#my partner and i scream every time we hear the harmonica

[fuck-fma-03]

Alright can we just talk about all of the fucking harmonica in 03 whenever someone's trauma is discussed, like what the fuck??

[rpstartersinc]

* 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒  𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄  :  𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍  𝟏.

feel free to change pronouns / wording!

“ another parking ticket? ”

“ new york’s finest soil themselves. ”  

“ keep a low profile. ”  

“ do i ever need back-up? ”  

“ about... that back-up... ”  

“ standing around here sulking won’t bring him back. ”

“ your opinion is noted. ”  

“ may i take your order? ”  

“ so that’s two ‘we’re not as funny as we think we are’ combos with a side of ‘bite me.’ ”  

“ experience suggests i should never cut a rug... unless i’m installing carpet. ”  

“ tell anyone about me and i will hunt you down. ”

“ why are those guys shooting at us!? ”  

“ i get it, i get it. the first rule of robot fight club is don’t talk about robot fight club. ”  

“ are you willing to make the ultimate sacrifice? ”  

“ are you insane? ”

“ i needed that! ”  

“ you know this is complex technology, don’t you? ”  

“ let’s get you home, partner. ”  

“ i’d stick around but i’m squeamish. ”  

“ the joint’s gonna blow! ”  

“ can i come with next time? ”

“ he was mutated... butchered. ”  

“ i’m pretty sure the cops will be out looking for me. ”  

“ have you broken the law? ”  

“ i just wanted to say i’m really sorry for your loss. ”  

“ what could you possibly know about loss? ”  

“ you will take me for a spin every once in a while? ”

“ leave a note for your mom, she worries! ”  

“ thought you might actually enjoy the ride if you weren’t getting shot at. ”

“ thank goodness for peace and quiet. ”  

“ house guests can be such a bother. ”  

“ playing bodyguard is one thing, babysitting’s another. ”

“ my hearing is sharp as ever. ”  

“ i sometimes mess around on the harmonica. ”  

“ this one’s a ballad - my fist, your face! ”  

“ what? i saw it on tv. ”  

“ you know how to hack? ”

“ you treat all your guests this nice? ”  

“ i have no appreciation for human humour. ”  

“ i got an issue with the customer service around here, could i speak to the manager? ”  

“ whoa, are your bones vibrating? ”  

“ i am the only one you can rely upon now. ”  

“ it’s your fault that we’re stuck in this intensity. ”

“ well maybe i have some regard for your safety. ”  

“ how do you know it isn’t just a recipe for space nachos? ”  

“ you fought zombies and i missed it? ”  

“ this isn’t a game! ”  

“ now i understand why you had to rush home. ”  

“ stop trying to pretend you’re normal. ”

“ i think normal suits me fine. ”  

“ maybe you’re growing on me. ”  

“ put on some pants! ”  

“ security sure is lax in this place. ”  

“ i owe you one. ”  

“ you’re a human, can you build me a small intestine? ”

“ i would be willing to consider a truce, if you would be willing to bow before me. ”  

“ no one could’ve survived this. ”  

“ everyone believes you are deceased. ”  

“ i’ve always wanted to see snow. ”  

“ i will bring you back a snowball. ”

“ oh? scared of losing? ”  

“ they pick you apart from the inside out. ”  

“ i get to be your bodyguard for once. ”  

“ did you just scream like a little girl? ”  

“ okay... wish i hadn’t seen that. ”  

“ how about a game? ”

“ one should not be measured by size alone. ”  

“ i’d invite you in, but the place is a mess! ”  

“ what’s with all the security? ”  

“ if you’re trying to ruin my day, you’re gonna have to try harder. ”  

“ ever think i might need a hand here? ”  

“ seemed like a good idea at the time. ”  

“ you don’t seem like yourself. ”  

“ you’re not planning to leave already, are you? ”  

“ you’re gonna tell me everything i wanna know. ”

“ you lead a charmed life, walking among titans. ”  

“ whoa, you’re pretty fierce. ”  

“ never leave the enemy with the spoils. ”  

“ maybe we should jump? ”  

“ did detention end early? ”  

“ you can’t just cut detention! ”

“ eugh, you sound like my parents. ”  

“ you’re smarter than you let on. ”  

“ i hate talking to machines. ”  

“ covertly and giant robots don’t really go together. ”  

“ we’re already trespassers and thieves, why not add forgery to the list? ”

“ winning isn’t enough, you wanna make him cry. ”  

“ i’m an automobile enthusiast. ”  

“ what part of ‘just this once’ did you not understand? ”  

“ do you know how hard that is to replace? ”  

“ really wish i’d packed some insect repellent. ”  

“ quite the outdoors-man, aren’t you? ”

“ you’re kinda freaking me out here! ”  

“ your sense of direction could use some improvement. ”  

“ partners don’t ditch partners. ”  

“ at some point you really have to ask yourself, is it them, or is it me? ”  

“ that’s the spirit! play hard to get! ”  

“ i do not enjoy being bored. ”

“ you scratch my back, i scratch yours. ”  

“ i do not believe in spirits. ”  

“ you tricked me! ”  

“ how long have you been there...? ”  

“ i love when a plan comes together! ”

“ i can’t believe you made me lose my phone! ”  

“ not a word about this, to anyone. ”  

“ there i am, minding my own business when my arm just falls off! ”  

“ this isn’t mine. ”  

“ how about when i finish with you, i pay her a visit? ”  

“ since you evidently aren’t squeamish, i’ll allow you to watch. ”

“ marco! -- you’re supposed to say polo! ”  

“ just keep that thing pointed away from me, alright? ”  

“ thanks for walking me home, you’re a real gentleman. ”  

“ and i wore heels and everything... ”  

“ a scout should be silent but deadly. ”  

“ silent but deadly means something completely different on earth. ”

“ no matter where i turn, i’m the third wheel. ”  

“ why don’t you just marry her!? ”  

“ would you stay still? ”  

“ you’ve finally become tiresome, predictable - you’ve hit rock bottom. ”

“ i just need to rest for a second, that’s all. ”  

“ i don’t wanna hurt you. ”

“ seize the day! ”  

“ yes, run! i would love to see you try. ”  

“ if you think i’m gonna beg for mercy, forget it! ”  

“ ah, yes, begging for mercy would be quite pathetic, wouldn’t it? ”

“ i was never destined to be a leader. ”  

“ we’re out numbered and out-gunned. ”

“ that information is need to know, and right now - you don’t. ”  

“ the past has a way of catching up with the present. ”  

“ i prefer working alone. ”  

“ revenge will not bring back those we have lost. ”  

“ i’m not really so bad, you know. ”  

“ it is the external wounds which heal the quickest. ”

“ would you mind lowering the volume? ”  

“ innocent vehicles battling for the pleasure of human spectators? eugh - bloodsport! ”  

“ back-up is what i’m built for. ”  

“ games are only fun to play, when you’re winning. ”  

“ sometimes i wish i could do more. ”  

“ how is it that such small beings can be so loud? ”

“ are you hurt? you fell. ”  

“ you need to keep your emotions in check. ”  

“ do not believe everything you read. ”  

“ watch out for the quiet ones. ”  

[digitalworldbound]

takari w.i.p

hi! it’s been forever, i know, but i’ve just graduated college! i’ve been loosely working on a short takari fic centered around the language of flowers and such. i feel like hikari loves flowers and takeru loves giving them to her? it will have six little parts, but i only have the first two half-way finished.  anyways, here is a snippet (pls be gentle, i haven’t edited it yet): 

Five Times Takeru gave Hikari Flowers, and the One Time she Returned the Favor 

The Beginning

“You know, Takeru,” his mother began one day, a hot summer breeze floating through the window. Their new apartment was bare, her voice bouncing off the empty walls.  Takeru, legs dangling off of the kitchen counter, trailed his eyes on his mother as she meticulously arranged flowers into the perfect formation. “Every woman loves flowers.”  

The blond nodded, pretending to understand. Though he was a bright boy, there were many concepts he had yet to wrap his mind around. If only Yamato were here, Takeru thought.

Sensing her son’s disinterest, Takeru’s mother tried another approach. “Flowers have their own language.” Her fingers diligently arranged the blossoms, hesitating only to admire her son’s wide eyes/

“What do you mean, mommy? How can they talk if they don’t have mouths?” Takeru hopped down from his perch, cautiously approaching his mother’s newest bouquet. While a daisy was become victim to the young boy’s scrutinizing gaze, Nancy laughed. For a boy of only six, Takeru was very serious. “No, baby, they don’t have mouths.” Her giggles continued at her son’s disbelieving stare. “The different flowers have meanings, sweetheart.”

Takeru hesitated, eyeing the stem in between his fingers warily. “What about this one, then?” The once pristine white petals had dropped with the boy’s investigation. Nancy crouched beside Takeru, gingerly taking the blossom from his grasp. “Well, my love, daisies symbolize hope.”

-

Daisies – Innocence, Hope

Peonies –  Bashful, Happiness

Lilacs – Joy of Youth

Wood logs crackled underneath a flame, the glow illuminating the dirty faces of children. Takeru had hoped that finding the eighth Chosen would put the rest of the group at east but going home had caused more problems than he had thought. Yamato was upset, confused, and alone. Meanwhile, Takeru was sat between Taichi and Koushiro, enjoying the hum of the digital crickets.  Across from him was Sora, arm wrapped around a shivering Hikari. Gatomon set several feet away, diligently cleaning meat from fish bones.

The campfire chatter had dwindled into the faint snores of their Digimon partners, the air seeming heavy without his brother’s smooth harmonica music.  Koushiro and Taichi huddled around a laptop screen, discussing things in a series of whispers. Takeru stood up, stirring Patamon from his slumber. Picking his partner up in his arms, Takeru made his way towards the girls.

A breeze whistled through a field of flowers as Hikari gazed curiously at the boy with the green hat.

“Hi!” he said cheerfully, his toothy grin putting the younger girl at ease. “My name is Takeru. What’s yours?” A warmth spread to his cheeks. He already knew her name, hearing her brother scream for her during the battle with Myotismon, but that wasn’t the same as her telling him herself. His mother always told him that first impressions were the only impression a person gets. It was embarrassing to think that they had only known each other for two minutes before he burst into tears.

“I’m Hikari,” she answered simply, her dark eyes reflecting the dancing flames. He stood beside her, arranging Patamon comfortably on the ground once more.  A chilled breeze danced through the trees, stray flower petals dancing around their small group.

Hikari’s shoulders were tense, dark shadows emphasizing her eyes. Though she had only been with them for a day, she had witnessed the group at the absolute best and terrifying worst. Her entire body had been overtaken by a mysterious entity; her brother attacked by his best friend. Yet, her cheeks lacked any tear-tracks.

“You’re really brave, you know?” Takeru looked earnestly in her eyes. There would be no way he could stand in the face of an evil vampire, composed and fierce as she was.  Knees tucked close to her chest, Hikari looked small in the firelight. Dirt streaked her face, her hair knotted from her semi-possessed state. Her shoulders shrugged as if she didn’t believe him. “Well,” he continued “When I first came to the Digital World, all I did was cry. I was scared of everything. Even with Puppetmon, I was shaking like a leaf.” From the ground, Patamon nodded solemnly.

Fire crackled, bright ashes decorating the air like miniature fireworks. A voice, barely above the volume of a whisper, floated through his ears. “Why did you cry? Was it that terrible?” Hikari’s eyes remained focused on the campfire, but her body leaned in his direction.

“It wasn’t terrible at all! It was fun when we were all together; I think I was confused. My brother was with me for the first time in forever, but he was so angry. Then, monsters started attacking us and everything just got all jumbled. You didn’t even have time to prepare for any of this, but you had to fight the worst monster yet. You didn’t even cry! You’re like a Power Ranger or something.”

Hikari giggled, her eyes settling on Takeru’s face for a second. Flower petals had woven themselves through her knotted strands, giving Sora plenty to fret over. With the older girl focused on tidying up their newest member and Patamon snoring lightly, Takeru let his gaze wander to the stretch of land beside them. The field of flowers was untouched, stems standing proudly. Careful not to disturb his sleeping partner, Takeru made his way towards the blossoms. It had felt like an eternity had passed since he talked to his mother about the language of flowers, but he did his best to recall.

Waist deep in a field of fresh blooms, Takeru gathered the prettiest ones. Hikari’s eyes had followed his form, but he did not divert his attention. If his mother was right, all girls loved flowers, and he was sure Hikari would be no different. The flowers smelled sweet, their scent tousling his blond locks.

Though only a few minutes passed, the fire was low by the time he returned. Koushiro had tucked himself into a sleeping bag, laptop secured underneath his arm. Sora busied herself with cleaning up their mess. Fish bones and various twigs were tossed into the pit, the fire dancing in response. Taichi perched himself underneath a nearby tree, Agumon sitting faithfully beside him. Looking around, he found Hikari not far from her brother.

Hair combed, she looked almost peaceful as she stroked her partner’s fur. Gatomon had curled herself in Hikari’s lap, purring lightly as she slept. Takeru did his best to approach quietly, but as soon as he set foot into camp, Patamon raced towards him.

“Takeru, I thought v you were gone forever!”. In a flurry of orange wings, Takeru’s partner rested lightly on his hat. “Don’t be silly, Patamon! I would never leave you.”

“Why do you have all those flowers, Takeru?” Patamon’s voiced echoed in the quiet of the night. Hikari glanced up, giving them a brief smile before her amber eyes focused on his makeshift bouquet. A flush of heat settled into Takeru’s cheeks. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Hikari gazed up at him, eyebrows raised quizzically. With the confidence of an eight-year-old boy, Takeru thrusted the myriad of flowers towards her. “Surprise!” His grin was wide, toothy and disarming.

First the first time since he met her, Hikari smiled. For a fleeting moment, she was glowing. “They’re beautiful.” Though soft spoken, Takeru knew the words were genuine. The sparkle in her eyes told him more than her words ever could: his mother had been right.

Rubbing his sticky palms on him shorts, the blond plopped himself down beside his new friend.  Hikari ran her fingers through the peonies, taking a moment to sniff the lilac. A stray daisy landed on the toe of Takeru’s sneaker.

“Hey, Hikari,” he began, leaning over to pick up the blossom, “did you know that flowers have their own language?”

Her amber eyes tore themselves from her gift, lashes fluttering in confusion. “What do you mean?” Hikari’s voice was stronger than before, the corner of her lips twitching in an almost-smile. Patamon sleepily curled up in his partner’s lap.  The embers reflected in his wide, blue eyes. “Well, let me tell you what my mommy told me.”

-

Violets – Loyalty, Devotion, Faithfulness

Takeru could feel the table groan under the weight of his fist. He had been so careless! If he had only let Hikari go through the gate first, then-

“Takeru! Stop! Punching the desk won’t help bring Hikari back!” Daisuke’s breath was hot on his face, his presence far too close for comfort. It was too much, Daisuke was too much. It happened in a blur. Takeru’s fist tangled themselves in the fabric of Daisuke’s shirt, shoving him into a nearby chair. Metal screeched against the linoleum floor.

“You don’t know that! You don’t know her!” Takeru screamed. From somewhere beside him, Takeru barely registered Miyako’s gasp of fear. Iori cowered behind her, burying his face in the older girl’s dress. He was too angry to care. Hikari was alone in one of the most volatile parts of Digital World because of his negligence. Because of their negligence. All of them were to blame, yet the others didn’t seem perturbed.

Daisuke, body crumpled on the ground, gaped at Takeru from his huddle on the floor. His cinnamon hair was tousled, eyes rimmed in red. Maybe the blond had been too harsh on his friend. The beast of rage that seemingly possessed his body quieted. Guilt seeped into his stomach, forcing bile into his throat. Takeru’s hands tugged at his hair, a loud groan escaping his lips.

Miyako crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s nobody’s fault Hikari is lost. You need to quit punching your friends, Takeru. If Daisuke is indisposed, it will be harder to get her back.” Iori nodded in agreement, the tension too thick for him to speak. Takeru’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Miyako was right. The only way to ensure Hikari’s safety was if the boys work together,

A truce had to be called. Arm outstretched, the goggle-headed boy warily eyed Takeru’s hand before he finally accepted. Daisuke straightened his clothes, brushing off invisible dirt. “You know,” he began slowly, his eyes trailed on his sneakers, “I may not know Hikari as well as you do, but that doesn’t mean I’m not worried about her.” Takeru raised his arm, trying not to feel offended when Daisuke flinched. He rested his palm on the band of goggles, earning a smile that rivaled the brightness of the sun. “So, we have an understanding?”

With his hair tousled and eyes bright, Daisuke reminded Takeru of Taichi. The knots in his stomach seemed to unravel. “Of course.”

-

The walk back to Hikari’s apartment was silent, the crickets singing their sweet lullaby. Daisuke parted ways early on, Chibimon’s growling stomach becoming impossible to ignore. Takeru found his eyes trailed to the girl’s frail figure, anxious that she would find some other way to disappear on him.

Rescuing her had been simpler than either boy had thought. It had only taken minutes for their Digimon to break into the dome, swooping down like the awkward, preteen heroes they were. Hikari was unharmed, her smile nearly blinding Takeru from his perch on Pegasusmon. It seemed that she was able to care for herself, finding a reliable hiding spot until Miyako messaged her with their plan. All too soon, the three Chosen were gathered in a heap of limbs on the floor of the computer lab, exhausted after another adventure.

His lingering gaze must have been more obvious than he thought. No sooner than they had reached the bottom of her apartment complex, Hikari halted. “Takeru, you need to relax. I’m okay,” she insisted. She gestured to herself as if to say ‘Look at me! I’m all in one piece!’ The streetlights cast shadows underneath her eyes. Gatomon stirred in her partner’s arm, her fretful sleep causing Hikari’s eyebrows to knit together.

“It doesn’t change the fact that I should have been there.” Bitterness dripped from his words. The hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end as the brunette gazed at him. Takeru felt as if he were eight-years-old again, promising their leader that he would do everything in his power to protect Hikari. What would Taichi say when he found out he failed?

Lost in his thoughts, the blond startled as Hikari’s hand ghosted over his shoulder. “None of us should have been there, Takeru. I’m grateful that it was me instead of the others. Miyako is so rash, she would have gotten herself hurt. Daisuke would have done something reckless, and Iori would have frozen if there was any confrontation.”

In the dim glow of the streetlight, Takeru’s eyes found hers. She was right and he knew it. If any of them could handle being stranded in another world, it would be Hikari. Emotions clouded his gaze, the color shifting to a stormy gray. “I’ll make it up to you.” His voice was so resolute and firm that it left Hikari wondering just when the boy with the green hat had gotten so strong.

He started up the stairs, giving the brunette no choice but to follow. His steps only slowed when the pair reached the Yagami’s door. The front door was worn from a childhood well-lived, the nameplate crooked in the most endearing way. A small flowerbox sat just outside their kitchen windows and without much thought Takeru plucked one of the purple stems. Hikari raised an eyebrow at his antics, but any response died in her throat when she realized how close he was.

His breath fanned her face, ruffling the strands of hair that pulled themselves loose from her barrette. A corner of Takeru’s lip curled up into a smirk, tucked the end of the flower behind Hikari’s pink-tinged ear.

“Goodnight, Hikari. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He was gone before Hikari could reply, her mouth open in shock. What was that about?

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Image 18th!century Jamie saw Claire dancing rockabilly / lindy hop? With all the swirling and jumping? I'd love to see his reaction. Bonus if she's dancing with Joe.

We Live For Love

--

Jamie framed Claire’s face between his hands, drawingtheir foreheads together. Together they inhaled, then exhaled, ears roaringwith the crowd.

 “You ready?” he whispered against her lips.

 She pulled back. Smiled. The necklace with three goldcharms – the letters J, F, and B, for him and their two daughters – sparkled inthe stage lights.

 “Let’s do this.”

 He returned the smile, bent for a quick kiss, then strodeonstage, guitar slung over his back.

 She didn’t think the crowd could have been louder, butsomehow it now was.

 Claire enjoyed what she had so dearly missed watching himdo, these past few years away from the road. For he always took such care tomake sure that everything was just perfect – the lighting, the microphones, themarks where they would stand.

 They’d run through it all at the sound check thatafternoon, of course. But Jamie knew that something would always get a littleout of sync – and tonight of all nights, they couldn’t afford that.

 Fortunately this check was just a cursory one – because beforeshe knew it, Jamie plugged in his guitar and began strumming the intro.

 Confidently she strode onstage. Suddenly glad of the new earmonitors Joe had insisted she and Jamie have custom made for this tour. Forabove the screams of the crowd she could just barely hear Jamie’s guitar. Andshe counted the bars of his intro, smiling into the hot lights, heart racingwith nervousness and joy.

 Never again, isn't that what yousaid?You've been through this beforeAnd you swore this time you'd think with your head

 It was their first time playing this new acoustic arrangement live –just her and Jamie’s guitar, without the band and its bass and keyboards anddrums. She was afraid that somehow the song would sound naked, thin,incomplete.

No one, would ever have you againAnd if taking was gonna get doneYou'd decide where and when

 Jamie, of course, had convinced her that certainly her fears wereunfounded. That the simple acoustic guitar was exactly what her voice needed toshine. The perfect metaphor for who she was now – how far she’d come – and justexactly what this tour represented.

Just when you think you got it downYour heart securely tied and boundThey whisper, promises in the dark

Jamie’s strumming became a bit more frantic, in time withthe melodic shift in the song. The crowd screamed in delight. Claire met Jamie’seyes, and knew that it would be all right.

 She needed that reassurance with the next song. For anacoustic version of Promises in the Darkwas just her warm-up; only she and Jamie knew what was in store for the rest ofthe night.

 “Wow!” she exclaimed after finishing the song with a flourishof Jamie’s guitar. “Wow!”

 The crowd chanted her name. Claire knew she was alreadysweating under the heavy lights – but she didn’t care.

 “I can’t tell you how thrilled I am – how thrilled we are – to be with you tonight.”Quickly she bent to sip from the bottle of water perched on a stool a few pacesbehind the amps. “As you know, this is our first gig in just about six years. Iwas afraid you guys would have forgotten about me by now.”

 “No!” “Never!” the crowd replied.

 Claire laughed. “I know, I know. Jamie and I – wait, doyou know this is my husband?”

 The crowd laughed; Jamie shook his head, playing it up.

 “Well – we’ve been through a lot these past six years.Spent a lot of time at home, just enjoying being Mommy and Daddy to our twolittle girls. And we’ve been singing and recording – but just for them. And we’veloved it. But we missed being out here with you.”

 She swallowed. “We were afraid you wouldn’t want to hearfrom us anymore. But I guess we were wrong.”

 “Yeahhhh!” the crowd cheered.

 “Well – so we decided this time around, we’d mix it up abit. Just Jamie and me – we’re giving the rest of the band a break. And we’dsing for you some songs you know, just that they sound a bit different. Andthen we’d sing some new songs for you, too – after all, we do have a new record out.”

 “I hope you’ve bought it,” Jamie laughed. “We gotta putthe girls through college.”

 “Anyway,”Claire rolled her eyes. “For these next few songs, we’re going to do somethingwe’ve never done before. See – this man right here, my husband – you may notknow this, but he helped me find my voice.”

 “I wasn’t aware it had been lost, baby,” he teased.

 She turned to face him on the stage. “Back when I wasstill Claire Beauchamp, singing show tunes in jazz bars – he helped me find avoice that wouldn’t get lost with his electric guitar. There would be no ClaireFraser without Jamie Fraser.”

 The crowd sighed and cheered.

 “We’ve given the gift of music to our little girls. Andthis next song is something we sing to them every night. Our two-year-old lovesit – she thinks we wrote it for her – but please don’t tell her we didn’t!”

 The crowd laughed. She nodded at Jamie, and he beganplucking a very familiar introduction. She closed her eyes – pictured Bree andFaith’s joyous faces when they had music time – and began singing.

 She's got a smileit seems to meReminds me of childhood memoriesWhere everythingWas as fresh as the bright blue sky

 Now and then when Isee her faceShe takes me away to that special placeAnd if I'd stare too longI'd probably break down and cry

 Jamie’s baritone voice joined hers for the chorus. Tohear their voices together, amplified, sent chills down her spine.

 Oh, oh, ohSweet child o' mineOh, oh, oh, ohSweet love of mine

 She opened her eyes to watch what happened next. For shestood away from the microphone – and for the first time in their public career,Jamie Fraser sang on his own.

 She's got eyes ofthe bluest skiesAs if they thought of rainI hate to look into those eyesAnd see an ounce of pain

 His voice was so beautiful. For so long she’d wanted himto share it with the world – but for so long he had resisted, insisting (correctly)that the focus should be on her, not him. That she was the star – not him, eventhough they had been equal partners from day one.

 But now, on this tour that naysayers in the press saidwas a comeback and fans said was just about time – now, they played by theirown rules. Dictated absolutely everything. And when Claire insisted theytransform the performances into duets – Jamie couldn’t refuse.

Her hair reminds me of a warm safe placeWhere as a child I'd hideAnd pray for the thunderAnd the rainTo quietly pass me by

 He sang directly to her. Knowing that she couldn’t helpbut think of how he loved burying his face in her neck, sheltered in the cloudof her hair. How he would cling to her in sleep; how they would burrow undertheir quilt, skin-on-skin, lips and limbs tangled for hours and hours in thedark.

 Oh, oh, ohSweet child o' mine

 Her voice rejoined his.

Oh, oh, oh, ohSweet love of mine

 The intensity in his eyes stirred something deep in her.How the hell was she supposed to get through the next ninety or so minutes,when one glance made her want to drag him offstage and lock the door to their dressingroom?

 He electrified her – and she him.

 Next up in their set was back-to-back Bob Dylan covers.

 “It may not surprise you that we idolize June Carter andJohnny Cash,” Jamie explained, tuning his guitar before the next song. “Theyfirst started singing this song together back in the 60s. And most people don’teven know Dylan wrote it – like Jimi Hendrix and ‘All Along the Watchtower.’”

 “It’s better with the harmonica,” Claire interjected. “Butnot today. Maybe next time.”

 Jamie rolled his eyes – and launched into the intro. Thistime he began the song.

 Go 'way from mywindowLeave at your own chosen speedI'm not the one you want, babeI'm not the one you need

 Following in the hallowed steps of June Carter, Claire’svoice joined in. Yet again they sang in perfect harmony.

You say you're lookin' for someoneNever weak but always strongTo protect you an' defend youWhether you are right or wrongSomeone to open each and every door

 It was the perfect metaphor, really – for that’s whatClaire and Jamie had been looking for – and found – in each other, thosefateful days in New York when they were recording their first album. Theirvoices raised for the chorus –

But it ain't me, babeNo, no, no, it ain't me, babeIt ain't me you're lookin' for, babe

 After this song the lights went down a bit – and aspotlight hit Jamie.

 “I know this one’s a bit more folk-y then you all may beused to. But it shows off Claire’s voice in a very different way. She says shelikes to hear my voice at home – well, I feel the same way about her. Andbelieve it or not, she doesn’t sing rock and roll every day. She sings as shedoes things around the house. And I caught her humming this one a few monthsback, and bugged her enough that she agreed to share it with all of you.”

 “Well, Dylan started off in New York clubs, too,” Clairereasoned. “If he can do it, I can do it. And Jamie wrote this particulararrangement – we haven’t heard anyone do the song like this. So it’s a risk.”

 “Well, when have we shied away from risks, Claire?”

 “Never, Jamie,” she laughed. “Now start playing, beforeeveryone gets up and leaves. All right?”

 Claire turned to face the audience. Jamie played a shortintro – and they sang together.

 Oh, where have youbeen, my blue-eyed son?Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountainsI've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highwaysI've stepped in the middle of seven sad forestsI've been out in front of a dozen dead oceansI've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard

 It was a bit more poetic then the lyrics she typically sang– but the hush that came over the audience during the song was positivelyspellbinding.

And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's ahard, and it's a hardAnd it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall

 So it continued – song after song after song.

 Some familiar favorites re-imagined – songs from herprevious albums, cover songs from the 60s to today. Interspersed with songsfrom the new album, including We BelongTogether, which everyone said would hit Number One within a matter of days –and then a few brand-new songs, written exclusively for this tour.

 When Joe Abernathy – their friend and mentor – had askedwhat they wanted to call this tour, WeBelong Together naturally came to mind. But Claire – and Jamie – had adifferent message to send.

 So after Jamie strummed the final notes of the secondencore song, and gripped Claire’s hand, and they took a bow – Claire spoke intothe microphone for one last time.

 “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart – and Jamie’sheart – for your enthusiasm. We took a big risk doing this, but we know nowthat the Our Voices tour will be thebest we’ve ever done.”

 Jamie kissed her sweaty cheek.

 “Good night!” they shouted into her microphone, then ranoff stage, holding hands.

 In the wings, Jamie handed his guitar to Fergus – normallytheir bassist, now playing the role of guitar tech for the tour – and pulledClaire away from the screams of the crowd. Within seconds they arrived at theirshared dressing room, and he shut – and locked – the door behind them just intime for Claire’s hungry mouth to find his.

 They were both shaking, he realized – from adrenaline,and exhaustion, and pure unadulterated need for each other.

 “You were so, so good, baby,” he whispered against hermouth, peppering her sweaty face with kisses.

 “Mmm.” She bit his lower lip. “I love singing with you. It– it just does something to me, Jamie– ”

 He cut her off with another deep kiss, picking her up andsetting her on the makeup table. He stepped between her legs, and she wrappedher calves around his hips.

 Five quick knocks at the door tore Jamie’s mouth fromhers. Because it could be only one thing –

 Claire jumped down from the table, opened the door, and staggeredas two giggling daughters grabbed hold of her legs.

[plungermusic]

The sounds of California… the climate of Seattle.

Maverick Saturday had the real flavour of the West Coast, particularly on the open air Southern Sounds main stage, with a wide range of the Golden State’s sun-drenched sounds and an increasingly ominous Rain City sky.

Kev Walford & Kelly Bayfield [main picture] were the ideal breezy main stage openers, with Crosby/Nash-like increasingly complex multi-voice harmonies on Money Rules In My World Now, and the moody Renaissance-style proggy folk of The Whistling Man with Kelly’s limpid clarity and a gooseflesh-raising midbreak of noodling Telecaster, soft mallet toms and lush wordless Crosbyesque harmonies.

Robbie Cavanagh [below] proved every bit as good as we recalled from previous hearings: from the big bold Jackson-Browne-at-Glastonbury sound of Get Out Alive with its anthemic progression and punchy chorus to the slow country waltz of Roles Reversed where Robbie’s breathy emotive vox and simple acoustic were backed by Everlyesque harmony interjections and pedal-steel-aping slide guitar. New song Helpless showed a sure hand with sweaty Memphis soul, with impressively soulful vox and twangsome solos from both Robbie and Neil Watkins. Eaglesy flavours abounded in Scars, with its portentous hook and slick multi-part vocals, and in the closing shitkicking two-step of Choked Up where the sublime harmonies shone in an a cappella passage.

Imogen Clark returned looking and sounding rather different to last year: the floaty troubadouress dress and delivery replaced by a spangly all in one trouser halter top and a similarly gussied up mainstream country sound. Easygoing fine vocals (and great backing from fellow Aussies Lachlan Bryan and the Wildes) delivered a Sheryl Crowish Late Night Girl and an anthemic Take Me For A Ride which left folks of a certain age humming Baba O’Riley…

A quick trip to the barn brought plenty troubadouress vibes in the solo acoustic set of Lilly Winwood [below], a deconstructed Big Skies ballad-style take on her father’s Can’t Find My Way Home amply demonstrating her big powerful vocal (genes really are everything!)

Returning to the main stage we caught a surprisingly young lad doing a brief but accomplished burst of Duelling Banjos before Lachlan Bryan and the Wildes’ own set. Lachlan’s gritty-but-mournful stationhand vocal fitted the excellent Outback outlaw country of Ballad Of A Young Married Man perfectly, with plangent electric guitar and girly harmoniess. Imogen Clark returned the favour by returning for bvs in the cinematic shamble of Deathwish Country and to duet with Lachlan on the old time Basics Of Love, while the dreamy Buddhist Priestess with lush keys had Hannah Aldridge guesting.

No Coward Soul drew the short straw - as they began their (for Plunger) curate’s egg set alternating upbeat danceable rockabilly meets Mumford & Sons cider advert tunes, with more intriguing numbers with touches of sophisticated latinate rhythms and some off-kilter Dead-style lopes, the long threatened drizzle set in, prompting an outbreak of brollies, cagoules and military spec rain capes [and the retirement of cameras, sadly].

Don Gallardo showed a very British sense of irony: Stay Awhile (with its “Sun is gonna shine” lyric) with great pedal steel came as the rain intensified and the exodus for cover began. There was more fine steel work (and weather references) in the relaxed Diamonds & Gold, and an appropriately dreich North Dakota Blues. Lilly Winwood brought her powerful voice to the bustling Shine A Light with chiming pedal steel and sunny harmonies, a slower How Many Days with its anthemic wordless vox-led coda, and the wistful acoustic two-hander Rhyder’s Song. The threatening chug of Banks Of The Mississippi, driven by choppy guitar and tight 1-2 beat, evoked the Stones’ miss you, which the band obligingly segued into in an extended coda!

The joint prize for bad luck and perseverance went to Seattle’s Massy Ferguson: their brand of grungy, southern rock-informed, clap-above-your-head stadium country (providing the punchline to a “Charlie Starr, Tom Petty, Kurt Cobain and Ronnie Van Zant walk into a bar…” gag) was ideal sun-drenched festival crowd-pleasing fare. As it was they played a spirited full-on set to a knot of (just plain drenched) die hards who lapped it up: screaming along to Powder Blue and jigging about to the metronomic Can’t Remember and Maybe The Gods with Rachel Harrington guesting. Wolf Moon was a brief moodier interlude with trad sounding melody and nice harmonica, but the set closed with the hypnotic hybrid of Lou Reed and Springsteen, Momma’s In The Backseat with its overdriven guitar harmonics and a proper ‘big rock’ ending.

Conceding defeat to the rain Jeb Loy Nichols [above] was moved indoors to the Peacock Stage. Perhaps he’d originally got a band lined up to play with, but here (with only the one acoustic guitarist and his own 3/4 guitar) he delivered a very mellow set that would have been incongruous following what preceded it on the main stage. His soft silky vox and soul-cum-jazz-cum-calypso songs (including the highly apt As The Rain, Long Live The Loser and Room 522) evoked Labi Siffre crossed with Gil Scott Heron (in my kinder moments: less kindly, Val Doonican crossed with Jake Thackray). At any other festival it’d have been raining wee-filled Woodpecker bottles outside.

With stirring, resonant voice, occasional electronic drums and atmospheric electric guitar accents Angel Snow [below} returned us to the West Coast in dreamy ambient country: the kick-driven dance-meets-Petty Secrets with its complex beats and chiming guitar, and the Viktor Krauss cowritten Lie Awake combined for a modern rework of Nicksian reverie or Miranda Lee Richards trippy whimsy.

Despite Ray Hughes’ mohican, Black Feathers’ old time harmonies delivered to a single mic were more in the vein of traditional Americana: the gentle, slow Lighthouse On Fire saw his-and-hers shared verses with wife Sian and a thrilling a cappella close, and more a cappella featured in the folky, backwoods Down By The River.

You can’t get more country than a former rodeo rider�� Rachel Harrington not only brings the CV but also a classic Tammy/Patsy breaking-but-strong nasal Nashville twang, and a nice line in intersong banter. After the “a little ironic” Sunshine accompanied by JD Hobson on sweet dobro slide, and Hush The Wild Horses’ lazy four-footed stroll through Laurel Canyon, the lilting, folky-picked I Meant To Go To Memphis was prefaced with a tale of falling off the wagon thanks to the peculiarly British practice of “adorable little half pints”. That may have lain behind the tremulous country waltz Drinking About You, too, although military marching chants were the surprise inspiration for the Elvis-meets-101st Airborne rockabilly of Drop Zone.

Norton Money (Broken Island’s Dan Beaulaurier, Jeremy and Anna from Hallelujah Trails, and drummer Jamie Shaw) were the discovery of the weekend. A Cordovas-y combination of twangsome country, louche Dead-ish lopes, tight harmonies and jamband sensibilities ran through Queen Of Tunitas, the Mexicali-spiced Kickin’ & Cursin’, and a cover of Warren Zevon’s Carmelita with Anna taking soft impassioned lead vocal. Latest release The Ballad Of Hi & Lo (which we promptly bought right after the show) gave us Hey Lucy (one of several Caleish shitkicking boogies); Dream The Same Dream (after a Fistful Of Dollars intro) was a haunting minor key epic with soft mallet cymbals, hypnotic bass, fragile harmonies, and extended jamband plinking, while Lie Awake’s easygoing shamble developed into trippy Dark Star noodling and intertwining wordless multi-part vocals.

Hannah Aldridge covered almost the whole Americana spectrum in one set, from the folky acoustic-only emotive introspection of Gold Rush with her clear strong drawled vox and judicious harmonies from Robbie Cavanagh; through a cover of Gillian Welch and Dave Rawlings’ Ruby with fine fiddle from Chance McCoy and bassist Gustav Sjödin swapping to guitar and lead vox, right through to Burning Down Birmingham, a rollicking, country rock epic with the crowd providing a lusty choir-and-clap backing for Hannah [below] to sing over.

Rich Hall’s parody / pastiche / homage to country (with a large dollop of stand up) was a hoot. From established routines like the riff on Ipswich girls (punchline “it could’ve been worse… she might have been from Colchester”), the critique of The Little Drummer Boy, (“… what is he going to do? Bonham triplets? Purdie shuffle? Nope… ���pa-rum-pa-pum-pum’, Jeez”) to improv-ish songs for Gary and his partner, My Eritrean Trucking Buddy (dedicated to a local trucker) and the song for a psychiatric nurse about how country tropes and characters are all explainable by mental illness. His finest hour though came with his Bob Dylan song… with Bob on stage this evening we won’t spoil the surprise.

Having been caught out with the post-11 finish the night before we made good and certain to book a taxi for the 11.30 scheduled close on Saturday, but thanks to cumulative overrunning replacement headliner Will Hoge was so late on stage we only caught Oh Mr Barnum’s stately progress with high taut vox, relaxed rhythm and expansive overdriven guitar; and about thirty seconds of the rattling Pettyish freeway-cruiser Secondhand Heart before scooting off already late for our long-suffering cab driver…

[thepermanentrainpress]

BUMBERSHOOT: DAY 1 RECAP

Bumbershoot is more than just a music festival. It is a gathering celebrating all things art on a local, national, and international level across Seattle. Visual art installations, food trucks, projections, posters, street buskers, and brand promos were present all across the grounds of the Seattle Center. There are five stages for music and six more for the other programming (comedy, art, theatre, poetry, and film)—but Bumbershoot is still very easy to get around in. I was also impressed with the amenities and prices. I got many things for free: cookies, candy, sunglasses, and even energy drinks. Prices were quite reasonable for a music festival: there were many food items hovering around the $5 mark.

The first act I saw after arriving was Vancouver’s own Peach Pit. These four young men would fit into any decade in both musical and style aesthetic. Clad in pastel sweaters and hip haircuts, they could have been playing on stage 50 years ago and not seemed out of place. Nevertheless, their style translates into modern day: their tunes are fun, upbeat, and don’t take themselves too seriously. They sing of being a teenager and of the adventures they’ve gone on since they began. They also told hilarious stories of how their songs were inspired, such as the track “Chagu’s Sideturn” – about “a guy we met on vacation who was basically the Indonesian Jack Black. He kept asking us to sideturn with him, which we later found out meant doing crystal meth off his knuckles.” They finished with a song detailing their experience getting matching tattoos in Vegas after a very drunken night, and their self-titled track “Peach Pit.”

Next on, playing the main stage was another local Vancouver group: the electronic soulful trio, I M U R. They happen to be one of my favourite local acts, and this was my seventh time seeing them in the past year. Not only were they playing the same stage as Jorja Smith, Foster the People, Big Sean, and Flume, but this was their first ever American show. It was by far their best one yet.

I M U R’s music is mesmerizing, dreamy, and will have you finding yourself lost amongst a violin riff or looping voice. Lead singer Jenny hits the high notes as she sings of sex, smoking, and other sinful satisfactions. Amine hypnotizes us further shredding an electric violin—something underutilized amongst live acts. It’s all put together by producer Mikey operating the soundboard and guitar to complete the beat, leading to an experience that sucked in the entire audience. While I M U R was most likely unknown to most of the crowd, it’s safe to say everyone was a new fan by the time the first song finished. This group has a stage presence and musical style unlike most live acts I’ve seen, particularly in the electronica genre. I’ve seen them play small clubs and now jump to a huge stage that hosted all the main headliners, and they brought all the same charm as they do at a 50 person basement club show. They also looked fantastic utilizing all that space, projecting the I M U R logo on a 100 foot screen behind them.

PVRIS are rising stars from Massachusetts that really bring out the energy amongst the three of them on stage. The drummer in particular was a sight: I don’t think I’ve ever seen a drummer stand out with so much energy on a stage of their size before. They’ve already released two full-length albums and toured with such high-profile acts as Bring Me The Horizon and Fall Out Boy, and lead singer Lynn Gunn is only 23! She also steals the show, getting the audience to clap and jump at pretty much every song, with all eyes on her as she blasted vocals to trippy stage projections. The visuals accompanying PVRIS are cosmic and psychedelic, flashing images of stars, pretty lights, and dazzling shapes. PVRIS was one of the highest energy sets I’ve seen at the fest – they truly gave it their all.

They were a later addition to the Bumbershoot lineup, but their set ended up being one of the most popular there. Foster the People played the main stage just after 6:00. Projecting the title/font of their new album Sacred Hearts Club behind them, their set was rather short for a headliner – only 45 minutes. Nevertheless, their set was engaging, rewarding, and cathartic. Lead singer Mark Foster is well known for his dancing during his sets, but he seemed to take on a more somber tone for the night. While still clearly enjoying himself and putting on a nice show, his mood was probably explained by a speech given midway through the set. Referencing the current political situation, Mark gave a beautiful and poetic speech advocating for social justice and equity. “Nationalism, sexism, fascism, and racism are all coming back… it would be really boring if we were all the same, and our differences are what make us so interesting.” The speech was heated, obviously important, and passed on an important message that is truly something Mark cares about deeply. The setlist was about 50-50 from their first album Torches and from their current, Sacred Hearts Club – while I would’ve liked to hear more from their sophomore album Supermodel, it was still a decent set for the time frame.

I then caught a less high-profile act: the LA-based Chicano Batman. Rising stars that have already played Coachella twice and toured with Jack White, they are a quartet I could best describe as a Latino-influenced Grateful Dead. The crowd viewing them were probably the oldest crowd I had seen at the festival so far, but they’ve got universal appeal. Chicano Batman are very much a jam band, fusing soul, Latino music, and funk to create a timeless style. You could see these guys in a small jazz club or on a major festival stage, and the whole crowd would be dancing along to the same vibe. Some of the band members even wore tuxedos, and they had fantastic backup dancers to accompany their jams.

BROODS played most of the songs from their latest album, Conscious. This New Zealand brother and sister duo, Georgia and Caleb Nott, seemed truly excited to be playing Bumbershoot, and Georgia let the audience know to give a big cheer for some very important viewers: as it turns out, this set along with many others were being broadcast to various children’s hospitals across the country. A lot of their songs cover heavy subjects, but you wouldn’t know it unless you listened closely: every BROODS song is just as dynamic and fun live as it is on the studio recording. It was a dreamy, calming, yet also energizing set – and scheduled at 7:05, a good time to wind down before queuing up for major headliners of the night.

As night fell, I caught bluesy act ZZ Ward (who specifically said she was “bringing back blues”). Her full backing band had many guitar solos that were mellow and very jam-like in their state: not showing off but rather complimenting the solo act. While bluesy, she incorporates a lot of genres: folk, soul, and even some R&B/rap. She did multiple harmonica solos, something I’ve never seen in a live set before. It was probably the most relaxing act of the night, and most of the audience watching her were sitting down and taking a breather. She was very fun and smooth, and I think that’s a key act in music festivals: someone who’s family-friendly and has universal age appeal. Indeed, the audience ranged more in age at this set than any other I had seen so far—everyone from babies to seniors. Bumbershoot prides itself on being family-friendly, and acts like ZZ Ward encompass that universal appeal.

The major headliner of the night was Australian DJ Flume. As DJ acts tend to go, the major crowd and pit was intense: many audience members (myself included) chose to watch from the stadium bleachers instead. A giant curtain with a rose pattern came down as his set started, and this beautiful design extended to his whole stage setup. There were so many pretty colours of smoke/fog surrounding him, along with cubes lighting up surrounding his platform. While I have no doubt people in the pit really enjoyed and get attracted to the fest for this kind of act, I couldn’t help but think it was a bit boring. Odesza, a DJ duo, is another headliner of the fest, and basic EDM acts aren’t very engaging if you’re not part of the pit. I would’ve liked to see a little more variety in a festival that prides itself on all kinds of art and music – but Flume is still an attractive headliner for many.

The last act of the night was the absolutely bananas crazy South African duo (formerly romantic partners) Die Antwoord, Ninja and Yolandi. They’re known for their wacky image and intensive music/live shows, and they certainly brought it that night. In a performance at the Key Arena that was definitely not family-friendly (as anyone familiar with their music would realize), the two screamed, cursed, and danced just as much as they do in their videos and public persona. They had backup dancers in bright costume and a large stage setup with the word ZEF (the subculture the group is based off of) lit up and projecting crazy images. Said images included a colourful cartoon baby with a large erect penis. Ninja, the more intense of the duo, repeatedly cursed at the audience, stole their cellphones, and even briefly exposed himself on stage! While Die Antwoord may not be the type of act everybody wants to see, they gave it their all and delivered the type of amazing live show one would expect from them. Die Antwoord have indicated their upcoming album will be their last and they intend to disband immediately after, and I think everyone who saw them was glad we were able to while we still can.

Written by: Cazzy Lewchuk Photographed by: Timothy Nguyen