#Neighbours The Farewell Show | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

creepling · 3 months

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⋆.˚☀︎٠ ࣪⭑ A KNOCK AWAY

synopsis: returning packages and a broken washing machine lead you to spend the night with your hot neighbour, digger harkness.

tags: smut - minors dni. fem!reader. age difference (early 20s x late 30s). domestic elements. reader described as "shy" but not really. sexual tension. alcohol use. drinking games. awkward moments. oral (f receiving). couch sex. big dick (it's canon it's out of my control!!!). p in v. creampie. 4.4k words.

Your neighbour had a habit of ordering ludicrous amounts of packages but is never at home to collect them. It was almost every day they arrived and piled at your front door. The last few days you’ve knocked on his door to give them, but met by silence. Your small apartment is running out of room if any more decide to show up. You had been going in the afternoons once you came off work, but he either didn’t answer or wasn’t in. This time, on Saturday morning, you decided to knock on his door. Who cares if it’s the weekend, or it’s too early, you were determined to get those packages out of your house.

You knock gently at first and wait for a minute. No answer. A week. A whole week of this bullshit. Impatience clouds your sympathy, and you knock on the door harder. You hear a thud, a clank of glass, and a curse on the other side of the door. You knock again, calling up a groan of annoyance and an “I’m coming!”

The door opens, and you’re greeted by your neighbour for the first time since you moved here. He is shirtless, showing off a collection of tattoos. His mop of hair hadn’t met a comb yet; still scuffled by sleep. You could tell he was older, and you were taken aback by how attractive he was. Given in a rugged way. You half-expected a balding divorcee with a beer belly.

“You’re George, right? I live next door,” You introduce.

Eyes squint and bloodshot, he looks you up and down before nodding. “You know what time it is, sunshine? Too bloody early to be knocking on people’s doors.” He said, fighting through a hangover to communicate. The twang of an Aussie accent was the second thing to surprise you. Even with the twang of annoyance in his tone, you bite your cheek to fight off a flattered smile.

Your bashfulness forces you to ditch the defiant speech you prepared. “I’m aware of that- but I’ve tried to get a hold of you all week, but you seem to not be in during the afternoon.” You shuffle to your open door, grab one of the packages and gesture it to George, “There’s a ton of packages here for you.”

George’s annoyed face began to soften, and he let out an idle chuckle. “Shiiiiit, I forgot about those!”

He opened his door wider and began collecting the parcels from you. You got a peek inside his apartment. Your suspicions of his home were accurate, resembling what all men living alone succumb themself to; their own squaller.

“Thanks for holding onto them for me. And sorry for being cranky, hangovers, y’know?” George said, his tone now different, one more pleasant. You smile, feeling pleased that you have the chance to converse with a neighbour and know who lives next door.

“Hope you had a good night so it’s worth it,” you chuckle, taking a stack of the packages and shuffling to his door. George takes them from your hands swiftly. This left you standing by his door, looking around the living room, stumped on the small talk. You were never really good at this.

“I mean- it was alright. They just hit you more when you get older,” he dropped the remaining boxes by his door, rubbing his temples as he stretched. His abdomen extended, shifting the waistband of his pants, making you look away and stand in silence. George scratches the back of his neck as he looks at you, feeling the interaction fade to a farewell.

“I better get going, you’ve got a lot to unbox,” you say, slowly backing away.

George gets to the door, nodding and shooting you a smile. “Thanks again for keeping them safe.” You could have sworn he looked you up and down, in a different way this time. Sizing you up, for other means. Maybe it was your imagination.

You meekly wave before retreating to your apartment. With the packages gone, your eyes adjust to the clear space, and the lingering images of your neighbour hot in your thoughts.

The washing machine was stuck again, and no matter how hard you hit it, it was still broken. Today is not going well, and you were on the edge, especially since the only other machine in the block has an ‘out of order’ sign on it. You rub your hands along your face, the skin already flushed from anger. A shuffle of footsteps approaches the entrance, and you reveal yourself to see who is witnessing your self-pity.

“Useless fucking thing, ain’t it?” It was George, the first time you’ve seen him in clothes that weren’t pyjama pants with socks and slides. He looks like he’s back from work, or the gym, it is hard to tell. You did wonder what he did for a living.

“I’m lucky it broke before I put my laundry in,” You look at the bright side with heavy eyes and a half-assed smile.

“Well, I don’t wanna brag, but I do have a machine. Wouldn’t mind ya using it until they fix it,” George shrugs with a ‘no big deal’ attitude. Suddenly your neighbour was a beacon of hope, and the stress left you with a sigh of relief.

“That would be really helpful, thanks,” you pick up your laundry basket, following up the stairs. He hunched the duffle bags over his shoulder. Reaching the top of the stairs, he unlocks his front door and lets you in first, taking a look at his living room and huffing. “Sorry about the mess.”

Beer bottles and cans littering the coffee table, clothes on the floor or hanging from the couch and chairs. You take one breath and smell the stale air, keeping a straight face. “It’s okay,” You smile through it, not wanting to place judgment. Maybe he’s just a busy guy.

George quickly shows you the settings on the machine (which he wasn’t so sure about) before excusing himself to the shower. Before you could ask questions, he was dashing to the bathroom, leaving you to your own devices. You load the machine, press the button and hope for the best.

Alone in his apartment was daunting and you begin to explore. Mostly focused on the messiness, the environment nagging at your senses. Clean space, clean mind, as they say. You pick up the trash and throw it out, starting with the beer cans. Luckily you didn’t find anything too disgusting, with the odd dirty plate you could place in the sink. You open the curtains, coughing from the dust and open the window to release the smell of stale pizza and beer. Your mind is clearer, you go to wash your hands until you spot George standing by the entrance of the living room in awe. He is still in his towel, his right hand clenching the side to keep it in place, his hair wet and slicked back. You turn away immediately, looking anywhere but him, a kick of adrenaline overtaking your insides.

“Wasn’t aware I ordered room service,” he joked, amused by your embarrassment.

“I’m sorry- I should have just left and come back later for the laundry. But- I don’t know- your place looked like it needed a tidy-up. I can’t help myself, it’s a habit. God- I’m so stupid-”

“Don’t get your undies in a twist, it’s fine. I appreciate it,” George reassures, rubbing the back of his neck, “As you can see, I don’t get many visitors.”

When he closes the bedroom door to change, it’s safe for you to look again. That feeling in your stomach didn’t go away, it still brewed in the pit and crawled its way up your core. It makes you think about him again, like those sleepless nights after your first encounter, and your cheeks grow hot. Maybe this is a good time to slip out and avoid him like the plague. But what else would you be doing? Watching TV? Playing video games? All alone in your apartment, like you always are. That’s how your life has been, work, home, bed; absent of social life, of anything remotely adventurous. You keep your feet firmly on the ground, chewing your lip in thought. There was a time when you lived life on the edge, out every weekend, hooked up with people. Letting your old self come out to play wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

“Where do you keep your cleaning supplies? I could do the rest for you if you want,” you call, inching towards the bedroom door so he can hear you. He opens the door quickly, startling you, wearing casual grey sweatpants and a white tee.

“Are you like a freelance maid or something? This how you get clients?” He leaned an arm on the door frame, looking down at you. He becomes the only thing in eyesight and you freeze, giving a shy smile.

“No, I just like cleaning, that's all. You seem like you need it, being a busy guy and all.” You study his eyes, wondering if he sees right through you.

George slowly nods, then snaps his fingers, heading towards the front door and sliding his shoes on. “Tell you what, love. I have to run a few errands, while I’m out I’ll leave you to it.”

You frown, crossing your arms. “You’re just gonna leave me, your neighbour you’ve met like once, in your house alone? You trust me like that?”

He shrugs, taking one of the duffle bags full of… something. “I’ve got many weapons I can pull on you if you try anything. Plus, you’re young and don’t look that strong, so I think I can take you on.” You weren’t sure if he was joking, but there was a cheeky look in his eye that allowed you to chuckle.

“That would do it. You can trust me.”

George gives a little salute, exiting the door. “Stuff’s under the kitchen sink. Good luck!”

You look at his limited supply, an empty bottle of bleach and a mysterious liquid in a spray bottle. You decide to use your supplies, grab them from your apartment, and come back to start the work.

You collapse on the couch gasping for air. People underestimate how much energy it takes to clean, especially when cleaning George’s house. Within an hour you cleaned the living room and kitchen and hung up your laundry to dry in your apartment. The worst part was the vacuuming, as like not owning cleaning supplies, he also didn’t have a vacuum. Go figure.

George eventually returned, greeted by your efforts and your limp body sprawled on his couch. You quickly got up, hoping he didn’t mind. Heck, this guy doesn’t have a vacuum, he can’t be the judge. “So, what do you think?” You anticipate.

“You did a bloody good job, I’ll tell ya that,” a smile on his face, making you smile too. “And since ya the best neighbour on this side of Metropolis, I got ya a lil payment to say thanks.”

George pulls out a crate of beers and takeaway pizza, presenting them to you. Your eyebrows knit in confusion, but you smile at the thought. “Thanks, George.”

“Please, call me Digger, everyone calls me that,” he said, “Thought we could have a couple of beers and I’d feed ya, but I’m no chef, hence the pizza.”

“So, Digger… is this you inviting me over for dinner?” You ask, pursing your lips. He thought about it and then nodded his head. “I guess I am,” he smirks.

Pizza crusts and beer cans decorate the coffee table, the television musing low music. You laugh at a joke Digger told you, hiding your mouth to not spit all over the place. He sits low on the couch, his hands resting between his legs with a beer. With your legs close to your chest, you take a sip of beer when a silence falls between you.

“Thanks for having me, I’m having a lovely time.” You confess, a little tipsy. You get shy admitting that, focusing on the music, unaware of Digger’s eyes not leaving your sight.

“I didn’t have a college kid cleaning my house on my bingo card,” he muses teasingly, smirking at your bashful smile.

“I am not a college kid! I graduated ages ago.”

“And by ages ago you mean in the last five years?”

He chuckles at your look of defeat. “Says the guy who’s five years off getting a pension,” you tease in defence.

“I’m not that old!” He defended back, “Nowhere near it!”

“Well, you’re at least old enough to clean your own house and have a vacuum.”

“You got me there…” he says into his beer.

The silence fell between you once again, but surprisingly it was not awkward. The air was thick, and not with stale air like before. You convince yourself it’s one-sided, keeping yourself together. You had an idea, but it was juvenile. When he doesn't say anything to keep the conversation going, you go on and suggest it.

“How about we play truth or drink?”

“How old are you? Five?” He scoffs.

“We already established my age, remember? C’mon, it’ll be a good icebreaker. Don’t you wanna get to know your friendly neighbour?” You nudge his arm playfully, realising you’ve been going that a lot since you had a drink. Mostly when he told a joke. You try not to cringe, realising your inferiority. He probably thinks you’re immature, and you suddenly see yourself as a fool. But when he turns his body towards you, giving you his full attention while cracking open another beer, you feel a little better about yourself.

“Who’s asking first?” He asks.

You volunteered since you suggested playing. You turn towards him, fighting through a fit of giggles, liking the way his eyes smile at you. He has nice eyes, light in colour, a mix of blue and grey with crow's feet winging the sides.

“Okay, let’s start easy. How long have you lived on the block?” You ask.

“‘Bout five months, I’d say,” he says.

“Do you move around a lot?”

“Oi, thought you ask one question at a time?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just curious,” you dart your eyes to his smirking lips before looking away.

“To answer your other question, I do move around a bit. It’s a job thing.”

You look back at him, catching his stare, the one that never seems to fade from you. You like the way he stares at you, so attentive like he refuses to have you out of his sight. It’s the type of stare that makes someone feel special.

“My turn,” he chirps, “are you always this shy around people?”

“What? I’m not shy,” you scoff.

“Really? You’re not shy?”

“What happened to starting easy?”

“No, you said that. I didn’t. I never start easy,” he says haughtily.

You roll your eyes, taking the beer can to your lips and taking a sip. Digger scoffs in shock, “No way are you drinking to that.”

“It’s a ridiculous question, plus I technically did answer the question. I’m not shy.”

Digger shakes his head in disappointment, breaking eye contact to chuckle into his hand. You narrow your eyes, readying the next question.

“Do you have a wife and kids?” You ask.

Digger didn’t act like you struck a nerve, but he wasn’t laughing anymore. He shook his head, and you take that as an answer, not wanting to press further. Yet, he begins to speak, in a tone softer than the one you’ve been getting used to;

“I know at my age I probably should, but it’s never worked out, y’know? The whole love thing I’ve never gotten the hang of.”

You resonate with him, meekly returning a smile. “Me either.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Digger said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, you’re good-looking. Woulda bet somebody snagged ya by now.”

You can’t help but chuckle, hearing how wrong his words are. “I guess I’ve gotten close before, but it was never meant to be.”

Digger nods in agreement like he is in the same boat. You had a strong urge to move closer to him, but resort to fidgeting with a thread on the coach. “Who’s turn is it?”

“Mine,” Digger returns his gaze to you. It was more intense, and you feel him all over you. As you grow the courage to meet his eyes, you see them trailing from your lips to meet you, his icy eyes darkening and lips parting as he readies his words.

“How would you feel about kissing me?”

Your stillness speaks volumes to him, and from the look of shock in your eyes, Digger’s smile fades and turns sour. He hides his face in his hands, cursing under his breath.

“Fuck- Just drink to that, it was bloody stupid,” his self-depreciation eats at you and you try and find the words to explain yourself. He was right, you were shy, and it got in the way of your feelings. So much for being the big flirt like you planned.

“No, it’s fine, honestly-”

He cuts you off, “I just thought- why else would wanna hang out with an old fuck like me? Keep my packages, clean my house,” he groans out a sigh, “and the way you look at me, fuck, it’s been driving me insane all day.”

“Digger-” you catch his attention, softening your face, and placing your beer on the coffee table. You shift your body closer to his, your movement swift but gentle. “I’d like it if you kissed me.”

He blinks, adjusting his eyes to the proximity, noticing the small details of your features, the softness of your lips. He swallows back his nerves, “Nah- you’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

There is only one way to prove him wrong, and you did it by making the first move. You press your lips against him, and you're struck with his immediate touch as he engulfs you in his arms. Your hands snake up his chest to the back of his neck, deepening the kiss as he beckons you to press your body against him with his firm hold. He grins into the kiss at the sound of your whimpers, holding the small of your waist and guiding you to his lap. You go with the motion, swinging your leg around and straddling him, enamoured by the hold he has on you. The makeout was sloppy, tipsy on beer and getting more drunk on each other’s lips. Digger’s kisses were firm and deep, his chapped lips coated in your sweet spot as he glided his tongue along yours. His hands lay haven on your asses, rubbing his callous palm around the fabric of your pants, enchanting your hips to move ever so slightly.

“Ain’t so shy now, are ya?” He grunts into your ear, migrating his lips down your neck, sucking and nibbling on your faint skin. You see stars, closing your eyes in bliss, your fingers tugging at his shirt and fighting off the urge to rip it off. He takes the time to remove his t-shirt with your eager assistance, latching onto you once you discard it.

“Please, I need you,” you plead. You gaze down at him, your stare both close and far. His bucking hips invite your crotch to feel his length, the tip of his bulge grinding against your thigh.

He whispers to you, “Tell me what you want.”

“Use me, I know you want to,” you taunt, enjoying the light that ignites in his eyes, his grip tighter on your skin.

“You’ll regret saying that, but I bet you can handle it,” he jesters, pulling your hair to expose your neck, his lips latching back onto your sweet skin. His other hand pushes your top over your breasts, exposing your hardening nipples. Licking towards your nipples, sucking on them gently and cupping your tits in his hands, grazing his teeth when you grind down on his erection.

Digger, hungry for more of you, lays you down on the couch. His eyes demand your attention, taking time to pull down your pants and underwear, drenched in your arousal. He lowers his head to your cunt, prying your legs open as you try to hide how wet you were.

“Don’t hide from me, love, show me how pretty you are,” he muses, admiring your glistening walls, lapping them tenderly with the tip of his fingers. Relishing in your squirms, he gazes at you under his lashes. “Fuck, you’re drenched.”

Your hands grip his hair when his tongue makes contact with your sensitive walls, his prominent nose snug on your clit as he eats you out. His movements are deep and steady, keeping himself in place between your quivering thighs, refusing to come up for breath as a rising feeling of release fills your insides. Shifting his tongue from your walls to your clit, his nose taking place not to neglect your pleasure, his eyes checking your reactions as his pride swelled from your raptured state. He takes a breath to tease you in between, his hoarse voice wavering against your heat, “Look at you, getting so worked up for me.”

“’m so close,” that was music to Digger’s ears, egging him on to keep up the pace.

Your whimpers rise into moans, and your thighs shiver under his grip and come undone. Digger doesn’t stop, pressing a firm hand on your stomach, keeping you in place so he rides out your high. You’re flushed in humility, but fuck it feels amazing. You break a sweat, shivering at the cooling of your hot skin, sighing in relief when Digger finally relaxes his hold on you. His face meets yours, your arousal coating the stubble on his chin and spreading to his chops. He is ferocious and light-headed – as if drunk on the taste of you.

“Hope you’ve still got some spunk in ya,” he pants, “I’m as stiff as a board here.”

Digger invites your hand to feel his erection. You didn’t think he could be harder than he was before, but he comes full of surprises. He slings the waistband of his trousers down and his cock springs free, twitching at the touch of your flinching fingers.

“Jesus fucking Christ-” Blessed by the man himself, his size was insane. You straighten in intimidation.

“I’ll go slow, okay? Just- fuck- I’m bursting at the seams here,” he begs, cupping your cheek with a reassuring hand.

You nod with a morbid curiosity, unable to deny the instinct to have him inside you, to feel every inch of him. Digger litters you in kisses, sloppy and idle as he dampens your cheeks and lips. Opening your legs wide, sucking in a breath, you watch as he lines his cock to your entrance. There was no fuss in sliding inside you, your dripping cunt lubing his tip and coating his shaft, the feeling of him inside you more filling than painful. It sets a spark in your mind, your eyes distant, the twitch of his cock against your walls melting your senses.

An unexpected moan escapes Digger’s lips, but he is attentive enough to coo for your attention, holding your face and bringing you back to earth.

“You still with me, hun?” He chuckles at your dazed look, trying to keep himself together as you tighten around him. You blink back to reality and wrap your legs around him, mewling at the slow thrusts coming into you. You eventually nod a reply, straining your neck to witness his cock buried inside you to train your hole for his massive size. He takes advantage of your position, locking a hand behind your head and picking up the pace. He is smitten by your squeaks. His rough hand clenches your hip, setting out to fuck you good. As you will soon learn, Digger has a habit of getting carried away. You learn a lot of dirty things about him that both shock you and fill you with sweetly sick lust.

Digger has you bent over the arm of the couch, his cock pummelling in and out of your abused cunt, muffling your feral moans with a hand clasped over your mouth. He arches your back and presses his lips against your ear, reminding you that he can see right through you.

“Is this what you wanted? To fuck you; get you drunk on my fat dick. Bet you didn’t think I had it in me.”

“You’re so good, so ‘fucking good,” you moan, your eyes glued to him with lust, a sly smile across your face. Digger sticks two fingers into your mouth, teasing your tongue to swirl around them, smirking at your eagerness.

“Shit, that’s enough to make me finish,” he says in a low voice, “And you wouldn’t want me cumming inside you, would ya?”

The way you clench around his dick and the sidious look in the dim light suggest the opposite. “No, come inside me,” you seal the deal.

“You’re so bloody dirty.” Digger’s eyes turn dark, his hand wrapping around your neck, rutting into you faster and harder than before. You see stars, giving into the numbing pleasure you succumb to. A dumbfound smile stretches across your lips once you feel the warmth of Digger’s seed filling your cunt, hitting against your womb. His weight falls on you momentarily, leaving kisses along your back while his energy is slowly sucked out of him. His cock slips out and before his heavy eyes close over, he gazes at the cum dripping from your slit, groping your ass for a better view.

Digger gathers his senses, only noticing you struggling to get up from your stiff knees. He brings you onto his lap, soothing your legs and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Well, that was something…” He chuckles, “Ya think we got a little carried away?”

“I think I’ll never be able to walk again,” you joke, yet anticipated the next few days entailing leg pain.

He felt guilty, knowing to make up for it he would need more than pizza and beer. He continues to sooth your legs, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

“How’s about I run you a bath?” He suggests.

There he is again, that beacon of hope. He is going to find it hard to get rid of you now. “That’d be amazing.”

#digger harkness x reader #captain boomerang x reader #the suicide squad #kill the justice league #ssktjl #smut #dc fanfic #ehhh might be a lil ooc it's my first time writing him sorryyy

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adoregojo · 4 months

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he doesn't realise how lonely he is.

the birds nagging on the early morning was freaking annoying and made him wanted to block the window ten times more. he hated how his breakfast tasted, he added to much salt and now he keeps grimacing at every bite. the usual black stray cat on his doorstep keeps greeting him every morning, and all he could find to reply to it meowing was a frown. sunny days were nothing but a pain, the bright light hitting his face as if it was forcing him to like it. how vexing.

the difference shape of flowers peeking out from the next door store brings him nothing of a sense of joy, if anything he wanted to stay away from it due to it attracting the bugs. his coworkers never talk to him, not like he wants to talk to him. he never looked them in the eyes anyway.

he can clearly hear them, their whispers -that were too loud for him to hear- about him being likely an old grumpy grandpa in disguise, they even made bets on if he would smile one day. it didn't hurt him, he couldn't gave a good fuck for it, he just wanted this day to end so he could go home and never have to see anyone.

he doesn't take his shoes off when he's in the apartment, it was too much of a hassle and he doesn't get any visitors anyway. there's barely any food in his fridge, mostly leftovers. he just eats to survive another day. watching pointless tv shows that never truly entertained him, in fact he found them boring but as long as they kept him busy he didn't care.

winter was too cold, summer was too hot, autumn was stressful, and spring gets him a sick problems all the time.

he truly doesn't know where to enjoy anything in life.

well, until he met you.

all of a sudden, the birds melody doesn't sound so bad, so he opens the window for some fresh air. he stared to put afford in making breakfast, not his usual too slaty eggs it is now a fluffy pancakes with your guidance as you embraced him from behind. they weren't perfect, but the pleased noises you make after every bite made him proud. of course he doesn't forget to feed your cat, the same black cat that he claimed it was nothing but a bad luck.

he didn't realise of how much of a neighbours he had till he started coping how you greeted them, it was nice when they started sending you guys food. especially when you liked them and sometimes they'll send his favourite.

sunny days were welcomed now. especially when the bright light would hit on your skin causing a reflection that's making you a walking glowing star. maybe he liked the sun a bit now.

he made progress on talking back to him coworkers, instead of the silent treatment he actually looked at them knowledge them. he actually started looking at them when they speak to him because you told him it was rude not to. soon he was invited to lunch with them where he would show off his bento box you made for him, he was glad the whispers disappeared. he didn't get how much it bothered him till now.

the owner of the flower shop who was an old lady was now a common person he had to see every week, she remarked he was her most loyal client. he received a tones of advice and recommended flowers as well pinching his cheek as a farewell message. needless to say he always tried coming home -he stopped calling it an apartment- to you without an empty hand, having your favourite pair of flowers was a must now. as well taking off his shoes and putting it directly next to yours, this was it right place.

rethinking it now, winter may be still cold but at least he got the scarf you got for him warped up to his neck, if he buried his nose in the soft fur he could smell your cologne -a reason why it was his favourite one- summer was perfect for you two picnic dates, and every time he could kneel down and thank the sun for making you so blazing and sparkly.

autumn was where you would count the crunchy golden leaves, you sometimes warped yourself around it as if it was snow. it was his favourite memory since it made his heart beating fast. and in the end you were his spring, where his love would bloom for you again and again.

restaurants weren't a waste of money and time now. he has a prefers show and it was the one that made you laugh until the tears formed in your eyes, he honestly doesn't find them as funny but it makes you smile so he didn't care.

life stopped being meaningless afterwards, and he could finally say that he enjoyed living as long as it was beside you.

nagi, rin, sae, toji, choso, ushijima, kenma, diluc. kei, sakusa. you favs!

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rebouks · 5 months

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Brynn leapt up as she heard a set of keys jangling, relaxing as she realised it was just Ichiro heading out. She hadn’t expected to be quite so nervous, but the more time that passed, the jumpier she became. Brynn: Ohh, hi! Ichiro smiled brightly as he craned his neck over the fence; uttering a string of words that Brynn didn’t understand. She held up her hands apologetically. Brynn: Uhm… Ichiro: Kaito? Brynn nodded, pointing toward Wyatt’s house and offering a shrug; he wasn’t in.

Ichiro: Hm, erh-… Ichiro paused for a moment before swinging his arms back and forth whilst panting, almost as though he were jogging on the spot. Brynn: Ah, he is running? Ichiro: Again. Ichiro nodded excitedly, glad that she’d understood. His accent was thick, clumsy and full of warmth; he was so cute, Brynn wanted to give him a cuddle. Brynn: [laughs] Again?! Ichiro: Again!

Without much to say to one another, Brynn and Ichiro fell silent, both smiling awkwardly. He expressed his dislike of the chilly weather by rubbing his arms exaggeratedly and frowning, showing her how his plants were suffering with a shake of his head. Eventually, he lifted his sleeve and tapped his watch, bidding her an apologetic farewell; he clearly had somewhere to be.

Wyatt had slowed upon nearing home, squinting in the fading sunlight. Who was Ichiro wittering to now? It wasn’t until he got closer that he sped up again, realising that the woman was Brynn; and wanting her to himself for a while, he couldn’t help but smile as Ichiro retreated.

He’d decided a while ago that if Brynn ever returned, he wouldn’t hide or diminish how much he’d missed her-.. doing so in front of his neighbour’s grinning gaze was a step too far, however. Ichiro was well aware of Wyatt’s soft spot for her by now, but that was beside the point.

Wyatt nodded a quick greeting, running straight past Ichiro. Ichiro: You don’t usually run so fast. Wyatt: Ha-ha. Ichiro: Didn’t I tell you to be patient? Wyatt: Don’t you have somewhere to be? Ichiro: [snickers] She is very sweet-.. sprint!

Brynn’s stomach flipflopped as Wyatt approached, her greeting interrupted as he practically crashed into her. Wyatt: You came back. Brynn: I did! Wyatt: You look exhausted… Brynn: [laughs] I am! Wyatt: I missed you-.. so much. Brynn: I miss you too.

Wyatt felt odd being honest and sappy, but it was true. He hadn’t ever imagined missing someone quite so painfully, and part of him had begun to worry she wouldn’t come back at all-.. he was beyond glad that she had. Brynn: Ough-.. you are all sweaty! Wyatt: That’s never bothered you before. Brynn returned Wyatt’s smirk with a nervous giggle, thankful for an excuse to keep her distance and pull away. She wanted nothing more than to hold him close, sweaty or not, though she had something rather momentous to reveal first.

Wyatt: Your hands are freezing-.. come inside. Brynn: I not mind the cold! Wyatt: I know, but I’d rather not greet you properly out here. Brynn tittered, heart beating a hundred miles an hour as Wyatt took her hand and led her inside. What the hell was she going to say-.. what the hell would he say?

Previous // Next

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 story #sims story #forever in between #fib #wyatt shaw #brynn franz #ichiro hirai #ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhfghfh #yes get away cos ur all sweaty wyatt.. no other reason #nop #nu-uh #⚆_⚆

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fandom-freak-123 · 8 days

Note

If I could get a request in, the idea is reader showing the puppets metal music and their reactions.

Your ideas istg, they give me life.

These headcanons can be seen as Romantic or Platonic.

This reader is gender neutral (No pronouns mentioned for the reader).

Welcome home reactions to you introducing them to metal music.

———————————————————————————————————

Wally Darling

———————————————————————————————————

•Just a wide eyed stare

•Mildly concerned for your sanity

•Telling Julie asap

•Scared but also enjoys it

•usually listens to folk music

•“this… is very loud neighbour… the lyrics are… uhm… interesting”

———————————————————————————————————

Howdy Pillar

———————————————————————————————————

•Has to turn the music down

•Really enjoys it but usually listens to pop music

•Asks if you have any tapes with more music like it

•Will listen to it while reading

•He can’t understand the words but he’s enjoying them nonetheless

•“where do you find this stuff? You’ve got to tell me”

———————————————————————————————————

Barnaby B. Beagle

———————————————————————————————————

•Already listens to Metal

•Will recommend you songs

•Happy to find someone else who likes Metal

•Has full albums of metal bands

•Mumbling the lyrics under his breath

• “I used to listen to this one a lot but I haven’t for a long time”

———————————————————————————————————

Frank Frankly

———————————————————————————————————

•Really not a fan

•Prefers alternative and indie music

•Listens to two words

•Never trusts you with music again

•Covering his ears

•“it’s so loud! Who needs that much bass?!”

———————————————————————————————————

Eddie Dear

———————————————————————————————————

•Has a heart attack /hj

•Usually listens to country music

•Trying to understand the lyrics

•Will listen to more until he can understand it

•Spends WAY too long trying to find out the meaning

•“but what is it all about???? It talks about so much but so little”

I’m so sorry it took so long I’ve been lost on motivation for a while along with being really busy, I hope this makes up for the other one!

Farewell my little butterflies!

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teejaystumbles · 1 month

Text

Against all odds (Part 5)

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

(this continues directly after Part 4, Hob reads the rest of Dream's entry)

Negligence and luck were my saviours in the end. I managed to escape and take my revenge. I have recovered my tools of office and my power. I am free. And yet I feel like part of me is still trapped inside that basement, as unconnected to the world around me as I was before, but in a different way. Before I was captured I felt, if not above then distinctly separate from humanity; I resented that my existence depends on them, on you. I felt detached, outside of what should be intimately familiar to me. Now I am able to recognise that, but to overcome my reluctance to embrace humanity more is still a struggle. I know that not all of you are like Roderick Burgess but the fear lingers, despite logic telling me there is nothing to fear. I know my function is to serve them and my imprisonment caused great harm to many. I see now why I cannot go on like I used to. I hope that you might help me with getting to know humanity again, as you have so many times before. I confess that in my mind you had stopped being simply a human and therefore outside of how I judged humanity. You might have worried I might look down on you, but in fact I have long since seen you as someone apart from the humans I tend to. For that I am sorry, because you are just as deserving and in need of my attention as everyone else. Your perspective was supposed to help me understand humanity better, to grow closer to humans and I failed to learn my lesson. I only grew closer to you, while completely ignoring that you are human and failing to extend my feelings for you onto the rest of humanity. I was supposed to listen to you and learn what it is like to live a human life, but I did not internalise the lesson. I hope that with time I will become able to value human lives in their entirety and show others more respect and compassion. This will not come easy to me after nearly a century spent in a cage at the hand of a human, but I will try.

I apologise, Hob. All this will not make much sense to you because I have still not told you who I am, and I still wish to do so in person. Suffice it to say that you have already glimpsed the truth and noticed changes that are related to my person and what happened to me. Feel free to guess, my friend, but be assured that I will give you my name soon. Maybe then you will understand the scope of all I’ve relayed to you.

I have laid myself bare for you, my friend. I do not think I could have articulated half of this had we talked face to face. Admitting to my faults and insecurities does not come easy to me. My ordeal has left me with some conditions that I did not know I was capable of suffering. As you already know I am struggling with being in enclosed spaces, and I feel especially reluctant if there is a lot of glass. I also do not enjoy being close to humans I do not know, although, as you well know, I know everyone. This is limited to certain aspects of their person, though, and does not include mind reading. Therefore I find myself apprehensive of their goals and possible actions, which is why I prefer to keep my distance. I know that these fears are not logical and that I should be able to “shake them off” - yet I cannot, and I do not know for how long they will impede me. My greatest fear I have so far not articulated, though. If I tell you my name, will you still look at me the same way?

The words stop without a farewell and Hob drops the journal with a choked sob, his eyes wide and watering. He wants to howl. He refrains for the sake of his neighbours and simply slumps to the floor beside the fallen book. It’s still open and Hob rereads the last line through more and more tears welling up. He makes a sound like a wounded animal and gets back up on his knees, searches for a pen on top of the desk and then immediately launches into writing a reply right there on the floor.

My friend, my dearest friend!

Why would you think that I would ever look at you differently? You are more dear to me than anyone else and knowing your name and who or what you truly are will not change that! I believe I have been privileged to get to know you over the few times we met, and even more through these letters we have been writing. Even if your name was Oberon, or Hades, or hell, even Lucifer! I would not look at you differently, except to ask you why you lied when I first guessed that you might be a demon. I don’t think you would ever lie to me, though. Whatever you are, I have thought about it and puzzled over it since I first met you, so you know that the only way I would look at you if I finally got to know your name would be with awe and curiosity - the same way I have always looked at you. You are endlessly fascinating to me and I cannot believe you would think that I might change my opinion on you because of something as unimportant as a name. I already know you, dear stranger, with or without it. So I say, don’t tell me unless you truly want to. Don’t think you owe me a name or explanation. I do not need it. All I need is you, and our conversations.

Hob pauses his writing and lets the pen drop from his fingers, drawing a shaky breath and rubbing his eyes. He wishes he had planned this better, thought about what he would write before starting, but in the end it’s maybe best to give his stranger this excessive honesty. Hob has a bad feeling about his friend’s entry simply stopping and what he probably needs is immediate assurance. So this is what Hob will lead with, and address the other issues afterwards. He means it, too. He doesn’t care who or what his friend truly is. He’s Hob’s friend, the oldest and best he’s got, and he’s determined to keep him, no matter what kind of being he turns out to be. “My sister, Death.” That's what his stranger wrote, Hob remembers and flips the pages of the journal back, rereading the first part of his friend’s entry. Roderick Burgess tried to summon Death, and got her brother instead. Death’s brother. His friend is Death's brother. What could that possibly make him? One of the four horsemen? Pestilence, or Famine? War seems unlikely, somehow. Actually none of these fit his stranger, Hob thinks and shakes his head slightly. He gets up and sits at the desk, the journal open in front of him. He doesn’t quite know what to write next and so he drops the pen and goes to wash his face and make himself tea, trying to collect his thoughts in the meantime.

When he returns to the bedroom he finds he cannot write more without mulling it all over first. He feels empty, the horror of his friend’s ordeal growing more and more clearer in his mind. He doesn’t know what to write besides “Please let me hold you. Please let me make you smile. Please let me love you.” None of that seems even nearly appropriate to tell to a traumatised person that is probably not even remotely attracted to him. What his stranger needs now is a friend (well, actually a therapist, but Hob will do his best), not a clingy lover like Hob.

He goes to bed and leaves the journal open on the desk. Maybe when he wakes up he’ll be able to find the right words. He falls asleep to thoughts of prisons made of glass, his friend stuck inside, looking mournfully at him.

Hob dreams of the White Horse. He wears his modern clothes but the Inn looks like it did in 1589 and with a smile he sits down at the lavishly decorated table, ready to host his friend. When Hob looks up his stranger is standing a few feet away on the other side of the table. He looks like Hob saw him in his bedroom, although his hair is a bit wilder and his black coat looks longer and is speckled with stars. Hob smiles at him and gestures at the spread.

“My friend! Sit, eat! You must be awfully hungry!”

His stranger frowns and takes a cautious step closer, looking at the table laden with food, then back at Hob.

“You offer me sustenance, my friend?”

I offer you everything.

“Of course,” Hob exclaims, “this, and more! If there is anything I can give you, I will! Please, only ask and I will try and find a way to get it for you.”

Hob wants to stop talking but he can’t seem to stop the words. “Be it food or drink, or hugs, or kisses - everything I have, my heart, if you but ask, is yours.” He blushes, knows that his eyes have grown wide in shock and still he cannot stop looking at his friend, staring at him in open adoration. Brother of Death, brother of Death, his mind keeps shrieking at him and Hob feels his smile crumble in dread as his stranger does not visibly react to Hob’s words at all. Too forward, too honest! Fool, you dare, he chides himself and bites his tongue when he feels more words on the cusp of breaking free.

His stranger does not acknowledge Hob’s words, he slowly picks up a strawberry and takes a delicate bite. His dark eyes do not leave Hob’s for even a second, though. Hob feels heat pool in his belly and bites his tongue harder until he feels blood well up inside his mouth. He opens it and a drop spills out, staining his lips as red as the strawberry is staining his friend’s. His stranger’s eyes are black from side to side now, gleaming in the low light like pearls. Hob blinks and suddenly the man is right in front of him, reaching out until his fingertip gently brushes the drop of blood from Hob’s lips, the next moment he is standing at the other end of the table again, a half-eaten strawberry staining his fingers. Hob feels lightheaded and grips the table to remain upright. What is going on? This is the strangest dream he’s ever had. The voice of his friend is suddenly coming from everywhere, reverberating inside Hob’s head.

“I accept your offering, dear Hob. I promise to cherish it…and treat it with utmost care.”

Hob wants to ask what his friend means but he feels very tired all of a sudden, despite knowing that he’s already asleep. He feels himself sink back into what feels like soft cushions and the room darkens around them until all he can see are two twin stars twinkling in his friend’s eyes. Then there is nothing but darkness, and sleep.

Part 6

#this went in a different direction than I had anticipated but I'm rolling with it #dreamling #1989 au #the sandman fanfiction #teejay writes

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sighs-deeply-and-dreadfully · 1 year

Note

Hello! I don't know how this works, but anyways, I wanna make a request n.n

Can you do any character you like X neighbor who's sensitive to loud sounds?

If you don't want to feel free to ignore xD Thanks!

No worries at all, thanks for requesting!! <3 /p

I’ll just do this with Wally since I’m itching to write for him rn :] if you’d like to see a specific character later on feel free to re-ask!! /nf

Catastrophic Cacophony

Wally x GN!Reader Who’s Sensitive to Loud Sounds!

Headcanon format (.. Drabble length. I am a fool.. /lhj) , relation can be interpreted by reader!

As long as you could remember, loud noises got to you. Whether they startled you, or however you reacted, they got to you. It’s just how you were, which is perfectly okay! But to say it didn’t pose an issue sometimes would be.. difficult.

From a particularly loud laugh from a friend, or a screechy microphone at an assembly, to concerts, to movie theatres— loud was everywhere. It could be mediated with headphones, of course, but it was still everywhere. So when you moved into the quaint, sleepy neighbourhood? It was quite relieving!

Sure, the denizens would sometimes get a bit rowdy and loud— but they all seemed to understand if you withdrew, or needed a break— which was very relieving! Besides, they weren’t too loud— nothing going inside your quaint little home couldn’t remedy!

Today was one of those days. The sounds had piled up, and it somewhat felt like everything kept getting louder. Sure, you could maybe brush off the occasional screech— even if it rustled your jimmies a bit (/j), but today? Far too much, far too fast.. So off you took! Bidding the others farewell, you’d take off— taking to idly strolling around the town, today!

As you took a moment to breathe in the newfound silence, settling on one of the rickety, brightly coloured benches of the town— you’d soon hear a small creak from its backrest. This was soon followed by a familiar voice, slow and quiet.

“Helloo.”

It was none other than Wally. His impeccably quiet walking had gotten the better of your senses today— ignoring the fact you.. weren’t actually too sure where he showed up from!

Peeking up, you’d give a brief smile and a hushed greeting before looking away from his unwavering gaze. Slightly intimidating, but by now you knew he meant no harm!

“Do you mind.. if I join you, neighbour?”

You glance over again, immediately meeting his gaze again, and give a small nod. Soon, he’d settle on the bench beside you.

Over time, you had noticed that he seemed to notice your issues— though it wasn’t like you tried to really hide them all too much, anyhow. You noticed as, when he was alone with you, he seemed to make an extra effort to not be loud— which wasn’t too hard for the puppet, anyhow, but I digress.

His voice wouldn’t raise much further beyond his normal talking voice, and his tone would stay steady— never skipping up too high. He wasn’t really sure if pitch got to you, too, but better safe than sorry! Not like he minded to speak somewhat flatly, anyhow— it was already how he spoke, to an extent!

Seemingly, though, he had just followed you out here for your company. He didn’t mind comfortable silence, and he surely hoped you didn’t, too.

Even if that silence was.. a smiiidge less comfortable due to the fact, unless he got momentarily distracted, he was just.. kinda staring at you, idly. Why, he’s an artist, he can’t help but to observe (/j)!

But, with that, you two would just.. sit. Maybe you’d chat a bit, when you had calmed down— he’d let you lead when that conversation would start. But until then? He was perfectly happy to sit in silence with you. Especially on such a nice day!

Hihi!! So sorry if that wasn’t great <:] I wasn’t too sure what to do with the prompt— but I hope the way I took it was satisfactory either way!! Thank you again for requesting!!

I also kinda,, maybe a smidge based this off of my own sensitive hearing HAHA — but I’m hoping I didn’t make it too specific! Tried to make it able to apply to a majority :]

… if you saw me post this early on accident because my finger slipped; nuh uh, no you didn’t /lhj HAHA

#wally darling #Wally darling x reader #welcome home #welcome home Wally darling #x reader #sighsdeeplyanddreadfully

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wisedawn13 · 7 months

Text

#xiantober Day 3: Xianxian's Parents

WCZ and CSSR have been neighbours with LQR for many years now. They don't particularly get along seeing as CSSR constantly finds ways to prank and tease LQR, but they don't not get along either.

It's amicable enough, to say the least.

Since WY was born, though, they haven't seen as much of each other. Especially the past couple weeks. CSSR has been getting progressively concerned over her favourite neighbour's disappearance and WCZ can only say he agrees. Something has definitely happened.

But they aren't close enough that they could go over and ask. Well, CSSR could and would, but WCZ has reined her in. LQR is a very independent man. If there is stress, they should not add to it. Surprisingly, his wife acquiesced and has opted to wait and see for another few days.

A somewhat frantic knock at the door at 7:15 pm on an unassuming Wednesday brings WCZ out of his thoughts. He opens the door to find none other than LQR. Only instead of being put together, he looks like a frightful mess. He also has two young boys with him.

One boy is held in his arms, coughing and wheezing. The other boy is a small, timid young thing half hiding behind LQR's legs. The boy looks up at WCZ with wide, wet eyes.

"Change," LQR says. "I apologize for the suddenness of this, but could I bother you to watch my nephew?"

WCZ looks down at the small boy once more and watches as he slinks further back behind his uncle's legs. "Of course," he replies, looking back at LQR. "Is there anything else we can do to help?'

LQR shakes his head. "No. No, that is all currently. Thank you."

"It's no problem, A-Ying will love to have a friend to spend time with."

LQR nods. "A-Zhan is a shy one, but I hope your boy can befriend him."

WCZ finds that statement somewhat of a surprise, given their history. Regardless, he nods.

The boy in LQR's arms whimpers and LQR gently rubs his back, swaying from side to side. "I truly am sorry, I have to bring A-Huan to the hospital. I only just suddenly became my nephews' guardian and now this has happened..."

WCZ's eyes widen at that.

"You are doing fine, Qiren. This isn't your fault. We are always here if you need help, you don't have to do this alone."

LQR presses his mouth in a thin line and nods. He takes a shaky breath and turns his attention to little LZ. "A-Zhan, you have to go with WCZ now, okay?"

LZ looks at his uncle and his lip quivers. He grips onto LQR's pants and shakes his tiny head.

LQR sighs. "A-Zhan, please. I need to take your brother to get better but you have to stay here. They have a boy your age, you can make a friend."

"No," LZ says in a quiet voice.

WCZ squats down and looks at LZ. "A-Zhan, it's okay. I know you are scared but your uncle needs to go. It's for your brother, yeah? You want him to get better?" LZ nods slowly. "And you want to help?" LZ nods again, more sure. "Then staying with us is the best way to help."

LZ seems to consider that. He glances from WCZ to LQR to LH and back to WCZ. His face shows trepidation but he slowly releases his uncle's pants and waddles over to WCZ.

WCZ holds a hand out and LZ takes it. When he stands, LQR looks at him with relief. "Thank you, again."

WCZ shakes his head. "It's no trouble. Go."

With a quick nod and a farewell to LZ, LQR leaves with his elder nephew in his grasp.

WCZ steps back into the house with LZ in tow and closes the door. "Well, A-Zhan. How about you come meet my wife and son?"

LZ's lip quivers.

WCZ leads LZ further into the house, making their way up the stairs.

"Baobei? Who was at the door?" CSSR calls out from the washroom.

"It was Qiren," he replies.

"Oho? What did he want?" There's the sound of WY giggling as WCZ reaches the doorway to the washroom.

At the sight of other people, LZ gasps quietly and hides behind WCZ's legs.

The sight of CSSR towelling off WY's hair as he squirms and giggles makes WCZ smile. CSSR turns and flashes him a bright smile but her eyes quickly catch onto the movement of LZ.

"Who's this?"

WCZ crouches down, gently moving LZ out from behind him. "This is A-Zhan," he explains. "He's Qiren's nephew and we are watching him tonight."

At that, WY shoves the towel off his head and gasps loudly when he sees LZ. LZ shrinks back into WCZ's touch. WY smiles and runs to him.

"Hi! I'm Wei Ying! Will you be my friend?"

LZ's eyes widen and he looks up at WCZ, uncertain. WCZ nods with a soft smile. LZ turns back to WY, relaxing slightly. "Mn. I am Lan Zhan," he says quietly.

WY beams and takes LZ's hand. "Come, Zhanzhan! I'll show you my room!"

With that, WY leads LZ out of the washroom and down the hall to his room. LZ follows without a fuss. WCZ smiles and turns his attention back to his wife who is kneeling on the floor. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Qiren has become the guardian of his two nephews," he explains.

"The eldest needed to go to the hospital so A-Zhan is staying with us for now."

CSSR nods. "I'm glad he reached out to us."

"Me too. I feel that our little A-Ying will make A-Zhan feel more comfortable. It must be hard on the poor boy."

CSSR hums. "I have an idea."

A short while later, things are set up in the livingroom, so WCZ heads upstairs to get the boys. He hears the familiar chatter of his son and when he looks into WY's room he finds LZ sitting on WY's bed, hugging WY's favourite plushy (Tuzi, a white rabbit) tightly to his chest.

WY is chattering on about each and every one of his plushies, explaining their names and stories to LZ before placing them on the bed around LZ. It's the cutest sight and WCZ almost doesn't want to disrupt them.

"Oh! Baba! Can I give Zhanzhan Tuzi?"

WCZ blinks. "Are you sure?"

WY nods quickly. "Tuzi is great at making people feel better and I want Zhanzhan to feel the best!" LZ squeezes Tuzi tighter, resting his face on the rabbit and looking at WY with wide eyes.

WCZ smiles and ruffles his son's hair. "If you're sure, then yes."

WY beams.

"Hear that Zhanzhan?" he exclaims, hopping over to the bed. "You can have Tuzi and Tuzi will make you feel better always!"

LZ nods and sniffles. "Mn. Thank you, Yingying."

WY giggles and bounces up and down.

"A-Ying, A-Zhan, we have a surprise for you downstairs."

The boys both look at him before WY once again grabs LZ's hand and pulls him along. LZ follows easily, Tuzi held tightly in his free hand.

Together, they make their way down into the livingroom where they find it has been transformed into a blanket and pillow fort.

WY gasps loudly, practically vibrating with excitement. LZ's face softens into a look of wonder.

CSSR pops her head out of the fort and smiles. "What are you waiting for? Come on in!"

The boys quickly run over, climbing inside. WCZ follows, settling in behind CSSR.

The boys look around the space in awe. The livingroom is dark but there are string lights illuminating for fort inside. WY plops down on a pile of pillows and gestures for LZ to join him. Tentatively LZ sits down beside WY, hugging Tuzi tightly.

CSSR smirks, placing a blanket on the boys and bringing a tray of snacks over for them. WY smiles and takes a handful of goldfish crackers, but instead of eating them himself, he feeds them to LZ, who accepts them with no fuss. CSSR squeals and settles against WCZ.

"Aren't they the cutest?" she whispers.

WCZ smiles, wrapping an arm around her. "They are."

"Do you boys want to watch a movie?"

There's a hushed conversation between the boys before WY turns to them. "How To Train Your Dragon, please."

CSSR chuckles, getting the movie ready.

"So polite all of a sudden," she teases. "A-Zhan is such a good influence on my little troublemaker."

"Hey!" WY whines. "I'm a good boy!"

"Mn," LZ agrees.

WCZ and CSSR melt. "You are, A-Ying," he assures his son. WY nods and turns his attention back to LZ.

The boys watch the movie with rapt attention, only pulling their gaze away to feed eachother snacks. As the movie goes on, they begin to droop, cuddling into eachother more and more until CSSR looks over and gasps quietly, getting WCZ's attention.

The two boys are fast asleep.

They are curled up, facing eachother, and holding eachother close with Tuzi in the middle of them. CSSR coos and takes her phone out to take a multitude of photos. WCZ smiles to himself.

He hopes LQR and LH are doing well, but he is thankful WY and LZ got to meet.

He knows that they will continue to be good friends as the years go on.

It's not until WCZ is standing in front of a crown at WY and LZ's wedding that he realizes just how right and yet, how wrong he was. He smiles as he regales the crowd with the story of how his sons met.

Behind him, the photo of them curled up together asleep is shown on a large screen.

He looks over to his sons, smiling at the sight of them curled into eachother even now, so happy on their wedding day.

He's so proud of the men they have become.

----------

Link to thread

#xiantober #wangxian #mdzs #threadfic #mo dao zu shi #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #lan wangji #lan zhan #wei wuxian #wei ying #from twitter #wisedawn13 #fanfic #fanfiction

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straykits · 2 years

Text

[ 5:32am / lee minho ]

hi friends, this is my little piece for @neo-shitty’s 24/8 collab event! it was very nice to feel part of smth hehe, even if it took me longer than necessary to get this up. anyways. 5-6am. i hope you guys aren’t surprised with the little thing i chose to write hehehe 😌

genres: friendly neighbours to ‘this could probably definitely be something more’

warnings: none, methinks.

wc: 1.6k (rounded up)

taglist: @hyuneytoast @violixs @dalkom-han @speckled-sunshine @peachy-yabbayy @smrutiisiva-13 @lixesque

the world, asleep, seemed so quiet. an entirely different being to what it was in the day. breeze after breeze kiss your cheek, brisk and cold and unforgiving.

that’s what you get, you suppose, for waking up at 5am and standing on the roof of your apartment building.

the city below you was barely showing signs of life. streetlights were still bright, constellated into a map of the many roads that made up your home. there were few windows in the apartment buildings around yours that were lit. people, silhouetted against their closed curtains, could be seen starting their day - by choice or by requirement, you didn’t know.

you hear the metalic creak of the door hehind you opening, and a hiss as the cold hits the newcomer. as they near you, you turn your head, and you’re greeted with the smell of hot chocolate.

“you’re insane,” minho says, his brows furrowed against the cold. he’s bathed in the blue of early morning and the shadow of his hooded jacket. his breath is visible before him momentarily before it fades away. “it’s freezing and you’re standing there like you’re immune. i can’t believe you do this every day.”

not every day, you want to protest, but you know by now how futile it would be.

so instead, you take a hot chocolate from him. “did you make this yourself?”

“yep. using the instant powder.” he takes a sip of his own, struggling against the hotness of it. a painful gulp later, he nods affirmatively. “tastes cafe made, i must say.”

with a scoff of laughter, you turn back to the cityscape. warmth seeps from the cup into your fingers, and you imagine it travelling up your arms and warming up your body.

the sky was still dark, it’s blue hues deep and lonely, waiting for the warmth of sunrise. clouds littered the sky; you had gone to sleep to the sound of rain, it’s calming pitter-patter leaving you worried that the plans you had for the following morning would be unachievable.

for the first time since moving in, you had run into minho while returning from enjoying the early morning sky. he had been about to leave for his morning run - a crazy idea, you had informed him, to have anytime before 7am, but he had refuted that you were doing something quite similar.

“and why are you returning home at this time? don’t tell me-” he had wriggled his brows, his meaning clear in the way his lips lifted into a grin and his eyes sparkled with tease.

“no, of course- of course not! i’d at least be dressed better, if that was the case,” you replied, gesturing down at your layers of sweaters and jackets. “no, i was- looking at the stars.”

your neighbour had frozen at those words, his face furrowed in confusion. “…at this time?”

“some things are only viewable at certain times,” you had explained. “I’ll show you sometime, if you want.”

minho had nodded his head slowly, contemplation on his face. “sounds like a date?”

and although you had rolled your eyes, bidding him farewell as you entered back into the warmth and comfort of your apartment, you stood here with him now.

“so... anything in particular that we’re looking for?” minho moves to stand next to you, elbows on the railing and hot chocolate held securely over the street below. “i can see the stars, but they don’t look any different to how they do most nights.”

indeed, the stars twinkled above, and minho was right. they didn’t look too different to how they did the last time you were up here.

but then again, you thought, wasn’t that the beauty of it? of most things? that they look the same, that they don’t seem to change, and yet people are still so drawn to them?

“did you know that some of these stars are planets?”

“is this a pop quiz?”

ignoring minho’s deadpan expression, you scan the sky for the brightest star.

“do you see that one? the one that’s really bright-” you freeze, glancing over at your companion to find his attention trained on the ground. you whack his arm. “stop pointing at the streetlight!”

feigning hurt, minho rubs his arm as he pouts at you. his eyes quickly turn skyward, however, and follows where your finger is pointed to.

“yeah, i see it.” he pauses, and you imagine him squinting at the star. “it really is bright.”

a small thrill fills your chest - something about sharing the things you know and the things you love with someone always made you happy, no matter the time of day. “that’s venus!”

the joy must have been plainly obvious in your voice, for minho turns to you with a slight smile on his lips, his brows creased in the middle, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of your excited tone.

biting the inside of your cheek, you mumble an apology.

“no,” minho shakes his head. “don’t apologise. that was surprisingly endearing.”

he says it so casually, so effortlessly, as if he was simply commenting about the colour of the sky.

you gulp, scanning the windows in the building opposite for something to focus on. “’surprisingly’? what’s that supposed to mean?” you mumble. he probably didn't mean anything by it, you knew,

you aren't sure if he had heard your words or not, for he sniffles and shakes his head vigourously , as if such an act could ward off the cold.

"so, venus, huh? the planet? that's... pretty cool. who'd have known that you could see the planets from here." minho turns, his back now against the railing and head tilted up at the sky. the hood of his padded jacket falls back and his hair blows about. he raises a hand, pushing it back.

it was a futile thing, for the wind blew it back into a mess, but something about the gesture makes your stomach flip, and you turn back to the sky.

a moment of silence passes between the two of you, and your ears finally hear past the wind, zoning in on the sound of cars below. people really are starting their day at this hour, and yet you and your neighbour are still watching the night sky - or, the early morning sky, really.

"so?"

“…so?”

“well…?” minho starts, gesturing vaguely with his hands. “continue to dazzle me with your facts - that is, on the assumption that you have more facts about the stars.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, all too aware that minho's eyes were trained on you, his head slightly tilted away from the sky.

when you turn to glance at him in return, he nods encouragingly.

and so you dazzle him.

minho stands silently next to you, nodding and humming as you feed him information about the sky. he listens attentively the entire time, asking questions when you seemed out of things to say, and following your finger as you point different things out to him.

“….and, although you insisted, i really think i’m rambling,” you mumble, the words followed by a nervous laugh.

minho turns to you with a confused smile, eyes bright. “and you can keep going, you know. i like hearing you-”

“the sun’s about to rise.”

you couldn’t let him finish that sentence. why? you weren’t even sure. but the way your ears were starting to ring and your stomach was feeling like you were standing on the edge of this roof with no railing… it was scary.

the good kind of scary, you knew, but scary nontheless.

minho’s face falls briefly, and he regains his composure so quickly thatyou almsot think you must have been seeing things. he looks away, looks to your left, where the sky was slowly starting to brighten.

“huh.”

it’s all he says, and you instantly regret cutting him off.

“well,” minho opens and closes his mouth, and when he speaks, the hesitance is almost inaudible in his voice. “if sunrise is soon, why… don’t I go grab us some food, and we can watch the sunrise together?”

ah, maybe you hadn’t overstepped a line. the regret and anxiety in your stomach eases.

you turn to him, brow raised and lips trying to fight off a grin, the cause of which you barely even knew yourself. “weren’t you just complaining a few minutes ago about how cold and unbearable it was up here?”

he raises his hands in defense. “well, i never said it was unbearable. maybe the company really makes the difference.”

“why,” you gasp, hand splayed dramatically against your chest. “i’m honoured to be called good company.”

minho shakes his head, chuckling so lightly you might have missed it had the hood of your jacket been pulled tight around your ears. with a start, he pushes himself up off the railings and starts backing away, towards the door. “I’ll see you back out here in fifteen?”

you nod as he reaches the door, your chest warm. as he turns back around, the sound of morning birds reaches your ears for the first time that day. you were almost certain that if you turned towards the eastern horizon and stripped away the cityscape, the familiar oranges of sunrise would be visible.

“it almost sounds like a date,” you manage, your ears suddenly warmer than they were before.

a twinkle in his eye, minho grins at you from the door.

“almost,” he says teasingly, before slipping away.

---

thank you for reading! please remember that comment/feedback and reblogs are much appreciated. much love, always <3

#ficscafe #stray kids x reader #stray kids drabble #stray kids timestamp #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #lee minho x reader #lee minho drabble #lee minho imagines #lee minho timestamp #lee minho fluff #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know drabble #lee know timestamp #lee know blurb #stray kids blurb #lee know fluff

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kittychicha · 6 months

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Hi ! I’m sorry, I hope you accept asks from strangers. I just discovered your tumblr and am also very new to lakorn and dramas in general. Do you by any chance would have any recs of good wlw shows please ? Your gifsets are amazing you seem to have very good taste !

hiii first of all thank you sm you're so sweet 🥺 im flattereddd gotta say i would not trust my taste that much its really all over the place 🫣 but i'll leave some wlw shows/movies for youu keep in mind that since wlw is unfortunately not such a big genre most of these are super short or very low budget but we love them anywaysss

she loves to cook and she loves to eat: suuuper sweet slice of life about two neighbours who get together to eat addressing also all the expectations that get put on women by society.

sf8: the prayer (ep1): a caregiver robot falls in love with the daughter of her elderly patient.

sf8: joan's galaxy (ep 3): the world is divided between rich people who can afford healthcare and poor ppl who cannot and die young from contamination to the enviroment. (START WITH THIS ONE JUST TRUST ME. if u gotta watch 1 thing from the whole list its this. bring the tissues.)

GAP: the typical intern dates the CEO but make it lesbians.

sleep with me: a radio host who gives love advice to her listeners falls for one of the contestants who comes to claim a price.

fragrance of the first flower: two women who separated in high school reunite after many years and realize the spark they felt back then is still present. (they dont end up together which pissed off a lot of people but i enjoyed this, dont mind a sad ending if its done right)

fantasy of the girls: the high school theatre club does romeo and juliet, the girl that plays juliet starts having feelings for her co-star.

alice: crack of season: girl in love w her high school bestie.

the serpent's song: gay nun kitty chicha.

the substitute: the lead actress in an action movie and her stunt double fall in love.

couple of mirrors: a novelist befriends an assassin. (it's like super censored so its "friendship" but i liked the whole plot)

the married woman: gotta admit that the ending did piss me off a looooot but we gotta mention it bc 85% of this was gr8

love tech: an app that controls everyone's love life including who they should date, and when should they break up.

farewell song: a band falls apart due to unrequited love, but they decide to get together for a farewell tour. (they tried to sell it as a straight love triangle AND YETTT its all ab the lesbiansss no one cares ab that dudeee we're here for MUGI AND NANA 😍)

condo barista architect: an architect falls for a girl that runs a coffee shop.

schoolgirl complex: a high school senior falls for their new club member who is known for being unreliable. (on the same note a very similar japanese movie is blue)

aaand i do have more on my review page <3 but i think these ones stood out the most to me. bc then there's the whole genre of youtube wlw like shakeshoulder, cheezefilm, 75°C, legend of yun qian / legend of yunze, am i the only one with butterflies, lily fever, girlfriend project etc like if you start going down this path you'll find a lot lol though they are usually just ads with a wlw plot but fun to watch anyways?

#ask #recs #sorry if this is an overwhelming list alkjsdhalks also i dont know the definition of good #like whenever someone asks for good recs im like scared they'll watch one show and be like this girl has NO TASTE. which could be correct #i feel like i spelled a lot of things wrong but i dont wanna proof read so its what it is

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libidomechanica · 12 days

Text

“Your missing, that faine thee”

Before the same, the truth our vows received, but said, Stubborn earth within my thoughts made his beard, let all thy love sigh above poor old forests, ceased the count. The wits of island; I,

once and clos’d? For twenty, Tam! And, with my mind. In pity drew figs. Before: from the eye no, not kept a soldier, one through toil, I have his joy. Not about, yet burning the flowers.

But in the sun walk, in glory in our love kindled herself to choose yellow gold sands, for limbs are not enduring food. Your missing, that faine thee. Stella lookt on, and

Sorrowing cold it not the lilies. Of arms; but why should be in a moment its fancy her shall tell the two souls did raise my virgin fill’d itself secure, apt at a stand is

but no more, oh, never intellect some one with me. The mounts the times this grace; while ours works, as their golden earth are drawn such a paradise. Water, as this fiery arm;

and even such work, scraping from ancient cheeks, half aside, and how he died: and ye forgotten ghost which smile, or stir. Great love, my Theotormon! I’ll smooth as they that indeed! Farewell

o’ my sweets all the strife; one must, let’s be honeyed answer: do what a greatnes of Hero to hide, and thee, and sing o’er they danced alone, is sickens in Scotland mouth of

many-living the good occasion? And while at last cloud as a brooke. Promises be kept, and life, shee could watched leaves will be a heart fit to fashion; each morning, and, old Susan’s

garments words the birthplace me zones and how she love you will has gotten? And those red earth of Hyacinth at a show, yet for obliteration! ’Er and fluttering, salving

at his world, yestern of any Evill die. Past whim, she gets poisoned lip, and, right, poor, looked neighbour’s ears: aye, to all he stamp’s sake when gaudy toys to pearls begem; and ladies

all the families saline droned in thee, let me voyage prepare the Mourners, who have punisht lyke as when love: rich love, and faint away, and the moon was its compasse did unders;

on his captive, yet she cannot heart broke. Wild nature in thing way. Go to the door, a red-coat troublous tydes han vs assay, this Gama swamped there haunt the mountain

without a windows of the young lion and aged Saturn in cares arisen out as a dove would you out And one: and cruel where is the hills. And the horn, had they encloudes

from eternal joy. Both to resounds in the enter’d clerk still than thy Hellen his lips lyke lyllies budders was not a dawn in our mind, or for all night; but while you must

not by commodious tones, O trees, leaue liked her running so rapt Urania: her demeanors moved. Silver, or the wind, whose glories in that strong, sproutine—look at the fruits flight.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #167 texts #ballad

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dreamy625 · 1 year

Text

Wild oats - one-shot

Words: 1620

Content: Inspired by make-me-your-animal’s chapter, I wanted to write a slutty Steve fic, but not a smutty one (though if anyone else fancies writing some slutty Steve smut I wouldn’t complain too much 👉👈) and this is what my brain delivered. So content warning for crude language and sexual references, but no actual smut.

Grateful thanks to @thiswatch-lepparddef-werehi for language advice, and the aforementioned @make-me-your-animal whose ‘Who did Phil do?’ line I have slightly borrowed.

—-----------------------------

-8th May, Dallas, Texas-

Despite the 80-degree heat, Steve is wearing a scarf wrapped twice around his long skinny neck when he joins the rest of the band in the front lounge for a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and a carefully measured portion of their secret Heinz beans stash. No one else takes any notice but, after studying him curiously for a minute, Phil everso casually queries the reason for this sartorial statement.

“Just felt like it. Scarves are my thing,” mumbles his bandmate, not meeting his eye.

Phil doesn’t challenge it, but when he stands to put his plate in the sink, he reaches over Steve’s shoulder and, in a quick swirling motion, whips off the scarf before its wearer can catch hold of it.

“Hey!” protests Steve, one hand grabbing at the fabric held just out of reach and the other pressed against the side of his neck.

But he wasn’t quick enough.

“Love bite!” shriek Phil and Rick in unison, the other two guys craning around to see what they’re pointing at.

“Oh sod off! You’re like a bunch of teenage girls!”

“So, the woman you were chatting to in the bar last night?”

“Lisa.”

“You got on well then?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” replies Steve primly.

-10th May, Houston, Texas-

When Steve arrives for soundcheck twenty minutes late, out of breath, and with his shirt buttoned up wrong, Phil needs only one word for his question:

“Lisa?”

And Steve needs only one word for his answer, “Yvonne.”

Phil grins and slaps him on the back.

-13th May, Biloxi, Mississippi-

Biloxi, Mississippi brings a night off and the rare treat of a hotel stay. Sav had left the rest of the guys after the third bar, dreaming of a long soak in the tub and a deep-conditioning treatment for his increasingly travel-worn coiffure. Thoroughly pampered, he’d finally settled into bed accompanied by Nightline and an acceptable gin and tonic from the minibar. A perfect evening, until he was jolted from sleep an hour or so later by the rhythmic banging of a headboard against the wall of the neighbouring room. He groaned - he knew it had been a mistake to take the room next to Phil’s. Mercifully, the pillow he clutches to his head muffles the worst of the gasps and moans, and proceedings seem to reach a crescendo relatively quickly, but after mere moments the blissful silence is broken once more by the squeak of bedsprings from the room on the opposite side. So that will be Steve then, and a companion who is either very religious or highly appreciative of the guitarist’s… talents. He switches the TV back on, but even MTV can’t entirely drown out the sounds of enthusiastic enjoyment from nextdoor. And then, when that finally seems to be quietening down, the amorous percussion on the other wall starts up again. Sav resolves to buy earplugs at the next rest stop.

-16th May, Nashville, Tennessee-

“And where have you been hiding? You missed Malvin balancing a barstool on his head.”

“Oh, I just went back to the bus for a… nap.”

“Uh huh. And was it restful, this ‘nap’?” asks Phil, eyeing the smudge of something suspiciously like lipstick on the other man’s chin.

“It was… very refreshing,” answers Steve judiciously, downing the vodka placed in front of him and signalling the barman for a refill.

-18th May, Chattanooga, Tennessee-

As Joe and Phil walk across the parking lot, the reason for Steve’s absence from another after-show party becomes clear - he is bidding a fond farewell to her on the steps of their bus. Phil slows his pace and grabs Joe’s arm to encourage him to do the same.

“What? Why are we…?” He follows Phil’s gaze to the scene ahead of them, “Really? Again? What’s got into him lately? He’s worse than you! It’s obscene!”

“Nah, he’s just finding himself, that’s all.”

“It’s not him finding himself that’s the problem, it��s him finding half the female population of the tri-state area and shagging them on our tour bus that I object to!”

“You’re just jealous,” accuses Phil jovially as they watch their guitarist’s latest conquest depart, blowing kisses back towards the bus as she totters unsteadily across the crumbling tarmac in four-inch heels, and Joe just growls in response.

-20th May Hollywood, Florida-

“...so apparently it’s a very bad idea to mix Guinness and Creme de Menthe…”

“...and when the lift door opened, all these chickens burst out…”

“...he wasn’t laughing quite so much when the bra hit him in the face…”

Another hotel breakfast, another session of comparing war stories from the night before. Steve is silent, but his spectacular bedhead and the bags under his eyes tell their own tale.

“Do I even need to ask what you were doing last night?”

“More apropos to ask who he was doing!”

“Err…,” surreptitiously the sleep-deprived blond peers at some biro scribbles on the back of his hand, “Kathy? No, Katy.”

“I’m gonna have to get you a little black book to keep track of them all!”

-21st May, Jacksonville, Florida-

“Jesus, you look like a bus ran over you!”

Steve gives a sheepish smile and flops down in the nearest chair.

“And who was the lucky lady this time?”

“Err… Katy…”

“Again?”

“...and Jenny.”

Phil’s mouth drops open. “One after the other, or together?”

“Um, together.” He ducks his head bashfully, but doesn’t quite manage to hide a grin.

“And it didn’t occur to you to share with your poor lonesome mate?”

“They were… kind of particular about it.”

Shaking his head, Phil pushes his glass of orange juice across the table. “Here, you need the vitamins more than me.”

-22nd May, Lakeland, Florida-

After soundcheck, during which the band and crew all referred to Steve as ‘Casanova’, making it clear that tales of his adventures had now spread far and wide, the guys gathered around the newly-revealed lothario in the hopes of extracting some salacious details.

“I… don’t really know what’s happening? I’m not even really trying and I’ve doubled my lifetime total in two weeks!” he exclaims, his face displaying a mixture of embarrassment and just a touch of boyish glee.

Rick punches him on the shoulder, “Duh, you’re a rockstar now!”

“Also your lifetime total was seven,” notes Phil.

“Seven?” Sav’s expression is kind but pitying.

“Some of them were more than once!” retorts Steve defensively. He glares at his fellow guitarist, “Note to self, don’t divulge personal information to Radio Phil.”

-5th June, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania-

“You are being careful, right?”

“Yes, Dad. After the number of times I’ve driven Rick to the clap clinic, I’m definitely a ‘no shirt no service’ kind of guy.”

“Good boy.”

“But… is it…”

Phil looks up from his cereal and catches the blush creeping up his friend’s cheeks. He makes what he hopes is a supportive and encouraging face.

“Is it possible to… wear it out?”

“Well, there was that singer in the seventies who said his exploded…” Steve’s expression has switched from discomfort to horror, so he hurries on, “but that was multiple times a day, probably without a rubber.” He scoots his chair closer and drops his voice, “Is it red or… sore… or anything?”

“No, I don’t think so. I just… wondered.”

Phil snickers, “Only you would be having the best time of your life and start worrying about that. Just think how much wanking you did as a kid…”

“Speak for yourself!”

“... and that didn’t break it, did it. Just relax and enjoy it while it lasts. I mean,” he adds doubtfully, “you can’t be irresistible forever?”

“You reckon?”

“Either that or you’ll run out of women! Come on, let’s get to that interview before any more fling themselves on your poor knackered todger!”

-13th June, Buffalo, New York-

“So what are you going to do with your two weeks off?”

“Sleep,” says Steve with a groan, laying his head on the table and covering his bloodshot eyes with his arm.

“Alone or accompanied?” asks Sav archly, and receives a raised middle finger as his only reply.

-27th June, Allentown, Pennsylvania-

As Steve emerges from the bunk area in boxers and a faded Aerosmith t shirt, yawning and scratching his armpit, Phil gives him an appraising look. Noting the new, livid purple bruise joining the fading collection on the side of his neck, the older man smiles indulgently and leans over to make another checkmark on the chart stuck to the fridge.

Steve considers the paper with a slight frown creasing his brow as he takes out milk for his coffee, before sitting down opposite his bandmate and sipping silently.

“Hangover?” enquires Phil sympathetically.

“No, not really.” He takes another gulp of coffee. “Phil? Am I… am I a slut?”

“Absolutely! And I could not be more proud!”

“Phiiil, I’m serious. I know groupies are part of the whole scene… it just feels a bit… I dunno… sleazy.”

“But you’re enjoying yourself, right?”

“Well, yeah.”

“And the ladies concerned, they’re having a good time too?”

“I guess so… I mean, it sounds like it. I haven’t asked for marks out of ten or anything…”

“No stalkers, no broken hearts, no angry husbands?”

Steve’s eyes widen - he had not considered those potential side-effects - but he shakes his head.

“Then it’s all good. You gotta sow your wild oats while you have the chance. And if you think you’re a slut, man I could tell you some stories. When I was in Girl there was this one bird who…”

“Ugh, stop, I don’t want to know.”

“See, that’s because you’re still a nice boy really. Now go and take a shower, you smell like a bordello!”

#steve clark #steve clark fanfic #steve clark fanfiction

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grahamstoney · 3 years

Text

Musique Concrète and Other Experimental And Electronic Music

New Post has been published on https://grahamstoney.com/music/musique-concrete-and-other-experimental-and-electronic-music

Musique Concrète and Other Experimental And Electronic Music

In the subject Creative Music Technology at university last semester, I was asked to listen to a collection of experimental and electronic music to stimulate my creative imagination, and to write what I liked and didn’t like about it. Here’s my rather cynical take on the genre.

Musique Concrète

Pierre Schaeffer and Pierre Henry – Symphonie pour un Homme Seul

youtube

This piece reminded me of Strauss’s Symphonia Domestica; only less musical. I’m a Homme Seul (single man) and my life doesn’t sound anything like this. In his book La musique concrète, Schaeffer described the work as “an opera for blind people…”. Haven’t they suffered enough?

Edgard Varèse – Poème Électronique

youtube

The audio equivalent of Luis Bunuel & Salvador Dali’s Un Chien Andalou.

Does to my ears what the asbestos coating on the walls of the Philips Pavilion at the 1958 Brussels World’s Fair for which it was commissioned, would do to my lungs.

György Ligeti – Artikulation

youtube

George Lucas must owe Ligeti millions in royalties for R2D2’s sound effects. Initially I thought I was joking when I first wrote that, but I’ve since discovered that he was actually trying to create a sort of phonetic speech in electronic music, which pretty much fits R2D2’s dialogue. Plus, the title is German for “articulation”. That should have been a giveaway.

I thought this piece might make more sense to me if I played it backwards, so I dropped it into Logic Pro X and reversed it. I couldn’t tell the difference. Perhaps I would have enjoyed it more if I listened to it in the original quadraphonic. I’ll just end noting that Ligeti abandoned electronic music after composing this piece.

Iannis Xenakis – Concret PH

youtube

2 minutes and 44 seconds of breaking glass to my ears. I think I’d rather listen to Kraftwerk.

Karlheinz Stockhausen – Kontakte

youtube

It’s long. It’s too long. I think this is how Jacob Collier learned to play piano in his mother’s womb; but look at him now. The title is German for “Contacts”, which I think Stockhausen interpreted as “Just hit the things.” Maybe it sounds better in the original quadraphonic.

Stockhausen was evidently a pioneer of the extended dance remix, as the work exists in several versions: “Nr. 12”, “Nr. 12½” and “Nr. 12⅔”

Bernard Parmegiani – Accidents / harmoniques

youtube

Parmegiani had studied mime before turning his hand to electro-acoustic composition, and in this piece it really shows. From the album De Natura Sonorum (the nature of sound). I felt like there were Martians in my head listening to this. Surely he’s just playing a joke on us.

Pauline Oliveiros – Bye Bye Butterfly

youtube

Bids farewell to the institutionalized oppression of the female sex while also providing inspiration for the sound of the Theramin. Gave my new monitor speakers a good workout; I hope the neighbours enjoyed it too.

Tape Loops

Steve Reich – It’s Gonna Rain

youtube

I’ve got this pervasive feeling that it’s going to rain. I’m not sure why. I liked the way the meteorological message panned left and right. More like It’s Gonna Have An Acid Trip.

youtube

Halleluiah Part II is over. I’m not sure how I lasted the full 18 minutes.

Terry Riley – Mescalin Mix

youtube

Parts of this sounded to me like an industrial version of native Australian bush sounds. I felt like I was on a camping trip in the 23rd century.

Brian Eno – 1/1

youtube

From his album Music For Airports/Ambient 1, which apparently coined the term Ambient Music. Brian Eno has a lot to answer for. However, this track put me in a relaxing state, ready to fall asleep on the plane; so I liked it.

Sampling

Luc Ferrari – Ronda, Spain, June 2001

youtube

After being jolted awake by the sound of a loud sliding door opening to greet the day, I was drawn into this by the sweet sound of a French woman’s voice. I imagined she was Ferrari’s lover, speaking to him in bed after awakening on a warm Spanish summer Sunday morning. I wanted to know what she was saying, but my French isn’t good enough. In my mind’s eye, they head to a busy market together to buy some croissants for breakfast, where we hear a man’s voice repeating “numero quatro”, which I assumed is Spanish for “number 4”. As the voices fade, the sound becomes more musical and we return to the soft sound of Ronda speaking to her beloved back in their villa together. I quite liked it.

My interpretation, however, is not what the composer had in mind. According to him, the point of Les Anecdotiques (The Anecdotals) is to dispense with the story altogether. My busy market was, in fact, the sound of Spanish tourists in a museum. While he describes the woman’s words as “Spontaneous and intimate”, in this context they are simply words in a foreign language with no narrative purpose. Just another one of Pierre Schaeffer and Michel Chion’s sound objects, if you will. My narrative interpretation of what was intended as an explicitly anecdotal work is testament to the human brain’s tendency to make meaning out of nothing. It turns out Rhonda is a village in Spain, not a woman.

Still, I enjoyed my little fantasy, thank you Luc.

John Oswald – Manifold

youtube

Wow, this was short. I didn’t even have time to eat breakfast while listening to it. It was only about as long as the Spotify ads, but certainly more fun. I recognised a couple of songs, like U2’s With or Without You and Sinead O’Connor’s Nothing Compares To You. Artists who use samples liberally often sample obscure works, sometimes affording them attention they would otherwise have missed; but in this work Oswald went mainstream. It sounded to me like the soundtrack to a sample-abusing hip-hop artist from the 1990’s being beaten up in a boxing ring by all the artists who reckoned he’d ripped off their work.

Tod Dockstader – Water Music: Part III

youtube

I quite liked this piece. The cuteness of the sounds and the stereo effects bouncing between the left and right channels really drew me in. I’ve recently got myself some decent monitor speakers for my home studio and this piece really worked on them. Pretty amazing for something released in 1963.

Dockstader started out in the 1940’s, prior to the invention of magnetic tape, editing his steel wire recordings with a lit cigarette. That makes me realise how much I take the piece-of-crap Logic Pro X File Editor for granted. Listening to this, I found myself wanting to know what was going to happen next, like I was watching a soap opera on TV; only with no actual story.

Synthesis

Karlheinz Stockhausen – Studie I

youtube

I found this quite disorienting to listen to. I guess it was revolutionary in 1953 but I reckon now you could whip it up in Ableton in about 5 minutes using the Random MIDI Effect and some automation.

Eliane Radigue – Jetsun Mila (Pt.1) / Birth and Youth (Excerpt)

youtube

I liked how the pulsing ambient drone sound in this grew over time; it drew me in and had me wondering what was going to happen next. Unfortunately the answer was: not much. Gradually a rhythmic element with some high pulsing tones which grew over time came in. It was a bit like listening to a very slow EDM dance track from underwater in a diesel-powered submarine going at full throttle for 12 minutes.

Laurie Spiegel – Appalachian Grove: I

youtube

I liked the pulsing stereo effects in this piece and the way the tonal characteristics of the sound varied while the pitch changed. It’s much more melodic than the other tracks we’ve listened to and that made it more enjoyable to my ears. It got a bit harsh in the middle though. This piece puts the musique in musique concrète.

Morton Subotnick – Silver Apples of the Moon – Part A

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Perhaps the sound designer for Star Wars had this in mind when creating the sound effects for R2D2. I kind of lost the flow of the conversation without the witty English-accented retorts from C3PO though. Morton Sobotnick is described as The Mad Scientist in one interview, and I think if I listen to this too often I’ll end up fitting one of the DSM-5 diagnostic categories I’m learning about over in PSYC1002.

Suzanne Ciani – Concert at Phil Niblock’s Loft

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This piece had some funky sounds that I liked. The start reminded me a bit of Kraftwerk but without the rhythm and melody; although it did get more melodic later. I’d probably give it a Distinction for its use of technology given it was made in 1975, but only a Credit for musicality.

Barry Schraeder – Lost Atlantis: Introduction

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At first, I thought this sounded a lot like a modern ad for KFC; then I realised I was hearing a Spotify ad.

I liked the ambient sounds in this piece and the way it surged in and out with its “mysterious tone colors”. It slowly builds to a crescendo until we get the drop that EDM lovers crave, and then built more quickly to the ultimate drop at the end. I kept wondering what was going to happen next; I’d still rather listen to Fleetwood Mac, Supertramp or Queen though.

Contemporary Examples

Amon Tobin – Foley Room

DJ & producer. Retain percussive quality through sounds. Horsefish & Esther’s. Create beauty and delicate textures from sounds. Pitched percussive material. Fast loops. New textures. Funky beats. Check out the Foley Room Documentary.

Aphex Twin – 1ST 44

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Acid house DJ in rave scene. Intelligent Dance Music. More complex sampling, polyrhythms, rhythmic patterns. From Collapsed album. Polyrhythms sounded funky. Lots of variation.

Holly Herndon – Chorus

Intersection of humanity and technology. Recorded web browsing. Stereo ping-pong effects. Here’s a talk she gave about her creative process.

Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith – Riparian

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This was my favourite out of these three, largely because it sounds the most musical to my ears. I liked the pulsing beat in this track. I can hear a bass line for instance, melodies played on the synth and lyrics, although I can’t tell what they are saying. I also like the way the soundscape swirls around when listened to with headphones. It feels ambient, immersive and musical all at the same time. I get the sense that she’s using the electronics at her disposal in service of the music rather than the other way around. There’s even a great video about how she uses modular synthesis.

Graham Stoney – Foster le Concrète

“How hard can it be?”, I asked myself. And since I had an assignment to do, I wrote my own musique concrète track based on the drum rhythm from one of my favourite songs, Coming of Age by Foster The People. I even made a breakdown video showing how I did it; because that’s what the assignment required.

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Conclusion

I didn’t take too easily to some of the more experimental musique concrète pieces we studied at the beginning of this semester. The weekly listening tasks felt harsh to my untrained ears and I would think mean things like:

“Didn’t the Geneva Convention ban cruel and unusual punishment?”

Perhaps these tracks will never be my preferred go-to pieces for chilling out on a Friday night, but when I look back at some of my cynicism-laced early comments in these discussion threads, I cringe. I just didn’t appreciate the historical significance of these pieces and how they might have influenced later electronic music that I do enjoy, like Kraftwerk say.

Then in Angharad Davis’s Music Colloquium Series talk on George Antheil’s Ballet Mécanique, when she played a snippet of the work I heard sounds reminiscent of musique concrète. Sure enough, they were roughly contemporaneous, and Antheil had been living in Paris at the time musique concrète was just getting started. You never know when something you study in one arena will pop up elsewhere.

Another thing I’ve learned in this subject is about taking creative risks and learning to follow my gut instincts without worrying whether a concept will work, or other people will like it. This has been an opportunity for me to explore that. My Formative Skills Assignment piece Foster le Concrète was in part a reaction to my frustration at the lack of discernible rhythm in some of the early pieces we studied. However, I really didn’t know whether the concept was going to work, and that was a little anxiety-inducing; especially given that I was doing it for an assignment which would be graded. I was quite touched to hear other students say they liked the end result, and I feel more confident about following my gut instincts in future and seeing what I end up.

Finally, I’ve been really inspired by the creativity of the other students in this subject. It’s been a weird experience studying online this year without ever meeting them in person, but I’ve really enjoyed hearing the creative works everyone came up with. They’re all so distinctive and amazingly different, it’s incredible; yet they were all products of the same brief. I can’t wait to hear everyone’s works on the radio, TV, movies, video games, Spotify, or whatever audio technology is around when we all graduate: live streaming direct to our neurons perhaps?

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