#this has been rattling around in my brain since i first saw the music video

[deadn30n]

◟ CHARACTER HEADCANON: HEARTSTEEL YONE ◝

so while i know HEARTSTEEL is centered around a more modern kind of au, i'm a stubborn old bastard and want to keep some of the more magical elements that League of Legends built itself with.

which is why i fully believe that the azakana still very much exist in the HEARTSTEEL universe, and yone's been able to see them ever since he was a child due to a near-death experience he had.

there was a summer where he and Yasuo were outside their home in the forests of Ionia, playing near a lake when Yone was suddenly dragged under water by something unseen. he wound up actually drowning and was dead for several minutes, even after Yasuo managed to drag him out of the lake.

during the span of time Yone was dead, he entered the spirit realm and was violently attacked by a demonic spirit. and much like in his original lore, he slew that beast but was cursed by it in secret. it's spirit clung to his body, even as it hurled him back into life -- it's eyes meshed with his own.

from that day forward, Yone became acutely aware of the azakana that walked alongside humans in life, hiding their identities and striking down the most unsuspecting of prey. it became his mission to protect them, and after years of searching for a device that could do this, he discovered...

an old mixer?

specifically one that previously belonged to an unnamed, but legendary producer of the underground. that mixer seemed to bond with the azakana spirit living inside Yone, and through it he was able to create a sort of protective barrier around all those who listened. this made it increasingly harder for the azakana to feed, and as such he became a continuous target for them.

nobody -- not even Yasuo knows -- the truth about Yone's hidden powers, or why he seems to carry around a 10 year old mixer that just seems so out of date. yet somehow, somehow it produces a better sound quality than anything that's even remotely top of the line. why is this the case? perhaps it just has something to do with the azakana spirit living inside him...

[ and side note: during the music video when it switches realms and shows Yone donning a mask + hitting a mixer to topple the tower Aphelios is in, i like to think that that mask is very much something he carries on his person as it helps amplify his bond with the azakana. he and the creature have a rather complicated relationship, and Yone isn't sure if it's ever going to win out and actually kill him in the end. but until it happens, he'll continue making music and using it to protect the common public from the azakana. tee hee ]

[spacecrone]

Sorry, Cassandra.

So, it's definite then

It's written in the stars, darlings

Everything must come to an end - Susanne Sundfør

I first learned about the climate crisis in 2008, as an undergrad at Hunter College, in a class called The History and Science of Climate Change. For the next decade I would struggle with how to process and act on the scientific paradigm shift climate change required: that human activity could disrupt the climate system and create a planetary ecosystem shift making Earth uninhabitable to human life. I became a climate justice activist and attempted to work directly on The Problem which was actually, as philosopher Timothy Morton writes, a hyperobject, something so systemic and enormous in size and scope as to be almost unintelligible to human awareness. I’ve cycled through probably every single response a person could have to this knowledge, despair, ecstasy, rage, hope. I’ve landed somewhere close to what I might call engaged bewilderment. For me, his particular locale has a soundtrack, and it’s Susanne Sundfør’s cinematic dance dystopia Ten Love Songs, an album that tells a story of love and loss in the Anthropocene. Sundfør is a sonic death doula for the Neoliberal project, with a uniquely Scandinavian version of bleak optimism. To truly grapple with this time of escalating transition, we need to really face what is, not what we hope or fear will be, but what is actually happening. A throbbing beat with shimmering synths around which to orient your dancing mortal envelope can’t hurt.

Susanne Sundfør’s Ten Love Songs was released a few days after Valentine’s Day in February of 2015, six months after I had been organizing Buddhists and meditators for the Peoples Climate March.  I was already a fan, having first heard her voice as part of her collaboration with dreamy synth-pop outfit m83 on the Oblivion soundtrack. Oblivion was visually striking but felt like a long music video. The soaring synths and Sundfør’s powerful voice drove the plot more than the acting, though I loved how Andrea Riseborough played the tragic character Vika, whose story could have been more central to the plot but was sidelined for a traditional Tom Cruise romantic centerpiece. But since the movie was almost proud of its style over investment in substance, the music stood out. The soundscapes were as expansive as the green-screened vistas of 2077  in the movie. It was just nostalgic enough while also feeling totally new, a paradox encapsulated in the name of m83’s similarly wistful and sweeping Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming.  I am not exempt from taking comfort in style that signifies a previous era, and I am also not alone in it. It’s a huge industry, and while the MAGA-style yearning for a previous era is one manifestation, maybe there are ways to acknowledge culture as cyclical in a way that doesn’t sacrifice traditional knowledge to some imagined myth of perpetual progress.

When Ten Love Songs came out the following year, I listened to it on repeat for days.  Sundfør seemed to have absorbed the music-driven sci-fi into a concept album, with m83 providing her with a whole new panopoly of sounds at her disposal. Like Oblivion,  Ten Love Songs told the story of a future dystopia with high speed chases, nihilistic pleasure-seeking and operatic decadence against a backdrop of technocratic inequality. It mixed electro-pop with chamber music and I listened to it on a Greyhound ride to Atlantic City in the middle of snowy February. I hadn’t felt like this since high school, that a full album was a sort of soundtrack to my own life, which I could experience as cinematic in some way while the music was playing. This situated me in my own story, of studying climate change as an undergrad and graduating into a financial collapse, working as a personal assistant to an author writing about ecological collapse and ritual use of psychedelics, to joining a Buddhist community and organizing spiritual activists around climate justice. 

Ten Love Songs is a breakup album, with lyrics telling of endings and running out of time. But it didn’t read to me as an album about a single human romantic relationship coming to an end. It felt like a series of vignettes about the planet and its ecosphere breaking up with us, all of us. People. Some songs like Accelerate, one of the album’s singles, throb in an anthem to nihilistic numbness and speeding up into a catastrophe that feels inevitable. Fade Away is a bit lighter, tonally and lyrically, (and if you listen, please note the exquisitely perfect placement of what sounds like a toaster “ding!”), but is still about fading away, falling apart. The way the songs seem to drive a narrative of anthropocenic collapse built on science fiction film scores, the combination of orchestra and techno-pop, absolutely draws on Sundfør’s experience collaborating with m83 for the Oblivion soundtrack, which itself combined Anthony Gonzalez’s love for the adult-scripted teen dramas of his own 80’s adolescence. In Ten Love Songs, Sundfør takes what she learned from this collaboration and scores not a movie but a life experience of living through ecological collapse and all of the heartbreak and desire that erupts in a time when everything seems so close to the knife’s edge.

I am reminded of another Scandinavian dance album that was extremely danceable yet harbored within it a sense of foreboding. The Visitors, ABBA’s eighth studio album, was considered their venture into more mature and complex music. The two couples who comprised the band had divorced the year before it was released, and the entire atmosphere of the album is paranoid, gloomy, and tense. The cover shows the four musicians, on opposite sides of a dark room, ignoring each other. Each song is melancholy and strange in its own way, unique for a pop ensemble like Abba. One song in particular showcases their ability to use an archetype of narrative tragedy and prophesy to tell the story of regret. Cassandra is sung from the perspective of those who didn’t heed the woman cursed by Zeus to foretell the future but never be believed. 

I have always considered myself a pretty big Abba fan, something my high school choir instructor thought was riotously funny. I was born in the 80’s and nobody in my family liked disco, so I seemed like something of an anachronism. But pop music, especially synth-oriented pop, has always felt like a brain massage to me. It could get my inner motor moving when I felt utterly collapsed in resignation to the scary chaos of my early life. But I only discovered the song Cassandra in 2017, while giving The Visitors a full listen. It felt like I had never heard the song before, though, as a fan I must have. But something about 2015 made the song stand out more. It starts with piano, soft tambourine, and the ambient sound of a harbor. It has a coastal Mediterranean vibe, as some Abba songs do, foreshadowing Cassandra’s removal from her home city, an event she foretold but could not get anyone to believe. It’s a farewell song of regret, echoing the regret the members of Abba felt about their own breakups. 

We feel so full of promise at the dawn of a new relationship. Only after the split can we look back and say we saw the fissures in the bond. The signs were there. Why did we ignore them? This happens on an individual level but the Cassandra paradox is an archetype that climate scientists and journalists are very familiar with. This particular Abba song, and the Visitors album overall, uses this archetype to tell the story of a breakup in retrospect. With climate change, the warnings have been there, even before science discovered the rising carbon in the atmosphere. Indigenous peoples have been warning of ecological collapse since colonization began. Because of white supremacy and an unwavering belief in “progress,” perpetual economic and technological development and growth, warnings from any source but especially marginalized sources have been noise to those who benefit from that perpetual growth model and from white supremacy itself. Is there a way to undo the Cassandra curse and render warnings signal BEFORE some major event turns us all into the chorus from Abba’s song, singing “some of us wanted- but none of us could--  listen to words of warning?” Composer Pauline Oliveros called listening a radical act. It is especially so when we listen actively to the sounds and signals of those we would otherwise overlook.

When I look back at my life in the time that Sundfør’s Ten Love Songs and m83’s movie music seems nostalgic for, the late 1980’s in New Jersey,  I was a child with deeply dissociative and escapist tendencies, which helped me survive unresolved grief, loss, and chaos. I recognize my love for Abba’s hypnotic synth music as a surrendering to the precise and driving rhythm of an all-encompassing sound experience. I also see how my early life prepared me to be sensitized to the story climate science was telling when I finally discovered it in 2008. I had already grown up with Save the Whales assemblies and poster-making contests, with a heavy emphasis on cutting six-pack rings so that sea life would not be strangled to death. I knew what it was like to see something terrible happening all around you and to feel powerless to stop it, because of the way my parents seemed incapable of and unsupported in their acting out their own traumatic dysregulation. Wounds, unable to heal, sucking other people into the abyss. I escaped through reading science fiction, listening to music like Abba and Aphex Twin loud enough to rattle my bones. I wanted to overwhelm my own dysregulated nervous system. I dreamed of solitude on other planets, sweeping grey vistas, being the  protagonist of my own story where nothing ever hurt because ice ran through my veins and the fjords around me. My home planet was dying, and nobody could hear those of us screaming into the wind about it.

Ten Love Songs woke up that lost cosmic child who had banished herself to another solar system. Songs of decadence, songs of endings, songs of loss. Though that album was not overtly about climate change, Sundfør did talk about ecological collapse in interviews for her radically different follow-up album Music For People In Trouble. After the success of Ten Love Songs, Sundfør chose to travel to places that she said “might not be around much longer” in order to chronicle the loss of the biosphere for her new album. It is more expressly and urgently about the current global political moment, but the seeds for those themes were present and in my opinion much more potent in the poppier album. But maybe that’s the escapist in me.

The old forms that brought us to this point are in need of end-of-life care. Capitalism, white supremacy, patriarchal theocratic nationalism, neoliberalism, they all need death doulas. Escapism makes sense in response to traumatic stimulus, and for many of us it may have helped us survive difficult circumstances. But if we are to face what it means to be alive on this planet at this moment, we might be here to be present to and help facilitate and ease the process of putting these systems to rest. And maybe this work is not at odds with a dance party. The ability to be visionary about shared alternatives to these dying systems is not inherently escapist, when we are willing to take the steps together to live into those new stories. What would happen if cursed Cassandras, instead of pleading with existing power structures to heed warnings that sound like noise to them, turned to each other to restore the civic body through listening, through bearing witness to each others unacknowledged and thwarted grief over losses unacknowledged by those same systems of coercive power?

Engaged bewilderment means my version of hope, informed by Rebecca Solnit’s work on the topic, comes from the acceptance that things will happen that I could never have imagined possible. Climate change is happening and there are certain scientific certainties built into that trajectory. Some of it is written in the stars. But as with any dynamic system change, we do not know exactly how it will all shake out. These unknowns can be sources of fear and despair, but there is also the possibility for agency, choice and experimentation. The trajectory of my individual life was always going to end in death. Does that make it a failure? Or does it render each choice and engagement of movement towards the unknown an ecstatic act? As the old forms collapse, no need to apologize to the oracles. At this point they are dancing, and hope you’ll join.

[onestowatch]

Lennon Stella’s Whirlwind of Success: First Headline Tour, Debut Album, & Opening for The Chainsmokers/5SOS [Q&A]

When Lennon Stella was 10-years-old, she began posting YouTube videos of her covering songs with her little sister Maisy. A few years later, they began acting together as country music stars on the hit television show, Nashville. Now 19, Stella is beginning her journey as an indie-pop solo artist. It seems she is currently experiencing a major breakout, catching the attention of artists like John Mayer, Liam Payne and, and The Chainsmokers.

Currently, Stella is headlining her first tour around North America. The Love, Me tour is in support of her first EP, which was released at the end of 2018. Most of her show dates sold out in minutes after tickets went on sale. Oozing with grace and confidence, there is no doubt Stella will surprise audiences with new music and wow sold-out venues with her soul-rattling vocals.

We caught up with Lennon Stella as she traveled to Toronto for her first show of the Love, Me tour.

OTW: You started your career when you were really young on YouTube and on the hit television show Nashville -- how were you able to transition from TV to a full time musician?

It’s honestly very different; it’s a totally different world. I think that being on a show really taught me discipline like it’s way more of a strict routine filming. You can’t show up tired, like you have to always be really prepared. I think that I’ve brought that over into the music world which is totally a different thing, it’s not that same structured lifestyle. I feel like I’ve learned how to be really on time and prepared, and I think it has helped me because I learned so young. But they are completely different ways of living.

OTW: Do you ever think you will get back into acting?

Oh yeah totally. At some point, I imagine after putting out my album and touring. I would probably not do another tv show but probably movies or shorter series.

OTW: Your Love, Me EP is full of amazing tracks, do you have a favorite?

It kind of changes depending on how I’m feeling, but right now I think “Fortress” is my favorite. But it honestly changes all the time. “Fortress” is my favorite right now because it’s my favorite to perform live because it has the most positive message and hearing people scream that back to me is a feeling I honestly can’t even describe.

OTW: Let’s talk about “BITCH;” it’s pretty bold and extremely empowering but what was your inspiration behind the song?

Erin McCarley who I wrote it with, she actually came up with this idea of “it takes a bitch to know a bitch,” and we went off that idea. I had never written about a story that wasn’t actually something that’s happened to me before, and we went off this idea of this girl’s boyfriend calling her a “bitch,” and she stands up for herself and says “it takes a bitch to know a bitch,” and that’s kind of the idea of the song, kind of a standing up for yourself moment. It was really fun to write because we started it in LA and finished it in Nashville, it was a fun one.

OTW: You’ve collaborated a lot, your most notable was with Liam Payne and Jonas Blue on “Polaroid,” but who would be your dream collaboration?

Oh gosh, there’s so many. My dream-dream collaboration would be with Stevie Nicks, like my all time dream.

OTW: You travel a lot; is there anywhere you would love to travel to whether on tour or vacation?

I really want to go to Australia, I’ve never been and I want to go to Australia so bad.

OTW: You embark on your first headlining tour today -- is there anything you’re looking forward to the most?

Honestly I’m just so excited to perform, like a lot of these songs I’m performing I literally just wrote like they’re so fresh to me they’re still so fun and new to me and some of the other ones I’ve had for so long they’re like not as exciting to sing live, so the ones that are new it’s going to be so fun, like they’re still so new to me. But also like meeting everyone -- I think it’s one thing reading messages online and seeing comments but meeting people in real life and to feel that energy -- it’s a cool thing when you’re able to meet in real life, and there’s no way that that could be through the internet. So I’m just excited to meet and hang out with people in real life.

OTW: You always tease snippets of new music on your Instagram; can fans expect news of a full length album soon?

Yeah, that’s what I’m working on and I’ve been writing towards a full length album. It’s for sure the next thing that’s going to happen. 

OTW: You just announced that you’re joining 5 Seconds Of Summer and The Chainsmokers on tour later this year, what was your reaction when you heard?

Oh my gosh, my manager literally told me when I was on a plane, and I could not wrap my brain around, and I still can’t wrap my brain around it. It’s so crazy to me that I’ve never been on tour before and in the same year I’m doing my first tour alone, and a tour with them and it’s so out of this world for me to grasp. Yeah, I’m still comprehending it,  it won’t feel real until it’s happening. I think it’s so cool that they’re trusting me to do this; I don’t have very much music out right now so it’s pretty sick that they chose me to do it with only those like six songs I have out in the world right now.

OTW: Anything you are most excited or nervous about?

I think it’s going to be a different experience performing as an opener; I don’t know what that’s going to be like. That’s something that I just don’t know what that energy is going to be; obviously it’s going to be different than when everyone’s there for me, but I think it’s going to be cool. Like even the show in Nashville is at Bridgestone and to me, it’s so crazy that I’m playing there -- that’s where I’ve seen everyone since I’ve moved to Nashville. That’s where I’ve seen all my favorite shows, that’s where I saw Fleetwood Mac and the fact that I’m going to be playing there is so wild to me so that alone. I can’t even comprehend.

OTW: Who are your Ones To Watch?

There are so many, but you know who I really like right now? Maro. She is from Portugal, and I just saw her on tour with Jacob Collier and she would be my Ones To Watch, she is so amazing.

Fall in love with Lennon Stella live as she headlines her own tour this spring and later this fall as she supports 5 Seconds of Summer and The Chainsmokers. Get tickets here.

[rapunzel-withthegoodhair]

City & Ghost

pairing: shawn mendes x ofc (narrated second person, reader) summary: maybe he shouldn’t call you. but maybe you shouldn’t pick up.  playlist: listen while reading rating: pg-13 (alcohol abuse, swearing, infidelity, older female/younger male, etc)  word count: 5639 status: complete / one-shot

author’s notes: just for clarification, my ofc is 27 in this story to shawn’s 20. not an impossibly crazy difference but enough to throw some hurdles in (especially since she’s married). click the ofc link for more info about Holland :) 

I look in the mirror past the buildings, The sky’s getting light Another piece of my innocence Is the admission I paid there tonight Though it makes me sick, and I imagine her saying “You’re better than this…”

                                                        ///

Nine minutes after midnight and your phone nearly vibrates right off the kitchen counter.

He’s got his own ringtone so you know when it’s safe to answer. The rational part of your brain says, ‘Damn girl just block his number. Have some mercy on the boy. Let him move on. Force him to move on.’ Only one problem with that…you’re weak for him too.

It doesn’t matter tonight though. Alec is in San Diego and the only person you’re cleaning up after is yourself.

“Hey…” It’s all you can think of to say. Maybe you should applaud him for the whole month he took this time in between calls. Maybe you would, if it hadn’t been excruciating. If your stomach wasn’t doing swimmer’s backflips over having him reach out for you again.

“I miss you.” You know immediately that he’s wasted out of his mind. ‘Isn’t he always?’ Your mind echos back. It’s an unfair statement, because he’s only 20 and he’s on tour and why would he call you sober. But lately it’s a little too true.

“I miss you too, baby boy…” God, you wish the words were a lie, dripping from your lips only for his sake. But they’re not. There’s a rusty metal ache in your skin that’s almost too much at times. Like a hangover no pill will fix. “Yeah?” Doubt is strung up in his voice like christmas lights. It’s been so long, he doesn’t believe you. Not anymore. It’s like a knife slashed across your ribs to hear him hurt, knowing you’re the reason why. “What do you miss?”

Your teeth tug at your lip. You should not be having this conversation. You should not be lighting that flame in his heart again. But fuck, it’s such a relief to confess the words to someone. Anyone. Even if it’s just him.

“I miss…waking up at four am to you playing piano.” That morning comes back to you with stunning clarity. He’d tried so hard to be quiet, but his inspiration had been a hungry mistress,  sinking her teeth too deeply into that beautiful skin to be ignored. You’d never been able to find any anger or annoyance in your heart over it though, despite the sleep lost.

                                                       ///

You thought Alec’s snoring was annoying. But apparently, Shawn just doesn’t sleep at all.

It’s a little worrisome. Friday night, the non-profit you work for had hosted a charity Gala. Not only had Shawn played at the event, but the next day he’d shown up at the high-profile, private meet and greet that had been offered as an incentive for ‘diamond tier’ donors, (so they could bring their rich little brats to ooh and ahh over him as well). And later that evening he’s scheduled to play Allstate Stadium. He needs to rest. But for the second night in a row, you’re waking up to piano notes being plucked from the stars while Chicago still sleeps.

You barely know him. Only met him at the Gala. But you don’t know how to cut him loose and your husband is in Houston; won’t be home until Monday night.

You’re madly in love with Alec. Never would’ve married him if it weren’t true (not that the money hurts…). Loyalty has never been a question in the past. Just the thought of another man touching you has always turned your stomach. But…Shawn needs you. And maybe you need him too. Not because anything has been missing. But because your light refuses to turn away from his. It’s instinctual. Something beyond choice or reason.

Leaning in the corridor entryway, you watch his body shift along to the music he’s creating. His strong shoulders beat out a rhythm in lieu of drums. He’s singing so softly and you can tell it’s tearing him apart just a little. To try and keep the beast of raw creativity that beats inside him on a leash.

And I won’t be a product of my genre My mind will always be stronger than my songs are Never believe the bullshit that fake guys feed to ya Always read the stories that you hear on Wikipedia And musically I’m demonstrating When I perform live, feels like I am meditating

Wandering across the living room, you can’t help the smile tugging at your mouth. He’s so fucking beautiful. And it’s not his pale, milky skin. Or his adorable curls. Or even those sexy brown eyes. It’s not his tight abs or his thick arms or his strong back. It’s the light that pours out of him, like a cup running over. The passion for music and life rattling through him like a wooden-track roller coaster. The raw, unbroken way he still looks at the world and smiles. Still feels hope. Still wants more. You’re not sure when you lost that light…but at twenty-six years old, you’re already terrified it might never come back. Maybe it’s that fear that makes it feel as if…walking away from him would be the end of you. Because this is the most alive you’ve felt in years.

You watch him and you wonder, ‘is this how Hades felt when he first saw Persephone…?’

Arms sliding over his shoulders and around his neck, you lean to kiss along his jaw and cheek. Grin when you feel his own smile, almost too wide for his pretty face, matching yours. Despite his happiness at your touch, you feel his muscles tense. He’s so used to being told who to be. Where to stand. What words to say. Which camera to smile into. He’s already bracing himself for the inevitable. Already waiting for you to tell him to keep it down. To go back to sleep.

“Sing it louder, baby.” You whisper into his ear, still smiling hard as your arm stays draped across his chest. “We own the whole floor. Ain’t nobody gunna hear you but me.” You rarely let anyone hear your Kentucky accent. No one is supposed to know your tragic backstory. Not here in the city. Least of all, what’s sure to be a weekend fling with some teen heartthrob superstar you’ll never see again. But you can’t seem to help it. Around him, the refined lady you’ve worked so hard to become slides instinctively back into the Harlan County wildflower you grew up as.

His smile grows until his eyes nearly disappear and the boy leans to steal a soft kiss.

“You sure? S’four in the morning.” His chuckle is low in his chest as he nuzzles at your soft skin. Like a puppy reassuring himself is pack is still there. “Don’t wanna annoy you ‘n get kicked out.”

Shaking your head slowly, your hands gently tip his head back. Dust a kiss to his nose, then in between his eyes. Something about the way he relaxes so completely in your arms, his features euphorically neutral as if he’s just spent a day at the spa, making you feel as if you hung the damn sun in the sky.

“Wanna hear you fuck that shit up.” You flash him a wide smile that he returns without hesitation. Scritching at his hair playfully, you head to the kitchen. He’s been in your line of vision for nearly 48 hours and you’ve hardly seen him eat a thing. But not here, not on your watch. “I’ll make you some breakfast.”

I’m still the same as a year ago But more people hear me though According to the myspace and youtube videos I’m always doing shows, if I’m not I’m in the studio Truly broke, never growing up call me Ruffio Melody music maker Reading all the papers They say I’m up and coming like I’m fucking in an elevator ‘Cause you need me, man, I don’t need you

The Ed Sheeran song sounds good like this. Slowed down and smokey wrapped up in his tired voice. The lyrics are cocky but his passion is too damn infectious, his talent too explosive, for it to come off as anything other than fun (besides, you think to yourself, what’s wrong with a little confidence if you can walk your talk?). Brewing a strong pot of coffee to share, you’d made a whole pan of  scrambled eggs with bacon. Watched him play until the sun was peeking out over Chicago’s skyline to greet you. Then cuddled on the couch as you fed him. Until his fatigue finally started winning rounds. He’d fallen asleep on top of you, his ribs on your stomach as your hand caressed up and down along his spine. Humming softly in his ear, your eyes drifted back to the piano.  

You’d never cared about that stupid grand, had been annoyed at Alec just for buying the overpriced centerpiece to your penthouse living room when neither of knew how to play. It had sat there, doing nothing but collecting dust and looking pretentious. Until it came to life under Shawn’s fingers. Just like you…           ��                                           ///

“Hmm…wrote a good song on that beauty.” You can’t help but smile at the sound of his own smirk. Every atom in your body had screamed at you not to listen when his new album had dropped. But you had anyway. And your heart had slammed into your chest when you’d heard the chords he’d composed hidden behind your walls first.

“Yeah, you did… proud’a you, you know.”

A long pause follows and you think you hear him swallow. Maybe he doesn’t know…

“Say it again?”

Eyes falling closed, a quiver shakes your bottom lip as you fight the tears. God, he sounds so broken. Over the past year, you’ve spent…maybe nineteen or twenty days together in total. Every time you tell yourself it’s the last time. But then he calls… and you love Alec so fucking much… but…

“I’m so fucking proud of you, baby. I mean it. There’s too much damn talent burnin’ through you. Watching you perform is like… watching a meteor shower.”

Quiet again. But this time the background clinking of glass on glass seems to suggest he’s doing his best to fight off the creeping edges of sobriety. You can just picture him in the dark of his hotel suite, curtains drawn so he can see the city lights. Still wearing whatever he went out in after his show. Hands shaking as he pours himself another round from the mini bar.    

“If you went out onto the roof right now…could you see the stars?” Lord, he’s so drunk. He grew up near enough to a city. He should remember damn well you can’t see the stars uptown.

Leaning over a bit to scratch your leg, you chew at your lip. You know where he’s going with this. You’re still pathetic enough to want to fall down the rabbit hole.

“Probably not. City’s the same as it ever was…”  

“Oh…yeah.” Disappointment drags his voice down into the gutter. “Would you go out anyway? We could just… be under the same sky?”

You’re not sure that’s how it works. According to the pictures on Instagram, he’s in Miami. You’re in the Midwest. Technically, you’d be staring out at two different expanses of space. But you’d do anything for him. And the lie sounds so sweet.

“Course, baby. Always.” Standing, you move to grab a sweater and some shoes. Then cross the room to the penthouse elevator that leads to the roof. That’s yours as well and you’d been in charge of its renovation when Alec bought the place. A small garden sits up there, along with a modest pool and stone fire pit. The accent features play host to the ghosts you try not to look in the eye. But walking outside invites them in like a séance.

                                                      ///

Your hand is in his dragging him up the stairs. Sure you could take the penthouse elevator, but racing down the hall and then up the maintenance stairwell is more fun. The door bursts open and the wind blows you around a bit, your own inertia sending you both spinning until you nearly fall over.

“And this! Is my pride ‘n joy. I designed all this. The garden ‘n the pool. Firepit.” He stands behind you, arms around your shoulders, kissing your cheek as you point out each feature. In the distance, Lake Michigan glints under a breathlessly breezy summer day.

You had planned out the roof carefully. Each feature exists in its own space and yet in harmony with the others. You enjoy showing the place off. All your friends have sexy, sleek uptown apartments. None of them have anything this unique. This tangible and sensory driven. Every new set of eyes laid on the place always mindlessly ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s over the space. If they’re feeling extra obnoxious, they might throw out a few technical design terms they picked up from HGTV. You expect Shawn to do the same.

But somehow, he sees the puzzle. Puts the pieces together quicker than anyone else.

“Earth, water, fire… I guess Lake Michigan takes care of the wind.”

“Clever boy.”  Impressed, you match his smile and slowly nod. Absently, your fingers toy with his much longer ones and your head rests back against his chest as both of you take in the city. “I guess those things have always felt the most real to me. The five elements.”

“Five?”

“Mm,” You tug on your lip, trying to remember how elegantly your grandmother had explained it. “Element of spirit. None of it means anything if it’s not alive. It’s the energy we borrow from the universe that allows any of the elements to connect. To borrow from one another. Feed one another. Find one another. Love one another.”

“So…up here….you’re the spirit element?”

Your head quirks and you turn in his arms. Quiet surprise hangs in the air between you for a long string of moments…before your arms finally curl around him. Tilting your head back, you scritch your nails lightly, affectionately across his back. A smile slowly pulls at your lips.

“How’d you figure that out, pretty boy?” It’s overwhelming enough that he’s so beautiful. So full of life. Bursting at the seams with talent and passion. Confusingly good. And so disarmingly vulnerable. The fact that he also understands you effortlessly is near impossible to wrap your head around.

A shrug falls from his broad shoulders and he nuzzles at your nose. He has the best view in Chicago to feast on, but his focus is locked on you. Fingertips brushing down your cheek, they slide up into your hair. In an attempt to curb the game of twister Chicago’s wind is playing with it, his fingers curl around the long strands gently, then fist just enough to clasp it all in place. You’re forced to stand closer to him as a side effect, but you’ve suffered far worse.

“That’s so beautiful. That you refuse to let the city take that away from you.” It’s the first time anyone has seen through your ‘perfectly manicured uptown midwestern wife’ charade. The first time anyone’s suspected that maybe there’s still some part of you bucking against the saddle. Alec has always taken care of you. But Shawn is in your blood, undressing your soul instead of just your body.

Reaching up to grip his neck, you pull him down into a warm, deep kiss. Push open his hoodie and rest your body against his. How the hell he’d sorted the secret language of you was still a mystery. But that was the moment you knew you loved him.

                                                      ///

“You know I’m gunna be in Chicago next week…” “Are you?” The sirens go off in your brain as you lean against the cement edge of your rooftop. ‘Absolutely not. You need to leave him alone.’ This isn’t even about staying loyal to Alec. Shawn deserves everything you can’t give him. Deserves a girl his own age. Someone who is available to anoint him in love every minute of every day like it’s holy oil and she’s his priestess. Keeping him stitched into your bone marrow is thievery. You’re stealing time he should be spending happy, with some pretty young thing as full to bursting with energy as he is.

“You still in the city?” “Yes, love. I’m right here, hmm? Same place you left me.” You feel like an undergrad at Northwestern all over again, listening to your drunk friends ramble in nonsensical circles as they stumble back towards sobriety.

“Didn’t leave you…” He’s pouting like a puppy, but your voice stays even and gentle. Patient as ever. Maybe the one advantage your age gives you with him is maturity. What might stir up a fight with a hormonal teenager, is just another chance to soothe him for you.

“You know that’s not what I meant, sweet boy. I know you’d never leave me. Not… not really.” What the fuck is wrong with you? How long is it going to be until this story shows up in the headlines. Before everyone else sees just how sick and cruel and pathetic you really are.

“I wanna see you. Tell me I can see you.” You hear a sliding glass door open and wind hits the receiver in small gusts. He’s always been a sucker for a balcony. You’re fairly certain he can’t see the stars either, but you’re almost certain you hear ocean waves in the distance. 

“Baby…” One little word. You don’t mean for it to sound so loaded.

“You don’t want to? …Say it out loud then. Tell me you don’t want to see me and I’ll leave you alone.” There goes that pride again, trying to eat him whole from the inside out. He’s the sweetest boy in the world. But every now and then, when he’s stressed and lonely and drunk, his insecurities swim in his blood like piranhas.

Slowly, you drag in a breath. He can’t possibly understand all the ways this is wrong. On fire with his own youth, he knows nothing but chasing desire. Burning regret to the ground as if feeling alive is his only religion.

“S’nothing to do with want, baby. Always want you.”

It takes a few moments of silence but he finally circles back. The edge has left his voice (he’s never known how to be an asshole for more than 10 seconds at a time) but he’s still stubborn as always.

“I know it’s not Alec. I know you don’t love him more.”

“But I do love him.”

“Not enough to quit me.”

His words are a slap to the face and sting just the same. Swallowing, you fight all the instincts you learned from your mother. Lashing out (Oh, grow up and make your own mind up then. You’re twenty not five). Deflecting (you’re the one who called me). Jabbing at weak spots he was vulnerable enough only with you to show (aren’t there a million other girls who’d come clean you up right now? Or boys?). As guilty as the age difference makes you feel… you’re thankful you didn’t meet him when you were twenty. What a disgustingly toxic mess that would’ve been.

Dragging in a deep breath, you rub at your temple. Remind yourself he doesn’t mean it as harsh as it sounds. That he’s just hurt and wasted and trying to prove a point.

“You gunna hold it against me that I’m weak for you too?” You hope he can hear the slight pout in your sad, soft voice. He must, because you can feel the sobriety sweep over him for a moment. Like heavy rain sweeping down into a valley.

“Then what the hell is it Holland?” The sigh falls off his lips more tired, more defeated than angry.

Sometimes, if you drink a little too much wine and think about it a little too long, this shit with him still breaks you down into tears. Sometimes you don’t know why. Your own husband has a whole decade on you. So why is Shawn’s seven years younger always giving you so much grief?

“I have no right to love you…”

“…I don’t understand what that means. Please don’t be self-righteous right now. You don’t… you don’t understand how hard this is without you. You have no idea how fucking… messed up I feel all the time.”

But you do. It’s how you two met.

                                                      ///

Each long evening gown that walks into the charity gala sparkles like a disco ball. The kitchen is buzzing with the refilling of trays and the fizzing of champagne. The donations are pouring in so fast, the attendants can hardly keep up with receipts. And, as usual, you are the spinning wheel of fortunes at the center keeping it all perfectly on track. St. Christopher’s is the largest non-profit foundation in the Midwest. Over the past six years, you’ve diligently worked your way up from undergrad intern to the Publicity Chair’s Executive Assistant. It doesn’t sound exciting but in the heart of a city as busy as yours, you’re essentially party planning for the elite. And honestly…it’s everything you ever wanted. Hell, this whole pop star performing at the Gala thing was your idea. Browsing the Allstate Arena’s schedule last year had led you to Shawn Mendes. Not for any particular reason other than the dates matched up nicely. He’d be in town for a show anyway and likely had the star power to generate enough interest. So you reached out.

Well, not to Shawn personally. Just his PR manager. But still, he’d agreed happily to stop by and you couldn’t be happier with how well he was working the crowd now. Taking pictures, signing autographs, navigating overpersonal questions with an impressively charming diplomacy. If he wasn’t already wildly successful at music, you’d have offered him a job on your team.

Dinner is served right on time, but neither you nor the night’s golden boy get to sit down or eat. You’re checking that dessert is being plated up in the kitchen and that trash is being rotated out fast enough. He’s up on stage, performing a few of his latest hits with his band. You’ve never heard his music before. Pop kind of isn’t your thing. The bluesy rock/folk you listen to is perhaps one of the last remaining hints that could give away your true roots as the granddaughter of a Kentucky coal miner.   

Aren’t you shocked when you march out of the kitchen, only to find him spilling his guts up on stage. A guitar crying in his hands, a microphone his voice is all but making love to. No pop in sight. Your steps slow to a dead stop. The guitar in his hands bleeds out a euphoric set of chords that break open your ribs and pool in your chest.

Nothing physically has changed. He’s still the same, tall dark and handsome kid that walked in two hours ago. No, the change is all you. You’ve woken up. You can see his cracks and all the light pouring out of them. As if he’s holding a nursery of stars inside his chest and their fire is barely contained.  

The powerhouse performance disarms your heart, shatters it into a million little pieces. But looking around, you can see… it’s not going over quite so well on the rich upper class of Chicago. This just isn’t their style. Most of them really only came for the signed photos they plan on giving to their spoiled ass children. And he’s used to working a crowd of teenage girls who hang on his every word. You can see his confidence faltering a bit. Hear his voice backing off from attempting to hit the harder notes. By the time the two-song set ends, he barely gets out a slightly shaky ‘thank you’ to respectful applause before he’s nearly bolted off the stage.

Maybe it’s a dumb idea to walk backstage right now. To check the kitchen and then the green room and then the men’s bathroom. You’re not meant to chase the deer once it runs from the headlights. And this isn’t just a party. You’re at work.

The excuses go on and on in your head. Rationalizing. Criticizing. But your steps continue down the hotel hallway once they’ve cleared the grand ballroom. There’s only so many rooms he could’ve ducked into and most of them are locked, with signs reading ‘employees only’. Your golden, satin ballgown billows behind you as you chase his trail. You couldn’t possibly have lost him. What’d he do? Book a room upstairs and check-in before you’d even gone searching?

Finally, you reach the entrance to the hotel pool. The gym. He’s not in any of those and this is where the hallway ends…What the hell? Head foggy with confusion and stomach turning with worry, you slowly circle back. You checked every single open door, didn’t you?

Suddenly, your adrenaline sharpened focus snags on a door you hadn’t noticed before. The family bathroom closer to the lobby. It’s nearly 10pm. No one will need to use this right now. You gotta hand it to him. Kid’s a genius.   

You find him sitting on the floor, shaking and sweating. Flushed and barely breathing. The sight of you seems to only make it worse and for a moment he tries hard to scramble up on his feet.

“I’m…I’m sorry, I’ll…I’ll be right…right out…” God, he must think you’re here to drag him back. Seeing how unsteady his long legs are, you reach out and grip his arms.

“Hey…” Voice soft, you fight hard to regain your balance in your heels as his weight leans into you. Left without a choice, you slowly help him back to the floor. But this time, you ensure he’s sitting against the wall.

You suffered terrible bouts of anxiety before Alec. Therapy had never worked. The pills made you feel like a walking corpse. Your husband is the only thing that had truly gotten you through. It’s one of the things any marine learns. How to deal with stress at the most inconvenient times. How to pull someone out of their own head in seconds flat. Watching Shawn break down like this, it’s like holding yourself seven years ago and all you can think is that you want to be his Alec. Biting back tears, you fight to be strong for him as you pull one shaking, pale hand up to face your own.

“Can you name your fingers as I touch them?” His eyes fall from yours, the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. He doesn’t know you. Not really. And you can see it in his eyes. The same doubt there was any hope you could truly handle this that you’d always felt. He’s honestly just hoping you’ll hurry up and get frustrated sooner rather than later. To just leave already so he can pick up these pieces on his own and not under the watchful eye of an older woman whose job is counting on him getting his shit back together. Very gently tipping his chin up so his eyes are forced back to yours, you touch your thumb to his own. “You know that, hmm? What’s the name of that finger?”

Your voice stays soft. Even and cool. Encouraging. The same river-bed voice your grandmother had used to comfort you before she’d died. Before you’d been left to fend for yourself against a manic-depressive, Oxy dependent mother. In all honesty, you’re a bit surprised. It’s been so long since your grandmother died and you had no idea you’d picked up the ability before now.

Slowly getting the breath back in his lungs, Shawn’s eyes find your hand and his. Seems to realize for the first time that he’s touching you.

“…Thumb…”  

A smile tugs at your mouth and you cup his cheek.

“Good. That’s so good.” Your pointer fingertip touches his own. “And this one?”

“P-pointer…” You nod and he follows each careful touch with a soft murmur. “Ring …index …p-pinky.”

Finding yourself proud of the boy, you flash him a smile. Lean to brush a kiss to his sweating temple. You can’t help but notice that his pupils, blown out a moment earlier, seem to be shrinking again. A good sign that he’s calming.

“That’s really good, love.” Shifting to sit down properly, you twine your fingers through his, hoping to give him an anchor.  “Can you tell me the color of my dress?”

He glances over. Swallows again. This one takes a little longer as his eyes trace the lines of the dress. He’s not stuck on the color. You can tell. He’s just trying to swim through a head flooded with adrenaline.

“Gold?”

“Mmhmm.” Squeezing his hand, you nod. “Close your eyes, sweetheart. Count three things you can hear.”

Resting his head back against the cool tile, he does as he’s told. Squeezes your hand after a moment to make sure you’re still there. Then finally focuses.

“H-hum of the AC…running water in the next bathroom…Phil Collins.” You both laugh softly at that. He’s not wrong. The hotel’s lobby loudspeaker system seems to reach even in here and you notice the song too now he’s said it.

Resting your own head back against the tile as well, you sing along softly under your breath. It’s not long before he’s doing the same, the distraction seeming to help.

You can tell from the lines on her face You can see that she’s been there Probably been moved on from every place Cause she didn’t fit in there Oh, think twice, 'cause another day For you and me in paradise

Turning to glance at him, you realize then there’s no getting him back into that ballroom. And honestly, you wouldn’t even want to. A switch in you has flipped. Work can wait. The influential elite of the city you’re trying to conquer can go fuck themselves. Nothing matters more to you right now than looking after him. You couldn’t explain where the all-consuming black hole came from. Or how it suddenly ripped open inside of you. It’s just there, undeniable and inescapable.

“Do you have anywhere you need to be, love?”

He shakes his head. Yawns and scoots closer. Suddenly, you wish he wasn’t so much bigger than yourself. Wish he was just the scared four-year old he looks like right now and you could scoop him up and wrap him in a blanket.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” You realize how it sounds the moment it jumps out of your lips. You’re sure a hundred girls must proposition him every day. Scared to freak him out further, you squeeze his hand and slowly help tug him up. “Just…you know, some food. A guest bed. Maybe just a few hours away from being ‘Shawn Mendes’?”

He gets through an eager nod and you help him over to the sink.   

“Mmk, why don’t you wash some cold water over your face, love? I’ll grab my things ‘n meet you in the back lot.”

It’s only as you’re turning to go that he works up any words.

“Holland? I…Thank you…” Leaning against the sink, his sweaty curls fall into his eyes. Slowly, he’s starting to look less like a lost child and more like himself again.

“You’re welcome, honey.” Your smile is soft, but full of warmth. You know exactly what he just went through. And to know you helped him pull out of that collapsing star makes you feel like the hero in a fairytale. The storybook princess who just saved the prince. “I’ll be right back for you.”

“I’ll be waiting.”   

///

“I know, baby…I know that…” Swallowing, you push away from the cement barrier of the rooftop. Rub at your forehead a bit as your manicured feet pace tiredly across the cement floor. “I’m sorry. I never meant to be vague or cryptic. I just meant…I can’t leave him for you. I can’t be what you need. I’m not good for you.”

“That’s not up to you.” He insists stubbornly.

“But it is. I’m seven years older than you, Shawn. It’s on me to make that call.”

“That is such bullshit, and you know it. I’ve been fucking…forced to grow up way faster than anyone else I know from the moment I stepped into Hollywood. I’ve been making more money than my parents since I was sixteen. I’ve been on tour since I was seventeen. And I haven’t stopped. I always fucking show up. Even when I feel like I’m walking around in a fucking corpse. I always do what has to be done. I always will. Do not tell me I don’t understand what I’m saying. My body is twenty years old. I’m not.”

Silence follows as his words sink like stones in the river of your bloodstream. You can’t argue with him there. It’s not fair for him to be forced into the responsibilities of an adult, only then to be treated like a child.

And the truth is… either way, you haven’t quite figured out how to truly deny him anyway.

“Text me the details of where you’ll be staying when you get here, yeah? I’ll…sort an excuse.”

“Well, you better pack a pretty big bag. ‘Cause once I have you, I’m not letting you go again.”

Shaking your head a how drunk he is, you laugh softly.

“Baby, please get some sleep, hmm? For me?”

“Mm mm. Stay on the phooone.”

God damnit. That pouty little baby voice is always so unfair. Sighing heavily, you consider threatening him playfully. Teasing that you’ll fly with Alec to New York next week if he doesn’t take care of himself. But that means you’d actually have to hang up.

“If I stay on the phone, you have to drink some water. And lay down. Promise?”

“…You’re really gunna let me see you next week?”

“Course, honey. Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

Yawning deeply, you can all but hear him nod as his voice finally gives in to his body’s exhaustion. The wind interference clears as he heads back into his suite. A sigh of relief loosens from your chest. You’re never crazy about him being outside and up that high when he’s so drunk. 

“Mmk…water ‘n down.”

“Good, baby. That’s good… I love you, hmm?” Switching on your rooftop firepit, you slouch down into the armchair that gives you the best view of Lake Michigan in the moonlight. You’ll stay up as long he needs you to. Even if that’s sunrise. 

“I love you too, Holls… only you.”

[ladyofmind]

August is over? Recap time...

First things first... Between Patreon and other tasks, I dropped off towards the end of the month... I’m sure you saw the #CharactersHell board that took my time and, most importantly, brain stuffs.

We have, however, organized it so that future boards should not be as hard as the first one.

As long as it is as well received as it’s other game, by the same @M_arbanassi (on Twiter) #CharactersHell should have just as amazing a community as #CharactersTell. Tell focuses on the characters every week. Hell is a monthly board covering a little bit more, including us authors.

Basically, those two tags are my guaranteed game plays for the foreseeable future. The question will be what other ones will I be playing this coming September?

While I ponder that, here are the old answers...

#wipwordsearch  AKA  #RedLettersTeasers

1- Sly had a way of #schooling his features so that no one could read him. If Gus was happy about it, he could be happy for Gus. Still… "But why do some of the women have pointy weapons?"

2- He followed her lead carefully, since they were not in his place, & he made sure to lower only his top half. They could stare at his jean clad #back side for all he cared.

3- Rolling the blanket over herself like a sleeping bag, Tweet felt for her note #book in the dark, finding where she left the pen in the page, half heartedly scribbling notes she hoped she would understand in the margins.

4- That she would have to cover with make up, and that would have to work for the #bags under her eyes too.

5- At least two of the biggest #gossips of Soul were furiously, but covertly, trying to get her attention.

6- She still needed him around, and Malta would miss her #crush too much.

7- The kindnesses came back ten fold, as Nate catered Martin's musical event, with the chocolate man making a lifelike red guitar that shined as if it had a fresh coat of pearlescent #paint.

8- His long black hair fell to one side, and hardly covered any of the piercing or tattoos, which covered his arms and neck in a sea of darker #colors.

9- Nira wasn't the only one #catching on to the language from exposure.

10- "You don't have to read it, if you don't like it." Woods' movements slowed, as he scrunched #up the material of his shirt.

11- She wasn't by any means an #expert, but one knew quickly which ones felt like sucking lemons, due to the way they pulled her face of their will, and which ones she might want to drink again.

12- The point was made, she was #playing with house money, and she would win.

13- Seemed this new Soulful was #true to it's name, and proving more interesting with each visit.

14- NO WINGS

15- Remmy rolled the window down, and waved at Woods, a sigh escaping him. "#Hurry up slow poke. I think you should be offended, but that's my opinion that you don't always listen to talking.

16- NO ESSENCE

17- Remmy was getting #sick of repeating himself. "Just go talk to Tweet…."

18- By the simple look of a wedged arm and crumpled leg, she knew to #avert her gaze, that seeing the parts of limbs was close enough.

19- Spoiler if posted SLASH

20- Not that this was any type of pet, it was somewhere between a tiger and #house cat in size.

21- NO CASCADE

22- NO LITE

23- "Seems like you have a musical connection with everyone you meet." Her words had been a double-edged #sword to him.

24- One #building caught her eye, with its sheer size and stain glass details.

25- Plus if he loitered too long, he'd be late to #class.

26- Once #inside, she showered and found herself staring into her closet.

27- She needed to remember to encourage them all to have lives #outside the bar.

28- Staff loyalty and respect was next on the ever #growing list.

29- Even nearly #falling onto a guy and barely keeping her red rubies caged looked classy.

30- Angus and Scotty had the good sense to first agree with Woods, and then do their darnedest to get Brandon to #leave while he was still in one piece.

31- They were out in the public, it was #chilly, he was sure there was some law about it, and was she ready for what she was trying to do?

#CharactersTell

1/8- Woods back again! The band and I thought it was time to talk again, especially since this month is art themed, and we are artists *someone snickers* Don't start that again mate… We're glad to be here in… (The Red Letters series)

2/8- Woods- Of course! We're musicians, so that is our favorite.

Brandon- "Women too"

W- "A fine bird's form can be a masterpiece yes, with legs for miles and plump shapes."

3/8- Woods- "Yeah mate, Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, couple of car places. It's my passion, so why not go see it in a museum too if you can?"

4/8- Woods- "We play rock music, but I have listened to all kinds in my life. Never know what will inspire that next song of your own."

5/8- Woods- *laughs while the boys chuckle* "I prefer relaxed movies, in the sense that thinking too hard kills the buzz. Ain't nothing too relaxed about the movies I watch, especially if we just finished filming it."

6/8- Woods caught elbowing the blokes on the couch with him. "Unless this is Play boy, the answer to that question has to be music." *preoccupied by trying to help cover Brandon's mouth.*

7/8- Woods- "Maybe you haven't heard of us, but we are already famous for being a band. Tour regularly, another album in the works, so on and so forth. That's my legacy. Rock and roll lifer."

8/8- "Thank god! Woods doesn't shut up. Brandon the lead singer and better showman ready to take control of this band interview…"

9/8- Brandon- "Depends what you're talking about. Realistic women, but their ink can be anything. Just better not be ugly where I have to stare at. Say no to cutesy tramp stamps."

10/8- Brandon- "Sure, action movies are my thing. Love a good Bond girl if you know what I mean…"

11/8- Brandon- "The only art I understand is music. Beyond that, I don't need to fake it, I just don't care."

12/8- Brandon- "Designer all the way. You don’t get on sexy lists wearing ill-fitting bargain basement bullsh*t. Plus the free clothes or marketing money isn't bad when you're famous."

13/8- Brandon- "Women. Enough said."

14/8- Brandon- "Certainly not gentle, in any way. Fair in music consideration, but mostly critical everywhere else."

15/8- "Hey, you want to talk to me too? I'm Remmy, just the friendly security to Woods and occasional band wrangler when the manager is busy." *tips fedora in greeting, stepping up to stand behind Woods on the couch*

16/8- Remmy- "I like visiting museums for my hobbies yes. Then again, it depends on how you define art, as this one puts away food like no ones business, and this one has the habit of being the bands lightweight. That’s weird place art no one asks for…" *taps BGC*

17/8- Remmy- "After listening to this bunch bang around all night and day, I like to listen to a smooth station, or at least some smoother oldies."

18/8- Remmy- "Is it any different than watching the headbangers? Always wonder if they wake up with whiplash the next morning…"

19/8- Remmy- "Besides these guys? Not exactly. Plan on going to see someone and some music will play its part soon enough…"

20/8- Remmy- "My only art is information. Its how I keep Woods safe, keep the band life smooth and easy… Maybe in that way, I have picked up the juggling skill?"

21/8- Remmy- "What are you talking about? That's definitely the sort of question that skips over my head." *tips his fedora and straightens his bigger old school mod style jacket.*

22/8- *Silence until Remmy prods a man* "What? Oh yo! Tour life's been rough man, gotta get your zzz's in when you can. Especially when Remmy rattles on." *straightens up* "I'm Josh aka Angus, and this is Scotty the drummer" *Drums on Scotty's gut to wake him up too*

23/8- Josh-"Got new bass art, and tattoos. My wifey doesn't like me looking at much, or it's an earful."

Scotty-"Man at least you get to look. My wife won't even let me play drums in my house because of the baby. I get kicked out when it screams like a metalhead."

24/8- Josh & Scotty- "The Terminator Mockingbird T800 comes to mind." "Did you ever see the Heineken drums? Or the plastic video game fakeness?" *nudged by other band members before they accidentally speak in unison* "My wife."

29/8- *Both laugh, then Woods speaks for himself and Remmy* "Neither of us draw, and if we did, it would mostly be bollacks and bristols in Sharpies when the other passes out."

R-"It took a week to get the last one off  my chin…"

30/8- *Brandon talks over his bandmates* "There is a rather poorly done, wrong sided sort of bio out about me, but yes, I want more books about me, done CORRECTLY."

[sp4c3-0ddity]

Hey, girl how's it been? Anyway if you can and if you have time can you write a one-shot for Plance based off this sentence: "Can I kiss you?" Thanks :P

hey look another college AU. ~1100 words. enjoy

Pidge didn’t drag her feet when she agreed to go with Matt to the party, but she didn’t promise to have a good time. You’ll have fun! he said. Well, Pidge didn’t believe him, and as she scowled into her drink - suspiciously, because she didn’t even trust the Sprite to be safe - and thought longingly of brand new video game waiting to be freed of its packaging at home, a frat boy sauntered up to her.

At first she didn’t hear his query, either because the room was too loud with music and too crowded with dancing bodies...or because her brain filtered his words out, for when they finally registered, they made no sense.

“This is going to sound really weird, but can I kiss you?”

Pidge slowly glanced up from her drink and gaped at him. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I don’t think I heard you right.”

The boy - who looked a couple years older than her at most, and more than a head taller - smiled sheepishly and asked, “Can I kiss you?”

“What?” Pidge said, eyes wide and stunned. Absurdly her heart pounded, almost louder than her raucous surroundings. “No!”

“Oh, well, that sucks.” He shot a glance over his shoulder, towards the room at large, though from the way he scanned the crowd it seemed that he searched for someone.

Then he leaned against the wall just beside Pidge, close enough that his shoulder brushed hers. She pinched her lips together and glared at her drink.

“Look,” she said, “I’m really not interested--”

“Oh, me neither!” he said, his tone cheerful now. When Pidge swiveled her head around to raise an eyebrow at him, he raised his hands defensively and grinned. “I just saw my ex-girlfriend, so I needed to find someone to pretend to be interested, you know?”

Unimpressed - and with a face warm with embarrassment - Pidge narrowed her eyes at him. “No,” she deadpanned, “I do not.” She stood upright and pushed herself away from the wall...and away from him.

“Wait, hey!” he called from behind her. “That came out wrong!”

“No kidding,” Pidge grumbled under her breath as she stalked towards the back of the house, away from the densest rooms, through the kitchen, and out the door into the garden.

The backyard was small, as close to the city as the house was, but well-furnished with lawn chairs and a few tables on grass already turning brown for the autumn. Music with a pounding bass drifted from inside, but at least this far it didn’t rattle Pidge’s bones.

Unfortunately, solitude did not prove so simple to find, for in addition to other party goers seeking some peace, the guy from inside caught up to her.

“I’m not kissing you,” Pidge told him as he approached. She held her cup out towards him threateningly.

“Worry not,” he said with a conciliatory smile. “I’m not here to come onto you.”

“Then why did you follow me?” she demanded.

He glanced at the cup in her hand. “Are you going to pour that over my head if I tell you something you don’t like?”

Pidge cleared her throat and lowered her makeshift weapon. “You have experience with that?”

“Actually, no,” he said with a smirk. “I just watch a lot of movies.”

“Fine.” Pidge rolled her eyes. “What did you want?”

“Just to...apologize.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “I saw my ex, panicked, and propositioned the first girl I saw...and it just happened to be you.”

“A wallflower?” Pidge raised a skeptical eyebrow. “How does a wallflower grab your attention?”

He hummed thoughtfully and shrugged. “Don’t know,” he said. “You were just the only in there not even trying to have a good time.”

“Ha, you caught me.” Pidge couldn’t help a slight smile, despite her sarcasm. “Are you going to kick me out now, since I’m not enjoying your frat party?”

“Maybe I should see that you enjoy it instead?”

Pidge snorted and shuffled her feet. Idly, she sipped at her drink, pretending that it hadn’t gone flat since she poured it. “Fat chance of that happening,” she said.

He leaned a little towards her. “Then what can I do to see that you do?”

“And why do you care?” Pidge wondered suspiciously. She wiped a sweaty palm on her pants, careful to keep an eye on the boy who had some kind of interest in her, accident or not.

“Because if I’m a host - and really, I am sorry for making you uncomfortable earlier - then shouldn’t I want all my guests to have fun?”

“Well, unless you have a brand spanking new copy of Killbot Phantasm II upstairs in your room, you won’t succeed.”

Pidge said it half-jokingly, unable to resist flashing him a smirk as she issued him an impossible challenge - of course he wouldn’t have the very game she was dying to play while she suffered at a crowded and noisy frat party! Except...

Pidge frowned at him, taking note of his slow smirk. “Why...why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because, my dear lady,” he said cheerfully, “I happen to have a ‘brand spanking new copy’ of Killbot Phantasm II upstairs...though, admittedly, in a frat brother’s room rather than in mine.” He shrugged and said, “He’s more into gaming than I am.”

Pidge’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope, not about this.” He smiled at her hopefully. “You want to go upstairs?”

Pidge brandished her half-full cup of flat soda at him. “Oh, I’ve seen enough movies to know where this goes, so no, I don’t think so.”

He scowled at her. “Really? I swear, I’m not interested in that; I just want you to have fun.”

Pidge considered him for a beat. He did seem genuine - and indignant that she’d imply that he wanted to seduce her - and regretful of the incident inside, but tempting as it was... “Whose name should I use when we engage in trash talk?”

He grinned and pressed a thumb to his chest. “The name’s Lance,” he said, “and if you think I’ll let you beat me--”

“You said yourself you’re not into gaming,” Pidge interrupted, shaking her head at him disparagingly.

Lance scoffed. “I’m a quick study, especially when I’ve got someone to beat.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, almost suggestively, and Pidge couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips.

“Fine,” she said. “I’m Pidge. Also”--she dramatically held her arm out to him--”you may escort me upstairs.”

Pidge smiled as Lance accepted her arm, for once not regretting allowing Matt to drag her along.

[sylleboi]

𝕻𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖎𝖙 - 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖈 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖐𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖕 | 24/03/20

Since we are now all self-isolating, we are receiving all of our school work/homework over Moodle and Moodle Forum. For today, the task is to dive into a workshop called “Post It”.

Attached was the following text written to us by our teacher:

“Morning folks. 

Day 2 of lockdown and I thought I would post an activity that we can all get involved in. Basically, this is a fun workshop that looks at the theory behind how comic book narrative works. 

What I want you all to do is use the video (pausing on each slide/task) and imagine I am going through it with my monotone drawl. Basically, if we all take part an upload something I will put together some group comic pages, that we can all be proud of! 

All you need is some post-it notes (failing that make some small squares of paper) a sharpie, fineliner, pencils, ink if you have it. Then some resources, books, photos on your phone, your imaginations. 

Follow all of the tasks and work the workshop through. Your goal is to upload your post it comic book panel/s by tomorrow morning. I have attached the PDF of the video too. Ask me any questions and I will try and give you feedback as we go through the challenge. I will hold a review session on Thursday. 

Good luck team!”

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖐𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖕:

Aims of this session:

Make paneled illustrations based on observations and ideas generated from discussion and sketching.

Create at least 6 drawn and inked post-it note panels, with each one based on a different idea or subject.

Build a non-sequential “comic” using these panels

Make a group comic with everyone else’s panels

Compare the results and reflect

explore & discuss the theory of how we make sense of the world through various psychological elements (Gestalt theory) using comics as a vehicle to do this.

Task 01 – Reach & Sketch

“In order to stimulate ideas for your comic panels, you will need to generate sketches based on some visual prompts, this may be something you already have or you can use the starter topics below. Really there are no bounds here so the content of your panels could be anything you like, but having a place to leap from is always a sound approach. Spend 15 minutes doodling on each of the following topics, trying to communicate your ideas as simply as possible:

Objects & tools

Icons of inspiration

Characters & alter ego’s

Motivational words & wisdom

Emotions and expressions

Weird & wonderful

Use observations, people around you, old photos, a scene from the movie you watched last night and tap into that imagination!”

I began by putting on some music and simply just go at it, sketching whatever first came to mind when I looked at the prompts above. Eventually, I was left with some rough sketches scattered across a page;

01: Objects & tools

I was unsure of what precisely to draw, as I hadn’t warmed up prior to doing this workshop; but I saw a pile of chains outside the door from where I was working; thus this became the first thing I drew.

02: Icons of inspiration

The first person that popped into my mind as a source of inspiration for me was John Murphy (or just Murphy for short) from the TV series “The 100″. I have never connected as strongly to any fictional character as I have with him. It has gotten almost silly since a known party trick of mine is to practically cry on command if anyone does as much as show me a picture of him or say his name; but with that, It just goes to show how much of an impact his character has had on me over the years. He is most definitely part of the reason that I am even here today – his will to forever survive, no matter how much bullshit he has to go through, has been incredibly inspiring for me. I referenced this from an old piece of fan art that I did a few years back;

03: Characters & alter ego’s

Again, I simply drew the first thing that popped into my mind; which for this prompt was sort of viewing myself from outside my own body. (?) I drew myself as a wolf for no apparent reason besides that I creates me as a “character” rather than myself. The alter ego part steps in where I thought about the way I present myself vs who I really am. I may be this tough-looking guy (wolf?), but in reality, I’m no tougher than anyone else. I drown in my own thoughts constantly; often making me feel so worthless and horrible that everything almost seems to be sinking silently.

04: Motivational words & wisdom

This is a quote taken from one of the seasons of “The 100″, where Murphy has a short conversation with another character from the show called Titus, a guy that imprisoned him and tortured him for days before he managed to escape;

Titus: "You do not belong here."

John Murphy: "Really? Why does my blood decorate your floor?"

– in Stealing Fire (season 3)

05: Emotions and expressions

I feel as if this is an emotion I feel quite a lot. Anger, stress, despair, pain, envy, sadness; being so tired of everything constantly piling up to then fall back down again.

06: Weird & wonderful

Honestly, I’m not sure where this came from in my mind. Possibly it has some ties to the previous sketch (05) since it was more of an emotionally driven drawing; the character is hidden away by a darkness that they have put on themselves (the jacket/hazmat suit/coat?”, but they are holding something light in their hands- like a light orb; or perhaps it’s something more hostile and sinister, sharing the appearance of something bright and warm.

Perhaps the light orb is really a light anomaly (when properly identified, light anomalies are said to be able to potentially be the energy of a spirit transforming itself by use of the energy around it.) disguised as something safe, but in reality, it might of something demonic or a poltergeist (poltergeists are spirits with energy levels so high that they can physically interact with the world that we know of).

It’s really just up to anyone's interpretation.

Task 02 – Define parameters

“Once you have created a selection of sketched ideas across a range of topics, take your post-it notes and draw with your fine-liner a loose border about 4-5mm in from the edge of the paper.

That 4-5mm of blank space is called a gutter. The place outside of the frame, where time and imagination, is at its most fluid.

Bordering a panel gives you a range of options of how to compose your image inside of it; draw in freehand or trace over one of your sketches, lining out the details with your black pen.

Composure and consistency are useful here but experiment with your approach to calligraphy and purpose of your line-work.”

I wanted my linework to feel delicate although the imagery isn’t all quite as such; creating a sense of juxtaposition between the relations of the context and the linework, so this I why I used a 0.35 fineliner.

Since I had no post-it notes, I cut out squares of white paper. After this, I traced over the sketches I had done earlier by pushing the sketch and “post-it note” up against a sunny window.

After finishing the tracing as well as the borders (to create the gutters on each “frame”); this is what I was left with:

I am very happy with how they all turned out, especially after they have been inked with a fineliner- It really makes them all tie in together; although each of them is based on separate prompts.

I scanned them all in, the result of this shown below: 

Task 03 – Display & arrange

“Once you have created at least 6 post-it panels, from a range of unrelated subjects, arrange these in no particular order on a blank page in your sketchbook (or a large sheet of paper if necessary).

Photograph this arrangement on your phone considering what your brain tells you are the overall meanings of this arrangement. Rearrange the sequence, and see if that meaning changes, record any thoughts or ideas about each sequence in notes to review later.

Now upload one of your panels up to the forum. We can then create a group comic, by mixing them all up. Try this at home too if you have photoshop?”

I have already done the random arrangement of the post-it comic panels, as they are shown above. But what does it tell me? What story does it create in my eyes? Below is my interpretation of what the comic portrays:

Betrayal

The wolf spirit raged in anger, for he had betrayed the realm, crossing barriers no mortal was to ever dare. 

“Mortal fool- you do not belong here”, the spirit barked out as if to scare the human away with nothing but one's voice.

“If I don’t belong here... then why does my blood decorate your floors?” He answered in a bitter tone.

“You are nothing but a fool for what you have done! You deserve nothing but–”

A sudden silence overwhelmed the spirit and with the silence, the body of the spirit slowly disappeared into nothingness... creating an orb of light. It floated hopelessly above the floors for a while, until it descended into the hands of a stranger, shadowed by a cloak. Behind the cloaked figure, the sound of chains rattling echoed, until a horned wolf made its way next to the strangers' feet.

“You have done well, human. This... spirit; was a traitor– but no more will it pester you.”

“Who are you?” the human asked, his wounds still bleeding from his previous fight.

“A god. None that your kind has ever heard of. I am Death's brother, Hypnos.”

I also posted all of the frames on the Moodle Forum. ↑

Task 04 - Conclusions

“Look at the comics you have created and then read the following text written by comic book analyst Kaitlyn McCafferty:

“Non-sequitur transitions are constituted of a series of images that are seemingly unrelated to each other in any classic narrative form. Non-sequitur transitions are the most cognitively disruptive; they are the most uncomfortable. Though the curator of these panels may not have had a specific narrative in mind, the viewer will try to draw associations between the images shown. This irresistible human tendency to put elements together to form a complete whole can be explained by Gestalt psychology, which explores the notion that human perception of a whole subject is based on the sum of its parts.”  Answer the questions below and present your work and other people's work on the blog:

Do you understand the theories being discussed here?

The Gestalt theory; I understand that this theory focuses on the human condition and needs to find order and pattern, and in this instance narrative amongst images. Gestalt explains that it is common to take a more holistic approach to this, by taking into account the individual parts of the narrative, in this instance the individual images, and only then decide the narrative. In many ways, this task has allowed us to explore what happens when rather than following these theories or playing into human tendencies to expect order, to see what human imagination can create on its own when order is not present.

Why is this interesting?

This task is interesting because it opposes conventional narrative, and forces the observes to use their imagination to try and find patterns amongst the random images, even when no set pattern exists. This, in turn, proves invaluable, because it furthers our understanding of human psychology and the endless potentials of our imaginations to create an infinite amount of stories and narratives, based off of only one set of images depending on which order they are placed in.

How could you use this to help with your own projects?

It always helps knowing how people work psychologically to predict what an audience would find interesting and intriguing say, for some character design. It is already widely used in our society; for example, in books, TV series or in a series of films they often end them on a cliffhanger with the purpose that you will want to continue watching/reading to find out what happens afterward. Our brains instantly start trying to figure it all out, attempting to tie everything together with the information given, but still, we want to be reassured.

Update 1.1:

After looking at some of my peers’ work, I have decided to try and replicate the look of “post-it notes” a little better by adding colour to them. Although I like the minimalistic black and white look, I feel as if it doesn’t completely match what this entire workshop was about; sparking ideas by doing comic-like panels on post-it notes.

Below are some of the work my peers did that I had a look at;

So, I took the scanned files of my “post-it notes” and loaded them into Krita. I set a layer to multiply, allowing me to add any colour I wish to each note. I did this for both the scans;

And finally, here is the finished product!:

Here they are loosely animated together in the same order as above;

And here is another version of that same gif;

Update 1.2:

25/03/20

Our teacher further set a challenge to develop this workshop further;

“Try and read the 'comic', and then consider Scott McCloud's ideas....does this nonsequential set of images "work" together. What is the result of grouping them? Do narratives start to appear?

If you have done 6.....now let's do 12? Remember details are everything. Take your time. We will review Thursday afternoon.

“Here's some pointers for all of you: 

01: Work on the stylisation of your written text (typography) as this is vital part of comic book panels

02: Develop and use background tonality more, if you have it water down some ink and try and build a sense of depth in the frame

03: Use hatching/pointilism and other mark making to support this sense of depth in the frame even just solid black fills will work (See the work and get inspired by the work of Mike Mignola/Adrian Tomine/Aiden Koch to support)

Keep going folks, let me see your group comics too, take a panel from everyones and put them together in a random sequence. Test the theory!”

(Matt Tankard / Sylvester Larsen / Bill Martin / Emma Aspris / Bertie Brocki / Matt Tagliarini)

What does the above sequence of post-it notes make me think of narrative-wise?

The first thing that popped up in my mind was; this is part of a dream sequence. The colours, always changing with the imagery that one's brain makes up on the go. I feel as if it closely portrays dreams I have had in the past; all scattered around with no direct links to each other; as if they are all separate glimpses of different dreams. It definitely reflects the nature of surrealism with how unpredictable it appears as a collectible.

I decided to then make one of these random post-it note sequences myself, using stuff that my peers created. Below is how that turned out:

What does the above sequence of post-it notes make me think of narrative-wise?

After looking at it for a while, I established an idea of what this little sequence could depicting narrative-wise.

It begins at the upper left with someone saying “Yo!” and the next frame showing perhaps yourself or another random character. You/They are in a grumpy mood- feeling like there’s nothing much to do and everything feels boring. So the someone leaves you/them with a choice - Are you/they going to take the drugs, or not? It’s now between feeling the same boring stuff, or feeling something you/they have never felt before. You/They answer “Yes”, and so you/they suddenly feel an odd rush of happiness, warmt and colour.

Don’t do drugs. They’re bad. This was just what initially came to mind for some reason.

- - -

Now for expanding the number of comic frames from 6 to 12, whilst keeping the pointers we were given in mind.

To expand on the prompts, I have decided to randomly generate some words by using this website, a random word generator, putting the settings to the following:

I generated the following 5 words:

I looked up the definitions of each of these words, giving me the following to work from:

Inhabitant:

Spoil:

Dose:

Reinforce:

Generate:

Now keeping the definitions of each word in mind, I attempted to illustrate my interpretation of them, using the same process as previously:

I only did 5 this time around, since I did 7 the last time around, making 12.

Dose:

For this one I imagened it being related to drugs. At the time of drawing it, I was listening to some rap music, and it made me think of how it lately has become a trendy thing to take drugs such as xanax. - it’s basically based on how many young people gradually only have drugs on their mind.

Spoil:

I interpreted this as something being damaged. - I wasn’t sure what exactly to do, so I eventually just decided to draw a horse that has been shot with some arrows.

Inhabitant:

The inhabitants in this little frame are centipede bugs, crawling around a humans ear. I felt as if it would fit the meaning of this word well, as it indicates that these inhabitants are not welcome and don’t belong there.

Reinforce:

For this frame, I interpreted the word “Reinforce” as something being supported, so I sketched a mech girl where the reinforced bit is the metal suit she is wearing.

Generate:

For the last frame, I went a little more simple and took the route of just doing some typography, after reading that our teacher asked us to do some more interesting looking quotes/type, so I gave this a drop shadow after going over it with the fineliner.

As I did previously, I traced each frame up against a window with a fineliner, being the same as I used the last time.

After this, I cut each frame out and scanned them in. I added the same yellow colour to them to make them match, but also to make them feel more like real post-it notes;

I eventually found that I had lost the post-it note for the first quote I did, so I redid it, although I then found the original again afterwards.

[skerbango-blog]

My 5 Top One Hit Wonders

5:  NENA – “99 LUFTBALLONS” (1984)

In 1983, German band Nena released their self-titled album and, with it, introduced the world to the simple hook of “99 Luftballoons”. Guitarist Carlo Karges saw balloons released during a 1982 Rolling Stones concert in West Berlin and wondered what it would’ve been like for them to transform into UFOs and fly over the Berlin Wall. Thus, a song was born. The song became so popular in Europe that Nena recorded a new version with English vocals. That English version gets creative, though, and colors the balloons red whereas the original version just describes them as “air” to fix syllable emphasis. It makes it cuter to imagine the balloon UFOs as red, so it’s almost for the better, but the real focus falls on the song’s crystal-like synth and chugging rhythm section anyway, so most people don’t notice.

4:  A-HA – “TAKE ON ME” (1984)

Video made this radio star. The Norwegian synthpop outfit originally recorded “Take On Me” under the title “Lesson One”, and it tanked. They learned their lesson quicker than you can count the times it’s been spewed on the walls of your nearest karaoke bar by re-releasing a new video directed by Michael Jackson collaborator Steve Barron. The video took months to create — because tracing live footage over pencil-sketch animation (rotoscoping) was as tedious in the ‘80s as those disaster perms — but it was worth the wait. The MTV Video Music Awards launched their career, embedding A-ha into the brains of every human on the planet. It’s not just the video that was responsible for any a-ha moments: Take that melodramatic rattle, steep it in glammy new wave that fuses a soothing synth backbeat, haloed keys, and pristine vocals, and you’ve got the uncanny formula for a song to sound decades old, yet utterly refreshing

3:  FIVE STAIRSTEPS – “O-O-H CHILD” (1970)

Who are the “First Family of Soul”? If you answered The Jackson 5, you aren’t wrong. But just know that Chicago soul sibs Five Stairsteps held the title first. The group, originally made up of four teenage brothers and a sister, were discovered at a talent show by Fred Cash of The Impressions and introduced to Curtis Mayfield, who signed them to his Chicago imprint. Though they remained a popular act for a solid decade before things began to dissipate, “O-o-h Child” stands as their only bona fide hit – but what a calling card. The song, an uplifting hand on the shoulder, begins with sister Alohe Jean promising that “things are going to get easier,” before passing the mic for a series of solos, harmonies, and instrumental swells. When the five join together and promise that “things will get brighter someday,” every part of you wants to believe them. It’s a song that simply says that things won’t always be this difficult, so hang in there. I can’t imagine that message ever not finding someone in need of it

2:  THE SUGARHILL GANG – “RAPPER’S DELIGHT” (1979)

One of the most illustrative rap songs to exist came early in the game. So early that it was one of the first songs to introduce hip-hop to listeners at large. The Sugarhill Gang revolutionized the music world with the release of “Rapper’s Delight” in 1979. Michael “Wonder Mike” Wright, Henry “Big Bank Hank” Jackson, and Guy “Master Gee” O’Brien took their name from the Harlem neighborhood of the same name despite growing up in Englewood, New Jersey, adding to what would become a critical hip-hop scene in the years that followed.

As culturally important as it is historically significant, the song, at its most basic, is pleasing based off sound alone. The track’s funk bassline takes its time plodding around while a disco guitar clip strums over it, creating an easy flow that invites listeners to sway along. That, paired with the song’s easy-to-learn shout-outs, makes it a household track, even for little kids.

But it’s the lyrics, like most rap songs, that make “Rapper’s Delight” a one-hit wonder that stands the test of time. It’s jam-packed with quote-able phrases (“I’d like to say hello/ To the black, to the white, the red and the brown/ The purple and yellow,” “The chicken tastes like wood,” “Just throw your hands up in the air/ And party hardy like you just don’t care”), but by far the most famous is “Hotel, motel/ Holiday Inn.” Decades in, that resurfaces regularly in music as a nod from artists who know their history, no matter what genre their song falls under. It’s a timeless form of artistry that prioritizes fun, ridiculousness, and talent equally, never once taking itself too seriously — which makes it that much better

1:  MODERN ENGLISH – “I MELT WITH YOU” (1982)

Modern English deserved a better fate. After all, the English outfit were one of the few new wave acts of the ’80s that could pen music durable enough to outlive its sugary decade. But, how do you top a song like “I Melt With You”? It’s not just difficult; it’s near impossible. If you’ve learned anything from this list, it’s how easy it is for a bona fide radio hit to be cemented as a hallmark in the fabric of time, sort of like little Polaroids trapped in a super-glued scrapbook. What perhaps elevates Modern English from the frozen bunch is how their landmark hit has managed to tap into the lives of every generation since its 1982 debut.

Why? Mostly because there’s nothing really flashy about the song. It’s a simple construction — guitars and drums and timeless poetry — and literally every one who’s ever been head over heels (or Chucks?) about someone can relate to its central thesis: “There’s nothing you and I won’t do/ I’ll stop the world and melt with you.” Granted, pop culture has done its damndest to make sure it’s remembered as an ’80s song — from its silver-screen debut in 1983’s Valley Girl to this past summer’s Stranger Things — but that has never once stopped it from soundtracking school dances or kicking off a mixtape between two young lovers.