#yeah pretty much every line of this song conjures up some scene of one or both of them for me this is just the highlights | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

callmeelle22 · 3 years ago

Text

Blue Dream VIII

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 9, 182

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes

Chapter VII: Brave

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream; Her eyes close and she lets herself lie in the feeling: opens a space for him to stay as he slides his tongue against hers; lets the feel of his mouth on her pull her from the dream she swears she’s been living since she first laid eyes on him; stencils the same story back onto him, plotting out a scene that only ends after forever comes and goes. She lets the kiss say what she can’t yet, reminds herself that he’s talking with it too, that he’s telling her what she’d seen in his eyes yesterday, and in his touch the week before, and in the curve of his smiles weeks before that. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter IX: He Loves Me

We were coastin' on the coast when you opened my eyes

Made me notice where the ocean was holding the sky, right

I was blinded, your smile shining behind those green eyes

The horizon so enticing, please, say you'll be mine

The second Friday in the month of November finds Iris at home as she usually is, tucked into her living room sofa, a large glass of wine on the coffee table in front of her, right next to a loaded pipe.

This week in particular has been grueling, though in the best way. Her classes are going swimmingly, so much so that she might be able to skip the final in her multimedia journalism course; but that means she has to stay on top of every single assignment, making sure everything she turns in is up to par. Not only that, Her segment on Good Morning, Central City is in less than a week, and with the television promotions for it, there has been an increase in traffic on her blog, an increase in comments on her posts, an increase in stories in her inbox waiting to be told. It’s mind-boggling, and Iris finds herself so giddy, she doesn’t always know what to do with it.

Some of it she channels into Barry. Since opening up to one another after Barry’s visit to his dad, everything about them has been more: more exciting, more passionate, more intimate. Iris can honestly say that she’s never been fucked as well as Barry fucks her, and she can’t decide if that’s just because apparently nothing turns her on more than Barry sliding thick and slow into her and muttering, ‘yes, take all of me, baby; good, good girl,’ or if she feels the way she feels because it’s him, because he is a dream of a man, some fantasy she must have conjured up in a daydream she doesn’t remember having. She finds herself always wanting him: the heavy fullness of him, and the way he smiles at her every time he sees her after they’ve been separated for even minutes; the whispered words of ardor, and how his eyes always track her movements, watching and observing and cataloging; the feel of him lean and long and hard on top of her, and the attention with which he listens to her, validates her.

And when she thinks she needs even a moment from that, there is her Friday night ritual. She’s already showered and dressed in a silk nightgown, this one in a deep purple color with thin straps and an open back. She takes a sip of her wine as she scrolls through her phone looking for a song; she chooses one, don’t wake me up ‘cause i’m in love with all that you are, and then she settles into the sofa corner, pipe in hand. Lighting up, she inhales, and releases.

She is full and high when her phone rings sometime around midnight.

Movements slow, she grabs her phone from where she’d tossed it on the table next to the half-empty carton of pad thai. Barry’s name flashes on the screen over the picture taken of them at Wally’s birthday party. Her smile is easy and so is the absurd little flutter in her belly.

(But high Iris will concede that, while she figures she should be past this stage now, this jittery, nervous stage, she’s not at all ashamed that it is still how she feels, because there is something so delightful about being with someone who gives you butterflies, even as time keeps passing).

Her stomach dips as she brings the phone to her ear. “Hello.”

“Hey, baby.” The sound of his voice, a little bit deeper than normal, a little bit slower than normal, makes her stomach tighten even more.

“Hi, Bear.”

It’s then that she notices the sound in the background, music and loud voices. She thinks she hears someone saying, “Barry, are you talking to your girlfriend?” but then Barry hushes them and comes back onto the line.

“What are you doing, beautiful?”

“What I’m always doing on Friday nights.”

“Getting high in those sexy pajamas you like wearing?”

Iris laughs softly, noting the effect of his voice on her, how even over the phone and even when he’s apparently surrounded by people, it travels, quiet and steady, over her skin.

“Are you drunk, Barry?”

“A little bit,” he says, “mostly tired though.”

Iris shifts on the sofa, snuggling deeper into the couch. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know. At some bar with Cisco and Chester. We were only supposed to grab food and a couple beers but then they had some sort of two for one special happening, and Chester and Cisco are degenerates, so here we are.”

Iris shakes her head at that, and there’s a short pause before Barry speaks again.

“I miss you.”

“You saw me yesterday.” The part of Iris that wants to appear less affected by him is glad that he can’t see the grin that lights her eyes as her cheeks warm, as she bites her bottom lip. “And we talked this morning.”

“Hmmm,” Barry hums. “Tell me you miss me.”

“What if I don’t?” Her taunt is quiet, like the whisper of her hands on her own body, trailing along her thighs at the hem of her nightgown.

There’s another pause and the sound behind lowers a little, becomes duller. Her own music comes to her attention again, you make me see the truth in things, i think that you are, the remedy for everything, it seems that you are, the truth itself ‘cause nothing else can take me so far, and it makes her shiver from the truth of it.

“I wouldn’t believe it,” Barry tells her, finally. “Yeah, I saw you yesterday, but I had you shaking on top of me.”

“Faking it,” she quips back and Barry lets out a small bark of laughter.

“Tell me you miss me, Iris.”

She licks her lips slowly, thinking of last night when she had seen him, the encounter he’s talking about, when he’d had her climb into his lap after dinner at her small little dining table and fucked her right there.

“Tell me, baby.”

“Yeah, I miss you, you cocky jackass.”

His answering chuckle was a low thing, deep and dirty. “Now tell me what your pajamas look like tonight?

“Barry, are you asking me this around your friends?”

“No. I'm standing outside of the bathrooms now. Boys' night shifted when they saw a couple of pretty women and I got tired of fifth-wheeling. And I couldn't stop thinking about you.”

She can picture him, standing in the corner and leaning against a wall, a hand in his pocket as he clutches the phone to his ear; his cheeks are probably rosy with his indulgence and his lips pink from licking at them, his hair messy from touching it.

His voice dips again. “Now tell me.”

Iris can admit to herself that she likes when Barry gets a little stern with her, when his voice deepens and he sounds so sure of what he wants, what he needs from her. It makes goosebumps crawl along her skin, and it does so doubly now, her senses already loose, dipping into the warm, heady place that intoxication takes her.

“It’s a nightgown,” she explains. “Purple. Silk. Stops at the middle of my thighs. Has a low back.”

His groan is loud and clear. “You had to come from one of my dreams. There’s no way you’re real.”

The statement sobers Iris, if only a little, but enough that the smooth and easy flow of her breathing stutters, much like the beat of her heart, stilling until she thinks she’s gonna lose breath, and then hammering back.

“I could say the same for you.”

The responding silence is piercing, expansive, a space where words left still unsaid are scattered along the floor, merely waiting for one of them to pick it up and say it.

“Iris,” he starts, and then he pauses again. “Can I come over? I know it’s your self-care night, and you can tell me no, but I need to… I really just want to see you.”

She doesn’t even think about it. “Yeah, Barry. You can come over.”

Twenty minutes later, she peels herself off of the sofa to open the door for him. He’s standing on the other side, in dark blue chinos and a baby blue and white checkered shirt, his favorite tan desert boots on his feet. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and he’s leaning against the door frame when she pulls it open. His hair is a mess and his jaw is covered in stubble, but other than the faint red tinge in his cheeks, there is nothing that tells her he isn’t as lucid as talking to her had made him seem.

She smiles up at him, aware that her own eyes are probably low and red, but he smiles back, just as softly. He doesn’t come in right away, instead reaching out to pull her to him, one big hand holding the back of her neck. He looks down at her, eyes traveling down the length of her body.

“Hey my good girl,” he greets at last, and before she can respond, he leans down and kisses her. The kiss is chaste at first, one peck and another. Then he pulls back, only enough to scoop her up, gripping her by her waist and settling her in front of him, her legs wrapping easily around his hips. She yelps at the action, but then he’s kissing her again, and they’re moving into the apartment, Iris noting the faint slam of her door behind them.

He carries her to the couch and drops down in the center of it, keeping her atop him, keeping his mouth on hers. The kiss is slow, so slow, the sort of kiss that has no purpose, not one other than allowing them the space to be together. He holds on to her by her hip, free hand trailing up and down the length of her exposed spine, but he doesn’t make any move anywhere else. He seems content to just kiss her, this deep, open-mouthed kiss.

It’s like he’s trying to get inside of her, to climb in and settle down, to take up space with his searing, insidious presence.

It’s as if he’s trying to tell himself that this isn’t a dream, that it’s really her, it’s really them, moaning into each other, holding onto each other, breathing each other in.

It’s as though he’s trying to cement their story, to write it clear into her skin so that she can’t deny it’s veracity, like he’s promising that the only thing she’ll get on the other side of her climax is this, a gentle, effortless sort of fall.

Her eyes close and she lets herself lie in the feeling: opens a space for him to stay as he slides his tongue against hers; lets the feel of his mouth on her pull her from the dream she swears she’s been living since she first laid eyes on him; stencils the same story back onto him, plotting out a scene that only ends after forever comes and goes. She lets the kiss say what she can’t yet, reminds herself that he’s talking with it too, that he’s telling her what she’d seen in his eyes yesterday, and in his touch the week before, and in the curve of his smiles weeks before that.

When he pulls back, Iris cannot say how much time has passed. She only knows that her body has molded to the shape of him, that her heart has found the rhythm of his, that she’s there with him, my afternoon dream when the world is speedin’, i am still sleepin’, in my blue dream.

“What was that about?” she asks him. She stares back at him, and the way he looks at her is more intoxicating than the wine he’d just tasted on her tongue, more so than the weed that so effortlessly floods her bloodstream.

“Told you I missed you,” he replies, voice husky with exhaustion, and likely the arousal she doesn’t think ever really disappears.

She nods, a little dazed. They sit together for a while longer; Iris tucks her head into Barry’s neck and he keeps rubbing his warm hands along her spine. The atmosphere is delicate, peaceful. She takes him in, inhaling the citrusy scent of him, savoring the feel of him so close to her, surrounding her. They stay that way until Iris feels her own exhaustion tugging at her. She climbs off of him and, after turning off her music, she pulls him through her bedroom and into her bathroom. They brush their teeth, Barry with the toothbrush that he’d bought to keep at hers, and Iris reties the silk scarf she’s wearing on her head.

Inside her room, Barry strips down to his boxers, laying his clothes neatly on the arm of the chair by her window. They get into bed, Barry spooning her, his arm holding her tight against him. She settles in, fitting herself snuggly against him, and he kisses her temple before resuming his stroking, this time on her belly through her nightgown. It doesn’t take long for her to drift off, her breathing deepening before evening out. And just before she goes under, she hears it, Barry muttering, “I love you, Iris,” into her hair, so low that she’s sure she’s only just dreaming it.

When Iris wakes up, the first thing that happens is she hears it again, hears him, Barry’s night-rough voice whispering “I love you, Iris.” It runs in her head on a loop, an anaphora to every other thought, every question she’s having: i love you, iris, did he think she was asleep? i love you, iris, did he mean it? i love you, iris, does he want her to say it back? i love you, iris, i love you, iris, i love you, iris.

Over the past few weeks, Iris has become more comfortable with the idea of it, with the reality that what she feels for Barry is real and big and grand. It still takes her aback, how quickly she’d, they’d, fallen into it. As naturally wary as Iris is, she can’t discount what she’d felt last night when he’d kissed her, when he started into her, like she was the sun and the stars and every other bright light in the galaxy all at once; with awe and reverence and yearning; like he wanted to be consumed by her, and he didn’t care how close he got to that fiery, burning light, as long as she was standing there waiting for him.

And it’s enchanting to be looked at like that. Iris has been trying to get it out on paper, that feeling, trying to make sense of the contradictions: the fear that comes with caring about someone enough that they could break you; the power that follows knowing it’s the same for him too; the overall potency that comes with falling in love.

Still, the thought of saying it aloud, right now—when she’s still working on writing it all out, still trying to explain it to herself first—makes her seize up, her eyes darting wildly, her limbs frozen in anxiety.

Barry begins to shift behind her, loosening his arm from around her, and she takes the opportunity to slide out of the bed. She pads across her carpeted bedroom floor into the bathroom where her feet meet cold tiles. She uses the bathroom, washes her hands and brushes her teeth, and throws water on her face. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, chocolate brown eyes bright in her face, her skin clear, her mouth turned down in consternation.

She goes back out into her room. Barry is fully away now, lying on his back, both of his hands cradling the back of his head. Her comforter is pooled at his hips. She takes in his bare chest, the way his biceps bulge in this position, how clear his eyes look in the sun, even as his lids are low with sleep. Those candy eyes catch her as she walks over to him, staying on her as she kneels on the bed and crawls over him, settling herself on top of him. He’s half hard under her and he lets out a soft little grunt when she sits her butt right on his crotch.

“You sleep okay?” she asks him as he reaches up and traces at his iris tattoo. She loves it, the violet ink that has sunk into his skin, the hints of blue and orange giving it depth, the fact that it’s an iris, placed big and pretty over his heart.

“Are you alright?” he asks instead of answering her question. His voice is still sleep-rough and scratchy. The sound of it sends a soft little tremble through her.

She smiles, the gesture real but uncertain. Well, maybe not uncertain, but she’s aware that she’s in her head again, trying to parse through her feelings. Or, rather, trying to figure out which of her feelings is taking precedence, which one she thinks that she should address first.

“Yes, I’m okay.”

Barry hums as he drags a hand from behind his head, placing it at her hip. “You know it’s okay not to be, right? Okay, I mean. And you can talk to me about it, whatever it is.”

He gives her hip a squeeze.

“No, I am okay. I’m good, really. I just…” she licks her lips as she hesitates, unsure if she’s even ready to bring it up, unsure if she even should. But she knows that she’ll think about it all day, will hear it in her head all day, will wonder and question and drive herself sick with the thoughts of it. So she bites the bullet, lets out a long exhale, and takes him at his word that she can talk about it.

“I heard what you said. Before we fell asleep last night.”

His expression doesn’t change, but his entire body stiffens, his hands stilling on her hip. He doesn’t break, though, and continues to watch her face in that way that he does. For a moment, Iris wonders if he even remembers what he said, if the words were just some half-drunk confession he hadn’t actually meant to say,

(and the flicker of disappointment that follows is tangible, an almost visceral response that tells her much more than anything else could have).

“Okay,” he says after a moment, tilting his head. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

She wishes she was as good at reading him as he is at reading her. She’s supposed to be able to make the observations, to understand the truth behind what people don’t say. Sometimes she thinks that she can, thinks that when she really looks at him, she can see what’s simmering in those eyes, can understand his intentions in the grip of his hands, and the curve of his spine, and the shape of his mouth. But it doesn’t feel constant, not like he is with her, and that fact is doubly true right now. Because she can’t tell anything about what he’s thinking, his only tell being the way his hand is still on her hip, tighter than it was before, holding her to him.

“I don’t know,” she tells him, truthfully. “Did you mean it?”

For the first time, he averts his eyes, gazing over at the window. There’s nothing to see; the blinds are closed and the curtains are drawn, but he focuses there for several long seconds, brows furrowed and lips pursed. She blinks, and then she’s suffused with something foreign, something cold and bitter.

“You didn’t,” she says, and it isn’t a question. “Okay, that’s, that’s…”

She moves to climb off of him, but he’s quick, bringing her back by sitting up and wrapping both of his arms around her.

“Where are you going? I’m not done.”

Her eyes flash. “Well you haven’t said anything and I don’t need to sit here like this and listen to you tell me that you didn’t mean to say you love me.”

“What are you upset about, Iris?”

“I’m not upset, Barry,” she says, her frustration evident. She tries to move again, but he holds on to her. “It’s fine. Of course you didn’t mean it. It’s only been a few months. We’re just…”

“We’re just what, Iris?”

He’s looking at her again, with those pretty, too-knowing eyes, and she feels a little like she can’t breathe. Because he didn’t mean it. And the thought that she’d managed to get this all so wrong is, is horrifying.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles, and even though she didn’t actually believe it to be true, she continues, “sex, I guess. Apparently.”

She shifts again, but he tightens his grips even more and she can’t understand it, why he’s still surrounding her like this, the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him so potent.

“Is that really what you think?” he asks, and he doesn't sound angry so much as annoyed. “That I’m just here for sex. When it’s you that initiated all of our first encounters, when…”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, fuck you, Barry. Like all that slick talking isn’t initiating. You’ve got some fucking nerve.”

This time, when she tries to yank away from him, he lets her; and with a grace she doesn’t feel, she climbs off the bed. She strides towards the living room, but she doesn’t get far because Barry grabs her by the arm and presses her body against the wall near the door.

“Let me go, Barry,” she says, heart hammering angrily against her rib cage. He releases her arm immediately, but he cages her in, planting his hands on the walls on either side of her.

“Look at me, Iris,” he commands, his voice a raspy whisper. She blinks over his shoulder, taking in the messy blue comforter on her queen bed in the middle of the room, and the pale cream curtains on the windows to the right that don’t hide much light, and the blue and cream striped lounge chair where Barry’s clothes are.

“Baby, please,” he tries again, and it’s the pleading that makes her turn.

He looks a little like he sounds, frazzled and out of sorts, his eyes darting quickly across her face and the shadow at his jaw far past 5 o’clock.

“I meant it.” The words come out softly, a little strained, and he blinks once, twice, before repeating. “I meant it. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

“No,” Iris shakes her head. “You’re just saying that now. You didn’t mean it.”

Barry lets out a heavy sigh as he steps back from her. She doesn’t move, though, she can’t. Instead, she watches him, her body lost in the turmoil of the past few minutes. He walks towards the bed, then steps away again, stepping in a circle before coming back to her. This time, when he looks at her, she sees it, him, his feelings.

“You looked terrified this morning, Iris,” he explains, “thinking about what I said. I think that I can read you, that I can see into what you aren’t saying to me. I see the way that you look at me, the way that we are together, and I can swear that you also…”

“What if that’s just sexual chemistry?” she interrupts, because she’s still spiraling, her body still so heavy with the range of emotions she’s experienced in the span of just minutes. And what if he really didn’t mean it, what if she’d actually started writing this story wrong, what if this has all been some dream she’s just starting to wake up from.

Barry stops pacing to look at her, incredulous, and then he narrows his eyes at her.

“Is that really what you think, Iris?” He steps, no stalks, towards her, steps slow and measured. He looks up and down the length of her, eyes lingering at the spread of her hips, the dip of her cleavage, before settling on her face. “You really think that the way we are together is, is just sex?”

She opens her mouth but doesn’t answer, and he closes the distance between them. He stands so close that she has to throw her head back against the wall in order to see up at him.

(She tries but can’t find it in herself to be ashamed of what this does to her, even as she’s not happy with him, having his attention on her like this, having his hard length pressed against her like this, the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him like this.)

“I know that no one else fucks you like I do, Iris.”

That makes her snap and he pushes at him and he stumbles back near the bed. “You’re a smug fucking bastard, Barry Allen.”

She moves to grab her phone off the counter, intending to, she doesn’t know, throw it at his head. But then she’s plucked off her feet. She squeals as he tosses her onto her back and straddles her hips, holding her by her arms above her head. She bares her teeth at him, but doesn’t try to get away from him this time. She’s breathing heavily, and he is too, and for a second, Iris thinks that this love stuff is too much. Because that’s what’s going on here, isn’t it? It’s their first fight and it’s about love, about the fact that they’d slipped into it so simply that they (and by they, she means she) is finding it difficult to just let it be.

“I don’t mean it in an arrogant way, Iris,” he murmurs. “I just… you are a fucking goddess, baby, and if you’d ever been with anyone the way you are with me, there’s no way they would have ever let you go.”

He presses down on her arms a little, presses his hips into hers a little. “And no one has ever made me feel like this, the way that you do, in bed and out of it. And you don’t have to say it back. Not until you’re ready. I meant what I said but I didn’t think you would hear me. I just needed to say it.”

His eyes roam her face and she stares back. Her breathing has begun to level out, but she’s still left with, with adrenaline or something, a heavy, aching sort of feeling flooding through her, making her warm and jittery and, and wet. Which, she’s never been turned on by arguing before, but, by god, she is. She is. Turned on and in love and so gone on the man above her that she doesn’t think of anything at all before she leans up and kisses him.

For the first time since they’ve started doing this, Barry doesn’t take his time. He kisses her back, just as hard, the kiss more teeth and tongue than mouth. He keeps a hold of her arms in one of his big hands and then reaches down to push her dress up over her hips, lifting his own hips just enough that he can pull himself out of his boxers and spread her legs, hiking them over his waist. He doesn’t bother with taking her panties off; he just yanks them over to the side, probably ripping the delicate lace, and then runs a couple of his sure fingers through her slit to see if she’s wet enough to take him. Satisfied, he grips himself and then slides into her.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, dragging the word out, and Iris seconds that, throwing her head back at the heavy, hard, full feeling of him. He gives her one experimental thrust, and then another, and then he’s setting a pace, fucking into her in hard, shallow strokes. He clenches hard around her, her head filled with the press of his body and the smell of his skin and the thought of his love, i know the meaning’, for all the seasons, you are the reason, my love. Then Barry leans down on her, so that his chest brushes her nipples and his pelvis rubs against her clit every time he rocks into her, and her head clears of everything but this.

“God,” she moans, eyes fluttering closed.

He moves his mouth to her ear as he picks up his pace, murmuring as he always does, “fuck, baby, yes, you feel so good, girl; my good girl, shit” but his words aren’t as smooth as they usually are. He is frayed, his breathing choppy and his pace brutal. She likes it though. Her pussy grows wetter with every thrust, her hips rocking up to meet him, and she breathes out through her nose when she finds her mouth stuck in a round “o.” They’re both slick from the exertion and Iris can’t tell if it’s his sweat or hers or theirs. He holds on to the meat of her thigh, widening her so that he can ride her deeper, harder. She drips, down onto her thighs, soaking him too, and she knows that were she to look down, his dick would be so obscenely slick with her. He kisses at her ear, down to her neck, along her jaw, biting and licking and sucking on her skin. His grip on her is hard, and it isn’t so much rough as it is raw, inelegant and sensual and crude and so so so so good.

The thought of it is just as arousing as the act of it, and Iris manages to breathe out, “shit, Bear, how, how, how are you always so gooood?”

He flashes her a grin, her Barry coming back to her, and he says into her ear, “because it’s us, baby. Because I love you and you’re falling for me and we were meant for this.”

When Iris comes, it’s so hard she swears she goes blind for a minute. The world darkens and all she can do is feel: passion and euphoria and ecstasy and every other expression like it.

She’s thirty minutes late meeting Linda for their monthly brunch..

She and Barry shower together, and she drops him off at his car downtown and then she drives the couple blocks over to Golden’s. Before he gets out, he leans over and kisses her, a long slow sort of kiss, licking deep into her mouth as he cradles her face gently in the palm of his hand, and then he taps the top of her car twice before ambling over to his jeep without saying a word.

She feels a little funny after all of that, wondering why she still hadn't been able to say the words to him. He hadn’t said much to her as they’d dressed and gotten ready to leave her apartment. But he hadn’t stopped touching her either: taking her loofah from her and washing her down in the shower, running his hand over her hip after she’d hopped into a pair of light denim boyfriend jeans, rubbing on her thigh as she’d driven them downtown. She doesn’t think he’s upset with her; he’d told her she didn’t have to say it back. But he’d retreated, at least verbally, and it’s fucking with her, making her realize how much her fear is keeping her from him.

Golden’s is already open by the time she gets there so she walks in through the front door, throwing a hand up at Kamilla as she heads to the back in her stiletto heeled ankle booties, tugging lightly at the long, faux pearl necklace lying over her white half tucked in sweater. It’s packed as usual, the Saturday lunch crowd filling most of the seats, and she has to walk around chairs half pushed in and groups of people laughing and enjoying their Saturday.

She slides into the booth across from her best friend, the table already littered with food, Linda’s mango mimosa mostly gone. The other woman looks up at her, perusing, her brown eyes curious. Iris ignores her to grab her champagne flute, dropping a frozen mango slice into the glass and pouring a smidge of juice in, topping it off with champagne. She downs half of it in one gulp.

“You’ve been fucked,” is the first thing Linda says, when she finally decides to speak.

Iris chokes on her swallow of mimosa.

“Freshly,” Linda adds. Her red painted lips curve up in a devious little grin. “Is that big ass hickey you’re sporting the reason you’re late?”

She rolls her eyes, but touches gently at where she knows it’s sitting, an uneven patch of darkened flesh about the size of a quarter on her neck just under her left ear. She’d been in too much of a daze while she was putting on her minimal makeup earlier, the moisturizer and a little concealer, a bit of bronzer on her lids, liner and mascara. She hadn’t noticed the hickey, not until she was putting on her lipstick in the car and she didn’t have any foundation to cover it with.

“I’m too old to have a hickey,” she says to Linda instead of responding to her question.

“Tell your boo that,” Linda responds.

Iris wrinkles her nose at “boo” and starts spooning some sticky sesame chicken onto her plate. She forks a dumpling and bites at it as she goes for the lo mein and she doesn’t realize she’s reaching for the edamame until Linda stills her hand.

“Okay, what’s up?”

Iris chews the rest of her dumpling. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re eating.”

“Is that not why we’re here?”

“No, I mean you’re eating, doing that thing where you just throw food into your mouth without stopping or even really tasting it. You only do it when you’re really anxious and there’s no notebook or wine handy.”

Iris stills with a piece of shrimp in her hand. She drops it back onto the platter and sits back into the booth, chewing and swallowing while Linda waits patiently, sipping from her glass.

And then she blurts, “I’m in love with Barry.”

Linda nods, not yet committing to a response. “Okay.”

“And he told me he’s in love with me and I didn’t say it back.” Iris lets out a breath, tension releasing like a pressure valve has been turned.

“Why didn’t you say it back?”

“Because I’m a coward,” she answers.

Linda’s head shake is automatic, her brown waves brushing at her neck. “There’s not a hint of coward in you, baby girl.” Iris takes her best friend’s white silk blouse just as she says, “Now why don’t you really tell me what’s up.”

To give herself some time to put it all together, she finishes her mimosa and mixes another, though this one with less champagne, and she eats another dumpling, chewing slowly. Then she clears her throat.

“For a while now, I’ve been feeling, I don't know, lost. I was single, school was boring. Work was too, and it seemed like all of you were moving forward while I was just watching. Nothing felt exciting, not even my blog really. And then Barry came along, and I swear, the moment I saw him, it’s like my entire world lit up. There was this, this spark, and even when I was claiming that he was just around for sex, there was always this feeling that it was bigger than all of that, bigger than anything I’ve felt before.

And suddenly, I feel so different. I feel good, Linda. Everything is starting to feel good. My blog is getting real recognition now and Dr. Jamison must also be getting good sex because she’s been an actual joy to be around. And Barry...and Barry is…”

“Putting you to sleep every night?”

It makes her laugh, the way Linda wiggles her eyebrows as she says it, the way her eyes light up with mirth, the way her smile is a soft thing.

“Yeah, he is,” Iris says, her mouth twisting wryly. “But what if it’s a fluke, Linda? This man is everything I’ve wanted in a man and so much more than I even knew I wanted. What if we do this and I learn that he’s been, just, fucking with me this whole time?”

“You know that’s not true, Iris.” Linda picks up her own glass and drains it.

“But how can I trust this?” she pushes. “This happiness that seems to have only come when Barry stepped into my life?”

Linda reaches over and grabs Iris’s hand, and Iris clasps it like a lifeline, her pale orange tipped fingers pressing hard into Linda’s hand and Linda’s own pink tipped fingers pressing back. “There are no guarantees. So maybe we do find out that Barry has been faking this entire time. But what if he’s not? What if he’s as kind and loving as you say he is? ” She lets that digest for a moment.

“Love, and life, is a series of ups and downs, of good experiences and bad, Iris. The timing of it all is just coincidence. And I hear you. It feels so scary to realize that someone has that sort of power over you; that the care of your heart is in their hands. But what I’m learning with Dan is that love, love is always worth it. Because what you’re feeling, it doesn’t go away just because you don’t say it back, just because you don’t acknowledge it. And when you don’t you risk cutting it, him, off, and you’ll get hurt anyway. And that, my love, will be your own fault.”

Iris thinks about Linda’s words as they finish brunch, moving the conversation to Linda’s upcoming trip to meet Dan’s family. She thinks about it as she gets into her car and drives back home, forgoing working on a story in favor of plopping down on the couch and letting music play, my mind is open, so wide since you came inside, i feel so alive, without you life just passes by, passes by, lost in the reality of what she’s feeling.

She thinks about the words as she goes out to grab dinner, picking up a salad for herself and a chicken sandwich and fries for Barry, the intention to take him food not one fully realized until she’s parking in front of the precinct that Barry works out of.

She thinks about the words because Linda is right.

(She would never tell the other woman this, but she is right more often than she’s not, her poise and curious nature making her one to offer sound advice, always realistic and with love.)

She loves him, she does: his wit and his hands and his eyes; his compliments and his patience and ability to make her feel as if everything he’s ever wanted is present in the curves of her body; as if it is his profound pleasure to coax it out of her, with every touch, every moan, every dirty, mumbled thing.

Buoyed by the fact that she’d said it aloud, at the very least, and she didn’t wither away after she had, she grabs the food bags and her purse and walks up the steps to the precinct.

Her dad is working tonight but since she’ll see him tomorrow at dinner, she doesn’t drop by his office. Instead, she heads downstairs to where CSI is located, following the stairs to where they’ve apparently put them in the basement. The hallway is well lit, and there are several windows covered in closed blinds that lead to the lab door. She balances the bags in one hand and opens the door with the other. And she’s stopped short at what she sees.

The room looks like how she’s always imagined a crime lab to look like: lots of white, microscopes, and computers, shelves full of test tubes and petri dishes. Barry is there and so is the Cisco guy she remembers from Fall Fest. There’s a woman there too, in the utilitarian black pants and matching blazer that Iris knows is the norm for detectives. And it’s not that she’s there, because that’s not weird. But she’s there, next to Barry, close to Barry, leaning on his counter with her hand on his arm as she talks. She’s as tall as Iris is in the four inch booties Iris is wearing, with shoulder length dirty blonde hair and the sort of white girl next door look that men fall all over themselves for.

Cisco notices her first, as the door closes softly behind her, and Iris feels a bit mollified at the way his grin rises up when he sees her.

“Iris,” he calls, eyes twinkling. “Nice to see your beautiful face.”

Iris winks at him, pulling out a flirtatious grin so that she doesn’t scowl at the sight of the woman touching Barry.

(She’s not jealous. She’s not, but Iris can’t stand the thought of Barry looking at someone else the way that he does her, can’t stand the thought of him touching someone else the way he does her, can’t stand the thought of him whispering, yeah, baby, fuck, ride me just like that, to someone else the way he does her.)

Cisco, though, is loud enough that Barry hears him, and she watches as he straightens at the sight of her, eyes wide. “Iris!”

He gives her his look, the one where he rakes his eyes over the length of her and then lingers on her face, always trying to read her. She’s still a little frustrated at how she’s always such an open book for him, apparent after he’s finished his perusal and he smiles, slow and with more smirk than anything else. The woman next to him only moves her hand from Barry hesitantly, turning to see what all of this commotion is about. She gives Iris the same once over that Barry did, though decidedly colder, and Iris tilts her head at her before settling her gaze on Barry.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Iris says. “I know that you’re busy, but I thought I’d drop off dinner for you.”

She steps further into the room, and her heels clack loudly in the too quiet space. She pauses in front of where Cisco is sitting. She turns to him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring you anything. I should’ve texted Barry to see who else was around, but I was picking up dinner and just decided to get him some too.”

“It’s fine,” he says. “You can get me next time.”

Iris passes him and lets her eyes wander back to Barry and the detective, who’s stepped back in a bit. As soon as Iris catches his eyes again, Barry steps away from her, moving around to meet Iris. She stops at a point along a wide expanse of empty space on one of the tables, and Iris feels it’s a safe enough spot to place the food without contaminating anything. As soon as she drops the food on the table, Barry cups the back of her head and stares down at her. His thumb traces the mark he’d left on her neck.

“Hi, beautiful,” he says, eyes wondering, smile tender.

She looks over his shoulder to where the woman still stands, looking at her too. She gives her a smile in greeting. Iris thinks it’s returned.

“I’m sorry. You look busy,” she responds. “Should I go?”

“Absolutely not. I’m just surprised to see you.” Without stepping away from her, he turns to address the detective. “Patty, I’ll come down as soon as I have the results for you.”

Her gaze trails over to Iris once more, observing where Barry holds onto Iris’s neck, onto her waist. “Of course,” she murmurs, finally.

She walks out of the room, her low-heeled boots nearly silent on the floors. Both Iris and Cisco watch her go, but Barry doesn’t pay much attention, his focus on Iris as he continues to rub along his mark.

Cisco stands, sort of abruptly, his chair skitting across the floor. “Barry, I’m gonna step out for a minute.” He shrugs out of his lab coat, tossing it on the back of his chair. His thick brown hair brushes against his shoulders with every shake of his head. “It’s good seeing you again, pretty lady.”

Iris offers him another smile. “You too, Cisco.”

She turns back to Barry who’s eyeing her, expression curious. “You’re here,” he says, voice low.

“Yeah,” she nods at the bags she’s placed on the table. “I don’t know, I went to get dinner and I was, well, I was thinking about you.” She shrugs with a nonchalance she doesn’t feel.

“Yeah?” Barry’s answering grin is wide, and a little bit boyish, cheeks reddening; it makes Iris smile back in turn.

“Come on,” Barry says, picking up the bags and walking over to a desk tucked into the corner. “I've got a few minutes.”

The desk is messy, stacks of folders and sticky notes all over the place, and he moves some papers around so that he can place their food down. He rolls his desk chair over for her to sit in and he grabs the bag, pulling out her salad container and his sandwich and fries and placing them in front of their spots.

She waits until he sits down in the hard back chair he’d gotten from under one of the computers and she snaps the top of her salad before she says, “so why wasn’t I introduced to the detective?”

Barry takes a bite of his sandwich and looks at her in question. “Who? Detective Spivot?”

“Don’t you mean, Patty?”

Barry pauses with a fry poised for his mouth. “Sure,” he says. “Patty is one of the detectives on the case we got called into.”

“Hmm.” Iris stabs at her salad. She takes a bite and chews, though she doesn’t really taste it.

Barry places his half eaten sandwich into the cardboard container and he turns to her, giving her his full attention. He inclines his head, watches for a second. She thinks that the corner of his mouth tilts up, that humor brims in his eyes.

“What do you want to say, Iris?”

She rolls her eyes, annoyed that she can’t focus on how cute he looks with his lab coat and glasses on, annoyed that that woman was touching him, annoyed that she’s annoyed.

“I didn’t know you were so close to the detective. Y’all were very...touchy.”

Shaking her head, she starts to go back to her salad, but then he drops his food and rubs his hands together. He leans towards her.

“Come here,” he says.

She ducks away, but he grabs her wrist gently and pulls at her. She goes, because her tripping heart and her heaving chest and her warming sex won’t allow her to not. Barry sits her in his lap, sideways so that her legs are half hanging over his. She’s a head taller than him in this position, and he presses a hand at the small of her back as he looks up at her.

“You’re jealous,” he announces, seemingly pleased with the fact.

Iris rolls her eyes. “Of course not.”

Barry laughs. “So you’re just really grumpy right now?”

“I’m just curious,” she says.

“Oh?”

“About the touching.”

“She’d literally just put her hand on me as you walked in the door. I was about to move it.”

Iris harrumphs. “Doesn’t Detective Spivot know that you’re…” Iris waves her hand as she trails off and it makes Barry’s slight grin widen.

“That I’m what?”

Even she knows that the huff she lets out would only be completed with a foot stop.

“That you’re taken,” she says, boldly. Because whatever she was feeling, whatever he was feeling, this morning, they are still them: two people who’ve crawled into open, waiting hearts and made space for one another; two people who are pages deep into a story that the stars must have already been writing; two people hours into a dream that is so vivid, it has to be real.

The statement seems to sober him, because his eyebrows furrow. “Am I?”

She wants to be bothered by the genuine question in his eyes. But they’ve never blatantly talked about them. There has been some conjecture, sex-fueled mutterings that hinted at the reality of them, of their feelings. There have been looks between the two of them that tell far more than Iris has ever even realized could be portrayed through eye contact. He’s told her that he loves her. But they’ve never defined or drawn out the lines or made it real.

But like she said, they are them. And he is. Taken. So she slowly licks her lips, and nods her head. “Yeah, you are.”

This time, Barry’s smile is a sexy, lilting thing. “I’m fully yours, Iris. You have to know that.” He turns her so that he can hold her gaze, and reaches up to curl his fingers around the back of her neck, his thumb hitting that mark again. Then he says,

“I love you. I will until you love me back and forever after that. And that means that I don’t see anyone but you. I haven’t seen anyone but you since the minute I laid eyes on you in that slinky dress you had on, dancing in the middle of the crowd by yourself.” He presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Even before, for months before, I couldn’t see anyone else. Because I was waiting for you, Iris.”

He gives her another kiss, this one longer, deeper, like the one he’d given her before he left her car. She finds herself humming into his mouth, her arms tightening around his shoulders. He rubs against her thigh, higher, then a little higher, until Iris is opening her legs to try to get some sort of friction.

Minutes or moments or eternity after, he pulls his mouth away, though he doesn’t move away from her fully. Instead, he looks at her, and she finds herself lost in him, in this dream of a story. She sees the words of it, my afternoon dream, when the world is speeding; i am still sleeping, in my blue dream and i know the meaning, for all the seasons; you are the reason, my love, and she wants to add to it, wants to let herself live in it, wants to finally fall into this love story without fear or reservation.

“Barry,” she says, whispers, and she notes how hooded his eyes look through the wire-framed glasses he’s wearing and how just the act of sitting here on his lap calms her at the same time that it inflames her. Then she thinks about his infinite levels of patience as he’s waited for her to be ready for him and how he’s always been interested in what she thinks or feels and how no one has even treated her body with the, the homage that he seems to. And she...and she loves him. “Barry, I…”

“Alright, Barry, we have…whoa.”

Iris blinks out of her haze, startles out of the confession she was about to make, at the sound of Cisco’s voice. Still, it takes a second before she’s able to pull herself from Barry, and from the expression he’s saddling her with, she thinks he might have an inkling of what she was about to say.

“None of this hanky panky,” Cisco continues, either oblivious or uncaring, Iris doesn’t know. “Spivot and Mitchell need to see us.”

“Alright,” Barry calls over her shoulder. “I’ll be down in five.”

When Cisco nods and leaves again, Iris is pulled back into Barry’s orbit. He palms the back of her neck, thumb brushing the mark on her throat. She assesses him.

“Did you do that on purpose?”

“I’m sorry.” He immediately goes red. He averts his eyes for a moment, before they drift back to her. “It’s tacky, I know, and I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was too late. This morning, I was, I don’t know, confused about us and I just…” He pressed his thumb into her skin. “I told you I’m not composed around you; I’m a mess.”

Iris covers his hand where it’s still on her throat. “You know that I’m yours too, right?” The earlier moment seems to have passed, but she can, needs to, give him this. His stare is hard and almost unreadable.

“Yeah,” he says after a while, sort of breathless. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

She wishes that she could stay in this moment with him, such a stark deviation from the way they’d left each other this morning. So she takes that feeling with her as she packs her salad up and helps him clean up the trash. Together, they venture into the hall and Barry leads her back out into the bullpen where Cisco is standing with Spivot and a tall, dark-skinned man with a baldhead and a beard. All three of them turn at the sound of Iris’s boots on the floors. Something about the look of them makes Iris grab Barry’s hand. Barry stops her a few feet away and leans down.

“I like how territorial you’re being,” Barry all but whispers in her ear. “I’ll come over after work and remind you why you don’t have to be.”

The thought of them this morning, the hard press of him, his breath rough in her ear, makes her look up at him, her eyes bright, bottom lip between the white of her teeth. It’s only Cisco’s pointed throat clearing that keeps her from falling mouth first into him.

Barry’s grin is knowing. “Bye, baby,” he says, a little louder this time, and Iris shakes her head, knowing he’s saying it in front of Patty for her benefit. He drops a kiss on her check and Iris nods at his coworkers.

“Detectives. Cisco.” She squeezes his hand once and drops it. “See you later, Bear.”

She steps away and walks out of the station, but not before she hears Mitchell say, “Damn, Allen, how did you bag that?”

She wishes she could explain that she’s the one that doesn’t know how she got him.

Barry does come over later, and as soon as he walks through the door, he pushes her up against the wall and fucks her, groaning “mine, mine, fuck, mine” into the bite on her throat, as Iris moans it back in kind, “yours, yes, Barry, I’m yours.”

My afternoon dream when

The world is sleepin'

I am still thinkin'

Of my blue dream

It's bliss

#westallen #westallen fanfiction #iris west #barry x iris #barry allen #strangers to lovers

18 notes · View notes

mostlymovieswithmax · 4 years ago

Text

Movies I watched in June

Now I think I’m comfortably in a rhythm to get these posts out. For one, I’m writing up short reviews either straight after watching a movie or sometimes it might take a few days. But June was a fairly good month in terms of the amount of films I watched. I got to go to the cinema quite a bit which is always fun. Anyway, let’s get on with it! If you’re looking for something good to watch (or maybe even something bad), I hope this list can help in some way to introduce you to new and different movies that maybe you’ve never heard of, or were thinking of checking out. Here is every film I watched from the 1st to the 30th of June 2021.

Bo Burnham: Inside (2021) - 10/10 Everyone was going off about how great this film is. An hour and a half of Bo Burnham in lockdown, singing songs and being upset is definitely a powerful hook and I have to agree with the general consensus because Inside blew me away. More thoughts on this in my podcast: The Sunday Movie Marathon episode 34.

Bo Burnham: Make Happy (2016) - 7/10 After watching Inside, I figured I’d rewatch some of Burnham’s older stand-up shows on Netflix. Make Happy is a lot of fun, injected with a lot of introspection from Burnham that really makes the special stand out, despite a lot of gags that just didn’t land for me.

Bo Burnham: What. (2013) - 6/10 It’s plain to see just how much Bo Burnham has grown over the years and how he has honed his comedy and music. ‘What.’ is a good stepping stone in the comedian’s career, showcasing loads of promise in him from a young age. There are some jokes that haven’t aged as well and some that straight up dragged, but overall the show is still enjoyable.

The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It (2021) - 3/10 Packed theatre for this one, obviously. People love a Conjuring movie, and I’d also say people love a good scare… but this movie isn’t scary, or good for that matter. More thoughts on episode 35 of the podcast.

The Conjuring (2013) - 6/10 After the horrendously disappointing debacle that was the third Conjuring movie, I decided to watch James Wan’s original movie and man, if this wasn’t better in literally every way. I don’t tend to love James Wan movies but I can’t deny he’s got so much talent in how he makes movies and it makes The Conjuring a lot more fun to see competent filmmaking in the horror genre in a way that actually creates an eerie atmosphere with creative uses of camera-work and editing.

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) - 8/10 Normally I’m not big into the old slasher movies. I appreciate that for the time, perhaps they hit differently, but now I just don’t tend to connect with them. Wes Craven’s ‘A Nightmare on Elm Street’ is a bit of an exception. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not particularly scary, though it does employ a lot of interesting techniques and designs. Undeniably, the design for Fred Krueger is a staple in cinema, with the striped jumper, hat, scarred face and knives for fingers not leaving the mind of the general public any time soon. Elm Street doesn’t have too many kills but when it does, it is so effective and fun to watch. Craven was one of the greats, truly.

One Cut of the Dead (2017) - 8/10 This has to be one of the most engaging zombie movies I’ve seen in a long time. There’s a lot to spoil with One Cut of The Dead but I won’t go into that here. It is clever and funny, subverting expectations in ways I really didn’t expect. I really cannot recommend it enough.

Dave Chappelle: Sticks & Stones (2019) - 8/10 Since we’re watching Chappelle's Show for episode 45 of the podcast, I wanted to get an idea for what I was in for, so I watched Dave Chappelle’s stand-up show from a couple of years ago. Yeah, really funny, which I suppose is what you want from a stand-up special, but what makes it better is Chappelle’s commentary on the world at large and how he’s able to combine humour with intelligent criticism.

Fear(s) of the Dark (2008) - 4/10 A few years ago I think I watched this animated black and white anthology film on a New Year's Day when I had foolishly decided to pull an all-nighter and then go out with mates for ice cream. Never again. But I’d forgotten what I thought of this movie and decided to get the DVD for cheap on eBay. Perhaps I am doomed to watch Fear(s) of the Dark only when I am tired because I popped this on when it was nearing midnight. I was lucid enough to understand what I was watching though… and it was quite boring. These short films emulate the filmmakers’ nightmares - an interesting premise in theory, but pretty weak on execution.

The Bourne Identity (2002) - 3/10 We marathoned the first three Bourne movies for The Sunday Movie Marathon podcast, episode 36 so check that out for my expanded thoughts on this, the best Bourne of the three.

The Bourne Supremacy (2004) - 2/10 Immediately after, we did the deep dive into Supremacy, the second Bourne and the worst of the three (albeit by a very slim margin). Check out episode 36 for more.

The Bourne Ultimatum (2007) - 2/10 I really couldn’t care less about these terrible movies. It was a horrible chore to sit through them. Ultimatum was also rubbish. More gripes and discussion in episode 36 of the podcast.

The Father (2021) - 10/10 Another trip to the cinema for this masterpiece. I tried very hard not to sob loudly in the theatre where aside from myself, the audience totalled three people. More discussion of The Father in episode 36 the podcast.

Drag Me To Hell (2009) - 2/10 I’m pretty shocked that Sam Raimi directed this. Usually when I watch one of his films, I can see his staple of fun gore, practical effects, crazy camera movements… but there was none of that here. It just felt like a really bad horror, indistinguishable from the regular affair, with no personality or passion. Drag Me To Hell might even have been one of those movies I’d avoided in the past when I was younger because it seemed too scary but no, it was just boring and bad and I feel like there’s something I’m not getting out of this that other people seem to be.

Moonrise Kingdom (2012) - 8/10 At this point, I feel I have to admit Wes Anderson as perhaps my second favourite director. His movies are just so nice and beautiful to watch. Moonrise Kingdom is a quirky love story between two kids and honestly, with any other director, could have been handled poorly because the story is quite simple. But Anderson injects so much of his signature style and personality into the film. A powerhouse of actors with the likes of Frances McDormand, Bill Murray, Bruce Willis and Tilda Swinton, among a few of Anderson’s regulars, make Moonrise Kingdom a breeze. Good for a dark day to lift the spirits.

Nobody (2021) - 8/10 I needed something to fill an otherwise uneventful day, so I hopped on a bus and booked a ticket for Ilya Naishuller’s new action movie, Nobody. The film started and to my annoyance, the lights in the theatre were still on. When I go to the cinema I don’t really want to see the other people sitting around me, so I got up from my seat, abandoning the first two minutes of the film to find a member of staff to turn the lights off. After showing them that the lights were in fact still on, I took to my seat and watched the movie for what felt like a little while before the lights went off. Nobody is a really fun action movie. Perhaps similar in a lot of ways to John Wick, but with more personality to the main character. More thoughts on episode 37 of The Sunday Movie Marathon podcast.

The Darjeeling Limited (2007) - 8/10 After procuring the Criterion blu-ray from my local hmv, I delved into all the supplements it had to offer, including a making-of documentary, chats with the director, and a gallery of polaroid pictures from when they were shooting the film in India. The Darjeeling Limited is perhaps not peak Wes Anderson, but I do kind of love it. It makes me want to go on a journey to another country with my brother and sister, perhaps in ten to fifteen years. Here, the main characters are three brothers who travel to India seeking some kind of spiritual experience. Things don’t seem to work out that way, however, because I’m not sure how spiritual an experience you can have when you plan out an itinerary to schedule it. Fantastic performances all round and of course, beautiful direction and cinematography.

Face/Off (1997) - 3/10 Was I supposed to laugh? Maybe I was just too tired but I really couldn’t stand Face/Off. It didn’t feel particularly special and despite a couple of fun ideas, it was mostly quite boring.

Luca (2021) - 5/10 The new Pixar movie leaves a lot to be desired. The animation is really second to none and I can’t fault how beautiful the movie looks, more so when it’s set in this little Italian town than under the sea. The story is so uninspired though, with the basic premise being that the protagonists want a Vespa so they enter a competition to win the money to buy one. Also they’re fish that turn into people on dry land. Maybe that’s enough for some people, but I couldn’t shake the familiarity of Luca. It never went in any interesting directions and basically did exactly what I figured it would do. I don’t believe it’s out here to subvert expectations but I would like some creativity when it comes to the writing. Perhaps if I watched it again, I might like it less. It was pretty dull.

Punch-Drunk Love (2002) - 10/10 I’m a little disappointed with the Criterion blu-ray for Punch-Drunk love. It’s supplements host a couple of low-quality deleted scenes that were clearly deleted for a reason, and some weird artsy music videos that incorporated footage from the movie. I was quite shocked at how low-effort it all seemed. The movie itself is fantastic though and I do believe it to be Adam Sandler’s best performance (and I really liked Uncut Gems). He portrays a man who is constantly put down by his family, clearly has some kind of social disability, and on top of it all he’s getting scammed by a sex line. Amongst all this, he’s trying to navigate a new relationship and it’s so sweet to watch all the interactions between Sandler and Emily Watson. It’s a perfect melding of romance, comedy and anxiety, beautifully directed by Paul Thomas Anderson.

Fargo (1996) - 9/10 Another movie you wouldn’t expect to be so funny, especially since it’s based on this horrific true story about murder, deceit and money. But the Coen brothers know how to handle it. Excellent performances, beautiful colour palette, and a story that just gets more and more insane as it goes.

House (1977) - 7/10 House (or, Hausu) was a recommendation for episode 37 of The Sunday Movie Marathon podcast so check that out for more discussion. Generally speaking, this Japanese horror/comedy was bonkers. Insanely creative and abstract (which at points can detriment the film) with an almost Balamory-esque presentation. I was happy to find that the comedy was not lost on me at all; this is a hilarious film, albeit maybe not all the time.

The Princess Bride (1987) - 10/10 I reviewed this in my May wrap-up but this time around, I had recommended The Princess Bride for the podcast, the discussion for which you can listen to in episode 37. It all clicked this time around. It is such a fun, warm movie with a lot of laughs and superb production.

This Is Spinal Tap (1984) - 8/10 Another Rob Reiner joint, a few years before The Princess Bride. This Is Spinal Tap is lauded as a masterpiece in comedic cinema and I might agree; this movie is hilarious. Shot in mockumentary fashion, it follows a band playing shows and trying to get gigs, coupled with the inevitable screw-ups of live performance and creative disagreements. It lost me every now and again but it’s still a must-watch.

The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996) - 6/10 A decent Disney flick but certainly not their best. One highlight includes the villain singing a lament about wanting to have sex with Esmerelda and calling her a witch for giving him a boner.

Ponyo (2008) - 4/10 Not sure if I’ve ever disliked a Miyazaki movie before but I did not vibe with Ponyo. It came across as very baby and as such, there really wasn’t much to read into. The animation is fantastic as always but so much of it felt specifically tailored to a younger crowd.

Roman Holiday (1953) - 9/10 Classic romance at its best. I had heard on a podcast that this was the sexiest movie the guest had ever seen and while maybe not in the traditional sense of the word, I do get where they’re coming from. I was tearing up with just how lovely it all was, following a princess who runs away and spends the day with a man she meets in Rome (where it was shot on location), doing all the things she’s wanted to do but never could because of royal responsibilities. Fantastic performances from Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck who sell the chemistry of the characters so well.

F9 (2021) - 2/10 I’ve never seen any of the Fast & Furious movies and after watching the ninth in the series, I don’t want to. This is basically the Vin Diesel show; we watch him drive cars fast and punch people a lot. Wow! I don’t really understand what it (and forgive the pun) driving people to see these movies if they’re all in this same vein. As far as I can tell, F9 is the goofiest of the series so far and I’ll admit I had a chuckle or two at some of the truly implausible moments, such as a part where one of the team gets shot by about ten men with machine guns, yet manages to kill them all without being affected by the bullets… but overall, in this two-and-a-half-hour experience, I was largely bored.

Shaolin Soccer (2001) - 7/10 I love this movie! Shaolin Soccer is so much fun; it is goofy and out there and completely crazy, all by design. Steven Chow knew what he was making when he set out to craft this insane story of a group of guys using Kung-Fu to play football. The basic story itself is nothing new but it’s elevated by the infectious comedy and implausibility of what’s happening. Balls are kicked into space and across fields so fast the very ground is torn asunder. A man eats an egg off a dirty shoe. This is cinema.

Casino Royale (2006) - 7/10 I had seen a trailer at the cinema for the new Bond movie and I have to say, I’ve never really given 007 the time of day, aside from a few of the very first movies I’d tried watching a while ago. But the new trailer kind of got me hyped, so I wanted to watch all of the Craig era Bond movies, starting with Casino Royale. I had a great time! Even though there’s not loads of fighting or weapons or fast cars, the meat of the movie actually comes from this poker game Bond is playing against the villain, played brilliantly by Mads Mikkelsen. I was surprised to witness a bit of cock-and-ball torture in this 12-rated movie but I would be lying if I said it didn’t stick with me.

Quantum of Solace (2008) - 5/10 Immediately after Casino Royale, I jumped into the second of Daniel Craig’s Bond movies, Quantum of Solace. Sadly it’s quite weak, with not much going on aside from the general Bond fare. Mathieu Amalric’s villain lacked a lot of menace or motivation and generally, I’m not super worried about a brilliant story in a Bond movie, but even the action felt weak in this. Quantum of Solace didn’t exactly upset me but it failed to wow me in any way either. The saving grace of the movie is certainly Daniel Craig as the hero, capturing Bond and what he’s supposed to be.

Skyfall (2012) - 6/10 A marked improvement from its predecessor, Sam Mendes helms Skyfall, Craig’s third outing as Bond. Skyfall delves into Bond’s past as he seems to be slipping a bit, not as much the expert operative he once was. It would have been nice to see more of his fall from grace, as they don’t really show us how he’s become less efficient as much as they give other characters expository dialogue telling us how he drinks and does drugs and is haunted by childhood trauma. For me, that’s where the meat of the story lies and I would have preferred more of a character piece if indeed they were delving into that side of the character anyway. That being said, the fights are still better choreographed than the last instalment and the colour grading and scenery is often very visually interesting. Everything in Skyfall is better than its predecessor and it’s surely thanks to Sam Mendes who does a great job at directing.

Howl's Moving Castle (2004) - 8/10 Another go round for Howl's Moving Castle, as this was a recommendation for my podcast, The Sunday Movie Marathon. My opinion, I feel, is unchanged. It's a fantastic film, and you can listen to more of what I have to say in episode 37. The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn - Part 2 - 3/10 A pretty poor end to a poor series of movies. I'm surprised I've watched the Twilight movies as many times as I have but I also know I'll watch them again. Part 2 I watched with the YMS commentary track on YouTube which, again made the experience a lot better. But otherwise the series seemed to get better as it went along… until the last movie. Ultimately my biggest problem with it is that nothing actually happens and the plot feels like a late addition rather than a natural progression of the story. It’s basically a whole movie of set-up to a payoff that doesn’t even canonically happen. A big thing with YA adaptations in this era was making a final book into two movies, regardless as to whether it needed that much time or not. Breaking Dawn does not need to be two movies at two hours each. About ten new characters are introduced here and the film is afraid of killing even one of them off. It's the last movie! We're not going to see these characters again! Kill some of them! There's just no emotional weight to any of it and I hate to say I was disappointed with the ending because I have such low expectations for these films but man, this was so unsatisfying.

Frances Ha (2012) - 8/10 Life is hard. And I hate this movie because it shows me so much of what terrifies me about being alive. And I love this movie because it shows me so much of what I’m alive for. Noah Baumbach’s brutally honest depiction of growing up and fending for yourself struck me in a way I wasn’t expecting and I think it’s because I’m at a point in my life where I’m worrying a lot about how it’s all going to turn out. The titular character is burdened with the stress of working low-paid jobs and paying rent while juggling school and making time for her passion of dancing as she tries to connect with people she’s lost, as temporary friends and housemates come and go. She feels like a lonely character despite often being around a lot of people. Frances Ha is fantastic and heartbreaking and uplifting… but it made me feel bad so I hate it.

12 notes · View notes

izayoichan · 5 years ago

Photo

It had been a couple of months since that dream happened, something they had discussed quite a lot to keep their mind off everything else, something that helped all of them cope with the reality of their lives.

“So daydream?” “I think so... he joked about it, maybe he is strong enough to make it happen?” “Hmh... maybe? At least try and stay calm if it happens again, Vy's guess was that your panic attack shattered the dream.” “Yeah...”

He sighs as he has no idea how to make it happen again, and it is all he wishes for, that it would happen again. Having spent hours just sitting on his bed after the first one, hoping it would reappear, realizing it might not be that easy for River to do. All he knew was that he needed it, more than anything else. River laying in bed, staring at the mp3 player, wondering if he could have another conscious dream like the last one he did. He hadn't tried, it had been days of no sleep training, putting his emotions and his power under a massive strain of energy. he closes his eyes tiredly, hoping to drift off to sleep finally, putting the headphones on and letting himself be lulled by the sound of Rylan's voice, his mind trying to conjure up the scenes of the book Rylan's reading. Ending as always with that "I love you. I hope to see you soon", and holding onto that, with that thought.

"I want to see you now, princess"

His mind already past the realm of reality and dreams, seeking the person he wanted to meet. Rylan looks at Hayden, feeling the same odd pull, taking his hand.

“Don't let me panic…”

Hayden nods, putting his arms around his brother, letting him lean on him so he can try to relax and not have what happens last time

“Say hi from me.”

Rylan smiles as the world around him changes, almost the same as last, but this time, a forest, or a garden, he can't quite tell, but he can see he is in RoM. He looks around, the purple sky above and the lights almost reminding him of a scene he read into one of the players. the garden where they danced.

“River? Are you here?”

River looks at the scene in front of him. It's one of the gardens of RoM just as described by the voice of Rylan and he's wearing the clothes from the story too. He looks around, when he hears the voice, turning towards it, following it. He comes out to where they danced and he sees Rylan.

“You're here... It's not just a dream, is it?”

He walks towards Rylan.

“You're really here... But... No. This can't be right…”

He stops himself. How could Rylan be here? Was it just a dream? A shared dream? But Rylan didn't sleep. Unless he was doing something that wasn't right.

“I guess daydreaming does count as dreaming?”

He stops a little bit from him, suddenly noticing their clothing, especially his own as he is wearing a light purple dress, the same one from the story he had read in on one of the many mp3 players.

“I did not expect to be here in a dress though... I can guess the story you fell asleep too.”

He feels much calmer this time around, just happy to see him again and at least get however long this moment would last.

“Daydreaming…”

River blinks, surprised. He didn't know he could do that and that only worked when sleeping and with susceptive minds. What had happened for Rylan's mind to feel broken? It couldn't just be his master's words. He almost wanted to ask but was afraid that like before it would ruin everything. So he just steps towards Rylan, once again placing his hand on his cheek and smiling, taking all of him in.

“It suits you though, the dress, princess.” “Hmh... not sure this is my color really.”

He shakes his head, and leans his forehead against River's chest, mostly just glad to be there with him, still wondering how he managed to do this.

“Is this your work then? These dreams?”

He looks up at River, noticing some differences in how looks compared to how he remembered him, lifting a hand, putting it on his cheek where there was now a scar.

“What is he doing to you....?”

River puts hand over is, he has lost a considerate amount of weight and looks pretty tired, as if he hasn't slept anything in weeks.

“He is forcing me to separate my magic from my emotions... And it might... Though I don't know how I am doing this... or if it's even good. This isn't supposed to happen with daydreams.” “I think it’s good”

He lets go of a deep exhale and takes Rylan's hand of his, cupping his face and kissing him, just savoring the moment. He smiles as River kisses him, losing himself in it, for the first time in over a year not thinking a million different thoughts at once, like his head is silent. River pulls back, pressing his forehead against River's, just enjoying this moment, he thought he would have forgotten his touch, but he did not.

“It's hard... It's so hard... I want to go home but I can't, I want to go home but I shouldn't... My powers are wilder than they ever been, but I miss you so much. He made me hear, he made me hear when he lied to you. Every time and I couldn't do anything... “

He brushes Rylan's cheek.

“I want you back too...but I also want you back for good, not on loan only to be dragged back here for even more torture…”

He sighs feeling how thin he is when he has his arms around him.

“I guess I just have to learn how to make sushi by the time you come home so I can spoil you.”

He pulls him into a kiss, wanting to get as much out of this encounter as he can, always a little worried it will end, even though he knows he is safe in the arms of his brother.

“Oh... also, Hayden says hi.” “Well, you can tell him hi back later then. I guess that means you are in a safe place?” “Yes, safe and sound... Why?” “This was powerful enough to catch you. I was afraid I had caught you at school or something... Like I said... time is wonky in RoM... Besides I want to spend time with you. Since you are all pretty, shall we dance, princess?”

He bows down at Rylan, extending his hand, Rylan just smiling and taking it letting River lead him. Keeping everything bad away from his mind, determined not to let anything ruin this moment. River smiles as the dream start morphing, masked musicians appear playing music for them and River takes Rylan's hand, placing the other on his waist.

“Dashing prince and Beautiful princess.”

He starts leading Rylan at the rhythm of the piano song.

“I thought you said you didn't dance.” “t's a dream, you can't get it wrong in a dream.”

He lets River guide him, oddly enough in this dreamscape, it feels natural to dance, just listening to the music, his eyes locked with River.

“As the tape says I love you.”

River smiles, pulling his closer and kissing him as they dance, then pulls back twirling him. Rylan finding himself wishing they could stay like this forever, and never have to go back home, to everything he knew was there. But he also knew he was needed there with his family and friends.

“I love you too, Rylan” “Can I ask you something?” “Yes?”

He stops the dance, looking at him questioningly, Rylan’s eyes locking to his.

“Or well, it is more a request I guess… but, let’s not let him win, however hard this is, we don't let your master win. I will wait for you, I don't care how long it takes, I love you, nothing will change that.” “I won't let him win... but... “

He bites his lower lip, pressing his lips to a thin line.

“I want you to be happy, so... if it ever becomes too much... too long, I want you to do what is best for you. I'll understand. I want you to look after yourself too. So... if the wait becomes too much and you find happiness elsewhere, don't give it up because of me.” “My happy is with you, it might sound like some cheesy Hollywood movie, but it is that simple, like how Vy is Haydens happy.”

He kisses him.

“And I will wait for my happy to come back.” “You're not only my princess but you’re also my everything.”

He brushes his cheek and kisses him again, Rylan letting himself get lost in this dream world, but at the same time there is this odd heat around him. At first, he can’t put his finger on it, but it suddenly dawns on him, it’s Hayden, who he is leaning on, which means that it is bad, and he needs to be there.

“River, I think I need to go back... I wish I didn't, but…”

River nods, stepping back, letting the dreamscape fall, letting go of that energy he feels, closing his eyes, both of them plunging into darkness and cold, as the dream shatters, sending them both to reality

“Wai…”

He finds himself back in Hayden's bed, grabbing his brother taking him straight to the bathroom, filling the tub and getting him into it.

“Sorry… “ “Its okay, I'm sorry I couldn't give you longer... “ “You gave me plenty, thank you.”

Rylan watches his brother sleep in the tub, putting on the wristband so he can keep an eye on his heart rate, telling his brother about his dance waiting for Vy to come home from RoM. River lying is his bed, touching his lips as he smiles, sitting up, he looks at the mp3 players, trying to figure out which one to listen to next.

🎶

Beginning - Previous - Next

24 notes · View notes

petekaos · 5 years ago

Note

Merlin and arthur for your character ask game!!

I sent an ask about merlin and Arthur for the ask game, I hope that's okay!! I don't know if you only wanted characters from bl shows lol but I had to send them, I l o v e them

hiii nonnie!! oh this is perfectly alright, i adore merlin and arthur like no other! bbc merlin was the first show that ever truly... stuck with me. so here goes! (uhhh, pretty pivotal spoilers for bbc merlin in case it wasn’t obvious!)

merlin:

favorite thing about them:

i just love how GOOD merlin is! he’s one of my absolute favourite characters of all time and the way how he tries to help everyone and anyone he can and uses his magic in order to make people’s lives easier is just... wonderful. he literally gets into escapades every episode because he wants to help one person or another and it’s just so so good and funny, i love him.

least favorite thing about them:

honestly you could not count the amount of times i’ve shaken my fist at the screen and told merlin to stop listening to kilgarrah lmaooo, i feel merlin trusts... too blindly. especially when it comes to destiny and all that lark, i wish he would think for himself and realise that destiny is something you mold. i feel that would have made s4 and s5 WAY more interesting and also... better! considering the entire mordred subplot as well.

favorite line:

god... this series is five seasons long and merlin has the most wonderful quotes. but off the top of my head? i have to pick something from the finale, as i will do for arthur as well. “and i use it for you, arthur. only for you.” like... that continues to tug on my heartstrings, honestly. the way he feels the need to justify himself having magic, and the way that merlin went from this young, innocent, stars-in-his-eyes boy to a wrecked mess in the end, living not for himself, but solely for arthur and the good of camelot. this line showcases that beautifully and how merlin needs to heal first before loving arthur. he has the greatest power in the world... and he uses it all for this one man. bro.

brotp:

merlin and gwen!!! merlin and morgana!!! merlin and the knights!!! i love the idea of all of them being a tight-knit and close family, merlin just... meshes well with so many people and i adore all of his friendships, esp with lancelot and gwaine from the knights :’)

otp:

merlin x arthur. yeah, man. the tragedy of it all... the heartwrenching ache of it all... they truly served in a way that no other white non-canonical mlm couple could. absolutely wonderful.

notp:

not really... fond of any merlin ship apart from merlin x arthur but merlin x morgana is Bad, he’s gay and she’s a lesbian and they’re magic best friends!

random headcanon:

this is similar to my one for met, but merlin should use his magic and play WAY more pranks on arthur. i’m talking throwing stuff at him when he’s got his back turned but acting all innocent when he turns back. i’m talking stealing more of his food and shrugging his shoulders. i’m talking sparring with arthur in front of all the knights and cheating so he can win. arthur is fuming but he can never say anything because the knights all love merlin more than him and would never believe any sort of accusation against him.

unpopular opinion:

he should have helped morgana. end of. merlin helps everyone he sees, and the fact that he would just brush morgana off like that is a) shitty writing for more drama and b) a complete mischaracterisation. they deserved to be friends who tried to bring magic back to camelot together in their own ways, and considering that they’re literally opposites when it comes to personality... it would have been SO interesting.

song i associate with them:

vanilla twilight by owl city. i have thought of this as a merlin (and merlin x arthur) song for quite a while now and wrote a whole fic based off of it! but yeah, especially the line “i’ll watch the night turn light blue / but it’s not the same without you” fucking GETS me. i always wondered how merlin coped with his grief, considering that arthur became such a pivotal part of his life, and how he realised he needed to live for himself and heal before he came back. some of that is explored in the fic! i wrote it like... almost four years ago, holy shit, so it’s not that good but have at it if you wish!

favorite picture of them:

have this picture of merlin i actually have saved on my laptop!! he looks so good in the coronation outfit and the light is hitting his eyes just right. glorious boy!

arthur:

favorite thing about them:

i adore how arthur always wants to do the right thing, even if it means going against his father in the later seasons. he also just loves the people of his kingdom so much, even saying he’d lay down his life for the people in camelot... which you need to do as king, obviously, but something about his sincerity... and that’s another thing. he’s so sincere in everything he does! i love him :’)

least favorite thing about them:

emotionally constipated arrogant BRAT fhsnfhsn lmaooo i love him, and he gets better with the arrogance and the emotional constipation (not so much on the brat front :/) in the later seasons. i just... adore his character development so much!

favorite line:

okay. i have two off the top of my head although he has some RAW fucking lines as well. “for the love of camelot!” always gets me btw but that’s not a part of this.

so number one, “i couldn’t bear to lose you.” this ties in with the thing about character development i was talking about earlier, because s1 arthur would have never said this to merlin, even if they had a great relationship. and also... that line is just so fucking raw, especially hearing arthur refer to merlin as his friend when arthur doesn’t refer to anyone else as a friend. just... the fact that he’s saying that he literally could not take it if merlin went missing or died, he couldn’t bear the weight of that on his shoulders as he bears everything else on his shoulders... it makes my heart clench every time. and how open and honest that is, how he lays everything out on the table--merlin is a vital part of his life, so much so that he couldn’t picture his life without him.

and secondly: “just hold me.” it doesn’t matter how many times i watch that finale, that line always gets me. how all arthur wants to do in his last moments is be held by merlin, and as said by the showrunners themselves i believe... he died peacefully in the arms of someone who loved him. the way that he gives up and he doesn’t say anything else, not things he needs to do after he dies or messages to give others... but only three words. “just hold me.” all he wants is to be held, and it gets me every time.

brotp:

aaaaaa arthur and morgana!!! the best siblings, they deserved so much better and so many more banter-y scenes together :(

otp:

merlin x arthur, no doubt baby!

notp:

hmmm, i don’t think i particularly have a famed arthur ship that i dislike... arthur x gwen is good!! just not my cup of tea i think, i like merlin x arthur and morgana x gwen more. do people ship morgana x arthur? if so, no. they’re literally siblings.

random headcanon:

arthur is FASCINATED by magic. in a better world, after merlin had told him about his magic, he would have endlessly pestered merlin about this and that and being so impressed with every small feat of magic merlin did. merlin conjures up a light dragon and arthur is all “:D merlin do that again!!!” i love arthur being a little kid and getting to have the childhood he never had, makes me feel warm :’)

unpopular opinion:

i know it wasn’t his fault but i cannot BELIEVE he gave up right then and there during the finale. they were so close :(( i cannot accept that ending man i’m just sad

song i associate with them:

king and lionheart by of monsters and men. i think the merlin fandom is pretty much unified on the opinion of this being a merlin x arthur song and it’s just... such a good arthur song as well! man... especially the line of “as the world comes to an end, i’ll be there to hold your hand” like... if that isn’t arthur talking to merlin... nonnie you’ve made me emotional over how much i love them again :(

favorite picture of them:

no doubt in my mind that this is my absolute favourite picture of arthur. the tender expression in his eyes as he looks at merlin over at the fire... i don’t have words for it. bradley truly outdid himself here man!

send me a character!

#this really took me back to four years ago when i watched merlin for the first time #and had the breath knocked out of me #it remains to this day one of my top favourite shows #also remember that one picture of bradley with a ds or a phone in sunglasses laying across the staircase? i LOVE that one fhsnfh #merlin #character ask game #rahul answers

7 notes · View notes

coloringthegreyscale · 7 years ago

Text

Hi, despite my body’s popular belief, I am in fact still living

So this counts as me surviving my first Pride, motherfuckers!

I’m eating pizza, listening to music, and contemplating life’s questions like “Why the fuck am I still awake?” but for those who want to hear about this, here it is:

So Friday, we got there at around 3. Doors didn’t open until 6, so that meant we could wander around the Short North for a few hours. There wasn’t much to do other than wander around the shops and make friends with the staff at Pressed Grill while we ate loaded cottage fries and waited for my phone to charge. Spoiler Alert: Phone didn’t actually charge and in fact the battery died while it was off and plugged in, so fuck everything for about five minutes until I decide that I’m not going to let my bitchy phone ruin my fucking night.

Then, it’s what every single person who ever purchased a ticket to an event with general admission - it’s the standing game.

Standing game that lasts 3 and a half fucking hours.

So we used this time wisely by making friends with the people around us. I, miraculously, without the aid of my phone, managed to run into @dottiethunderfuck, but we couldn’t talk very well because we were about two rows of people away from each other. Thank you, Dottie for giving me more encouragement! I wish we could have talked more. You’re a gem of a human being.

So everything started an hour and a half later than it was actually supposed to. First it was the underwear fashion show put on by one of the local gay businesses, hosted by our very own Virginia West and Crystal Something Something. (Nina West was billed to host with Virginia, but is out for five weeks due to an expensive foot surgery that keeps her off social media, and no one is buying this story, what the fuck guys?). They talked about the rally Virginia headed because Pence was in town that day, and this is pretty much an excuse for me to say I love our gay city and drag queens. Also, turns out my roommate was high school friends with one of the models. Surprise!

Then, after what I think it was probably 5 hours at this point, after the fashion show and the opening music act, The AAA Girls came on and they were all gorgeous. They performed four or five songs I think? The banter was hilarious, the uncoordinated choreography was great. I loved watching them.

After was a lightning round of a meet and greet, so if this story doesn’t seem very detailed, it’s because I literally had about a minute to meet three queens. Went like this.

So first off, I need to mentioned that the art that I made was small in scale, but because of the wood and the watercolor paper, and the fact that I knew it would probably get jostled around a lot, I had wrapped them in tissue paper.and wrote which belonged to who so I wouldn’t get them mixed up. I neglected to unwrap them before I handed them out and I probably should have, but you live and you learn. I still fucking gave them the thing when I almost forgot to bring them twice.

So Courtney was the first in the line, so I struggled with the art being like “hold on, I actually have gifts for you guys!” and I handed them off to each of them. I vaguely remember Courtney saying something like “Oh thank you” and then “Oh, it’s beautiful!” but I dunno. I could be making that up? I know she said something. Did I say this was fast and I was super nervous?

So Willam actually gestured me back and asked me my name and then introduced herself (thanks Willam, for speaking to me like we were just normal strangers who met for the first time and not like I’m a nervous idiot fan who can’t properly speak to people - that’s not sarcastic, that’s entirely serious). She asked me if I wanted a photo and then said something like “Come, settle into my sweaty armpit” and then wrapped her arm around me. Photo taken, she wished me a happy pride, thanked me for the gift, I’m pretty sure I got a hug at some point and then I was passed off to Alaska, who hugged me, thanked me for the art and said it was beautiful. Over, done. I’m shaking. But fuck it. Done.

Apparently the roughly 45 seconds I got with them was lucky because we found out the next day that about 40 people were turned away. There were a lot of rumors hopping around and people were admittedly incredibly upset and bitter, but guys - do not blame the queens. I am certain that if they’d known there were people still waiting, they would have stayed. The whole event seemed to have hit a huge hitch somewhere and it wasn’t very well laid out. So be mad and what not, just try to keep a level head if you can.

Anyway, we walked back to our car, went home, got about three hours of sleep, woke up at around 7 to get ready and head back down so we could get a decent place for the parade. Which was two hours long. I got hugs from my coworkers who were marching in the parade and then at some point ended up just sitting on the street with my new #lovewins flag that we need to figure out where to put it.

Another long walk down to the festival, passed out on the grass, wandered, and then caught a ride back up to Short North so we could eat proper food at Pressed Grill (if you guys are ever in the Short North in Columbus, this is one of those places you need to try. Food is decent price, staff is super friendly, and everything is delicious). Then cue another walk, back to the car, said goodbye to friends we met up with, and then back to Axis.

Sidebar: On our way back, we were going to cut through the convention center because it provides a bit of relief from the heat and also bathrooms. Origins was happening the same time, so there was a crowd of people. As we were passing, an older guy looked at me and said “You need to drink some water. You look bad.” My roommate commented that that was a rude thing to say, to which he adjusted his wording to say “Oh, I just meant she looked tired and probably should stay hydrated to stay healthy.”

Yes, hi. Not sure who died and made you my dad, but I’ve been walking for like twelve hours with minimal sleep. I’ve been drinking all day. So kindly go fuck yourself.

Anyway! Back at Axis, we keep getting conflicting stories on what is happening with Adore’s meet and greet. The irritating part about this, is that it’s before her performance and during the giant drag show that’s happening before it, and we keep getting different information. @dottiethunderfuck comes to the rescue again, finds me, and tells me that it’s definitely inside the club in the VIP lounge at 9 pm, but capacity for the lounge is only 50 people, so it’s best we get there early. So we book it to the upstairs because fuck taking chances at this point, and also fuck standing and double fuck being in the heat.

So we chill for the next hour, sitting, chatting, people watching, etc. Until we start to line up for the meet and greet that Adore DEFINITELY had, do not let any trolls on Instagram try to convince you otherwise.

So here’s the twist of the fucking story. Roomie is usually the bold and collected one of the two of us, while I’m the one riddled with social anxiety. I felt like I was actually doing a pretty good job at keeping my cool, up until Adore walks past and says hi to everyone and then I look over to realize that Roomie has completely lost all of her cool and is like “Holy fuck, I’m meeting Adore, what now?” and I’m standing there like “well if your going to panic, what the fuck am I going to do?”

This time I at least had the conscious thought to unwrap the gift before I give it to her. But here we go:

Roomie had me video her meeting Adore. While doing so, suddenly Adore is smiling and waving at me. Apparently, Roomie had told her that I was excited to see her but I’m very shy and nervous, so I might be very quiet. She steps off after getting her photo and second hug and now it’s my turn.

So I’m greeted with an instant hug. She didn’t even wait for me to get to her, she met me halfway, and I handed her the art saying I had a gift and she looked at it in disbelief, the conversation went a bit like this:

“Wait, this is for me? I can keep this?” “Yes.” “This is beautiful! What is it? Watercolor? I love it!” “Yes.” (it’s also got a bit of charcoal but I digress)

At this point, she was fiddling with it to try to stand it up on the table and she turns and looks at me and asks me if I’m alright. I tell her I’m fine, I’m just a very nervous person. But I’ve got her attention now so I conjure up every single bit of courage that I have to tell her what I kept forgetting to say to Bianca and Courtney and Willam and Alaska.

“I wanted to make you something to say thank you, because you made me smile when I really really needed to.”

It’s a very simplified statement on what kind of mindset I had been in about 10 months ago, but she hugged me again and said something to the effect of “That’s incredibly sweet. Thank you so much. You’re too sweet.”

She said something about how she couldn’t wait to show it to her cousin, that he’d love to see it because he’s an artist too. We got our photo together, she thanked me again and wished me a happy Pride, I told her to have a good night and we parted ways.

So yes, guys. For those who think that Adore didn’t have a meet and greet, she did. If you didn’t know about it, that’s the combined fault of yours and the coordinators who didn’t explain things to the staff. So that clusterfuck, again, is on them and not on the queens.

Anyway - back down to catch the second half of the giant ass drag show going on outside.

Yeah, hi. We’re Columbus, OH and our drag scene is fucking a-maze-ing. Hi. Motherfucker. Stage nearly broke down it was so shook by all that talent.

We also knew one of the queens and we were SO PROUD to be able to tip her on a stage with this kind of a crowd. She’s come so far. She fucking worked it.

I got my fingers sucked on by one of the queens taking my tip. So there was that.

I ended up next to @dottiethunderfuck again and we both kept shooting heart eyes at each queen and king that came up on that stage because hi, did I mention that Columbus has a fucking great drag scene because it definitely does. I love them.

Then Adore was announced, she got up on stage and did her set, which was very short, but she was absolutely hypnotic. When I could see her. Some asshole decided he was going to try to tip her and wouldn’t move. Roomie at one point tapped him on the shoulder and was like “She’s not going to take your tip. She’s not that kind of performer.” He tried to start a fight with her. It was stupid. She’s a presence, though.

Second she left the stage, we had to bounce because we were about to pass out.

AND THAT WAS MY FIRST PRIDE!

I don’t have pictures of the meet and greet yet, because those were taken by the club and are to be posted on Facebook later. Thank you everyone who helped me through my random breakdowns leading up to this. It was probably a good thing that I didn’t finish the Bianca costume, but I at least got to make some art that I was relatively proud of and managed to give it away (which is a problem for me, if you knew me).

I’m going to continue to lurk in my dark room now and cuddle my dogs because I have to work tomorrow and I definitely don’t want to.

#pride 2018 #sometimes I meet drag queens apparently #columbus pride 2018 #adore delano #alaska thunderfvck 5000 #courtney act #willam belli #long post is long

1 note · View note

wanderingkat · 8 years ago

Photo

Velvet Echoes Interview

Loud and ready to bring back a British Invasion, I interviewed the Velvet Echoes who have an infinite intention to scale the Indie/Garage/Rock genre with cut throat beats and vocals you'll remember years from now. Without another sordid tale of love lost, Velvet Echoes bring forth a fulfilled testament of incendiary melodies and iconoclast ambition.

1.) First off, how did the band name come about?

George: The name came about through messing around with words we thought sounded cool. We came up with an awful name 'Velvet Indarma' which made me die inside every time someone asked what we were called. So, in the end, I came up with Echoes and wallah...velvet echoes were born.

Luke: I actually have no idea (laugh) I wasn't part of the band during the naming process (hysterical laughterJoss: We had a vote on various band names that we felt suited the future of the band, and Velvet echoes was a blend of the two winners. Or at least that's how I remember it.

Simon: Well, early on our name was ‘Velvet Indarma’… I don’t think any of us knew what ‘Indarma’ meant we just found it on a random word generator… The word ‘Velvet’ I think came from us thinking about great bands like Velvet Underground and the image the word conjures… it’s a soft and classy material…also, it’s a juxtaposition as we can also be quite heavy, raw and dark with our music. We had a line-up change and wanted to drop ‘Indarma’ so we replaced it with the word ‘Echoes’ when we started taking the band more seriously.

2.) Simon, Luke, Joss, and George could you tell us more about your backgrounds in music? Were all of you in previous bands before?

George: I was in a band called Marmalade Sky and before that, I was in a school band called Open Doors. Both were a right laugh but this has definitely been the most intense but enjoyable. Never really got into reading music or proper guitar lessons. Just use to watch the guitarist in my last band and learn from him. Then the rest has just been learned by ear, I reckon.

Luke: I've actually always played as a solo acoustic act, just covering bands like The Courteeners, The View, and the occasional Kooks track. But I've always been writing and incorporating my own songs into my sets and playing with a lot of other musicians just randomly.

Joss: I've been playing guitar since I was about 11. I remember listening to Nelly Furtado on the radio and thinking " Yeah I'm going to be a musician". I don't know why. I'd always been into biology up till then. I've since played in all sorts of bands ranging from jazz to heavy metal because I enjoy experimenting and learning new techniques.

Simon: I started playing the drums when I was 11 and have been in multiple bands playing different genres. All of them fell apart after time and before we started this band I drummed for a short amount of time in Georges previous band ‘Marmalade Sky’ in which we became better friends. That time also opened my eyes to the level of standard you have to be at to make things work. Each musical project I’ve been a part of, even when I’ve not been the drummer. Has come to shape the way I play in Velvet Echoes which is pretty cool.

3.) As far as influences go (Oasis, The Stone Rose, The Jam, Led Zeppelin and etc...) are there any other influences that would be a bit unusual that the band has incorporated into the sound you have now?

George: For me, a Spanish band called the Hinds have influenced me more recently. Bowie and the last shadow puppets also.

Luke: Well I listen to a lot of music so I imagine some of it does come through. But I think because each of us has a different taste we all bring something different to the table making the sound our own I guess. (wink)

Joss: I suppose each of each brings our own influences and interests to shape our sound more than anything. I was always told a good bassist is a solid bassist so I focus more on being rhythmically tight with Simon more than anything. I do love the Beatles though so Paul McCartney is definitely an influence.

Simon: Everyone in the band has different influences which are great, especially when we are able to merge them into our music. I’m influenced by artists like Taking back Sunday, Falling in Reverse & I am really into a band called Boy jumps ship at the moment which has shaped my drumming on some of our newer songs. Since our first E.P; which was probably more in the stylistic realms of the bands you’ve listed we’ve defiantly gone more anthemic. I think the choruses have a slightly more pop influence and some of the more musical parts have a more atmospheric and epic sound.

4.) What do you feel happened to British Indie-Rock? Because I'd say within the last handful of years there has been a definite quiet surge among this particular genre and area.

George: I'd say it's been a bit shit since the 90's. People got bored of guitar music but I feel like that's slowly changing now bands like Catfish & The Bottlemen are doing well. Even though Ed Sheeran isn't indie he's still bringing the guitar back into fashion which I feel will have a positive knock-on effect with the indie scene. Fingers crossed anyway.

Luke: I think it's gonna be huge. We're leading the charge and indie-rocks gonna be in the top of the charts instead all that bullshit that’s in there now. I mean what the fuck is a Nicki Minaj even supposed to be? Rank.

Joss: I think it just progressed as does any fashion, fad or scene. It never really ended, it just changed.

Simon: Bands like Oasis, The Stone Roses & Blur paved the way for the Brit pop scene which had massive success but naturally more modern music has since taken the limelight. I think you’re right that the British indie-Rock is starting to come back around. It’s similar to fashion I guess…things that are timeless become popular again and are revisited and often with a twist.

5.) While working with John Cornfield at Sawmills Studio, did Cornfield help bring out the Velvet Echoes natural sound or stir up some unknown territory?

George: John was great. He got the best out of us for that moment in time, and he has the sound we asked for in terms of production. Having said that, I think next time we will be a bit more experimental and try out new territory.

Luke: We actually learned a lot with John, it was a real eye opener of a week. He made the sound we already had bigger there's so much experience to be taught by him so I'm pretty sure he rubbed off on us a lot without us realizing.

Joss: John was a beast in the studio. His experience allowed us to just relax and play creatively. We let John put his own stamp on our sound and I think for this E.P it's the right sound.

Simon: Working with John defiantly brought out a sound that we already had and displayed it to us in a way that we never imagined. His initial playback sounded massive and that was really exciting for us. It allowed us to relax a bit more because we were reassured that we were moving in the right direction. This encouraged us to put forward even more ideas. It was such a privilege to work with John and a real highlight of the band's career so far. I think he just brought out the best in us.

6.) Even though Velvet Echoes is still a young band, what would be two major critical components you've all learned being in a band?

George: I'd say have a laugh even when it's hard. You're in this because it's your passion and your dream, but I know personally I can take shit too seriously and that ruins it for me at times. But I'd also say you all need to work together. You're in a band because you don't want to do it alone. That goes for the good times and the bad, so you have to stick together and be a unit.

Luke: the first would be how much work we all have to put into being in this band.The second is the exact amount of beer I can drink before being 'too pissed' to play a gig (laugh)

Joss: Teamwork. We're a bloody team. We're brothers and we act like it. Love, hate and everything in between.

Simon: At this stage, everything is still a learning process. I would say one of the main things is self-discipline and trying to use the creative time we spend together productively. When you are four good friends it’s easy to get half way through a band practice only to realize that you have spent three hours ‘Mooing’ like a small herd of lost buffalo which we can all agree isn’t overly productive in the studio…. Other than that, balancing everyone’s work schedules with practicing, gigs, studio time and general promotion commitments is always a challenge.

7.) With the release of an EP soon which means new material of course, in what direction is the band taking? More chorus based songs, catchy riffs, etc...

Luke: Just massive sounds and massive chorus I guess, there's no one same sound to our music really, one song will be a wall of sound and epic and another could be funky bass lines and sleazy lyrics.

Joss: We're looking at developing our hooks. Memorable lines in a piece that you can just hum or whistle to a mate, and they can instantly recognize, are what make classics in my opinion.

Simon: The new material is more upbeat and I think is more reflective of the band's personality. We will still include songs that are dark in subject matter and rocky in origin but we are also experimenting with lighter ‘hook based’ material which has evolved in our songwriting recently which is a contrast to our previous darker material.

8.) When can we expect a full-length album to emerge? And is there a possible album title being thrown around at the moment? George: I'd say that this EP we concentrate more on being as epic as possible and having quite an anthem-esq kind of sound. But as one of the main songwriter of the band, I'd say that's going to change again in the future. But for now, we will your this EP and try and get our name out there as much as possible. Next time we might be rawer though! Who knows.

Luke: I think we're thinking about it individually but I still think we've got a lot to learn about ourselves as a band before an album is going to be ready (lol)

Joss: Best not ask me for an album title, you won't know whether I'm serious or not! As for an album itself, I don't think it'll be on our agenda till there's a need for it. At the moment there's a shift is the public's listening patterns and I think the number of people who listen to an entire album start to finish is declining. I could be wrong but I don't know many people that listen to a full album nowadays.

Simon: We have talked about a full-length album and have enough material to make one. However, I don’t think we will produce a full-length album until we are absolutely confident that it will be the best that we can do. We still have a lot of developing to do as a band before we reach that point. We haven’t discussed a name for a full-length album but we have decided on a title for our latest E.P… That said when you take into account the impact pf E.P’s, YouTube and iTunes the necessity for a full-length album at this time doesn’t seem to be at the top of our priorities.

youtube

#Velvet Echoes #interview #brit pop #indie #rock #music #listen #music on tumblr #artists on tumblr #musicians on tumblr

1 note · View note

crowsent · 6 years ago

Text

On Creativity

I’ve always liked writing. And since I’m working on bolstering my confidence, I’ll go ahead and say that I’m good at writing. I can use unique voices, switch perspectives, write decent fight scenes. By all means, I can write well.

But writing’s also a hobby. I don’t write because I have to. It ain’t an obligation. I’m allowed to enjoy what I do. I’m allowed to use words to escape this world and live in a different one, even for just a few precious moments. Forget Earth and forget me; I can be a Quirkless boy struggling with his identity, I can be a young woman struggling to master her Semblance, I can be a half-ghoul juggling my own concept of morality with a world that tells me that my existence is apprehensible.

I can be allowed to break away from the identity of LOSAS and be someone different.

Writing is fun for me. I enjoy it, I enjoy seeing ink on the page or words on the screen. I enjoy spinning out a thread and watching a tapestry come to life. And after years of doing it, that tapestry is pretty damn good. It’s got colours, clean lines, and a compelling vibrancy that makes others look.

But I’m not the only person who enjoys writing.

Someone might write and write and never be satisfied with what they create. John Doe can build a planet of ash and cinders and tear it all down because it’s grey and flat. Jane Doe can paint a human being and kill it in a single sentence because of a flaw that threw the whole story out of rationality.

Alex might spin a thread and create a tapestry of their own. But there is no life, no colour, and muddled stitches that obscure where the line ends and another begins.

And all these people should still be allowed to create.

Just because I’m good at writing doesn’t mean that I should be the only one allowed to write. It doesn’t mean that other good writers should only be the ones allowed to write.

We don’t have one giant inkwell and pen and pass it around like the olympic torch.

We SHOULDN’T have one giant inkwell and pen and pass it around like the olympic torch.

People should be encouraged to write. Everyone should write at LEAST one story just for kicks, shits, and giggles. Who cares if your story is about a majestic unicorn who discovered the meaning of friendship because of an overly persistent frog that sang off-key to them for three whole pages? Make your story about a soldier who had his entire family murdered and is out for revenge. Make it about your OTP making cookies at ass-o’clock in the morning.

WRITE.

For one, it encourages creativity and creativity, I think, is one of the most beautiful things about human beings. Sure, as a species we collectively fucked over the Earth, drove some species of animals and plants into extinction, and created a system that fucked up the economy and squandered the morality and softness of our people.

But we also created organizations to try and rectify these problems we created: wildlife preservation efforts, shelters, food drives. We break and we make our mistakes (HA) but we also try so so very hard to fix them and learn, and move forward.

Creativity, I think, is more than just building a planet of ash and cinders or creating your own human conjured from the depths of your mind. It’s self-expression, an outlet for you to express feelings that you normally wouldn’t be able to put into words.

For me, words are how I express my feelings. If I tried talking to an actual human being face to face, I’d accidentally bite my tongue and die over the pronunciation of the word “pronunciation”. But when I write, it’s easier. When I write, I can look at everything that’s wrong with our planet from an objective standpoint and simultaneously remind myself that it’s not the end.

I am much better with written words because it gives me time to think and revise. I can’t do that in real life. I can’t pause a conversation and proofread the absolute bullshit I am about to spew from my mouth.

But some people are much more comfortable with speaking. Where I express myself with flowery words and purple prose dense and loquacious to the point of idiocy, some people like to use their words, hear themselves speak to others and see the faces of everyone who listens to them.

There was a man I knew who we shall call ‘Vaughn’. Now, Vaughn wrote, not as much, not as confidently, but he wrote. He was always hesitant when sharing his writing. So was I, but that was a product of my social anxiety and not my lack of confidence in my work.

Vaughn did not have this social anxiety. He saw his work, his prose, and genuinely believed that it did not compare to others. Never said it aloud, but when he read prose, his feet fidgeted, he held the paper (or computer) in front of him to hide his face, and he spoke faster and faster, as if trying to get the words out so he wouldn’t have to speak. And when he finished, he’d sigh, nod and smile at the reception, and hurriedly urge all of us to go next.

That’s only for prose though.

Near the end of the year, he gave us all this big performance; slam poetry.

And let me tell you, I was fucking enthralled.

If I heard his poems on a street, his delivery, the way his voice shifted with every word and how he moved almost like I dance, I would fucking listen to every word. Even if I was late to work, or even if my arms were laden with groceries, I would fucking stand on that street and listen with my jaw on the floor.

Pretty sure I didn’t breathe during his performance. It was amazing. And he had a lot of fun. His leg wasn’t fidgeting, he didn’t cover his face. He owned it.

It’s obvious he has a passion for writing and performing, and speaking until his voice was hoarse.

And he was a damn creative man.

A creative man who, for some reason, felt like his prose wasn’t as good as his slam poetry. Which, okay, I’ll admit, I enjoyed the poetry better, but it didn’t mean that his prose was bad. It was just rough around the edges, like mine, like everyone in that class.

So I thought, why the fuck would a man this dedicated to his craft, this passionate about reciting a poem that grabbed my fucking soul and booked it, this excited to share with us his creation, feel as though his prose wasn’t good enough.

With his poem, he was very open to criticisms and praise alike. But with his prose, he seemed resigned and withdrawn, like criticism was the only option. Of course, I was curious and my social anxiety got strangled by my curiosity and it was silenced with a garotte because I just HAD TO KNOW.

When I asked if he would be doing anymore writing after that year, without that specific class pushing us to write everyday, he said, with the certainty and confidence of a man who had a noose around his neck: “Yeah, but I probably won’t write prose anymore.”

And his reasoning. The reasoning. “I’m not good at it.”

Okay. Fair enough. Some people don’t enjoy writing prose and prefer other forms of creative self-expression. Maybe he just prefers slam. Maybe he wasn’t that into prose.

But I heard this man, this beautiful, brilliant, creative man, go into a spiel about his work. How he planned to write it, the dark twists he’ll take. His one goal in prose was to make his writing creepy and edgy. And he was so fucking excited about it. Big smile, bright eyes, the excited hand movements that almost took out my glasses in a one hit knockout.

I refuse to believe that a man this excited to talk about his work wasn’t interested in writing.

That got me thinking: why in the fuck would he stop doing something he clearly enjoyed doing?

The question eventually shifted to this.

Why do people stop creative pursuits?

Why do people stop writing angsty poems and edgy creepypastas?

Why do people stop making up silly songs in the shower?

Why do people stop painting their rainbow sparkly OCs?

Why do people stop OC/Canon shipping?

Why do people stop cosplay?

Why do people stifle their creativity?

This of course, ties back to the first paragraph I’ve written. I enjoy writing. I’m good at writing.

John and Jane and Alex enjoy writing. They don’t live up to the standard others have for “good” writing.

I am encouraged to keep updating that fanfic I have.

They are encouraged to stop. Find something they can do better. Move on.

Why does my writing, considered good by other people, give me a pass to keep writing while others who don’t meet that standard are encouraged to stop?

It makes absolutely no sense. A crab doing the macarena makes more sense than that. A cheetah that’s slower than a snail crawling through molasses makes more sense than that.

Why should we stop people from creating? From exploring their minds and expanding on their interests?

Why is it, that when it comes to writing, or drawing, or sewing, or literally any creative pursuit, we only endorse it when the person is “good?”

If creativity is about self-expression, then the quality shouldn’t matter. I should be allowed to write even if the first word I ever put to page is “Y’all’d’ve.” If I want to make my fanfic about my OC being swept off her feet by a hunky, glittery vampire, then by all fucking means, I should be allowed to write.

No one should be telling me to stop writing.

Creativity is a part of us, something intrinsic and unique and just as integral to our development as a person. It doesn’t have to be writing either.

Someone singing terribly off-key to their favourite song at a karaoke bar should be allowed to sing off-key to their favourite song.

Someone who makes cat-shaped cookies and had the batch come out like a monstrosity from hell should still make cat-shaped cookies if they want to.

Someone who writes with shifting tenses, has no concept of verb choice, and utterly butchers canonical characterizations should still be allowed to write.

As someone who does write fanfiction (plus other things) and publish them, feedback is important to me. Without it, I can’t grow as a writer, and I enjoy talking to all the people who take the time to comment on my latest work.

But I am not obligated to keep up the quality or coherency or consistency of my fics.

If, at some point, I decided to take the plot in a direction way the fuck out of left field, I can do that. I owe no one an apology. I wrote the fanfic, I choose to do what I want with it.

It’s terribly unfair for people to commandeer what I can and can’t do with my writing just as it’s unfair for people to commandeer what people can and can’t do with their creativity.

Let’s take singing.

I enjoy singing. I like to sing. I enjoy taking popular songs and butchering it to hell and back.

I am not a good singer.

I can’t hit high notes.

I can’t hold notes.

I have next to no control over my voice.

But I love to sing. And I should be allowed to sing. Just like how John and Jane and Alex should be allowed to write.

We look at Creativity not as something to do for fun, but as something to do for productivity. Why bother creating your own alien planet if it’s full of inconsistencies? Fuck all your feelings and the happy endorphins releasing in your head, this planet’s not good enough.

Fuck that OC you just wrote out the whole backstory for, it’s too damn edgy and not written with enough nuance.

Yeah fuck you.

At no point in time should you ever attempt to police a person’s creativity. It’s something that’s for THEM to explore. To discover. To enjoy.

Think of all your favourite shows, your favourite music, your favourite plays. All of that happened because of creativity and hard work. You see critically acclaimed novels with the accolades and praises. You don’t see the first draft with the dozens of lines rewritten in red ink. You don’t see the first drafts with entire pages crossed out.

People don’t churn out masterpieces in a day.

And even if they did, that should not be the standard. There shouldn’t be any standard to creativity.

If you want to try out knitting for the first time and end up with a mess, then congratulations! you tried out knitting for the first time. If you enjoyed it, then go make yourself another knitted item. Clothing. I don’t knit so I wouldn’t know.

People should stop assigning value to their creative pursuits. Sure, it’s fun when people give your compliments, but it’s also fun to let loose and just enjoy yourself.

I just talk about writing a lot, because it’s what I’ve done for years and something I can do confidently. I’m not perfect, there’s still some bumps, but if you ask me if I can write better than I can draw, I will nod my head so damn fast it’s going to roll of my shoulders.

That said, I should still be absolutely allowed to draw even though it’s been 84 YEARS AND I STILL DON’T KNOW HOW TO DRAW A HAND

Creativity is something that we should embrace. Even if what we create doesn’t turn out ‘good’ or if we’re not happy with it, we should still create and create and create.

It’s a good stress relief. It opens up our minds to new worlds, new possibilities, new passions, new hobbies. It can be used to talk to people. It can be used to improve yourself as a person. It can be fucking used for unorthodox solutions to some of your problems. Thinking outside the box.

And even though I can not, for the life of me, hit a single god damn note in Hamilton’s ‘Satisfied’, I will still sing the fuck out of it when it comes on in my playlists.

And even though Vaughn’s prose didn’t flow as well as his slam poetry, he should still continue to write if he enjoyed it.

It’s not about being good at it. It’s about having fun while you do it.

TL;DR: Let people be creative

#text #losas talks #creativity #on subject

0 notes

foodieworldmelbourne · 7 years ago

Text

The Simpsons, doom metal, and the seven stages of grief: The story of Dr Colossus

By Matt Neal Posted April 21, 2018 06:08:40

Photo: A Simpsons-style depiction of Nathan 'Buddha' Johnston, drawn by Glenn Smith. (Supplied: Glenn Smith) Map: Portland 3305 Doom metal band Dr Colossus were on to something. When they formed in 2014 they had found a unique musical niche heavy rock songs about long-running animated TV series The Simpsons which would prove surprisingly popular. Over the next few years, Dr Colossus comprising long-time friends Jono Colliver (guitar) and Nathan Johnston (drums) built a large following by releasing EPs and singles, and toured Australia. When it came time to record an album, they launched a successful crowdfunding campaign that raised well above their target of $6,000. With new third member Mike Findlay on board, Dr Colossus recorded their debut album The Dank and readied themselves for a series of launches. But then Nathan died suddenly. He was 29. 'Why don't we make all the songs about The Simpsons?' Nathan "Buddha" Johnston grew up in the south-west Victorian town of Portland. As a youngster he was more likely to listen to Black Sabbath than The Beatles, and started playing drums in early high school. He met Jono Colliver by playing in high school rock band Emprica together, starting a decade-and-a-half-long friendship and musical partnership. What is "doom metal"?Doom metal is one of countless subgenres of heavy music. Sometimes also known as stoner rock, stoner metal, or sludge metal it is typically characterised by slow tempos and heavy riffs intended to conjure up a sense of doom or dread. Guitars are often tuned down lower than is typical for rock bands. So instead being in standard E tuning, they might be in standard B tuning, which is five steps lower.Black Sabbath is seen as the originator of doom metal. After high school, Jono moved to Melbourne and Nathan moved to Geelong but they continued to play together in bands such as Honeytrap and Kashmere Club (the latter band worked with The Living End's Chris Cheney at one stage). It was while on tour in Tasmania with Honeytrap in 2011 that the seeds of what would become Dr Colossus were planted. Jono and Nathan joked about starting a "slow and sludgey" doom metal band and naming it something "ridiculous and cliched [like] Colossal or Monolith", to which Jono suggested "Why don't we name the band after Dr Colossus from The Simpsons?". "Well, why don't we just make all the songs about The Simpsons?" Nathan replied. A crazy idea was born.

Photo: That makes two of us: Jono Colliver (left) and Nathan Johnston employed their humour, musicality, and love of The Simpsons to create doom-metal band Dr Colossus. (Supplied: Dr Colossus) 'Wait a minute, this is just good heavy music' Jono remembered thinking two things about this idea. One, "that it would be really funny" and two, "that it would never see the light of day". He said over the next couple of years the notion of a Simpsons-themed doom-metal band refused to dislodge itself from their minds, so they eventually took it seriously or at least as seriously as one can take a Simpsons-themed doom-metal band. They recorded an EP called IV, so named because the subject matter came from season four, which featured three somewhat thinly veiled songs paying homage to Jono and Nathan's favourite TV show. The EP tapped into their shared musical preferences and sense of humour, and proved surprisingly popular, not only with fans of The Simpsons, but also fans of doom-metal. "There [were a lot] of people who didn't even realise it was Simpsons-related and didn't realise it was a joke," Jono said. "People [who] liked it thought 'Oh, this is just good heavy music' and then some people were like 'The Simpsons' gags, that drew me in'." Another seven-inch single followed, which was more overt in its references with one track's title coming from a direct quote from the show Shut Up And Eat Your Pinecone. But things really took off when another Simpsons-themed metal band the Ned Flanders-worshipping Okilly Dokilly went viral in a massive way, accidentally dragging Dr Colossus into the spotlight too. "We'd been playing shows, releasing music, being a normal, busy band, and around that [time a] band from Phoenix, Arizona, arrived on the internet in meme form, which was a picture of this band all dressed up like Ned Flanders and they were a 'nedal' band which was a heavy metal band [singing songs] all based on Ned Flanderisms," Jono said.

Photo: US metal band Okilly Dokilly, in all their Ned Flanders-inspired splendour. (Supplied: Okilly Dokilly) "Online just gobbled it up. "These guys had not only taken this similar concept, they'd accumulated millions of followers online in the space of a week and picked up pretty much every major music press and web blog. "We were like 'Awww, that sucks'. We thought that was our only chance and they've nabbed it from us." But Jono and Nathan hit upon a smart way to cash in on Okilly Dokilly's sudden fame, using an unrecorded song Dr Colossus had been playing live called Stupid Sexy Flanders. "Okilly Dokilly came onto the scene [and] the internet kinda blew up on a Friday the next day we were out at the studio [with producer Nic Pallett] and I said to Nic 'Tomorrow can we record a song?', so we recorded the song, mixed it in a day, and put it online that night," he said. "I wrote a press release for it saying 'Dr Colossus have released this track Stupid Sexy Flanders but it's not directly based on Okilly Dokilly'. "We implied there were accusations I kind of just invented this feud that wasn't there. "Our press release was saying 'there's no feud it just happens to be a song we released', which was all true." The Australian online music press lapped it up and began spreading the word about Dr Colossus. "Okilly Dokilly turned a lot of people on to us inadvertently," Jono said. "People who loved the idea of a metal band based on episodes of The Simpsons, they all clicked on those links to check out Okilly Dokilly, but I think they stuck around with us because we were actually creating a body of work at the time and we were playing shows we were a real band that I'd like to think you could have longevity with, and listenability beyond the gag. "That's no criticism of Okilly Dokilly because they were masters of what they did [but] their focus just wasn't as heavily on the music as we were, but yeah, it worked amazingly well it amassed a ton of listeners for us." Tragedy strikes This accidental burst in popularity put them in good stead to record their debut album. Jono and Nathan added a third member, bass player Mike Findlay, and started a crowdfunding campaign that easily eclipsed its target.

Photo: Dr Colossus as a three-piece, just prior to Johnston's death: Mike Findlay (left), Jono Colliver and Nathan Johnston. (Supplied: Dr Colossus) The resulting album, The Dank, attracted positive reviews and interest from a record label in Europe. And then, just as they were readying more gigs to launch the record and mailing out the rewards for the crowdfunding campaign, the unthinkable happened. Nathan died in his sleep, most likely from an aneurysm. He was about five months short of turning 30 and two months away from sharing his first wedding anniversary with his high school sweetheart and best friend Kate. Dr Colossus had played their final gig just days earlier at Cherry Bar in Melbourne. Nathan was remembered as a big man with a big heart who threw himself into his passions, whether it be motorcycles or music. Friends and fans flooded Dr Colossus' Facebook page with messages of disbelief and condolences, as well as sharing stories about their fond memories of Nathan. Jono, understandably, was devastated. "I was [thinking] the only way he really could die is in a fiery motorbike crash, but that didn't really make sense [because] he was at home and he was crook [so] I didn't think he'd be riding his motorbike, but for some reason that was the only thing in my mind that would have ever killed him exploding in a ball of flames on his motorbike," Jono said. "I was in disbelief. "I rang his partner Kate and I kinda knew as soon as her friend answered the phone the disbelief turned into instant and total agony. "The penny dropped that he had been feeling a bit ill and this reality just smashed me in the face. "I was in the process of posting out [album] orders so when Nathan passed away my whole house was filled with this record [staring] me in the face every day, illustrating this absence of him, of him not being able to share the record not being able to hear what people say about the record. "The timing of it was atrocious, no matter how you look at it. "He was far too young." A celebration of Nathan When a band loses a member, there is no rule book on what to do next. Amid the usual maelstrom of feelings that follow a death, Jono and bandmate Mike Findlay struggled with the sense there was "some unfinished business with Dr Colossus that Nath would have wanted to be finished". Eventually they called in one of Nathan's longtime friends and fellow Portland native Josh Eales to take the place behind the kit, as well as Jono's brother Joel as an extra guitarist and for moral support, with the idea of playing some tribute shows to honour Nathan's memory.

Photo: Get with the times, Moe: The new four-piece line-up of Dr Colossus will pay tribute to Johnston at two upcoming gigs. (Supplied: Dr Colossus) "We're all playing with Nath in our hearts and minds and we can feel him in the songs and the way those songs move," Jono said. "The main reason for doing it is we feel like we should it feels like it's a shame to let any opportunity for celebration in these situations to pass you by. "I just hope it will connect everyone around him more." He said the rehearsals had been going well and they hoped the tribute shows would be the start of a new chapter for Dr Colossus. "It feels healthy and healing to be doing it," Jono said. "It's a nice excuse for us, particularly Mike and I to be busy on a project that's so rich with memory that we can reminisce about and be close to those things that Nath did. "It's going to be a different band naturally, but that's cool, that's fine, that's good Nath will always be an absentee member." The "Dr Colossus Honour Nathan Johnston" gigs will take place at Cherry Bar in Melbourne on April 28 and the Barwon Club in Geelong on June 8. All profits will go to Edgar's Mission, an animal rescue charity that was close to Nathan's heart. Topics:music,arts-and-entertainment,music-industry,rock,death,community-and-society,grief,television,portland-3305,warrnambool-3280,melbourne-3000,geelong-3220 http://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-04-21/simpsons-band-dr-colossus-death-tribute/9670186

0 notes