#the lines are so fucking short compared to other big amusement parks

[artificial-ascension]

I am like those insane Disnland influencers but for Dollywood. There was a point in my life where everytime I went to Tennessee it was for Dollywood. I can list and describe all the coasters and then some off the top of my head I know the whole damn park inside and out. Also that's where I have been the past two days which is why I have been very quiet.

[samwinchestersgf]

guardian angel

requested by: anonymous

request: Could you write something with Gabriel being the guardian angel of Sam and Dean's little sister?

summary: sam and dean’s younger sister is a klutz. after cracking under the pressure of living up to her brothers’ reputation, gabriel, her guardian archangel, makes her feel better.

warnings: mild language. angst. gabriel being a turd bucket, and then being a sweetheart. fluff.

i sit around the big map table in the bunker with sam and dean. with my arms crossed, i lean back in my chair. damn, they’re insufferable at times, but, this time is worse than ever before.

“what do you mean i can’t come on the hunt with you?” i ask, outraged.

“i mean exactly what i said, y/n.” dean’s voice raises, daring me to top it.

i match his volume. “why can’t i come?!”

“because i said so, okay?” he gets up to his feet. he’s louder than me, and bigger than me. he always has been.

“this is some misogynistic bullshit.” i bring my tone up the slightest.

this really pisses him off. “i am not a misogynist for wanting to keep my little sister safe. sorry, that’s not how it works.”

“i’d be safe on the hunt!” i look over at sam for back up. he’s always been the more reasonable one.

he shrugs his shoulders and mouths the word, ‘sorry.’

“when have i ever not been safe on a hunt?!” i retry my approach.

“just about every damn time!” his voice booms through the bunker, ricocheting off the walls.

“i’ve never gotten hurt!” i look back over to sam, my eyes begging him to stand up for me.

“maybe you’ve never gotten that hurt... but you are super clumsy.” his voice is low and quiet compared to mine and dean’s.

“see, i’ve never gotten that hurt, just like, scratches and stuff.” i give him a smug look.

“you fall around so much, there’s a chance that this time could be the time that you get seriously hurt.” sam’s sympathetic with me, trying to get me to calm down.

sam has always been the level-headed sibling. he’s always the mediator. even when we were younger, the only person he’d argue with was dad, and he didn’t get the balls to do that until he was older. still, he’s 6 years older than me and has made it his personal duty to protect me. he enjoys playing the role that dean always got to play when we were little.

dean and i, though, are always at each other’s throats. it not that we don’t get along, because we do, but we both inherited our father’s stubbornness, whereas sam was blessed with mary’s mediating abilities. dean’s a whole decade older than me, so he thinks he’s all tough.

“i can take care of myself,” i reroute the conversation. i find myself saying that line a lot.

“when dad died, he made it my responsibility to take care of you and i’m not gonna let you go out and get hurt.” dean spits.

when dean brings up dad, out of respect, he knows that i’ll do what he says. that’s why he doesn’t bring him up very often. i lean backwards in my chair quickly, but too harshly. the chair goes flying down to the ground.

i close my eyes and prepare for impact, but it never comes. i feel myself being pushed up and back to the chair’s neutral position. my brothers look confused, and so do i.

“did you...?” my voice trails off, looking at dean.

“my reflexes are quick, but not that quick.” he shakes his head. “but, see? you’re clumsy.”

“dean, can i at least pr-“

“you’re not coming. i’m serious.” he says sternly.

“sam?” i turn to him, pleading with my eyes.

“sorry, y/n.”

i huff and push my hair away from the table, standing up. “fine. i’ll go to my room and be useless.”

as i whip around, my elbow bumps into the chair, which goes tumbling to the ground, charting course to land right on my feet. but, i’m yanked backwards, away from the chair.

“ow!” i yelp at the grip on my waist. “dean!”

“that’s wasn’t me.” he throws his hands up.

“seriously? i’m not stupid.” i gripe.

“it really wasn’t him.” sam confirms.

irked, i shrug it off. “whatever.”

i walk to my room and flop on the bed. what a lousy day. apparently i’m too clumsy for anything. frustration bubbles up in me. when are they gonna stop treating me like a little kid? i’m 25 years old.

i grip my pillow in my hands. stupid brothers. stupid hunting monsters. stupid clumsy feet. stupid everything. it’s not fun being the weakest link.

i groan and chuck my pillow across the room, but it stops midair. i blink, “what the fuck.”

i grab the gun from my bed side table, and when i turn back around, the pillow is gone. i stand up at the foot of my bed, holding the gun ready. something weird is going on.

something that feels a lot like my pillow smacks me in the back of the head. i turn around and point the gun at the wall. there’s nothing there. i let out a deep, shaky breath.

suddenly, my pillow is being held to my face from someone behind me. i let out a scream, and the pillow immediately falls to the ground. i turn around and with a sweep of my feet, knock the intruder to the ground. i stomp on their leg and cock my gun, pointing it at their head.

“who the hell- gabriel?”

footsteps pound down the hallway. it’s no doubt sam and dean, alerted by my scream. i look at him, absolutely confused.

“call off your attack dogs and then we’ll talk.” he says before disappearing again.

sam and dean burst through the door. dean is the first to speak, “what happened?!”

“there was a snake!” i lie. “he slithered back into the wall.”

“you scared us, y/n.” sam relaxed.

“well, the snake scared me.” i half-apologize.

they roll their eyes and leave. i shut the door behind them and cross my arms at gabriel, who has reappeared, but this time on his feet.

“why did you try to suffocate me with my pillow?” i whisper.

“just having some fun, darlin.” he smiles.

i’m not amused. “why are you here?”

“well, if you haven’t noticed, you’re a little clumsy.” he teases.

“if you’re just gonna bash me for it, you can leave.” i warn, aggravated.

“that’s not why i’m here. although, it is super funny.” he smirks.

“i will scream.”

“fine, fine. i’m your guardian angel, or whatever.” gabriel admits.

“my what?” i raise an eyebrow.

“all those times you should’ve gotten hurt out there, but didn’t? that was me.” he comes clean.

“so, you’re the prick that bruised my waist from grabbing me so hard.” i roll my eyes.

“i’m the prick that stopped you from breaking your toe.” he sasses. “let see the bruises.”

“gabriel, no-“

“seriously, let me see. i’m not supposed to let you get hurt.” he demands.

“it’s just some bruises.” i counter.

“that’s still an injury.” he points out.

i reluctantly lift my shirt up to my ribcage and hold it there, allowing him to look at the purple bruises he left. it’s an awkward moment, for sure. his eyes linger there for what seems like forever. i clear my throat, and he snaps out of it and walks toward me.

i let my shirt drop to it’s neutral position and back up, “what are you doing?”

“healing you.” he states.

“gabriel, it’s literally just a few bruises.” i screw up my face.

“it’s bruised down to the bone.” he informs me.

“what the hell?!” i lift my shirt up slightly and look at the bruises again. “all you did was grab me!”

“i’m an archangel, sweetie. we’re rough.” he winks.

“ew.” i throw my pillow at him.

“seriously, c’mere.” he beckons me toward him.

i roll my eyes and walk toward him, holding my shirt up. his large hands grip my waist, sending jolts of butterflies through my stomach. light radiates from his fingertips, and when he pulls away, the bruises are gone.

i gingerly press on my side, and there’s no pain at all. i look back up at gabriel, who is inches away from me. my face flushes red and i clear my throat, taking a step back.

“thank you.” i swallow.

“you’re welcome.” he nods.

dean’s shouts echo through the bunker. “we’re leaving now! remember to stay inside and call jody is you need anything.”

“gabriel?” i smirk.

“what?”

“you might have to protect me from my brother’s fists.” i grin.

“what? kid, don’t make my job harder. y/n-“

i take off towards the garage, taking a short cut, and hop in one of our spare cars. it’s a pickup truck. i sink low into the seat so the boys won’t see me. i hear them as they walk into the garage.

“i kind of feel bad, dean.” i hear sam say as they approach their car. “she really wanted to come.”

“so? she’ll be fine.” he shrugs.

“she’s upset.” sam reasons.

“and she’ll get over it. should we take the truck?” he asks. my body tenses up. oh god, please don’t take the truck.

“it’s too cramped in there.” sam shakes his head.

“you’re right.”

the door to the impala closes and i watch as they drive off. gabriel pops into the passenger’s seat beside me.

“this is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. they’re gonna kill you.” he tells me.

“good thing i have a guardian angel.” i smile cheesily.

i speed off after them and follow them through the twisting roads. i wonder if they’re suspicious of me. they probably are. they’ve probably already recognized the car.

my phone rings, making me jump. i pick up. “hello?”

“is everything okay at home?” sam’s voice asks through the phone.

“yep. hey, where you guys even going?” i ask.

he sighs, “a vampire hunt. it’s not too far, but stay home. we should be back soon.”

“fine. bye, sam.” i hang up the phone. “ready to watch me kill some bloodsuckers, gabe?”

“y/n, you should go home.” he leans back in the seat.

“if you say that again i’ll make your job even harder by crashing the car.” i joke.

he scoffs. “seriously, go home.”

“listen, i don’t even need a guardian angel in the first place, much less another person bossing me around.” my tone becomes serious.

“you do need a guardian angel.” he rolls his eyes. “you’d be dead by now without me.”

“bullshit. i don’t need- or want a guardian angel. so, go away.” i huff.

“y/n, c’mon-“

“go away and stop guarding me, gabriel.” i demand.

he sighs. “fine.”

he disappears and i slam on my steering wheel. i watch as sam and dean pull into a warehouse. i wait until they walk into the building to park and get out. i walk up behind them and tap them on the shoulder with a shit-eating grin on my face.

“y/n, what the hell?” dean whisper shouts. “get out!”

“i’m here to help, there’s no reason in sending me home now.” i smile.

“i’m killing you when we get home.” he groans as vampires come running towards us.

i take my machete and start slinging, one by one demolishing the nest by cutting their heads off. i get carried away. i’m doing really good!

a pair of fangs plunge into my neck and start sucking. a sharp pain coarses through my body. i scream and writhe under their touch. i feel the blood flowing out of my neck and into their mouth, but i’m utterly helpless.

i’m pushed to the ground, away from the vampire. i look up and watch as gabriel decapitates him. he looks down at me, his face saying all i need to know. if he were to speak right now, he would say- “i told you so.”

he quickly leans down and presses two fingers to my neck, healing my injury, and then vanishes into thin air. sam and dean come running over to my side.

“are you okay?” sam asks.

“did it hurt you?” his voice is threatening.

“no, i killed him.” i lie. “i just fell.”

dean is furious with me, so he drives home alone, while sam accompanies me in the truck. after a few minutes of driving, he turns to me with a smile on his face.

“you faired pretty well.” he’s full of pride.

i know i really didn’t, and i’d probably be dead if it weren’t for gabriel. “i know.”

back at the bunker, i sit on my bed, hugging mh pillow. i was raised by one of the best hunters ever, and i suck at hunting. i’ve had every resource i could imagine to get better, and all the experience i could have, and i still suck.

i cry. the hot tears stream down my face. i’m really not good at anything, am i? i’m the worst winchester. i can’t do anything. i need a guardian angel to save my life because i can’t even handle myself with a dumb vampires nest. sam and dean were right; gabriel was right; everyone was right about me.

the bed dips a little in the corner. i look up and see gabriel sitting there, watching me. i sniff and wipe the tears away, trying (and failing) to cover up the fact that i’m upset.

“you’ve gotten stop surprising me like that.” i force a laugh.

“i’m always watching, y/n. i know you’re crying.” he’s sympathetic, but i don’t want him to be.

i deflect. “always watching? that’s creepy.”

“a little, but enjoy the show.” he laughs.

“ew, gabe.” i crinkle up my nose.

“why are you crying?” he asks, getting back on topic.

“do we really have to talk about this?” i groan.

“well, i am your guardian angel.” he shrugs.

“i’m not hurt.”

he adds, “physically.”

“it’s a story for another time,” i sniff.

“no, no. now.” he corrects.

i roll my eyes and hesitate. “i’m the worst winchester.”

“you’re all pretty insufferable, and stubborn.” he waves a dismissive hand.

“gee, thanks, but, thats not what i mean.” i press my lips into a grimace. “i can’t hunt. i need a stupid guardian angel to watch over me so i don’t die. i’m not good at anything.”

“i bet you’re good at something.” he reasons.

“nope.” i shake my head.

“hm...” his eyes flicker down to my mouth. my breath hitches.

he leans in, before i could even protest (if i wanted to), and kisses me. gabriel, the archangel, kisses me. my hands work through his hair momentarily before he pulls away.

he breaths, “you’re good at that.”

my face flushes red. maybe i do need a guardian angel.

[potrix-the-queerschlaeger]

layers (like onions)

Random idea of the day that wouldn’t leave me alone; this little future fic. And it’s not like we can’t all use some more Harringrove fluff, right? Can also be found over on AO3.

- - -

Sadie is having the absolutely worst first day at work, and the lunch rush isn't even over yet.

It had started with the fancy coffee maker spitting steam at her when she’d tried to show her new co-worker that she understood how to use it, burning the back of her hand and her wrist. Then the trash bag she’d been carrying to the dumpster out back had ripped, spilling all over her feet and the kitchen floor, so she’d spent fifteen minutes cleaning up while apologising profusely.

And to top it all off, her first table hadn’t tipped at all, even though Sadie had pulled out all the stops, been all friendly smiles and polite small-talk despite the total shitshow her morning had turned out to be.  

Things don’t look much better with her current table, either.

So far, they’ve yelled across the restaurant for her when she hadn’t been fast enough with their drinks, demanded three additional baskets of the complimentary bread, one of them won’t stop making gross comments whenever she has to walk by, and by the look on one of the men’s faces right now, they aren’t happy with their food, either.

Forced smile firmly in place, Sadie approaches their table, ignoring the urge to roll her eyes when one of them clicks his fingers at her.

Before she can so much as ask what seems to be the problem, the scowling man snaps, “This burger has onions on it.”

“Yes, sir,” Sadie tries, summoning up patience only acquired through years of waitressing, “all our burgers come with tomatoes, pickles, and onions—”

“Well, I don’t like onions,” the man says, slowly, glaring up at Sadie. “I didn’t want any onions.”

“Of course, sir, I’m so sorry,” Sadie apologises, instead of demanding, like she really wants to, “Then why the hell did you order a dish with onions in it?”

(Watch out for the break!)

She pulls her notepad out of her pocket, quickly scribbling down an order for a replacement burger, and underlining the no onions three times. “I’ll put a new order in for you right away, sir. Would you like me to add a side dish as well? Free of charge, of course, as an—”

“No, no,” the man cuts in, and throws the burger he’d been holding down hard enough that it slips off his plate, and falls apart on the table. Which only appears to make him angrier. “Look at this mess. I want you to clean this up, and then I want to speak with whoever’s in charge here.”

The two other men nod, clearly not only used to their friend’s behaviour, but actively encouraging it. “Get to it, sweetheart,” one of them demands, making Sadie bite the inside of her cheek, “before all of our food goes cold.”

“Certainly, sirs,” Sadie scrapes the ruined burger off the table, waving over one of the busboys, “I’ll take care of this right away.”

Despite her words, after putting in the order for the new, onion-free burger, Sadie leans against the wall in the kitchen for a moment, breathing out heavily as she tries to compose herself. The line cook shoots her a sympathetic look, and Sadie smiles back shakily, grateful for the silent support.

Her boss’ office is one floor up, and Sadie isn’t too proud to sneak behind the bar, and make her way to the stairwell where she hopefully won’t be spotted by anyone from her table.

It’s quiet, once the door closes behind her, the voices of the guests and the sounds of the restaurant muffled, and Sadie swallows hard as she starts up the stairs. She’s seen her boss a grand total of thirty seconds so far, when he’d breezed in earlier, with a small child in each arm, a phone clutched between his shoulder and ear, and a frown on his face, while her co-workers had been showing her the ropes.

Mr Hargrove had been supposed to be the one to interview her, last week, but instead, Sadie’d been greeted by his business partner. He’d shaken her hand, smiling brightly, and introduced himself as, “Steven Harrington, but please, call me Steve, everyone does,” before explaining, all sheepishly, that Mr Hargrove was usually the one talking to the new hires, but that he’d unfortunately been called away on short notice.

He’d offered Sadie coffee, and had gotten her a glass of water instead when she’d declined, before dropping down in the swivel chair on the opposite side of the desk, picking up Sadie’s resume with a hum. “I’ll be honest, here, I don’t usually deal with this side of the business,” he’d said, chuckling a little to himself, “but if Billy’s invited you here for an in-person interview, chances are high he’s already decided to hire you. He can be picky.”

It had been said with a sigh, half annoyed and half fond. “So,” Steve had put the resume down again, and shrugged at Sadie, “if you’re still interested, and if the hours and pay you’ve talked about over the phone work for you, I don’t see a reason why you can’t start next Friday.”

Sadie had blinked at him, stunned, and then scrambled to sign the contract. Flexible hours, two free meals per shift, decent insurance, and paying slightly above minimum wage? It had been everything a struggling student like her could hope for, and then some.

Now, faced with the prospect of having to tell her boss that she’s screwing up on her very first shift, Sadie wishes she was anywhere but here. Still, she steels herself, takes a deep breath, and knocks on Mr Hargrove’s office door.

A moment later, a gruff voice calls back, “Come in.”

Mr Hargrove is sat behind his desk, one eyebrow raised, and Sadie hesitates, standing awkwardly on the threshold. The kids—definitely Mr Hargrove’s, going by their wild, curly hair—are playing on a blanket in front of the small couch, where Steve is sitting with a laptop open on his lap.

He smiles and waves at Sadie, which gives her the confidence to clear her throat, and say, “One of the guests would like to talk to you, Mr Hargrove.”

When Mr Hargrove only raises his eyebrow further, she adds, “He ordered a burger with onions, but says he doesn’t like onions. I offered him a new burger with a free side dish, but, well.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Mr Hargrove mutters, which earns him a scolding look from Steve, followed by a stern, “Language, Billy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mr Hargrove says, with a small roll of his eyes. He gets up from behind his desk, gesturing for Sadie to lead the way. “C’mon, let’s go deal with this shit.”

He’s obviously not happy about the interruption, but Sadie’s glad to notice that his irritation seems to be aimed at the picky guest, not her. The cursing also helps, strangely enough, has her bite back a giggle as they walk back down to the main floor.

Mr Hargrove looks intimidating, at first glance, what with all the tattoos, the denim, and the heavy jewellery. Like those bikers always parked in front of the shady bar a block down from her shitty, shoebox-sized apartment. Only, like, prettier.

Sadie ducks her head a little, blushing faintly. Mr Hargrove has to be in his thirties, is almost old enough to be her dad, and Sadie isn’t even interested in men like that, but she does have eyes. The blond curls, piled into a messy bun on top of his head, the dimples, the striking, bright blue eyes; Mr Hargrove is definitely good-looking.

Frannie would have a field day if she knew Sadie was getting flustered by her old, cranky new boss. Sadie silently vows to never tell her girlfriend a single word about it, ever.

“It’s the booth in the back,” she says, once they reach the main room of the restaurant again, pointing in the general direction, “by the big window—”

Mr Hargrove freezes mid-step when he spots the three men, but only for a second. Then he sneers, teeth bared, “Hell no.”

He stalks over to the booth, fast enough that Sadie has to hurry in order to keep up, and slaps the fork right out of one of the men’s hand with a snarled, “Get the fuck out of my restaurant.”

The men at the table—and a few people within earshot—fall silent in shock, all gaping at Mr Hargrove. Then, the now forkless man pushes to his feet, and right into Mr Hargrove’s space. “William—”

Mr Hargrove doesn’t back down, though, and he has several inches on the other man. “Get out. Right now, all of you. You’re not welcome here.”

The other man’s face twists in outrage. “How dare you speak to me like this? You can’t throw us out, we’re paying customers!”

“Oh, trust me,” Mr Hargrove’s smile is, Sadie thinks, pretty damn terrifying, “I can. And I will.”

“On what grounds?” the other man scoffs, and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well, let’s see. For harassing my staff,” Mr Hargrove begins, and holds up his hand, counting on his fingers, “or, maybe, the years of emotional abuse? For regularly beating the shit outta me for close to a decade? Or for just generally being a terrible fucking human being, and an even worse father?”

The restaurant is so quiet, after that, Sadie’s almost afraid to breathe.

“Take your pick,” Mr Hargrove finishes, and takes a step back with a sweeping motion towards the door. “But get the fuck out, Neil. Or we will call the police.”

“Honestly, I’d love to see that,” comes Steve’s voice from by the bar. He’s holding the phone, wiggling the receiver when everyone turns to look at him. “Your choice.”

“You—” Mr Hargrove’s father starts, but is wisely interrupted by one of his friends standing up as well, and putting a hand on his elbow with a disgusted, “Leave it be, Neil. The little faggot’s not worth the trouble.”

There are several gasps from the other customers, but Mr Hargrove seems unfazed. Almost amused, actually. “At least my faggot ass can keep a family together. Ginny was, wait, let me think? Wive number five? How’s the divorce going, by the way?”

“Okay, that’s enough!”

If Sadie’d thought Mr Hargrove looked scary, it’s nothing compared to an angry Steven Harrington, apparently.

“You’ve got one minute to get your shit, and get the hell out. Everyone else,” and now he’s all charm again, looking around the restaurant at the shamelessly watching customers, “free pie, for having had to witness this little display of homophobic bullshittery.”

Mr Hargrove takes it upon himself to escort the men out of the restaurant, while Steve goes around apologising for what’s happened. Sadie shakes herself out of her stupor, and follows Steve in order to jot down everyone who’s interested in the free pie.

Before she can head back to the kitchen, though, Steve stops her and asks, quiet enough that only she catches it, “Hey. Are you okay?”

“That was,” Sadie breathes out, then trails off with a helpless shake of her head.

“Not a great first impression on our part?” Steve chuckles, wry smile on his lips. “Why don’t you take a break? Get a slice of pie, too? We got it handled out here.”

Sadie accepts the offer gratefully.

And the pie is delicious.

“Billy’s a fuckin’ master with anything even vaguely dessert related, man,” the line cook tells her, when she moans around her first forkfull. At her hum of surprise, he laughs, and adds, “Yeah, he still does most of the bakin’, even though he’s the boss man nowadays. Ask him for his lava cake recipe, it’s fuckin’ sick.”

The rest of the day is, thankfully, much less stressful.

Sadie gets to leave on time, and slips out the back door with a cheerful, “Goodbye!” thrown over her shoulder, only to stumble to a stop when she nearly bumps right into Mr Hargrove. And Steve. Because they’re standing very close, with Steve’s arm around Mr Hargrove’s shoulders, and his chin resting on top of Mr Hargrove’s head.

Mr Hargrove blinks one eye open at her, but doesn’t move out of the hug. “You good? Sorry ‘bout, you know. All that shit earlier.”

“Oh, yeah, uh,” Sadie stutters, feeling herself blush again, “don’t worry, all good. Thanks.”

“Have a nice night,” Steve says, with another one of those sincere smiles. “See you tomorrow.”

Sadie nods. “Tomorrow. Goodnight!”

She carefully steps around the kids, who are racing each other through the alley, shrieking with excitement. She’s almost by the bike rack when there’s a crash, followed by a warbling cry, and a distinctly toddlery voice going, “Shit!”

“Billy, I swear—”

“C’mon, Stevie, it’s not my fault they—”

Sadie rides off, not bothering to hide her laughter.

(When she comes in the next day, Mr Hargrove is waiting for her. He apologises, again, and introduces himself properly.

“Billy, please,” he insists, grimacing a little. “Mr Hargrove is my father, and, well. You saw that whole shitshow yesterday.”

Then he shows her how to use the coffee machine without getting burned, before Steve calls for him from upstairs. He’s almost through the door when he turns back around, eyes flickering down to the collar of her shirt with a small but genuine smile.

Sadie watches him go, ghosting her fingers over the small rainbow pin Frannie had proudly stuck on her shirt earlier that morning.

She’s pretty sure she’s going to like this job after all.)

[historake-a]

@nohysterlcs said: five times kissed / ok that sounds cute as fuck

FIVE TIMES KISSED.

The first time you kissed. It had been a night in. It wasn't a new scene, to stay up until god knows what hour, either him reading up on a particular subject or them playing through an entire video game in a day. A sense of normalcy among your hectic lives ( ever since Jessa disappeared, you new things were happening, things she couldn't explain or wave off ) it would be like those nights in which you two would stay up past 12, hyped up on sugar, watching cartoons until either one gave in && passed out, where the other would follow. There has always been a connection between the two.

So Jeff strummed his guitar while you doodled in your notebook, a sense of... dread, really, pooling in your gut, whenever your eyes would flicker up && watch him lean his head back, even if the songless melody of his guitar set a calm, comfortable tone. Should you do this ? What if you messed up ? What if, everything changed because you did exactly this ?

Stop, don't think about it. Just fucking say it, Jessie !

" I-I want to be more than friends. " It comes out a little louder than intended && of course your voice breaks at the very end, but you see him stop, you can see his face slowly turn a lovely shade of crimson && oh- He's taking some time to respond, he doesn't like you ! Crap ! Alarms are going off in your head && you're shutting your sketchbook, ready to apologize, but he interrupts your thoughts, ‘ really ? ‘

Of course really ! You want to point and shout, how could you not develop feelings for someone like Jeff ? Someone who always knew how to cheer you up, get you out of your head, someone who was always by your side, no matter how little or big the situation was, anytime anything happened you would call him !  It's always been Jeff !

‘ I'm cool with that... If- you are. '

So yes, the feelings that you had for him, they were once of pure friendship, but lately ( a little over a year or two ) you'd lay in bed, looking at the pictures you'd sneaked of him, wondering how it would be like for him to look at you && kiss you, how it would be like if whenever you looked at him, he would look back && smile, because he would know, he would know that the sparkle in your eye, it's not a common thing, not normally, but it's permanent near him, but now ? Now it seems like your feelings are returned && you forget how to breathe for a second, a grin threatening to break your face.

You're snapped out of thought, when you feel his hand cup your cheek, immediately leaning against the coolness of it, before big, chocolate orbs flicker up to meet his matching ones. ' Was I really obvious ? ‘ a soft laugh, not teasing, not like you always do, no, it's amused, " you have no idea how scared I was to tell you- You're a great actor. " Or you're the densest person on earth, because deep down, you do recognize a few instances where it had been clear as day, but you ignored it, fear of rejection blinding you.

But now ? Now it's real && now you're so close to him, you don't even think about it, should you ask ? Probably, but your lips are already merely millimetres apart, so you lean in, your lips touch, lids fall && your chest feels warm, it's liquid happiness, that's what's injected into your bloodstream as you kiss him, your hand comes up, cupping his cheek, thumb tracing the barely there stubble, skin warm thanks to the blush sitting at his cheeks, out of all the times you'd imagined being this close, kissing him silly, nothing could compare to the real thing. You pull away, looking at him with a smile you haven't really shown in some time, it reaches your eyes && shows off your teeth, you can't help it, he brings a joy impossible to play off. " You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that, actually. " Count the stars && you might be close, maybe.

---- You'd been crying, bawling your eyes out, it was a silly little thing, something you thought you'd left behind in High School, something that you were sure you were mature to ignore. You love your family, you really do, but they have the tendency to speak their minds without thinking, without caring if whatever they said would affect someone.

During Passover dinner, your Aunt had commented on your extra helping of mash, hey, it was a holiday && you had been taking care of yourself plenty, you could let yourself indulge in a little extra warmth ( your grandmother's mashed potatoes were like crack, addictive ), you're sure she didn't mean any harm, but that one comment, " I'm not sure you wanna get more, Jess, honey... I see you're already filling out that dress, we don't wanna have chipmunk cheeks, do we ? " && After laughing && nodding, you decided to leave the plate for later.

That entire gathering you'd been holding it in, smiling, laughing along, having a good time ! If not for you, for your Grandma, she loved having the family together, so you were not about to ruin it for her.

You cried on the way home, parked around the corner, bawling your eyes out, as to let it all out in case your dad was home, you didn't want to answer questions about why you looked in pain, just let it out before you got home.

Coming home, a hoodie over the dress you've picked out, the one dress you thought you looked good in ( hoodie been pulled over it in the middle of the night, when you noticed you could see the curve of your stomach && how maybe your aunt Rose was right && you should start losing more weight, watch everything closely ), you saw someone at the entrance, at the porch, your heart skipped a beat or two when you realized who it was. Jeff.

Hands quickly moved to wipe at your eyes, they were puffy && mascara was smudged under them, nose a bright red, but you hoped he wouldn't notice, not when it's so dark out, " what're you doing here ? Have you been waiting long ? I had a.. thing with the family. " You're forcing a smile at him, when he stands to greet you.

Foolish of you to think you could ever hide anything from him.

' what's wrong ? '

Two words && the tilt of his head, the concern evident in the way he approaches you, tentatively, worried. He was worried, you were worrying him over the silliest thing.  Selfish of you, really, " nothing, w-why do you ask ? " You know it's obvious you’re lying, the crack of your voice gives it away && his arms wrap around you, tightly, securely. You let out a sob. " It's so stupid - I swear it's nothing serious, I'm sorry. " You manage to whimper against his chest, you really don't want him to worry over your stupid sensitiveness, he had so much more to worry about other than Jessie being Jessie. So why are you holding on to him as if he was your anchor ? As if, were you to let go, you'd lose yourself ? 

' Talk to me, Jess... Nothing about you is stupid. '

A sniffle. You're looking up, pulling away only slightly, wiping at the fresh tears with a sleeve covered hand, " I- well... My Auntie Rose said I was getting fatter- I know it's stupid for me to get like this, but she said it as if me gaining weight would turn me into this... troll - && then I realized holy shit I did gain a bunch of weight && I don't know- I just hurts, it hurts to be seen as this gross monster just because I'm.. fat. " The words keep on coming from your mouth, word vomit the closest thing you can describe it as, && even as you spill everything, his gaze never leaves you face, as if, this tiny, trivial issue, really did matter to him, because it mattered to you. " I guess- I guess she just got me in a kinda weak spot && it's pretty stupid but I just.. " Lips press tightly together, into a thin line, " I think you should have a prettier girl with you, you're just so handsome && smart && just everything to me-. " He's frowning. Oh no, did you say something wrong ?

He cups your cheeks, looking down at you intently, the weight of his stare, how intently he looked into your eyes, it causes a blush to cover your face, it spreads quickly, && the peck on your lips, sweet && short, it only deepens the color of your face. ' You're beautiful, Jessie, I don't care about your weight, if you're happy then I will be too. ' He means it, you can hear the honesty in his words, before you start to cry again, you pull him down for another kiss, it lasts seconds more, three soft words whispered into the air, for only him to hear.

It's the first time you tell him you love him.

---

You don't know when, but you've pretty much zoned out this entire time, fixating on the tiny little details of the latest creation, it's not your best work, but it's the most you've done in a couple of months ( ever since your grandmother died, you knew you had to double down on investigating about the thing in the woods, before it got to any of your friends, so focus has been on finding any type of info you could about it ), your eyes burn && you can feel a yawn threaten to spill from your lips, eyes leave the page, decorated with tiny details ( a sort of sketch for a bigger painting, a gift for the boys, their portrait ) && your eyes falls on Jeff.

You have to stop, manually remember to breathe. He's curled up on the couch, if your phone had any charge in it, you'd take a picture, since he's very much hugging your Squirtle stuffed animal, using it as a sort of pillow ? You don't know, but he looks adorable, it makes your heart swell with a feeling you could not describe other than, well, love. Slowly, with the stealth of a ninja ( not really, it's just the carpet absorbing any sound ) you scoot to his side, watching him. Deep eyes scan his features, from the chestnut color of his hair, -you could spot a few reddish strands, maybe even some blonde ones- to the stupidly long lashes his eyes were framed with, just slightly curled over his cheekbones, high, strong, he had the quality of a model, at least, to you he did, the shadows under his eyes only added to his charm, even if you nagged him about getting more sleep. It was Jeff's charm.

A smile pulls at your lips, reaching for him && his hair, now porting an adorable curl, is pushed back, if anyone else were to see you right now, or even walk in, you doubt you'd notice, right now it was only him, " hey... Jeff... " You hum, waking up is not on your top favorite things to do, but he's too tall, you know him being curled up in the tiny space will be actual torture for his back. He stirs slightly, you lean in, pressing a soft kiss, to his forehead, lips lingering against the warm skin for a couple of seconds, until he stirs once more, you pull away && now you're left looking into his sleep dusted eyes, a sleepy smile on his face. How many times have you gotten lost in them ? Incidents are in the five digit numbers, probably. " You fell asleep, but I'm not about to be responsible for your back issues, so- Let's go upstairs. "

-----

You're still a bit breathless when you walk out of the studio. Cheeks are bright red blotches && you can feel your bangs sticking to your forehead, christ, to be in front of such talented people, watching you audition, all of their attention on you- Amazing you didn't just empty your stomach right there && then, even if nothing would've come out, you were too nervous when you woke up to even take a sip of the coffee Jeff had greeted you with. You see him, leaning against the wall, headphones on && he's nodding to a tune you've probably heard before, has he seen you ? No, you don't think so.

The sun hits him in a way.. it almost makes you think he's the one shinning, not reflecting, his hair looks like it's made out of gold && you can see a sort of calmness you only catch a glimpse of in a few occasions, seems like in New York, even nervous Jeff could get lost in, you reach into your pocket, fumbling with your phone before you hold it up, a click, you capture the moment && he still hasn't seen you, he just looks... at peace, enjoying the scenery, students walking past him, not paying any mind, he blends into the crowd but still manages to stand out.

How could someone love another person so intensely ?

You put your phone away, making a mental note to change your background picture, hey, if the whole acting shtick didn't pull through, you would always try photography ? Even with your old flip-phone, the picture looked pretty good, then again, might be a biased look at it, given that your boyfriend was the main focus of it. " Hey - ! " You're calling out, running to him, a wide grin covering your face, " it's done ! " When he turns && meets your smile with an even broader one, you forget to breathe for a second, ' you see yourself as a Julliard student ? I can see it, you mingling among the art kids. ' To think, he'd taken the time to take you to the appointment && wait until your audition was over ? You're reaching up, pulling him down by the collar of his hoodie, lips meeting his in a tender kiss, it doesn't last long, pulling back before he has the chance to respond to the kiss, after all, you were in public, PDA was not okay, but you could always make an exception for him, " thank you- for believing in me, I dunno what I would do without your support. " A laugh, it reaches your eyes && forces them closed, hiding the tears that threatened to leak from warm, chocolate orbs. Instead you bury your face in his chest, hugging him tight, " you're amazing. "

----

You've already said goodbye to the others. Steph, Evan, Vinnie & Alex, though, keep in mind you've said goodbye about half an hour ago, now you both sat in the driveway, your car's keys sat in your hoodie's pocket, you knew you had to get going, before it got too dark out but you'd miss him, you weren't even sure if he was doing okay, they all felt extremely odd, almost... scared ? " Are you sure you guys don't need me to stay ? Cause I can, I'll just call my dad & tell him I'm saying with you, he never worries... " Though you already know the answer, it plays in your head before he says it himself, ' no worries, Jess, we're good. You should get some rest. '

A little frown. There's no way of changing his mind once it's made up, so you just take a couple of steps forwards, wrapping your arms around his middle, your cheek pressing against his chest as you let out a little sigh, " fine- okay. But promise me you guys are going to the Cabin this weekend. We'll just hang out, eat junk food && watch lame movies. " Your head tilts up searching for his gaze, " I'm supposed to get a response that day so... I wanna open it with everyone present. " You feel his hand at the top of your head, gently scratching at your scalp, an approving hum falls from your lips, " I wanna hear the yes- I'm not leavin' until I get a solid yes from you.. " You can hear him laugh. Thank god, you were starting to worry. ' Okay, we'll go, you can text us the address & we'll meet you there. ' A little pout, it would've been an even more fun idea to arrive together, but you figured you could set everything up before they arrived.

" Okay, it's real easy you know, cabin 4. Cabin with the raddest vibes. " You tease, nodding, but eventually let go. It's a couple of seconds, not awkward, it's your mind, it's racing, he still seemed troubled, but he wouldn't talk to you, tell you exactly what was wrong. " Mkay- I'm gonna go now, please take care of yourself, okay ? " Head tilts to the side, searching his eyes before you pull him down, gently, for a soft, see you soon kiss. You can't help yourself, for some reason, your body screams at you to make the kiss last, only this one time, so your arms wrap around his neck, his hands find your hips, carefully settling against them as the kiss deepens. A few seconds go by && you force yourself away, cheeks a bright pink hue, your eyes search his, noting the adorable flush of his face before you nod, " see you soon, mkay ? " He nods, smiling.

That's the last time you kiss him.

[ren-is-jers-husband-figure]

Anyway, here’s the fic for the start of the Mobster AU and how the kingpin of an Irish mob and a daughter of a famous politician have an 80’s movie style meet-cute. I don’t think I could have summed it up better than that.

(Let's stop the world) I'll stop the world and melt with you/(Let's stop the world) You've seen the difference and it's getting better all the time/(Let's stop the world) There's nothing you and I won't do/(Let's stop the world) I'll stop the world and melt with you/The future's open wide.

If there was one thing that the political heiress to Kizami knew about political marriages, it was that the spouse who didn’t receive much gain was forced to leave a suffocating life. It still hurt that the man her parents had wed her to for these gains had rejected every notion of them ever trying to be anything like how a child dreamed of a married couple. It stung worse that he desired her adopted sister, those cruel eyes cutting through her to her core as his words provided the verbal equivalent of lemon juice in a paper cut. He was known for taking many women and men into his bed to claim their virginities, but her husband had deemed her as “Not worthy to share a house with me, let alone a night.” Perhaps the only thing that kept her from wanting to splatter her truth and brains from atop a skyscraper was the small group of people who worked at or went to the college she attended. Ah, and there also was her interest in theater.

Her junior squeezed her hand as they came to a dress and suit store in the mall, and rubbed her hand softly. “Senpai, would you like me to pick something nice for you here for the ball in a few weeks?” She asked, and the older girl hugged her junior tightly. “Senpai...”

She smiled at the bespectacled girl. “Thank you, Mash-chan. I’m glad I have you and Leo-chan and Mister Roman to trust. I just... can’t really trust my family anymore, my sister’s probably become a yanki, and pretty much only Merlin keeps me safe at my house. You have good taste, so I know you’ll pick something good!” She twirled a piece of her red hair on her finger as she followed her junior. Mash skimmed a few racks, and handed her senior a few dresses.

“I’ll be by the cash registers so you can show me, Jerilyn-Senpai,” Mash murmured reassuringly. She headed off to the cash registers while Jerilyn changed into one of the dresses in a dressing room.

Jerilyn later stepped out in a lilac dress, and tripped over her own high heeled shoes she was still trying to learn to walk in, stumbling forward into a stranger who caught her. “I-I’m really... sorry...?” She apologized, her voice trailing off as she caught the man’s face. “... Ah...”

The dark-haired man looked her over for a brief moment. “... You break any bones or twist your ankle?” He asked, a deep voice just barely above a murmur. She shook her head, and in spite of the red facial tattoos probably meant to be intimidating, concern colored his face. “... That’s good.” He helped her steady herself. “You... shouldn’t be careless. You might stumble into a worse person.”

She bowed her head apologetically. “I-I’m sorry, sir!” She looked up at him, and smiled sheepishly. “Thank... thank you... I’m usually less... scatter-brained... a-anyway, thank you, sir, I’m sorry for stumbling into you!”

He gave her a curt nod and observed her as she headed towards another girl. “... She was pretty cute,” he mused to himself as he made his way to the suit section. “Ah, right, can’t believe Cas is having me go to that dumbass party in his place. Dunno how he expects me to pretend to be him, thought my face was plastered on a buncha different shit.” He reached out and grabbed a hat and a tie. “I would rather wear what I am now, but that idiot likes to dress in outrageous shit, so...” A White-haired man waiting by the front of the store watched the exchange with amusement.

Later, Jerilyn returned to the mansion she, her bodyguard, and her adoptive sister lived in. “She’s not home yet, huh... what do you think, Merlin? The girl who can do as she likes but gets ignored, or the girl who receives attention at the cost of freedom... who suffers more?” She asked her bodyguard.

The white-haired man closed up a case for the gun he had on his side all day. “Depends, you know? My thinking is more colored by me knowing you since you were a baby, though, and having actually interacted with that asshole husband of yours, but you to me seem to suffer the most. You’ve always been good at hiding your pain, though, my dear niece.” He flicked her forehead, and she huffed at him. “I also personally hate being restricted, so that seems more painful. Anyway, that guy you bumped into at the dress store was pretty handsome!”

The heiress stared dumbfoundedly at Merlin. “... The guy with face tattoos? He... certainly was... do you know about him, Merlin?”

Merlin grabbed a white cat scurrying by and then picked up a little white dog, placing the dog in his charge’s lap. “Seems kinda familiar. Seems you’d have to run into him again for me to try to get a better glance. I have a feeling you two would hit it off.” He pinched her cheek and wiggled it as she glared at him. “I can set you up with a cute girl, too. Why should you be the only one miserable in your marriage when that bastard makes no secret of fucking everyone but you, that’s what I’m getting at, my dear. After all, a man who would rather have sex with the adoptive sister of the girl he married doesn’t deserve sympathy.”

She smiled wryly. “I almost half expected you to suggest relations between us, Uncle.”

“Oh, no, no, I’ve known you all your life, Jerilyn. Raising someone and then having sex with them, even a scoundrel like me draws the line somewhere! Plus, I know you don’t like my type.” His cat started attacking him. “Little bastard, I accidentally throw you out a window one time and you continue to murder me!! Piece of shit Cath Palug!!” She laughed as she hugged her dog to her chest. “This cat’s probably gonna be immortal so it can ruin my life. I hope I can find that guy again, or a cute girl if I can’t get him for you, dear.”

A few days later, Jerilyn was walking her dog with Merlin watching her back while under the guise of hitting on someone, and went to a dog park that he’d suggested as “kinda near a good mall, so you can take your little fluff ball there later.” She would have enjoyed seeing all the various dogs and marveled over their cuteness, had not her own dog started getting jealous every time she let out an “Awww.”

She rubbed her dog’s ears with a sigh. “Max, why are you like this,” she mumbled to him as he let out a huge sigh, and he jumped off her lap, dragging her along with him despite not even reaching her knee in height. “Maaaaaax...!” Her little dog barreled over to a peachy-colored poodle, and she took care to not slam into the poodle’s hoodie-wearing owner, and instead chose to fall on her behind. “Ow... I’m so sorry that my dog is... like that...”

The owner knelt down to check if she was hurt, and she gasped. “... You’re... that clumsy girl from the other day...” he remarked, and aided her to her feet. While she had opted for a bubblegum pink puffy dress-one of the few benefits of a rich husband who didn’t care about her meant that she could wear the cute Lolita dresses she’d longed for-he was wearing a hoodie, a shirt with an odd pattern on it, some basketball shorts, boots, and had on glasses, giving him a rather youthful appearance compared to the other day. “You seem to get into situations where you fall a lot.”

Jerilyn pouted. “I’m not trying to fall! This time, it was my Maltipoo, and last time, it was my tall heels!” He held back a snort and put his non-leashed hand on his face pensively. “Wh... what is it, Mister?” She asked, quickly realizing that this man was indeed her type, at least visually.

He grinned at her. “You’re amusing. I haven’t felt a sort of enjoyment like that in a while. It also doesn’t help me that whatever you called your dog sounds funny. My dog and yours seem to like each other, so... maybe they can enjoy each other’s company...”

Jerilyn looked down to see the two dogs looking like they wanted to chase each other. “S-sure... um... I’m Jerilyn Kizami.” The two unleashed their dogs, who proceeded to chase each other around their humans. She walked by the significantly taller man, who continued to gaze at her curiously.

After a few moments of walking, he leaned against a bench she sat on. “So you’re the daughter of that famous politician... you don’t seem like a liar type, though, that’s funny. Well, I’m Cu Chulainn. I do some bodyguard type stuff and sometimes do stuff for a casino. And I guess I got a dog, she followed me home once and I couldn’t ignore her despite her annoying me.”

Jerilyn twirled a piece of her red hair on her finger. “It was more a power move on my family’s part, I don’t even care much about that stuff. Your doggy is super cute, Mister Cu... My underclassman got me my little Max for me.... he likes to protect me and he thinks he’s big. He’s not as funny as my uncle’s cat, though. His cat hates him and attacks him whenever he’s in the room.”

“You don’t need to be formal and add a ‘Mister’. Cats aren’t my thing. Aren’t all little dogs like that, thinking they’re big?” Cu mused, and he slid a hand in his pocket after pushing his glasses up. “... You really seem to avoid talking about yourself.”

“... Well, yes... there isn’t much to discuss... I do some acting on small stages... I like cute things, mysteries, and... strange anime... I try to stay away from notice to avoid trouble...” She gazed down at her hands.

Cu took a seat on the bench with her. “Ain’t nothing wrong with wanting to live a quiet life. There’s something about not being self-absorbed and only discussing yourself that’s pleasant, a lot better than what I usually hear.” He caught her looking at him. “... What is it?”

Jerilyn smiled a smile at him that felt brilliant and melancholic in unison. “Thank you, Mister Cu...” He leaned in to brush a stray piece of her hair back, and she flinched. “S... sorry... I’m... not used to...”

Cu looked over her quietly. “... You’re too gentle to be like that... I’ll give you my number. If you ever need help and whoever regularly guards you can’t arrive in time, call me.” They briefly exchanged numbers, and his dog jumped into his lap. “You sure know how to kill a mood, don’t you, dog?”

She picked her own dog up and held him tightly. “Thank you, Mister Cu. I think, apart from my underclassman, you’re my first friend since I was put into that marriage...”

“F-friend?” He repeated. “I-I guess we are... that’s a first for me, someone who isn’t involved in the business... well, now it feels a little weird. Whatever you need, you can call or text me, my phone’s always on me.”

A few days later, Cu got a message while finishing a job up. “Hm, amusing,” he chuckled, and he dropped the bat in his hand to open the message up. The girl’s fun messages to him had become highlights of his day, and her sheltered viewpoint made for some fascinating tales she would send him. Earlier, she had sent a picture of her dog lying on his back while he was asleep with his legs in the air. This time, she had sent him a message about improv practice and asking what he was doing. He quickly replied, “Got some time off, so I went to do some batting practice. I hit it well each time.”

She sent a picture of herself smiling-most likely taken by that weird bodyguard of hers-and sent a message that said, “Sounds fun! Do you want to hang out?”

“After I get cleaned up. I have to get some stuff from my work. Want to meet up there?” He looked down at the broken computer on the floor. “That certainly ain’t gonna be salvageable,” he remarked. “... Same for you, too, bastard. You really musta pissed the lady off for her to call me in and silence you. Good thing I wore a suit from high school... I’ll get Billy to clean this up.”

The small time actress stepped out of the car in front of a casino, feeling self-conscious in the sweet lolita outfit she’d opted to wear. “I should’ve worn something more grown up,” she whined to herself, and asked a security guard where she would find Cu. The guard led her to what appeared to be the manager’s office, and her growing unease continued to gnaw at her. “... He’s the manager...? I thought he just worked at the casino,” she whispered to herself, and sat in the chair in front of the desk. She twirled her hair on her finger, nearly jumping out of the chair as the other door in the room opened.

Cu stepped out in a suit with his shirt undone, and a towel on his head. “Good grief, they couldn’t be any less discreet about sending them in...” he grumbled to himself, and then noticed the nervous actress in the room. “... I hope that we’re meeting to hang out and that you aren’t a surprise escort someone sent... not that I’d mind if you are...”

Jerilyn blushed, and flailed her arms to the point she fell out of the chair. “N-n.... not at all!! I-I’ve never even been intimate with anyone before!!” She protested, and her face grew more red as she realized his grin was focused on her. “I... I didn’t know you were the manager of the casino, Mister Cu!”

He helped her up, and she noted the pleasant rose scent from his hair. “‘Course I am. My teacher showed me how to run it, and I took over. It was a joke. What kind of uptown girl is a prostitute? Anyway, I got the stuff done, so do you want to come with me to a meeting I gotta attend?”

—————————————————-

Later that night, he came up to the gallery where this party-rather, a ball-was being held, glaring at the woman with a fur shawl trying to cling to him. “Aww, I knew you liked me, Cu, I’m so happy I could be your date!”

Cu grimaced at the woman and slapped her hand away. “I didn’t even invite you, Medb. And I still don’t like you, you just tagged along, and I don’t give a fuck anymore.” He looked around the place, and sighed. “What the hell do people do here, anyway? There ain’t even any art stuff in here.”

Medb snickered, and went to sit at a table. “Ah, yeah, you guys didn’t come from money. It’s just silent auctions of luxury stuff, pats on the backs, and that kind of stuff.”

[ontherun-writing]

[compliments (1/4) - poetry] RK800/Reader

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this! It was overall just really fluffy and sweet (maybe tooth-rotting) so it was therapeutic almost.

Takes place post-pacifist ending where everyone lives + Connor becomes a police officer at DPD + Gavin with more personality than being an asshole etc + Connor lives w Hank. This will probably be two?? parts; it was supposed to be one but uh lmao.

Comments/Reblogs w tags much appreciated :)) I wanna know what ya’ll think

Part 2

Summary: Upon meeting you, Connor learns that he is surprisingly good at giving honest compliments, among other things.

Word Count: 4k+

The first time Connor met you, you had picked up a stray coin and asked it if it was his. He had been walking Sumo at the park nearby Hank’s apartment in the early afternoon when you passed by him, adjusting the strap on your backpack. He hadn’t expected you to pay any attention to him at all, so it had taken a moment to realize that you were talking to him. You held the quarter in between your thumb and index gently, waiting for his response with polite patience.

Connor did not remember taking out his coin on the duration of the walk, and feeling the pocket of his khaki shorts that Hank kindly gave(forced) him to wear, he knew that the coin was still there. Conclusion: that was not his coin.

Still, he took it anyways, giving you a lopsided smile that he hadn’t quite gotten the hang of yet. It was something about the way you asked him, shyly but with a touch of levity, that made him want to agree with you. Or was it the way your eyes flickered down at his body before meeting his eyes on the way back up.

You were attracted to him, he realized, analyzing the way your pupils dilated ever so slightly and how your temperature increased ever so slightly. His LED light was still attached to the right side of his forehead, so it was evident he was an android. But still, you found him sexually appealing.

Stumbling on his thoughts, Connor thanked you and pocketed the coin, hearing it ‘clink’ with the quarter that he already had in his pockets. Bringing his attention back to the present, he was surprised to see you still standing there, but your attention was already elsewhere, more specifically towards the large Saint Bernard that was wagging its tail furiously in hopes of getting petted. You looked up with him with an undisguised expression of excitement. “Can I pet him?” You asked, and when he nodded, you immediately began to coo at the large dog who was only too happy to oblige to your affectionate belly rubs.

Connor couldn’t help but feel vaguely disappointed. He looked to the side where you had placed your backpack (a student?) and watched as you quickly rolled up your black windbreaker sleeves to vigorously pet the dog.

He had almost missed your question, but could catch enough of your words to know that you were asking if he came here often. “Recently, I have been frequenting this park to walk Sumo,” he said, listening to you echo the dog’s name delightedly. “I have only recently moved to a neighborhood in close proximity to this area, so it’s most likely you would not have seen me prior to this month.”

You agreed, “I think I would notice you and such a cute dog,” you cooed at Sumo before reverting your voice back to its normal tone, “if you came around often before.” You scratched at Sumo’s ears absentmindedly as you looked up at him sheepishly. “I’m sorry,” you said, “I never got your name.”

“My name is Connor.” He had learned to leave out the rest of his introduction a while ago. “And yours?”

You responded back with your own name and got to your feet, seemingly satisfied with the amount of dog love you acquired through Sumo. You stuck out your hand and grinned widely, and as Connor shook your hand, you said, “It’s nice to meet you, Connor! I hope I’ll see you around more often!”

Just as casually as you began the conversation, you just as easily said your goodbyes. You waved eagerly, and he imitated the action but with less robustness. He watched you walk away until Sumo tugged at the leash, finally impatient enough to want to continue down the sidewalk. With a last glance at your retreating figure, Connor apologized to Sumo about the delay before following the dog on its mission to find a squirrel. He could only hope he would meet you again.

And he did the very next day.

“Connor! Hey!” You called for him, waving at him exuberantly. Connor had just exited the donut shop with an entire box of assorted ones for the police force when he heard your voice from down the street. When Connor met your eyes and raised his hand in a small wave, you beamed so clearly that he had a hard time figuring why it was so endearing you were so excited to see him.

Connor watched as you quickly told the two friends you were with something before bounding (yes, because there was an extra hop to your steps today compared to yesterday) to him with a warm smile. Again, there was that appreciative gaze you gave him as you looked up and down, the quickening of your heartbeat indicating that you very much liked the way he looked in his police uniform. “Didn’t expect to see you so soon,” you said teasingly. “I thought donuts were just a stereotype, officer.”

“Unfortunately, the lieutenant likes to consume unhealthy foods on a daily basis,” Connor explained, feeling a smile raise his lips as you huffed in amusement. “I would normally not indulge him on this, but it seemed that everyone else in the precinct wanted one, so I was sent.” It was Gavin that told him to go, telling him that since he made money now the least he could do was buy donuts. It was funny how their relationship developed, but at least they weren’t at each other’s throats, literally. Connor paused, unsure if his next words were overstepping anything. “Would you like one?” he offered.

“Oh, no! No, thanks.” You grinned. “I’m not that into donuts, surprisingly,” you said. “I’m more of an ice-cream kinda person, you know?”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Connor said, liking the way your eyes gleamed.

“So, what is it like, being an officer,” you said, pointing at the DPD logo on his shoulder.

It hadn't been quite long since Connor was officially reinstated as an official detective after the revolution. An adjustment had to be made, of course, for both the precinct and for Connor himself as androids could not only hold their own jobs but also be protected under the law like a human.

It was an even bigger adjustment for him to be helping androids after weeks of deliberately hunting them down. Connor mindfully pushed that thought away.

“It’s not quite that big of change from what I was before,” he responded, smiling, hoping it was as warm as he could make it. “I get to protect both androids and humans, so that’s certainly something new. If anything, it’s… nice to be able to get paid, even though I have yet to figure out what I should spend on, besides pastries for the precinct, of course.”

You let out an appreciative laugh. “The job suits you,” you said, and he watched your eyes glanced over his attire again in approval. “You look good in uniform.” Your eyes widened in panic after your comment, pink blooming on your cheeks. “I--I mean,” you stammered, raising your hand to your lips, “you look good as an officer-- wait, uh, I mean, you do look good but--”

Connor quickly glanced at your attire: an apricot floral skirt that ended right above your knees, a top that complemented its color, twine-aesthetic sandals to finish the look. “You look nice as well,” he replied easily, watching as you snapped your mouth shut, the color on your cheeks continuing to spread. “Your outfit very much complements both your physical features and your personality,” he said as a matter of fact. “You look like the embodiment of a summer day.”

“I--” You paused, covering your mouth with your hand to hide the growing, but shy, smile on your face. Your eyes glanced at him ever so often. You let out a laugh as you looked back at him, face completely flushed, but your voice was as teasing as ever. “I never knew you were into Shakespeare,” you commented, but your tone told you that you were undeniably flattered.

(He quickly researched Shakespeare and received results about a poet that used a certain meter to tell stories and more famously, write love poems. If Hank knew he was accidentally quoting poetry, Hank would have gagged.)

“I’m not,” Connor said honestly, blinking. “That’s just what I saw.”

You laughed again and playfully pushed his shoulder as you gushed about what a poet he was and then proceeded to give him your phone number. “I want to get to know you more,” she said, and he agreed. All he really registered was that he would get to see you again. “Soon,” you had said to him hopefully before going back to your friends.

It had been a few days since the last time you had met Connor, and it was only through Hank’s insistence that he had sent you a text asking how your day was. “How the hell is she going to talk to you if she doesn’t have your phone number?” Hank had grumbled as Connor received his first text message back from you with a set of smiling emojis. He pretended not to care when Connor thanked him for his help, saying something along the lines of “don’t fucking mention it.”

It was then that Connor began to learn more about you. You were a second-year graduate student at a nearby university, living in an apartment with three other roommates. You liked pastel colors, dogs (he heard how you nostalgically talked about your own dog and made note to let you see Sumo again as soon as possible), and singing (though you said you were no good at it). There was very little things you disliked eating, and you had no allergies except to “maybe dust,” you had texted to him with a ‘laughing-crying’ emoji. It was apparent you conveyed your emotions through these small faces and hoped that you didn’t mind his lack of usage. Apart from texting, you would actually call him at night whenever he was free, mindful of his work schedule.

It was on a quiet Thursday night when you had called him at the usual time, 8 PM, and he picked up the phone knowing it was you without looking. “How are you?” He always began, feeling himself relax as he heard the laughter in your voice as you replied as the same as ever. Connor placed his jacket on the dining hall table and loosened his tie, speaking through the phone as he settled himself on the couch with Sumo soon following after him.

“So, I was wondering,” you said, the tone in your voice changing from playful to bashful. “If you’re free this Saturday, I was thinking maybe we could hang-- uh, go out together?”

Connor looked at the blank TV in front of him, watching as his LED swirled yellow momentarily. “I am free Saturday, and I’d be glad to be able to see you again,” he said. “What were you planning for us to do?”

“I was thinking about going to the aquarium,” you responded, sounding more flustered on the phone. “I remember you saying that you like animals, and you liked fish, and I thought maybe it’d be nice for us to go look at them together.” You mumbled something else, and Connor pressed the phone closer to his ears.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the last part of what you said.” He continued, “But I would be delighted to go with you to the aquarium.”

“Just the two of us,” you said, though it sounded more like a question.

“Yes, of course.” Connor hoped he sounded as confused as he felt. “Is this not a date?”

Connor was alarmed at the loud crack over the other side of the call as he distantly heard you yelp. “Are you alright?” He asked in concern.

“Yes! Yeah, sorry, I dropped my phone.” He heard you fumble with the phone and breathe out deeply.

“I’m sorry,” Connor began nervously, pulling at his collar as the temperature seemed to increase. “Did I interpret your invitation incorrectly? Because--”

“No! I-- I was asking you out on a date, for sure,” you exclaimed, quick to fix him. “I wasn’t sure if you were comfortable going out with me. But yes! So you can make it?” You grew more excited. “I can buy us the tickets online--”

“I would be pleased to accompany you to the aquarium as your date. As for the tickets, I have just bought them,” Connor replied, his LED flickering as he made the purchase for the aquarium. At your protest, he said, “I insist. I need something to spend on, after all. You can pay for our food and drinks during the date.”

“Connor,” you pointed out, amused, “you don’t eat or drink.”

“Yes,” he agreed, not really understanding why you laughed, but happy to have caused you to nonetheless. “When should we meet?”

“10AM? I’ll pick you up.”

“I’ll send you my address,” Connor responded, feeling thirium rush through his bio-components, imitating what it would feel if adrenaline was coursing through him. “I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”

The warmth in your tone was enough for him to tell you felt the same.

The only thing standing between Connor and meeting you again was Hank, arms crossed. “No,” he said. It was late, and everyone was eager to go home on a Friday night. Connor would have thought Hank would feel the same, but it was apparent he did not. Not today, anyways.

Connor pressed his lips together. “I don’t see why--”

“You can’t show up on a date in your uniform,” Hank said in exasperation, “not even your Cyberlife outfit; it’s too formal for something like going to an aquarium, and it's like bringing your work with you.”

“She had indicated pleasure to seeing me in uniform,” Connor said defensively.

“That’s--” Hank sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s not the point. You can look good in other outfits, Connor. You need to make it a special occasion by… dressing up nice. She’s probably going to do the same for you.”

Connor thought deeply as Hank watched his LED swirl yellow for a few moments until he spotted a certain detective in the distance. The last time he had borrowed Hank’s formal clothing, it had either turned out too gaudy or large. Who could Connor borrow from that was his size (more or less) and was still here?

“Detective Reed,” Connor called out, ignoring the way the man turned to glare at him as his usual greeting. Hoping he was pulling out the best appeasing smile, Connor said, “I was wondering if you would like to go out for a few drinks with me.”

“And why the fuck don’t you have your own clothes, fucking plastic?” Gavin said hours later, watching with an exasperated expression as Connor looked through his closet for ‘date clothes.’ It was a good thing they had met after hours or Gavin would have rather died than talk to Connor civilly let alone offer Connor an opportunity to look in his closet to impress a girl; he pushed down the urge to regurgitate the five shots he had downed in an hour.

Picking up a plain white shirt to accompany a light blue jacket, Connor could only shrug. “I hadn’t thought I would need it,” he said honestly, scanning the closet before settling on khaki colored pants and white shoes that would accompany his top. “I was content on borrowing the lieutenant’s clothes.”

“Maybe your new girlfriend can help you get a goddamn fashion sense,” the other officer groused. Connor could see him rolling his eyes without actually turning around.

Blinking, Connor looked back at Gavin as he gathered the clothes. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

This time Connor did see Gavin roll his eyes. “Sure, tin can. Whatever you say,” he said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “You’re going on a date but you’re not dating, makes sense to me.”

“Thank you for the clothes, Detective,” Connor replied, giving the detective a small, albeit smug smile. “These clothes are shorter than my stature, but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless--”

Connor ducked just in time to dodge the white sneakers that he had requested from Gavin which were exactly his size: a nine-and-a-half.

You rang the doorbell exactly ten minutes before the given time. Not that it mattered much since Connor was ready to go hours ago. He opened the door, watching as your face seemed to light up the moment you saw him. “Sorry,” you said immediately, “I came a little earlier than I thought.”

“Wow, it really has been too long,” you teased, evidently scanning your eyes up and down appreciatively before winking. You laughed when Connor stammered, unsure how to respond to both your flirtatious comment and also to the bombardment of emotions that rammed into him. It was like watching a flower in bloom: was it possible for you to be sweeter than last time you met?

Connor made a motion to welcome her in, and she abided, cheerfully greeting Sumo as he came up to her and sat at her feet. He couldn’t help but watch her in silent awe.

Your dark hair falling down in soft rivulets at your shoulders, it complemented the white top of your dress. Small bouquets of pink and red contrasted with the blue of the bottom half. Considering you topped it off with sandals that made you much shorter than Connor, forcing you to tilt your head up at him, did not help him deal with the fact your presence screamed “cute!” in his face.

It seemed that he had paused for too long of a moment because he hadn’t noticed that your attention had turned to him. “Connor? You okay?” You asked, going on your tip-toes to peer into his face.

“Yes! I’m perfectly fine.” Connor coughed, which made you even more confused, because when did androids need to clear their throats? “I apologize,” he said, “I was taken aback by your appearance. You seem to increase in attractiveness every time we meet.” When you began to blush, he continued with a hint of the same flirtatious tone you had used on him, “I’m afraid that someday you’ll be too stunning for me to look at.”

“Connor, stop!” You giggled, covering a snort that was nothing short of adorable as you objected to his admittedly corny lines. “I should say that to you!” You said, voice warm, “You look really good, honestly. I’m so glad we could go to the aquarium together. It’s been a long time since I last visited.”

Thinking back to the last minute advice Hank had for him, Connor politely stuck out his arm for you to take, pleased when you hooked arms with him without a second thought, smiling brightly. “Shall we go then?”

“I’ll lead the way!”

It was like a world on its own, for the most part. Certainly, neither of you could ignore the crowd that shuffled the two of you down a popular show of whales or sharks. (Connor didn’t mind this; it gave him an opportunity to hold you hands so you wouldn’t get separated from him.) That didn’t stop Connor from glancing over at you ever so often and simply admire the unadulterated emotions on your face. He liked to pinpoint the mole you had on your eyelid (“Almost like a beauty mark,” you told him) and see your eyes widen when a particularly pretty jellyfish floated its way across the glassed containers.

Perhaps it wasn’t a mystery why he thought you looked more attractive. Being able to know you, understanding why you were so fascinated by otters (you liked the fact they held hands in their sleep; Connor glanced down at his own hand that you had never let go) or even knowing why you fussed over buying him a souvenir (because how could you let him pay for everything?). He even liked the way you ate with such enjoyment even though you seemed to hold back because “Connor, come on, I can’t just swallow the entire sandwich whole; we’re in public.”

It was these little quirks about you that made you you that made you so attractive. There could be no one else out there that could be exactly like you, and he knew that he particularly liked every part of that made you unique to him. “You’re similar to this kaleidoscope,” Connor commented when you had gushed over its sea-related designs. When you had laughed, he continued with a smile on his face. “You have many facets, all of which are completely distinct from everyone else,” he said, turning the octoscope for a moment. “No matter how much I turn it, it continues to give me a unique array of color that creates a beautiful work of art that I can never tire of.”

If he noticed the wetness of your eyes or how determined you were to buy this for him, Connor said nothing. He only gripped your hand tighter as the two of you continued down the tiles of the aquarium.

The two of you walked slowly, hand in hand, looking in awe at the abundance of life in each window of the aquarium. Connor stopped for a bit longer at one section, watching the dwarf gourami swim leisurely through the water. When he felt a tug at his hand, he immediately switched his attentions toward you, who had begun to dreamily follow the dimly lit blue lights down the tunnel of water where seals circled around without a care in the world. They stepped down in a dome-like fixture of the seal exhibit, letting a group of tourists by so they had the room to themselves.

It was at this moment Connor felt your attention waver. He watched in mild confusion as your temperature began to warm and your heart beat increased without a change in scenery. “Is there something wrong?” He watched as you climbed up to a higher stair-step, never letting go of his hand, and it was hard for him to hide the immense amount of adoration he held for you when you weren’t turned his way. Even now, as you faced away from him momentarily, he could still see the tinge of red high on your cheeks.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, finally standing tall enough that you no longer needed to look up at him. “I just-- I just wanted to be your height for a sec.”

Connor tilted his head, as he always did when confused. “Alright,” he said. “Not that I mind, but I’m growing rather concerned about your rise in temperature; are you sure you--”

“I’m fine, Connor,” you said, laughing, gripping his hands tightly. “I-- um,” you licked your lips, “I just thought it’d be easier for me to kiss you if I was like this.”

You looked at him shyly. Connor could barely feel himself think.

“Is that… okay?” You asked nervously, bunching up your hands in front of you.

Connor opened his mouth, surprisingly dry, and closed it. It wasn’t as if he lacked words to say, but he doubted his voice could function well at all. Instead, emulating the scenarios from rom-com movies Hank fell asleep to, Connor stepped closer to you, noting the way your breath hitched, and lightly held onto your waist.

“That is…” he began, feeling his thirium pump work towards overheating when he saw your eyes dilate as your eyes trailed over his lips. He watched you as if time slowed, your eyes fluttering closed and your face growing closer. “That is more than okay,” he said before your lips pressed against his.

Connor couldn’t describe it. It was difficult to string his thoughts together let alone put his thoughts into words. It was softness, passion, nervous energy, eagerness, and something heated all combined into the kisses you shared with him. You reached up to hold his face closer, and he slid his hands across the fabric of your dress to pull you closer, closer. He was no good at kissing, as it seemed practice actually did make perfect in these cases, but for what mattered, it didn’t seem as you cared, based off the way you breathed heavily and combed through his hair in a way that made him shiver.

When you pulled away, he was delighted and adoring in how your face was flushed in embarrassment as if you weren’t the one to initiate the kiss in the first place. You stammered something Connor couldn’t hear, but he was at least glad that he wasn’t the only who could barely think straight.

“Sorry,” he said, making you look up at him with starry eyes. “I can’t seem to get enough of you.” And he swooped in for another kiss.

Connor’s emotions came in likes waves, pushing and pulling him along without direction. It was overwhelming, the way he felt the need to hold your waist so he could press your body to his but also the desire to simply caress your face and just be. Connor recognized this feeling; he had swam against the current last time, trying to regain control of himself because of the sense of instability. This time was different. He didn’t mind this tidal wave of feelings for you lift him up higher and higher.

You were an ocean that he wanted to drown in.

Connor knew he had a lot to learn about you and about human emotions. Still, in the back of his mind, there part of him that was still drifting along the tide, thinking to himself that perhaps this was the start of his journey of falling in love with you.

[blackkudos]

Solange Knowles

Solange Piaget Knowles (/soʊˈlɑːnʒ/; born June 24, 1986) is an American singer, songwriter, dancer, model and actress. Expressing an interest in music from an early age, Knowles had several temporary stints in Destiny's Child, before signing with her father Mathew Knowles's Music World Entertainment label. At age 16, Knowles released her first studio album Solo Star (2002). Between 2005 and 2007, Knowles had several minor acting roles, including the direct-to-video Bring It On: All or Nothing (2006) and continued writing music for her older sister Beyoncé Knowles-Carter and for ex-Destiny's Child group members Kelly Rowland and Michelle Williams.

In 2007, Knowles began to record music again. Her second studio album Sol-Angel and the Hadley St. Dreams (2008) deviated from the pop-oriented music of her debut to the Motown Sound of the 1960s and 1970s. It peaked at number nine on US Billboard 200 and received positive reviews from critics. She followed this up with the 1980s pop and R&B��inspired extended play True (2012) on Columbia Records and her imprint Saint Records. Her third studio album, A Seat at the Table (2016) became her first number-one album in the United States. The album's first single, "Cranes in the Sky" won the Grammy for Best R&B Performance. In December 2016, Billboard magazine ranked her as the 100th most successful dance artist of all-time.

Knowles is heavily influenced by Motown girl groups and says that her first passion is songwriting. She is frequently compared by the media to her sister, Beyoncé, but Solange insists they have different aspirations and are musically different. Her other ventures include an endorsement deal with Rimmel London and a line of hip-hop-oriented merchandise for young children. On November 16, 2014, Knowles married music video director Alan Ferguson in New Orleans, Louisiana.

Early life

Knowles was born in Houston, Texas, to Mathew Knowles and Tina Lawson. Solange's older sister is singer Beyoncé. Her father, originally from Alabama, is African American, and her mother, originally from southern Louisiana, is Creole (with African, Native American, French, and 1/32 Irish ancestry). Her maternal grandparents are Lumis Beyincé and Agnéz Deréon, (a seamstress). She is also a descendant of Acadian leader Joseph Broussard. As a child, Knowles studied dance and theater. At the age of five, she made her singing debut at an amusement park. She began writing songs at the age of nine. At 13, she decided to pursue recording, but her parents initially advised her to wait. At the age of 15 Knowles replaced a departed dancer and performed with her sister's group Destiny's Child on tour. During the group's opening stint for American pop singer Christina Aguilera's tour, Knowles temporarily replaced Destiny's Child member Kelly Rowland after she broke her toes backstage during a costume change. When Knowles was 16, her father, who was then also her manager, signed her to his recording company, Music World Entertainment, along with Columbia.

Career

2001–2003: Early career and Solo Star

Managed by her father Mathew, Knowles's first time into the music business was in 2001 as the lead singer, backed with Destiny's Child, on the title theme song for the animated television series The Proud Family. She also was a featured performer on "Hey Goldmember" for the soundtrack to the 2002 film Austin Powers in Goldmember, as well as a backup singer on the track "Little Drummer Boy" on her sister's group's 2001 holiday album 8 Days of Christmas. In 2002, she was featured on Lil Romeo's second studio album Game Time, singing portions of Luther Vandross-penned "So Amazing" on the single "True Love", and on Rowland's debut solo album Simply Deep, for which she also wrote the title track and "Alone". In 2001 she also appeared as Lil' Bow Wow's date in the music video for his single "Puppy Love". She also made an appearance on The Master of Disguise soundtrack and made cameos in Play's video for "M.A.S.T.E.R. (Part II)" featuring Lil' Fizz.

In 2002, she lent her voice for the character Chanel, the cousin of the protagonist Penny Proud, in the episode "Behind Family Lines" to the animated television series The Proud Family. In June 2003, Mathew Knowles excitedly announced that he was considering adding Solange to Destiny's Child when the group reunited in 2004, thus turning them into a quartet for the first time since short-lived member Farrah Franklin left in 2000. Mathew Knowles said he was testing the reactions, and, judging by what he had heard, "it seems like a good idea". Later in August, however, Beyoncé said it was only a rumor and Destiny's Child would remain a trio. Rowland added, "She's a solo star," name-dropping Knowles's debut album.

At the age of 14, Solange Knowles started working on her debut album Solo Star, which involved American producers such as Jermaine Dupri, The Neptunes, Linda Perry and Timbaland among others. The album is primarily uptempo R&B, although Knowles said there are pop, rock, reggae and hip hop influences. Knowles co-wrote and co-produced some of the 15 tracks in the album, including its lead single, "Feelin' You (Part II)". The song failed to enter the Billboard Hot 100, but reached number three on both the Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Singles Sales and Hot Dance Music/Maxi-Singles Sales chart. Solo Star was released on January 21, 2003 in the United States, where it debuted at number 49 on the Billboard 200 and reached number 23 on the Top R&B/Hip-Hop Albums chart. Solo Star had a mixed critical reception: William Ruhlmann of AllMusic called it a "state-of-the-art contemporary R&B album", but deemed Knowles "lost somewhere in the mix". By mid-2008, the album had sold 112,000 copies domestically according to Nielsen SoundScan.

2004–2008: Films and Sol-Angel and the Hadley St. Dreams

In 2004, she guest starred in the episode "The Catch" of the sitcom One on One. Knowles appeared as a teenager in the 2004 comedy film Johnson Family Vacation, starring alongside American actors Cedric the Entertainer, Vanessa Williams and Bow Wow. She provided a song for its soundtrack—"Freedom", a collaboration with the Houston-based funk-jazz band Drop Trio. Although the reviews were generally negative, Knowles earned praise from Variety magazine: "Solange Knowles is nearly as dazzling as big sister Beyoncé and does little more than smile winningly in her first bigscreen outing." In 2006, she starred as a cheerleading captain in the film Bring It On: All or Nothing, the third installment of the Bring It On series, alongside American actress and singer Hayden Panettiere. What little critical reaction the low-budget, direct-to-DVD movie got was negative, and Knowles was described as an "affordable young starlet". Knowles uses her full name for her acting, rather than just the first name she uses when singing; for Bring It On: All or Nothing, she was billed as Solange Knowles-Smith, reflecting her married state at the time.

After the release of her debut album, Knowles started acting in films followed by a career break. While she was married, her family moved to Idaho, and, while staying there, resumed writing songs including the singles "Get Me Bodied" and "Upgrade U" from her sister's second solo album, B'Day. Knowles earned the R&B and Hip-Hop Song accolade for "Get Me Bodied" at the 2008 ASCAP Awards. She had also written songs for Destiny's Child, and members Rowland and Michelle Williams. In 2004, while pregnant with son Daniel, she made a cameo appearance in Destiny's Child's music video for "Soldier".

After the divorce, Knowles returned to Houston to begin working on her second album. Knowles renewed her management, signing a record deal with Geffen and a publishing deal with EMI. Knowles finished working on her second studio album in 2008 and titled the project Sol-Angel and the Hadley St. Dreams. It includes production by CeeLo Green, Soulshock & Karlin and Mark Ronson as well as an appearance by Bilal. A collection of 1960s and 1970s influenced songs, it is seen as a departure from her pop-oriented debut, with what Billboard magazine called "more of a modern twist on hip-hop and R&B flecked with tinges of blues and jazz". The album was released on August 26, 2008 in the United States. By December 2008, the album had sold over 114,000 copies according to Nielsen SoundScan. The album was positively received by critics, some of whom considered it far better than her debut. The album's lead single, "I Decided", was released in April 2008, and reached the top of the Billboard Hot Dance Club Play chart; Rolling Stone magazine labelled it her breakthrough single. In support of the album, Knowles began the Solange Presents Sol-Angel and the Hadley St. Dreams Tour in Britain in November 2008. Knowles also co-wrote "Scared of Lonely" and "Why Don't You Love Me" for her sister's third studio album I Am... Sasha Fierce.

Knowles announced, via her blog HadleyStreetJournal.com, that she would be releasing a series of mixtapes to coincide with the album. The first mixtape, I Can't Get Clearance..., includes the leaked track "Fuck the Industry (Signed Sincerely)". On this record, Knowles expressed her views on the current state of the music industry. The lyrics to the song name check some major artists such as Mary J. Blige, Ashanti, Keyshia Cole, and Beyoncé, although she made a point of stating that it does not have "a negative light to any of [them]". The mixtape was never released, but Solange released "Fuck the Industry (Signed Sincerely)" as a single in 2010.

2009–2014: True EP and Saint Records

In an interview with MTV in 2009, Knowles revealed that she was determining the type of sound for the follow-up to Sol-Angel and the Hadley St. Dreams. Knowles also parted ways with the Interscope-Geffen-A&M record label group. She would now release her third studio album independently. Early in 2010, Knowles traveled to Australia to work with Australian rock band, Midnight Juggernauts on her third studio album. Knowles had planned to release the album in summer as revealed on her official Twitter account in 2009. She also revealed on her Twitter account that she rented a house in Santa Barbara, California to get into a certain state of mind while writing and making music. On May 7, 2010, Knowles made a guest appearance on the popular children show, Yo Gabba Gabba! for a "Mothers Day Special" where she performed an original song called "Momma Loves Baby".

In an interview with Vibe on July 7, 2010, Knowles said she suffered "a little bit of a breakdown" while recording her new album: "I literally gave up my sanity for a while to do this record. [...] We literally were waking up in the morning and just making music all day and all night. [...] It just started to wear on me in so many different ways. I started having these crazy panic attacks." Knowles explained how she made sacrifices "mentally, emotionally and financially", and continued, "It's more than an album to me. It's a transitional time in my life." Regarding the musical direction of the album, she said the inspiration came from new wave and stated, "This is a dance record, but the lyrics can get pretty dark at times." The singer has also worked on songs with Chromeo and long-time collaborator Pharrell Williams.

In September 2012, Solange released a teaser video for "Losing You", which was announced as the lead single from her third studio album. This release marked Solange's first release as a signee of the independent label Terrible Records. The video was shot in Cape Town, South Africa in early September 2012. Knowles revealed in an interview that her mother Tina Knowles had paid for Solange and her friends to fly out and record the video as her birthday gift. On October 24, 2012, Knowles held a listening party in New York City for her EP True, released for digital download on iTunes November 27, 2012. The CD and vinyl was made available January 8, 2013. Following the EP's release, Solange appeared on the cover of The Fader magazine's 84th issue.

On May 14, 2013, Knowles announced that she had launched her own record label named Saint Records, which she will be using to release her third full-length album and future music projects distributed through Sony. Solange also collaborated with The Lonely Island on the song "Semicolon" which was featured as part of YouTube's Comedy Week and is featured on The Lonely Island's album, The Wack Album. On November 11, 2013, Knowles's record label released its first compilation album, Saint Heron.

2015–present: A Seat at the Table

On May 15, 2015 Knowles performed "Rise" for the first time at an HBO-sponsored event, which was inspired by police killings in Ferguson and Baltimore and the subsequent protests. In July 2015, Knowles announced that her third studio album was nearly complete. On her thirtieth birthday, June 24, 2016, she stated that she completed A Seat at the Table, her third studio album three days before her birthday, on June 21, 2016. The album was released on September 30, 2016, to widespread critical acclaim. It became her first number-one album in the United States. This made her and Beyoncé the first sisters to have both had US number-one albums in a calendar year. During the 2017 Roots Picnic Festival in Philadelphia, PA, Knowles performed a rendition of the sing-along from The Proud Family, the television series whose theme song she was featured on in 2001.

Artistry

Music and influences

Knowles cites as her influences Motown girl groups such as The Supremes and The Marvelettes, and Martha Reeves, lead singer of Martha and the Vandellas. She also listened to the music of English pop singer Dusty Springfield, and according to Knowles, her "greatest music influence" is her mother, Tina Knowles, who was a one-time member of the 1960s harmony group The Veltones, she is also heavily influenced by the late great Aaliyah, whom influenced A Seat at the Table. Knowles says her first passion is writing songs. Her early writings were vastly inspired by the writing style of French poet Paul Verlaine. She has been doing this since she was nine years old, and has collaborated with a number of songwriters and producers.

On her debut album, Knowles had no control over which kinds of music to produce, because "when you're 14, everyone else is older and more seasoned and you trust their decisions". Knowles was more concerned with pleasing her record label by submitting to their desires. Her musical influences were better expressed on Sol-Angel and the Hadley St. Dreams, when she considered herself mature and was able to write and produce songs as she wished, without worrying about the expectations of others. Knowles's lyrics tackle relationships, world issues, and deceased friends, with her second album focusing on events in her life, such as marriage, divorce, and parenthood. The album touched upon a variety of genres including pop-soul, psychedelic soul, electronica, and R&B. Knowles's debut extended play True is a new wave album with Knowles stating, "This is a dance record, but the lyrics can get pretty dark at times." Knowles described the EP as "eclectic with 1980s references and African percussion influences." Sonically the extended play is influenced by the keyboard sounds and beats of early 1980s pop and R&B music. The extended play was recorded in five cities including Santa Barbara, Los Angeles, Houston, New York, and on the German autobahn.

Aside from recording, Knowles occasionally paints as her hobby: "I think that painting, for me, is such an affirmative expression in that sometimes you don't know what the outcome is gonna be and each stroke and each brush for me is an emotion and, in the end, it comes out as a piece which is the most amazing thing. ... It definitely provides a different outlet."

Public image

Knowles has always been compared by the media to her sister, Beyoncé, whom she considers one of her role models. She has expressed her opinion of the comparison in the lyrics to "God Given Name": "I'm not her and never will be" – which was purposely set as the album's opening track to show their differences. In his review for the album, Jody Rosen of Rolling Stone magazine referred to the lyrics as a declaration of independence. In an interview with the Daily Mail, Knowles commented: "People think there should be this great rivalry between us, but there's never been any competition. There's a big age gap and we are two very different characters." Beyoncé was unwilling to bring her sister into the recording industry, reasoning that it "involves a lot of pressure". Knowles countered by saying, "It's good to have her advice, but we really have different goals".

In January '17, Beyonce interviewed Solange for "Interview" magazine and discussed the effect of "A Seat at The Table." Beyonce recalling the week leading up too the release of the first single. The sisters' exchange is a testimony on the heart Solange puts into her craft.

In recent years, Solange has also garnered considerable attention as a fashion icon. Her knack for bold colors, mixed prints and retro styles as well as her knack for glamorous, fashion forward looks in her music videography and public appearances has become integral to her current image. She has been photographed wearing Alexander Wang, Alexander McQueen and Chanel. The music video for her 2012 single "Losing You" featured a heavy demonstration of the contemporary sartorial movement throughout Africa, La Sape. Similarly, her decision to grow her natural hair initially generated strong reactions from the public. Since trimming off her straightened hair, her nostalgic and modern afro hairstyles have captured the attention of the media and the public alike.

Other ventures

Knowles has been promoting Baby Jamz, a hip hop-styled toy line for pre-schoolers. It was inspired by her son, Julez, who is fond of hip hop music. She is the executive producer of the CD, composed of updated hip hop inspired nursery rhymes, which is featured in all of the toys.

In 2008, Knowles was named as ambassador for Giorgio Armani's younger diffusion line, Armani Jeans. Armani said Knowles epitomizes the style, which is a "vision of a young, independent, casual lifestyle with a strong and cool, fashion sensibility".

Also, Knowles has been known for her work in the award-winning children's television show, Yo Gabba Gabba!. She performed "Momma Loves Baby" during the live performance when it toured the Dallas–Fort Worth area. She also performed "Mama Loves Baby" during a 2010 episode called "Baby".

In 2011, Knowles along with Alejandra Ramos Munoz and Zooey Deschanel, was announced as the new face of Rimmel London. In February 2012, Solange became Vogue.com's Today I'm Wearing guest blogger sharing a photograph of her outfits daily for one month.

In 2016 Solange is Michael Kors's new face for his fashion works.

House of Deréon

Knowles and sister Beyoncé model for their family's clothing line, House of Deréon, named after their grandmother, Agnéz Deréon. She also helped launch Deréon, a junior apparel collection and a sister line to House of Deréon. Both sisters model for Deréon, and are featured in most of Deréon's marketing campaigns. Together they were featured in a "Got Milk?" campaign ad, while still wearing House of Deréon.

Personal life

Knowles married Daniel Smith in February 2004 when she was 17 and he was 19. On October 18, 2004, Knowles gave birth to their son, Daniel Julez J. Smith, Jr. Knowles has partly expressed regret that she bore a child at an early age, but calls her son the greatest unplanned blessing. A song she wrote for her baby, "6 O'Clock Blues", was included on Sol-Angel and the Hadley St. Dreams. After Daniel Julez's birth, the family moved to Moscow, Idaho, where Knowles's husband continued studying in college. In October 2007, Solange confirmed in an interview with Essence magazine that she and Smith had divorced. They co-parent the child. After the divorce, Knowles and her child moved to Los Angeles, where they established their new home. In August 2013, Knowles announced that she and her son were moving to New Orleans, Louisiana.

On May 12, 2014, TMZ released security video footage of Solange physically assaulting brother-in-law Jay Z and being restrained by a security guard in an elevator at The Standard, High Line, in Manhattan, following the 2014 Met Gala. Jay Z remained passive and did not retaliate while Solange's sister Beyoncé, who was also present, did not react to either party throughout the altercation. The footage and story went viral, however the reason for the altercation remains unknown. Matthew Knowles, however, has hinted that the incident may have been faked for attention, saying: "So you sometimes have to ignite that tour. It's called a Jedi mind trick. The Jedi mind trick fools you a lot...all I know is the Jedi mind trick. Everyone's talking about it. Ticket sales went up. Solange's album sales went up 200%!" It is also rumored the cause to be Jay Z's infidelity, which Beyonce speaks about in her album "Lemonade".

On November 16, 2014, Knowles married music video director Alan Ferguson in New Orleans, Louisiana.

Discography

Solo Star (2002)

Sol-Angel and the Hadley St. Dreams (2008)

A Seat at the Table (2016)

Tours

Headlining

Solo Star Tour (2003)

The Art of Love Tour (2008)

Solange Presents Sol-Angel and the Hadley St. Dreams Tour (2008)

True Promo Tour (2012)

A Seat by the Table Tour (2017)

Supporting

Simply Deeper Tour (2003)

Wikipedia

[king-of-gay5000]

[Okay so this is my first post on here and it's kind of a long one so if you don't want to read it you don't have to.]

I've noticed that with the Quarantine and Lockdowns happening how often people are on their phones and soical media a lot more than before because most of us are stuck at home with nothing else to do. Alongside that I've started noticeing how occasionally (myself included) we forget that Content Creators, YouTubers, Animators, Celebrities, ect, are still people. Sometimes viewing them as somewhat perfect, always positive, upbeat, and like they're always happy. Posting the cool and amazing things they're up to occasionally and making us wish we could do that seeing how much fun they're having. But have you ever seen them be sad before? Have you ever seen them at their lowest of lows? Have you seen them just not feel like getting out of bed in the morning? Have you ever seen them at their rock bottom and feeling like everything is going against them? Most people would stop to think about that and depending on your answer it would either be: "not really unless someone in their family had passed away or they were going through a breakup of some kind" or "yea I've seen them post content when they were sad occasionally, not often but sometimes." Or something along those lines but regardless why do we as people want to only show good and positive things about out lives?

I want you to stop reading this just for a second, and to think about why do we only show the good things in our lives and never the day to day bad shit?

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If we as people as humans only post the good, uplifting and positive parts of our lives, then the only thing people will see is the good and positive parts of You're life. Which it can be a good thing to share the things you enjoyed doing or if you ''went to an amusement park today! had an amazing time today and you couldn't wait to go back!'' But still that's what people tend to post, the good things and on the rare occasion the bad. But often if we do see the bad we only see it when something big has happened like for example: a loved one passing away. A very hard break-up between a couple that were dating for over 6 years.

Which now probably everyone reading this may or may not be thinking "yea that's pretty much the point of being able to post stuff, you get to pick and choose what people see. What's your fuckin point here?" To which I ask why?

Why do we even feel like we have to pick and choose what we upload and share on the internet? I know theres such a thing as over sharing online but why, can't we just share whatever we want about our lives when we feel like it? Why do we even do this? It's feeling as if we automatically filtering out the bad from good cause some of us feel like nobody would want to see the bad stuff? As if we have to censor ourselves and certain moments of day to day our lives because we don't feel people want to see the bad and the shitty moments in life. Is it because we don't want others feel like they're obligated to comment and say how "it's going to get better soon", or to at the very least not seem like we're looking for attention? What if I just want to say "hey! I'm having a shitty day, _____happened and then ____ happened to me, then _____ happened so life is kicking me in the balls today. But hey thats life right?" Not be seen as attention seeking or anything. Just wanting to make it known that my day is going not so well but we all have good and bad days right.

What if I feel crappy and like life kicked me in the balls today, I can but most people would either feel like I'm wanting sympathy or comment saying "awww hope your day gets better!" Or "sorry your having a bad day if you need someone to talk with Dms open." Like If i had a crappy day there's no need to feel obligated to comment stuff like that.

That it could be the same or atleast somehow comparable as to responding when someone ask's you "hi how are you today?" and you just respondwith "well I'm feeling shitty, I feel like nothing is going my way, everything sucks and I just want to go home so I can sleep the rest of the day away cause if I'm asleep I can't fuck it up more." The other person would probably be a bit shocked at first and probably not knowing how they should respond to this saying something along the lines of "sorry hope your day get better." Because you being brutally honest with them just sorta ruined the mood of that small but short conversation when you didn't lie like most people would and say "I'm doing well."

It seems like there's almost like a strange soical stigma around this and always seeming like we as people are okay even if we arent okay even if it someone we know or someone we don't know? Is it because we just don't want to seem depressing?

I know there's probably an entire psychology paper or theory written on this topic and why we do this as people, "why we feel as if we need to only show the good and not the bad parts of our lives" but I couldn't tell you for sure. I'm not a psychology expert, I'm a 17 year old kid in highschool worrying about grades, what I need to do in order to graduate, how to apply for a job, how to make a resume, and what I need to do inorder to work in the graphic design feild after I graduate. Half the time I'm more worried about weather or not i have noted to study for an upcoming test than to be theorizing about human nature and why we do the things we do.

[resonanteye]

via https://is.gd/IEusfG

horror movie talk with LFR

My friend Lucy F. R. has really great taste in movies.

I don’t say that lightly. You all know (if you’ve been reading me a while) how fussy I am about horror/weirdshit and how many movies I’ve watched. It’s my actual hobby, unrelated to anything else I do, purely for enjoyment. It’s hard for me to find people to talk about movies with, really- my uncle, who first introduced me to horror movies, and weird cinema, and one or two friends. So I’m really happy to have a conversation here about movies with someone.

Sal doesn’t take any shit from no man. (Beyond the Valley of the Ultravixens)

(R: me,  L:them)

R:  you’re on a grimy southern/grind horror kick right now. But what genre do you like best? What feeling are you after?

LFR: Horror is my favorite genre, I just get very into specific branches. I always want to end up saying to myself “this is a GOOD movie”.

R: What’s the best of the batch you’ve been into recently?

LFR:The Dunwich Horror (the 70’s one), Ghost Galleon, House By The Cemetery, Werewolves On Wheels, and Tourist Trap.

R: Tell me about Werewolves on Wheels. I just watched Dog Soldiers again, and I’ve been on a werewolf kick.

(Swamp Water)

LFR: Wait, you haven’t seen it? It’s about a small biker gang that are on their way to the desert and come across a monastery that they think is abandoned but come to find out it’s not and a mysterious cult interacts with them. The cult takes one of the biker girls and puts her in a ritual. The bikers take her back from them and go back on the road, but don’t know that ~one~ of them is now a werewolf at night.

R: People reading might not have seen it. I usually try to explain a little when I start talking about stuff, especially the lists I make.

I feel like this could turn into a list?

I saw a short film recently also with a werewolf- soldiers are in WWII, surrounded by Nazis in an old police station. There’s a woman in a cell that’s locked herself in and they get stuck in there with her. She’s a werewolf and they turn so they can beat the Nazis.

I feel like- the older werewolf stuff, I think 60s to early 80s, a lot of it was hippie panic. Manson references.

I felt like Werewolves on Wheels is also backlash on feminism, like a lot of gory stuff from that time.

LFR: It felt like a backlash on feminism and hippies.

(Vamp)

R: with werewolves and vampires there’s the whole homophobic/transphobic thing too. “secret monsters” and all that.

what movies would you compare it to? what’s close to it, in feeling?

  LFR: In feeling as in how it made me feel while watching it for the first time: Texas Chainsaw Massacre, House Of 1,000 Corpses, Ghost Galleon. I just know it’s a movie that I’ll recommend to everyone and watch over and over.

Aesthetics and mood-wise: Warriors, Clockwork Orange, Hammer Film movies.

R:yeah it’s got that grit to it. easy rider/warriors. I actually haven’t seen Ghost Galleon. Rip it up for me a little.

LFR: Oh man, so

I get really into bands and for the past few years I always look up what my favorite band member’s favorite movies are, or movies that feel like the music genre. So recently I’ve just been super into doom and stoner metal, naturally I’ve been listening to a lot of Electric Wizard. I asked a bunch of doom metal fb groups “what’s the most doom metal movie you’ve seen” and eventually I somehow found Ghost Galleon. It’s a movie that is not good. Very low budget. Like Ed Wood status. But it’s REALLY good.

These swim suit models go out on a shoot and stumble across a ship that should not be afloat still and is completely abandoned. They get stuck on the ship so friends come looking for them. But the ship’s crew is a satanic cult and they come alive and, to keep from spoiling, all hell breaks loose. And it’s THE most doom metal movie you will ever watch. It has it all- mood, aesthetic, and story wise.

R:so bad, it’s incredible. sounds perfect.

LFR: it’s on prime.

R: FUCK YEAH

you guys are always using my prime and my Netflix and my Hulu. you think this is a costume? this is a way of life

R:when I started watching musician friends’ recommendations I ended up discovering Green Room.

The last time before that, it was Pighunt, which is to this day one of my favorite movies.

LFR: You told me to watch that one years ago. I recommend it to basically anyone who will listen to me.

R:it’s like the least sexist least racist southern-USA monster movie ever made.

LFR:Les Claypool’s roll in that has forever changed how I see him. When I saw Primus all I could see him as was a hillbilly preacher.

R: yep completely.

let’s talk about art horror. the weird shit. seen anything good there lately?

(The Horde)

LFR:The Girl On The Third Floor. It was weird and a little comical, but I enjoyed it. I Am The Pretty Thing Living In The House is REALLY good but it’s a little weird and a major slow burn. And, Society, but that’s more body horror than art house horror.

R:Society is a classic. Body horror and class war. So amazing. I thought I am the pretty thing was a lot of fluff- I understand the drive to slow-burn right now, it’s nostalgic. But I think it’s one of the movies where they went too far into the slow burn.

If I’m going to wait 90 minutes, that girl better taste some damn butter. You know?

LFR: I can see why but I also saw it as more of a classic gothic horror story so the pace didn’t bother me too much.

R:I kind of got tired of Gothic horror at some point. The slow burn. I think I was too interested in French and Korean extreme and gore for a minute.

LFR: I’m a sucker for gothic horror and black and white universal monsters.

R:I liked Late Phases- that kind of straddled the line for me really well. Which brings us back to werewolves, strangely enough.

I have been seeing more elderly characters in movies, which I like a lot.

  LFR: I love creepy old women and demonic children in films. I feel like The Visit sparked people’s interest in elderly characters in horror.

R: yes! I agree. I really like variety- diversity. ” 5 teenagers on a road trip ” movies… it gets tiring. Bland.

not to mention that there’s actually Black people and elderly women in movies now.

LFR: Road trip gone wrong horror is good but, you gotta do it right.

R:tell me about one that you think gets it right.

LFR: The original Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It paved the way.

R: it did pave the way. that there were pockets of deep weird hate in this country- I think the suburbs were really shocked by it. but if you grew up in bumfuck nowhere it was less shocking.

I think Dead End is the ultimate “road trip gone wrong” movie. Urban legend plot, Ray Wise, Lin Shaye. Just incredible pacing.

LFR: I haven’t seen that one, I’ll have to watch it.

R:oh, you’re going to love it.

I feel like the Hills Have Eyes deserves a mention here. though it’s more a “trapped on purpose” movie than a road trip.

LFR: That’s a “vacation gone wrong” horror movie, and it’s definitely one of the best ones. Vacation and road trip movies are two different branches of a genre to me.

R:I think of them as “wrong turn” vs “bad directions”. like they stumbled into trouble is one genre. they were purposely hunted/trapped, is another.

LFR:Yes, exactly!

R: like a vacation movie that’s a trap- hills have eyes a vacation movie that’s an accident- Jurassic Park

Texas chainsaw massacre is both a road trip and a vacation, an accident and a trap.

tell me about a movie that’s got a plot hole, or has kept you thinking afterward, lately. for me it’s been resolution/the endless, and residue. residue in particular. how do they keep that book? why such a dumb ending? resolution/endless bugs me and I have to watch it again- time loops force me to do math, and I end up a little obsessed with figuring out timelines.

(Requiem for a Vampire)

LFR:Horror wise, 3 From Hell. I keep thinking about how different of a movie it originally was going to be. But also, still, HOW did they survive the shoot out from Devil’s Rejects just… miraculously??? And how come this new Firefly brother was never mentioned previously whatsoever??

R:OMG yes. I couldn’t. I got too wrapped up in plot holes to enjoy it!

LFR:I still enjoyed it for what it was but yeah, I was like WAIT WHAT??? every ten minutes.

R:what about not-horror?

LFR: Picnic At Hanging Rock.

We’ve come for the crites.

R: oh yeah. that’s the kind of movie you think hard about the rest of the day. what’s your theory on the ending?

man I just went to find a photo from it and they made a show? what the hell.

have you seen The Fields? It’s set where I grew up, it’s got…a vibe. Stuck with me.

LFR: Honestly? I can’t come up with a theory on what happened. It just really feels like they simply vanished.

I haven’t seen it. Tell me about it.

(The Fields)

R: There’s a menacing thing in the cornfields. A kid has shitty parents and is sent to stay with family. The farm is in the middle of all cornfields… there’s an abandoned little amusement park that lures him. It’s based on an actual place- a tiny amusement park that flooded and was shut down. it’s still there abandoned, right next to the town I grew up in!

cornfields are extremely creepy. it’s so easy to get lost in them.

The main characters- it’s got all the bad mountain people shit going on, abuse, drinking, violence, and then more because of the presence in the fields. pretty good stuff.

not a slow burn. a medium burn.

LFR:I’m definitely watching it

R: you’ll like it. big Jughead mood.

(and then I got tired and they I think did too, so that’s all for today)

I hope I get to do this again soon: I fuckin LOVE to talk horror.

Not your baby.

If you want to support LFR in some way, wear a mask, stay the fuck home, support BLM and trans rights, and get your government reps to continue unemployment payments for gig AND other workers. Seriously.

[nooneaskedme-but]

Album Review - California (Deluxe) by blink-182

Alright guys, here’s the deal. I’ll to be skipping the whole pre-review rambling because there’s a lot to cover here. Just know that yes, I am reviewing California for a second time; there’s less hype and a lot less bias this time around, so I feel it’ll be a much more accurate review.

Anyway, let’s get to it! Track by track review of blink-182’s California! (Again!)

1. Cynical - Still to this day, this is easily one of my favorite tracks on California. I think what won me over the most was the aggression in this song. They really shake their ‘just another pop punk band’ image here with the fast paced drumming and the straight to the punch guitars combined with Matt’s shouting in the chorus. It’s a perfect way to start off such a different album and I love every bit of this song from start to finish. - 10/10

2. Bored to Death - Okay, I don’t care what anybody says. Putting aside how absolutely iconic this song is, Bored to Death is definitely one of the better put together tracks on California, and I’m counting both the standard and deluxe tracks. I mean yeah, the lyrics still don’t make a lot sense to me, but compared to the cheap and useless filler I’ve heard on the rest of the album these are relatively harmless. At least these can be open to some sort of interpretation. I really appreciate the darker feel here, and the bridge is easily my favorite of any blink song post-DeLonge. I just wish they would’ve stuck to this caliber with the rest of the album, and I really they would’ve left Matt alone in the chorus, especially live. That being said, this still remains a favorite and probably will even alongside future releases. - 8/10

3. She’s Out of Her Mind - Right off the bat, this was one of my favorites off the album. It still is, but now I think of this song more as a novelty. It’s simple, it’s catchy, but that’s really about it. The lyrics are juvenile and rather cliche, but I’d be lying if I said this song didn’t still excite me whenever I hear it. - 7/10

4. Los Angeles - Initially, I equated this song to garbage, a mainstream pop atrocity that not even Dark Lord Skiba himself could save. But, after a few thorough listens and seeing it live twice, I’m going a bit easier on this track. I mean, it’s still a pretty big thumbs down for me but it has its merits. For starters I can dig the fact that they experimented and deviated from the ‘old blink’ style they tried so hard for. Moreover, something about Mark Hoppus and the bridge of this song gets me every time. - 5/10

5. Sober - I honestly don’t understand why this track gets so much flack (heh, I’m a poet and I didn’t even know it). In my opinion it trumps a good portion of the rest of California by a long shot. It’s rather mellow and laid back, and again not nearly as try-hardy as some of its counterparts on the album. In fact, to me it does a good job of illustrating both the playful, happy-go-lucky and the frustrating, trying times of adolescence. Not to mention, this song got bonus points from me knowing the first verse was basically Matt’s autobiography. - 7/10

6. Built This Pool - I’m just going to say, I find this song way more amusing than I should. - 9/10

7. No Future - This is another track I enjoyed pretty thoroughly and still do despite countless plays. I adore everything about this song, in particular the way Matt makes his place in the chorus with the jolting “NO FUTURE!” and the intense buildup into Matt’s verse (which is to die for, says I) along with the novelty pop punk style it was crafted in (stop-and-go guitars, simple yet fulfilling drum fills, etc.). Speaking of drums, the way Travis closes this song out combined with the matching structure of the ‘na-na’s is nothing short of godlike. No Future will forever be a favorite of mine. - 10/10

8. Home Is Such a Lonely Place - You know, I despised this song when I first heard it; it was way too mopey and pseudo-deep for me to possibly get behind. And, to be honest, not a lot has changed in the way of that opinion. It’s so…mundane. I just, it drags the album down than anything else and it really doesn’t belong. - 4/10 

9. Kings of the Weekend - I can sum this song up in one word and one word only: excitement. Actually, this song is more like excitement with a side of FUCK YEAH!!. Aside from the opening track ‘Cynical’, this track hands down has the best instrumental on the album. The chorus errs more on the side of modern punk rock and it it sounds really well-done. Simple, but very well-done. Also, the opening drum line has to be some of the funkiest shit Travis has done in a blink-182 song. - 10/10

10. Teenage Satellites - *groan*…Ugh, this song nearly makes me sick at this point. It’s so adolescent it hurts. I can appreciate simple songs. I can appreciate youthful reminiscing (to an extent). But this song, this fucking song, this is where I draw the line. It’s a saccharine, adolescent mess of teenage cliches centered around an octave riff Mark strummed off the top of his head one day. I used to think this song was relatively decent but now I can’t help but cringe now whenever I listen to it. - 4/10

11. Left Alone - If I could put aside the cheap lyrics and the fact that this song is basically an Angels and Airwaves rip off, I feel like I’d enjoy it a lot more. I’ll admit, though, I am a sucker for the guitar lined throughout in the verses, and Matt’s vocals are pretty fierce when the chorus hits. - 6/10

12. Rabbit Hole -  Okay, hear me out here. This song gets criticized left and right for its overall simplicity and basic nature. While both of those claims are completely valid, I happen to think that’s what makes this song so endearing. A song like this is meant to be fun, something that’s easy to listen to while you’re fucking around with your friends or whoever else. Not every song has to be so complex or even a lyrical masterpiece. Sometimes, it’s enough for a song to just simply sound pleasant, and that’s definitely accomplished here. It’s energetic, it’s pop punk as fuck, it’s blink-182. - 8/10

13. San Diego - Out of all the songs on the standard release, I feel that this one has the most, for lack of a better word, substance. Never mind the fact that it’s one of the few that doesn’t sound like a poorly made b-side of Take Off Your Pants and Jacket, you can just feel the emotion oozing out of this song and it’s fucking great. In such a flawless and iconic chorus, Matt Skiba takes the lead and really proves what he can do for the band. Hats off to Skiba and another hats off to this amazing song. - 10/10

14. The Only Thing That Matters - I think this song has a cute nature about it, and I think it’s a very accurate clash of both older generation blink-182 and Alkaline Trio (you know, the band Matt Skiba fronted happily before Mark kidnapped him and held him hostage). However, the chorus is way too lacking for me. Like, I can get behind the lovey dovey message but it’s so basic in its presentation that I just can’t get past it. - 6/10

15. California - Give it another year, just one more year, and I guarantee you’ll see this song used in some sort of Disney promo if it hasn’t been already. As a song it isn’t terrible, just rather flat and a little lackluster. I can’t say I hate it, though, even if I do find spending all your time inside while the weather’s perfect a little bit strange (and possibly a little bit manic). Also, the ending’s pretty cool, so there’s that. - 7/10

16. Brohemian Rhapsody - Yeah, I’m still fucking miffed that this song is literally only 15 seconds long. Everything about it’s perfect: the buildup, format, the staggering hammer-ons that Matt somehow flawlessly pulls off despite that being the furthest thing from his style! It’s all there! But no, they wasted a perfectly good instrumental on a tired fucking one-liner that was barely even amusing. Oh well, it still sounded badass and was definitely a fun way to bring the album to an end. -10/10

DISC TWO

1. Parking Lot - Holy shit. This song, holy shit. Now this, this is how you make an entrance to an album. Originally I made mention of Mark’s verse throwing the song off, but after coming back to this song many times I can see that’s what makes this song work. As much as I appreciate the fact Matt upped the punk factor times ten (and that’s a fuck of a lot), I’m glad there’s some variation, that it’s not like that the entire way through. All around, this song is fucking wicked and easily one of the top three of the deluxe tracks. - 9/10

2. Misery - Things slow down quite a bit with this track, but it packs a punch nonetheless. I haven’t found myself coming back to this one as much but that doesn’t take away from the fact that it’s a really solid, really powerful song. I still swear that the way Matt shouts “I don’t need anyone!” in the chorus is what dreams are made out of. It also sounds like “I don’t eat anyone!”, but that’s besides the point. - 7/10

3. Good Old Days This is one song I find especially charming, due mainly to the early 2000s-esque dance chorus and the very eloquent use of synth throughout the entire song. However, the whole ‘I don’t wanna grow up!’ schtick is getting really fucking old. Now, I can understand wanting to feel young and to feel alive, but literally putting “and we’re not growing up” in a song is a tad bit sad to be honest. I fucking adore Mark Hoppus, but when he writes like that I just can’t take him seriously, and it lessens the quality of the song. Other than that, this track is pretty enjoyable and one I see myself coming back to in the future. - 7/10

4. Don’t Mean Anything - Ugh. U g h. Even tying this disaster of a song to blink-182 sullies their name. It’s just so bland and cookie-cutter and lacking any sort of effort or originality that it hurts. The only, and I mean the only points this song gets from me is Matt’s verse because he sings it really fucking well. Outside of that, this song needs to go back to the 2004 pop rock station they clearly ripped it from. - 4/10

5. Hey, I’m Sorry So, some time after the official release of California, this track was released as a Japanese bonus track. It took a few listens to really strike a chord with me, but now I can’t get enough of it. Also, I didn’t think I’d say this for a long time but I love Mark’s lyrical work here; it’s fucking stellar, as a matter of fact. This is another one of those experimental songs, but this one was definitely a success. I really dig the direction they went in with this one. - 9/10

6. Last Train Home - I was really glad to see they continued along that same vein of experimentation as heard in the previous track ‘Hey, I’m Sorry’. Initially, I cast this song off, thinking it wouldn’t pick up. But, it does. The song progresses slowly, and in a way that’s incredibly subtle. It’s very worth it if you can listen all the way through to the end. - 10/10

7. Wildfire - While I’m not exactly sure about Mark’s singing abilities here (in the chorus particularly), that doesn’t really concern me in this song, at least not as much as the fucking Xanax reference. Personally, I think this song is way too much fun to hate, and I know I am very much in the minority with that opinion. I mean, the classic blink-style riffs are all there alongside some gnarly Alkaline Trio influence, and it just has a very youthful aesthetic overall which I adore. I also admire how the song matures and progresses, starting off with Mark’s usual adolescent view of things and venturing into darker, more mature themes as Matt takes over. It gives the song another dimension, which I feel the rest of the album severely lacks. - 8/10

8. 6/8 - I’d argue that this is the absolute heaviest song blink-182′s released in the history of their career. Sure, the Self Titled album had a lot of experimentation and some heavier tracks, but there was nothing quite like this. This song’s a bit dreary, and it’s fucking rad. I won’t attack the fact that they named the it after the time signature for the drums, because honestly that’s just nitpicking (and I am not about that life…). But, I will claim that this would’ve been astronomically better had it been fronted by Matt. He has just the voice and singing capabilities to make this song as riveting and intense as it needs to be. Nonetheless, it’s still a badass track and a definite thumbs up from me. - 8/10

9. Long Lost Feeling - I feel like this song is more buildup than anything. It’s soothing, but it takes way too long to get to anything worth while. Mark also manages to make the first half as boring as he possibly can, so there’s that. If you can stay awake until you get to the second half of the song, it’s actually really pretty sounding and quite pleasant. You just have to get there. - 6/10

10.  Bottom of the Ocean - No. Nope. N o p e. Fuck this song. At this point there’s not a hint of soul to be found, not a fucking ounce of integrity. Usually I say every song has its merits, but nope. I hate to be that ‘that guy’, but they sold out with this song, point blank. I am so glad this abomination never touched the original release. As stated above, fuck this song. - 1/10

11. Can’t Get You More Pregnant - I’ve already discussed this song far too much for a joke track, so I’m just going to laugh at the fact that a scientist actually proved this idea wrong, stating you actually can get a girl ‘more’ pregnant. Ha ha ha. - 8/10

12. Bored to Death (Acoustic) - Originally, I was under the impression that this would be a brand new studio recording. But, instead, it’s audio ripped from a live recording and mastered in the studio. Was a I bit let down by that in the beginning? Maybe a tad. But, with the audience so haughtily cheering in the background and Matt’s lyric change to “Mark’s head”, I actually prefer this to a brand new stand alone recording. In doing it this way, they laid a lot heart on it and made it a perfect closer to the album. Not to mention, Mark and Matt sound fucking top notch on this track. Simply put, this was a beautiful addition and I loved it much more than I thought I would going in. - 10/10

*phew*

All-in-all, I was a bit let down by the rest of the deluxe tracks. To be fair, that’s probably mainly due to the fact that the one’s released hyped me up so much and shot my hopes sky high. Actually, no. They just sucked. But, that’s okay. There are a number of solid songs on the deluxe release, and I’ve gained a much stronger appreciation for the original release of California after being introduced to these songs. So, there is a silver lining here.

Overall Rating - 6/10

Stay Tuned for More!

[jemkook-blog]

the reason why

word count: 5318 pairing: yoonmin playlist: the reason why by halcyosu (me)

warning! mentions of alcohol

the first time that yoongi meets jimin, it’s more like a dream than a conversation, colors whirling brightly as jungkook tugs on his hand and insists that it can’t just be the two of them and namjoon, that yoongi needs someone to talk to in case namjoon and jungkook get too caught up in each other.

“are you setting me up on a double date?” yoongi asks dryly, but he can’t find it in himself to even be a little angry when there are cheers and laughter and when the amusement park all around them is filled with life. besides, he knows that his best friend doesn’t mean anything by it. yoongi, jungkook, and namjoon had always been the power trio, but things had been a little off since two of them fell in love. it was nice to have them looking out for him as they always did, and he secretly hoped that whoever this person was, they would be relaxed enough to join their group.

he wasn’t expecting someone whose height is equal to his own with a face that looks as though it’s been touched by an angel. he’s all smiles as he introduces himself, and yoongi relies on his usual quiet demeanor to cover up the fact that he’s astounded by the galaxies that seemed to reside within park jimin.

love at first sight might be a stretch, but there’s an immediate attraction that he can feel tugging deep in the pit of his stomach.

the day passes all too soon, even though it’s been eight hours since jungkook had dragged yoongi into the park, but yoongi spends all of it trying not to betray the new feeling that he feels blossoming in his chest and spreading pink petals across his cheeks. when namjoon asks, a hint of wry knowing in his voice, he blames it on the cheap bottle of soju that they had picked up after dinner.

“i didn’t take you for a lightweight,” jimin says, his tone teasing, and yoongi reassures him that he’s anything but - he had picked up another bottle on the sly and had it all to himself. this isn’t a lie; the desperate, vaguely panicked look that he had spent so much of the day had come out when talking to the cashier, and she kindly offered him another bottle half off.

“is it the one with the sunrise hair?” she asked curiously, and she took the bitter curve of his grin as assent. she gave him a genuine smile of her own. “the two of you would look cute together, i think. if you have any more friends, though, please bring them my way. all of you are gorgeous.”

startled, he let out a bark of laughter, and the cashier looked pleased, as though that had been her intention the entire time. she passed him the two bottles and watched with vague amusement as he slipped one into the inside pocket of his loose black hoodie.

“damn selfish bastard,” namjoon says, and they dissolve into tipsy laughter. “i hate it when you pull this kind of shit on us.” he turns to jimin. “don’t be friends with him. he’s a fucking piece of shit, and i would know. i’ve known him since we were young.”

jimin flashes a smile that could outshine the sun, and it causes yoongi’s heart to pound in his chest erratically. “i think you’re selling him a little short, don’t you think? he’s quiet on roller coasters, unlike your bitch ass.”

and yoongi falls into something that tastes like love and a bottle of soju with one small comment. he’s not sure he even wants to get out.

the second time that yoongi meets jimin finally feels like reality. he’s had his morning cup of coffee, and seeing jimin in his recording studio is startling, but he doesn’t wonder if his drink had been laced with adderall like he might have if he had been seven cups deeper into his creative process.

“hi,” jimin says, looking nervous but somehow still holding himself with an alluring natural confidence. “jungkookie said that you run this studio with namjoon, and since he’s sick today, i was wondering if you would listen to a kind of impromptu audition?”

if your singing is half as angelic as your expression, i’ll beg you to join. this is what yoongi might have said in another life in which his hair is dyed mint green and he could make a girl faint with a smile, but instead he is a ceo of an unknown recording studio and he’s up to his ears in bullshit and he could really use another cup of coffee right about now. instead, he says, “what the hell do you think we are? a fucking straight to tv movie?”

jimin’s face falls and yoongi instantly begins to retract what he said, heart squeezing in undesired sympathy. if he’s looking for a studio, then he probably isn’t used to the way people bicker in this business. if he had been talking to someone else, a singer and wannabe rapper by the name of kim taehyung, he would have spat an insult right back, but this is jimin and he might not be used to this. he’s a fucking idiot.

“shit, sorry,” yoongi apologizes. “yeah, go ahead and let me hear what you have, kid. i’m excited. just know that in this business, most of us are running on minutes of sleep and gallons of stimulants. we’re asses to relieve the stress.”

and just like that, jimin is smiling brightly again, and it unconsciously brings an upward tilt to yoongi’s lips. he’s cute, he decides. he doesn’t go for cute, though, especially not when it wants to be in his studio. cute can find another cutie to date and fall in love with. he doesn’t have the time or patience for the picture perfect lifestyle that cute deserves.

the panda memory stick that he plugs into his computer makes him want to bark out a laugh, as if to reinforce the conclusion that he had just come to. “which file?” he asks, and as the younger man leans over to point it out to him, he can practically taste the scent of iris and wood. bois d’argent smells a hell of a lot better on jimin than it did on tuesday’s one night stand.

ridding himself of those thoughts, he clicks on the file entitled lie and finds it amusing that the first twenty seconds are mostly just the sound of deep breathing accompanied by a foot tapping on a wooden surface. the rosy burn on jimin’s face also indicates that he hadn’t checked the file closely beforehand. it’s unprofessional, but then the singing begins, and yoongi finds himself shaken.

jimin’s voice is so rich that it could practically be a sonata, a clarinet piece accompanied by the melodic beat that he’s unconsciously drumming out next to the microphone. in an instant, yoongi picks out the timbre of his voice, matching it and comparing it to the assortment of instruments he has on file. a full symphony blooms into existence within the confines of his information, a thrilling opera that barely has time to finish before the curtains close unsatisfyingly.

“where’s the rest of the song?” he asks, disgruntled after being thrown from his thoughts.

jimin has the decency to look embarrassed as he explains, saying, “today was the only day that i would be able to come to the studio for a week or so, and i really wanted to show it to you before i lost my nerve. i know that it’s not great, or even finished, but i thought that you might be able to salvage it.”

a frown curves across yoongi’s face. “not good? fuck, if that’s not good, then half the singers we have in this shithole are worse than dirt.” he softens as he looks at the boy (that’s really what he is in this moment, a boy with his heart and his dreams on the line and hadn’t that been yoongi once?) and, unable to resist the urge, claps his hand against the other’s back reassuringly. “you did well, jimin. i’d love to have you with us. we’re not exactly big or formal, but we’re like a family. i hope you like it with us.”

“i have a punch card to the coffee shop across the street. i was practically a member anyway.” the joke comes out easily, but there’s relief in the crescent moons of his eyes and joy lifting his features and yoongi wonders how an honest opinion can mean so much to someone brimming with talent.

but because he is min yoongi, full time ceo and full time trainwreck, he doesn’t voice those thoughts. instead, he says, with a smile bordering on fondness, “well, i’m glad we made it official.”

the fifth time that yoongi meets jimin is more like a hallucination than any of the pleasantness that had been evident in their previous visits. jimin had come to the studio twice since the initial meeting, and each time, yoongi had been more and more tired. he covered it well with coffee and five hour energy, however, so an unsuspecting jimin hadn’t noticed the massive bags under his eyes.

today, though, he’s running on six hours of sleep in the last two weeks and about seven cups of coffee today alone, and he feels certain that if a cop were to pull him over, they’d arrest him for drunk driving.

he stumbles into a convenience store at one in the morning, and the cashier makes no assumptions, because she’s seen enough of his early morning runs to know that he doesn’t overindulge in drink; work is his vice. she moves away from the counter and begins gathering things that she knows he’ll be looking for. he has a slight suspicion that she has a crush on him, and it causes a distant laugh to echo from a mouth that doesn’t feel like his. how anyone could harbor feelings for a man that walks around like a half-dead scavenger is beyond him.

he rounds the corner, looking for some ramyun, and collides with someone who smells like faded myrrh and crushed iris.

“yoongi? it’s one in the morning. what are you doing?”

and with pupils blown wide and a manic smile on his face, he supposes that he does look a little crazed, especially to someone who is as unfamiliar with his habits as jimin is. “i could ask the same of you, sunshine.”

the cashier brushes against him as she passes him, the choking scent of vanilla and honey replacing jimin’s for a moment as she grabs his usual relaxing tea from the shelf. she flashes him a ruby red smile, and yoongi wonders why she’s so dressed up to sell to drunkards. the moment she’s not looking, he wrinkles his nose.

jimin giggles, and it’s only then that yoongi can make out the smudge of eyeliner around his eyes and the tight leather of his pants. his heart seizes, and it’s all he can do to take a deep breath and resist the urge to push past the other man and rush the cashier into checking him out. “sometimes i go out and have fun, but something tells me you don’t have time for that.”

“don’t give me that fucking sass,” he responds, but the way that he sways from side to side and the listless tone of his voice drains all the bite from his words. “i used to club when i had the time. namjoon and i go when we aren’t swamped, although that’s practically never. where do you think i built up my alcohol tolerance?”

“drinking yourself into a stupor so you can sleep?” but the flirtatious (flirtatious?) tilt of jimin’s mouth and the teasing lilt to his voice says that he doesn’t mean it, or, at least, he doesn’t mean it enough to hurt. yoongi decides that he likes the night version of jimin just as much as he likes the day version. the harsh convenience store lights turn his hair into fire, and there’s a hunger to him that’s concealed in the daytime.

it’s a familiar hunger. he too longs for greatness, proof that he is better than anyone could have imagined. occasionally, it’s nice to have a reminder that he’s not alone.

maybe that’s what compels him to invite jimin to his apartment, or maybe it’s the lack of sleep convincing him that this could be a good idea, but either way, their stuff is bought together, with small bickering about who should pay for what (yoongi wanted to pay for all of his stuff, and jimin wanted to split it in half.).  in the end, they both stumble into the shithole that’s yoongi’s apartment laughing about something that he can’t remember.

“eat your ramyun before it gets cold,” jimin says, and it sounds so caring and so concerned that he shoots the other boy a glare.

he does eats the ramyun, though, because it would be stupid to let it go to waste just to prove a point to the younger man.

he’s halfway through the tteokbokki when he begins to feel tired, the food combination finally lulling him to a more restful state. jimin is in the middle of a story, though, and he finds that he likes the sound of the other’s voice. it’s lively in a way that he’s not used to, and he discovers that he wants to hear it more and more with each syllable that his sunrise boy utters.

but since when did he become his sunrise boy, instead of the boy at the carnival with the pretty smile and the bright laughter?

and then his head is resting on jimin’s lap, and this is not what friends do, especially not a friend he’s only known for a month, tops, but does it matter? not to yoongi, who feels like heaven is somewhere between sleep and wakefulness and the hand that strokes through his hair. not to jimin, who has such a look of serenity on his face that the black haired man feels as though if he breathes too deeply, the whole thing will shatter. not to anyone else in this world, because this is a moment made for the two of them and the only thing that’s real is the warmth that surrounds him.

“good night, yoongi,” jimin says, and he shifts yoongi’s head so that he can lie down beside him. he curls into the other’s side, and it’s the most restful night yoongi has had in ages.

the sixth meeting comes the following morning, when yoongi opens his eyes languidly and finds pink hair tucked under his chin and resting against his chin. jimin’s voice is muffled against the shirt that yoongi was wearing yesterday, but yoongi can still hear his cheerful, sleep laced good morning.

“you stayed over? what a fucking idiot.”

“i’ll make breakfast while you shower.”

“that’s what the gamdongran is for,” yoongi grumbles, but he disentangles himself from jimin and shuffles over to the bathroom and showers in what, for him, is record time. fifteen minutes later, he’s pulling on a black sweater to complement his ripped jeans as he enters the kitchen, marginally more awake than he had been. five hours of sleep feels good, and he smugly tallies his hours of sleep to eleven in two weeks. almost an hour per night; namjoon will be jealous.

“the way you live is unhealthy,” jimin chastises, as though he’s known yoongi for long enough to tell him how to live his life. “i could barely find a vegetable in your refrigerator. how do you expect to live a full life when you have no nutrients and no restorative sleep?”

“as a wise man once said, live fast, die young, bad girls do it well.” the tone of yoongi’s voice is flat as he repeats the lyrics, and something about the absurdity of the situation, of this whole morning, causes them both to laugh uncontrollably. yoongi is starting his morning with the sunrise, and the colors are so pretty that he can’t do anything but laugh and laugh.

when they sober, jimin barely saves the bacon he had cooked from burning and grabs the gamdongran. it’s a more nutritious breakfast than yoongi has had in a month, and he finds himself devouring it hungrily.

“you should come finish the song today,” he says through a mouthful of egg, and chokes on laughter as jimin wrinkles his nose. “we can finish it if we work hard.”

“and by hard, you mean until three in the morning.”

the corner of his mouth twitches. “hey, hard work takes time. don’t be such a bitch about it, or you’ll never get anywhere even if your voice sounds like sunlight.”

“i found you playing online go fish last time i came in.” but there’s something softer about his demeanor now, and yoongi realizes that his compliment had sent jimin reeling.

so he smiles and smiles and smiles, wider than he ever has before, because jimin deserves to know that he is incredible. “fuck off. i was taking a break, and anyway, taehyung bet that i couldn’t beat him, so i had to put him in his place.”

“is go fish even a skill based game?”

“you have to smell the scent of a four of a kind, jimin. any pro go fish player knows that.”

the ridiculousness of this statement sets them off again, and this time, jimin laughs so hard that he has to rest his forehead on the cool countertop, shoulders heaving wildly as he tries to contain himself. “you’re-” he’s cut off by another burst of laughter, tears streaming down his face. “you’re so fucking dumb.”

only for you, he wants to say, or maybe it would be what he would say in a different timeline, an alternate universe, but instead, he sticks to what he knows. “get your ass into my closet and pick out something to wear, you little shit. we’re going to the studio whether you like it or not.” there’s still a trace of a smile on his face.

he doesn’t expect to be so incredibly affected by seeing jimin in one of his sweatshirts, a cute kumamon piece that he had found in some thrift store. it looks good on him, but it looks positively angelic with jimin’s bright smile. there are still leftover smudges of eyeliner around his eyes, but he looks better with it than anyone had any right to.

but, of course, he doesn’t vocalize any of that. “are those my jordans you’re wearing, you bastard?”

jimin shrugs, causing yoongi to stick out his tongue childishly, and it’s in this manner that they begin the walk toward the studio. birds call around them, and a child they walk past idly wonders if it’s a starling. yoongi almost tells him that there’s no way it could be one, as they prefer the open countryside. it’s more likely a carrion crow, but the day is nice, and he doesn’t feel like ruining it for someone.

jimin stops at a flower shop that yoongi has passed a thousand times, but never bothered going into. “what’s your favorite flower?” he asks, and yoongi struggles for a moment before claiming iris as his favorite.

”mine too,” jimin says, and yoongi feels as though some secret that he wasn’t even aware of has been revealed.

his sunrise boy goes into the flower shop, seokjin’s sprouts, and comes out a minute later with a bouquet of irises. “for you,” he says, and yoongi takes them with cautious gratitude. jimin turns around and begins walking again, and, shaking himself out of his stupor, yoongi hurries his stride until he’s caught up.

he steals glances at the other as they walk, often timed when the breeze lifted the scent of the flowers to his nose. it’s driving him batshit, all of this waiting and wishing and wanting for someone he doesn’t even know, but somehow, this morning feels like a release of the tension that’s been building in him.

“tell him,” namjoon had said without even being informed of the situation. he had a way of knowing more about yoongi than he himself did, but he supposes that those are the perks of knowing someone for so long. what he hadn’t told namjoon was that it didn’t feel like a casual thing, something where he could ignore the sting of rejection and go about his daily life as per usual. he hadn’t said that because he knew how it sounded, and how it sounds even now. six meetings is not a lifetime, not a true indicator of what forever could be, yet yoongi wants tomorrow with jimin.

he’s a fucking idiot, and he would willingly admit that to just about anyone.

“she’s cute.” these words snap yoongi out of his reverie, and he follows jimin’s gaze to an attractive woman exiting the tea and coffee shop across from the studio. she has long brown hair that cascades to her waist, and even from this distance, he can tell that she looks quite stylish. once upon a time, yoongi might have asked her for a drink and his approximation of a dance.

he makes a noncommittal noise instead and brushes by the younger man into the studio, feeling a deep breath swell his abdomen as he loosens the fist that’s clenched around the iris stems.

he doesn’t check to see if jimin is behind him. he slams the door to his shared office with namjoon open and finds the other sitting at his desk.

“bad morning?” namjoon asks, eyeing the flowers pointedly.

“it was a great morning,” yoongi spits bitterly. “and the newbie bought me these flowers while we walked here, so you can stop looking scandalized.”

“he doesn’t live in your direction. what was he doing by you?”

“he stayed the night.” namjoon starts wiggling his eyebrows, and it’s his turn to look affronted. “christ, not like that, and even if it were, i don’t inquire about you and kook’s probably disgusting sex life, so you can stay out of mine.”

“at least i have a sex life.”

“real fucking mature, joonie.” yoongi rolls his eyes, but the familiar banter has him back on level ground. “so glad to know that i run this shithole with an eleven year old.”

jimin enters, then, a pout on his face as he looks at the two of them. “you left me outside, yoongi.”

“you’re inside now, aren’t you? i thought i would do you a favor and let you look at that girl a little longer. did you get her number? creep her out?” too late, yoongi realizes that namjoon has directed a smug gaze his way. he curses himself for letting the reason for his irritation slip.

namjoon spins in his chair, a satisfied smile stretching the corners of his mouth. “i told you that he’s a piece of shit, jiminie. you should have listened to me.”

yoongi waves him off with a disgruntled look, but the others can tell that he doesn’t mean it. “shut that goddamn mouth of yours unless you’re going to do something productive with it.”

“sorry, yoongi, but i’m not sucking you off. i’m dedicated to jungkook and jungkook only.”

this time, he doesn’t bother to respond to namjoon, instead logging into his computer to access the variations of lie that he had crafted on days when jimin hadn’t been there to give his opinion or add to it. he reaches his hand out, and, like a practiced routine, jimin places the panda memory stick in his hand so he can add the files and then move into a different room where they can focus.

he downloads them quickly, and as he gets up to leave, namjoon clears his throat. “you have taehyung at two thirty today. he wants to ask about spoken lines on stigma.”

“can’t you help him?”

“he wants you. he says i’m too by the book, or some shit like that.”

“well shit, i guess he’s not wrong.”

but this is counter to what his plans are for the day, and he finds that he’s irritated by the disruption of his schedule. today would not be the day after all.

it is not the next meeting that’s memorable to yoongi, but rather what happens in between, seven shots of vodka warming his cheeks and the lingering beat of music thrumming in his veins. this time, yoongi wears the leather pants and the thick rings of eyeliner, and his head lies in jungkook’s lap, the younger boy’s hand brushing across his sweaty forehead.

clubbing with namjoon, jungkook, and taehyung usually meant complete exhaustion, and this time had been no exception. it had been nice to forget about jimin for a few hours, even if the overly bright guy on the dance floor swung his hips like jimin does sometimes, when he’s really feeling the beat of the music and is lost in the melody. even if he saw jimin around every corner and between every couple.

taehyung, world’s most social butterfly, sent people his way all night in the hopes of providing even a small distraction, but yoongi lost interest in each one quickly. it wasn’t their fault; he was too distant from the start, and, at any rate, they were more of tae’s type anyway.

by the fifth shot and second beer, he had already been off balance, so by the seventh shot, he was supported by taehyung as they exited the bar.

a tear slips out of his eye before he even realizes what’s happening, and jungkook swipes it away with one finger, almost as if it didn’t happen. namjoon won’t let him off that easily, however, and he sits down next to his boyfriend and leans over to meet yoongi’s vacant gaze.

“min yoongi,” he begins, and yoongi has to laugh at that, because his friend is so serious and nothing in his life is serious, nothing is permanent except for this room and the people in it.

so he responds with a giggle and a response of “kim namjoon”, and namjoon glares at him, and yoongi really wishes that he was a lot more drunk than he already was, because he knows what’s coming now,

“fucking say something, man. you never back down. you never give up on anything. a bystander could tell that you’re head over heels for park jimin, and yet you won’t say anything.”

“does it even matter if he turns you down?” but taehyung has said the wrong thing, and namjoon practically burns a hole in him from the aggressive stare he gives.

yoongi smiles, but it’s beyond bitter, the mixture of the vodka and the self induced stress causing him to dig his nails into his palms. “yes, it does, in fact, matter very much, asshole, so i would appreciate it if you could fuck off.”

he stands up, wobbling on his feet as the alcohol hits him, and stumbles to his room, crashing onto his full twin bed petulantly.

it’s jungkook who comes after him, and though it should be namjoon, his oldest friend, he finds himself soothed by the younger man’s presence.

because it’s jungkook, there’s no snarky comment or making light of the situation. there is only the honest truth, and that’s something that yoongi appreciates more than anything else.

“if he’s messing with you this badly, i think you’d be stupid to not explore the possibility of being with him, yoongi. it’s not like you can even look at anyone else.”

“we work together, jungkook.”

“and you’re supposed to be a mature, responsible adult. if you can’t continue to work with him despite personal matters, then i’ll say that jimin would be right to reject your sorry ass. this is not who you are. you are min fucking yoongi, and you’ve faced a lifetime of mistakes and mess ups. you are ready for anything, so do yourself a damn favor and just tell him how you feel.”

“i know,” he says, and he cringes at how pathetic it sounds. “i know, and i’m really trying. i’m tired of hiding my feelings over uncertainty and fear.”

“and that, more than anything, is the reason why you are worth so much.”

lucky number seven feels like a mistake, but it’s something that’s become unavoidable, and yoongi has decided that he’s sick of dodging feelings and making a game out of things. he is min yoongi, and he doesn’t run from things, no matter how much he might want to. he settles into a table at a cute coffee shop and begs his stomach to stop churning.

it’s just jimin, he thinks, but that doesn’t help at all, so he gives up on that train of thought. he looks more professional than he ever has in the studio, and he nervously adjusts his glasses, wondering if it’s too much. his turtleneck is too warm, and everything feels as though it’s spinning around him. he’s not ready for this; he has to be ready.

“yoongi!” the voice alone sends a shock through his body, and he finds himself tensing. jimin is a vision, cotton candy hair messy and a rumpled, oversized dress shirt tugging at his heartstrings.

he’s whipped, and they aren’t even dating.

but they have to keep up some pretense of normalcy, or yoongi does, at the very least, so he waves at the boy and notes the appreciative glances being shot toward jimin.

“it’s good to see you too, jimin,” he says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, desperate to be released.

there’s a lingering air of awkwardness between the two of them, and yoongi knows that it’s entirely his own fault. beneath the table, his nails carve little crescent moons into the skin of his palms.

“i’m glad you invited me here,” jimin says, and yoongi silently thanks him for covering up for his complete lack of social skills. “it’s a nice place to be on a pretty day, and i like my company.”

unbidden, a gentle warmth spreads across yoongi’s face, and he has to look away in order to steel himself.

“there’s actually a reason that i wanted you to eat with me today.”

“dodging exes?”

before he can think about it, he throws jimin a baleful glare. it’s relaxing, the normalcy of the response, and it soothes him a little.

“no, dumbass.” he ducks his head and curses under his breath. what a charmer he is. “i just-”

“yes.”

yoongi’s head snaps up. “what- are you sure you know what i was going to ask?”

jimin looks so innocent, lips turned up in an excited smile. “you’re asking me to stay full time at the studio, aren’t you?”

and because this is not what he was planning to say at all, he snaps. his hand pushes roughly through his hair and his foot taps harshly against the tile floor.

it’s now or never. “jimin, i like you, dammit.”

the look on the sunset boy’s face is a lot more devilish now, and he rises out of his seat. yoongi watches with widened eyes as he sits down on the black haired boy’s lap and pulls himself closer.

“i know,” jimin says, and presses his lips against yoongi’s.

the world has fucking exploded around yoongi, and he can’t handle it, so he crushes jimin against him. faintly, he can hear mocking cheers from the group of frat boys at the table by the door, so he kisses him harder. someone coos over how adorable they are, so yoongi kisses him harder.

then they have to part for air, and jimin is more beautiful than he ever could have imagined, and he knows the reason why.

[trevorbailey61]

Latitude ‘17

Henham Park, Suffolk

Saturday 15th July 2017

It is like waiting for the fixtures to be announced, the speculation, the anticipation, the planning, the feasibility of making it to a Tuesday night game in Swansea. The difference is that it is not just when you are playing that it unknown, it is also who is playing. It was Kraftwerk that first brought us to Suffolk but we loved our first festival so much we have been back every year since and now book the tickets before any acts are announced, putting our trust in the organisers to cater for our tastes. From about December we scour the internet for rumours, official and unofficial forums, or should that be fora?, to give us just a hint of what to expect, has our faith been rewarded. Year after year the same names appear, P J Harvey, Nick Cave, Bon Iver, Arcade Fire, all acts that would grace the festival, raising the anticipation. Then the email arrives, names have been allocated to the stages, the most prominent appearing at the top of the page, the headline, the big draw, the act to bring in the punters. And there it was, Saturday, the biggest slot in the weekend, the day when the park is packed to bursting and the draw to bring all these people in; Mumford and Sons. There are few acts I hate, I can normally find something in almost any form of music I can relate to and if I can’t the my reaction is mostly indifference. I have, however, developed a fierce and totally irrational hatred of Mumford and Sons, the Richard E Grant talking boil on my neck uttering a stream of profanities upon hearing the first few chords of “The Cave” or “Little Lion Man”. Not only a headline, they are taking over the whole fucking day, all the acts on every music stage are there because they are buddies of Marcus Mumford, give us a break. And to add to this, when the timings are announced, they manage shut everything else down during their headline slot, the only other act allowed on during their star turn is some rapper called Dave, and I really couldn’t go and see anyone who thinks is it cool to name themselves after a blokey TV channel. Alright, I appreciate that despite my feelings about them they are a big draw and almost everyone I decide to rant at shoots me down by pointing out that the Saturday has sold out, although the same happened last year when the headline were the less demanding National. Even so, how much indulgence did it take to book them?

Overnight, the stages have been given a Gentlemen of the Road make over letting us know who is in charge, the boil emits a little more seethe but I manage to control it. We begin, however, in the comedy tent, giving me the opportunity to lance it completely and enjoy the rest of the day. We saw Phil Ellis compare the literature tent last year where his act was based on still living with his parents in his mid-30s as a result of annoying the friend he shared a flat with to the point that he threw him out. His act was very much for an adult audience but the programme noted that he also did a show for children. Based on what we had seen, it seemed an uncomfortable fit but this morning we saw said show, called “Funz and Gamez”. Despite his still rather seedy appearance, a green jacket and some uncomfortably tight fitting shorts, he was a natural and the children were keen to get involved in the Gamez. That these were mostly about the humiliation of their parents shows how well he judged what they find funny. He also managed to throw in a few lines to keep the adults amused with his life lessons being particularly macarbe, “don’t get a dog when you are seven because it will die when you are doing your A-Levels”, “don’t get too attached to your grandparents”. In many ways the show seems spectacularly inappropriate for children, it even features a character dressed up as a Koala Bear whose intentions are all too obvious, but that is why it works. The variety influenced children’s television of my childhood often included ventriloquists but there was something quite creepy about them, the awkward co-dependency that Anthony Hopkins caught perfectly in the film “Magic”. Nina Conti has managed to ditch most of this, showing a self-awareness that makes it clear that her main alter ego, Monkey, is speaking her words. He tells the cameraman to “zoom in on her lips”, and later, a hypnotism sequence, of course, leaves him speechless. Through the Q&A section that follows, he finds out enough about a family near the front so that she can build a scene in which these people become her dummies. Strapping masks to their faces, she manipulates these at arms length making it appear as if they are talking, she quickly finds a voice that is right for each character. She reassures them that the pressure is on her to make it work and they relax, giving her the movement she needs to build the dialogue. It is brilliant and achingly funny, all the more so because despite the frantic plate spinning needed to make it work, it all seems so natural and effortless.

By now the Gentlemen are calling and I am soon at the Obelisk stage listening to The Very Best. Last year I saw them at the Sunrise Arena so their ascendancy to the biggest stage has been meteoric even by Latitude standards. This is undoubtedly due to their association with the headline, they featured on the “Johannesburg” EP along with Baaba Maal, but they are an excellent band and may well have made this transition anyway. Made up of Malawian singer, Esau Mwamwaya and Swedish producer Johan Hugo, their music is a mixture of African rhythms and chants and house grooves. Whilst this may make it sound a bit “coconut herring” they combine these elements to produce sublime pop songs that tackle issues such as poverty and corruption. It may not have the intimacy it had last year but Mwamwaya looks at home on the bigger stage, striding from one side to the other and reaching out to the furthest parts of the arena. The record of supermodels in music is not a good one, for every Grace Jones there is a Naomi Campbell, struggling to get her limited voice around some stodgy RnB. Karen Elson is, as to be expected, a striking figure on stage, her pale white skin and red hair perfectly lit making her stand out from those around her. Her marriage to Jack White saw her move to Nashville where she recorded her debut album, “The Ghost Who Walked”, a series of murder ballads and roots American folk style songs. Seven years later, the marriage is long over and the songs on her second album, “Double Roses”, are accompanied by delicate strains of harp, flute and violin. The sound is pared back a little for this set, no percussion or woodwind, but the harp remains to give the sound its ethereal beauty. For someone who must be used to being in the spotlight, she seems a little nervous, saying little and staring over the audience to the back wall of the tent for much of the set. The songs, mostly about loss and regret, require little else, a quite beguiling and haunting performance.

We get a Son to introduce the next act, Lucy Rose, who also tells about the day and tells us to get out and explore the other stages, it would have been nice to do that later in the evening but, well they’ve done alright so far so I may cut them a little slack. Rose, enters the stage, looking at those gathered around the arena and noting that if she added up everyone she had ever played to before, it would be less the the number now in front of her. A one time vocalist with Bombay Bicycle Club, with whom she probably played here a few years ago, her delicate folky songs are pleasant enough but with eyes closed, she retreats into herself a little, perfectly pleasant but nothing to really grab your attention. After the first three songs, I have to leave as we are meeting up for something to eat and I would like to say it was more of a wrench to draw myself away.

We head for Blixen, a pop-up version of the London restaurant that has become increasingly popular in the time it has been at Latitude. We came here during its first year when we could just walk in and find a table. It was lunchtime on the first day but they still hadn’t completely set up and as we ate we could watch a group of about five men stand around while another was trying to erect a banner, his disregard for his own personal safety during this bit of DIY was really quite impressive. Now, however, it is fully booked weeks in advance but fortunately I have an organised wife who had secured us a table and we share a pleasant meal with Daphne and Peter. So comfortable had it become, we could have stayed there for longer but that music wasn’t going to appreciate itself and soon we are sitting in front of the small stage in the Solas area listening to Seamus Fogerty. With his check shirt, acoustic guitar and festival stubble, he looks every bit the Irish folk troubadour but the i-mac at his side indicates the direction in which he will take his ballads. It is a fascinating set that was well worth seeking out.

The Lemon Twigs were a band who many had recommended we see and they more than justified this praise. The striking thing was how the two D’Addario brothers, still both in their teens, have acquired such a wealth of musical knowledge. Some of their references hark back to a time before even when their parents were born but they can draw on diverse influences such as Phil Spector, Queen, The Beatles and Syd Barrett era Pink Floyd often within the course of one song. Take “I Wanna Prove To You”, it starts with a regular 4/4 beat and a catchy melody making you think you know where it is going but then it slows down, an abrupt change in rhythm and suddenly we are in a different song. “Haroomata” starts as a slow ballad before becoming a wild fairground carousel, two conflicting themes that they somehow manage to merge, more invention in a single song than most can achieve in the entire set. For a cover they choose a Roky Erickson song, someone few their age would have heard of indicating just how much music must have been part of their life. The both play guitars and drums, swapping over midway through the set with two others drafted in to provide keyboards and bass. Brian is the steady one, rarely moving from the microphone as he does his songs, while Michael, shirtless and stick thin, leaps around the stage looking, at least from a distance, like a young Ronnie Wood. An exhilarating set, the only downside being, given the sell out day, that relatively few had found their way to the BBC Music Tent to see them. In years to come, many may well wish that they had been there and others will claim that they were.

Two Door Cinema Club were booked to headline the Friday night three years ago before having to drop out to be replaced by Lily Allen. This provoked an outburst of Twiiter rage that led even the usually thick skinned Allen to ask why everyone was being so nasty to her. The headline missed, they now occupy an early evening slot but they still draw a headline crowd. Of course this must be good to provoke such a backlash against the person brought into replace them - yes? Well no, they are undoubtedly accomplished and play well but they are so bland they make even the headline act today seem edgy by comparison. Maybe this is price our generation has to pay, living through an era that saw Bowie, The Pistols, Public Enemy, music that set out to be confrontational, the only way our children can rebel is through music that is just so dull. Better to take a break from the music and listen to the wonderful verse of Linton Kwesi Johnson. Reading the poetry he has written over his long career, he is careful to place the words into the context of the time, the battles that he helped to fight in a Britain that was routinely and institutionally racist. The subject is at times harrowing, the brutality against black people that would often involve the police, if not in the act itself then in covering it up. His calm dispassionate delivery makes his words all the more powerful and he tries, mostly unsuccessfully, to silence the applause after each poem. This is followed by an interview with Cossi Fanni Tutti, whose life is certainly interesting but not necessarily one that you would have liked to live yourself. Given her reputation, she seemed strangely subdued but having heard the story about tampons it can’t be unheard and won’t be repeated.

Leon Bridges and Sohn have both played Latitude before and I make up for missing them then by seeing them both now. Bridges has developed into a confident and charismatic soulman, owning the main stage in his brilliant white suit and modelling himself on a young Marvin Gaye. He has the sound and the moves to pull this off showing the presence to hold his large audience. In contrast Sohn’s electronic landscapes are generated from the computers and keyboards he sits behind, atmospheric but in contrast to Bridges a bit soulless. With a spectacular sunset behind us, however, we spend most of the time with Jorja Smith, another scarily young singer with a deep, distinctive and wide ranging voice, terrific stage presence and a cracking band behind her. With just a few singles to her name, there was already a familiarity with her work and as she finished with “Teenage Fantasy” many were able to sing along.

And so the time had come. There had been talk of a rebellion, of a BBC Music Tent sit in to demand entertainment, some even mentioned an escape attempt to visit the Adnams brewery in Southwold but it was just talk. In the end we meekly made our way into the arena where I would face down my enemy. Given my hostility, I am surprised how many of their songs I actually know and I am carried along by the warmth of a crowd who obviously don’t have the problems with them that I do. Better than I thought they would be? - no not really, I expected them to be good at what they do, they wouldn’t be where they are if they weren’t, it’s what they do I have problems with, not how well they do it. I will admit, however, that I enjoyed them more than I expected, “Little Lion Man” was catchy, moving along at a fast pace with the pauses hit precisely, and “Awake My Soul”, a duet with Maggie Rodgers, was really quite moving. The highlight, however, was undoubtedly the three songs performed with Baaba Maal. In particular “Si Ti Veux” was spellbinding, Maal’s pure voice soaring out into the Suffolk underpinned by complex rhythms and intricate counter melodies. For “There Will Be Time” and “Wona”, Maal’s vocals are incorporated into what are more typical Mumford songs with more distinctive verses and a chorus but he adds his characteristic voice and is a striking stage presence. With Maal’s duties done and the quiet introduction to “The Cave” starting, we decide to leave to catch Robin Ince’s Festival shambles, there was at least a token gesture.

Ince proves to be a more commanding host than Keaveny had, his routines are well judged, his interviews ask some searching questions and he is accompanied by some interesting guests. One of these was American Comedian Barry Crimmins who as a child suffered long term and horrific abuse which for a long time he would hide behind a gruff exterior and hard drinking. Eventually in order to come to terms with his own demons, he became a campaigner for other trauma sufferers with his life story forming the basis of the film “Call Me Lucky”. Finally, anarchist cook, George Egg, demonstrates how to make a breakfast of kippers and egg using a wall paper stripper, how else.

Despite all my misgivings, and possibly a stubborn determination not to enjoy myself, then a full and entertaining day. There was never any doubt that Mumford and Sons had a broad and deep musical knowledge and in curating the day, they gave the opportunity to acts to play the big sages who, in other circumstances, maybe wouldn’t have had the chance. Outstanding sets from The Lemon Twigs and Jorja Smith justified their place and showed that they are both young acts with a tremendous future ahead of them. Even the headline themselves held my interest, I won’t be going out and buying any of their albums and I still find it surprising that such bland folky music is so popular but as a live act they have their merits. In particularly giving such a prominent role to African music in their headline set was something for which they deserve credit. The boil has been silenced - for the time being at least.