#Both Daylight and Burn by David Kushner | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xalygatorx · 9 months

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Unbound | Chapter 8, "Áine's Favorite Princess"

Áine Ts'sambra—a wayward half-drow bard with a painful past—has her world upended when she's snatched up by a Nautiloid ship and furnished with a tadpole to the brain. In her journey to remove the infestation before it can turn her and her newfound companions illithid, she not only finds that their solution has more layers to parse through than she can count, but that a particular vampire in her party does as well.

Unbound is an ongoing generally SFW medium-burn romance based in the world of Baldur's Gate 3 between Astarion and a female OC. Any NSFW content will be marked in the Warnings section. Contains angst, fluff, explorations of trauma, spice, graphic fantasy violence, and a guaranteed happy ending.

For anything additional on what to expect (and not expect), check the preface post.

Summary: Astarion assumes that Áine and Shadowheart are an item after their outing the night before. Astarion’s angry (jealous) behavior triggers Áine and bears unforeseen consequences. Astarion goes hunting and finds time to clear his head and worry about Áine out scouting with the others. Karlach is brought to camp and confronts Wyll. Áine and Astarion make amends and get cozy.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!OC

Warnings: Graphic fantasy violence (more mention of it than description); angst; fluff; suggestive dialogue & content; Astarion being a shit; primarily from Astarion’s perspective; lightly proofread and a little struggled through writing-wise tbh

Word Count: 8.9k

Listening to: Daylight - David Kushner

Astarion was disturbed to realize the next morning that he’d underestimated the Sharran cleric. At least it certainly seemed as though he had, seeing as she and his intended target for a manipulative seduction all but had flower crowns after their little date the night before.

Frankly, he wasn’t sure what to make of it. They weren’t doing the sorts of romantic things that he’d be doing in their positions and weren’t exactly showing public affection toward one another in his learned sense of what that should look like. But they were affectionate—there was an obvious shift in their comfort in one another’s proximity and something unspoken that it was killing him not to be privy to.

Why? he wondered about his own volatile feelings. This changes nothing. If anything, I now get to steal her away from that smug little cleric.

It was a pleasant thought, but he still felt a bit poorly. It was a small wrench in a still-turning wheel, but something about seeing Shadowheart so comfortably settle right next to Áine at the campfire that morning set him on edge. Her cheek was all but resting on the bard’s shoulder.

His nerves started to knot in his chest. He did not doubt his abilities and proficiency in the carnal arts—he couldn’t afford to—but what he did doubt was Áine’s willingness to stray from Shadowheart if they were, in fact, together now. And they had to be! Friends didn’t act like that. Not that he’d experienced anything remotely close to a friendship for the better part of two centuries. Not only would a friend have both been a liability for him while in Cazador’s clutches—the sick bastard would’ve likely forced Astarion to kill said friend himself upon finding out that he’d developed a new attachment to exploit—but friends also took much longer and more work to secure, and you could do so much less with them. There wasn’t much point in them at all, he told himself.

Something akin to anger roiled in his stomach when he heard Áine giggle at something Shadowheart said near her ear. He was not jealous. This didn’t change a damn thing. He just needed to understand what he was dealing with before he proceeded. It was possible they’d simply had a fun tryst in the woods last night—Áine didn’t seem the type, but perhaps she’d given it a try and realized the fun in it—and if that was the case he didn’t have much to alter in his approach. If they were emotionally attached, then this would be more difficult to influence and he may have to resort to trickery to separate them.

The perturbed vampire saw his opportunity to get some answers when Áine finished her breakfast and returned to her tent to organize things for their jaunt today.

The decision had been made earlier that morning to leave their camp set up in its current spot while they explored the branching roads past and near where they’d fought the gnolls. Given the breadth of the area and the likelihood that they would retreat to the same clearing that night, it just made more sense than setting everything back up again later.

Wyll and Gale had volunteered to stay behind and watch over their tents and supplies while the rest of them went scouting. Astarion didn’t know for sure, but he suspected that they were both still recovering from the gnoll attacks—they were both the only humans in the group and while humans were hardy, recovery time seemed to be extended when they truly overexerted themselves. Another confirmation that friends were often more trouble than they were worth.

He tried not to linger overlong on the fact that he’d just thought of his traveling party, his unpaid bodyguards, even his companions, now as his friends while approaching their also-unofficial leader at her tent. “You look refreshed,” he commented as he stopped, leaning against one of her tent posts. She didn’t startle, so she’d either heard him coming or had anticipated his arrival.

Áine looked up at him and gave a friendly smile before looking back down at her bag. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said. “But thank you? I think.”

Astarion’s eyes settled on Áine’s hair, neatly braided again by Shadowheart’s doing similarly to one of their first nights as a smaller group. It felt so long ago somehow. His jaw set a little as the image of Shadowheart’s hands running through Áine’s hair flashed through his mind, artificial scenarios that may or may not have happened or may be yet to happen. Burying her fingers in those shiny tresses as she stole a kiss. Pulling it to force the bard’s head back and expose her neck. Better yet, pulling it to force eye contact while he—

“Did you want something?” Áine asked, snapping him out of his lewd thoughts.

They were welcome little notions, there was just one problem—where he should’ve been in his own godsdamned fantasies, he could only see that cleric getting everything he wanted. Everything that could come as some sort of unintended bonus to securing her loyalty and, in turn, his security. Yes, he wanted something.

Aloud, he said, “Of course I want something. Many things actually. Blood, revenge, gold, sex, a nice vintage… Not even necessarily in that order.”

Áine gave him a peculiar look as if she were trying to parse what he’d said in more than the only way he’d intended. It wasn’t an uncommon expression for her whenever they spoke, but it ticked something off in him this time. Perhaps because he was tired of her trying to find something deeper in their dynamic. He wasn’t a fool, he knew she’d looked for it more than once and had likely come up empty because he had nothing he was willing to give her. He was willing to bet that Shadowheart hadn’t needed to pass such scrutiny.

Based on the way her lips pursed, she’d come up empty again. No surprise to him. “That’s quite a list. But I meant is there something you want from me? You seem upset.”

Astarion’s hackles went up as she presumed that he would deign to be “upset” over her. They’d had some cute moments, sure, many of them orchestrated by him, but she thought herself too highly in his estimations. She thought she could hurt him? Upset him? Laughable, he thought as he crushed any feelings that rose to the surface and contrasted his mind’s claims. She was a means to an end and he’d gotten too swept into his narrative. She was strong enough to aid him and yet easy prey enough to require minimal effort. The ones that just wanted to be loved were always the easiest to lure in, break, and then build up again.

He lowered his voice. “You think you have the power to upset me?”

Áine’s brow furrowed and she looked at him like he was mad. “Clearly,” she said flatly, “but I didn’t ask if I’d upset you, I asked if you were upset in general. But sure, my question’s since changed. Have I upset you?”

Her challenge just stirred his ire. Ire that he was sure had to be directed at Áine, or even at Shadowheart because otherwise that just left the possibility that it was anger he had toward himself. “I would have to care what you do for you to have the capacity to upset me,” Astarion snapped, his words biting.

To his dismay, Áine snorted. “Astarion, come on. Drop the mask and just talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“You think you have me all figured out, don’t you,” he scoffed, a cruel smile splitting his face as he shifted away from the tent pole to step closer. He saw her demeanor respond in kind with hesitation and it felt gratifying. He was the one in control of their little dance, not her.

Áine didn’t move, her feet planted against his attempts to cow her with his stature. This felt a little too familiar and her mind began to fill with unwelcome faces from her past, all above hers as their bodies stood looming to intimidate and dominate. She tightened her grip on the straps of her bag when she felt her hands begin to tremble. “You’re too close,” she warned him, dropping her voice to a murmur.

The memory of Shadowheart sitting almost pressed against Áine’s side flashed through his mind and he sneered. “I’m too close… Of course,” Astarion gritted, giving a mock bow as he placed space back between them. “My apologies.”

“What has gotten into you?” Áine asked, trying to understand where his attitude stemmed from. It wasn’t for show, he was clearly upset, but she didn’t know why. And if he wouldn’t tell her, then she couldn’t help, if she even wanted to after the way his body language had just triggered her. “You know what, no. This isn’t productive.” Before he could ask what she was on about, Áine had turned her attention toward the other side of camp. “Gale?”

“Yes?” the wizard answered, just finishing scrubbing their cooking pot clean from breakfast.

“Feel like scouting today instead? Astarion’s going to hang back,” she said.

Astarion’s temper flared dangerously, the shock and hurt that lanced through him like oil dumped on an already crackling fire. Somehow over the roar in his ears, he heard Gale’s surprise mixed with an affirmation, and then receding footsteps as he went to get his things.

Áine returned her gaze to Astarion after she braced herself for the anger she knew she’d meet. Lowering her voice again, she said, “Whatever you need to do—rest, hunt, stir up Wyll and take verbal jabs at each other, I don’t care—focus on that today. You’re hereby relieved from dealing with me for several hours.”

With a flourish akin to the sarcastic bow he’d given her, she turned her back on him as one last show of confidence and left her tent to meet Shadowheart and Lae’zel lingering in silent proximity near the road. Astarion felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and snatch her the moment she dismissed him and their little spat, but he resisted. His teeth ground together as he tore his eyes off her and stormed back to his tent.

Astarion spent the better part of an hour brooding in there before he slunk back out to regard the empty camp, save for Wyll who’d given himself the job of cleaning up some assorted armor and sharpening his rapier. Scratch sat near Wyll’s side, panting contently and looking over at Astarion when he emerged from his abode. The dog’s wagging tail increased its tempo.

Wyll followed Scratch’s gaze and met Astarion’s eyes, offering him a nod and a hesitant smile. “Have anything you want sharpened?” he cautiously offered. Astarion couldn’t decide if Wyll seemed nervous because he was picking up on his mood or because he’d been unexpectedly left alone in the camp with the local vampire.

Astarion started to dismiss his offer when he caught himself and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sure. Thank you,” he gritted, removing his shortsword and dagger from his hips, where he’d left them even after being replaced for scouting duty. He approached Wyll and set the blades were directed, one now-empty hand patting Scratch’s head when the dog whined for his attention.

“Going hunting today?” Wyll asked, trying to sound as casual as if Astarion was a ranger instead of a vampire. Astarion gave him a curious look, wondering how he knew he was thirsty until Wyll motioned toward his own eyes and added, “Your shadows have returned.”

Astarion’s hand rose to brush the underside of his right eye. “That happens regularly when I’ve not fed?”

Wyll was confused until he remembered Astarion wouldn’t know this about himself without a reflection. “It seems to,” he said. “They don’t look bad, but it is the only thing I’ve noticed personally that tells me you’re wanting for blood. I’m not offering, just to be clear.”

The vampire smirked and dropped his hand from his face, pocketing the small revelation. The featureless plane of his own forgotten face in his mind had occasional dark shadows beneath where its eyes should be now. It was something at least. “Didn’t even cross my mind, darling,” Astarion said honestly, glancing toward the woods. “But I should see what I can find. I will be back.”

“Happy hunting,” Wyll said, his attention returning to his sword.

Astarion took his thirst and his irritation out on the first handful of forest creatures he came across, likely being a little too violent in his hunt or at least more feral than he needed to be to take down a couple of rabbits and another boar. He’d hoped for something a little more substantial after having his first few swallows of fresh blood and realizing just how thirsty he’d become. His agitation did lose its jagged edges once he felt more sated, but there remained some pieces of his earlier mood that no amount of blood was going to shake.

The first and most present of those pieces was lingering irritation. At Áine for dismissing him so easily. At Shadowheart for intercepting his advances. At Gale for being his unwitting replacement in the scouting party. Which wasn’t exactly Gale’s fault, but why was it always fucking Gale?! The majority of his irritation was directed inwardly though, now that he’d had time to think it all over. Not only had his reactions been over the top due to his thirst and, fine, jealousy as well, but it also hadn’t solved anything regarding getting Áine away from Shadowheart. He’d probably just made things harder for himself.

Sitting atop a sunbathed rock beneath a break in the canopy and letting the light warm his skin, Astarion ran his tongue over a lingering trace of blood on his index finger, crimson eyes pensive and faraway. Irritation was a familiar sensation, but the lurking variables under that layer weren’t as easy to parse at first blush. Whether the feelings were new or simply boxed up for so long while he’d existed in environs where feeling anything was a hazard to his survival, that just meant that it took longer to comprehend his reactions to things and usually only after he’d already reacted.

Luring targets to the Szarr family castle had been different—they were calculated efforts, his successes necessary to avoid punishment. Forced feedings of rancid, decaying rats and roaches. A year of uninterrupted entombment in a moldering casket. Commands to torture himself with special, specific directions on how he should do it and with what implements but never harshly enough to scar save for the poem Cazador had decided to compose on his back. His old master had always said that his body was his only source of usefulness, and find use for it he did. Disfiguring Astarion, he’d said, would only give him a reprieve from his work that he didn’t deserve.

Astarion’s mouth twisted downward at the knots he felt prevailing in his stomach. They’d had nothing to do with his thirst, which led him to his only other theory and one that troubled him more deeply than he cared to admit. He was worried. About her.

There was no denying it—they’d spent the majority of their time together fighting as a unit and through that, he’d learned a lot about the way she fought. Áine often took on a supportive role in the offensive if Lae’zel was present to take the frontline, but if the githyanki for whatever reason wasn’t in the mix, Áine was that frontline fighter. When they were at an advantage, she almost looked like she was dancing, gracefully weaving amongst blades and arrows to deliver her blows with equal precision and style. What could he say, she was fun to watch when she knew she was winning because she was having fun in battle—they were alike in that way.

When they were losing though, like yesterday with the gnolls, it was as if a switch flipped inside her. Áine became grounded and heavy-hitting, she became a powerhouse that wasn’t just fun but fascinating to watch. And that was where she made all her mistakes. Scared for her friends, Áine was quick to bite off more than she could chew and draw the enemy’s attention to herself to give the rest of them time to reset. Her attention divided as well, narrowing into what was in front of her and the status of her allies, which meant he’d taken to picking off enemies coming up on her flank before she even saw them. Sometimes he’d take out a threat without her noticing even after the fact, which he tended to prefer. It was something he would feel sheepish about if she realized how often he looked for her on the battlefield, how much he instinctively prioritized her over the others, even their healer.

Their hellion of a bard was, in those times especially, a force to be reckoned with, but she became reckless in that and missed minor things. When he was in the fray with them all, this didn’t worry him. Now that she was out of sight though and he knew there was a high probability that they’d find something to scrap with on the roads around them, he felt the dread creeping in. Shadowheart would be too focused on healing—which she should be instead of moving in on his damn territory—and Lae’zel was a frontlines gal like Áine who would operate in much the same way but somehow even more singlemindedly.

And then there was Gale. Gale would be left to watch Áine’s back and Astarion simply didn’t trust him to do it properly. It was a strange feeling, at least from the hellish landscape of his vivid memories that seemed to rot away any earlier than his rebirth as a vampire spawn, to be angry with someone and still worry for them. Because he was still upset with her, namely for making him stay behind after his temper had waned with his thirst finally quenched. His closest line of comparison was the vague sense of pity he felt for his siblings still under Cazador’s thumb back in the city, as he had to assume they bore the brunt of whatever punishments Cazador could no longer reach him with. But he didn’t truly care what happened to them. They were simply all similarly wretched victims of the same monster of a man.

Perhaps because he still had a use for her or because to some degree he depended on her, he was worried about Áine’s safety. That was the line he tried to feed himself. The truth of it was that when he visualized the potential disasters they could find in their patrol, when he imagined Lae’zel struggling and needing Shadowheart’s clerical attention while Áine plunged to take on the enemies’ pressure and leaving her flank wide open…

His stomach turned.

The sun slipping past the canopy and canting toward the horizon line wasn’t the only thing that sent a ripple of cold through his already icy bones. What if she died out there? Shadowheart surely wouldn’t let that happen, and even Gale had some healing ability in a pinch. But if they all fell and no one was left to heal her…

Astarion didn’t quite register when he got to his feet and started loping toward camp. It was nearing twilight, surely they’d be back by now. If they weren’t, he could safely assume something was wrong and go track them down himself with little to no suspicion or pushback from Wyll. He could swing it in the direction of curiosity instead of concern. He could—

—bleeding Hells, he could smell her blood.

He picked up his pace to a run, only slowing back down when he reached the trees that lined their camp. At first, he thought that he could’ve imagined the scent for all his fretting, but he was proven wrong as it only grew stronger the closer he got to camp and those earlier imagined scenarios started to claw their way back into his head. There was no question that it was hers either—he knew her particular bouquet anywhere.

Astarion walked out from between his tent and Lae’zel’s and into what appeared to be an argument with a brand new, bizarre person in the mix. It was only after his eyes devoured every face in the camp and confirmed one of them as Áine’s that he let his attention deviate to what appeared to be Wyll squaring off with a fiery tiefling who looked like she could easily snap him in two. He was grateful for something else to focus on, especially a potential fight, while he shelved everything he’d uncovered about his foolish little attachment that day.

She was there and she was alive, upright even. She was bleeding or had bled at some point that day, but whatever it was must’ve been minimal. Astarion allowed himself to shift his gaze from Wyll and the tiefling over to Áine, who looked focused on but fatigued by whatever confrontation was taking place.

“—you don’t know what you’re asking me to do!” Wyll was saying to both the tiefling and Áine. Something shook in his voice. What in the Hells was going on? As Astarion scoped out the newest, towering face in the clearing, his gaze fastened on her broken horn. Was this the “devil” Wyll had talked about being tasked with killing back in the Grove?

“I’m asking you to live, Wyll,” the tiefling said. “I don’t want to hurt you. And to be frank I’d rather not find out how the Blade got his name.” Eyes as fiery gold as a dragon’s turned pleading. “I swear to you, on all that I am, that I’m not what you think.”

Wyll looked at the tiefling and then at Áine’s steely gaze. Then at others, all standing nearby and wearing similar expressions of muted hope that he’d back down. “Shit… Shit!” he finally gritted and there was something cathartic to Astarion about hearing the usually quite poised and smoothly operating Wyll just swear up a storm. “You really are no devil, are you? I’ve… I’ve been deceived.”

The red-hot tiefling sighed her relief. “Thank the gods… Thought I was going to have to take your head.”

Astarion was disappointed in not at least seeing the onset of such a fight, even if he’d rather it didn’t finish. Aggravating as he could find Wyll, he was growing on him and the tiefling seemed too good a potential ally to lose.

Wyll smirked. “You would’ve died in the attempt, but…there have been enough threats today.”

The tiefling smiled. “Truce then, hey?”

“Aye. Truce,” Wyll agreed with a firm nod. In a heartfelt tone, he added, “I see the good in you, Karlach. I promise not to lose sight of it, even when the Hells burn hottest.” It was his form of an apology that well surpassed the superficiality of the average apology.

Ah, Karlach. That had been the name Wyll had mentioned at the Grove. It had been on the tip of his tongue for the past few minutes Astarion had been spectating and bothering him all the while.

His eyes once more found Áine, who finally seemed to feel as though she could let her guard down with Wyll and Karlach, her frame relaxing now that there was no longer a need for her to run interference. She started toward her tent and their eyes met. For a split-second, he feared what he’d come to learn he deserved, what he’d anticipated in their first spat that had also taken place back at the Grove. Dismissal, rejection, hatred… A roulette wheel of equally devastating outcomes. This was why it was better to remain indifferent. He wished he knew what had gotten into him with her so he could amend it and have the situation on lock again.

The rate at which his mind raced made that instant feel like an eternity, but it truly was only an instant. He realized that when Áine’s expression finally adjusted to acknowledge him, which was already an improvement on the possibility that she could just ignore him. Her eyes darted meaningfully toward the cluster of companions behind her before they returned to his and widened with cartoonish exasperation. Astarion couldn’t help the smirk that curled his lips, dropping his head to hide his amusement, but not before she saw. He could hear her quiet giggle from where she crouched by her tent, sliding her bag off her shoulders and then slipping into her canvas curtain abode to change clothes. Astarion still wondered why he’d smelled her blood on returning to camp, but at least she seemed fine. More than that, she didn’t seem mad at him anymore.

He only cared about how it affected his plans for her. He would lie to himself until he believed that.

Astarion settled into his usual spot on the pillows outside his tent, idly listening to the bustle of the camp while he parsed through one of his books. Even the most basic tomes they’d found so far in their travels intrigued him, doing well to stir his mind back to life after being deprived of anything but the few faded, crumbling volumes he’d scrounged up in the Szarr dungeons. His occasional run-ins with anything of interest during his outings to find prey for his master had either fallen into the realm of crusty copies of A is for Azuth, and Other Gods, specifically the first volume, stuffed in the inn room nightstands where he sealed the deal with his targets, or a fleeting glance of something genuinely new and interesting that he’d spot and covet in a bookshop window or the arm of a passing student. Bringing something like that back to his little rathole with him would only result in the intriguing new material being snatched up, mocked, and then burned by Cazador or Godey before they began burning him too.

The first book he’d picked up in the crypt where they’d found Withers had felt like a precious little sin, like something he still needed to hide. But the longer he was away from Cazador’s influence, the more that reflex had slowly waned and he’d made a habit of reading his findings outside where he could be seen. It was preferable, comfortable even, and it was a sort of middle finger toward his old master and the gods who’d turned their backs on him in his cell. Astarion would sit comfortably and absorb as much as he could, and maybe discover something to prolong his freedom and increase his power in the process while learning anew about the world he lived in.

Still, when he heard footsteps heading toward him, his fingertips gripped the binding just a little tighter, as if tensing for the little reprieve to be ripped from his hands. His reaction lasted only a second as the trauma response slipped and also as he recognized the footsteps drawing nearer.

“Can I disturb you for a few minutes?” Áine asked, seemingly trying to be mindful of interrupting him. Always a new experience with this one.

“Seeing as you already have, my dear,” Astarion playfully pointed out, “I would be most disappointed if you didn’t proceed.”

“I don’t know why I ask,” Áine murmured, but she was clearly amused. The bard sat down across from him on the rug, looking more comfortable now that she was in the soft leather pants and ruffled shirt that she frequently wore and fell asleep in on at least one occasion when they made camp.

With a curious expression on her face, she leaned forward and reached toward the book he held, pausing when she noticed his grip tighten this time. Her eyes met his and she dropped her hand, instead tilting her head to see the cover without encroaching on his activity. “Fables of Faerûn… Volume five?” she read, guessing at the volume number when she couldn’t crane her neck enough to see it.

Astarion felt silly for being so on edge about anyone touching his things. But he’d never really owned anything since before he could remember, he’d never had anything to call his own. And it felt nice, but also too easily lost. He tilted the book so she could see the cover without straining herself, showing her that she’d guessed correctly about the volume number. “It was in that apothecary cellar we looted,” he admitted, “and my options were limited.”

Áine smiled. “You don’t have to justify what you’re indulging in,” she said. “Fables are nice. Wyll brought one up in conversation just the other day.”

“Of course he did,” Astarion said, dogearing the page and closing the book. He knew he needn’t be sheepish about what he chose to read, especially when pickings were slim, but he did still feel a bit hyperaware of how he came off. “My guess is that you didn’t want to discuss children’s tales in coming here though?”

“I could be swayed, but you’re right,” Áine said, subconsciously picking at the braid that fell over her shoulder. It was messier than it had been this morning before they’d set out and its loose starlight-colored tendrils did make the style more her own. He still felt a pang in his chest at the thought of Shadowheart with her hands in Áine’s hair again, this time under new intentions. He could only assume that this feeling would go away after he managed to bed her—after he’d worked his way a bit further into her feelings, into her needs, she could do the same with anyone else she wanted. The threat of her entering an exclusive relationship with someone and feeling bound to them before he could get there would make his scheming moot before it even had time to execute. “Wyll mentioned that you went hunting today?”

Astarion’s brow furrowed. “Yes… And?”

“And do you feel any better?” Áine asked, a tiny frown on her lips. He’d already started to form a retort that he was fine in the first place when she disarmed him. “I’ve been worried.”

His jaw set, her words making him both falter and further withdraw from what he felt. She was worried about him? In the same sense that he was worried about her? Or was she worried that he was thirsty for her own and everyone else’s sake? Did she think him a monster?

Astarion frowned. “I’ve already said that I would not try to drink from you without asking again, and I meant it,” he said, going with the latter of his assumptions that she was just anxious about a hungry vampire in her camp.

Áine immediately looked distressed. “That’s not what I meant,” she said, raising her hands in a placating gesture. He remembered how those hands had felt in his when he’d been holding them the other night while trying to convince her to take their discussion about his vampirism back inside her tent following their tumble out through the door flap. “I’m worried about you, not the fact that you’re thirsty. Wait, that didn’t come out correctly either. I’m worried about you being thirsty because I don’t want you to be thirsty, not because I feel threatened by—”

“I get it, I get it,” he mumbled, waving her off and swatting away the sensation her words gave him as well. “I’m fine. I did hunt and I did drink and I’m just peachy now.”

Áine sighed. He wished he could read her mind to understand what it meant. Technically he supposed he could with the parasite, but not without her knowing. Distantly he remembered both occasions that their minds had connected, and still felt violated by it as he was sure she did as well. Now that he thought about it, he was surprised she hadn’t pressed about anything she’d seen in his memories that second time it had happened in her tent. She was either keeping her cards close to her chest in that regard or she didn’t think it was her place to ask. Or perhaps she didn’t care. Just looking at her though—her compassionate nature, her round sweet amber eyes—he knew that the last possibility he considered wasn’t the case at all. Poor thing cared too much for her own good, in his opinion.

Her features twisted and she seemed to be conflicted about his answer or perhaps what she wanted to say in response. Whatever it was, she pushed it down and decided not to say it. His curiosity became increasingly difficult to ignore. Unnerved by the silence, Astarion asked, “So, it seems that the scouting trip today was…eventful at least?”

“Eventful is a word for it,” she agreed, seeming grateful for his intervention. “We found Karlach down by the riverbend and helped her get rid of some fake paladins that were tailing her for Zariel.”

Astarion’s brows rose. “Zariel? Why?”

“She was apparently one of Zariel’s best, as she said it, ‘attack dogs’,” Áine explained, quickly adding, “not by choice though. Karlach was on the Nautiloid too and that got her out of Avernus and the Blood War frontlines for good…we hope.”

“And Wyll was hunting her when they both were taken?” Astarion clarified. When Áine nodded, he asked, “For whom?”

Áine shook her head. “He wouldn’t tell me then and he’s not told me now. He seems to think he’ll have a reckoning for not killing her though.”

“Great,” Astarion sighed. “Well, I suppose as long as the reckoning doesn’t have a blast radius, we should be fine.”

Áine snorted. “That would be the last thing we’d need, a godsdamned bomb dropping on camp.”

Around them, their companions had started to retire to their tents, tossing goodnights their way in passing and leaving them in a more private setting for their conversation. Astarion’s gaze flitted over the last two of their travel party still up and chatting across the clearing while Scratch kept them company, Karlach and Wyll. They were too wrapped up in their own conversation to be paying any attention to theirs.

He returned his gaze to Áine, the tickle of her blood’s scent still teasing his senses. “Did you get hurt out there today?”

Áine was equally zoned out, it seemed, his question causing surprise to blossom on her face. “Hm?” she wondered bemusedly. “Why do you ask?”

Astarion gave her a scolding look. “Because I smell your blood,” he said as if it were obvious.

It occurred to him after he pointed it out that she could also very well be having her monthly bleed, but she seemed to remember something then and adjusted her hair off her shoulder to show him a scratch that was already on its way to healing. “Karlach had a bit of a rampage through the tollhouse the ‘paladins’ had taken over, and I took a bit of shrapnel to the shoulder,” she explained. “It’s fine, it just caught somewhere my armor didn’t cover because of course it did…”

Satisfied that it was minor, Astarion nodded. Áine surprised him yet again by asking, “Is it bothering you?”

“Is what bothering me, darling?” Astarion asked.

“The smell. Or the sight, too, I guess,” she asked, giving a polite smile and wave to Wyll as he bid them goodnight and walked past them into his tent. Karlach had retired to the tent they’d set up for her as well and Scratch was curled up by the campfire, his head rested contently atop his paws. “I can—”

“Sweetheart, you always smell enticing,” Astarion informed her, smirking when that drew a blush to her cheeks. “I can control myself just fine though. I’d hardly be a useful ally if I started salivating every time you or someone else here got hurt.” Áine went quiet, staring at him as she warred within herself. He tried to read her expression, disgruntled when he couldn’t. “What is it?” he asked at last.

Áine drew in a deep breath and swept a fleeting glance around camp before her eyes returned to his and she said, “You…can, you know. If you want. If the animals today weren’t enough.”

Astarion’s brows rose, his throat prickling with want. He swallowed against it, wondering about a motive. Was this some sort of trick? Even if it was… “Are you sure?” he asked, expressing interest to see what she did next.

“I think so,” she said, almost seeming a bit shy about her offer. Gods, if she afforded the same demeanor to when he managed to get in her bed, the experience would be even more delicious than expected. He might even enjoy their sex, a first for him in the better part of two centuries. Better to not get his hopes up, he decided. Astarion’s eyes followed her hand as she reached up to tug an amulet from beneath her shirt, the golden one that the tiefling child had tossed her after they’d saved him from the harpies. “Gale told me that this has a lesser restoration spell inside it. Which might make these situations easier to recover from. For me, I mean.”

“I see,” Astarion said, still not completely understanding where this was coming from. “Worth a try, of course. Although I do wonder where this generosity is coming from.”

Áine blinked. “You asked about the blood because you’re still thirsty, no?”

No, I was worried about you, little fool. “Well, of course, but that doesn’t quite answer my question, dearest,” Astarion said.

The bard looked down at the amulet she still toyed with between her fingertips as she said, “I just want you to be okay, alright? I told you, I was worried. I still am. And if this is what helps…” She lifted her gaze back to meet his and presented her wrist. “Then I’ll do it.”

Astarion eyed the pulse point of her wrist. He could hear its little flutter from where he still reclined against his cushions. He really did have her wrapped around his finger, didn’t he—the realization eased his nerves around ensuring he stayed protected, but that came with the slightest sliver of guilt that he snuffed out as soon as it surfaced.

His crimson eyes dragged from her wrist to her eyes, which watched him anxiously. Astarion set his book aside and reached forward with this other hand, his fingers wrapping around her offered wrist. The warmth that leeched from her skin into his palm was intoxicating. Gently, he pulled her toward him, his hooded red eyes moving lazily back to meet hers when he felt her resist.

Astarion nodded toward the scratch on her shoulder. “No need to make a fresh wound, darling,” he said. A playful smile curved his lips, all the guile of a wolf luring in a lamb. “Come here, my little treat.”

Áine groaned and rolled her eyes, but let him tug her in closer until she sat on her knees between the frame of his long legs, their faces just inches apart. “Please don’t make this weird,” she mumbled, but her face was burning hot and he could hear her heart picking up its pace under his attention. He chuckled and she gave him a withering look, seeming to know he could sense, in full, her body’s reactions to him.

Her blush deepened as he traced his thumb over the inside of the wrist he still held, his free hand adjusting her hair away from the minor injury she’d shown him before. He let his hand linger against her braid, his eyes devouring the sight of her sitting in front of him offering him her blood.

Astarion traced his fingers from her hair down to her collar, adjusting it so he didn’t get blood on her shirt, and drew her in even closer until her warm, tense frame was pressed against him and the sealed wound on her shoulder was perfectly at his lips. Her hands were planted against his chest, her spine rigid as she tried to maintain some distance between their bodies. He inhaled deeply, the lingering scent of her blood and sweat on her skin mixed with the faint spice of mint leaves created a heady concoction that made him subconsciously tighten his hold on her.

He heard Áine’s breath hitch and he smiled before dropping his head down to her shoulder, her muscles tensing when his lips grazed her wound. “I will be gentle,” he murmured against her skin and used the razor-sharp edges of his fangs to quickly slice the scratch back open. Áine jolted faintly but stilled when Astarion’s lips closed around the wound and he began to suck the blood into his mouth in long, languorous pulls. His lashes fluttered—like the first time, she was pure ambrosia on his tongue.

As he drank from her, he felt her slowly relaxing against him and he welcomed her in. His hands rested against her waist and the small of her back, his senses comfortably cocooned in her scent and warmth. Astarion eventually licked her wound closed when he decided he’d had a sufficient taste, but grew a little concerned when she didn’t move from his chest. There was no way he’d drained her, he wasn’t even sure he’d had as much as he’d taken the first time.

He wasn’t able to get a look at her face, which was nestled against his shoulder, so he murmured into her ear instead. “Have you perished?” he asked her teasingly, knowing she was fine as he could feel her heartbeat reverberating through his own chest.

“Quite tragically, I’m afraid,” she mumbled. Her warm breath permeated the fabric of his shirt and met his cold skin, sending a delicious little chill through him.

Astarion chuckled and glanced down as she fumbled for the amulet around her neck, a faint flash of green pulsing from the gem on the pendant when she used it. “Well? Was the wizard correct?” he asked.

“It seems like it,” she said. “I do feel better, but I also didn’t feel as lightheaded as the first time. Certainly can’t hurt to keep.”

Amused, the vampire noted that despite her claims that she felt more or less fine, she still hadn’t moved off of him. “Are you sure, you seem a bit faint, dearest,” he teased her.

“Oh, quiet,” she mumbled, finally moving her hands off his chest and sliding her arms to rest around his shoulders instead. Some of her blood rose to flush his cheeks, much to his dismay. “It’s a rare opportunity I have right now, I intend to savor it.”

Astarion’s expression became bewildered. “Trust me, darling, being bitten by me isn’t a rare opportunity at all if you enjoyed it that much this time around…”

“I’m not talking about that and you know it.”

He did know it, but instead of admitting that, he sighed against her hair and gathered her closer as he eased further back into the pillows until he was lying down with Áine curled on top of him. “I thought I said I would find us another moment,” Astarion murmured, one arm wrapped around her waist while the other toyed with her braid.

“You did, technically,” she murmured, settling in with a contented sigh. The sound made him smile. “Although if I get the credit for this, then I’ll say you were taking too long.”

Astarion snorted. “My apologies, my sweet,” he mumbled and he felt her quiet laugh shake her body. He hesitated but then allowed himself to broach the topic that had been burning in him from sun-up. “I must admit I was surprised to find you injured after your adventure today… I would’ve thought your lover would’ve fixed it right up for you.”

That got her attention. Áine lifted her head just to turn herself to look at him while they snuggled. Her cheeks remained flushed as she looked up at him, her expression confused. “What do you mean, my ‘lover’?” she asked and her mystified question planted something disgustingly like hope in his dead heart.

His expression smooth, Astarion met her eyes and said, “The cleric, of course. Didn’t you have a nice rendezvous last night? You both seemed awfully cozy this morning.”

Áine’s face went red anew and it told Astarion what he needed to know. She still seemed to have interest in him though as well, so this was still feasible. Then why did his chest ache? It was surely just the weight of her creating a sore spot. He almost rolled his eyes at his own thoughts—he’d never before fed himself such a stupid lie.

“You’re going to laugh at me,” Áine said, interrupting his thoughts, “but I didn’t realize it was a date until it was almost over. We came to an understanding that we were strong in our friendship and that was as far as it needed to go.”

“Poor dear,” he tsked, although inside he was preening to know that there was nothing between them. “Then is it simply out of pity that you were letting her hang all over you this morning?” Is it out of pity that you’re hanging onto me now?

Áine frowned. “Of course not. Last night simply made us more comfortable with each other. You needn’t be romantic with someone to show affection,” she reasoned.

This was unheard of by Astarion’s knowledge of the world and all the scummy ways in which it worked. The only kind touches he’d received in as long as he could remember were tainted by hidden agendas and greedy, careless lust. They were given as if he were an object, not kind in their treatment of him, but kind so he wouldn’t break before he could be used. Frowning back at her, Astarion ventured to ask, “Is this also something you would seek from a friend?”

She nervously bit her lower lip, holding it between her teeth. He wanted to incline his head and steal it from her with his own. “Do you want that to be why?”

Astarion scoffed. “Since when does it matter what I want?” he asked rhetorically, a question meant to dismiss hers and encourage her to answer with a statement instead.

Áine just, as ever, surprised him with what she said. “Since always,” she grumbled, causing that sting to return to his chest. Bless her, she had no idea.

Outwardly, he just smiled and shook his head at her. “Answer my question, darling.”

Áine hung onto her silence for a long agonizing moment before she exhaled the breath she was holding and muttering, “No, I don’t only have friend-based feelings for you, you absolute shit.” That caught him off guard enough to make him laugh out loud. She was massaging her temples when he looked back down at her. “But those friend-based feelings are there if that’s preferable. We don’t need to discuss it now, I just want to make sure you know that. Okay?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Astarion admitted.

Áine thought about her next words before she said them. “I mean that this doesn’t only mean something to me if it goes a certain way,” she said. “It means something to me regardless of whether it becomes a friendship or something more than that…or even less, too. I’m just grateful I’ve gotten to meet you. Even if you’ve threatened my life…is it twice now?”

Astarion chuckled. “Technically only once as I didn’t intend to kill you the second time, but sure.”

Áine smiled, her dark honey eyes drinking him in. “Hmph. Well, my apologies, my sweet,” she said, mirroring his earlier tone and making him chuckle again. Her eyes became speculative by the time he looked at her again. “...Wait, were you jealous? Was that what this morning was about?”

Shit. “Hush,” he grumbled as she read his reaction, and a bemused but entertained expression brightened her face. He was still reeling a little from the agency she’d just handed him in deciding where their “perhaps” of a connection would go as if it were simple for her to do so. She didn’t realize what it meant, what it felt like, to have that offered autonomy for the first time. He focused on what he did know how to handle instead for the time being. “Seeing you frolic about with Shar’s favorite little princess was a bit disconcerting. That’s all.”

Áine was the epitome of smug and he noticed it gave her usual smirk an even slyer, feline edge. It was unbearably sexy. “Astarion, look at me please,” she chided him after he’d rolled his eyes away from her.

He sighed and leveled his most exasperated gaze at her, one eyebrow arched high. “What is it?” Astarion asked, practically daring her to tease him.

“This is important, so I need you to listen carefully,” Áine said, her features becoming quite serious as she spoke. He didn’t trust it, but he paid attention. “Shadowheart may be Shar’s favorite princess, it’s true… But you’re mine, okay?”

“Fuck off.”

Áine fell apart with giggles while Astarion stared at the sky, shaking his head and grumbling under his breath. Through her laughter, she managed an apology that was the opposite of sincere and he noticed that small beads of tears had sprung to her eyes. He swallowed the smile that threatened his own features to save face.

Her smile lingered as Áine started to pick herself up from her spot against his chest. She stood up and the night felt suddenly chilly without her. “I’ll let you rest now, thank you for indulging me,” she chuckled, straightening her shirt and pulling her sleeve back up over her shoulder.

When she was smoothing out her pants, her hand suddenly paused against her hip. “Oh, I almost forgot again,” Áine said, reaching into her pocket and extracting something small that she offered down to him.

Hesitantly, he reached up to take whatever it was, thinking perhaps it was another joke until he saw what she’d handed him—a little spool of golden thread.

He froze.

“I found it in one of the chests we looted the other day and kept forgetting to give it to you. I don’t know if it’ll exactly match the embroidery on your doublet, but hopefully it’s close,” Áine was saying. “Anyway, goodnight, Astarion.”

Astarion was still staring at the thread in his hand, something in the walls he’d built up starting to disintegrate no matter how much he tried to stamp it back down. It was something so small, so simple, it was thread, but it was also much more than that. She’d noticed. She’d looked at him and seen him, even just for a second. She thought of him as more than a body, more than a means to an end. Her words had told him that, her demeanor told him that, but now this act of thoughtfulness told him that, too. Every time he found ways around believing it, around leaning into it, she gave him something else to dodge. Something else he didn’t want to dodge.

The vampire surged to his feet stuffing the spool into his pocket as he pivoted and followed after the bard—his bard—who hadn’t yet made it to her tent. He hated the desperate edge he heard in his own voice as he spoke her name to get her attention. She stopped and turned around, straight into his arms as he pulled her against him and branded her mouth with his.

Her surprise didn’t last long. It melted under their heat and his entire body responded when she kissed him back, her arms returning to wrap around his neck and one of her hands running through his hair and eliciting a soft groan from the back of Astarion’s throat that was lost between their lips. He only drew back when he felt her grow breathless in his arms, leaning his forehead against hers.

Astarion inclined his head, skimming his nose gently against Áine’s. “Your ‘friend-based feelings’ would be better reserved for someone else,” he murmured, his eyelids heavy with lust as he looked at her. He needed to come to grips with himself before he took her. It couldn’t happen tonight, as much as his body disagreed with that sentiment. In fact, his body and its response to her was his primary concern.

This was new and felt very much like a lack of control. The feelings he’d had that morning—the contempt, the thoughts of dominating her and manipulating her with his sexual prowess born of innumerable encounters’ worth of practice—were what he was used to when it came to bedroom activities. What he felt now, what he’d felt building ever since he’d noticed his fascination with her, was explosive. He still felt the urge to dominate, but for the sake of both their pleasure, to bring her to her knees because her knees were shaking with ecstasy. His base instinct was to be gentle with her, to lo—

He needed to reset before this went any further.

Astarion smirked at the dazed expression on her face, placing a hand on the back of her head to draw her against the kiss he pressed to her forehead. Out of her line of sight, he looked down at the top of her head with mixed adoration and fear. By the time he stepped back, the expression was smoothed away. “Sweet dreams, lover,” he purred and sauntered back to his tent, leaving Áine bewildered and wanting in his wake.

Next chapter: Chapter 9, "Bear With Me"

lil update notes: My fiancé is visiting for the next two-ish weeks, so updates either will wait until after then or be sporadic in the meantime.

Thank you for reading! I hope Unbound has been enjoyable so far. It's been very enjoyable for me to write. :) BG3 has been a godsend to my brain in general, so I hope I'm doing it some measure of justice here.

I hope everyone had, is having, or will have a safe, comfortable winter holiday season and that 2024 greets you kindly. x

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 7 months

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Two Sinners Can’t Atone from a Lone Prayer

Pairing: Daryl Dixon and Carol Peletier (Seemingly Unrequited)

Setting: Hilltop, Whisperers Arc

Warnings: Angst; mention of injuries; Suggestive situations

Summary: Daryl hears something he was never meant to at possibly the worst time of his life.

There was no changing what was coming. Daryl was exhausted and aching but he had to find her before the horde could come down on them. There was so much to say, he needed to clear the air.

Carol had been at fault for the losses at the cave. He couldn’t excuse that and he wouldn’t, but he had his own demons and a long list of sins. He would love her no less for hers.

And therein lay the problem. Daryl loved Carol. She was his dearest friend, yes, but he loved her. He had realized it so long ago, but the time was never right to tell her. They had rode the waves of suffering together, holding each other tightly to keep the broken pieces in their rightful place. If either let go, the other would crumble.

Carol had a life at the Kingdom, and Alpha had taken that happiness from her. He agreed that the beast had to pay but there was a time and place. Recklessness would and had cost them. He couldn’t seem to reach her no matter how hard he tried. Maybe, just maybe, knowing what he had been holding back would be what brought her back from the abyss she had let herself settle into.

Daryl was certain that his place in her heart wasn’t identical to her place in his.

Still, he needed her to know.

Both had felt death’s icy fingers clawing at them one too many times. He was tired of closing his eyes when darkness cast her gaze on him, knowing his biggest regret was that he hadn’t laid his heart at Carol’s feet before he took his last breath.

Not this time.

He paused at the top of the stairs, biting back a whimper of pain, the poorly treated wound in his thigh thrumming down to vibrate the bone. With a few steeling breaths, he continued, knocking on doors. Some rooms were empty. Others occupied but their inhabitants politely informing him whether they had or hadn’t seen Carol.

The door at the end of the hall, like all the others, was closed. Leaning on the frame, he raised his fist to knock, knuckles actually brushing the wood before he heard it.

The breathy moans. The squeaky springs in the mattress. Ezekiel moaning her name. Carol I’ve missed you oh god Carol.

The breath rushed from his lungs and left them burning beside the disintegrating muscle of his heart. He should leave, it was wrong to stay, wrong to listen. But there was a part of him, the part that was holding tightly to the thread of hope that she wasn’t in there.

Ssh, let me take care of you.

The last shred of hope in his chest crumbled. He was so stupid, so naive. She would never be his. He knew that. He was only what she needed as a shoulder to cry on, a warm hug when she felt overwhelmed, a whisper of encouragement when she was on the edge of giving up. He would never touch her like she was being touched behind that door. He would never silence her self-deprecation with his mouth over hers. He would never hold her knowing that he was hers.

But he was, wasn’t he?

No matter whose sheets she was tangled in, whose skin she was pressed against, whose hands held her heart; he was hers.

He always would be.

Tears threatened his waterline as he silently placed his forehead against the door.

“I love ya.” He whispered, barely a breath.

Daryl turned to prepare for the fight with Alpha’s horde.

He left his heart outside that door so Carol could step on it when she left.

#murda writes #daryl dixon #carol peletier #caryl #caryl angst #caryl fanfiction #caryl fandom #Spotify

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mademoisellefantasy · 1 year

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Sometimes I hate my own mind.

I hate it because it believes you and I could co-exist. It believes in the romance you don't hide in your sunken eyes. It believes one night -one wonderful night- and a kiss would keep you here by my side.

I hate my own mind because when you sing about someone's light chasing away your shadows, it believes I am the light, when it's very clear I am nothing but a little star and you're looking for the sun.

I could be that light for you, if you just come closer and see my star in its entirety.

But you won't.

You are 300 kilometers or light years away (they're both the same), searching for someone to burn you, not even looking my way.

I hate my own mind for wanting you and hating you and valuing you at the same time.

But we don't talk in the daylight.

Our story began and ended in one night.

Image by: Nikolay Ninov

#writers of tumblr #writers of wattpad #creative writing #writersofig #writer aesthetic #sad post #sadgirl #sad poem #sad poetry #sad quotes #sadnees #sad aesthetic #heartbroken quotes #quoteoftheday #college girl #mademoisellefantasy #Spotify

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popentertainmentconcertreviews · 1 year

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David Kushner & Chance Peña – Webster Hall – New York, NY – September 7, 2023

Chance Peña is a musician known for his soulful and captivating music. Hailing from Lafayette, Louisiana, Peña gained widespread recognition after appearing on the hit TV show The Voice in 2015, where his unique singing and emotional performances endeared him to audiences. Since then, Peña has continued to evolve as an artist, blending elements of folk, indie, country, and soul into his music. His heartfelt lyrics and soul-stirring melodies are captivating and worldly, something from an old soul.

Peña opened the show with unreleased tracks "Cruel World" and "Thaw," raw in vocals and lyrics accompanied by passionate guitar, reminiscent of the late Johnny Cash. Peña then followed up with a unique cover of Kid Cudi's "Pursuit of Happiness" the crowd singing along with every word. Peña perfectly set the tone for the rest of the night as the lights dimmed, and David Kushner took the stage.

Chicago native Kushner is truly a star on the rise, currently based in Los Angeles, Kushner gained attention last year with a pair of hit singles, "Miserable Man" and "Mr. Forgettable" both found on his debut EP, “Footprints I Found.” His emotionally charged songs and astounding baritone voice touched immediately touched listeners around the globe. Hearing him live feels like you’re listening to a solo man choir, his voice is something of a heavyweight boxer, every note he hits just punches you right in the chest. Kushner opened his set with unreleased but stadium ready track "Dead Man," a teaser to his upcoming album and followed up with a tender performance of "Cigarettes."

Kushner took time to dedicate his performance of "Mr. Forgettable" to his late grandfather who passed away due to Alzheimer's. The crowd sang along with everything they had as Kushner delivered a soulful performance. Kushner is brooding with emotion and absolutely captivates the audience; his vocals are haunting and the strums from his guitar compliment him perfectly. The fans cling to every word, shouting every lyric as he performs "The Georgia Rain" and "Burn," heart torn confessions of broken love and closed the night with the fan favorite and the jumpstart to his career "Daylight." Kushner is a promising budding artist full of potential, a truly undeniable talent.

Natalie Orozco

#David Kushner #Chance Pena #2023 #Concert Review #Webster Hall #New York #Natalie Orozco #Thomas Gracia

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deadcactuswalking · 1 year

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REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 22/04/2023 (Lewis Capaldi, David Kushner, Post Malone)

To my surprise, and seemingly everyone’s, Lewis Capaldi takes his third #1 of the album cycle with “Wish You the Best” thanks to CD sales, dethroning “Miracle” by just a couple thousand sales – hey, you can’t say it’s not an exciting chart this week... and it really is in some ways, so prepare for that. Welcome back to REVIEWING THE CHARTS!

Rundown

So, yeah, we had a bit of a shake-up this week, especially at the very top of the chart. Regardless, as always, we start with our notable drop-outs – songs exiting the UK Top 75, which is what I cover, after five weeks in the region or a peak in the top 40 – and whilst there many dropouts this week, not many are all that notable. My favourite may be that due to the three-song rule, wherein the UK Singles Chart allows for only three tracks by one lead artist (usually) on the chart at a given time, Lewis Capaldi’s “How I’m Feeling Now” – his best song – has dropped out of the chart entirely on what would have been its biggest sales week, which really does make me question why they don’t extend the limit to five – it’s very possible that a standard pop rollout ends up promoting four simultaneous singles, and as we see from these random dropouts, tends to happen. I think that a five-song limit would actually do its job at preventing album bombs for the most part, though big artists of course will still score five debuts in one week. Otherwise, we say farewell to “DOGTOOTH” by Tyler, the Creator, “River” by Miley Cyrus, “Red Ruby da Sleaze” by Nicki Minaj, “22” by JayO, “Shut Up My Mom’s Calling” by HOTEL UGLY and also due to the three-song rule but declining anyway, “Lavender Haze” by Taylor Swift. There’ll be on both Taylor and Nicki later on.

As for what filled up the space, well, we have two re-entries – one normal as “The Kind of Love We Make” by Luke Combs squats down at #75 and one irregular as “Heat Waves” by Glass Animals shoots back to #24 thanks to an ACR reset and what purpose do we have on Earth other than to suffer? Outside of... that, we do have a small batch of gains: “Flip a Switch.” by RAYE at #48 (expect this to go even further), “Snooze” by SZA at #39, “Never Felt So Alone” by Labrinth making the top 40 at #33 (that’s awesome), “Peaches” by Jack Black at #28 (that’s... something) and “Cupid” by FIFTY FIFTY at #26.

Our top five starts relatively normal with “Eyes Closed” by Ed Sheeran at #5 and “People” by Libianca at #4 but then we have David Kushner of all people debut at #3 with “Daylight” before of course, “Miracle” by Calvin Harris and Ellie Goulding dethroned at #2 by Capaldi’s “Wish You the Best” at #1. We’ll talk more about those two songs afterwards, but for now, I’ll say that I honestly have more expectations for longevity with Kushner than Capaldi. Before we even think about those songs anymore, however, we have our list of new entries to work through.

NEW ARRIVALS

#74 – “live more & love more” – Cat Burns

Produced by Jordan Riley and Stuart Price

It seems like Cat Burns is finally revving up for that second single after “go” was a massive hit last year, and since singer-songwriter types tend to be slow burns – no pun intended – it’s no surprise that this has debuted pretty low, but does it deserve to get higher? Well, it’s inoffensive, but almost offensively so, with writing that feels so basic it’s practically patronising. It’s a self-empowerment anthem with plucky guitars that sound really cheap over some of the grossest percussion I’ve heard in pop, as a really sandy, non-existent snare is for whatever reason amplified in the mix so heavily that it is actively distracting from the otherwise muddy, compressed ocean of a mix. I can get behind the sentiment of spending more of your time loving and following your dreams but if she’s having to point out the cliché in the bridge, maybe she shouldn’t have released the bloody song. Also, “your life can start when you choose it to” is a lie, just flagrantly – the attitude in the song paints with such a broad brush that it seems like Cat Burns wants to ignore all external factors that would potentially hinder someone’s life. There’s zero nuance to this and whilst that may work on the radio, it makes for an unflattering second single that honestly kind of puts me off Cat Burns, who I thought was otherwise promising. This is just toothless garbage.

#71 – “Maria Maria” – TECH IT DEEP

Produced by TECH IT DEEP

So, this is a bit of a bizarre one. TECH IT DEEP is the pseudonym of Essam, a Dutch festival promoter and I guess DJ, though this is to date his only song on streaming services. It’s also a remake of the classic Santana track of the same name featuring The Product G&B, mostly known for its iconic guitar solo, which originally peaked at #6 in 2000. I question why then that the guitar solo, the most widely known part of the song, mentioned by the lyrics themselves, and heavily sampled later on in DJ Khaled’s “Wild Thoughts”, is simply not included here. Sure, there are other important parts of “Maria Maria”: The Product G&B have nasal voices yet the melodies in even the verses are immediately recognisable and they play off the Latin guitar incredibly well. The groove synced up with the clap is a slick rhythm, and of course, the guys actively shout out the guitar played by Carlos Santana before that solo which acts as the refrain. It’s also a kind of bizarrely-structured song, with the chorus being incredibly long, the bridges being out of rhythmic mantras and... Wyclef Jean being there for some reason. It’s not as good as “Smooth”, sure, but what is? This remix by TECH IT DEEP has literally none of that, and I’d usually appreciate something that has the gall to completely recreate a song from scratch, but it immediately starts with the slap house groove coated in echoed, processed vocals that again, actively shout out the guitar played by Carlos Santana... which doesn’t play, there’s no remnant of it. There is a Latin guitar riff but it’s clearly not Santana, and once it gets to the build-up, it occurs to me that... “Maria Maria” could have easily been a dance song. Its original groove was inspired by a Wu-Tang Clan beat, its bridge has that rhythmic vocal line that is essentially already percussion, and the guitar solo acts much like the main lead in an EDM drop. Why TECH IT DEEP decided to move the song around like they did is beyond me – it feels kind of arbitrary and random where each verse or refrain ends up which, to be fair, is the case with the original song, but the original also had that one thing driving it all: the solo, and the bass drop in this version is not nearly climactic enough to replace it. What a butchering of something that could have been a cool idea.

#68 – “Karma” – Taylor Swift

Produced by Sounwave, Jack Antonoff, Taylor Swift, Keanu Beats and Jahaan Sweet

I think we’re going to get a new fan favourite off of Midnights hit the chart ever so often depending on the success of the Eras Tour as we kind of have intermittently, but “Karma” may be the most bizarre choice yet... mostly because it sucks. I don’t mind Antonoff’s buzzy synths here, giving off a lot of chillwave vibes, but the drums do them no justice and Taylor absolutely doesn’t, with a combination of some of her most heavy-handed delivery and awkward lyricism ever. Midnights is full of moments just like “Karma”, but this song in particular doesn’t do anything new in presenting itself as anything other than annoying and unlikeable. The harmonies are alright, but they contribute to the childlike, sing-songy nature of that embarrassing chorus – I mean, “flexing like a Goddamn acrobat”? Seriously? Taylor portrays karma as her companion and she has said that it is the most important life lesson to be learned, but it also makes her blissfully ignorant if she’s going to make poetic leaps in the verses and basic analogies in the chorus over chintzy synthpop. It doesn’t make her sound like a badass or a cheeky karma fairy going around stealing teeth, it just makes her sound aggravating. I’m not completely against songs from Midnights still picking up traction, but I much would have preferred, say, “Midnight Rain” or “Vigilante” over this nuisance and tonal clash of a song.

#60 – “Try Me” – Jorja Smith

Produced by SANDAME

R&B singer Jorja Smith is back with a new single after what honestly feels kind of like forever – she’s been only intermittently releasing singles, mostly collaborations, since 2021 and this potentially could be the lead single for that sophomore album, finally, and it would be an interesting one, given how percussive it is with the rumbling drums and jingling percussion that starts off the track before moving into a fluid groove with some incredible bass guitar and background shrieks that further the intensity of this song, which transitions into the chorus through a bloody gun sound effect – that’s how confrontational it is. To be honest, I don’t fully think that Jorja adds much to the song – I love the backing vocals and the mantra of “change” and it makes perfect sense for her vocals to be so heavy in the mix, but the chorus melody isn’t all that flattering and she kind of gives up on her most fittingly percussive flow in the second verse. The lyrics also feel incredibly vague, which takes me out of really understanding why the song is so confrontational. The outro is gorgeous, with Jorja merging her belting with a falsetto over string stabs and backing vocal riffs that merge into the melting pianos as her mantra continues to cascade over an increasingly incoherent, paranoid instrumental. The atmosphere is immaculate but I don’t think as a full song that the delivery and lyricism lives up to SANDAME’s top-notch production. It’s still good, but this could have transcendent.

#59 – “J’adore” – Strandz

Produced by Strandz and Henry Pritchard

Strandz is back with his follow-up to the breakout “Us Against the World” and it elevates a trend that I’ve found kind of fascinating: UK rappers going back to the 2000s G-Unit sound with their production. In this one in particular, Strandz straight-up sounds like 50 Cent occasionally which is partly impressive considering the difference in accent. The sparkling flutes in the sample are drowned out and chopped up in a pretty great, hard-hitting beat that is stiff in the best way, yet with a better, more technical rapper it would definitely feel more worthwhile, as Strandz murmurs his way through rapping about his love for his girlfriend – mostly because she wants to learn about economics, apparently. I don’t know, it’s a bit of an awkward one – the great beat, which Strandz produced himself, doesn’t mesh all too well with his delivery but not awfully either. The chorus is a pretty cool idea, having the female vocal come in, but she just reinforces Strandz’s lines and it’s still mind-numbingly repetitive and basic, which is particularly annoying for a song that is still under two minutes. Much like “Us Against the World”, I feel like there are vaguely good ideas that go to waste not because of lack of talent but just lack of people helping him fully formulate these tracks. I will always root for independent artists, but a second co-producer or feature, preferably a woman to give extra balance and depth to the track, would really help out for now until he can refine his sound even further with this 2000s throwback style, which I will say is pretty unique. You know what isn’t?

#46 – “Waffle House” – Jonas Brothers

Produced by Jon Bellion, Pete Nappi, Tenroc, Ido Zmishlany and Daniel Tashian

Waffle House, Inc. is an American restaurant chain with over 1,900 locations in 25 states in the United States. Most of the locations are in the South, where the chain is a regional cultural icon. Waffle House is headquartered in Norcross, Georgia, in the Atlanta metropolitan area. The first Waffle House opened on Labour Day weekend in 1955 at 2719 East College Avenue in Avondale Estates, Georgia. That restaurant was conceived and founded by Joe Rogers Sr. and Tom Forkner. Rogers started in the restaurant business as a short-order cook in 1947 at the Toddle House in New Haven, Connecticut. By 1949, he became a regional manager with the now-defunct Memphis-based Toddle House chain, then he moved to Atlanta. He met Tom Forkner while buying a house from him in Avondale Estates. Rogers's concept was to combine the speed of fast food with table service with around-the-clock availability. Forkner suggested naming the restaurant "Waffle House", as waffles were the most profitable item on the 16-item menu. On 17th September, 2019, customers who ate at a Waffle House in Goose Creek, South Carolina, were exposed to hepatitis. I shall provide no further comment.

#22 – “Princess Diana” – Ice Spice and Nicki Minaj

Produced by RIOTUSA

Ice Spice has given someone the remix treatment and now is granted it by the Queen of Rap herself who has massively cosigned and well, literally signed, Ice Spice as the newest up-and-comer when it comes to female rappers. I get why they chose “Princess Diana” – it doesn’t have an expensive sample to clear, but it still has a recognisable, basic guitar line and more resembles average trap in its groove than New York drill. It also completely blows as a solo song, with Ice’s flow never changing and the rhyme scheme staying consistently uninteresting and basic, though she – in the chorus – decides to pronounce similar sounds in very, very slightly alternating ways, which flips the rhyme scheme on its head a bit in a really awkward way when she could have just made them all rhyme. It sounds like a nitpick, and it is, but it also really throws me off – and probably only me – every time. There’s nothing of interest in her flexing and she sounds practically dead rapping it. The beat is perfectly fine, though, so with less Ice Spice and more Nicki, this could be alright and well, yeah, it is: the version in the video and the most-streamed version is a bit weaker in my opinion when compared to the extended version, simply because it makes the song feel more complete with a third verse from Nicki... and well, what do you know? You add a great rapper on a bad song and even through her opening ad-libs, I’m more convinced. She adds a lot of energy and her verses as always are full of charisma. Her first verse – and only verse on the original – is bonkers, starting with a brief spoken interlude, “grah” ad-libs that clip in the mix, counting in Spanish, and finally she starts rapping and comparing herself to Popeye... before switching the flow to compare herself to “the gamers”. She continues to change her flow and rhyme scheme effortlessly and constantly, but she keeps to the second for long enough for the verse to feel like it has focus, and it seems like a little detail but the “grah” ad-lib helps it feel cohesive. I’m not the biggest fan of Nicki but once she brings out the British accent, it’s just over for anyone else on the song – she probably should have had this beat and chorus to begin with because she completely takes over the song. Some people may want the two to trade bars but whilst even Nicki’s verses are mostly empty flexing, I think having the two compare bar for bar will show the drastic disparity in personality, lyrical dexterity and general skill, so having Ice work as a build-up for the Nicki verse is definitely a better way of going about it, and honestly completely changes my opinion on the song. Again, not a big fan of Nicki by any means but she has a certain presence about her that bulldozes a lot of the competition, male or female, and I’m glad she finally brought her A-game again to this. “Red Ruby da Sleaze” had even better versions but an awful chorus, so I’ll settle for slightly worse verses and a catchy if mind-numbing chorus that actually fits the instrumental. When’s that next album coming though, Ms. Minaj? Hopefully in the next decade. Now for someone who I think we’ll be treated to an album from very soon...

#11 – “Chemical” – Post Malone

Produced by Post Malone, Louis Bell and watt

This is technically a single from a greatest hits compilation, but given the under-performance and transitional nature of his last record, I wouldn’t be surprised if we get a sort of damage-control follow-up, and this is a pretty safe example of what that could sound like. Honestly, the guitars sound like complete ass, but they essentially fade into the monogenre, reverb-drenched production which gives Post free reign to warble, even if he feels like he’s slightly straining here. The drums are typical “indie” fluff and nothing feels substantial as he once again balances his drug addiction with his relationships, making some vague parallels that have been done a lot of times before. This would be a perfectly serviceable song if the percussion wasn’t so pattering and kind of irritating, or if the guitars had any more rock grit to them than they do (current amount: none). There’s not even a bridge here, just a vague inflation of tensions with keys and Post repeating himself. It’s honestly kind of a sad and pathetic retread that back-tracks a lot of the progress he made on his previous album, which isn’t even one I particularly liked. ‘Tis a shame.

#3 – “Daylight” – David Kushner

Produced by Rob Kirwan

David Kushner, whose debut EP only charted in Lithuania and was an opening act for LAUV, which is perhaps the most embarrassing and degrading position in the pop music industry possible, could have been #1 this week. He definitely had the streams, yet was just a bit far from “Miracle”... and then the CD sales came for Capaldi and his chances – for now – were blown away... but this particular song is still yet to slow down all that much. You may remember his random 2022 hit “Miserable Man”, which peaked at #39 and was aptly miserable. Apparently he had another top 75 hit in the UK, which means I must have reviewed it... but its name is, I’m not joking, “Mr. Forgettable”. What perfect coincidence that is. Okay, let’s calm down on the jabs and give the song a chance – after all, people must have seen something in this to get an otherwise unknown to #3 – and I kind of get it. The chair rocking and squeaking over the pianos is a nice ambiance touch, and Kushner has a uniquely deeper voice compared to some other singer-songwriters... but then I realised that this was basically a Hozier song. He sounds like Hozier, he has the same distorted harmonies and backing falsettos that mix with a deep croon. He has a tendency for Biblical imagery too, and integrates some electric guitar, even if it all ends up being just part of another monogenre ballad that doesn’t have an effective climax, partly because it’s about... nothing? The lyrics demonstrate a paradoxical desire... what one? I don’t know, I don’t think it matters, but the problem here is that he expects me to care about a song that is explicitly about vague ideas rather than any constructed narrative like Hozier would have done, but it’s basically an “in the style of Hoizer” prompt, so I’m forced to question where the narrative is and sure, if he wants to do a song about vague concepts, feel free to, I like abstract lyrics when done well... but he doesn’t say anything that provokes much nuance or interest, and his unchanging vocal delivery doesn’t do a pretty boring song any favours, especially once we get to that muddy faux-climax that is just melodramatic, echo-drenched Hell. In a world where Hozier literally just released an EP with a good lead single, I don’t understand why the public are craving for this disposable derivative.

#1 – “Wish You the Best” – Lewis Capaldi

Produced by Lewis Capaldi and TMS

Well, Capaldi really impressed me with “How I’m Feeling Now” so maybe this newest #1 showcases some more of those signs of improvement... and yeah, it kind of does, but it transposes them within the “Someone You Loved” mould, as it’s a dire piano-based post-breakup track where he struggles to accept the relationship is over. He’s particularly manipulative and guilt-tripping in this one, which really hits a sour note considering how seriously I’m supposed to take this, but it’s not nearly as bad as his earlier tracks. He underplays the verses, has some genuine lyrical detail in them as well, whilst playing to some of the frailer emo-esque touches in his voice during the breaking falsetto in the pre-chorus and rough belting in the chorus. These are good elements, but I don’t think they fit within the more typical, expected Capaldi track – the man needs to use more guitars is what I’m saying, essentially, and allow for rougher production so he doesn’t need to iron out his rougher voice. You can at least tell that Capaldi cared about the writing, considering how the chorus changes in its final iteration that better fits the new tone, and I kind of like the subtly distorted strain he puts on in order to reach the song’s climax... but still, it just feels a bit watered-down and awkward. It’s a transitional-sounding song for Capaldi, I think, but it is a shame that he may have to continue making renditions of “Someone You Loved” to get #1s when I know he can do better.

Conclusion

That really wasn’t a great week, huh? I didn’t find much to care about and at worst, the songs felt like they have this weird, commercial distaste for their own audience, with all of the bad songs here and Hell, even some of the more okay and decent ones, presenting a version of the artist or song with much less potential than they actually have, which is a really sad trend honestly. Regardless, the Best of the Week goes to Jorja Smith, I suppose, for “Try Me” but it’s mostly for the production, with the Honourable Mention going to, let’s be honest, Nicki Minaj for injecting some life into “Princess Diana” by Ice Spice. I think I’m going to give Worst of the Week to Cat Burns for “live more & love more”, mostly because of its gross lack of awareness, with the Dishonourable Mention being a bit tougher. I think I’m going to tie it between “Chemical” by Post Malone and “Maria Maria” by TECH IT DEEP because they share this irking distaste or disrespect for the audience’s expectations that makes the artists and/or song seem disappointed and unsatisfied with their own work. Oh, and Waffle House of the Week goes to “Waffle House” by the Waffle House Brothers. Thank you for reading, and I’ll see you next week!

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disillusionedjudge · 5 months

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🎧 🎧 🎧 🎧 🎧 🎧

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want to know about a song on my muse’s playlist? send in a 🎧 & i’ll randomly pick a song along with which lyrics i think symbolize them the most!

((under the cut because it’s long))

Confident - Demi Lovato (It’s time for me to take it, I’m the boss right now / Not gonna fake it, not when you go down / ‘Cause this is my game / And you better come to play)

This song is really just Gylfie’s fuck you to everyone who doubted her/tried putting her down, heh, and her doubling down on the fact she knows damn well what she’s doing and what she wants. She’s angry, but at the same time, she’s going to have fun with getting back at everyone who’s gotten in her way.

Fourth of July - Sufjan Stevens (Sitting at the bed with the halo at your head / Was it all a disguise, like junior high? / Where everything was fiction, future, and prediction / Now, where am I? My fading supply)

This focuses not only on Gylfie (with the lyrics above), but also her relationship with her mother and Drace. I’m gonna… kinda break it into chunks here, but I could probably write a whole thing about this song dsfkhjdfgs

The lyrics above are focused on Gylfie and her disillusionment of not just the Empire, but what it means to be a Judge and, by extension, Judge Magister, as well. She’s questioning… basically everything she once believed wholeheartedly, and doesn’t quite know what to do. She doesn’t want to give up everything she’s fought for, and certainly doesn’t want to give up on Archadia, but… she can’t lie to herself any longer that the Empire she so loves is good.

For Drace, verses one and three are most fitting for… obvious reasons, I think, seeing as those are talking about death specifically. Gylfie would’ve followed Drace anywhere, just as she would Gabranth, and losing her had been sudden. It had happened all at once and so chaotically, that it just… didn’t feel real, and she couldn’t properly grieve/mourn her with everything else going on. (What could I have said to raise your from the dead?) (The hospital asked, “Should the body be cast?” / Before I say goodbye, my star in the sky)

Choruses one and two are fitting for Alsga and Gylfie, with the first being Alsga forcing Gylfie to finally open her eyes to the truth of the Empire’s cruelty after Nabudis (Tell me, what did you learn from the Tillamook burn?), because, before that point, Gylfie was trying hard to keep her head in the sand. The second chorus is the guilt Alsga feels for leaving Gylfie behind and her realizing that… she wasn’t the mother Gylfie needed, and the guilt she feels for failing her. (“Did you get enough love, my little dove? / Why do you cry? / And I’m sorry I left, but it was for the best / Though it never felt right / My little Versailles”)

Chorus three is fitting for both Drace and Alsga (Make the most of your life, while it is rife / While it is light), and the outro is Gylfie with her knowing that, if they fail, then all of Ivalice will be destroyed by nethicite because of Vayne’s mad ambition.

Daylight - David Kushner (Telling myself I won’t go there / Oh, but I know that I won’t care / Tryna wash away all the blood I’ve spilt / This lust is a burden that we both share / Two sinners can’t atone from a lone prayer / Souls tied, intertwined by pride and guilt)

This song I absolutely associate with Gylfie and Gabranth, heh. They’re both quite similar in terms of personality/drive, although they come from very different backgrounds, and both will do whatever it takes to ensure the Empire’s future under Larsa’s rule. (Oh, I love it and I hate it at the same time / You and I drink the poison from the same vine / Oh, I love it and I hate it at the same time / Hidin’ all of our sins from the daylight) They’ve both gone to extremes to protect Larsa and Archadia’s future, extremes neither can be proud of (Gabranth having to kill Drace, Gylfie killing her father), and… the Empire’s simply become something they both love and hate. It represents so much evil but has the chance to be something good if they get it right.

Enemy - Imagine Dragons (Your words up on the wall as you’re prayin’ for my fall / And the laughter in the halls and the names that I’ve been called / I stack it in my mind, and I’m waitin’ for the time / When I show you what it’s like to be words spit in a mic)

Basically Gylfie’s anger and frustration at being held back in the army, to put it simply. Her father held her back from becoming Judge on the grounds that she wasn’t ready and that she was too emotional, and it wasn’t until Drace and Gabranth took notice of her that she was able to climb up. But, even with their support, she was still belittled and mocked just because she’s a woman, and while she’s long since learned not to let it get to her, it still infuriates her to no end, and she’s determined to prove them all wrong, while showing Drace and Gabranth them sponsoring her was not time wasted.

Last To Fall - STARSET (And the world is cold / But it’s beautiful / I wish you were here now / I miss your soul / But you lost your light / When the darkness called / But I stand here waiting / The last to fall)

This is Gylfie thinking back on Drace and Gabranth, after the events of ffxii, and her slowly coming to terms with them both gone. She misses them both greatly but is doing her best to carry on, especially with her needing to look after Larsa in their stead (and Basch, even, while he disguises himself as his brother), but… things are looking up with Larsa as Emperor, and with Dalmasca restored under Ashelia’s rule. Plus, with the song title itself and the repeating line (The last to fall), it’s perfect given that, out of the three of them, Gylfie is the last to fall, heh.

Liar - The Arcadian Wild (My life’s become this grand game of deception / My mind’s ignored all my heart’s good intentions / We all feel this tension, we all have our own illusions)

This song is fantastic for Gylfie before her disillusionment of the Empire, and even after it, when she’s still relying on deceit to play the game as Judge, and, later, Judge Magister. Her morals are… all over the place and she knows it, but she doesn’t always admit it. She knows she’s not a good person by any means, but she doesn’t believe herself to be a bad person, just… a product of everything that’s happened. She’s not only fooling those around her, but herself as well. (‘Cause I’m not in a right state of mind / I just wish I had the strength to admit it / My stubbornness will put up a fight / But I don’t deserve to win it)

#ooc asks #anonymous #death tw

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deadcactuswalking · 1 year

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REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 29/04/2023 (Nines, The Weeknd/Future, Tyler the Creator/Kali Uchis!)

Content warning: some graphic imagery/violent lyrics, brief mentions of rape + swearing

Calvin Harris and Ellie Goulding retake the #1 – just barely – with “Miracle”, with its third non-consecutive week on top of the UK Singles Chart. Welcome back to REVIEWING THE CHARTS!

Rundown

As always, we start with the notable dropouts, which are songs exiting the UK Top 75 – the region I cover – after five weeks there or a peak in the top 40. This week, we actually have a pretty hefty list of big hits, including “Fly Girl” by FLO featuring Missy Elliott, “Like Crazy” by Jimin (already), “The Kind of Love We Make” by Luke Combs, “Home for My Heart” by ArrDee and Cat Burns, “TRUSTFALL” by P!nk, “Afraid to Feel” by LF SYSTEM, “Riptide” by Vance Joy and finally, “Shivers” by Ed Sheeran which is actually only out due to the three song rule, and since Ed’s new single isn’t latching on, I think it’ll be back next week.

We do have two returning entries, both of which are bottom-feeders: “SLUT ME OUT” by NLE Choppa at #75 and “Make Me” by Borai and Denham Audio at #72. So for what’s actually filling up the gaps we need to look at our debuts – which will come later – and our notable gains, which this week is a short list but it includes “Karma” by Taylor Swift at #57, seemingly being the next single, “Flip a Switch.” by RAYE at #35 thanks to a remix with Coi Leray, “Cupid” by FIFTY FIFTY at #18 and finally making its way into the top 10 is “REACT” at #8, becoming Switch Disco’s first top 10 hit, Ella Henderson’s ninth and the first for the late Robert Miles since 1996, being his third overall.

This week’s top five on the UK Singles Chart is much of the same from last week, with “Calm Down” by Rema at #5, “People” by Libianca at #4, “Wish You the Best” by Lewis Capaldi falling to #3 but still pretty stable as it stays in the top 3, “Daylight” by David Kushner up to #2 (God, I hope this doesn’t stick around but it seems like it will) and of course, “Miracle” at the very top. Now, we have a batch of new arrivals that seems promising, or at least interesting, so let’s get through those.

NEW ARRIVALS

#71 – “Too Many Nights” – Metro Boomin and Future featuring Don Toliver

Produced by Metro Boomin, Honourable C.N.O.T.E. and Allen Ritter

We start our list of new arrivals with a great hip-hop song that has been streaming very well but took a while to get enough to chart... and our first of two this week, with the second being a more extreme example of both quality and time it took to chart. That’s not to say this cut from Heroes & Villains – boosted by its music video – is not worth checking out though as this was always one of my favourites from the album. Don sells the Travis Scott-esque nightclub decadence with a lot of frail uncertainty and desperate lingering as he battles against the wonderfully fuzzy bass which just goes all kinds of hard, as well as the sneaky keys making up the foundation of the beat, not that you can hear them at all outside of occasions with all the muddied, cloudy reverb they drip Don in, adding a lot of atmosphere to the track. The wiry synths in the pre-chorus alongside Don’s very percussive whining vocal make it even sleazier, in a way that really emphasises how he struggles to keep this woman with him considering how terribly he treats her: the manipulation, beating her both out and inside the house (I think he means sex, but he’s absolutely not clear), admitting that he often goes brainless and loses control. The luxury spending and drugs all seem like a way of roping her in, which is only emphasised by the Future verse, which due to the lack of drums and how he’s surrounded by melodramatic strings, feels like the man’s last words. If anything, I’d prefer the song go more in depth but its brief timespan makes perfect sense for the chaos Don causes, so I’d say this passes with flying colours. It’s still not “Walk Em Down (Don’t Kill Civilians)” but I’ll take this as a second hit from the record, it’s pretty great.

#66 – “Dancing is Healing” – Rudimental, Charlotte Plank and Vibe Chemistry

Produced by Rudimental, Vibe Chemistry and Billen Ted

It’s been a while since we saw Rudimental on the charts but thanks to some help from drum and bass outfit Vibe Chemistry and sly co-production from Billen Ted, they’re back with this new single clinging close to the bottom and is it any good? Well, I’m not a big Rudimental fan in the first place but their songs have always had a certain drive and energy to them I can appreciate even if I’m not impressed by any of the melodies or writing on display. I definitely hope that this song carries that drive since Charlotte Plank sounds like any other British dance-pop vocalist, and the writing is generic as all Hell, with the tempo change in the intro being a bit more awkward than I think was intended... so yeah, I’m glad I can forget all of that once it gets to the drum and bass drop, though even then it’s kind of muted, which makes no sense for a song wherein dancing is “heavy on your mind” according to the lyrics. The vocaloid drop is honestly kind of horrendous, it really sounds like it was all assembled in post, which is a shame because Rudimental, whilst again I’ve never been a fan, haven’t ever made a song before this that felt “wrong” or not complete. They’ve always been a pop act over an EDM act for at least as long as they’ve been charting, so this odd transitional track feels like it shouldn’t have really happened. So, yeah, this is just an oddly underwhelming track, which is a damn shame. I think it may be a case of too many cooks in the kitchen, considering the amount of writers and producers this had, which is always a risk to be ran when several production groups collaborate. I hope further singles from the upcoming Rudimental album are better is all I can say.

#62 – “Giving Me” – Jazzy

Produced by Belters Only

We’re giving the person who “sang” that Belters Only song a career seemingly, though for whatever reason, they aren’t credited as lead artists for their production on here – I figured it’d drive a couple more listens, honestly. Regardless, it’s here now, and I’m still not impressed. Her vocals are much better than in “Make Me Feel Good”, mostly because she’s on beat this time around, but she still doesn’t deliver anything that feels all that unique or impressive, especially not when she’s pasted onto a dull future house beat with zero atmosphere outside of an ugly bass synth that just feels cheap as all Hell. I’ll admit that the song is incredibly infectious but mostly as an infectious earworm than a sing-along hook, as the song is mind-numbingly repetitive with no real energy. It’s just a long, draining listen that feels three times long as its runtime states, which may actually be worse than a full-on trainwreck like “Make Me Feel Good”. I really don’t think has nearly enough character to stick around, but I’ve been wrong about EDM hits many a time before so watch this peak at #1 for 10 weeks. And no, for once, I’m not listening to the remixes.

#46 – “Boat” – Ed Sheeran

Produced by Aaron Dessner

“Eyes Closed” was a bit of an ease into the new era from Ed, but it seems that with this single, produced by Aaron Dessner of The National, who conveniently dropped a new album this week, Sheeran is giving us his full indie-folk pivot... right? Well, yeah, it sure is indie folk, with Ed crooning over distant acoustics about resilience, and guiding yourself through life... but it doesn’t do anything for me, which again like Rudimental is more than anything a damn shame since I’ve come to like Ed Sheeran a lot and was excited for a more human, alternative album from him. Yet whilst I appreciate the organic instrumentation which at some times is honestly kind of beautiful, this song needs to resonate with the listener a lot to really work, and to me, I don’t gain much from a motivational ballad like this. The frailty in Ed’s voice when he reassures himself that “the waves won’t break [his] boat” is a pretty striking refrain, showing the real insecurities and uncertainties he has amidst what is essentially a posturing chorus, but it’s not exactly a unique thematic conceit and one good line doesn’t save a sinking ship, no pun intended. I still like the song well enough but I wish it had some better, more personal lyrics, though I know that this will resonate with some people and it’s great that it will. For whoever it needs to help, I think it’ll do a damn good job – I’m just not in the demographic.

#37 – “Alone” – Kim Petras featuring Nicki Minaj

Produced by Dr. Luke and Rocco Did it Again!

This song samples “Better Off Alone” by Alice Deejay, which peaked at #2 in the UK. That song is one of my favourite ever pieces of music. I adore it with all my heart, and have already written about it extensively in my episode about the top 10 best hit songs of 2000. I’m not going to repeat myself here, but I will say that whilst I appreciate any attempt to change the meaning of a song being sampled, turning the transcendent “Better Off Alone”, a song that can bring out the most nuance and complexity – or a lack thereof, and only the basic instinct you feel hearing it – out of the simplest of lyrics and emotions – by all means, a beautiful song that makes me think about how we even consume music – into this basic, slimy song begging for sex, with little in the way of nuance or respect for anyone, produced by a rapist who has poked his way back into the industry through lazy sampling, pisses me off in particular, in a weirdly personal way. I try and let biases not get in the way for sampling because it’s beautiful and brilliant what can be done with the art of those before you... but there’s nothing pretty about this soulless, sleazy garbage. I know – I’m not focusing on the qualities of the song itself. “What about the vocal performance? What about the Nicki verse? What about the beat?” Do I have to if so much of its appeal is based on another song? By invoking that song, they invoke all of the audience’s feelings with that song, which is a great way of reinterpreting or simply reminding you of an older hit but there is a great deal of baggage. And I have a lot of personal attachment to “Better Off Alone”. It’s been sampled well, it can be done – Guapdad 4000 and MC Smallz did it – but this just feels like someone taking my first-born to a stadium and ensuring thousands were packed in the crowds before slitting its throat. Fuck this.

#36 – “See You Again” – Tyler, the Creator featuring Kali Uchis

Produced by Tyler, the Creator

Alright, since we’re being straightforward: this is one of the best love songs of all time. I don’t think I can do it much justice honestly, but it’s a fantastic song about being in love only within a fantasy and longing for that moment of intimacy before you lose the grip on that infatuation, living in that temporary moment of rose-tinted love. Apparently it was originally written for ZAYN... which would have made ZERO sense so I’m glad Tyler kept it for himself and Kali, as their performances help the song out a lot, not that its writing and composition needed it. The recurring “okay” motif keeps that balance between fantasy and reality, and Tyler’s strained falsetto is at its cutest and most naive here. It helps that his chemistry is off the charts with Kali here, who sounds heavenly over the full-feeling production... before we get that manic, obsessed verse from Tyler that adds a needed slice of his classic deep-belted rasp to the song. The playful in-between as Kali wraps around her lackadaisical vocalisations around Tyler’s mantra of “okay, okay” in the outro is a brilliant touch... and I haven’t even touched the instrumentation. The beeping synths act as a reminder of how temporary this do-no-wrong infatuations is amongst all the drizzling strings and brassy horns that struggle for main stage against the momentum-carrying claps, perfectly hitting that sense of uncertainty and urgency that comes with this infatuated stage. The immense bass of the verse sounds unfitting in concept, but combined with the bursts of horns and irking bleep synths, as well as Tyler’s youthful delivery, it sounds like a mind bloated by thoughts and daydreams, and when the bass finally finds itself hitting in that final chorus it is just a transcendent moment. And do I even need to mention the outro, with the military drums and the array of horns coming in at the perfect moment? Kali saying “one more time” as quickly as possible before the final burst of love-addled joy is one of my favourite moments in pop music, and I’m glad that for whatever reason, this song is getting its time in the Sun as it is fantastic... and somehow not even my favourite on Flower Boy, which should show you how incredible that album really is. Knowing what I know about Tyler, I’m sure he’s slightly annoyed that his older stuff is getting the recognition, but I don’t think he can be too mad about one his masterpieces finding a second wind.

#21 – “Twust” – HStikkytokky and General G

Produced by ???

In contrast, this is a song with a title in uWu speak by a guy who calls himself “HStikkytokky” – a name I think I’d consider if I were to name my worst enemy’s child – who doesn’t credit his producer. Surely, I don’t need to pretend that this is an actual song, right? Right? Welp, now that this is covered... this is Bad Boy Chiller Crew for people who are scared by the insinuation that they are “bad boys”. This is hip house for middle-class racists. Andrew Tate had better flows in his club-rap tracks, and somehow less misogyny than HStikkytokky, who essentially stole the Andrew Tate flow anyway. General G raps like the Louis Theroux novelty Auto-Tune remix is the only rap song he’s ever heard, and his Auto-Tune would make T-Pain consider if life was really worth living. This song is useless to me, you, and the people making it. Let’s move on.

#14 – “Double Fantasy” – The Weeknd featuring Future

Produced by The Weeknd, MIKE DEAN and Metro Boomin

It’s doubly weird to me that this week, a lead single from The Weeknd is not the highest debut, and we also get two Future-Metro collaborations debut at near the lowest and highest reaches of the chart. Regardless, this isn’t really that big of a deal: this is a soundtrack cut from The Weeknd’s HBO series THE IDOL. The song, by all means a bit of a throwaway, actually has a similar conceit to “Too Many Nights”: maintaining a relationship based on luxury and materialism rather than emotional connection or even moral standards, with the John Lennon and Yoko Ono reference seeming more questionable the more I look into it. I say that it’s not a big deal and it’s a throwaway not to downplay the single or its success but more so to temper expectations: it feels like whenever a really big A-lister who gets both critical and commercial acclaim drops something that doesn’t wow people, a bunch of fans come out the woodworks and say it’s underwhelming or express concerns about the career or even the quality of their music... when I don’t think they realise that consistency of quality is more important here, and The Weeknd is still bringing his A-game – alongside his great producers, MIKE DEAN and of course, Metro – to even his soundtrack singles. The warm sax cuts softly through the harsher, cold 80s synths that dress the track up in sleaziness but also a rich wealth that Abel furthers through his crooning. I adore the melody in the pre-chorus, which seems like it’s going to immediately end up in my head for the next year, and I love how it’s intertwined into the chorus – the two can’t exist without each other: it’s not just hooks on hooks; the song is composed to perfection. With that said, I do have some gripes: I expected Metro to bring out the Atlanta bass percussion but it and the bass feel like they’re interrupting the track a bit and culling its momentum. I’d prefer if they only came in for Future’s verse to give his liquid voice something more percussive to work off of. The looming 808s in the chorus are good but I’d prefer for them to rise and envelope the mix more. I’m also not too big on the weird baby vocal? I don’t really know why Abel put that there – and yes, I’m saying it’s Abel’s idea because come on, DEAN and Metro are beyond that, this has to be some weird artistic vision going on. Regardless of those gripes, the way the bassy percussion rattles is perfect for the nightclub setting, especially due to the addition of some video game sound effects within the groove in the chorus, and Abel’s performance is smooth as butter as always. And Future is Future: he’s toxic, he’s catchy, he’s effortless – I wish there were some ad-libs or extra production on his vocals just so he blended in further, but again, it’s a soundtrack cut. It’s not perfect, but there is a lot of quality here: the claps in the final pre-chorus and Future’s verse rake up the tension a lot, and the clash of ideas in this relationship is executed pretty well. It must be proof to the fact that Abel keeps his fans too well-fed that anyone could be complaining about this, honestly.

#11 – “Tony Soprano 2” – Nines

Produced by Swifta and Benji Miller

I completely forgot Nines existed, but he’s a UK rapper who had a surprise smash hit with this track and, uh... okay, so he released a song in 2018 called “Tony Soprano” which has a pretty cheap-sounding trap beat and monotone delivery. Why it needed a sequel I had no idea, but apparently the people were just raring to hear this second instalment. The song starts with a clip about a guy needing those “Nines double entendres” and “Nines metaphors” so it’s assumed that’s what he’ll provide, right? So where are they? I hear some basic flexing, and awfully corny punchlines about alphabet spaghetti and rap being secondary “like February”, delivered with as much effort and excitement as... actually, interrupting my simile, let’s point that out: it’s a simile. If you say “like” or “as”, it’s not a metaphor, it’s a simile. Every one of Nines’ “metaphors” is a simile. He has no neck LIKE he’s playing Rayman. He’s driving through the other side LIKE it was Sesame Street. This sounds like nit-picking but what else am I supposed to say? He doesn’t care, he sounds half-asleep and anything he raps feels less like a clever lyric than just a random cultural reference tacked onto flexing and gang talk over an icy trap beat. If Nines really put effort into this verse, then I feel sorry for the guy at the beginning. I wonder if he’s disappointed.

Conclusion

Other than a few gems, this really wasn’t that impressive of a week, but it should be painfully obvious where both extremes go. Best of the Week goes to Tyler, the Creator and Kali Uchis for “See You Again” and Worst of the Week goes to Dr. Luke more than anyone for “Alone”. The others are a bit tougher, with the Honourable Mention essentially split between two Future-Metro Boomin collaborations, though I think “Too Many Nights” with Don Toliver just slightly edges out “Double Fantasy”, which is of course still worth a listen. I’ll always stand that sheer incompetence is at least some entertainment factor and being dull is the real sin, so the Dishonourable Mention goes to my old friends over at Belters Only for “Giving Me” with Jazzy. As for next week, I honestly have no idea how much of this will actually last, like all of these debuts feel particularly temporary, regardless of if I like them or not. For now, thanks for reading and I’ll see you next week!

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