#unholy sounds from jens mouth

[xiaoderys]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 (𝐥.𝐣𝐧)

pairing: Football Captain!Jeno x Mean Girl/Cheer Captain!Reader

warnings: smut, going into subspace, creampie, overstimulation, praise kink, cum swallowing, overuse of the word ‘baby’

word count: 2.8K

requested: yes

Everybody knows who you are— student body president, homecoming queen, cheerleading captain; you were the school’s it girl and you had everybody wrapped around your tiny little fingers with just a single look in your eye, but while you had everyone falling on their knees for you, Lee Jeno was not having any of your bullshit. Instead, he went out of his way to avoid you and since Jeno was the school’s hotshot, it came as a surprise to everyone that the infamous Mr. Golden Boy and the school’s most precious darling sweetheart hated each other’s guts.

But what people didn’t know was that behind all this facade you and Jeno both put up for the whole school, you were just a sucker for each other’s touch.

You swore to yourself that you would never even dare lay eyes on anyone from the football team, after everything you’ve experienced from Jeno, you just grew an overbearing hatred towards football players in general and much to your cheer squad’s dismay, your rule applied to them as well. Call it being too harsh but you’re the captain and what you say goes so you would always tell your girls: “Guys on the football team are off-limits. You think it’s cute for cheerleaders and football players to date? Then you’d be glad to know that you’re not the first girl they’ve fucked in the locker rooms.. and definitely not the last. If I find any one of you getting too close with one of those assholes, don’t even fucking dare show your face here ever again.” 

But you’re a hypocrite.

After one too many shots of some cheap alcohol and two horny teenagers at the homecoming games after party, you could only imagine what happened next.

Hands around your waist, body on top of his, tongues fighting for dominance; he tasted like beer and regret. You could’ve stopped it, you could’ve ran away, you could’ve told him no before he was shoving his tongue down your throat and fucking you senselessly on his roommates bed.. you could’ve done so many things to stop all of this before it even started but you didn’t. Because Lee Jeno is a drug and unfortunately for you, you just found your new addiction.

After that night, it became a habit, a ritual for the both of you. After every game or practice, you would meet up in the East building locker room and he would rail you until you were too sore to go to cheer practices the next day. Not your proudest moments but it’s just as if there wasn’t enough air in the room to fill your lungs whenever you were with him.

Now, it’s 4pm and you’re kneeled on the floor in between Jeno’s thighs as he guided your head up and down his thick length. You swirled your tongue around the slit, licking all the way from the base to the tip which resulted in unholy words and gutteral moans to leave his mouth. All the praises and lewd sounds escaping his lips were going straight to your core and you were so painfully aroused by now. You wanted to reach one hand down to relieve yourself while getting Jeno off but you know that’s just gonna cost you a mind blowing orgasm from him so you chose not to.

“Fuck, baby, just like that- shit!” head thrown back, fingers laced in your hair, sweat coating his well-defined abs; seeing him like this really makes you forget about all your built up frustrations towards him “Please keep going” his breathy whines sounded so angelic yet sinful at the same time.

He pulls your head up by your hair forcing you to make eye contact with him, lips still wrapped around his swollen cock “God you’re so pretty like this” he smiles “It’s almost as if you were made just for it” his features softened, admiring the sight before him, his adorable baby on her knees, teary-eyed, mascara running down her flushed cheeks, and mouth full of cock, Jeno swore the view alone could make him come right then and there but he had more plans for you.

“That feels so good, baby, keep doing that, fuck!” he groans, encouraging you to take his whole length until it hit the back of your throat. Jeno met each bob of your head with a thrust which had you gagging around him and that only added to his pleasure.

The sight of your swollen red lips wrapped around his thick cock so perfectly was enough to make him go feral so it wasn’t long before Jeno was bucking his hips up into you “Shit, I’m gonna come” he tightened his grip on your hair forcing you to go down on him faster and after a few more pumps, he was climaxing and you being the good girl that you are, swallowed everything he could give you, feeling the thick, hot liquid running down your throat. You licked up and down his length to collect all the cum that you didn’t catch, not letting a single drop go to waste then you stuck your tongue out to show him that you’ve swallowed it all. “Fuck that’s so hot” he growled.

You continued to suck his tip, trying to get as much out of him as possible but he removed you from his cock, pulling you up to straddle his lap “Come here, baby” he smashed your lips together and he could taste himself on you. He thought he actually tasted kinda nice

“You want my dick inside you, pretty girl?” he mumbles against you breathlessly and you try to nod, replying with a tiny ‘yes, please’ and he hovers you above his throbbing dick, spitting on his fingers and bringing them to your pussy so he can prep you because he knows your little cunt needs all the prepping it can get to take his fat cock. “You’re this wet just from sucking dick?”

“Just. Want. You. Inside. Please!” he chuckles at your neediness, fascinated by how he could have the school’s infamous snobby it girl drooling over his cock and all he had to do was whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

“You’re on the pill, right?” you nod at him and he bunched your skirt up to your waist, aligning himself with your heat as he slowly sunk you down on his length. 

No matter how wet you were or how many times Jeno fucked you, you still couldn’t seem to get used to his size, squirming as soon as he entered you. Small whimpers were falling from his lips due to oversensitivity and you could’ve sworn they were the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard in your life.

“S-so big! Feels so good!” Jeno’s a simple guy, feed his ego, tell him how big he is and how good he makes you feel and he’ll give you a good fuck.

He knew your body so well and found your sweet spot right away which had you almost screaming at the top of your lungs, thank god this area was secluded or else, anyone walking by outside would definitely know what the both of you were up to “Right there! ahghh please!” you squealed and he held your waist, thrusting up to meet your heat “Right here?” he asks, giving a particularly hard thrust, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

“Yes! oh my god!” you threw your head back in daze, leaving Jeno more room to mark his baby’s pretty neck. He sucked purple marks on your skin that would definitely be a pain in the ass to cover up tomorrow but that was the least of your problems right now.

“Please go faster!” you needily whine and to be honest, who was he to decline your request? He tightened his grip on your waist and guided you faster up and down his length.

“Fuck! Come here” he pulled your face closer to him and once again put your lips together. He could tell you were close by the way you were clenching around him and as usual, he was right “G-gonna come, Jen, can I please come?!” you plead against him and you could feel his lips form a smirk “Of course, you can, baby. Come for me” that’s all it took for you to moan uncontrollably and release all your juices around Jeno’s cock.

But you noticed that his movements weren’t getting any slower, in fact, they were getting faster and faster and faster.

You laced your fingers in his hair, gripping them tightly “W-what are you doing?” you whimper “I’m fucking you, baby, what does it look like I’m doing?” he growls “B-but I already came!” you squealed and he pushed your body to lay you down on the bench, hooking your legs around his waist as he hovers above you, face inches away from yours “You don’t mind doing it a few more times for me, right baby?” he stills for a second, waiting for assurance. His features softened and holy fuck, you swore you couldn’t breathe. You shook your head with wide eyes leaving him with a grin “That’s a good pup” he kissed the tip of your nose before he continued to relentlessly pound into you.

His tip repeatedly brushed against your sweet spot, leaving you gasping for air and clinging onto his body like your life depended on it “Jeno..“ you sob, feeling yourself get closer and closer to the edge again.

“Fuck! How are you this pretty?” He brought one of his hands to your face, removing all the strands of hair covering it. Seeing you like this, drove him insane and all he could do was chuckle at your wrecked state “Look at you, all desperate and whiny under me. I wonder how your little cheer squad would react if they find out that their snobby little captain who talks big game about hating football players is just a little whore for me?” you couldn’t even reply to tell him otherwise because you both knew he was right, he was always fucking right and you hated it.

You could feel your next orgasm approaching, you try to warn him yet nothing but incoherent words and cries of his name fell from your mouth “J-jeno plea-hmnngg!” He watched you intently, brows furrowed, mouth agape and tears falling on the sides of your face “What is it, baby? Use your words and tell me what you want” he taunts “I’m so close!” you gripped the back of his head and pulled him closer “Don’t hold back, doll. Show me how good I make you feel.” You felt your walls tighten around him once again and you were cumming for the second time.

You thought he would stop there but it still wasn’t enough for Jeno. He loved seeing your flustered face; your whines and pants were like music to his ears, it would be a shame if he stopped now.

The sweat forming on his forehead was dripping down onto you, his thrusts weren’t letting up and you couldn’t think straight. Your mind was all fuzzy and all you could think about was Jeno.

He had you writhing underneath him, cock still deep inside your sensitive pussy, pounding into you mercilessly even after having come two times already.

Your whole body was shaking, you could only take so much. You let out cries and whines yet it only seemed to inflate Jeno’s ego and drive him to go faster and harder. “J-Jeno! I can’t take it anymore!” you thrashed under him but his big, strong arms held you in place “Yes you can, baby, just one more” He knew your body better than anyone else, he knows when you’ve had enough and he knows you can take more-- he knows you want more. “Just one more, okay?”

He continued to plunge his cock deeper and deeper until you were nothing but a whiny, sobbing mess. The overwhelming pleasure filled your senses. You held onto him tighter as soon as you felt another high approaching. Your mind was all over the place and you felt like you were gonna black out. You dug your nails into his biceps and they were sure to leave marks. “Too much, too much, too much!” you chant like a mantra “Just a little more, baby” he tries to reassure you but you were feeling dizzy at this point and his words almost stopped making sense.

You could feel every vein on his cock grazing your walls so deliciously. Every praise and groans that fell from his lips were the only things you could comprehend. “You’re doing so well, baby.. almost there” Your eyes were now rolling to the back of your head, your body stopped shaking and you were in a state of pure bliss, you felt dizzy and your vision was slowly fading to black “J-jeno…” you mumble “Yes, baby, you’re doing so so good, stay with me, just a little more” All you could think about was Jeno and the overwhelming pleasure from his cock rubbing against your tight walls and right at that exact moment, it felt like nothing in the world mattered but the both of you.

You felt spurts of cum being released inside you and you so almost passed out “Fuck, baby. you feel so good” he was panting and kept thrusting sloppily into you “That felt so damn good, baby” as he was coming down from his high, he noticed that you weren’t responding so he cupped your cheeks “Good job, baby, you took me so well” you were still deep into subspace and Jeno tried to be gentle with you as much as he could “You’re okay, baby. I’m here. Just breathe, okay?” He tucked the messy strands of hair covering your face and gave you a quick peck on the lips.

He pulls out ever so slowly, trying his best not to hurt you. He watched his cum drip out of your cunt and he swore he almost came for the third time “God look at that, my cum’s dripping from your tiny pussy. One of these days, I’m gonna have to buy you a plug so you can keep everything I give you inside” he slowly collected both of your juices mixed together on his fingers and hovered it in front of your lips “Open up, baby” you still couldn’t understand anything and it took you a while to register what was happening but as soon as you did, you opened up your mouth and started sucking on his fingers “Does it taste good?” you nod frantically and kept mumbling incoherent words which made Jeno coo at you.

He took his fingers away from your mouth and you whined “m-more please! more!” Jeno chuckled at how needy you were but he didn’t want to push you way beyond your limits ”You’ve already done enough, baby. You can calm down now, okay? just breathe” a few minutes pass by of Jeno trying to bring you back into reality and you finally calmed down.

He pampered you with kisses and praises, making sure you were okay after coming down from your state of pure ecstasy. “You did so well, baby, I’m so proud of you” he smiles sweetly as he wipes your mascara stained cheeks with his thumb “Thank you, Jen” you murmur, trying not to look him in the eye. “What’s wrong?” he asks, turning your head to face him “Nothing” Jeno could tell something was bothering you but he just shrugs it off because he knows your relationship was strictly physical and you would never open up to him anyway.

“Okay, well, I need to get going now,” he gets off of you “I still need to help Jaemin prepare for the party tonight” you tried to stand up but your legs felt like jelly so you stumbled a little but thankfully, Jeno was there to catch you “Woah, careful there. Do you need help getting home?” Yes, you do, but you weren’t gonna tell him that “No, I’ll be fine” you shook your head with a small smile.

“You’re still coming later, right?” you fixed your clothes and tried to collect your thoughts and you shot him a confused look “Hmm?” he chuckled, clearly your mind was still in shambles from earlier “the party tonight” your body still felt sore but you just couldn’t say no “Oh yeah, of course, how could I miss it?” He smiled at you, throwing his shirt back on “Good, you know where my room is, I’ll see you again at 7?”

You watched as he tried to tidy himself up and collect his belongings, thoughts running around your head, wanting to tell him so badly to stay and just talk for a while, to sort things out between the two of you because god knows you could only contain your emotions for so long, but instead, you just nod at him and smile “I’ll see you at 7” he returns your smile and walks out, leaving you there to mentally curse yourself for not having the courage to tell him how you feel but this is what you signed up for. You made your bed and now you have to lay on it.

[leelaihardly]

Ch. 2. That Stupid F*CKING ugly Sweater

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 3]

Rhett nearly choked on his Reuben when he got the call at noon on the dot.

He knew that voice anywhere. It was the man himself.

"Heya Rhett. Did I wake ya?" he chuckled.

"Mister Neal?" Rhett found himself saying.

Dumbass. He thought loudly.

Link laughed.

Worth it. He thought softly.

"Yup, last time I checked. Can I trouble you to come down to the studio tomorrow?"

Rhett was unable to make sounds come out of his mouth.

"Y-yes!"

"Bright and early, fresh and clean."

He'd got it.

He'd got the job.

The rest of the day was hazy, he was warm and excited all over, Link Neal's voice lingered in his ears replaying what he'd heard him say on the phone.

"You're too tall for our setup so we'll have to make some adjustments but, hey, any man worth his belt buckle who can work a mouth guitar like that..."

Rhett's brain was in static mode all day that day, like he'd eaten a fistful of pop rocks. Fast forwarded through a week later of hasty good-byes, apartment hunting (he settled on a place with woefully low ceilings but they were pet-friendly and he wasn't that picky). Anyways, with any luck he'd be spending most of his waking hours at Mythical Valley Studios. With Him.

"It's really happening, Barbara. Here. Bite me so I know I'm not dreaming." she licked his hand.

"Good enough!" and he was out the door.

Lady Luck was fickle and Rhett was running late as fuck.

Fuck. Shit. Shit Shit Shit.

Rhett cursed in his mind. Catastrophic thoughts tumbled around in which he entered MV Studios in increasingly embarrassing ways. Panting, then pantsless, then on fire, and worst of all, one in which Mister Neal flat out told him he could take this job more seriously or he could get to stepping. He stumbled through the lot door after security check and ducked inside. Nobody was in the hall except a bearded intern with a blase expression who pointed to a room labelled 'CR1.'

"Sorry I'm late I-"

Rhett had expected the room to be running like the efficient machine it had been on Audition Day. All quick shuffling and curt gesturing, beeper buzzing and walkie talking. But here was a room with sceneries painted on the walls where seemingly the entire staff was sat round a huge wooden table, yawning and curling their sleeves around their hot coffees in the AC. Unmistakably sleepy but curiously chipper and amused for Hollywood folk up at the asscrack of dawn.

"Do we still have that old Ringmaster Chase getup?"

"Nah," said a blonde woman in a backwards cap that said 'crew' "Chase borrowed it last week for date night, didn't you, Chase?"

Chase quipped back "Yeah, only cause Jen's Postal shorts needed ironing."

"Oh, Fudge you." said the woman, Jen, rolling her eyes but failing to hide a crooked smile.

Nobody had noticed him coming in except Link, who got up.

"Well hey there sleepyhead. Glad you could join us."

Mister Neal was all smiles, his tone teasing but light,

"Was startin to think you'd gotten cold feet and split on us before we even got started."

"Sorry I'm late I-"

"Hey, hey- don't apologize. You're here aren't ya?" Link eyed him over his glasses.

"Yeah I...I guess...yeah." Rhett finished lamely. Link shook his head and chuckled.

"Stevie saved you a seat. Siddown. It's table read time." He clapped his hands together and took his seat.

Rhett sat next to Stevie, 3 seats away from Mister Neal. The table had no 'head'. It was circular, wooden and covered with scribbles. But the body language of everyone in the room as they adjusted to Link sitting down made it obvious. Mister Neal was the power source of the whole operation. The reason all these different people were gathered at this unholy hour. There was a reverence akin to sitting in church pews, a common mission and a sense of taking things seriously, side conversations broke up as people read their scripts, there were no notes passing and whispering and shushing and chiding. A joke was to be shared with the room, any source of laughter scribbled into the margins wherever possible.

Rhett'd just had to shift his whole perspective and accept that the storybook Valley was just that- a fairytail. And then suddenly here was this company that felt more like the friendly woodland neighbourhood than his own hometown. He'd been thrown for a loop again but one that had him feeling the not-unpleasant swooping sensation of being on a coaster.

Link cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses and read the show intro.

Rhett read his few parts. It basically boiled down to doing a guitar riff when Mailperson Jen delivered the mail, and was provided a sheet music template to work off of (he scoffed internally, he knew the Mail song forwards and back and probably blindfolded with one hand tied behind his back too).

"Ooh, I like the sound of that." said Link.

"Wha- oh."

Rhett came back to himself in time to notice he'd been drumming his pencil absentmindedly on the desk to the tune in his head. He stopped automatically, the conversation in the room lulling as some of the cast turned around. Link giggled.

"Why'd you stop? It was just gettin' good!" he emphasized this point by clinking his spoon against the side of his coffee mug.

Rhett blinked, then got back into his rhythm. He didn't know what was happening but they were having some kind of a jam session, Link throwing in some ad libs and Rhett switching between random items on the tabletop, experimenting on the acoustics.

This was so weird.

This was so fun.

Light was starting to stream through the one window. Link's eyes sparkled. Link's voice sparkled. Everything about him. His laugh made Rhett laugh which made Link laugh more, tipping his head back. Rhett felt like his own head had been dipped in a stream of warm bubbly Topo Chico. Stevie was looking between the two of them with a queer smirk. Rhett was just about to reach for a rubber band when he heard shattering ceramic-

Link jumped back from the hot splatter of coffee. Rhett somehow found himself half out of his chair.

"Ah shoot!"

"Ah shit!"

They said simultaneously. Link shot him a look, sucking his scalded ring finger.

"Rhett! Potty mouth!"

"Sorry."

The bubble was burst. Link straightened his sweater and went back to his seat. He didn't make eye contact with Rhett again for the whole meeting, and Rhett checked every chance he got, risking glances over the top of his sheet music.

An hour later Rhett was shuffling out of CR1 when a voice behind him stopped him in his tracks.

"Rhett... can you hang back a sec?"

Link sure had a way of asking questions that felt like commands.

Rhett turned around to face a still-seated Link, halo'd from behind by the brightening outside sun.

"I got a little homework for you, Rhett."

"H-homework?" Rhett said. What was it about the measured tone and tented fingertips that made him stammer like a schoolboy.

"Yep." Link said, still flicking through the script. "Please try and tamp down on your little naughty language issue."

"Now, I'm not partial to rules," he went on, continuing to not look at Rhett, "but we do like to keep things Y7 here on set just because, well, you never want something like that to slip out at the wrong time." He was looking outside now, he lost himself in thought for a minute before whipping back around, still silhouetted.

"I worked long and hard making MV a reality and keeping this world," he gestured around him, "Squeaky clean." he emphasized this latter bit by wiping the spotless table top.

"You wouldn't want to jeopardize that, would you?"

Another not-question question.

Rhett's answer came directly from his gut to his mouth, bypassing his brain.

"Of course not! Uh, Mister Neal."

Link's silhouette was dark but Rhett could feel a spreading smile. Could feel those eyes finally, finally lift up to look at him again.

"Wonderful."

That night. Another dream.

One of those cliché first-day-of-school dreams Rhett had often. Usually ending with him getting tarred and feathered and called Big Bird or missing the final free-throw of the championship game.

But this one was different.

When he got into class his teacher wasn't wearing his usual button down with the pit stains, he was wearing a sweater. An ugly sweater.

"....Mister Neal?" he heard his own voice, squeaky and pubescent.

Embarrassing.

"You're late." came the reply. Severe but calm. He paused his writing on the board but did not turn around.

"Shit." Rhett blurted, "I'm sorry-"

Mister Neal's posture stiffened. Lowered the piece of chalk and placed it carefully on the rack.

"Rhett." he said, "What did I say about cussing?"

"S-"

"And," he began turning around, "what did I say about over-apologizing?"

Rhett's chest flooded with -something -something frightening and effervescent.

Mister Neal stalked over to him and looked him in the eyes.

The something was straining against his ribs, threatening to spill out. Suddenly the voice was soft,

"Should I put ya to sit in the corner or should we get out the ol' bar of soap and make that dirty mouth of yours squeaky clean?"

Rhett was being asked to pick his punishment. He knew which one he wanted, uh- preferred- weirdly drawn to the scenario that involved more attention from his mentor. I guess, if he had to walk home burping up bubbles it'd be worth it to have Link's voice in his ear.

"S-second one." Rhett spoke. His voice suddenly low and gravely.

"You're not a kid, Rhett." Link said, and Rhett realized he was his normal (abnormal) height again.

"You're a man." Link said, the quarest tilt to his head and tinge to his tone.

"If you're really sorry..." Link said, closing the space between them and hooking a finger into the collar of Rhett's shirt, trailing it down and grazing a button that was just begging to be unclasped.

"Show me."

Rhett woke up to his alarm radio blasting some pop entirely too synth-y for 5am.

He knew he'd had another dream because, well, yeah.

Again.

Worse this time.

As much as he tried to summon that fantasy during his morning shower nothing came to him except the word 'soap'.

You're literally in the shower, dumbnut.

This new (old) apartment smelled damp, with only the light from a dusty window streaming in but Rhett didn't care. For the first time in ages he felt like he was home. He was excited to go to work. To be fair, he'd only had minor experience doing ride repair for a small town amusement park, which involved more cleaning puke out from between gears than he'd like to remember.

"Bright and early, fresh and clean." he said aloud, shooting a look at Barbara who was eyeing him as he toweled off. Her face probably meant to telegraph 'food now.' but Rhett read it as a smug 'Are you actually quoting your boss?' followed by a sophomoric whip-crack sound effect that would probably be hard for a dog to do.

"Yeah yeah," Rhett admitted, "I know."

Rhett prided himself on a lot of things none the least of which was his ability to pick something up and become an expert. Former friends would roll their eyes whenever they sensed the start of a 'Rhett rhant' or a burgeoning interest that would no-doubt eclipse Rhett's field of interest for the next 6 months.

His current fascination with Link Neal was not so short-lived, it had been a lifetime in the making. And now he was finally getting the chance to observe the man, the myth(ical) the legend up close and personal. The first lesson learned was how to make him laugh. The only downside to making Link laugh was not being able to fully take him in when Rhett's own eyes crinkled shut. He got a little kick of satisfaction whenever Mister Neal noticed him watching him across the conference table.

He liked seeing other sides of him like, okay, wow, Link Neal is terrible at multitasking. He calls raisin bran crunch his 'healthy snack' but picks at tomatoes or olives when they get catering, and (this one was Rhett's favourite) tells the crew to stop cussing but apparently likes dirty jokes when they're from Rhett.

Link likes the way Rhett plays the guitar when they sing the mail song. Rhett's off screen and finds it way easier to focus without that gaze on him.

Link likes this loud Rhett but he also likes how soft Rhett's voice gets when he's playing Damiel the 'woof', asking precocious questions while Mister Neal patiently explains how a train works ("Awh, no, Damiel, trains don't make cotton candy clouds, that's steam off the engine".).

They sometimes go a little off-script cause Link Neal (Link motherflippin' Neal) flubs a line and instead of re-taking it Rhett calls back to it in a way that makes Mr. Neal giggle. Stevie calls cut but they're still 'in character' teasing each other about a joke about tunnels.

"It'll go over the kids heads, keep it in." Link jokes.

"Keep it in.' he says" Rhett adds, risking a wink and earning a playful knuckle-tap to his shoulder.

It was addictive, watching Link's cheeks turn as pink as his lips, curling into a smile that could break into a giggle laugh if you were lucky enough, funny enough. Rhett wanted to catch that laugh like lightning bugs in a jar, take it home to keep at his bedside for the long weekends between episode shoots.

Currently he was tucking in to sleep with a white noise machine and a new (durable, he was told) alarm clock and something that'd jumped out at him from a bookshop window 'discount' display. "Pocket Dream Dictionary: Your Guide to Unlocking the Subconscious" was printed in faded lettering (hence the discount).

"Write down your dream details as soon as you wake up for best results" the first page had said, which was as far as he'd read so far.

Settling onto his pillow and looking at Barbara on her doggie bed who was eyeing him skeptically.

"Eh. Worth a shot." he answered and was out like a light.

[jenniferroland]

[starter for @loverot​]

"If you can look at what's there and not eat yourself hollow with shame, you are not human anymore."

Transferring out of Mount Massive to play brain scrambler in the middle of the Arizona desert was hardly a step up. She’d put in a request for leave numerous times and been denied on the grounds that her research skills and capability as a pathologist made her “too valuable an asset” to allow her to be off the asylum campus for any extended period of time. But when a handful of her female coworkers began experiencing hysterical pregnancies from proximity to the Engine, she was suddenly a liability instead. Never mind that she experienced precisely no negative effects from it; if anything, her mind felt sharper when working on location than it ever did in remote labs, like popping a handful of Adderall. 

The segregation came without warning. Experiments and treatments went unfinished; communications went dark; theories withered and died without the proper environment in which to nurture them. Uprooted and shipped away to some toxic waste dump, Jennifer Roland never felt more useless. 

Day in and day out, she sat behind a monitor, watching religious fanatics of varying degrees of insanity fight and fuck and feast and absolutely slaughter one another. The scheduled bursts from the Towers would resound, the crew inside the lead-insulated concrete shelters would shield their eyes, and shortly thereafter, an all-out shitfest would ensue on the screens in front of them. Recovery teams were dispatched to covertly collect any bodies they could, which were promptly tossed onto the slab in the operating theatre or iced in the morgue. Occasionally, they’d get a few on the table who just refused to fucking die, and in more than one instance, Roland would return to her quarters with a black eye or finger-shaped bruises branded into her throat. 

“That’s why you get hazard pay,” she can recall Jeremy Blaire assuring her over drinks. “Relax, Jen. The building is radiation-proof. The radio waves can’t hurt you in there.”

Once rare, those desperately clinging to existence (it could hardly be called life by the time they’d arrived at the lab) were showing up in higher and higher numbers. Their presence always fucked with the medical equipment — due to the high levels of radiation they were exposed to, she was assured by Dr. Ewen Cameron — but more than that, it was affecting people: relief nurses, research assistants, those who had the least contact with them. It was Cameron himself who paged her into the telemetry lab to show her the increase in radio wave blips on the radar, seemingly organic hotspots of radiation cropping up out of nowhere. The “feedback loop,” he’d called it: such prolonged exposure to such vulnerable individuals mutated them from receivers to projectors. 

These unholy fucks were walking nuclear reactors, and they were bleeding it inside the lab.

Between autopsies of lunatics and treatment of her infected staff, Roland accumulated the most exposure to these residual waves, which is perhaps why she held out the longest. While others were rushing to the bathrooms to puke their guts out or sobbing into their workstations, Roland kept the Towers from collapsing under its own weight. Just like she had at Mount Massive, at least in her own mind. Such responsibility, of course, takes its pound of flesh, resulting in a sharp uptick of headaches and irritability in the doctor.

In fact, she kept an iron grip on the facility, even as employee numbers began to drop. Some transferred; some just dropped dead. All were required to vacate the operating sector by 22:00 hours so that it could be “defunked” for the next day. Roland, of course, oversaw this expedition, which usually consisted of hanging out in a hazmat suit and surfing what little internet they were allowed access to while the facility was cleansed. The longer she sat at the computer, the more severe her migraines would become, which she chalked up to blue light exposure. 

But when the urgent email alert – MOUNT MASSIVE ASYLUM STAFF EVACUATION – popped up in her notifications, the pain in her skull went from throbbing to blinding. The computer mouse flew from her hand and shattered on the floor as she dug the heels of her palms into her eye sockets, desperate to relieve the pressure behind them. Searing white heat tears at her retinas and she’s utterly convinced that her brain is hemorrhaging. 

Through that glaring light appear misty shadows of men in lab coats, blurred as if through a foggy camera lens: men with clipboards and scalpels and blue latex gloves. A scrawny lad in his early twenties wriggles futilely on the table, strapped to the gurney by too-tight leather restraints around his limbs and forehead. He’s fully conscious but barely cognizant of anything but fear. She can hear the low timbre of male voices floating around her, murmuring words she cannot or perhaps will not comprehend. Her focus is on the young man before her and the muffled syllables he attempts to utter from beneath his oxygen mask. Cutting through the underwater noise is the sound of her own name, sharp and deliberate, and her gaze falls to the laryngoscope clutched tightly in her left hand. 

Shifting behind the boy on the table, she adjusts her grip on the tool and removes the oxygen mask from his face. He’s drooling quite profusely. With the sleeve of her right arm, she gently mops up his mess before prying his mouth open with her fingers. At this moment, his eyes snap up to hers, pupils blown wide with terror, and though his movement is highly restricted, it’s evident he’s trying to shake his head. The raspy frantic whisper of “no, no, no” does nothing to phase her colleagues. She attempts to quiet him with a soft shushing (to absolutely no avail) and inserts the curved blade into his throat. Tears, mucus, and saliva flow together as he struggles to breathe; his eyes plead for mercy, the lightless gaze of a soul all but relinquishing itself to the higher power of Death. As she preps the endotracheal tube for insertion, Jenny tries to swallow her nerves but they catch in her throat, dry and brittle. Guilt won’t save them now. 

“Oh, God, please—”

Roland’s torn out of the vision by the inescapable urge to vomit and she rolls onto her side to wretch away the venom in her memories. With no recollection of how exactly she ended up on the floor ten feet away from the monitors, she pushes herself up and wipes away the acid from her lips. Just like she had in her memory. 

And she feels sick all over again, but not just for the fate of that patient: for all the rampant fuckery shoveled upon her by Murkoff. Psychological manipulation, radiation poisoning, blatant sexism. She enlisted in this army to study genetics, not to torture the cognitively vulnerable to the brink of insanity. 

Fuck Jeremy Blaire. Fuck Murkoff. Fuck this Project Bluebird bullshit. 

On the way out the door, she flicks a half-smoked cigarette into the server room trashcan to trigger the emergency sprinkler system. Whoops.

                                                     * * * * * * * * *

She never liked the company cars, anyway.

As the frame of the Mercedes rolls into the lake behind her (and with it all traces of her identity), Jennifer Roland makes her way through the Mount Massive Wilderness Reverse to the runoff reservoir. Armed with only an industrial flashlight-stun gun and her unlisted phone, she’s well aware that this mission will more than likely be her last. But when you’ve got nothing to lose and an insatiable hunger for vengeance, death doesn’t seem so bad.

Tucking her hair up under her cap and securing her phone in the zippered pocket of her plastic splash suit, she hoists herself up into the drainage pipe that pours into the lagoon from the sewers. The hospital isn’t even visible from this side of the mountain; according to her map, it’s about ten miles through a sea of blood, shit, and god knows what else to Mount Massive Asylum. If she’d ever wondered how Andy Dufresne felt escaping Shawshank, this is about as close as it gets.

Rats and snakes are her only company for the first several miles but in the last stretch of three, the scent of fresh death hits her like a brick wall. Mutilated corpses litter the pathways, slipping into the murky sewage and compounding the horrific stench. The closer she comes to her destination, the more pungent the odor becomes until she’s stumbling upon half-dead patients and doctors alike, as lifeless and miserable as the Temple Gate victims. The feeling of another impending migraine strikes her but she presses onward. She’s not sure what’s more unsettling: the gut-wrenching screams coming from above her head or the periodic gaps of silence between.

Drenched in blackwater, Jenny navigates her way up into the hospital block, only to be met with the gory sight of her colleagues and former patients strewed about the ward like discarded toys. She stands gravely still listening for anything — a scream, a whisper, a breath — but no sound breaks the stony silence. The only living presence in the block appears to be a few very persistent bees buzzing around her head. The doctor carefully peels away her suit and the clothes underneath, tucking them away in an air vent and replacing them with the least fluid-drench patient uniform she can find. Thank you for your sacrifice, 937. 

Jenny’s exceedingly careful not to cause too much commotion with the beam of her flashlight as she stalks into the hospital security station and logs in under one of her former colleague’s ID. The security footage tapes appear to be highly corrupted, with some of the cameras shorting out completely, but through the hazy grey static, she can just make out a man’s shadow: impossibly tall, grainy, almost translucent, as though it were comprised solely of smoke. Shredding through its victims like razors through tissue paper. Clearly, this storm of fuck is just beginning.

“Ain’t a perdy sight, is it?” 

Hot, humid breath hits the back of her neck before she can react and a spindly hand clamps down on her wrist. 

“Not as perdy as them nails, brudder.”

“Don’t talk ‘im t’death. Get the goat and go.”

“Awful s-sorry ‘bout this, boy, but I gotsta.”

Jenny’s not keen to stick around to find out what exactly it is this dissociative man “gotsta” do. Firing up the switch on the stun gun, she jabs the pointed prongs into his throat and digs in. His grip on her tightens before it releases, the perp collapsing to the ground and clutching his bleeding neck with a frankly overdramatic gurgle. 

Roland flees through a labyrinth of plastic wrap and broken gurneys, but the heavy slap of bare feet limping on the floor behind her soon catches up. And just as she looks over her shoulder to catch sight of him, her ankle snags against a tripwire, knocking her face-first into the bloodied tile. That fall triggers the release of two sheets of barbed wire that rattle towards her, coiling around her legs and torso; clearly, this trap was meant for a bigger monster than her. The barbs easily rip through the uniform fabric to sink into her thighs, calves, stomach. The more she wriggles, the deeper they sink, and the shards of shattered glass on the floor only amplify the pain.

Her only chance to protect herself is the flashlight that launched no more than a foot away during the fall. If she can just tear her arm free-

The arch of a dirty foot secures its grip on the flashlight handle.

“Just like a coward t’run. That won’t do at-tall, Dennis.”

“You shouldn’ta run, boy. Now you’ll be all bloody fer the weddin’.”

He picks up the flashlight and turns it over in his hand, checking the weight and feel of it; he decides he likes it. 

He likes it even more when it cracks like a Louisville slugger against her temple.

                                                     * * * * * * * * *

Her muscles are stiff and achy when she regains consciousness, somehow sore and numb at the same time. The swelling beside her left eye blurs her vision slightly, but she knows she’s in some sort of chop shop, upright in a DIY-patient restraint system that would make even Hannibal Lecter shudder. Her instinct is to attempt another escape, to writhe her way out of these straps if she has to chew her shoulder off to do it. There’s no telling how much time she has before someone-

...Whistling.

[bestreasonstowriterecordreviews]

✰ BEST REASONS TO WRITE FUCKIN’ RECORD REVIEWS IN 2018 ✰

✰✰✰✰✰ 6th ANNIVERSARY  ✰✰✰✰✰

Neil Morris, speaking to Alan Lomax in 1959:

“Well, when I was just a small boy, Old Uncle Milt Oldfield…Billy Oldfield, the Congressman from Arkansas for so long, it is his father. He and my father are awfully close friends. And they were discussing music. They were music teachers both of them. 

“And uh, and they said, dad did and Uncle Milt sanctioned what he said, that MUSIC HAD NO END. That you could learn all the other guy [or girl] learned, and after you got that done they would then, something else would crop up. That uh, that you, that was the reason why that uh, music advanced. That’s why that you would get a better music in one generation maybe that is, uh, IT WOULD FIT THE TIMES IN WHICH THEY LIVED.” 

[Lomax: “What about music on the grapevine?”] 

“Welllll, they said that MUSIC GREW LIKE THE GRAPEVINE THAT IS NEVER PRUNED. That each year it’d…it’d put on a little bit more. That was what they said, now, about it. Any further questions?”’

It’s time to feast from 2018′s Grapevine That Is Never Pruned with 123 (+ 162 more) of the BEST REASONS TO WRITE FUCKIN’ RECORD REVIEWS IN 2018!

A prefatory note: The Best Reasons campaigns of our first five years endured critiques from far and wide about too many damn records listed.  Well...we can no longer countenance such reproach.  Every single one of these nuggets is an essential thread in the tapestry of 2018′s combustible sonic arts!  We here at FRR stand for ecumenicism and as such, consider the breadth of our listening parameters: Feeding Tube Records issued 74 items in 2018 (!), Clean Feed released about 80, and Astral Spirits about 30...that’s a lot potential gold in those three labels alone. Sure, it’s too much for any one person to absorb, but still... 

We all know that some combination of easy access to home studio tools, world wide web streaming, social media delirium, legacy record industry collapse, and artistic resistance to creeping authoritarianism has (somewhat paradoxically) unleashed a tidal wave of idiosyncratically great music during the past decade, so it should come as no surprise that such a list as this would contain nearly 300 essential items. Yea, it seems nearly everything gets recorded and released these days (especially the zonked improv/collagist /noise/outer limits realm), but whether or not we listen to such items as frequently as we consumed Exile On Main Street or Cosmic Tones For Mental Therapy back in the day is irrelevant...the time is now, and as far as wild sounds from the outer dimensions goes, now has unprecedented bounty...listen heartily, for tomorrow, who knows?

(...all long playing records unless otherwise noted...also, the list was made complete with links, but grrr they don’t show up, so point your browser as they used to say and happy hunting!)

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

✰ ROSALI  Trouble Anyway (Scissor Tail) ✰

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

✰ BRIDGET HAYDEN  Pure Touch Only From Now On, They Said So (Early Music, Sweden) ✰

✰ YUZO IWATA Daylight Moon (Siltbreeze) ✰

✰ L$D FUNDRAISER  Witness Disco (CocoMuse, New Zealand) ✰

✰ MAXINE FUNKE  Silk (Feeding Tube) + Eternity 7” (I Dischi Del Barone, Sweden) ✰

✰ LONG HOTS  Monday Night Raw cassette (self-released) ✰

✰ BASIC HUMAN  Cassette (Meatspin, Australia) ✰

✰ LOOSE-Y CRUNCHÉ Unruly Top  cassette (Altered States, Australia) ✰

✰ ETHERS  Ethers (Trouble In Mind) ✰ 

✰ UNHOLY TWO  The Pleasure To End All Pleasures (12XU)

✰ ZAÏMPH  Rhizomatic Gaze 2LP (Drawing Room) ✰

✰ ALLISON COTTON  All Is Quiet At The Ancient Theatre (Feeding Tube) ✰

✰ CONSTANT MONGREL  Living In Excellence (Anti Fade, Australia / LVEUM, U.K.) ✰ 

✰ OTHERWORLD  (aka Kay Logan) Mad Wee Light  cassette (Kit, UK) ✰

✰ DUSK  Dusk (Don Giovanni)  & “The Pain Of Loneliness (Goes On And On)” 7″ (Dirtnap) ✰

✰ WENDY EISENBERG  Its Shape Is Your Touch (VDSQ) ✰

✰ THALIA ZEDEK BAND Fighting Season (Thrill Jockey) ✰

✰ EN ATTENDANT ANA  Lost And Found (Trouble In Mind) ✰

✰ MARK MORGAN  Department of Heraldry (Open Mouth) ✰

✰ MORE KLEMENTINES More Klementines (Twin Lakes/Feeding Tube)✰

✰ PATOIS COUNSELORS Proper Release (ever/never) ✰

✰ ANNE GUTHRIE Brass Orchids (Students Of Decay)

✰ STEFAN CHRISTENSEN  City Code (Knotwilg, Belgium) & Two Live cassette (The Loki Label)

✰ BB & The BLIPS  Shame Job (Thrilling Living)

✰ SAMARA LUBELSKI / BILL NACE Samara Lubelski/Bill Nice (Relative Pitch)

✰ The SEDIMENT CLUB  Stucco Thieves (Wharf Cat)

✰ BEAT DETECTIVES  Rhythms & Edits Volume 1 cassette (Altered States, Australia)

✰ The COWBOYS Live At Tony’s Garage  7″ ep (Feel It) & The Cowboys [3rd Album] (HoZac - 2017)

✰ SUSANA SANTOS SILVA  All the Rivers – Live at Panteão Nacional  cd (Clean Feed, Portugal)

 ✰ DIRE WOLVES Paradisiacal Mind  (Feeding Tube/Cardinal Fuzz, U.K.)

✰ SPECIAL INTEREST/S Spiraling  (Raw Sugar)

✰ JANUSZEWSKI & SZLAZAK Split cassette (Czaszka, U.K.)

✰ NYLEX  Nylex cassette (Tenth Court, Australia)

✰ CHARALAMBIDES  Tom And Christina Carter 2 LP (Drawing Room)

✰ CHRISTINA KUBISCH/ANNEA LOCKWOOD The Secret Life Of The Inaudible 2 cd (Gruenrekorder, Germany)

✰  HEAVY METAL Heavy Metal ep 7″ (Total Punk)

✰  LUJIACHI  Invisible Hands cassette (Altered States, Australia)

✰  OBNOX Templo del Sonido (Astral Spirits/Monofonus Press)

✰  PINEAPPLE RNR  Pineapple Rik N Roll 7″ (Lumpy)

✰  WILLIAM PARKER Voices Fall From The Sky 3 cd (AUM Fidelity)

✰  RON JONS SURF SHOP  Ron Jons Surf Shop Sampler cassette (Ron Jons Surf Shop)

✰ LUCY MILLER Lion's Heart : Demos & Early Recordings cd-r (Soleils Bleus, France)

✰ BLUE CHEMISE  Daughters Of Time (Students Of Decay) 

✰ EKIN FIL Maps (Helen Scarsdale) & “Windblow”  download (Longform Editions, Australia)

✰ COUNTER INTUITS Vietnamese Lighter 7″ (Total Punk)

✰ CHRONOPHAGE  (Minneapolis) Prolog For Tomorrow (Cleta Petra)

✰ HOBBS-WHITE DUO Hobbs-White Duo at Whitechapel Gallery, 10 June 1973H download (EMC, UK)

✰ CHRONOPHAGE (Austin) Give Chance A Peace download (self-released)

✰ CIA DEBUTANTE  Waves (Czaszka, U.K.)

✰ WEEPING BONG BAND  Weeping Bong Band (Feeding Tube)

✰  COOLIES/The FUTURIANS Coolies/The Futurians split cassette (Uniform, New Zealand)

✰ QUIETUS Volume Four (ever/never)

✰ New Centre Of The Universe (Anti Fade, Australia)

✰ LISA CAMERON/SANDY EWEN  See Creatures cassette (Astral Spirits)

✰ BRUTAL BIRTHDAY “Commotion” + 2 7” (Total Punk)

✰ DE PONTI/MORETTI Before We Were Foam We Were Unbridled Waves cassette (Dinzu Artefacts)

✰ DAVID NANCE GROUP  Peaced And Slightly Pulverized (Trouble In Mind)

✰ CRAMMM  Crammm cassette (Brainplan) &  Live 2018 (Brainplan)

✰ NERVE BEATS Nerve Beats (Fine Concepts)

✰ WILLIE LANE  Known Quantity reissue (Feeding Tube)

✰ The WAY AHEAD Bells, Ghosts And Other Saints cd (Clean Feed, Portugal)

✰ BADSKIN  Where Was I  (Brierfield Flood Press, Australia)

✰ The ANCIENTS Frozen Aisle (Tenth Court, Australia)

✰ METTE RASMUSSIN & CHRIS CORSANO A View Of The Moon (From The Sun) cd (Clean Feed, Portugal)

✰ SYLVIE COURVOISIER TRIO  D’Agala cd (Intakt, Switzerland)

✰ MOSQUITOES Drip Water Hollow Out Stone (ever/never)

✰ CHARLOTTE HUG Son-Icon Music: Orchestra And Choral Works cd (Fundacja Słuchaj, Poland)

✰ RUSS WATERHOUSE  Amaro cassette (Gertrude Tapes)

✰ RICHARD PAPIERCUTS  Twisting The Night 12″ (ever/never)

✰ The COOL GREENHOUSE  “London”/“The End Of The World” 7” (Market Square Recordings, Spain)

✰ SANDY EWEN & CHASE GARDNER Transfusion cd (Marginal Frequency)

✰ AMEEL BRECHT  Polygraph Heartbeat (Kraak, Belgium)

✰ SUCCHIAMO Mani In Fuoco (Antinote, France)

✰ PORTRON PORTRON LOPEZ De Colère Et D'Envie (PoiL, France)

✰ TOM SMITH & MARK MORGAN Bones Sound Shipwreck cd (KSV, Germany)

✰ CIVIC New Vietnam 12″ (Anti Fade, Australia) & Those Who Know 7″ (Famous Class)

✰ CARLO GIUSTINO Non Uscire cassette (No Rent)

✰ DONALD MCPHERSON & TETUZI AKIYAMA The Kitchen Tapes, Volume 1 cassette (God In The Music, New Zealand)

✰ HORNE & HOLT Wires (Self-Sabotage)

✰ WOLKOROTS Don Treppenwitz cassette (Dinzu Artefacts)

 ✰SAVAK  Beg Your Pardon (Ernest Jenning Record Co.) 

✰ The BALKANYS The Balkanys  (Toddi Records/Another Records, France)

✰ ANTELOPER Kudu cassette (International Anthem Recording Company)

✰ CLAIRE POTTER & BRIDGET HAYDEN’S I Am Come From A Place) cassette (Fort Evil Fruit, Ireland)

✰ LAURA LUNA CASTILLO Laminaires (Genot, Czech Republic)

✰ RST  Spectra  (\\NULL|ZØNE//)

✰ TORI KUDO ガラ刑GALAKEI  2 LP (bruit direct disques, France) 

✰ SIGNE DAHLGREEN  Kunki Snuk cassette (Astral Spirits)

✰ PIOUS FAULTS  Old Thread  (Feel It)

✰ MELFI  Four Concerns  cassette (Czaszka, U.K.)

✰ The EX  27 Passports (Ex Records, Netherlands)

✰ J.H. GURAJ Steadfast On Our Sand (Boring Machines, Italy)

✰ KUZU Hiljaisuus (Astral Spirits)

✰ WUSSY  What Heaven Is Like (Shake It)

✰ BORZOI  A Prayer For War (12XU)

✰ RAYS  You Can Get There From Here (Trouble In Mind)

✰ DELPHINE DORA  Eudaimon (three:four, Switzerland)

✰ LAKE MARY & M. SAGE  Lupine Deluxe cassette (Patient Sounds (Intl))

✰ ART GRAY NOIZZ QUINTET  “A Call To You”/”Won’t you Say It To My Face” 7″ (Robelion Music)

✰ VANILLA POPPERS I Like Your Band 7″ ep (Feel It)

✰ SOURDURE L’Espròva (Les Disques du Festival Permanent/Pagans, France)

✰ LOGARDECAY (Leslie García and Paloma López) FRGL cassette (Umor Rex, Mexico) 

✰ DE KLUMB  Con Pimiento cassette (U-Bac, Germany)

✰ MIDWIFE  Prayer Hands cassette (Antiquated Future)

✰ SALAD BOYS  This Is Glue (Trouble In Mind)

✰ RAMBLE TAMBLE Outlaw Overtones cassette (Eiderdown)

✰ ABBY LEE TEE  Imaginary Friends I cassette (Czaszka, U.K.)

✰ INGRID LAUBROCK Contemporary Chaos Practices / Two Works For Orchestra With Soloists cd (Intakt, Switzerland)

✰ PATRICK SHIROISHI  Sparrow's Tongue cassette (Fort Evil Fruit, Ireland)

✰ FIA FIELL  All In The Same Room cassette (Nice Music, Australia)

✰ PREENING  Nice Dice 7″ ep (Fine Concepts) & Greasetrap Frisbee 7″ (ever/never)

✰ SABASABA  SabaSaba (Maple Death, U.K)

✰ HEADROOM/DIRE WOLVES Split (Pome Pome Tones/Centripetal Force)

✰ APOLOGIST  Houston  cassette (No Rent)

✰ The SITUATIONS  The Day After The Night Before cassette (Melted Ice Cream, NZ)

✰ WONDERFULS  Voices Like Rain cassette (Round Bale Recordings)

✰ TASHI DORJI & TYLER DAMON  Leave No Trace: Live In St. Louis (Family Vineyard) & Soft Berm cassette (Magnetic South)

NAUJAWANAN BAIDAR  Volume 1 cassette (Radio KHIYABAN, Netherlands)

LOUIS MINUS II  Je Voudrais Juste Dormir Pour Toujours cassette (Econore, Germany)

The OPAWA 45s Silver Screen Guitar cassette (Melted Ice Cream, New Zealand)

MT ACCORD Postcards From A Dream cassette (Czaszka, U.K.)

JONÁŠ GRUSKA Žaburina (LOM, Slovakia)

CHICALOYOH  Jaune Colère (213 Records, France)

MAMITRI YULITH EXPRESS YONAGUNISAN  Yulith  2 LP (bruit direct disques, France)

AONGHIS MCENVOY & TRISTAN CLUTTERBUCK  Duos cassette  (Fractal Meat Cuts, UK) 

IE Pone cassette (Moon Glyph)

MARILYN CRISPELL/TANYA KALMANOVITC/RICHARD TEITELBAUM  Dream Libretto (Leo, U.K.)

E  Negative World (Thrill Jockey) 

Wound 2 lp (Carbon Records)

DOMINIQUE VACCARO Close Distances cassette (Dinzu Artefacts)

RIÑA  Aqui No Eres Nadie 7″ ep (Thrilling Living)

GÜNTER BABY SOMMER & TILL BRÖNNER  Baby’s Party cd (Intakt, Switzerland) 

TRISTAN MAGNETIC  Tristan Magnetique  triple cassette box (Otomatik Muziek, Germany)

FAMOUS LOGS IN HISTORY Famous Logs In History cassette (Fuzzy Warbles) 

LUKE STEWART’s Works For Upright Bass And Amplifier  cassette (Astral Spirits)

RADIANT FUTUR  Overdriven Youth download (Get Busy!, Russia)

LÄRMSCHUTZ TAFELMUSIK SEPTET  Vierte Tafelmusik  cassette (Katuktu Collective)

TERRESTIALS  Terrestials 12″ (Heel Turn)

ALEX CRISPIN Open Submission cassette (Constellation Tatsu)

MAAVIN Sunday Drive EP download (Get Busy!, Russia)

CHARLOTTE HUG & LUCAS NIGGLI  Fulguratio cd (Fundacja Słuchaj, Poland)

NAMELESS FRAMES Already Inside + 3 10″ (Super Secret Records)

GÜNTER SCHLIENZ  Liederbuch cassette (Muzan Editions, Japan)

SCRAP BRAIN Scrap Brain (Thrilling Living)

WURLD SERIES Stately and Befrothed cassette (Melted Ice Cream, NZ)

ENDURANCE Celestial Governors cassette (Tymbal Tapes)

BRABRABRA  Lagooona 7″ ep (Kitchen Leg, Germany)

DAN MELCHIOR  ‘The Folksinger’ (Swashbuckling Hobo, Australia)

JEN KUTLER  Worth cassette (Never Anything)

Field Recordings from the Sahel cassette (Sahel Sounds)

MONNONE ALONE Cut Knuckle 7” (Lost And Lonesome Recording Co., Australia)

ANDREW BARKER & DANIEL CARTER Polyhedron cassette (Astral Spirits)

YVES MALONE  Aced (2014) cassette (Baked Tapes)

JOHN HOEGBERG  Motion Detecting Songs cassette (Ehse)

CHAOSOPHY  Who Are These People And What Do They Believe In cd (Discordian/Liquen Record, Spain)

ARIAN SHAFIEE A Scarlet Fail  (VDSQ) & Beauty Tuning (Hausu Mountain) 

AKIRA SAKATA & CHIKAMORACHI with MASAHIKO SATOH Proton Pump cd (Family Vineyard) 

LEA BERTUCCI  Metal Aether (NNA)

BIG SUPERMARKET 1800 (Hobbies Galore, Australia)

GARCIA PEOPLES  Cosmic Cash (Beyond Beyond Is Beyond)

R.M.F.C. Hive cassette (Slime Street, Australia)  

BIKINI COPS Three 7” (Drunken Sailor, U.K.)

MUYASSAR KURDI & NICHOLAS JOZWIAK Intersections & Variations cassette (Astral Spirts)

P WITS Blonde On Blonde  double cassette (chemical imbalance., Australia)

FOLD Aegean Sea 12” (AUS, UK)

TASHI DORJI & DAVID GRUBBA  Fixed Entrance Derivatives cassette (Sky Lantern)

WET PISS Wet Piss cassette (Dumpster Tapes)

TIM & THE BOYS Growing (Meatspin, Australia)

DINO SPILUTTINI  Forever cassette (No Rent)

NEGATIVE NANCIES You Do You download (CocMuse, New Zealand)

MISSING PAGES  “Long Way Down” 7″ (12XU) 

SUNWATCHERS II & Illegal Moves 12” (both Trouble In Mind)

EYES NINETY Glaucoma Chameleon (Swashbuckling Hobo, Australia) 

PATRICIA KOKETT  Diabel 12” (Knekelhuis, Netherlands)

GEE TEE  Gee Tee cassette (Slime Street, Australia) 

C. WORTH  A Farther Sea cassette (Gertrude Tapes)

OREN AMBARCHI/KONRAD SPRENGER/PHILLIP SOLLMANN  Panama/Suez 12” (Ostgut Ton, Germany)

REX WONDERFUL & THE SILK SHEETS  Ego Death cassette (Tenth Court, Australia)

SARAH DAVACHI Gave In Rest  (Ba Da Bing) & Let Night Come On Bells End The Day (Recital)

PELVI$$  Pelvi$$ cassette (Fuzzy Warbles)

JEFF TOBIAS  Completely Phantom cassette (Baked Tapes)

BILL ORCUTT & CHRIS CORSANO  Brace Up! (Palilalia)

DONKEY BUGS  Ancient Chinese Secrets (Lumpy)

MOUNTAIN MOVERS  Pink Sky (Trouble In Mind) &  New Jam 12″ (C/Site)

MAbH  cinjusti cassette (Tymbal Tapes)

Bad Taste Vol. II - Another Collection Of Sounds From The NZ Underground cassette (chemical imbalance., Australia)  

TERRY I’m Terry  (Upset! The Rhythm, UK)

NYZ  RLD GLD ET AL cassette (Fractal Meat Cuts, UK)

THEE OPEN SEX White Horses (Sophomore Lounge)

DRUNK MUMS  Denim & Leather, Together Forever cassette (Slime Street, Australia)

JONES JONES [OCHS/DRESSER/TARASOV] A Jones In Time Saves Nine download (self-released)

IVAN THE TOLERABLE & FRIENDS Autodidact 10″ (Ack! Ack! Ack!, U.K.) 

DANIEL CARTER / WILLIAM PARKER / MATTHEW SHIPP Seraphic Light cd (AUM Fidelity)

PURPUR SPYTT Nitpick 7″ ep (POUeT! Schallplatten, France)

BLOWDRYER  Blowdryer cassette (self-released)

CHARNEL GROUND  Charnel Ground (12XU)

KAJA DRAKSER / PETTER ELDH / CHRISTIAN LILLINGER  Punkt​.​Vrt​.​Plastik cd (Intakt, Switzerland)

DRY CLEANING Sweet Princess cassette (self-released, U.K.) 

ELKHORN Lion Fish cassette (Eiderdown)

ROMAIN BAUDOIN  Bestiari (Pagans/In Situ, France)

SUNWATCHERS AND EUGENE CHADBOURNE 3 Characters 2 LP (Amish) 

FRANCIS PLAGNE Moss Trumpet (Penultimate Press, U.K. )  

SHITTY LIFE  Switch Off Your Head (self-released, Italy)

SICK LLAMA Stage Poison double cassette (unifactor)

ROCKET 808 “Digital Billboards”/“Mystery Train” 7” (12XU)

JON COLLIN What Is Thunder cassette (Fort Evil Fruit, Ireland)

CONCRETE LAWN Demo cassette (Urge, Australia)

BLANK REALM  Last Seen (Hobbies Galore, Australia)

DJ OVERDOSE  DJ Overdose 12” (L.I.E.S.)

LUDWIG BERGER & VERONIKA EHRENSPERGER  The Capacity Of Things To Act cassette (Dinzu Artefacts)

BRANDY Laugh Track (Monofonus Press)

PETER EVANS/ AGUSTÍ FERNÁNDEZ/BARRY GUY  Free Radicals cd (Fundacja Słuchaj, Poland)

LES HALLES  Zonda cassette (Not Not Fun)

SAMARA LUBELSKI  Flickers At The Station (Drawing Room) 

PRANA CRAFTER  Bodhi Cheetah's Choice  (Beyond Beyond Is Beyond)

YLAYALI  Pumpkin Patch cassette (self-released)

DEAF WISH  Lithium Zion (Sub Pop)

ROSE THOMAS BANNISTER  Ambition cd (self-released)

MIDDEX No Home (Polytechnic Youth, UK) 

SEI A  Phase EP (Aus Music, U.K.) 

KALI MALONE Cast Of Mind (Hollow Ground, Switzerland) & Organ Dirges 2016-2017 cassette (Ascetic House) 

GERRIT HATCHER Parables For The Tenor cassette (Astral Spirits)

The 1902 Syntropic Seasonal 5 cd-r comp (Wist Rec, Ireland)

The LENTILS  My Pillow Lava (Complete Trilogy)  double cassette (unread)

SCY2E*GLOCHIDS*NURSE BETTY  Weird Ear's Fantastic Voyage (Autumn East Coast Tour) comp (Weird Ear)

the SHIFTERS  Have A Cunning Plan (Trouble In Mind)

CÉCILE CAPOZZO TRIO Sub Rosa cd (Ayler Records, France)

PROJET DE VIE  Vol. #1 EP cassette  ([Equilibre Fragile], France)

JAX DELUCA  Organs In The Wind cassette (ACR, U.K.)

LUCY CLICHÉ Cliché’s Principle (Fleisch, Germany)

JANO DOE( aka KATARÍNA GATIALOVÁ)  Duranzie cassette Genot Centre, Czech Republic)

KOMARE Komare cassette (Round Bale Recordings) 

COLLATE Liminal Concerns (self-released)

AREK GULBENKOGLU  A gift like a hollow vessel (Penultinate Press, UK)

BASIC HOUSE & WANDA GROUP  No Sympathy  (Opal Tapes, U.K.)

MANUEL TROLLER Vanishing Point (three: four, Switzerland)

STEPH RICHARDS/VINNY GOLIA/BERT TURETZKY Trio Music  cd (pfmentum) 

HEART OF SNAKE  Heart Of Snake cassette (Maple Death, U.K.)

SCHWEBEN Sketches Of Plains cassette (Otomatik Muziek, Germany)

GENEVA SKEEN  A Parallel Array Of Horses download (Room40, Australia)

IKUI DOKI  Ikui Doki  (Ayler, France)

CHARLES BARABÉ  De La Fragilité cassette (Astral Spirits)

MIDNIGHT MINES  Invisible Insurrection Of A Million Minds (The Loki Label) & Stations 7″ (I Dischi Del Barone, Sweden) 

DELACAVE  Window Has No Glass (POUeT! Schallplatten, France)

MARY LATTIMORE & MEG BAIRD  Ghost Forests cd (Three Lobed Recordings)

M/M  I Know You Are Thinking I've Said This All Before cassette (Czaska, U.K.)

The ATTACHMENTS  II cassette (self-released)

TYSHAWN SOREY  Pillars 3 cd (Firehouse 12)

JOËLLE LÉANDRE  Strings Garden 3 cd (Fundacja Słuchaj, Poland)

STONE WITCHES  Machine Efficient cassette (Slime Street, Australia)

CARA STACEY & CAMILO ÁNGELES Ceder  (Kit, U.K)

DIRE WOLVES (JUST EXACTLY PERFECT SISTERS BAND) One For The Heads cassette (Baked Tapes) & Earthquake Country cassette (Sky Lantern) & Shootout At The Dildo Factory (Eiderdown) 142

(this is a pic of DIRE WOLVES with their eyes closed)

GEN POP II  7″ ep (Feel It)

ANGLES 3  Parede (Clean Feed, Portugal)

FRANK HURRICANE Holy Mountain Coffee tour cassette (self-released)

CARROM  Prehistories cassette (self-released, Canada)

PARSNIP Feeling Small 7″ (Anti Fade, Australia)

ÁINE O’DWYER / GRAHAM LAMBKIN Green Ways 2 cd (erstwhile)

Longform Editions digital series, particularly: EKIN FIL “Windblow”, MARJA AHTI “Entering A Cloud” and STEAM VENT “Swells”

CLINTON GREEN Setting For The Iliad CD-R (Frustration Jazz, Australia)  

PETER EVANS & BARRY GUY Syllogistic Moments cd (Maya Recordings, Swizterland)

ETRAN DE L’AÏR  No. 1 (Sahel Sounds)

ALIEN NOSEJOB Various Fads & Technological Achievements (Anti Fade, Australia)

J.C. SATÀN Centaur Desire  (Born Bad, France)

NAGUAL & STEFAN CHRISTENSEN Third 7″ (I Dischi Del Barone, Sweden)

EXEK  Ahead Of Two Thoughts (W.25th)  &  A Casual Assembly  12″ (W.25th)

ARUÁN ORTIZ TRIO’s Live in Zurich (Intakt, Switzerland)

MIA DYBERG TRIO Ticket! (Clean Feed, Portugal)

LA DANTA Alpeis Καράκας cassette (Fort Evil Fruit, Ireland)

WEAK SIGNAL LP1 cassette (Reality Delay)

DISTANT STARS The Way Things Work cassette (Detonic, Australia)Field Recordings from the Sahel

MUDHONEY Digital Garbage (Sub Pop)

ROB NOTES & RYAN LEE CROSBY  Modal Improvisations on 34 Strings cassette (Cabin Floor Esoterica)

...all those LOKI LABEL boots...

[moonprincess92]

Congrats on your follower milestone my dear! You certainly deserve it 😘 For the rebelcaptain prompts, how about fake dating in a modern au?

IT WOULD BE MY PLEASURE :D 

Thank you so much Jen!!! (and I hope you like havin a laff bc I apparently went straight up comedy/fluff for this hahahahhahahaha) 

Fuck.

Fuckity fuck.

That bitch washeading her way and unless she did something stat, Jyn Erso may as well kissher miserable excuse for a life goodbye. She probably (100%) should not have had that second wine earlier, but her day hadrather called for it and naturally, it was hard to resist when you had good-for-nothing best friends in the background yelling over the pounding ofthe bass, “So you got fired! Fucking drink, bitch, and you’ll forget all aboutit!”

“Until I wake uptomorrow with no job,” Jyn had pointed out earlier that evening.

“Tomorrow’stomorrow, this is now!” Bodhi had called out to her, before naturally gettingdistracted by his newest piece of ‘mancake’ (who was admittedly kind of hot atleast this time, in a Californian surfer dude kind of way).

Hence the reasonshe was now well on her way to Trolleyed Town, when JUST HER GODDAMN LUCK,Queen McFuck Your Boyfriend showed up.

Somewhere up there(or down there? She was casting a bit of judgement now) The Big G himself wassplitting a rib laughing at her.

“Quick!” sheslammed her glass down and turned to the first person she could see – a kind ofscruffy, yet not-un-handsome dark-haired bloke sat on the barstool next to her.“We have to do something!”

The bloke ignoredher completely.

“WHY AM I DOOMEDTO DIE OF PURE HUMILIATION?”

“I’m sorry–? Areyou talking to me?” the bloke finally turned.

“Finally! I amgraced with His Majesty’s presence!” Jyn would have curtseyed, if she weren’talready sat down on her own bar stool and too worried about her balance shouldshe get off. “I literally have less than 30 seconds before McBitch shows herface and I’m not at the point of literally running away yet, so you have tohelp me!”

“McBitch?”

“KEEP THE FUCK UP,she slept with my boyfriend!” Jyn yelled.

High and Mighty ScruffyBoi crinkled his nose as he glanced around in confusion. Maia (otherwise known as ‘McBitch’) had almost certainly spotted her at this point,if the little wave was anything to go by. Damn her and her perfectlystraightened hair, deep tan and baby blues that she swore could rope in demonsif she truly put her talents to work. Not that Maia had ever lifted a manicuredfinger for herself in her entire life. Scruffy Boi was eyeing herappreciatively, so Jyn groaned and tugged on his shoulder.

“Do not be takenin by the hotness,” she insisted. “She will roast your insides and eat youalive.”

“How could youstill be alive if she’s already roasted your insides?”

“SCRUFFY BOI, KEEPUP,” she cried. “I cannot let her win!”

“Well, what thehell do you want me to do about it?” Scruffy Boi asked, eyes slightly unfocusedas if this constant back and forth conversion was whooshing straight over hishead, along with her dignity and self-respect, particularly in the wake of whatshe was about to say next. Did she have much choice?

She was alreadyregretting it.

“I want you tokiss me.”

No, she trulydidn’t wake up this morning thinking that she was going to end up here. Believeit or not, but Jyn Erso usually lived a very quiet life! She lived alone, sheloved tea and snuggly blankets and occasionally entertained the odd guest(which basically just meant Bodhi coming over and eating out her entirefridge).  She had done the crazy shitalready. She wasn’t 16 and on the streets anymore, drinking until 5am andsleeping with Scott Melshi (now THERE was a mistake). Nopity nope, she was aself-confessed grandma now, and she was totally ok with that! She only wantedwhat everyone else in their late 20s wanted: a stable job and living withoutthe debilitating fear that she was going to die alone and in debt.

Of course McBitchhad to move in.

She honestlywasn’t quite sure what had come over her in asking this very random, verybewildered (albiet very cute) guy to kiss her, but what could she say, she wason a roll here. She knew it sounded ridiculous, even as the words were comingout of her mouth, but she hadn’t stopped them. She knew that she didn’t live ina romance novel like that line seemed to have apparently walked straight outof. In fact, Jyn was 100% certain that he was about two seconds away fromtelling her to fuck off, which would be fair. Honestly, since it was years agoJyn wasn’t really pissed about the whole ‘being cheated on’ thing anymore, itwas more the fact that McBitch seemed to think they were still BFFs for someunholy reason (did ‘you slept with myboyfriend and I hate you’ mean nothing?) so she would honestly just takewhat she could get.

Scruffy boistarted laughing. He was shaking his head and as he drained the last of hisdrink and Jyn sighed in exasperation.

“Fine, go on then.Laugh it up, mate,” she said. “My life is now a sham, thanks to you! I hope yourealise–”

Somewhere inbetween his laughing and her complaining, she had apparently failed to realisethat he had slipped off his bar stool and now stood in front of her. In fact,she didn’t realise anything at all until he was cutting off her words, kissingher with the kind of passion that can only come from third drinks and latehours.

Well, holy shit.

The bar stool shesat on gave her the added height she needed to comfortably reach his lips, and JesusChrist, what a pair of lips they were. She always liked to think that she’dbeen not just kissed, but Kissed™ at least a fair few times throughout herlife, but apparently she was wrong. Scott Melshi had been an opening act. ScruffyBoi was where it was at and she didn’t think, she only felt with a kind ofblind ohmygodohmygodohmygod panic.Where was fucking Bodhi when she was the one finally being the wild one for achange? Scruffy Boi gripped her hips in a way that made her stomach flip andshe separated her knees, drawing him in, dragging him closer –

“Oh my god, Jyn!Haven’t seen you in forever – have I caught you at a bad time?”

Bitch, you can very well see that this is afucking bad time!

Jyn pulled away invery un-fake irritation. She kept an arm slung around Scruffy Boi’s shouldersand she turned to face McBitch. “Oh, Maia. You could not have turned up at aworse time. How’s it going, girl?”

“Oh, so great,thanks for asking,” Maia simpered

“Was there anything you actually wanted? ‘cause I’m kind of busy…”

She felt Scruffy Boi’s lips pressed firmly to her neck, travelling theskin there and quite honestly, it was making it very difficult to think. He wasapparently taking her request to heart and Jyn noticed Maia’s eyes narrowingslightly as she watched. Time to milkthis. “Hey, babe,” she nudged Scruffy’s Boi’s head with her own, making himglance up. “This is Maia, we knew each other back in the day.”

“Oh hey, Cassian,”he introduced himself. He pressed closer to Jyn, occupying her space with hishands at her hips. “I’m the boyfriend.”

Yeah, you are.

“I didn’t evenknow you were dating again!” Maia said in false happiness.

“Yes, this isCASSIAN, my BOYFRIEND,” Jyn practically yelled. Quite frankly, her quota tohold inane conversations had been used up and she made a point to turning backto Scruffy Boi (wait, Cassian, of coursethe guy’s name is Cassian, you never could choose a Peter or a John could you?).She didn’t give him any warning when she kissed him this time, but she hoped togod that he’d just roll with it and he did. They were probably way toooverly-enthusiastic, but there was just enough tongue to make her stomach churnand she found her hands snaking up around his neck, into his hair.

It took severalminutes for Maia to finally get the hint and trill, “Um, byeeeee then!” beforeflouncing off through the club.

Jyn hastily pulledback from him, praying that her face wasn’t as red as it felt.

“Oh good god, thank you,” she breathed with relief.

“I – shit – Imean,” he laughed nervously, stepping back out of her arms. “No problem.”

“I didn’t even say– my name’s Jyn.”

“Cassian,” hereiterated for her. Bizarrely, he held out a hand for her to shake and she tookit. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

“I feel like I’mkind of owed an explanation for… well, whatever all that was,” Cassian pulledback to wave his hand in the general direction that Maia had gone off to. “Idon’t know… did you want a drink or something?”

It only took herabout five seconds to make the decision.

“Sounds great.”

[nuclearblastuk]

Enslaved announce album details and release date of ‘E’; Launch album pre-order

True avant-garde Norwegians ENSLAVED have announced the release of their epic new studio album for October 13th 2017. This 14th full-length masterpiece sets the musical mind-twisters free from genre boundaries and offers an unprecedented mix of prog, extreme metal and shoegaze on 8 tracks with a playing time of more than an hour. Elegantly titled ‘E’, the album was once again written by the unholy alliance of guitarist Ivar Bjørnson (music, lyrics) and singer/bassist Grutle Kjellson (lyrics) and marks the introduction of their new keyboard master and clean vocalist Håkon Vinje. Mixed and mastered at the Fascination Street Studios by the renowned Jens Bogren, ‘E’ heralds a new era for ENSLAVED. Its cover artwork was once again hand-painted by the Norwegian artist Truls Espedal. As support for their brave sound journey, the quintet brought several guest musicians on board for the songs 'Hiindsiight' and 'Feathers Of Eolh', including WARDRUNA's Einar Kvitrafn Selvik, flutist Daniel Mage and jazz saxophonist Kjetil Møster. You can now pre-order physical editions of the album here: Limited Edition Brown or NB Anniversary Green Vinyl, Limited Edition Digipack CD + Tote bag (all inc signed insert) Limited Edition Digipack CD (inc signed insert) Limited Edition Double Gatefold Etched Vinyl (inc signed insert)

Or the digital version here: Digital Album via iTunes The tracklisting contains these majestic anthems: 01. Storm Son (10:54) 02. The River’s Mouth (5:12) 03. Sacred Horse (8:12) 04. Axis Of The Worlds (7:49) 05. Feathers Of Eolh (8:06) 06. Hiindsiight (9:32) Bonus tracks available on the digipak: 07. Djupet (7:39) 08. What Else Is There? (Röyksopp cover) (4:44) Stay tuned for the first single 'Storm Son' to be unveiled this Friday! Enslaved recently announced that they will supporting label mates Opeth on their autumn UK and Ireland tour dates, as well as playing a headline show at London’s Islington Assembly Hall plus a string of headline European tour dates. Their upcoming UK and EU tour dates read as follows: 10th Nov – (DE) Hamburg - Logo 11th Nov – (DE) Berlin - Nuke 12th Nov – (DE) Cologne - Underground   13th Nov – (NL) Utrecht - Tivoli de Helling Nov 15th  – Manchester - O2 Ritz *

Nov 16th – Glasgow - Barrowlands *

Nov 17th  – Belfast - Limelight *

Nov 18th  – Dublin - Academy *

Nov 19th  – Nottingham - Rock City *

Nov 21st  – Bristol - O2 Academy *

Nov 22nd  – Birmingham - O2 Institute * 24th Nov – London - Islington Assembly Hall 25th Nov – (FR) Paris - Trabendo 26th Nov – (BE) Vosselaar - Biebob 28th Nov – (FR) Rezé - Barakason 29th Nov – (FR) Lyon - CCO Villeurbanne 30th Nov – (FR) Brescia - Circolo Colony 1st Dec – (CH) Pratteln - Z7 2nd Dec – (DE) Frankfurt - Das Bett 3rd Dec – (CZ) Prague - Chelmnice 16th Dec – (RU) Moscow - Volta 17th Dec – (RU) St. Petersburg - Club Val *supporting OPETH ENSLAVED will also be playing some exclusive release shows in Norway, where you can meet the band at the merch stand and receive two unique gig posters for free: w/ SIBIIR 12th Oct (Norway) Oslo - Blå 13th Oct (Norway)  Bergen – Garage

You can also see Enslaved at the following festival shows: 13th Aug (BE) Kortrijk - Alcatraz Festival 24th Aug (NO) Bergen - Beyond the Gates 25th Aug (NO) Moss - Festivalen Sin 16th Sept (BR) Sao Paulo - Overload Music Fest 28th Sept (CAN) Quebec – Nordicq Festival 26TH Oct (SWE) Stockholm - Close-Up Baten 21

1st-5th Feb 2018 (US) Miami – 70,000 Tons Of Metal

www.enslaved.no | www.facebook.com/enslaved

[s-driesen]

time may change me (but i cant trace time)- chapter 3/6

Fourteen Fucks you Up- 8k words

Read on ao3

previous chapter / next chapter

Summary: At 14, Robbe pretends like he doesn't miss him. Like he's happy with the friends he has. It's not like he can help the pang in his chest whenever Sander locks eyes with him across the hall. Summer had come and gone, school is in full swing and Robbe's life is about to turn upside down. But, can even the most painful events have an upside?

Or: the one with emotional trauma, spray paint and Sander being dramatic

TW for possible domestic abuse, an uneducated perspective on mental illness and just a general bit of sadness.

Bro, you don't fucking watch her?'' Robbe was tired of hearing Moyo's voice by that point in the day ''YOU DON'T? Holy shit, I'm about to change your life....''

Truthfully, he'd stopped properly paying attention to his friends conversation as soon as they'd gotten out of the school gates. It was just easier for Robbe to withdraw back into his own head as Aaron started boasting that he'd figured out a way to load PornHub on his families (shared) iPad without his brother finding out. At first it had made him laugh, the pure glee on his friends face, but then Jens had started talking about the girl he'd watched the night before, and all at once Robbe's mood had turned sour. But, Moyo? He was always the one to take thing's a step too far by pulling out his phone, links at the ready, prepared to 'enlighten' the others on all things tits, ass and girls. Like he was some sort of unholy sex wizard. To Robbe it had gotten old really fast, he didn't understand the appeal, all the nudity only made him uncomfortable...That stuff was the opposite of exciting. But, so was his life. He pulled up his hood further, his earphones in his ears playing some shitty rap- the kind that he'd only listened to so he could fit in with the boys. Robbe told himself he liked it.

Just like the rap music, the appeal of coming back to school had faded super quickly. Within the first two months at least. And now it was nearly spring and Robbe just couldn't wait to get away from his shit-show of a social life. Moyo was still talking, Robbe heard him over the sound of his music, turning the screen of his phone to Aaron- who looked ultimately in awe of the pair of boobs open in his browser. Robbe picked up his pace. Becoming friends with a 'cool kid' (Jens' words NOT his) like Moyo at the start of the year would've made Robbe burst with excitement, but now? He was regretting not staying on his own. Or at least hanging with other people. People like Sander. Robbe wasn't going to lie- he'd been thinking about Sander a lot over the past couple of weeks. They'd stopped talking over the previous summer, never having a chance to see each other with Sander leaving without a word, a week into the holidays. He remained out of town, for an undisclosed reason, the entire six weeks they had off from school. No calls, no texts. Nothing. And then he'd shown up like nothing had happened within the first week of term. Robbe pretended like it didn't hurt him, of course, but he couldn't help his mind lighting up whenever they locked eyes in the schools hallways. There was always something slightly painful about how Sander would never say 'hi' like he used to. It ached seeing him laughing with his older, taller, scarily popular friends- the ones that Robbe would've never though Sander would've ended up hanging out with. The types who smoked and drank just for the hell of it.

"Robbe....ROBBE? Are you in there, mate?'' Moyo's grin was inappropriately big for a kid who'd had two science exams that day. Reluctantly, Robbe took his earphones out, lips pressed into a thin line, and began mentally preparing to see a picture of an ass he'd probably have to pretend to find hot ''Nappi? Valentina? Opinions?''

Jens was looking at Robbe now, slowing down to walk beside him, and suddenly it felt like he had to lie. Honestly, he had no clue who Nappi was, not even a slight inclination. And that felt kind of horrible momentarily, for a reason that Robbe didn't exactly understand.

''Yeah, she's like really fit...'' Robbe wasn't a good actor. So when Moyo's grin faltered momentarily, replaced with a flash of confusion, Robbe's gut twisted in embarrassment. He racked his brain, trying to think for a second, following up with ''She's the one with the blonde hair and tattoos right?''

Aaron and Moyo looked at each other for a drawn out second, before cracking up in Robbe's face. It was one of those kind of big wheezing, chest-aching, laughs. Moyo had tears in his eyes, and Aaron was patting him on the back as he hunched over. Jens even smirked slightly, clearly too nice to start laughing himself. Honestly, Robbe was so used to that sort of reaction that it didn't hurt anymore. His embarrassment was forcefully subdued, because stuff like that occured often enough for Robbe to know that they'd only laugh more if his ears started tinging red. Deep down he knew he should be angry, but he was too exhausted to act on it. Robbe was too scared of ending up alone to tell Moyo and his stupid grin and his stupid phone and his stupid music to just...fuck off.

He would've probably found it harder to repress his anger if it wasn't for the fact that they'd almost reached the bus stop, where Moyo and Aaron would break away from Robbe and Jens. They always waited, hovering under the shelter, until the pairs bus would pull up- the 'broers' just looking for an excuse to mess around before the school day officially ended. Usually, when he wasn't in the mood to endure the other guys,Robbe would make up some bullshit excuse as to why he couldn't wait with them, unfairly using his mother to create an non-existent doctors appointment. But, the sight of light brown hair and a leather jacket that looked way too big for the lanky frame it hung to, made Robbe stop under the tin roof.

Sander had grown over the summer, considerably taller. He looked more like a bean pole than he had before school had broken out. The sun, which had made a fleeting appearance the week prior, had clearly stuck to him too- his hair was tinted lighter, more caramel toned, like it had been when he was younger. Robbed presumed he'd caught sun on the apple's of his cheeks, as they looked flushed. All rosy with a slight patchiness. Maybe they were. Robbe forced himself not to pause on that thought. Instead, forcefully latching onto another thought train. Because, all at once it had become staggeringly obvious why Sander was so popular, so worshipped by those in his year group. He was pretty. Undeniably, pretty.

By then, Moyo had finally stopped laughing, only teasing Robbe slightly before getting distracted by Aaron bringing up some girl who had added him ''BY USERNAME GUYS! BY USERNAME?'' on Snapchat. The sheer loudness of the other boys voice had brought a gaze of attention that made Robbe slightly nervous. Sander was looking at them, alone and smaller-looking without his gaggle of friends, and Robbe was trying so hard not to look back that it hurt. Jens, ever observant and wise, had noticed of course, eyes flitting between the pair with a quirked eyebrow- Robbe pretended not to notice that too. He could already hear the onslaught of questions coming his way. The types of questions he didn't really have any answers to.

Only the sound of tyres hitting grit could make Robbe stop burning holes into the concrete with his eyes and even then he looked up reluctantly. The bus pulled up slowly, Aaron and Moyo stopped talking to dap Jens before the driver stopped at the curb. Moyo made a snide comment about Robbe 'doing his research' before he had to climb on, not even a word of goodbye, whilst Aaron continued talking to him- like a lap dog that pissed itself when it got too excited- about shit that really didn't matter. Robbe was ready to turn on his heels, to quick-walk down the street and into his house so he could play video games and drown out the mess in his head, when someone brushed past him. Sander mumbled an quiet apology, scooting around Robbe to follow Aaron onto the bus, before turning his head to regard the other boy. With a smile on his lips. It was small and brief, a mere quirk of the lips, but Robbe's brain stopped functioning for half a second. He had to remember how to smile back, and probably looked stupid and awkward when he did, by then Sander had turned back around before Robbe's face even relaxed. The hiss of the bus doors closing dropped him back into reality. A reality where a very confused, very suspicious Jens Stoffels was eyeing his best friend with a look that just screamed 'what the fuck was THAT?'. Robbe didn't know, and didn't want to stick around to figure out the answer, so he started walking like nothing weird had even occurred.

It took Jens approximately two whole minutes to ask.

''Do you two still talk?'' Robbe only shrugged in response, and for a split second Jens actually looked sad for him, like might leave the topic alone. Of course not. Instead, he paused, before saying ''Did you fall out or something? I thought you guys were really close...''

''Yeah, we were, I guess, but he just kind of stopped talking to me. Like, I don't even know why...'' Robbe glanced at Jens as they walked, slowly ambling down the road like they were suddenly all too aware of the brief distance before they'd have to split to walk to their respective houses. Jens still looked confused, and opened his mouth to speak before Robbe cut him off ''He went away over summer, no warning or anything. Didn't even say goodbye. I just went over to his house one day and his mum told me. He just...stopped speaking to me. Like, I'd message him and get left on read. But he'd still like my Instagram posts and stuff...''

''That's just fucking weird.'' Jens said exactly what Robbe had been thinking for the past nine or so months. He shook his head in clear exasperation before continuing with ''But he still seems friendly with you, right? IHave you tried speaking to him recently? Maybe he'll explain now that he's back, could've been some sort of...I don't know....Long vacation?''

Begrudgingly, Robbe shook his head. In his mind, a phone worked two ways and Robbe was far too stubborn to message Sander first. Sander had left him on his own after all. For better people. Like some sort of toy he'd grown bored of when he realised there were other, shinier things to play with. All whilst Robbe had been sucked into a group of assholes who still thought fart jokes were funny. There was an explanation as to why Sander never reached out to him, and for some reason Robbe thought that finding out what it was, would hurt him more. Even though he was achingly curious. Drifting apart from Sander was hard, it made Robbe hyper-aware of how quickly life could change. He'd only just accepted that him and Sander probably didn't counts as friends anymore but the fact that he might still not want to talk made Robbe feel ill- stressed beyond words. It wasn't like he didn't miss his company though.

Everything made him stressed recently. It was like he was standing on a sheet of thin glass, balancing his emotions- waiting for the moment when one of them would fall and shatter the surface. Recently, the glass was cracking. Especially with his mum. Marie wasn't well, she never had been and Robbe had only just realised that. Apparently, it wasn't normal for your mum to sleep for 16 hours some days and just not at all the next. Mums weren't meant to have mood swings so severe they'd give any normal person whiplash. Arguments between parents that ended up with glasses being thrown at the walls were the opposite of what was supposed to happen within a marriage. Robbe always knew his family was different, but the realisation fully hit after he spent a week with Jens' nuclear family. And ever since then the rock in the pit of his stomach started to whisper 'this isn't right' too loudly for Robbe to bear.

"You should text him" Jens brought Robbe back to reality, smiling gently, with a warmth that reached his eyes. The type of smile that Robbe loved a little too much. At that point on the road the paths separated, and Jens gave a short (wordless) salute before peeling away towards his house. Leaving Robbe, alone in the cold with Sander at the forefront of his mind and a lurking sense of self loathing coming back with vengeance. The rain started falling whilst Jens rounded the street corner, his back profile edging out of Robbe's view. Though he didn't feel the biting cold until his coat was sodden through. The quiet patter of the rain, it beat hammering against the concrete, seemed more soothing than home in that moment. ___

Robbe was making a sandwich when he found out his dad was leaving his mum.

It was such a normal day. He'd just gotten home from school and his stomach had been rumbling since third period, so when he bee lined for his fridge his hopes were high. School had offered him the same old shit; Aaron talking about tits he was never going to touch, Moyo being loud and rude, Jens being Jens. And Sander. Ignoring him for the most part, except for when he'd send Robbe one of those small smiles when they locked eyes across the atrium. His silences were deafening, Robbe hated lingering on them. When the bread tore after Robbe's heavy handed attempts to spread out the congealed jam, he gave up on neatness and just started eating from the cutting board, not even noticing the slow footsteps coming up behind him. His mother didn't even speak as she slid into the dining room chair. She only silently watched her son eat his poor excuse for a sandwich and dribble crumbs all over the counter-top. The wave of endearment she felt when he wiped his mouth on the back of his jumper's sleeve only stung. She dreaded this conversation. She dreaded what he'd think of her, what he would say. If he would leave. A flush of anxiety seeped into Marie's voice, soft-spoken and calm enough in her numbness,

"Robbe?"

He jumped of course, craning his neck whilst rapidly chewing. She could already see him creating excuses as to why he was snacking before dinner- time flashing behind his bright eyes. Mouth full of bread, Robbe mumbled a 'what?' before turning himself to face the dining table. He knew something was wrong straight away. Robbe wasn't stupid, he could read his mum like a book. She looked...tired. Tireder than usual, more downbeat and empty than mentally drained. She looked like how he'd been feeling for weeks. Fragile. Her glass was cracking. Marie drew small, timid, circles on the dining table with her finger, face blank but brain whirring, Robbe swore he could hear her think. All at once, the pit in his stomach grew heavier, the anxiety in his chest blossoming as it tore under the weight. Who knew that a few beats of silence could make someone clam up as quickly as Robbe had. Sandwich forgotten, he abandoned the mess on the counter, wiping his hands on his trousers before hesitantly approaching his shell of a mother.

"What's wrong?" He rephrased "What happened?" All of a sudden the house felt off. Like everything was slightly shifted to the left, like the walls were barer and people were watching through the windows. There was one stark emptiness that struck Robbe, after a moment of consideration. The TV wasn't on, there wasn't a coat on the back of the dining room chair he sat in. Robbe's dad wasn't home. He sat across from her then, the room feeling smaller and smaller by the second, like all the doors were bolted shut and it was summer again. Marie inhaled, a wet sounding, gasp-like, sob that bubbled on her lips and made Robbe wince. It's not like he hadn't seen her cry before, but this felt different and new. Because she wasn't upset. Marie was in pain. Strands of long, brown, hair clung to her wet cheeks, and the circles she drew on the table got faster and faster as she tried to say the words. The words that, deep down at the back of his mind, Robbe knew were coming. He'd been expecting them for the past year.

"He's gone. He's left. He took his things with him this morning."

"What...?" He'd heard what she'd said.

"Your dad. He's gone. We're getting a divorce, Robbe"

The glass, he'd been trying not to break, shattered. An almighty crash in his brain, like a fucking explosion that signalled the end of Robbe's own little world. An explosion he'd predicted months ago, but had been putting off preparing for. There weren't words that he could say to reassure his mum as she started wheezing, pushing out short sobs. Ones that sounded like they physically hurt to let out. He could only sit as the world went still, all numb and quiet- the room they sat in, was the only thing in existence for a minuscule moment. But, Marie started speaking again, through the sniffles and tears. Slowly, she reached across the table to take her sons limp hand- painfully grasping his fingers. Robbe couldn't look at her, his eyes burned a hole into the table, unable to move from the coffee ring stained into the wood; where his dad's mug had sat every night before he went to work.

''It's just us now, but that's okay, isn't it? I'll, I'll get a job, I'll start working and, and we'll be okay, right?'' Marie looked frantic, like Robbe was the parent and her the child, feverishly seeking reassurance from the weak. That question, was one he never answered. Because, frankly it was never going to be okay. The instability that his mother radiated was handled by Robbe's father. He was the one that would coax her to lay in bed when she wouldn't sit down. He was the one who'd clean up the pieces of broken glass and ceramic after an outburst. He was the one who would pick up her prescriptions and force her to take them. He'd do everything. In that moment, Robbe thought he was witnessing the death of his childhood. Selfishly, he wished then that he could leave too. His mothers grip tightened, like she knew he what Robbe was thinking, trembling with a tension that would leave marks. Marie hadn't stopped mumbling for the long few minutes that disappeared in what seemed like seconds. She was praying. Robbe wanted to cry, but no tears came. There was only a burning sensation in his chest, that paralysed his entire body. He felt that, if he moved, he would break into a thousands of tiny pieces onto the floor. As she ducked her head, a bible verse on her lips, Robbe came to a conclusion. That he was going to end up like his Dad. Catering to her every want and need, life revolving around beliefs he didn't care about, just so his mother could keep her shit together. The psychiatrist called Christianity her coping mechanism. It was one of the only things that kept her rooted in reality. But, Robbe knew he hated it from the moment she called him a sinner for growing his hair out a few years prior. Her voice was hoarse when she spoke again, and Robbe's chest clenched with anxiety just when she pleaded "Say a prayer with me. We don't need him. We never have. The only person we need is God..."

He couldn't do it. It felt so wrong, all of a sudden. And he knew exactly why. It made him sick looking his mother in the eyes as she prayed, knowing what he knew about himself, knowing that he resented her for a thing she couldn't change. So, Robbe turned into his dad. Confirming his hypothesis. He left. Bolting up from his seat, the chair legs scraping against the floor making a noise so loud that he felt it in his bones, Robbe twisted his hand from his mother's grip. All of a sudden, his cheeks felt hot, mottled red. Looking back, Robbe thinks that was the moment he started actually crying. That lingering mask of shame was tightening, and he couldn't stop his eyes from growing wet. Marie peered up at him from the table, startled- with eyes as big as saucers, shiny and questioning. Everything was too much, so Robbe did the only thing he could think of and ran. Like father, like son.

Quick-stepping out of the kitchen, he darted up to his room, fumbling on the incline so much that he had to brace himself from slipping by letting his hands brush the carpeted stairs. He shouldered open his bedroom door, without a plan, and grabbed the first jacket he saw- the brown one that he'd been refusing to wear ever since his Dad bought it form him. Fumbling, mind racing with the mantra of 'getoutgetoutgetout', Robbe panicked. Grabbing the cash in his bedside drawer, he shoved no more than twenty euros into his back pocket, feeling the hard outline of his phone alongside it. Only then did he become aware of his mum's yelling, she called his name, the desperation laced into her words made Robbe screw up his face in pain. But, right then, he couldn't be in that house. Sharing walls with the memories of when his family was happy, memories of times when his dad would look at his mum with such love that it made Robbe want to gag. Nothing like that was ever going to happen again. The love had faded and his dad had abandoned ship. Just like he was doing now. Deep down, Robbe knew he should probably hate his dad, for leaving him with his mum, piling onto him a responsibility that no child should have to bare. But he understood why. Robbe knew it wasn't his fault he left. If Marie didn't raise him, if Robbe had the option not to love her, then he'd run for the hills too.

"Where are you going?" Robbe was by the front door now, remorseful tears hot on his cheeks, as Marie lingered in the kitchen's entryway. She looked so scared, so confused, as Robbe slid on his shoes, frantically tying his laces.

"Jens'" He lied. In reality he had no idea. Jens' house seemed so far away.

"W-why?" Marie stammered "Robbe, why are you leaving? Wait, stop, slow down...Please, don't leave me here" 'Me'. That fucking word. It was always 'me, me, me' with Marie. Robbe slammed the door behind him as she said it, cutting her pleads off as he stepped onto the driveway. The door flew open behind him, hinges screaming, as he moved to unlock his bike from his garden's fence-post. Rusting, the lock jammed, he struggled to unlock it whilst Marie yelled for him, heavily sobbing, but not daring to inch closer. She had no shoes on, the gravel was cutting at her feet. So she just stood and wailed, toddler-like, trying to reason, but all Robbe could hear was the shell of a woman begging for something she'd break. After a second of hopelessly pulling on the chain, the bike lock clicked open. Robbe lifted himself onto his bike seat, freeing the wheel of the post. Marie gave one more sharp yell, something about him being 'just like his father', before Robbe pedalled away. Peeling out of his street and onto a tangle of roads, Robbe told himself that he wasn't a bad person for not looking back. Somehow, he didn't believe that lie, no matter how comforting it was.

It was on the cusp of evening when he stopped cycling. The sun set had taken all of the days minimal warmth with it. A breeze passed through the air, it stung Robbe's heated cheeks as he rode onwards- functioning on autopilot, legs pumping with a newfound adrenaline. Rounding a corner, he forced himself to stop, feeling safe and far enough from his mother's wails to finally breathe out. After a second of dog-like panting, he fumbled in his jean pocket for his phone, his shaking hands unlocking and tapping into the contacts menu, with a hint of hesitation. The need to not be alone was undeniably strong, but Robbe didn't know what company he wanted. Eyes hovering on Jens' name, he stared at the number like it was going to call itself. But, something inside of Robbe told him that Jens would never understand the situation he'd found himself in. Jens would probably let him stay the night and then ask his mother to prompt Robbe to leave in the morning. After all his nuclear family, with his mum who cooked dinner every night for a dad that called Jens' 'buddy' and did shit like teach him how to shave, blanketed Jens in the safety of naivety. It would be like talking to a billionaire about poverty- utterly futile, with area for misunderstanding that, in the mindset he was in, would send Robbe over the edge. So, panicking more, he scrolled further down his recent calls. Moyo and Aaron would be fucking useless, stereotypical boys who would steal beer from their dad's fridge and make Robbe play Fifa with them. They'd be too awkward to talk, too macho and everything that Robbe wasn't. No one else was even an option worth considering. All of the other numbers were classmates he only spoke to in order to bum answers to overdue homework. But then, Robbe reached the very bottom of his call. Eye's landing on a singular name, that was achingly familiar. One he hadn't bothered texting in more than a few months. Something in his brain seemed to click.

Sander picked up after a few anxious seconds. The sound of his voice, whispering a cautious 'Hey?', made Robbe start crying - flooded with a wave of relief. He'd actually picked up. It was like the reminder of Sander's existence made Robbe feel better, because even if his world was going to shit, he would still be there. Everything before that moment was null.

"Robbe? What's going on? Calm down-" Sander sounded more worried and confused than scared, as Robbe sniffled down the line, leaning against some randomer's garden wall more than a few streets from his home. It took him a minute to gain the composure to talk, as Sander waited- achingly patient and soothing. There was no hint of awkwardness. For a minute it was almost like they hadn't been giving each other radio silence for months on end.

"Sorry, sorry-" Robe breathed out a string of unnecessary apologies, only to be met with muttered reassurance, suddenly not knowing what words to actually say. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, stiff and uncooperative, a suffocating burden. So, Robbe just told Sander how it was, ever so blunt "My dad left my fucking mum."

"Where are you?" Sander asked after a beat, Robbe could hear him moving over the phone, like he was getting up from wherever he was sitting.

"Did you not hear what I said?" His voice cracked again, foot tapping a haphazard rhythm on the pavement. Robbe wiped his nose on the back of his jacket's sleeve.

"Yeah....Where are you? I'll come and meet you. We can go somewhere." Sander sounded serious, his voice low and quiet. Robbe had never heard him sound like that before, and for some reason it pushed away the anxiety that clouded the edges of Robbe's vision. It made him feel real, less fuzzy, more focused. It made him think clearer, as he tried to figure out where he was.

He realised after a minute of looking for a street sign, stammering the name down the phone. Sander gave an affirming hum as Robbe described the house he was stood outside of, not interrupting as he paused or struggled to form his words. The conversation almost didn't seem real. This morning, Robbe had been sat in maths class overthinking the smile Sander had given him as they'd passed one another on the way to school- to the point where he convinced himself that Sander found his existence annoying. Now they were planning a shitty rendezvous like nothing had ever happened between them. The day had turned into a nightmare gone hallucination.

And then when Sander actually showed up, in his stupidly big leather jacket with his mop of hair on that rusty bike that he'd had since he was twelve. Robbe tried not to think that, now, the day had morphed into a dream.

--

It had been twenty minutes and Sander hadn't said a word about Robbe's parents yet. They'd only exchanged a few words when he'd first pulled up, mostly a barrage of 'are you okay?''s and 'don't cry's' until Robbe had calmed down enough to breathe normally again. That was before the older boy cocked his head and mumbled 'come on', whilst he mounted his bike and took off down the road. Robbe followed blindly of course, too numb and tired and curious to protest or question. The only sound between them since was the metallic clank of whatever was in Sander's green shoulder bag. Even then, Robbe had only picked up on that noise as they'd rode away from the high-street, into a tangle of cul-de-sacs and housing estates.

"Where are we going?" He finally asked, speeding up so he could ride alongside Sander, sick to death of staring at the back of his head. To Robbe's surprise, Sander smiled at him despite the lingering silence, quirking his eyebrows as he pedalled.

"It's a surprise" Of course it was. Sander hadn't changed, still scarily spontaneous and desperately trying to maintain the 'mysterious edgelord' facade he'd began to put on just before he disappeared. The same facade that made him do stupid shit like shop lift and smoke with older kids that he didn't even know. Robbe still rolled his tired eyes though, cracking a smile for the first time in (what felt like) hours. As they had rode in silence, Robbe had had time to process what the fuck had just happened, to accept the events that led him to partake in a mystery bike ride with Sander Driesen. It didn't take him long, admittedly. Because Robbe had been waiting for his mum to sit him down like that ever since he'd seen a fleet of texts on his dads phone from a woman who definitely wasn't just a 'work friend'. It didn't make it hurt less though, even with the ample time to emotionally prepare, the idea of Robbe being left with his mother through all the ups and all the down scared him shitless. Though, he decided to not to dwell. Not that night. It was best for him to try and forget about the past hour. Because, Sander was with him for the first time in month. Speaking to him. Smiling at him. It didn't solve Robbe's issues, but he was a welcomed distraction.

Robbe shook his head in mock annoyance, as Sander pedalled faster down the street, hair flashing from brown to yellow under the streetlights. The sun had set fast, leaving the horizon to morph into a sweeping gradient of blue and orange, and in those moments (filled with hesitant grins and shy, but ultimately reassuring, glances) Robbe lost himself.

Eventually, Sander slowed to a stop, pulling into an unlit ginnel between two houses. He hopped off his bike, prompting Robbe to do the same, and walked it down the thin opening like nothing was afoot. Robbe had no idea where they were. Nervous excitement lined his stomach, drowning out a fear of the unknown. The estate they'd rode into was new to him, a neighbourhood of pristine houses with neat lawns and neater families. However, this passage was entirely different, Robbe realised, as it widened to reveal a spacious gap between the gardens of three or four houses. Morphing into, what could only be described as, a makeshift playground. It was a state, to say the least. The archaic play equipment- an array of slides and climbing frames- was vandalised beyond recognition and (to Robbe's uneasy eye) seemed fairly unsafe. But, nonetheless, there was something scarily timeless about it. The splashes of graffiti were organised, a combination of elaborate tags and stupid, obviously context-bound, doodles, covering everything from the knee high walls enclosing the small park to the entirety of a see-saw. Robbe couldn't help but admire the artwork, as Sander dropped his bike to rest on the cracked tarmac, heading for the stagnant swing-set.

The chain of the swing groaned as Sander plopped himself onto the seat, the metal tinkling whilst he idly rocked back and forth. He dropped his bag too, peeling it from his shoulder, and resting against the swing's framing. It took Robbe a long second to place his bike down, deciding to awkwardly rest it against the stiff round-a-bout.

"How did you even find this place?" Robbe mused, scoffing as he gingerly sat in the swing seat left swaying next to Sander, trying not to act like he was scared it would give out under his weight. The other boy shrugged nonchalantly, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jacket, a small, proud, smile upon his lips.

"I was bored one night and just decided to be nosy. I've had a lot of time to explore since I got back'' Got back. Even then, it stung to be reminded that Sander had left in the first place. Although, to Robbe, it was even more painful to remember that he'd gone without a word to the person he'd called a best friend. Robbe must've showed his discomfort, through the way his lips pressed into a thin line whilst his head ducked to stare at his shoes, because Sander lowered his voice- saying the words that Robbe hadn't expected him to say with such ease "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. It was a completely last minute thing. That I was leaving for the summer. It was such a shitty thing to do..."

"It's okay, I get it" Robbe lied, trying to feign indifference, pushing the toe of his sneaker into the tarmac. In reality, Robbe wasn't just hurt at the fact that Sander had ditched town without a word. He'd been ignored the entire time too. No responses to his text messages, not a word of response to him comments on Instagram. Jens was right when he'd called Sander's behaviour fucking weird.

"It not okay though, is it?" Sander murmured, like it was something Robbe wasn't supposed to hear, tinged with exasperation. He looked ashamed, self-loathing creeping into his features with the slight shake of his head. Suddenly, Sander began digging through his jackets pockets, finally pulling out a battered packet of cigarettes. Probably stolen. He lit one without a word, ducking his head into the amber glow, and Robbe's stomach twisted at how much he enjoyed the sight. The sight of the boy he'd known since before he could remember doing something as adult as smoking made Robbe realise just how much times had changed. Sander's idea of being rebellious before he'd severed all contact with anything that reeked of 'home', was staying up past midnight. Now, he'd probably snuck out of his house to smoke cigarettes miles from home in a park that could be used as a crack den. Taking a drag and breathing out the smoke, Sander scrunched up his nose, before flicking ash onto the tarmac. Robbe only watched in guilty admiration, finding the quiet squeak of the swing set oddly calming. Sander spoke again after breathing out a second cloud of smoke, eyebrows furrowed "Aren't you going to ask me?"

"Ask you what?" Robbe knew the answer, he just didn't want to embarrass himself. So, he played dumb.

"Why I went." Robbe faked his surprise at Sander's bluntness, raising an eyebrow before he dove into denial- murmuring some soppy shit about how it was 'up to him' and how he 'didn't owe him anything'. But, even after the long break in contact, Sander could read Robbe like a book meant for elementary school kids. Like it was nothing. So, the soft start of a grin on his face, Sander reassured "I don't mind telling you, Robbe."

Robbe paused, he looked at him then, just to make sure Sander wasn't setting up a trap for his ridicule. Only to be met by soft and genuine eyes. His voice was gravelly, as he began the conversation he'd been rehearsing in his head for months "Why did you leave then?"

"Because Ross was" Sander quipped, like the conversation was scripted, pausing to take another drag.

Robbe had almost forgotten about Ross Driesen's existence, and upon his reminder, a lot of things started to make sense. Sander's older brother was a handful, to say the least. He was the type of guy media executives would make TV shows about. The lead singer of a crooning indie band who played late night gigs in damp basements and did suspicious things among a circle of even more suspicious people. A guy who abused hair dye and walked around like the dictionary definition of a cliche. To Robbe, a fourteen year old who watched Skins a little bit too early, Ross Driesen was one of the coolest people alive.On top of that, he was one of the kindest people Robbe had ever met, so open and caring- even to his little brother's best friend. And clearly, Sander thought the same. However in the eye's of their dad, Sander had explained to Robbe one day about a year ago, his oldest son was a burden that wasn't willing to work for shit. Though, Sander's dad was the unemployed one.

Sander's dad would say a lot of petty, hypocritical, shit like that. When Robbe used to eat at their house, Mr. Driesen would order him to sit up straight whilst hunched over his own meal. An asshole, completely. Like an authoritarian on the back burner, he insulted those slipping out of his control in hope's of making them stay, whilst not applying the rules he'd set for others to himself. Ross hated him, and because Ross hated him, Sander did too. Mrs. Driesen prenteded like she didn't notice the feud between the two sides of her family, playing PTA mum and posting her Facebook minion memes. It was a dire situation.

"Was it your dad?" Robbe asked, watching as Sander flicked his cigarette onto the ground, obviously growing tired of it after a couple of minutes, the cherry died as it met damp grit. He chewed slightly at his lip before nodding, leg pushing his body back and forth on the swing at a quicker pace.

"Yeah. I mean, it's not like they ever really got along..." He trailed off, like he was considering what to tell Robbe next. Sander's expression soured as he continued "Ross just got sick of him, and the drinking and his nagging. He'd been saving up for a while and then his friend offered him a room for like, half of the price it was supposed to be rented out for. So, you know, it just made sense for him to leave" Robbe watched his as Sander sighed, mentally a mile away, like he was remembering stuff he'd rather not. It hurt to see him like that, the tough facade cracking under the weight of recollection, so Robbe reached out- putting a careful hand on his shoulder and giving an awkward pat. Voice croaky, Sander added "And, I wasn't gonna go with him at first. Mostly, and I'm not just saying this because you're here, because of you. But then my dad found some, uh, stuff on my phone and the argument got out of hand, you know?"

"What kind of stuff?" Robbe pushed slightly, scrunching up his nose, not understanding what could be so bad. Sander just gave a dismissive shake of his head. Something about that implication made Robbe nervous. There was another drawn out silence, slightly solemn and worrisome, before the story continued.

"We left the night it happened and...Robbe, I felt so bad for just getting out of there without a goodbye. I couldn't bring myself to talk to you, in case you wouldn't forgive me for leaving. It's so fucking stupid, I know, but I was so scared. And then I came back for school, because Ross couldn't afford to keep both of us afloat, and...and I still ignored you. I shouldn't have done that, but you looked so happy with your friends-"

"It's okay, Sander." Robbe interjected as the other spiralled.

"But it fucking isn't though, you keep saying that" Sander huffed, voice raised loud enough that Robbe feared he would wake those sleeping in the surrounding houses. He swallowed roughly, wiping a hand down his face in frustration. Robbe could see how his eye's were glistening, wet, under the amber glow of the streetlights "Shit hasn't been easy for you either, right? It's not like I'm the only one with problems. I'm sat here, spinning you this sob story, when you just found out your fucking parents are getting a divorce like an hour ago? It's not okay."

Robbe couldn't help let out a small laugh at Sander's melodrama. Summoning gentle laughter to withhold from crying at the sheer loveliness of the boy sat on the adjacent swing. Because even if Sander was going through the hardest, most decrepit time of his life, he'd still try his best to act the hero, by blaming himself for not being able to take care of those he loved. He'd scrutinise the shit out of himself, a mess of self-loathing, in hopes of making others feel heard. Some things never really did change. Robbe realised then, looking into his wide and remorseful eyes, that him and Sander had never stopped being friends. If they had, Sander would've hung up the phone when Robbe called crying. He wouldn't have whisked him away to a secret hideaway across town (on a school night), before profusely apologising, refusing to accept an ounce of Robbe's forgiveness.

However, Sander was stubborn. What he wanted was for Robbe to push him away, display the anger he harboured towards himself. But Robbe could never do that. He dropped his arm from Sander's back and slowly stood up from the swing, feeling the other boys gaze on his profile as he made a show of looking around the small shit-hole of a playground. The only way to move on from woe with Sander was distraction. Always distraction. Over time, Robbe had perfected guiding his attention away from the stuff he shouldn't linger on, albeit he might've grown a little rusty. Before, it was 'let's go play Fifa' or 'I found this weird website' but Robbe felt shitty cat videos wouldn't do the job this time.

So, he settled on "What's in the bag then?" Nodding at the green canvas leaning against the rusted frame of the swing set.

"Seriously, you're just gonna brush past this?" Sander scoffed in disbelief, looking at Robbe with a face that screamed 'you're either stupid or brain-dead' "We aren't even gonna talk about your parents?"

"That would beat the purpose of calling up a distraction, right?" Robbe smiled, turning around from admiring one of the more elaborate tags on the flat back of a climbing frame. It was blue, fading into pink, something in French making a joke about love.

"So, I'm a distraction then?" Sander teased, smirking slyly- making Robbe's stomach dissolve into an army of butterflies. Of course, he ignored them. He only nodded dumbly, before Sander huffed and got up too, leaning down to open his bag "Unbelievable, Ijzerman's"

Robbe peered over Sanders shoulder, watching whilst he began pulling out battered cans of spray paint. The kind with peeling labels and top's that looked like they were about to fall off. Every single one was clearly very well used. And then it clicked.

"You did all of this? The art?" Sander had always been artistically inclined, but never to the extent of this. The pure intricacy of ever single piece covering the playground looked like something a licensed professional would come up with. Not a fifteen year old with too much spare time. But there was something so Sander about every tag, that just screamed it was all his. It suddenly made a lot of sense why he'd taken Robbe there.

"Yeah, of course. It's good practice" He mumbled, trying to hide his shyness at Robbe's stunned tone "No one ever checks here and the people in the houses like it so...I just come here when I need to get out" Sander hummed, standing up properly from his hunched position, nonchalantly passing Robbe a can. It was blue and felt nearly empty, and in all honestly Robbe had no clue what to do with it as Sander looked at him expectantly "What?"

"Well...I don't know what I'm doing, first of all"

"Seriously? You've never done this before?" Sander looked at him incredulously, incredibly sceptical all of a sudden. He bent down to pick up his own can of paint, a disturbingly bright yellow, weighing it in hands before reconsidering and swapping it for a mottled pink "Well...I thought with your 'skater boy' friends-" Robbe laughed and smacked him on the arm as Sander threw up a sloppy air quote "-That you wouldn't be new to tagging"

"You judged wrong, Driesen" Robbe grinned, cocking his head at the other boy, just as Sander wandered idly over to one of the higher walls enclosing the park. It was barer than the others, less crowded, coming up to about Robbe's middle, only dotted with a few runny outlines of smiley faces- one neon green and the other coal black. Sander ran a finger down the concrete, testing to see if it was wet from the day's previous rain fall, absentmindedly shaking the can in his hand. Pausing for thought, he crouched down to get a better angle, before spraying the brickwork. The nozzle hissed, too loud for Robbe's slight anxiety, whilst Sander buried his face into the crook of his elbow- mouth hiding from the paint's fumes under leather. His brow furrowed in concentration, like he was working on the magnum opus of his artistic career, free forearm resting idly on his knees to make the paint flow smoother. Robbe would've believed Sander was being serious, creating something beautiful, until a silly, childlike caricature of Robbe's face emerged on the wall after a minute or so of unrelenting spray. Verging on the edge of insulting, it showed his face with a shit-eating grin under a mop of pink curls. It was bad, crude and janky, but Robbe thought everything Sander did was amazing "That's so fucking cool"

"I bet it's like looking into a mirror, huh?" Sander laughed, stepping back and making a show of admiring his work, stroking an imaginary beard. The wet paint glimmered under the glow of the nearby streetlight, dripping into the pores of the brick. Robbe snorted.

"I don't look like that, you dick"

"Yeah, you do. I swear to god that looks EXACTLY like one of your school pictures" Sander folded his arms across his chest, sticking his chin up defiantly. Suddenly, the walking embodiment of smugness. And just like that, they fell back into a routine. Welcoming the barrage of banter and insults, the ones blanketed under laughter and boyish play. Spraying a messy flower onto the brickwork, next to his own head, Robbe realised how much he had missed Sander. It was overwhelming. He'd missed his teasing and those stupid jokes (the ones that made Robbe's ribs hurt). He'd missed the way he'd make a fool of himself just to see Robbe smile. In all honesty, Robbe didn't know how he'd coped without Sander being there, without his glowing personality and care. Even then, watching his cartoon face melt on the wall, Robbe wondered how he'd gone for months without hearing Sander's laugh. Just the sight of him throwing his head back and cackling like he'd just said the funniest thing in existence, made Robbe cheeks warm up. And for once he didn't feel shameful about it. Sander made him feel okay. Like the loud static of a broken TV set, he muffled all the issues of those surrounding him. He shouted over the elephants in the room, leg's crossed and waiting to be addressed, with stupid jokes and a alarmingly bright smile. Even if his effect was temporary, Robbe doubted he could ever go without it again. For he was as bright as the paint he sprayed on the wall, an attack of neon against Robbe's muted tone, the perfect combination of opposites. A blinding distraction.

Sander shook the can again, the pea rattling inside, before leaning down to add something else to their masterpiece. His low chuckle was masked by two short aerosol bursts. Robbe's view was blocked by Sander's broad shoulders, still drowning in leather, until he straightened up.

"I missed out your dimple" Sander said, shrugging like it was no big deal.

Robbe only grinned bashfully. Staring the the side of Sander's face. Wishing he'd stare back with the same amount of admiration, with the same knot of pleasant nerves in his stomach. That night, although born out of pain, was one of the best Robbe ever had.

-

Thanks for reading! feel free to follow me on Twitter @ s_driesen 

[pedro-pedrito-pascalito]

*chokes on water* "fuck!!"