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lovelytsunoda · 10 months

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what’s love got to do with it? // clement novalak

summary: jaded and scared of falling in love, y/n struggles with her feelings for the famous man who just might be the perfect soul for her to share her life with

pairing: clement novalak x female! reader

warnings: relationship anxiety, parties, y/n doesnt know who pitbull is, niran and phoebe are gross and in love, y/n needs to have a little more faith in herself.

you must understand that the touch of a hand makes my pulse react. it’s only the thrill of boy meeting girl, opposites attract

(..)

what’s love got to with it? who needs a heart when a heart can be broken (what’s love) but a sweet old fashioned notion

the quadrant parties were infamous on campus. night-long races filled with beer, various drugs and drywal-shaking club music. their ringleader fancied himself as a dj, but lando norris was a Jack of all trades and master of none.

well, except for the f1 trade. that seemed to be going pretty well for him. he was by far the most successful member of the content house.

“babe, you have to start leaving the house! a party will be good for you! I’ll be there, and ria is going to be there. you know us.” her roommate had postured, doing everything she could to get y/n to drop the textbooks for a night, to shed the skin she hid behind.

social anxiety was a bitch, and she didn’t want to deliberately put herself in a situation where it would be amplified.

see: quadrant party. party with bad music and wall to wall people and frat boys who would take the piss out of a girl like her.

but alas, here she was, in jeans and a tight fitting top that had a deep neckline. phoebe had spent ages one her makeup before the girls left, but not even a little bit of peach smirnoff was easing her nerves.

“phoebes!” ria bish shouted, pushing through the crowd to make her way towards the girls. “I’m so glad you and y/n could make it!”

“ugh; it’s so nice to see you.” phoebe chirped. “have you seen niran?”

ria rolled her eyes, pointing to the dj table, where a decently drunk lando norris was spinning a kygo remix of a whitney houston song. phoebes boyfriend niran was dancing next to the table, sunglasses on upside down and a bottle of vodka in his hands.

it wasn’t long before phoebe had abandoned y/n for niran, but not before asking y/n if that was okay. against her better judgement, she told phoebe that she’d be fine on her own.

which is how she ended up sitting in a couch in the living room nursing a fruity drink that ria made, listening to the bass of a pitbull song shaking the houses foundation.

“is this seat taken?”

she barely looked up from her drink, popping one of the floating strawberry slices into her mouth. “britian is a free country, is it not?”

she heard the couch creak, felt it’s weight dipping as the man sat down next to her. “forgive me for asking, but you don’t really look like you’re having fun.”

“that’s not really a question.” she chuckled as she looked up, staring at a Greek god of a man, with a chain dangling from his neck and a man’s of curly brunet hair around his head. “I just really don’t like parties.”

“what are you doing here then?”

“my roommates boyfriend is in quadrant and because I’m such a good friend, I came with her.” she smiled, running her fingers through the dyed strands of her hair, resting her body against the back of the couch. “you know they played this song at prom and I was like, the only kid in the room who didn’t know it.”

the man laughed, throwing his head back, curls flinging around his head. “how do you not know pitbull? everybody knows this song.”

“when kids my age were listening to pitbull, I was listening to ac/dc. I could sing ‘you shook me all night long’ from memory but I could not tell you who sang ‘time of our lives’.”

“there’s no way!”

“I’m being serious! don’t even get me started on the whole my chemical romance phase I had!” she laughed, reaching for a handshake “I’m y/n.”

“clement.” his hand was soft and warm, and he smelled like dior cologne. “care for a dance?”

laughing, she took clems hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. she wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol talking or if she was genuinely comfortable with the man in front of her, but she felt like she was walking on air as she threw her arms around clements neck, laughing like a maniac.

they talked to each other every day after that. even if it was something as simple as clement sending her tiktoks and instagram reels when she was too busy to talk. every time her phone buzzed, her heart jumped for joy.

and that scared her.

“what are so smiley about?” phoebe asks, passing through the dining room on her way to the wide open kitchen. “is it a certain french someone from the party last week.”

y/n’s eyes sparkled as she laughed, trying to hide her phone screen from her roommate. “fuck off.”

clem: are you free this weekend? I want to take you out, do something fun.

“he wants me to go out with him this weekend.” she was blushing rapidly, her face an unflattering shade of red as she tried to tell herself he means just as friends. because clement novalak couldn’t possibly want to be more than friends with her.

“I think you should go.” another voice sounded

"niran?" y/n coughed, choking on her glass of water. "what the fuck are you doing here?"

phoebe and niran shared a look, and she groaned as niran began to answer. "i've been here since about three yesterday afternoon. i'm shocked you couldn't hear us, actually."

"that is disgusting, i hate you both."

phoebe shook her head, crossing the living room to sit next to her roommate on the couch. "sweetie, clement is so eager to spend time with you, and you've been chasing someone who puts in the effort for ages. i know you're scared to let people in, but clement could be good for you."

"i know, but look at him and then look at me, phoebes. there's no way that he looks at me like that."

niran laughed. "yeah, you're way prettier than he is. out of his league as well."

she sat there with her warm phone clutched between her hands, the charging cable still hooked up to her computer as she looked at the blinking cursor.

she couldn’t just leave clement hanging.

y/n: I need to get away from this paper anyways…how does 2pm sound?

clem: it sounds perfect, see you saturday 😊

saturday quickly arrives, and with it is anxiety about every part of the day. clement never told her where they were going. what was she supposed to wear? should she shave her legs (and bikini region) again even though she literally did it three days ago? should she put on red lipstick or just gloss? were they going out as friends, or with the potential for something more? her nail polish was already peeling off, but she wouldn't have time to touch it up.

"stop overthinking this" she mumbled to herself, her spotify romantic mix belting out eric carmen's 'hungry eyes' as she held three different skirts up to the mirror in her closet. eventually, she settled on the mint green gingham, but with her white vans as opposed to a pair of sandals. keep it the right amount of casual and not.

clement arrived at the small bungalow at exactly five minutes to two. phoebe answered the door, ushering the Frenchman into the living room.

"y/n!" phoebe called up the small staircase. the bunglaow was backsplit, but the four stairs up to the bedrooms only ever seemed to cause someone to trip over their own feet. "clement is here!"

"the walls are thin, you don't need to be that loud!" y/n screamed back, spritzing a cloud of bath and body works spray in the air. she didn't own a proper bottle of perfume, but a whole shelf in her closet was packed full of half filled bottles from bath and body.

she rushed down the stairs, a canvas bag from waterstones over her shoulder, hair neatly pinned back in a white plastic clip. casual.

clement was floored at how nicely she cleaned up. yes, she had looked super hot at the party, but this was different. this was a gentle elegance that capitalized on her long legs and soft face. she wasn't wearing nearly as much makeup, her face simply dusted in glitter eyeshadow and lip gloss. no mascara, no concealer or foundation.

clem thought that y/n was naturally stunning.

“wow” he says, getting up from the couch and wiping his sweaty palms on his white chinos. “you look great.”

“thanks” she said shyly, fingers playing with the beads on her bracelet. “are you ready to head out?”

“you kids have fun!” Phoebe shouted behind them, watching the couple leave through the front door. there was no doubt in anybody’s mind that she was about to call niran, as she usually did when she was the only one in the house.

walking down the cobblestone drive, y/n raised her eyebrows. “you drive a maserati?”

“what’s the point of having money if you don’t know how to spend it?” clem laughed “I’m shit at f2 but at least the pay is good.”

“if you’re as bad as you say, why do you still do it? you have more than enough money to take the time to decide what your next move is.” she slid into the car, marvelling at the leather interior.

she still drove a 2010 volkswagen.

“the adrenaline, I guess.” clem shrugged, gunning the engine. “guys like us, the circuit is all we’ve ever known.”

as clem pulled away from the house, the steep crackled to life, music shaking the speakers in the inside of the doors.

“we’re you listening to nelly furtado?”

“of course I was. maneater is a banger.”

everything with clem was so easy. she felt like she could be herself around him, singing out of key, making small talk (she hated small talk, always had to think too long about her answers), and not trying so hard to be perfect.

this could be something, clement novalak could be the guy that she was looking for. and that thought scared the shit out of her.

she’s only ever been on her own, she only knows how to be independent.

clement decided to take her mini golfing, something slower paced and low key. something that friends do. friends.

he was being nice to her because he was a nice guy. at least, that’s what y/n thought, anyways.

“you can tell a lot about a person based on their favourite animal. I like alpacas. mainly because they’re lazy and fluffy and have weird faces. is that weird?” she mused, hitting the small pink ball into the hole.

clem had been an angel the entire time, offering to hold her bag, take her instagram photos and even buy her ice cream afterwards (although he wouldn’t let her eat in the maserati, understandably)

they’d been out for just over three hours when clem brought her home, shania twain on the radio. he lingered in the driveway, turning the radio down as shania crooned about how good it felt to be a woman.

“I had a really great time today, y/n.”

she smiled, gathering her belongings and getting ready to leave. “so did I. thanks for doing this.”

as she began to reach for the door handle, clem pulled her back. he leaned across the console, brushing an errant strand of hair away from her face as he parted his lips.

she hasn’t expected him to kiss her, but she wasn’t complaining, moving her lips in tandem with his. she used to be so scared that nobody would ever want to kiss her.

it was only when Clem’s tongue brushed against her lips that she saw sense, drawing back from the man in front of her.

“I should head inside.” she said softly, face flushed. “I’ll call you.”

she dodged his calls for the rest of the week. ignored the tiktoks he sent her, didn’t answer his messages. she was scared. the butterflies in her chest almost made it hard to breathe around him. how could someone do charismatic, so perfect, fall on love with a girl like her? clement novalak could have any girl he wanted. why her?

after seven days of unanswered calls, clement took matters into his own hands. armed with a bouquet of carnations and a paperback agatha christie, he knocked on her front door.

“you fucked up, you bloody idiot.”

“yes, thank you phoebe. I am well aware of my shortcomings as a romantic partner.” clem rolled his eyes. “where is she?”

phoebe sighed, stepping away from the door so that the driver could come inside. “please don’t take the last week personally. she’s not used to be chased after, and you probably came on to strong when you tried to make out with her in a car worth more than what she makes in a year.”

“I really like her.”

“tell her that, not me. she’s in her room, just up the stairs and to the right.”

when clement pushed the door open, she was sitting cords legged on her marble bedspread, her laptop on a folding plastic platform in front of her. she had her hair clipped back, headphones in her ears while she sang ‘dirty deeds done dirt cheap’, staring intently at her laptop. clement knocked on the door, the intrusion causing her to jump.

“clement? what are you doing here?”

“I brought you flowers. and a book.” her offered, passing her the bouquet and sitting next to her on the double bed. “I wanted to apologize for whatever it is that I did the other day that scared you off. I really like you, y/n. I think you’re funny and smart and wonderful and I think it’s a dann shame that no man has ever told you that before. at the same time, I’m honoured to be the first.”

“I’m so new to this, clem. and I’m scared I’m going to fall so far in love with you and then you’re going to leave and I’ll have nothing left.”

clem shook his head, taking her hands in his. she smelled like summer, like hibiscus and vanilla. “I promise I’ll never leave you, okay? not unless you want me to. I want to know you, y/n. the good, the bad, the nerdy and awkward. I want it all. I want you.”

“can we take it slowly? baby steps, just while I find my footing.” she asked him softly, wide eyed as she fought the urge to kiss him again, to get lost in his touch.

“we can take it as slow as you need, princess.”

she smiled, taking a chance and gently kissing him on the cheek. “take me out for dinner? I’ve been working all day.”

clem laughed, pulling her in to a tight embrace, dropping a kiss on her hairline. “I think we can do that. I know a great greek place.”

“you remembered?”

“I remember everything when it comes to you.”

TAGS:

@libraryofloveletters @oconso @clemswrld @lorarri @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh @silversainz @cartierre @magnummagnussen

#clement novalak x reader #formula 2 x reader #clement novalak imagine #f2 imagine #clement novalak #tina: the series by lovelytsunoda #Spotify

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purifycantyouhelpme · 1 year

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Before He Cheats | Duff Mckagan x Reader | Chapter 2

A03Link<3

Word count: 1,440

Duff's P.O.V

Today was a pretty fun day. I kinda wish it lasted longer. I walked in my house and I turned on the light. I shut the door and locked it.

My house was a mess. There was clothes on the couch and dirty plates on the dining room table. Since everyone is busy, I might as well play the bass. My bass guitar was on the couch. I got it off the couch.

I walked over to the amplifier which is next to the dining room table. I pulled out one of my dining room chairs and sit on it. I was playing on Another One Bites The Dust. It was going alright until I was playing the verse. It sounded really off and wonky. Why does it sound so bad? I stopped playing the bass guitar to figure what the problem was. "Oh wait, one of my bass strings is broken." I said to myself. Three of them are actually broken. Dammit. "Now I gotta walk all the way to the Guitar shop." I groaned. I didn't feel like walking there but I had to.

Skylar's P.O.V.

Going to the Guitar shop can be pretty fun sometimes, especially since Izzy works here. There weren't that many people here. I thought going here early means that more people would be here. Guess it's a slow day today. I was here pretty early because Duff embarrassed me earlier from the whole Tunnel of Love thing and I needed a break from that. I was looking at the bass guitars. All of the designs look so pretty. I've been wanting to learn how to play the bass guitar for a couple of months now.

"Hi, Izzy." I heard Duff's voice. Duff is here? I turned around and I saw Duff talking to Izzy.

"Duff, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be watching TV or something?" I asked Duff. I walked closer to Duff. He set his bass guitar on the countertop. It looked pretty messed up. "I came here because my bass needs to get fixed. Three of the strings are broken." He explained it to me. "I kinda forgot that you play the bass. You barely talk about it." I said.

"I know, Skylar." He rolled his eyes at me and he crossed his arms. He wasn't being serious, I know that Duff was being sarcastic. I put my hands behind my back, I was a bit nervous, especially from earlier. Duff was tapping his foot on the ground. "You know what? Let's go for a walk." I said to Duff. Duff looked pretty confused when I said that. "By the time we come back, your bass guitar will be fixed." I asked him as I turned my head a little to the right. He smiled at me. "Yeah, let's do what you said." He said, I love hanging out with him. "When you guys go out, pick up the giving out guitar lessons sign. People keep on knocking it over." Izzy told us. Okay, Izzy.

(Y/N)'s P.O.V

I was chilling in my bed, watching a movie called Lost In Translation. It's pretty funny and sad so far. Someone opened the door, it was Steven. "Sorry, I keep on forgetting to knock." Steven apologized. He laughed a little. "Hey Steven." I smiled a bit at him. I was happy that he was here. I haven't seen him for a long time. "What are you watching?" He asked me.

"Lost In Translation." I replied. He sat on the floor, looking at the TV. "I haven't talk to you guys in a while. I was busy dealing with some personal stuff. I hope things can go back to normal." Steven explained to me.

"I was walking around the neighborhood and I saw Slash hanging out with--"

"Claire. I know. They're friends, Steven. They're just hanging out." I told him. "Oh, okay." Steven looked pretty confused.

"Are you about to leave?" I asked him. "Yes, I'm going to leave." He got off the floor and walked to the door. "Did you want me to stay here or something?" Steven asked me. I was embarrassed when he asked me that. "Yes. I am feeling a little lonely." I said softly.

Duff's P.O.V

Walking outside with Skylar while my bass guitar was getting fixed felt pretty nice. I hope she doesn't remember that Tunnel of Love incident from earlier because that was embarrassing. As we were walking, we saw Slash and a girl at the duck park. I dec

Skylar followed me. The girl wasn't (Y/N). I raised my hand up and said, "Hey Slash, what's up?" One of the ducks was quacking in the background. Both Slash and the girl turned around to face me. "Who is that?"

The girl had long wavy blonde hair and blue eyes. She had diamond earrings studs on.

She was wearing a white jacket with some black jeans and red converse shoes. "I'm Claire. Nice to meet you." Claire introduced herself by shaking my hand.

"Hey Claire." I said. "She's my friend. We have been friends for a couple of months now." Slash explained to me. Then how come he never talks about her? "Hi there, what's your name?" Claire asked Skylar who wasn't in a good mood. Skylar didn't respond, she just rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. I don't know why she did that. She seems nice. "You look really nice, Duff." Claire smiled. "Thanks Claire." I put my hand on my neck and smiled. I looked at Slash and I noticed that he had his work clothes on and they were pretty dirty. "Why are you in your work clothes?" I asked him. "I just like wearing them, Duff." Slash replied. I don't believe Slash. Who likes wearing work clothes? I don't like wearing my work clothes, they're uncomfortable. "Yeah right. No one likes wearing work clothes." Skylar agreed with me

but she said it in a rude way. Slash was getting mad at her. "Duff, can we go somewhere else? They're wasting my time." Skylar was getting impatient. She was tapping her foot.

"Skylar!" I yelled at her. She scoffed and started to walk back to the Guitar Shop. Why is she being so rude? Both Slash and Claire looked pretty mad. "I'm so sorry about that, Slash and Claire. I'll see you guys tomorrow." I walked away from them and I tried to catch up to Skylar.

Slash P.O.V.

It was 5:15 PM. The sun was about to set. I was at home. Thank God, that date with Claire ended. Why did so many people see me and Claire hanging out together? I slowly walked to the bedroom. My feet were killing me from walking all day. They hurt so bad. I opened the door, I held onto the doorknob and door. "Babe, I need some help." I raised my voice so that she could hear me.

She got off from her bed and helped me. She hold no I sat on the bed. "Thank you." I thanked her. I really meant it. I took off my work clothes and sunglasses and set them on the floor. I was in my tank top and basketball shorts. What is (Y/N) watching?

"How was work, honey?" She just had to ask. "It was exhausting as always." I lied to her.

"Steven hung out with me today. He left like 30 minutes ago." She told me. I kinda forgot about Steven. I haven't heard from him in a long time. He's always busy.

"What's with you and Duff?" I asked her. She turned her head and she was shocked.

"I'm just curious. It looks like you guys are getting a little close." I said in a serious tone.

"We're just friends, babe. N-Nothing more." She stuttered a bit. I don't believe her. I know that Duff likes her, it's so obvious. Duff always tries to hide it. "Anyways, do you want to watch a movie with me and cuddle?I know that your feet hurt--" God, she is so annoying sometimes. She won't stop talking. "No, I'm actually feeling pretty tired." I said. "Oh, okay." She said sadly as she looked back at the TV. She looked really upset that I didn't hang out with her today. "It's okay, honey. I'll spend time with you tomorrow, I promise." I leaned in and I kissed her on her forehead. She looked a little happy. "Good night." I pulled the covers on me and adjusted the pillows to my liking.

#guns n roses fanfic #duff mckagan x reader #duff mckagan fanfic #slash x reader #slash x you #guns n roses x reader #gunsnroses #steven adler

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rewirelessify · 11 months

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Connecting Bookshelf Speakers to Your PC

Are you looking for information on how to connect bookshelf speakers to your computer? If so, you’ve come to the right place! Connecting bookshelf speakers to a PC is a relatively easy task that can significantly enhance your audio experience. To connect bookshelf speakers to your computer, find out their connection type (such as RCA or 3.5mm jack). Connect one end of the correct wire to the speakers and the other to the PC's audio output for that sort of connection (usually the headphone jack or audio output). Then, adjust your computer and speakers' volume and sound settings for optimal sound. This article will provide an in-depth guide on how to properly set up and configure your bookshelf speakers, as well as important factors to consider when making this connection.

What Equipment Do I Need

As a big music fan, I recently decided to improve the sound on my PC by hooking up a pair of bookshelf speakers. After doing some research, I found that this set-up needs a few different pieces of gear. List of Equipment Needed and Function of Each Iteams to Connect Bookshelf Speakers to a PC First, I needed a pair of speakers that fit on a bookshelf. I chose a pair of passive speakers. Because the sound quality is better than that of active speakers. I also needed an amplifier to power the speakers because PCs don't usually have enough power to do so. I chose a small amplifier that fit nicely on my desk and had enough power to drive my speakers. Then I needed speaker wire to connect the speakers to the amplifier. I chose a 16-gauge wire because it was thick enough to carry the signal without affecting its quality. Lastly, I needed an audio interface to connect my PC to the amplifier. I chose a USB interface because it was simple to set up and the sound quality was great.

Choosing the Right Connection Method

To increase my music listening, I recently connected my bookshelf speakers to my PC. After learning what I needed and how to connect it, I connected my speakers. My bookshelf speakers, 3.5mm audio cable, and amplifier came first. I connected the audio cord to my PC's output and the amplifier's input. Speaker cable connected the speakers to the amplifier. After connecting everything, I powered on my PC and speaker to test the connectivity. The speakers were significantly better than my PC's. But, I had issues. My speakers were silent initially. I discovered that my PC's audio settings were configured to use the built-in speakers instead of the amplifier. I heard it clearly after changing the sound settings. Connecting bookshelf speakers to a Computer was simple and enhanced my listening experience. With the correct tools and attention to detail, anyone can obtain high-quality PC sound.

Testing the Connection

Test the connection while connecting bookshelf speakers to your PC. Initially, I listened to the bookshelf speakers as my computer played a music. I made sure both speakers sounded clear and undistorted. Then, I verified loudness by turning up and down my Computer and speakers. Speaker loudness was better than computer volume. To test bass and treble, I adjusted my Computer equalization. I noticed that too much bass ruined the sound, but a modest increase improved it. Next, I tested the speakers' sound quality with music, movies, and podcasts to ensure compatibility. Testing the connection was crucial to getting the greatest sound from my bookshelf speakers. I improved sound quality and maximized my audio material by altering volume and equalization settings and listening to diverse songs.

Adjusting Audio Settings

I enjoy music and listen to it often, therefore I've always wanted to discover the finest audio settings. I've experimented to achieve the finest sound quality. The hardware-software relationship is crucial to altering audio settings. From selecting an audio output device to configuring the equalization, every detail may affect sound quality. Understanding music genres is crucial. It depends on the song. Hip hop and electronic music may benefit from bass-heavy environments, whereas classical and acoustic music may not. I usually try different audio settings to discover what works best. Get the proper bass, treble, and other sound balance by trying different settings and listening closely. Changing audio settings requires constant experimentation. If you persevere, you can acquire the finest sound quality for any song.

Positioning the Speakers for Optimal Sound Quality

Being a music lover and audiophile, I've spent a lot of effort improving my setup. I've learned that speaker placement is essential for good sound. Speaker placement was haphazard. I thought they would sound good wherever I put them in my room. I discovered that speaker placement influences sound quality when I focused on my audio setup. My speakers performed best at ear level and in front of me after several tests. I spaced them evenly to reduce distortion and echo. Amazing changes. Clearer, balanced, immersive sound. I discovered my music's subtleties. I've learned speaker placement is as important as quality. Home audio may be great with patience and experimentation.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ) About Connecting Bookshelf Speakers to PC

Here are some frequently asked questions (FAQ) about how to connect bookshelf speakers to a PC: What Equipment do I Need to Connect Bookshelf Speakers to a PC? You will need an amplifier or receiver, speaker wire, and a 3.5mm audio cable or RCA cables. How do I Connect the Amplifier or Receiver to My PC? You can connect your amplifier or receiver to your PC using a 3.5mm audio cable or RCA cables. Because the 3.5mm audio cable should be plugged into the headphone jack on your PC, while the RCA cables should be plugged into the audio output on your sound card. How do I Connect the Speakers to the Amplifier or Receiver? Use speaker wire to connect the speakers to the amplifier or receiver. Simply connect the positive (+) and negative (-) terminals on the back of the speakers to the corresponding terminals on the amplifier or receiver. How do I Adjust the Audio Settings on My PC to Optimize Sound Quality? You can adjust the audio settings on your PC by accessing the sound settings in your control panel or system preferences. From there, you can adjust the volume, balance, and equalizer settings to optimize sound quality. How do I Test the Connection to Ensure It is Working Properly? You can test the connection by playing music or other audio through your speakers. If you hear sound coming from the speakers, the connection is working properly. If you do not hear any sound, check the connections and audio settings to ensure everything is set up correctly.

Conclusion

Connecting bookshelf speakers to a PC improves computer audio. I found the procedure simple. Amplifiers, receivers, and speaker wires are affordable and easily accessible. The audio quality improved greatly after connecting my bookshelf speakers to my Computer. My Computer audio settings and speaker placement also improved sound quality. To enhance the audio, I tested the connection and adjusted the parameters. To improve audio, connect bookshelf speakers to a Computer. Benefits outweigh the straightforward method. High-quality computer audio is possible with the correct gear and a few modifications. I hope you all liked the article. For more articles please visit : Rewirelessify Read the full article

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audio-luddite · 2 years

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High End Audio.

That guy Paul from PS Audio was asked "what is high end audio?"

His answer was interesting. He did not say just buy my products. His take was how the illusion plays out in your room.

His example was his demo system in the office, which is very expensive and consisted of several of his halo products. He said you can ignore the devices and just hear the image of performance behind the speakers. You can close you eyes and ......

I think that is a good definition. So much of this hobby is brand x and y and how much you spend. My system is easy to ignore. I call my speakers invisible as most people on first listen do not see where they are. If the recording is good, and for first listens I make sure it is, all they perceive is the music on the other side of the wall. A few people ask where are the speakers?

They are not small, but they are modest. They are not monoliths dominating a room, or weird room dividers or strange alien shapes. They look more like end tables with the radiating part towards the back and you could cover that with two hands. My wife keeps a nice potted orchid on one. That helps hide the working bit. But the sound fills the room. It can do solid bass and far higher than I can hear anymore. The driver is rated to 45khz.

So if the image is solid and clean and stretched across the room you got high end. I got high end.

Within that of course you can still get a significant range of sound and voice. The basic guts of my high-ended-ness is my amplifier and those speakers. That has not changed. The front end of my system has undergone significant revision over the last few years and the voice has changed. The image though has remained. It is like a window that has been getting clearer, but the window has been there for awhile.

What lets this happen? I think the number one item is the speaker array. I think you could get one or two commercial products that perform similar to mine for about $4k or so. I spent about $1k making them.

Then I think the amplifier is next. It must be either two monoblocks or a single amp with separate power supplies per side. Every amp I have heard that shares a stereo power supply has cross talk. That muddies the image especially with fuzz in the center. Nasty when you hear it.

Oh and big power. Hundreds of Watts per side.

After that dealers choice for source and front end.

On a totally unrelated thing I had apple music running for several hours yesterday. First music of the 70s. Lots of Funk and Disco, which I do not care for but my wife loves. There was a good selection of music they do not do anymore. Music with stories like Joan Baez and Joni Mitchel. Strangely they played only two Fleetwood Mac songs. They put out their two biggest albums in the 70s and dominated the airplay in my youth. Hmmm. Who or what makes these play lists. Probably what. I see a soulless algorithm at work.

It was rather depressing to hear a lovely voice knowing that the singer died a long time ago. There were a few of those.

We then did the 80s which was different. Big hair bands and quite similar sounds almost cookie cutter. I think you could identify the decade just by the arrangements.

I do enjoy this.

#high end sound #audiophile #audioblr #high end audio #vinyl #audio research preamp #big amplifers

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weelittleweasley · 3 years

Text

cant take my eyes off of you (g.w.)

prompt: george feels like he’s on top of the world when he’s with you and he needs to let you know how he feels.

pairing: george weasley x fem! gryffindor reader

warnings: underage drinking, intoxication, dirty dancing, sexual references (blink and you’ll miss it), language

word count: 2.7k

taglist: @rosaliepostsstuff @harrysweasleys @gcdricreads @lumos-barnes @whizboingies @lumosandnoxwriting @pxroxide-prinxcesss @c-t-h @lol-idk-oops @another-lonely-heart-blog @kaseyrose96-blog @hufflepuff5972 @gryffindcrghost @wand3ringr0s3 @parseltongueswriting @shilohpug @peachypotter @spacexcowgirl @paintballkid711 @vogueweasley

It wouldn’t be a common room victory celebration without a surplus of various booze, music loud enough to shatter your ear drum, and random students scattered around dancing and screaming to the music. It was a sensory overload at its finest, but you wouldn’t want it any other way. The quidditch victory was well earned against Hufflepuff and the team wanted to celebrate properly. This ultimately translated to getting absolutely hammered before 10pm.

You stood in the corner of the room, standing next to Hermione and Ginny, sipping on whatever drink Lee had poured you. To be honest, you couldn’t make out what it was; it was a cocktail of miscellaneous liquors that would be sure to have you regretting this decision in the morning.

As you sipped on your beverage, you turned to your two friends and gave them a sneaky smile as the music gets turned up even louder. “Oh, no,” Hermione started. “Don’t give me that look.”

“What? I just want to dance,” you start to back up towards the dance floor, pulling Ginny along with you as she laughs. “Come on, Granger! Loosen up!”

You and Ginny immediately start to break out into dance, swinging your hips to the music as Ginny chugs the rest of the drink in her cup, you following suit. The liquor is sweet, but burns your throat and warms your chest. When you finish it, you throw your cup to the ground and give into the pulsating base. Ginny laughs as you throw your hands in the air and scream sing the lyrics to the song. It was nice to finally loosen up after a long week.

But you halt your dancing when you feel two arms wrap around your waist, lip attaching themselves to your neck. You immediately flip around to see your George staring back at you, a drunk smile on his lips as a low chuckle fall from his mouth. “You scared me,” you place a hand on your chest before leaning into him, his arms pulling close against his chest.

George’s goofy grin remains on his face as he ducks his head down to press a kiss to your lips. His lips taste of whiskey, his kiss intoxicating you better than the alcohol. George mumbles against your lips, “Figured I’d join you on the dance floor.” He smiles before kissing you again, you smiling and shaking your head, his lips kissing yours against, harder as you place your hand on the back of his neck, drawing him closer to you. The bass of the music pounded through the floor and shook your core as your heart beat faster as George continued to kiss you on the dance floor. Any memory of what you were doing before George came along slipped out of your mind and all you could focus on was the way his body moved against yours as he kissed you.

His hands are gripping your hips as you pull away, hips moving against each other in sync, a smirk on George’s lips. Your faces are inches apart as you giggle, pressed against each other in a sea of bodies on the dance floor. People around you wolf whistled as you danced against George, his eyes not daring to leave yours for a moment. You pressed your backside against George, grinding yourself on him with a cheeky smirk. It was enough to drive George absolutely mad, the look of your body pressed against his, your body feeling the music, rocking against him. It was making his pulse quicken and his face heat up.

He spun you back around to look him in the eyes, a challenging grin on your lips when you saw the lust in his eyes, only being amplified by the alcohol coursing through his veins. “You are trouble,” George tells you with a laugh in his voice, making you bite down on your bottom lip, pulling the soft flesh in between your teeth. George looked unreal in this moment; his chocolate eyes dark with desire, hair messy from running his fingers through it, t-shirt clinging to every muscle on his arms, chest, and torso. Oh, the things you would do if you were alone.

Daring to make him sweat even more, you pull him down so you can whisper in his ear. “What are you gonna do about it? Punish me?” you ask, tease laced in your voice, before you nibble on his ear gently, causing him to hold back a deep groan. With one hand on his chest, you push him away, giving him the most innocent look you can, big doe eyes that plead naiveté. George shakes his head as he presses his tongue to his cheek, knowing damn well what you were doing. “I’m getting another drink, I’ll be back,” you tell him with a wink. “Don’t go anywhere.”

George just laughs, “Oh, I’m stay right where the fuck I am.” You shake your head and laugh before leaving the dance floor, back to the table where all the liquor was lined up.

Mixed bottles half full scattered around the table as people crowded around as Ron stood on a chair, his Gryffindor tied around his head as he held up a bottle of fire whiskey, pouring the liquor into people’s mouth as they opened them. The sight was enough to make you laugh; Ron Weasley, assuming his brothers’ old positions of bartender. He locked eyes with you and an excited grin appeared on his lips. He held up the bottle as if to say, You want some? to which you stepped forward, titled your head back, and opened your mouth, Ron pouring one, two, three shots worth of whiskey in your mouth. You swallowed and shuddered at the taste, making Ron laugh out loud. “Bollocks, (Y/N),” he laughed out. Ron handed the bottle off to Dean and hopped off the chair, slinging an arm around your shoulder as you walked away from the mass of people wanting a shot. “I saw you and my brother having a good time on the dance floor,” he winked at you as you rolled your eyes. “He’s bloody whipped for you.”

You and Ron stood at the sidelines, watching George spin Ginny around on the dance floor, goofy smiles on both of their faces before Fred ran over and nearly tackled Ginny as she laughed. George looked over to where you stood with his younger brother and smiled softly. He dropped his left eye in a wink as your heart fluttered with glee. That boy would be the death of you.

The two of you hadn’t been together long, maybe three months, but it was quite obvious that George was mad for you. Ron had that much right. George had been infatuated with you for awhile and had been trying to get you to go out with him for months before you said yes. You knew that George had no problem getting dates with girls, but you wanted to make him sweat. Even though you found him insanely attractive and funny and sweet, you pretended like you had no interest in him. You made him work for your first date and work he did. After you said yes to being his girlfriend, George was on cloud nine. No one had ever seen George react like this to anything, but that’s how people knew you were special.

You sighed and looked at Ron, “He’s everything I could ever ask for.” Ron faked gagging as you slapped his arm. But it was all so true. George was a dream come true; you couldn’t believe how perfect he was. He was funny and outgoing and exciting, but also so kind and gentle and thoughtful. George was everything you’ve ever wanted and more. “Hey, you brought it up, don’t blame me!” you pointed a finger in his face as Ron laughed, the two of you continuing to chat and drink, watching the bodies on the floor dance away.

George still remained on the dance floor with his twin and Ginny, laughing and dancing and goofing off. Every once in a while George would look over and watch you, how you spoke to his brother, catching George’s eye every once in a while, you smiling gently at him before going back to Ron. George observed how you spoke with your hands, throwing your head back when you laughed, clutching your sides. He watched as you pulled your glossed lips in between your teeth, nibbling on the sensitive skin. He adored the way your mouth moved when you spoke, the words rolling off your lips like the sweetest honey. Without even realizing what he was saying, he just spoke out to his siblings, “I love her.”

Ginny and Fred abruptly stopped dancing and stared at their brother, faces twisted with both shock and confusion. He was surely drunk and just talking out of his ass, right? George had never confessed to loving a girl before. Fred looks at George and speaks, “Mate, what?”

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. There was a magnetic force that just made George want to stare at you forever and always. The sight of you left him weak, unable to speak. George couldn’t compare you to anyone else; in his eyes, you were the only one. The standard. And he couldn’t believe you were all his. He thanked his lucky stars that he was alive and attended this damned school at the same time you did. “It’s just...she’s just too good to be true, isn’t she?” George sighs, all lovesick. In his mind, he thought of holding you in his arm, feeling like he was in heaven at the touch. Knowing that he was the one who could make you happy and make you feel loved was a dream come true for him. George Weasley was undeniably in love and he fell hard.

“He’s gone soft,” Fred looks at Ginny who slaps his arm. “Ow! Fuck was what for?” he rubs his arm with a hurt look on his face.

Ginny looks at George who’s eyes have not left you. She looks at George with a small smile; seeing her brother so smitten was heart warming to the youngest Weasley. “Are you...going to tell her?” she asks over the music.

George breaks his stare from you and looks to Ginny. “Should I tell her now?” he asks as Ginny worriedly looks to Fred for advice, but he just shrugs. He didn’t know the first thing when it came to a confession this grand. “I don’t want to wait any longer, but I don’t want to do it in the middle of a fucking party,” he starts to ramble. “But, Merlin, I can’t wait anymore. Should I run outside and go pick flowers from the courtyard? Or should I do a grand romantic gesture here?” he continues to ramble on as Ginny’s eyes just widen more and more with each sentence.

But before George can continue listing off ways to confess his love, you appear behind him and grab his hand. George turns around and the sight of you almost makes him faint. You sport a happy smile as you look at Fred and Ginny before turning to George and saying, “You wanna go get some fresh air outside?”

Perfect, George thinks to himself. He doesn’t bother excusing himself from the dance floor. George simply holds your hand tighter and runs off with you as you laugh, calling out a We’ll be back soon! to Fred and Ginny. “Or not!” George calls back before leaving the common room, running down the moving staircase, both of you a laughing, tipsy mess.

When you finally make it down the stairs and outside, you take a deep breath in, enjoying the cool, crisp air and how it didn’t smell of alcohol and sweat like the common room. You walk further into the courtyard, happily sighing as George wraps his arms around you as you giggle, looking up at him. He places a gentle kiss to your lips as you smile. “Hi, Georgie,” you coo up at him. Just the sound of your voice make him feel warm inside.

Breathlessly, he speaks, “Hey, gorgeous.” You can’t help, but let a large smile appear on your face as your cheeks feel hot. The two of you continue to walk, hand in hand, enjoying the others company and the silence and still of the night.

But inside George’s mind, he was screaming at himself to tell you about how he was feeling and how he couldn’t go another second without telling you how much he loved you. But every time he opened his mouth, the moment didn’t feel right. He wanted this moment to memorable. Something the two of you could look back on fondly. But George was nearly about to blurt it out if he didn’t tell you soon.

“George? Baby, are you alright?” you interrupt his thoughts, placing a hand on his cheek. He seemed so consumed with thought and it worried you that something was bothering him.

He shook his head and spoke, “Perfectly alright, my darling.” You smiled up at him before walking over to the bunch of roses that bloomed in the corner of the courtyard. You examined the bush for the perfect one and stumbled upon a fully blossomed yellow rose. Quickly, you plucked it from the bush and skipped back over to George, tucking the beautiful bud behind his ear, making the tall boy in front of you blush a wild shade of red. “You look adorable.”

George’s heart was beating so hard in his chest, you could mistake it for a heart attack. Now was the time. It was now or never. Without further hesitant, George just looks at you and lets the words flow out of his mouth. “I love you, baby,” he speaks, simply.

Although the words were so simple, it all meant so much. When the words fell from his mouth, your heart stops and you feel like this is some sort of dream. Your eyes widen as you look up at George who is smiling like a child on Christmas. The look of love in his eyes was enough to make you reciprocate the same goofy grin and giggle.

George starts, “I love you, (Y/N). Trust in me when I say this. I love you so much. And if it’s alright, I need you. I need you to warm the lonely nights. I need to show you how much you mean to me. Godric, now that I’ve found you and I found love with you, I can’t help but want to spend the rest of my days with you.” His words make tears form in your eyes as love makes your heart swell in your ribcage. “All I want to do is love you. So, let me love you, baby.”

With a breathy giggle, you grab his face and press your lips to George’s, mustering up all the love you had in your body. George is smiling widely into the kiss as you laugh, “I love you.” In between kisses, you keep repeating those special three words to him, only making the boy happier and happier. With one final kiss, you pull away and wrap your arms around him, beaming. “I love you, George. All I want to do is love you.”

He could barely believe that you felt the same way about him. What you had, this love, was real and you felt the same way that he felt. This was everything George could ever want and more. He shakes his head in disbelief, holding your hands in his, as he looks up to the sky and breathes out, “Holy fuck,” making you laugh.

All of a sudden, George jumps up on a bench in the courtyard and yells out, “I love (Y/N)! And she loves me!” You try to shush him, knowing damn well you weren’t supposed to be out of your dormitories at this time of night. “I don’t care! I don’t care who hears me! I’m in love! And she loves me back!” he cries before jumping down and scooping you in his arms, spinning you around as you both laugh wildly. You were in love.

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aciid-eater · 4 years

Text

“Teenage Fantasy” Rodrick Heffley x reader Part.2

Summary: A fateful encounter with the girl down the street will suddenly immerse a boy in a world full of wandering romance and fluttering emotions.

Warning: slightly angst-y, adult/possibly triggering themes

Song: Teenage Fantasy-Jorja Smith

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Yeah I’m in a band, Loaded Diaper, we take big gigs.” Y/n scoffed under her breath, picking at her plate at her Family’s dinner table. Rodrick looked over at the girl, hoping to have impressed her in some way, but her irises laced in irritation didn’t look his way.

“What a coincidence, y/n makes music too!” Y/n’s mother stated.

“Really?”

Y/n dropped her fork rather loudly against her plate, glaring daggers into her mom. The tips of her fingers were shaking like rattles, stilling as she placed her hands on the large table.

“Mother.” She sighed in irritation.

“What’s wrong dear?” Y/n huffed, standing up.

“Forget it, I’ll be in my room.” She stated, leaving to put her empty plate into the sink.

“Sometimes I don’t understand her, she’s so distant.” Her mother mumbled as y/n gracefully ascended the steps to the second floor.

Lunch went smoothly after y/n left, the boys and the parents conversing mindlessly. Rodrick’s head snapped up when he heard a strong bass. It reverberated around the room, then back into his ears. Then the acoustics and beat of a soft jazz tune. His face immediately flushed when the muffled rifts of a zoned voice rang out in the room.

“There she goes again.” Y/n’s dad chuckled.

“That’s y/n?” Rodrick asked immediately.

“She sounds so good.” His mother gawked.

“She’s usually up there singing all day.” Y/n’s mother chuckled.

“Riley, go tell your sister to turn down her music.” Y/n’s mother directed. Riley groaned in his seat next to Greg. Before he could complain, Rodrick shot up quickly.

“I-I can do it.” He mumbled.

“Oh. Go ahead then, third door on the right.”

Rodrick was quick to leave the table and jog up the stairs. His eyes rolled back and a low growl fell from his lips, how could a tune, a voice sound so amazing? He trekked slowly down the hall, counting the doors as he tip toed by.

“I was told by my father, look into the future, do I really see this boy, who I think I’ve fallen for?”

The third door on the right was open, he peaked over the side, his eyes landing on y/n’s stilled form. She was sitting relaxed in a bay window and hanging over her was a professional mic. Headphones were poised over her head, they connected to a studio set up on the table across from her, including large speakers that amplified her voice throughout the house.

“We all want a Teenage Fantasy, want it when we can’t have it.”

Rodrick spent a shameful amount of time just glazing his vision over her face, eyes closed and feet propped up. Holly hills had nothing on this girl, how had he never seen her in the halls before?

“when we’ve got it we don’t seem to want it”

Y/n trailed on after the toon long dissolved, ending in a little giggle. Rodrick’s breath hitched at her smile. As y/n turned to hit a button on her equipment, she snapped her eyes to his as if she knew he was there the entire time.

“Well, did you have fun eavesdropping, brat?” She asked sassily, flocking her gaze back down to her work as Rodrick began to squirm under her stare.

“Yes- I mean- no I just-“ he cleared his throat.

“Your voice is really nice.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, mumbling a half assed thank you.

“You’ve got a nice setup in here.” He stated, eyeing her pins and dials from across the room. Y/n huffed, leaning back in her seat with her legs wide open.

“I know... why are you up here?” She asked.

“Your mom wanted me to tell you to turn it down. But now that I’m up here, I’d say what’s the harm in cracking it all the way up.” The boy smiled wickedly.

“Oohh no. Nononono. I don’t make scream music.” Y/n scoffed.

“Pft— you’re no fun.” He chuckled, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame.

“I make music you can feel.” She said pointedly, taking off her headset.

“Hey! You can feel the music my band makes.” Rodrick pouted.

“Yeah I can feel it breaking my eardrums. On a good day, I can hear you from my driveway.” Y/n yawned.

“I mean music you can really feel.” She said with more emphasis. Standing up from her spot on the window seat, y/n slowly made her way across the room to stand infront of the tall male.

“Here.” She mumbled. Rodrick’s breath hitched when y/n’s hand trailed up his arm, her opposite hand palming up his chest. She hooked her finger under the neck line of his black tee shirt, pulling it slightly. She leaned upwards, her bottom lip brushing against his earlobe slightly.

“There no need to rush, take your time, life’s a big ride”

She sang softly, hushed in almost a whisper. Butterflies fluttered in Rodrick’s chest, her honey like voice making his skin crawl. It was the flow of her voice that made him feel things he knew he shouldn’t have. Her words were sticky sweet in his mind, replaying them over and over until they didn’t feel the same.

“Come back to earth, brat. I know I’m good but you look like you just came on the spot” she whispered, placing a hand flat against Rodrick’s chest. He flinched at the contact, his face flushing a brighter red. Y/n listened to his stuttering, using it as an opportunity to slip her hand under the hem of his shirt. She relished in the small whimper that fell from his lips, not flinching away when Rodrick’s large hands cupped her hips.

I like this. Maybe he’s a little more than I thought he was

“Y/n! Can you come turn on the sprinklers for me?” Her mother called out from the floor below. Rodrick blinked in surprise when y/n slipped away without so much as a second glance. And when she was gone, he leaned back against her door frame, raking his hands through his hair.

#rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick x reader #doawk #diary of a wimpy kid #Rodrick #Rodrick Heffley

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timextoxhajima · 3 years

Text

Christmas & Me

Member: Younghyun (Youngk)

Genre: tutor au cause why the fk not ft a plot twist ion know

Word Count: 4.3k

Usually it wouldn’t be this hard.

Writing.

If anything, it should be the easiest thing for you.

The grip of the pen rubs annoyingly against your skin between your thumb and index finger, all the words in your head but it’s as if they had a mind of their own and refused to come out on paper. The heavying rain outside starts to slap against the window you were facing, jolting you out of your frustration for a few seconds.

You can barely see the buildings across the road now, the rain so thick, it looks like a cloud passing through the city. Sighing, you rest your left cheek against the back of your fingers, fingers in your right hand fiddling with the pen mindlessly. It feels like your vocabulary is suddenly limited, rendering all the awards on your shelves useless and meaningless.

What was the point of earning all those awards when I can’t do anything now?

At a loss of ideas and inspiration, you drop the pen to the notebook and close it, turning off the table lamp and dumping yourself on the two-seater sofa. The photo frame on the glass table between your feet and the small television offering you a pathetic reflection of yourself.

The walk to school the next day was rather peaceful - only because being an international student granted you that privilege. Well, unless--

“GOOD MORNING!” Jamie is loud the way she is when she throws her arm over your shoulders, visibly putting in some effort into it because you were easily a forehead’s length taller than her. It could get draining sometimes, how she’s so enthusiastic about things, but she’s an endearing person to be with, so you’ve learnt to put up with it.

“Hey,” Pulling out your earphones, she studies your gloomy expression. “How was your weekend?”

Jamie frowns, blinking out of slight confusion. “How was my weekend? How was your trip to pain city?”

A grimaced smile graces over your lips for a few seconds, disappointed with your lack in ability to keep your feelings off your face. “That obvious, huh?”

She pulls her arm off you when she deems it too tiring to keep up. “It might have been only two months since we’ve met but believe me, I can read you like a book.”

A pause as the both of you step into the college compounds, a huge crowd of students already frolicking about in the front garden or entering the faculty buildings.

“So, what’s keeping you awake at night?”

Hesitance collects your thoughts.

“Oh no, again?” Sympathy paints her face like the sunlight that’s beginning to seep through the clouds and onto the hallways of school. “Honey, I know it’s none of my business but this isn’t good for you in the long run. You need like... like a turning point of some sorts, I don’t know. Something to kick-start your engines again.”

Her attempt at a solution finally ignites a little flame of mischief in you. “Like what?” You cock a brow and scoff, entering the lecture hall alongside her.

“Like... a boy.”

“A boy?” You are unable to stifle the loud snort that runs through your nose, earning the embarrassing attention of some other students. “Sorry.”

“You heard me right. That’s exactly what you need. You need to fall in love or get your heart broken and then maybe it’ll set you off.”

“I was expecting you to say something more along the lines of a ‘tutor’.”

“The Hell d’you need a tutor for?” She thwacks your arm. “Have you seen the things you write? My dumbass couldn’t write that shit out even if I was old and had a billion stories to tell.”

“Well, like you said. Just something to get me started, that’s all. Someone to talk me through the process again, probably offer me new ideas, new perspectives.”

Your friend goes silent at your explanation - it was a better idea than getting yourself involved with a boy. When she’s quiet for a prolonged amount of time though, you nudge her with your elbow and she looks at you through the corners of her eyes.

“Do you want me to apologise for suggesting a boy?”

Pursing your lips to hide away the little snicker you have under your breath, you nod childishly.

“Ugh, fine. I’m sorry I suggested getting your heart broken,” She pulls out her laptop and places it on the lecture table. “But if you’re looking for a tutor or something to shit-talk writing ideas with, I actually might have just the person for you.”

A pause.

“Of course, only if you’re interested.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Her cat eyes dart to you again, now coveted in playfulness. “Cause issa boy.”

“On God--” With that, you groan and give her arm a light punch.

Jamie: Contact: Kang Younghyun

Jamie: he’s a friend from work

You: you work?

Jamie: what’s that supposed to mean

Jamie: frickin ingrate

The first time you meet Kang Younghyun was in a Starbucks outlet down the street from college. Jamie had plans after school so she wouldn’t be able to sit in the ‘shit-talk’ session with you, but she assures you that he was a nice guy, albeit sometimes too nice for his own good.

You had your notebook and pencil case laid out in front of you, with a cup of hot white chocolate mocha sitting at the edge of the table. You’ve only seen Younghyun from his profile picture when you contacted him, so you’d think he’s not difficult to recognise.

And yet when he first walks into the café, it still takes you sometime to register that this was your ‘shit-talk’ tutor. You watch him scan the length of the cafe, missing you the first time because you felt too awkward to raise your hand like you were in class.

But he catches you the second time, probably noticing how hard you were staring at him and hoping he could receive your telepathic signal. His hair was black and parted down the middle, with a pair of glasses with gold rims that made it look more like decor on his face than actual glasses.

“Hi, pleasure to meet you,” With his palm extended out, you are forced to stand against his tall build.

“Likewise,” Taking his hand in yours, the anxiety fills your stomach when the moment feels a little too long for comfort.

“Jamie’s talked to me about you, I hope you don’t mind.”

He grabs a seat and places his laptop case on the table. He’s wearing a honey-brown shirt with a baby-blue blazer, guilt-tripping you into feeling like you’ve underdressed.

Why did I think it was a good idea to come in a lame cardigan and jeans?

You don’t realise how long you’ve spent inside your head that it’s quiet outside.

“So,” He breaks the silence first, pulling out a notebook instead of a laptop. In fact, you don’t even think he had a laptop with him. “I assume you need some ideas or inspiration for an assignment?”

“Um,” You look down at your empty notebook, the jagged ridges of the spine showing the dozens of pages that you’ve ripped out and thrown into a corner of your apartment. “Not so much of an assignment, actually. I just... it’s my outlet. But I can’t spend my time spewing out all my feelings onto paper, can I?”

Younghyun’s surprise is easily read from his eyes widening when he looks up from his own notebook and at you. “And... and you’re paying me for that? To vent your feelings?”

I’ve said too much.

“I need that for myself, so... I’m just trying to get back on track. That’s all.”

“Oh, no, my apologies,” He shakes his hands, apologetic. “I didn’t mean to sound like I’m judging you or anything, it’s just... not many people would pay just for... well, whatever you just said.”

You bite down on your bottom lip, opting to reach for your beverage to hide the shame that was slowly brewing in your lungs. Younghyun blinks at his own notebook, worried that he’s offended you.

“It’s alright, since you sound like you just need inspiration or an outlet to talk to, I’ll be just that.”

You place the mug down and watch him keep his notebook away, leaning back into his seat and crossing his legs with his hands over his stomach. “I’ll start.”

Younghyun gets comfortable in his seat and rests his head atop the sofa seat, eyes glued to the ceiling with the lights reflecting off his glasses. He talks about music. The way the instrument vibrates in his hands when he strums the strings and the way the ground vibrates when the bass is connected to the bass amplifier.

He doesn’t look at you once, but that’s how you know he’s speaking from his heart. There was no need to write any of this down; seeing someone talk about what he loved without reading off a script was enough to tell you how much he’d hate life if he didn’t have it.

The same way you’d feel if you don’t get your writing gears back in check.

The weekly ‘tutor’ sessions stretch out into a month, then months before Younghyun is talking to you about his family, though you’ve gone round in circles talking about nothing but writing and reading. You were concerned if he was getting bored that you stuck to the same topic for months whilst he was literally talking about everything under the sun -- but he had a way with keeping you entertained, even if you were not.

“y/n.”

Sucking in a deep breath at the call of your name, you find yourself being shoved out of a trance - a trance of staring at him straight in his face. The blood rushes to your cheeks faster than you can react to his sneaky smile, the nerves in your body steering you to grab your mug of white chocolate mocha to hide half your face.

“Was there something on my face? Snow in my hair?” He whips out his phone and turns on the front camera.

“No, no, there was just--” He keeps his phone and looks at you. “Something in your eyebrow--”

If you could cringe anymore from your own lame excuse, you would’ve just disintegrated into a million atoms and vanish.

“Oh, really?” He pulls out his phone again, but it frustrates you because he’s just going to look like an idiot trying to pick something out that’s not there. But he takes you by surprise when he turns to you, face already leaning forwards with his glasses being pulled from his face. “Care to give me a hand here?”

A gulp finds your throat and the sweat starts to form in your palms. Usually in winter, you’d be freezing to death. But Younghyun right here wasn’t making it comfortable, he was making you feel warm and anxious to the bone.

Carefully, your hand reaches out and then he’s staring at you in your eyes. He hears you clear your throat because he flinches, watching your attention zoom in on his left eyebrow. Pretence was a game you aren’t accustomed to playing, but you make it through by gently brushing his brow and flicking your fingers in some other direction.

“Is it gone?”

He’s so close, you can feel his breath on your chin.

There was such a fleeting glimmer in his eyes, that had you blinked, you would’ve missed it. Is that what you really saw? Wander?

Nah--

“Did you get it?”

“Oh-- yeah, sure.”

Younghyun retreats, gently fixing his glasses. His laptop was before him now, doing his own work while working with you. Little did he know that he’s had so much effect on your ideas that you’ve stopped writing all together-- why?

Because you just know you’d be writing about him all the damn time.

“By the way, I just wanted to ask you about something--”

Ring

Your phone steals both your attention as it vibrates across the surface of the table, and Younghyun gestures for you to take it.

“Sorry,” You stand and pick it up, flipping it over and gritting your teeth when you see the caller ID. “You know this is my tuition timing, couldn’t you have called?”

“I would’ve but I couldn’t resist getting this information to you asap-- there’s this gig next weekend and I think you’ll love it.”

You turn around and look into the café, watching Younghyun’s back work on his laptop. A girl walks past, unable to resist a second glance at him. He doesn’t notice the more-than-innocent look in her face when they make eye contact, and he merely nods the look away as a form of acknowledgement.

“What time is it?”

“Yeah... that’s the problem. It’s during your tuition so... I guess you’re gonna have to pass up on that session next week.”

“What?” You say a little too loudly. Younghyun actually hears you from inside the cafe and turns around in his seat, cuing you to quickly turn away and face the road. “I’m not skipping tuition for a gig.”

“Aw come on, that’s bullshit. You don’t even need him to write well! Have you even been writing since he started tutoring you?”

“Sometimes I wish I wasn’t such an easy book to read.”

“Great. It’s Christmas eve then anyway, why’d you want to meet your tutor? Tell him you have something next Saturday and I’ll come pick you up from your apartment at 7.”

“Wait, Jamie--”

Beep

Younghyun’s eyes are brimming with anticipation as you sit down, not a regular sight - you don’t remember a time he’s looked at you like this.

“It was Jamie. She, uh-- We’re going out next weekend, told me to tell you that I’ll take a raincheck on next week’s session.”

“Oh,” He looks down at his hands. You can’t decipher if he’s disappointed or upset that you don’t know your priorities. But he hides it all too well with that gentle smile of his, and he waves it off. “It’s okay. You should take the weekend off. Besides, it’s not like you have any homework you owe me.”

That eyebrow raise should be illegal.

By the time next Sunday arrives, you were already beginning to regret your decision to let Jamie decide your schedule. You were giving up a chance to meet your tutor, who knows nothing but passion and love and writing and music -- for a gig you don’t even know the guest performers?

Jamie forces you into something more than a T-shirt and jeans, throwing you into a dress and a leather jacket over, making you look more like a high school student than a college one.

But Jamie’s excitement is much more overwhelming when you reach the Lotus Garden, and to your surprise, the ambience wasn’t all too bad. The lights were amber, giving the place a warmer hue. The crowd looked much friendlier than the ones you’d expect in a club, and the food served were... actual food. Not just alcohol and buffalo wings.

The stage was set up with different instruments and so when the lights dimmed down, the crowd was already offering low hoots and--

“What the fuck?!”

Jamie’s loud yell is drowned out with the sudden burst of claps and hoots when the band comes on stage, and all you can focus on is the familiar stranger with the bass in his hands.

“Is that--”

“The Hell’s Younghyun doin’ here?!” She’s got that confused-angry look going on in her eyes, and it humors you for a few seconds before you look back on stage.

This time, he doesn’t need a second chance to find you in the crowd.

There was still huge smile he had on his face that you could only wish was for you, and yet everything else on him was too difficult to divert your focus away from. Black hair slicked to the side; an all-black fit.

“I brought you here to get you away from him but he’s here...?!” She gasps loudly. The band has started playing but she obviously doesn’t care. “DID YOU KNOW HE WAS PLAYING AT THIS GIG--”

“What?! No!”

“You liar--”

“I didn’t know, I swear to God--”

“He’s staring at you like he wants to eat you-- My God!”

“No, I promise I didn’t know that he-- wait, he what?”

Jamie exasperatedly turns your shoulders to face the stage, and all you could see was Younghyun staring at you like he was singing the lyrics to you.

“난 그냥 너랑”

“같이 있는 게 좋아”

“나도 참 답이 없다 야”

Jamie’s probably screaming now -- no wait, she is -- because she’s losing her mind over the lyrical confession.

But how can you pay her your attention, when it feels like it’s just the two of you in the room?

The ten songs pass by in a flash, never once getting tired of staring back at him with Jamie screaming in your ear every now and then to make sure you were sane.

The band thanks the crowd, the screaming from the girls nearly drowning out their umpteenth ‘thanks’ into the microphone. So much for a calm crowd.

Jamie pulls you aside to save you from the mobbing that she probably already knows the band attracts, but Younghyun jumps off the stage instead of following his bandmates backstage, earning loud gasps from the crowd.

He pushes his way through the bodies that were just obstacles to him, heading straight for you and Jamie.

The sweat is sticking his fringe to his forehead, and he was slightly breathless from the performance adrenaline. He’s always been talking about music and lyrics but he’s never once talked about performing.

“Jamie!” He opens his arms to her.

“I know I’m not the one you want to hug, Brian.”

“Who’s Brian? Come on, get in here!” He forcefully wraps his arm around her and ruffles her hair with a closed fist, earning a punch to his stomach.

“Hey--” You pull Jamie back, showing the slightest disapproval of her violence. However Jamie doesn’t spare a second before she grabs you by your arm and replaces her initial position with you, throwing you into his chest awkwardly.

“Man, if I knew it was your band, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

Crossing her arms, she rolls her eyes away from your even-more awkward distancing. Then she gasps again, this time covering her mouth as she directly points to his nose.

“This was what you were worried about! You were scared that she’d reject your--”

“Ah--” He grabs Jamie and covers her mouth. “We agreed that you wouldn’t tell her, right?”

“Tell me what?”

You watch both friends dart their eyes to you, one filled with absolute mischief but the other’s ears looked redder than fire under the warm tone of the room.

Younghyun struggles to keep Jamie in his arms when she tries to break free, but he simply offers a service smile, nodding towards the stage. “Stay close, I’ll get you backstage.”

Jamie’s eyes are half-hooded with how unbothered she is, the security guard to the backstage door letting the two of you in once Younghyun informs him that you’re special guests. Once in the dressing room, Jamie shakes herself free of Younghyun, dashing to the other band members and happily throwing her arms around them.

Your hands are shy behind your back, unable to keep up with her excitement. You weren’t sure why he thought it would ease you, because it doesn’t --

Younghyun snakes his hand behind your back and interlocks your outer hand with his, giving you a tight squeeze while keeping it in place so that none of the other people in the room could see his little ministration.

“This is y/n, she’s the college student I’ve been tutoring over the weekend.”

“Yeah, right. ‘Tutoring’.” Jamie has her arm perched atop the tallest member’s shoulder, who was already halfway down a squat to let her reach that height.

“I’ll bolt first,” He announces. Then the tug on your hand before he releases feels like a signal. “Come on.”

You take a second glance at Jamie as he grabs his bass guitar and bag and hugs his band members.

‘Use protection’ she mouths.

Before you can send a slap across the room, Younghyun gently rests his palm on your shoulder. “I’ll send you home, let’s go.”

And just as you leave the dressing room, you can see Jamie offering you the dirtiest, most scandalous eyebrow raise ever.

Younghyun holds the back door of the café for you as you exit, the winter air turning your warm breaths into little clouds of vapor with every exhale.

He’s used to your inability to strike up a useful conversation, and you could tell he was anxious about you finally seeing him in this light.

“So, how was it? The performance?”

You turn to him, only to see his gaze burning right through you. Thank God it’s late, if not he would’ve seen right through the abrupt change in color of your cheeks.

“It was good,” You turn and nod to yourself, hoping he’d see it. “You never told me you perform.”

“Oh, well... It’s not often anyway,” Then you feel a material wrap around your neck. The scarf smells nothing but him, it’s dangerously intoxicating.

“Thank you,” You can feel the awkwardness setting in again. “So, what was it that you were afraid I’d reject you for?”

For the first time in four months, he goes quiet. Nothing but the sound of your shoes crunching over the snow and the cars that zip past the road.

He scratches his brow and fails to meet your eyes, his attention glued to his shoes instead. A small smile dominates your lips.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to tell me though, I respect your privacy.”

“It’s not that!” He quickly defends. “I just... I actually... wanted to ask you out, invite you to this gig as a performer’s guest. But then Jamie called you,” He rubs the back of his head. “We just didn’t expect it to be the same event.”

Inside your coat pockets, your hands are sweating. Under your dress, your heart is almost on the verge of being thrown up through your mouth. When was the last time I felt so nervous?

The silence in the walk gradually shifted from being awkward to mere peace, though Jamie’s screaming had already been recorded somewhere in your head. Your hand was already out in the open, for the sole reason it couldn’t stand anymore sweating in your pocket. Luckily, the winter wind was so dry, it aired your palms easily.

Younghyun is a brave person though, when he slots his fingers between yours. Confidently taking your hand in his, he cannot hide the smile that emerges on his face - and frankly, neither can you.

When you reach your apartment, it’s natural to invite guests in (right?), and Younghyun takes the invitation hesitantly, releasing your hand only for you to get the door open.

He’s looking around the single-bedroom apartment, a gorgeous view of the city right outside the window that your desk faced. The kitchen calls for you, your instincts telling you to get him a cup of warm tea as you leave him to wander around your apartment.

But he’s staring at the framed photo on the glass table at the sofa when you come out of the kitchen with his tea, and his eyes travel up from the photo to you with such care and concern, it makes you want to assume he’s already pitying you.

“It’s a cute picture--”

“It’s okay to ask. If you’re curious.”

The ceramic mug clinks onto the glass table.

Younghyun sets his guitar down and places his bag against the side of the two-seater sofa.

“I’m not going to ask if you’re uncomfortable.”

A small flashback to when you first met him. The way he so comfortably laid back in his seat and talked about playing the bass; how it felt.

“My mother was a children’s book author, and my dad read them to me every night because she was so busy writing them. But I could always see myself in her stories. The little girl who was so innocent, she let herself get bullied in school. The kitten that was afraid of thunder and lightning. The lone flower in a field of roses, but still gets picked out because it was a rare flower.”

A pause. You see nothing but the ceiling and hear nothing but his breathing next to you.

“After my dad passed away, my mother lost her memory to Alzheimer’s. I was studying Literature, hoping to become a poet when she was admitted to the care center. Then I found out her will left me everything she had in her possession, telling me to take my studies overseas and do what I want to do.”

You turn your head on the back of the sofa seat, worried that he’d be put off by the sad story that suddenly came up. There was that glimmer in his eyes again, then he purses his lips before leaning forward.

Your head is already tilted to the side, so he doesn’t shift himself much to cup your cheek in his hand, lips gentle against yours. Your eyes flutter shut upon the contact, feeling his warm pool around your cheek from his palm.

So gentle, it feels like feathers.

Younghyun pulls away, breath light on your philtrum when he presses his forehead against yours. Your eyes meet too close for comfort, and yet it feels like you’ve known him for too long.

“I admire your courage to be doing what you want to do. So, I hope you’ll let me help you get back whatever inspiration you need to write again.”

Your fingers are trembling when they attempt to stroke his cheekbone.

“You don’t need to worry about that, you are my inspiration.”

#day6 imagines #youngk imagines #younghyun imagines #day6 #day6 youngk #youngk fanfic #youngk scenarios #day6 younghyun #younghyun

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theawesomeally · 3 years

Text

Before We Met (Preview)

Prologue

In a world inhabited by mythic creatures, love was commonplace several millennia ago, though difficult to master. After his training advances over the decades, his powers became obsolete and were largely discarded.

[The camera zooms in on the city and two blazing specks of light dash all over the place as one shoots lasers at the other. We then see an enemy aircraft flying throughout while it's chasing a young man, who is running from the pursuer. We see full closeups of a guy in his craft and Rocky as he runs. The scene freezes after an explosion with Rocky barely missing it.]

[voice over]

Through the years I have been known by many names. Marshmallow, The Furry Lover, The Daredevil, Frisky Two Times and then The amazing Ryan Reynolds. But to most, I am Rocky, the awesome one!

[Some other women, leaning across the wall, and Rocky getting his shades from his pocket. Put it onto his eyes. While he puts his hoodie onto his shoulders. Rocky was dressed like a gentleman, but he fought with honor or dignity and pulled at the knot into his tie. Females are not meant to grab his attention, and if it does. To be fair, he heard most of what he'd said up to this point. The parts that weren't of his interest, anyway.

Okay, maybe that wasn't much]

His sigh is heavy with exasperation,

"Can you keep your dick in your pants at the gala?"

Grab his phone from his pocket, automatically switching it out of Bluetooth mode, and bring his earphone up to his ear.

I will never forget you, Margarita. [The female stops and cringe after hearing the name. His blue prominent eyes were not well adapted to winking. They were rather of the sort that closes solemnly in slumber with majestic effect.

Rocky pretend to consider as Rocky step out of the car and button his tux jacket. "Hmm."

"Nice wheels, sir," the valet says, unconcerned that he was on the phone. Rocky pull out his wallet and flash a fifty-dollar bill. "Take care of her and this is yours."

"Yes, Mr. Rocky."

"I mean, Rosa. Uh...sorry. I think maybe I should go.???." She wrapped her arms over her chest and shook her head with a smirk curved across her face. Rocky grinned and raised an ironical finger in salute Rocky starts backing away. "You can't get away with it." the security guard muttered, holding out one hand. He was moving very slowly, thinking Rocky was the enemy or something. Blinks at her as a farewell, but glance with a smug as he sees the vampire's ring. Mind was so wrapped up in thought that he didn't notice the familiar vampire standing behind him. A vampire with bad breath psycho. "Hey, come on, dickie! You're trashing public property here!" He is thinking about how he had to sneaked up onto the roof and is currently standing a few feet behind him.

Rocky then gently slides the ring off the vampire's finger using his katana.

Light glinted off a myriad of his Katana and the vampire ring. Spray from the dust to blew up into his face, but sweat more than seawater moistened his palms as he gripped the eagle. His eyes were as blue while the vampires eyes were cold as the stormy weather.

"Hey, it's Gale calling," says Rocky called over his shoulder to one nefarious vampire. "Love the shiny suit. Really brings out the sex trafficker in your eyes." Rocky had commented, half jokingly and straight up confident, how that guy would have been considered handsome - if he ever bothered to smile.

Cut to a shot of a cliff.

A grim expression again carved itself into the soldier's face as he gazed up at the jeering vampires, their bodies smeared with blood, upon the cliff tops. Even the most cowardly of tribes in Gaul would fancy its chances from such advantageous ground, one being was mused. The sound of their jeers was occasionally accompanied by the high pitched swish of an arrow, as the odd archer tried his luck. Invariably the missile would zip harmlessly into the sea, or at best a thud could be heard as it struck as a human shield or the solid surface of the earth.

Cut back to the fighting scene. Rocky is skewering a guy with his swords, and kicks the vampire in the chest, sending him back down and puts his sword away. The guy gasp and starts fighting with Rocky. This continues for awhile until Rocky get's away again. Using two fingers he salute the vampire as a goodbye.

Making a soft chuckle. He flicks the vampire ring up into the air. It comes back down and lands into one of the streets, causing his background to explode. The shards of fire fell in slow motion behind him.

He is consumed in the explosion, as his body can be seen flying off the ground, flipping off the camera as it goes. "Oh, fuck." Rocky mutter under his breath. "Oh, I'm sorry." A small apology leaving his lips with a smirk.

"That will teach you, not to mess with me," A familiar voiced ask, up righting his head as he walk over the circles and appeared in front of him,

(narrator)

So, I know what you're thinking. Why is that incredibly handsome guy being chased by a madman with a huge shiny fangs from the Civil War?

[The scene freezes after an explosion sending Rocky flying off the ground from the ground. After the dust settles, leaving Rocky lying unconscious on the ground.]

This guy's got the right idea. Well, to be honest, it feels like I've been the captain of my whole life. Is this too much? Am I going too fast? It's kind of what I do--You know what? Let's back up.

[We see the whole fight going in reverse as well as frames of future clips for a split second each time, one passes as Rocky mimics a rewind sound effect] Cut to close-up of Rocky gets up to his feet. Cut to him sitting on the side of the gable roof at night. Wondering how long it would be before he saw the city again. He had been born with a wandering heart, and he embraced adventure, unafraid to face the dangers often presented by journeys into unknown places. Leaving civilization behind for the wilds of the frozen north, legs dangling over the side as he listens to his Walkman next to him playing 'Shoop.' Rocky was vaguely singing along, making hand gestures along with the lyrics, but he was focused on his own drawing, while listening to the music and coloring a picture with crayons. We see that the picture he's drawing is him shooting the vampire in the head, he was doing it with some crayons he had with him.

It was fun to see that getting shot in the head, even if it was just a crayon drawing. He'd never soon change it to a reality. And then turned his head and stared directly at the camera, or the person reading, or just whoever balls happened to be paying a lot of attention to him.

Wha- Oh! Oh, hello. I know, right? Who's balls did I have to snap to get my very own story? I can't tell you, but it does rhyme with dick. And let me tell you; he's got a nice pair of fucking underwear, he finished in an Swedish accent.

They'd get that joke, right?

Anyway, I got places to be, a kiss in the ass to fix, and - oh! hot weird vampire to kill.

He watched eagerly as the flashes of light began to appear below him – lots of rippers were a very dramatic little shit, after all – we're panning quickly towards the edge of the roof he was sitting on. Now having an appointment to keep, Rocky was quick to get onto edge of the roof and, in one fluid motion, opens a music playlist called Tunes of Anarchy on his Walkman, and the song "Where Evil Grows" by The Poppy Family stays playing in the background as he jumped off the roof, landing in one of the coolest bar in Mystic Falls. It seemed that they had been drinking peacefully, listening to 'Angel of the Morning,' but when Rocky landed and that's when their peaceful night was over.

They look around for which they finally see as Rocky stands at a wooden doorway wearing a cowboy hat, black sunglasses, and red a white hoodie as he opens a music playlist called Tunes of Anarchy on his Walkman. Opens up and the door swings open and the music resumes with people dancing and lights flashing as he goes inside the bar.

Nothing.

Absolutely positively not a fucking thing.

First one person turned, noticing him. Then more followed, until the whole patron was hushed, waiting. Everyone was watching, the same bewildered look on all of their faces. Eyebrows raised and narrowed eyes, etc. God, for months he'd played this moment over and over inside his mind. It most definitely never turned out like this. Whatever this was.

As he walks up to the bar. The room was narrow and about 90 feet deep. Light did manage to worm its way into the establishment, though. It seeped through the windows scattered along the walls, and through the gaps in the door between its wooden panels. A bar on the left at the front, then some upholstered horseshoe benches, then a cluster of freestanding tables on what, on other nights, might have been a dance floor. Then the stage, with the band on it. The band looked as if it had been put together by accident after a misfiling incident at a talent agency. The bass player was a stout old black guy in a suit with a vest. He was plucking away at an upright bass fiddle. The drummer could have been his uncle. He was a big old guy sprawled comfortably behind a small, simple kit. The singer was also a harmonica player and was older than the bass player and younger than the drummer and bigger than either one.

The guitarist was completely different. He was young and white and small. Maybe 20, maybe 5-foot-6, maybe 130 pounds. He had a fancy blue guitar wired to a crisp new amplifier and together the instrument and the electronics made sharp sounds full of space and echoes. The amp must have been turned up to 11. The sound was incredibly loud. It was as if the air in the room was locked solid. It had no more capacity for volume. But the music was good. The three black guys were old pros, and the white kid knew all the notes, and when and how and in what order to play them. He was wearing a red T-shirt and black pants and white tennis shoes. He had a very serious expression on his face. He looked foreign. Maybe Russian.

I watched them for a minute, and then I looked away. My name is Rocky, and once I was the most wanted man, with heavy emphasis on the past tense. I have been out nearly as long as I was in. But old habits die hard. I had stepped into the bar the same way I always step anywhere, which is carefully. One-thirty in the morning. I had ridden the train to West and walked south on Sixth Avenue and made the left turn on San Francisco bar and checked the sidewalks. I wanted music, but not the kind that drives large numbers of patrons outside to smoke.

His attention was taken away from patrons. It was at that point that he saw the young beautiful woman alone at her table, Her name tag read Katy, and her shirt clung tightly around her chest. Her hands worked quickly and gracefully with the bottles as she poured them another and took the empty's away.

I watched her in the gaudy, reflected light, with the music shrieking and pounding all around me. The two guys watched her. Her bodyguard watched her. She watched the guitarist. He was concentrating hard, key changes and choruses, but from time to time he would lift his head and smile, mostly at the glory of being up on the stage, but twice directly at the girl. The first of those smiles was shy, and the second was a little wider.

What met my eyes was a beautiful girl with golden hair and a bright smile that melted my heart. She was blond and blue-eyed, American woman who have a glow, and a smoothness complexion. She lives in New York, singing, listening to a band, and I was in love with her angelic voice. That was clear. There I was, a guy further back in the room, stood in the room staring at her. I was 6ft tall, wide man with a white hoodie and a black leather jacket under a hoodie. She was part of the reason I was here with her back in a city when we were at the age of 19 or less.

It wasn't the kind of glossy place that had a policy about dating rich girls, either for or against. Some call it a gold digger, and I guessed they had looked at her and her minder and made a snap decision against trouble and in favor of tips.

The part of her gaze that wasn't wary was filled with adoration, and it was all aimed in his direction. She was rich. She was alone at a table near the stage and she had a pile of A.T.M fresh twenties in front of her and she was paying for each new bottle with one of them and she wasn't asking for change.

She was a waitress and I loved her.

The woman stood up. She butted the lip of her table with her thighs and shuffled out from behind it and headed for the counter in back. I got there first. The sound from the band howled through it. The ladies' room was halfway down. The men's room was all the way at the end. Rocky leaned on the wall and scanned the room. As Rocky watched her walk in and squeeze through the crowd and she sat down on the bar stool, 1 feet away from him.

"Hey, Raoul, look what this kid dragged in. Oh, wait! That is the guy!," but they didn't hear. Too much noise. He caught them by the elbows, one in each hand. They spun around, as if ready to fight, but then they stopped. Fortunately for him, the first two who approached her were quick to heed her dismissal. She wasn't there to mingle with huge ass in leather jackets. She was just there to grab a drink and relax and pretty sure she made that pretty clear when she shot the first couple of idiots down.

The third guy, however, wasn't ready to take no for an answer.

"How about you let me buy you a drink, sweetheart?"

Their sex appeal eyes pried upon their eyes from the television screen above the bar and looked at the newcomer. With his hair greased back and one-size-too-big biker jacket on, the guy looked like prime wife-beater material. Perfect. Just what they needed to interrupt his evening.

"Thanks, but I'm good," she said curtly, gesturing to the beer bottle in front of her.

"That's it? You're gonna chug that shitty beer and call it a night? Come on, let me get you a real drink."

She scoffed. "What? Like those idiots you got over there?" she glanced past him at the table where he and a couple of his friends had been sitting.

"It's a warm-up. Trust me, honey, we're just getting started over there. You should join us."

She wanted to roll her eyes. "Like I said, I'm good."

She made the move to turn away and focus her attention back on the football game on the television when the guy grabbed her by the arm.

"What the hell's your problem?" This guy gripped her arm tightly, this guy's face practically scrunched up in a beastly snarl. "I don't like to be ignored, y'know?"

She yanked her arm out of his grip and stood up to face him directly. She knew pretty damn well where the conversation was headed and sure as hell were not about to get in a bar fight with their ass glued to the seat.

Before she could open her mouth, a familiar voice spoke up from behind her.

By hearing it and raising their head to turn to his voice, her smile grew a tad wider, recognizing the voice immediately. They simply looked so annoyed, at least much more than usual. His lips pulled into a tight frown, while their eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowed, back hunched over slightly if you'd look hard enough. Yep, those guys are just being grumpy as usual, but seemingly much more grumpy, except with their eyes laced with the slightest bit of concern. For herself, most likely.

The said person stopped, and looked over their shoulder to the voice. She put on a mellow look close to her usual one. Confrontation- unnecessary confrontation- was not exactly his thing. He tended to avoid fights like these. He could hold his ground better than most, but he preferred to keep out of the brawls and spats that others got involved in.

A voice caught his ear, she sounded like she needed help, despite the overconfident tone the stranger used. "Look, I don't wanna interrupt, but is this guy bothering you?" he looks up at her and says greeted casually, as casual as someone could be hanging for dear life. She looked up at me, startled that he was there. "I'm sorry. Did I scare you up?" he softly asked, when she turned to get a good look at the stranger in his handsome voice. She wasn't expecting the sight she was met with. A pair of piercing blue eyes smiled over her, puffing out her cheeks childishly when she looked at him. After she looked to her right to find Rocky taking his place beside her. Her pinkish lips turned up in a small smile as she ducked her head briefly with a laugh before tucking her hair behind her ear, "No, you did not," she said. He couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice. She turned her head to look at him, catching his gaze with her own. He gave a small smile, stroking her hair softly with his index. "So, What exactly are you doing here?" she said softly, trying to maintain an even tone of voice.

"Oh you know, I was just passing through the neighborhood when I thought I caught a whiff of filthy human garbage coming from this place," he said,

"And sure enough here I am."

Desire pools dark and deadly in his groin. Gaze up at her, releasing her lip. Katy flush a deep crimson in her cheeks, and he runs his index finger down her cheek before handing her the headphones. "I'd like to kiss you, too, but you won't let me down, are you?." Rocky asked her. Besides, he's pulled the straps so tight he can barely move.

Amused smile on his lips, he's wearing his enigmatic half smile. He glances down at her, light blue-gray eyes alive, he glances up when she looks at his way and their eyes lock. And in that brief moment, she was paralyzed, staring at the impossibly handsome man who gazes at her with some unfathomable emotion. His gaze hot, burning into her, as they lost for a moment staring at each other.

It's there in the air between them, that electricity. It's palpable. He can almost taste it, pulsing between them, drawing them together.

"Oh my," she gasps as she basks briefly in the intensity of this visceral, primal attraction. The two men stood back, saying nothing, but looking at him with hard eyes.

Katy had, somehow, stammered out some sort of reply that must have made her look insane. Coby, hearing her, had come over to check on her and had ended up having her go make Rocky's a drink while they chatted. Ever since that first meeting, though, Katy had completely fallen for Rocky. There was something about his smile, or maybe it was his eyes? Whatever it was, it made Katy's entire body feel light as a feather.

To be continued....

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abdulraveman · 3 years

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Fender Newspaper vol. 6

translated interview

Part 1

On October 7th and 8th, the non-audience concert at the Nippon Budokan was held. How did you feel?

There is no one in front of me. If you want to say how I felt, I can say you can’t compare it to a normal performance (lol) and while performing with a feeling that I hope it can be conveyed (to the viewers) well.

Singing acoustic the first day, band performance on the second day, how do you feel about your performance?

In terms of performance, I didn't do anything particularly difficult. Because it's just playing guitar and singing, there’s no difficulty. So the concert was a pretty safe/successful performance, right? (lol)

Why did you start playing the guitar?

My elder brother has a guitar, although I played several times when I was a kid, I was frustrated with the F chord. I bought my own guitar for the first time when I was 15-16 years old. At that time, I bought an acoustic guitar, so my second guitar was Fender’s Telecaster Deluxe. Then I wanted to install a Bigsby (a vibrato device) so I made a hole myself & broke it, & the tuning couldn’t match at all (lol)

Why did you choose Fender's Telecaster Deluxe?

I didn't have an electric guitar, I was thinking about buying an electric guitar... I wonder why? Maybe because John Frusciante (of red hot chilli peppers) and Kazuyoshi Saito often used fenders. So I've always admired Fender.

How did you feel the charm of guitar when you started playing guitar again at the age of 15-16?

I simply think guitar is really cool. Because if you want to form a band, you will first practice guitar. The mesmerizing feeling when playing solo is very cool, it feels like a painting. I probably felt like this at first. Also, you can play and sing with a guitar, right?

What kind of practice did you do?

I was practicing while looking at the music sheet. In my previous group, I didn't play the guitar solo much but rather focused on rhythm guitar (accompaniment guitar). So, I had to practice with an emphasis on rhythm.

Why were you particular about rhythm guitar?

Singing and playing is the main premise, so at the Nippon Budokan's distribution live, I only played a guitar solo, and I made a slight mistake in that solo.

Do you not want to want to play a guitar solo?

If I can play as well as John Scofield (jazz rock guitarist) I will play it all the time (lol) but I’m still longing for it. That's why I want to learn jazz guitar and know what it's like. I bought an instructional book about jazz guitar. The reviews says if I play it every day for 3 years, I can become really good. However, the time span is very long & I was frustrated after 4 days (lol)

(lol) You’re still a guitar and vocalist now.

But I have many musical instruments at home. There’s a bass and drums, and the bass is also Fender. I think it's better to experience all the instruments. I don’t want to add some unreasonable trends or improvisations. Therefore, a certain degree of understanding is better. That said, I’m not experienced with the other instruments. I don't really like the act of talking about things that I don't understand at all, so I think I have a basic understanding of all kinds of instruments, regardless of whether they can reach the level of playing it live in the end.

I think you must have a lot of guitars. Is your fender’s guitar a Stratocaster?

I have 4 Stratocaster & 2 Telecasters.

What is the difference between Stratocaster and Telecaster for you?

It depends on the feeling. I’ll decide "This is the tune!" in my mind. Telecaster is used when you want a punkish & loud sound and the Stratocaster's front pickup is also fun to play with. When I absolutely want to use this guitar without any special attachment, I just decide by my own heart.

What is the charm of Fender?

First of all, the logo is very cool. In fact, my own car’s seat belt also uses fender straps

Eh?!

I have about 8 Fender guitar straps, and the seat belt is custom-made. Because it is an old car, the seat belt is also worn out. And even though this was a car I bought at around 23 or 24, I drove it proudly thinking "I am so trendy to have come up with this (strap) at that age" (lol)

Why did you choose Fender among so many belts?

I still think the logo is classic & cool. After all the logo is a symbol. The silhouette, the lines, the sound of the guitar is also very cool. The why I like the look of Fender's guitar. That said, I recently bought AMERICAN ACOUSTASONIC TELECASTER.

Oh!

I wanted it after watching people playing with the Acosutasonic guitar. Although during the live broadcast at the Nippon Budokan I only used acoustic guitars, because (this guitar) also comes with a looper. I want to take the AMERICAN ACOUSTASONIC TELECASTER & loop it while playing. But I feel that it was too hard and I left at home (lol)

Please be sure to try it for the next live!

I will if I have the chance.

Part 2

The first singles "Silence" and "キッチン" of the second album have already been released in October, and it is decided to release the album on January 27, 2021. Is the guitar used for the composition?

Of course. Basically, I use a guitar. But silence is made not with guitar but piano. It’s just that even if I play the piano, I remember more of the chords or guitars, so I did it again with the guitar.

Do you usually play guitar at home?

Yes, there is a guitar in the living room.

Is for writing songs?

Because I really can't write songs, so I often play just snippets. I didn't think about anything but playing the guitar.

Is Fender used for the new album released in January?

Of course. Fender guitars have always been used in songs, and I definitely use them when I want the sound of a telecaster.

Among the various options such as actors and idols, why choose musicians as a means of self-expression?

Because so far I haven't worked wholeheartedly (as a musician). Only had the experience of having fun like part-time job. And the current situation has no other option besides being musician. But sure enough, basically I still love music. My family loves music. Every Wednesday is Karaoke Day, and the family will always go to Karaoke together. Therefore, inadvertently the music is around, listening to music and playing music when you like it. For me, it is a matter of course.

Do you have a dream or vision as a guitar and vocalist?

I think it’s good to be able to move with the times and maturing. I don't know what will happen two years from now, I don't even know about tomorrow. I can only go with the flow. Do what you want to do as much as possible during that, if someone is happy because of it, I will be happy too. To be honest, I don't have that long-term vision. As long as it is something you can do, you can try anything.

The form of music is also changing, and perhaps following the trend/going with the flow is also important. However, I want to pass on the joy of playing an instrument to future generations.

I think so. Although is the era when you can compose music even without playing an instrument and using a computer, but the "gong" sound from an audio amplifier is definitely different, right? In the end I still prefer the loud sound from the amplifier. Even though there are many sampling software for drum sounds, in the end I still prefer the sound from real drums.

Understood. Do you have any suggestions for beginners who are starting to learn musical instruments now?

Sure enough, you still have to love it. It’s impossible to not want to play well, if you don’t love it, right?

In the time you played guitar so far, what moment felt the best?

I am not very proficient in guitar now. But using the knowledge gained from that to create melody and turn the melody into chords such things become natural. But without that, I couldn't imagine becoming who I am now. And then, I am very happy to be able to share the feeling of "this guitar is so cool” with others. Saying "Because of this guitar, I am where I am now", although I'm not so convinced of myself that I can say it, it would be nice to be able to say it one day before I die.

So in the end, what do you think of the AMERICAN PROFESSIONAL II TELECASTER for this shoot?

Looks very cool, what colour is it?

It is a new colour, named [Dark night].

It’s a nice colour. I don’t pay much attention to the neck this guitar is easy to hold, and the rosewood fingerboard is rare. Because I only have TELECASTER with maple fingerboard.

Will the encounter with a new musical instrument bring new inspiration?

I hope new imagination will emerge (lol). I don’t know much about the age of the guitar at all, so I choose the guitar emotionally, and I want to enjoy it as I like.

Enjoying yourself is the most important thing.

Thank you very much! Will use it during lives!

credits

part 1: https://shop.fender.com/ja-JP/interview/cover-2020-ryo-nishikido

part 2: https://shop.fender.com/ja-JP/interview/cover-2020-ryo-nishikido-b

translations based on: 弐死鬼怒炸炸 (link, link) & 锦户亮的黑柴厨房字幕组 (link)

#nishikido ryo #note album #magazine #translation #ryo magazine

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sanshineaus · 4 years

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it was acceptable in the 80s

MARK LEE 80s AU

warnings: none

type: bulletpoint au, fluff

word count: 2383

a/n: first post! i just hope you enjoy :D

mark is just a regular coffee shop worker by day; a polite boy who serves clumsy smiles and a small cookie with each black coffee.

and he’s not remarkable in the slightest, really.

he’s lost to his sea of coworkers, all equally polite and eager.

mark’s fresh out of college, really. he majored in music, much to his parents’ chagrin, and to his own dismay could only land a job in said coffee shop.

but by night, mark spends hours practicing bass in a shed he rented with his ‘bandmates’, yuta and johnny.

they’re not so much a band because of how rare it is they’re together to practice a song, even if they write separately often and manage to harmonise their thoughts well.

sometimes, he feels as if it’s not worth it; yuta is constantly busy trying to finish his master’s, and johnny makes mark laugh way too much when he’s not practicing solo because his long limbs just seem to always be in the way.

but mark’s persistent. his bass playing is amazing (despite his insecurity in it, the practice is most definitely not for nothing) and his vocals are getting better too.

however, those pesky vocals just don’t make for a very compelling rock band, which is undoubtedly their sound.

they did book a bunch of gigs last summer, ‘83. it was pleasant environments, bars that needed a performer and a niche for a night. none of them minded, but not because they needed gigs. it was simply nice to play, and have people come up on stage to try their best at aiding them in singing when they figured out that johnny wasn’t quite exactly too good a vocalist either.

mark even had a great companionship going with a bar owner, taeil.

either way, mark still lives with his parents- his gigs only paid so much, and he instead helped around the house and worked his quaint little coffee shop job to aid as much as he could.

his parents absolutely nag his ear off lmAOO

mark’s fine with living like this. he doesn’t really brood often unless it’s when he’s sitting in the rented shed.

enough about his musically inclined nature though.

you’re absolutely not a regular in the coffee shop. matter of fact, you have no clue where it is.

or that it even exists, really.

you’re just a chill person, absolutely vibing! and you’ve pierced your ear three times, your sister almost fainted when she saw you.

you ride a motorbike, too.

and you honestly might look a bit intimidating with your permed hair and black collared jacket with red stripes running down your left sleeve.

and suuure, a grandmother on the street has told you that you might end up in hell, and you said ‘alright’ and just left.

but you’re a very sweet person.

and you know what? it’s summer ‘84! and it feels as if there’s a change in the air and you get to live in a new way.

but a new way isn’t what you’re used to, and so your first late june visit is a bar with a couple of your other buddies.

you all park your motorbikes outside, and one of your friends points out that the bar seems unusually full.

and sure, it’s a pretty famous bar in your town, but? not to the degree it’s currently packing.

there’s permed, layered hair everywhere, colourful two pieces, matching and annoyingly vibrant tracksuits.

you’d run your hand through your hair had it not been meticulously hairsprayed twenty minutes prior.

the first unusual thing as you approach the counter is that there’s a stage set up to the left of you.

so you order a drink and crane your body towards it.

idly sipping, you’re met with two guys setting something up on it.

an amplifier and a mic stand, and someone’s impossibly tall back in attire suspiciously similar to yours.

the dude facing you is also dressed in mostly blacks and leathers, but with an obnoxious neon green shirt. he’s handsome, too!

his cheekbones are so very high, and his eyes seem so innocent.

he’s really cute!

it takes them about ten minutes to set everything up, and by the time you and your friends are all done with your drinks, the cute guy’s mic tapping catches the attention of the buzzing bar.

“good evening, we’re nct. let’s have a fun time?” he says with an equally cute grin and he seems so proud of himself for simply introducing the band.

he looks back to the tall guy, and the new addition of a strawberry blond, before they begin playing a familiar song.

the reflex by duran duran fills in for the chatter and people are overjoyed.

even the boys seem to be enjoying themselves immensely, they’re performing with a vigour you can’t quite explain.

and damn do bassists hit different.

they play a couple more songs spanning from 78 to now, and even sprinkle in some original songs.

apart from one song, you felt yourself throughout all of the performance.

around what you think might’ve been 11:30, they decided to bring patrons of the bar onto the stage.

it was then that you realised your town truly lacks the talent these three boys had.

and your friend nudges you.

“go on on for the next song.”

and you’ve had a couple drinks already. there is most definitely courage from everywhere, so when the strawberry blond asks if there’s any takers for crimson and clover, you stand up and make your way to the mic as swiftly as possible.

and holy hell do you belt your little heart out.

crimson and clover might just stay an evergreen.

the band plays behind you naturally- and you feel very comfortable. but the song ends and you decide that maybe someone else should have the opportunity to get applauded like you just had.

the rest of your night is going great, even though your group of friends thins and you stay with a much closer circle until 3am, when they finally stop playing.

you know you just have to talk to the cute guy, or you’ll end up suffering long time bassist longing.

and so you stand up while the bar begins to empty out.

it’s very unprofessional how the owner has the bartender be the one to hand the three boys cash.

but you mingle in between the parties easily, offering to help the guys carry their equipment.

to which the strawberry blond one smirks and gives you a considerably heavy box, where they most likely stashed the amplifier.

“i’m yuta. this is mark, and that’s john.”

“johnny’s fine.”

“just john.”

you giggle at this, but you help them to their car.

the breeze of the night air is very refreshing as you place the heavy box into the open trunk of a benz w210.

once johnny closes the trunk, he’s the first to pull yuta into the backseat and help himself to the driver’s, sending you a smile.

and mark seems very uncomfortable while standing next to you.

“uhh...”

what a riveting conversation.

you lean on the trunk, hoping johnny wouldn’t mind, and you send mark a reassuring smile.

“you play real nice, you know?” you begin, and his sheepish little smile is enough to send a puppy running for its cuteness title.

he thanks you quietly with a slight bow of his head, sucking in a breath of air right after while scratching the back of his neck.

and you take in a breath of your own before simply asking, “can i see you again some time?”

at this, he seems to lighten up with confusion.

but he nods eagerly. and 4am just seems a bit less cold.

mark takes out a visit card from his jacket pocket, and basically places it in your hands before slumming on about having to get into the car before johnny kills him.

and before you know you’re in a stupor in a parking lot, smiling ear to ear while a friend of yours snickers from the entrance of the bar.

you walk home with your bike in tow, which takes you until 5:15. you simply don’t feel stable enough to drive, and your eyes might as well close with how much you’re smiling.

imagine your surprise when you’re finally home, in bed, and you look at the card only to realise it leads to a cafe and not to a smiling funny band boy.

but by the time you’re actually in bed, you’ve had to shower, take off your makeup, take the hair gel out, and so on, so it’s way too late (or... early?) to think about it.

you drift off to sleep until 1pm, and you’re woken up groggy and confused. the visit card sits at your bedside table still, though.

so you get ready, and you don on your usual attire and favourite jacket to go along.

it’s a great day outside, and very, very warm compared to the morning.

you check the card again and on the back of it is a small, monochrome map of a part of town you never really quite drove through.

(the speed limit was too just small)

it takes you a very short time to actually get there but the parking is hellish; the streets are bustling and although that’d be fun if you were on foot, it notably is not.

however when you finally walk into the cafe, you’re greeted by many a people chatting, the atmosphere groovy and the jukebox in a corner reminiscent of the 50′s playing today’s tunes.

the chairs are pink and green, the tables annoyingly checkered and covered with see through cloth.

and behind the counter sit two people.

it’s where you head first, and you order a drink, the worker’s certainly aiding the pleasant atmosphere.

you slip a question of “does someone named mark work here?” to the two people, to which one of them nods.

“i’ll fetch him for you.”

you situate yourself on a free table right across the counter, gazing at the vinyls and pictures lining the walls.

suddenly, mark’s standing near it with your cup in hand and a small plate with an even smaller cookie on it.

his smile is still adorable.

meanwhile, mark is trying to keep calm behind said expression.

he found you exceptionally attractive- and when you offered to help him and the boys, he completely felt himself soar to new heights.

you had an aura which made mark feel renewed, in a sense, and his shift just got ten times better.

your visit to the cafe didn’t go unrewarded, really.

because it’s the way you acquire his number, and you get to call him each night from the house phone.

he’s sometimes unavailable- and you get a certain amount of fear when it’s his mum that picks up the phone.

really, the woman’s very sweet, but you can just tell she’s growing annoyed by her son’s consistent talking to you (not to mention he must be hogging the phone, as last time you checked it was 12 when you started the call and 3 when you ended it).

it develops quickly; you just... click. and soon you’re visiting him in the cafe.

showing him how to ride your bike while he grips your waist in fear at the sheer speed of the custom thing.

watching him play in bars.

gradually coming to watch him in the rented shed.

it’s one night that you two are sitting together in the shed, his hand lazily wrapped around your shoulder and playing with your fringe, while he attempts to strum his bass. you laugh at a dumb joke he says.

and then you realise- he’s still very cute. even from the downside angle you’re looking at him from.

so you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek- something he’s become used to you doing- before asking if he wants to officiate it.

mark blushes first, and the red really suits him. maybe you’ll try and convince him to put some of your makeup on him, just to see.

but then he nods, and sits up only to kiss you.

from then on, not much changes; you’d already established a comfortable, flirty relationship, and you’ve developed crushes from the day you’ve met.

but a romance with mark, and for real, is fresh each day.

be it him taking you to the arcade, or him showing up to your house to ask you to help pierce him, or design a tattoo with him.

or be it him dedicating you a song, which he plays the night after much to the dismay of johnny and yuta, who are already tired of the constant love songs.

mark is just a comfort- he feels like what sweet tastes.

you even get invited to sing with them a couple times. it’s all good fun, really, but you stop once the boys get their first actual offer.

a label, which wants to sign them, sponsor them, and within a year they have a concert in your hometown and a record.

you couldn’t be prouder when they truly achieve such a status to be invited as an opening act to another, more famous group’s tour. and although you don’t tag along, and miss mark immensely, he spends most of his coin on payphones to contact you.

when he does come back, you’re overjoyed. and mark is, too.

he kisses you with such reverence and longing that you can almost feel his soul on your tongue.

but mark doesn’t stay; and soon, neither do you.

tour after tour as an opening act, it’s the summer of ‘87 that you’re truly at your happiest when nct get a tour of their own.

you and mark? continue to be happy, to flourish by each other’s side.

they say it’s within couples to fight. but your years together prove that this isn’t true, and the timid, sweet boy from a band who stole your heart and you, his burst of confidence and a ray of sun, have never once fought.

you drink, you cry, you laugh, all together and by each other’s side. as he grows in fame and maturity, you truly know:

you fell in love with the man.

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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How The Rolling Stones’ Exile on Main Street Earned Its Rep

https://ift.tt/3v9EdsV

Apple TV+’s docuseries 1971: The Year That Music Changed Everything makes it seem like The Rolling Stones’ Exile On Main Street album was more fun to record than listen to, and that sets a high standard. The record distills the band’s sounds, from acoustic world music political ballads, through deep heartfelt blues, to honky tonk so funky you have to shake your ass. The group plays country, Southern blues, R&B, and the almost-punk-before-punk “Rip This Joint.” “Tumbling Dice,” is a radio staple. Keith Richards even took the lead vocals on a track to keep you happy. There was so much material, it came out as a double album. What could be more fun than that?

Richards’ Nellcôte mansion, on the Côte d’Azur in the South of France, was the hardest rocking musical getaway paradise in 1971. It was a Rock and Roll Main Street, and even the most mainstream players mainlined the exile vibe. Guitar god Eric Clapton and underground country legend Gram Parsons mixed drinks and drugs with movie stars like James Caan and Faye Dunaway, while playwright Terry Southern stopped taking note, according to Robert Greenfield’s book Exile on Main Street: A Season In Hell With The Rolling Stones.

William S. Burroughs inspired Mick Jagger to cut and paste a word collage together to form the lyrics to “Casino Boogie.” Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr dropped by the almost-week-long afterparty for Jagger’s wedding to Nicaraguan-born model Bianca Pérez Morena de Macias in Saint-Tropez. John Lennon, who was on methadone treatment, reputedly threw up at the foot of the grand staircase and passed out in it.

“The sunshine bores the daylights out of me,” Jagger sings on “Rocks Off,” the album’s opening song. The Rolling Stones strolled through their recent past darkly. The murder of Meredith Hunter at the Altamont speedway concert in late 1969 signaled, to many, the death of decade’s peace-and-love counterculture. But the band’s troubles went all the way back to the Redlands drug bust of 1967, and the death of Brian Jones. Adversity worked well, creatively, for the Stones, and they continued to pump out classics like “Gimme Shelter” in 1969, and controversy like “Brown Sugar” in 1971. Sticky Fingers, their ninth album, hung nicely at the top of the charts on both sides of the Atlantic.

The songs, and Allen Klein’s aggressive managerial money-making maneuvers, put the band in the 93% tax bracket for Britain’s highest earners. The Stones owed more than they could pay. To avoid penalties, they moved to France. Mick went to Paris. Mick Taylor, Bill Wyman and Charlie Watts bought or rented places along the French Riviera. Richards and his girlfriend, German-Italian actress and model Anita Pallenberg, moved into Nellcôte, a villa in Villefranche-sur-Mer, near Nice. During the Nazi occupation of France during World War II, the seaside mansion was the headquarters of the local Gestapo. Swastikas were carved into floor vents, staircases and ventilator grates.

Culture

How Tina Turner and Frank Zappa Whipped Up Some Dirty Love

By Tony Sokol

As pointed out in 1971: The Year That Music Changed Everything, the Stones had recently signed with Atlantic Records, and the label wanted an album. The band scoured the Riviera for a suitable recording studio, but wound up parking their mobile studio next to Keith’s house. Richards transformed the basement into a recording studio, and the band stole electricity from the railway tracks across the street to power amplifiers and the mobile recording truck.

The layout wasn’t the best. Bill Wyman, who is only credited for eight of the album’s songs on bass, plugged into an amp which was mic’d up in the hallway. Producer Jimmy Miller ended each take by running from the truck into the basement to check sound. The humidity caused the guitars to go out of tune. This gave the album its working title: “Tropical Disease.” The song “Ventilator Blues” was inspired by the conditions.

The band also had to deal with Keith’s erratic schedule. “I never plan anything,” Richards says in the documentary Stones in Exile. “Mick needs to know what he’s going to do tomorrow. Whereas I’m just happy to wake up and see who’s hanging around. Mick’s rock; I’m roll.” Richards, Taylor, Watts, pianist Nicky Hopkins, saxophonist Bobby Keys, drummer Jimmy Miller, and horn player Jim Price would jam all night while engineer Andy Johns ran the reels. Sessions would start when the guitarist rolled out of bed, or before he slipped off to put his son Marlon to sleep. After that Keith might pull a disappearing act, playing guitar in the un-mic’d second floor bathroom, or passing out. Richards was open about pot and alcohol, sharing liberally, but quiet about his heroin use.

Richards got clean in the spring of 1971, but hurt his back in a go-kart accident, according to Greenfield’s book. His vehicle flipped while racing his friend Tommy Weber at a track in Cannes. Richards took morphine for the pain, and within a few months, was using again. For sessions, he’d down a Mandrax, which is like a Quaalude, with whiskey. Charlie Watts was drinking brandy until he was past sloppy, and Jagger was taking speed to keep up with the hours Keith set. It was Richards’ place, and Mick was almost a hostage. When he left, it seemed nothing got done. Richards, left alone, could be downright dangerous. He almost burned himself, Anita and the entire house down when he fell asleep with a lit cigarette.

Richards was buying pure, uncut heroin from Castilian dealers. He was getting it by the kilo, and it became part of the social regimen of the villa. He shared so regularly with Gram Parsons that Mick got jealous, professionally. Parsons wanted Richards to produce his next album and join him on tour, which would have left the Stones without their guitarist for two years. Parsons was quietly asked to leave. Drugs split the Stones into two camps: Jagger, Wyman and Watts stuck to pills, booze and softer drugs. Richards, Taylor, producer Jimmy Miller, sax player Bobby Keys and engineer Andy Johns shot dope.

It cost them their gear. Wyman’s bass, Keys’ saxophone and nine of Richards’ guitars were stolen by dealers from Marseille who were owed money, while the entourage was watching television during the day. The Stones’ lawyers bribed local police to keep the party going, but even the most corrupt French cops, like Captain Louis Renault in Casablanca, have their limits. Besides, the Stones were welcomed in France because they were rich rock stars who were going to spend lots of money. If all their cash went to illegal and nontaxable drugs, the French government didn’t have much use for them.

The tipping point seems to have come with Anita Pallenberg. She maintained a steadily rocky relationship with the Stones. Richards stole, or saved, her from a paranoid and abusive Brian Jones, and there were rumors Jagger had an affair with her while filming Nic Roeg’s Performance in 1968. According to Greenfield’s book, Mick also slept with her while Richards was on the nod during the Exile sessions. Police came knocking to ask about a claim that Pallenberg had given heroin to the 14-year-old daughter of the villa’s chef.

The French police left without validating the charge, but said they’d be back to have a better look around the mansion. Richards and Pallenberg took off on his speedboat, fittingly named Mandrax II. The rest of the band slipped out soon after with the tapes. Pallenberg and Richards were charged with possession of heroin with intent to traffic in 1973. They were then exiled from France for the next two years.

The party continued when the Rolling Stones reconvened in Sunset Sound studios in Los Angeles. The band tossed TVs off the balconies of hotel rooms with Marc Bolan and Neil Young. The tapes for the album stretched from 1969 to 1972. The band edited hours of jams into song structure. Jagger scatted melodic placeholders for unfinished lyrics, and recruited session players like Billy Preston and Doctor John to fill in any sonic emptiness. The words to “Tumbling Dice,” for instance, were written last minute. The song has an unusual structure, as the verses become shorter, the choruses get longer. It may have Watts’ best drum performance.

Exile on Main Street contains some of Richards’ best guitar work. The album really belongs to Keith. “Happy” is almost entirely his. He’s on vocals, guitar and bass, with Miller on drums, Keys on maracas, overdubs from Taylor, and backing vocals from Jagger. “Sweet Black Angel” is a political love letter to civil rights activist Angela Davis. “Shake Your Hips” put the hair on ZZ Top’s lips. The album cover set the visual tone for punk. Some people claim it’s the Rolling Stones’ best work. It is a classic which catches them at their hedonistic peak. Its dirty, loosely played backing created an identifiable sound. The Stones’ first double LP, it is best heard in its entirety, and earned its street cred.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

1971: The Year Music Changed Everything is available to stream on Apple TV+ now.

The post How The Rolling Stones’ Exile on Main Street Earned Its Rep appeared first on Den of Geek.

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cellcoplus · 3 years

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Give Your Inner Fan Something to Rejoice About with Your Order for Bumblebee Speakers

If you have been looking for a perfect Bluetooth speaker which will be interesting to look at, perfect as a collectible while useful in the way you want, then this speaker will be the right choice. Knowing more about the item will help you choose better.

Have you always been a fan of the transformer series? Were you into them before the movies were made or afterward? Have you always wanted something which will make the inner fan in you rejoice while being equally useful? People collect a lot of merchandise, especially if they are associated with popular series of books or comics or movies or TV shows. In most cases, these items are not useful in any way other than decorations. They do have resale value, depending on the item and its demand in question. If you want something which will be useful and collectible all in one, then an electronic shop in Canada will be able to help, though you have to search for the product.

Knowing a bit of the background of the product

Transformers have been one of the most popular franchises and series, even before it became a movie series. So, items which are collectibles and associated with this fandom will be highly popular. If you have been looking for something practical, interesting and popular, wrapped in one, then the Bumblebee Bluetooth speaker will be the best choice. Before being happy with the available options and their effectiveness, you will have to gather information on the product's specifications. Moreover, it will also be wise to understand that music enthusiasts who want to carry their music everywhere will appreciate this piece of technology very much.

Specifications that you need to know about and understand

The Bumblebee Bluetooth speaker comes with 3-watt amplifiers, which process the audio output. As a result, the mini retro radio sounds rich and can go louder without experiencing any distortion. The speaker is relatively compact and looks like the head of the Bumblebee, who is a fictional robot character in the transformer franchise and is very popular among-st the fans. The dimension of the product is 11.3x12.2x11.1 centimetres, and it comes with a 1200mAh rechargeable battery. Once fully charged, you can enjoy your music for hours without interruption. The battery provides backup for about 5 – 6 hours in one go, and it takes about 2 – 3 hours to get fully charged. The Bluetooth range for the device is 10 meters.

The perfect companion to fulfill all your music-related needs

Perfect for listening to vintage radios, music for parties, barbeques, hiking, yard work, campfire, garage, beach, and many more occasions, this product is the perfect combination of being a collectible while being useful in other areas. Being portable and good-looking, this product is ideal for a party at home or taking to a friend's place or carry with you for the next camping trip. If you are a fan, then the product will be perfect for collecting, and even if you are not a fan, it will significantly brighten up your day. Moreover, you can use this to play your music. At the same time, the Retro FM Radio function will allow you to listen to songs on the radio. You can gift this speaker to your parent and then together enjoy the nostalgia of surfing channels and settling down for a song of your liking.

The impressive sound system is truly unique and nice

There is a reason that people are so impressed with the sound system of a vintage radio because, in such a product, they get to enjoy a bass enhancement. This particular feature is used to make every song and music session more enjoyable because of the better quality of the music. In this specific Bluetooth speaker, you will get to enjoy the same technology, which will ensure your music listening experience gets better than ever. A stereo-rich sound that comes without any complicated and traditional speaker is not something you are habituated with right now, but listening to the music once will be enough for you to fall in love with it. If you are a true music lover, then you will enjoy these retro radio speakers. If you gift it to another music lover, they will always remember you for the unique and impressive gift they have received.

The choice will be a wise one for you and yours

If you are thinking about the importance and effectiveness of the product, then the answer is pretty simple. The use of the latest sound production technology, the unique design of the product, and top-quality retro radio make this product unique. Whether it is a formal occasion or just you enjoying your favorite music, the vintage radio option of this product will be a perfect choice. You can now make any party exciting and lively with the right kind of music because of this Bluetooth speaker. That is a superpower everyone craves.

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lumosinlove · 5 years

Text

Sweater Weather

part iii

Remus didn’t always have too much time for it, but there was nothing he liked more than sitting on the bench and watching Gryffindor City’s Hogwarts Stadium fill up with red and gold. The waves of chatter got louder and the seats filled, and it was a nice balance to the energy in the locker room as he walked back down the tunnel and through the doors, leaning against the wall with Moody. There, in case they were needed, but out of the way.

Even more than watching the fans, he liked watching the boys get ready. Kasey was down on all fours in a butterfly squat, full-pads making his body look huge and his head look tiny. Leo was down the hall some, throwing two balls against the wall and catching them quickly. Remus’ eyes blurred after watching for a minute and he looked away. Which turned out to be a mistake in itself.

Sirius was sitting in his stall, shirtless and knees spread to accommodate the stick he was taping between them. He didn’t have any of his pads on yet, typical Sirius, who always had to get ready at the last minute because he spent so much time on his stretches and sticks. He was just in his underarmour, the tight material leaving absolutely nothing to imagination. He had a Lions’ hat on backwards and stray strands of hair were sticking out of the front, casting shadows on his cheeks. He stuck his tongue out and wound the tape carefully around the blade of his stick, checking for wrinkles and creases every other turn. James was saying something to him with broad hand gestures, probably a play he wanted to get perfect tonight.

They all wanted to get everything perfect tonight. It was the home opener. The crowd would be wild, and the pressure would be on. Remus loved every second of it and he knew the boys did, too.

James let out a loud whoop then, clapping his hands together and and throwing his helmet on even though his pads were still hanging in his stall. “Let’s fucking go, tonight, eh boys? Durmstrang fuckers won’t know what hit them.”

He was met with a series answering shouts of approval, all of which amplified when Coach Weasley appeared through the locker room doors with the large lion on it. He grinned and held up a little slip of paper, tonight’s line up.

“Pots, since you’re already standing, why don’t you do the honors?” Arthur said, handing James the paper.

James hit his helmet on his head. “Alright, let’s see. Starting tonight,” the boys yelled and James dropped down a little, knees bent and voice low like the commentators, “in the cage,” there was another round of shouts and James wound up his arm and then bounded over to Kasey, “we have the man named for the sport of hockey itself, Kasey Winter.”

There were a series of “Yeah, Kase!” and “Be the fucking blizzard!” before James could continue.

“Next we have…on your left, Harzy!”

Harzy looked up from where he was lacing his skates with a little salute to the cheers.

“On your right,” James smiled around at them all, so wide that Remus could see where one of his outer bottom teeth was still missing, just out of sight. He pressed a hand to his own chest, “yours truly.”

“Alright, Potty-mouth!” Kasey shouted the nickname James had earned himself for his relentless chirping on the ice, name-calling and poking fun until the refs eventually had to call him on it.

“Your favorite D-man pairing, Kaner and our resident Finland-man, Olli!”

Timmy Kane and Olli Halla did some strange, complicated handshake.

“And your center tonight…the man, the myth, the one who holds the record for most marriage proposals by teenage girls at the glass,” Remus laughed at that and James ran back over to Sirius, pretending to take his stick just to see him flinch back, and taking his hat instead and placing it on top of his own helmet, “oh captain, my captain, Sirius mother-fucking Black!”

Everyone clapped a little, Arthur shaking his head fondly and Moody letting James run over and touch his leg for good luck, per tradition, and then it was really business time. There was some calmer chatter as everyone got into their gear and laced up, getting into the right headspace for a game.

Remus rifled through his own inventory in his head, making sure he would be prepared on the bench. He had extra blades for everyone, laces, sterile gauze, and a little box for teeth which he’d learned to keep the hard way (Olli Halla spitting a few directly into his open palm). He took one last look around the locker room before heading back to the mouth of the tunnel at the bench where the guys would pass on their way out for their lap-around introductions under the lights and warm ups. He could see some of the Durmstrang equipment guys over on their bench, and they exchanged nods that were friendly enough. Eagles games were always odd, not just for the competition—they had nothing compared to Lion and Snake games—but because their colors were nearly identical, and so the away-team always had to wear their more solid colored third-jerseys. Remus was glad they were on home-ice, so the Eagles would be the ones stuck in their nearly all goldish-yellow uniform, not the Lions.

Remus looked up at the stands, figuring his parents were out there somewhere, trying to keep Julian at bay, who was no doubt in his BLACK jersey and bouncing out of his shoes with excitement. At nine years old, Remus sometimes wondered if his little brother was a bigger Lions fan than even him, despite living halfway across the country from them.

He had a sudden fantasy of bringing Jules back to the locker room and Sirius being there, maybe James, too, and Sirius would give Jules a hockey stick maybe, and then smile at Remus—

“What’s with the face?”

Remus started, looking at Moody who had brought out the fresh bottles of gatorade and water.

“What? What face? Nothing.” Remus reached forward and started to help him line the bench with them. “I wasn’t making a face.”

“Alright, at ease.” Moody laughed a little. “Jeez, Lupin.”

Remus desperately tried to change the subject, “How’s the lucky leg?”

Moody scoffed, giving it a stomp. “It’s been kissed by Harzy, that’s what. Fucking crazy-ass.”

Remus laughed and sat down on the bench, looking up towards the jumbo-screen where they were showing a video of a few of the guys saying what they did that summer. James was on, giving a typically sarcastic answer. Something about hamburgers. When Sirius’ faces came on next there was a positive roar from the crowd and Remus felt flushed with their enthusiasm. Gryffindor loved their Captain, and they were just as eager to avenge him as the team was. It was pretty fucking thrilling to sit and watch it all, but if he could, Remus would be out there on the ice, fighting to get Sirius ever goal and point he could. He pushed that thought down just as the lights shut off and the music stopped, signaling the beginning of the Lions’ entry onto the ice, their first of the season. Remus’ heart pounded.

“Gryffindor!” boomed Frank Longbottom’s voice, one of their beloved announcer. Frank came with the team on the road, along with Marlene McKinnon. Butts and Kinzy were well loved by the team, and, maybe unfortunately for them, the subjects of many pranks, but Remus was sure they loved the boys’ attention as much as he himself did. The crowed boomed back in response and then the jumbo-screen bloomed to life, along with the lights and the lasers that streaked across the crowd and ice.

“Are you ready?” Frank asked the stadium, and then the jumbo-screen started counting down from ten with loud booms that quickly developed into a bass-heavy song.

“Ten…nine…” Remus found himself smiling, mumbling the numbers under his breath.

“Your Gryffindor Lions!” Frank drew out the words and the lights went crazy as the boys appeared down the tunnel.

Kasey came first, goalie mask propped on top of his head as he skated out onto the ice. Then Timmy, Finn, Leo…Olli, Brady, Evgeni, Kris, Tyler…

They all looped around the rink, warming up and pounding on the glass, laughing when the crowd pounded back. Remus liked watching the rookies the most, their eyes alight with the attention and praise.

And finally James, always second to last, and then Sirius, always last. Remus watched him come all the way down the tunnel, just in time for his name to be read out by Frank. Sirius raised his glove and knocked it into a few of the kid’s fists who had made it down by the glass, before scampering back up to their parents, delighted with having received a fist-bump.

Remus didn’t expect Sirius to look back at him, but for the split second between him being beside the bench and him being on the ice, their eyes met. And Sirius dropped a wink. And he was gliding away, dropping to one knee as he went and raising his stick a little, drawing screams from the crowd. They were happy to have him back. Sirius was cocky, and Remus didn’t like to admit that he loved that, but he did.

Sirius belonged on the ice, that much had always been clear, and when he wasn’t there, something was out of gear. Everything felt settled now, ready.

The lights came up after a bit and then Eagles filtered on, too, taking shots at their goalie. Victor Krum crossed center ice and met Sirius where he was talking to James, offering a somewhat stiff hand. Sirius smiled, so Remus guessed he had welcomed him back. The Eagles were good like the Snakes, but they weren’t assholes like they were. Remus watched Sirius pluck at Krum’s shoulder, no doubt chirping him for the bright yellow color, and Krum laughed, nudging him back and skating away.

Kasey was busy nesting his goal, scraping up the crease with his long goalie skate blades and catching the boys’ practice shots. Remus watched him for a minute, always enjoying how specific and protective Kasey was of his goal (he patted his posts whenever a puck got knocked askew by one, for god’s sake), but soon his attention was—predictably—dragged away by Sirius. Sirius had a routine, a strict routine, and there was few things Remus loved more than watching him go through it. Remus wasn’t sure he even knew about all of it, but he wanted to. He knew Sirius had to tape his own sticks, do specific stretches in a specific order, had to put his left skate on first, and during warm-ups he had to trace the Lions logo with a puck. He knew Sirius liked to have two pieces of toast with butter and honey an hour before games. Remus wished he knew more, secretly. He wanted to know how long Sirius’ pre-game nap was and what he looked like when he woke up from it—

“Earth to Remus Lupin.”

Remus’ slowly spiraling fantasy was abruptly cut off by James waving a glove in his face.

“What?” Remus stood up. “Sorry, what’s up, what do you need? James, face-off’s in like two seconds, you’re on first shift.”

“I just want some gatorade and it’s all red.” James practically pouted.

Remus huffed out a laugh and handed him a blue, shifting to the side as the other team members shuffled down the bench, coach Weasley slapping a few of them on the back. “There, now go!”

James whooped and skated off to take his position. Sirius was at center ice, eye to eye with Krum, the ref between them with the puck. They crouched, eyes on the puck, and Remus said a soft prayer to whatever god anyone could believe in.

The ref dropped the puck, and the game began.

Remus was on his feet the entire time. He was meant to be watching for any trip-ups, any hard hits, anything that might need to be looked at. Instead, he kept catching himself just enjoying the game, standing behind the bench. Sirius came careening over the boards, tapping Brady’s butt as he jumped onto the ice to replace him, and sat down heavily in front of Remus. He turned, sweat dripping down his temples.

“iPad,” he said, and one of the assistant coaches held it out to him. Sirius stayed turned, brow intense as he watched a replay of his latest shift, and so Remus got to study his profile. He loved Sirius in the heat of a game, loved how fast he talked. He leaned over to explain something to Olli, who leaned in like if he didn’t catch every word, he’d parish. Everyone on the team tended to listen to Sirius like that, like he was their leader through thick and thin.

“How’m I doing?” Sirius said as he handed the iPad back. Remus assumed he was talking to the coaches until Sirius’ eyes fell on him.

“Me?” Remus asked—stupidly.

Sirius smiled, “You.”

“You look great out there. You know you look great out there.”

James laughed, whacking Remus lightly in the stomach with his glove. “Way to call him on it, Loops.” Then the whole bench leaned back as Brady shoved an Eagles player nearly over the boards and into the bench. The crowd loved it, and James banged his stick on the boards after them. “Way to go, Shady-Brady!”

They were gone shortly after that, Coach calling for short shifts for the end of the first period.

“Keep ‘em coming boys, keep this lead!” he was shouting.

The Lions were up 3-1, and the atmosphere was electric. Remus loved this. It was the closest thing to being on top of the world there was, he thought. Suddenly, Sirius was on a breakaway up the ice off of a clean pass from Harzy. He skirted around number 16, number 3, with hard edges, and then he was nearly at the net—

Krum came out of nowhere, slamming Sirius into the boards.

Remus was on his feet in a second, pressing up behind Tyler and Evgeni on the bench.

It was a clean hit, but it felt like ages before Sirius got up. Remus didn’t even watch Krum take the puck, didn’t watch Kasey miss it, didn’t watch their goal-horn light up, didn’t watch the scoreboard change to read 3-2. He didn’t watch the Eagles celebrate.

He watched Sirius skate towards the bench. It was just for a shift change, but Remus looked over every part of him, checking for a limp, a wince, anything. He looked okay. James was on him in a second, skating shoulder to shoulder and talking to him. Sirius was nodded, even smiling a little, but Remus could tell he was shaken. To have something like that happen in the first game, and when he’d just gotten back…

The stadium filled with booing that felt like it shook the walls.

Sirius took his seat on the bench, but before Remus could get through his teammates and to him, the buzzer signaling the end of the first period was sounding and everyone was filing off the ice and back into the locker room. Good, Remus thought. He’d ask to see Sirius, he’d check him out fully, just to be safe.

Marlene was waiting for Coach at the end of the tunnel.

“Hey Arthur, who can we have for media?” she asked.

“Not Black,” Remus stepped in, “I want to check that hit.”

Coach nodded, “right. You can have Pots, or Kasey, I think.”

Marlene nodded and shot Remus a smile, which he returned tightly as he pushed between them and into the locker room. Sirius looked up at him almost immediately, like he had been waiting.

Remus only had to jerk his head towards the quiet and training rooms, before Sirius was getting up and following him. Remus held the door open to the quiet room. It was technically for concussion testing and protocol, and Remus hadn’t seen Sirius hit his head, but better safe than sorry. Sirius stepped inside and Remus closed the door.

“How do you feel?” Remus asked, then pointed to the padded observation table. “Sit there. I’m going to check your ankle and your head.”

“Loops—”

“Does anything else hurt?”

“Remus.”

Remus looked up.

Sirius loomed over him anyway, but he practically towered over him while wearing skates. Remus nearly had to crane his neck.

“What?” Remus asked, a little breathlessly.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “It wasn’t a bad hit.”

“I know. But given your recent history I want to make sure everything’s fine.”

Sirius sat down on the bench and took his helmet off, laying it to the side along with his gloves while Remus bent to start unlacing his skates. Remus’ heart was still pounding, and Sirius’ gray desperate eyes filled his head. He wouldn’t be helpless this time. He’d fixed Sirius’ broken bone, and he wouldn’t let anything go amiss, not now.

“Durmstrang’s always a tough one to call, eh? Sometimes they’re brilliant and sometimes they’re…”

“Angry?” Remus supplied, carefully sliding Sirius’ skates off of his feet before rising.

Sirius laughed a little, “Yeah. For sure, yeah.”

“Look here.” Remus held up a small flashlight and a finger. Sirius looked, but right at Remus, not his finger. A small smile was still lingering on his face. “My finger, Black.”

Sirius laughed again but obeyed this time.

“When’s your birthday?”

“November third.” Sirius supplied easily.

“When is Pots’ birthday?”

“March twenty-seventh. When’s your birthday, Re?”

Remus chest fluttered a little. He clicked off the flashlight, satisfied. “March tenth.”

“Hey, you and James are birthday-buddies.”

Remus rolled his eyes, “Raise your arms. Touch your—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Sirius obediently brought his fingers to his nose and back out again a few times, then, without prompt, got up and walked in a straight line, toe to heel, and turned and looked at Remus expectantly.

Remus narrowed his eyes at him. “And your ankle? Tell me the truth.”

“Fine.” Sirius smiled and sat down in one of the chairs in the room to start getting his skates back on. “Really, Loops, I’m alright. It probably looked worse than it was.”

“It took you a bit to get up.”

Sirius shrugged down at his laces, digging his heel in to pull them tight, “I’ll admit, I was a little surprised. It’s the first real time I got hit since…you know. Since Snape. But you said it yourself,” He looked up at Remus then, sweat damp hair falling into his eyes a little, cheeks flushed, “can’t let the fear get to me, can I?”

Remus swallowed dryly. “Right. Yeah.” He watched Sirius until he was standing again and pulling his gloves back on, tucking his helmet beneath his arm. “Right, right. Sorry.” He opened the door, “Have a good second period, okay?”

Sirius paused beside him in the doorway, tall as ever with his skates back on and looking down at Remus. “Hey.”

Remus looked up at him. Sirius had a funny expression on his face, something soft and determined.

“Don’t ever say sorry for helping me,” Sirius’ voice was low when he said the words.

Remus caught one last glimpse of the odd expression, and then Sirius was gone, enveloped back into the energetic mass of the team.

They won 5-3, Sirius with three points, two goals and one assist, in the second and third period.

The locker room was ecstatic afterwards, and Remus was kneeling to tape up Kasey’s thigh for him when Arthur came out with the lion head. The lion head was this seasons team token, of sorts, an object that got past around the locker room after every game, depending on who played best that night. For the first game of the season, Coach was the one who handed it out. After that it would go from player to player. This year, the object looked like an overly-furry lion-mane and nose, maybe from some poor, cotton stuffed animal, sewed onto a baseball cap. Remus grimaced just looking at it. He didn’t want to think about how sweaty and disgusting that thing was going to become by the end of the season.

“Great game, boys. Great start to the beginning of the season.” There were some cheering and Arthur smiled, waving his hand, “As you know, it is my pride and joy making our season tokens.”

“What section of the wall is last year’s going on?” James said, making everyone laugh. Arthur’s creation last year had been a monstrous blend between a gladiator helmet that had a yarn lion tale glued to the back of it.

“Front and center, thanks for asking.” Coach said. “This year, we have…”

Kasey started a drumroll which the entire locker room eventually joined in on.

“Lion-cap. Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Arthur held it up. “And tonight…I’ve got to give it to the captain, don’t I?”

“Yeah you do!” James pounded the wall of his stall with his fist.

“Quite a hit, and beauties of goals. Sirius.”

Sirius laughed as he walked forward, just his underarmour on again, and put the hat on, crouching into a ridiculous pose so that James could take a picture. He looked hilarious in it, the mane fluffing out around his ears and the nose resting on the brim.

“Thanks, Coach.” He said, and then handed it off to Remus for safe keeping, per tradition. Remus was always put in charge of bring the token on roadies, and keeping track of who got it when.

Remus felt his phone buzz in his pocket and was pulled abruptly from the bubble of the team when he saw his mom’s name flash up. He slapped a hand to Kasey’s shoulder, telling him he was done, and slipped out of the locker room to answer.

“Hey, mum.”

“Hi, baby. Great game!”

“It was,” Remus smiled. “I’ll be right out to get you guys and we can get ice cream or something. I just have to—”

“Remus?”

Remus pressed the phone to his shoulder, turning on his heel back to the locker room. Sirius was standing there, head poking out and smiling a smile that looked almost—shy.

“Yeah? Hold on, mum—Sorry, can I help?”

“Bring them back,” Sirius said.

“Huh?”

Sirius rolled his eyes, “Your family. Bring them back, show them the locker room and stuff.”

“Oh.” Remus’ heart beat. He would love that. Julian would freak out. “Oh, I don’t want—”

“C’mon, the boys would love it. We can sign a jersey and stuff, or a stick.”

Remus’ mouth hung open for a minute before he heard himself say, “okay,” and Sirius grinned before retreating. Remus didn’t move until he heard his mom’s voice in his ear. He blinked a few times and raised his phone back up. “Hey, mum, do you want to…would you guys want to come back to the locker room?”

And so here Remus was, his parents and Jules in toe, walking down the all too familiar hallway.

Julian bounced up beside Remus, both hands around his arm. “Are we going to meet Sirius?”

Remus smiled, “probably.”

“Are we going to meet Pots?”

“Yep, him too.”

“Blizzard?”

Remus laughed, “I think you could meet Kasey, sure.”

“Can I take a picture with them?”

“If you say please,” Remus said, because it was definitely what his mom would say. Once they reach the locker room doors, he looked back at his parents. Both were wearing BLACK jerseys, which Remus found unbearably endearing and also slightly embarrassing now that Sirius knew how Remus felt about him as a hockey player. There was no doubt he was going to think Remus had had sway over his parents’ jersey choice. His dad was clutching his phone excitedly to his chest, and Remus couldn’t think why he hadn’t asked to do this sooner. He was glad Sirius had said something, and he’d make sure to tell him thank you later.

“Ready?” He asked.

“Ready, ready, open the doors!” Julian whisper-yelled.

The sound wave once Remus did hit them like a wall, and Remus heard Jules quiet down a little, maybe with nerves as the reality that this was actually happening set in, and Remus turned around to put a comforting hand on his back. He could see that the media was just leaving out the press door, which Remus was thankful for because it meant that none of the players would be surrounded by cameras. He didn’t want this to look like a photo-op.

He made eye contact with Sirius almost immediately, and tried to smile in a way that didn’t look like he expected Sirius to come over or anything. Sirius had a routine, and that included winding down. He looked like he was about to leave for his twenty minute cool down on one of the stationary bikes, and Remus didn’t want to interrupt that. But then Sirius was grinning and motioning them over.

“Oh.” Julian said softly from beside Remus, and Remus patted his head softly and motioned for his parents to follow him over to Sirius’ stall.

Sirius stood when they got there, grinning warmly.

“Who’s this?” Sirius asked, holding his fist out for a dumbstruck Julian to bump.

“These are my parents, Hope and Lyall, and this is Julian, my brother.” Remus said, smiling a little at Jules’ expression. His heart was pounding. “Say hi, Jules.”

“Hi Padfoot. I mean—” Julian flushed.

Sirius laughed. “You can call me Padfoot if I can call you Jules. You play hockey, bud?”

Julian nodded frantically, “yeah, I’m a center, too.”

“Nice.” Sirius raised his eyes briefly to Remus’ parents and held out his hand for them to shake, “Hi, I’m Sirius.” As if they didn’t know, as if they weren’t wearing his last name on their backs, “Did you all enjoy the game?”

“That was such a nasty hit on you.” Julian said, eyes going from Sirius’ face to his locker to his pads to his stick.

“It was, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, we hope you’re alright.” Hope said with a very motherly disapproving frown.

Sirius nodded and, to Remus’ surprise, threw an arm around Remus’ shoulder. “Your son took care of me. Remus takes the best care of us, right James?”

James had come over with a protein bar hanging out of his mouth, but took a bite and chewed quickly when he put together who he was speaking to.

“Jesus f—” He looked at Julian whose eyes were practically hearts. “Hi,” James said again, laughing a little at himself, “you must be Loops’ parents.” James looked down at Julian again, “And older brother, I presume? What’s up, man? Here to try out?”

“Yeah.” Julian said softly, clearly barely able to think, and they all laughed.

Remus, on the other hand, was much to pre-occupied with Sirius’ arm which, having slid away from his shoulders, was now briefly a warm, pressing weight between his shoulder blades, before it disappeared completely as he slapped the seat of his stall.

“Well I’m certainly not going to have a spot on this team if you’re playing, so you might as well take a seat. Let’s see, what will he need to be a Lion, Pots?”

James crossed his arms, pretending to think hard. “Jersey, definitely.”

“Oh, two, I’d say.” Sirius added, “And a couple sticks, don’t you think?”

Julian, now seated snuggly in Sirius’ stall, was red-cheeked with happiness.

“On it.” James said, and winked at Remus as he left to get a few of his and Sirius’ jerseys and sticks to sign.

Sirius on the other hand, crouched down to Julian’s level. “Hey, Jules, do you know how awesome your brother is?”

Julian grinned up at Remus, then back at Sirius. “Yeah.”

Sirius nodded back, “He does practically everything for us. Gets us new skate blades, makes sure we have what we need on the road, keeps us healthy.” Then Sirius looked at him with a similarly fond and happy expression that Julian was wearing, and Remus felt a little like he might cry which would be completely and utterly embarrassing. “He’s pretty great.”

Remus felt his own cheeks flush. “Okay, okay, thanks.”

Hope laughed from beside him, squeezing him in a one armed hug. “Never could take a compliment, could you, Re?”

“That was a lot of compliments.” Remus laughed, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t stop looking at Sirius and Sirius wasn’t looking away.

Remus felt like he was back in Sirius’ car, unsure what it all meant.

“Hey, did you know I’m your brother’s favorite player?” Sirius asked Jules.

“You’re mine, too! We both have your jersey!”

Remus flushed and had to look away from Sirius and his raised eyebrows then, pretending to watch James come back across the locker room with the gear. He didn’t want to hear what Sirius had to say about that.

James and Sirius were both at Julian’s level for a good fifteen minutes, signing things, taking pictures, and talking hockey. Kasey even came over before leaving to sign the jerseys and offer one of his own sticks. Remus didn’t know how Julian was going to carry it all.

His parents eventually left for their hotel with promises to meet him for breakfast the next morning and their favorite pancake spot—really everyone’s favorite pancake spot—in Gryffindor. Remus watched them walk back to their car until they turned out of view, smiling to himself at Jules’ insistence that he carry all three sticks and wear both jerseys at once.

Remus stopped by the exercise room on his way back to lock up the office for the night and, as expected, Sirius was there. He looked fresh off the bike and was on one of the mats, stressing his fingers towards his toes. Remus knocked lightly.

“Hey,” Sirius said with a grin.

“Hi.” Remus walked in a few more paces and leaned against one of the treadmills, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the floor softly. “I don’t want to interrupt you or anything, but I just wanted to thank you. For earlier. You—You really made my little brother’s life, there. He loves you guys.”

Sirius stood, dusting off his leggings and picked up his water bottle from the floor. “I hope he’s not the only one.”

Remus bit back a smile, and his heart clenched. If only Sirius knew what he was saying.

“Of course,” was all Remus could think of to reply.

“You’re family seems great, Re. Really.”

“They are,” Remus replied before he thought about what that statement probably meant, coming from Sirius. Sirius who didn’t have a family like that. Remus felt guilt and the want to strangle anyone who didn’t love Sirius properly swirl in his chest. Sirius deserved so much. Look what he would do for just one kid who he never even met, for Remus, who he barely knew outside of his work.

“I’m headed out soon.” Sirius said. “Do you need a ride?”

Remus shook his head, “Moody said he’d drive me.”

Even though everything in him was screaming at him to lie and say yes, he didn’t want to explain that to Moody.

“Ah.” Sirius said, nodding. He looked, if not disappointed, something like it. “Okay. Well, let me know, eh? Any time.”

“Thanks, Sirius.” Remus was aware of how soft his voice sounded, but there wasn’t much he could do about it with Sirius’ gray eyes on him.

Sirius smiled, a soft and lopsided thing, and Remus’ heart flipped in his chest. As Sirius left for the showers, Remus got back to his desk. On it, was a hat.

It was a Lions hat, red with gold piping and the gold lion. On the bill, in the gold sharpie that the team used for signing, was a messily scrawled message and a signature. Sirius’ signature, complete with the number twelve.

I’m glad I’m your favorite, it read.

(A/N: Ah, slowly but surely....:)

#sweater weather #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #the marauders era #wolfstar au #harry potter au #lumosinlove #writing #hockey au #hockey player!sirius #trainer!remus #wolfstar fluff #wolfstar angst #wolfstar slow burn #slow burn #ahhhh

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imma-new-soul · 4 years

Text

Radio Static

A/N: This was suppose to be something else but turned into.. well this. Thanks to @mushyjellybeans for telling me to keep this and save it for late 💛💛 and for @babiiface95 for motivating me to write my first smut scene

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: You were a field nurse for the U.S Army stationed out in a foreign country. When most the soldier’s you were stationed with meet a grim demise it left you stranded and alone in an unfamiliar setting. After month’s of surviving on your own you find a wounded soldier and nurse him to heal. Suddenly your small comfortable world is not so small anymore (shit I suck at Summarys .. oh well)

Warning: Sexual content ( the section that is NSFW is labeled and doesn’t affect the plot in anyway so if you want to just skip it you can DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER ), Angst, Strong language, mention of blood and injury, last but not least!! FLUFF? Maybe? I think

Word Count: 2.8k. MASTERLIST

You didn’t miss the softness and warmth of your bed in Brooklyn or the coffee from the shop in the corner, even though they had the good stuff compared to whatever was sitting in your small steel mug. Those things seemed like luxuries from a life so long ago. Stiff green cots and food that came from small tan bags were your new luxuries and you didn’t mind at all.

The tour you were on was supposed to only be six months in a dense forest of some foreign country but ended up lasting a lot longer than anyone expected. All of the men in the group you were deployed with were long gone. Wounds too severe to continue fighting or worse, some had succumb to their injuries and never made it home.

The war had taken everyone from you. Desperately you called out for rescue on a radio that was left behind from one of the soldiers. Each moment you waited by it, hoping to hear a response but none ever came. Your dreams drifted into the void of its own silence

For many months you’ve lived in this forest alone surviving off of whatever was left at the old basecamp. Time slowly diminishing your rations and your hope of rescue. Being a field nurse you learned many things and being resourceful was one.

Seeing that your food was running low you set off into the jungle every morning to scavenge for your next meal. Over time scavenging became hunting and hunting became second nature. Living this way, having to survive off of the land and all it provided wasn’t a curse but a blessing in disguise.

The shine of the moonlight kissed your skin goodnight and the insect’s that chirped sung you sweet soft lullabies. The pitter-patter of small and large creatures did not frighten you, it made you feel less alone.

****

The day had been kind to you in the way that there were plenty of berries and fresh water to find. You smiled as you felt the cool water underneath your feet but your smile faltered when you heard a familiar sound. It was close enough to hear the bass of the noise but fair enough for the sound to almost dissipate in the air, making it harder to track.

You took a step forward hoping the noise amplified towards the direction you walked. The deep sound bounced through the tree line drawing you further into the dense. You were able to finally make out the sound “Help me, Someone PLEASE help me!!”. The shouts cut through the air till you finally found its source.

Beneath a fallen tree laid a soldier bathed in blood and mud faced down on the dirt. His screams muted when he heard the dispersed twigs from the tree crack under your feet. You rushed over to him lifting up the truck of the tree that pinned his arm to the ground.

Instantly he rolled onto his back heaving for air and clutching his wounded arm. The pressure from the tree helped stop the blood flow from the deep cut that was on his forearm but as soon as the pressure was taken off, blood started to drip from his cut soaking the already damp ground. In one blink you ripped a strand of cloth from your shirt and tied it around his arm stopping any further blood loss.

He winced in pain, moans and goans slipping from his lips. “It’s going to be okay, just breath, you have to breath” you instructed and with hot tears trailing down his face he took one hard deep breath to steady his heart. Leaning over him you pressed a cool metal canteen to his lips lifting his head so he could take a sip of fresh cold water.

You were able to make out the letters that where velcroed to the chest of his uniform jacket and the dog tags that hung from around his neck. “James Buchanan Barnes, you’re a Sargent?, How did you get all the way out here? Where are the rest of your men?” Interrogating questions flew from your brain right out of you mouth with little reserve. “M-My names Bucky, and their … their all dead” he voiced, strained and hoarse from holding back tears.

Just by one single glance of him you knew he needed more medical tending to then just the improvised bandage that wrapped around his arm already soaked in blood. So you lifted him up as gently as you could, swinging his uninjured arm over your shoulder and wrapping your hand around his waist.

Bucky saw no reason to go unwillingly. Your voice was soft and so was your touch. You were his heroin an angel that appeared to him in what he thought was his last moments.

It took one whole staining, grueling hour to get him back to your old basecamp where the rest of your medical supplies were. In that time Bucky passed out from exhaustion but most likely from blood loss. You placed him down slowly laying him on your cot as you stripped him from his boots and large muddy pants to examine his body. Another large gash sat on his thigh a few inches above his knee. The rest of his body was riddled with smaller less severe cuts.

Cleaning him up and stitching his injures depleted most of your medical resources, so you made a mental note that from here on out you had to be extra cautious not to hurt yourself in anyway. After Bucky was patched up nicely he started to come to.

You sat beside him while he stirred and shifted his body finally waking after three hours. “Bucky, can you hear me?” You whispered softly to not startle the man. He gave a small nod groaning in pain while his eyes stood shut. “I’m going out to get you something for your pain” you reassured him placing your hand on his shoulder to show him some form of tenderness after such a harsh morning. Bucky nodded again this time opening his eyes slightly to meet yours.

It didn’t take long to find the plants you were looking for Lactuca virosa, a type of wild lettuce that’s known for its pain relieving properties. As you approached the base you spotted Bucky hunched against a tree trying to steady himself enough to walk. Rushing over to him you lead him towards a chair that you’d often sit on and watch the stars at night or listen to the animal scurry.

“Hey you have to rest, you’re not supposed to be on your feet yet, you’re gonna pop the stitches on your thigh” you strained. Bucky let out a loud huff of air in annoyance and agreed. You handed him the plant that you fetched and instructed him to consume the whole thing stem and all, and he did as he was told.

Bucky submitted to every request and demand you made. He put complete trust in you with little reason behind his logic. He didn’t even know your name or why you were helping him but he felt safe. Safe was not something he felt in a long time.

****

Three weeks had passed since you found Bucky helplessly pinned to the ground. He was strong and his wounds were healing quickly.

In the first week you cared for him intensely, changing his bandages routinely so no infection settled in. You bathed him and even spoon fed him while he recovered.

The second week was a lot different, although he wasn’t completely healed he was able to walk around. You taught him how to undress and dress his bandages and purify the water brought back to camp. He even learned how to work the radio and call out for rescue each morning.

By the third week Bucky was almost healed and hunting right by your side. It wasn’t something he picked up quickly. He had to be patient and quiet two traits that didn’t come naturally.

Although you knew he was a perfectly capable man you felt the need to protect him. You cared for him more than you probably should. Bucky was kind and light hearted. Very different from the men you were stationed with. He never made advances towards you even though he wanted to, his eyes never lingered on places they shouldn’t, and his touch never felt threatening or unwanted.

Bucky knew he was in love with by the first week he meet you. No one’s ever cared or took care of him like you did. He learned so much from you and your beauty was unparalleled.

You enjoyed his company also, being alone wasn’t something you wanted anymore. It felt as if you and Bucky where the only people on Earth and in a way it was true.

Bucky enjoyed the peacefulness of everything, there were no loud gunshots or explosions that left his ears ringing for days. There was a calm there, he was actually able to rest, actually able to breath. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder every few seconds or sleep with one eye open. It was a paradise and you made it even more so.

Even though Bucky tried the radio everyday he didn’t really want to actually be rescued, it meant he’d have to go back to the chaos and destruction of war.

****

It’s been weeks that you had your eyes on one particularly sweet juicy fruit that hung from a large stretched tree. You waiting patiently for it to ripen and today it’s color seemed perfect for picking. As you ascended up the hard tricky truck the branch that bared your weight snapped and sent you plummeting to the ground.

A loud thud rang out through the air followed by high streaks of pain. You managed to lift yourself slowly from the floor. Your body was weak and sore all over. You weren’t sure if there were any further damage except for small bruises and cuts so you dusted yourself of and slowly walk back to camp feeling defeated.

When you arrived Bucky’s faces contorted into pure horror leaving you confused by his response. He quickly sat up from where was sitting to rush by your side.

“You’re bleeding, what happen to you?” Bucky asked concern laced in his words. Just then you felt the warm wet flush of blood drip down your chest. There was a relatively long rip present on your shirt exposing the torn skin just under your collarbone. Blood stained the area quickly and flashes of white hot pain coursed through your muscles.

Bucky lead you to his set assuring you were safe if you ended up passing out. Without a second thought he ripped the shirt from your body to remove the dirty stained fabric from your skin.

You wound was a lot worse then Bucky first thought, large thin splinters from the tree stuck out from your skin and blood dripped constantly.

He ran to retrieve a cloth and sat beside you placing it on the wound and pressing firmly. You screamed in pain yanking his hand away.

“Bucky you have to get the splinters out and then stitch me up” you said in a low breathy voice

“There’s so much blood ..i..dont know.. I don’t think I could do that” Bucky stammered

“Look at me” you held him wrist while he looked into your eyes

“You can do this I believe in you, just do as I say. Okay” you instructed and Bucky agreed nodding his head rapidly.

**** NSFW ****

You started to talk him through the process very slowly trying to keep him calm and steady. one of his hands carefully picked out the wood while the other pressed on your shoulder holding you in place. Ever prick sent an immense amount of pain through you so you clutched Bucky’s thigh baring down on him.

When the last stitch was in place Bucky cleaned you up and finally let out a deep breath in relief.

“You did it” you smile through your teeth proud of him. You gave his thigh a tight squeeze as you spoke up again.

“I knew you could do it” Bucky’s heart skipped a beat when he felt your hand so close to his groin. He was so caught up in the moment he hadn’t noticed the placement of your hand. His sight quickly darted to your fingers and back up to your eyes .

Your faces were close enough that if he leaned in just a few more inches he could have a taste of your soft sweet lips. Your breath on his face further amplified the heat that was emanating from his body. His stare bounced from your lips to your eyes and back to your lips.

Faithfully you leaned in towards him pressing your lips to his. Your hand moving up his body till it grabbed at his hair pulling him in closer. You parted your lips allowing Bucky’s tongue to enter your mouth. His tongue swirled and lapped around expertly, licking your bottom lip and taking it in between his teeth expelling small breathy moan from you.

He growled back in response. Your moan sending blood rushing down towards his length. Bucky’s hand scanned your body roaming over every inch of your heated flesh till they fell to your hips. He tugged at you pulling you onto his lap so you were straddling him, not once removing his lips from yours.

Both your hands found its way into his hair tugging slightly. Bucky pulled back finally breaking the kiss to trailing his plump wet lips across your jaw and down to your neck. He peppered small delicate kisses on your skin, licking a strip from your collarbone up to ear.

He felt the goosebumps that rose on your arms and flushed your body. With a soft devilish chuckle he nibbled on your neck drawing another loud moan from your lips. You moved your hips against his feeling a need starting to grow in your stomach.

The hardness of him through the thin fabric of his shorts created a wetness that was pool in your underwear.

He guided your hips, moving you back and forth on his lap pressing you harder into him till his breath hitched in his throat.

“Babe your gonna have to ride me right now before I blow without getting to feel that tight pussy squeezing this hard cock” he grunted, breath falling onto your neck. You purred back, slowly lifting yourself off of his lap to dispose of the rest of his and your clothes and climbing back into his thighs.

He pressed his lips on yours again devouring you at a despite pace, Your wet core hoovering dangerously above his stiff member. Holding your waist Bucky slowly pushing you down onto him. His manhood prodding at your soaked entrance inching you down little by little. When his whole length disappeared inside of you, you both threw your heads back exhaling in ecstasy.

You held still for a moment as your walls adjusted to his size, squeezing tightly around him. He bucked his hips up signaling you to start moving. You grinded down on him extremely slow. The teasing speed driving Bucky mad. He moaned at the intimacy of this moment closing his eyes focusing on the feeling of him pumping into your quivering wetness.

You had enough of this slow torture so you decided to sped up your pace bouncing hungrily on him. Loud long moans left your lips echoing in the wide open space around you. Bucky placed his hands on your back pulling you to his chest while he slammed into you. He dropped his forehead onto your shoulder still railing you furiously.

Your orgasm hit you without warning leaving you breathlessly screaming his name, Buckys wasn’t far behind and as your high rippled through your body tightening your walls Bucky spilled into you. His heat coating your walls and dripping down onto thigh.

Out of breath and spent he lifted his head and kissed you again, this time it was soft and passionate. You could feel his love pouring out of his chest and making its way to yours.

**** SFW ****

The sharp sound of static chirps through your ears snapping you back to reality. You whipped your head back towards the noise trying to make out the sound. There was another loud static noise seconds later.

You jumped to your feet walking towards the sound. It was coming from the radio, faded voice broke through the static.

“ This is General Mason, we reserved your distress signal, are you still in need of assistance?” The man on the other side repeated himself over and over again.

You turned to Bucky who was pulling up his pants, your face painted with disbelief. You pressed the mic to your lips but before you could respond Bucky reached out for the non turning the radio completely off.

You looked up at him a bit shocked till a huge water eyed smile spread across your face. Bucky pulled you into him wrapping his large arms around you as you sunk into his chest.

“I don’t want to leave I never want to leave this place” Bucky whispered as he swayed with you slowly.

“ i don’t either” you replied tears streaming from your eyes.

****

@honeyvbarnes @sebbbystaaan @mushyjellybeans @babiiface95 @chloerinebarnes @perpetually-tuned-out @criminal-cookies @this-kitten-is-smitten @sherrybaby14 @theladyoffangorn mutuals if you dont want to be tagged shot me a message

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x yn #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction

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doomedandstoned · 3 years

Text

Doors To No Where Drop Rowdy Grunge-Punk-Desert Spinner ‘Darkness Falls’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

Review by Billy Goate

Before us is the latest record from Santa Cruz heavies DOORS TO NO WHERE, a band new to these pages but which has played alongside many of our favorite West Coast acts, including KooK, Worship, and Year of the Cobra. As May is Mental Health Awareness month, it's good timing to be introduced to 'Darkness Falls' (2021). "This came to me during the pandemic," says frontman Marc Lewis. "I was watching so many folks struggling from all walks of life. Struggle isn’t biased -- it can hit anyone."

The album lyrically was a concept album in a way on the topic of mental health and its impact. I'm truly passionate about this and want it not to be such a taboo thing to talk about or seen as a sign of weakness.

Composed during the pandemic's most clutching moments and recorded with Aaron Cooper of Pylon Productions, the album features longtime collaborators Marc Lewis (guitar, vox), Marc Prefontaine (bass), and Pete Testorff (drums).

"Lie, Lie, Lie," dashes off to a furious Foo Fighters pace as we begin the record, with Pete Testorff's fervor and panache paving the way for Marc Lewis to deliver the three word chorus with all the snarl of a man who just wants to break his rusty chains and run.

"The riff in Lie, Lie, Lie," Marc tells Doomed & Stoned, "was written off something I heard Pete doing one night during sound check. He was playing his whole kit and then doing those snare hits you hear at the beginning of the song."

There's some nice give-and-take between Marc Lewis' guitar and Marc Prefontaine's bass that betwixt the introduction and chorus. I didn't pick it up at first listen, but it definitely grabbed me the next several spins through.

The grungy lyrics match the pissed-off spirit of the music, as the song mourns the loss of a common reference denominator for truth, warning that in its absence there is division, calamity, and ruin. "Together we rise, together we fall." Marc amplifies these powerful moments for us:

This track centers around the idea of false power and how someone could start to believe their own lies and self-hype, while others could fall for it. It can become a toxic relationship or even a cult kind of thing.

It may be hard to remember this far into this surreal "pause" in our world's history, but we too were afraid, alone, and angry for much of the pandemic's wake -- especially in those uncertain early moments when we followed the spread of this strange disease from China to Italy and onto the shores of Seattle and New York.

Darkness Falls by Doors To No Where

The aptly named "Fade" comes next, presenting at a doom's crawl with a sombre arpeggiated motif that summons the spirit of Trouble and Saint Vitus. Or you might hear a twisted, doomed-up variation of Metallica's "Enter The Sandman" in that low-end omen. "Fade was built of the rolling riff and bend," Marc explains. "I wanted it fat and raunchy." Certainly Pale Divine and Dirty Grave come to mind as I seek to match the mood with bands of similar spirit.

Then comes the pained chorus: "Run, run baby," which Marc illuminates in a very personal light:

"Fade" is about a friend of mine who is no longer with us. She was a larger than life personality that was loved by all. She played the personna and role of the happy-go-lucky person. She thought that's why people loved her and why they were friends. She was actually really struggling with mental health and depression though. She would behave in a way that she thought people wanted her to behave, while she was actually suffering. Those around her did not realize her pain or that their influence was making things worse. For years she would self-medicate with drugs and alcohol and that was celebrated by those around her.

I had started to see signs of her pain and tried to reach out. Unfortunately, I was too late. Any time anyone would reach out for help, she would disappear. The chorus line “disappearing one” is a reference to her pushing away and hiding from help. When she passed (sucide) everyone spoke of how special she was and how much they loved her. I was angry and sad. Why didn't more folks try and help her? My perspective was that coddling her addictions and self-medicated escape helped her to the grave.

The lyrics “We all love to see you fade, but don’t you go away” and “We all love to see you soar, but don’t you fade away” are references to the idea that sometimes humans are selfish in their relationships. Meaning that someone may give me the attention and things I need without me being aware of the sacrifices the other person is making.

"Worship The Machine" is another hefty doomer, with some wild guitar noodling contrasted against a rhythm that is quite machine-like as it dances stoically along its predestined chordal path. "Worship The Machine was written to be heavy and groovy," the band notes. "We wanted it to have a certain feel that pushed hard, while still having that chugging along kinda vibe." Closing in on the three-minute mark, Pete turns loose on the drums like a man possessed and the intensity continues when the rest of the band joins in, taking us right across the finish line to a crashing conclusion.

Darkness Falls by Doors To No Where

"I wanna live, but I'm dying" are words I can certainly relate to, not just in 2020, but in 2021, where the lingering impact of such a global (and personal) disruption is still very much a struggle on the daily. Turns out, my intuition was not far from the lyrical intent: "This song is all about the addiction to social media and how it corresponds with one's self esteem, mood, and self-worth. The social media world has become this giant machine and some are literally addicted to it. It creates this tool of status. I think it has truly impacted how people feel about themselves and others."

"Got Mine" is up next and this one is the most punkish track yet. It reminds me a lot of Soundgarden's periodic forays into punk, with songs like "Nazi Driver," "Never Named," and "Kickstand." On this point, Marc is clear: "Got Mine is influenced by the fact that I love old punk rock. I love the energy and the attitude. We wanted it to be loose but with tight stops and control." As to its meaning, we're told:

This song is about a revolution with the main character being selfish and self serving. So the character is done with the revolution or fight once their needs and wants are met. They are not really looking out for the cause or to tackle bigger issues for the good of humanity. They are actually looking for what is best for them. The chorus refers to a cold heart and lack of empathy.

Darkness Falls by Doors To No Where

All you lovers of southern sludge will dig "Policy" with its Goatsnake meets Acid Bath groove and sassy guitar lead. Speaking of Soundgarden, I really dig the Kim Thayilesque breakdown and stinging solo two-minutes in, though some may draw parallels with Crowbar here. These are all, of course, points of reference to try to do the near impossible: put the emotional experience of one listener (e.g. yours truly) into words. In the end, it's up to you to listen and find a favorite of your own. For my money, "Policy" is where it's at. Check out the fantastic dual guitar interplay two-and-a-half minutes in! Down, eat your heart out.

"Policy" is another riff I wrote to play off of a groove I heard Pete do during warm ups. It's got a swing to it but punches hard. Almost a heartbeat if you will. The solo was a direct result of playing the drums.

This track touches on letting toxic people go from your life. At what point do you stop investing in someone's negative energy? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. It is the idea of surrounding yourself with people that want you to be the best version of yourself.

Up next: "Who Died", which summons all of the band's talents. Beginning with bursts of rapid-fire guitar picking set against a zombie-like beat and chorus, the song has something of a swampy feel. "I won't follow you!" Mr. Lewis shouts defiantly. I wasn't sure where the song would progress from there, and almost thought it was concluded at the false stop barely two-and-a-half minutes in. But the song rallies and the band pulls out its full force, with what sounds like the addition of the synth to present a layered effect that amplifies the intensity. I think this could have been developed even further, but sometimes brevity is the most appropriate option for a song.

"Who Died" was written off the chorus and intro. Zeppelin kinda riff. It's all about feel and giving the riffs room to breathe. This track is about the concept of thinking for yourself and not being an easy victim of mental or physical abuse.

The reverberating echoes of organ-sounding keyboards greet as "New Monster" takes its place next. We get our footing pretty quickly with a kind of "We Will Rock You" bass motif, but the song gets stranger and stranger as the seconds tick off. As with the previous track, there is a sudden atmospheric shift accompanied by furious strumming and ending on the swirling guitar theme we started with.

"Here we are, same ol' thing, round and round, 'ever again...I wanna run, I wanna breathe, I wanna live." This is, for me, perhaps the most relatable song on the record, lyrically speaking. This one especially gave off strong Prong vibes with its strong vocal lead, robust drumming, strong bass play, and industrial guitar feel.

"New Monster" was written in isolation and was originally an acoustic song. Even though the tempo is upbeat it's a dark and murky riff. We wanted the end out of the breakdown to hit hard. I imagine it building like a wave in the ocean.

Another track focusing on mental health with the idea of perseverance and to keep fighting, "New Monster" is the idea of not being perfect is actually perfect. We are all just floating on a giant rock in space and going through this thing called life together.

Darkness Falls by Doors To No Where

At last, we reach the record's namesake "Darkness Falls" -- the gem of this eight-pronged crown of thorns. I've always thought it was a great name. Darkness Falls is also the title of a 2003 movie about a malevolent tooth fairy, though I see no compelling reason to connect the film with either the song or record. I may not be too far off the mark, as Marc Lewis explains:

This concept came to me during the pandemic. I was watching so many folks struggling. All walks of life were struggling. Struggle isn’t biased and can hit anyone. “Please, please shine for me” and “Please, please glow again” reflect on how badly I wanted things to be better. For things to be ok. How I wanted those I love to be happy, safe and loved.

As it stands, Doors To No Where does a superior job of fleshing out the notion of "Darkness Falls" than previous contenders in any medium. The song stirs up a smokey, mysterious Near-Eastern ambience. Four minutes in and it's confirmed: there is indeed a synthesizer at play on Darkness Falls but its hypnotic effect in this song is interrupted by a screaming riffstorm and a gut full of churning bass. This song would make a great companion to "What The Hell Have I" by Alice in Chains. It also pairs well with Portland band A//TAR, whose metaphysical music we've also debuted in these pages.

"Darkness Falls" is special for another reason: Bob Balch of Fu Manchu and Big Scenic Nowhere was a guest on the album closer. "Him and I worked together on the track," Marc reflects. "He is a pro's pro and added so much to the vibe of the song. His playing and tone are phenomenal.

The new album Darkness Falls by Doors To No Where releases to the public on Friday, May 21st via Desert Records (pre-order here). This is its world premiere c/o Doomed and Stoned.

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Doors To No Where · DARKNESS FALLS

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Featuring Marc Lewis (Guitars/Vocals), Pete Testorff (Drums) and Marc Prefontaine (Bass). Doors To No Where have been making music since 2010. Their sound is heavily influenced by Santa Cruz and the local beauty it offers along with the rich history of music. Doors To No Where have been called a stoner rock band but also touch on elements of punk, doom, metal and even grunge.

Growing up on a skateboard and surfing has played a huge part on the influences of the sounds Doors To No Where like to include.

The band has toured in and been honored to share the stage with bands like, Mondo Generator, Fatso Jetson, Fu Manchu, The Melvins and many more.

Doors To No Where will be releasing 'Darkness Falls' (2021) via Desert Records on May 21st 2021. The fourth studio album features eight tracks and a special guest appearance from Bob Balch (Fu Manchu). Staying true to their roots, 'Darkness Falls' is a combination of desert rock and punk influences. The band tracked and recorded the album in the unusual quarantine times of Covid-19.

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