#my thought process was ‘if I try to draw the guitar it’ll go from a 20m sketch to a 50min one’

[macaronirats]

Quick prorev Frank sketch because uhh. You know why

[bts-weverse-trans]

The Life of BTS Writes a Story Review of BE 2020.11.30

BTS released its new album, BE, on November 20 after RM announced the band’s plan to produce the record on BANGTANTV’s Log (ON) on April 17. The group was working on the album even as “Dynamite”, the single they dropped on August 21, was topping the Billboard Hot 100. This order of events is given a fresh new meaning when “Dynamite” closes BE as opposed to standing alone as a single. While the group was busy sending messages of hope by reminding us of the past where heading out happily after a cup of milk was possible and giving us a glimpse of the future that will eventually come, they were recording the emotional ride they have been on while being off stage via different tracks on BE. Such changes in emotions can be seen through different portrayals of Jung Kook’s room—the way it looks during the first verse of both “Dynamite” and “Life Goes On,” the title track of the new album. Jung Kook is captured looking chipper as he ties his shoes getting ready to go out and dances in his sunshine-filled room in the music video of “Dynamite”, but in the latter’s video, Jung Kook stares blankly out the window. BE tells the story of how Jung Kook and other members navigated their lives, which includes their time singing “Dynamite,” during the pandemic by stepping out of rooms that are distinctively less colorful than the scenes in the music video of “Dynamite”.

The seven tracks, not including “Dynamite”, embody BTS’ emotional shifts and draw what looks a lot like a V curve, with “Skit” separating each section of three songs. The album opens with “Life Goes On” where BTS asks, “there’s no end in sight / is there a way out?” to live through a reality devoid of hope and arrives at “Stay” where the group expresses their intense longing for a reunion with the fans by saying, “Thinking of you now / No matter where you are / That’s not important.” And during this journey, BTS responds to the physical limitations imposed on their daily lives by saying “They took away this whole year” while also trying to put a positive spin on it by singing, “Thoughts can change by thinking,” in “Fly to My Room”. What follows is “Blue & Grey”, where they reveal inner feelings of depression and anxiety with the line, “Still don’t know this sharp blue / Hope it’s not covered over I’ll find the exit.” “Skit” then offers a shift in direction, and the next song, “Telepathy” reveals their eagerness to meet people again, highlighted by the lyrics, “Every day’s the same and I’m happiest when I meet you.” BTS also takes a moment to let out their complex thoughts on work to reach “Stay” ultimately. It is only at the end of this process that the optimism in “Dynamite”, which feels like a conviction of hope in a time of pandemic, appears in full.

“Life Goes On” allows those who don’t know whether they should hold on to hope or give up on hope to feel what it is like to go with the flow when you don’t know what to feel. Those who want to find a reason to be positive in life affected by the pandemic can find solace in “Fly to My Room.” But it is when you listen to the album as a whole that you can get healing from the pain the pandemic has inflicted on us. The soothing ambiance offered by “Life Goes on” transitions into heavy, slow, and dark tunes in “Blue & Grey,” which is followed by faster rhythm and airy sounds in “Telepathy” and “Stay.” Then the album finally culminates in “Dynamite” where the bright sunshine lifts you up. The record in its entirety offers the chance to experience at least indirectly the emotional ride taken by global superstars BTS themselves. “Dis-ease” is the classic example of the storytelling style BTS chose for the album; the moment they let out their angst and fully devote themselves to work is when the song reaches its climax. When BTS sings, “Get up one more time / It’s morning again we gotta go out / Let’s go one more night,” towards the end of the song, the arrangement drives up the song’s tension for the peak moment, “Everyday I console myself / We’re all the same people ain’t so special / Ay man keep one, two step keep calm and let’s heal up” which tops the song off like fireworks. This ironic way of storytelling mirrors BTS’ life at the moment. There are a lot of thoughts about work and life on their mind, but they try their best to work through them. And just as they do this, their energy transforms into a musical blast.

With “On,” the single track on their previous album “Map of the Soul : 7,” BTS says “Where my pain lies / Let me take a breath.” The album covers how BTS has traveled from the past to where they stand now, and “ON” tells a story of the members having to live with the “shadow” that comes with enormous fame as discussed in “Interlude : Shadow” on the very same album. With BE, BTS finally tells the story of their lives that are still unfolding. It’s not clear whether their questions about work asked in “Dis-ease” now found answers. It’s not known how long this will last, just like no one knows when this pandemic will finally run its course. We have no way of knowing if they are still in the mood expressed in “Blue & Grey” or they’re feeling the positivity of “Fly to My Room.” One thing that is clear is that while they battle work as one would with “Dis-ease,” they still wrote songs like “Telepathy” and “Stay” to send their messages to the fans, and kept busy getting ready to perform “Dynamite” on numerous stages. BE is the album that ties together all of their real-life events, both on and off stage, as one narrative. They started as an idol group and now their lives are intertwined inseparable from their music, their very existence becoming the stories they tell.

The way BE sets up different songs is directly linked to the musical changes BTS has undergone, and thus, are evident in the album. As the members’ stories take center stage, the arrangement focuses on getting their lines and melodies across and adjusts itself flexibly to each member’s part without following a certain trend or form. The arrangement filled with sounds of guitars, synthesizers, bass, drums, and pianos or sounds similar to real instruments is fitting to songs like “Fly to My Room” and “Blue & Grey”, in which auditory shifts accompany each member’s part. The smaller number of sounds used in

BE

compared to previous albums further emphasizes vocals, such as by accentuating the sound of Jung Kook inhaling in the beginning of “Life Goes On.” If J-Hope’s part in “Fly to My Room” reminds you of a gospel song, it’s not just because the synthesizer highlighted the gospel-like vibes but also because j-Hope’s voice that faithfully delivers his emotions as if giving witness to an epiphany with the line, “Thoughts can change by thinking.” Just like the auditory shift that takes place with SUGA’s rap part in “Blue & Grey” where the drums begin to layer, the arrangement of BE evolves constantly in line with each member’s part.

BE also takes on new challenges in format.. The chorus in “Blue & Grey” has such long melodies that it has no clear ending, and it fades out for the post-chorus that triggers an image of a lonely winter night with gloomy vocals. The post-chorus might seem like an abrupt shift but many devices contribute to giving this song the bleak wintery night vibe: RM’s somewhat distant rapping delivered through left and right on stereo that echoes through the room as well as the vocal recording that applied different echoes depending on lyrics and the solemn sounding cello. “Life Goes On” progresses in a similar fashion, starting with percussions ringing right next to your ears that create multi-layered sounds and taking you to an imagined space by blending the chorus and synthesizer. The story they tell resembles confessions about emotional states or specific circumstances, and the melodies unfold and rap flows in new ways as the story progresses While there are a lot of shifts, there is consistency in that sounds build the same sense of space. “Stay,” while being an EDM piece, ends on a rather blue note after phasing out beats that earlier set the stage for the dancefloor stomper. It makes sense given that the song is Jung Kook’s imagination of performing in front of the fans; Festivities in the song are interrupted by the fading out of vocals and overall sound layers. “Telepathy” offers a catchy hook in a song filled with bouncy spirit, just like “Dynamite” does. But the difference lies in that “Dynamite” brings out the explosive energy through repetition of melodies and variation of rhythms and that “Telepathy” phases itself out by reducing the number of sounds. “Fly to My Room” is about coming to terms with life in the pandemic, but the acknowledgment doesn’t necessarily make such a life enjoyable. Adding vibrant melodies isn’t a solution to challenges that accompany work, which are conveyed in “Dis-ease.” Such are the mixed feelings we experience in life—in which we have no control over a break or our approach—that are clearly expressed in the album by highlighting each member’s part and various shifts. Despite the numerous musical turns, the album has been produced in a way that ensures its consistency throughout the entire work; “Life Goes On” leaves you with the chorus where the seamless melodic flow seems like it’ll just keep on going.

In “Skit”, BTS is talking about how they’re practicing their debut song for performance eveon on the day after “Dynamite” became No.1 on the Billboard Hot 100. After they topped the chart with “Dynamite”, they came back with an album filled with songs seemingly the polar opposites of their hit single. Life seems to be on a loop but changes suddenly appear, and previous routines end up different because of this newness. BE is an acceptance of such peculiarity of life rather than an answer to it. BTS began with K-pop and now have become superstars of pop, and they’ve harnessed the power of their own story in the album by choosing neither path. The team that began its journey with “No More Dream” and have traveled to “Dynamite” leaves an open ending as to where they will head next. Still, the next chapter will be shared regardless of what it shapes up to be. That is why they can leave us wondering what comes after BE.

Trans © Weverse

[flipomatic]

Choreography

Author Note: Here I am again, LisaYuki has reclaimed my soul.

Summary: “Lean in.” Those words, so simply escaping from Sayo’s lips, sent a tremor down Lisa’s spine.

“Y-you know we’re performing this on stage, right Sayo?” Lisa stuttered, her face warming as Yukina actually leaned in closer. Yukina was so close now; Lisa could feel her breath on her cheek. This was fine, she told herself. As long as she looked ahead at her mic during the song, she’d be fine.

Word Count: 1900

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Every time Roselia played their new song, Lisa was filled with overwhelming joy. The lyrics she wrote, the music Rinko composed, and the part she sang, all came perfectly together. The song was better than she ever expected it to be.

Soon they would perform Yakusoku for the first time, at an important concert. It had to be perfect by then, up to the high standard Roselia held for their music.

Today, on a cloudy afternoon, the final touches were being added. The song was almost ready to perform. Sayo had insisted on recording them playing it, so she could watch it back later for any errors. Her phone was set on a music stand in the back of the studio, capturing every note played.

Lisa focused on balancing playing and singing, making sure to be close enough to her mic. More than in any other song, she needed to be heard here. The notes from her bandmates flowed around her, with the drum carrying the heartbeat of the piece and the piano lifting it higher. She sang in reply to Yukina, as they built the song together.

Lisa’s heart always pounded in her chest when they reached the bridge of the song, where she alternated with Yukina. Lisa poured her feelings in every time, singing with everything she had. Her dedication, her loyalty, her affection; she wanted all of it to come through.

The last chorus was her favorite one, and she was sad to reach the end of the song.

Once the last note rang out, Lisa looked around at her bandmates. Rinko looked content as she slowly removed her hands from the keyboard. Ako was grinning from ear to ear. Sayo frowned slightly, but Lisa could tell that she was satisfied.

Yukina had turned to look at Lisa, their eyes locking when Lisa’s reached her. She nodded once, sending a wave of warmth and pride through Lisa.

Sayo stepped forward to stop the recording. “I’ll watch this later.” She said, holding up her phone. Lisa and Yukina broke eye contact to look at her. “But I think it’s ready.”

“I agree…” Rinko spoke quietly. Ako pumped one fist in agreement.

“The song has come together well.” Yukina deposited her mic on the stand. “Good work everyone. That’s all for today.”

With that dismissal, the band started to pack up. Lisa put her bass in its case, zipping it shut. She started to stow her music as well.

“The new song is so exciting!” Ako stood near Rinko as she packed up, talking excitedly about Yakusoku. “It builds really big!”

Rinko nodded in agreement. “I hope the audience… likes it.” She had finished stowing her keyboard, and was zipping up the case.

On the other side of the room, Sayo had finished putting her guitar away. Despite committing to do it later, she was already watching the recording. Yukina was with her, watching it as well. Lisa could barely hear it from here, though she thought it sounded good so far.

Lisa scooped up her bass case, slinging it over one shoulder. She approached the video watching pair as Rinko and Ako made their exit.

“How is it?” Lisa asked, drawing their eyes for a moment.

“The tempo has finally stabilized.” Despite the positive message, Sayo frowned. “It’s still missing something.” She looked irritated.

“Hmm…” Yukina mused, looking back down at the phone. Lisa stepped closer so she could do the same.

“I’m not sure it needs anything else.” Lisa said after thirty seconds of watching. It all looked good to her. The balance was perfect and as Sayo said, the tempo was under control. That had been their biggest problem when they started learning it.

Sayo was silent for a moment, as the video continued to play. Her eyes widened when the last chorus started. “That’s it.” She looked up at Yukina and Lisa. “We need choreography.”

“You’re right, I should’ve thought of that.” Yukina nodded, bringing one hand up to her face thoughtfully.

“It’ll boost engagement with the audience.” Sayo paused the video as she spoke, rewinding it to about the halfway point. “Especially if we time it right.” Her eyes practically glinted, in a sinister way that gave Lisa pause.

Lisa thought she might regret this, but she asked, “What do you have in mind?”

Now Sayo smiled sharply, the look of one who was satisfied with themself. “I’m not a hundred percent sure, I have to see how it looks.” She stepped away, back towards the center of the room. “Do you have a few minutes to try something?”

Lisa glanced at Yukina, who shrugged. “Yeah, we can stay.” Lisa replied.

“Great, go ahead and get back into position.” Sayo gave the instructions as she walked to the back of the room. She’d be able to see the whole area from there.

Lisa walked to where she’d been rehearsing before, while Yukina grabbed the mic stand and did the same. She set her bass case down.

Once they were in position, Sayo gave more directions. “I’m thinking of having it during the bridge, right before the last chorus.”

That made sense, since it was the largest point of build up in the song. “I assume I’ll stay here.” Lisa said, gesturing at her feet. “Since I need the mic.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Sayo turned up the volume on her phone, then played the video for a moment. “No one will move until the line ‘my beloved.’” She played the start of the bridge, which began with Yukina’s lines, before pausing it. “At the end of that line, Yukina you should walk towards Lisa. You have to be there by the start of your next line.”

Sayo gestured for Yukina to obey as she played the song again, which Yukina quickly did. Lisa glanced over and watched Yukina approach as her own voice singing ‘my beloved… the tender sights of your many smiles’ played from the phone. Lisa’s stomach flipped, perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea.

Sayo paused it at the end of the line, as with Yukina reaching Lisa just in time. “Put your hand on her shoulder.”

“Excuse me?” Yukina deadpanned. Lisa also wasn’t sure she had heard it right.

“You know what I said.” Sayo crossed her arms.

For a moment, the two stared at each other. Then Yukina complied, bringing her right hand up slowly to rest it on Lisa’s shoulder. Yukina’s own shoulder was still a good distance away.

“Lean in.” Those words, so simply escaping from Sayo’s lips, sent a tremor down Lisa’s spine.

“Y-you know we’re performing this on stage, right Sayo?” Lisa stuttered, her face warming as Yukina actually leaned in closer. Yukina was so close now; Lisa could feel her breath on her cheek. This was fine, she told herself. As long as she looked ahead at her mic during the song, she’d be fine.

“Yes.” Sayo replied bluntly. She lifted her phone again. “Yukina, you’ll sing your next line like that.” She played the audio for a moment, with Yukina’s voice singing ‘I’ve gently awoken’ before pausing it again. “Hold the mic for Lisa so she can sing her next line. Lisa, put your free hand over hers.”

Oh, no, no no no. As Lisa turned her head towards Yukina, realizing just how close their faces were, she knew that she could not handle this. Her cheeks had been warm before, but now they burned. Yukina wasn’t even looking at her, since she was focused on following Sayo’s directions, but she was far, far too close. Lisa could hardly breathe.

Yukina held the mic in front of Lisa’s face as Sayo played the last line of the bridge on her phone. Lisa slowly brought her hand up as directed, covering Yukina’s with it. Lisa’s voice on the recording, soft and oh god why had she written the song like this, sang ‘keep believing in me until the end’. Sayo paused it again.

This was like Hidamari Rhodonite, but even less outside of Lisa’s control. It felt intimate, terrifying. Yukina was right there. Her golden eyes, expressive to only those who knew her best, met Lisa’s.

For a moment, there was just the two of them.

Lisa pulled her hand away quickly and broke eye contact, reminding herself to breathe.

“Then Yukina will take one step away, for the line you sing together.” That was easy, that Lisa could do. Yukina moved away, back towards the side of the room. The recording played one last time, the last line ‘it’s a promise’ ringing through the room.

“I’ll make sure to go stand in the back, so all eyes are on you.” Sayo said with a nod. That provided no comfort to Lisa, who felt like she could collapse into a melted pile of mush. Only the bass would be left if she did.

“The crowd will love it.” Yukina said, cutting Lisa’s protest short before she could even start to voice it. She turned to Lisa, eyes widening slightly. They flicked down, then back to Lisa’s face. “Are you alright?” Her eyebrows were furrowed with concern.

Lisa was sweating and flushed; she must’ve looked incredibly stressed. Her words caught in her throat. “I, hehe,” She chuckled nervously. “I’m fine.” She was not fine. Lisa was very far from fine. “Are we sure about this?”

“I think it represents the song well.” Yukina replied, her mouth turning down into a frown. “If you’re not comfortable, we can change it.”

“I…” Lisa inhaled slowly, processing Yukina’s words. She was giving her an out, a chance to escape this. But, didn’t this choreography represent the heart of the song? Yukina and Lisa’s promise, how close they were, and their past together, were all on display here. Lisa had known that when she wrote the lyrics. This was just choreography to match, to show the parts of her she had filled the song with. If she thought calmly about it, which was admittedly hard right now, it made sense.

It would enhance the song, make it even better. That was enough to influence her decision. “We should do it.” Lisa settled on, accepting the moves even as her heart still raced. She’d dealt with being close to Yukina for many years, she could handle this.

Yukina’s lips quirked up, the smile reaching her eyes.

“We’ll keep practicing it next time.” Sayo interrupted, approaching the pair. “I think it’ll work.”

Yukina nodded, and the trio resumed getting ready to leave. Lisa picked up her bass as they put the mic stand back, then headed out from the studio.

The breeze outside helped cool Lisa’s warm cheeks, but it couldn’t do anything to calm her racing mind. She glanced at Yukina as she walked, marveling at how calm Yukina had been. She really was a professional, the best singer Roselia could ask for. Lisa wondered what she thought as they performed the new moves, but that was a question for another time.

Lisa still loved the song she wrote, though she was going to need to keep practicing it. It captured the spirit of her promise with Yukina, her feelings towards her best friend, which would only be performed by the best. Lisa would follow through on that promise, until the very end.

The next step was to perform it without nearly passing out.

____________________________________________________________

End Note: The translation of Yakusoku lyrics is from the wikia, linked here: https://bandori.fandom.com/wiki/Yakusoku

To see this choreography performed by Roselia, you can watch a video of Rausch Yakusoku here: https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1DU4y147kS

[jensengirl83]

Unsung Verses Chapter 4

Rockstar!Dean x plus sized reader

Word Count- 3879

Summary-Y/N and Dean have been best friends since high school, in a band together, and dated for a year but decided they were better off friends. They play gig after gig trying to get discovered, but once they sign a record deal, will fame be all it’s cracked up to be? Or will it be too much for their relationship to handle? Join them on their adventure to fame and find out!

Warnings-Angst, Mutual Pining, A little fluff

A/N- Songs in this chapter are “Why Can’t He Be You” by Patsy Cline and “Unlove You” by Jennifer Nettles

Thank you to @deanwanddamons​ for being my beta for this series!

Text dividers made by @firefly-graphics​

Lyrics will be in italics. I really hope everyone enjoys this series! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Series Masterlist

Series Spotify Playlist

“Why did I let you guys talk me into this?” Y/N groaned, taking the shot of whiskey Sam pushed towards her. 

“Because you love us,” he laughed. 

“I’m not so sure about that,” she chuckled, sticking out her tongue at the boys sitting around the bar table. Why had she agreed to a drinking game in the first place? 

“Come on now, baby. Don’t be a sore loser,” Brent said, poking her in the ribs. 

“You don’t have to get up and sing a random song!” Y/N yelled, throwing her hands up in the air. 

“You can sing anything, Freddie. It won’t be that bad,” Dean smiled, trying to give her a little encouragement. 

“Fine, what am I singing?” she sighed. 

“Page four, song twelve,” Cas said with a smirk. 

“What the hell. Let’s do it!” Y/N said, taking another shot before walking to find her song for the next spot on the karaoke stage. 

“Let’s hope it’s something she can actually sing,” Cassie laughed, taking a sip of her beer. 

Brent laughed along with her, but Dean didn’t find it funny at all. It had pissed him off, to be completely honest. He threw back his shot before looking at his girlfriend and letting her know exactly what he was thinking. 

“Have you not been paying attention at our gigs? Y/N can sing anything you throw at her. That’s why we’ll be famous one day, not us, but her. She will be the reason we make it big!” Dean growled, his patience wearing thin with Cassie lately. 

“Whatever, Dean,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. 

“Calm down, man. She was just making a joke,” Brent laughed. 

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but the sound of the piano caught his attention. He looked to the stage to see Y/N getting ready to sing. He didn’t understand why she looked like she was about to cry, and it worried him. His eyes never left her as she began to sing. 

He takes me to the places you and I used to go

He tells me over and over that he loves me so

He gives me love that I never got from you

He loves me too, his love is true

Why can't he be you

He never fails to call and tell me I'm on his mind

And I'm lucky to have such a guy; I hear it all the time

And he does all the things that you would never do

He loves me too, his love is true

Why can't he be you

Dean’s breath hitched in his chest as his eyes met hers. She was singing with so much emotion that you would think that she was really feeling this way. But that couldn’t be true, could it? Of course not. He knew she didn’t feel the same for him. It was his imagination running wild and wishful thinking. 

He's not the one who dominates my mind and soul

And I should love him so, 'cause he loves me, I know

But his kisses leave me cold

He sends me flowers, calls on the hour, just to prove his love

And my friends say when he's around, I'm all he speaks of

And he does all the things that you would never do

He loves me too, his love is true

Why can't he be you

Dean is pulled out of his hypnotic state when the song ends, and the sounds of everyone screaming and cheering for her fills his ears. He can’t help but smile when he sees everyone clapping and Sam and Cas on their feet whistling and cheering. His smile falters when he looks over to see Cassie staring at him, an angry look on her face. 

“Have a good time staring at her?” she asked, her voice full of anger. 

“I was watching my best friend sing. Chill out,” he groaned, in no mood for her bullshit. 

“Correction, Dean. You were ogling her, not watching,” Cassie huffed. 

“I’m not doing this with you tonight and definitely not here,” he whispered hatefully in her ear. This was an ongoing argument with her lately. 

Dean was going to say more, but Y/N was almost back to their table, and he didn’t want her to hear him and Cassie arguing over her. 

“Are you guys happy now?” Y/N sighed as she sat back in her seat, hoping no one would notice the sadness in her voice. 

That song had hit too close to home, and she had barely been able to keep herself together to sing it. When Dean’s eyes had met hers, she didn’t think she would be able to keep going. His face was at the forefront of her mind as she had sung, wishing that he was the one she was with and feeling guilty for feeling that way because she was with Brent. 

“You did an amazing job, babe,” Brent told her, kissing her passionately. 

“Uh, thanks,” she said, pulling back from him, wondering why the dramatics with the kiss. He usually wasn’t that fond of PDA. 

“Yeah, good job,” Cassie chuckled, standing with such force her chair scooted harshly against the floor as she turned and walked away. 

“What the hell is her problem?” Y/N asked angrily, standing up to follow Cassie, but Dean stopped her. 

“It’s nothing. She’s been in a bad mood all day. I’m going to take her home,” Dean sighed, saying his goodbyes and walking away to find his girlfriend. 

“You know what? I’m ready to go home, too. I’ll see you guys later,” Y/N smiled, trying to keep herself together until she could get out of the bar. 

“Want me to follow you home?” Brent asked with a smirk, and she wasn’t in the mood for what he had in mind. 

“No, I just want to get some sleep. I’m not feeling so great,” she bent down and placed a quick kiss on his cheek, and walked away. The fact that Brent didn’t try to follow her should have bothered her, but she was too emotional to notice.

 Y/N was sitting at the kitchen island drinking her coffee and enjoying the rare morning that she was alone in the house. Sam and Cas went to their girlfriends’ homes after the bar last night, and it was apparent that Dean had stayed with Cassie. After last night, she was happy that she was alone. The song had brought up too many emotions, and she needed time to process them without anyone around to distract her. 

She knew she had to let her feelings for Dean go. It wasn’t fair to Brent, and it was painful for her to watch him with another woman. But it wasn’t easy to turn off your feelings for someone that you’ve loved for over a decade. That thought sparked an idea for a song. Y/N grabbed her coffee and ran to the basement to write before the concept was lost. She grabbed her guitar and started strumming, letting the words flow from her. 

I could break down and cry

Laugh it off and deny

Draw lines in the sand

And count on both hands

All the reasons why

This just won't work

It'll be nothing but hurt

I can swear that I don't

And maybe one day I won't

But for how hard I've tried

I can't unlove you

My heart can't unbreak

I can't unfeel how it felt

But feel so much myself

My whole body ached

And I can't unknow this

Lord, I wish I knew how

But I can't unlove you

So come love me for now

She sang and played with her eyes closed, letting the emotions she felt overtake her. A tear slipped down her cheek as she sang the words that she wished she could say to the green-eyed man she was still so in love with, but couldn’t. 

They call it fire

But it feels just like drowning

Well, the weight of my burning desire

Closing in all around me

I wasn't lost until you found me

And I can't unlove you

My heart can't unbreak

I can't unfeel how it felt

But feel so much myself

My whole body ached

And I can't unknow this

Lord, I wish I knew how

But I can't unlove you

So come love me for now

“You’re still in love with him,” 

Y/N jumped and dropped her guitar, his voice scaring her. She hadn’t heard him come downstairs, and she couldn’t form words as she stared at him. She felt horrible that he had heard her singing a song she had just written for her best friend that she was indeed still in love with, but she couldn’t do anything now but try to apologize. 

“I’m so sorry..” she began before he cut her off. 

“Y/N, just..don’t. I’ve known it for a while now, but I guess I was too stupid to believe it,” Brent said with a sigh, “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t compete with him,” 

“Brent, please,” she started, but he interrupted her again. 

“No, this is for best, Y/N. I won’t spill your secret, but I’m not going to keep trying to win your love from him,” he chuckled wryly, walking over to kiss her on the forehead, “Goodbye, babe,” 

She watched as he turned and walked away from her and up the stairs. Her relationship had just ended because she couldn’t stop loving a man she would never have again, and she wasn’t sure what to do. She ran up the stairs to lock herself in her room as the tears began to trail down her cheeks. Her undying love for her best friend had just cost her a good man, and she knew that it was wrong to have led him on, but she couldn’t stop loving Dean. No matter how hard she tried. 

She threw herself down on her bed and let the sobs overtake her. She wasn’t sure what she was crying about more, the fact that Brent had just ended things, or that she was deeply in love with her best friend who she would never have again. The fact that she  still felt this way about  Dean made her feel guilty, but she knew it wouldn’t change. She had loved him for so long that she didn’t think she would ever be able to feel the same for anyone else, and that scared her. That would leave her doomed never to have the love she wanted so desperately, to be alone and pining for a man who didn’t love her back. 

Dean walked in the house, closing the door, leaning his back against it. He had been at Cassie’s all night, and he was glad to be home. They had done nothing but fight and argue all night long. She had insisted that he wanted Y/N.  He denied it of course, even though it was a lie. But it wasn’t as if he could tell her the truth, knowing that his feelings for her weren’t reciprocated. He knew that it was selfish to lie to his girlfriend just so he wouldn’t be alone, but he knew his time with Y/N was over, and he had to try and move on. So, if that meant lying to Cassie about his true feelings until he could let Y/N go, then so be it. 

He sighed as he pushed himself off the door and started walking to his room. He needed some peace and quiet so he could think, knowing that he had to find a way to move past this infatuation with his best friend. She had a boyfriend, for fucks sake! All his feelings were going to do is further break his heart because he knew he would never have the woman he truly wanted. 

As he passed Y/N’s room, a sound made him freeze in his steps. He could’ve sworn he heard her crying, but what would she have to cry about? He continued to listen, hoping he was wrong, but then he clearly heard her sobs through her bedroom door. Without any hesitation, he opened the door to see her curled up in her bed, hugging her pillow to her body, and his heart dropped at the sight of her. 

“Freddie, what’s wrong?” he asked her, walking over to lay behind her. 

“Please leave, Dean. I don’t want to talk about it,” she sobbed. She couldn’t bear to look at him right now. 

“Sweetheart, talk to me. I can’t leave you here like this, and you know it,” he whispered, his voice breaking with the sadness of seeing her this way. 

“It’s over,” she spoke so low Dean almost didn’t hear her, “Brent and I are done,” 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. What happened?” he asked her, feeling guilty that he was a little happy that Brent was out of the picture now. 

“It doesn’t matter. I just want to forget about it,” she sighed. She couldn’t tell him the truth. 

“Okay, but I have one question,” 

“What’s that?” she asked, turning to look at him. 

“Do I need to go kick his ass? You know, rearrange his face a little,” he said with a chuckle. 

The giggle that she let escape made his heart melt. He hated to see her this way, and he wished that she felt for him the way he did her. If only she could be his, he would never break her heart or hurt her like this. He would make it his mission to make her smile every day until the end of his time on this earth. 

“No. I don’t need you to kick his ass. I just need my best friend,” she said shyly. 

“You’ve always got me, Freddie. Always. Now, roll that cute ass over here and let me cuddle you,” he said with a laugh, holding his arm up for her to snuggle into his side. 

Y/N couldn’t help but to smile at him. He was too damn cute lying on her bed, arms open, and waiting to hold her. She scooted over and wrapped her arm around his middle, laying her head on his chest. The feeling of his warmth and his arm caging her against his body was already making her feel better. 

“Let’s get a little rest. I’m sure we could both use it,” he whispered, placing a light kiss on her forehead. 

“Sounds good,” she yawned, curling into him and falling asleep. 

Dean’s eyes fluttered open, a feeling of something poking him. He looked through sleepy eyes at Y/N, her back flush against his chest, and his arms wrapped tightly around her. He smiled softly to himself at the feeling of holding her like this until he felt it again, something poking him. He grunted at the annoyance, turning to look behind him and his eyes shot open wide. Cassie was standing there, a look of pure anger on her face. He hurriedly got out of bed and walked her out of the room before the inevitable fight started, and it woke Y/N. 

“Well, well. What a sight for me to see,” she growled. 

“Cassie, I was comforting my best friend. Brent dumped her, and I was trying to make her feel better,” he explained. 

“Really? Is that how you comfort all your friends?” she asked sarcastically. 

“I’m not doing this with you today,” he rolled his eyes, walking to his room with Cassie on his heels. 

“Yes, we are doing this! I’m tired of sharing my boyfriend with his “best friend” who is clearly in love with him! This ends today!” she shouted. 

“What the hell are you talking about? She’s not in love with me,” he said, shocked at what she was saying to him. 

“You’re blind, Dean! Everyone can see that she loves you! Everyone but you, obviously!” she continued yelling, pacing the floor. 

“Be quiet! You’re going to wake her up!” he hissed, getting frustrated. 

“Again, it’s all about her. It’s time to choose Dean. I refuse to keep being put on the back burner for her,” she said bluntly. 

“I’m not picking between my girlfriend and best friend. I’d never make you choose!” he yelled. 

“Yeah, and you’ve never caught me snuggling in bed with my best friend!” she shouted back. 

“I told you why, Cassie,” he said, pinching his nose between his fingers. 

“That’s supposed to make it okay? It doesn’t! So, time to choose,” 

Dean stopped and stared at her for a few seconds, seeing she was serious about him choosing between her and Y/N. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions. He couldn’t believe it had come down to this, but he knew what the choice was going to be. 

“Goodbye, Cassie.” 

He walked over to his bedroom door and held it open for her to leave. 

“Are you serious?” she asked, shocked. 

“You made me choose, and I did. I’m sorry, and I hope you find someone who will make you happy,” 

“Fuck you, Dean!” she yelled, walking past him and down the hallway, slamming the front door behind her. 

Dean shut his bedroom door with a sigh, not knowing what to think about everything that had happened and what had been said. He was angry that she had wanted him to choose between her and Y/N, but he was also so confused. Did his best friend really have feelings for him too, and he was just too blind to see it? Could he honestly be lucky enough to have her love him back? 

He flopped down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His mind ran wild, thinking about how Y/N acted around him, trying to see if what Cassie said was right. Had she been showing feelings toward him, and he didn’t see it? And if she was, why hadn’t he noticed? He had wanted her for so long that he would’ve noticed it, right? 

Dean growled in frustration as he jumped up from his bed. He needed to clear his head, and the best way to do that was to play his guitar. If he could play a little and clear his mind, he could rationally think everything over. He was so determined to get to the basement that he missed  Y/N opening her bedroom door after he walked by, watching him head for the basement. 

Once he was there, he walked around the corner to see her guitar lying on the floor. He knew that she never treated her guitar that way. It was her baby, so something was wrong with this picture. He bent to pick it up and placed it back on its stand when he saw the notepad lying beside it. Y/N had been writing a song, and he had to read it. His eyes scanned the paper, and his heart stopped, the words on the paper making him freeze. The title of the song was Unlove You, and the lyrics were heartbreaking. 

And I can't unknow this

Lord, I wish I knew how

But I can't unlove you

She had been with Brent, so why would she write this? She could’ve written it after they broke up, but that didn’t seem likely. If she wrote it before, maybe Cassie was right, and she did have feelings for him. His heart began to race at the thought that she could possibly want him too. It’s all he’s wanted for such a long time, and maybe now it could happen. 

“Dean?” Y/N whispered, seeing the notepad in his hands. 

“Y/N, please don’t lie to me. When did you write this?” he asked, turning to see tears in her eyes. 

“Today,” she said, her voice barely audible. 

“Before or after?” he questioned her, walking over to stand right in front of her. 

“What do you mean?” she looked up at him, confused. 

“Freddie, please, did you write this before or after you and Brent were over?” he stared down into her tear-filled eyes. He had to know. 

“B-before,” she stuttered, scared that this was going to be the end of their friendship. 

“Y/N, I-I..Did you write this about me? I have to know, sweetheart,” he whispered, not trusting his voice. 

“Dean..”

“No, please be honest with me. I deserve that,” he sighed, praying she was going to say yes. 

“Yes, okay? I wrote it about you! So, go ahead and tell me how you don’t feel the same and that you’re with Cassie and..” she was shouting until he interrupted her, grabbing her face and crushing his lips to hers. 

“Y/N, I want you to listen to me,” he said, resting his forehead to hers after they broke the kiss, “I’ve been crazy about you since high school. I never wanted us to end back then, so this has made me the happiest man on earth, sweetheart,” 

“Dean...We can’t. You’re with Cassie. I’m not doing that again,” she sighed, not willing to be the other woman. 

“I’m not with her anymore. We broke up while you were still asleep, and what do you mean, again?” he asked, but then it all made sense, “You remember! You remember what happened that night after the karaoke bar!” 

“Yeah, I do, but...Wait?! You remember?!” she asked, catching on to his words. 

“I’ve always remembered. You said you didn’t, so I didn’t want you to carry that guilt if you didn’t have to,” he told her bluntly. 

“You said it was a mistake,” she said, hanging her head. 

“I know, and I was stupid. I regretted saying it as soon as the words left my mouth. I felt guilty, but being with you would never be a mistake. Wasting all these years on other people has been the mistake,” he chuckled. The truth of what he had said hit him. 

“We just got out of relationships today. I don’t want to be a rebound, Dean. I want you to want me because you want me. Not because you don’t want to be alone,” she said, looking up to see his face, and all she saw was love and hurt at what she had just told him. 

“How could you think that, Y/N? You want to know why me and Cassie aren’t together anymore? She told me I had to choose between you and her. I chose you, sweetheart. I’ll always choose you,” he declared, leaning in to kiss her lips softly. 

“You chose me?” she asked in shock. 

“Of course, I’ll always pick you, pretty girl!” he laughed. 

The smile that spread across her face had his heart beating double time and the fact that he was the reason she was smiling made it even better. He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms tightly around her, resting his head on hers. He had to thank Cassie for making him angry. If she hadn’t forced him to choose, he wouldn’t have come to the basement and seen Y/N’s song. He would never have admitted how he felt and wouldn’t be standing there with the love of his life in his arms. 

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[minjungfmd]

butterfly / creative claims verification

writing verification for @fmdjiah‘s butterfly. an instrumental inspired by the dreaminess of a movie, and lyrics that write a love story that feels like a remnant of a dream. warnings / none wc / 1687, not including lyrics 

eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.

despite how many times she’s repeated the movies in her head — set forth with the question of whether any erasure of the memory counts towards the steps of healing — she finds something new.

this time, the fixation on the cinematic score, an ethereal dream shifting the pieces of fragments of fiction versus reality prompts her fingers on the keyboard to start trickling a series of notes, one by one. trickling dainty, delicately. it mimics the tempo of classically thought-of harps, and the note leads to a drag over one and another. and when inspiration hits, she goes straight towards her home-studio, the new file of a blank screened ableton before the record starts, and she carries the notes, letting the settings hit almost to the notch of mute.

there’s no heavy emphasis, just the trickle of notes she wants to carry the dream of the track. it’s the lucid dreams, the ones that feel like when you’re drunk on little hours of sleep with heavy eyelids, and a heavy heart to match. the nostalgia that comes in waves, just like the gentle sounds to lull you to sleep, knowing full well you can’t.

she imagines the song to have a feeling, the lyrics that are sung in a way it just drags. heels in the ground, one word blending into another in a sultry emotion that counteracts the nostalgia lodged in the song — makes note of that for later, but for now, inaudible words, just phasing past her lips in small ideas of how the melody goes.

she takes the first one, the counter-progression of the initial notes as she hums the words, taking two notes forward in the same pitch before the other falls back. it all contrasts by the time she takes a stark turn, starting another line with a higher note, only to transition down. her pen jots the time stamp, a possible falsetto? she leaves that to later judgement.

but work doesn’t always come in a streamlined process, just as it’s hard to solidify ideas one by one, in a cohesive manner. instead, it comes wayward from all angles, and she falls back to the instrumental, taking in the slow bpm tempo — leading with a possible chord, heavy on the synth to start each trickle of keys. this time, the setting’s louder, spotlighting the attention to the thickness of the beginning, setting up for the entirety of the dream.

-

when she falls back on the track, she finds herself doused in inspiration days later. working on bits and pieces, martyring it like a puzzle still to be written. she takes her notes, one by one, still no lyrics at hand but an idea of non-coherent words and strings of random sentences — the heaviness of the chords, the synth and the trickle of keys she alters with editing, building up from the minimalism of the keys to heaviness of the synth by the time she picks where she sees the chorus.

vibrato on the voice, drag the end.

she writes that down, singing along empty words — a more powerful vocal execution, even where her own struggles. a dip before the vibrato and the drags paint the canvas whole.

the song’s not for her, least not when the power dynamics of the song — the counteraction between the softness of the dream with the voices of reality are centered around the song. the verses carry themselves alone before she takes in a different set of notes, speeding them up towards the end. a nameless track with an empty story — it’s the skeletons of something, maybe someday it’ll come into fruition.

— 

the song repeats itself in her head, like a taste of irony. it bleeds into her thoughts when she’s drifting back, lost in the middle of a meeting — the dreamy synths drowning out the talks of the executives, and by the time she spares a few hours, she’s already back into the studio, notebook wide scribbling down rudimentary sketches of clouds and figures.

turns out, it’s another love song struck in her mind when dreams entice a figure of her past that comes to haunt her in sweet memories, too sweet to be drowned out by any erasure.

she writes the first few words:

drawn in a dream that i can’t wake up from i was still looking for you

it’s like sleep walking, or some wicked form of lucid dreaming. walking around in circles hoping for a figure of the past keeping up — but the reality brings to a limbo that leaves her double questioning the thoughts of what’s real and what’s fake if the thing she’s looking for all along becomes the centerpiece  that all draws to him.

because she knows, optimistic thinking. wishful dreaming — it all dies the second dreams blur with reality, and what’s sitting in front of her becomes the hopes and wishes she spent her 11:11s and pennies on. her breath held still, a person of permanency to become exposed right in front of only to realize the first taste becomes like the first hit of a drug that takes over the body in full throttle. exhilaration, and addition all lying on the first whiff, putting her on a cloud nine, skies above her head. no recollection for the past nor future when the present feels so good.

now that i found you i can’t wake up i can’t escape from you

but even addicts have their downfall and the high doesn’t last long. least not when the shaky withdrawals of a person no longer being there starts to breed the downfall for a constant lingering feeling of wanting something that’s not there. she knows it, and she’s sure anyone else does too — the way he’s there and then poofs into fine air, the remnants of the cologne left on his clothes the only piece to tether her back (only, that’s a lie. it’s always been a lie when the memory becomes the final force of red string tethering her still).

in the end, he’s not a creature to be caved in nor is she a creature meant to stay still. freedom lingers like a butterfly always waiting at the end, with the only possibility of hope: maybe, someday it’ll return.

even if i struggle to hold onto you’re still like a butterfly

she wonders how she became a lovelorn addict in the first place. how she became jaded by the pinky promises and breaths shared underneath the blanket. heartbeats playing in sync, and the gleam in her eye that writes the story for a future left unwritten — little did she know, it’d be left as the future untold. 

if anything, it’s pride that tells her to regret. prevent the beggar nature to fall onto her knees and plead for a sense of freedom — because the more she thinks, the more she dwindles and the pang in her gut grows. 

she writes down her pleas here, because if not here — then anywhere housed in her thoughts would topple over the self-ruination in.

let go of my tired heart the deeper i get, the smaller i become the one that got away, making my heart more painful

it’s a pity song, a pitied dream. one word after the other scrawling itself across the pages. yet, the journal houses the same old song written fifteen different ways, each word, each sentence staking the same words unspoken to a boy she can’t bring herself to call. empty lines, and empty text messages — erased, then re-written over and over. and the only remedy becomes the hope that someday it’ll enter his own ears through the speakers — because in the end, she falls inside cowardice. falls too short, becomes a coward to bring herself to say it out loud: i miss you. i hate you. but i can’t regret you.

-

like a school girl, she carries her harddrive close to her chest. crossed again, hidden behind a mask as she finds her way, her own unwelcomed entrance coming in a peek through the doors before she steps into the studio. her hands toss the disk to her friend, sitting happily in front of the desk — he’s a free soul, unbridled by any company and a worker to all. still, friendship crosses work boundaries when she comes in for a second set of ears, and he picks up on the one-two cues already halfway plugging the drive into the computer.

“i want to add a series of chords, guitar — but i can’t get the right set, or the right set.” it’s her concession, when she hums along what she means, fingers already pointing to a screen at the set time point. “i’ve added in as much synth as you could see — heavy handed especially where the chorus blurs into the second verse, and the end of each line to exude that cloudy blur i want in this song. but here.” her nails tap once more at the screen. “i want this weird chord style, where it’s somewhere between electric and acoustic, heavier than the piano that carries the song.” 

too many words, and she waits in the silence, arms crossed against her chest — awaiting an answer. but she knows, her friend works in silence, taking in the entire song the whole way through before parting his lips to give any sort of answer.

“you could add it towards the end of the song? the entire beginning sounds too heavy on the synth to add anything else.”

she weighs her choices, a song spurned on by inspiration. yet, she stands in a limbo of not knowing what to do, and what to add. instead, she tilts her head, lips unevenly pursed to the side of her face. “could we try adding chords? but the specific settings of an unplugged electric guitar”

“you don’t think it’ll clash?”

“if we keep it silenced enough it doesn’t drown out the keys, i think it could work.”

her friend motions over to the lines of guitar stockpiled in the side of the room, “take your pick.”

her hands gravitate towards the first guitar, taking a seat on the couch behind them. uncertain, she motions with a nod to play back the instrumental of the song, void of her guide vocals, strumming one take to the next. it all leads to a simple c, and she flicks her gaze up, a eureka gloating in her eyes. “it’s this.”

[abundanceofsoph]

SkyFire 2: Chapter 6

Harry makes a movie while Rori makes some music: May 2016

Word Count: 1.7k

SkyFire 2 MASTERLIST

>Instagram posts

Aurora knew she was moping, but she couldn’t help it. Harry looked across at her from where he sat nearby, a smirk lifting the corner of his lips as he watched her.  “Would you stop that?” he asked with a chuckle, drawing his mothers’ attention.

“Leave me alone, H,” Aurora replied, noticing the way that Anne’s gaze flicked between the two of them in confusion.

“What am I missing?” she asked her son.

“She’s mad at me,” Harry explained, looking not at all put out by the fact.

“I’m not mad,” Aurora argued. “I’m in mourning.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Harry laughed.

She rolled her eyes at him, remembering the conversation that had that had led them to now.

“Love, you know how I went to London a few months back to audition for that movie?” Harry had asked her. “I got it.”  

“Really?” Aurora had cheered, throwing herself into his arms and hugging him tightly. “OMG! Harry I’m so proud of you.” She’d placed kissed all over his face before settling on his lips. “You’ll be fantastic.” 

“I’ve got to cut my hair,” he told her. Her face had fallen, the fingers of her right hand instantly moving to his long curls to tangle in them.  

“But I love your hair,” she had pouted. “How short does it need to go?” 

“Military short.”  

She let go of him, stepping backwards. “I hate this.”  

“I’m sorry love,” he’s replied softly. “It’ll grow back.”  

Now there she was, watching on as a hairdresser straightened out his hair, pulling it tightly back to the nape of his neck, scissors in hand. He laughed when Aurora winced, turning her head so she didn’t watch.

“It’s just hair,” he reminded her.

“Yeah and now it’s gone,” she sniped.

Anne chuckled as the pair continued to bicker while the haircut continued. When it was all over Harry took some photos of the ponytail and then he took his mum and fiancé out for lunch, hoping to snap Aurora out of her depressing mood by taking them to her favourite sushi bar.

xXx

Harry left for France a few weeks later, leaving Aurora in New York. She put on a brave face until he was out the door and on the plane, and then she hid herself away in her room. She felt ridiculous for being so dependant on him; the majority of their relationship had been long distance, but she had gotten so used to him being there every day since Christmas, that the idea of being separated for months was heartbreaking. Steve knocked on her door the evening after Harry left, letting himself in and sitting down beside where she was curled up on the bed.

“You feel like talking about it?” he asked softly.

“Not really,” Aurora mumbled.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“No,” she replied.

“He’ll be back before you know it,” Steve promised, laying down to wrap his arms around her.

“It’s not just Harry being gone,” Aurora explained, curling into his side. “I should have been graduating next week.”

“Ever think about going back?”

“I don’t think I can. Just the thought of being back there has me shaking.”

“That’s ok,” Steve said. “I know Dad made a big deal about you going to college, but you don’t exactly need the degree.”

“Just feel like I failed though,” Aurora admitted. “I guess I’ve never really said that out loud, but I do. I feel like I was so close to finishing and that I’m always going to be a college dropout now.”

“You’re not a failure, bug,” Steve replied. “You have overcome so much, and you should be so damn proud of that. I know I am and so is your dad. You’ve got nothing to feel ashamed about. You’ve got your art and your music, and you don’t need a piece of paper to be successful and happy.”

“Thanks Pops,” she murmured, burying her face into his chest. “I’m so glad I have you and Dad.”

“Always,” Steve promised, “for anything you need.”

xXx

It was only after Harry left for France that Aurora realized how much she had enjoyed being back in the studio making music and now that he and his new band were gone, she missed it. She tried for an afternoon to work on her own but found the entire process too frustrating and ended up texting Mark to help find a solution

◊Aurora: hey can you find me a writing partner? I’m feeling inspired but need an extra hand both physically and metaphorically.

◊Mark: I’ll get right on it. Anyone in mind?

◊Aurora: no clue but I feel like you know me well enough to know who I’d vibe with.

2 days later she received a text from someone unexpected.

◊Niall: Hey babe, I hear you’re looking for a writing partner which is perfect because I’m not sure if you heard, but my band is on a break and I have a LOT of free time on my hands. What do you say I come hang out with ya for a bit?

◊Aurora: I’d really like that Ni and I’m pretty sure my dads will stop watching me every second of every day if you come stay with us for a bit.

◊Niall: consider me on the next flight… or at some point in the next few days, let’s be realistic.

xXx

True to his word, Niall arrived a few days later and the pair spent the day catching up on everything they’d missed since last seeing each other 4 months ago. Niall had been spending some much needed time back in Ireland with his family, but he had been excited when Mark reached out looking for someone to work with Aurora. They made their way down to the studio the second day of his stay and started kicking around ideas. For the most part, Aurora set herself up on the sofa, humming melodies and throwing out lyrics while Niall pulled out his guitar to accompany her.

After a few days of goofing around and not really coming up with anything either of them liked, Niall caught Rori’s eyes flicking to the grand piano in the corner of the room. “You miss playing?” he asked her.

“All the time,” she sighed. “I’ll get back to it eventually. Dad and Peter have already started work on a protype prosthetic and once I’m healed up, I can start getting it fitted.”

“I’ve never known you to be very patient,” Niall pointed out.

“Yeah it’s something knew I’m trying out,” she chuckled. “Some days I’m better at it than others. Just keep reminding myself that a few months is better than never.”

“Wanna try something?” he asked, holding out his hand for her. She took it, letting him pull her to her feet and lead her towards the piano.

“Ni…” she began to protest.

“Shut up,” he interrupted. “Just sit down.” She shook her head but did as he said, the fingers of her right hand automatically laying across the familiar keys. “You remember the notes for Night Changes?”

“Of course I do, but I can’t play Niall.”

“Just trust me,” he replied, nudging her side with his elbow where he sat next to her on the bench. “Play.”

She bit back any further argument and started playing the familiar notes. It was one of her favourites which was probably why he’d suggested it. Her eyes were trained on the ivory keys in front of her, so at first, she didn’t notice when his own hand lifted towards the piano, playing the left hand of the song. She smiled as he joined her, the timing slightly off until they found the right rhythm and then they both picked up the lyrics together. Her grin only grew as they sang, his right arm slung around her shoulder as they played together. As they reached the end of the song Aurora turned to hug her friend, unable to put into words how it felt to finally be getting back to the person she’d always been.

They spent the rest of the day at the piano, playing some of their favourites and just having fun. They lost track of time and as it neared dinner time, Steve came down to let everyone know food was on the table. Despite the fact that Tony told him time and time again that he could just have JARVIS let them know, he liked coming downstairs to get everyone, to which Tony would always mumble something about him being old fashioned and stuck in the 40s. He went to the recording studio first, opening the door slowly, not wanting to interrupt if they were in the middle of something. He paused in the doorway, a soft smile on his face as he watched the pair at the piano, his heart bursting with love at the way Aurora’s head was thrown back in a fit of laughter. Steve quickly left the room before either of them noticed him and he walked across the hall to the workshop where his husband and Peter were working away. “Tony,” he said when he entered the room, “drop whatever you’re doing. You need to come see this.”

Tony and Peter followed him back across the hall and all three of them watched on silently as Niall and Aurora played and sang. Steve wrapped his arms around Tony as the shorter man lent his head against his husband’s chest, both smiling brightly at their daughter’s joy. Peter snuck his phone out of his pocket, filming the two of them performing a terrible cover of Bye, Bye, Bye, having too much fun to be focusing on singing well. When the song finished, Niall caught sight of their audience over his shoulder, nudging Aurora with his elbow and drawing her attention to her parents and Peter standing in the doorway.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Steve said when the pair spotted them. “Just came down to tell you dinner’s ready and got caught up in the concert.”

Rori was still smiling as she stood up and walked across the room. Tony hugged her tightly when she reached him. “Good to see you at the piano again kiddo,” he murmured against her ear.

“Honestly felt so incredible,” she replied, smiling brightly as Tony threw his arm around her shoulder, leading her out of the room towards the elevator.

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

[voemae582]

Fools Fall in Love

Short Fic. 

Marinette has been thinking of him non stop for days and days. While she's alone, or at least thinks she is, her heart begins to sing about her longing feelings. After she's finished a shadow reveals himself seeing her in a new light. Is this the one she's in love with? Does he like her more then just a friend?

The school bell rang and Marinette shuffled out of her class with her best friend Alya. They went to their lockers and chatted with friends in the common area. After a while the students slowly dispersed and went home for the day. Marinette was standing at the entrance with Alya and Nino. The couple invited Marinette to watch a movie with them, but she had other plans.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with?" Alya asked Marinette.

She shook her head. "You two go, besides, I've got some stuff to do. Have fun."

"If you're sure?" Nino questioned.

"Yeah, I'll text you guys later." 

She waved them off and once they were out of sight she turned around and went back into the building. Her hand slid up the railing as she stepped up the stair case. She hummed to herself and walked along the side of the railing on the second floor of the building. Looking down at the empty court yard made her feel calm. The fact that she was alone other than Tikki sleeping in her purse made her comfortable. At least for a while it gave her time to think of him.

She always liked him, she always enjoyed being around him. But she wasn't good at expressing herself. Anyone who knew her would tell you she's a mess when it comes to boys. After a few minutes she made it to her destination. The art room. 

Before she could twist the knob, the door opened. Marc and Nathaniel came walking out. Marinette yelped a little at the sudden surprise. Nathaniel and Marc were always in the art room doing little projects together but them suddenly popping out scared not only her but them. After the shock wore off in a second, they laughed.

"Hey Marinette." Nath said.

"Sorry for the shock, we're just leaving." Marc added.

"Hi guys, done already?"

Nathaniel clenched his sketch book in his arms, "Yeah, we're going to Marc's to finish it up. I've got a good feeling about this story."

"It's all thanks to your art." Marc mentioned. Nathaniel smiled wider.

Marinette loved seeing them so happy. "When it's done, maybe I could read it? I bet it'll be amazing."

"Sure, we'll see you tomorrow."

Marinette waved bye to them and entered the classroom. The lights were off but there was so much natural light that she didn't need to turn them on. She set her bags on a table next to an isle and positioned a sketch pad on it. 

After ten minutes of rough sketches she began humming to herself again. On the white piece of paper she made light lines and strokes making up the structure of a face. Her humming got more soft and gentle as she drew the details of the eyes. His face was detailed in her mind and she expressed her feelings with her pencil. Before she knew it there was one song in particular that rung in her head.

Meanwhile at the front of the school Adrien was getting out of his car. "I'll be right back, I think its in the classroom." Earlier that day Adrien forgot his Chinese book at school. He ran into the building and jogged up the stairs making it to his homeroom classroom. He grabbed the door and jiggled it. It was locked. "Locked?" He jiggled it again to no prevail.

Plagg flew out with his arms crossed. "So you miss a Chinese lesson, what's the harm?"

Adrien gave him a stern look. "You know what my father will say if I miss Chinese. Or well, it's more of a disappointed silence, which is worse." He looked around and saw no one. "There has to be someone here who has a key. Maintenance or a teacher?"

"Lets just-" Before Plagg could finish they heard the sound of something dropping a few classrooms away. Plagg hid in his master's bag and Adrien walked over hoping it was someone who could let him in. 

The art room door was cracked open and he peered inside. His hand slowly pushed the door a little more open. No one was in sight, until he saw Marinette stand up. She had bent over to grab a pencil pouch she dropped. When she stood up quickly Adrien instinctively hid outside the door. He didn't know why he was hiding. 

Marinette reached to put the pouch back on the table and some pencil's accidently rolled out and on the floor. She tried to catch them but fell in the process and Adrien heard her gasp as she slipped. When she tried to stand up again she hit her head under the table and a big thud echoed the room followed by a groan from the girl. She slowly stood up rubbing her head with one hand and placing the pencils on the table with the other.

Adrien couldn't help but giggle at her clumsiness. Even when no ones around she still trips. He thought of the saying, "If a tree falls and no ones around to hear it, does it really make a sound?"

"Marinette? Wow she really is clumsy..." Plagg blurted.

"Plagg, Shhhh!" Adrien hushed him.

While Adrien was arguing with Plagg, Marinette made sure the pencils wouldn't fall again and stood in front of her portrait. Tikki popped out of her purse, "Are you okay Marinette?"

"Yeah, sorry did I wake you?" She smiled at her sleepy kwami.

"No it's alright." She flew up and examined the picture. "Wow, Marinette this looks great."

"Thanks Tikki. I'm not quite done yet. It'll be a while longer, so if you want to nap some more you can."

"Just a few more minutes." Tikki kissed Marinette's cheek and snuggled back into her purse.

Outside the door Adrien was whispering to Plagg. "I should say something."

"Why? She doesn't know you're here, watching her all creepily." Plagg laughed.

He looked back into the classroom and before he went inside he was mesmerized by her. The look in her eyes, the focus and determination she had. He didn't want to bother her. He was about to leave but heard her start humming.

It was soothing.

He gazed back at her soft blue eyes. And she started to sing.

"Wise men say, Only fools rush in, But I can't help falling in love with you" She swayed to the rhythm. "Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, If I can't help falling in love with you?"

He leaned against the wall and rested his head against the door side.

Her lips formed a sweet smile. "Like a river flows, Surely to the sea, Darling, so it goes, Some things are meant to be."

He could watch her for hours.

"Take my hand, Take my whole life too, For I can't help falling in love with you. Like a river flows, Surely to the sea, Darling, so it goes, Some things are meant to be.."

At this point he desperately wanted to see the picture she was drawing with so much passion.

"Take my hand, Take my whole life too, For I can't help falling in love with you. For I can't help falling in love with you..." Once she was done singing she started to hum.

"Wow..." Adrien whispered. He stood straight and knocked on the door before pushing it fully open.

The knock  made Marinette jump and fall on her butt. "A-Adrien!?"

He ran over to her to help her up quickly. "Marinette!? Are you okay?"

She got up as fast as she could so he wouldn't worry. "No! I-I mean yes, thank you." She cleared her throat. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, uh, I forgot my Chinese text book here and I saw the door open." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"I see..." She purposely stood in his way so couldn't walk around the isle and see her project.

Adrien awkwardly looked around trying to find anything to say. "Marinette, um, would you like to-"

"Marinette?" 

Adrien looked behind him and saw Luka standing in the door way. "Luka?"

"Hey Adrien!" Luka waved.

"Luka, you're here already? Time sure flies by.." Marinette laughed.

Luka stood next to her. "You two going to hangout?" Adrien asked.

"Yeah, I'm teaching her guitar. You want to come over too?" Luka offered.

"Sorry, I have Chinese lessons..."

"Well maybe next time then. Ready to go?" He grabbed Marinette's bag for her and they started to leave.

"I'll see you in class Adrien." Marinette smiled.

"Y-yeah, see you tomorrow." He gave them a weak wave as they exited. As soon as they left Adrien let out an irritated sigh. "Marinette's just a friend."

"Sure kid, whatever you say." Plagg flew out and patted his cheek.

He noticed she left her sketch pad on the isle and walked around to see it. "Amazing..." The portrait was of Luka. His detailed blue eyes and wild hair. "Of course it is..." His finger tips caressed the surface of the page and he traced lightly not to smudge it the lines she was so focused on. "Lets go Plagg, the Gorilla's waiting."

"What about your book?"

"It doesn't matter." He was passing the isle and accidently bumped it, making the sketch pad fall. "Oops!" He knelt down to pick it up. When he flipped through the pages to find Luka's portrait he froze. There were portraits of him in it. From many different angles she drew him as well. Not only him there was at least a few of Chat Noir too. "Plagg do you see this?"

"So?"

"She drew me. Me! Adrien, Adrien and Chat Noir" He flipped through them and near the end his disappeared and Luka's began. "Wait, why did she stop?"

"That's what happens when you get a new muse. Sorry kid, but looks like she found a new tune."

"Tune?"

"Goodbye pianist, hello rock star!" Plagg played air guitar.

Adrien put it back on the isle and walked out of the room. "Let's pretend we didn't see it after all." He started plotting down the stairs melancholy and saw Marinette running in the building. She ran up only a few steps above him and looked down at him as he looked at her.

"Um, forgot something." She shrugged.

"It happens to the best of us." He smiled. She giggle and ran the rest of the way up the stairs. He watched her go into the art room. "I'm such a fool." And he walked out of the building.

[jawnjendes]

girl, you’re trouble | shawn mendes

university au, shawn x goth gf

AN: i dont love the title but whatever i guess!! let me know ur thots, Thots! ALSO theres a bit of Spanish in this (surprise, the goth gf is actually mexican) so get ur fuckin translators out

masterlist | series playlist

I woke up alone in bed, but I wasn’t alone in the apartment. Just outside the bedroom, in the living room, I heard the sounds of Shawn singing and playing guitar. A smile appeared on my tired face. It’s been a while since I heard that pretty voice. It took me a minute to process what exactly he was belting out, but it must have been new. I’ve heard all of his songs, but this one was unfamiliar to me.

“Help me, it’s like the walls are caving in

Sometimes I feel like giving up, but I just can’t

It isn’t in my blood”

With a heavy sigh, I reached for my phone on the nightstand. However, as soon as I extended my arm and tried to stretch, I felt the minor sting of my incisions. I groaned and remained lying where I was, and I waited for Shawn to get all his sad boi feelings out. Good thing I loved hearing him sing.

“Laying on the bathroom floor, feeling nothing

I’m overwhelmed and insecure, give me something

I could take to easy my mind, slowly”

Okay, that was a direct hit to the feelings I tried so hard to keep tied up in a small box in the back of my mind. I felt small and helpless all over again in a matter of seconds. I had to lie on this bed and stare at the ceiling while I waited for my boyfriend to come and help me sit up. I had to depend on someone else to get by, and I never experienced that. I needed help, and I hated it. I hated being so vulnerable. Crazy how his words could drastically change my mood. And I literally just woke up.

Out of sheer spite (to whom, I don’t know), I dug my elbows into the mattress and attempted to pick up my head and shoulders. I felt the strain below my belly button, where the biggest incision was located, but I still tried to sit up on my own. Then, a sharp pain went through where I was cut into, and I groaned through gritted teeth. I dropped my head back and took a deep breath. I can do this.

Shawn’s guitar playing suddenly stopped. “Honey?”

Okay, I can’t do this.

I took another deep breath and tried to erase the frustration from my face as the door to the room opened. Shawn dashed inside and approached me.

“Are you okay? What happened?” he asked, looking up and down at my body like he was expecting me to be bleeding.

“Nothing, I was just trying to sit up,” I replied monotonously.

“Well, why didn’t you call me? I was just right outside the door.” Without even asking, he leaned down to wrap an arm around my back and moved me into a sitting up position. I felt a bit stupid.

I decided to change the subject. “Was that a new song I heard?”

“Yeah, something that hit all of a sudden,” he said. “What’d you think?”

Carefully, I shifted so my legs hung over the edge of the mattress. “I liked it a lot. I was happy to hear you sing again.”

Now I was able to reach for my phone on the nightstand. I had a new text from my mom, saying that she and my dad landed in Toronto. A deep pit formed in my stomach.

“My parents are in the city,” I said, my eyes widening.

Shawn didn’t reciprocate my nerves. “That’s great! Do they need a ride from the airport?”

“No!” I answered too quickly. “Uh… If you pick them up and I’m not there, they’ll be upset that I didn’t personally welcome them here. And if I do go with you, they’ll freak out because I’m not taking better care of myself post-surgery. Just let them get a Lyft.”

“Okay, then…”

For the first time in weeks, I got myself ready. Yeah, I was in the hospital for a week and a half, but exams season was prior to that event. I had been looking raggedy for a while now. My face was a little sunken in from the dramatic weight drop I experienced from my diet, but I didn’t look Dead dead. I brushed my teeth and straightened my hair, and I felt good about it. Plus, I was glad to discover I still had the skill to almost effortlessly draw on inner and outer wings on my eyes. I mean, I had one eye done successfully...

Shawn was watching me in the bathroom, leaning against the doorway with a smile on his face. I pretended to be too busy drawing on my other wing to acknowledge him for about five seconds. The pressure was a bit much.

“Can I help you, my dear?” I asked, finally drawing the outline of my wing.

“You just look so pretty,” he said mindlessly. “And you’re so good at putting on makeup.”

I chuckled. “It’s just eyeliner.”

Then the subject changed. “So… I know I’ve asked, but I still don’t know the answer. What are your parents like?”

I never knew how to answer a question like that without sounding like an ungrateful child. “Um… my mom’s an Aries and my dad is an Aquarius…”

“Babe.”

“My mom’s name is Lucy, and my dad’s name is Ed,” I tried again. “They’ll talk to each other in Spanish if they don’t want people around them to know what they’re saying. A lot of people say I’m a mix of both of them. Uh, they’re swayed by actions and not words. They know you make me happy, so they should be nice.”

“Should?” Shawn repeated. “Uh, okay. Noted. My parents and sister are coming over too. Like, a little bit later. So it’ll be a big happy family time.”

“Fun!”

Oh god. If there was anything in my body, I’d shit myself.

For once, the two of us were dressed in something other than pajamas. I mean, I still had on black sweats, but I had on my black long sleeve with a rose embroidered on the chest. It was nicer than a t-shirt, in my opinion. Plus, it went well with Shawn’s black floral button up and black jeans. His outfit was a bit more colorful, but I was a little giddy that we had an unplanned theme going on.

My parents came over first. I heard the knock on the door and made tense eye contact with my boyfriend. Then, I remembered one last bit to tell him.

“Oh, uh… my father doesn’t appreciate names like Gomez Addams, Alice Cooper, Gene Simmons… y’know what I mean?” I said, snaking my arm around Shawn’s waist so we could walk to the front door.

“Why would I call him that?” he asked, confused.

“It’s just his… aesthetic? Appearance? He’s serious about it, and he doesn’t like people poking fun at it, even if it’s not malicious. Tell that to your family too.”

Shawn nodded, but he still seemed confused. I would have explained more, but another well-timed knock on the door distracted me.

“You can just wait on the couch if you want,” he told me as we strolled through the hallway.

“No, I don’t want you facing them alone.”

It’s cute how he thought I was joking. But I was not leaving him alone as long as my parents were here.

“Oh!” I interjected. “One more thing! Do not mention my birth control or my Prozac. They’ll flip their shit if they find out!”

“Shit, okay…”

When we got to the door, I answered. My mother practically screamed.

“Mija! Mi chiquita!” She hugged me around the shoulders, causing the fuzz from her fluffy pink coat to get in my mouth. For once, she was able to reach my shoulders because she was wearing sparkly, silver wedges.

She leaned back and smiled at me, tears welling up in her dark brown eyes. My mom didn’t exactly look young for her age, but she certainly dressed like it. Under her pink coat, she had a lavender dress on and white tights. Not only that, she had dyed her hair a lighter brown in the time that I had been away from home. It was a surprise, but it suited her.

“Love the hair,” I told her with a smile.

She kissed me on the cheek, leaving behind a pink lip stain. “Thank you, mija. Your hair has gotten really long! And you’ve lost weight!”

There it is.

My father was clad in a black leather jacket, a grey t-shirt and black jeans. He had on a black beanie, which covered his full head of dark hair. Last time I saw him, he was clean shaven, but now he had a decent amount of scruff on his chin. He was as tall as Shawn, but way less muscular. He held out a hand to him, and that was when I noticed his nails were also painted black. Haven’t seen that in a hot minute.

“How ya doing?” he greeted. “I’m Ed, and this is my wife, Lucy.”

Shawn shook his hand and smiled. I could tell he was nervous. “Nice to meet you.” He held his hand out to my mom next, but she pulled him into a hug.

“It’s so wonderful to meet you, honey,” she told him, returning his nervous smile.

“You too.” Shawn was pleasantly surprised by the gesture.

Dad hugged me as tight as Mom did. “Mija. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you guys,” I told them.

“Ah, it’s about time you do!” Mom said, still smiling.

And comes the first awkward pause of the week.

“Come on in!” Shawn piped up, gesturing for them to go down the hallway. “Living room is down that way. Would you guys like some water?”

“Oh, you sweetheart. Please, if you don’t mind,” Mom told him before following my dad to the living room.

That gave Shawn and I a moment alone as we went into the kitchen. It was a moment to breathe and to process everything. I looked at him, not really sure what to expect. Did he hate them already?

“You didn’t tell me your parents were polar opposites,” he told me quietly as he went to get glasses from the cabinet. “You never told me your dad was a goth.”

“You never asked,” I said, bemused.

“I’ve asked you like ten times!”

We went back to the living room with glasses of water. My mom was quick to stand up and help me sit on the couch.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be walking around so much,” she suggested.

“It’s good for me, trust me,” I replied. I wonder how much mothering I could take before I had it.

“Let me see your scars,” she said, grabbing at my shirt to look at my bandaged incisions. “Are they healing? Do they hurt at all?”

She’s my mom. What could I do? I sent my mildly embarrassed gaze over to Shawn, who was setting the glasses of water down on the coffee table. He only gave me an amused smile.

“Oh, god no!” Dad snapped, turning his head away. He coughed and gagged.

“It’s not that bad,” I told him. “It’s three holes and two lines in my tummy!”

“Nope! I can’t do blood!”

“There’s no blood!”

Mom pulled my shirt back down and sat next to Dad on the other end of the L-shaped couch. “You dress and act so scary but you can’t even look at your daughter’s wounds!”

They began to bicker in Spanish, to which I rolled my eyes at. Shawn sat down next me and we shared a look.

“Just wait,” I told him. “They’ll be done in a second. Then, they’re gonna interrogate you.”

“Great.”

Once my parents got themselves together, they simultaneously turned to us, hands folded in their laps. They moved together like robots sometimes, it was strange. But it worked for them.

“So, mija,” Mom said, “when will you be coming home?”

Oof. An unpleasant thing to talk about.

“Actually…” I trailed off. “I’m gonna be recovering til the middle of August. If I didn’t have these huge cuts under my belly button, I’d be ready to go home next week…”

Mom blinked a few times, like she hadn’t process what I said. Dad, on the other hand… his face fell. Honestly, I wasn’t too happy about this arrangement either.

“When does school start for you?” Dad asked.

“A week after I’m supposed to be recovered,” I replied. “And I have to get my dorm ready, and my professors will start setting assignments that month. Not to mention, I still have a job.”

“So you can go to work, but you can’t come home?” Mom’s warm, loving facade now vanished. Her face went hard and cold, and her eyes were daggers.

“My job isn’t that far from here,” I told her. “And I’m sitting at a desk most of the time. Trust me, I wanna go home too, but the doctor said-”

She cut across me. “The doctor said you stay con tu pinche novio, verdad? No quieres dejar ese chamaco? No quieres ver tu familia porque ya tienes novio!”

My dad gently placed his hands on her shoulders and quietly spoke to calm her down. It wouldn’t do any good, because now I was angry, and I talked back.

“Él no es chamaco! Me está cuidando, y estoy muy agradecido que me deje quedarme aquí! Sin él, hubiera estado sin hogar y varado! Ma, el doctor me dijo que no puedo viajar asi!” I raised my voice, causing Dad to hold up a warning finger.

“Don’t talk to your mother like that!”

“Pues, claro que no quieres viajar! How convenient!” Mom snapped. “Quieres quedarte con ese guey, no me mientas.”

My dad looked at my startled, confused boyfriend. “Listen, Shane-”

“Shawn,” I corrected, folding my arms.

“Sorry. Shawn. I’m sure you’re a nice guy,” Dad continued, “but we don’t know enough about you. We don’t know if this is a safe enough place for our daughter.”

Shawn sat up. “I’ll tell you anything you’d like to know, sir.”

“Nos va a mentir,” my mom spoke, looking at my dad with wide eyes. “Nos dirá que queremos oír.”

Normally, I would have kept at the Spanish, but I was over it now. Especially in front of my English speaking boyfriend. “Just give him a chance, Ma!”

Dad gave me a look like I was crazy. “Mija… she’s not wrong.”

I ignored him and turned to Shawn. “They’ve been here all of ten minutes and they already think you’re a liar. They think you’re forcing me to stay here or something.”

“Hey, we did not say that!” Mom pointed a manicured finger at me.

“It’s gonna lead to that! You’re always going to the worst case scenario!”

“Well, you’re still sick! He could leave or kick you out!”

Shawn spoke up. “Um… with all due respect, I wouldn’t do anything like that. I care so much about your daughter, I wouldn’t even think about leaving her like this, especially since…” He paused and glanced at me once. “I already knew how I felt about your daughter, but her time in the hospital made it even more clear. I love her… so much. All I wanna do is make sure she’s okay and healthy. And I wanna make her happy, too.”

That was all… the sweetest shit ever. But my mother still had a skeptical look on her face. My dad had his eyes narrowed, but he spoke next.

“I can see that. She told us that you slept at the hospital, saw her through to her surgery. Even before that, you stayed despite her health issues. I think that’s a good man.”

My faith was restored and shattered again with every word. “Despite my health issues?” I repeated.

“Ay, mija,” Mom said with a sigh, “you of all people should know how much of a hassle it is to deal with your sickness.”

“Well, Shawn doesn’t see me as someone who’s sick. He never has.”

“It’s really no hassle,” he added. “If anything, she pushes me to eat better.”

“And I only get sick if I eat the wrong thing. Most of the time, I’m fine.”

Mom scoffed. “You were in the hospital. Obviously, you did something wrong!”

Heard those words before… every time I was in the bathroom at my parents’ house. It was my fault. I felt defeated, so I sat back and pinched the bridge of my nose. It was hard to keep my body relaxed when I was so tense and frustrated. Of course, my silence prompted my mom to keep talking… to Shawn.

“As a child, whenever she got mad, she told us she was going to run away to Canada,” she recalled with a chuckle. “And she did! She got a scholarship offer from UCLA, but she chose to run here instead.”

I didn’t run away. I chose the place I actually applied to, and it was Toronto.

“How was I supposed to look after her? What would happen if she got sick?”

I got sick here, and it was handled. I knew how to handle my own burdens. Part of being chronically sick is learning to live with it. Part of it was always being seen as sick to some people. That happened whether you want it to or not.

“Aside from that,” Dad added, “we were also worried about the type of person she might end up with. She’ll pick whoever she picks, obviously. We just don’t wanna see her with someone who’ll influence her the wrong way. I’m sure she’s told you, but she’s had some rough relationships in the past.”

Shawn nodded. “Oh yeah. I know all about Luca.”

“Who’s Luca?”

God fuckign-

Keeping secrets from my parents was not allowed when I lived with them. It was hard trying to find privacy, much less ask for it. If I wanted to keep something for myself, then I was hiding something and that was bad. I couldn’t even keep a journal without worrying that they’ll read it behind my back. They were always able to get stuff out of me anyway… because they’re my parents, and they want to help, and I can only trust them and no one else. They did everything for me, the least I could do was reveal personal information so they knew every little thing that was going on with me.

Don’t even get me started on how offended they would get if I didn’t want to talk about certain things. I wanted time to sit with my depression when it started happening, only for my parents to literally ground me because I kept it from them. My mom was upset because I didn’t tell her about Shawn from the moment I laid eyes on him. So when I told them that I did not want to talk about my past thing with Luca, they weren’t exactly thrilled.

Thankfully, Shawn’s family finally made it over. That meant that my parents had to put on their civil customer service attitudes. Anyway, I finally met Shawn’s dad and sister, Manny and Aaliyah. I was still in a physical state I didn’t want to be in, but this was much better than when I was on morphine and hitting on my boyfriend.

Within minutes, our parents were bragging about their kids. Not in a way where they were trying to one up each other, more like they were proving their kids were good together. My mom let go of some of her skepticism as Karen gushed about her son. Karen also brought up that she was at the hospital with me, which started up that conversation.

“Okay, mija,” Mom said, looking at me. “How bad was this infection? I couldn’t understand the texts you sent me.”

“Before or after the surgery?” I asked.

“Pues, los dos.”

I spent about twenty minutes explaining the infection, the antibiotics, and the trip to the emergency room.

“So what happened? Why did you get that infection?” Dad asked.

“She stopped taking care of herself,” Mom answered for me. “I’m assuming you and your vato go out a lot. ¿Están comiendo pura basura, verdad?”

“No es cierto!” I argued, but I had to remember the other witnesses in the room. “Sometimes, these things just happen. I was really upset to that I spent so much time taking care of myself, only to end up having surgery. But everything went well. The surgery was successful, and I’m okay.”

I could still see fire in my mother’s eyes, but she held her tongue. It was just another argument to be had later. It was a little embarrassing, having Shawn’s family witness the tension and underlying rage. The only person who seemed entertained by it was Aaliyah.

“And after the surgery?” Dad asked, gesturing for me to continue. “You had another infection?”

“Just on the incision,” I replied. “That was take care of with antibiotics.”

“That’s not what your texts said.”

“Huh?”

Now, I remember sending my parents updates on my condition, despite the fact that they were without their phones literally the entire time I was in the hospital. I knew I sent them the text about having a surgical site infection.

Shawn spoke up, his voice soft. “Honey…”

I turned to him, but he was looking at the floor now. His jaw was clenched, like he was holding something back. He was silent long enough for his mom to speak up.

“You did have an infection, yes,” she said, “but that was a few days after… The day after your surgery, you went into shock. They found out you were hemorrhaging, and they took you into the OR again. If they didn’t catch it when they did, you could have died.”

I only stared silently, my mouth half open. My mom gasped and clutched her chest, horrified. Dad was rubbing his hands together, trying to process what was spoken. Aaliyah had her mouth wide open, like the greatest tea was being spilled. Manny and Shawn were both looking down at the floor.

“Holy crap,” Aaliyah whispered, breaking the silence.

“Why did nobody tell me this?” I finally asked.

“The fever and the drugs made you delirious,” Shawn explained, picking his head back up. “They told you, but you probably don’t remember. Sometimes you didn’t even recognize me. And I sent most of the texts to your parents. Figured they would want to know.”

Every word was like a hammer to my chest. Now that I was thinking about it, my hospital memories were fuzzy. If there was something I did remember, it was my boyfriend sitting at my bedside for days. Also, his nightmares made a lot more sense now. It was my fault.

It’s all my fault.

That night, I lied awake. Again. Shawn frequently thrashed and yelled in his sleep. I found myself wondering if I would actually wake up again.

[colonel-insomniac]

Music to Me

a big thank you to @whatdourelfeyessee for suggesting the song Music to Me from the musical Who’s Your Baghdaddy, and providing the inspiration for the two ideas tied together!! Happy late Valentine’s day, and enjoy!!

read the first four: 1 2 3 4

or read on ao3

“You are the banjo that I’m strummin’, the merry tune I’m hummin’, full of glee…”

Bobby would say he’s not scared of much, but then he’d be lying. He’s been through what he thinks of phases of being scared: he was scared of the dark, he was scared of getting made fun of, he was scared of getting caught skipping school that one time, he was scared of getting caught in the endless trap of procrastination, among other things. 

But Bobby’s never really been scared of heights. Not until he’d had to climb a volcano that was about to blow. He’s always liked feeling lifted above the world, away from whatever issue might be plaguing him. Now everything’s changed, and he’s scared. He’s been jumpy, and it’s been a week. Bobby thinks he just needs to face this terror head on, that’ll fix it all. 

So here he is, alone at four in the morning. Pat had been sleeping over since the event, keeping an eye on Bobby. Press had been swarming his apartment, meaning that they couldn’t go anywhere, but they were fine with that. As Bobby tiptoed over the sleeping forms of the press, he noticed that the famous anchorman, Perch Perkins, wasn’t amongst them. He thought that was a good thing, everybody needs to recoup instead of slapping on a mask.

“You are the symphony that slays me, my melody that stays right in key…”

So anyways, Bobby saw that same terrifying mountain from the same point a week ago, looming above him, and it’s almost as though he hasn’t ever left. But this time, he doesn’t have Sandy with him to ground him. His hands shake as he places him open palm on the grass and dirt. The mountain looks so peaceful for something that attempted to kill him not that long ago. 

Each step is premeditated, always checking to see if it’ll be the step to kill him. He gets ten feet up before he physically cannot move anymore, and collapses on an edge of the mountain that’s wide enough for him to sit on. Air keeps filling his lungs, he’s only inhaling now, and in the back of his mind he remembers he needs to exhale. Bobby quickly glances down before tilting his chin to look at the stars glittering in the sky. 

“You are music to me…”

No one was here to console him now, he truly was alone. And terrified, too. So terrified he started crying. It was like the world was closing in on him, darkness threatening to choke him. He desperately needed Patrick with him, but he can’t even move his arm to call him. He’s stuck, at four in the morning, watching as ocean waves lapped at the shore on the horizon, the palm trees swaying in the breeze, the chilled night air biting through his sweater.  

 He wants to go higher, he can’t chicken out at ten feet, and so reluctantly, Bobby stands on shaky legs, breathing in deeply to try and stabilize himself, and started climbing yet again. Bobby kept his eyes focused on the rock directly above him, climbing higher and higher. 

“Bobby!!! Bobby!!!” Bobby froze at the sound of his name, clinging to the rock for dear life. 

He's too shaken at the presence of another person that he doesn't process who it is at first. He can feel a drop of sweat slide down the side of his head, and when his brain tells him it's his beloved best friend, Bobby almost doesn't believe himself. He takes a chance, thoughts focused on Pat now: "P-Pat?" The word comes out a whisper, and he feels the fear clawing up his throat again. He can’t stop though, there’s no where for him to stand without having to cling to the rock. 

He gulps; he’s at an impasse. He can climb a little more or he can cling to the rock and wait for help. And now that he thinks about it, it feels as though his hands are slipping. He could die after all. He mutters the same words he did when he had to reassure himself at the event last week, but the words feel hollow. They can’t console him like they did before, and the thought makes him panic. 

He scuttles upwards, in all senses of the word. His feet kicked at the air, feeling around for somewhere to put his legs, his eyes scanning around every few seconds for somewhere he can stop. It doesn’t take him a long time to find and area where he can rest. Bobby knows he isn’t even halfway up the mountain based on his memories of climbing this exact area. 

“You are the tone of my piano, my chortling soprano chickadee…” 

“Bobby, what are you doing?!” Pat calls up to Bobby, who’s maybe fifty feet high. Pat’s voice is carried to him on the breath of a wind, strained and full of concern and love and all the good times with his best friend run through Bobby’s head in less than an instant. “I thought I could do it,” He shouts down to Patrick, who looks like a pocket-sized version of the actual Pat. “I was wrong. I don’t think I can get down. I’m scared.” 

Though he can’t see them, he can feel the goosebumps rise on his skin as his voice shakes in terror. He squints as Patrick turns around and looks at the town in the distance before stepping towards the mountain. Bobby’s shocked to his core when Pat starts climbing; and he's so worried for the one person he thinks he cares the most about. If something happens, it’s definitely Bobby’s fault; and what’s worse is he’d be so lost without Pat to guid him. 

“Patrick be careful!” He shouts down to Patrick, several times actually, and Pat just nods, focused on his one mission to get to Bobby. As Bobby panics, his subconcious releases a little song he wrote back in his senior year of high school. And with that comes a memory of his mom telling him to use what he loves to ground himself. His voice cracks once as he struggles to get the lyrics out of his throat. But they come out, and through his blurred vision, he can just barely see Patrick pause in the slightest bit. 

“You are the theme of my cantata, my masterful sonata in G…” 

He’s nearer now, Pat is. He climbs closer and closer, and then all that’s left is getting down. Right as Bobby’s saying the last lines, Pat reaches him, and the two embrace. “Buddy, you scared me bad. Don’t just leave in the middle of the night like that.” Bobby feels the vibration of Pat’s voice in his bones as the taller of the two holds the shorter one’s head to his chest. Bobby tucked his chin against his chest, his cheek firmly pressed against Patrick’s chest. 

“I know. I’m sorry, I honestly thought I could get over it if I forced myself to.” Bobby mutters in response.

“It’s fine to still be wounded from the whole incident, I still wake up sometimes thinking that you’re out there climbing this mountain of doom.” 

The words come as a shock to Bobby, even though maybe he expected to not be the only one still affected by the catastrophic events that almost ended the town. 

“You are the guitar that I’m strummin’, the rhythm that I’m drummin’, full of glee…”  

And all this time, through thick and thin, through fights and happy times, it’s always been Patrick who was there for him. It was Patrick who persuaded him to apply to the Krustie Krabbe, just like it was Pat who convinced Bobby to throw the Eruptor Interruptor into the flaming, smoking mouth of the volcano. 

And maybe Pat wasn’t always the highest scoring kid in their class, but he was insanely wise when you really thought about it, and Bobby’s been through a couple relationships, never once realizing that he really should’ve been looking at Pat in a closer view. 

Bobby steals a glance at Patrick, heart hammering wildly. He takes a chance, though, and while Patrick is distracted by watching the sunrise in front of them, he leans over and presses a quick peck on Patrick’s cheek. 

“You are the symphony that sweeps me, the tuning fork that keeps me in key…” 

Pat turns his head towards Bobby, confusion mixing with slow realization on his face. Maybe it’s because they’ve been in each others lives for so long, or maybe it’s because they’re meant to be, but it’s almost as though Pat can ready Bobby’s mind. Instead of saying anything, Pat simply wraps an arm around Bobby’s shoulders and draws him closer to his side, and leans his head ontop of Bobby’s. 

All is not fixed, Bobby’s still terrified, and Pat is still keeping a close eye on his best friend-slash-future boyfriend. But as the sun rises on their beautiful beach town, they know everything will probably be okay. 

The two sing the last lines of Bobby’s song together, softly, for one another and no one else.

“You are music to me, can’t you see?”

[somecynicalanimator]

Module - Performance & Character

When trying to come up with ideas for the short story, I hit a large road block early on, struggling to come up with an idea for my short story. I had some ideas about someone playing air guitar and putting their foot through a TV, or running away from a gang of people as I had when working on the climbing animation. However, I thought that these were too lacking in narrative to be the basis for a solid animation. I consulted one of my lecturers for advice, and received some decent advice. I was told that the short story doesn’t need to be very complicated, and that drawing upon real life can be a decent strategy. Something else I was told is that ideas need to be often left to incubate, and that trying to force out ideas is like trying to draw blood from a stone. An example he gave of letting things rest for a while was from the classic Sherlock Holmes books, in which he would go to the theater or just do something beyond investigating the murder case, allowing his ideas to incubate and mature on their own instead of forcing them, allowing him to figure out the case. A breakdown of this process can be seen on this website (http://geoffpetty.com/creativity/) in which allowing ideas to be crop up on their own can be beneficial.

When talking to a fellow classmate about ideas for this work, I came up with one idea I could go with: a quick draw stand-off. This idea was likely inspired by the fact that I’ve recently been playing some games from the Kirby franchise, which have a few different variations of a quick draw mini-game. One problem I had when thinking about this story idea is the set up, as quick draw standoffs in Western movies usually have some sort of cause, like one person wronging the other or belittling them in some way, leading to a fight. For this problem I turned more towards my inspiration, more specifically the version of this mini-game in Kirby Super Star (1996). This one, Samurai Kirby, obviously had more of a samurai theme to it. I felt that having two samurais, or just swordsmen, crossing paths during their travels and clashing seemed better to me than having to gunslingers clash without any motivation, whereas in this case I felt that both of them feeling anxious could lead to a preemptive strike. They could also end up just putting both their swords up to defend themselves, leading to them clashing and allowing tensions to easy natural towards the end of the short story. Though as I gave it more thought I decided that I could still go with the gunslinger standoff, but only show the standoff, as if something happened that made them want to fight, and they both decided to meet at a specific space and time, which is where the animation starts.

I feel the best idea I managed to come up with was something I thought up at 2am on morning, when inspiration struck. My idea was initially Buckid manipulating Maya controls on his own, creating blocks and spheres and being able to move them and change their scale. I then came up with a story in which Buckid and Keith fight for the title of mascot rig for Salford Animation Students, based on how we were introduced to the Buckid rig in 1st year, becoming the go-to rig for me and my peers, then in 2nd year the Keith rig was shown to us. Polygon cubes would be better for defensive actions, like creating walls and barriers to protect themselves as they don’t roll very easily, whereas polygon spheres would be better for offense, as the can bounce and roll into characters when thrown at great speed. One idea I had was in order to confuse the other rig, one of them will switch the automatic lighting to manual lighting, and without any lights dropped in it’ll be too dark for them to see each other. Then one of them creates a spotlight to blind the other. When dropping Keith in Maya, it tends to be super large compared to Buckid, so based on this I thought that Keith could become giant towards the end in order to attack, like Baby Bowser in the game Super Mario World 2: Yoshi’s Island (1995). One way I thought the fight could end is one of them, or the animator, rendering, meaning that they can’t move, maybe one of them spawns bifrost water first to make the rendering extra slow. When imagining the rigs manipulating the polygon models, I couldn’t help but imagining them taking poses similar to those seen when Fire/Earth-bending in the show Avatar: The Last Airbender (2005), likely because I’ve recently finished watching the series.

I created some thumbnail sketches exploring what I wanted to implement into my short story animation, sketching ideas I came up with. I feel much of the actual fight scene will have to be cut down due to time constraints. What I could do instead is have them partake in something that more closely resembles a snowball fight than a full on brawl, but it still escalates with them throwing cubes and then making them expand as they fly towards each other.

[rainbowmatsu]

Howdy hey space cowboys! I was tagged by @bellamyrocks​ , a very very wonderful person!! :3c <3

Answer 15 questions, tag 15 mutuals (or not lol!)

Are you named after someone?: Kind of?? My older sister was supposed to have my name but after my mom decided against it, she told my mom to give it to me instead. And as the youngest, everything I get, (even my name!) is a hand-me-down ; U ;

When was the last time you cried?: Man, honestly, I’ve always been a crybaby so don’t @ me, I cry on the daily,,, It doesn’t even have to be over something sad! Sometimes I feel too excited over a thing and the feelings pile over. I’m binging some of my fave anime openings rn and I cried over how much I love All Might and Edward Elric. It be like that sometimes!!

Do you have kids: Nope! I’m 21 and even though other people my age already have ‘em, I still think I’m a child so THERE’S NO WAY. NOPE! My OC’s are my children LOL! I do want them one day, however! Just not anytime now :’)c

What’s the first thing you notice about people?: I like to make note of their body language too. In looking at their body language, you get to gauge their sociability. I also especially like to look for the way people talk, the things they talk about, and how they talk about it! I’m cautious because I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes but if they have a subject they enjoy talking about, I LOVE indulging them in their happy thoughts!! It makes me happy! Like when people talk about their dreams or OCs, fantasy stories, or their future! People get legit gleams in their eyes and it’s a nice break from the drab, overwhelming, repetition of the world,,,

Do you use sarcasm a lot?: I think that if I’m not being sarcastic, something is probably wrong LOL,, 

What’s your eye color: Dark brown!

Scary movie or happy ending?: Every Tuesday, my friends like to watch scary movies, and I like all the writing ideas it gives me but I prefer happy endings! Let me dream :’3c It’s a bonus if the movie is animated!! :Dc 

Any special talent?: Special???? I’m not really sure?? I can play some ditties on ukulele. I can try to animate. Tenacity for learning how to draw and that’s for sure!

Where were you born?: California and yes, I’m still here. Thank you, mom! I think I would have moved to Cali regardless of where I was born 

What are your hobbies?: Making digital art/animating is my hobby but also I’m hoping it’ll turn into a job down the line!!! I also like singing, playing uke, struggling with guitar and piano, and playing 🅱️ideo games!!

Do you have pets?: My dog died this year ;;w;; and I do want to get another one but the heartbreak is still too much tbh. He was my first dog. But I have been looking into getting a chinchilla! Also I want a cat but I’m sure that my would END me from all the cat pee smell and cat hair.

What sport(s) have you done?: Sports,, never heard of her

How tall are you?: 4′11 ;;w;; 

Favorite subject in school?: I loved creative writing SO much!!! And if I didn’t choose art as my second major, it would’ve been that instead! 3D art was also VERY fun but 2D art will always be my comfort zone.

Dream job?: I’ve been thinking about this recently! I think that I’d love to be in character design or visual development. I love fashion SO much and I love fiddling with colors and moods. I also like to think about cosplayers who have to struggle with the outfits that I have in my head. I can’t draw environments very well yet but I sure as heck am going to try my best! I have a perspective class next semester! I’d like to work for Cartoon Network, Disney, Adult swim, Nintendo or Netflix animated shows if I could!! Tbh, watching an animated show/movie and seeing my name in the credits is a BIG dream of mine. If I could be able to crank out my stories too in the process, I would be able to die happy. All I want to do is either tell a story in my career or be on a team and help someone else get to tell theirs! 

Tag: You guys don’t have to if you don’t want to, but here!! Thanks for hanging around my blog and dealing with my fandom crap ; U ; I love you guys very much!!~ <3: @voidroonil @rainydayghoul @distantitinerant @nightlinights @kouhainoodles @illbebuyingallofthoseflowers @ab-major-nerd @luxaleigh @ben-alexander-kishin @alo-apollo​ @catamarang @sappyhub @vivid-luminary @neko-neesan @crook807 @violent-infant

[rkxsungwoon-blog]

✦ — MGA4 EPISODE 2: PANEL AUDITION #4048: HA SUNGWOON ; skill: singing + playing the guitar performance: attention — charlie puth ( 0:00 - 1:29 ) [ x ] *

when the episode airs, sungwoon is lying upside-down on the couch, trying to shovel popcorn into his mouth without choking. the house is empty, he’s bored, and the sudden influx of free time summer vacation brings has him feeling some kind of way. it’s not a bad way, really. he just isn’t used to not being busy, and laziness threatens to settle into his bones like a permanent state of being. when he’s not at work, he’s parked in front of the tv, binge-watching whatever shows he can. there are more productive ways to spend his time, sure, but the tv is right there and—

he wasn’t really planning to watch the mga episode. after the auditions, sungwoon had embraced realism and come to terms with the fact that he’d be lucky if his performance aired. it wasn’t really about skill—he just knew he didn’t belong there. woojin was right; what did people like them have to do with a show like that? he only regretted he’d wasted a whole day on the process, especially since his boss kept harping on him about taking the time off. it was a good experience regardless, but he’s ready to move on and return to the comfort of empty enigma.

but that’s him—his face on screen, his height, his voice. sungwoon drops the bowl of popcorn on his face in his haste to try and sit straight. that’s him and daniel ( oh fuck, sorry daniel… and daniel’s parents ) right there on the fucking screen—through the numbing disbelief spreading through his body, he wonders if they had to point out his height like that. he should’ve worn shoelifts. i’m going to wear shoelifts next time, sungwoon thinks, because there will, apparently, be a next time: one more performance before eliminations.

( it doesn’t feel real ).

the feeling never quite fades, not as he begins practicing and trying to pull a half decent performance together, not as he stares at the messages piling up on his phone, classmates and coworkers sending him screencaps of his form. ㅎㅎㅎ hyung you’re so short makes up the bulk of their well-wishes, and sungwoon stops answering entirely after the first few days. all empty enigma practices and gigs are put on hold, but he hangs out with daniel whenever he can. after all, in the immortal words of troy bolton, they’re all in this together.

sometimes the apology for dragging daniel into all this almost spills from his mouth, but he can’t get it past his teeth in end, not wanting to draw more attention to the situation more than they already have. instead, sungwoon does his best to hype daniel up as much as possible, believing in his bandmate more than he believes in himself. daniel has that self-effacing, easy charisma wrapped around him, and sungwoon wholeheartedly trusts he’ll blow up once he has the chance to show the judges ( and the nation ) his guitar skills.

on the other hand, dejection settles over sungwoon the more he replays the mga episode. you don’t belong there, his brain yells, the part of his brain that is completely and utterly sungwoon. squall would have choice words for him ( squall’s never felt the crawling sensation of being uncomfortable in your own skin ), but squall has choice words for everything. sungwoon wishes he could talk to someone about his doubts. but he’s not willing to prove woojin right by saying anything to him, and he can’t say anything to daniel, his champion, the one person who thinks he does belong there. in the end, there’s nothing left for him to do but swallow his fears and suck it the fuck up.

sungwoon arrives at the venue with his guitar slung over his back, hair falling over his eyes as he stares through his fringe at the other contestants passing by. a lot of them radiate confidence in spades, dressed up and ready to slay up on stage. he recognizes quite a few faces from the first episode, and several of them make him bristle involuntary; talented individuals he knows are already fan favorites. one of the few perks of having a little sister who cares about this stuff is that she keeps him updated ( she’s also in love with someone named junmyeon? which, alright, cool, sungwoon is not going to get his autograph for her ).  

swallowing, he brushes his hair back and adjusts the strap of his guitar case, trying to seem busy. it’ll be alright. he knows how to perform on stage, how to fill it with his presence and command attention. if he has to borrow from squall today, he’ll do it. sungwoon just doesn’t like the idea of leaving things halfway. even if he understands he’s a fish out of water, he’ll still do the best he possibly can—for himself, if no one else. after accepting his number ( #4048: solid, sexy ), he makes his way to where the contestants are seated, heaving a sigh of relief as he realizes he’s next to daniel. good; they could both use the moral support.

the inside of the recording studio verges on overwhelming. the stage is nice, the lighting is cool, but the cameras everywhere are disconcerting. sungwoon isn’t used to being filmed constantly like this. as one zooms in on him, he gives the camera a two fingered salute and wave before it moves on. he’s going to have to get comfortable, fast, but luckily ( or unluckily, depends on how you spin it ), he’s supposed to be one of the last people to perform. that gives him some time to go over his performance in his mind… but also more time to enjoy the rest of the performances.

and there are a lot, each one of them of high quality. the dancers capture his attention the most; it’s human nature to be envious of skills you don’t have. sungwoon nudges daniel after the first of the performances and leans over. “what if i get up on stage and—” he mimes screaming into a microphone while headbanging. “d’you think one of the judges would faint in shock?” part of him is joking, but the other part wants to get up on stage and channel squall. his persona is the safest and easiest for sungwoon, after all, and he thinks squall would shine in front of the cameras, though maybe not in front of the judges.

he settles back into watching the performances, though daniel still gets to deal with the brunt of his reactions. most of which consist of sagging against in him like a deflated car dealership noodle balloon when someone particularly good performs or sungwoon hitting him in excitement or despair depending on how he’s feeling about whoever’s up on stage. there’s one person in particular he almost topples out of his chair for, mouth forming a large ‘O’ in surprise as he sees woojin’s friend ( and the empty enigma fan! ) on stage dancing to gashina, but he doesn’t think about the potential ramifications of that just yet, choosing to instead applaud as hard as he can when the kid is done.

finally, it’s his turn. “contest #4048, ha sungwoon! please come up to the stage.” brushing his hair back one last time, sungwoon gives daniel a thumbs up and a bright grin before picking up his guitar and approaching the stage. his expression is in stark contrast to the nerves he’s experiencing inside, but he’s done this enough to know how to fake it. his apprehension will fade once he’s onstage, anyway ( he hopes ). 

standing in front of his judges, he dips into a low bow and accidentally knocks his forehead against the guitar’s neck. letting out a sheepish laugh, he rubs his forehead and quickly gives his greeting. “hello everyone! i’m your resident tiny giant, ha sungwoon.” he’s poking some fun at the whole height issue—it’s better to just embrace it, in the end. “i’ll be singing charlie puth’s ‘attention’ for you today. thank you for giving me this opportunity!”

( he also whispers a quiet ‘ha sungwoon, fighting!’ under his breath because he needs the encouragement ).

you've been runnin' round, runnin' round, runnin' round throwing that dirt all on my name 'cause you knew that i, knew that i, knew that i'd call you up baby, now that we're, now that we're, now that we're right here standing face-to-face you already know, already know, already know that you won

i know that dress is karma, perfume regret you got me thinking 'bout when you were mine and now i'm all up on ya, what you expect? but you're not coming home with me tonight

sungwoon’s initial choice had been something faster, more intense, more like the music he sang on stage night after night. his plan was to bring out his electric guitar, falling right into his comfort zone and take the judges and audience by surprise. but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed… safe. his goal during the auditions had been to prove to himself that he could sing ballads too. he wanted to showcase a different side of himself. but these auditions tempted him to fall back into old habits, the style of music he was used to. but no one got anywhere by staying in their comfort zone. this wasn’t squall’s audition anyway; it was sungwoon’s. he could leech off squall’s confidence and charisma for this performance, but he didn’t want it to be about him.

so he’d chosen an english pop song with the help of his younger sister. english was not a strength, but he’d spent hours upon hours practicing his pronunciation. it’s not perfect by a long shot, but a far cry from the country hick he expected to sound like. he sings each word with care, his fingers busy with the acoustic accompaniment. the heartbroken man is a skin he can wear easily, but there’s more than heartbreak to this song: frustration, desperation, low simmering anger tied together with repressed desire. he does his best to express that with his voice, beginning slower and gentle before building up to the climax, a more frenzied style of singing to showcase the full height of the emotions.

i know that dress is karma, perfume regret you got me thinking 'bout when you were mine and now i'm all up on ya, what you expect? but you're not coming home with me tonight

you just want attention you don't want my heart maybe you just hate the thought of me with someone new yeah, you just want attention i knew from the start you're just making sure i'm never gettin' over you

there’s no awkwardness on stage here. sungwoon bares his heart as he sings, eyes shut, dividing his focus between the guitar and his vocals. a couple of his lines have a slurred quality to them on purpose; it’s a song he imagines is delivered after a couple of bottles of soju, involuntary and unhappily, with emotions running high. the equivalent of drunk-dialing an ex, if he had to say. he’d spent a lot of time to come to this conclusion too, but sungwoon believes he can’t sing a song properly unless he understands it.

it’s not the most dynamic stage, especially not when compared with those who can sing and dance at the same time, but he hopes his performance makes the audience—and the viewers—feel something nonetheless. music’s meant to entertain, but if it doesn’t mean something, what good is it anyway? he lays it all on the line here on stage; after all, he thinks it’s probably the last time he’ll get an opportunity like this and he doesn’t want to leave with regrets.

what are you doin'? hey what are you doin'? what are you doin'? what are you doin'? you just want attention i knew from the start you're just making sure i'm never gettin' over you, oh

his voice cracks slightly under the strain of emotion in the first line; technical skill means little if you can’t emote properly. it’s an anguished plea torn from his lips almost against his will, and if he didn’t have his guitar, this is the part where he’d fall on his knees with an arm outstretched. instead, he finishes with a final oh~ and steps away from the mic, eyes fluttering open. with another quick bow ( this time making sure he doesn’t injure himself ), he returns to his seat. the minute he sees daniel, his face morphs into an ugly expression one second away from crying before he remembers the cameras are still around.

either way, he doesn’t have time to dissect his performances and his mistakes. the competition rolls on, eventually bringing daniel up on stage, and sungwoon cheers so loudly he almost keels over coughing because of the strain he puts on his throat for that. but daniel deserves it and all of his encouragement. after daniel, the performances taper off into nothing, leaving sungwoon and the rest of the contestants to self-reflect about how they did. as a perfectionist, it’s tough for him to be satisfied with anything he does, but sungwoon knows he couldn’t have done more. all of them here left a part of themselves up on that stage. how can you find fault with such raw and authentic performances?

and maybe he doesn’t belong here, but sungwoon sure as fuck made himself felt. if he goes out now, he’ll do it holding his head high.

[someonetotaketheedgeoff-blog]

15.09.2018 - Journal

(Some of this was written when I travelled with my family in America in the last 2 months)

4.07.2018

I picked a good time to quit comedy… just moments before Nanette. Maybe I’ll actually do something good if I make music instead of making jokes about fucking myself with an ex-girlfriend’s dildo.

I wont stay up late waiting to go on. Or be brutalised by Open Mic magazine on Facebook. Anything not to upset my fragile sense of self-esteem. There’s not much that's funny to me anymore… oh well… who gives a fuck anyway…

… So Liam goes into his little room and quietly dreams up his last open mic set…. hahaha… comedy can get you pretty fucked up! ... who gives a fuck anyway…

9.07.2018

Whenever I’m in a big city all I hear is it whispering (or perhaps screaming) to me - ‘can I just have some fucking money?!’  

I wonder how much I’m a product of my own fear. And also how much of what I make is a response to that fear.

It’s mostly been about death for me for the last 3 - 5 years. All I’ve done is use death to explain everything. I’ve used it to draw a line under certain things within myself and the exterior world. Seems lazy to me now.

Is laziness the fear of pain? Is a lack of motivation due to fear? A fear of failing?

It seems fear’s only a good motivator when you’re aware of what you’re afraid of and why.

23.07.2018

Travelling in America/being in America’s like being in GTA but you’re not any of the main characters.

24.07.2018

Not doing anything or not trying IS FAILING!

25.07.2018

Saw a guy stop in the subway, put his bag on the ground and re-adjust himself to get out a camera so he could take a photo of some graffiti on the wall that said ‘I love porno’.

Being in an all black neighbourhood I feel as if the black people are annoyed at me or my presence.

I keep think about the word ‘nigger’ and I keep thinking about the word ‘cracker’.

The current most popular, agreed upon philosophy on slur usage is do not say any word that has negative history associated with it and do not say ‘nigger’ if you’re not black.

Recently ‘retarded’ has been considered more offensive than it used to be and if you happen to use it you’re now accused of being an immoral person and presumably you think people that suffer mental deficiencies are bags of shit and you want to set them all on fire.

I have no problem with discussing words and I’m not even so much of a Doug Stanhope/iDubbbzTV nerd that I think the best world is a world where you say everything all the time in every context.

What I have a massive problem with is the presumption of hate and the pompousness of people downright attacking people that slip out ‘x’ word when a word is still in the process of being fazed out. It’s bloody political correctness gone quickly without open discussion and kindness!

Words are simply the end point of a vortex of shit and ideas and slang and culture. They are the bookend to a concept and when people get really caught up with words it kinda scares me.

The problem with these kinda bullshit discussions (especially on the internet) is that when you argue or discuss this shit the assumed reason for your questioning is that I want to be able to say ‘nigga’ with my friends for some unknown reason. But I don’t and I don’t understand why anyone would want to other than the fact that they’ve been told they can’t or they’re at a Klan meeting.

What I’m confused about is if words hold so much apparent power and evil due to their history then isn’t simply being white the most offensive and on the nose thing you can do? Probably, kinda, yeah.

Yet black people don’t fucking loose their shit when you walk into a room being all white and whiting the whole place up by being white. They simply get on with their lives. I believe the same shit could be applied to words. At least in a reactionary sense… it doesn’t make sense to berate a stranger with venom for saying that the fact that none of the self serve screens in Macca’s were working was retarded. I don’t know if this metaphor works. I’m just slightly confused as too why I get all my information on how to best treat minorities forced onto me from young well off white people in beer gardens. I just sit there and listen for a bit and then I stare into the reflective glare coming off their nose ring.

1.08.2018

Saw a full American fat guy in a servo. He was so fat I had to focus on not double-taking at him by staring intently at the fridge at the Dr. Pepper selection.

He looked beyond human.

13.08.2018

For some reason I am smoking again. It’s a never ending battle. Oh well. Strangely I don’t mind.

I smoked a cigarette I crafted from all the butts I could find in my parent’s house. Something I’ve done probably over 100 times in my life.

I find that I clench my jaw all the time. I’ve only noticed it recently. Through meditating and not doing drugs. I’ve noticed it. I thought I had neck cancer but the strange feeling of ache comes from my constantly clenching my jaw.

I worry that maybe I’ve done drugs and drank for so long now and started at a young age that the tracks within my brain are a little fucked. Or maybe I just have too high hopes for a sober life to be a more peaceful, and mentally stable one. Maybe the only thing I’ll gain is a healthier body.

I’m just afraid of all the horrible shit that’s inside my head. I’m afraid of being unlovable because of my desires and my personality. I don’t want to face in fear of losing Tash and revealing to her that I’m evil.

This seems to be the crux of all relationships. All of them. In the whole world. You know that you need to face the truth to get to the next stage. But it seems it will be so lonely, so terrifying and so cold… we don’t want to see the monsters that might lurk within us.

The thing is it’s almost impossible to have an honest relationship and never have turbulence. You can have a dishonest relationship with turbulence but the turbulence will be about bullshit like - ‘you said you were going to clean the extractor fan in the kitchen weeks ago…’ or ‘stop leaving your guitar on the couch…’ and such things might blow into massive arguments.

Relationships are designed to be a nightmare. Not by anyone in particular but by our hope for them and isolation and alienation we all experience internally in this society.

A relationship is a small life within your life.

Dependant on the extremity of a relationship (and obviously that is a relative thing but for sake of argument we’ll say a relationship where you truly considered that you would commit yourself to this other person until you or they or both had died) it could possibly be an interesting simulation of life after death (at least in an abstracted way).

When a relationship of said extremity begins to fall apart (for whatever reason) it’s interesting to note that you feel as if you’re dying and that there’s in fact no perceivable life to lead after the break up or if their is one it will be hellish and a subhuman existence not worth living.

When you survived a relationship that you’d committed everything to how did you feel?

I assume it was horrendous. But assuming you’re still alive and reading this… you must’ve started to feel somewhat normal once again.

Like awaking from a vivid dream it fades away rapidly. You played a different character, you lead a different life. You feel a horribleness deep inside. Not about the person but about the situation. Is this how it has to be? That the people you commit so intensely to, that you fuck and spend countless hours with then have to perish abstractly and then repressed as they fade into the background sometimes never to be spoken about or spoken to again…

I have a girlfriend now. And it terrifies my to think that the pattern may repeat.

***

We believe the internet is everlasting. Whether we research it or not, whether we know it consciously or not.

As much as we might make comments about Facebook and say things like- ‘be careful uploading those photos of your arsehole… you know that stuff will be up there forever’ I believe we’re secretly subconsciously screeching with joy at the fact that these photo’s will be up forever. As much as people have a disdain about Facebook and social media we adore it’s implied permanence. We believe that Facebook will be around after we’re dead. I say ‘believe’ because do you know how the fucking internet works? Do you know how a website is created? I fucking don’t. I don’t know if the internet would still exist if all the power plugs in the world were pulled out of there sockets. I’m a fucking idiot! A fucking idiot that has faith in the permanence of the internet… I mean… obviously… I write a blog mostly about death and existential dread and it put on… the internet.

The internet is now our saviour. It is the modern sleek titanium, bomb proof, indestructible, deathless park bench where you can scratch ‘L.D. was here’ and have a more solidified faith that it’ll be around for a while. And the longer it hangs around the more eye balls will see it, eye balls connected to a concious brain that’ll have no choice but to think ‘hey that guy was there’… and even if it’s just for one second your existence has been stretched just a tiny bit longer.

(People that love us are what we all orbit around all of our lives. If they happen to reject you at some point or disappear we then break away from that orbit and hurtle through abstract nothingness).

17.08.2018

Going to the pub was a bad idea. I went there thinking - ‘well… I kinda want to have just one drink’. The legs were aching and my poor sense of personal entitlement to some kind of ‘treat’ was raging within me. A very problematic thing for anyone that isn’t fulfilled in the work that that do (i.e. most people). I felt as I for some reason I deserved a beer. Also it was freezing cold. My feet were soaking wet and frozen due to my old decrepit shoes. I continued walking up the street. I noticed I had all these thoughts swirling in my mind. They all flew past me whispering - ‘it’s OK to have a beer’.

I watched them all swirl around in my head. I crossed my metaphorical arms and tutted. As I tutted I looked at the swirling thoughts and said - ‘fuck off… are you serious? You know this’s absolute bullshit. We don’t ‘deserve’ a drink… we don’t even probably technically want one… why are we actually going to do this?’

‘Yeah but we’ll only have one! Not even a pint mind you and then we’ll write a new to-do list and then maybe we see someone maybe we don’t and then we head off home and get down to work for a couple of solid hours before we go to bed’ said one of the thoughts.

‘Well OK… when you put it like that… that sounds nearly OK… but don’t you think there’s a chance that we might throw all that shit out the window and because we actually weren’t planning or trying to get drunk…. you’re going to use reverse psychology on me and then we actually will get drunk and most likely indulge in more heavily than if I’d actually planned to indulge…’ I replied.

‘Look don’t read into it just get into that pub… get a beer… have a cigarette in the beer garden, get out you’re little notebook and it’ll be just a quick little pop in, no worries, blah blah, etc, tomato tomato’ ’

‘Well alright then you’ve swung me round, but surely just like a small drink, like a ten ounce… you know we’re trying to focus on money and we’re only starting to face the fact of how much money we piss away on alcohol and other similar shit…’

‘Yea, yea, yea don’t worry just a ten ounce… don’t you worry about that’.

I walked up to the bar.

‘Yes what can I get you?’

‘Ah… could get a ten ounce of Little Creatures?’

‘Ah it’s actually $5 a pint right now and $10 dollars for a jug?’ she grinned slightly.

‘Ah…’.

I turned to the floating thoughts. I gave them a warning look. They all looked back at me like a pack of hyenas.

I began drowning internally - ‘Ah fuck! Na, na, na, I knew some bullshit like this was going to happen… action stations… we gotta think of some other shit… what else do they have on tap… maybe a stubby? Fuck!’

‘Hey this is great news! What a bargain! Don’t worry about it we’ll just drink that one pint and leave… no worries’ cackled the hyenas.

I ended up drinking maybe 5 pints. A bunch of my friends turned up and I talked a bunch of shit for a long, long time. It was as if ‘the plan’ had been completely erased from my mind like the bar lady had men in blacked me with the shine of her bar blade and I was back in the drinking business and also the business of not following my dreams and the business of having no self control.

The arguments in the pub got very heated. I have a few friends that can get heated during argument, (I mean who doesn’t) but I have to say it stresses me out a bit but even more so it confuses me. Every time an argument gets to that stage I don’t really trust anything that’s happening anymore. Your/my emotions are taking over and also everyone’s pissed. I think it’s interesting to me to watch people’s attention spans disintegrate at the pub. The more everyone drinks the quicker a group conversation subject topic can change hands. It’s not hard to do, barely anyone notices it and you can do it in a matter of seconds. You could be having a super intense discussion about anything and if you just interrupt everyone enough and interject a barrage of some current novelty bullshit topic that’s circling you can derail shit very quickly.

21.08.2018

Last week at the pub a friend told me that he basically waits for inspiration. He felt he should never force himself to create anything. Recently I’ve been getting back into the Stephen Pressfield way of thinking that he explains in the book The War Of Art. A book that basically shows you how to be a professional whatever, artist, musician, sports player, whatever. It’s a book that gives tools to fight the part of you that doesn't want to sit down and do the work. In other words it fights the notion of ‘waiting for inspiration’.

Very, very few times in my life have I been struck with overwhelming flaming inspiration to do anything. It happened more when I was a child. When I’d wake up early on a weekend I’d have the inspiration akin to fucking Michelangelo to go and make Lego spaceship car things out of all the see- through green pieces of Lego.

But when you get to around 7, 8, 9, 10 and beyond I think (I’m not a psychologist) you begin to second guess all that shit. You begin to be your own worst critic. Because fascinatingly nearly every kid up until that age will be happy to do a bit of drawing or play various characters in a fictional story they create on the spot. And then it all stops and this horrible awareness kicks in.

I define it as the point where you used to play with toys as a kid in your room. Each character having a crazy back story and way of speaking. You’d play, alone and be completely immersed. Your mum or dad would pop there head into the room to ask if you wanted cornflakes or some shit and you’d be like a focused director waving off an intern - ‘yea yea, sure, just have it on my desk, I’m working right now’. But then something changes around that age and when one of your parents pops their head into the room you freeze and quite your voice. You suddenly feel cripplingly self aware, maybe even stupid. You tell them to go away maybe or wait for them to leave before you get back into to the action.

Then one day you go to the studio (aka your bedroom with a mat on the floor resembling a city that we all had) and the juice is gone, the mojo is gone, you pick up the toys and you try to croak out their particular voice and you just feel stupid, looking quickly back at your bedroom door, making sure no one heard.

All of this stuff reminds me of a Picasso quote [R.I.P. 25.10.1881 - 19.06.2018*] - ‘Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up’.

I’ve always found it interesting. I think encapsulates what I’m saying. Most people have some kind of creativity or at least blissful ignorance of expression at an age and then their brains get bigger or something and they become pimply teenagers that struggle to even walk down the street without worrying about everything detail about themselves and then they learn to just manage that shit as they enter adult life.

*I’ve chose Picasso’s death date to be the release date of Nanette. I can’t really be bothered explaining why that is right now so I guess if you really want to know you’ll have to watch Nanette.

30.08.2018

I’m often confused as to why everyone has an opinion and why you seemingly have to have an opinion.

’I am the wisest man alive, for I know one thing, and that is that I know nothing’ - Socrates

In my college years I used to be a bit of an air headed stoner art wanker and I still am but the difference is now I have opinions on things. Back then I didn’t really have opinions. And I did it on purpose because I knew that I didn’t know anything. However it didn’t really help me socially and it didn’t help in my relationships and it didn’t really help with my self-esteem. Not initially but eventually I started to feel like I was just drifting away into an abstract world of nothingness. People don’t really take you seriously when you don’t have any solid opinions. It’s probably not a ‘masculine’ trait.

Reminds of a Dylan Moran bit:

‘Men; strong opinions with no information’

[iconicstyles]

Nanny Wanted Chap 2

Yay! Part 2 to Nanny Wanted. I have to say I’m surprised how well this has been received. Thank you so much for the love and I hope you enjoy this new part

Turns out hiring a nanny had been the best thing Harry had done in years. Not only did Grayson love having her around but Harry was able to start recording again. Over the years he had written songs for other artists, sure, but it was different writing his own music. All of his emotions were put into the songs, most of them came from his own personal experience. He had journals full of lyrics and he was ready to actually make the music he wanted to make.

Of course, his label was thrilled when he told them he was ready to record his first solo album. He went to work almost immediately. This was a good thing for his career but he soon realized it wasn’t the best with Grayson. Harry took him to school in the morning but by the time he got home late at night his son was already in bed. Every day he tried his best to get home at a decent hour but at the last minute something would come up making him stay. One night he got home right after bedtime. Bursting through the door he spotted Y/N sitting on the couch folding laundry. “I just missed it.” Harry frowned, dropping his bag with a soft thud on the floor.

Y/N nodded with a frown of her own on her face. “I’m sorry, Harry, I tried to space it out but he was so tired. He fell asleep after one story.”

“No, no, it’s my own fault. We were trying to get this song done and I just didn’t leave when I should’ve.” Falling backwards into a chair he sighed. “Some father I am.”

“Harry, don’t do that, you’re an amazing father. Grayson talks about you all the time, you’re his hero.”

“I just need to get my priorities straight.”

“To be fair, you’ve done that his entire life. I mean, you put your career on hold to be a stay at home dad. You’ve done all of this by yourself.”

The room fell silent. Harry watched on as she went about her business folding the rest of the laundry. He doesn’t remember telling her to wash his clothes but he saw a few of his shirts laying neatly on the back of the couch along with his son’s train pajamas. Before he knew it she was done and putting everything into a basket. “Hey, I have an idea, what if Grayson and I visited you at the studio tomorrow? He’s getting out of school early and I know he would love to see where his Daddy works.”

The sides of Harry’s mouth perked up into a smile. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

“Awesome, it’ll be a great surprise for him I’m sure he’s missing you as much as you’re missing him.”

“Not with you here.”

“I may be his nanny but I’m not the one that raised him. You’ve done a good job with him. He’s such a sweet kid, I have to convince him to eat his veggies though.” She told him, gathering her bag to leave for the night.

“That’s a fight I’ve had with him since he was able to eat solid food.” He chuckled. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Harry, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

After she left Harry went about his nighttime routine with a newfound happiness within him. He was excited for Grayson to see him work. Then thoughts of his son being backstage when he performed filled his head. He could imagine looking sidestage to see Grayson cheering his Daddy on with Y/N standing right beside him. Harry really did feel like she came into his life for a reason.

The next day Harry woke Grayson up as usual. He didn’t let on that anything was going to happen that afternoon. After dropping him off at preschool Harry headed straight to the studio. He had began working with a brand new band when he first started recording and in a matter of weeks they had become some of his best friends. They all liked the same kind of music, writing sessions came easy, and before he knew it they had five songs written and ready to record. The process was one he was used to but now it was his own music. “If I fuck this up it’s all on me.” He told his producer.

Hours passed but with each minute Harry was anxiously waiting for Y/N and Grayson to arrive. He had told everyone they were visiting which brought a newfound excitement. Harry constantly talked about his son. He would show pictures of Grayson on his phone, this whole album was for his child. He couldn’t wait for Grayson to hear some of his music. “Harry, I think they’re here.” He heard someone announce.

Excusing himself from the room he walked outside to be greeted by his mini-me running towards him. “Daddy!” Grayson exclaimed.

“Hey, buddy! How was school?” Harry asked, picking up the excited boy.

“Great, I drew you something.” He grinned, holding out the sheet of paper. “See, you’re singing! And there’s me with Grandma and Gemma and nanny Y/N.”

“Looks amazing, Bug, I think I’m going to put it on the fridge in our kitchen. That way when I’m here at the studio I can see it.”

“And think of me?”

“Exactly.” Harry smiled, leaning over to kiss Grayson’s cheek.

It was then Harry spotted Y/N walking towards them. “When I told him where we were going I don’t think a brick wall could have stopped him.” She laughed. “Did you show him your picture, Gray?”

“Yeah! He said he’s going to hang it on the fridge.”

“Come on, I’ll give you two the grand tour.” Harry said, placing Grayson on the ground to lead them back inside.

Grayson wasn’t too interested in the tour until Harry showed him all the instruments. In no time he was running towards the drums. Harry hung back watching as Grayson took in everything around him with a look of amazement on his face. Hearing footsteps coming up behind him he turned to see Y/N walking into the room. “This was a good idea, thank you.” He whispered.

“No problem at all, like I said I could tell he missed you just as much as you missed him.” She smiled. “Looks like he’s got a bit of music bug like his daddy.”

Harry glanced over at his drummer, Sarah, showing Grayson the drums. She had given him a pair of sticks to let him hit the snare a few times, encouraging a beat the four year old could follow. “He’s a natural!” Harry grinned.

“Daddy, which one is yours?” Grayson asked pointing to the guitars.

This gave Harry the perfect opportunity to start explaining everything to his son. He loved the way Grayson’s eyes would twinkle whenever someone would play an instrument. After a while though one of his producers said they needed to get some work done. “We just gotta finish up this one song then we’ll be done for the day.”

“Daddy can I listen?” Grayson questioned.

“Of course, come with me,” Harry directed Grayson and Y/N to where his producer sat behind a large window. “There’s a couch you two can sit on and watch the magic happen.”

Gently taking Grayson’s hand in hers Y/N leads him back to where Harry instructed. Harry watched on through the window, seeing Y/N sit on the couch and Grayson climb onto her lap to be able to watch his father. With wide eyes and a smile on his face he listened closely as Harry began singing. They had been working on a ballad, one that Harry had written when Grayson was born. He had been holding onto it for this long, he couldn’t bring himself to give it to another artist. It held so much emotion for him he couldn’t imagine anyone else singing it but him.

Like any other four year old listening to his father sing the same part over and over could only hold his attention for so long. Half an hour into the recording session Grayson was getting antsy. Luckily Y/N was prepared. Pulling out a drawing pad and crayons she instructed him to draw a new picture. “Let’s give your daddy a collection of pictures to keep with him here at the studio.” She told him.

It didn’t take much convincing. One of Grayson’s favorite things to do was draw. His teacher constantly told Harry how creative the boy was. “You have a artist on your hands.” Was always said.

“I hope so, I have one of the best decorated refrigerators in England.” Harry jokes which is the truth, whenever Grayson would bring him a new picture he would have to find a space for it on the fridge.

Y/N sat beside Grayson as he drew a new picture, giving him her opinion when he would ask for it. “I think blue is  fine hair color,” She smiled when Grayson was trying to decide what color to give the character in front of him.

“Not blue!” He giggled. “Daddy doesn’t have blue hair.”

Harry walked into the room to hear his son giggling, one of his favorite sounds in the world. “Well what’s going on in here?”

“Nanny Y/N said I should give you blue hair!” Grayson exclaimed.

“Did she? Now does she think I need to dye my hair blue or something? Is that it?”

Y/N laughed. “Hey, you never know, maybe Smurf would be a good look for you.”

“I don’t think I could ever pull off a color like that,” Harry chuckled. “You ready to go, Bug? It’s getting late and we still need to get you fed and in the bath before bedtime.”

Grayson grumbled but agreed, helping Y/N as she began to clean up his crayons. “We can finish your picture tomorrow, ok?” She asked earning a nod from the boy.

It was later than Harry originally planned. Instead of cooking dinner that night he decided pizza would be a good enough meal for the night. Grayson had no problem with that idea but frowned when Harry said he would need to eat his veggies the next day. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” Harry questioned Y/N?

“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother, I should probably head home.”

“Nonsense, you could never be a bother,” Harry said.

There was no point in arguing. They drove to a local pizza shop where Harry ordered their food to go. After picking up their pizza they head back home. By the time dinner was served Grayson was basically sleeping standing up. “Poor thing, knackered aren’t ya?” Harry whispered picking up his son from his car seat.

They were able to coax Grayson just enough to eat one piece of pizza before Harry was carrying him off to bed. When he came back into the living room he noticed Y/N cleaning up whatever had been thrown around the room that day, whether it be toys or clothes. “Oh, love, don’t worry about that.” He said.

“I don’t mind, I don’t want you waking up to a dirty house,” She shrugged, dropping the clothes into a spare laundry basket.

“Well at least come eat, looks like it’s up to us to finish this.” He chuckled pulling out a seat for her.

Y/N nodded. “Like I would ever give up the chance to eat pizza.”

After grabbing them both a water bottle from the fridge Harry joined her at the table. “So how are you liking the job? I’m not putting you out am I?”

“Of course not, it’s the best nanny job I’ve had.” She explained, wiping her mouth. “Grayson is the best, I can’t believe you done so well by yourself.” She wanted to slap herself as soon as the words left her mouth. “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean it like that.”

Harry waved her off. “Don’t worry, I honestly can’t believe I’ve raised him by myself either. I had a lot of help but for the most part it’s just been me and him.”

Y/N has had a question in mind ever since she started the job. “Uh, if you don’t mind me asking but...what happened to Grayson’s mom?”

Harry should have expected this. She was around his son, she saw it was his just the two of them, of course she would want to know about Grayson’s mother. Taking a deep breath Harry processed his answer. “When Grayson was born his mother and I weren’t together. We weren’t going to try to be together, that had been clear for the both of us. After he was born he went home with her and I just kind of took whatever I could get. Then she just decided she wasn’t ready to be a mother.”

Y/N’s mouth opened in shock. “She just gave him up?”

Harry nodded. “I can’t believe it either. One night she calls me crying and saying she just couldn’t handle it. I wasn’t about to let her give up my son to some stranger so I got full custody. Technically she still has her parental rights because I never thought to have them terminated but we had an agreement. I take care of Grayson and she leaves to never come back. You probably think that’s heatless.”

He almost jumped when he felt her smaller hand rest on his forearm. “I don’t, any mother that can just walk away from a child like Grayson doesn’t deserve him.”

“Well you’re amazing with him. You would think you’ve raised your own children.”

“No, just my younger siblings. I was the oldest to three younger brothers. There were so many wrestling matches and near heart attacks with three boys in the house.”

“You miss them?”

Y/N’s smile faltered. “I do...one of my brothers, the youngest, passed away shortly after I moved here.”

Harry wanted to crawl underneath the table. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, you didn’t know. It’s ok, a drunk driver hit him one night when he was leaving work. The cops said it was quick, he didn’t suffer but...it was still my little brother. Nothing bad is supposed to happen when you’re that young.”

The room fell into an awkward silence. Harry wanted to comfort her but didn’t want to push his boundaries. Finally he just whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N gave him a sad smile. “It’s ok, you gotta keep going. I just wished I was home when it happened. That was a phone call you could never prepare yourself for.”

Harry couldn’t imagine. He had an older sister, if anything were to ever happen to her he didn’t know what he would do. How his mother would go on. “How are your parents?”

“They’re ok, they have each other luckily. And my other brothers are close by. Aiden, we’re the closest in age, he and his wife just had their first baby. A little girl, she’s precious.” Y/N explained, pulling out her phone to show him a picture of her niece.

This was a side of her Harry loved to see. She had such a happy, carefree presence about her he would have never been able to guess she had been through such heartache. For the next half hour she told him stories about her hometown, showed him pictures of her family. Photos of herself in college attending football games, a group picture of her and all her brothers on Halloween when they all decided to be the Power Rangers. “Aiden and I argued for days about who was going to be the red ranger.” She laughed. “He won, obviously.”

“Well you make a great pink ranger.” He smiled.

“I think so too.” She giggled. It was then she noticed the time. “Shoot, I’m sorry, it’s almost nine o’clock, I need to go before I miss the last train.”

“Love, you don’t have to leave now. It’s late and you shouldn’t be at the train station by yourself.”

Y/N thought about it for a second before agreeing. “You’re right, I guess I can call Bradley.”

“Who’s Bradley?”

“Oh, my boyfriend,” She said not noticing Harry’s eyes widen slightly. “We live together, he’s probably wondering where I am.”

It had been the first time he had ever heard of her having a boyfriend. He was a little surprised. He listened on as she dialed a number on her phone. A nagging sour feeling settled in his stomach but he chose to ignore it. As much as he may have liked Y/N she was his nanny, nothing more. “He’s on his way, sorry to be here so late. You must be ready to get rid of me and get some sleep.” She said snapping Harry from his thoughts.

“No, not at all, I quite enjoy the company honestly.”

Y/N smiled at him again. “I enjoy your company too. I haven’t talked about...I haven’t talked about my brother in so long.”

“Well anytime you want to talk I’m here,” He said. “I know I’m your boss but that doesn’t mean we can’t talk.”

“I appreciate that, Harry.”

Harry stayed up with her until Bradley arrived to pick her up. He had to let him in the gate but then was a little irritated when her boyfriend didn’t offer to walk up to the door. Y/N didn’t seem to mind though. She just said goodbye and that she would be back bright and early the next day. After she was gone it was like the house lost a little bit of light. Even after Harry went to bed it was like something was missing. He tried his best to push those thoughts away. This was his son’s nanny after all.

The next morning Harry was awoken by Grayson jumping onto his bed. “Woah, bug, someone’s up early.” Harry yawned.

“That’s because it’s Halloween! I get to dress up for school!”

“Oh right, and what are you going to be? Hmm…” Tapping his finger on his chin he pretended to think. “Oh right, you’re going to be a tree aren’t you?”

“No, Daddy! I’m gonna be Spider-Man!” Grayson giggled.

Gathering his son into his arms Harry laughed. “Right, what was I thinking? You’ve had your costume picked out since June.”

“Come on, daddy, I want cereal!”

With that they were up for the day. Harry poured them both a bowl of Cheerios and listened to Grayson talk about their Halloween walk at school. “They’re gonna let us walk through the halls and get candy!”

“Really? Well don’t eat too much, we’re going trick or treating later tonight.”

“Will Nanny Y/N come?” He asked, clear excitement in his voice.

“I’ll ask her when she gets here, all right?”

Once he ate his breakfast Harry directed Grayson into the bathroom to brush his teeth and comb his hair. “About time for a haircut, bug.” He told his son as he tried his best to tame the curls much like his own.

“But I want to grow it long like your’s was.” Grayson frowned.

As much as Harry would love the idea of watching Grayson’s hair grow that long he knew his son wouldn’t have the patience for it. The boy had enough knots and tangles in his hair as it was, any longer would surely be a nightmare. When he finally got the boy’s hair under control they went to gather his stuff for school. “All right, Spider-Man, let’s get dressed.”

Grayson had been looking forward to Halloween for weeks. Ever since they bought the costume he had been pestering his father to let him wear it. “I won’t get it dirty! I promise!”

Now it was finally time for him to wear it. “Now no wearing your mask in class, all right? You still need to pay attention when teacher is talking, ok?”

“Yes, daddy.” Grayson muffled voice said through the mask.

“All right, grab your bucket, let’s get going.”

With a bounce in his step they walked out to Harry’s Range Rover. It was a short ride to school. When they got closer Harry smiled seeing all the other’s kid’s costumes. A bunch of Disney princesses, a lion, and then the occasional vampire and witch. “Have a good day, bug.” He told Grayson as an attendant came to help him out of the car.

“I will! Don’t forget to ask Nanny Y/N about trick or treating!”

“I won’t, love you.”

“Love you too!”

Harry stayed parked until his son was safely inside the school. After watching the door shut he drove off back towards home. Even though Harry was excited for Halloween he wasn’t looking forward to trick or treating. It was always stressful because of who he was. One reason Harry gave up his career was because he wanted his son to have a normal childhood. No photographers, no pictures of him in the magazines, he wanted Grayson to be a normal kid. Unfortunately there things out of his control. He remembered the first time he ever set foot outside with his newborn. The paparazzi were relentless in their efforts to get the first picture of his baby. When they finally got one the internet went crazy. Then somehow it got out that he was raising Grayson alone that caused even more rumors.

It bothered him. The fact that people knew who he his son was, where he went to school, it terrified him that something could happen out of his control. “I know you want to protect him but you can’t protect him from everything.” Anne had told him when some rag published pictures of Harry taking Grayson to school.

“It’s not fair, I asked for this life but he didn’t.” Harry mumbled.

“I know, love, but you can’t keep him hidden forever.”

Even though Harry wanted to homeschool Grayson after the paparazzi crashed the first day of school he knew he couldn’t do that. If he wanted his son to be a normal kid then the first step was a normal school. There still was the question if Harry started touring again just what would they do but they would cross that bridge when they got there.

When Harry got home Y/N hadn’t arrived yet giving Harry a little time to get his things sorted. He usually dressed up along with Grayson when they went trick or treating but he hadn’t thought of a costume yet. He wanted something that would somehow disguise him just in case they did run into photographers or fans. He must have hit a creative block because no costume ideas came to mind. After vetoing several ideas he heard the front door open. “Hello?” He heard a soft voice call.

Peaking around the corner he noticed Y/N walk through carrying a bigger bag, no doubt he own costume. “Hey, I didn’t expect you to still be here.” She smiled when she saw Harry.

“Decided to stay home today, they didn’t really need me at the studio.” He explained. “I’ve been trying to think of a costume for tonight.”

“Oh gosh, you waited til the last minute too? I got home last night thinking I ran out of time to find a good costume.”

“Well did you think of something? Maybe you can help me come up with something.”

“Honestly, I found a plaid shirt and decided I could be a scarecrow.” She laughed pulling out a shirt. “If you like I could do your makeup to make you look like a skeleton. Kind of generic but at least it’s something.”

“That will work, thank you, would you like some coffee?”

“I would love some, thank you.”

Grabbing two mugs from the cabinet Harry asked. “So was Bradley mad last night about having to get you?”

“No, not really, he had to get up early this morning but he didn’t say anything.”

Even though it was none of his business Harry found himself curious about her relationship. “So...how long have you two been together?”

“About a year, we were friends with the same people and kept running into each other. Then one day we kind of just hit it off. He works in construction.”

“Oh, that must be a good job.”

“It is, he’s gone a lot though. He travels all over.”

She didn’t really offer anything further about him so Harry dropped the subject. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much. It was just a nagging feeling of jealousy inside which he had no right to. If Y/N was happy then that was all that mattered.

After a cup of coffee Harry retreated into his office to listen to some demos his producer had sent over. He needed to approve of what all he liked and also narrow down which songs he wanted to record. Over the past four years he had written plenty of songs but he wouldn’t be able to put them all on an album. It was going to be a chore figuring out which ones would be good enough for his first solo album.

Around lunchtime Y/N crept inside with a tray of food for him. “I thought you may like some lunch.”

“Oh, sure, thank you.” He mumbled not looking up from his computer.

“Would you like me to pick up Grayson so you can continue working?”

That question brought Harry out of his trance. Checking the clock he groaned. “Shit, I didn’t even realize what time it was. I have to pick him up in an hour.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll do it. You just finish up here.”

“Ok, thank you, Y/N.”

“No problem, I should probably get going though, the traffic will be awful. I’ll see you when we get back.”

Nodding once Harry watched on as she left the room. It was times like this he was grateful to have a nanny. When he found himself focused on work he needed to stay concentrated to be able to finish it which was difficult with a four year old running around. It would be especially hard today because he knew his son would be on a sugar high. While he was finishing up the song he received an email from his manager. It was basically an overview of what they had planned for his album. It would start with his first single then radio interviews, his first live performances, and then a tour if Harry felt up for it. Just seeing the words sent panic through him. How was he going to explain this to Grayson? How would he be able to leave him for weeks on end? After reading that email Harry had to turn his computer off. He didn’t want to think about it anymore.

He decided to fix Grayson a snack to eat for when he got home. The boy would need something in his stomach other than candy before they headed out later that night. As he was looking through the fridge he heard his phone ring. “Hey mum,” He greeted.

“Hello, love, I was just calling asking if you would mind if I came along with you and Grayson trick or treating.”

“Of course not, I’m sure he would love that. You have a costume?”

“I’m sure I can find something. So how is this nanny doing? You haven’t said anything about her.”

“She’s great, she went to pick him up from school.”

“What’s her name again?”

“Y/N, she’s from America, she’s great with him. She does work around the house without me even telling her to.”

“Well sounds like she was a great hire. You seem quite taken with her.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t even go there, mum.”

“What?! I didn’t say anything.”

“I know where you were headed with that sentence and don’t even think about it.”

Ever since Vanessa Harry had all but given up dating. He became a full time dad and didn’t have the time or energy for dating. “All right, all right, I won’t say anything. I’ll see you later, love.”

“Bye, mum.”

As soon as he hung up the phone he heard the door open. “Daddy!” Grayson cried running full speed into his father’s legs.

“Woah, hey, bud!” Harry exclaimed bending over to pick him up. “How was school?”

“It was great! Me and my friends were like the Avengers! Then we got a bunch of candy.”

Over his head Harry spotted Y/N carrying Grayson’s backpack and Halloween bag. “Yeah, you should see his loot.” She laughed holding up the bag.

“Well I have news, grandma is gonna go trick or treating with us tonight.” Harry told his overly excited son.

“Yay! And Nanny Y/N said she’s going too! It’s gonna be so much fun!” Grayson smiled.

“All right, you little candy monster, how about you sit down and eat your snack. We’ll be lucky if you lay down long enough to take a nap.” Harry chuckled placing his son at the table.

Grayson grumbled but obeyed his father. Sitting down at the table still wearing his costume he ate what was in front of him, even though it was fruit. “Daddy says bananas are the best fruit.” He told Y/N.

“Well I think I would agree with your father on that one, even though strawberries rank pretty high up there.” Y/N laughed.

“Still no match for the banana though.” Harry argued.

Even though it took some coaxing they were able to get Grayson down for a nap. “And then when you wake up it’ll be time for us to go trick or treating.” Harry had told him as he covered him up.

Harry stood close by to make sure Grayson was fully asleep before leaving the room. He spotted Y/N in the kitchen pouring Grayson’s candy bag into a Halloween bowl. “I found this at the store and thought you and Grayson may like it.” She smiled

“Yeah, I kind of failed when it came to Halloween decorations this year. We didn’t even have time to visit the pumpkin patch.”

“Well that just means you have to go big at Christmas.”

“I usually do, we get the biggest tree, Grayson puts all the ornaments on the bottom because that’s all he can reach,” He laughed. “I usually fix it after he goes to bed. Then we try to watch a Christmas movie a night.”

“I like that tradition.”

“Do you go home for Christmas?”

“I didn’t last year, I spent it with Bradley’s family in London. It was the first time I had met him, I was a nervous wreck.”

“Did you like them?” Harry asked.

“They were nice, they weren’t really into the holidays though. It just seemed like they were ready to get them over with.”

“Well that’s no fun.”

“No, especially when I’m so used to my family. My mom loved to decorate the house for Christmas. She collected Santa’s, our tree had so many Santa ornaments, Santa pictures she would put on the walls replacing our normal ones, our stockings had Santa’s on them. My brother, Colin would say it looked like Christmas threw up in our house.”

Harry laughed but he liked the sound of her holidays back home. It sounded like what he wished for his home. He liked to have a lot of decorations both on the inside and the outside. “That sounds pretty nice though.”

“Yeah, it was, they didn’t really decorate after Davis died but they’re slowly getting back into it.”

Harry noticed the sadness that flashed in her eyes but noticed how she tried to cover it up. He felt bad because it seemed like she tried her best to stay strong and not really process what had happened. “Well if you would like to go home for the holidays just tell me. You don’t need my permission but I would tell Grayson where you’re going.”

“Thank you, Harry, I believe we are this year since we spent Christmas with Bradley’s family last year.”

“Then I’ll be sure to give you a present before you leave.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to get me anything. You’ve already given me a job, that’s more than enough.”

“Well you’ve help more than you could imagine.” He smiled. “So you think you better do my makeup before he wakes up?”

“Yeah, we better, as soon as he’s up he’ll be ready to head out.”

With Harry sitting on a chair Y/N stood in between his knees to get close enough to his face. She started with the outline of a skull and began filling it in with white. Once the white paint was dry she went in with the black covering up any bits of skin that showed. The final step was drawing some lines over his lips. “You are absolutely spooky now.” She said stepping away to observe her work.

Handing him a mirror he was able to take a good look at his reflection. She had done a great job. “Nicely done, thanks.”

“No problem.” She beamed as the door opened.

“Hello,” Anne greeted, a witch’s hat on her head and wearing a long black dress. “I’m ready for some candy. Where is my little lovebug?”

“He’s taking a nap, he should be up any minute though.” Harry explained.

Like clockwork Grayson came bounding down the hallway. “Grandma!” He cried.

“Hello there, my love, how are you?” She asked picking him up. “You ready to go trick or treating?”

“Yeah!”

“Well just wait a few minutes, Y/N and I need to change.” Harry announced. “Plus I want pictures of all of us in our costumes.”

Harry went into his own room while Y/N headed to the bathroom. Harry ended up just wearing a black sweater and black jeans to go along with his black and white makeup. As he went back into the living room he noticed Anne helping Grayson put on his mask and shoes. “Ready, Daddy!”

“I see that, be still a second.” Harry instructed holding up his phone to snap a few pictures of Grayson and his grandma.

Five minutes later Y/N walked in wearing her plaid shirt and lines painted on her face giving her the illusion of stitches. “Ready.” She announced.

“Hang on, you get over there so I can take a picture of all of you.”

Several pictures later they were finally off. The good thing about Harry’s house was it was close enough to some upper scale neighborhoods. Every year the houses were decorated for Halloween, tables were set out for giving out candy, and no one cared about Harry’s status. For the most part he was able to walk around with Grayson without anyone bothering them.

When they arrived there were already children running from house to house gathering candy. There were even some teenagers out and about enjoying the evening. Harry parked down the street and then they were off. Holding Grayson’s hand they went to the first house with Y/N and Anne following close behind. “I don’t think we were properly introduced.” Anne sighed. “I’m Anne, Harry’s mother.”

Y/N held the older woman’s hand in her own giving it a small shake. “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to finally meet you. Grayson talks about you and Gemma all the time.”

“Precious thing, he is. I’m glad you’re around now, I can see how much it’s helped Harry.”

“I’m glad to help.” Y/N smiled as Grayson ran up the steps to the first house.

An hour later they had covered pretty much the entire neighborhood. They were getting ready to leave when Harry noticed the first flash. “Shit.” He mumbled when a second one followed.

Gripping Grayson’s hand tighter Harry counted them. Around nine in total but he spotted more cars across the street coming to a park rather quickly. “Y/N, take Grayson.” He instructed.

He heard his son whimper which angered Harry. Were these idiots really going to ruin a child’s Halloween just for some pictures? Y/N picked up Grayson without question and waited for Harry to say something. “Just stay behind me and mum, ok? Keep your head down until we get to the car, ok?”

Y/N nodded, running one of her hands over Grayson’s back trying her best to comfort him. Anne took her spot at Harry’s side hiding Y/N and Grayson as they began walking. The flashes increased almost blinding him as he pushed through the crowd. “Excuse me, please.” He told them, his voice harsher than usual.

They weren’t going to let them pass without getting a shot. The clicks continued even more. Some tried to take a picture from above. Harry held an arm out preventing them from getting closer to Y/N and Grayson. Turning his head he noticed Grayson had buried his face in Y/N’s neck and she was speaking to him in a soft voice only he could hear. It warmed his heart but he had to focus on getting them to the car safely. When they finally reached it he took his son from her arms so he could strap him in his seat. Even while he was strapping him in the flashes continued making Harry’s blood boil. Once Grayson was buckled in Harry almost slammed the door to prevent anything else. “Don’t you guys have anything better to do on Halloween?” He hissed.

Walking around to the driver’s side he cranked the car and sped off not caring if he ran any of the photographers over. Looking in the rearview mirror he watched as Y/N continued to talk to Grayson. She talked to him about anything she could to keep his mind off of what just happened. “Did you know I used to collect comic books? I’m sure I have plenty of Spider-Man in my collection.”

“Really? Could you show me?” Grayson asked.

“Of course, I’ll just have to find them.”

Harry glanced over and his mom who had also noticed the conversation going on in the backseat. She had a small smile on her face as she listened on. Harry was just happy his son didn’t appear to be in any distress. It had been the first time in a while paparazzi had caused that kind of scene. “We’re home.” He announced.

While Y/N changed Grayson into his pajamas Harry and Anne began to cook a quick dinner. “She sure is a good one.” Anne whispered.

“She is,” Harry agreed.

Anne wanted to say more but decided against it. Of course she wanted the best for her son and grandson and she believed they had found it in their new nanny. She would just have to wait and see what the future held.

Later on Anne left to head back home after they put Grayson to bed. Y/N stayed behind to help wash dishes while Harry dried. “Sorry about the way the night ended.” Harry apologized.

Y/N glanced at him. “Don’t worry, everything’s fine. I just can’t believe you’ve had to deal with that for this long.”

“Did they say anything to you?” If anything was said to her that Harry deemed out of line he was more than prepared to get in contact with his lawyer or anyone to get it taken care of. Go after him but leave her and his family out of it.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s over. I think I’m just ready to head home, take a nice hot bath, and get into bed.” She sighed as she let the water drain from the sink.

Harry agreed with that idea. “Thank you for coming out with us tonight. Even if it didn’t end like I wanted it to.”

“I had fun. I’ve always loved Halloween, I won’t let anyone ever ruin that.”

“I’m glad...so I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here.” She grinned as she gathered her stuff.

It had been the first time she ever had to deal with parts of Harry being famous. It was terrifying but it also upset her that Harry had to deal with it. He was such a normal guy it was easy to forget just who he was. She just hoped she would be ready to deal with everything else that came along with knowing Harry Styles.

[iameverything]

A Conversation: Bedhead

“Bedhead is a dreamy Indie synth-pop musician that hails from Toronto Canada.”

First off, who are you? Hello! I’m Veronica, but you probably know me better as Bedhead! I like all things art. Music, painting, photography, drawing, etc... I like to do it all! I’ve been singing since before I could even talk, and a musician for almost my entire life.

Tell me about your journey and how it all led to the career and name that is Bedhead? Aside from music, my background is actually in multimedia and communications. But after graduating, I was really miserable doing the whole 9-5 corporate thing found myself missing creative outlets in my work. I started a job hosting art parties which I loved, but that made me realize that I really missed actually performing in front of people. At this point I was working on a music project with a friend, but that never saw the light of day. I realized that I wanted to pursue music, I had this vision of what I wanted to do, and no one was going to make that happen but myself. All these things were sort of like little streams leading to a bigger river, and that’s how Bedhead was born!

I liked the name Bedhead for a number of reasons. The main reason is that it represents leaving a place of safety like your bed but still showing up anyway. It takes a lot of strength to do that. When I started writing music, I was going through depression. Anyone who has experienced this knows that some days getting out of bed is the most difficult chore. But getting up despite your struggles, maybe not totally together or perfect but still trying, shows incredible resilience. Aside from that, I’m a pretty active dreamer (sometimes I wrote songs in my sleep!) and I also get a lot of compliments on my curly hair so it pays tribute to that a little too haha.

Do you or have you ever had any affiliation with the 1998 Texas rock band Bedhead?  STORY TIME! As you can tell above, I put a lot of thought into names… sometimes too much. I kid you not, it took me about a year to pick Bedhead, and I had more than 20 potential names for this project in the SHORT list. Any artist knows as soon as you think of a name you like, look it up. When I looked up Bedhead, I found this Texas rock band that broke up over 20 years ago and my family and friends thought it was perfectly fine to use the name. Just in case, I found their website (which looked like it hadn’t been changed since ‘98) and sent off an email, I had no idea if it was still active or anything. The name at this point meant so much to me, it really represented everything I wanted this project to be, and no other name I had thought of came close to it. I didn’t hear back for a while and told myself, if this name is meant to be, they will respond, and either way I will be okay. One of the members responded the next day! Gave me his blessing AND the website. I believe most of the members are now in Atlanta, I would love to meet them someday.

Let’s talk your recent single Fight No More, I must say, it is so damn good and the video is fantastic. If your fans could take any message from the new single, what would you want it be? Wowow thank you so much! The message to its barest bones is that you don’t have to take crap from anyone, even yourself. When I was going through depression, I eventually hit this wall where instead of getting sad, something snapped, and I realized I didn’t have to a prisoner to my own mind anymore. I wanted the song to come from a point of view of dealing with another person, like “If my depression were a friend who I knew was no longer good for me and my well being, what would I say to them?”

Like I mentioned the music video is fantastic, the color in it is great. Where did the idea for the music video come from? Who shot it? Since the song is written from the perspective of two people but really about an inner battle, I sorta envisioned myself fighting myself. Like trying to take back control of your life from your own demons. I had that brief plot outline when I pitched the idea to the director, Jacq Andrade, but that was about it. She immediately understood what I was going for, and we had a great brainstorming session. We both love colour, and wanted the visuals to be eye-catching. The result was the beautiful trip inside the psyche that is this music video. She’s a total visionary, and I’m so happy we brought to life.

Your first single you put out that made everyone first take notices was Bitter, a favourite of mine; With two singles out of the bag, do you already have an idea for an album coming up? How is the process been going for that anyway? Yes! Bitter and Fight No More are both going to be on an upcoming EP coming this year! The idea for the EP has been brewing for quite some time now, so I’m excited to finally share what I’ve been up to since last year. It’s been an awesome journey getting to this point, a lot of self discovery and inner reflection, trying different ideas and sounds to find what works best with the vision.

What is your thoughts on labels wanting to give "makeovers" to new artists they sign? I try to stay open to change while still being faithful to myself. I mean even how I write music changes all the time!  We’re constantly exposed to new experiences, people, places, etc. and I try to stay open to how they might inspire my music. When we close ourselves off to new or different ideas because they don’t fit what we’re “trying to do” we limit our creativity. Even if I don’t know what the change will bring or where it’ll take my sound, I think as artists it’s how we grow.  

What sort of things/artists/ideas inspire you these days to create the music that you do, in the style you do? I am always inspired by nature, usually more in my photography, but lately it has been creeping into my music too! There’s a song on this EP about that...

When can fans look forward to Bedheads next show and what can they expect? We’re currently in the process of tweaking the live setup, we have drums now!! We’ve been in winter hibernation practicing, making some visuals, getting everything ready so we’ll be ready to rock for some late winter/ early spring shows. Stay tuned!

Rapid fire: If you were not called Bedhead what else would you want to be called? Dang, I deleted that list of names! I remember liking V a lot. Favorite venue to play in? Might be too early to call, but my first show at Ildsjel Collective will always have a special place in my heart <3 Favorite current underrated artist/band? Does underrated mean I think more people should know about them?! If so, I’ve been listening to an artist called Malory! Favorite current song that isn't your own? It Might Be Time - Tame Impala Secret to a great song? It’s gotta be great with just piano/guitar and voice.

[orindasfinest]

TDFL PR W#3

To admit to a thing that everyone already knows like Bill Clinton will someday when the antifa firing squad has him wetting his senile pants at gunpoint stammering about how Epstein was onto something with the tightness of 15-year-old box: yes, I missed last week. I shockingly have a girlfriend AND aspirations of being something other than a water babysitter for the rest of my life and the two combined to stop me from shitposting about fantasy football. I have now concluded with my significant other and with my job applications, filling both with rich cum, and will thereby turn my attention to the band of misfits I decided to assemble in hopes of winning a fantasy league for once in my fucking life, which in this instance would basically be like beating ‘Through the Fire and the Flames’ on Guitar Hero in easy difficulty. At least the Eagles officially suck so nobody can feel good about real-life accomplishments except for me and my lovable group of New Englanders who use HGH as lube when waxing their shaven carrots to lithographs of Jock Sutherland’s single-wing play designs. That is a real reference and I am so gratified that I got to waste seconds of your life making you try and process such a string of words – much like you will continue to do if you keep reading! Let’s begin.

10. Leaguema Balls (Mike)

Record: 0-3 | PF: 305.1 | PA: 425.3 | Streak: L3 | Last Week (I actually wrote out a rankings but then just never added the roasts, so they were worthless, but trust me) 10

Plays Next: Sean’s Hard Mangos (Sean)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Continuing to draw breath

It’s comforting to know that I can leave my sweet foundling rankings alone for a week and still have the unmoving anchor way at the bottom to keep it grounded and sturdy. You would have thought that assembling a competent fantasy football roster was Rogaine given Michael’s lack of familiarity with the concept. If you want, Dirt, you can think up an AIM away message to leave in this slot to save me the work for the next 13 weeks and so this entry has some consistency besides sucking more than spilling soup down your shirt in a meeting. (I know that wasn’t you but this guy deserves some of your grilling space.) Marquise Brown is going to blow out a lung trying to run under Lamar’s 102-yard touch passes on Sunday and turn back into Steve Breaston with a dumber nickname.

9. Sean’s Hard Mangos (Sean)

Record: 0-3 | PF: 374.4 | PA: 401.2 | Streak: L3 | Last Week: 8

Plays Next: Oh dear christ not my repeaters again

Questionable Decision of the Week: Dick amputation by tendon fatigue

Just as I take solace in Mike’s cellar-dwelling ways, I can relax about the other two Philly league members having decent squads just by looking at Sean’s merry band of sap-sucking stupidheads. You’d find more consistent direction from Sean behind the wheel of a car than you would from a team led by Derrick Henry and James Conner. And here I thought you were done with uninterested, underperforming ball-grabbers when you broke up with Hannah. Word of advice, dawg! You’re gonna get your first win this week because the algorithm isn’t yet advanced enough to throw up in both of your faces instead of assigning a victor between you and Michael, so act like you’ve been there before, or at least act like you know how to run a palatable social media account after three fucking years of trying and failing.

8. James White is Right (Tori)

Record: 0-3 | PF: 372.7 | PA: 439.7 | Streak: L3 | Last Week: 9

Plays Next: Cartoon Colt Copulation (Hahahahaha)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Acting like her dirt star is the brightest light in the sky when in reality it’s Proxima Centauri from Event Horizon

Much like capitalism, the league has created a placated and clueless middle class, consolidated wealth in the top 1%, and left the lower half of the populace to shiver and die like Austin Ekeler on the sidelines now that Melvin Gordon is back. Of course, knowing Tori’s family, they’d just bray about how the economy is thunderously good before unironically sharing deep-fried boomer memes while she gently chides them through comments, pretending there’s not a little racist in her team name. And in her soul. James White is back, though, having just watched his wife give birth, knowing that whole time that the tearing and screeching he was witnessing would pale in comparison to Tori trying to fit a toothpick up her half-thimble rear entrance.

7. Mark Ruffalo’s Ruffalo Bills (Aidan)

Record: 2-1 | PF: 410.5 | PA: 408.8 | Streak: L1 | Last Week: 3

Plays Next: The Queen’s Booty Lickers (Liv)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Using his asshole around women and not expecting repercussions

Benefiting from a more questionable handout than the insurance settlement that gives him money for having headaches sometimes, Aidan rode high on the back of a free Mahomes the first two weeks of the season. That all came crashing down when Lauren put him in a dumpster in this past matchup, which was probably an upgrade from his place in Chicago. Aidan has a picture of the Blues Brothers’ trainside apartment on his vision board in the hopes that someday he can move somewhere that high-class. Expect further regression as Josh Jacobs and Leonard Fournette continue to suffer from some sort of Power 5 running back glaucoma which makes them barrel directly into their linemen’s asses on every handoff instead of bouncing to the acres of green space just outside the tackles. This is much like how Aidan rushes for beans on toast instead of attempting to taste flavor.

6. Airstrip One Ezekiels Engels (Derv)

Record: 2-1 | PF: 404.7 | PA: 387.8 | Streak: W2 | Last Week: 7

Plays Next: TEAM DUMPSTER BEARS (Lauren)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Fookin ‘ell ‘ard ta pick one innit luv xx

After a less auspicious start than the Easter Rebellion, Derv has rebounded from a sheer fleecing to fashion herself into something of a competent franchise owner. Knowing the strength of her impostor syndrome, though, she’s liable to swap Zeke for a scalding slap in the face *battered whisper* because that’s the type of team that she deserves. I would say this ranking of 6 will be the highest you will ever get but I think if you’re a good enough girl this year, around Thanksgiving your dad will finally put you on his shoulders so you can see the inflatable turkeys parading down the garbage metropolis a mere three hours from you upstate hovel. Otherwise it’ll be another long outing of sinking further down the standings and standing so low at 4’8 you look like you’re dissolving into a sinkhole.

5. The Queen’s Booty Lickers (Liv)

Record: 2-1 | PF: 399.7 | PA: 394.3 | Streak: L1 | Last Week: 1

Plays Next: Mark Ruffalo’s Still Not a Funny Name (Aidan)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Taking dick so long it got mistaken for the amount of time she spends on the toilet

How the mighty have fallen! One minute, you look like an infallible cock destroyer, and then BANG! You get run over. But I won’t bring up your car accident too much. I’m seeing more hopeless tears from your Johnson & Johnson RB corps than from babies piteously afflicted by their cornea-searing shampoo. It’s fitting that such an intermittent contributor would have a roster full of people that basically decide whether or not they want to do a football on a play-by-play basis. “How about an out route, Amari?” “How about you sit in a room for 10 minutes with Liv’s roommate, coach?” This team could light the league on fire but it’ll settle for searing its own britches at completely unpredictable hours. Again, just like Liv.

4. The Birds Have Arrived (John)

Record: 2-1 | PF: 402.1 | PA: 391.4 | Streak: W1 | Last Week: 4

Plays Next: Poo Poo Point Diarrheas (Griffin)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Sending Snickers to hell. She was a good cat john.

The man with the worst opinions in the league dropped Antonio Brown for some reason even though he was clearly a kindred spirit in that regard. There’s no difference between what AB did and what John said about candy, except for the fact that I’d be more comfortable with jizz on my back than I would listening to more of his sweets-based takes. (Come to think of it, I’d just be more comfortable with jizz on my back.) As alluded to before, Melvin Gordon is returning to action, which means John can stop pretending that Miles Sanders will be any kind of valuable contributor, about 4 years and one hair-tearingly bad contract extension before the Eagles do the same. While you’re on the road with the VengaBus, Oakman, see if you can pick up a kicker who realizes that people with apostrophes in their names belong on the defensive line and who can actually put the ball through the fucking uprights.

3. Cartoon Colt Copulation (Gabe)

Record: 2-1 | PF: 422.5 | PA: 333 | Streak: W2 | Last Week: 2

Plays Next: James White is Right (Delicious)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Looking past all the signs that Lauren sabotages air travel just to spend extra time with me and trying to aim my blasts to curve around her IUD anyway

I would just like to immediately point out that my points for is second highest in the league and therefore I righteously deserve my place near the top of the rankings AND could even go for higher. I would also like to admit that I have by far the lowest points against. So even when I excel, I do it in arenas that are specifically set up for me to succeed, which feels appropriate for me as a white man. I’m swinging my dick on an unlevel playing field like Steve-O on a teeter-totter with a scorpion. Saquon’s injury is all I need to have the pinchers come rocketing towards my little glistening head and put the clamps on my high-falutin’ status. BUT FOR NOW FUCK YOU JACOBY BRISSETT IS GOD which is only right and fair in the name of equality

2. TEAM DUMPSTER BEARS (Lauren)

Record: 2-1 | PF: 426 | PA: 363 | Streak: W1 | Last Week: 6

Plays Next: Airstrip One Historical Reference Yawn (Derv)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Do I really have to spell it out? After she spent a whole weekend plus in my bed? Come on, guys. Going back to Buzz City and pretending low rent is a fair tradeoff for having about as much culture as spoiled yogurt

Team Clemson had a TAMU product to thank for their banana sandwich performance in matchday number three as Mike Evans put up FORTY FIVE FUCKING BIG ONES in, of course, a losing effort for his real-life Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Scoring points but losing everything of consequence is nothing new to Lauren after her latest tussles with Catan. But the soaring to improbable heights is taking on gorgeous new wrinkles as different folks step up week after week to put up the performances of their lives, only to be invariably out of gas week nine, leaving her roster a withered, gaping husk with bitter glances back towards what once was as she tries to wring some sort of enjoyment from the remnants. Welcome to childbirth, honey!

1. Poo Poo Point Diarrheas (Griffin)

Record: 3-0 | PF: 396.5 | PA: 342.7 | Streak: W3 | Last Week: 5

Plays Next: The Birds Have Arrived (John)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Getting tested for STDs. Next you’re gonna tell Sean not to drunk drive. Narc

Griffin has the 4th-lowest point total out of all of us, yet he is the sole occupant of first place as of press time. The last time I saw a fatty get this much undeserved shine, my ex-girlfriend made me watch an entire episode of This Is Us. You’re rocking Mitchy Trubes at quarterback, whose play style must be similar to your lovemaking technique: going long a lot, but never looking like you have any idea what you’re doing. I am so happy about your brief stay at the top of the mountain and I hope you can brag about it at show choir or whatever. Just remember that the #1 spot in these rankings is not like having abandonment issues. You don’t need to get used to it.