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wowbright · 3 years ago

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Fic: Best Birthday Ever

Tan Hands and Tan Lines Sophisticated Word Challenge 2021: yodel

Words: ~5300 words

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Elder Hummel makes Blaine’s birthday a day worth celebrating.

I’m belatedly going through the prompts for The Tan Hands and Tan Lines Summer Event 2021 to flesh out my Mormon!Klaine universe. This one takes place after Sneaky, which i posted yesterday.

My Mormon!Klaine Masterpost

Notes: (1) Do consecrated oil vials in the shape of bullets actually exist? Why yes, they do. (2) If you're familiar with the date of every general conference for the past ten years, then you might figure out that I fudged with the dates here—because this is fiction, and I can do that! (3) So … I don’t actually get through the whole birthday here. Does that count as leaving it on a cliffhanger? Again? Sorry. It just felt like I done everything I could do with “yodel.” I *am* planning to continue it. (4) If you have any questions or typo corrections, feel free to use my ask box!

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Blaine blinked slowly awake as the alarm blared somewhere on the edge of his consciousness. Above him, he could see a distant light blinking as it traveled across the inky morning sky.

A satellite. In outer space. But he wasn't in outer space. He was in a bed in Ingolstadt. In the apartment he shared with his new companion. Elder Hummel. Whose real name was Kurt. And who was somehow more amazing and fascinating than any of Blaine’s previous amazing and fascinating companions.

Blaine turned over to see if Kurt—Elder Hummel—was awake. He must be. How could he sleep through this obnoxious screeching alarm?

Elder Hummel’s bed was empty, and Blaine felt the sink of disappointment in his chest. It was kind of fun to watch Elder Hummel fuss and grumble at the morning alarm. Not in a Schadenfreude kind of way, but because he was a cute grumbler. During the day, Elder Hummel kept himself encased in a wall of propriety. He was considered and deliberate in his actions. But first thing in the morning, he was a more primal version of himself. He let his id surface—complaining about the noise, insisting that alarm clocks were a crime against humanity, whining that he should be able to sleep in for just five more minutes, muttering “Das ist sinloss, das ist blöd” over and over—until he was awake enough to suppress it.

Blaine could hear his companion moving around in the kitchen and got a faint whiff of cinnamon. Blaine vaguely remembered Elder Hummel getting up out of bed last night—something about warm milk?—and later returning. Blaine should have gotten up to make sure Elder Hummel was okay, but he'd been so tired. Moving to a new district was always exhausting.

Well, he could check now.

Blaine sprung out of bed, took a pitstop to relieve his bladder, and entered the living room to find Elder Hummel sitting on the loveseat in a long-sleeved t-shirt and running tights, his Scriptures open in his lap.

“Good morning,” Elder Hummel said, looking up. He crooked an eyebrow. “Or should I say ‘happy birthday’?”

Oh. Oh. That was right. Today was Blaine’s birthday. He wasn't just an adult now. He was an adult, plus one year. Which made him a real adult. But— “How did you know?”

“I have my ways.” Elder Hummel set his book on the end table and leaned inquisitively toward Blaine. “Is there a particular reason you didn't tell me? Do you hate birthdays? Are you secretly a Jehovah's Witness?”

Blaine squirmed under Elder Hummel's gaze. Not on the outside, but on the inside, just behind his belly button. It felt pleasant. “No. I just … didn't want to make a deal out of it, since I just transferred and all. I didn't want you to feel compelled to, I don't know … go out of your way to do something. I don't want to be any trouble.”

Elder Hummel rolled his eyes and stood up. “Birthdays are not trouble. So—” He clapped his hands. “Do you want to go for a run like we were scheduled to do, or would you like your first present?”

Wait. What? Blaine felt his face heating up. He wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or pleasure. “You didn’t have to—”

“No. But I wanted to.”

Blaine’s ears went hot. Was there smoke coming out of them? “That's sweet of you.”

“You don't know that. You haven't seen it yet,” Elder Hummel said, completely stone-faced.

Blaine let out a huff of laughter. Elder Hummel was so delightfully frustrating. When he looked at Blaine with those piercing blue eyes and that expression of absolute resolve, he made Blaine feel like he was going to crumble into a pile of diamond dust, or something equally and wonderfully improbable.

Blaine looked away. “Run first. Then I can build up the anticipation.”

“I don't want you to build it up so much that you're disappointed.”

“I won't be,” Blaine parried back. “Everything you come up with is amazing.”

“Now I'm really worried.”

Blaine rolled his eyes back at Elder Hummel. It wasn’t an expression he used often, but it felt like the appropriate one in the moment. But just in case it wasn’t, he spun on his socked feet and headed back to the bedroom to change into his running clothes before his senior companion could call him out on it—silently giggling to himself all the while.

The air was fresh, and Blaine felt so alive. He was reminded of a line from one of Elder Nelson’s conference talks a few years before: “Anyone who studies the workings of the human body has surely ‘seen God moving in his majesty and power.’” Blaine was a marvelous work of God’s, and so was Elder Hummel running along beside him, his legs long and strong and his skin glowing with the warm colors of sunrise.

“I have to warn you,” Elder Hummel said with an easy, relaxed cadence, as if they were on a leisurely Sunday stroll and not pressing their way up an incline. “Your present isn't really a present so much as an experience.”

Oh! Blaine loved experiences. He’d always wished his dad would give him experiences for his birthday, like cooking together or singing karaoke or going out to the theater, instead of computers and cars and other things he didn’t need. Already, the simple fact that Elder Hummel was thinking about Blaine’s happiness felt more meaningful than most of the gifts he’d gotten in previous years.

All around them, the town was like a birthday cake, the way it was bathed in orange-yellow light. Tiny birds whose names Blaine didn't know were singing in the trees, as if to celebrate this day with him.

“This is the experience, isn't it?” Blaine said excitedly. “Going for a run with you.” It was a fabulous present. Ingenious, really.

“No. This isn’t it.” Elder Hummel smiled slightly, and that was a birthday present too. “What do you usually do for your birthday, anyway? Any interesting Anderson traditions I should know about?”

Blaine thought about this. It had been a few years since his birthday hadn't been overshadowed by general conference, but even then, he didn't think there was anything particularly unique about the way his family did things: presents, a birthday cake, and a blessing from his dad for the next year. Often the blessing didn't come on Blaine’s birthday—on his thirteenth and fourteenth and sixteenth, his dad had been on business trips or conducting business in another stake, so he’d blessed Blaine on his return.

Honestly, by the time Blaine’s sixteenth rolled around, he had come to terms his father’s absence and almost relished in it. It meant he could create the birthday he wanted for himself. He invited Tina and the other kids from the Asian students club over for dinner, and his mom taught them all how to make sinigang “the right way.” Tina and a couple of the other girls treated everyone to their attempt at a cassava cake, and Mom withheld her criticism for the evening even though it really was quite terrible. Desert wasn’t a total wash, though. Thanks to Cooper, there was plenty of ube ice cream.

It was a lovely birthday memory, tainted only by the next day, when Blaine’s dad drove up in a new Audi and proclaimed that it was his birthday present. “Gosh. Thanks, Dad,” Blaine said, not quite understanding why the main emotion he felt when seeing the gift was resentment. He was sixteen. He was going for his driver’s license in a week. Most kids would have been thrilled to be in his position. “But you didn’t have to. We already have three cars.”

“Sure, I did,” his dad answered. “I’ve got to make up somehow for not being here on the actual day.”

Blaine wondered if this was his dad’s way of telling him that, in his heart, he’d wanted to be there. That he would have preferred to be there every day, as much as Blaine’s mother was. But he couldn't, regardless of what he wanted. Because that was not the role God had carved out for fathers.

Somehow, that made it even worse.

“No traditions that I can think of,” Blaine said. “Other than the usual cake and stuff. What about your family?”

“Carvel.”

“What’s Carvel?”

“You don’t have Carvel in Arizona? It's this ice cream chain that makes stupid cartoon character desserts out of mediocre soft ice cream. We started getting them on my first birthday after my mom died. My dad tried to bake a cake and almost burned the house down. My aunt came to the rescue with a Carvel ice cream cake, and I was so excited about it because I’d been whining for my parents to get me one for years. But alas, that was the day of my innocence was shattered and I learned that just because the local TV station plays ads for something every fifteen minutes does not mean that it is a gourmet delight.” Elder Hummel shrugged—because apparently he could run and shrug at the same time. “But it’s a good memory, anyway. I mean, yes, I missed my mom and everyone including me was trying too hard to act like things were normal, but then … we started to enjoy ourselves. My aunt—she should have been a stand-up comedian specializing in grief. She made the whole thing hilarious. And she’s brought me a Carvel ice cream treat every year since.”

“Wait. So she thinks you like them?”

“Oh, not exactly. I made my disappointment pretty obvious on my birthday. But … I guess my aunt and I have a weird sense of shared humor? Because that birthday was sort of awful, and the cake was disappointing, but … I don’t know. Those Carvel characters are so ridiculous and tacky that it’s hard not to love them. And clearly my initial disappointment in Fudgie the Whale had more to do with my mom not being there than with the actual cake. I mean, they're not gourmet, but I do love me some sugar.”

Blaine knew he shouldn’t compare his family to other families, but he felt jealous. Since his grandmother had died, he didn't have any local relatives who understood him enough to share inside jokes with. “That’s sweet that you have that with your aunt.”

“Did you mean to say ‘weird’?”

“No, I did not mean to say ‘weird’.”

Elder Hummel studied him momentarily before turning his face back toward the path in front of them. “Anyway, aren't we supposed to be talking about you and your birthday, birthday boy?”

“I like listening to your stories. They’re my birthday treat.”

Elder Hummel let out a huff of laughter. “You’re something else, you know that, Elder Anderson?”

Blaine felt warm inside, the way he sometimes did in sacrament meeting, when the music and prayers and sense of community all came together to form a perfect reminder of God’s love.

“Okay, so, your first present,” Elder Hummel said when they returned to the apartment, tying an apron on over his running clothes with an authoritative air. “You tell me what you want for breakfast and I make it while you do whatever you want, within reason. Omelette? Crepes? A savory souffle? I mean, I guess I could make oatmeal or cold cereal, if you'd rather have that.”

“You don’t have to—”

“We really need to delete that phrase from your vocabulary for the rest of the day. Now, what would you like?”

Okay. If Elder Hummel honestly wanted to do this, and it really wasn't a hassle, and he would enjoy making all of the things equally … “I've never had crepes. Are they good?”

“‘Are they good?’” Elder Hummel repeated back in a mock offended tone. “Well, I guess you're just going to have to find that out for yourself, aren't you?”

A few minutes later, Elder Hummel was at the stove, pouring a thin layer of batter into a skillet, and Blaine was watching intently from the kitchen table, his elbow on its surface and his chin resting comfortably on the fleshy part his palm.

“Don’t you have other things you'd rather be doing?” Elder Hummel asked. “Like taking a decadently long shower or taking a nap or … eh. I guess there really aren't that many ways for missionaries to indulge themselves on their birthdays.”

Blaine did need a shower. But not yet. Because, once he took his shower, he'd have to put his garments on, and he kind of liked not wearing them for a little bit. Plus— “I like watching you.”

Elder Hummel glanced at Blaine, frowning as if he were a particularly challenging crossword clue, then looked back at the pan. “I'm no Julia Child. I haven't even been narrating the process to you.”

“Well, you could,” Blaine said. Watching Elder Hummel at work was interesting enough, but learning from him would take it to a whole new level.

“Oh, fine. Since it's your birthday.”

At first, Elder Hummel’s narration of his process was simple and straightforward. But somewhere along the line, it turned into an actual Julia Child impression that was, frankly, terrible, and yet also spot-on and hilarious. Blaine laughed so hard he thought he might pee himself, and by the time the first savory crepe hit the table—filled with cheese and tomatoes and tiny slices of onion—Blaine was wiping tears from his eyes.

“Oh, gosh,” Blaine panted. “This is the best birthday ever.”

“I hope you're exaggerating,” said Elder Hummel, turning back to the stove. “It’s been pretty low-key so far.”

“Well, my last two birthdays fell on general conference weekend,” Blaine said. It was only after the words were out of his mouth that he heard how complaining and ungrateful they might sound to Elder Hummel, who was so upright and perfect in his faith and would probably thrill to have his birthday fall on conference weekend. “Don't get me wrong. General conference is edifying and—”

Elder Hummel lifted a hand in a “stop” gesture. “You don't have to explain to me. I know I’m a little hard-nosed, but it's not easy to sit all day listening to talks, no matter how inspired. Honestly? I like that we can't watch it all live here because of the time difference. I get more out of it when the talks are spread out.”

Another layer of the onion that was Elder Hummel had been pulled back.

Blaine sliced into the crepe and lifted the first bite to his mouth with his fork. He let it linger on his tongue. It was— “Oh my gosh, Elder Hummel! This is incredible. You could give Julia Child a run for her money.”

Elder Hummel turned and raised an eyebrow at Blaine. “Have you ever actually tasted anything cooked by Julia Child?”

“Have you?”

“Touché.”

Blaine ate his crepe slowly, closing his eyes as he chewed so that he could truly savor the flavors and textures.

Yes, his was so much better than sitting in front of the TV all day with extended family. General conference had gotten more and more uncomfortable every year. Some of his family members seemed to get the opposite message from the talks from what he got. If a talk emphasized loving people just as they were, by the time his family had dissected it, it had turned into “the way you love Muslims is by converting them” and “the way you love undocumented immigrants is by sending them home” and “the way you love gay people is by showing them that their way of living is an abomination and will lead them to misery.”

And then there was Blaine’s grandfather. The patriarch of the family. He had always been a difficult, unbending man, strict with his children and their offspring. But Blaine had noticed it getting even worse since his grandmother died, and in the past couple years, senility began encroaching into the mix.

“When are they gonna have you give a talk, John? You're a Seventy now,” Blaine’s grandad had asked his dad on his eighteenth birthday, opening a huge can of awkward that everyone in the family had to pretend hadn't been opened and hadn't been awkward.

“I'm an Area Seventy, Dad. I’m not a general authority.”

“Yeah, but soon, right? And you’ve had your calling and election made sure?”

There were no audible gasps in the room. To gasp would be to admit that the grand patriarch of them all had made a massive faux pas. Because it might be okay that his grandfather had dropped hints about his own second anointing with vague discussions of “an important meeting Jeannie and I had at the temple with Elder So-and-So” and “a spiritual experience to sacred to share,” but to actually talk about these things openly in front of the entire family? That wasn’t just gauche. It was forbidden. Nobody was supposed to know about the second annointing except for the members who got it—the only reason Blaine even knew what his grandfather was referencing was because Cooper had told him about it the Sunday their parents had mysteriously gone to the Mesa Temple—which was supposed to be closed on Sundays—and then Blaine confirmed it on the internet. The brethren said not to trust anything you read on the internet, and Blaine hadn't. He'd gone down a rabbit hole of checking and double-checking sources and citations, and at the end of it he learned that his grandfather and grandmother and apparently now his own parents had participated in a secret ordinance guaranteeing them a spot in the celestial kingdom.

It felt wrong to Blaine. Not that he didn't want his predecessors to go to heaven. But how could such a thing be guaranteed before a person even died? His dad had continued to commit plenty of sins after that weird weekend, as far as Blaine was concerned—because emotionally neglecting your own child and prioritizing an expensive house and cars over relationships were sins, weren’t they? Would he not even have to repent now? Could he just go on being a distant jerk to Blaine for the rest of his life and get rewarded for it, anyway?

And what was the point of an ordinance that parents had to hide from their own children, anyway? Did the church really need to put more obstacles in the way of having the kind of relationship with his parents where he could talk freely about them with anything? It would never happen now.

Cooper didn’t have satisfying answers for Blaine, and Blaine couldn't come up with any. So he'd shelved his questions, and when going through the temple for his endowment revived them, he'd shoved them back with the same explanation he'd gotten for everything else in the temple: It was confusing and strange on the surface, but with time and spiritual maturity, Blaine would gain insight according to his faith.

“And now a sweet one,” Elder Hummel said, setting down a beautiful crepe filled with whipped cream and strawberries. Powdered sugar was sprinkled over the top, along with tiny slivers of candied lemon peel.

“Where did these come from?” Blaine said, picking up a piece of lemon peel and dropping it on his tongue. It was heavenly, the perfect combination of sour and sweet.

“I have my sources,” Elder Hummel said coyly. He sat down with his own plate of crepes, which looked equally as delicious as Blaine’s but were a little more haphazard in their arrangement—the crepes were ragged on the edges, and the fillings oozed sloppily out of the seams.

And it dawned on Blaine: Elder Hummel hadn't made Blaine’s crepes stunning out of a compulsion to make everything stunning. Because Elder Hummel’s crepes weren’t picture perfect, and yet there he was, diving into them with glee.

No. Elder Hummel had made Blaine’s crepes stunning because they were for a special occasion. They were for Blaine’s birthday.

Elder Hummel had it done it for Blaine’s sake, and no other reason.

Blaine blinked back tears.

“Are you crying again?” Elder Hummel set down his fork, a concerned expression on his face.

“It’s fine. It’s, like … residual from your Julia Child impression, I think.”

Elder Hummel smirked. “Well, then. I better improve my Julia Child impression if it makes you that upset.”

Blaine had the sudden, overwhelming urge to pinch Elder Hummel. Not hard. Just a teasing one, to let him know that he got the joke and it was terrible.

Instead, he smiled and took another bite of perfect strawberry crepe, made just for him.

“Where are we going?” Blaine asked. They appeared to be in a semi-industrial area of Ingolstadt near the river. It had been a quick bike ride from their last morning appointment, but not exactly a good place to have lunch.

“If I told you that, it wouldn't be a surprise.”

They parked their bikes next to a metal-sided building that looked like a warehouse. Elder Hummel opened the door into a small, non-descript lobby, and then another door, and—

It took Blaine a few moments to comprehend what he was seeing. There was a wooden platform. On it were people in stretch pants straight out of a Lululemon ad, dancing some odd little jig that looked sort of German but also had footwork that reminded Blaine of Irish dance. In front of the stage, a tall blonde woman in a track suit was barking commands at the dancers through a bullhorn. Nearby, a gaggle of musicians played along with accordions, clarinets, multiple types of horns, a fiddle, and some skin drums.

Suddenly, the music quieted and the dancers parted like the Red Sea. Two singers emerged from their midst, a young man and a young woman, and they were … yodeling?

The large room filled with eery notes that vaulted from low to high and back to low again in a mesmerizing loop. On each turn of the musical wheel, notes were added and changed, scaling up up up and down down down in dizzying extremes.

“Oh my gosh!” whispered Blaine, holding the tips of his fingers up to his mouth to keep from squealing too loudly. “They’re yodeling!”

“They are indeed,” said Elder Hummel with a frown.

Blaine was pretty sure the frown was just for show. “I didn't know you could yodel in a duet.”

“The McCarthys can.”

“Wait. McCarthy. That's not a German name.”

“It’s not. Remember last week when we went around to check on inactive-but-friendly member families? They're one of the ones who weren't home. They’ve developed this weird hybrid German-Irish yodeling technique. Apparently they're very famous on the folk circuit and touring constantly. Hence the inactivity. Anyway, when I found out it was your birthday today, I got an idea. And they were open to it.”

“You're so awesome,” Blaine said, giving Elder Hummel’s forearm a squeeze before he could remember not to. Apparently it was OK, though, because Elder Hummel didn't flinch. “And they’re good.”

“I wouldn't know. I'm not a yodeler.”

“You don't have to be a yodeler to tell they sound awesome. Do you know how long I've been wanting to hear somebody yodel?”

Elder Hummel lifted an eyebrow. “Really? I don't think I've heard of that particular goal being on any other missionary’s bucket list before.”

“It’s been on my list ever since I saw Julie Andrews doing ‘The Lonely Goatherd’ in Sound of Music.”

“Well, then. I'm glad I accidentally read your mind.”

Elder Hummel led Blaine to some chairs closer to the stage, but still far away enough to stay out of bullhorn woman's way. He pulled out two sandwiches from his bag and handed once to Blaine, along with a small bottle of lemon cola. “Sorry, it's not cold,” said Elder Hummel.

“That doesn’t matter. It’s—" Blaine had too many feelings to put into words. Elder Hummel had really pulled out all the stops today. “It’s perfect.”

The McCarthys were not a young married couple, as had been Blaine’s first impression. They were twins, one very tall and one very short, with clear German accents that were only slightly Bavarian-tinged and not Irishy sounding at all.

“Elder Anderson, meet the McCarthy twins,” Elder Hummel said when the sister and brother team descended from the stage for a break.

Blaine eagerly shook hands with each of them. “You two have blown my mind. I didn't know yodeling could sound so modern and relevant, you know? Not that I know anything about yodeling, but—I mean, it just. Wow. And what's this about Ireland having a yodeling tradition?”

“Well,” said the sister, who was short and cute with her brown hair pulled back in a swinging ponytail, “not yodeling exactly. Ireland has an a cappella tradition called sean-nós that works really well with yodeling. Our dad was touring European folk festivals as a sean-nós singer when he met our mom, who was raised south of here and was touring as a yodeler, and the rest is history.”

“That's fascinating, Sister McCarthy.”

“Oh. Call me Madison. And my brother—” She gestured at the tall, handsome man beside her. “He’s Mason.”

Blaine shook their hands again as he repeated their names. It was a slightly awkward thing to do, but he'd learned it was a good way to set unfamiliar names into his memory. But— “Those don't sound German or Irish.”

“They're not,” Mason said, his thick curls swaying slightly as he shook his head. They were similar to Blaine’s, but not nearly as tamped down by gel. Blaine glanced over toward Elder Hummel to see what his companion thought of the curls, but it was hard to tell whether the interest written on Elder Hummel’s face had been inspired by Mason’s good looks or was instead born out of politeness. “Our mom lived in the United States for a few years growing up, and you know how Doctrine & Covenants says that the U.S. Constitution was established by God? Our parents decided to name all of us after delegates to the U.S. Constitutional Convention.”

“There’s more of you?”

“Well, not other twins, but—” Madison turned around toward the stage where the dancers were re-rehearsing the previous song with even fancier footwork, and began pointing to different ones. “Franklin, Morris, Ellsworth—everyone calls her Elli—” Her finger trailed down toward the band. “And Martin and Carroll!”

“They’re all your siblings?” Blaine asked stupidly. He'd known Mormon families that big in the U.S., but never in Germany.

“Yup!” Madison said cheerfully. “It was mom and dad’s dream to have a family that could be a self-sustaining entertainment troupe. Like The Osmonds!”

Okay. Was that a little … creepy? Or was it inspiring? Blaine wished he had a family that emphasized doing fun, artistic things together, and not just church stuff.

“Unless you meant to ask if we have any other siblings?” asked Mason. He continued without waiting for an answer. “We also have a brother, Randolph, and sister, Gerry, who never really got into music or dance, so he went into accounting and she’s a doctor. But the rest of us got the crazy artist gene.”

So the family allowed for different temperaments. That was good. That was— Blaine caught himself. He shouldn't be judging the dynamics of other people’s families and comparing them to his own. Blaine had chosen his family before he was born, when he’d been waiting for a body in the spirit world. He had chosen his mom and dad to raise him. He had chosen them knowing that he could very well spend most of his childhood on his own, with no other siblings in the house and a father busy with more important things.

On this side of the veil, Blaine could see why Blaine had chosen his mother, even if she could be difficult and strict sometimes. But his father? Blaine had considered this a lot, and finally came to the conclusion that he must have admired his dad's devotion to the church. He must have seen it as an iron rod that would guide him through life. Premortal Blaine knew how precarious things would be on the other side of the veil, how easy it would be to forget the truths he had learned before entering mortal life. So he chose someone who would enforce those truths on him. Who would keep him from straying.

And that must have been a good enough reason to accept the rest of his father's family, as well.

“Okay,” said Elder Hummel as they pedaled down Jahnstraße. “What’s the most memorable birthday present you ever got?”

“That’s easy,” said Blaine. “Yodeling.”

“Doesn't count. It hasn't entered your long-term memory yet.”

“Oh, fine.” Blaine scanned his memory, but the first present that popped in his head was … maybe not the best one. He’d opened it on his eighteenth birthday during a break in general conference. His dad had accompanied it with a note that said, In anticipation of your ordination into the Melchizedek priesthood and an ominous-sounding scripture quote: Wherefore, he will preserve the righteous by his power, even if it so be that the fulness of his wrath must come, and the righteous be preserved, even unto the destruction of their enemies by fire.—1 Nephi 22:17

Blaine had opened the small jewelry box expecting another CTR ring, or maybe a tie pin of the Iron Rod. When he saw what was inside, he was confused: a brightly polished rifle cartridge, its brass case gleaming threateningly in the living room light.

It took an aunt leaning over his shoulder and exclaiming, “Well, that’s a unique consecrated oil vial!” for Blaine to see the chain attached to the bullet.

“Oh!” Blaine said. “How unique.”

“Made from a real 223 Remington shell!” his granddad said proudly.

Blaine couldn't decide whether his grandfather had picked the present out in a lucid moment or a senile one. They’d gone hunting together a few times when he’d been younger, but Blaine had never liked it. Philosophically, he wasn’t opposed to killing for food, but he didn’t enjoy it. His granddad did, though. Not just for food, but for trophies, too. He was the kind of guy who believed that nature was there to be conquered, that God had given men dominion over all other creatures to do with as they wished.

Blaine thanked his granddad for the gift. But he would never, ever put consecrated oil inside something meant to cause death.

Yeah. That memorable present was definitely out. Blaine searched further. “When my mom said I could keep Buttercup.”

“Your cat?”

“Yeah. The first of many. Poor mom didn’t know what she was getting into. Though … the actual birthday present was a cat tower, all wrapped up in ribbons that of course Buttercup tried to eat. When I walked in from school and saw it in the living room, I started crying. It’s the first time I can remember crying out of joy.”

In middle school health class, Blaine’s physical education teacher had told the boys it got harder to cry once you hit puberty—something about testosterone blocking the water works. And maybe that was a little true. Blaine didn’t cry over bumped knees or twisted ankles as easily as he had when he was younger. But emotional things—he felt them more deeply. When he was little, he’d never understood why the men in his ward got all choked up and teary when they bore their testimony. But in that moment when he knew that Buttercup was staying with him, he got it. Sometimes the love you felt inside was so big, it spilled out through your eyes.

#mormon!klaine #wowbright writes fic #spaceorphan's sophisticated challenge: yodel #klaine fic #gay mormon fic #thatl #my thatl #not sure if i'm frontloading Blaine's backstory too much in here #but oh well #there's fluff and feels too!#and an appearance by the McCarthy twins!

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whats-rambled-rambled · 4 years ago

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Long Nights - part 2

Neil x Reader

Chapter 2: Praise you

(see chapter 1)

summary: you found tremendous joy in coming up with new ways to make the lockpicking sessions challenging. And entertaining.

...even if the last part was mostly a one-sided thing.

warnings: 18+, explicit language, teasing, implied smut I guess? oh, and of course - ✨hand content✨

author’s note: Took me a while, but it was fun to write! Didn’t expect it to get this long, but here we are - over 4,2k words of shameless hand content

The song for this chapter is Fatboy Slim - Praise you

Anyway, enjoy! All feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you think?

——————

Tag list: @vaneilla @gallifreyan-uprising @ergunbilge @invertedneil @wanderedaway @truly-insatiable (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list)

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You cracked it.

It took you a good while, though. A whole sleepless night, even.

And half of the morning after that.

But maybe the absolute exhaustion was the key, pun intended.

At first, it boggled your mind so much that you were dangerously close to using brute force just to examine that lock. You tried every technique that you could think of - to no effect. It wasn’t like anything you’d seen before. The mechanism wasn’t responding as usual, it was more like a thing from goddamn Upside Down, or however the fuck that was called.

It became a matter of pride.

The sun had risen over an hour ago and the sunlight was pouring through the gaps in the blinds. Grasping at the last strands of sanity, you decided to take a break. You put on your headphones and danced around your apartment to the sounds of a song with that one bloody line that somehow seemed fitting for this madness.

Is it worth it? Let me work it, I put my thang down, flip it and reverse it

Because it felt exactly like that was what had happened to it. And no amount of cursing and switching tools would help in the face of glitched reality.

And when you sat down at your desk again, with your head so empty that your last brain cell was amusing itself by yodeling and listening to an echo, you bound the first pin. The sound was so distorted it almost startled you. The last thing you needed right then was to break the hook inside the keyway, so you leveled your breath and continued, even though your fingers cramped painfully. That wasn’t enough to stop you. Not as you finally got proof that the task was actually within your reach.

With every click like a backwards version of the sound you knew so well, the next pins got set quicker and smoother. And when you opened the lock, you couldn’t help the cheerful scream that escaped your mouth.

“Fuck yes!” You punched the air, the adrenaline rushing through your veins, the biggest grin lighting up your face.

That’s when you knew there was no way you were going to sleep anytime soon. Besides, you still didn’t know how you managed to convince that device to cooperate. You had to prove to yourself that it wasn’t dumb luck, and should you ever come upon a bloody nightmare like that, you’d be able to use the experience to crack it open. Because of that, you spent the next couple of hours reverse-picking it (which turned out to be another level of bonkers) to lock the damn thing, only to open it back again. And again. And then three times more. When you got comfortable with the process, your eyes were burning, your fingers stiff and trembling, but the immense satisfaction was worth every bit of it.

You were about to crash on the bed as your phone buzzed, and you glanced at the incoming message.

//did you pick it?

At first, you assumed you got it from Mahir, but as you were typing in a long rant, you realized that there was no history of the previous conversations on the screen, so you checked the sender again.

Neil.

Huh.

You’d exchanged the numbers the day before, but you didn’t expect to hear from him until they got everything ready to start the lessons. Oh well. You snapped the picture of the open lock and sent it back, adding a short message.

//that was fun, hope you have more of them

As you faceplanted on the bed, the phone buzzed with a reply.

//N: you bet

You couldn’t wait to get all the answers about how they managed to manufacture the most bizarre and mind-bending thing you’d ever seen, but there was no point in asking those questions over the phone. Plus, you really needed to get some rest.

//awesome! now excuse me, imma get some Zs - let me know when you guys are ready to start

After a second, you typed in another text.

//ps. how’s your nose?

//N: will do, sleep well!

//N: as for my nose...let’s say I’m glad it wasn’t the straightest one in the first place

That cheeky bastard.

//hey, don’t try to guilt-trip me, i’m trying to sleep

You almost drifted off, but you couldn’t resist checking that last notification.

//N: ...I wouldn’t dare

Snorting, you rolled to the side.

Then you fell asleep, dreaming of the impossible locks.

-------

It took them another day to prepare all the stuff, and after several further messages you got a date and location.

The building looked like a contemporary tenement house, definitely standing out from two older ones at its sides. You always assumed it belonged to one of those fancy start-ups, but apparently it was some sort of temporary headquarters of your new associates.

It didn’t surprise you that you weren’t given a tour of the place, you assumed you needed to have some sort of clearance to walk freely through the area. For now, you were restricted to the ground floor, or rather to the lobby and your classroom - a rather cozy space, but equipped with everything you needed to begin.

Neil turned out to be a fast learner, at least when it came to covering the theoretical side of lockpicking. You walked him through the basics, but you couldn’t help the itch in the back of your brain. After the encounter with the preposterous lock, your mind started to question everything that used to be unshakeable.

And of course you asked Neil about that bloody device as soon as you saw him, but he just smiled lightly and said that The Protagonist insisted on telling you all that himself when the time was right. So you had nothing left to do but to continue with the lessons, hoping that you the man himself would decide to grace you with his presence sooner than later.

You propped the chin on your hand and watched as Neil grabbed the tools. Your gaze wandered over his outrageously long fingers as he gave the lock a try, but apparently, the most idiotic grin on your face didn’t go unnoticed.

“Hey, eyes up here,” snorted Neil, and you looked at him just to meet his amused face. He caught you shamelessly staring, and there was no point in denying it.

Trying to salvage your mental coherence, you choked out, “Dude, your hands are--”

“What?” he asked, tilting his head.

“...huge,” you finished, the wide smile not leaving even for a second. You bit your lip and glanced back at Neil. “Don’t mind me, I’m just gonna stare for a bit longer.”

A hint of a blush crept upon his cheeks. My, oh my. Blinking rapidly, he cleared his throat and proceeded to bind the first pin, pressing his mouth into a thin line in an attempt to keep a composed demeanor. The sparkles in his gaze were quite telling, though.

The sight was utterly adorable, but more importantly, it planted a rather gut-busting idea into your head.

You stifled a giggle.

All in due time.

____

One of the perks of the location was a small cafe on the other side of the street.

Neil took you there on your second day during a break, walking in with a confidence of a true regular. He knew the staff by name and vice-versa, so it didn’t surprise you as he charmed his way through the conversation.

“I’ve got this,” he said, raising a hand to stop you before you could place your order. “One black coffee and one--...” he hesitated, still preventing you from chiming in. You crossed your arms and watched as his forehead creased, the confidence leaving him with every second passed. He narrowed his eyes, and you could almost hear the gears grinding in his head.

Whatever he was doing, or trying to do, it was time to put him out of his misery.

“Iced mocha for me, please,” you said, wondering which one of you had a more puzzled expression. “Cat got your tongue?”

Neil shook his head.

“No, it’s just…” - he let out a small sigh - “I can’t read you.”

“Good,” you snorted. “Why would you want to, anyway?”

The young barista smiled, putting the first coffee on the counter.

“Oh, your colleague here has a thing.”

“Oh?” You arched a brow. “Do tell!”

“It’s nothing,” said Neil, cringing slightly, but it wasn’t enough to prevent the enthusiastic answer from spilling from the barista.

“He likes to guess the orders of his companions, but this is prolly the first time I ever saw him freeze like that. Can’t wait to tell Doris!”

Neil groaned, avoiding your amused stare. “Spare me, Max.”

“Aww, man, I’m honored to be your first!” you teased, nudging his arm lightly and snickering at the absolutely done face he gave you in return.

That cafe quickly became your place of choice during breaks, but sometimes, if the weather was nice enough, you ordered to-go, just to spend that bit of free time between lockpicking sessions sitting on a grassy hill overlooking a bank of the river. You chatted about everything and nothing in particular, or simply sat in silence, enjoying the ambiance, beverages, and each other’s company.

The last thing took you by surprise, in a way. You’d expected those brief moments of a break during the day to be your sacred moments of solitude, the usual necessity to avoid getting too cranky around people. As Neil joined you on that second day, you found out that his presence was not bothering you, or at least your social batteries weren’t being drained in their regular manner. Sure, it probably helped that he was incredibly easy on the eyes, but a real treat were those moments when you ventured onto a territory he felt strongly about. In a wink, he was ready to drop his typical composure just to go straight into bubbly rants, gesturing wildly, the blue irises lit by the fire that he most often kept under wraps.

There was nothing more boring than people who lacked passion.

Lucky for you, that was not the case with Neil.

Moreover, he made you laugh.

A dangerous combination.

Alluring, even.

Good thing that you were not one to become smitten that easily.

That didn’t mean you couldn’t have some fun, though.

--------

“You need to listen to what the lock has to say,” you prompted, pacing through the room and watching as Neil struggled with a new type of mechanism. “It’s all about feedback.”

He pulled out the tools and rubbed his face, trying to hide the first hints of frustration.

“What if we apply heavier tension to amplify it?” he said and glared at the lock as if it was taunting him from its place on the practice stand.

“Sure, “ - you leaned over the table to rest the chin on your laced fingers - “but can you think of any reasons not to do that, my dear Physics Boy?”

“The higher possibility of breaking tools?”

“Precisely,” you said as you snapped and pointed your fingers. ”Also, you risk binding the pins too tightly and you wouldn’t want that, either.”

Neil sighed and slumped his shoulders.

“So...patience, then?”

“Yes,” you beamed. “It really comes down to one thing - you have to feel it.”

A corner of his lips twitched. “I’ve heard it before,” he said, shifting in his seat.

You shrugged, eyeing him curiously.

“Maybe because that’s one universally useful advice?”

“Would help if I understood it, too.” He gave you a weak smile, but his expression told you he wasn’t convinced.

You hummed in acknowledgment.

“Listen, I can smarten it up for you, but let me just show you what I mean.” You grabbed the second pair of tools from the table and placed them inside the keyway, but as soon as you opened your mouth to provide some follow-up instructions, you got struck by a better idea. Your eyes flared up. “Okay, know what? I’m just gonna-- if you could scoot back a bit--...” you said, shuffling in his direction. Neil’s brows snapped together in consternation, but he moved back. Without further ado, you sat down in front of him, nestling yourself between his spread legs on the edge of the chair, and let out a content sigh. “Should be easier now. Put your hands on mine.“

Neil tensed, and you could swear you heard him swallowing hard behind your back. He followed your suggestion, wrapping his arms around you and placing his hands on top of yours.

“Now, lay your fingers on the tools just above mine,” you continued as you slid your digits back to make more room for him. “Great, try not to press them and focus. Close your eyes, if you want.” As you gently moved the tools, you couldn’t resist but to add, “You can breathe though, you know?”

“Blimey.”

You giggled at the sarcastic bit in his tone and drew a long breath, hoping that Neil would follow it, and focused back on the lock. Purposefully slowing down your movements to allow him to feel how the mechanism responded to your ministrations, you kept sliding the hook back and forth the keyway, setting pin after pin. Neil relaxed after a moment, his shallow breath ghosting over your shoulder got deeper and more steady. His palms rested heavier on your hands, and you marveled at their size again, nibbling on your bottom lip. With all your senses sharpened, you stole a brief moment of self-indulgence, closing your eyes and relishing in the warmth radiating from Neil, the way it enveloped you, carrying a scent of his cologne - airy citrus undertones mixed with hints of powdery musk, a fresh and unostentatious combination you found fitting him so well.

The final click, more pressure and voilà - the lock was open.

“Did you feel it?” you asked softly, weirdly unwilling to move, hoping to linger in the position for a little while longer.

“Yes,” said Neil, and his husky voice made you turn your head to look at him. As he pulled his hands back somewhat hesitantly, you noticed his dazed expression and slightly flushed cheeks.

“Good,” you chirped, grinning, then reached out over your shoulder and lightly booped his nose, enjoying probably a bit too much the way his eyes widened. “Your turn.”

-----

Days. Weeks. Or was it months, plural?

You lost track of how much time had passed since that morning in the Old Town district.

The progress was counted by the number of models you introduced to Neil, showing him all the tricks you’d learned over the years. You still waited for the meeting with The Protagonist, although, ever since your student spilled a little too much information during one of his enthusiastic rants at the breaks (seriously, how could a person that bad at keeping secrets survive so long in any sort of spying business was beyond you), your initial curiosity itch had been scratched, and you were now in that blessed moment before it got unbearable again and demanded taking further actions.

It also helped that you found tremendous joy in coming up with new ways to make the lockpicking sessions challenging. And entertaining. Even if the last part was mostly a one-sided thing.

Neil was clearly feeling confident that evening. He really started to get a hang of this, and you loved watching him like that - fully focused, blonde strands falling to the eyes, with the tip of the tongue poking out...

It would be a shame if someone was to test his level of concentration.

“You know, I spend so much time looking at your hands that they recently started making cameos in my dreams.”

The blue eyes darted at you from under raised brows.

“Is that so?" asked Neil, switching his attention to the lock again.

“Yep. Mind you, most of those dreams are rather uneventful.” You pouted, sliding from your place on the windowsill. “Still waiting for one that is not so boringly PG-13.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line and swallowed with effort.

...warmer...

Circling the table, you stopped behind Neil’s chair.

"I’m just saying,” - leaning over, you purred right into his ear - ”that such long fingers like yours can give a girl all sorts of ideas--"

Snap.

You bit back a satisfied smile and smacked your tongue. “Those were perfectly fine tools, you know.”

Neil turned in his seat and gaped at you.

“Why are you like this?” he complained, helpless and flustered.

You shrugged. “I thought it was a high time for a little stress test. Might come in handy later.” Snickering at his puzzled face, you added, “What? You’re not exactly in a stress-free line of work.”

He shook the head lightly and scoffed. “... yeah, I see your point,” he said, a corner of his mouth curling into a half-smile. “But I don’t think there’s a high risk of someone trying to seduce me in the field.”

“Do you think that’s what I’m doing?” you asked, arching a brow, your tone nothing but serious.

“I-...”

The panicked look on his face as he blinked rapidly was more than enough to break your deadpan façade.

“Oh man, I’m just pulling your leg. You should’ve seen your face though.” Giggling, you grabbed a fresh lock from a shelf and tossed it to Neil. He sighed and replaced the messed-up device. “Besides,” you continued, “if there is one thing that the espionage movies have taught me, it’s that the spy always has plenty of beautiful creatures willing to keep his bed warm.”

The playful sparks appeared in Neil’s eyes.

“Is this a very elaborate way of asking me if I’m seeing someone or are you volunteering?”

Well, well, well.

“What if it’s both?”

“Then the first answer is no. As for the second one--” he hesitated, tugging the bottom lip between the teeth. “...a follow-up question - is it a good idea?”

You tilted your head, sitting down on the edge of the table in front of him.

“Why?”

“What if it’s gonna make things… I don’t know, weird?”

You gestured vaguely. “Can’t get any weirder than all your timey-wimey, inverted entropy bullshit.”

“That’s not exactly--”

“I know what you meant,” you sighed and met his darkened gaze, a shade of smile tainting your lips. “And yet, you’re trying to appeal to my reason while looking at me like that.” You left your seat and grabbed your backpack. “It’s getting late. Finish with this one and get some rest.”

Then you left, not waiting for a reply.

It was one of the warm nights and you decided to take a walk. A promenade near the river was not as crowded as you expected, making your journey home way more enjoyable. With your favourite tunes seeping through the headphones, you took in the view, the city lights reflecting in the water only added to the ambiance.

The phone buzzed in your pocket.

//N: I can’t believe you left like that

You chuckled, texting him back.

//why, you had any plans?

The answer came almost instantly.

//N: maybe

He was adorable. But--

//have you finished with the lock?

//N: …no

//N: wait are you gonna use our conversation as some sort of motivational tool now

Even if you weren’t, after getting a message like that?

You just had to.

//maybe?

//N: jesus

//sex is but a great metaphorical carrot. besides - it’s all about that delayed gratification and whatnot

A moment of silence.

And then:

//N: you’re evil.

That spiteful period at the end got you snickering loudly, earning you some curious looks.

A huge grin lit up your face.

//gn <3

-----

You must admit, that game was quite exciting.

And Neil was getting better at it, and soon implying became no longer enough to make him lose his focus.

At first, it was relatively easy to prompt a blush or a slight tremble of a hand. But with every next attempt, he grew more and more resilient, and soon, the only indication that he heard you was the fire burning in his eyes.

Then you got really mean, throwing some ambitious tasks in front of him, tricky locks and complex mechanisms, as your teasing got more straightforward.

And descriptive.

It became hard to shake it off once you left the training room. The lingering looks. The accidental touches. The atmosphere, almost electric. In other words - the heat sink was ready to be popped, and it was no longer a matter of if, but more of when.

“4 minutes.”

Neil barely nodded, lips pressed together and brows knitted in concentration.

3 locks in 15 minutes. Difficult, but doable, considering his current level of skill. Too bad he’d slacked at the second one, not leaving too much time for the final push. Sure, you didn’t go easy on him along the way, but the real challenge was supposed to be a race against the clock, so now you just watched him with bated breath.

Click.

You checked the time.

“45 seconds”

“Goddamnit!” he uttered through gritted teeth, readjusting cramping fingers on the tools.

“Come on, you’ve got this,” you said, taking a step closer.

Another click.

He didn’t know that there was only one pin left to set. You did, that’s why you tried your best not to reveal it with your expression. Too early to celebrate, anyway.

“Nine... eight… seven… six… five…”

That’s when you heard a final click and you looked up from your phone, only to see the lock giving in and opening up.

“Yeah!” Neil cheered, banging a fist on the table and tossing the tools away.

You smiled, hiding the phone in the pocket. “Good job, I knew--” but before you could finish a sentence, Neil sprung up from his chair and closed the gap between you, then cupped your face with his palms and kissed you hungrily.

You froze for a second, but as your mind caught up, you kissed him back, tugging at the light blue shirt. He smiled against your lips and made you back away until you hit the wall, huffing at the sudden coldness of the surface. But he was bent on kissing you senseless until you both ended up gasping for air.

“You’re so paying for all that teasing,” he panted, running the tip of the tongue through his swollen lips. “Not to mention, you’ve given me a few fascinating ideas, and I’m very much willing to give them all a try.”

You grinned, fighting with your evidently short-circuiting brain for a grasp of coherence as his hands traveled down your body.

“My, my, all of them?”

“The night is young,” - his throaty chuckle sent a wave of heat through your body - “and I’m up for a challenge.”

“I’m counting on it,” you breathed, burying your fingers in his hair, and pulling him into a kiss again.

Actually, the challenge started right away, and that meant getting to Neil’s place, as the company conveniently rented him a room in a nearby hotel. Walking distance, but in your current quite heated state, every distance seemed way too long. Especially when you had to keep up appearances.

At least until the elevator’s door closed behind you.

The dark gaze fixed on you. Your breaths intertwining. His bottom lip between your teeth. The five o’clock shadow under your fingertips. Your hands sliding under his shirt. His knee parting your legs. The intoxicating smell of his cologne. Your quiet moan. His tongue slipping into your mouth--

A quiet sound announced you reached your floor, and you stumbled out into the corridor, giggling, unable to keep hands and lips off each other.

Your back hit the door, barely missing the knob. Without skipping a beat, Neil reached to the pocket of his pants, then into the other one. When he tried the third one, you broke the kiss, your expression nothing but innocent.

“Looking for this?” you asked, showing him a key card.

He furrowed his brows. “Yes, thank you, I don’t know how--...” he started, but when he tried to snatch his property, you hid your hand behind your back. His jaw went slack as it dawned on him and he stared at you in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am.”

He groaned.

“You’re unbelievable,” he uttered as he pulled out his wallet. “Credit card?”

“Only if you’re not overly attached to it.” The roguish lights danced in your gaze. “Especially when you’re in a hurry,” you hinted, palming over the bulge in his pants. Neil squeezed his eyes shut, biting back a moan, and you stifled a chuckle. “Try any membership card.”

He glared at you. “You’re so in for it, you have no idea.”

“Promises, promises,” you pouted, trying not to burst into laughter at his wounded expression. “Work it.”

“Gladly, just tell me what to do.”

So you walked him through the process.

Fortunately, Neil really was a fast learner, making the door give way in no time.

“Good boy,” you hummed, and the blue eyes flared up.

He crashed his lips on yours, closing the door behind you.

Then he gave you a taste of what was coming for you.

And then some more.

And then…

...he gave you all.

(next chapter ->)

#neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet fanfiction #neil tenet #robert pattinson #tenet #tenet fanfiction #long nights

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years ago

Text

Survey #525

“this world will never be what i expected, & if i don’t belong, who would’ve guessed it?”

Do you like orange juice with or without pulp? WITHOUT. I will NOT drink OJ with pulp. Do you want to be cremated or buried when you die? Cremated. It feels... weird to know my body will otherwise go through the disgusting process of decay, even if it's the more natural option of returning to the earth. I feel more comfortable turning to ashes and having those spread somewhere among a natural environment I personally connect to and feel at home in. Hell, spread 'em at Yellowstone with Teddy if I ever get that permission. Just the thought of that possibility makes me wanna tear up. What’s something you often end up messing up or breaking? Relaying information to someone else and cooking come to mind. Have you ever named a bug in your house and thought of it as a pet? Possibly as a child, but I don't think so. Do you say "y'all"? Yeah. Do you know how to yodel? No. Have you ever been to Yellowstone National Park? No, but it's a major goal of mine. Favorite gemstone? Dragon's breath opal. Two favorite songs at the moment. "Hayloft II" by Mother Mother and the synthwave edition of "Voices" by Motionless In White. Have you ever fed or taken care of a stray animal? Oh yeah. What is something you like to do in front of other people? I can't think of anything. I'm shy with like, anything I do. What was the last video game you played? Was it fun? I played World of Warcraft briefly earlier, and not really. It tends to bore me a lot lately, and every now and again I consider just quitting, but it's such a staple in my life that idk. That and I have millions worth of gold in items on the auction house that I'm just unwilling to lose if I ever came back (expired auctions are removed from your mail after a month), lmaoooo. Have you ever been told you were going to Hell? Yep. By a former "best friend." Who was the last person to make you feel special? I think my nephew. He drew me pictures for my birthday. He loves to draw, and I hope he holds onto that. Who was the last person to piss you off? Nobody I know personally, but recently I learned that my niece was having dirt thrown at her by two other girls during recess, which boiled my fucking blood. There was no teacher outside supervising, but her paternal grandparents both saw it happen, and they knew it was Aubree because she stands out with her height. It broke my fucking heart to literally witness Aubree deny it happening (I was at the house 'cuz I helped Mom babysit my youngest niece), but we all knew she was lying. She is very scared of getting in trouble and didn't seem to quite understand that no one would be mad at her. We had to head home before Ashley got off work and learned about it, but holy fucking shit I cannot even imagine the fucking fire in her after being told. When was the last time you slept on the floor? Not since very early adulthood when I briefly lived with Colleen, but even then I quickly upgraded to an air mattress. I could not even IMAGINE trying to sleep on the floor now. My body got sore as a motherfucker just trying to nap on my sister's couch and recliner both, ha ha. Who is your best friend, and how long have you known them for? Sara Jane. <3 I want to say I was ten and she was eight. Are you a polite person? I personally think I am. I certainly grew up being taught to always use my manners. Do you ever feel super shitty about your appearance? Every fucking day. Have you ever been in a relationship where everything with your partner felt natural and effortless? Yeah. I fucked that one up. Have you ever been in a relationship where everything was difficult and rocky? Nah. When you were a teenager, did your parents set rules about dating? No. My parents trusted my judgment, especially with how high my expectations were for a partner. What did you get into trouble for the most when you were a kid? Being on the computer too much, I think. Like I would generally listen to Mom when she told me to get off, but I'm sure I used to beg for more time, and I recall occasions where I would sneak onto it. Are you in a heterosexual relationship? Well yes, but I'm not heterosexual. It's still male/female though. Have your parents ever forgotten your birthday? Mom, never, but I know Dad has. Do you like coconut flavored things? No. Have you ever met a famous author before? No. [TW: RAPE] Do you know anybody who has been raped before? I don't think so, but I know people who have nearly been. Have you ever wished for bigger boobs? No, I want smaller ones. I mean my healthy/"normal" size is fine with me, but at my weight now, I hate them. Are you dangerously in love with someone? Been there, done that, never doing it again. What is favorite dance to do? None. Have you ever gone to a private school? My last college was a private school. Have you ever liked someone who was unattractive? Yep. Do you have any secrets that you will take to your grave? Yep. None that are very serious, mind you, just little things no one else needs to know. Did you ever bite into an apple with a worm inside? ALSKDJAL;KDJWLKAWJELRK;W no I would DIE Are oranges your favorite fruit? I actually hate oranges because of the veiny white crap. Would you rather be a successful writer or artist? Both would be awesome, but I'd prefer artist. Who’s the last person you talked to about sex? uhhhhh I don't remember. Do you know anyone who drinks a lot? I sadly know quite many. Do you have any facial piercings? Yep yep. There's quite a few more that I want, but my need for glasses kinda stops me from getting them. With that being said, I'll probably just get a nostril piercing and be done with the face. What were you afraid of the most when you were a kid? Losing my mom and thunderstorms. I had EXTREME separation anxiety from her, and I was always so scared that even a mild thunderstorm would form a tornado. Are your eyes sensitive to sunlight? Mine are extremely sensitive, yes. I'm sure part of it is how I almost never step outside. Do you have a picture of you and your lover kissing? No. Both of us don't even like pictures. Literally one exists of us and I'm mostly hidden behind my cat, ha ha. He was so excited when Roman finally lied on him that he had to take a quick picture, lol. He graduated to Cat Dad that day lmao. What is a comfort show of yours? I don't really watch shows for comfort, BUT if I did, it would CERTAINLY be Meerkat Manor. That show brings me so much nostalgia and warmth. Do you think we were put on this earth for a reason? Nope. It's just how nature worked out. I do believe it's important to point out though that we make our reason. We find what is important to us as individuals and improve the world with them as we learn and grow. Do you have a YouTube channel? If no, would you create one? If yes, what’s your content? I do, but at this point it's just to have recommendations and such curated to me, and so I can "like" and favorite videos and have playlists. I've considered sharing short little clilps of Roman doing his cute stuff, but idk. Do you watch anime? I can certainly enjoy it, if I'm actually watching TV. Has anyone ever come out to you? Yes. Are you the type of person that enjoys getting hugs? Yep. Do you carry a bottle of water wherever you go? No. I only enjoy freezing cold water, anyway. What is your doctor’s first name? My primary physician's first name is Heather. Do you draw fanart of anything? I mean I've drawn fanart before, but of nothing religiously. Sometimes a popular icon was just something I felt like drawing. Kissing someone with facial hair, do you mind? I don't care. What size shirt do you normally wear? Ugh... generally 3XL. Have you ever kissed an ex after you two have broken up? Nope. Ever kissed someone who smokes? Ugh, no. No desire to. Do you ever wear boots with skinny jeans? Oh man, back in high school, part of my favorite outfit was wearing my maroon skinny jeans with black tears and my tall black leather boots with lots of buckles. That shit was hot. What if you were pregnant? Well, considering I haven't had sex, I don't have to worry about that. But following the hypothetical situation, I'd keep it between my mom, s/o, and obviously me and have an abortion. There is no fucking way in hell I could handle a pregnancy and then either raising it or giving something I went through hell for up for adoption. Have you ever intentionally hurt an animal? No more than lightly popping a cat or dog in discipline. Anyone who has ever done more fucking repulses me. I can barely even stomach an aforementioned pop, but it's not like animals understand English. There's not much more you can do. Do loud noises bother you? Absolutely. Can you break dance? No. Do you ever use facial masks or scrubs? No. What is something that you believe in, but aren’t very outspoken about? BLM. If I'm being completely transparent, I used to think it was a bit of an extreme for most of my life, but specifically when the George Floyd incident happened, I did a lot of deep thinking and realized how blind it was to say there still isn't notable, wide prejudice against African Americans. Like I really should have seen that sooner, given all the racism that exists in my own area of the world. I see enough of it. But anyway, I just don't talk about my stance on it a lot because most people in my life disagree with it and I steer extremely clear of arguments. But nevertheless, I still think it's very important to hold to your heart. Do you enjoy theatre? No. Who would you call a lyrical genius? Otep Shamaya. Teach me something in another language. "Das tut mir weh" means "that hurts me" in German. Who knows the most about you (besides yourself)? Sara, probably. Would you be/are you a good role model to a younger sibling? Fuck no I'm not, and it's humiliating. Does your family support you in the pursuit of your dreams? For some reason they still do. What is one medication that you take every day? I take a whole lot, but to name just one, Latuda. Though I might be losing it real soon thanks to insurance bullshit. Which will probably plummet my life into a deeper darkness than it's already in. Who was your favorite celebrity when you were a kid? Steve Irwin was my hero. Do you prefer llamas, penguins, or owls? Owls. My niece has randomly gotten massively into llamas though, ha ha. Would you rather be a fairy or a mermaid? Fairy. What movie did you last see? Okay so I've been going with my mom to my sister's house lately when she needs to babysit my youngest niece, because I desperately need to get out of the house when I can. So anyway, Emerson is OBSESSED with the Grinch (that whole family is really, ha ha), and when Mom was going through the recorded shows and movies and Emerson saw the icon for Jim Carrey's How the Grinch Stole Christmas, she started yelling, "The Ginch, the Ginch!", so of course we had to watch it, ha ha. I didn't mind one bit, 'cuz I love that movie. When was the last time you got a haircut? Close to a week back. My hair was definitely getting too long, and I hated it. When was the last time you completely broke down? The night I had this absolutely horrific nightmare about being brutally murdered. I went sobbing to my mom about how sick and tired I was of all the nightmares and terrors. Have you ever seen the last person you kissed without their shirt on? No. Good or bad day? Soooo it was a decent day until the gradual decline over the past couple hours following a conversation with my mom regarding insurance stuff and how I'm probably going to lose all my prescriptions. Now it's fucking horrible. I want to sleep to get away from all the thoughts, but I'm not even remotely tired so know it wouldn't work. But I'd take the fucking nightmares/terrors over this reality right now. Were you happy when you woke up today? I never just wake up happy, no. What’s something you need to do? Shower. My mental health has been so bad that I've been neglecting personal hygiene severely and I feel disgusting. I'm forcing myself to take one tomorrow. What are you listening to? An old John Wolfe video of him playing Lethe. Has anyone let you down lately? My dad, for entirely ignoring my mom's texts and calls regarding solving the insurance problem he *said* he would handle. I feel like such a fucking financial nuisance that I honest to god want to get rid of myself. Anything you’re giving up on? My life. *upside-down smiley* Have you taken anyone’s virginity? No.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''never too late'' by three days grace

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mrsrcbinscn · 3 years ago

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[Past] Franny Sor’s 1 hour set at a bar in Downtown Nashville, February 24, 1999

hi i’m in my feelings so have this silly hc piece. It’s a mix of a oneshot and just a list really.

I hc this is the gig that Franny met Cornelius at, but I left all the other details about him vague ^_^

cover versions of the songs are linked for general vibe

so anyway someone come write my cornelius lmao<3

The 9 PM time slot at The Whiskey Hive on Broadway was a coveted one, a surefire moneymaker. Franny, wonderin’ how in the hell she was ever going to pay for her next semester, let alone her next three years at Belmont, jumped at the opportunity to take it when the original singer cancelled at 4:30. Lucky thing she lived on campus and could easily make it in time -- even with guitar and banjo in tow.

Pete the talent manager always called Franny first or nearly-first when he had an open slot. She didn’t usually get the best time slots. She was barely nineteen, new in town, not like these other people who have been songwriting in Nashville for over a decade, and there was a sense of seniority in these circles. Franny could tell Pete was giving her a chance to earn her way into the 8-10 PM time slots and there was no way in hell she way blowing it.

That of course meant there was only one song from her repertoire she could possibly open with...Poor, Poor, Pitiful Me by Linda Ronstadt of course! If Franny ever needed an ‘impress a crowd free’ song, she only needed to whip Linda Ronstadt out of her back pocket. It also didn’t hurt that Terri Clark had recently brought the song back to the attention of country music fans with her cover of it.

“Let’s give a big Whiskey Hive welcome to little miss Franny Sor, a freshman here at Belmont University, all the way from Payne Lake, Georgia!” Pete said into his microphone before turning it off and nodding to Franny to begin.

The crowd applauded between eating and drinking their beers and cocktails, and Franny idly played a few chords to get some background noise goin’ as she introduced herself.

“Hey y’all! Like Pete said, I’m Franny Sor, I live here in Nashville and I’m a music studies student and songwriter. We’re gonna start tonight with a little Linda Ronstadt.”

The crowd, mostly the thirty-five-and-older folks, applauded, and Franny began her acoustic rendition of Poor, Poor, Pitiful Me.

“Thank y’all so much! Now, if there’s anything you want to hear at any point in the next hour, just let me know, I love requests. And if you like what you hear, feel free to drop some change in the tip buckets, it helps keep me here in Nashville, put gas in my car, buy my cat wet food. You know, the essentials.”

She went right into Roseanne Cash’s Seven Year Ache, trying not to notice the young man at the bar, probably about three or four years older than her, who met her eye a few times and seemed to be fishin’ for his wallet.

A few folks dropped some tips in the bucker, including the handsome young man alone at the bar.

“Thank you, thank you! And where are you from, sir?” Franny asked, figuring now was a good opportunity for crowd engagement.

The man startled, clearly not one comfortable with being put on the spot, but answered her with a nervous smile.

“Ohhh, I’ve always wanted to go there. Cool accent! What brings you to Nashville? What’s your name?”

“I’m living here for work right now. Uh, Cornelius.”

“What kinda music do you like, Cornelius? I can play anythin’. Rock, pop, country, bluegrass.”

He blinked, almost as if he forgot what music was, let alone what he liked. After a beat, he stuttered out, “Um- a- an-an original?”

Good Lord, the squeak that came out of Franny’s mouth. “That’s the first time anybody’s ever requested an original! I’m very excited about this song I just wrote. To keep a very long story offensively short, my mother came to the United States in 1979 as a refugee from Cambodia. She was separated from her entire family during the conflict there, and didn’t even know that my grandmother was still alive until I was nine. I wrote this song over Christmas break, when my grandmother visited from Cambodia and my brothers and I got to meet her. This song is to my mother, from my grandmother’s perspective. I promise I’ll play a fun song after this one.”

That at least got some laughter from the audience.

She set her guitar down, picked up her banjo, and played Oh, Sophia, a song she wrote.

“I promise y’all, if I ever write a happy little love song, y’all will be the first to know,” Franny joked as she switched out her banjo for her guitar again. “It’s just that ain’t no guy I’ve gone with has been love song material. Hey, Cornelius, if you know any guys worth writin’ a love song about, you call me, eh?”

Franny hopped up on her tippy toes to look out at a table where a family with a cute little girl was sitting. “What about y’all, with the little girl in pigtails? Where’re you from?”

“San Francisco! Exciting! What brings you to Nashville?”

“Vacation!”

“You came to the right place, I love this little city. What kind of music do you wanna hear?”

“Know any Roger Miller?” Asked the husband.

Franny giggled, then smirked. “Of course I do! Roger Miller’s some of my favorite songwriting in country music. Do you like Kansas City Star?”

She reached down into her guitar case and brandished a tambourine, which she promptly put her foot through on the floor to use to keep time as she played her cover of Kansas City Star.

Franny did her very, very, damned best not to make eye contact with Cornelius with the accent again, but she couldn’t help it. He was the only person in the place lookin’ at her like she wasn’t just background noise.

"Is anybody else here from Georgia tonight? Or just me. Anybody from Georgia?”

A bachelorette party toward the back WOOOOOO’d and Franny immediately regretted asking.

“For real? Where at?”

“Marietta!”

“Y’all like Reba?” More WOOOOOOs from the girls.

Franny gently slid her tambourine to the side with her foot and got ready to bang out The Night The Lights Went Out in Georgia. If she could get the energy in the room nice and up with Reba, then she could probably play the song she’d been dying to play all hour.

Her eyes kept darting toward Cornelius at the bar, still sipping the same beer he’d started the hour with. At least he ordered food too. Bartender probably wouldn’t be too pissed as long as he tipped good. Judging by the twenty he dropped in Franny’s tip bucket, he should.

It wasn’t just the fact she made good money off of him -- he was just. Listening to her. People didn’t do that here, not really.

As she finished, the crowd applauded for the performance she gave on that song. Turns out going for a tough song pays off...if you got the skills to back it up.

“This is one of my favorite songs, and I don’t get to play it often. Ain’t really country, but I really want to play it. Is that all right with y’all?” Franny asked the crowd, who, on account of being thoroughly entertained at this point, cheered.

She set her banjo down and picked her guitar back up, and picked out the first few notes of Angel of The Morning.

It was a risk, but the bar seemed to like her well enough to go for it. Was it a great bar song? Eh, no. But did Franny believe her vocal performance could make up for that? For sure.

And lookit that, a gentleman at a table in the middle stood out of his seat to applaud her! Ha!

“Y’all wanna hear a girl do Hank Williams?” Franny joked, and at the applause and whoops, she said, “Gimme a song, any Hank song, c’mon!”

“Lovesick Blues!”

“You wanna hear Lovesick Blues? And where are you from?”

“Calgary!”

“Canada! Well, welcome to Nashville. Here’s Lovesick Blues for ya, Canada.”

Country fans always did find it impressive when she could country yodel into a Hank song.

As she considered what exactly to whip out next, someone shouted, “Tammy Wynette!” and Franny zeroed in on that request.

“Which song?”

“Stand By Your Man!”

“Alright folks, heeeere’s Stand By Your Man by the legend herself.”

Franny personally didn’t adore the song -- she thought it gave men’s shitty behavior a pass. But it was a classic, and to make it in music, you gotta know the classics.

“Does anybody here like Alanis Morisette? I know, I know, it’s not country...I told y’all! I like everything. I’m a teenage girl in 1999, of course Alanis Morisette speaks to my soul.”

She very pointedly was not looking at cute-Cornelius-at-the-bar as she sang Head Over Feet, lest she catch nerves and butterflies. Even as she noticed him get up out of the corner of her eye and drop another bank note into the tip bucket.

“What do y’all wanna hear for the grand finale? Old country, new country, pop, rock...? What about you, Mr. Cornelius-from-[redacted]?”

“New country! I, uh, actually could use some educating on it. About it. Country.”

Franny smiled and readied her fingers on the right frets for the first chord. “Great! We’ll wrap up our time together with some Mark Chestnutt.”

It’s A Little Too Late was a goddamn blast to play, so why not?

Franny hopped off the stage and sped through counting her tips, in hopes of catching Cornelius before he left to chat him up more. What? He was cute, had a cool accent, and tipped her well. May as well say hello...

#&&...hc #r: love of my life

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aren-hai · 5 years ago

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Rant about Avocato and Sheryl

I love seeing discourse come up about people giving Avocato a free pass for actual genocide and other war crimes, and people hating Sheryl because she was a neglectful absentee parent.

And here are my thoughts, nobody asked but here they are.

We can look at this a lot of different ways, our view on the characters, the in-universe view of the characters, or the characters' view of each other. So I’m gonna do all of them because god I love this show and talking about it. And then I’m gonna yodel about my opinions, even though that’s basically all this is.

We get to meet Avocato episode one, sure he’s a bounty hunter trying to take away Mooncake the adorable squish ball, but it's just a job, it's just money right? Nope wrong, episode two we see that his son is being held captive by Lord Commander and that Avocato really doesn’t want to work for the mean green jelly bean, but wants his son to live so it's kinda messy. Throughout the six episodes that he is alive, we see Avocato is a very loyal character, a loving (IF NOT VERY FUCKED UP) father, a hard worker and an excellent fighter. He’s a ride or die person with Gary and Mooncake. (Quinn he doesn’t vibe with but that’s an entire other essay for another day.)

By the time he dies at the end of episode six, we know he’s a morally gray character who had made many mistakes, but in the end, gave his life to save his son’s. We can talk about his genocides or how bad of a parent he was, but one way or another he gets redemption via death. (Also the music is fucking phenomenal, my god Enter One is on all my sad playlists now because it’s so hauntingly beautiful.)

Sheryl, on the other hand, we are introduced to in season 2. By now we have a status quo, her being introduced threatens that just with her existence. Gary monologues almost the entire time before we meet her about how neglectful she was, leaving him at one of the most traumatic moments in his life.

Throughout her intro episode, we see Gary fighting for her to notice and love him, to give him any of the attention he was starved of as a child, and she rebuffs him. She is visibly uncomfortable around Gary and takes every opportunity to avoid spending time with him.

We know she’s a con artist, and that she's using him and the crew for her own benefit, but it's still heartbreaking to watch Gary jump through every hoop just to be rebuffed again.

So that’s how we get to see the two of them, we know that they’re morally ambiguous, neglectful (Neglectful is a nice word, both of them almost killed their children) characters with their own agendas that don’t necessarily match up with the main cast.

But with Avocato we see him fighting to fix his mistakes, to rescue his son come hell or high water. And along the way he decides Gary and Mooncake are worth his loyalty as well, we see the bad aspects but the good ones are much more in our face.

With Sheryl, we don’t get any of that. We are shown the entire time how selfish and self-serving she is, her even admitting that she is unable to love Gary. We don’t get to see any of her redemption! While Avocato’s entire arc was him fighting to save his son from his earlier mistakes. While Sheryl’s arc is getting the key’s by any means necessary to save John.

These goals are similar, but you can argue that saving a fourteen-year-old kid in prison is different from reviving a 30+ something man from being dead.

In-universe, they’re on more equal grounds. Avocato was The General ™ for Lord Commander, committing the normal heinous acts of war, as well as genocides. He has a massive body count, he’s willing to kill to get his way, and the second Quinn speaks out against his son he’s already decided she should die.

Sheryl is one of the most notorious criminals in the galaxy, to the point where everyone knows her name and her crimes. She also works (worked??) for a mysterious shadow society who wanted John’s research about Final Space, the same research that eventually opens the breach and he has to sacrifice his life to close. The same research that Quinn rediscovers (from her own genius) and that allows Lord Commander to reopen the breach, this time costing Quinn to close it.

In-universe everyone is aware of their crimes, and how these are two of the most badass badasses around.

And now the character views on each other. Gary is in complete isolation in space, his only companion’s being K.V.N (Who deserves more love my god he sacrifices his sanity chip for Fox! Another essay) and H.U.E (Who is beautiful and does his best but he is an A.I, and not a companion one, a prison running A.I)

Gary is so lonely that the first things he meets, he immediately bonds with. Mooncake, and the bounty crew that comes to kill him and take Mooncake. And I am saying the crew because he argues against H.U.E demanding that the A.I let them in so they can play cards, even as the hunters are obviously not here for a friendly visit. And had the rest of the crew lived, Gary would have been just a single-minded in his efforts to befriend them as he was Avocato.

Gary is relentlessly loyal to Avocato, to everyone really but that is another essay!! By episode two Avocato is agreeing to protect Mooncake and Gary while they search for Lil’ Cato. He and Quinn dislike each other but again that’s because of the messy love polyhedron that is Gary’s sphere of influence. Lil’ Cato loves his father, but he recognizes that he wasn’t the best dad. (That scene where he says Avocato never said he loved him can choke me up faster than anything swear to god)

Sheryl, however, is almost universally disliked by all the characters, mostly because Gary dislikes her and everyone would die for him. So not liking his neglectful mom (Who betrays the crew after getting what she wants from them) isn’t that hard of a task.

And in all of this! I haven’t mentioned Sheryl’s backstory? What little we get of it? She was obviously part of some secret society that wanted to open Final Space, that’s how she met John! He was a target that she fell in love with! She had postpartum depression after she had Gary, which can fuck even the most loving and devoted mothers up, let alone one that wasn’t ready for a child and really only had him to stay with John.

Look both characters are fucked up, and that’s why I love them. Avocato did commit war crimes. He did kill billions of people with his orders. He was known as the Lord Commander’s Master of Death. But he was also a struggling single father, a best friend, and guardian to Gary, a man who was willing to throw everything away for his son’s life. Sheryl did abandon Gary, she did use him and the crew for her own gain, and she is the most notorious bandit/thug/villain in the galaxy. But she was also a deeply flawed human being who loved her husband so much that it shattered her to lose him, she is the ideal of loyalty gone to an unhappy extreme, where she would throw everything away just for the chance to be with John again.

TL;DR Neither character should get a free pass, they have both fucked up and fucked up bad, their consequences hurt other characters and cost everyone a lot. But they are struggling to make things better and improve, and some of their most hated traits are things we exemplify in others. And hopefully, season three has both of them developing and making up to their children and growing as people.

#final space #gary goodspeed #avocato #sheryl goodspeed #Both of their redemption #Lies with their children

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catsafarithewriter · 4 years ago

Note

“I want to say it was worth it. For a while, it was.” I think it’s cute of how Haru is now grown from a girl who couldn’t dance with Baron from a girl who could fight and make remarks better than baron. I just imagine how Haru is either in a situation where she dances with Baron for both of them to get out of a dangerous situation and both get carried away with the dancing cause it reminds them of their first dance. Sorry I just love fluffs and Haru is just so amazing in your stories.

A/N: I’ll be honest, the line itself is so beautifully tragic that using it for fluff stumped me for a good while, until I eventually remembered the music box scene out of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang that I loved as a child, so I’m stealing that concept for this.

Also, this is set in a timeline when Haru and Baron have finished dancing around each other (metaphorically) and are adorable together.

The plan had been simple.

The plan had been simple and flawless and brilliant and definitely hadn’t involved Baron getting kidnapped by a mechanically-obsessed monarch.

The execution of aforementioned plan... had left some things to be desired.

“Hey, Chicky, I really don’t think this suits me...”

Haru tugged the rough tweed jacket around Muta’s broad shoulders and slapped the flat cap between his ears. “Yes, well you should have thought of that before you let Baron get kidnapped by a crazy king.” She paused, recalling her own first encounter with the Bureau, and snorted. “Not that the Bureau has a stellar record when it comes to that.”

“The birdbrain also lost him, and he’s on escape duty.”

“Toto’s on escape duty because he’s very, very good at it.” She finished fiddling with the cap. “So unless you want to be dancing instead, you’re filling the role of toy-maker extraordinaire. Honestly, Muta, it doesn’t look that bad.”

“I look like I should be yodelling from the nearest mountain.”

Haru snorted and gestured loosely to her own outfit - a white blouse layered over by a blue pinafore, with a yellow apron tied around the waist. “All I need is a shepherd’s crook, and I’d be ready to join you. Now, help me up into this box before I chicken out.”

Muta did so, and he didn’t miss the way Haru tensed as she stepped up. “Yer gonna be okay in there, Chicky?”

“Fine. Dandy. I’m just getting boxed up like some sort of twisted Christmas present so we can sneak into the palace for this royal celebration, then I’m going to have to dance like a wind up music box, and hope nobody spots the fact that I’m very much not a wind up music box until we get Baron back, and then escape without the kind of mishap that we are oh so well known for.” She grinned, far too brightly, at Muta. “I don’t know why you’d think I’d be worried.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Just... be careful wheeling me up to the palace.”

“Gotcha. Run over every pothole and speed-bump I find, roger that.”

Haru laughed and bunched up her skirts. “Thanks, Muta.” Somewhere, a clock tower began to boom. “Alright, it’s time. Box me up.”

Baron had been mistaken for many things in his long lifetime. Some more flattering than others - there had been at least once incident where a Bible had been thrown at him - but being mistaken for a mechanical toy was fairly unusual, even for him.

He sat in the seat he’d been assigned, head drooped, shoulders gently slumped, and hands tucked neatly on his lap, and tried, for all the world, to look like a clockwork creature wound down. At first, he had tried to convince the king that he was no mechanical toy, but a living, breathing individual, but that had only incited the monarch’s greed more and he had proclaimed the ‘unique, unrivalled design’ of the newest addition to his collection for all to hear.

Somehow, Baron had suspected that if the king learnt of Creations, he would just become an even more valued part of the collection.

So he had decided to play along. Eventually, the king’s interest would wane and he would be able to escape while attention was grabbed by the next new toy. Especially since he had feigned ‘winding down;’ sinking into a seat and refusing to move, and nobody had been able to work out how to wind him back up again.

Even so, the king had still seated him along the royal table, like a prized pet for display, and it seemed escape would have to delay a little longer.

He kept his eyes dulled, his breathing shallow, and wondered how long this farce was going to go on for. He listened as three of the entertainers’ acts were deemed unsatisfactory by the king and his short attention span - citing each one as nowhere near as impressive as the mechanical figure beside him - and sent packing.

“Whoever’s next better make it good!” the king roared, and Baron nearly smirked, reminded of another monarch with a very similar outcry. Now, if he wasn’t the one captured, this would have been the perfect time for a dramatic entrance-

“Your Majesty, I can make the toy dance.”

It took everything in Baron to not immediately look up at Muta.

“Impossible,” the king grunted. “My finest toy-makers have examined the toy and have produced nothing-”

Surprisingly quick for one of his girth - at least to those who didn’t know him - Muta made his way around the royal table and set to examining the ‘toy’. Baron felt his head tilted back, and was treated to the unexpected image of Muta in a tweed suit and flat cap. He felt his eye twitch at the attempt not to laugh.

He suspected Muta saw it regardless, for he was dropped back to his original position rather harshly. “Yeah, see this is part of a set, so once it’s wound down, it ain’t gonna work again until it’s reunited with its partner.”

‘What are you playing at?’ Baron wondered. His head dropped down, he could only listen as Muta paraded back across the room to what Baron had briefly glimpsed as a large red box.

“And you have found this partner?” the king asked, his scepticism only outweighed by his hope.

“Course I have. I made ‘em both.” There was the sound of Muta opening something, followed by awed muttering from the royal guests. Baron caught a few strains of “well, they don’t look the same,” from a couple of onlookers, and dearly wished Muta had left his head at a more convenient tilt.

“So how does this work?” the king asked. “Do you have to wind them both up or...?”

“Nah, it’s... uh, wireless winding,” Muta bluffed.”Look, just wait and see.”

Baron wondered whether that was Muta-speak for: no idea how this is going to pan out, so let’s not make any promises. All the same, he could have done with a better indication of what Muta had planned. As things went, he could only listen as there was a mechanical whirring, and then a strain of music box melody. A few delighted gasps.

He raised his head and saw Haru.

She was poised on a red stand, the interior of the box opened out into a trifold mirror that reflected back on her still form. As the music fell into a familiar tune, her head snapped up. It ticked from side to side in time with the music, searching, searching, until her eyes settled on him.

Then, with precise movements, she stepped down from the box and made her clockwork way to the royal table. Her path wasn’t direct - the steps were that of a waltz, a shifting box step - but there was little surprise in him when she halted before him. A single sure hand rested between them.

“Would you care to dance?” her eyes asked.

Mechanical toys did not smile, he reminded himself as he took the hand.

Still, he knew his eyes replied, “Always.”

Around the table he was led and he found himself surprised when Haru’s eyes were level with his. He shouldn’t have been, he noted; they had adventured much together in the ensuing years and she had not grown since her return to the Bureau, and yet...

His mind went, unbidden, to a dance under similar circumstances a good decade ago, only he had been the rescuer and she the rescued then. How the tables had turned. How things had changed as, with a confidence that had only been a foundation all that time ago, she guided his hand to her waist and laid her own on his shoulder. She leant in.

“I suppose this makes you the damsel in distress then, huh?” she breathed, a teasing smile ghosting her lips.

“I could get used to it with such a fetching knight in shining armour,” he returned.

“Oh shush. If I blush, I’ll blow my cover.”

With a flick of his wrist, she spun, her skirts swaying and her steps sure, and when she was swept back into his arms, it was not awe, but calculations that lit her eyes. Her gaze slid past him and across the room.

“I take it you have a plan?” he asked, drawing her close to hide the telltale flicker of lips.

“Of course I do. Unlike some, I don’t rush in without an exit strategy.”

“You did, however, stop for a costume change.”

He heard the quick intake of breath, a laugh smothered. “I needed to look the part, and combat boots and trench coat don’t exactly match the music box aesthetic.”

“It looks lovely on you.”

“I want to say it was worth it. For a while, it was.” She wiggled her eyebrows, their faces so close that no onlookers would catch the discrepancy. “But this dress has like a hundred layers to shape it properly and I’m melting like a snowball in summer right now. Be glad I love you enough to suffer through this.”

“Be careful, Haru; keep proclaiming your love for me and I’ll have no choice but to kiss you and that’ll definitely blow your cover.”

“Oh, just shut up and dance with me.” She twirled away as if to remove the temptation, but when she settled back into his arms they were closer than ever. “Kiss me when this is all over and I’m not melting into a puddle.”

“Is that a request?”

“It’s a promise.”

Somewhere along the way they had both forgone their mechanical deceit and their movements had smoothed into an intimate duet that sent Haru spinning again, head tilting back in unshed laughter that nearly broke through as she was gathered back into his arms and dipped.

“That wasn’t part of the dance I remember, Mr Gikkingen,” she admonished. Her hair, which had been so carefully pinned back into a doll’s bob, had now begun to lose its way, and wayward strands curled about her face.

“Things change,” Baron whispered back, and he resisted the urge to tuck her hair away.

Another sudden breath, another laugh hidden away, and Haru dropped her head back, knowing full well that if she stared into those emerald green eyes any longer she was definitely going to do something to give the game away. She let her gaze drift across the grand hall, across the king and his royal entourage, across the amassed guests, across Muta furiously gesturing--

“Shoot,” Haru muttered. She shifted her weight, signalling to Baron to pull her out of the recklessly romantic dip. “Okay, I think we’ve just been rumbled.”

“Why?”

“The music box ran down a good thirty seconds ago.”

The king slammed to his feet with a sound like a gunshot. “You’re not a toy! Guards, seize her!”

“Ah,” Baron said. “Would now be a good time for your exit strategy?”

“Yeah. Run.”

#Anon #the cat returns #replies #I felt like some fluff is needed after TBF #also effs sake it keeps effing up the keep reading line #i'm so sorry fokls #excuse me vvhile i go beat up tumblr #everything said and done though that was an adorable prompt to get #also i now have both 'truly scrumptious' and 'doll on a music box' stuck in my head #lowkey slain by the understated romance of Potts singing about how much he loves Truly while he's meant to be on rescue duty #like that's just meant to be their disguises #ya didn't have to go so hard with the romance #and yet here we are #the cat queues #cat writes

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cashforrester · 4 years ago

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rank all the songs on the trolls soundtracks!

Alrighty! Since there's 33 total, I'm going to start at #33 and go up to #1, aka the best song in both Trolls combined soundtracks! Please note that I'm not up to debating any of these placements and if you try, I'll scream -- I'm not an expert on much, but I am on the world of Trolls and that's absolutely final. Also worth noting is that even #33 is a masterpiece; this list really isn't from bad to good, it's more from 'pretty good' to 'absolutely rocked my world and changed it forever more!'.

33. The last place spot goes to "Rainbows, Unicorns, Everything Nice" from Trolls: World Tour! It’s a fun little bop and it got a small chuckle out of me but in the end, it’s super short and a little too obvious.

32. “The Other Side” by SZA and JT has to score low. I know it was used to bookend Trolls: World Tour or at least the instrumentals were, but it’s one of the more boring songs on the soundtrack which is the closest to a criticism of one of these songs I’ll have.

31. “Just Sing”, the non-film version, goes here. I know this seems low and it kind of is, but that’s because outside of the context of the movie, the song doesn’t have the same punch! The movie version will be higher on the list!

30. Next goes to "What U Workin' With?" by Gwen Stefani and Justin Timberlake from Trolls! It wasn’t super utilized in the movie so it’s just kind of a spare song on the soundtracks, even if it is a fun bop! I still dance along when it comes on my playlists but the other songs are more integral to the plot.

29. The next spot goes to "Don't Slack" by Anderson Paak and Justin Timberlake, aka the voices of Prince D and Branch! It’s used in the credits of Trolls: World Tour and they’re cute little credits and a cute little song but because it wasn’t used in a more relevant way, it has to rank lower than the others.

28. "I Fall to Pieces" by Sam Rockell, aka the voice of Hickory from Trolls: World Tour comes next! It’s a short but totally funny country tune that’s used well in the plot and made me smile. It is very short though and more of a joke than anything else, but the music isn’t bad so here we go!

27. "Rock N Roll Rules" by HAIM comes next and it’s a really REALLY good song, don’t get me wrong! I love the instrumentals and how they’re used in Trolls: World Tour and I still wish they’d gotten the lead singer of HAIM to voice Queen Barb instead of Rachel Bloom, but ultimately it just reminds me we didn’t get a great rock vocalist for the most important character in the sequel.

26. "It's All Love" by Andersen Paak has to come next! I love this song actually but there’s two versions on the soundtrack and this is the non-film version so it’s got to score lower than songs actually used in the movies, but holy heck, it’s a really good song, I’d highly recommend it.

25. Another song that’s just used as a joke is "The Sound of Silence" by Anna Kendrick, aka Poppy in Trolls and this ranks higher than the others because it was the first real joke song and it made me laugh so hard I cried!

24. "Barracuda” is the worst of Rachel Bloom’s vocal performances in Trolls: World Tour and I hate to say it, I really do, but at times on this one, you can definitely hear that she isn’t a rock singer. It scores higher than the others so far because it was used in a super plot relevant moment and super effectively! AND the most offensive part of the song to my ears, when she says the titular word horribly, was cut out of the film, so it gets 26th instead of last place for being a song that’s hard for me, the King of Suspension of Disbelief, to take seriously.

23. “They Don’t Know” by Ariana Grande comes next. It’s a fun bubbly song that fits Gristle and Bridget’s first date in Trolls perfectly and it made me really really want a roller-skating date at some point in my life. It gets points off for not being able to understand the words and also because none of the characters actually sang it. Songs in the backgrounds of musicals score lower with me.

22. I have to put “Can’t Stop the Feeling” by Justin Timberlake here. It’s one of my favorite songs ever but the film version is even better! It gets higher than other non-film versions because of how much it was used for advertising, it basically became synonymous with the Trolls franchise and that sparks joy.

21. And on that note, I have to put “True Colors” the non-film version, before we get to our top twenty. It’s such an amazing song but in the scope of the Troll world... well, the film version is going to score way higher, you’ll see.

20. "Trolls 2 Many Hits Mashup" in Trolls: World Tour has to come next. It’s the last joke song, and the highest scorer because at least they committed to the joke of pop music being way too much! The scene in its entirety is hilarious and all the voice actors really did their best!

19. "Leaving Lonesome Flats" from Trolls: World Tour comes next! It loses some major points for not being sung by a character in the movie but it’s basically sung by the location that is Lonesome Flats and I love that! It’s a fun little country dirge that really makes us feel transported and it also slaps.

18. "Crazy Train" is maybe the average of Rachel Bloom’s performance as Barb in Trolls: World Tour. It’s over the top and not necessarily in a good way but it’s inoffensive to the ears and a good song notwithstanding whether it’s a cover.

17. "Trolls Wanna Have Good Times" has to come next which isn’t fair, really; the only reason it’s not higher is because it’s clearly trying to do as well at an opening medley as its predecessor Trolls did with their opening medley. As it often is with sequels, the opening number really didn’t measure up. It was made up of some really fun parts and it gets points for having personalized lyrics (’lived underground away from the world till I had my life changed by a beautiful girl. Just need the guts to tell her that she’s the one’? Amazing!)

16. "Hair Up" from the opening of Trolls comes next! It’s purely sentimental that its this high but every time I hear this beat, it’s like I’m about to start watching Trolls and my whole mind and body get happy so it had to be top twenty, although not fifteen because it’s not the best of the best.

15. "Born to Die" by Kelly Clarkson, aka Delta Dawn, from Trolls: World Tour comes next. My favorite songs from the sequels were the introduction songs for the most part, and this song did a great job of summing up the differences between country trolls and pop trolls. It was great for plot, character, and conflict! It’s just not the kind of music I bop to - ironically, it’s lower than the other introduction songs for me because it’s not fun, which I know is their whole thing, but my whole thing is having fun!

14. "Atomic Dog World Tour Remix" is the funk trolls introduction song in Trolls: World Tour and it’s funky and fun and fresh and I love it! There’s not that much to say about this one, it’s used pretty quickly but very effectively from a storytelling standpoint! It quickly puts us into the world of the funk trolls.

13. "One More Time" is a very nearly perfect introduction song for the techno trolls in Trolls: World Tour! I love how the emphasis of this song is the instrumentals and the dancing more than the actual words -- the techno trolls are big on synchronicity and beats and it’s something that differentiates them from the other kinds of trolls and also makes them a devastating first colony to attack in the movie. They’re all about unity and togetherness and something about attacking and tearing apart the group that’s all about syncing up is so tragic.

12. “Rock You Like a Hurricane” is the best Bloom sounds in the movie as Barb, and it’s also her introduction song, not surprisingly. The instrumentals are amazing both as a display of talent and power and her voice lends itself well to the moment; it’s a great opener for the rock trolls and it made me so excited to see more from them!

11. “Perfect for Me” is Trolls: World Tour’s answer to the excellence that was the True Colors duet and it was really cute! It wasn’t quite as perfect for the moment as True Colors was, which is funny because this one was written for the movie but I don’t know, since it was written for the movie, I’d have hoped it’d be better? More fitting? It’s a fine enough song that sometimes I listen to sadly while lying down in my bed but in the Trollverse, it’s not top ten material.

10. “September” comes next! It’s the song that the Trolls start singing as soon as they escape the Bergins and it’s their celebration song and I love it for that! It’s also used in the credits of the first movie which makes me love it more; I don’t know, it’s performed and sung really well and makes me really happy. The top ten all spark MASSING amounts of joy.

9. “It’s All Love (History of Funk)” is one of the best songs in the sequel! I love the way the funk trolls go through the history of funk and music, and the beats are amazing and the lyrics are so good and the movie’s scene is SO GOOD. I can’t articulate how much I love that the funk trolls show their history through album covers instead of scrapbooks like the pop trolls. All the vocalists are crazy talented and something about the beat just...yes. It’s just a yes.

8. “Yodel Beat”! It scores surprisingly high if you haven’t seen Trolls: World Tour but if you HAVE seen it, you’ll understand why! It’s one of the best songs for musically punctuating a moment that the entire franchise has and I still get goosebumps thinking about how that scene was executed and how this song played such a massive role in it. Big fan, big fan!

7. "I'm Coming Out" / "Mo' Money Mo' Problems" is just hilarious! I love this scene in Trolls, as it’s the first example we have that Trolls and Bergins can work together, as well as the fact that Bergins can be happy without eating trolls, since Bridget is so confident and awesome! I also give lots of points to mashups and medleys and this was an unexpected one that just worked!

6. "Just Sing (Trolls World Tour)" is the best song in the sequel, hands down! When all the leaders of the different troll counties sing together? It’s amazing, every single time! It’s so meaningful, the fact that music is the most important thing in all of their lives and how it’s what ultimately unites them. I shed a tear every time, honestly. I’m tearing up thinking about it right now.

5. "Hello" in Trolls is performed EXPERTLY by Zooey Deschanel. Did anyone know she was that funny? Because holy carp! She’s hilarious! I love this song and scene, it was one of the first scenes in Trolls that made me realize this movie was on a whole other level! It had to be top five!

4. "Get Back Up Again" by Anna Kendrick aka Poppy has to be a high scorer! It’s an original for the movie and it’s so damn good! It’s optimistic and encouraging and I love it for the movie and the character but I also love to listen to it when I need some help getting up or feeling like it’s going to be a good day. I will get back up again! It’s a great philosophy and a fantastic reminder that life can knock you down but that you’ll be good!

3. Top three times! The best medley in the movie has to be here, and that’s "Move Your Feet" / "D.A.N.C.E." / "It's a Sunshine Day"! It’s our introduction to the Pop trolls in the first movie and it’s crafted so good! I love it! No matter how many times I listen to it, it makes me so so happy the way the songs flow together. Any world where these songs exist and fit together as well as they do is a world I want to be sucked into for at least the next two hours of my life.

2. THE FILM VERSION OF “TRUE COLORS”! Is my number two pick! It has to be! It’s so impactful and emotional and romantic and if I ever get somebody to want to marry me, an instrumental cover of this has to be our first dance song, I’m sorry. It’s so beautiful! And the film version somehow makes an amazing song even better! WHEN THE TROLLS HUG TIME WATCHES CHIME OFF IN THE TUNE OF THE SONG?! AS THEY FACE THEIR IMPENDING DOOM?! IT’S AMAZING, SHOWSTOPPING, LEGENDARY, ICONIC. I’m getting sweaty just thinking about it!

1. If you know me, you knew “Can’t Stop the Feeling”, the film version, was gonna be number one! The buildup to that moment in the movie is cinematic perfection, the performance is dazzling, and the feeling it leaves in you is unforgettable. It’s the song that’s played when the trolls teach the Bergins that you don’t need to eat other sentient species to be happy, you just need to find the magic and music inside of you, and it’s a lesson I learned while watching -- this movie and this song unlocked a power inside of me to smile and be happy with just myself and it’s absolutely... it’s just everything. It’s everything and I love it and I love you, whoever you are, who sent me this ask, because getting to think about and go through all the songs in Trolls that I love, it was awesome.

honesty hour!

#answered #Anonymous

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bobasheebaby · 5 years ago

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Amy Farrah Fowler Prompts

1 “I gave you one job! Keep an eye on him/her. How hard is that?”

2 “Thank you for understanding.” “Of course I understand. NAME, there's something else I've been wanting to say, but before I do, I just. I want you to know you don't have to say it back. I know you're not ready and I don't want you to say it just because social convention dictates —“ “I love you, too.” “You said it.”

3 “NAME does not get lucky.” “You and me both, brother.”

4 “Do you have any idea how hard it is to laugh at a knock knock joke that starts ‘Knock Knock Knock, NAME. Knock Knock Knock, NAME. Knock Knock Knock, NAME’?”

5 “It's too late. He's/She’s been murdered by someone in this room. Welcome to another classic NAME murder mystery dinner.” “I'm leaving.”

6 [knocks three times] NAME 1, NAME 2, NAME 3. [repeats three times] “He's/She’s never going to stop doing that, is he/she?” “I don't mind. I'm hoping to put his/her love of repetition to good use someday.”

7 “Do I really force you to do things you don't want to?” “Yeah, but it's okay.” “How is it okay?” “I promised myself if I ever got friends I'd do whatever they said. Really, I'm lucky you found me before a cult did.”

8 “You are aware that your ritualistic knocking behavior is symptomatic of obsessive-compulsive disorder?” “Is not. Is not. Is not.” “Denial. Denial. Denial.”

9 “What is your problem?” “It's Valentine's day. We're supposed to be having a romantic weekend.” “Oh, really? 'cause I remember you saying this trip was going to be something we could both enjoy. Did you mean that or were you just trying to trick me?” “Fine, it's true. I deserve romance and I didn't know how else to make it happen.”

10 “Well, wait. What if, just this once, we suspend the date night parameters and you stay later?” “Well, as long as we're suspending the parameters. I could stay really late and we could have our first sleepover.” “That's a big step.” “It's a big fort.”

11 “NAME, that was beautiful.” “If you didn't press record —“ “I pressed it!”

12 “Hi, NAME.” “Hello.” “Are you feeling any better?” “Physically, yes, but I'm upset because everyone's mad at me for no good reason.” “Why don't you tell me what happened, and in a gentle, loving way, I'll explain to you why you're wrong.”

13 “How's your life?” “Like everybody else's, subject to entropy, decay and eventual death. Thank you for asking.”

14 “Yes, dirty. Dirty, dirty, dirty. Which brings me to our next order of business.” [Kisses them] “Fascinating.” “I hope you don't take what I'm about to do as a comment on what we just did.” [Runs to bathroom and vomits]

15 “You know, its a tad old-school, but my father was not one to spare the rod when my brother would sneak into his truck and drink his driving whiskey.” “You want to spank me?”

16 “I don't have (Valentine's) plans, which is why I booked time on the big telescope that night.” “An evening looking at the stars, that's still kinda romantic.” “Except I'd be alone.” “I'm trying to put lipstick on a pig here. Work with me.”

17 “I have a sorta kinda boyfriend/girlfriend at home playing with a model train, but you don't hear me bitching about it.”

18 “You better watch that attitude, buddy. You're dating the popular boy/girl now.”

19 “I'll let you in on a little secret. Originally, we were painted nude. But I had him add clothes cause I thought it was an unnecessary challenge to our heterosexuality.” “Yeah, good call.” “But, if you ever change your mind, all it would take is some warm, soapy water and a couple of sponges.” “You're talking about the painting, right?” “Sure.”

20 “NAME 1, I think you might find the support you're looking for if you realize relationships are a give and take. He/She can only be there for you as much as you are for him/her.” “Thank you, NAME 3.” “And NAME 2, you need to be patient with NAME 1 and stop pressuring him/her into accepting intimacy on your terms.” “You should probably go.”

21 “You know if we did a shot every time they said something embarassing, this would be one hell of a drinking game.” “Little early for alcohol, isn't it?” [On the radio] “You know, I don't just say smart things about science, I also yodel.” [Yodelling] “I'll get the vodka.”

22 “And action.” “And cut! You realize I'm doing this for free, right?” “Yes, and so far we're still not getting our money's worth.”

23 “Stop it! Today is not about you, it's about NAME and NAME, and me!”

24 “Where are the kids?” “Oh, NAME’s helping NAME give them a bath.” “Hmm. So you really think you can trick NAME into liking babies?” “I slept with him/her. I married him/her. You want to bet against me?”

25 “Coming. Yup, that's good. Wine glasses should have handles.” [Answers the door] “Keeping accurate track of your alcohol intake. Smart idea considering how trampy you get when you've had a few.” “You heard what I did?” “I heard who you did.”

26 “I don't want five dollars, I want my dignity.” “So, what are we talking, like ten bucks?”

27 “Come on. Let's get you to bed. You've had a lot to drink.” “No more than NAME.” “That's what I'm saying.”

28 “How could you do that?” “I'm sorry, but you know what it's like when you're with your man/woman and one thing leads to another.” “I do know what that's like. I really do.”

29 “Is that book called ‘Lies I tell to get sex’?” “Is that a real book? I would totally read that book.” “Can I borrow it when you're done?”

30 “Then I met NAME and look at where we are now.” “You've kissed like once in three years.” “That's true. Do whatever you want.”

31 “Are you sure your moth-like personality won't be drawn to this blazing fire that is myself?” “More and more sure.”

32 “Your husband's weird and his clothes are ridiculous.”

33 “Did he/she say she didn't like you?” “Of course not. Nobody ever says they don't like you straight to your face.” “Heh, we have led different lives!”

34 “You know there was a time when I was alone and had no friends. I'm starting to miss that.”

35 “You're acting odd. Why?” “I'm odd all the time. Everyone knows that. Just last night, I tried to see how many Fava beans I could fit in my mouth.” “Tell me the truth.” “28.” “Come on.” “56.”

36 “Uh-oh.” “What?” “I left the food out.” “You afraid it's gonna go good?”

37 “You know how, when you're sick, you're allowed to be cranky and say whatever you want and other people's feelings don't matter?” “Ooh. Gentle and loving. This is gonna be tricky.”

38 “Given the choice of anyone in the world, who would you want as a dinner guest?” “I can honestly say NAME.” “Aww, then I choose a janitor, because I'm about to throw up.”

39 “Please pass the butter!”

40 “Why can't there just be one week each month for famous people to die?” “Well, they've already arranged to die in threes. What more do you want from them?”

41 “I miss this.” “How can you miss a game you've never played before, silly?” “I guess sometimes I'm silly.”

42 “You don't know what it's like to feel completely frustrated. To have a desire build up within you and be denied any opportunity for release.” “Yeah, sounds like a drag.”

43 “Look, I know this is your wedding, and you can do whatever you want, but if you think anyone but me is gonna be your maid of honor, then you're an idiot because you are my best friend.” “Too late, NAM—” [pushes person b out of the way, rushes to hug persona a] “Bestie!”

44 “You and I never hang out like this. Why is that?” “I know, it's weird, right?” “Yeah, we should do it more often.” “Oh, no. I mean this is weird right now.”

45 “It actually was kinda fun.” “You're just saying that.” “Yeah.”

46 “If Harry Potter's wand can make decisions, why can't Thor's hammer?” “Okay, if you are going to start comparing wands and hammers, I can't even take you seriously.”

47 “I made your favorite oatmeal — plain.”

48 “Hi, NAME. What's new?” “Our friends are jerks, and I'm mad at all of them.” “I said, ‘What's new?’ but sure.”

49 “FYI, I had a donut for breakfast, you jerk.”

50 “Can you stop breathing so loud? I can hear your nose whistling.” “I can hear your face talking, so we're even.”

#amy farrah fowler #big bang theory quotes #big bang theory prompts #writing prompts #dialogue prompts #i live in covid 19 hell #quaratine sucks and making these keeps my mind busy

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spidxysense · 5 years ago

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Back to You | 07

Summary: He broke your heart, but you’d always love him. Two souls that not even the universe could tear apart, even if you wanted it to at times.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader x Timothee Chalamet

A/N: This is for all of you beautiful people who were patient enough with me to wait for chapter 6! and this especially goes out to all of you who have been leaving asks!!!! I love you guys!!!! Team Timmy or Team Tom?

Word count: 3,678

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

A few months later

You standing by the doorway to your room while looking at the couch, deciding whether you'd sit there or not, it was a Saturday and Luca had made it a rule to not film on the weekend to keep some of your senses intact unless absolutely necessary, so everyone at the villa was just hanging around. Timothee was sprawled on the couch, a bag pistachios by his lap as he cracked them open and ate them while he watched some foreign movie in French without subtitles. Armie was sat at the table, trying to eat a salad as he answered some business emails as well. You lift your eyebrows, intrigued.

"Timothee."

His eyes snap to you, wide and unknowing you'd been looking at him, "What?" He starts to play innocent.

Armie glances every now and then at you two but keeps his focus on his phone.

You give him an 'I know what you did' look, but he doesn't budge, "Timmy… come on." You try to persuade him.

He shrugs dramatically, "What?!"

By this time, Armie's attention was on the two of you before he realizes what you were talking about, "Oh come on!" He stands up from the table, "Really Timothee?" He crosses his arms in front of his chest, "Right in front of my salad?"

Timothee is sheepish but still unrelenting, "Man, I don't know what the two of your are on about!"

"Timothee…" Armie approaches him with intent, "You just stuffed your hand that's full of pistachio shells in between the couch cushions!"

Timothee busts out laughing, "At least your couch is gonna smell like pistachios!"

Armie taps his foot impatiently looking like a fed up father, "Dude, that is disgusting. That's gonna smell like you breath."

He grabs his phone from the table and the salad and scoffs before letting it fall into the sink, "I'm going out. Maybe grab a burger instead. I can't be within proximity of you right now" he points at Timothee before grabbing his keys, walking towards the door, "Do you want to come along?"

You start to move your mouth to speak but Timothee beats you to it, "Nah, we'll stay here." He dismisses Armie.

Armie rolls his eyes at Timothee, before slamming the door. Timothee has a dopey smile on his face before he scoots over, patting the seat next to him, calling you over. You shrug, noticing he was patting a space very close to him, so you walk over and sit a little over an arm's length away from him. Within a 5 minute window, he seems restless, looking from his seat to the tv over to you before he sighed and just falls over, his head landing exactly on your lap as he gets comfortable in his lying position, his eyes glued back to the television.

"Timothee." you call out.

He hums in acknowledgement that he heard you and you find your fingers playing with the wisps of his hair, "What are you even watching?" The television was showing some girl dancing in cabaret.

His eyes are still on the television, "It's called Lola" he crosses his arms, his eyes never leaving the television, "And she's this Cabaret dancer. She's still in love with her ex lover, Michel and along comes this guy, Roland who's completely in love with her."

You snort, "I never took you for an old movies kind of guy. I always thought you're like more of a 21 Jump Street kind of movie fan."

He shrugs, "I am. I'm just watching this for future reference." He smirks.

You stiffen, was he trying to say this was a reflection of your life?

You clear your throat, "Who does she end up with?"

You feel your heart beat faster, this wasn't a movie, this was real life, but a part of you also didn't want to know who she ended up with.

He sighs, looking up at you, his eyes seemingly changing color every time you look into them, "That jackass Michel. It should have been Roland. Michel already fucked her over."

You wanted to stay quiet, to let him watch the movie in peace but, "Well, why not Michel?"

He scoffs, "Y/N, why the heck would anyone go back to what broke them?"

And his words hit you all too much, "Sometimes, love is worth getting hurt over." You say so calmly and quietly that you wonder if he even heard you at all.

He ponders this over for some time, he shrugs, "Good point. Roland better try harder then." His grin is boyish and charming and before you can give a witty retort he cuts you off, "Let's go out tonight."

You pause, the gears turning in your head, "Sure! Armie probably won't be pissed at you by that time."

He chuckles nervously, "I thought maybe we could watch a movie or something."

You laugh aloud, "That's what we're doing now though?"

"Everything's better in the actual theater though… and I want popcorn."

Things between you two get quiet when your mind drifts of to Tom, you take a deep breath, "Maybe next time-"

"He hasn't called you since?" He sounded worried but he couldn't hide the giddiness in his voice.

You shrug, "Well I did kind of tell him that he had no say in my life anymore. He might just be giving me space."

"I mean I guess." Timothee shrugs, placing his hands at the back of his hand and suddenly all you can think about is the back of his fingers grazing your thighs, "Or he could be mad, maybe he doesn't want to talk to you."

You blink a few times, "It could be." Now you felt bad, did Tom not want anything to do with you anymore? Not even as friends?

You snap your head in the direction of your phone ringing on the table and you jump up and run over to it, it wasn't the yodel ringtone set for Tom, but who knows, it could have been Harrison, it could be Tom with a different number, you quickly answer it not bothering with looking at the caller ID.

"Heeeeeeey bitch!"

You sigh, your shoulders dropping in defeat, "How are you up at 6 in the morning, Troye?"

He laughs on the other end, "My walk of shames aren't the same without you here, boo. Which is why I called you."

You rub your neck sheepishly, "Sorry I hadn't called in over a month, I was really busy."

"With Timothee's tongue down your throat maybe?"

You scoff, looking over at Timothee who turned his attention back to the tv as you walked to your room, shutting the door behind you, "You wish."

You practically hear him nodding on the other end, "Actually I do. You need to get dick-"

"Oh god, please don't reference my friend's dick."

"I saw your lousy ex at the party I was at last night." He laughs probably thinking about it, "He looked miserable."Did you by any chance have anything to do with that?"

You plop down on your bed, "I did, actually. At least I probably did. I ended up telling him that he had no say in my life anymore and he hasn't called me since."

He takes a sharp intake of breath, "Well, that just sounds like you're waiting for him to call."

"He's also my friend you know."

Troye laughs humorlessly on the other end, "Y/N, you and Tom will and could never be just friends. Trust me."

A knock at the door gets your attention as Timothee's head pops into your room, "Hey, I'm gonna go shower and then we can go, Armie said he'd meet us there."

You nod, "Sure, just tell me when you're done so I can get ready too."

"ARE YOU GOING OUT TONIGHT?" Troye's voice is filled with assumptions and pride, "WITH TIMOTHEE CHALAMET? ON A DATE?" He emphasizes the word date.

You laugh, "We're going with Armie and his wife-"

"Oooh, a double date? How domestic of you, Y/N."

"As friends!" You laugh into the phone, "You're salivating over my love life like a cartoon hobo and a pie on the window sill."

Troye sighs, "Clearly, being in a relationship for 3 years is a complete bore, seeing you this oblivious. Honey, I'll tell you how this ends alright? Armie and his wife are gonna end up having to go home earlier and Timothee is gonna pull some major classic cliche moves and you two will kiss tonight. Preferably over spaghetti, Lady and the Tramp style."

You sigh, "Troye-"

Timmy pops back into your doorway, already in pants, without a shirt, "Hey, I'm done. So you can go ahead and use it." He shuts the door behind him.

Your mouth is agape, "What just happened?! Y/N?" Troye sounds frantic.

You take a big gulp, "Troye… Timothee has abs." You hang up, grabbing your towel and running over to the bathroom.

--------------------------

You walk out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, as you laugh at Troye's texts.

"DO NOT HANG UP ON ME. WAIT NO HANG UP AND FACETIME ME I WANT TO SEE."

"Alright, just take a picture."

"Y/N if you come back here without having licked his abs you'd have failed as my best friend."

But right before you open your door, you hear a quiet melody through the hallway and you follow it to Timmy's room. Without knocking, you open his door to find him at the piano playing a melody that seemed like you'd been looking for for a long time now.

"Did you make that?" You touch his bare back softly as to not surprise him, but he jumps anyway.

He takes one look at you and becomes a stuttering mess, "I mean, yeah, I uh, I mean, it's just something I've been playing with."

You nod in understanding, "I like it. I really do." You back out of his room and the music comes back, over and over he plays that melody.

---------------------

You’re standing a few blocks from the cinema with Timothee near an alleyway as the two of you waited for Armie and his wife, you look at your watch, “What time was the movie again?”

Timothee coughs, looking nervous, “It’s in like 5 minutes.”

You frown, “Oh no! I wanted to watch the previews. We might not make it anymore.” Your frown turns into a pout that has Timothee grinning from ear to ear.

“Jesus, if only there were paparazzi here, they’d think you were in love with Y/N the way you were staring at her.” You snap your head in Armie’s direction, not noticing the redness on Timothee’s cheeks when he was caught staring at you, Armie approached the two of you, his wife in tow, “wuh-pshhh!” Armie imitates the crack of a whip before laughing at Timothee.

You raise your arms in exasperations, “Armie, we missed the previews!”

He shoots you a sympathetic smile, “You’re gonna really hate me after this then.” He gives Timothee this unreadable look before continuing, “We’re gonna have to head back, I’ve had a little too much to drink to even be in public-”

You grab hold of Armie’s neck in your arms as you catch him in a headlock, “I missed the previews just to hear you say we could have gone in already?!”

Armie’s laughing his ass off at this point as Timothee points a camera in your direction while Armie’s wife pointed her phone to catch the three of you.

You get off of Armie, dusting your clothes off, “You’re lucky that we need you for a few more weeks, or else I would have ended you.” You joke with him.

You notice the sudden click of a camera going off from Timothee’s direction and you raise an eyebrow at him.

Timothee trivia #9: Timothee was always taking your pictures. If he took your pictures more than others was very debatable.

You follow Timothee to the entrance of the old time looking theater, with the ticket booth at the front, “Armie didn’t look drunk, I thought Armie couldn’t even get drunk.” You follow him past the ticket booth but you stop, “Aren’t we supposed to pay for the tickets?”

Timothee just looks behind at you, shrugging, “You tell me.” He jumps over the counter at the snack bar, grabbing whatever he wanted and what he thought you’d like, and you watch him in awe.

“What’s happening?” You stare at him confused while following him to the Cinema.

He leans down near your already reddening face and winks, “Well, you’re not gonna miss the previews is what’s happening.” He pushes past the doors, sitting down wherever he wanted while you stood frozen at the aisle.

“Timothee…”

He’s already sat down in the middle of the theater, “I thought there would be a lot of people and you can never risk people seeing us, so I rented the whole theater.” he looks at his watch, “For about, like 5 hours.” He shrugs.

You let out a small laugh, “Timmy, I’m pretty sure this town doesn’t know us.” You look around, “Let alone go the the movie theater.” You remember all the instances you saw anybody around, all the people here seemingly forty years old and above.

He scratches his head while laughing, “Yeah, I guess I kind of forgot that part… but at least we’ll be able to watch the previews!” He pops an m&m in his mouth, you sit in the seat next to him, he turns to you, “How do you feel about The Dark Knight series?”

You look back at him, “Christopher Nolan is a genius.” You say simply, Timothee looking like he had stars in his eyes as he stared at you. He put some popcorn in his mouth, wordlessly turning to the screen, grinning to himself.

------------------------------------------------

“This pizza is the best.” You munch on the slice in your hand while Timothee sat across from you, poking his slice, looking over at you every now and then.

“Is it the biggest cliche that I took you to a pizza joint in Italy?” He laughs.

Instantly, you shook your head, “No way! I love pizza. Thanks for this. I owe you one. I had no idea that we were gonna eat so I didn’t even bring money since I thought we were gonna guilt Armie into paying for us.” You snicker to yourself.

He shrugs nonchalantly, taking his knife and poking the slice with it, “It’s fine, you can pay for the next date.” He smiles to himself coyly and looks back at his pizza slice when he sees you stopped chewing all together.

You clear your throat, trying to ignore the fact that he literally just referred to this as a date without actually telling you that this was a date, “You know… Troye had the craziest theory about this.” You gesture between the two of you.

You’re shocked when he gives you this serious look, like he was drawing you in and he leans forward, his elbows on the table, and his hands held together in front of his face, his voice deep, “Enlighten me, Y/N.”

You gulp, what happened to the giddy Timothee you had been with moments ago? This was a different side of Timothee that you weren’t familiar with, you laugh nervously, “Troye thought this whole thing was planned out, he even told me Armie would bail last minute, that you’d pull some kind of romantic move and we’d end the night by having a meal and… that’s it.” You decide to shut up about Troye telling you that you two would kiss by the end of the night.

Timothee crosses his arms in front of his chest, lifting the two front legs of his chair from the floor and leaning, “I mean… It makes sense.” He chuckles, “If I’m being completely honest, it is.”

Timothee Trivia # 10: Not only was he cheeky, he was witty.

-----------------------------------

You two walk inside him following you to your door as you laugh to yourself, he was making this seem like an actual first date that two normal people would go on, “Thanks for the date… even though I didn’t know that it was a date.” You smile at the floor, “And I’m sorry I dressed like this for a date.”

He looks at you, “I think it’s great.” He gives you a thumbs up, “It’s you and that was the person I wanted to be with today.” He shuffles in his pockets, pulling out a sheet of paper folded into a tiny square, “I thought this might make up for the whole not telling you it was a date thing.”

You open up the folded paper to find sheet music, “It was that piece you heard me playing earlier.... I’ll play it for you tomorrow, if you want.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets as you smile at the sheet music.

You open your door wider, “You can play it for me now, if you want.”

He practically trips over his feet, and rushes inside, he finds the piano and sits on the bench, you following closely behind, you set the sheet music on the stand, even though he probably didn’t need it and you sit next to him, he tenses up but begins playing anyway. As he finishes the song, he plays it one more time, “I want to hear you sing.” He says softly.

You look at his long fingers, playing the piano, like sift gusts of wind and you start singing

Dirty tissues, trust issues

Glasses on the sink, they didn't fix you

Lonely pillows in a stranger's bed

Little voices in my head

Secret keeping, stop the bleeding

Lost a little weight because I wasn't eating

All the songs that I can't listen to, to tell the truth

Loving you was young, and wild, and free

Loving you was cool, and hot, and sweet

Loving you was sunshine, safe and sound

A steady place to let down my defenses

But loving you had consequences

You would always remember better times with Tom, how being on top with him during your relationship made you feel like you could handle anything and everything as long as he was with you, how he made everything better. Your mind drifts to the warmth that Tom just had around himself, how you both found yourselves in each other. When you were together, it was just the two of you, nobody and nothing else mattered.

Hesitation, awkward conversation

Running on low expectation

Every siren that I was ignoring

I'm payin' for it

But good times always end, they started small. Small arguments here and there about not being able to see each other, or how one or the other never had any time for the other, just small spats you found normal that would just as fast as they started. Until it was like I ruined my life and I shut myself in just to make his life with me perfect.

Loving you was young, and wild, and free

Loving you was cool, and hot, and sweet

Loving you was sunshine, safe and sound

A steady place to let down my defenses

But loving you had consequences

No, ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh

Said, ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh

Hey, no ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh

Loving you was dumb, dark and cheap

Loving you will still take shots at me

Found loving you was sunshine, but then it poured

And I lost so much more than my senses

'Cause loving you had consequences

Loving you

You don’t even realize you were crying until Timothee stops playing and is already wiping your cheek. He looks at you with a sadness in his eyes that you’ve only ever seen in Tom’s eyes. Like he was feeling the pain you were feeling in the moment. You start sobbing, finally coming to terms with your truth, as he embraces you.

“He never called me.” You cry into his shoulder, “And I feel like it’s my fault because I pushed him away so much.” You hiccup, “But the more we’re together the more we hurt each other… We just never paid any attention to it because it was like the be all, end all, like we made all the good so good that it was as if all the bad was worth it, and now I don’t know if I can just live a life without him in it.”

He’s rubbing your back when you feel the vibrations from his chest. He grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you back, staring straight into your eyes, “He’s an idiot if he’d rather live a life without you in it, because life without you is just no good, Y/N.” He sighs, letting his arms fall to his sides, “Nobody could ever compare to you. Not when you smile, not when you laugh, not when you’re being you, not even when you cry.” He wipes your cheeks from your tears again, “And everybody in this whole goddamn world knows it, Y/N. There’s nobody like you around. Tom is a fucking idiot for thinking he could ever treat you like this.” There’s a light in his eyes when he talks about you.

You feel a tug at the corner of your lips and you bring you hand to his hair, patting it gently, “Thanks Timmy, you’re a great friend...or guy.” you giggle.

But he isn’t laughing, not even smiling. He’s just looking down at the bench as he shook his head, “I don’t just want to be some guy, Y/N. Not even you’re friend, I don’t want to be any of those things. Fuck that, I like you too much to ever want to be just a friend to you.”

Your eyes widen, not expecting him to tell you that he liked you and before you can even get a word in, he’s already leaning down.

Timothee Trivia #11: He has very soft kissable lips.

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justslowdown · 5 years ago

Note

So a year down the line now, how do you think the pups from Callie and Kai turned out? Both looks wise and behavior/personality, are they furthering your lines and your project goals the way you wanted to? Did any undesirable traits pop up? Anything unexpected or that went better than you planned? I want to hear more about the OG planned litter!

Cyan/Luna, Onyx/Juno, Mint/Luca, Scarlet/Kestrel (mine) and Saffron/Chai (co-own)

Kestrel free stacked:

I appreciate the ask! I’m really happy with how they’re maturing. Had a check in with all the puppy owners at a year old. They’re all happy with the dogs they’ve grown into and love them to bits :) I’m so lucky to get to bring people that joy! When people make snide comments about pet-bred dogs I try to remember that.

It does sound like certain traits have stuck around. The puppies in “the middle of the road” personality wise, Luca and Kestrel, still don’t have many traits that stand out compared to the rest. That said, Kestrel is growing into a really gentle, solid, unflappable dog after a mischevious teen puppy patch. I’m seeing more of her mom’s sweet nature every day. And she’s smarter than either parent, too, which is a lot of fun!

A couple of the puppies do behave more like a purebred husky than even their pure dam Callie does, but, y’know. Genetics. Past generations show their face sometimes. They’re still not the obnoxious, hyper, “crazy” huskies everyone likes to complain about, lol

It sounds like Juno is still the highest energy and most sassy/husky-like in personality. That’s something I prepared her owners for and made sure they wanted, because it was very obvious even when she was 8 wks old. They love her sense of humor!

Luna’s owners say she’s very talkative, howly, and obsessed with getting belly rubs and attention. She was the first to crawl out of the whelping box (time and time again), yodeled for attention, and always demanded everyone rub her tum. It’s really interesting how some traits stuck around like that!

Chai, my co-own pick, who was the calm “sleepy” puppy, has exactly the temperament I was crossing my fingers for: loyal, laid back, easygoing, easy to socialize, everyone and every dog’s friend. Nothing bothers her. She’s smart and trainable but does have the husky selective hearing, so her owner has given up on off-leash hiking. Not surprising! Sadly, she can’t be bred. She has a rare respiratory condition. Vets aren’t sure what causes it. The other puppy owners know symptoms to watch out for in case it’s genetic.

It is what it is. I’m more sad for Chai’s owner than anything (she was SO excited to breed her to a collie!) but it does set my plans back for this litter. She was a really promising dog. Kestrel’s structure is better, and I like her head shape and size more (40lb vs 55lb) but her temperament, while I’m happy with it, isn’t the perfect meld of their parents’ the way Chai’s is.

Overall I’m mostly just proud of breeding and raising dogs who make their owners’ lives happier! It’s a blessing to be able to do that. Staying in touch with them and hearing little anecdotes make all the judgment worth it.

#dog breeding #crossbreeding #kestrel tag

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kalluun-patangaroa · 5 years ago

Text

Suede

SKY magazine, December 1993

written by Simon Witter

"HELLO! WHAT HAVE WE GOT HERE?!" asks Brett Anderson rhetorically, staring at the fluff he has just removed from his ear. "I haven't taken these earrings off for about nine years."

It may seem an incongruous moment to ask the 27-year-old indie pin-up about his personal style, but hey, that's the kind of guy I am. "Tatty," replies Brett with a wry smile. "I haven't been able to get out and go shopping."

Brett Anderson, frontman of Suede – the British pop sensation of 93 – is hotly rumoured to have a great dress sense. Today however, perched uncomfortably behind an executive desk at the central London HQ of his record company, his head inadvertently framed by a halo of Right Said Fred promotional balloons, he is sporting a navy blue jeans'n'top ensemble he accurately describes as "just anything". Brett has been telling me how he spends most of his time with people who work in shops or are unemployed – "real people, not in the business" – so I presume this boutique bonding provides a clue to his supposed, though temporarily non-evident, style savvy.

"Oh no," he gasps. "Not clothes shops! Most of my friends are in food shops. So I know a good bit of brie when I see it."

The thought of Brett Anderson having, at any point in his life, ever eaten food, conjures images of pigs flapping their trotters as they sail past this second floor window. But we press on with the personal style enquiry.

"I want to change it at the moment," he says. "I'm sick of wearing second-hand things. I used to have a grudge against new clothes because I don't like wearing things that another thousand people are wearing. It's nothing to do with being into clothes from years ago, or tatty clothes at all. I'm quite keen to toy around with my style until I eventually find something, to have clothes made for me. There's never anything, when I go out and look for clothes, that I really love. I've got quite a strong vision of what I want, which would be very, very well fitted things. I don't like baggy things. I like lots of ethnic looks. I really like the Spanish look, that sort of matador thing." By way of explanation, Brett strikes a pose, clicking imaginary castanets above his head. "I like that shape. Prince wears a really brilliant little thing sometimes. When I kept getting my bellybutton out, it was really a desire to achieve that shape more than anything, nothing to do with flaunting my navel."

It's well worth flashing your bellybutton while you still can, I assure him, a rueful hand on my own expanding waistline.

"Yep," he smiles. "Well I can't anymore. Not after that chinese last night."

In May of 1992 Suede released their first single, 'The Drowners'. They had already been on the cover of Melody Maker – before they had a record out – and would grace 18 other British magazine covers over the next year, including the cover of Q on just their second single. Their eponymous debut album, released last March, went straight to No. One in the charts and went on to win the Mercury Prize, and last autumn they released a full-length concert video Love & Poison. At this rate, it will be time for their memoirs by easter.

Within the bizarre, incestuous fishbowl of the British music media, Suede have become almost self-damagingly important. After a couple of wilderness years spent faffing about, finding their feet and being universally loathed, their overnight transformation into the most hyped band in the world was nothing short of miraculous. Yet it created impossibly high expectations of their music. A German friend told me how surprised he was, after long distance exposure to their media glare, to discover how average Suede sounded – a judgment that casual discovery of the first album would hardly have elicited. And while touring America, their support act the Cranberries famously outshone them by an enormous factor when it came to album sales. Yet phase one of Suede's career has been – or appeared to be – so extraordinary, that they are going to be hard-pressed to follow it up with anything similarly momentous.

For now, we have 'Stay Together', a new, epically long single. As a measure of Suede's magnitude in the reality-starved world of British indie pop, I am treated to an absurd preview of the track the day before meeting Brett. Before entering the listening room I am subjected to a bag search to check – I kid you not! – that I'm not carrying a concealed tape recorder.

In LA, the world capital of muso control freakism, I was played U2's Desire, the immediate-follow up to their 15-million selling Joshua Tree album, eons before its release without anyone thinking twice. Yet now, without a hint of humour or irony, I am being treated as if I not only know anyone who cares what the next Suede single sounds like, but would be willing to pay for a tape of it recorded through a leather bag.

After regaining consciousness, I join in the fiasco, insist on a full body search (well, at less reputable establishments you'd have to pay good money for this touchy-feely experience) and am seated. The label boss places two speakers on each side of my head, facing my ears from about 20" away, turns it up LOUD, and begins to do that embarrassing, pseudo appreciative in-chair grooving that only people who work in record companies and recording studios have the gall to indulge in. "It's not pompous," he assures me, "even though it's eight minutes long."

Of course any pop song – as opposed to dance record – that lasts eight minutes is by definition pompous. 'Bohemian Rhapsody' was gloriously, defiantly pompous with a side order of pomposity to go. But, despite the circumstances, 'Stay Together' sounds like a fine, many-hued song, liberally doused with Bernard Butler's life-saving guitar, that is destined neither to win many new fans nor shock the devotees.

"It's about a sense of unrest I feel about the world," Brett tells me the following day, in an ill-advised shot at an explanation. "An attempt to make some sense when everything seems to be going slightly insane. I do get a real sense of impending doom, but not in a depressing way, not like we're all gonna die, let's go and rape people. I feel quite content with it. We're living under some shadow, and I'm not quite sure what it is. It's a bit like the fears I felt when I was growing up, when things were unstable and there was the threat of nuclear war, or the fear that your parents could die of aerosol poisoning."

Brett grew up, together with Suede drummer Mat Osman, in the soulless satellite town of Haywards Heath, between London and Brighton. According to Osman, if they'd been the tea party fops people make them out to be, they would've formed a grunge band. They only wanted to be really glamorous because of their stultifyingly dull working class backgrounds. Some might say that that would lead to the three-Es-a-night, dance-and-forget syndrome, rather than the formation of a glam rock band.

"Hopefully we're not a glam rock band," Brett shudders defensively. "You can escape those surroundings by taking a load of Es and ignoring it. Another way is to create your own myth, to try and become romantic in your own eyes, to create something beautiful out of the rubbish and the shit. It all sounds very Oscar Wilde, but that's the way we did it. None of us were brought up in workhouses, but we haven't had easy lives at all."

Suede claim to be obsessed with fame because they were excluded from it. Yet surely fame is the one classless thing people aren't born into?

"Lots of people are constantly privileged," says Brett, who has clearly spent an unhealthy amount of time pondering the abstract qualities of fame. "If you're born in Soho to rich professional parents, and you've got Jonathan Wotsisname coming round to your house every night to see your father, then you've got this world that you slip easily into. When you're excluded from it there's a desperation, you're desperate to have it. It doesn't come as second nature to you, like professionally famous people who hang out in Beverly Hills. It's not something you're comfortable with, but that mutates it into something far more interesting, a bit prickly and far more creative, because you're not just sitting there lapping it up."

Suede's appearance coincided not unfortunately with the post-Madchester 70s revival. But was their styling something more than just the result of being unable to afford new clothes? Personally, I had thought the emergence of Gary Numan had killed off the idea of anyone ever again wanting to be David Bowie (not to mention Bowie's recent records). Then along came Suede, with their rough guitars, their androgyny and their theatrical singer.

"I never thought of ourselves as '70s," Brett insists. "David Bowie is a genius, but the rest of all that rubbish I always found laughable. As for the clothes, I always thought we looked more 60s than 70s. It's all tied up with this whole kitsch thing, this Magpie and Porridge and rediscovering the culture of British music journalists' youths. Kids of 14 didn't know what anyone was talking about, it was just that the people in power had reached a certain age where they were getting sentimental about their youth and started remembering Magpie. That's all it was, all a complete load of rubbish. As soon as we were aware that this scene was going on, we wanted nothing to do with it."

Brett's voice is a highly variable instrument, perfect and beautiful on slow numbers like 'The Next Life', but occasionally, when he affects that archly operatic Bowie yodel, a whiney, sneering sound like Rik Mayall on speed boring into your brain – absolutely maddening. It goes without saying that his delivery owes much to the most overrated British pop star of the last decade, Morrissey.

"I forced my voice in that way because of how we were born, musically, playing shitholes. It was the only way I could make myself heard. I didn't want to sing in the murmuring way that was the style of the time. I wanted to project my voice, because I was writing songs that I wanted people to hear the words of. I wasn't just writing about fluffy little clouds, which is what everyone was doing at the time. People read into my intonations a theatrical seventiesness, but it was a complete accident."

Overworked as the subject is, it's hard to avoid asking why Brett thinks his androgyny caused such a fuss. It's not the first time it has been done; it's not even the tenth time. Genderless, mincing fops are to classic British pop what hairspray is to American rock, a staple ingredient. Brett, by comparison to most, is pretty tame.

"I don't know," he sighs. "We certainly weren't thinking 'oh let's be androgynous', it's just the way we are. I'm naturally quite an effeminate person – not all the time, I do play on things. I think it was because, at the time, people were so incredibly boring. We had been through five years of the cult of non-personality, and we never wanted to go with the flow. When everyone had their heads down, chugging away, we wanted to twist things a little bit. It's like at school, when you find that something annoys someone, you keep on doing it more and more. And that's what happened really."

A female psychologist wrote recently about the overt sexual expression of pre-pubertal girls at pop concerts, the way in which, amidst the non-contact hysteria of the pop experience, they could sometimes experience their first orgasm. She was, admittedly, talking about a Take That show, but I can't help wondering if it looks like that from the stage to Brett Anderson?

"No, nothing like that," he purrs, "nothing sexual. I always feel like people are putting it on."

Having their first fake orgasm?

"It's a bizarre thing in my head. I know they really like me, but I can't really take it seriously. When I'm onstage, and it's working, I feel like I can do absolutely anything. I feel as though there's no limit, even in the sense that I could fall asleep if I felt like it, because I'm that relaxed. I feel much more comfortable on stage than walking down the street. I could go off into a corner and do a crossword or shave my head. I feel ridiculously relaxed. I really enjoy the power of being onstage. It's to do with the circuit of the flow between the audience and you, when it's an audience willing you to be good. Your own power is an expression of how the audience is feeling, but I can't say I ever feel sexual, even if it looks that way. I think that to call the power purely sexual is to belittle it. When I've been to incredible gigs, it hasn't been a sexual thing, it has been something far more magical than that. "

Brett and Osman came to London in the mid 80s to study, respectively, architecture and politics at UCL and LSE. Suede began after they placed an ad in the NME in 1989, but initial concerts had audiences shouting "Fuck off!", critics calling them effete wankers and record companies running for the hills - a three-pronged invitation to eat shit and die that would have spelt the end for most bands.

"That X factor that made people despise us," muses Brett, "was something we managed to turn around in our favour. It's like being in love with someone, and exactly the same things you adore about them, completely horrify you when you've fallen out of love. We went away and learnt how to write songs, and came back transformed. And those qualities that originally pissed people off, we transformed into something provocative. I think the fact that we went through all that rubbish was a fucking good thing for us. People forget that the Beatles spent five years in Hamburg. No one would touch them in England, cos everyone thought they were an utter load of shit. They spent five years getting it together, suffering a bit and fighting for it."

A typical lyric from those hard years was Brett's line about "shitting paracetomol on the escalator". When they were recently described as chemically saturated, I had assumed more interesting chemicals were involved.

"That's about pure mundanity, being off your face every night and your staple diet coming from your bathroom cabinet. It's a metaphor for a humdrum life, going up and down the London underground, which I spent five years of my life doing."

In many ways this – Suede's poignant soundtracking of new depression Britain – is their strength. But if they are Her Majesty's equivalent of slackers, it hasn't made America any more amenable to their cause. Indeed, despite Brett's avowed loathing of the British character – "negativity, small-mindedness, lack of faith" – there may well be a Britishness about Suede which prevents America from getting the point.

Brett makes the mistake of quoting a Smiths song to me – something about innocence, fragility and trust – forcing me to point out that American audiences don't want to be trusted with something precious, they want to rock out with their cocks out. Evan Dando may wear a dress and pigtails, but the wider American market is notoriously unkeen on sexual ambiguity. Queen were big in America until the early 80s, when Freddie Mercury started appearing in full clone gear. They never toured America again, and didn't have a single hit until after his death (and then only thanks to Wayne's World). In fact, America's association of guitars and manliness make Suede fundamentally unsuited.

"No!" storms Brett. "I don't think we're fundamentally unmanly. All you have to do is come and watch us live. We're about sexuality, power and emotion, things that everybody feels."

Whether or not America is destined to fall for his Morrissey-meets-Larry Grayson stage persona, Brett's much-aired desire to move to America (and less well-known plan to live in Paris) has, for now, been replaced by a much smaller act of bedouinism.

"I've moved from Notting Hill to Highgate," he announces proudly, "from a fashionable place to a place where you're living in the last century pretty much. I was living in a very small flat in Notting Hill and it was driving me insane, I couldn't write and was being bombarded with nonsense all day long. I needed the peace and quiet, and now I have a bigger flat with a studio room in it and I'm writing quite prolifically. It's more serene, there's more space to think. It's quite a beautiful place, but you do feel like you're living in the last century, like you're some sort of oddity, or in a play. You keep going into these odd characters. But it's a great place."

In person, and despite the affectation of much of his thought processes, Brett Anderson is quite charming. An endearing smile – which seems to hibernate when cameras are around – plays constantly around his face, suggesting shared confidences which, to some extent, he delivers. Like so many people cocooned by over-protective minions, he is refreshingly open and approachable. I like him. But he is deeply shocked and incredulous when I paint a picture of the special treatment afforded him by those he works with.

"They treat me with the respect I deserve," he jokes defensively. "I don't have tea with Lenny Kravitz. My best friend works in a chip shop, and that's why I like it, it's a complete escape. One of the beautiful things about being successful is that it can rub off onto your friends as well. Not fame and all that bullshit – the really brilliant thing about being successful is the self-confidence, the sense of life having a purpose, that life is a wonderful thing. You open the shutters in the morning and the sunshine pours through. That sense of vitality about life can completely rub off on your friends. Sometimes it doesn't, it can go the other way, with friends ignoring you cos they think you don't have time for them, but that never happens with your proper friends."

And yet, engulfed in the sweltering perversity of his peer group, Brett has come to hold some pretty crap views, views that seem utterly irrelevant beyond the borders of saddo indie land. He worries about being thought a sell-out, thinks Suede are radically honest because they admit to having ambition – as if people didn't get over all that bollocks a decade ago – and, worst of all, that people don't talk enough about music in interviews. Oh dear!

But, despite all this, Brett's public image remains unshatterably cool. He exudes waves of sultry, sulky hipness. I feel an urge to know what naff items lurk in the corners of Chateau Anderson, his ownership of which will shock Suede devotees to the core. Brett tells me he's been to see Aladdin, listens to jazz music, likes The Orb and Verve and has just bought the new Shamen single. To prove it, he even does his Mr C impression - "Comin' on like a vibe, y'know!". This won't do at all.

"I like Terence Trent D'Arby," he admits, trying harder. "I think he's really good."

It's good, but it's not right.

"I bought Billy Joel's River Of Dreams album. I like that one."

Aha – as Inspector Clouseau used to say – now we are getting somewhere! What about films?

"No, I've got impeccable taste when it comes to films."

No feature length On The Buses video stashed chez Brett?

"No. I have got Crocodile Dundee."

Bingo and Bullseye! So much for impeccable taste.

"Well, my perennial favourite is Performance," he flusters wildly. "I can virtually quote the whole film from start to finish. And there's a brilliant film which I've just discovered called The Shout, with John Hurt, Alan Bates and Susanna York. It's about a man who has spent years in the Australian bush learning the secrets of the bush doctors coming to this ridiculously reserved Cornish village and turning two people's lives upside down. It's like an animal alive within this village, and when he shouts, everyone within a mile radius dies. If Alan Bates' part had been played by Vincent Price, it would've been laughable, but it's incredibly powerful, one of those great lost films."

It's a nice try, but nothing can erase the impression created by Billy Joel and Crocodile Dundee.

#suede #brett anderson #press #interview #sky #1993

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ducktracy · 5 years ago

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57. i like mountain music (1933)

release date: june 10th, 1933

series: merrie melodies

director: rudolf ising

starring: sara berner (various), pinto colvig (yodeler/various), jack mercer (will rogers/various)

though the cartoon titles share the name of the songs they showcase, they can make for some pretty intriguing titles, like here. this is another installment of the books come to life series, pertaining to magazines instead.

open to a drugstore after closing. there are some wonderfully beautiful backgrounds as we view the interior, settling onto a magazine rack. all is quiet and peaceful... until a cowboy from a magazine titled “WESTERN THRILLER” tears a hole in the cover page with a spray of bullets.

he hops out of the book and motions for his dozing cowboy buddies to wake up, yelling “c’mon, fellers!” no further cue is necessary as they grab some instruments and launch into an instrumental solo of the titular song “i like mountain music”. an interesting array of gags: the double fisting gun slinging cowboy leaps onto a counter top and dances to the music, spinning around. his spurs cut a hole in the counter top and he plummets into the glass display case below, spraying himself with perfume. elsewhere, one of the cowboy musicians rides his accordion like a horse, making for some intriguing visuals. standard as these gags may be, the animation has come quite a ways since the beginning of our journey, and are thusly more enjoyable.

after receiving warm applause, the lead cowboy and some backup singers sing the vocals to the song. catchy and beautiful as always! a variety of spot gags accompany the song, such as polish pianist and prime minister ignacy paderewski playing the piano and singing along.

a caricature of eddie cantor (another looney tunes favorite, a whole cartoon dedicated to a chicken counterpart of himself with slap happy pappy) pops out of a magazine and pulls a violinists beard, shouting “look, jimmy! it’s rubinoff!” dave rubinoff was cantor’s violinist for one of his radio shows.

our saunters will rogers, actor slash vaudeville performer slash cowboy slash comedian. he makes his way towards a magazine covered in cobwebs dated october 1929, detailing the catastrophic stock market crash. he gingerly places a “NO SALE” sign by the magazine and says “well folks, all i know is what i read in the paper!” a group of babies from a baby magazine (mtself included) cheer him on and applaud.

some lovely animation as a figure skater from “dance magazine” leaps onto a mirror, tilting it horizontally beneath her weight and skating on it.

to top the gag off, a steady snowfall enhances her elegant routine... and it’s revealed to be a cowboy pouring talcum powder on her! highly predictable, but it got a good smile out of me regardless.

there are some babies waving jingle bells to the beat of the music... and members of an african tribe making clicking sounds to the music. not too fond of that one. otherwise a beautiful and amusing scene, but yeesh. as you can imagine, their depictions aren’t very savory.

the skater finishes her beautiful routine with a split, a group of toys applauding her (frequently reused from red-headed baby. i’ve noticed the amount of recycled animation has certainly dwindled within the past handful of shorts, which is always a refreshing sight to see!)

freshly picked from pagan moon, a hula girl dances to “it’s time to sing ‘sweet adeline’ again”, a chorus of steel guitar players backing her up in vocals. my affinity for steel guitars prevails, recycled as this scene may be.

a yodeler from travel magazine (who is actually pinto colvig! i’ll talk more about my thankfulness that this is the first merrie melody with some voice credits FINALLY at the end) yodels as he hops from cliff to cliff, mountain to mountain, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

the yodeling yokel sings “i like mountain music” from a woman sourced from the “college rumor” magazine. look at the difference in designs here! i know it falls under the category of “look at the sexy woman... and this man is ‘normal’ (not in this case but)”, but i can’t help but love the contrast in design anyways. very funny and intriguing. a caricature of ed wynn also lends his out of tune voice to the song as magazine creatures applaud the spectacle.

what’s a cartoon without a little nefarious doings, huh? a mobster ushers his cronies to follow him as he sneaks along the countertop. the screenshot doesn’t do it justice, but his toadies are actually walking at different intervals, but still synchronized! great animation as always. the musical synchronization is on par as always. sherlock and watson make an appearance, sherlock bending low and sniffing the ground like a dog for clues. words fail me in describing how much that amuses me.

the gangster’s plan becomes evident once he and his cronies make their way towards a cash register. the mobster pours some lighter fluid in a spray bottle, lighting it and using the makeshift blowtorch to weld a hole in the cashier and steal the contents inside.

edward robinson makes a cameo, grunting “they can dish it out, but they can’t take it” while the mobsters use a spoon to pour coins in a dish. good use of sound effects! robinson takes out a pair of guns and begins to shoot at the gangsters. one of the gangsters fires in retaliation, missing.

a phonograph from “RADIO magazine” calls out all the cop cars to stop the theft. even mussolini sends his italian policemen after the gangsters (ironic that even mussolini takes the role of one of the good guys, seeing the events of wwii, huh?).

a barrage of artillery is used against the thieves, such as gumball bullets and pins shot through a pencil sharpener (i love those pencil sharpener machine gun gags so much).

one of the gangsters (whose butt serves as a nice pin cushion) seeks refuge in a magazine with jean harlow on the front. quickly he learns to regret his decision, running from the pages as we get a ferocious shot of ping pong. not king kong, the star of the smash hit king kong released in march of 1933, heavens, no! ping pong!

ping pong barrels towards the camera and chases down the mobster. desperate for any source of shelter, the mobster dives into a glass. ping pong approaches a syrup tap and presses down on “razzberry”, the tap blowing an actual raspberry instead of any syrup. the gag is topped off as the mobster winced with each raspberry blown. the crowd celebrates his loss, and we get a rather interesting iris out—i’m not sure how to describe it. it’s like a double iris out. regardless, it’s pretty cool!

one of the more interesting merrie melodies for sure! i didn’t talk about the voice credits at the beginning—because i didn’t know they existed! halfway through this i consulted imdb for the soundtrack list, and saw that there were actually names available. sara berner would be one of the bigger voices behind looney tunes—almost like the female equivalent of mel blanc. bernice hansen would dominate the screen in the 30s with her wonderful baby voice (used to the best of its abilities in cartoons where she voices actual babies who turn out to be conniving little bastards, referring to porky’s naughty nephew and porky’s picnic. she’d also voice petunia, both tashlin’s “sexy” approach and clampett’s cute and childish approach!). pinto colvig is credited too, of course gaining notoriety for his role as the original goofy. jack mercer also voiced popeye and felix the cat. quite a list here!

anyway, enough about voices. this was a really entertaining cartoon! with the books come to life cartoons, you have a certain standard of what to expect (save for book revue LOL. that’s a trip and a half), so i was pleasantly surprised to see that this was about magazines instead. especially in a drugstore, there’s a lot more room to work with the setting. the animation was beautiful and the gags were on point, and the celebrity caricatures were drawn great. even if you don’t know who they are, you still get a good laugh. the only downfall would be the racist gag with the stereotypical african tribe members making clicking sounds... that speaks for itself. needs to be addressed (as all the blackface and stereotypical gags do), but doesn’t necessarily drain the short too much of its charm. overall, definitely worth a watch. paced nicely and very high energy and silly! just express caution at the clicking gag with the ice skating scene.

link!

#lt #i like mountain music #reviews #long post #racism tw

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goodvibesatpeace · 6 years ago

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Astrology: Finding Happiness

Aries: Know Who you Are

Aries rules our face, our heads, our identity. Without a strong purpose or identity in life, an Aries may not be happy. Ruled by the planet Mars, Aries is our natural leader; they are the fighters, they are the rebels changing the rules.

I can’t help to think of Billy Idol’s Rebel Yell video, when I think of an Aries. They need a Cause, a Purpose, and they need to understand who they are. Quiet your mind Aries.. look deep within. Silently ask yourself “who am I?” and wait for the picture to come alive.

Once you focus on what you want, keep that fire burning behind it, you’ll get it.. and your looks will help too.

Taurus: Strong Self-Worth

Through Taurus, we understand what we value the most. Without a strong Self-worth, a Taurus may not be happy. Ruled by the planet Venus, our Goddess of Love, and the finer things in life, she is the manifesto for all these things, including our own personal finances.

Once a Taurus can communicate what he/she needs clearly through the part of the body they rule, which is the throat, they will become stronger, and instantly get what they deserve. They are the true Manifestoes.

I am reminded of the Fairy God-mother from Cinderella; all you need to do is wave that wand, and see the picture of what you want. Make sure it is aligned with your true Values, and bippity-boppity-boo, it will come true.

Gemini: Communicate Freely

A Gemini that is silenced, or repressed in expressing themselves may not be happy. They need the freedom to express their feelings and emotions through the best way they can: Words. Words are Gemini’s best friends.

Mercury is the ruling planet here: the planet that rules our minds, our thoughts, and all forms of Communication. In Gemini, it makes them the natural writers, poets, musicians, and speakers.

I am reminded of George the VI, who wasn’t supposed to be appointed King, and had to overcome his speech impediment. Then, once he had the courage, he became an inspiration to many. We know your dualistic, beautiful-mind has lots to say, and the World is waiting to hear it.

Cancer: Home is Where the Heart Is

A crab without a safe & cozy shell, where they can be themselves, may not be happy. A Home to call your own; a place where your emotions are free to flow with the people surrounding you(immediate-family, spouse, or children), that understand YOU, and will allow you to be just ‘You’.

This is the foundation of Cancer: The Happy- home. Create your sanctuary. You are the most emotional of all signs because you are ruled by the Moon, that controls the Ocean-tides. Resolution with mother/ father, and finding peace with your own upbringing, if there is karmic ties that need to be cleared.

If there are things that need to be said, say them now. I can’t help to think of the Brady Bunch; how two families had to live together in harmony under one roof, and they did because emotions were always talked out.

Leo: Express Yourself Bravely

A Lion without a Pride, may not be happy. A Pride has a purpose, and they look to the King for direction. An audience always needs to be around this gracious, Social- being; they are the Center of attention, ruled by the Sun.

The Sun is the light shining bright through our hearts, like most signs, but especially for Leo’s; they must discover what they love through Creative, self-expression. This usually revolves around overcoming some fear.

I think of Simba from The Lion King, who has a many lessons to learn, and overcome, but in the end, we all knew it was his destiny to rule. Allow your insecurities to fall by the Way-side. Do what you love, and do it with grace and passion. You are the Natural-born star.. its your time to shine.

Virgo: Love Yourself First

A Virgo without a good routine, physically and emotionally, may not be happy. It is not because they lack discipline, or are seen as lazy- quite the contrary. Its because they think of others first. They are the natural-born Givers, and Teachers; they are the Mother Theresas’, and the Gandhis’ of our world.

By giving up their life for others, they may neglect what they must do for themselves. Ruled also by Mercury, you have a naturally-organized mind, a ‘to do” list in your head of 100 things perfectly departmentalized.

Learn to Love yourself first. Focus on you, and then others will follow, and appreciate you more. Your family will understand that you need to workout for 20 mins before breakfast is started, and the dishes will wait without the dust running away. It will all be there for you when you get back.

You’ll feel so much better once you get the YOU routine in order, and STAY on track.

Libra: Balance of Energy

Unhappy relationships equals unhappy life for these loving, Bright-beings. It can be through business, or in personal relationships. A Libra without another person in their life(a close friend, relative, or a significant other) may not be happy.

Ruled by our planet Venus, this is where love and marriage is highlighted. They are the Scales of life; the ones who need to balance their energy the most, to feel alive and in good spirits. Work, social, and personal Time is all crucial to your well-being.

Don’t give too much of yourself to your partner in life, and don’t spend too much time in isolation. Im reminded here of Bridget Jone’s character; focused on her career, but has the support of close friends, and family around to guide her love-life, that is highlighted by a decision of two men.

Can she choose the one who represents her energy the most? Vibes attract your Tribe; stay positive, and do you, and the right people will arrive in your life.

Scorpio: Commit to Your Passion

If a Scorpio is not Passionate about anything in particular in their life they, may not be happy. The sign most associated with Sex, the Mysterious, and the Mystical ones. They are creative beings ruled by not only Mars, but the deep, transformative, icy-planet- Pluto.

The most Powerful sign, they see beyond the surface, and through it all. A Surface-partnership, Project, or Life will just NOT do. They strive on big-business and big-deals. They are not scared to explore the depths of the cold-ocean so many are fearful of.

I think of Martin Scorsese; taking chances of ridicule by bringing us movies like Taxi, Casino & Raging Bull, that explore the darker, aggressive, passionate-side of cinema. Death and transformation, is a big part of these movies, and that is what Scorpio must become comfortable with. The idea of killing a project, ego, or partnerships, to bring to life new people, projects, and a more awakened-self.

Boredom is Death to a Scorpio. Learn to Let Go. Be obsessed with what makes you feel alive. Be in Love with those who connect with you at the deepest level, and Be the Phoenix that rises from the grave, to bring your gifts to light.

Sagittarius: Keep Learning

A Sag that is not learning something new, or discovering new lands, may not be happy. You are the Philosophers, the Inventors of the world. You can do anything you put your mind to, and you need to trust yourself enough to Think Big.

Never allow yourself to become complacent. Jupiter, your bad-boy, big-ruling planet, wants to gift you with everything you Desire. When you travel, you expand your horizons, every place you visit will become a part of your essence, and Teach you much more about yourself.

It’s at this time that Saturn returns to your sun sign once more. Can you think back 30 years ago? What major changes in your life occurred then? Maybe you’re just learning NOW, the lessons that Saturn has bestowed upon you.

Its time to grow up, and see that the big-Changes have started to come into your life, and are for the better, if you can just- Believe. Your beliefs: Thinking of the movie Big Fish; many could not believe if his story was true, but it didn’t matter because the Inspiration it left us with was enough to feel like magic, that still exists in this world.

Capricorn: Keep the End In Mind

A Capricorn without a big-Goal, may not be happy. Our Goats of our Zodiac climb high, and steady, as they reach the Top of the mountain. Capricorns are ruled by our Time-keeper- Saturn.

Our Rule-maker, and even as the goats climb sideways, we wonder “How do they do it?” They believe it- that’s why. They know if they just Focus with the end in mind, they will survive, and get there one day, regardless of how much pressure they need to put themselves under. Hard-work, and perseverance never fails.

I think of the lead role in Shawshank Redemption to escape his demise; he made his way slowly digging a hole, little by little, year by year, not allowing himself to be distracted, or discouraged.

You of all signs understand that life cannot be measured in a year, or a day, and if a set back comes your way, you know you will make it to the top of the mountain again, just try NOT to take life so seriously, and learn to yodel along the way.

Aquarius: Stay Connected

An Aquarius in Isolation, may be not happy. You can be sitting in front of your computer, and connected to thousands.. You might even be conjuring up the new Facebook technology of the next generation, but you need Personal connections in this life, outside of the internet.

Community-work comes to mind, and being with great friends or family, is important to an Aquarius, even if they don’t seem to show it. They connect very quickly to many, and can disconnect just as quickly when a new topic, or new surrounding comes their way.

This is just their way of life; they are not being rude, or dismissive.. they are just learning through US. Ruled by the planet Uranus, their minds work overtime, and see things very differently than most. Sudden change, and big-moves seem to happen in an instant, and it’s how You handle them, that make all the difference.

Know that you will always be okay, with strong connections that last longer than others, and will always be there to re-energize you. Social networks like Meet-up, were invented for you, OR maybe you’re working on creating your own.

Pisces: Know that You Know

A Pisces that doesn’t Trust their Intuition, and seems lost at sea, may not be happy. You are the seers, and you probably know the next words I’m gonna write before I even print them. Neptune, your ruling planet keeps you connected naturally to the Ethers, but as you are the two fish swimming in opposite directions so quickly, you can Choose to disconnect this Strong-power.

Whether you use drugs, alcohol, or just convince yourself that they don’t know the truth hearts desire is you can’t run away from the truth. You are here to help others and guide us with your inner knowing.

Don’t slip away into the dark depths of the ocean-tides. Come back to us, take a deep breath and rise up through the surface and let everyone see what a miracles being you are. Your intuition will always guide you. The more connected and sober you go through this life with a spiritual practice in mind, the happier you’ll be.

#astrology #happy #zodiac #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces

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mrsrcbinscn · 4 years ago

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Franny’s 30 Day Cover Challenge

Playlist

Franny’s 30 Day Cover Song Challenge: (categories are mostly from here, and here, with some from here, and a couple I made) in September 2020 one of her musician friends challenged her to do the thing and she was like “It seems like a fun way to show everyone what kind of music has influenced me as a musician, singer, songwriter, and just like, person. So I’m going to do it.”

In reality, she recorded most of them in 1-2 days to distract her from how sad she is because Wilbur hates her and he’s sad lmao

It helped a little.

(If you want me to drop the playlist she mentions in #24 let me know, I have it started I can finish it)

TW: mentions of Franny’s political beliefs so tw: politics, an allusion to suicide though the word isn’t directly used, mention of 9/11 and the subsequent invasions...nothing graphic with any of these triggers but worth a forewarning

Day 01 - A song that makes you happy

Honey Spiders by The Parlotones

“The Parlotones are this fantastic indie rock band out of South Africa. And I actually thought about doing their song, uh, Stars Fall Down for day sixteen, but I’m going with Honey Spiders for day 1. There were lots of Parlotones songs, I mean. Push Me to The Floor, We Call This Dancing, Should We Fight Back...but ah, Honey Spiders always puts me in a good mood.”

Day 02 - A song that helps you clear your head

Light of a Clear Blue Morning by Dolly Parton

“I grew up on Dolly, and it’s funny because for the longest time this song wasn’t really on my radar as much as it is now. But when I was twenty-two I was going through something really difficult, and my then-fiance now husband was abroad for work, so I was alone in our apartment and just. Really, profoundly sad and lonely. So I put on a Dolly Parton record and just laid on the bed and Light Of A Clear Blue Morning played and I had a good long cry and felt so much better after that. When I need to think about how to solve a difficult problem, or I feel overwhelmed, I just listen to that song.”

Day 03 - Song you love from a band/artist you hate

Should’ve Been A Cowboy by Toby Keith

“Honestly, he’s called me a nasty lady to my face and I’ve called him a facist enabling pig to his, so I have no qualms openly saying I hate Toby Keith. That being said, Should’ve Been A Cowboy is one of the best country songs of the 90s, undeniably. I loved that song when it came out when I was thirteen, and I still love it.”

Day 04 - A song about drugs or alcohol

Whiskey Lullaby by Brad Paisley and Alison Krauss

“This is probably cheating, because my lovely best friend Daniel and I cover this a lot at Dara & Danny shows. But today look who I have! My friend Max from Seoul Hanoi’d! Max the Korean Scot who can’t hide his accent to save his life, so let’s see how it sounds in a Scottish accent.”

Day 05 - A protest song

Talking Vietnam Blues by Phil Ochs /// and Here’s to The State of Mississippi by Phil Ochs

“This one was hard because I. Fucking. Love. Protest music. I could have done a whole 30 days of protest music - wow, let me know if I should do that and give my husband a heart attack with all the twitter threats I’ll invite. Huh. Right, so I was going to do Your Flag Decal Won’t Get You Into Heaven by John Prine. But I decided to do two Phil Ochs songs because I don’t think Phil Ochs is talked about enough. It’s a shame we lost him so young. Ochs’ sardonic humor and honesty in his writing has influenced me as a songwriter deeply. When I write political songs, I don’t hold back, and it’s because of Phil Ochs’ writing that I have that courage. I’ve been singing Love Me, I’m A Liberal since I was in college with constantly updating lyrics. It was so hard to even choose which songs of his to do because for his fairly short career his songbook is lengthy and full of gems. I’m Going to Say It Now, Draft Dodger Rag, Spanish Civil War Song, I Ain’t Marching Anymore...I couldn’t pick one so I’m cheating and recording two.”

Day 06 - A song you wish you wrote

When I Think About Cheatin’ by Gretchen Wilson

“I will forever be pissed off that I didn’t write this song. I’m absolute trash for my husband, so it’s never -- I’ve never had to be in a situation to ever consider -- but this song gets me every time. It feels like I could have written it. Because we do spend a lot of time apart travelling for our work. And the sentiment expressed in the song is a little too real.”

Day 07 - A song in a language you don’t speak

Khattar by Khine Htoo

“This will either be a charming attempt to sing in Burmese or I’m about to offend a lot of people. Which, being a politically outspoken woman on the internet, I’m used to anyway. So. 1, 2, 3, okay here goes.”

Day 08 - A song by an artist no longer living

Phop Samnang by Sinn Sisamouth (inspiration)

“Haha, you thought I’d see the name of this category and not do a Sinn Sisamouth song? You were wrong.”

Day 09 - A song you want to dance to at your wedding

Devoted To You by The Everly Brothers

“I’m already married, so this was actually our first dance song at our wedding. Day three of our wedding, like the more Westernized wedding ceremony day. We had a three day long traditional Cambodian wedding and I felt like a princess. An-y-way!”

Day 10 - A song that makes you cry

Borrowed Rooms and Old Wood Floor by Emily Scott Robinson

“Unfortunately, Emily Scott Robinson and I aren’t related. Sad, I know, because she’s so talented. Almost her entire album Traveling Mercies is...sad as hell. The record reminded me of early Dolly Parton, and my second solo album. You know, all those sad-ass songs. The Dress is honestly the song that makes me the saddest but I can’t even listen to it without crying so.”

Day 11 - A song that you love hearing live

Prove My Love by Violent Femmes

“There is nobody I have seen in concert more than Dolly Parton, but Violent Femmes and George Strait come incredibly close. The Cranberries, the amount of times I saw them in the 90s and early 2000s...close fourth. Probably. The very first concert I dragged my husband to was a Violent Femmes concert, he was not prepared for how hard college me went.”

Day 12 - A song from before 1960

There Ain’t No Sweet Man That’s Worth The Salt of My Tears by Libby Holman

“This song is from 1928. I came across it when I was in grad school and it’s, as the kids say, a bop.”

Day 13 - A song you think everybody should listen to

White Man’s World by Jason Isbell

“I think perspectives of people of color should of course take precedence in these conversations. But I find this song to be a good faith attempt of a white man coming to terms with the institutional racism and sexism in the world around him. And I think this song can be a useful tool to explain certain concepts of racial justice to ignorant but well-meaning folks. As a woman of color I think Jason Isbell did a great job not centering himself even though it was from his perspective. This song is great musically and necessary socially.”

Day 14 - A song from the 1970s

You’re No Good by Linda Ronstadt

“Linda Ronstadt is grossly underrated, that’s all I have to say here.”

Day 15 - A song people wouldn’t expect you to like

Racists by Anti-flag

“I mean, I’ve talked about how much I like punk in the past, and I remember a video of Seoul Hanoi’d doing Spanish Bombs at a San Antonio show made the rounds, but I don’t think I’ve talked about how much I like Anti-flag. People don’t expect me to like punk for some reason. But I agree with...everything punk music is all about.”

Day 16 - A song that holds a lot of meaning to you

Blue by LeAnn Rimes

“It’s silly, but I won a county fair singing competition with this song in high school and it really fueled my passion for music, that win. It’s also the first song Cornelius heard me go full Georgia on, with the yodels and all, at the little bar in my hometown on his first trip meeting my parents. The song doesn’t cut to my very soul ot anythin’, but it’s special to me.”

Day 17 - A song attached to a memory

Supernova by Liz Phair

“I remember buying Liz Phair’s Whip-smart album when I was eleven. And in college, when I was getting ready for dates with Cornelius in my dorm room, I would dance around to a CD I burned and wrote on it with a sharpie, ‘Pre-date Movie Scene Music.’ God, what was even on there? I’m about to expose myself as the most basic 1999-2001 bitch. I remember Head Over Feet, I mean, Alanis Morisette? I was a young woman in 2000, obviously I loved her. Mm, Dreams by The Cranberries...oh, Kiss Me, Sixpence None The Richer...yeah, anyway, Supernova was on there.”

Day 18 - A song from the year you were born

Call Me by Blondie

“...I can’t believe Call Me is as old as I am.”

Day 19 - A song that reminds you of someone you miss

Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing (yes, of course she does a cover with banjo)

“This was my late best friend Molly’s favorite hymn. And I sang it at her funeral at her husband’s request. Molly and I grew up together in the small town of Payne Lake, Georgia and Molly was the most devout Christian...but she was also the first person I came out to as bisexual when I was a teenager, and she said that Jesus taught her that love was the greatest commandment and that meant I was automatically twice as good at it as her. Her faith guided her every action but she never talked down on her two best friends - Dan(iel Maitland) and I for not sharing it. Molly was doing the whole emulate Jesus thing beautifully. I miss her every day and it’s been seven years. If you ever think that people won’t miss you...you’re wrong. All right, let’s see if I can get through this without crying.”

Day 20 - A song by an artist you discovered this year

Hello, Anxiety by Phum Viphurit

“I just discovered this quirky Thai-Kiwi singer and not to be dramatic, but he’s my favorite thing in the world right now.”

Day 21 - A song with a city or country in the title

Oh! Phnom Penh (track 20)

“This song was written after the fall of the Khmer Rouge, and after people began to make their way to what was left of their homes, alone, or with what was left of their families. If you want to learn more about what that was like to actually live it, my cousin Reena Boran has a video interviewing her parents and paternal grandfather and uncle about it. Reena is a journalism student currently studying in London but she lives in Cambodia. Her mother is my aunt Malisruot, my mother’s youngest sister. The video is English subtitled on her channel, I’ll link it in the description box below.”

Day 22 - A song from the 1960s

To Sir, With Love by Lulu

“I didn’t actually discover this song until I heard it covered at a 10,000 Maniacs concert in the 90s. My friend Allison was standing next to me and I just started crying and she’s like ‘are you okay?’ and all I just blubbered out ‘My dad!’ For the uninitiated, my dad married my mom, who’d raised me alone until then, when I was six and he adopted me when I was eight. My dad didn’t have to adopt me, he didn’t have to call me his daughter, he could have just been like half of my friends’ stepdads and give me a place to live and nothing else. But my dad was my biggest supporter from day one. He convinced my mom to let me join the dance team and show choir instead of science club, he was the one that talked my mom down from probably killing me when they found out I was only studying music and not music and political science at NYU. I am who I am today because he is my dad. And this song just says everything I’ve always thought about him.”

Day 23 - A song from your childhood

Una Lacrima Sul Viso by Bobby Solo

“But Franny, aren’t you a Cambodian raised in the US? Yes, but you were fooled. My very white father is also an immigrant. He is from Switzerland and while he didn’t teach me to speak Italian and German growing up, he played German, Italian, and French records all the time. My parents often spoke to each other in French and I picked up some French but properly studied it starting in high school, and I didn’t study Italian until college -- and my German is still …. [points to a spot on the screen where she later inserted a card linking to a video on her cousin Köbi Framagucci’s YouTube channel titled ‘Can My American Cousin Speak German?’ where he tests her Standard and Swiss German speaking and comprehension]. But hell if I couldn’t sing every one of the songs from my father’s French, German, and Italian record before I knew what the words even meant.”

Day 24 - A song that gives you chill vibes

Glorify by Ivan & Alyosha

“Dan(iel Maitland) and I actually have an entire playlist on my Spotify accounts of songs to listen to to get us out of writers’ block. And one that I often will put on repeat and just absorb through my headphones with my eyes closed is a song called Glorify by Ivan & Alyosha. I think it touches on a lot of the themes I include in my songwriting. Christian mythology, the darker side of humanity, it often reminds me of what I love about songwriting. If you say please I might drop a link to that playlist.”

Day 25 - A song that’s your signature song

Long Gone Lonesome Blues by Hank Williams“Right, so I chose this instead of a Kitty Wells song or I Get A Kick Out of You (her being

featured on a 2005

recording propelled her career majorly) because if you’re familiar with me you might have seen a video that went around in like….2017? 2016? of Dan(iel Maitland) and I doin’ the song at our hometown bar in 2014. I posted it in response to some tweets because hoes mad when a WOC calls out racism and sexism in the Nashville music industry. ‘Bet she don’t even know Hank’, really? You think I wouldn’t know the history of one of the two music industries I work in? Please. Anyway, she knows Hank and nails the incredibly technical yodel -- the

most difficult

one in Hank’s songbook - in Long Gone Lonesome Blues. Mm...Lovesick Blues though, that also strikes fear into my heart. Anyway stay mad I guess?”

Day 26 - A song by your favorite band

Gun Shy by 10,000 Maniacs

“10,000 Maniacs was one of my favorite bands when I was in like 5th grade through 10th. I listened to them for a little while after Natalie Merchant left for a solo career, but the Natalie Merchant era was really what resonated with me the most. Gun Shy was a bit too advanced for my little 5th, 7th grade ears to really appreciate when I first discovered the album In My Tribe. Merchant’s voice -- because like, I don’t have a very conventional voice either, so her and Dolores O’Riordan really changed my entire perspective on what a woman’s voice can sound like in rock music. Um, yeah, so her voice more than the lyrics just wowed me. And as I got closer to graduating high school and especially in college I actually understood what What’s The Matter Here, Hey Jack Kerouac, and Gun Shy were talking about. Gun Shy...really became a significant song to me because...being born in 1980 I grew up in a relatively peaceful time. The Cold War was all but thawed by my tenth birthday. But I was getting ready to leave my then-boyfriend-now-husband’s apartment for class at NYU on the morning of 9/11. We stood in line for hours to donate blood. And then my government invaded two completely unrelated countries and jingoism and terrifying, fervent nationalism, and xenophobia just smacked me in the face. And friends of mine from high school were convicted to drop out of college and join the Army, and died, for an unjust, imperialist war, and suddenly Phil Ochs, John Prine, and Bob Dylan lyrics hit a lot different, and I understood what Gun Shy was really about.”

Day 27 - A song you hate by an artist you love

Mrs.Robinson by Simon & Garfunkel

“Paul Simon is one of my favorite songwriters ever, um, and I actually used to like Mrs. Robinson….until I got married and everyone sang it at me. It’s kind of my fault, I did choose to take my husband’s last name. And I leaned into it by making my social media handles all Mrs. Robinson...but still. Only play the song around me if you want to die.”

Day 28 - A song that a younger you would have loved

Mean by Taylor Swift

“I’m so genuinely glad that I am older than Taylor Swift. Middle school Franny did not need Taylor Swift to enable me and fuel my ego. Some of her singles, while not really 35 and 40 year old Franny’s cup of tea, young me would have played until my mother hid the record or cassette from me. Although - fuck if Tim McGraw didn’t immediately give my happily married ass flashbacks to my first love and make me bawl like a baby? Right, so when Speak Now came out and I listened to it, Mean, while not a song that adult me has listened to maybe more like ten times, I immediately thought ‘wow, I needed this song when I was in middle and high school.’ I could literally picture 7th grade me with my little guitar and my little cowboy boots my dad bought for me singing this at the talent show making eye contact with the kids who bullied me as if it was some kind of own when it’s not. I could still, almost thirty years later, name them if I really wanted. So, for 7th grade me, Mean by Taylor Swift.”

Day 29- A song that reminds you of your partner/spouse

ផាត់ជាយបណ្តូលចិត្ / Phat Cheay Bon'dol Chet by Sinn Sisamuth (translation) (female singer covering it) (modern, studio recording of a male and female singer dueting it) (a cool violin cover) (another female singer) (cool guitar cover)

Feat. some members of Seoul Hanoi’d. Andy Chaiyaporn (violin), Max Cho (piano), Jodie Batbayar (cello), Aisulu Niyazova-Li (percussion) and Franny has her guitar

“The song, lyrically, only reminds me of my husband a little bit. But Phat Cheay Bondol Chet has several memories with my husband attached to it. The first time he heard me sing in Khmer was at my mother’s house in Atlanta when I had him visit the first time to meet my parents. My mom had a little dinner party at our house to show him off, like Asian moms do when they think their daughter snags a good one, and I was hand washing the dishes while my mom and the other Cambodian parents were listening to Sinn Sisamuth records. I’ve always loved the song I’ll be showing y’all today, like I’ve always just stopped what I was doing and -- so it came on and I just started singing along without really being aware of it. And then at a different diaspora get together that summer, that song came on and I just kinda. Pulled him aside to the side yard of that person’s house to look at the stars with him and translated the song. It’s one of the Khmer songs he instantly recognizes now, so it’s special.”

Franny did NOT say in the video that college her 100% had him sit in the grass with her outside that person’s house, where nobody could see, so she could makeout with him

Day 30- A song by one of your favorite songwriters

Reincarnation by Roger Miller

Feat. Seoul Hanoi’d, done more in the style of the Cake cover

Also instead of singing the lyric “you’re a girl, I’m a boy” she goes “you’re a girl, so am I” because she doesn’t ever change pronouns, she just makes it gay because she is a bi-con

“Roger Miller, to me, is as important as Dolly Parton, Paul Simon, Bob Dylan, in the American songbook. He’s not as talked about which is a shame because his discography is iconic. Getting to be a part of King of The Road was one of the highlights of my career.”

#&&...hc

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