#so much more I want to say about this album. butchered tongue was so like idek how to explain it it moves through you and it’s so | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crow-in-a-teapot · 1 year ago

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unreal unearth first impressions

OKAY REALISING I AM RELISTENING TO THIS ALBUM FOR THE HUNDREDTH TIME JUST TODAY ACCIDENTALLY SO IIM GONNA QUICKLY WRITE DOWN MY FIRST IMPRESSIONS BC IM ALREADY BEGINNING TO ACTUALY THINK ABOUT THINGS AND LOOK AT LYRICS AND READ OTHER PEOPLE'S OPINIONS, so here is an only slightly tainted not quite first impression of unreal unearth from me (obviously the singls ive heard before but)

de selby (part 1) i turned on the album sitting in the absolute dark, ten minutes past twelve at night, this started playing, cue instant tears. i think i was just hit with 'this is the most beautiful thing ive ever heard' and i wasn't expecting that from de selby 1 for some reason. and when the irish kicked in that just. no words, just crying and im what two minutes in. i wasn't even thinking about what he'd been saying about connemara in the dark and mirrors of people you used to know (i'd seen him talk about it, but purposefully skipped the actual song when it came up online) it was just. de selby 1. and the part as gaeilge

de selby (part 2) sexy groovy silly fun, it's really growing on me, thinking about 'i'd still know you, not being shown you

i only need the workin' of my hands' also i cant wait to read third policeman and look at this completely differently

first time the beginning was jarring, and then at the lyric about his name i kind of :( i also liked the lethe/liffey parallel, it's so very hozier of him to do that. god the push and pull of there must have been something off from the beginning? if every time they called him baby he died? something like that was my first interpretation, now im wondering if it's because it's not his name and they're the one that made his name sound wonderful for once. intellectualising that part of the lyrics kind of ruins it for me ngl, i think it's more about how it feels, i think it feels like contrast like not knowing if it hurts or is wonderful. little detail of when he says come here to me and it sounds so casual and irish like come here to me tell me, i really love it. and the final lyric hurt. really impeccable timing for a breakup album like

francesca why can't i listen to i'd tell them put me back in it for the first time again WHY CAN'T I LISTEN TO I'D TELL THEM PUT ME BACK IN IT FOR THE FIRST TIME AGAIN AND REEXPERIENCE THAT. my favourite thing from this hozier era might just be that music video (over all the other ones help)

i, carrion (icarian) is just really devastating. sunlight but what if you wanted your heart to be torn to shreds. the imagery is so vivid

eat your young is growing on me too, the lyrics are just so good. they're just SO GOOD, their rhythm is so satisfying they fit together so smoothly, and at this point it's just as fun and danceable as something like de selby 2

damage gets done is kind of pop? it made me think of the bones ft marren morris

who we are [had to remove a section here] the vocals are otherwordly. the drums are gorgeously frantic. quietly it slips through your fingers love??? falling from you drop by drop??? HOLD ME LIKE A KNIFE???makes me physically ache

son of nyx i'm so glad this is here, an instrumental was something that really could put me back to where i was mentally with de selby (part 1). first thing i thought was i can't wait to learn the piano part. i've seen people say this, but it does seem like the obvious, it's an instrumental that just belongs in a movie

all things end all things do end so real. very cool how much of a direct inflence gospel music is

to someone from a warm climate (uiscefhuarithe) i can't wait to relisten to this one again and again, the parallels between being a child warming up a bed and jumping to later in time with a lover aaaa so tender NATURAL AS ANOTHER LEG AROUND YOU IN THE BEDFRAME AAAA

butchered tongue A FAVOURITE A FAVOURITE foreigner's god but softer, how can i listen to this and ever leave ireland how can i listen to this and feel like this and be packing suitcases what is wrong with meeeeee. the violin and the instrumence. jesus christ. instantly picturing my road signs when he started singing about the native ones

anything but THIS SONG STARTED AND I INSTANTLY STARTED SMILING COMPLETELY INVOLUNTARILY, THOUGHT OF ALMOST (SWEET MUSIC) i started thinking of bright lion king imagery before he even started talking about stampedes and hoofbeats. and the vocals here too, so overwhelmed by how cheerful and joyous it sounded that i really didnt pay attention to lyrics, so it'll be cool to look deeper later

abstract (psychopomp) the production here i was very unsure about, because there was something that made me think if it were more rustic/intrumental and less modern, it might have hit me even harder, like there might have been a way to elevate it further. it made me think of colours and purples and reds and oranges, another really visual song, like i, carrion. it's really gorgeous. SEE HOW IT SHINES will be in my head for a long long time... ugh it's all so bittersweet and sad and beautiful. all my love and terror there balanced between those eyes what a line

unknown / nth if you've scrolled through my accunt for longer than a second you know how i feel about unknown / nth

first light i was hit with such intense terror that this was the last song of the album. what am i supposed to do for the next decade without music to look forward to while andrew goes back into hibernation under bray train station jean jacket lost and found or whatever. so i didnt play and instead did this musing on how beautiful the vocals throughout the album are and how funny it was in the zach sang interview when he talked about singing instead of playing instruments when recording songs because he's 'better at singing than most intruments' and his producer just wouldnt replace those voice recordings and that's why there are so many choirs and zach is basically like 'you absolute weirdo no one else has the talent to do that but ok' (affectionate) (paraphrasing). i love the drums so much. i love the strings so much too. A VOICE YOUR BODY JUMPS TO CALLING OUT YOUR NAME :(((((((((((( imagining hearing this in the 3arena and having colours break out across the whole ceiling ill remember those lights during no plan in 2019 forever im an indoor concert girlie forever what they can do visually is so magical.. i saw a good omens edit of this today already i love you good omens fans

not to sound like a broken record i wish swan upon leda and through me the flood and love of were on this and maybe even but the wages and

#hozier #unreal unearth #crow #de selby (part 1)#de selby (part 2)#first time hozier #francesca #i #eat your young #damage gets done #what we are hozier #son of nyx #all things end #to someone from a warm climate (uiscefhuairithe)#butchered tongue #anything but hozier #abstract (psychopomp)#unknown / nth #first light hozier

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sunflowerbloomss · 1 year ago

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rambling abt the hozier album ok this is going to be long i'm listening to the whole thing and typing as i do. the transition from de selby pt 1 to pt 2 & the contrast in the beat of them while the themes are the same is wonderful and soooo well done, i actually have no idea how i only listened to one half of it till now lol. generally speaking de selby pt 2 is one of his best songs ever imo! 'before i heard it from your mouth my name would always hit my ears as such an awful sound' & 'to share the space with simple living things' well i am insane but apart from that first time feels like a very simple run into hell; falling in love, the terrible fate but seeing it as something beautiful anyway. reminds me of would that i. francesca's place in the order of the album is absolutely perfect - i didn't expect it to come up this early but it's like a reminder of the 'world above' so to speak. sure, it's about lust, but not just for a lover but also for a memory of the life that was lived. it's great as a single but within the context of the album this song can appear in all its glory and it's not something easy to do, take a song that work as a single and make it even stronger in the album. i, carrion is amazing as well, a sort of coming to terms with being in hell and just hoping to have some beloved company within it; it's not the falling into hell that matters, it's the not falling away from the lover. the transition to eat your young is soooooo good because i, carrion is as greedy as eat your young but you don't understand how they're two sides of the same coin till you listen to them. all that could've been said about eat your young has already been said but i will say once again the context of the album vs the single is insane in how it changes the meaning, a lot like francesca. i will say i don't like the instrumental part at the end of it but it could easily be just me lol. damage gets done well i will say i'm so glad it's a duet!! the desperation after the carelessness of eat your young, the choice of a duet when so many of the earlier songs are about loneliness is top tier. who we are well i love it but it is the weakest song on the album 2 me coming between two very strong songs - it's not bad but it either shouldn't be placed there or should have something more unique instrumentally for it to catch my ear the way the rest of the album does. and it's not a bad song!!! i feel like i have to mention it ok.

SON OF NYX RAMBLES NOW i have said it before & i will say it again this is the best song hozier has ever done and it's on a completely other level to all his other music. i want it to be a single i want it tattooed inside my ears every note is so well placed it's devastating and more than anything it shows just how much he grows as an artist; the hozier that did the debut album would not have been capable of creating something like this. the whole album has a lot of nods to the debut album but this one is so unapologetically wasteland baby that it feels almost out of place but it isn't because all things end is right there for it to lean on and take us back to the story. generally speaking i wasn't a big fan of all things end in the ep and singles because it felt more flat than the other songs (especially in the ep with through me & eat your young like helloooo) but it takes its rightful place in the album. after son of nyx's despair all things end is here to have a beautiful bit of almost hopeful nihilism. to someone from a warm climate first of all sexy hozier back at it again i missed it definitely & this song's place at the end of the album is sooo good it's a reminder of a far away beautiful world, almost like a siren calling to a sailor except it's hozier and well hell. butchered tongue is often compared to foreigner's god and well the themes are similar but i feel like this song is a lot like coming back home after living abroad in contrast to still living oppression like in foreigner's god. it's a very good song, i wish it had bass i think it would've been amazing with the cello and piano of it.

i'm obsessed with anything but because it's such a more tailored version of the first album's music and themes. i'm actually not a very big fan of the clapping i feel like after butchered tongue (seeing as its music is very gloomy) even upbeat songs need a way to be more gentle about it but well it can be just me. anyway the song is beautiful!! i love it. abstract HELLOOOOO i love it so much the confusion 'your hand in my pocket to keep us both warm' what if i jumped off a cliff and 'see how it changed' AH i love that song and actually i feel like it could even change place with unknown in the order of the songs but its position after anything but also shows the different faces of the instruments in this album - anything but is very minimal on the instrumental part compared to hozier's usual (not that it's a bad thing!!) and the chorus of abstract having these complex layers of instruments is doing wonders 2 my ear. unknown well i will be controversial and say it's a good song but i think people are being just a bit too crazy about it like hello if you're into angst and loneliness son of nyx is right there... it's a good song! and it belongs at the end of the album but i think abstract and first light are better and they sort of wash it out. it's good!!! but it's also between two other very good songs that touch on the same topic and have a stronger presence. i feel like with a cello lead instead of a guitar it could've been a bit better, now that i see how prominent the cello is in this album. and first light!!! beautiful ending to the album the harmonies at the beginning of it should feel out of place but they aren't. the hopeful note to it after a journey through hell, the strong vocals & the high guitar notes give a a beautiful end to the album. it feels like the opposite of the ending of wasteland baby - the final song of that album is the gentle closure where here the last song is the hopeful beginning. it's definitely the best album closure out of the three he's had and it reminds me soooo much of sunlight which is another nod to the second album that i love so so dearly... i was really skeptical when i saw unknown wasn't the last song on the album because it feels like an end but first light is a perfect note to end on.

overall. amazing album. it's definitely his best so far mainly because it draws so much from both the debut and wasteland baby. like ok wasteland baby is so different from the debut and i love them but they both have each its own line, and unreal unearth is not a mix of them but something born out of letting them simmer on the stove - it takes out the best features of both of them and still remains irrevocably hozier. i was worried he'd try to reinvent the sounds (i never doubted the lyrics would remain within the same themes he's always done) but this album is something so worth waiting years for. it's amazing what beautiful music artists make when they're not pressured to keep spitting it out half done and unpolished. like all album it has its weak spots and some things that i personally would've done differently but it's hozier's greatness is that he doesn't need to create the perfect music to make a concept album where every song is sat on a golden throne and it's all that matters at the end. i'm very sad through me didn't make it to the album but well it's hozier tradition to leave his second best song of every era only in the ep (nina cried power in the album & nfwmb in the ep, son of nyx in the album & through me in the ep, work song in the album & live of to be alone in the ep) so well i can't complain. all in all. amazing album. can't wait to see him live again now the whole thing is out!!!

#no one cares eli #hozier #well this was long. but i had to take this out of my system it's shabbat and the friend i talk to about hozier would only be back online #in like. 6 hours. so #hashtag music critic core

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unreal-unearthing · 7 months ago

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Much like Hozier at the end of Unreal Unearth (and Dante at the end of Inferno) i have emerged from the depths of hell (the consequences of my own actions) with a lot to say.

Too Sweet - what can I say about this one that hasn't already been said. Like many, I am deeply annoyed with how misinterpreted this song is, but much smarter people than me have already written about that. A lot of 'wow is Hozier super pretentious about liking black coffee and neat whiskey' when thats NOT the point AT ALL. He's describing two things: First is that him and the other person just in general have incompatible views and tastes. And secondly is that he's not the one being pretentious about his tastes. The other person is. He says 'hey i'm a night owl, and you're a morning person. We're so different!' and then she says 'you need to live your life RIGHT (the way I do)'. There's an implied moral judgment that the other person in the song is judging the narrator for not living 'correctly.' And look, I think in this day and age we all know someone like this - someone who is optimizing every aspect of their life for maximum efficiency (the Right time to go to bed, the Right time to wake up, the Right amount and kind of exercise, the Right diet (with the Right balance of macros) and the Right time to be the most productive at work etc etc etc). And look, if you're anything like me (and apparently Hozier) and find this difficult, people like this can be so frustrating. Also, it's interesting that this was supposed to be the in Gluttony circle. I think it could be easy to say he's the glutton here (indulges in his desires, lacking the discipline of the other person). And yet she's the one who is 'too sweet,' and the song treats that sort of obsession with health and wellness as the over-indulgence.

Wildflower and Barley - So so so many things to say. First of all. real 'in a week' vibes (especially the 'put my body to work' line'). You know, just the beauty of nature and springtime along with the idea of decay. Also just the sound of this song, its like they bottled the Platonic Ideal of a perfect spring day. And finally. Allison Russell is a goddess. Her voice is so gorgeous. If you haven't checked out her other stuff do so right now.

Empire Now - I love the production on this one. It sounds so epic, like a movie score or something. Also the almost Western twang of the song is really cool. But also the discussion of the hundred years since Irish independence from the British Empire is really cool. All that has been gained from that independence, what work still needs to be done, as well as the promise and possibility of the future. Also interesting to note that this was originally supposed to be in the violence circle of the original album. I do think it's interesting that the 'violence' circle was supposed to have two songs about colonialism specifically (butchered tongue being the other).

Fare Well - This song was meant to be on the 'ascent' section along with First Light. Which is interesting since it has such different implications. I can see why he'd want the ascent to be more focused on the hope in First Light instead of this more tragic take. Also considering the idea of indulgences in Too Sweet makes this song's "any solitary pleasure that was sorrow in disguise," where all these little joys (chocolate, being cozy, etc) being dangerous a particularly interesting concept.

I will have Thoughts and stuff about the new hozier ep…. In a week or so when I have the time and energy to really dig into the new songs, as I am currently in a hell of my own making.

#hozier #unheard ep #too sweet #wildflower and barley #empire now #fare well #alex is blogging

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unabashegirl · 4 years ago

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Pax Romana; Part I

Author’s note: Hey everyone, here is the first part of this mini-series. I hope you like it! Let me know if you want to be on the tag list. Also, REQUESTS ARE OPEN only for H.

DISCLAIMER; I DONT KNOW ITALIAN! (only English, French and Spanish) I clearly used a translator. I am aware their translations are SHIT sometimes. Therefore I am sorry if I butcher it! I didn’t mean to!

masterlist

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Harry Styles, can still recall the first day he was enthralled by her conspicuous beauty. At first, he reckoned he had done the unavoidable. He had moved to Italy for the summer, and he had managed to fall in love with an Italian girl; that he had never spoken to. He had only observed her from afar — too shy to ever think of approaching her. Nonetheless, the young woman was a sight to behold. He promised himself that he would only watch from afar. It felt forbidden and somewhat illegal. The feeling that bubbled within him was enough reason to continue his study of her.

After his first visit to Italy, he had fallen in love with the country. Hence, why he had rented out a house in a coastal town. The country’s natural and effortless beauty inspired him to write new music for his upcoming album. The beautiful sunsets, the sunny mornings, the art, and the food brought peace and tranquility to him. It was the perfect place for him to hide — for a while. It was on one of his morning runs; he first noticed her.

She wore a bright yellow bikini that exposed most of her olive skin to the sun rays. She sat on a striped towel that she had laid out on the hot sand. Her hair was slicked back and wet after she had dipped in the ocean to refresh her body.

Of course, she never caught sight of his dilated pupils or the way he had leaned forward — lured by her beauty. Her attention was preoccupied with a hardcover of Pride and Prejudice; that she had brought along as a source of entertainment for the day. The young woman appeared too indulged in the printed words to notice his existence.

He watched her for a few hours. Now and then he would remind himself of the hundred reasons why he shouldn’t approach. He had even managed to take a few steps towards her. Harry eventually removed himself as soon as it became too much. He had beaten the temptation.

The first time he spoke to her was at a local restaurant. Harry had taken himself out on a late lunch date. He had dressed up nicely and had walked to the bistro. He noticed her presence after taking his first sip out of his freshly served Chardonnay. She sat on the table across from him. This time she wasn't submerged in a book. He could finally admire her natural beauty up close. The fullness of the apples of her cheeks, her long dark eyelashes, her red-tinted lips, and of course light sunburn on her upper cheeks and across the bridge of her nose.

A few minutes later, her order had arrived. It was ricotta and mushroom stuffed ravioli in a black truffle sauce. She was stuffing her face when they made eye contact. Harry’s lips curved upwards creating a lopsided smile as she scrambled to clean the creamy sauce off her face. He hadn't said anything to her, but she already felt embarrassed.

”Sono deliziosa?” He had done it. He couldn’t just watch her and pray she’d take the first step. It was time to put his Italian to the test. He had been practicing his Italian and even though he already had a few weeks on the Amalfi coast; he still struggled to comprehend. Harry only hoped she would be able to understand him.

”E molto deliziosa” She smiled at him for the first time. She beamed, radiating an intoxicating wave of warmth and happiness towards him. Her lips parted open for a split second but before she could utter a word the waiter approached.

“Hai bisogno di qualcos’ altro?” He was asking her if she needed anything else. She understood what he was asking, but she couldn’t remember how to say cheese.

“Fuck” she said under her breath. “Queso. Fromage. Cheese” She had forgotten how to speak. All her languages had mixed in one and the wires had crossed. “How do you say it?” She whispered under her breath, her cheeks warmed in embarrassment as the waiter tried to comprehend.

“Formaggio. Ha bisogno di formaggio parmigiano, per favore” Harry interrupted, noticing her uneasiness and her inevitable embarrassment. He knew that it wasn’t his business and he shouldn’t have been listening to the conversation, but he had to help her.

The waiter turned his attention to the young celebrity. He was also a bit surprised that Harry had spoken for her. He had seen that Harry kept to himself. He usually attended dinner on his own and hardly even bothered to use his phone. “Inmediatamente”.

“Thank you” She thanked Harry as soon as the waiter had left in search of the parmesan cheese that she so craved. Harry’s excessive focus on watching the server carrying out her request had prevented him from realizing that she spoke perfect English. He had to stop himself from gasping when processed her delicate voice. She had an accent. Slight. Gentle. Barely-there and it wasn’t Italian. He would later learn that her R’s made it more prominent.

“It’s alright. It happens” She instantly recognized who he was. Her heart raced for a minute or two, but she restrained herself from making a huge scene. After all, it was Harry Styles. Whom she considered, the most stylish man of her generation. The man could wear a curtain and still pull it off. “I am Harry” He rises a bit from his seat, extending his right hand.

“Catalina” She shakes his hand with a smile. “So, what brings you here?” Even her name was attractive — he wondered.

“Is’not obvious?”

“Not really. Enlighten me” The stranger gives him a small smirk while placing her napkin over her lap after crossing her legs under the table. Harry purges his lips as he uses his index finger and thumb to slightly tug on his bottom lip.

His whole plan to stay away from her had failed. Did he regret it?. Hell no! He just hoped he had chosen wisely.

“The art” He reveals as he watches her cut one of her ravioli before putting it in her mouth. She responds by only nodding; too indulged in the explosion of flavors within her mouth.

“Music?” She hums as she brings the glass of wine up to her mouth. “ I thought you were more of a dolce far niente type of man” her mouth curved into a smile. Dolce far niente means pleasant relaxation in carefree idleness. Harry instantly identified the phrase from Julia Roberts's famous movie — Eat, Pray, Love. She remembered reading somewhere that he was a rom-com fan.

“Are you?” He shot back. There was no doubt that he was intrigued by her.

“Si” She shrugged as she pushed around some ravioli.

“Then we have more in common than I thought, Catalina” Her name rolled off his tongue without any strain. It was as if he had been practicing for months. She had never heard her name sound so attractively. Sure, he had an accent, but it was still beautifully pronounced.

Harry’s order arrived moments later. He had ordered the classic spaghetti bolognese. He grabbed his fork and knife and right before digging into the plate, he looked up at her. Catalina had been watching him since silence had fallen upon them. His smirk grew into a soft chuckle as their eyes met. She giggled at him and first noticed his dimples. She now understood everyone's obsession with his smile.

“Would you join me?” Catalina spluttered after a few minutes of mentally debating with herself. She felt her heart beating in her throat and her hands dripping with sweat as other parts of her body. It was all very hot.

Catalina wasn’t the type of woman to initiate conversation. She rarely even texts first!. Her excuse is usually that she doesn’t want to bother or interrupt. In reality, she is scared shitless to make a fool out of herself. Therefore, she was quite surprised by herself to have asked him to have dinner together.

Harry cocked his head with his lips pursed. To her, he looked very pensive as if he was making a big decision. She didn’t blame him. He was on vacation and the last thing he wanted was to be photographed with a random girl and for questions to be asked. Although, he had already agreed in his mind. He just couldn’t come across as desperate. Even though he was. Harry wanted to know more.

His fingers tucked his clothed napkin into the collar of his shirt. A chuckle left his lips as he pushed his seat back and raised on his feet. He held his plate and utensils with one hand while his glass of wine with the other.

“So, where are you from?” Harry was first to ask, as he twisted his spaghetti around his folk. Catalina leaned back on her seat, her fingers clenching around her wine glass as she finished swallowing. “I am English” he laughs as if his accent didn’t give it away.

“Really? Bet my life you were Italian” Catalina bantered

“What gave it away?”

“The facial hair and the good head of locks” Harry grinned covering his face with his hands, feeling his cheeks heating up. He felt ridiculous for blushing at such a minuscule compliment. ��But anyway, I was born in South America, but raised in Spain by my aunt”. She revealed playing with the small droplets around the cup of ice water that had been forgotten.

“And what are you doing here?”

“I study here” She had just finished her first semester. “Well not here, but in Rome. I am majoring in art history”.

The not so strangers sat for hours and indulged in one more bottle of wine. Harry encouraged her to pick but she politely refused. She said that she hadn’t spent enough time in Italy to know what was best.

She told him about her parents. Her father had walked out on her mother after she had told him that she was expecting. Catalina also shared with him how she felt after losing her mother to cancer when she was only ten. She was quite surprised at herself. She had never shared so much with anyone. Let alone, someone she had met that same night. Harry brought her some kind of comfort that she had no idea she needed.

Harry listened to her. She hadn’t finished speaking and answering his previous question and he already had another one formulated. He liked hearing her speak. She allowed him to pick at her brain and he liked what he saw. She was driven, independent, somewhat lonely, but incredibly smart. Catalina was also unbelievably wise for her age.

“What about you? Is fame all you thought it would be?” Catalina asked moments after they had been kicked out of the restaurant. They eventually had to close. Harry held what was left of the bottle as they walked down the isolated streets.

“That’s a heavily loaded question” He chuckled, “It’s way more complicated and difficult. I think I expected to never feel lonely by the continuous abundance of people around me. But in reality, sometimes it feels lonelier than when I was just Harry” Harry shrugged, masking the pain that the vulnerability that he suddenly felt.

“I get it. The screams and faces don’t match the number of people close to you” Catalina was not famous but she could understand where he was coming from. Sure, her aunt had raised her, but she had felt lonely for most of her life. Her mother's death had felt a gaping hole in her life that no one has ever been able to fulfill.

“M’not ungrateful for my friends but I do feel lonely. I guess I haven't found what I am looking for” Harry flashed her a reassuring smile as they walked down to the main road. “Let me help yeh” He had seen her struggling to walk over the cobblestone streets. She wore low heel sandals that complemented the white satin dress that she has opted for. Unfortunately, the heels were thin enough to slip through the stones making her overly cautious where she stepped.

Harry switched the bottle to his other hand and offered his hand for her to take. She stopped momentarily and stared at his massive hands. They were bare. His famous rings were missing as if they had gone on a vacation too. She took his hand and was slightly surprised at their softness. She had expected them to be rough but they were quite the opposite.

“Thank you”

“No problem” He wanted to spend more time with her. He wished that the night wasn’t ending. “I would invite you for some gelato, but it’s quite late. I doubt there is any place opened”

“How long are you staying?” Catalina asked as she noticed them approaching the entrance of her hotel.

“A few more weeks” the splendor of the lights of the entrance of the hotel illuminated her features. Harry couldn’t help thinking how lovely she looked.

“I’ve had a lovely time. Will I see you tomorrow?”

“M’not planning on goin anywhere” Catalina reached up, resting a delicate hand on his shoulder, she kissed his cheek.

“I’ll see you around then” She gave him a little wave as she walked her way through the doors. She would later realize that she hadn’t only kissed him because it was part of her culture and tradition but because he managed to ignite a flame within her — that one had ever done before.

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harryandmolly · 4 years ago

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fear and loathing in mandeville canyon *2*

summary: Shawn & Lilly, derailed, detoured, but maybe not destroyed

warnings: language, going going but not quite gone

wc: 3.2k

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He forgot about how pink she is.

It sounds so stupid, even in his head. Of course she’s kind of pink. She’s pale and gingery. It’s just jarring to see her skin like this again, glowing in the kitchen in the dappled morning sunlight.

He announces himself with a clearing of his throat and peels his interested gaze away from the way her rosy toes bounce to an invisible beat against the kitchen floor. She looks over her shoulder.

More pink.

“Morning,” he grunts, edging around the other side of the counter to head for the fridge.

“Hi.”

Her voice is soft and a little rough. He forces himself not to look at her. He busies himself instead with digging an apple out of the fruit drawer.

“How’s the room?” he asks, a safe entrance point.

“Oh, it’s good. It’s nice.”

He aches. They’re so awkward. He doesn’t know what he was expecting. He tried to steel himself for this, he knew they couldn’t just fall back into what they were before. But how do you prepare for the awkwardness of being strangers with your best friend?

“Good. Cool. Yeah, I thought the balcony would be good. I mean, y’know, for yoga.”

She nods, then looks back down at the pan of eggs she’s cooking. She’s swirling her spatula, cooking them over a very low heat like Gordon Ramsey. He’s never watched her cook eggs before. When they were together, they usually Postmated breakfast. He doesn’t really know why.

She looks tired, despite his assumption that she slept from early last night until just now. She looks as tired as he feels, having gotten around the four hours that’s become all but normal to him recently. He has too much going on in his head to expect any restorative sleep. There aren’t enough waking hours in the day, so his body made more.

Lilly looks up at him so suddenly he stops, mouth open, the apple hovering near his lips, unmoving. He feels his heart stutter in his chest.

Her eyes drop. She swallows and seems to refocus on her breakfast. Shawn tries not to feel disappointed. After all, he disappointed her first.

“I’ll be around outside if you need me,” he offers, hoping to god he doesn’t look like a kicked puppy as he wanders off, watching her gaze remain steady on the eggs like he didn’t say anything at all.

Shawn slips the phone back into his pocket. It’s not doing him any good right now. He’s not sure what is. He glances down at his guitar disdainfully, then back up to squint through the afternoon sun at the winding gardens.

He’s been outside almost all day. A part of him wonders if he’s subconsciously surrendering the space to her, in case she really doesn’t want him in it. A bigger part of him thinks he just doesn’t want her to hear this shit he’s working on.

Every time he thinks of a lyric and decides to sing it out loud, he almost convulses with disgust. Nothing sounds right or feels right. He likes the melody -- loves it, actually. He hasn’t written anything worth a damn in the last few weeks, and possibly before, and this had him hoping he was getting back on track with his album. But now he’s stuck. Beyond stuck. He’s exhausted and stressed enough to half-believe he’s lost any songwriting talent he ever had.

He wonders what Lilly’s doing. He’s afraid to check. He doesn’t want to hover or annoy her. His stomach turns at the idea of her disliking him any more than she already does. The truth is, he craves her company more than anything else about her. He misses plucking at a guitar at one end of a couch with her feet in his lap while she wrote on her laptop. He even misses FaceTime sessions when they were mostly silent, getting other shit done, but just wanted, needed to be with each other.

He wets his lips and slouches against the teak garden bench, sighing heavily as his mind races through a harried, scattered version of a summation of the last nine months. He can’t believe he let everything get so fucked up. Shawn picks at a loose thread on his gym shorts and wonders if there’s any chance at all that she might miss being around him, too.

He lifts the guitar back into his lap after a too-long self pity session. He clears his throat and shifts to get comfortable. As he does, he senses something that makes him look over his shoulder, just in time to catch the flutter of a curtain closing from one of the living rooms with floor-to-ceiling windows that face the backyard.

He turns back to the guitar.

Shawn heads inside around dinner time. He can feel the heat settling in his shoulders and the bridge of skin across his nose and he knows he should’ve been wearing sunscreen. He also knows that nine months ago, Lilly would’ve ripped him a new one if he came back to her sunburnt, so he’s a little masochistically curious to see her reaction.

She’s in the kitchen again, almost exactly where he left her. Her hair is piled up in a bun that’s been picked at and hastily rebuilt all day. At some point she changed into a new pair of leggings and a workout tank. She looks like an Instagram ad for trendy healthy living in this kitchen. He allows himself half a smile.

He props the guitar up against the window seat and edges toward her like she’s a feral cat. Her eyes lift from the wide blonde-wooded butcher’s block that lives beside the sink. They narrow almost imperceptibly at the sight of him, all red and sweaty, he’s sure, and then drop back down to the box of Kraft mac and cheese she’s pouring into a boiling pot.

He’s gonna live on that look for days.

“Hey,” he grunts, realizing his voice is a little hoarse from abusing it all day, “How was your day?”

Shawn really hasn’t been inside at all. Or eaten basically anything. Or had any water. Unfortunately that’s not off-brand for him lately. But it means he hasn’t seen her since 9am.

He missed her.

She lifts and drops a shoulder, stirring the noodles so they don’t clump like he always used to forget to do. “It was fine.”

Shawn waits. She doesn’t owe him any more, but he hopes for it anyway.

She glances up at him. “Do you want half of this?”

He swears his growling empty stomach flops down onto his shoes. A combination of misplaced politeness and knee-jerk negative reaction to dairy drilled into him by Cez and Jocelyne have him shaking his head before he can think about it.

“That’s ok, I shouldn’t.”

Lilly snorts and Shawn goes stiff.

“Oh shut up and just take it.”

His chest deflates as he blinks, startled. He nods and nearly stumbles up to the bar to sit while she prepares it.

It takes him a strangely long time to notice that she’s playing music on her phone. He tilts his head and identifies it as a deep cut from Heavier Things by John Mayer. He wonders if he goes a little pinker.

She adds extra butter and shredded cheddar to the macaroni. He tries not to consider what eating this much shitty processed cheese for the first time in months will do to his body. He’s grateful that his bathroom is a whole house away from hers.

Lilly prepares their bowls in silence, holding up her trusty Old Bay seasoning as an offering that he politely refuses with a timid smile. If he’s not delusional from low blood sugar and dehydration, she smiles a little bit too.

Lilly rounds the counter to sit beside him at the bar. The whole right side of his body tingles in response to her closeness. His heart rate lifts, his fingers reach for his spoon to stir faster, needing something to do. And then just before she sits, her phone rings.

She checks the caller and looks up at him semi-apologetically.

“Sorry, it’s my mom.”

Lilly wanders away, phone to her ear, bowl in her hand.

Shawn drags his spoon through the cheese sauce she got so remarkably smooth. He eats every bite. It might be the best mac and cheese he’s ever had.

The master bedroom is located at the end of a long hallway that creaks and crackles charmingly with the age of the house. Shawn doesn’t really notice it when he’s walking from one end of it to the other, but he does when it’s her.

He’s feeling sorry for himself, his new not-favorite pastime, staring at his phone in partial darkness in the wide open sitting room adjacent to his bedroom. The sun set ten minutes ago, the world outside is blue. The white carpet below his bare, dirty feet is kind of blue too. His guitar sits in the corner, shunned and untouched.

The footsteps feel like a phantom sensation at first, but he doesn’t have long enough to think about it before she walks around the corner into the room. She doesn’t hesitate, she doesn’t slow down.

She’s in a heavy oversized sweater and sleep shorts holding a bottle of red and two glasses. She lifts an eyebrow and shrugs. Shawn wants to cry.

He nods at her and sits up, hoping he looks more welcoming than despondent. He tries a smile. She chuckles and sits at his feet, cross-legged, and opens the screw top bottle.

“Please stop looking at me like I might slap you at any moment.”

Shawn clicks his tongue nervously. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

She ignores his comment and passes up his glass by the stem. He’s careful to take it by the bowl despite how badly he wants to touch her fingers. She sits back with her own and looks up at him steadily for the first time since she got here.

“Cheers. We’re lucky. Really lucky.”

Shawn matches the way she raises her glass, then he drinks, raking a hand through his sticky hair.

She’s right, of course. He realizes he hasn’t thought about it much since he got back to LA. Getting to her and then getting her safe was his singular focus, which as he thinks about it now, is extraordinary privilege. He feels gross all of a sudden for how little consideration he’s given everything, everyone else.

Another failing to choke down.

“Are you ok?”

Shawn blinks. He looks down at her. She’s staring up at him, head tilted like a cocker spaniel, glass sitting between her fingers. He looks at them instead of her face.

“Yeah. Just tired.”

Another lie to choke down.

Lilly takes a big sip. “You look like you’re doing the self-flagellation thing.”

“What self-flagellation thing?”

He doesn’t know if it’s more bullishness or true curiosity driving him to ask.

“You’ve got this look on your face like you’re recreating the “Stitches” video in your own head.”

It startles him into laughing. She doesn’t laugh with him.

“I don’t know. I feel like I should be ok. I don’t have a reason not to be.”

She seems to consider him for a few moments. She takes another sip. Shawn looks down. His glass is empty. Lilly notices and refills it.

“Not like I do, you mean?”

That feeling in Shawn’s chest that first showed up when he confronted her at her house is back. It’s like a tiny pebble is clogging an artery, or something. Everything feels a little stuck and he’s not even mad because he probably deserves it.

He exhales a shaky breath and brings his hand through his hair again. “I dunno.”

This second wishy-washy answer isn’t what she wanted. She hardens. “I want you to know, I want you to understand that I was fine. I am fine. I do appreciate the rescue but I didn’t need… closure.”

The pebble fucking grows.

“Closure?” he nearly chokes.

“That feels like the only sane reason you insisted on coming to see me.”

It’s pointed. Her pretty gunmetal blue eyes are solid. Her lips have gone tight around the corners. It’s a clear warning.

His eyes drift shut in a heavy blink. He takes another sip.

“I feel like… for as often as I’ve thought about talking to you about this, I should know what I want to say. But I still don’t.”

Lilly sighs and drains her glass, refilling it. “Keep drinking, you’ll figure it out.”

Shawn looks down at his and finishes it. Lilly refills it.

He studies the way her legs fold beneath her, and the white casts of stretch marks visible against her inner thighs, the ones he used to trace with his tongue, nose, fingers. He recognizes the sweater she’s wearing. It’s so big it pools around her wrists even where she’s rolled it up. She got it in college at Goodwill for $5. It used to be her favorite piece of clothing. He wonders if it’s been replaced.

With a lurch of his already sensitive stomach, he wonders if he has, too.

“Have you dated anyone?”

Her nose wrinkles distastefully and he sees the misstep he’s made too late, like a pile of dogshit.

“Seriously?”

“Sorry, sorry. Fuck. You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s not my business.”

She raises her eyes to the ceiling and shakes her head. He feels thoroughly chastised. He thinks maybe she’ll just get up and walk away. He dreads that and craves the punishment of it in equal measure.

“It’s not that.”

His brow furrows. She can still surprise him.

“What is it?” he whispers.

Her nose twitches. “I just… I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t interested. I didn’t want anyone else.”

He goes so warm all over, a sensation he distantly remembers but is sure he doesn’t deserve.

After a moment, Shawn climbs down from his chair and takes the bottle, filling his glass. He sits in front of her. It’s not six feet away, it’s not even close. He’ll move if she asks.

“I thought I had to know why. It was the thing that had me a heartbeat away from calling you a dozen times. I thought if you could just tell me why you loved her more, I could get over it faster,” she muses.

Shawn holds his breath while she speaks to her dwindling glass.

“But more than that I wanted to hold onto my pride. I wanted my last words to you to be those, what I said before you left that night. That won, I guess.”

She’s quiet for almost a minute.

“Do you remember what I said?” she asks.

He says “yes” quietly and doesn’t add that those moments are seared indelibly in his memory -- her face, her breath, her tone, every word exactly as she delivered them. It’s the stuff of his regular nightmares.

She huffs and smiles, but it’s dark. “It didn’t even work. I never got to hate you, even as badly as I wanted to. I think I’ve loved you too much to ever hate you.”

Shawn’s head feels light from the booze and the lack of oxygen he’s allowing it from refusing to breathe.

“I thought it was a curse, maybe. Especially because for a while I couldn’t even look at pictures of you with her. I’d get all panicked and distracted, even in public. But lately, like in the last… I dunno, three months? It got a lot easier. I don’t know why. There never seemed to be a trigger for healing, but it felt like it started finally after waiting around for it forever. And now we’re here and I don’t know what kind of mark this will leave.”

She’s speaking easily, matter-of-factly, but he thinks he knows her well enough to feel what’s beneath it. He could always tell exactly how she was feeling, even when she didn’t want him to.

Shawn clears his throat twice before attempting to speak, but his voice still sounds broken and shredded. “There was so much I wanted to say to you after I left. But… the biggest thing, the thing that bothered me the most, the part I fucking hated, is that you wondered if I felt like I was settling with you, that I was waiting around for her consciously when I was with you. I… I never felt that way. I wanted you. I was so crazy about you. I really fucking loved you.”

The past tense hurts to say out loud, like he’s spitting glass. Lying to her disgusts him, but he thinks it’s the first unselfish thing he’s done in months. She doesn’t want to hear that he still loves her. Even if he thinks he always will. It’s not the time. So he swallows it.

She looks interested, convinced maybe. She finishes her glass and pours herself more, topping up his glass with the rest of the bottle.

“I had myself convinced I didn’t need to hear that.”

A flare of unfamiliar pride glimmers in his chest. He did something good. He said something that helped. Maybe he’s not as miserable a bastard as he thought.

“It’s true,” he assures her, feeling bleary from the wine but absolutely certain.

“I think I knew,” she admits, stretching out her legs so her feet sit beside him. He forces himself not to look at her soft, shapely thighs, “Because… it was really good for a while.”

But she’s always surprising him. Out of seemingly nowhere, Lilly’s chin wobbles. She claps a hand over her mouth to cover a harsh, sobbing inhale. Shawn’s blood runs cold.

“Lilly,” he breathes, blinking quickly, “Lilly, I’m so sorry.”

Her eyes go sort of green when she cries. Shawn hates that he knows that. He wishes he knew everything about her but that.

Without thinking, without breathing, without another word, Shawn leans forward and gets as far as brushing his lips across hers before she springs back and stares at him like he’s just screamed in her face.

“What the fuck?”

“Oh god,” Shawn spews, “Oh god, fuck, I’m sorry. Oh fuck, I’m so sorry. Lil, fuck, shit, I didn’t-- oh god--”

As he garbles his way through apologies, Lilly leaps to her feet and leaves without another word. Shawn lurches in her direction like he wants to catch her but doesn’t fully commit. He hears himself continuing to mumble hopelessly until her quick footsteps are too far away to hear the creaking protests of the old house.

Shawn lets his body drop to the carpet beside the empty wine bottle. He releases a shaky breath and lifts the heels of his hands to his eyes, pressing in when the tears come. He doesn’t know why he’s crying. He shouldn’t be allowed. He should be forced to keep this feeling bottled up, to live with it -- live with knowing he made her uncomfortable. He forced himself on her. He kissed her when she didn’t want him to. There should be no relief from that.

But it only makes him cry harder.

----------

I can only hope you’ve been inundated with these links the last few days, but just in case you haven’t, here they are. Please visit them and give what you can, be it time, consideration, or money. Let’s affect some fucking change, shall we?

Minnesota Freedom Fund

George Floyd’s Family’s GoFundMe

Color of Change Petition

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Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @simpledomain @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @thecurlsofgod @magcon7280 @bensbuttercup @shawnsmusical @paigeasourous @tell-me-when-ur-ready @softmendesss @searchingunderthestars @buggy-blogs @mendesficsxbombay @siennarossi @lostinshawnsmemory @umbreakablesoul @sleepybesson @shawnsheaven @shaawnie @shawn-youth @graysonmendes

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ohhellnowhy · 5 years ago

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Happy Birthday, Sammy.

In honour of Sam Winchester’s birthday, I decided to write some smut for him. Thought I’d start off my blog with a lil present. Plz be nice, it’s only my first smut, and constructive criticism and comments are always welcomed! Go for a request if you want one. I’ve got a couple more posts planned but if y’all request something I’m more likely to write!

Please reblog with credit and don’t repost without my permission onto other sites. The AO3 post: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23993437

Sam x Reader: smut, swearing, slightly Dom!Sam, restraints.

I woke up slightly groggily next to Sam. It was crazy sometimes, how he was so warm, despite me being on the other side of the bed and barely touching him. But what was a little strange was waking up next to him. Usually, Sam would’ve been up and out for his run by now, maybe even back by the time I’d awoken, but Sam, Dean and I had been out for a relatively taxing hunt and drove back to the bunker more or less immediately after getting the job done. So Sam was particularly sleepy today and wouldn’t go on a run until later.

Glancing at the time, I saw it was 09:03. A strange time for me to be up and Sam not to be. Then the realisation dawned. Today was May 2nd; Sam’s birthday. I figured my subconscious must have made me wake up earlier so I could put my plans into action. Oh, and boy, did I have plans.

Part 1: Birthday wake-up blowjob.

Smirking almost evilly, I slowly peeled back the covers from the both of us and positioned myself just next to his crotch. I then palmed his cock through his boxers, noticing the morning wood that was slightly growing beforehand, whilst slowly edging the underwear down. Sam groaned above me, but not waking up yet. Once the boxers were down enough, I started softly stroking him enough for him to get harder, but only slowly so he wouldn’t wake up before the best bit. Sam was still making some happy noises, now a little bit louder and complimented by a little bit of squirming.

It was the perfect time to engulf his cock with my mouth, and Sam shot awake with a deep groan. “Ah, SHIT, (Y/N). That’s a wonderful wake up call.” I looked back up at him and hollowed my cheeks, sucking with earnest. I bobbed my head up and down his length, drawing stifled groans from the glorious, messy man above me. I flicked my tongue over the head of his dick, making him thrust up into my mouth which consequently made me gag. Trying to suppress the reflex, I took him down further into my throat. “Oh, God, (Y/N), I’m gonna-” With the obvious statement he was making, I cupped his balls and circled his cock with my tongue, swallowing around him as he came. Once I swallowed all his cum, I sat back up to give him a quick peck on the lips.

“Happy Birthday, Sammy.” Once he got his breath together, he actually formulated a coherent response. “Oh, yeah. I sorta forgot about that.”

“How do you forget your own birthday?” I questioned, looking at him incredulously. “Well, we never really celebrated birthdays.” He shrugged. “I guess there always seemed to be more important things to focus on.”

“And that attitude is why I’m making your birthdays more important to you. They’re good milestones and an excuse to have fun. Remember Dean’s birthday this year? Wasn’t it fun to just get away from hunting a little bit and enjoy quality time?” He sighed. admitting defeat. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” We then sat and just held each other for a bit, talking about just whatever we wanted for an hour or two. “Thank you for the wake up by the way. We need to have morning sex more often.”

“I totally agree with you. We don’t do it nearly enough - barely ever.” With that, he captured my lips with his, tenderly and sloppily making out. He started to grab my ass, trying to pull my shorts down but I cut him off. “Nuh-uh. We’ve got other plans today. Why don’t you go for your run first?” He whined, trying to give me the puppy dog eyes but I resisted. “Nope. You want me to get you anything from the kitchen before you go out?” Sam sighed, knowing that once I knew for certain I was going to do something, I wasn’t ever giving up. “Can I get an apple and a bottle of water please?”

“Sure thing.” I smirked, getting out of bed and walking to the kitchen to retrieve the requested items. Dean was also in the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes from breakfast. “Hey, Dean, Sam’s off out for his run - we’ve got to start now.” With that, he strode out of the kitchen to get Jack and Cas for the preparation. I grabbed the apple and a bottle of water from the fridge - Sam always had cold bottles of water kept in the fridge for quickness - and met Sam on his way out. “Thanks, Babe.” He said, giving me a quick kiss before heading out.

It was time for Part 2: Just a Small Birthday Party

Once the rest were assembled in the kitchen, I set out tasks. “Dean and Cas - you’re in charge of the decorations. We need some in here and around the map room. Jack - we’re gonna do the cake. Decorations are in my old room. Go.”

Dean and Cas scurried off, realising they were time limited. Jack got the ingredients out and measured them whilst I got the utensils and the like out and started preparing. Jack was watching my baking intently, clearly wanting to learn something as interesting and delicious as this. I narrated what I was doing, with reasons as to why with my limited knowledge. I wasn’t the best baker in the world, but every now and then I did something that surprised the Winchesters. Soon, the cake was in the oven, and Dean and Cas were already pretty much finished in all the rooms. Jack and I cleaned up the baking mess (complete with licking the spare batter off the spoons and whisks) and started preparing the decorations for the cake and making other foods. Dean was cooking gourmet burgers and homemade chips - he actually had quite the affinity for cooking and had more time to perfect it once they’d moved into the bunker.

Just as Jack and I were about to decorate the cake, Cas came rushing in to tell us he heard one of the garage doors closing, meaning Sam must be back. I told Cas to take over what I was doing with Jack whilst I distracted Sam for just a little while longer until we were ready. Coming into our shared bedroom to see Sam stripping out of his workout clothes, I tempted him with the prospect of us showering together and another blowjob. He took the bait and we very much enjoyed the bunker’s long-lasting hot water and stable water pressure.

Once we were cleaned up, I noticed Dean had shot me a text saying they were ready. “Hey, Sam, I think Dean’s cooking those nice burgers we get from the butcher’s - you up for food?” Hearing his stomach grumble, he shot me a look that said it all.

A little nervous, Sam and I wandered towards the kitchen. Turning on the lights, which he seemed confused at as to why they were off, Jack, Cas and Dean stood up to shout “SURPRISE!” along with me behind him. Jack and Dean joking pulled some party poppers as Sam took in some decorations. A banner that stated “Happy Birthday!” In a surprisingly nice, simple colour was strung above the table, with a few more obnoxiously stereotypical balloons in one corner and some presents wrapped near them. “Aw, thanks guys! You didn’t have to do this for me.” Dean spoke first, joking that his little brother was “-getting older by the minute so they had to stave off the grumpiness as long as possible.” He also revealed the burgers he was cooking with an assortment of sides and fillings available. We all served up our lunches and cracked open a beer each.

As we ate lunch, we talked about all sorts; Dean’s surprisingly good cooking, Cas eating on a rare occasion, retelling old stories and teasing at embarrassing moments - we were all content and having a good time. Jack and I dumped the dishes in the sink to tend to later as we brought out the cake and Jack lit all the candles for us. He cut the lights as I carried the cake to the table and decided not to sing happy birthday as only Dean and I knew the song and it would only be awkward otherwise. “Make a wish!” I said as Sam blew out his candles, Cas then questioning these strange human customs moments later. Sam cut some cake for us all and the others appreciated my baking skills.

“Okay, time for presents!” Dean announced, taking the whole pile of gifts and dumping them on the table just as Cas cleaned the rest of the plates away. The first was from Cas - neatly wrapped were some old lore books that, somehow, the Winchesters had never got their hands on before yet Castiel somehow did. Jack had gotten Sam a plaid shirt and a big photo album with a few old photos he got from Dean and some more recent ones that had been taken on various occasions - but there was still lots of room for more. I gave Sam a box of chocolates and a couple of fiction books Sam had been meaning to read for a long time but he had just never got round to. Finally came Dean’s gift; a pair of Lycra shorts and other pretentious but cheap workout clothing that were just utterly ridiculous. But then in all seriousness Dean handed Sam a box that, once unwrapped, revealed a new tablet. Sam was particularly ecstatic with this gift, but then he profusely thanked us all again for the presents. Jack went on with washing the dishes (with angel powers) whilst Dean and Cas cleared up some rubbish from the unwrapping.

I helped Sam carry the presents to his room. As he bent over to put the new shirt in one of his drawers, I came up behind him and snaked my arms around his waist and propped my head up on his shoulder. “Ya know, those chocolates and the books weren’t the only presents you’re receiving from me today.” He turned around to face me and smirked knowingly. “Oh? And what would be the other present?”

“Let me show you.”

I grabbed a bag hidden in the wardrobe, and dashed off to the bathroom to change.

The last part - Part 3: Amazing Birthday Sex.

Sam’s POV

Waiting in anticipation, I thought I knew what to expect but I also didn’t. I presumed it was birthday sex or some variation thereof, but whatever twist (Y/N) was putting on it I couldn’t tell. I was snapped out of my thoughts by a text I’d just received - from Dean. It read:

Me, Cas and Jack are off to a hunt in Washington - leaving you two to have some alone time. It should be a pretty simple hunt, but we’ll be about 3 days. I’ll only call if it’s desperate. Stay safe and have fun, birthday brother ;)

I sent back a quick, thankful reply as I realised (Y/N) had planned all of this. The sly, stunning dog had planned this all out and roped the rest of them in aswell. Not that I was complaining, simply noticing the effort (Y/N) had put into this. God, she was amazing; on every single level.

Speaking of the devil, she sauntered in at that point, looking absolutely delicious on every level. She wore a red, lacy matching set of lingerie that made me almost drool at the sight of her. Her cleavage displayed perfectly and teasingly as it was framed by her bra, and the completely lace panties accentuating her figure in the best possible way. “Like what you see?” She said tauntingly, one hip cocked out sassily. “Oh, fuck yeah.” I replied, striding purposefully over and crashing my lips into hers, holding her face in my hands.

She pulled away and said: “Hang on. I’ve got something else for you.” (Y/N) told me to sit on the edge of the bed, hold out my hands and close my eyes. I then felt her sat on the bead, nearer to the headrest but then lent forward to place two objects in my hands. Before I could try to assess what they were by touch alone, she said I could open my eyes. I immediately looked down to see a pair of leather-lined handcuffs and a long, silk rectangle of fabric. It was obvious what they were for. “You want me to use these on you?”

“You can do whatever you want with them. The control’s all on you, birthday boy.”

I groaned at all the filthy thoughts running a millions miles an hour through my head and almost leapt on (Y/N) to kiss her. I positioned her to lay beneath me, her starting to unfasten the buttons on my shirt. Bringing up her wrists to the headboard, I scolded her gently. “Ah, ah ah.” I stopped her, fastening her hands together with the handcuffs, attaching them to the headboard so she was stuck in one position.

“The control’s all on me, little girl.”

She let out a shaky breath at this.

We both knew it was going to be one hell of a night.

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader smut #dean winchester #castiel #jack kline #dom!sam #handcuffs #happy birthday sam winchester #smut #why i am like this #whyyyy

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rightingthewriting-blog · 6 years ago

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My First Kiss

I wonder how many of you remember your first kiss? Maybe some of you haven’t had it yet. That’s okay. It’s not abnormal. (Of course, it is, but I’m trying to make you feel better).

When I was about 12 or 13 there was a book that came out called “How to Kiss”which, unsurprisingly, showed you how to kiss. Straight up. That was one of the methods. My friend Debbie and I decided to save up our pocket money and buy this book together. This was pre-Amazon otherwise I’m sure we would have been informed that: “People who bought this also bought “How to Have Sex” and “How to stop Buying ‘How To..’ Books”

The book gave you step-by-step instructions on; what shape to make with your mouth, how to avoid clashing teeth and when it is and is not appropriate to use tongues - apparently family weddings is in the “is not” category. I know now.

The book also told you that the best way to practice kissing was on the back of your hand. Personally I don’t think kissing the back of your hand was a great way to practice, unless you intended kissing a boy whose mouth had sealed up and who ticked when you kissed him.

After reading this book cover to cover several times, I was ready. And the recipient of my first ever kiss was a boy called Jack. I was in his bedroom listening to his Radiohead album and I thought; ‘Before I’m sick I’d better make a move’. So, remembering the book, or rather remembering that I had the book in my back pocket, I went into the bathroom and did some quick revision on Chapter 5 - The Kiss (chapters 1 to 4 were all about; ‘What to wear’, ’What not to eat’ and ‘What to avoid touching’). Anyway, after memorising as much as I could I returned to the bedroom and waited for him to make his move. (Of course, had he not, then I would have taken the upper hand - although I’m not sure where I would have put it!)

Eventually he lunged at me - and we did it. There were lips, tongues, and more saliva than a St Bernard’s dog at a butcher’s window. The main thing was, I had done it. I was so pleased with myself. I thought; ‘Nothing can stop me now’ - for a moment I’d forgotten how important looks were.

What I wasn’t expecting was that word of the kiss was going to be passed around his mates. Mind you it wasn’t a bad review. Something like; ‘Style 7 out of 10, Content 7 out of 10 and Overall Artistic Impression 8 out of 10.’

This resulted in Kevin Taylor (the boyfriend of the school bully) asking me if I would kiss him behind the bike sheds. I thought this was quite weird, especially as our school didn’t have bike sheds. Anyway I weighed up the pros and cons; Pros – kissing Kevin Taylor probably the best looking boy in the school, Cons – getting beaten up by Carol Peters for kissing her boyfriend.

Eventually I decided to kiss him. Afterward he told me I was a great kisser. I was flattered. He then told Carol. I was flattened.

Carol said to me that I should show her how great a kisser I was by kissing all the classroom doors in the school.

So, with an entourage of most of the school in tow, I went around each classroom door and kissed them. No tongues – well I hardly knew them.

Carol had wanted this to be a humiliation – and considering I’d kissed her boyfriend and everyone knew about it, who could blame her? However, my asking the doors if I could see them again or what they were doing on Saturday night, didn’t have the desired effect. And when, at the end of my door-kissing marathon I said; ‘I think the Science Lab door was the best kisser. I really thought there was chemistry between us’ Carol decided that she should just hit me.

I didn’t ever kiss Kevin after that one time. To be honest I think he only did it to get back at Carol for something. Still, I was quite happy being used and it gave me practice for the future. And I’m pleased to say that the Science Lab door and I have kept in contact ever since.

#kiss #kissing #book #books #fiirsttime #boyfriend #school

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jessiewre · 5 years ago

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Day 23

Mon 27th Jan

Started off with Spanish omelettes again, once the manager sorry I mean chef, had gone to buy an avocado that is. Then we then went to the Women’s Center for Take 2 of the walking tour.

I’d mentioned the night before to Esther that our bags were slightly over packed and Esther had kindly agreed to take a couple of items we didn’t want to carry with us back to London - so I’d got a little (!) glasto canvas bag that we’d bought with us and filled it with bits and bobs that we haven’t been using. Would hopefully make our bags much easier to pack and a little lighter 😬

Was rather thrilled to have this opportunity to send stuff back, even packed a few metal water bottles we’ve been carrying around - they just haven’t been that useful as there’s nowhere to get drinking water from to refill them!

Yes, that means that we’ve been buying far too many plastic bottles which I do not feel good about.

I hoped she wouldn’t be shocked by how much I’d prepped.

So we got to the Women’s Center and Esther met us there and was totally fine with the bag I’d bought (phew!) or at least she did a sterling job pretending to be fine with it, and so we even bought a couple more items in the craft shop to squeeze in there too. I mean, couldn’t miss an opportunity like that could I. Mad to think it will be in London within 24 hours.

The women’s tour started and was just the 3 of us, with no rain - we were so glad we’d postponed it. They told us about two Slovenian women who’d found out about the original group of women who would meet us, and they did some fundraising in Slovenia. With their advice and financial support, it has blossomed into an amazing cooperative of 55 women that help the community, do workshops and education for women, do walking tours and have set up a library and all sorts.

We walked around the community and met different business owners, the milk shop, butchers, coal seller, vegetables shop - Esther even had a braid added to her head.

We ended the tour at someone’s house - Josephine - and there was a DELICIOUS selection of 7 vegetarian dishes awaiting us for our lunch. Oh my god we were so happy, we both had two MASSIVE platefuls and could barely walk afterwards. It was probably the best meal we’d had since we started the trip. There I’ve said it.

We said Bye to Esther, thanking her again for kindly taking our stuff for us, and headed to the bus station to research tickets back to Uganda for the next day.

At the bus station, we looked for Modern Coast buses company, as Philly Tours Atol Protected © had been a good lad and done some research into who did a morning bus all the way to Kampala, Uganda. However the unfriendly lady at the desk informed us that there was ‪a 5pm‬ or ‪7pm‬ option and that was it. Minus points for Phil’s Tours there I think.

We really didn't want to get a night bus so said no thanks. We were confident we would be able to work out a different option.

But another guy who worked there spoke to us and said that there were NO companies that went in the morning anymore. He even said ‘In the name of the Lord’ there were no other companies that did it.

That's when we knew he was definitely lying.

We explained that we would explore other options thank you bye now and he was like Do you think I'm lying, I'm not lying.

And we said No, of course we didn’t, but we were going to explore other options.

Naturally, he followed us out (!) - what is with that - and walked with us as we headed to speak to other companies. And then all of sudden he had a brain wave of inspiration, wow it was miraculous.

'Oh so hang on, maybe try Jaguar company'.

What's that mate? Suddenly remembered that you were definitely lying?

We went to the Jaguar office and there was a bus ‪at 8:30am‬ the next morning.

IN YOUR FACE PRICK.

Then the man who'd walked over with us wanted a tip!

I’ve got a tip for you matey, don’t chat shite and you might get a tip.

We laughed at him and told him he should not lie to people - but eventually gave him 10p just to go away. I know I KNOW thats stupid but it was just one of those things done to keep the peace.

So the lesson learnt is, anyone who says I swear in God's name appears to be a liar.

I'm no expert but I don't think God's gona be too happy about that.

We got bodas back to the hostel but went for a little wander to the shops nearby and to explore the local area. There was a cute little jewellery shop and Phil managed to find some beer to keep him hydrated. What a hero.

We took a shortcut through some local houses, Phil slipping in the process = highlight of the day - but we couldn't find Yego art studio as they'd apparently moved (Google is not always right). Then Inzora rooftop was hot and small so we didn’t stay there, then we went next door to a nice place with a good view but realised that we really didn't want to eat or drink anything. So we awkwardly got up to leave and I said as an excuse Phil had ‘forgotten his wallet’ but then he said at the same time he'd ‘forgotten his TISSUES’ (the afternoons beers had definitely started to work their magic), and so the waitress looked at us like we were weirdos and we swiftly left. We got bodas back to the hostel and I chilled on the balcony but Phil had the taste for it now, the dreaded flavour, so he decided he wanted to go bowling on his own with his speaker and some more beers.

Oh gad we were in danger zone.

After an hour or so, Phil had enough of the bowling but was waist deep in Santan Dave's album Phsyco and had convinced himself he too was a rapper from Streatham going through some tough times, so it was tricky trying to convince him that we still needed to go for dinner.

I was excited to try this place for dinner that had been recommended by Esther and a few other ppl too - Heaven.

Phil however, was excited to close his eyes and bond with his brother from another mother Dave.

Well, after a slight verbal tug of war, we managed to get to Heaven (woop woop) and the moment we sat down Phil said ‘God I'm so hungry, I’m glad we came out for dinner’. FML.

We both had a tasty mint lemonade, I think even Phil realised another beer might be a bad idea. The mushroom cappuccino soup was served in a tall coffee glass but with a massive spoon, so Phil had a slightly awkward time accessing it. His hunger took over though and he got through it. My Thai Asian salad was delicious too.

So we had high hopes for the mains.

Well, in hindsight I think we ordered the wrong mains.

Phil's sesame eggplant dish was uninspiring and my ravoili was a fishy slop.

Oh maaaaaan.

Just to kick a man when he's down, Phil found a super hot chilli somewhere in his last mouthful and spent the next 10 minutes with his tongue out trying to fan it and make the pain stop. At one point he was rubbing his tongue with his napkin lol.

The brownie dessert was nice enough but it was a shame we hadn't enjoyed the mains when it was a bit of a posh meal.

Phil’s earlier beers were still in effect and as we left, he looked at the waitress as I walked off to use the loo and said

‘She’s just going for a quick plop’

OMG Phil! I made sure I pee’ed fast so we could get the hell out of there while Phil laughed his head off.

We boda'd back and the food was kicking in sending Phil to snoozeville, so straight to bed - foolishly not packing beforehand.

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disappearingground · 5 years ago

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Jenny Lewis The Storyteller

Under the Radar July 1, 2008

"I started when I was 2 1/2 years old, and when I was younger I was always very exuberant and I always showed interest in being the center of attention. So, my mother decided that she wanted to put me in acting because I was so interested in it.” – Jenny Lewis, Teen Set, 1991

By Matt Fink

Type the name “Jenny Lewis” into the YouTube search engine, and buried among music videos and footage of late-night television performances you’ll find a 1991 interview from a television show called Teen Set. The segment features the 15-year-old Lewis politely and carefully fielding a series of insultingly banal questions, ranging from those about her burgeoning hat collection to those concerning the then-exotic trampoline in her backyard. But, having already worked as an actress for 12 years at that point, Lewis never loses her poise; never rolls her eyes or seems bored. For those moments, it seems as if she’s playing a role—that of a soon-to-be star. And while she couldn’t have known that her acting career was about to wane just as she took up an interest in playing the guitar and writing songs, it’s not hard to see a master performer in those few awkward moments. She’s simply unshakable.

With Acid Tongue, Jenny Lewis has finally found the role she has been studying for her entire life, the star of a project where she assumes center stage from start to finish. Following up the critically adored Rabbit Fur Coat—the 2006 release that served as her tentative first solo album with The Watson Twins and a brief respite from eight years of intensive touring and recording as one-half of the songwriting team in Rilo Kiley—Lewis has issued an authoritative statement. Where Rabbit Fur Coat was intentionally understated, a shy-around-the-edges tribute to her mother and the soul and country albums from her record collection, she now works in broad strokes. Where her debut was the sound of an artist just dipping her toes in the water of a solo career, not sure if she really could or even wanted to perform without her band, she now attacks her songs with palpable force and theatricality. With Acid Tongue, Lewis is an actress again, but not the plaintive poet of Rabbit Fur Coat. Part confessional siren, part sin-cataloging prophet, Lewis is primarily a storyteller, joined by a cast of characters and collaborators who stretch through every chapter of an already complex personal narrative.

Through it all, one thing is clear: Jenny Lewis might have left the silver screen, but she does know a good role when she sees it. After all, she was born for the stage.

Capturing Moods

“I would have to say meeting new people and going to new places [is the best part of being an actress]. It’s really a great thing if you can do it.” – Jenny Lewis, Teen Set, 1991

“I’ve been getting a lot of questions about LSD, and I really asked for it by naming the record Acid Tongue,” laughs Lewis from her home in Los Angeles, now 32 years old and freshly removed from finishing up her second full-length release. “And I’ve only had one experience with it, and it was really bad. Terrible. Truly the worst 24 hours of my life. I don’t even know where to begin. My friend at the time had an even worse trip than mine and attempted to chase me around the house with a butcher knife.” She adds with a gasp, “It was so wrong.”

And while Acid Tongue is far from a psychedelic rock album, there is a certain hallucinatory haze that hangs over the proceedings. Recorded in her childhood stomping grounds of Van Nuys, California, the album is a homecoming of sorts, with old friends and family popping in and out at a dizzying pace. And everyone sounds like they’re perfectly utilized, from sister Leslie on “See Fernando” to M. Ward’s growling guitar solo on “Pretty Bird” to Elvis Costello’s snarling vocal on “Carpetbaggers.” Having long championed Lewis for her intricately imagined and vividly peopled narratives, Costello found the process so suitable that he ended up using that day’s version of Lewis’ band for his own album.

“I emailed him and sort of put it out there, and he responded and agreed to come down and sing ‘Carpetbaggers’ for me,” Lewis recalls. “As a tradeoff, he asked if we’d be open to recording two of his new songs. So, in one day, we recorded two Elvis Costello songs and two different versions of ‘Carpetbaggers.’ And those two songs of his ended up on his newest record, Momofuku. I was very nervous, and it took me an hour to figure out what I was going to wear on that day. And I ended up wearing purple on that day, which I don’t wear very much, and he ended up wearing purple, as well,” she giggles. “But I ended up not saying very much on that day. You don’t want to look like an asshole in front of Elvis Costello.”

Acid Tongue’s moods and textures change from song to song, from the smoldering blue-eyed soul of “Pretty Bird” to the multi-part blues boogie “The Next Messiah” and the straight-up country-rock of “Carpetbaggers.” The guitar tones are grittier, the arrangements are punchier and more varied, and Lewis’ singing is more visceral than in the reserved tones of Rabbit Fur Coat. It’s an album that feels like it was pieced together on the fly, a rollicking tribute to those soul bands who often played live in the studio, recording vocals in one take with mistakes left in for character. Having performed four of the songs while touring her first solo album, she invited many of those band members into the studio with her, lending those songs a loose and lived-in feel. From start to finish, Acid Tongue is an album cut from the cloth of the great ’70s singer/ songwriter song cycles, an album that never repeats itself despite retaining an insular and intimate feel. It’s nothing short of the confirmation of Lewis’ arrival among the great musical storytellers of her generation.

“We spent a great deal of time mapping out the record so that we could record it in a short amount of time,” Lewis explains. “We created different band configurations within that map. But, inevitably, things change when you actually perform them. When you’re collaborating with people, they bring things that you didn’t necessarily expect. I just let the songs dictate where the record would end up, and I let the vibe of the session run the ship. I wasn’t necessarily steering the ship.” She adds: “I was a passenger of the good feelings in the studio.”

If Lewis was just along for the ride during the arranging of the songs, she undoubtedly had a much heavier hand in the writing, and never before has she created character sketches that are so imaginative. There are the aching death metaphors of “Black Sand,” where the narrator collapses on the beach and allows herself to be washed out to sea. There’s also the aforementioned “The Next Messiah,” a track whose protagonist is a master shit-talker—a racecar-driving, cancer-surviving farmer, who thinks he just might be God incarnate. Then there’s the garage gospel of “Jack Killed Mom,” a strangely incestuous tale where a lascivious mother drives her son to homicide through her advances. But as much as Lewis commands the album’s center stage, sounding like she’s in total control of every second set to tape, she admits that she’s still haunted by the same nagging fears that plagued her when she was planning her first steps outside of the Rilo Kiley fold.

“I tend to always doubt what I do,” she admits. “I’m never entirely confident. I have this process where I’m happiest when I’ve first written something and when it’s first recorded. After that, the song soon falls out of favor. But this record, because I was surrounded by my friends and because I had played some of the songs on the road with the band, I felt a little more confident. Making this record, I felt as good as I have felt, but I was still filled with doubt once completing it.”

Though you’d never guess it, Lewis says that those insecurities are generally confined to the creative process, and the role of confident singer/songwriter comes more naturally when she’s performing. As the stage can often provide escapism like no other outlet, Lewis has grown comfortable disappearing into the character she becomes on stage every night. The girl who literally grew up on stage often doesn’t feel at home away from it. “I guess maybe the only time that I do feel confident is when I play music,” she says shyly. “‘Confident’ isn’t really the word. I guess I just feel the most like myself. I have a very difficult time with in-between song banter on stage. I just don’t know what to say, and I get so nervous just addressing the crowd.” Her voice then grows more animated: “But when it comes time to play the song, I know exactly what I have to do.”

Pictures of Success

“A lot of people say, ‘Don’t you miss out on your childhood?’ But I don’t. This is my childhood, and I’m learning a lot, and I’m enjoying it very much. I don’t think there are any downsides.” – Jenny Lewis, Teen Set, 1991

The words “former child star” are so often followed by words like “rehab” and “driving with a suspended license” that we scarcely notice when one of those stars ends up with something other than a mugshot and a stillborn career. Having spent their youth working long hours and memorizing lines while their parents scream at casting agents off set, many child stars are too jaded or too damaged before adulthood to want to make art. Though it’s not much of a secret in indie-rock circles that Jenny Lewis once had a second life as an almost famous child actress—she chewed up scenery as Shelly Long’s daughter in Troop Beverly Hills and shared an awkward kiss with Fred Savage in The Wizard—she has somehow managed to become the rarest of all preadolescent performers—one who has survived to reinvent herself as a legitimate artist.

“It wasn’t really my dream,” Lewis replies when asked about the abdication of her previous path. “I didn’t choose to do it. I was very professional, and I enjoyed working and being busy, but it wasn’t something that I fantasized about. Certainly, there was a lot of joy, but I guess it was heavy at times. Nothing extraordinarily negative that other kids don’t go through, but I felt a weight and a burden because I was financially responsible for my family. For a very long time I felt the weight of that on me,” she says without malice. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything,” she quickly asserts. “I wouldn’t put my own children in show business, but I think it definitely shaped me and has given me a unique perspective.”

How could it not? After all, how many kids are snatched up by a talent agent in a restaurant simply because their charisma is so irresistible? How many are supporting their families before they’ve lost their baby teeth? How many have to go through the process of making new friends at 12 different schools? How many have swapped stories with Lucille Ball? If Lewis writes songs that come from an outsider perspective, consider the fact that she has never lived a normal life.

“The schedule is hard on anybody—adult or child,” says Leslie Lewis, Jenny’s older sister and backing singer on two Acid Tongue tracks. “They work such long hours and they’re traveling so much that it takes them out of any normal schedule or childhood. It’s stressful, but at the same time she was given so many great opportunities. She was able to sing on camera and meet people and go places. A lot of her maturity came out of her doing so much at such an early age. It wound up being a good balance in the end. But, sure, I think anyone who is 5 or 6 years old and is working 18-hour days is bound to find it stressful.”

All those hours spent on set and off camera were put to good use, as Lewis became an astute observer, someone who gets paid to study, memorize, and watch how things unfold. Since she was a bit of an oddball at school, those skills were necessary for her to keep her sanity and challenge that of her peers. True crime stories and tales from the seedy side of life were her favorites, and her classmates simply didn’t understand what this precocious girl with the flaming red hair was going on about. Kids picked on her, and parents kept their children away from her because she told such bizarre stories. It was hard to make friends. It was hard to outrun her reputation.

“I had never seen any of her work, and I think that’s one of the reasons that we get along,” says Lewis’ boyfriend Johnathan Rice, a singer/songwriter who contributed vocals to Acid Tongue and toured with Lewis’ band for Rabbit Fur Coat. “I always knew of Jenny as a musician and songwriter. Then she told me all about that early stuff. One of the things that is remarkable about Jenny is that, more than anyone I know, she has the most dense life. There are just so many layers that make her who she is, just because of the way she grew up. What makes her so unique as a songwriter is her perspective on life and the way things are. What comes through to me in the writing is that it is shaped by a very long lifetime. You and I, we weren’t working when we were kids. We were just being kids. So her perspective is so unique. I can’t really think of anyone else who is doing it today that has that kind of perspective. I really think that sets her apart in so many ways. When you go see Jenny play—whether with her own band, or Rilo Kiley, or The Postal Service—she has it all. She can sing the shit out of a song, and she writes the shit out of a song, and she can perform the shit out of a song. There’s such a lack of emphasis on performance nowadays—the art of captivation. She has that for sure.”

As Lewis has spent most of her life cultivating the art of captivation, that ability to draw attention and hold it, she probably knows as much about it as anyone. But while she has applied her gift to great effect during her music career, Lewis appears to be in no hurry to return to her childhood profession.

“I knew that that wasn’t for me,” she says firmly. “That had become quite uncomfortable as I reached puberty and there’s so much emphasis placed on the way you look, and when you’re coming into your own and into your body, it can be pretty uncomfortable. I think some of those experiences made me turn inward. That’s kind of what fueled the things that I was writing about.”

A Better Son/Daughter

“I like all sports—baseball, soccer, swimming. And I also like spending time with my friends. That’s what I’m usually doing on the weekends.” – Jenny Lewis, Teen Set, 1991

Conspicuously absent from the above quote is any mention of Lewis’ interest in music. At that time, she was still finding her footing as a songwriter, just picking up a guitar for the first time and realizing that the strange stories that she carried around in her head made for strange subject matter. Of all the roles Lewis had played, she wasn’t ready for this one.

“I didn’t know that I wanted to be a songwriter, I just wrote songs,” Lewis says. “I listened to a lot of hip-hop growing up, and when I was 12 years old, I started writing verses and weird poems. I started playing guitar when I was 15 or 16, and I started playing piano when I was 8 or 9, so through all of those outlets, I always wrote little bits of songs. And I was exposed to a lot of different kinds of people. You meet some pretty eccentric people in Hollywood. And I think my own home life was very interesting. It was an interesting mix of going to work as a kid and then hanging out at home with my mom and her friends, and they always had these unique, shocking stories to tell. So those became a part of my songwriting from a very young age. I wrote a song when I was 10 years old about prison life. I have no idea where the hell I got that from, but those were the kinds of tales that fascinated me. I wasn’t a My Little Pony kind of girl. I was more into the ’80s equivalent of The Forensic Files. I still love murder TV. I guess when I met Blake [Sennett] I realized that there was one other person in the world that wanted to hear those things that I had written.”

Of course, meeting Sennett was a turning point in Lewis’ life and career. The two former child actors embarked on a romantic relationship and then founded Rilo Kiley in 1998, resulting in a collaboration that launched them from unknown indie-pop band to an increasingly ambitious major label act (whose line-up is rounded out by Pierre de Reeder and Jason Boesel). But while it took Sennett to give Lewis the confidence to decide that she was ready to audition for a new, non-acting role, she actually came from a rather impressive musical pedigree herself, as her parents and sister Leslie had a Las Vegas lounge act at the time of her birth.

“My parents got divorced when I was very young, so I didn’t really know my dad all that well growing up,” Lewis explains. “I would see him every couple of years, and it was always for a brief amount of time. I was always in awe of my father, but we never got a chance to talk about what had influenced him. I think genetics are a pretty strong thing, and I think inherently I am my father and we like the same things. He comes from this old guard of post-vaudeville generation, and he has spent his entire life on the road. I think I get a lot of that old showbiz sensibility from my father. The [lounge act] broke up when I was about two, and the marriage ended when I was about three. I don’t remember actually seeing them play. My older sister, she was actually part of that act for a while. I think she sang ‘How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?’ And my entire wardrobe, as far as my stage costumes go, [is] basically ripped from my parents’ lounge act.”

As anyone who has a passing familiarity with Rilo Kiley’s music knows, Lewis’ parents’ divorce has hung heavy over her songwriting for years, turning up in references stretching across her body of work. But just as Rabbit Fur Coat allowed Lewis to both pay tribute to and fictionalize her mother, Acid Tongue allows her to bring her father, harmonica virtuoso Eddie Gordon, into the canon. This time, however, her chosen subject was sitting right beside her in the studio.

“It was really strange and wonderful, because we’ve never played music together,” Lewis says of her father playing on “Jack Killed Mom.” “I was so impressed with his musicianship and skill. It’s an incredible thing that he does. He can play classical music on the harmonica. People being able to play the harmonica in that way is sort of a lost art. And we had him play really simple stuff. I was kind of embarrassed that he didn’t get a chance to really shred.”

But while her father made an appearance on the album, little did he know that the album’s centerpiece, the 9-minute, three-part epic “The Next Messiah,” was inspired by him. It turns out the shit-talker of “The Next Messiah” is actually Lewis’ father.

“That’s my favorite song on the record,” she explains. “It was sort of a subconscious thing. I didn’t sit down and set out to write a song about him. It just sort of came out in this phrase ‘The Next Messiah,’ which he’s not,” she laughs. “He doesn’t know [the song is about him]. He hasn’t heard it yet. Considering that I gave it to my mom on my last record, he’s due his. But I got so tired of singing about my mother for Rabbit Fur Coat that I had to kill her off on this record with ‘Jack Killed Mom.’ Poor mom.”

It Just Is

Having now conquered every stage she has stood upon, Jenny Lewis is quickly approaching a moment where her fame as a solo artist is about to outstrip the fame of her band. Since she has been assuming an increasingly larger part of the Rilo Kiley songwriting duties, writing or co-writing all but one song on their latest release, 2007’s Under the Blacklight, you have to wonder just what purpose her old band serves at this point.

“I don’t want to have to write different kinds of songs if I don’t want to; I want to be able to write whatever feels natural at the time,” she says, sounding unwilling to commit either way. “I go back and forth where whatever I’m doing is a reaction to the previous thing, so who knows where I’ll be in a year? I have to say that I truly love both outlets. I love collaborating with people, and I love Rilo Kiley and collaborating with Blake and the band. It’s something we’ve always done, and Rilo Kiley has always been a very delicate ecosystem that is on the verge of total collapse since our very first record. When you’ve got two people who were romantically involved, and that doesn’t work out, that lends itself to a very unstable environment. From record to record, I never think we’re going to make another record.” she says, pausing. “I’ve shifted my focus. I’m just thinking about these songs right now.”

That said, how long can Lewis reasonably expect to commit herself fully to both careers? How does a songwriter of such depth and vision find enough material to keep herself and her bandmates fed with new ideas? How long can she play two roles without getting burned out on both? Johnathan Rice has faith that her creative well is in no danger of running dry.

“You look at all the great ones—the Dylans and Neil Youngs—there’s that period of white-hot consistent output,” he explains. “Over two or three years, and there are three or four fantastic records. I think Jenny is doing her own version of that. She’s been releasing a record a year for the past five or six years, and that’s a pace that most bands don’t keep up with nowadays with the way the industry is and cycles go, but she has always worked outside of that. She just works as quickly as she wants to, and as soon as she has all of the outlets, she’s able to use the industry in her favor. If she gets tired, she’ll take a long walk or get a drink of water.”

Since Jenny Lewis has never known a life where she hasn’t been working on her craft every day, it makes sense. Having witnessed her charisma and inexhaustible work ethic since her sister was born, Leslie Lewis is similarly certain that her little sister is in no danger of overextending herself. “That’s the one thing coming from our background, we’re always comfortable juggling tons of things,” she explains. “That’s just really natural for Jenny. She’s tireless, as you can tell from all the other side projects she sings on. People always gravitated toward her no matter what. She has this really powerful silent persona. I think she’s always had it. It’s hard to describe. She wasn’t an annoying kid saying, ‘Look at me! Look at me!’ People naturally wanted to listen to what she had to say. It wasn’t just the red hair. I think Jenny easily could have a clothing line, a record company, and a multifaceted career. Wherever her heart guides her, she’ll be very successful. She’ll do a lot of things that will surprise people.”

Whatever the case, despite all of the accolades and honors, there’s still a little of that poised and professional 15-year-old girl in Jenny Lewis, the performer who only wants your approval. And while she’s still more at home on the stage than she is in her house, there’s one area of her performance she’d still like to perfect.

“I’d like to learn to loosen up a little bit, and I’d really love to learn how to speak to the crowd,” she says with a sigh. “God, I’m so terrified. I just don’t know what to say,” she shudders, the consummately prepared actress left without her line. But awkward stage banter aside, Jenny Lewis never struggles to find something to say once the music begins. Her greatest role will always be that of a songwriter. “When I’m getting ready to record, I’m haunted by the tunes,” she says. “They follow me around. I’m constantly thinking about the words, and when I’m sleeping I’m hearing the songs, and when I’m driving around, I’m thinking about them.” Having spent her life chasing the ultimate role, she has ended up with one that pursues her. “It’s good for someone that doesn’t have a day job.”

#publication: under the radar #album: acid tongue #year: 2008 #mention: child acting #mention: acid #song: acid tongue #person: elvis costello #song: black sand #mention: recording process #person: sister #person: johnathan rice #mention: childhood #person: blake sennett #mention: parent's band #song: jack killed mom #song: the next messiah #mention: father

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cousinclitoris · 5 years ago

Photo

DropLickSpeaks (C) @droplicktwotwos ‘In society such as ours it is unusual for anyone describable as an intellectual to feel a very deep attachment to his or her country.’ George Orwell On Nationalism ...DropLick asks questions mostly, as after getting off the night bus it’s enough, the sounds of the road, the people, market vendors shouting out pound a pineapple is all well & good but death to the thought of a lack of freedom... candles up thinking the wet cookie sat on the countertop, after work, what is work in the Marxist way..? a way to get money, a way to do something that keeps the mind and body active, but wet cookies are not tasty... a log cabin ...interfering with the needed melancholy, a sweet feeling, is that of too much... saccharine thoughts swing up against the taste of illogical and illhumorous ways... can you believe in people..? answers that see ...no you can’t... people, and most of them, barring the Tranquillo guy, the Homerton massive Rapper & a few others, but the rest of you are full of shit... a desire is responded with one hand on your genitals, donuts sugar rustling on your necks, deceit on your tongue... never go to Leeds... ...cowards spring up and lull the deficiency of their own hearts & are always made more brave after the time, DropLick says just move on, perhaps Brighton, Ivalo Finland... Home isn’t where the Heart is... ... in your heart that’s the only place that springs a sort of happening, delicious accounts of experience are sung from here... you may end up at Quintana Rue, or relaxing on a Nightbus not bothering anyone... taking in the sights... ...a lady in pink slippers walking to escape the light drizzle, an elderly man with a black & grey visor walking along mumbling about those pesky bacon hating lunatics, a jogger that is also holding a folder with the words JH Law, a man in a wine dark red hoodied jacket speaking about how Rushdie’s novels aren’t as good as Amis’ Money but that the latest ones are fascinating, a lady holding a bright orange book looks around as if she’s in a Crime Novel, a scarf with bits of yellow and cream coloured brown is removed from an LV bag, a jogger in Saucony steams past, two women walk past chit chattering about wanting to give a guy one on top of him, which causes both to laugh in a sinister fashion... Here We Are ...after leaving, illusions of produce start to enliven a feeling... somebody needs to work, somebody needs to make things occur... the land & it’s flowers are the world’s only real matters... would I miss Big Brother..? this is a photo of the answer Quintessential Elements of Straight Talk ...be about it, but rather than nostalgic analysis of things peruse the day as if an Album or painting... a commute an opportunity, each meal you try and pay for a success, your milk in which you drink everyday a miracle not to be taken for granted but savoured... ...why sit on your wet bottom..? ...with sauce dripping on your naked torso, neck, nipple is this really the right time to be taking images..? ...can you trust someone, as I once heard on Subway Carriage, I want to try and eat with my mouth closed... how stupid can a person be..? ...Morrissey is usually Right... Sat down, Drop Lick savours the thought of exile away from places that eat dog, force alien happenings and overthink the only things that are gorgeous... ...walking through the rain settling against the tip of the nose, amount to thoughts on the ladyfriend summoning the idea that compromise is not the best idea... tea stained rugs, gloves in back of the living room against the sofa... thoughts of another type of Nightbus start to occur... ...reading bits and pieces here and there the gross opportunity to allude to anything funny dissolutions the very little of Drop Lick... ... grow vegetables, eat rice, have a giggle... if not... ...make a personal profile of your local butcher, the unsung heroes, talk to that Clown taking a break with a Ciggy, ask the lady that looks like a Heidi, if she is actually called Heidi, do more than berate Piers Morgan or whoever it is that you can’t be bothered to understand... ...melancholy of a Misanthrope ...walk in the rain where a crack of artificial sunlight seeps onto the concrete floors, watch a flower grow over a few weeks on the commute, fast for a week & see what’s in your Soul... ...Listening to Corinne Bailey Rae ...three little birds sat in my mind like a painting with the sounds of Liam Gallagher emanating out the Radio a good feeling, his stories about meeting Gandhi and stuff are downright mad... ...That Night (‘Sleep is the Cousin of Death’) Nas ...as I am incinerated into pieces akin to stars, I want to be buried in a bed of roses so once the sun sets on them I can go back to being a painting in the sky... DropLick listens... my last words will be soundless to you, I’ll know... Siesta (C) @DropLick artwork on front cover by Joel Meyertowitz

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ilikemycoffeebitter · 7 years ago

Link

Nam Taehyun Interview with Dingo

Dingo : hi I'm Dingo how have you been

Taehyun: spectacular. little good little bad >_< (freaks out in delight at emojis transformation, does it again at the request of the girl behind him)

Dingo: Wasn't it your birthday recently? Congratulations (typo)

Taehyun: laughs at typo Thank you (with typo)

Dingo: What did you do on your birthday?

Taehyun: I was in Germany (not sure if that's the exact country) Working on my new album, trying to think of what kind of feel it should have. Decided on a (again not sure) takk and cool kind of feel.

Background boys: Germany is tak and cool? Yeah it is

Dingo: you were working on your birthday?

Taehyun: But it was too far (I think he means the album but it might be the country) so it was hard (with a little leet speak kinda suffix)

Dingo: (not sure I think they said net speak suffixes are not allowed)

Taehyun: laughs ><

Background boys: do the TT TT crying thing

Taehyun: TT TT

Background boys: no with a 3 in the middle

Taehyun: TT3TT (i assume this is a cutesy crying emoji)

Everyone: laughter and good times

Dingo: kekeke so now you're CEO Nam right how does that feel (damn I didn't know that get it my boy)

Taehyun: Heavy and hella scary.

Dingo: (sends a photo of what I think is his company name and the date it was registered and the CEO name Nam Taehyun)

Dingo: What part scares you?

Taehyun: I'm responsible for everything aren't I

Dingo: oh...and you have employees?

Taehyun: yeah got me some slaves. Musical slaves.

Background boys will now be referred to as Musical Slaves - slave number 1 that's me. I'll work hard sir

Dingo: (emoji)

Taehyun: I'm joking. Not slaves. Friends that make music with me.

Dingo: Slaves and/or friends you make music with. Are you paying them well?

Taehyun: They have to earn it now (or I have to earn now idk there's no pronoun only the earn verb)

Dingo: kekeke but what does South Buyers Club mean?

Taehyun: I got it from a movie. Dallas Buyers Club.

Dingo: But why South...?

Taehyun: Because I'm Nam (Nam means south in korean)

Dingo: oh my world you are the (king?) of wordplay. But did you originally always want to be in a band?

Taehyun: originally my dream was (sorry Idk this word but based on context it might be geographer)

Dingo: ??? (same Dingo. same)

Taehyun: Jirija (Idk this word either I think it might be the correct spelling of the other word)

Dingo: are the members with you right now?

Taehyun: yeah they're here

Dingo: can they pls do self introductions

Musical Slave 1: Hi~! I'm drummer Winyoung hehe Taehyun laughs he types exactly like he speaks

Musical Slave 2: I'm guitarist Gongu (not gonna lie I'm probably butchering these names)

Musical Slave 3: I'm bassist Weemyung (spazzes on keyboard)

Musical Slave 4: I'm pianist Yuni (with cutesy suffix)

Dingo: hello *short tongued* Yuni (short tongued as in using cutesy suffixes)

Musical Slave Bassist: come up to the rooftop (as in for a fight)

Musical Slave Yuni: come up to the rooftop (in cutesy tone)

Dingo: can we get a spoiler of your new song

Taehyun: Hug Me (I'm already excited these tits ain't calm)

Dingo: wow nice title. can we know some of the lyrics?

Musical Slave 2: just write out hug meeeeee

Taehyun: Hug meee~eeee~ There I've given the whole thing away

Dingo: I'm accepting because it's a spoiler. Ok so let's talk about something serious now.

Musical slaves: wow look at the time gotta go/ ahhh the time has come evacuate the scene

Taehyun: You want to ask me dangerous questions

Dingo: bingo (pun intended)

Taehyun: I'm doomed. It's only you and me now

Dingo. Let's do it.

Dingo: is it ok if I ask about YG? (with like secret code initials that are super obvious)

Taehyun: snorts Sure laughs at the sensitive initals

Dingo: I smell cool water (I guess this is slang). There was a lot of talk when you left. What was the real reason you left? (YES TELL US TAEHYUN)

Taehyun: there were a lot of rumors. But they're only rumors. I came out after settling things on good terms. (IS IT SAFE TO STAN YG IS THAT WHAT YOU'RE SAYING) We wanted to go down different roads.

Dingo: ah is that so. So when you left was there anything that made you uncomfortable?

Taehyun: it was really hard for me then because that was a place like home to me (starts typing "if you look at the big picture")

Dingo: Have you ever regretted leaving?

Taehyun: No. I'm just sorry.

Dingo: About what? Taehyun: (not a hundred percent sure but I think this is what he's saying) because whether good or bad there was a change. and I pray that it later proves to be a good change.

Dingo: I see...then after leaving what was the biggest change?

Taehyun: I became poor kekeke kekeke (THIS BOY DIDN'T EVEN HESITATE SOMEONE HELP ME)

Dingo: kekeke Nam Taehyun are you broke for realsies kekeke

Taehyun: kekeke broke for realsies (NOONA WILL BUY A HUNDRED OF YOUR ALBUMS MY SON)

Dingo: I thought you were a human (idk bank or something)

Taehyun: I experienced being rich at YG now I'm back to my original place. "A person cannot change easily" - is what I say to comfort myself

Dingo: back then you were Nam Taehyun the player (baller? troublemaker? idk)

Taehyun: yeah

Dingo: banmal and acting etc... how was it then

Taehyun: it was really scary at first. A single word I said without much thought would come up on the Internet as evidence of troublemaking. But then I learned to be more careful. My mom saw my fortune and I have too much of (idk) so even if my foot gets stepped on I'll have to apologize

Dingo: oh my world. where is this fortune telling house (Dingo you are a YouTube channel stop it you can't be my bias) During the promotions for your new album what kind of Nam Taehyun do you want to show?

Taehyun: rather than showing something I wish my music could help people be free

Dingo: how

Taehyun: "A kid like Nam Taehyun is living. How hard could it be" (boy I didn't come here to feel these emotions who gave you the right to make me cry like this)

Dingo: Wow, that's cool. So, what does South Buyers Club mean to you?

Taehyun: a canvas. I want to paint a little now kekeke I don't know how the painting will turn out yet

Dingo: What does shimyashikdang mean to Nam Taehyun (wtf does it mean idk) I'm ready to run away (I'm assuming this is a joke question or a YG question lol)

Taehyun: ffs -- it's a place that let's me make music (not sure if that's what he's saying since I didn't get the question) kekekek

Dingo: kekeke I'm drunk on the scent of your coolness (VIXX SHANGRI-LA) express your current state as an emoticon as someone who's about to debut with a band

Taehyun: 😮

Dingo: Wat mean

Taehyun: no idea (Boy don't you start) I have too many thoughts. is this a good thing? just dugun dugun (onmatopoiea for excited heartbeats)

Dingo: What are you trusting in as you go forward?

Taehyun: idk lol there's nothing like believing in something I wanna do it so I'm doing it. It's not like I can fall further. I'm seriously broke kekeke (NOONA AIN'T LYING I'M ABOUT TO SEND YOU MY LIFE SAVINGS I GOT ABOUT TREE FIDDY)

Dingo: anything else you wanna say?

Taehyun: I was pleasantly nervous after a long time. If I were to write a song about you

Dingo: What would the title be

Taehyun: A chat room with you kekeke (YOU ARE SUCH A CHILD)

Dingo: I'll look forward to it kekeke ok finally a word for the fans

Taehyun: no matter what changes in the future I won't change so thanks for waiting for me. I survive each day because of them. Thank you. A yogurt curry? (idk what he said)

Dingo: Nam CEO Fighting!

Taehyun: Dingo fightin! bye

Rough trans by For Tax Reasons (https://www.youtube.com/user/theeternaluke)

#nam taehyun #taehyun nam #namtae #taehyun #south club #south buyers club #yg winner #winner yg

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kewltie · 8 years ago

Text

Donghae can recall several events in his life that he wishes he could scrub from his memory. Some past are better off not revisiting.

There was that one time when he was eighteen, thinking he was alone in the house that day he’d invited some guests over only to be later get caught in bed with his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s girlfriend by his grandmother no less. Moreover, how could he ever forget that in his first year of college, he’d landed in jail for breaking and entering his own apartment because his roommate decided to be an ass so he locked Donghae out that night. Then of course, his entire blackhole of a dating history that could be regulated to the b-rated horror flick for the terrible horrifying experience that it brought to everyone involved—from the accountant turned the Bloody Butcher of Songpa-gu, the conman in bespoke suit who steal millions out of people’s lifesaving, and to the humble florist by day and by night North-Korea’s sympathizer and spy.

These men that had walked in to his life like a dream and then ran out of it like a horrid nightmare that wouldn’t go away, they were a marred on his record that he wish fervently to erased.

Once is unlucky; twice is a coincidence; three, ok maybe he should have stop there; but fourth, fifth, sixth and beyond is a goddamn pattern. Whether he was just attracted to the worst of the worst or there is just something about his character that drew them toward him, he doesn’t quite know but both options doesn’t speak much about his future prospect in looking for a marriageable partner.

Donghae doesn’t exactly have a good track record in making the wisest decision when he’s sober let alone when he’s desperate and horribly cornered by his mother, who has no qualm about abusing her authority as his mother to get him to comply. Maybe that’s why he ended up hiring an escort to pretend to be his boyfriend so he can go home with his dignity in tack.

Even with all these miseries that seem to plague his life and he can say for without a doubt while they’re really bad but no, this might top them all.

Surrounded by various relatives he haven’t seen in a while—grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and everything in between—circling their table like sharks scenting blood in the water and Donghae is the goddamn injured seal in this scenario, he has a sense of impending doom as the family reunion blasts full throttle. And it’s only the first day of a seven day event.

This specifically, Donghae thinks bitterly, is why for the last three years something always managed to come up just in time for him to avoid every family gathering hosted by his grandparents that draw every relative from all corners of the world back home for the summer. He even had to leave the country one time and orchestrated a hospital stay that had his mother in a panic and threatening to visit Verbier to make sure he wasn’t on his deathbed and clinging to life.

All these effort just so he didn’t have to step a foot near his extended family can be, admittedly, a little dramatic but a necessary evil to counteract having to deal with them in close proximity. He can only handle his extended family in small doses, with multiple exits in sight and escape routes already mapped out and preferably through phone lines and pixelated screens.

But there is only so much he could do before his family was onto his game. His mom had gave him an ultimatum early this year that if he didn’t come to Family Week this summer don’t bother coming back at all and his brother had even arranged his wedding during Family Week so Donghae couldn’t plan another escape unless he want to have “terrible brother” stamped all over his tombstone and hope to even be an uncle in the near future.

With that kind of pressure, Donghae caved and now he’s watching his own demise unfolding as his mom flip through another page of his childhood photos to show Hyukjae either as an effort to scare him away from Donghae or his mother is getting her revenge on him for refusing to come home by letting him relieve his terror filled childhood. He doesn’t know which but both are nefarious and it’s probably why his mother manage to brow beaten his fierce father into marriage into the first place

The 21st century with all it limitless potential and technological advancement offer more than one way to humiliate him, he finds as his mother happily pull up another album of his embarrassing childhood photo saved on her phone to show Hyukjae. He thought by going far from his childhood home that would save him from going through this horror.

Trying to dodge impending childhood humiliation is one thing but even that doesn’t distract him from the true deal breaker.

Every time Donghae spot one of his relatives near their table they would stop, stare, and then do a double take, eyes going wide with shock and nearly tripping over their own two feet, when they finally catch sight of Hyukjae next to him, prim and proper and looking like he had just walked out of the cover of GQ magazine, conserving with Donghae’s mother as Donghae’s father look on with a bleak expression his face.

It must be a puzzling to them for Donghae not to be only back but also with someone. Not that Donghae could blame them because he had left this town with a barely scrapped up pride and memories of an angry teen and disappointing licking at his heels.

They clearly have not forgotten the tantrum Donghae had thrown when he was seventeen that landed him and half of his cousins in the town’s jail, because there wasn’t even a juvenile detention center in a town that small. Their parents had paid them a visit in jail but between feeding them and keeping their stay like some strange overnight sleepover and yelling at them through cell bars, they demanded to know who started the fight. Despite the cut knuckles, split lips, and bruises that littered their body, Donghae and his cousins were tight lipped.

Seventeen was a strange and precarious age for him, just shy of adulthood but still fully entrenched in the teen years, trying to navigate the mind field of hormones and confusing feelings while seeking to carve himself outside of his family’s expectation.

He wasn’t doing a good job of it. Constantly on a hair trigger, Donghae was an exploding time bomb waiting to happen.

All that burning fire kept bottled up in paper string knit control, it was bound to implode.

Donghae had moved through that year under the intense scrutiny of his family and the entire town, waiting and watching for him to have his meltdown, and all it took was a sly remark from one of his cousins to launch Donghae across the room and on top of him.

His parents knew who started the fight just by looking at the guilty look on his face. They didn’t yell, his mom had stay silent as she held his hand through the bars and his father, always untouchable and unmovable in many ways, had a haggard look on his face and had solemnly asked, “Where did we go wrong, Donghae?”

That was worse than if they had gone off on him instead.

It was the kind of parental disappointment that eventually drove Donghae to escape to Seoul as soon as he came of age but even then, he was doom from the start because for all his parents badgering and hammering him to do better, to be better and they love him wholeheartedly and Donghae loves them back with equal fervor.

Before he had left for Seoul the winter of his nineteen year, his mother had said her good bye with a waning smile on her face and left a few departed words that he carried like the heaviest chain: “Trying to keep you here would be like emptying the ocean with a spoon—a futile and useless effort. You are meant for something bigger and better than this town. Go and be you, Donghae.”

So despite all his efforts to claw his way out of this wretched town that tried to suffocate him and stamp down on his otherness, because small town like this has never been kind to those that are mark different, he came back to it eventually because this is where everything and everyone he loves live.

Walking away from that was nearly impossible, but coming home was equally or even more so daunting.

Donghae likes to think he had outgrew his wilder and more violate younger days but right now here in this private space, surrounded by people who had seen him at his most ugly and shameful moments, he’s sinking under their scrutiny.

He hates it. Even though pleasing his parents was the only reason he had bring back Hyukjae with him and suffer through his parent’s interrogation and their skepticism, if another one of his relatives pop up and leer at them, Donghae will have to consider disowning himself to save them from this farce.

Donghae carefully holds his tongue, watching his mother excitedly chattering away about a past memory of him and desperately trying to ignore the rest of the world. But even that kind of uneasy peace doesn’t last as his mother and father’s got called away by one of his aunts and leaving the two of them to the mercy of his other relatives to jump on them at anyime elike a scene right out of the African safari. Now without his mother’s protective bubbles shielding them and his father’s deep glower to scaring the rest of the party away, they’re defenseless and Donghae’s itch to get out of this place once more run deep.

“So that fish costume you wore in the fifth grade,” Hyukjae starts, eyes crinkling with amusement.

“Don’t even,” Donghae snaps, arms crossed. The tense line of his shoulders dropping slightly under the face of Hyukjae’s charm.

“I think it’s cute,” he says, lips twitching with barely held laughter.

“Like that mean anything to me now,” Donghae grumbles, wishing real hard he could visit his younger self and convinced him it was a very bad idea to listen to his mother now and in the future. “I don’t ever want to—”

“I see you haven’t made your escape yet,” he hears abruptly and turns to see Hyeri walking up to them with mischievous glint in her eyes. The devil could take a lesson from her surely, he thinks with a sense of dread.

“Not without trying,” Donghae mumbles. His mom had confiscated his cell phone the moment they’d arrived at his grandparents’ stately home as if he was ten again and couldn’t stay still for ten seconds so she have to him leash him.

She pulls out a chair and sits down next to him, inviting herself onto their table much to Donghae’s growing annoyance.

“Wow, you’re actually here for once! I mean after your last dating fiasco,” she pauses dramatically and Donghae waits, feeling a wave of irritation wash over him when he’s in the vicinity of his prying and gossip mongering relatives, “well fiascos really. I thought you would rather drag some stranger home and pretend he’s your boyfriend then go another around with actual fact dating because you know,” she gestures emphatically, “it’s you after all—a walking dating hazard.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Donghae replies, his stomach churning uneasily. Her statement hit closer to home than Donghae would have like—which just means she knows him really, really well or that Donghae is a total train wreck that he’s getting predicable at this point.

“Cousin Hein said he’s very handsome, well manner, and charming enough that your father hasn’t eviscerate him yet. So I’m interest to see how managed a catch like that! But with your history it would be embarrassing if he turn out to be another one of those.” She wiggles one of her brow. “I just hope he isn’t like secretly a serial killer or something worst you know? We don’t want another repeat of Kiwoo,” she says, and then her eyes narrow suspiciously. “Or is he?”

“Why don’t you just ask that to his face, I mean it’s not like he’s right here, next to me at all or something,” Donghae says dryly, as though Hyukjae hasn’t been avidly listening in to their conversation the entire time.

Hyeri shifts her attention pass him and over to Hyukjae, giving him a cheery wave as though she had not been ignoring his presence since her arrival at their table and because she is his cousin in more way than one, Hyeri, nonplussed, says, “Hey there! I’m Hyeri, Donghae’ s favorite cousin—”

“That’s a vicious lie and you know it,” Donghae snorts. Everyone and their mother know his favorite is Jackson. Though that hadn’t stop Hyeri’s attempt at upsurping Jackson’s position since they were eight and he had to break a tie between them over a game of beach soccer and had chosen Jackson over her.

“And I’m so, so delighted to have you here with us,” she continues gushing, voice as enticing as a venus flytrap before its mouth close on its prey—the shameless hussy.

Hyukjae waves back because he, too, has no shame. “Nice to meet you,” he says with a grin.

“So are you?” Hyeri demands, scooting closer and zeroing in on her prey. “Someone who is secretly hiding some kind of murderous intent and just waiting to unleash on unsuspecting victim?”

Because Donghae is only starting to find out that Hyukjae just might fit a little too well into his neurotic family. “Well,” Hyukjae starts, leaning closer in as though he was confessing a secret to Hyeri. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find a viable candidate.” He draws back with a playful wink.

Hyeri, who works in the town morgue and read true crime novels before bed, practically lights up, seemingly charmed by the prospect of a potential victim in Hyukjae’s future. “Ohmygod, he’s a delight, hyung! I like him already, even if he might rip out your tooth and use it as a trophy in the future.”

“Stop talking, please, stop talking,” Donghae insists. His face into his palm and deeply and passionately wish for death right now.

Just as he thinks his day can’t get any worst another horror terror decides to drop in too. “Hyung, hyung!” Taehyung appears between them, trying to squeeze in. Hyeri clears out of her seat to make room for Taehyung who slides in to his new seat with unrepentant glee. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

“Neither can I,” Donghae says wryly, cursing his entire existent right now. One after another, watching his cousins coming out of the woodwork to disturb him is not how he want his day to play out.

Taehyung stares at him expectantly. “So is it true?” he asks, eyes wide and practically vibrating out of his skin in excited curiosity. “I heard from my mother who heard from Auntie Minjae, who had a conversation with your mother at Uncle Sunwo’s grocery store two days ago that you brought home a male supermodel and that he’s running away from some kind of sex scandal and is currently in hiding with you? Auntie Minjae said you might have kidnapped him in the process too.”

Donghae’s left eye twitches. “Can nobody keep their mouth shut in this family,” he grumbles.

“A male supermodel, huh,” Hyeri says, lips twitching. Her laughter threatening to spill over.

“It was either that or an alien in disguised as Uncle Sujin suggested and even I thought that was a stretch,” Taehyung says, wrinkling his nose. “We were sure that you would rather chew out your own arm before you bring anyone else back again after your last boyfriend got arrested for attempted murder and Grandmother was yelling at you for living in sin.”

Donghae groans as Hyeri cackles beside him, severely wishing his entire family would stop being so involved in his love life more than he does.

“Well you can ask him yourself since he’s here,” he points out snidely because let it not be said that he’s not the only one in his family that has a narrow scope in view.

Taehyung’s eyes go wide as he peer over Donghse to get a good look at Hyukjae. “Hi!” Taehyung says, eyes bright with undisguised excitement. “You’re actually real and clearly not an alien!”

Hyukjae look down at his hands, turning it over and making a show as though he’s checking himself over. “No, unfortunately not it seems,” he answers, deciding to humor Taehyung and ignoring Donghae’s horrified squeak next to him. “But please do tell me more this sex scandal that I’m apparently in.”

Donghae takes in grim satisfaction that Hyeri laughs so hard that she fall over her chair.

#fic snippet #wedding date au #eunhae #fuck fuck it's done omg #omggggggggggggg #i never want to write this again #NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVER

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