?” he let his voice raise in glee. Kelly grinned at his son’s response and nodded his head. 

“The point of the acoustic was to make sure you got your form down. Now I’m no guitar expert, but I think it’s safe to say you can play that thing pretty well. You’ve earned the privilege.” 

Jake’s grin stretched from ear to ear. His dad had let him play his own electric guitar a few times before, but Jake always got distracted by the pedals and whammy bar, and the guitar was promptly taken away. Kelly’s mantra had seemed to become, 

“No need to try and replicate Jimi Hendrix’s Star Spangled Banner, son.”

Jake was frankly surprised that his dad thought he was ready to transition to an electric guitar. It was something he had craved for a lot longer than he would admit - he knew it would get him attention at school (the good kind) and he loved the sheer feeling of power that surged through his body with every electrifying chord he ripped out. The acoustic was fun to play, but it had transformed his fingers into a set of rugged, calloused nubs that he was constantly peeling dead skin off of. Plus, he wanted to play songs that weren’t off The White Album or Bob Dylan’s greatest hits. Sure, he thought that his playing had improved from when he first picked up the guitar at the humble age of three, but he still missed chords and mixed up strumming patterns. A part of him worried that his rendition of “Crazy On You” had been a fluke and he somehow tricked his dad into thinking he was ready. 

As if Kelly was reading his mind, he nodded back at Jake’s acoustic. 

“Can you play me something else on that?” 

Jake could feel his face turn bright red but he obliged, settling the guitar back in his lap and scanning his brain for the right song that was possible to play, but still impressive. Kelly leaned his back against the doorframe with his arms crossed and closed his eyes with a large beam across his face as Jake played “Heart of Gold”. After Jake finished the chorus, Kelly opened his eyes again and patted the doorframe. 

“I’m gonna grab my keys,” he excused himself. The second he was out of sight, Jake tossed the acoustic back down and held his head in his hands. 

“Oh my god,” was all he could manage to grunt out. He was finally getting an electric guitar.

For the entire drive down to Flint, Kelly had a field day coaching Jake on what guitars he should try out. 

“You can’t go wrong with a Fender, but also everyone plays the Fender so it’s not that special. Les Pauls can be fun. Did you know that Jimmy Page played a Les Paul?”

Jake stared out at the rolling green fields they were zipping by and tried to envision what guitar he would be playing for years to come. When he fantasized about it, he never really had a set guitar in mind; what was more important was how well he was playing it. Jake concentrated hard and attempted to conjure up an image of a guitar that felt like it was rightfully his. He was disappointed when he came up empty. 

“I don’t know what guitar I want,” he admitted out loud. 

“Looks are one thing, you gotta play a bunch of them to find one that really feels right.” 

That made Jake feel better, even though he still felt the magnitude of the situation weighing on him. Within the twelve years he had been alive, this was by far the biggest decision he had ever had to make. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. 

Fifteen minutes later, Kelly pulled their family minivan into the Guitar Center parking lot and killed the engine, cutting off the Muddy Waters song that had been playing. 

“Are you ready?” he asked Jake. In response, Jake slumped back in his seat but, growing uncomfortable with the silence he was creating, eventually turned and nodded at his dad. 

“You bet,” he squeaked out. 

As he stepped in through the front doors of Guitar Center, Jake felt his eyes grow to the size of saucers. The place was like his own personal heaven: stunning guitars lined the walls, keyboards were tucked away in an adjacent room, and a kid around his age was bashing away on a set of drums in a soundproof room. Kelly lightly placed his hand on Jake’s back and led him deeper into the store since he seemed to be frozen in place. They found an employee and Kelly waved him down. 

“Hey there,” he smiled. “My son is looking for a guitar.” 

��Exciting!” the guy commented, nodding at Jake. “Got anything specific you’re looking for?” 

“Nope,” Jake replied. 

“All good,” the employee seemed prepared. “Feel free to grab a guitar off the wall and I can get it plugged into an amp for you.” 

Jake could feel his heart thunder in his chest. If he wasn’t so determined to find the right guitar, he would have booked it out of the store to hide in his dad’s car until he settled down. Everything was so exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time. It was a lot. 

“How about I pick the first one for you, bud?” Kelly asked down to Jake. Jake had a feeling that he was doing a pretty poor job hiding how much he was panicking. 

“Yes please,” he choked through the lump that was forming in his throat. Kelly gave him a supportive smile and led him to the back corner where a Squier Stratocaster was within reach. The employee removed it from its hook on the wall and motioned for Jake to take a seat on the closest cushioned stool. Jake plopped back and, before he knew it, the guitar was in his hands and buzzing to life as the employee plugged it into an impressive amp. 

“Go for it,” the employee encouraged him. Jake looked over at Kelly and saw that he was waiting expectantly. Jake retrieved a pick from his jean pocket and shakily brought it up to the strings. Unsure how loud it was going to be, he carefully played a D chord, which rang through the store. Jake could feel his face flush red again. “Strong sound, huh?” the employee turned to Kelly to converse. 

“That’s why I chose it,” Kelly agreed. “C’mon Jake, try and play something.” 

Jake licked his dried lips and cautiously played a few bars of a Black Keys song. Even though he messed up the first notes, he managed to let off the last note of the verse with a loud, echoing ring. 

“Not too bad,” the employee nodded in approval. Jake handed the guitar back to him and scanned over the wall. 

“I think I want to try another one,” he thought aloud. The guitar was nice, but it didn’t feel quite right.

“Go for it,” Kelly laughed. Jake stood from the stool and wandered to the other wall to scan over the more flashy guitars. His eyes were drawn to the cherry red finish over the standard black and white bodies, and he found himself reaching for a bright red B.C. Rich Rich Legacy Doubleneck. 

“Really?” Kelly asked Jake as he giddily returned to the amp. 

“I need to give everything a feel to make sure I find the right one,” Jake tried to defend himself. 

“There’s no way I’m letting you try out every guitar in this store,” Kelly protested. 

“People have done it before,” the employee interjected as he plugged the guitar into the amp. Kelly pinched at the bridge of his nose. 

“Please don’t do that to me, Jake.” 

“I want a red one, so I’ll only try those.” 

Kelly looked like he wanted to remind Jake that he needed to look beyond the exterior appearance of the guitar, but he held himself back. Once again the guitar roared to life and Jake closed his eyes in glee as he tried out a few licks he had been messing around with at home. His hands fumbled between the two guitar necks and, in defeat, he turned down the volume. 

“I don’t think this one’s it,” he admitted in defeat. 

“I could have told you that,” Kelly retorted. 

Jake returned back to the tall wall of guitars and put his hands on his hips as he scanned up and down each column. There were some guitars that he knew for certain he would never touch, like the pink Hello Kitty one, or the boring old Fender Telecaster. He wanted something rugged, something unique, something that was bound to make him feel like a rockstar. Jake’s eyes finally landed on a guitar and a soft “oh” escaped from his mouth. He was looking up at probably the most stunning guitar he had ever seen: a Gibson SG Standard. 

“Just like Pete Townshend,” Jake whispered in appreciation. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it, and was quickly joined by the employee. 

“Want me to take it down for you?” 

“Yes please.” 

Jake carried the guitar back to the stool and could feel the power charging through it even before it was plugged into the amp. The cable snapped and the guitar hummed to life, sending anticipatory tingles through Jake’s fingers. Jake took a deep breath and, without thinking, tore into “Sunshine of Your Love.” It was his favorite song to play: Eric Clapton really knew what he was doing when he wrote that lick. Jake could hear the bass and drums playing along with him in his head and closed his eyes to become fully immersed in the music. Colors and shapes started dancing in front of his eyes with each note and, before he knew it, he was rocking back and forth on the stool to the beat. The colors and shapes transformed into a stage, blinding lights, and a crowd in front of him. Jake continued playing to the cheers of thousands of fans like his life depended on it. It was a massive disappointment when the song came to a close. 

Jake opened his eyes and was greeted by the sight of the Guitar Center employee gaping at him, and his dad nodding his head in approval. 

“This the one, son?” Kelly asked. 

“I’d say so,” Jake agreed, holding the guitar close to his body. He didn’t want to let it go; the feeling he had while playing it was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Kelly seemed to understand the bond Jake had developed with the guitar since he let him carry it to the register, only letting go of it momentarily when the Guitar Center employee had to scan its tag. Kelly also let Jake pick out a guitar strap and a case, which only fueled Jake’s excitement more. While Kelly fished his credit card out of his wallet, Jake saw an older guy pointing in his direction to another employee. 

“Yeah, that guy’s pretty damn good - he can’t be more than twelve years old and he’s playing Cream. Can you believe that?” 

Jake couldn’t help but flash a toothy grin in the guy’s direction at his praise. He had known for a while that he loved playing guitar, but now it was clear to him that it was something he was meant to do, and that he should do for the rest of his life. 

“How are you feeling?” Kelly checked with him as they walked back out into the overcast afternoon to the car. 

“Alive,” Jake declared.

[aestheticvoyage2023]

Day 127: Sunday May 7, 2023 - “The Lou’s Zoo”

After a nice breakfast at Ben’s house, and a ride in Eve’s big tree swing, we rolled into the Central West End to visit Forest Park - whoa talk about nostalgia being back here!   I used to spend a lot of time in this park, circling the back path that now I crossed pushing a stroller almost 15 years later, but an old friend Ben beside me still after all this time commenting on how nice it is that he’s now seen William 3 times before he is 2!  That is pretty memorable and I am glad for the good men in my life and that I can count him as a friend, and that he’d be willing to go out in public with me on a muggy day like today where the sweat just ran out of me....like my desert dried bones didn’t know what to do with all the moisture in the air. 

The big adventure for today was to take William to the St Louis Zoo, which I believe to be one of the best zoos in the whole country on the simple fact that it is free on top of also being pretty damn awesome.  Beautiful here with all the greenery and the trees and the well done habitats with flowing water and waterfalls.   I made a big deal with William about finally seeing a Hippo for the first time and we went straight for that right away and with amazing luck, all three hipps were all together napping up against the glass where William could stand in awe and watch the bubbles come out of their noses, occasionally lifting for air, then settling back down on each other for their Sunday Siesta.  Ten Minutes in, and the zoo visit was a complete success. 

This Zoo, I’d always bring family and visitors here for a run around the park and a chance to see Giraffes.  I even sent AC here once on a long overnight to connect with a place that feels like home to me.  But to experience it all again with William in the stroller, after spending so much time together in our own zoo, was memorable - you see and experience it all different now as a Dad, seeing the wonder in his eyes while a polar bear swims in front of him, or real live penguins danced on the rocks for him, running with their arms out behind them like he does.  The Sun Bear definitely won for best overall habitat and we agreed that he is winning at Sun Bear life.  I was impressed with the new monkey habitat built in together with a kids monkey play area.  We saw several Asian Elephants, and Grizzlies, Sea Lions swimming.  It was a pretty awesome day - and several times I caught pictures of William looking lovingly and respectfully at his Uncle Ben - hes.a good Dad and a good man, and I appreciate that he has a good soul to look up to along with all the other really good friends and dad-models I have backing me up on this journey.  They played together and laughed and looked at Puffins and I imagine that William probably thinks this is Ben’s zoo.   Just imagine when we come back and get you the behind the scenes tour!   

A day after going to his fourth major league ballpark, this was William’s fourth major league zoo to go with Detroit, Phoenix, and Tucson and it really got me thinking that maybe this could be our thing for this next little stress.  Which zoo should we go to next?  Cant wait to find out!

Song: Bob Dylan - Forever Young

Quote: “The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” ― W.B. Yeats

[jellogram]

okay, this is super random but i saw some tags you made on a post in march about meeting ringo, and of course i am going to ask how it went!!! that is so amazing, im jealous

(my apologies if you already answered this!)

Hi!! I don't remember posting that but it's true! I met Ringo once when I was like 15 or 16.

The story there is that he was playing at a venue in my city and I couldn't afford a ticket but I knew the venue was this super chill outdoor place so I went down there anyway.

It's at a hotel and if you got someone to let you into the pool area you could see behind the stage so I kind crouched in the bushes back there and waited to see if Ringo came out. I saw him walk by so I jumped out of the bushes and said hello and I think I scared him a little but he just rolled with it. Decades of crazy fan girls I guess, because he didn't seem to mind me. I talked to him for a minute or so about where I was from and such and then he said he had to go.

I was just impressed that not only did he not call security on me like OTHER people (cough cough Bob Dylan) but he seemed genuinely happy to talk to me and understood that I was really excited to meet him. He seems like a cool guy and I will defend him against Ringo mockery forever.

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Davide Cedolin

Davide Cedolin is a Ligurian based artist, mostly focused nowadays on guitar-oriented music, writing and painting. His latest cassette on the Island House label collects seven serene and unruffled meditations, mostly in finger picked acoustic guitar, but augmented sometimes with threads of bowed bass, lap steel and harmonica. In her review, Jennifer Kelly wrote that these compositions “open out into a kind of wide-horizoned dreaminess, an infinity pool of sound that stretches as far as you can see. Here Cedolin lists some guitar music that inspires him. 

I wrote something about albums that somehow “clicked me” because of their great guitar works. Hope you’ll enjoy!

Sonic Youth — A Thousand Leaves (Geffen, 1998)

Maybe I could pick other albums from Sonic Youth, but this is the first one I discovered in real time when I was sixteen, bought on vinyl in a great record store named Distorsioni in Varazze (the town I’ve grown up in) that is closed now. I love this album from them for the natural blend of poppy refrains and very noisy rock elements, the mood, the track list. In my opinion it’s the most textured and rich record from SY, very open and experimental in its own way. And the first of the four times I’ve seen Sonic Youth live, it was in the period of A Thousand Leaves, so I feel very sensitive with this record. One track? “Sunday.” In general, it’s thanks to Lee Ranaldo and Thurston Moore that I heard for the first time about alternative tunings.

Pelt — Ayahuasca (VHF, 2001)

I took some time to “digest” the depth and the density of this one. It’s the record that introduced to me (in a very funny way, ha ha) to old time music and somehow to a different way to intend acoustic music and so guitar. I’ve also been captured by the contemplative and psychedelic aura of the whole album that later switched me on drone music as well. There’s not that much about Pelt live on YouTube from those years, but I’ve found an intense video that is really immersive. With Jack Rose, who already implemented the sound of the band with a more prominent acoustic guitar work, the transition from an electric-noise-drone skin to a new acoustic-mantra-folk structured one was completed. I’m still impressed about how borders in music are so vague and relative if there’s a real consciousness of what you are doing. And Pelt’s transition is the perfect case of the natural and organic evolution of a sound.

Grateful Dead — Workingman’s Dead (Warner, 1970)

In Europe the Dead didn’t have the same wide cultural echo as in North America. Everyone here knows The Doors, Bob Dylan or Neil Young but not as many people as in the States know the Grateful Dead. I heard of Workingman’s Dead at the end of the nineties but it took until my mid-twenties before I got interested in old records. I fell in love with the warm sound of this album, which actually has one of the most brilliant track lists ever to me. Each song is an amazing hit. There’s great guitar work all over the record from both Weir and Garcia, and it’s easy to understand why the sound of this album (and with the extension on the next, American Beauty,) has been intended to be the Americana sound by several music critics and producers. The way all the traditional country, blues and folk elements melt together is so natural and the way the guitars talk to each other is masterful. Also, I’m a huge fan of Jerry on pedal steel and in this record, there are a few of the best moments in his entire career playing that.

John Fahey — Blind Joe Death (Takoma, 1959)

I had a very nice chat with Jeff Tobias a few days ago inspired by a meme about American Primitive Guitar that at some point was ironically counterposing John Fahey lovers and haters. I totally see there’s this polarization about him, and I kind of get it. I did read How Bluegrass Destroyed My Life, watched interviews, and in my perception, his persona was seemingly contradictory and questionable on several aspects. But the guitar work itself, unquestionably, places him in a very relevant position if we think on what he triggered and how damn good he was. This album is the one I love the most and the one with which I've discovered him. I wouldn't consider Fahey as a direct and conscious influence for me but his taste for melodies and his tricks buzz in my head since the first time I heard them. Particularly “St. Louis Blues.”

Jack Rose — Kensington Blues (VHF, 2005)

Frankly, I didn’t listened to this album immediately. It took a couple of years before I knew of it thanks to a great musician from Genova and close fellow Paolo Tortora. It was some winter evening at his place, and I remember we listened to the entire record in silence, sipping rum. It warmed my intimate part, kind of healed me. And it wasn’t the rum, it was the way Jack Rose was able to convert remote feelings into some wild stream of consciousness, that to me still is, without forgoing the obvious technical skills, the best part of his playing. The way he was heartly connecting with the instrument and how he was truly one with the instrument. In this video of “Cross the North Fork,” you can see what I’m talking about.

Ryley Walker — Primerose Green (Tompkins Square, 2015)

Ryley is a terrific guitar player with a terrific voice. He’s simply perfect; when he plays and sings he has a unique voice. I love the sensitivity of his playing, his anarcho-prog-impro wilderness and his accuracy for harmonies and arrangements. This album is perhaps less eclectic compared to the recent ones but it has some of my prefered tracks from him, including this one.

Elizabeth Cotten — Folksongs and Instrumentals with Guitar (Folkways Records, 1958)

Same friend, another great suggestion. Paolo introduced me to Libba by sending this video link for “Freight Train,” probably around 2009. I was touched by her uniqueness. She basically built her own grammar to express her own language with such a graceful manner. This album is the first I bought by her on Discogs a few years ago, and its pure magic all over the length. I could spin this record on loop for days without either changing the side, whichever it is.

Hobart Smith — In Sacred Trust: The 1963 Fleming Brown Tapes (Smithsonian Folkways, 2005)

I was exploring YouTube videos of Elizabeth Cotten and I came across “Railroad Bill” with Hobart Smith on guitar. There’s an ocean of incredibly talented musicians out there, and the more I go further with this list, the more pop up in my mind. But just a very few can transport somewhere else in just a couple of seconds. His personal and fluid style of fingerpicking immediately caught me. Hobart was a master at banjo, guitar, fiddle and piano. In Sacred Trust: The 1963 Fleming Brown Tapes is an album of never-before-released work, taped by Fleming Brown back in the day. It’s a wonderful collection of hidden gems. My son who is eighteen months old already loves this CD.

Steve Gunn — Time Off (Paradise Of Bachelors, 2013)

Steve Gunn in 2013 was a name I’d already heard of, but it’s with this album that I got more deeper into his stuff. I’m a big fan of this period. Acoustic guitars were leading both the emotional and the structured parts of the tracks. His repetitive and hypnotic patterns mesmerized me. I love the “loop feeling” you can perceive sometimes, and I even love it more when you realize that it wasn’t a loop but a block with so many details that change around the main riff which keeps circularly going. There’s a lot of stuff from Gunn on YouTube, and this take of “Trailways Ramble,” from Live at Atlantic Sound Studios, (there are also more videos from this session) kills it. Played with a beautiful twelve string Guild in trio with Justin Tripp on bass and John Truscinski on drums, if you scan your body while listening, you can feel the rise of the theme through the flesh, in a similar way of feeling subtle sensations by the body scan during meditation practices.

Daniel Bachman — The Morning Star” (Three Lobed Recordings, 2018)

I met Daniel for the first time in 2013, so I should even name Jesus I’m A Sinner, the one I knew at first. But The Morning Star is the album that showed me other aspects of his art. This is the first recording from him where guitars slightly shift aside to give more space to the various ambient sounds and other instruments. I love how the guitar is relatively “simpler” even in the patterns somehow. It’s pensive, moody, capable to take your hand and guide you through the album; there’s an interesting sound research that matches also with the “invented” tunings. It’s brilliant how just the tuning of the instrument can influence the whole composition process. And, besides the artist that I admire and love so much, there’s even the man that is completely adorable. It’s nice to know that artists you like are sometimes great living beings as well. This set is completely acoustic. Each time I watch it, I feel as astonished by the wall of sound as the first listen.

Bola Sete — Ocean (Takoma, 1975)

This is the only nylon strings player I’ve mentioned in this list. Bola Sete was a Brazilian guitarist, mostly involved in traditional Bossa nova and samba in the early days. At some point in the 1970s, he met and eventually became friend with John Fahey and moved to the USA. In 1975 Takoma released Ocean, later repressed as Ocean Memories, which is an extraordinary journey through Brazilian folk music and the American Primitive Guitar. This album condenses his virtuoso style and his wild stream of playing at its best, opening worlds of suggestions with its wavy and sensitive flow that colors the album as a canvas.

Yasmin Williams — Urban Driftwood (Spinster, 2021)

This record has been rooting in my listening since it came out. I knew the previous album from Yasmin Williams but with this I got really into her work. There’s a beautiful virtuoso approach that melts into a world of tenderness; a sensitive style of playing that is both technical and emotional, alternating various methods and instruments such as acoustic guitar, harp guitar and kalimba. She’s graceful, making intricate compositions by apparent effortless gestures and moves. This piece is also inspired by the Black Lives Matter movement. Really looking forward to what will come next. I love this absolutely gorgeous video of “Juvenescence” from the New York Guitar Festival sessions.

Ledward Kaapana and Friends — Waltz Of The Wind (Dancing Cat Records, 1998)

This guy simply blew my mind. I’ve been recently introduced to Ledward Kaapana and Hawaiian slack key guitar by Daniel. He’s been doing his thing since the 1970s at least; he has a very nurtured YouTube channel from where you can also find classes! His style is unique, and he has a terrific feel for the rhythmic parts. He’s got this joyful mood that brightens the melody patterns and generally rubs off on the atmosphere. The song “Radio Hula” is probably his most popular hit and there’s this version of it on his channel that is so cool.

Daniel Bachman — Almanac Behind (Three Lobed Recordings, 2022)

Here I am with the last release from Daniel Bachman, who I already named. This album/film is something that elevates Daniel’s work on another peak. In my opinion, this is the most authentic and touching contemporary political and artistic statement of the last years. There’s an explicit vision of what the climate catastrophe is and how we already crossed the safety guard. This concept resonates in the folds of the sound, sculpting it with new elements such the digital post process (cut-and-pasted slide guitar, pitch drops, glitches), AM and FM radio and a horizontal view of the mix, which knocks you to the couch with ease. There’s something in this album that goes even far beyond music and arts. It’s a hub.

[grandroyale]

London’s Top 5 Most Legendary Music Venues

There are many incredible, world beating icons in London. Famous buildings, world class tourist attractions and amazing activities- but people often forget about London’s live music scene.

As one of the world’s greatest centres of culture it should come as no surprise that many of history's greatest musicians have played some pretty legendary gigs in London. The live music scene evolved heavily, but the big hitters always came back, and that is due to London’s many incredible venues.

If you’re visiting London for a legendary gig in the near future then book a room at the Grand Royale Hyde Park; it’s the best Hyde Park accommodation and one of the finest hotels near Bayswater Station. You’ll be perfectly situated to explore the city and check out some of London’s most famous live music venues.

Let’s take a look at the best of the best.

O2 Academy, Brixton

Formerly known as the Brixton Academy, this venue has been at the forefront of live music in the city since 1983.

It has played host to some of the biggest names from around the world like Madonna, The Smiths, Bob Dylan, Dr. Dre- it really has seen pretty much everyone through those iconic doors.

It was originally opened as a cinema, but found its true place in the world of music. 

Royal Albert Hall

The Royal Albert is not only an icon in the world of music, but also in the world of architecture and design. It holds one of the largest glass domes in the world, and is supposed to have near perfect acoustics.

It has hosted music since 1941 and really does attract musicians and audiences from every genre. The world’s greatest orchestras play in the hall, as well as some of the biggest bands and artists from all over the world- even Paverotti held the stage. 

Ronnie Scott’s

Musician Ronnie Scott opened this bar in 1959 as a place for local jazz musicians to jam and practice; since then it has become one of the most famous jazz clubs in the world.

Some of the biggest names to ever grace the stage have performed there including Ella Fitzegerald, Miles Davies, Nina Simone and Chet Baker- that’s a pretty impressive list.

Ronnies Scott’s is also where Jimi Hendrix tragically played his last gig in 1970, which cemented the club’s place in the musical history books.  

Koko

Originally known as The Music Machine and later as Camden Palace, this stunning venue really found its place in music and is now called Koko.

Madonna actually performed her first ever UK gig here, and it has hosted some incredible names since then. Prince, Coldplay, Lady Gaga and Kanye West to name but a few.  

100 Club

The 100 Club actually started off as a swing joint, but quickly became a mecca for live jazz. In the 70s some incredible names played at the club and cemented its name in history.

David Bowie, Louis Armstrong, The Rolling Stones and Oasis have all played here- and when Jimi Hendrix lived in London it was one of his favourite places to perform.

Music History in London

So there you have it, some of the most famous musical locations in the city, and some of the incredible musicians who have played them.

Enjoy a weekend of culture in the city, and maybe snag the finest afternoon tea near Hyde Park at the Grand Royal in the morning- you probably won’t want to travel too far after a night in one of these incredible joints!

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

behind the album: a highlight reel

int: “let's start with today, in general, being at abbey road"

baby

eek

and then he starts with only angel bc of course he does

peace ring here to party

“wonderful”

chunky naked boi

“we’re just trying to remember how it feels to have a hapapapapappeeeee”

dear diary

“a lot.. happened”

*dripping wet* “where’d you go, man?”

“it’s hard to tell” *jumps over railing back into the ocean*

the key to harry’s universe is water

“the happiest time i’ve had in a while”

“and after coming from five years of pressure, and it was good, it was good. but it still felt like pressure”

this shot holy shit

“‘m now gonna watch a rom com in my room” *farts*

“i really enjoy being private more”

“i get to kinda claw a little bit of that back”

“there definitely was a time where i felt like people knew everything about me, and i realised i didn’t like that”

we’ve all seen the post

“part of my ego wanted to see if i could create something people would like without knowing everything about me”

OH FOR FUCK’S SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE

hehe i yelled i did a funny

“sorry, that may have been my fault. everybody happy?” *points at every band member* “happy? happy? happy?”

soft low-five with mitch

bob dylan impression

“when you come out of a boyband, you feel like you have to complete other direction and say, ‘don’t worry everyone, i hated it, it wasn’t me’... i loved it.”

“i never felt like i was faking it”

“that was so great, and if i never get to do that on that level again, that’s okay”

“i felt like i had so much in my head that i wanted to say”

i’M hAvInG yOuR bABy as lhh

“i was about to personify my hair. and i decided not to.”

like a kid messing around with an adult

i’m okay

is him always getting naked one of my favorite traits about him? maybe

wholesome af guitar exchange

“HARRY YOUR ALBUM IS SO. GOOD.”

her grandma told her town?

boys being lads being boys

the royal handful

(about songs written about him) “i don’t know if there has been any” *shit-eating grin*

“wouldn’t be able to confirm nor deny” said the media-trained politician

“and if that song isn’t complimentary?” “let’s move on”

johnny cash imitation

“you say it’s ‘stuck here’, but you’re singing ‘stucking’” *loves idea of lying*

“WE’RE GONNA CHEAT THE SYSTEEEEEMMMMM!! !! AME-E-RI-I-CA”

gimme attention gimme

choir time

hugs amazing gospel singer

*step step step* *freeze*

“sick”

*hums to self to deal with anxiety of being stuck in a fucking cast*

released happy baby 

and for what-.....------

“1500 feet”

weeeeeeee

*kisses ground*

*screams along to sott while wearing ruffles*

wait his clumsy ass can do that

hugshugshugs

“today was a good day”

“felt really good”

[lire-casander]

chapter #10 — third pre-chorus

After the fundraiser, things escalate pretty quickly. TK finds himself attending meetings with music execs that talk about extending contracts and signing agreements to sing several duets with other artists that were in the show. Ricky Martin wanted to speak to him after the concert because he plans on publishing a charity album — and he wants TK to contribute a few songs as well, maybe even a duet with Ricky Martin himself.

Careerwise, TK is up on cloud nine. The attention feels amazing; it’s everything he’s ever wanted. When he first started in the music industry, after failing at being a firefighter-slash-paramedic, TK had dreamed of going big, of being part of the change he wanted to see in the world. He’d dreamed of being considered in the same league as Neil Young, David Bowie, or Bruce Springsteen, and even at the same level of creativity as Bob Dylan and Taylor Swift. He’d always known that he’d never be an Elvis, but he could have settled for following the footsteps of bands such as indie group Hanson. Now it seems he’s beginning to get recognized for himself, not by association with the shitty ex.

Part of the success, he thinks, comes from the impeccable way he handled sharing a stage with Alex after the great disaster that was their non-wedding. Maybe the fans and some journalists like to read too much into it, like to think it means they’re happy with each other again; but TK could tell that most of the other stars and big names in the music industry saw it for what it is. That TK was professional enough to put his heartbreak aside and perform! He knows he has impressed some important people that day.

And it’s all thanks to Carlos, in a way. Because after singing After Love for him, TK had felt strong enough in his own skin to perform with his ex without a hitch. The song had been perfect, even if their chemistry hadn’t been what it used to be.

TK’s beginning to doubt there ever was any real chemistry between Alex and himself. It definitely was nothing compared to the chemistry he had with Carlos.

A thought that saddens TK in a way, because maybe there will never again be anyone with whom to share that kind of connection, not anymore.

But success also comes at a price higher than he’d expected. As his popularity rises, rumors have spread that he’s back with Alex despite their evident lack of chemistry during their performance of Marry Me. They’ve been asked to appear in TV shows together; TK has refused every single time, arguing that he’s focused on newer songs he’s writing and that he doesn’t have time to promote anything with his former fianc��. He stresses the word former as much as possible, and has Paul and Marjan make sure everyone hears that he’s single and definitely not dating Alex again, although he can’t dodge the questions about Carlos and how things ended between them. He tries his best to avoid answering them, attempting to dismiss the questions with a hackneyed if it isn’t meant to be, it isn’t meant to be.

He’s aware that his behavior that last day with Carlos was horrible; he knows he needs to apologize, he knows he needs to make sure Carlos is fine. He’s also aware that he promised himself as much right after performing his song for Carlos. But now, in the light of day (or really, days, weeks even) TK can’t bring himself to do so — out of regret or out of shame, he isn’t sure. Maybe it’s a combination of both. Or maybe it’s also because he’s been there through the media storm that followed them everywhere while they dated and the shit storm after their breakup had become evident — the press had even leaked Leyre’s name! TK doesn’t want Carlos and Leyre to go through that again and he knows that’s exactly what will happen if he reaches out to Carlos now. He’s already rocked their world once, and it ended up in a wreckage. He can’t do that to them, not a second time.

Maybe that’s what true love is about — sacrifice.

So he allows his team, his friends, to spread the word that he isn’t dating anyone and least of all Alex.

It doesn’t matter anyway, because the fans will believe what they want, and Jesse Corbett keeps hinting at clues that may point in the direction of them being seen cozy together in a coffee shop the same night that TK spends curled up under a blanket with Jonah.

But there’s nothing TK can do about it, not really. So instead of fighting a lost battle that will hopefully die down once people don’t find any new ‘evidence’ of them being back together, TK has decided to focus on his brother instead. The little man has been putting on a brave face for a long time, but TK has learned to distinguish the little telltale signs that scream that Jonah isn’t, in fact, doing as well as he tries to make everyone believe.

The first Hanukkah without Enzo proves to be as hard as TK had anticipated. For the past ten years, he's tried to keep up with their heritage; he's been there for all the milestones and the festivities, but it's always been Enzo who guided them through the ceremonies and the rites. TK is at a bit of a loss of how to celebrate now that it's only Jonah and him against the world. It's difficult for him to wade through everything while still grieving the father figure that he's lost; he's lucky, though, because he still has his biological father to lean on, even if Owen Strand lives over 1,000 miles away and is devoted to his career. Jonah only has TK now.

The mere idea of it scares the living daylights out of TK.

Jonah spends most of the time alone in his room, music blaring loudly through the closed door. It seems like TK can't really reach him; he feels powerless as he hears his baby brother cry himself to sleep, but there are rules in this household — rules he himself set up — and one of them is that privacy is always respected. If Jonah’s door is closed, TK has to respect that his brother wants to be left alone, although he knocks on it from time to time to make sure his brother is okay. And nobody can prevent him from preparing Jonah hot chocolate the way Carlos used to and sliding the mug across the counter. He may not be allowed to hold his brother while he cries, but he sure as hell can take care of him. Even if he's breaking on the inside.

TK feels like his control over his life is slipping. It all started with Alex, and snowballed from there. He's tried to move on from his past. But his past includes so much pain that he's not so sure he can overcome it.

First it had been Alex, but Carlos came to mend his broken heart. TK would have never believed it if anyone had told him he'd fall for someone who everyone deemed to be a rebound. Carlos Reyes had been much more than just a guy he met once; Carlos had become the light in his darkest days, the beacon that guided him back home. He'd read a line somewhere about wanting to feel at home instead of seeing a whole universe in someone else's eyes. TK had had it all; he'd had the ocean and the sky and the universe imploding, and also the feeling of belonging that washed over him whenever he was close to Carlos.

He messed that up too.

And now that he's back at square one, fighting himself to stay sober, trying to take care of Jonah even though he's not doing fine at all, he can't even count on Carlos to make him feel better, to ease the pain with a soft kiss and to tell him that everything will be alright. TK deserves the loneliness, he knows that much, but Jonah doesn't. TK’s glad that Carlos is still Jonah’s teacher; he's never seen Jonah happier than when he's spent a day with Carlos. Even now, in the dark hours of mourning, Carlos is still one of the few people who can get Jonah to smile.

At least one of them is on the receiving end of Carlos’ affection; TK wishes it were him as well, but he’s grateful Carlos is being the adult here and he’s not punishing Jonah for TK’s mistakes.

The days blend into one another as they quickly race towards the end of Hanukkah and the beginning of the Christmas celebrations in a year when they haven't coincided. Jonah remains quiet and fidgety most of the time; he’s constantly looking over his shoulder, nervous and uncomfortable, as though he's expecting something bad to happen. TK finds a great therapist who specializes in kids and mourning, and convinces his brother that it's the best for him. He himself attends a few meetings whenever Jonah is in therapy, given that the venue where they're held is close to Jonah’s doctor's office. It takes him weeks and several calls with his sponsor to resist the urge to use, the itch forever etched in the seams of his conscience. He'll never stop being an addict, but he's learned that he needs to live with it or else he'll get lost again. He can't say he hasn't faltered in ten years, but he hasn't fallen.

He can't afford to fail now, or he’ll lose his brother. Social Services wouldn’t care about him being a famous singer; they’d take Jonah from him in the blink of an eye if he slipped.

TK’s sitting on his couch, with a guitar in his lap as he scribbles down on a music sheet, when the doorbell rings. The noise startles him, making him fumble the pencil he was using and scratch the paper. He’s alone in the penthouse; Jonah is at school, enjoying the last day before Christmas break — a reminder for TK that he only has two months left before the semester actually ends and he’ll need a new school for his brother — and his team has already left for their respective holiday vacations. TK wanted to write music, and for that he needed the quietness of an empty apartment. He’s only gone out to bring Jonah to school and back, carefully avoiding running into Carlos. He’s still in awe at how many times he can bolt out of the school’s street without seeing his ex-boyfriend.

“Coming!” he exclaims, setting the guitar aside and standing up. He has no clue who it could be, but he’s sure they won’t be a threat to him. The concierge at the door doesn’t allow anyone in the building who hasn’t been pre-approved. “Who do you think it is?" he asks Buttercup, who's perked up from lazily lying on the floor at the sound. TK scratches his dog behind his ears and smiles when he stands up and follows him, his tail heavily swaying. "Just a second!” he adds when the bell rings, this time following a pattern that he knows by heart. Before he reaches the door, he’s smiling. “Dad!” he greets as he opens the door, revealing his father standing in the middle of the corridor with a duffel bag dangling off his shoulder.

“Hey, son,” Owen Strand greets back with a broad smile on his face. Buttercup butts his head against Owen’s leg, and his father leans in slightly to pet him. “How are you?”

“What are you doing here?” TK questions before stepping aside. “Come on in, come inside. Do you want something to drink?” He watches as his father opens his mouth and interrupts him before Owen can say anything. “I don’t have whatever organic shit you’re drinking these days.”

“I was going to say that a coffee would be nice,” Owen retaliates, stepping into the apartment and leaving the duffel bag on the floor. “That doesn’t mean I’m not offended by your words.”

“You’re easily offended,” TK teases. “I thought we were meeting up next week in Austin. Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing in New York?”

“I had a few days off,” his father explains. “Thought I could come up, visit you and Jonah, see how you’re doing. Maybe spend the holidays here and fly down to Texas for New Year’s.”

TK looks at his father over the coffee maker, which he’s trying to work. “That’s code for something, I’m sure. Has Judd called you?”

“No, not at all,” Owen replies. “Here, let me,” he offers when TK lets out a frustrated huff as the machine refuses to cooperate. He manages to bring the machine to life with expert movements, the hisses filling the air until he talks over the noise. “I haven’t talked to Judd in a while. You’ve been keeping him busy.”

“I’ve behaved!” TK complains. “I haven’t run away from him in forever. And I’m listening to him and following his advice. I’ve matured.”

“Better late than never,” Owen jokes. “I haven’t talked to anyone. Can’t a father want to see his son?”

TK shakes his head. He loves his father, he really does, but Owen Strand has never been the paragon of fatherhood. After his parents divorced, Owen vanished; he came to his basketball matches at school, but he missed all the birthday parties. When he grew up — when he wanted to follow his father’s footsteps and become a firefighter — TK learned that some people aren’t meant to have children. Owen Strand, sadly, was one of those people.

“Well, you’ve seen me. I’m doing fine.” He twirls around in mockery. “Now, can you tell me the real reason behind this trip? Don’t get me wrong, I love having you here.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” Owen says. He sips from his coffee. “This is quite the reception.”

“Dad.”

“Okay,” Owen finally says, defeat evident in his voice. “I’ve been worried about you and Jonah. It’s been a really difficult year for both of you, and I wanted to check in on you. Make sure you’re really doing okay.”

“You could have called and asked.”

“Would you have told me the truth?” When TK looks down at his feet, Owen sighs. “I worry about you both. I’m afraid that living in the city now that Enzo’s gone will only bring bad memories for you. Or at the very least, keep them alive. What if you go back to your old habits?”

TK feels the cold seeping into his bones at his father’s words; it’s enough to glue him to his spot across the counter. He stares at Owen agape, his mouth slightly open as he tries to decide whether or not his father actually means what TK thinks he’s saying. From the way Owen is looking back at him, as though he’s some sort of wounded animal ready to bolt at any given moment, TK understands that he’s not in the wrong when he assumed his father’s mind would only go to one place.

“I can’t believe you,” he mutters. “Do you really think that I could do that to Jonah?”

“I don’t think you’d want to,” Owen points out. “But I fear for you. It’s not as though you can really fight it off on your own.”

TK bites back a reply. He doesn’t think his father’s words deserve any incendiary comeback. Instead, he says calmly, “I’ve been going to meetings, and calling my sponsor as much as I’ve needed. I’m doing fine.”

“But you’ve needed your meetings and you’ve needed your sponsor. Surely that means you’re not doing so well, right? I’m just worried about you.”

“You don’t get it,” TK marvels. “After all this time, you still don’t get it.” He turns around, facing the big windows through which the sun’s rays are filtering. “And the worst of it is that you can’t see how offensive what you just implied is. I’ll always be an addict. I’ll always need my meetings if I feel myself slipping away, and I’ll always need a sponsor for the same reason. Mom understood that. Enzo understood that. Hell, Dad, even Carlos understood that and I only was with him for a few months! How can you not get it?”

“Carlos, huh?”

“Don’t,” he warns, finally turning around. “You don’t get to ask about Carlos. Not when you’ve flown all the way up here, not to check on Jonah and me, but to make sure I won’t relapse.”

He knows his words come out harsher than intended from the flinch that they elicit out of his father. He bites his tongue to keep himself from apologizing; while he does think he’s been way too hard on his father, TK also thinks Owen Strand needs to hear that he’s not the only man in the world. “You and your fucking hero complex, Dad.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit rude to your father in his old age?” Owen questions, arching an eyebrow.

“Now you’re old?” TK lets out a humorless laugh. “I don’t even know why I care. Listen, Dad, I’m not on the brink of relapsing, but even if I were, I can promise you I’m surrounded by people who would keep me grounded.”

“But you don’t have Carlos anymore, do you?”

“What’s with name-dropping Carlos every two sentences?” TK scoffs. “You know very well that we broke up shortly after Enzo passed away. That was five weeks ago, Dad. There’s no need to rub it in—” Out of the blue, TK’s hit with a wave of nostalgia and pain as he realizes the words he’s just spoken.

rubitinrubitinrubitin

“Excuse me,” he whispers in a choked way. “I think I need—I’ll be right back.”

He rushes to the bathroom and lunges inside just in time to fall to his knees and heave heavily over the toilet. Nausea washes over him in waves as memories of that last argument with Carlos flash behind his closed eyelids. This has become a common occurrence in the past five weeks; TK could be doing literally anything when a memory of Carlos might assault him. It was quick and it was devastating, the way in which he felt sick to his stomach just by remembering what he’s lost because he was self-centered and a brat. He’s been successful in hiding it behind closed doors, but he feels his lucky streak is about to be broken when his father, who has never really respected boundaries, barges into the bathroom.

“You okay, son?”

“Peachy,” he breathes out, head still half-stuck into the toilet. “Leave me alone.”

“Not a chance,” his father retaliates. He sits on the tiled floor by TK, rubbing soothing circles on his back as he retches, petting his short hair and whispering reassuring words. When he’s done — his throat achy and his mouth sticky from the bile — he sits back on his heels and rests his forehead on the cool porcelain. “Better now, TK?”

“More or less,” he mumbles.

“Let me guess, this has been going on for five weeks, am I right?” Owen taps on the porcelain near to the spot where TK has braced himself against the toilet. “Every single memory of him just triggers this reaction, as though you can’t breathe.”

“It fucking sucks because everything reminds me of him,” TK cries out. The tears follow suit, wetting his cheeks with saltiness. “It never happened before. I don’t get it, we weren’t together that long but I—I lo—” He catches himself before he can embarrass himself even more than he already has. He only dated Carlos for a few weeks, not nearly long enough for him to have fallen in love. But the truth is that he fell for Carlos in a way he hadn’t fallen for anyone, not even Alex — and he’d almost married that jerk.

“You love him,” his father supplies in a soft voice. “That’s why it hurts so much.”

“How do you know?” TK mutters. “You haven’t even met him in the flesh. You haven’t seen us together. You can’t possibly know.”

“I know,” Owen confesses, “because that’s exactly how I felt when I walked out on your mom and you, son.”

At that, TK lifts his gaze to meet his father’s, and he’s rewarded with an open stare that screams of grief and regret, but also understanding. He throws himself into Owen’s open arms, almost toppling his father over. Nevertheless, Owen welcomes him with a warm embrace as TK rests his face on his chest. He cries his heart out for every love he’s lost — for Carlos and for Enzo and for his mother. He cries until he feels dried up inside and the tentacles of a headache begin to slip around his brain.

The alarm of his phone startles them both. TK fishes it out of his pocket and glares at the screen. “I have to get ready,” he announces. “I need to pick Jonah up at school in an hour.”

“An hour?” Owen asks, surprised. “I know you’re a bit slow on some things, but this seems early, even for you.”

“His school isn’t exactly close,” he explains. “It was closer to Enzo’s place, but we—I’m not sure how we’d handle moving to that place now. And with the school closing now, it wasn’t worth the hassle. So we’re both dealing with this.”

“Okay then,” his father announces, helping him to get to his feet and making a show of dusting off his jeans. “I’ll go grab a change of clothes and I’ll go with you. I bet Jonah will be thrilled to see me.”

TK laughs despite the gaping hole in his heart. “He will be. He’s always asking me about Grandpa Owen.”

“Hey, I’m not that old! I’m barely a couple of years older than Enzo!”

TK laughs. He loves teasing his father about his age; Owen Strand is not an old man but he's obsessed with hair loss and going gray, and TK takes any chance he has to make light fun of it. "Let me change into something more appropriate for going outside and then we'll be on our way to the subway."

"We're taking the subway?" His father cocks his head at him. "Heartthrob TK Strand takes the subway now? Without a bodyguard?"

"I'll have you know I can go places without Judd," TK says. "And it's not like fans will ambush me or anything. A hoodie and a cap do wonders to disguise me, even when I'm not wearing sunglasses."

"Who wears sunglasses on the subway?" Owen shakes his head. "Only celebrities who want to be recognized."

"And people who suffer from photosensitivity," TK tells his father.

"You think you know it all," Owen teases.

"Carlos explained it to me once," he sighs. "It makes sense."

"Carlos, huh?" His father repeats his words from before in a way less teasing tone; instead he sounds concerned.

TK dismisses him with a wave of his hand and rushes into his bedroom to get changed. When he emerges, wearing tight jeans and a hoodie that seems to have been dyed multiple times, he meets his father’s scrutinizing gaze. "What?"

"Nothing," his father says, sounding choked up. "You, ah, you just remind me so much of her. That's all."

TK takes a deep breath. From time to time, memories of the day he learned his mother had died assault him; one of the most vivid ones, along with the feeling of brokenness and the need to use, is the devastation in his father’s voice. They'd been arguing about one thing or the other, TK can't really remember, and he'd accused his father of not loving his mother.

“You may not have loved her anymore,” he’d spat out, on the verge of a panic attack. “But I still do. And now she’s gone.”

“I loved your mother. I always did, even when things—things got complicated,” Owen had muttered, his voice strained by tears. “Never thought I’d be—yeah, I loved your mother. I will always love her.”

It had taken TK almost a lifetime to move on from his parents' divorce, and just a few seconds to realize that it hadn't been because they'd run out of love; Gwyneth Morgan and Owen Strand had loved each other so much that she had been unable to remain unmoving when he'd gone on a path of self-destruction, and he'd walked out before his grief wiped out the only good thing he'd ever done in his life.

“Let’s go, okay?” he says, shaking himself out of his memories. “Jonah’s going to love it when he sees you there. Maybe it will cheer him up. You know, with the school closing and all.”

The trip on the subway goes without incident, as TK had anticipated. It’s not the first time that he’s taken the subway to go places, even after becoming a celebrity; often, people simply stare at him and wonder whether or not it’s really him, and decide that it can’t be, therefore leaving him alone. The fact that his father is next to him also influences the way that people view him — nobody expects TK Strand, pop singer, to go on public transportation along with his father.

TK makes his father stop just on the corner of the school’s building; ever since he stormed out of Carlos’ apartment, he hasn’t been able to wait for Jonah to get out of school right at the door. They’re close enough for the school’s doors to be fully in view but far enough that TK can hide around the corner in the probable case of Carlos exiting the school with Leyre. So far, things haven’t escalated to that point, but TK is sure he won’t be able to survive it if he locks gazes with Carlos — there’s still too much he feels for the other man, so many emotions he doesn’t know if they’ll ever vanish into thin air the way his feelings for Alex have disintegrated.

Carlos Reyes is more important to him than almost anything else in the world, and just the memory of how he’s tainted their time together brings him more pain and embarrassment than TK feels he can handle on his own. But he has to, if not for himself, then for the other most important thing in his world. His brother.

As expected, the moment Jonah catches a glimpse of Owen, just as he’s saying goodbye to some of his friends, he squeals and runs over to where they’re standing, almost toppling him over. “Grandpa Owen!”

“Hey, buddy,” Owen greets him with a hug. “Surprise!”

“Did you know, T?”

“Nah, he surprised me as well,” TK replies, grabbing Jonah’s backpack and hanging it off his own shoulder. “I bet Grandpa Owen has a few more surprises for us today.”

“Really?” Jonah looks up at both of them with his big eyes, so similar to Gwyn’s that they make TK’s heart clench, and he knows his father is done for the moment Jonah lands his crystal gaze on him. “More surprises?”

“I thought,” Owen says, tapping his chin as he feigns being deep in thought, “that we could go ice skating! Unless you’re too old to skate, that is.”

TK swallows a laugh at his father’s comment. Everybody who knows Jonah knows that he’s obsessed with ice skating; he made TK enroll him in an ice skating course a couple of years ago and he’s taken any opportunity to skate ever since. Rockefeller Center is like a pilgrimage stop for him at this point.

“Can we go to Rockefeller?” Jonah asks, full of hope.

“Not before we go back home and get you changed into something more suitable,” TK warns them both. “You can’t go ice skating in your school clothes.”

Jonah throws himself from Owen’s arms to TK’s, hugging him tight. It’s the first time since Enzo’s death that Jonah hasn’t clung onto him out of fear or sadness, and TK couldn’t be happier. It’s going to be a slow process, and he should know that recovery from trauma isn’t as linear as he’d like for it to be. Baby steps, he thinks. Baby steps.

They end up going skating four days in a row. On the morning of Christmas Eve, the place is packed so they have to wait in a long queue, but on the afternoon of Christmas Day the ice rink is mostly deserted; TK's used to celebrating the Christian holidays because of Owen, but this year he's glad his father doesn't seem to care much about festivities. They still exchange gifts on Christmas morning; Jonah loves the sketchbook TK bought him. Owen hands them a large package that they both unwrap in excitement, only to find out it’s a big painting of the two brothers, the picture it’s based on taken when Jonah was barely a few months old. TK tears up and hugs his father, muttering how his own gift card for a renowned spa in Austin is not nearly enough. He collects himself when Jonah gives him his gift, a handmade set of guitar picks with quotes from TK’s favorite songs engraved on them.

Aside from all the fun and festivities, Owen’s been really invested in Jonah’s well-being as well. He helps Jonah practice his multiplication facts every day before ice skating; he seems to be interested in what Jonah has to say and is always listening. It brings a small sting of jealousy that TK quickly sweeps under the rug of his grown-up status, but the way his father seems to go out of his way to make Jonah happy is somewhat hurtful. TK remembers birthdays and holidays and school functions on his own, without a father figure to cheer him up.

Even if he's happy that Jonah’s going to have them both, Strand men to the rescue, TK mourns the losses his younger self endured. But then again… he had his mother and later Enzo — two people that are forever lost to Jonah.

The presence of Owen Strand helps TK as well. He always gives his team the holidays off — Judd and Grace usually travel back to Austin to visit family, and they all meet up there for New Year's Eve; Paul and Marjan also go back to their families in Chicago and Miami, respectively. But since Owen is there to take care of Jonah and Buttercup for a few hours a day, TK is able to sneak some time in to actually work. He's managed to finish the song he's been writing ever since Ricky Martin’s offer of recording a charity album together where they could sing a duet. It's a song about love and loss and moving on; TK hopes everyone will understand that he wrote it for Carlos but he knows that a lot of people will think he wrote it for Alex. He finds that he doesn't care, because he himself will always know the truth.

Besides, Ricky Martin himself has asked him to adapt his Spanish hit A Veces Bien Y A Veces Mal into English for a different duet than the one Ricky sings with Mexican group Reik. TK’s never felt more honored than in that moment when Ricky Martin actually saw him. The Puerto Rican singer went through a lot back in his day when he decided to come out; his sales dropped and he lost a huge part of his fan base, but he came out of it like a modern Phoenix. Growing up, TK always looked up to him; getting to share a song with him now and to work on a whole project together is a gift TK’s not so sure he deserves.

But he’ll take it anyway, maybe because a little voice in his head tells him that he does deserve it. A voice that sounds suspiciously like Carlos.

Three days before the end of the year, TK wakes up to an armful of Jonah trying to wake him up with tickles. He laughs and replies in earnest, things escalating until they're immersed in a pillow fight. Even Buttercup joins in at some point, barking happily. That's how Owen finds them when he comes to tell them that breakfast is ready.

"I see how it is," he says playfully, leaning into the door. "You're having pillow fights without me."

"We don't want you to get injured in your old age," TK jokes.

"Yeah," Jonah adds. "If you hurt yourself, who's going to save people from fires in Austin?"

"Speaking of Austin, you should pack if we're taking the early flight tomorrow morning," Owen reminds them. "No leaving it to the last minute."

TK huffs. He knows his father is right, of course; he's prone to procrastination. "I'll pack today."

"When we come back from skating!" Jonah chirps.

TK nods. He can't tell his baby brother that his muscles are sore from all the exercise; since Owen has claimed that he's too old to skate all the time, TK has been in charge of going into the rink with Jonah. "When we come back. Promise."

"Yesterday when I was walking Buttercup, I saw a natural ice rink just around the corner," Owen tells them. TK knows that's code for a long-distance walk; there's no iced ponds in the neighborhood. "Want to go try it?"

Jonah’s squeals are the only reply.

The sun is high in the sky when they finally make it to the pond. There's nobody around except for a kid who's training with a hockey stick. The snow piles up around the pond and on the treetops; TK snaps a picture of it and is about to text it to Carlos when he remembers that they're not together anymore. They've now been apart longer than they were together, but it's still hard. He posts it on Instagram instead, tagging it hashtag idyllic.

Sadly, things don't remain so calm.

In hindsight, TK should have known that something bad would happen. He hadn't been known as Danger Magnet Strand during most of high school for nothing. But it's so sudden and so fast that he almost has no time to react. One moment, the kid playing with a hockey stick is on top of the pond, and the next he’s shouting for help as they all hear the cracking of the ice under their feet.

“Jonah, back off!” both TK and his father yell, all but pushing Jonah off the ice barely seconds before it breaks. TK looks back in time to see Jonah landing on the ground and looking up at him in confusion before the situation sinks in. Thankfully, Buttercup is by Jonah’s side within seconds, barking but not making any move to enter the ice. Instead, the dog seems to sense that he has to stay with Jonah, for which TK is thankful. One less thing to worry about.

“I’m going in,” Owen announces.

“Like hell you are,” TK counters. He scans the pond, the kid’s tiny arms sticking out of the cracks in the ice. “The ice won’t hold, not with your weight.”

“I’m saving that kid!” Owen insists.

“No, you aren’t,” TK replies calmly as he pulls his wool beanie further down. “I am.”

“What?” his father splutters. “TK, that’s insane!”

“I used to be a firefighter, Dad,” he reminds Owen. “I know it was a long time ago, but I haven’t forgotten. The longer we stay here arguing, the fewer chances that kid has. Call 911, I’m going in.” He doesn’t wait for his father to protest any more; instead, he lowers himself to his knees, and then lies on his belly, sliding forward inch by inch, ignoring the shrieks that come from Jonah.

“TK! Please come back!” his brother is shouting, sounding terrified. “TK!”

“He’s right,” he can hear his father saying. “Jonah, your brother’s the only one who can save that child. Help is on the way. Apparently three minutes out, TK!”

“Not soon enough,” he mutters through gritted teeth, ignoring the cold seeping through his clothes. He reaches the hole in the ice, the edges cutting through his gloves, and he looks down at the water. The kid isn’t anywhere to be seen. “Where are you?” he mutters.

There’s movement out of the corner of his eye; when he turns his head, he sees the kid fighting to get out of the water wildly. He supports himself on his right side and reaches out, grabbing the child’s hand and tugging at it. But in this position, TK’s not strong enough to counter the force of a scared child. Refusing to let go, TK notices too late the crack beneath his own body — and in the next second, he ends up breaking through the surface as well and being pulled down under the water.

Just before he goes down, he hears his father’s strained voice screaming his name.

“TK!”

He fights under the water; he fights for his life and he fights for the life of this unknown child who deserves to live. He pushes upwards, breaking the surface and managing to heave the kid out of the water and onto the ice. He hoists himself up, skin broken by the sharp edges of the ice on his way up. There’s a team of paramedics already skidding over the ice carefully; he can see his father and his brother standing on the sidelines, Jonah clinging to Buttercup’s fur, out of fear or to keep their dog from sprinting over to save TK himself, he doesn’t know. Tring to soothe their worry, TK waves awkwardly at them as one of the paramedics helps him across the pond and back onto dry land, where he is put on a gurney and being handed a towel.

He can see that Jonah wants to rush over but is held back by his father, who seems to be more in first responder mode than actual concerned dad mode — meaning he won’t interfere with the paramedics, even to check on his son himself.

For the moment, TK doesn’t know how to feel about this, so he decided to focus on the wellbeing of the kid he just saved instead.

“How is he?” he stammers as he watches the child being put on another gurney and rolled out. “Will he—”

“They’re taking him to the hospital,” the paramedic tending to him explains. “It looks promising, though. You saved his life.”

“Ah, great,” TK says softly. He looks around once again, realizing that he’s being pushed towards a second ambulance. Right away, he tries to slide off the gurney and get up on shaky legs, but he finds himself unable to move.

“Don’t move,” he hears the paramedic saying. “We’ll be taking you to the hospital as well.”

“I don’t need any hospital,” TK refutes. “I’m fine.” He manages to stand up and remain upright, shooting a defiant look at the paramedic. “See? No need for a hospital.”

The paramedic holds his gaze. For a long moment it’s a battle of wills, until the other man huffs. “We can’t tend to a patient who refuses treatment,” he finally says.

“I’ll make sure he’s checked,” his father, much closer now than before, promises the paramedic. “I’m a Fire Captain.”

“Thanks, but it won’t be necessary,” TK insists. “I’m right here, I’m doing fine.”

He watches as the paramedics retreat, shaking their heads and muttering some unintelligible words to themselves. He sighs as they walk away from them, feeling his limbs relax; he hadn’t realized he was tense.

“You’re a superhero, T!” his brother exclaims, freeing himself from Owen’s grip and tackling TK until they almost stumble to the ground. Buttercup is right behind him, licking any bit of TK’s skin he can reach. “That was amazing!”

He smiles softly at his brother as he steers them both towards where they left their shoes. “What do you say we go have some of your favorite dumplings to celebrate?” He can see the way happiness lights Jonah’s face; he’s still too young to understand the seriousness of what could have happened had he not crawled over the ice to save that kid.

Once they’ve switched their skates for their shoes, they start walking towards the street, TK ignoring his father’s voice that reminds him it would be better for him to go change into dry clothes. There will be time later, he reminds himself.

There’s always time.

“Son,” his father insists as they enter Ms. Fa’s restaurant after a ten-minute long walk. “You should have worn my coat. Yours is soaked.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m fine?” TK glares at him. He looks pointedly at Jonah. “I’m a superhero, remember?”

But the truth is that his clothes are sticky against his skin, his coat weighing down on him as he’s greeted by the heat emanating from the inside of the restaurant. He flops into a chair as they’re seated and fakes perusing the menu that he already knows by heart. TK’s skin is beginning to prickle as the heat seeps through his wet sweater, but he dismisses the creepy feeling rising in his gut as he only pays half a mind to whatever story Jonah is telling.

TK doesn’t heed the time — mere minutes or long hours could have passed — until he can’t ignore the crawling of his skin. He stands up, muttering an excuse about going to the bathroom for a moment, and he dodges his father’s concerned look as Jonah chatters on. TK is aware that he’s not being responsible, he knows he shouldn’t be left alone right now. Heck, he even knows he should have gone to the hospital.

He just hadn’t wanted Jonah to see him on a gurney, or checked into the emergency room, not so soon after everything with his father.

He locks himself in the bathroom, watching his reflection in the mirror as his body starts to feel on fire. His skin itches, and his clothes feel too heavy on him. He pulls his sweater off and feels immediate relief, but it’s not enough. It’s still almost unbearably sweltering.

He stumbles outside the bathroom and struggles to get out of the building. His mind is clouded; he thinks he came here with someone else, but he cannot remember if it was his father and his brother, or just his father.

“Why was I in there?” he mumbles to himself as he struggles to stay on his feet. He stumbles into a man who’s walking past the restaurant.

“Watch where you’re going!” the man exclaims.

But TK doesn’t really listen to anything; his body is screaming at him way too loud in a sudden hot agony. He doesn’t understand where it’s coming from; everything was so cold just a second ago. As he stumbles past a few bystanders, too stunned to do anything at first, TK begins shedding his clothes. He throws himself into the snow, the coolness of a white blanket washing over him.

Owen finds him like that a few minutes later, his voice frantic as he speaks to someone else. TK doesn’t know what’s going on around him anymore . “There he is!” he can hear his father exclaim. A few seconds later, his familiar face enters TK’s line of vision. “Hey, son, we’ve got some blankets for you.”

“I’m good, thanks,” he stammers. His lips feel frozen. “Where’s Jonah?” he asks in a sudden bout of clarity.

“He’s fine,” his father promises. “Now I’m worried about you. You’re getting frostbite. Why would you get rid of all your clothes?”

“I was burning up,” he tries to explain, but he feels hands grabbing at him and he recoils. “Get away from me!”

“Hey, son—”

“I said get away!” TK feels restless. “This feels—this feels good.”

“That’s combativeness,” an unknown voice supplies. “It’s a symptom of severe hypothermia.” TK tries to bury his face in the snow as strange hands pull him away. “All your blood has left your extremities, buddy. It’s around your core now, that’s why you feel so hot. It’s called—”

“—paradoxical undressing, I know,” he mutters. “I was a paramedic too, once.”

“Then you know what that means,” the voice keeps saying. “It means you’re near fatal. You need to let us help you.”

“What do you mean, near fatal?” his father’s voice pipes in, but TK’s almost completely lost consciousness by now.

He opens his mouth to retaliate, to make them see that he’s doing peachy, but the words that tumble from his mouth are in Hebrew. He recognizes them even in his feverish state — he learned this particular prayer when he was about ten years old, in Hebrew school. It can’t be a good sign. The voices mesh together in his head, creating a cacophony of yells and whispers, until it all becomes too much and he thinks he might explode from the tension. He opens his eyes, but it’s a great effort and he’s not strong enough. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be strong enough again.

He tries to reach for his father, to tell him to take care of Jonah, but even his hand betrays him and falls short, landing on the snow underneath him. He closes his eyes. He just wishes it will all end soon.

His wish is granted shortly after, and everything fades to black.

* ~ * ~ *

Carlos fixes his tie in front of the mirror for the third time in a row. He can’t seem to make it right, no matter how much he focuses on evening out the ends of the fabric. He sighs, turning around in defeat, only to find his daughter standing in the doorway, her long hair in a braid, waiting for him with a mug in her hands.

"Hey, Papi," she greets with a small smile. "La abuela dice que una tila te vendrá bien."

"She’s right, as always," he agrees. He motions for her to enter; Leyre obliges, offering him the mug as she sits down on the bed. "I guess I'm nervous, that's all."

Leyre nods. Carlos had sat her down before flying down to Austin for Christmas break and explained to his daughter what he was going to do there. She understands that he's going to an interview for a teacher position in a place that's not New York City, and she knows that there's a decent chance for him to actually be offered the job.

"I think I'd be nervous too," Leyre smiles. He sits beside her, sipping on the mug.

"Leyre, cariño," he begins. He sets aside the steaming mug and turns to face her. "This is just an option. It's not the only one. I don't want you to think that—"

"I know there aren’t many jobs for you in New York for the time being," she interrupts him. "I—overheard you and Auntie Tommy and Auntie Nancy talking the other day. It's not like we were, uh, eavesdropping or anything."

"Sure," he says softly, biting back a smile. He remembers the conversation his daughter is talking about; he'd been despairing about accepting the interview because it meant he was actually considering uprooting Leyre and disregarding what Iris had wanted for her daughter. The three of them — and Mateo, who hadn't been present for that conversation because he'd been doing another interview, which had unfortunately gone awry — had come to the conclusion that there were very slim chances of them all working in the city, but even fewer of them working together again should they stay in New York. The positions offered in Austin could be their only chance, individually but also as a group of friends who wanted to stick together. And, more importantly for Tommy and Carlos, for keeping the girls together in the same school as well. Carlos is aware of prices in New York; he'd never be able to afford a similar school for Leyre if he wasn't working at said school. Same goes for Tommy, but neither of them wants the girls to be separated.

"Papi," Leyre begins, her face serious all of a sudden. "I know you think Mom wanted me to grow up in New York. I know that's what she said in her will. But I think she'd have wanted me to be happy."

"That she would have."

"I'm happy," she declares. "And it has nothing to do with being in New York. I'm happy because I'm with you, and because I have a family I love, I have Abuela and Abuelo, I have my Aunties, I have Izzie and Evie. And I have you." Leyre hugs him tight. "I didn't understand half of the things you said about jobs and schools when you were talking to Auntie Tommy and Auntie Nancy. But I know you're sad, Papi. And it has a lot to do with New York."

Carlos shakes his head, hugging her back and then releasing her from his grip so he can see her face. Ever since they came back to Austin the night before Christmas Eve, he's been able to breathe. He hadn't been aware of how much he'd been dreading running into TK outside the school; Carlos had seen Jonah every day, he'd witnessed how the kid had slowly begun smiling again. Carlos knows he can't resent Jonah for being who he is, for who his brother is; and yet he's been scared of coming face to face with TK because it's easier to fake being happy with an eleven-year-old. TK would have seen right through his lies.

"Leyre—"

"Don't tell me it's adult stuff," she cuts him off again. "I know it is. I don't really understand why you and TK aren't together anymore. But I know that, whatever it is, you're trying not to let it affect me. Jonah feels the same."

Carlos sighs again. He knows Leyre and Jonah have been talking, both at school and outside of school, having lunch together every day and texting every afternoon. Since the start of Christmas break, he’s seen her very often with her phone, so he can only guess that she’s still in contact with him, even now. He would never forbid his daughter from speaking to Jonah; TK and he might have broken up, but he's convinced the kids don't have to pay for their mistakes.

"If I'm offered the position and we come here," Carlos starts. "And that's a big if, Leyre, you wouldn't see Jonah that much. It would be very hard on both of you."

Leyre looks down at her hands. "We, uh, Jonah and I have talked about it. I told him that we might move."

"And what did he say?" Carlos asks carefully; he's not sure what relationship keeps Leyre and Jonah together these days. He remembers her thanking him for being the brother she never had; she'd been asking for a sibling for forever, and Jonah had filled this void without even really trying. And he knows that their relationship had only strengthened over the weeks of almost constant cohabitation.

"He may relocate too," she confesses. "I'm not sure I can tell you this. But Jonah thinks TK might want to move to Los Angeles or something like that now that he's writing music for the new album he’s recording. So there's going to be a lot of changes and we've promised nothing will change between us. Jonah’s my little brother. I wouldn't be a good big sister if I allowed us to fall apart."

"When did you grow up?" he mutters, choking up.

"I've watched a lot of shows," she says nonchalantly. "And I've spent a lot of time around Auntie Nancy."

"That might explain a lot," he mumbles with a little laugh. He hugs her tight once again before saying, "I need to finish my tea and get ready for my interview. I promise I will tell you everything once I get home. What are you going to do today?"

"Evie and Izzie want to try a new bowling place that's just opened downtown. Abuelo has promised to take us."

"Well, aren't you a lucky girl?" He ruffles her hair, messing up her braid.

"Papi!" she complains.

"What?" he says innocently.

"Abuelo said that he didn't get enough days off when you were little, so now he's trying to take as many as he can when we're around," she explains. "Maybe you can come to pick us up after your interview? Is it far from the bowling arena?"

Carlos chuckles. He knows where this bowling place is — it's built in a revamped area downtown — and it's actually not far from the school where his interview is being held. "I think I can make it work. But I thought you'd be too old for your father to pick you up."

"Never, Papi," she promises. "Now I have to go and get my braid redone. Abuela's going to be so mad at you."

"Oh, yeah, I bet," he teases as she scurries out of the room.

Once again alone in his old bedroom, which has remained the same as it was when he was a teenager, Carlos scoffs at himself. When he first took care of Leyre, he’d promised himself that he would never put more pressure on her shoulders than necessary. Right now, though, it feels as though she’s carrying the weight of this decision, whatever the outcome.

He walks downstairs to find his father sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. It hits Carlos hard, the resemblance to all those mornings when he was growing up, when his father would just sit there drinking his black coffee with no sugar — just like real men have their coffee, son, he used to say — before starting their days. It brings Carlos back to the morning after he came out, and how everything remained the same except for one thing.

His father hadn’t looked him in the eye then.

“Morning,” he mumbles. His mother greets him from the stove, where she’s finishing what smells like pancakes. “Please tell me you haven’t cooked pancakes for Leyre again, Mom.”

“I have to spoil my granddaughter whenever I see her, Carlitos,” his mother retaliates, flipping the last pancake.

“Luckily, if the interview goes well, we’ll be seeing much more of you both,” his father says in that voice of his that’s not judgmental but hurts Carlos all the same. It’s the tone he used when he told Carlos that he was too soft to become a police officer; the same tone he addressed him with after Carlos had announced he was leaving Austin for New York City to take care of a baby he hadn’t even known existed until that moment.

Carlos tries to let it go. He really does; he sits across the table from his father and picks on a few grapes that his mother keeps in a bowl on top of the surface. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to drink coffee today, and he’s forgotten his tea upstairs. He’s focusing on chewing on the grapes when his father speaks again.

“I mean it, Carlos. If they offer you that job, you should take it. It’d be convenient to have the family close now that Leyre is becoming a little woman.”

“I have my family close already,” Carlos mumbles before he can stop himself. He takes a sharp breath when he realizes what he just said; he’s never contradicted his father in front of other people. He’s always been scared of his reaction.

“What did you just say?” Gabriel Reyes folds the newspaper in half and stares at Carlos over his readers. “How can you have your family close when everyone in our family lives in Austin while you’re still on your little adventure in New York City?”

“Gabriel,” Andrea warns him as she flitters around the kitchen, one plate with pancakes ready to be taken to Leyre. “I’m going to take this to my granddaughter,” she says pointedly. “Behave.”

When she leaves the kitchen, Carlos looks back down at the bowl with the grapes while his father keeps staring right at him. “Carlos,” he says. “What do you mean, you have your family close?”

“Exactly what it sounds like, sir,” he replies, finally looking up. He remembers the conversation with his mother, the way they’ve started to make amends after almost twenty years of miscommunication, and he wishes it were as easy with his father. Gabriel Reyes is a tough Texas Ranger who must consider him a disgrace to the family. “In New York, I have family around. Tommy, Nancy, Mateo, the twins. They’ve been my family for longer than I can remember.”

“And so you’ve replaced your blood family, just like that?” Gabriel shuffles in his chair. “What have we ever done to you that it was so easy to stop coming back home, and practically ignore us for a decade?”

“What have you—Dear Lord,” Carlos exclaims, looking up at the ceiling. He worries his lower lip with his teeth, trying and failing to find the right words to say, words that aren’t spoken out of resentment. Ever since he sat at this very spot almost twenty years ago and lived through his father’s indifference, Carlos has been trying to tame the disappointment and the anger. Right now, he isn't sure he's doing a good job of it.

"Don't use the—"

"—name of the Lord in vain," Carlos finishes in an almost mocking way. "God forbid we tackle the actual problem here."

"What is the actual problem, son? Other than you running away from Austin?"

"Have you ever thought about why I left?" Carlos almost yells. "Have you ever thought about that morning after I told you that I’m gay?" His voice falters on the last word, his throat feeling as though it was closing up in itself. "You never acknowledged it. You ignored it, you just swept it under the rug! Were you ashamed of me? Are you ashamed of me now?"

His father looks back at him, his face contorted in a painful rictus that Carlos has never seen before. "Your mother was right," he mumbles. "We hadn't realized how our actions had affected you. I didn't believe her when she told me how hurt you were—how hurt you still are."

"What do you mean?" Carlos blinks at him. After the conversation with his mother, he had expected his father to never bring up the subject; he'd thought his mother would have updated his father and that'd be it, following previous experiences.

To be honest, he’s surprising himself right now by breaching the topic.

"I mean that I should have told you how much I love you long before today," Gabriel says softly. "I didn't realize how my silence affected you. I thought acting like nothing had changed would help you realize you were the same in our eyes. Clearly it didn't work."

"Clearly," Carlos retorts dryly. "I don't think I'll ever forget that conversation, the morning after."

"The Astros bullpen," his father recites slowly. “The price of unleaded. The new calf on our family ranch."

"You remember."

"I do because I crafted that conversation with your mother that night," his father confesses. "We wanted to show you that life went on the same because for us, nothing had changed. Guess we missed our mark."

His whole way of living has been a lie from the beginning; there never was a reason for him not to introduce any of his boyfriends to his parents. There was never a reason for him to break up with any of them because of that.

He could have avoided TK storming out of his life.

"I feel stupid," he continues.

"I'm sorry, son," his father says. "I should never have said that you were too soft for the Academy. I didn't mean it was because you're gay, but now I see how that's the way you took it."

"What did you mean, then?"

"I meant that you've always had too big a heart, you've always been special, Carlos. It’s a horrible world out there. I didn't want you to be tainted by it."

Carlos shakes his head. He has always felt unsafe in his skin, unsafe in the way he lived his life, all for nothing.

And yet, his father’s words free him in a way he'd never expected to be freed.

"I'm sorry," his father says again. "I never wanted to put a wedge between us. Now I see I did."

"It's—it's fine," he whispers.

"I just hope one day you want to introduce us to any of your boyfriends, Carlitos. Your mom told me about—well, you know. What happened with TK. That you two were—an item. That you broke up. I'm sorry. You two looked happy together."

"We were," Carlos sighs. He had only dreamed about talking about these things with his father. "But now that's gone and I'm not sure—I feel like I'm going to feel numb forever."

"Nothing ever stays the same, Carlos," his father says wisely. "Keep that in mind. And now, shouldn't you be going? You don't want to be late for your interview!"

Carlos will be able to enter his interview with a clear head and a light heart. It seems as though the weight he's been holding on his shoulders for the best part of his life has been lifted, and he can breathe. He’s sure his meeting will go well because he isn't thinking of anything else — his daughter is safe with her friends, his parents accept him wholly, and for the first time it looks like he has a chance at a job. But before he gets there, he meets Tommy and Nancy outside the school, waiting for their turn.

"Is Mateo still in there?" he asks in lieu of greeting when he reaches them.

"Yeah," Nancy replies. She sounds nervous, her fingers tapping on her thigh as she sits on a bench beneath a tree. "Tommy made me leave."

"You were about to have a heart attack, sweetie," Tommy tells her. "You're more nervous about Mateo's interview than you were about your own."

"How was yours, Nancy?" Carlos tries to distract her, earning himself a grateful glance from Tommy. He knew Nancy had been the first one to go in; Mateo had accompanied her for moral support, and Tommy had said she'd be there right after dropping the twins at the bowling arena. Carlos could have done the same, but his father offering to take Leyre had given him time to reflect and go on a small walk before the interview.

"I think I nailed it," Nancy says. "But I'm scared about Mateo. If I make it but he doesn't, or the other way around—"

"You'll make it," Carlos assures her. "And Mateo will as well. They need teachers, and they're looking for the best. Nance, we are the best. We're a team that works perfectly. They'd be crazy not to have us all."

Nancy heaves a sigh. "I hope you're right. I don't think I can make it work long distance."

"So you're finally admitting you're dating Mateo?" Carlos teases.

"Oh, shut up!" Nancy shoves him before spotting Mateo exiting the building. "There!"

"This is my cue to leave," Tommy says. "It's my turn now."

Carlos nods, bracing himself for the exchange he's about to witness between Nancy and Mateo. He loves them, and they've been quite private with their relationship; they've never confirmed nor denied dating, but now that Carlos has somewhat forced the truth out of Nancy, he expects them to be all mushy and sweet together.

They aren't.

Whether it's out of respect for him or because Nancy hasn't had the time to warn Mateo that they're busted, Carlos doesn't know. But he listens as Mateo goes on about the gym and the different resources the new school would have for Physical Education, and how he feels he's going to be offered the position. He's confident in his ability to nail the interview.

He walks into the building with a sure step, and asks at the front desk for Zoe Jakobson, the woman who's supposed to be interviewing him. He's shown to a small meeting room where he waits for a few minutes until the door is opened once again and a middle-aged woman wearing black-rimmed glasses enters. She's nice, and she asks all the right questions. Carlos feels at ease with her; he talks at length about his experience and how he's from Austin raised and born, how coming back would be a dream come true. He figures lying a bit will help his case; it isn't that he doesn't want to come back, it's that he isn't that thrilled.

"Well, Mr. Reyes," Zoe Jakobson tells him by the end of it. "I'm really glad you came all the way down here three days before New Year's Eve. I think I have all I need for now."

"Please don't hesitate to call me if you need anything else," he offers, standing up when she does, reaching out to shake her hand. "I will be here for a few days after New Year's, but even if I'm back in New York I will be available."

Carlos steps out of the building and sees his friends waiting for him under the tree where he left Nancy and Mateo when Tommy had exited the school. He frowns when he sees them crouched over what seems like a phone in Nancy’s hand.

"Hey," he says as he approaches them. "I think we have a fighting chance here!"

"Carlos," Tommy says in a soft, low voice. "Sit down, please."

"What's going on?" he asks, confused. His friends look up at him with pity and concern in his eyes, but before he can say anything his phone starts ringing. He checks the caller ID and blinks in surprise when he reads Judd Ryder on the screen. "What—" He lets it go to voicemail. "Okay, what's up?"

His phone blares again.

"Shit!"

"I think you should take the call," Mateo tells him. "Carlos, please just sit down and pick up the phone."

Carlos allows his gaze to jump from Nancy’s worried frown to Mateo's wide eyes to Tommy's concerned face. The call goes to voicemail before the phone rings again with a vengeance. "What's going on?"

Nancy shoves her phone into his hands and pulls him down so he practically falls onto the bench, squinting at the screen. The letters glare at him from the small device.

EXCLUSIVE. Pop singer TK Strand admitted to hospital after freak accident

"Freak accident?" Carlos stammers. His phone begins ringing once again. This time, his hands shake when he goes to pick it up.

"Take the call, Carlos," Tommy insists. "I'll go pick up the girls. You guys make sure he gets back home safe and sound. I think there's a trip back to New York in the near future."

Carlos swipes his thumb over the screen and lifts the phone to his ear as Tommy walks away swiftly. "Judd?"

"Thank God I've reached you, Carlos." There's despair in Judd’s voice. "Have you watched the news today?"

"I—I've just seen—"

"Where are you? Are you still in Austin?" Judd now sounds frantic, his words rushed and mashing together like he doesn’t know where one syllable ends and the next begins. “Please tell me you’re still in Austin.”

“I’m—I’m still in Austin,” Carlos confirms. “Why?”

“Are you alone right now?” Judd demands.

“No, I’m with—” He checks around him. Tommy has left, but Nancy and Mateo are still close to him. He realizes he’s still holding Nancy’s phone in his hands, the anchor talking over a photo of TK during one of his early photoshoots. He hands it back as though it’s burning his skin; maybe it has. He can feel his fingers tingling. “I’m with Nancy and Mateo.”

“Okay, can you pass the phone to either one of them?” Judd requests. “I need to come pick you up, but I don’t think you’re in any shape to give me an address where to.”

“Look who’s talking,” Carlos manages to drawl back, finally understanding that he’s listening to Judd trying to keep it together for his sake when his voice is on the brink of breaking. “Why do you—Are you in Austin too?”

“Pass me on to Nancy or Mateo, please,” Judd commands. Carlos blinks as he lifts his phone from his ear and offers it to Nancy.

“Judd wants to talk to you.”

Nancy frowns but takes the device, putting it to her ear and exchanging a few words with Judd. Carlos hears everything as though he’s underwater; the voices are distorted as only one sound fills his head.

It doesn’t take him long to realize that it’s him murmuring freakaccidentfreakaccidentfreakaccident over and over until his voice grows hoarse and the tears start falling, the reality of the moment finally sinking in.

“C’mon, bud,” Nancy says after hanging up and pocketing his phone. “I’ll take care of this for the time being. We’re taking you back home. Judd will pick you up in half an hour.”

“What for?” Carlos asks dumbly, his throat closing up as he speaks. “And what about your car?”

“Well,” Nancy explains. “I’m driving yours and Mateo will follow us in his, since we came to the interview together.”

Carlos follows his friend to the truck his father usually lends him when they're visiting Austin. Nancy helps him into the passenger seat and, after exchanging a quick glance with Mateo, walks around the vehicle to enter the cabin from the driver’s side. Carlos isn’t really aware of anything; he’s hyper focused on the news and the lack of information and his own inability at gathering more data because Nancy has taken his phone away.

The drive back home is a blur in his mind. He doesn’t register the trees speeding by on the sidewalks or the lights that Nancy is forced to stop at. Carlos only realizes that they’ve reached their destination when Nancy halts the car just outside of his parents’ ranch. She ushers him out and guides him inside, where everything seems to be in shambles; he spots his father puttering around with a duffel bag while his mother is sternly talking to Leyre, who’s standing in the middle of the living room with her own duffel bag. Carlos wonders where she’s going; he doesn’t remember having allowed her to go on a sleepover with the twins. His head feels like it is filled with cotton, and nothing he thinks seems to get through the walls the fear has built.

"Mijo," his mother greets him. "You're finally here. Your friend Judd is waiting for you in the kitchen."

"The kitchen?" he repeats mechanically. His mother escorts him, where he spots Judd leaning against the counter, looking nervous. "Judd."

"Hey, Carlos," the other man greets, pushing off the counter.

"What happened?"

"I don't know much," Judd tells him slowly. "All I know is that a kid fell through the ice in a pond. TK tried to save him, and he went under."

"Why did he—"

"I guess old habits die hard," Judd muses. "He used to be a paramedic, a long time ago. He's in a coma, Carlos. Owen says—he says it's not looking good."

Carlos lets the words sink in. They shake his very core, but among the tumultuous feelings that are piling in his gut, he summons enough strength to ask, "What about Jonah?"

"He's refusing to leave the hospital," Judd explains. "But that’s all I know, Owen hasn’t told me much more. We're visiting family, just like you, so I wasn’t there. I’ve only been informed maybe an hour ago."

"And what do you want me to do? It's not like I can hop on a plane and enter his hospital room, hold vigil for him," Carlos states.

"Why not? TK would love for you to be there. Jonah as well. Hell, Carlos, Marj and Paul and me, we all miss you too."

"Judd, you can't convince me that TK would want me there. We're talking about a man who doesn't even want me in his life. He walked all over my heart and never let me explain."

"TK loves you," Judd says simply but firmly. "He's going to kill me when he wakes up," he continues, pointedly stressing when, "but it's true."

"Does he even talk about me?" Carlos' words aren't mean; he's just asking a question he knows the answer to.

"Honestly, not much," Judd answers truthfully. "But he does bite off my head any time I bring up your name. Anyone's, really. He doesn't wanna hear it because it's too painful for him," Judd rushes to say when Carlos moves to retaliate. "Which means he still has it bad for you. It's obvious. TK loves you."

"If he loves me so much… then why did he break my heart?" Carlos mumbles, eyes tearing up. This time, he can't keep the tears at bay and some rebellious ones travel down his face.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Judd offers. "There's a plane taking off in an hour and a half. I can get tickets."

"I'm going," comes a voice at Carlos' back. When he turns around, he sees Leyre standing in the doorway, her duffel bag already dangling from her shoulder. Carlos' mother rushes up behind her, shooting her son an apologetic look. "I'm going to New York."

"Nobody's going anywhere," Carlos admonishes her. "And you wouldn't fly to New York for this anyway."

"Try stopping me," Leyre retorts defiantly. "You're not the only one who misses them. You're not the only one who loves them, Papi. I've seen the news. Jonah must be so scared." She wipes at her face. "I'm going," she repeats stubbornly.

"I can get three tickets for New York," Judd intervenes. "What do you say, Carlos? You coming?"

An hour and a half later, Carlos is sandwiched between Judd and Leyre on a charter flight to New York, not sure what they're going to face when they land in the city.

The hospital stands threateningly in front of them when they climb out of the cab that's taken them straight from the airport. Paparazzi are already swarming the place but they’re held back at the entrance and Judd navigates them through the mob. Carlos knows that their faces will be all over the news withing seconds — but to be honest, it’s the least of his concerns right now. He let’s Judd lead them through the massive building, following instructions he's reading on his phone, until they reach a quiet section on the sixth floor. There aren't many people fluttering around the place, and with a start, Carlos realizes that it’s a private sector when they’re stopped by security, who asks for identification. Judd taked care of it and not even a minute later, they step into an equally quiet waiting room. Carlos’ gaze immedietly zeroes in on Jonah.

The child is sitting on a chair, slumped forward with his shoulders trembling as if he's crying. All his instincts kick in at once; Carlos doesn't even think, he just moves, and in two long strides he's kneeling in front of Jonah, disregarding everyone else in the waiting room.

"Hey, buddy," he greets softly. His hands land gently on Jonah’s knees. "We're here."

"Carlos?" Jonah mumbles. It's a testimony to how devastated he must be feeling that he isn't resorting to calling him Mr. Reyes. "Are you real?"

"Yes, yes, we are," Carlos promises. He opens his arms and Jonah falls into his embrace easily. "Come here, Leyre," he whispers to his daughter. "Come."

They hug tightly, hanging onto each other when Leyre joins them. Carlos manages to extricate himself from the embrace and leaves the two kids holding onto each other for dear life. When he looks up, he's met with the crystal clear gaze of Owen Strand, Paul and Marjan at each of his sides, holding paper cups. Carlos nods at them and they nod back, but his attention is once again on Owen. He's only seen TK’s father on a screen, but the resemblance is even more striking in person — Carlos can see now where TK’s features come from. "Sir," he greets nervously, stretching out his hand.

Owen Strand grabs onto it and tugs at him until they're hugging as well. "Carlos," Owen says. "I wish we'd met under different circumstances."

"Me too, sir."

"Call me Owen, please."

Carlos shrugs the suggestion off. He turns towards the door to the room closest to the waiting room while Owen greets Judd. When he peeks inside, Carlos can see TK lying on a bed, unmoving and with a myriad of tubes and machines hooked up to him. He watches as TK’s chest heaves up and down, as his hands twitch and his head jerks from one side to the other. It's almost as if he's dreaming.

"The nurses said they're just muscle spasms," Owen tells him. It's then when Carlos realizes he must have talked out loud. "They don't mean anything."

Carlos nods with a sigh.

"I think you need to talk to him, Carlos," Owen says, straightforwardly. "They’re saying… We don't really have that much time, son."

"No." Carlos shakes his head stubbornly. "I wouldn't know what to say."

"We don't have much time," Owen repeats. "You go in there, you tell him what's on your mind and in your heart."

Carlos scoffs. "If I told him what's in my heart, it wouldn't be very nice."

"Because you're angry?" When Carlos nods his answer, Owen continues. "Then tell him."

"I can't right now," Carlos says in despair. "I just can't."

"Now is the time," Owen tells him in a soft voice. "He needs to hear it and you need to say it. Heaven forbid that this is your last chance to say what you need to say to my son. I'll be outside." He pats Carlos' shoulder before moving back to the waiting area, leaving Carlos alone in the doorway, half in and half out, just like he's been feeling these past months. If he's being honest, he's been feeling like this for most of his life.

The only moments when he's felt at home have been with TK.

Making up his mind, Carlos takes a few steps into the room and drags a chair closer to the bed. He flops down, boneless and exhausted, and after a beat he leans in, resting his elbows on the mattress. His hands land next to TK’s but he keeps his fingers away from TK’s skin. He's not sure whether TK would welcome his touch, if he were awake.

"Hey, TK," he begins. His voice breaks as he speaks, and another tear escapes his eyes. "It's me. I've come all the way from Austin. Leyre’s here as well. I don't—I don’t even know if you want this. But I guess you're not in any position to walk out this time. And even if you can't—you can't hear it, your father's right. I just need to say it." He inhales deeply. "Yeah, I've met your father. Horrible timing. But it is what it is." He inches forward, his fingers itching to touch TK and yet he’s keeping a distance. "I'm so mad at you right now," Carlos continues. "And the worst part about this is—if this is—goodbye." He chokes up on his own words, tears now streaming freely down his cheeks. "I can't even hold your hand. Or run my fingers through your hair, or—kiss your head. Not without it feeling like it's some kind of violation." Carlos lets his head fall forward until his forehead is touching the white linen on the bed. "Judd says that you want me here. I'm not so sure. Because the truth is, TK, that I don’t know what to think, what to feel. You know, my mother used to tell me something when I was little. Believe people when they tell you who they are," he remembers. "Just believe them, right?"

And it's like a dam has broken and the flood of his feelings has been unchained. Unraveled, everything Carlos has been bottling up for the past few weeks they've been apart comes out of his mouth as he breathes heavily through his nose. He tells TK about his parents and the fear and how unsafe he felt until he met TK. He talks about growing up in Austin and meeting Iris.

"And this is something I should have told you before," Carlos mutters. He's lost track of time; he isn't sure if he's been inside this room, talking to TK’s too quiet form, for hours or for mere seconds. "I know who killed your mother, TK. It was an accident, I swear, but I didn't want you to know because you'd have seen me differently. Jonah would have hated us, and I couldn't stand the idea of him hating Leyre. They're so good for each other. But it was Iris, TK. Iris was the rider who crashed into your mom and killed her on the spot. I'm so, so sorry."

There's a weight that's lifted off his chest as he speaks, as if with every word he utters he becomes freer and freer. His sobs are louder as well, his words slurred by the end of his sentences. He stops for a moment to collect himself, using the long sleeves of his Henley to dry his tears. "I love you, TK. I never told you enough. But I love you. And I—I forgive you for leaving," he whispers, his fingertips almost grazing TK's. "I forgive you for that. But if you leave me now, I will never forgive you."

He's about to keep talking when a ruckus outside catches his attention. He checks the machines hooked to TK to ensure he's doing fine, and only then does he stand up to see what the source of the noise is. He peeks outside, and what he witnesses makes his heart drop.

Alex Fletcher, surrounded by three or four photographers and a couple of journalists, is arguing with Owen and Judd. Carlos briefly wonders how on Earth anyone at a respectable hospital has allowed this cohort of intruders to barrel into the waiting room. Where on Earth was the security that had stopped Judd and him earlier?

"Let me in!" Alex demands in a voice way too loud to be used in a hospital. "It's within my rights to come visit my fiancé."

"Your what now?" Paul says, stepping in front of Judd. Carlos can see a vein ready to pop in the bodyguard's neck; he's grateful for Paul stepping forward. "I think you're still living in the past."

"Oh, didn't he tell you?" Alex says in a fake bored voice. "After he dumped that teacher-lover of his, he came back to me. He forgave me for my mistakes and I forgave him for breaking up with me. I have every right to be here, and I'll make sure no one keeps me from that." He gestures at the group of journalists accompanying him.

"And you've brought the whole of Fox News to a hospital to prove your point?" Carlos intervenes. His hand rests on the doorway. "You should learn to lose with grace."

"What are you doing here?" Alex screeches. "Who let you in?"

"Actually," Owen says calmly, "I did."

"Well, I'm revoking whatever rights you think you have," Alex snarls. "I'm still TK’s power of attorney. You can check it. He never changed it. And while you're checking," Alex continues, viciously, "I say that he gets thrown out of here."

Carlos blinks at him. He remembers vaguely talking to TK about powers of attorney and wills, and getting into a fight when TK confessed he didn't have a will. However, he doesn't remember if TK mentioned something about having changed his power of attorney.

But Carlos is exhausted. He came to say his piece; he wasn't counting on Alex bombing his visit, but in hindsight it makes sense. Carlos hadn't expected TK to mourn their relationship for as long as Carlos has; he's tried not to believe the rumors linking his ex boyfriend with Alex Fletcher though. He thought TK would have more self-respect. He’d chosen to believe how vehemently TK had denied a rekindling of his old relationship.

Turns out he was wrong.

"It's okay," he says when he sees Owen start to protest. The journalists turn around to take pictures of every confrontation, like the vultures Carlos has always known they are. "Owen, it's okay. I'll leave. I don’t want a fight in the hospital."

"Now," Alex hisses.

Carlos nods but he doesn't budge. For a moment, he stares into Alex's brown eyes and sees a constellation of hatred and contempt. "You don't deserve him," he says slowly. He wants his message to be understood. "He's the sun and you only want to steal his light. One day," he promises, "one day he'll get free of you. But today, I'm letting you win."

With one last glance over his shoulder, Carlos walks out of the room and steps aside as Alex and his cohort of journalists make a fuss and invade the space where TK’s supposed to be resting. He meets Owen’s unwavering gaze, Judd’s frown, and Marjan's questioning eyebrow. He meets Paul's nod of assent, the only one who seems to understand why he isn't fighting back. He walks towards Jonah and Leyre, who are sitting on the chairs next to the window, and squats in front of them.

"We need to go now," he announces in what he hopes is a steady voice. He knows he's only half successful when Leyre turns her worried gaze from Jonah to him. "We've overstayed our welcome, Leyre."

"Please," Jonah whimpers. He's holding Leyre’s hand; Carlos watches as his grip tightens. "Please stay. I'm scared."

"We can't stay any longer," Carlos tells him. "Not today."

"Will you be back?" Jonah’s eyes are hopeful as he looks up at him.

"We will," he promises in a soft voice. He helps his daughter to her feet and holds out his hand for her to grab. "I love you, Jonah," he says as farewell, dropping a kiss on the kid's head. Only vaguely, he registers the flash of a camera.

Ignoring it as well as the voices inside of him, screaming for him to stay and fight, he turns around, Leyre in tow, and heads for the exit. When they walk past TK’s family, Carlos mumbles, "Take good care of him," to nobody in particular before marching towards the elevator.

Heart shattered in a million pieces, he walks out of the hospital, past even more paparazzi, and into the streets of New York City. He only allows himself to break down when Leyre’s wails have dwindled down, hours later, in the solitude of their apartment.

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Hey! Do you know any fics where Blaine's parents are protective? Thank you!

You should also check out these posts in the library.

This post sets out fics where Blaine is close to his parents.

Here is a post of fics where Blaine has supportive parents.

- HKVoyage

My Reader by Cleverboots

Kurt is looking for an after-school job. He finds an ad on the school bulletin board for a job reading aloud for someone. It pays well and seems easy, so Kurt applies. He gets the job and goes to the mansion to read for a boy that was severely injured in an accident. Of course you know the boy’s name is Blaine Anderson. After a rocky start, they become friends and an amazing opportunity opens up for Kurt.

~~~~~

Express Yourself by Esperanto

When he was 4, he didn’t notice it. When he was 6, he hoped he could outgrow it. When he was 14 he thought he could ignore it. When he was 16, he tried hide it.

When Blaine is attacked for being different, he transfers to a new school where he meets a cadre of misfits called The New Directions, who seem very impressed with his singing and very curious about his past. Blaine just wanted to fit in but maybe he will find something better: his voice.

[A canon-divergent story in which Blaine transferred to McKinley rather than Dalton after being attacked at his old school.]

Sequel: Love Yourself

~~~~~

As the Present Now Will Later be Past by CarolineShea

Written for the 2011 Klainebigbang, with accompanying artwork by Nina/Dearthursday. Blaine and Kurt’s deepening relationship dredges up some painful memories from Blaine’s father’s past. The fall-out affects not only Blaine’s relationship with his dad, but his relationship with Kurt and his understanding of himself. Title taken from the Bob Dylan song: ‘The Times They Are A-Changin.’

[ETA] Here are some additional recs.

Lima/Heights Junction by @quizasvivamos

Just as summer vacation is winding down, a fire leaves the kids of Lima Heights without a high school to return to. While necessary repairs are being made, its rival school McKinley High opens its doors to the students of the adjacent town. An inevitable clashing takes place, and tensions run high, but can they find a common ground to overcome their differences to survive this temporary hardship?

~~~~~

How Far I'll Go by @jayhawk-writes

In a world where soulmates are found by touching one another, little Kurt, who’s been bullied even at the tender age of three, has finally found some friends. As kids do, to say goodbye, Kurt hugs three of his friends and earns himself a soulmark. The only problem? He doesn’t know who it belongs to. Filling this prompt by @justawriterwithdreams: Soulmate has a mark on the place where their soulmate first touches them.

~~~~~

The Writing on My Skin by @jayhawk-writes

*Filling this prompt by @silentpeaches on Tumblr: Whatever mark you get on your skin, your soulmate gets it, too. One day, you just kind of get a sharpie and start writing on your skin. You definitely didn’t expect to get a reply, but you did. Now it’s five in the morning, and you’re just about covered in ink; this will be a pain to wash off later.

**Soulmates, when the younger of the two turns 16, both get a unique mark somewhere on their skin that will have or has had some meaning to them. They can write to each other back and forth by writing on their skin. Kurt Hummel has been waiting for his soulmate to finally turn 16 so that he would have someone to talk to about all of the things he can't tell his dad or other friends. Nobody really knows how bad the bullying has gotten at McKinley. He hopes that his soulmate can help him get through this tough time, but he has no way of knowing that Fate, and Noah Puckerman, will lead him right to his soulmate.

[gretavanfleetlove]

Not mad?

AN: this is unedited and I’m pretty sure really bad 😬 but I’ve been working on it for awhile so here you go! 💕. And I’m gonna tag @joshstambourine and @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies because I shared the fic with them beforehand :) Summary: y/n and Josh have liked each other for awhile but have been too afraid to admit their feelings especially because of y/n’s protective little brother.

I nervously knocked on the Kiszka’s door. Danny, my brother, has been bugging me to go to one of his band practices and at least play a song or two with them for awhile now. It’s only a couple songs though right? It’s nothing bad, and plus Danny is one of your best friends and your brother. I can’t let him down. So here I am. I wanted to go with Danny so it wouldn’t be so awkward but, of course he was already there.

As I was nervously twiddling my thumbs, Sammy opened the door with Danny standing right next to him.

“Hey y/n!!” Sam happily said. That makes me feel a little more comfortable.

“Hi Sammy, what's up?” I asked, trying to hide my nerves.

“Nothin much we were just waiting for you.” He said, moving to the side to let you in the door.

“Oh awesome sorry I’m a little late.” I said with a smile. Which got cut off by Danny tackling me in a hug from behind.

Sam told me everything was fine and went to get me a soda, when Josh walked out. “Oh hey y/n/n.” He said nonchalantly. “H-hey Josh,” I managed to get out. See what I forgot to mention before is that I’ve had a huge crush on Josh since about 8th grade. Which is completely stupid since he’s one of my little brothers best friends but still. How could I not be head over heels for him?

He’s always been a gentleman, he’s kind, he’s talented, and loves his mother I mean come on he has everything!

But here I am at his house tripping over every word like an idiot.

“Hey y/n!” Jake said happily coming in from the garage. “Hey!” I replied, taking my attention away from Josh.

“Is everyone ready?” Danny asked, walking over next to me.

“Hold on,” Sam exclaimed and started chugging his soda.

“You probably don’t wanna see the rest of that come on.” Laughed Josh as he lightly took my hand, leading me into the garage. “You can ask Jake where to set everything up because well I don’t know.”

I chuckled at the fact he didn’t know where his own band, in his own house sets up their things.

“K thanks.” I replied shyly.

“Of course.” He said with a smirk, making eye contact.

(TIME SKIP)

I just finished up with the band, and it was amazing! Danny made sure I was comfortable and he and Sammy gave me a little tour of the house after I set my things up. And Jake was great, he was very welcoming to another guitarist and we fed off of each other really well. And Josh, Josh is incredible. I tried to give him compliments on his voice without sounding, I don’t know, needy. But, all feelings aside, his voice is insanely beautiful. He looked insanely beautiful singing too! “Y/n y/n y/n!!!” Daniel's loud voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “Danny Danny Danny!!” I yelled back matching his energy.

“How was it I think it was great you sounded really good so yeah and like I think I was good too and you and Josh seemed to click well and-“

“Shhhhh” I cut him off, laughing. And also impressed he said that in one breath.

“It was great Danny. I loved it, and yes you sounded amazing. Hopefully the other guys think the same?” That last part I phrased as more of a question, pretty much asking if the boys said anything in particular about it.

“Oh they did!” Danny says with a smile.

(TIME SKIP again don’t hate me*two months later*)

“That was great y/n really.” Josh said quietly to me as we walked off the small stage.

“Thanks,” I replied blushing. My crush on Josh has only grown since I’ve joined the band. Being together all the time, performing together, and even staying up late drinking coffee together.

It all just makes me fall for him harder.

“No problem,” he said with a smile. “Are you just gonna go home with Danny?”

“Yeah probably why?” I asked slightly, hoping he might be disappointed.

“I was wondering if you guys wanted to come over to our place? We’re just gonna eat dinner and you know, I don’t know just hang out?” He looked nervous, looking down scratching behind his neck.

“Oh yeah I’m sure Danny wants to also!”

“Ok awesome!” He smiled at me and started walking back to the group. I followed close behind.

“Are you coming y/n/n?” Sam asked, putting his head on my shoulder. He’s always been like a second brother to me, since him and Danny are so close.

“Yeah I am!” I said with a smile petting his hair. I saw Josh from the corner of my eye sigh looking at Sam and I, and walked past Jake into our van.

And after a long car ride, singing along to Bob Dylan, we got to the Kiszka’s.

Their parents and sister me and Danny when we came in asking how we are. Then we all made our way outside. We all decided we would start a small fire since it’s getting dark out.

“Y/n y/n who’s better Donovan or Bob Dylan??” Danny turned around and asked, from his conversation with Sam.

“Don’t drag me into this Daniel!” I yelled at him shaking my head.

“We all know Bob Dylan is better!” Jake argued, looking at Sam.

“But think about it really, I mean you know I love Bob. I was just considering the possibility-“ Sam tried to say but got cut off my Jake yelling “ no, no nope negatory.”

Now in the middle of this argument I was sitting in between Danny and Josh when Josh slipped his hand into mine.

“You really did do really well today.” He whispered so only I could hear him.

“Oh thanks,” I replied taking a breath. It’s not unusual for Josh to be touchy, he was like this with nearly everyone.

“No problem.” He smiled, giving my hand a squeeze.

I wish I could date him, or at least kiss him. I’ve always wished that. But I couldn’t. Even though Danny is my younger brother he’s always been over protective, plus, Josh is one of his best friends and I can’t intrude on that. It would be like me dating his brother or something. And I couldn’t do that. But it’s tempting, especially right now, to just be with Josh.

“Are you ok?” That familiar voice of Josh snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Oh yeah, why?” I asked, but quickly realized tears starting to form in my eyes.

“You look like you’re about to cry.” Concern started to cover his face.

“No, I’m fine, I’m ok, sorry.” I quickly replied, wiping my eyes a bit.

“You’re good.” He said with a tone of comfort and also, still some concern.

“Y/n?” Sam turned back to me.

“What?” I asked, his voice scared me a little since Josh and I were talking so quiet.

“Tell your brother that he needs to open his musical horizons!”

“What?” I asked again confused what conversation topic has come up this time.

“He needs to hear some good jazz!”

“No no I do not y/n tell him!” Danny intruded.

“I mean I say listen to jazz!” I said just trying to get under his skin.

“Oh shut up.” He replied with a roll of his eyes.

Everyone laughed at the poor guy being forced into smooth jazz.

“Hey hey what’s that?” Jake yelled over everyone.

A chorus of curious “what’s” were heard.

“That.” He said tilting his sunglasses below his eyes (why was he wearing sunglasses at this hour, don’t ask me). He was looking at mine and Josh’s hands.

Of course Sam and Danny looked over.

“Nothing.” I answered shortly while Danny gave me that ‘ok sureee’ face.

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” Sam said, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s- we’re just holding hands.” Josh was blushing. Why was he blushing? Probably just because the guys will make fun of him. “Friends do that you idiots!” He defended.

“Friends do that?” Danny questioned.

“Yes.” Josh replied looking at me, I nodded trying to back him up.

“Josh I love you man but I’d never just hold your hand.” Danny said with a completely straight face.

“Well-“ is all Josh got the chance to say before gasps and “ooo”s were heard.

“Shut up!” I yelled at the boys too smitten to say anything else.

“Are you guys dating?” Jake asked.

“Y/n and Joshy sittin in a tree!” Sam started singing.

“Not yet.” Josh replied with a smirk. I’m gonna kill him. Or Danny will kill him. But was that his way of admitting he liked me? It kind of sounded like it. I meant to do something but I just sat there, still clinging to Josh’s hand, blushing.

“What?” Danny asked. Smiling?

“I said not yet.” Josh replied very matter-of-factly.

“You like him?” My little brother whispered, like the other guys couldn’t hear.

“Oh my gosh I ship it !” I heard Sam exclaim.

“Same” Jake squealed.

I responded to Danny with a quiet “yeah.”

“Do you like her?” He now questioned a hilariously scared looking Joshua.

“I mean yeah.” He nearly whispered.

“How much?” Danny asked again, with a straight face.

“I mean, honestly, like a lot a lot. You know?” Josh replied nervously twiddling his thumbs.

“And what about you? How much?” He turned back to me, looking more at ease now. And smirking a bit.

“A lot, a lot.” I replied, also too afraid to look Danny in the eye.

“YES!” He yelled suddenly, scaring all of us especially Jake and Sam who were watching this like it was a soap opera.

“Ok ok you guys are gonna be adorable! I mean if you want to be a couple which I assume you do, and Josh we could be brothers!” He excitedly exclaimed.

“Wait, so you’re not mad at me?” I was shocked my brain barely processed what he said.

“Nope.” He said with a dopey smile on his face.

“So you wouldn’t kill me if I dated her… or kissed her?” Josh hesitantly questioned.

“No, unless you hurt her then I just might kill you.” He said cooly. Then pointed at me and said “same goes for you, and don’t kiss in front of me because that’s weird.”

Josh and I were completely relieved but I was much too afraid to look at him after that extremely awkward situation.

“So Jake and I will be on wedding planning duty?” Sam asked with a grin matching Danny’s.

“If they would let us. But Danny has to have some say too.” Jake said thoughtfully.

“Who said we were getting married?” I asked.

“Who said we weren’t?” Josh asked with a wink.

“Ew.” Was all Danny said. And honestly all I could hear before Josh grabbed my hand and started dragging me in the direction of their house.

[greensparty]

Movie Review - Hallelujah: Leonard Cohen, a Journey, a Song / Thor: Love and Thunder

Got to review two films this week, one from Hollywood and one from Indiewood:

Hallelujah: Leonard Cohen, a Journey, a Song

There have been several documentaries about the late great Leonard Cohen, including 2005′s Leonard Cohen: I’m Your Man and 2019′s Marianne & Leonard: Words of Love, but now there’s a different type of doc about Cohen. Hallelujah: Leonard Cohen, a Journey, a Song is about his 1984 song “Hallelujah”. Yes, the entire documentary is about this song!?! But before you wonder how much there is for a feature-length doc, it is very much a doc about Leonard Cohen because to understand the song and its many musical interpretations, you need to understand the singer / songwriter.

movie poster

Since Cohen’s death in 2016 at age 82, I have been lucky enough to review his posthumous Thanks for the Dance. His lyrics, his sound and most of all his amazing voice made him one of the great poets to emerge out of the 60s. I was never an expert on him, but after hearing his song “Everybody Knows” on the Pump Up The Volume soundtrack, he had my attention at a young age. I own his first few albums on vinyl and his double CD The Essential Leonard Cohen has accompanied me on many car trips. I was thrilled when I attended the Leonard Cohen exhibit at the Jewish Museum in NYC in 2019 and my relative cantor Gideon Zelermyer and his choir were featured in one of the multimedia portions (they appeared on Cohen’s final album You Want It Darker). While “Everybody Knows” is very meaningful for Gen-Xers because of Pump Up the Volume, “Hallelujah” might be his most iconic song.

Before directors Daniel Geller and Dayna Goldfine get into the 1984 song that appeared on Cohen’s album Various Positions, they get into his backstory. This does not pretend to be the most comprehensive documentary about Cohen, but it’s also not trying to be either. It is giving the viewer just enough context to understand the song and its release. The album was shelved by his record label in 1984 as they thought it wasn’t good. In the U.S. the album was released on a small indie label and barely made a dent. But over time, it was noteworthy musicians who were impressed with it. Bob Dylan covered the song live in 1988. In 1991, John Cale covered the song for the I’m Your Fan tribute album Hal Willner put together. In 1994, Jeff Buckley recorded a version for his one and only studio album Grace, which is possibly the most loved version of the song. Various other covers happened as well, but it was Cale’s version that appeared in Shrek that introduced it to a whole new audience. Since the 00s, it has become a staple of singing competition shows, where singers use the song to show their vocal range. 

I really dug this doc as it is more comprehensive about the song than it is about the artist. It is a bit long and for non-Cohen fans it might be For Fans Only. There was a point around two-thirds in where I thought the movie had made its final statement and was about to end, but then it kept going for about a half hour about Cohen’s career from the 00s onward and how the song became an important part of his live shows. From an editing standpoint, I felt it could’ve been more effective if they had Cohen’s last fifteen years or so and then showed the final statement about the song as the ending. But it certainly did a lot with the archival footage, interviews and live performance footage!

Sony Picture Classics has released Hallelujah in some markets and it opens in Boston on July 15: https://www.sonyclassics.com/film/hallelujah/

3.5 out of 5 stars

Thor: Love and Thunder

Thor is not exactly my favorite Marvel super hero, but he’s also not my least favorite either. I liked his first movie, 2011′s Thor. It was a good origin story. 2013′s Thor: The Dark World was fine. His appearances in all of the Avenger movies were fine too. But it was 2017′s Thor: Ragnarok from director Taika Waititi had a sense of zaniness to it that made it feel new and fresh. Since that film, Waititi has become the toast of the town, as a director / writer / producer / actor in film and television, including an episode of The Mandalorian. What really blew me away about him was 2019′s Jojo Rabbit, for which he won a well-deserved Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay. Waititi balanced so many heavy themes in a creative way in that WWII coming-of-age story. I included it in my Best Movies of the 2010s list. Now Waititi is returning to the MCU with Thor: Love and Thunder.

movie poster

Thor played by Chris Hemsworth has been hanging out with the Guardians of the Galaxy of late. But when his ex Jane Foster (the returning Natalie Portman) comes back as The Mighty Thor, they team up with Team Valkyrie (Tessa Thompson) and Korg (voice of Waititi) to defeat Gorr the God Butcher (played by a gaunt and haunting Christian Bale), who has taken the children of Asgard. I’m leaving a lot of stuff out of this plot summary, but trying my best to avoid spoilers too.

With this movie there are plenty of sequences that are over-the-top, zany and kind of ridiculous. The Guns N’ Roses-heavy soundtrack (and the numerous references to the band throughout the film) only add to the over-the-top-ness of the action scenes. The genius in Guardians of the Galaxy is that it is about a team that has to save the universe, but they are sarcastic and it feels like its not taking itself too seriously. In this new Thor film, Waititi is trying to have his cake and eat it too, by being self-aware of how ridiculous it is at times, but being rather serious other times (i.e. one of the characters is dealing with stage four cancer). Sometimes that balance works, other times less so. Waititi is clearly referencing 80s action romances and he’s having a ball at it. It’s the creative moments like a small theater group in Asgard performing the story of Thor for the locals, where Waititi is elevating this to be more than just another MCU movie. The cast including Portman and Bale truly made this more it was on paper too. This is also an audience movie that is best seen on the big screen and with an enthusiastic audience. In the MCU, this is the best Thor movie so far, but it has some catching up to the ranks of Guardians of the Galaxy and the recent Spider-Man movies. 

For info on Thor: Love and Thunder: https://www.marvel.com/movies/thor-love-and-thunder

3.5 out of 5 stars

[nsfwlost]

one on one

"Hey, Dylan. The new head is looking out for ya." 

I choked on my coffee a bit, fingers gripped on the plastic handle a bit tighter as I wasn't sure exactly what I'd be in trouble for. I haven't done anything noticeable -- has I? Surely not. That being said, my attire was lacking for the occasion, or any occasion really. I worked in the lower end of the staff so me and my team never got this impromptu one on ones.

"Has any of the others met her?" Double checking with my co-worker in case they had the wrong person.

"No... the other one she wanted t osee was on vacation." He spoke of it more, your head tilted and lips quirking off from one side to the other. "Look, she's new so, my guess is that she just wants to do a head count and meet us a little bit. Let us know how we can improve and whatnot, yeah?" 

"Hm..." You pondered further, a sigh emitting out unknowingly as you really didn't want to do this.

"I dunno man, might as well get this over with and go back to your day to day routine." A shrug of his shoulders came about as I nodded my head. Better to face them head on rather than run away from this obstacle.

Lee Jueun... Your co-worker spoke of that name before you both split in opposite directions as I headed up over to the office.

You hadn't met her yet, with how busy work has become the past few weeks. It was seeming to be like this day would never come until she propped you out of your schedule to fit onto hers. Spending the week in a split shift, most of the higher ups carried most of their meetings in the afternoon, times where I wasn't in the office.

Regardless, I was prepared for the worst. Things were far from perfect in my area, but everyday was still manageable. If I was going to get fired, than so be it. Business is booming in the work field so it shouldn't be too hard with my credentials to grab something new with ease. But still -- I've been here for a few seasons. Making myself a name with a few others and being part of whatever norm there was here.

I lost myself in that thought with each foot taking one step over the other in a monotonous pace as the door opened when waiting at a locked frame.

"Hello," the women spoke out in a comfortable tone. "Dylan, was it?"

You nodded your head as you gave out a toothy façade of a smile. Giving out a bright impression to leave your mark on. Her hand extended as you followed her up with a firm handshake of a few bobs before retracting back to your sides.

She let you in her office as the pace of your feet revved up again to go inside. The sound of door clunking from behind and a lock soon followed.

"Hey, there's coffee over there if you want some." She offered. "Go ahead, it's fine." She spoke out as she went back over to her desk, grabbing hold of a few papers as I walked on over to the coffee machine, back against the boss and hearing the liquid pour down into the paper cup grabbed.

Shaking off the jitters you had formed and taking a sip, realizing how absurd I just was when they met face to face. Hopefully with due time you wouldn't have been as nervous but it was an uphill battle.

"Dylan." She called out, you spun on your feet with coffee still in your mouth. She sat against the middle of her desk with paper in hand, waving them nicely as she peeked at you with a face you couldn't read. "There's been a few hiccups regarding your work hours, lets get down to it?"

"Sure, that's fine with me." I obliged, having to get those words out of your mouth quickly as the burning coffee was killing your throat.

Jueun went through your personal files, various amounts of them she brought up as you stood there, watching. Your eyes darted to her hand and how it was adjusting her skirt more times than one could count. You didn't want to point it out, but if you didn't know any better. It looked like she kept doing it every time your eyes walked away from her face or to the windows.

But again, my trance was broken by an external force. She moved her arm back to attempt to fix the mess she made but it just got worse. More folders and papers scattered on the floor as you stood quickly on your feet. But Jueun had always bent over, her skirt hiked up high, and he watched the bottom of her perfect ass of hers start to crawl out. If anything, you would have noticed she wasn't wearing any -- 

"Now then." She answered as the manila folders were back in her hands. "Let's get down to it." 

I immediately stood back, only for Jueun to start walking towards you. What was she doing now? 

Their distance was only a few centimeters apart, she stood on her heels and whispered into your ear. "It seems like your profile needs a bit of a morale boost." 

"..Okay?" A breathy noise was your only response.

Jueun's hand went down towards your waists until it reached towards your zipper to give a fondle in her palm. "How would you like to go about it?" She dropped to her knees and onto the carpet between my legs. Undoing the metallic bits of the zipper and pulling down on my dress slacks to let my manhood spring out. It was fully erect -- why wouldn't it be? From how Jueun was displaying herself and now this. Her lips parted wide, hot breath ghosting out from her vicinity and and oozing out like air to my skin. Her head lowered. Licking the head of my cock and gulping down inch by inch until it disappeared like a trick into the vacuum of her mouth.

I didn't last long, I couldn't help it. A heavy load of my cum pumped out of my system and into her mouth and face. Groaning in satisfaction before she lapped up more of my head and sucked on it like a lollipop. Jueun must have savored in the taste. She looked me in the eyes before widening her tiers. Showcasing out an empty mouth. She sucked me off into another full erection. My hands balled into fists as she was in full control of the situation, unable to do anything more as if you weren't day dreaming about ravishing and facefucking that pretty mouth of hers. 

I swear my eyes were rolling to the back of my head as she kept assaulting my cock. You reached your hands out, grabbing hold of the nearest object to grip onto something and that ended up being her jet black, silky hair.

"Nmm..." A loud slurping sound came from the girl right after. "Mm...ah...mfff... Heel hood?" 

My body winced, eyes shut back tight as Jueun's lips clamped down hard and it felt like she was going to take off my cock.  "Did anyone ever teach you not to talk when your mouth's full --?" Speaking out with as much might as I could, each word becoming breathier by the second at the intensity of of she was going.

But your answer was obvious. "...Yeah."  It really did, despite cumming already and moving on to the second round. She was sucking me dry. Her mouth full of my cock, eyes slowly fluttering back open and going to a half lidded state. Seeing how focused and determined she was at making me feel good sparked up a twitch in the lower halve of your body. 

Pure bliss. 

I bet I looked spaced out, I couldn't determine what my faces I was making but it feels dopey. "Nngh--!" My legs became twinge, her soft muscle pulled out of her hot mouth and lathering up the lower side of my groin. It feels good, a second burst was about to blow. Her mouth was all warm and wet, a tight orifice for the taking. 

"Ju...eun...!" My manhood grew better and body felt tighter. Did the temperature rise? Sweat dripping down my pores and grabbing hold of her hair with my dominant hand. I was a ticking bomb and it felt like this blow was going to be bigger than the first. 

More slurps and erotic sounds came out of her, moments came and went where she took out my cock to lower her lips a bit to lather up my balls with her saliva before taking me fully again and again. She was waiting the seconds before the release, like she was preparing herself before the blow to swallow it all up.

"I'm gonna..." Words cut out, unable to finish. sucking in the air in my stomach and feeling like time stopped. Petrified like a mummy and feeling spurts of liquid leaving my body with each tick of time going by. "Uh...ah...!" 

Her mouth was full of it. It really was like what you thought of. White gunk escaped corners of her lips and making a mess all over her face. Jueun looked sweaty from the intensity of the actions. Hands on her lap as she was all skill with her fellatio. 

Was she going to just sit there and accept it? She wasn't done yet. With your duct open and in the middle of ejaculation, she kept sucking. My cock was just an udder Jueun kept milking as your body felt like it was on cloud nine. "Guh... bo-ss! Sucking too hard..." Stuttering out as you gulped down the next breath you took. Heart raced at a quicker rate as her lips left your cock. "ish good, righ?" Her pleading eyes wanted you to give her more and it looks like there were no breaks on the train of her sucking. "Fill m' mouf up more..." It was pretty amazing at how she could diligently swallow it all up. How lightheaded one man could become was all due to what she did. Your hand released the grip it once had on her hair. Giving the top of her head a few pats like a job well done while she kept licking him clean. Up and down, left and right. Spotless. The only thing covering your cock now was her saliva, if you didn't know any better. The sun illuminating from through the blinds made it shine out. "You're a good girl, Jueun. Thanks.." Catching your breath after having the wind knocked out of you felt good. Regaining consciousness from your limbs as her blowjobs fuelled a fire in your soul. If this was how meetings were going to be, I'd be sure to give her more top tier reviews if a repeated performance came out in the near future.

Making quick do of fixing yourself up. work slacks and shirt fitting back on as best as one could and tucking in the shirt to try to cover up that musky scent that lingered off from the abnormalities the two of you just did. 

As Jueun stepped back in her heels and back towards you, you could noticably see a small smirk on the corner of her lips. Not to think her expression was feigned or if this was the side effects from her controlling the situation, but you could confidently say that she was. 

"What were we talking about, exactly? Where were we?"  She spoke out with a merry-go-lucky attitude and brushing off the past half hour or whatever just happened.

"I don't know." No other words could express what you were thinking, mind still felt empty as you tried to figure out what she was thinking about. Lips quirked out from side to side as you just eyed the younger girl.

I just didn't get it. She seemed way beyond casual about this. I've lived a pretty well life and removed from all things mainstream of modern society. It felt like I just expected a culture shock of something way more extreme than anticipating. Not even prepared for this but moreso of failure of the company. 

Hedonistic, playful sex. Using her body as a toy and throwing it at me for a constant stream of sensual gratification. Perhaps such an uninhibited pleasure seeking person should be indulgently in the privilege of youth. Freedom didn't feel like it was going to be too free much too longer in the distant future. No matter how lightly she approached your boss-underling relationship. I need to prepare myself more in the future.

[donnerpartyofone]

Somewhere between the end of high school and freshman year of college, my late mother's best friend from college invited me to her home in Carbondale, IL to come visit her while Bob Dylan was playing nearby. I took the Greyhound bus and it was one of the most intense experiences of my life. I wish I could retell more of it in living detail. I remember passing by a roadside mural deep in the middle of nowhere commemorating wartime nurses, that featured an angelic-looking woman in a habit cradling an unspeakably mutilated soldier, and seeming to commune with a ray of light beaming out at her from the clouds. I also remember a stopover in Cleveland that was many hours longer than it was ever meant to be; as we pulled into the station, before we debarked, the busdriver warned us to go straight to the gate (?) we expected to leave from, stay put, and don't talk to anyone. I sat there with a huge crowd of hassidic jews, who sometimes got up and danced, while a huge white bald cop with fresh blood staining his dome laughed with some of the people in my line. When I eventually made it to my destination, I barely made the Dylan show, but what I caught was sort of conceptually overwhelming and distant. Apparently he cruised around to local bars and played little impromptu sets later that night. The rest of the weekend that I spent in Carbondale was actually more impressive. My host was a nurse, and she took me with her on a home visit to an elderly lady who was a native american shaman (I forget what extraction). She lived in an octagonal house deep in the woods, her rooms were totally filled with crystals and she had an amazing laugh. My host, Lynn, also took me to a village far from civilization, its appearance was preceded by the sight of rotten Model T Fords overwhelmed by undergrowth on the side of the road, and the place itself was populated with guys who looked like ZZ Top drawn by Al Capp. Lynn told me it wasn't really that safe for women to be there alone, but she was 6'1" with two different colored eyes and no one bothered us. She took us past a rail station that looked like it was from the old west, to a little shop that was completely dark inside. Wrought iron fantasy sculptures glinted here and there, but the wood of the structure was carbon black from a recent fire. Lynn led me all the way through to the back yard where there was a half-finished stone castle turret. She explained that the owner was really into medieval history and was trying to build out the turret from an ancient blueprint. As we stood there admiring it, an earth-shaking explosion got our attention. Apparently, they had just blown up the rail station. Anyway it was a great stay, and Lynn gave me some cassettes to take on the road home. It was a Jonathan Richman album, Tom Waits' Frank's Wild Years, and Bob Dylan's murder ballad album, World Gone Wrong. All of this music stuck with me for the rest of my life.

[drneilfox]

Scarlet's Swords: Music Films Book Blog 10 (July 2021)

A rollercoaster of a month emotionally with ‘the book’. So many moments of insecurity and anxiety washed away by a series of related and tangential moments and experiences. I went on annual leave finally, to await the arrival of our new baby and to spend a few weeks as a family with little to no responsibility or expectation beyond that. It was freeing to put on my out of office at work and simultaneously put a quasi-OOO on the book for the foreseeable. It might have been foolish given how far behind where I wanted to be I am currently, but it was liberating.

It caused me to rethink my approach, or at least know I need to (I haven’t done it yet because I’m stepping back a tad). In the downtime away from writing I have been tinkering and moving forward at a snail’s pace. One thing I did was to map out all the films I still need to see or see again, or at least have told myself I need to see or see again. It’s up near the 300. Obviously I can’t watch that many and write and read and edit and submit my first draft in February 2022. So I stopped worrying that I had to. I have been prioritising viewing and making peace with the fact that I can’t see everything. It’s weird how pervasive that sense is when writing about cinema and how hard it is to escape. The feeling that I am writing about something I love and want to share with people is subsumed beneath the fear of being ‘tested’ on my knowledge and the facts of it all (even though I’m not presenting fact) and what ‘gaps’ might tell people about me. This is sometimes stronger than the feeling that I am just a terrible writer writing a book no one has any interest in ever reading. I wonder if that’s my age, or the social media age, the fact that it’s taken me so long to get to this point or some wretched combination of all three.

The writing of the list certainly helped put the next few months into focus and my sketch of a new plan, once I am back in earnest at the desk, looks ok. I’m excited to work through the final films and get the book into even better shape. Other events in July certainly helped. One was finishing a draft of the fifth chapter on my list, on films about making music. It was a slog time wise, because of so many interruptions, but I got there on the final day of ‘work’ before annual leave. So it felt momentous and a good way to sign off for a bit.

There was also the arrival of some films from the U.S. I took advantage of the Barnes and Noble 50% off Criterion Collection sale and the fact that I have a dear, dear friend in New York (thank you JC!) to post stuff to me that would mean avoiding import tax, to get my hands on some classic films. I mainly wanted them for the extras but also because I love them. I picked up A Hard Day’s Night, Gimme Shelter (a July rewatch), Transes and one I’ve never seen, Murray Lerner’s Festival. I also picked up maybe my favourite ever music doc, Les Blank’s A Poem Is A Naked Person, and a box set of Blank’s work which includes a ton of music, music-centric, or music related works that I can’t wait to get stuck into. Blank is fast becoming one of my favourite filmmakers.

July’s watchlist was heavy hitters galore as I was watching and rewatching for my Milestones chapter so films and filmmakers included The Last Waltz and other Scorsese works (is Rolling Thunder Revue his best music film maybe?), Jonathan Demme, Julien Temple and films about the Beatles, Stones and Bob Dylan. Big. One such film was Demme’s beautiful concert film Heart of Gold, focusing on Neil Young not long after surgery for a brain aneurysm. It’s a warm and soulful film and one I saw on DVD, in New York, on a lazy afternoon before heading home, while staying with my friend John Carlin (the JC who sent posted me some DVDs this month). I was tired, I was all New York-ed out, and John put it on and we loved it. It meant a lot, maybe more, than it would normally had because a couple of years earlier I had written a play called How It Plays Out, that John travelled to Luton to perform in as the lead, and in the play he performed a Neil Young song, Only Love Can Break Your Heart. John Carlin is a brilliant songwriter in his own right. Check out his work here and buy Songs From The Black House, it’s one of the best records ever made, Fact. I love him.

I also read the first book that will feature in my book since I started writing back last year (nearly 12 months ago!), Thomas F. Cohen’s Playing to the Camera: Musicians and Musical Performance in Documentary Cinema. It was invigorating. Not only is it a great book, but it reminded me why I am working on mine. I want to be in dialogue with these other works that exist, reach out to and pull from them and survey the land of ideas that is music documentary and the writing on it. I loved Cohen’s style and confidence too. It gave me strength to be more confident about my own writing. It was also nice to see so much time dedicated to Shirley Clarke’s Ornette: Made in America, a truly magnificent doc I loved writing about.

So over the next few months I shall be reading more and more for the book. I am excited. That trip to the BFI library (where I learned of Cohen’s book), really galvanised me, in ways I’m becoming more aware of as I think more and write less.

Don’t forget, you can track what I’m watching (and maybe try and work out which films I’m referring to above and in the note fragments below) via my Letterboxd list, here.

Don’t forget you can listen in to my book themed playlist here.

Here’s what I was listening to while writing in July:

Finally, a bit of fun. Here are my favourite notes from this month’s viewing sessions:

Demme knows

“I just wanna play well and share the stage with my friends”

“He had a lot of ukeleles in the trunk”

Imagine booing one of the greatest live shows ever by one of, if not the, greatest rock n roll backing bands of all time.

Joan Baez’s Dylan impression is bang on.

“I don’t even wanna get in tune”

People lying around everywhere.

Need a shower after watching this.

Babies, planes and Nick Cave

Bob Marley tats and flags

Coke in the nose

Clapton - boring

Bob looks amazing!

“you booed!”

Keroauc’s grave

“I don’t want this shit to work. I hate it”

Bawdy

Ludicrous outfit Mick

Chilly at the heliport

[bybdolan]

And also lowkey 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 I haven’t ever like really listened to Bob Dylan and was wondering if you have like an album or a song as starting point that I could get into rn

Okay, I thought about this for a bit and compiled a list of songs I think give a decent impression of his earlier body of work (early 60s to early 70s, that is what I am most familiar with). He was very versatile, so it is a bit of a mix. I added some descriptions so you can see which songs you are most interested in :) Sorry this is so long, it was very tough to pick good introduction songs.

Tangled Up In Blue (One of the best songs of all time, probably. A good starting point because it is incredibly well-written without being too convoluted and it has a good tempo. His voice also sounds surprinsingly pleasant here. It is quite similar to All Too Well in structure.)

Masters Of War (Picking this one over the more well-known and equally amazing Blowing In The Wind simply because I like how angry it is. Dylan is often remembered for his protest songs - even though he didn’t like that -, and this one is an incredible example of that. It’s from his folk days, so it’s just his voice and an acoustic guitar.)

Mr. Tambourine Man (Prooobably my personal favorite Dylan song. The lyrics are pure poetry and it is just him and his guitar again, with a bit of the harmonica.)

Like A Rolling Stone (This was in his folk-rock days, so the instrumentation is a lot more wild and all over the place and he is... wailing more than he is singing, BUT it was voted the best song of all time by Rolling Stone magazine and they have a point because it is an incredible song. Quintessential Dylan.)

She Belongs To Me (A little fun love tune. Very groovy.)

Desolation Row (Ok this is not one you should listen to to get into him because it is literally 11 minutes long. It is a masterpiece though and I have to include it because it is his magnum opus, so if you ever have 11 minutes to spare and want to be sad... There ya go.)

Girl From The North Country (Baby Bob is heartbroken and wrote a little tune on his guitar. It is so sad. If you like Last Kiss, you’ll like this one.)

Lay, Lady, Lay (A beautiful, soothing love song.)

Ballad Of A Thin Man (A very dark and lowkey seductive song about the character “Mr. Jones”, an arrogant man who doesn’t try to understand the world around him. Based on Dylan’s relationship with the press, it is sort of his reputation, if you will.)

The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll (Based on a real murder case. It is very sad, but an incredible example of him just telling a story in his songs.)

The Times They Are A-Changing (The first song I personally loved, so it’s gotta be on here. It’s epic.)

Tombstone Blues (He tends to just go bonkers with his songs. This one for example. It’s wild in both instrumentation and lyrics.)

A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall (Another rather long one but WOW what a way to spend 7 minutes. Simple instrumentation, just his guitar, but the lyrics are truly breathtaking. Every single line could be a book. Pattie Smith performed this song when Dylan was awarded the nobel price and it was a good pick. It is incredible, truly.)

Here’s a spotify playlist with the songs I mentioned.