#These two instruments are so complementary to each other!

[softservesoymilk]

Inigo loves Archie so much it kills him inside :’)

[taintandviolent]

deflowering ; James March x virgin!Reader

{requested by anonymous} summary: 7k words! after a little dancing, more than a little champagne, you decide to take James March up on his offer of going up to one of the new rooms of the Hotel Cortez, to break them in, as it were. Little does he know, he's about to break you in, too. w a r n i n g s: virgin!reader (adult), mentions of alcohol, rough sex, explicit descriptions, canon divergence, rough sex, thigh riding, cunnilingus, blowjobs, aggression, use of 'daddy', dom themes.

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / ♪ recommended playlist here! ♪

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @redwoodghost / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @kaissweetlamb / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @evansb1tch / @enchanting-evan / @petersevans / @yesdevineruler / @enchanting-evan / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake/ @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @evanpetersfansblog / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @nova-kayne67 / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny

It was the twenty-third of August, 1926, and you had just finished your second glass of champagne in the Hotel Cortez. Usually, you never drank this much, but it was a celebration after all. Some fellow named James Patrick March had finally completed the arduous construction of his new hotel and tonight was the opening night. Crowds had flocked to the entrance, dressed to the nines and all eagerly craning their necks for a peek at the glamorous inside. Those who weren’t explicitly invited were turned away by the doorman in his starched uniform.

You, of course — you’d been invited by your friend’s friend’s friend and when you showed up in a beaded, green dress and the mink stole your mother had given you four birthdays ago, you waltzed right through those doors without a single question. You looked like you belonged here as much as the group of actresses that walked in before you. The moment you entered, the hotel stole a gasp from your lips, dazzling you with its prestige and innovation.

It had been toted as “an overly ambitious project” and you could certainly attest to that. Mr. March, whomever he was, had written a particular aesthetic into the design of his hotel and from the hexagonal patterned carpets to the ornately panelled gold walls, everything fit the opulent theme. The Blue Parrot Lounge was a name you’d heard whispered several times, waiters coming down the curved staircases with trays full of delicate champagne flutes. You learned shortly after that the bar was on the second floor and overlooked the entire hotel lobby.

But downstairs in that lobby, a band was set up, their instruments exhaling the liveliest melody you’d heard in ages. Easily, they persuaded the masses to kick their heels up. The grand chandelier above your head twinkled like your own personal galaxy, shimmering every time you moved. In fact, everything twinkled. You felt ebullient, as light as a cloud, and didn’t have a care in the world.

There had been a brief pause where Mr. March welcomed everyone to his Hotel in his dangerously cordial way, making a show of popping champagne. Everyone applauded, congratulated and then quickly dispersed, eager to return to the complementary libations. You’d eagerly taken to the dance floor and quickly found a partner in a jazzy white suit. He had blonde hair, sharp, chiseled features and deep green eyes - handsome enough. You two paired alright, enjoying each other’s lively moves.

He’d clearly been drinking more than you, judging by the way he slurred his compliments to you, dabbing nervously at the sheen of sweat that decorated his forehead. After an hour or so of dancing, your feet were sore and your curious nature had wrapped its tendrils around your throat, ordering you to investigate the rest of the hotel.

A server held another glittering tray of champagne high above everyone’s heads, and you snatched one as he passed you, hurriedly bringing it to your mouth. The effervescent liquid tickled the bow of your lips, the tiny bubbles popping as you sucked in a delicate mouthful. You dabbed at the corner of your mouth with your middle finger, trying not to gulp too loud.

As the song changed, the band racing into another upbeat melody, you swung your shoulder around, prepared to sink deeper into the hallways. Instead, you nearly collided with a broad shoulder. “Oooh! ‘Pardon me!”

“Mm.”

You recognised him right away. In the wicked and honest parts of your brain, you were thrilled that, of all people, you’d bumped into him. During his speech, all the women were staring with illicit gazes and hungry tongues. You’d mapped the direction of their eyes as they scanned along his face, and down his body as they openly and dissolutely lusted after him. The audible whispers that scattered the room when he cracked open the champagne, allowing the fizzy stream to spray into his mouth would’ve been laughable if you hadn’t been one of the whisperers.

He seemed slightly less personable now, almost curt in nature. Something about the dismissive way he’d flashed his brows at you as if he was annoyed sparked a fire in your curiosity. He was too handsome to let slip through your fingers, and surely, there must be a reason for his clipped response. You gulped down a mouthful and cleared your throat.

“Say, aren’t you Mr. March?” You asked coyly, knowing full well who he was.

He stopped then, like he’d been challenged to a duel, and with a slight bow, turned gracefully on his toes. To him, it was a challenge. You hadn’t run off with your tail between your legs, offended by his sternness, and that was a challenge for conversation, for flirtations and perhaps… indulging himself.

“Indeed I am. Enjoying yourself?” He eyed the half-empty glass in your tiny little hand, taking note that it clearly wasn’t your first.

“Oh, very much so. This is a ssswell party, Mr. March.”

“Splendid! And please,” He took your hand in his, pressing his lips against your knuckles. “Call me James.”

You cooed in acknowledgment, watching him from the rim of your glass. He lingered for a little too long and you would’ve bet your last penny that you saw his nostrils flare slightly as he inhaled a deep breath of your scent. After a moment, James straightened up, keeping a firm grip on your hand.

He had indeed; you were sweet, like a delicate pastry with the slightest hint of fruitiness underneath. There were notes of a perfume, floral, something moderately expensive — surely, something you’d saved up all your pocket change for. The way your eyes glimmered awoke a deep hunger within his core. He’d play with this.

“Tell me, my dear. Can you dance?” He asked.

The moment you said you could, he’d wrapped your slender arm around his forearm, holding onto it tightly as he towed you back towards the dance floor. Thank god your mother had insisted you learn how to dance properly. And thank heavens your friend, whom Mother detested, taught you how to dance improperly. Mother had always said these new trend dances were for immoral and loose women, but when James March insisted you dance the Charleston with him, you’d never been gladder for immorality in your life.

Keeping a tight hold on your hand, he swung you out into the clearing. With his fee hand, he made a quick gesture to the band. They responded by starting up the familiar melody, and James stepped to your side, lifting his brows in a silent confirmation that you were as ready as you looked. You gave him a short nod, and you both took one step backwards, beginning the shuffling motions.

His feet moved quick to the rhythm; behind and in front of each other, his heels kicking out to the side. All things considered, you made a worthy partner, keeping up with his lively, bobbing movements. Your hands were at your waist, fingers splayed out, swishing from side to side. You both leaned forward in unison and sent your right heels up into the air. The moment you straightened up again was when you realised that a small crowd had gathered in the lobby of the Hotel Cortez and all of their eyes were on the two of you. Everyone was watching as you two masterfully stepped the Charleston and you felt like a celebrity, a performer with the most handsome partner.

There was one woman in particular, a gorgeous brunette gal, who looked on with narrowed eyes. James stepped in front of your line of sight, flashing a villainously personable smile, and spun you back to his side. Though he wouldn’t dare voice it, the beginning twitches of an erection had his cock stirring in his pants. You were delectable and lively, something he’d take great pleasure in snatching away from you. All the more arousing that she hasn’t the slightest clue….

As the song ended, you couldn’t help but dissolve into a fit of giddy laughter, falling backwards into his chest. You couldn’t be sure, but as his arms enclosed around you, you thought you heard a syrupy laugh deep in his throat. Both of you were tuckered out, chests heaving, a misting of sweat covering your décolleté and his forehead. After a moment in his strong arms — ooooh, his arms — he brought a handkerchief from a pocket, dabbing his forehead gently. Modest applause peppered the crowd, along with a few glad compliments.

“I don’t mean offence by this, but…” You swallowed, wetting your throat. “I didn’t think you could dance like that!”

“I’m full of surprises.” He answered.

James swooped around you, circling you predatorily. His fingers ghosted over the back of your neck, sending a convulsive shiver down your spine.

You two locked eyes then, staring wordlessly. Both of you unable to ignore the need, the pulling draw, the hunger to touch each other. It was the sort of gaze that started rumours. His tongue scraped along the roof of his mouth, longing to taste the churning arousal between your legs. He knew it was there, told plainly by the way you fiddled with the hem of your neckline, nervously, trying to placate your own licentious thoughts.

“Beautiful hotel, really.” You finally whispered.

“Allow me to show you the best room in the house.” His eyes flashed to yours, sensing the apprehension. You rolled your shoulders inward, prepped to decline as politely as you could.

“Oh now, now… no need to be shy. I’m a gentleman first and foremost.”

“I don’t know if your lady friend will enjoy that…” You retorted.

“You are the only lady in my company.” He assured.

You gazed behind him one more time and met eyes with her — an action you’d immediately regretted. Her gaze was as comforting as a jail cell, and her full lips were pulled into a tight, frustrated line that held back a myriad of hatred. You opened your mouth to speak, but a forefinger was pressed hurriedly into your cupids bow, shushing you quickly. He looked down at you, brows furrowed in disapproval.

“Now, now. Shh. I’d hate to have to cut out your tongue, my dear. I had plans for it later.”

Your brows pulled together, eyes displaying nothing but sheer confusion. What on Earth did he mean by that? Either of those things? You were too afraid to broach the question, partly in fear that the answer would’ve frightened you, or worse, aroused you.

As though he read your mind, heard your innermost thoughts, he added quickly: “If you want to find out what… well, you’ll have to follow me first, my dear. Shall you?”

He extended his hand to you, palm up.

Against your better judgement and without thinking a second more about the repercussions, you took it and managed to squeak: “To the moon, James.”

When you glanced over his shoulder a final time, that woman watched you as he led you away, that tumultuous anger burning in her eyes. Something about her piercing gaze sent a shiver down your spine. She looked innocent enough, but underneath the done-up exterior, there was a cruelness, a hostility that you wanted nothing to do with. You hurried your steps, pinning yourself closer to James.

The journey took longer than you expected as every few moments, he was stopped by a hotel guest and congratulated. Everyone from stuffy elderly couples to actors you recognised from pictures all wanted to shake hands with the man that had created “the hotel of the century”. You hung on his arm, politely silent, offering agreeing nods and kind smiles when they’d look at you. They must’ve assumed, of course, that you two were an item, and for that brief, fleeting moment, you were thrilled by the idea.

Once he’d pushed open the door, allowing room for you to walk in, you realised that the room he’d led you into was the room he’d cracked the champagne in — except it had been expertly cleaned within a few hours. There were no crowds, no remnants, no sounds aside from a pair of breaths; yours and his. Although, if you listened hard enough, you thought you heard the dull, muted music from below. It sounded hazy and slower up here in this room.

The lock clicked into place and James had you in his arms, his face buried in your neck, his pencil-thin moustache tickling the sensitive flesh under your jaw. He whispered seductive words of veneration into the nape of your neck, praising your appearance between breaths and tastes of your salty flesh.

“Forgive my eagerness,” he whispered into your ear, before nipping at your skin. “I find you… irresistible.”

Delighted by the sensations, your lids fluttered. You extended your neck to him, allowing more. He kissed your neck over and over again and began sucking too hard in certain spots. You let out the tiniest little hums of discomfort, trying to stretch away from him then. However, somewhere deep in your core, you craved that pain, the burn of his suckling kisses.

“I want you to kiss me.” He declared, finally pulling away to gaze upon your face, like he was studying it. “Kiss me, but don’t hold back. I want to feel your passion.”

You nodded quickly, feigning all the courage in the world. Nervous? Who, me? Never! Your lips clashed together as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself as close to him as you could. His mouth parted, allowing his tongue out to swirl around yours, and you could taste the champagne that lingered on it like a fading memory. He deepened the kiss, moving further into your mouth and all you could do was moan into his. Silly girl, he must’ve thought.

His hand left your side, trailing further down. With a cruel tug, James yanked your stocking from its front clip, tearing a generous hole in the nylon, then repeated the process with the other. You broke the kiss to watch this fiery display of arousal in awe, feeling a new, unfamiliar fire in your stomach. You’d been aroused before — hell, even pleasured yourself shyly under the sheets… but the hunger. The hunger that clawed at your insides with reckless abandon was speaking in a foreign tongue… but it was one that you wanted to translate into physicality.

“Oooh, easy tiger…”

His fingers splayed out over your now bare thighs, exploring the smooth skin ravenously. As he neared your centre slit, he snarled in response — whether intentionally responding to the animalistic nickname you’d given him, or because he’d felt the slippery nectar dripping from between your legs, you couldn’t know. You thought it might be the latter. You hoped it was.

Abruptly, he pulled away, leaving you to wobble forward with want. He made a beeline to the nearby alcohol cart that had been arranged near the door and poured amber liquid into one of the glasses and golden champagne into another. He brought the darker coloured one to his lips.

“Mmm…” He growled as he swallowed, locking eyes with you, walking confidently towards the nearby chair. Though his head was turned away from his destination, he didn’t stumble, just gracefully sunk down into the chaise lounge without spilling a drop of his precious liquor.

You were in awe of this man’s finesse, of his charm, and the adoration for him displayed all over your cheeks. You didn’t need to bring out your compact to know that the flush had travelled down your neck, and your pretty little doe-eyes were as wide as saucers. He set the glass of champagne down on a nearby end table, presumably where it would stay until you reached for it.

“What’s underneath that ravishing dress, hm?” He asked. You gathered your lips to one side in a coy expression.

“Let’s see,” you tittered. "My bra and my knickers. And…. A pair of torn stockings and shoes, if you’re a specifics kinda’ guy…” You knew he was.

He waited.

You raised your brows, cocking your head to the side in affirmation — that was all. You were a woman of style after all. In this outfit? You wouldn’t be caught dead in a corset or a slip. Besides, corsets were for stuffy old broads nowadays. Everyone was wearing bras.

“Take it all off. Everything but the dress.”

Surely, the dress would be the first thing to go? It was an odd request, even for your virgin experience. You’d heard stories of men and their covetous desires. The idea of keeping the biggest article of clothing on seemed unorthodox, but you weren’t about to question his demands.

Obediently, you bent down and undid the buckles of your shoes, stepping out of them carefully. With a shy bat of your lashes, you turned away from him, shimmying and shrugging out of the straps of your dress until they fell into the crooks of your arms. Reaching around behind your back, you unlatched the satin bra, letting your supple breasts spring free of the compression.

Your heart pounded as you bent down again to slide the satin underwear over the curve of your ass and down your equally satiny thighs, giving the man behind you the tiniest previews of what was to come. Facing him again, you held your dress at your chest, carefully sliding the straps back up your arms one by one.

With a drink in one hand, the other stretched over the back of the loveseat and a delightedly smug expression, James watched your undergarments fall to the floor piece by piece. His cock throbbed in his pants, the thick fabric doing a damned good job at keeping the beast at bay. Free of everything, your dress hung a little different now, and his black eyes were aflame with the realisation. You swayed back and forth, the strands of sequins brushing lightly against your thighs.

As you bent down one final time, reaching for the nylons, came his voice. “Leave those.”

After a small sip, he pat his thigh twice with his free hand; the sound of his palm snapping against the taut fabric atop his thigh echoed in the room. For a brief, insecure second, you were frozen. A deer in the headlights. Except the headlights weren’t headlights, they were the eyes of the hungriest tiger you’d ever seen and you’d already succumbed to your fate the moment he locked the door.

“Come to daddy.”

You shuddered in response, your tummy doing backflips like an acrobat in a circus act. His words held such command and purpose, you had no choice but to saunter over to him, swaying your hips a little more than you usually did. He seemed to enjoy that; a tiny smirk played out over his mouth.You pressed your knees against his, struggling to not come undone at the contact. With a deep breath, you manoeuvred yourself in between his parted legs.

“Good…” He replied. “Atop my thigh, my pet.”

With your flesh turning a deep shade of red, you walked over his thigh, resting one knee on the edge of the cushion. You felt the air on your cunt, the chill of the room touching the wetness and making it tingle. You looked down at his groin. The fabric was pulled taut. You could make out the faintest outline of a swelling cock underneath —

You snapped your attention back to him, embarrassed. He downed the rest of his drink, set it carelessly on the table next to your still-full champagne and lifted his hand to your legs. The pad of his middle finger caressed the back of your knee, sending a shockwave through your entire body. No man had ever touched you like that, the sensation was erotic and overwhelming to your core. Inch by inch, his fingers trailed higher.

You reached for the champagne, and despite the sting in your nose, you downed the entire glass, setting it back on the small table.

“Lower.” He commanded, amused.

You obeyed, bending your knees.

“Lower.” He repeated.

He’d lined it up perfectly; James pressed that same finger into your slit as you lowered, wiggling it further in, then flicking it up to your clit. You let out a shrill mewl. Your knees nearly buckled as he circled the bundle of nerves, bringing the sensitivity higher. You squeezed your eyes shut as hot, salty tears bit at the corners. Your muscles had begun to quiver, overwhelmed by the strain of hovering over his thigh. His skilful fingers manipulated your cunt, simply playing with your wetness.

James abruptly yanked you all the way down, forcing you into a straddle. Your cunt was spread, pressed tight against his thigh and you needed no instruction on what to do next.

“Ooooh,” he growled, watching your hips as they ground your weeping cunt against the expensive fabric of his suit pants. “Good girl. Your desire is intoxicating… show me how much you want me…. yes.”

James chuckled, knowingly. Despite your best effort in trying to suppress your moans, he saw through the act. The skin of your neck had flushed red. Your soft jaw hung slack, tiny little moans floating out every time he touched you. Your sweet little eyes rolled back into your head every time he so much as flexed his thigh muscle. He knew the effect he had on you. Every slight movement from him ground against your cunt, sending shuddering waves of heat into your core.

“I said,” he started, gripping your jaw hard between his thumb and pointer finger. “Show me how much you want it, my dear.”

You winced, but allowed instinct to kick in. You began bobbing up and down on his thigh, whimpering as the wet spot on the fabric spread. The slick glistened on the fibres as you ground back and forth. Eventually, the friction of dry against wet lessened, and you found a rhythm, bouncing. His leg bumped into your sensitive, aching clit over and over again.

As you rode his thigh, James gripped your dress at the shoulders, kissing up along the curves of your arm. There was a warmth on your skin, a tugging, though you were too deep in the sensations to pull away. A cacophony of ticking began; tiny beads scattered across the floor, bouncing and dancing into crevices where they’d never be found again.

When you finally glanced down, a look of shock painted across your features. Your dress had been ripped at the seams, the delicately beaded fabric now hanging limply at your hips in a mass. James looked on, adoringly, his hungry, inky eyes dancing over your exposed breasts, and the way your nipples had hardened in the slightly colder air.

“What’s wrong, my dear? Are you frightened?” He asked. The lilt in his question was too revealing, but alas, who was he to deny the delicious aroma of fear?

“Who me?” You laughed breathily, like a fool. Sweat pooled in the hollows of your collarbone. No time like the present, you thought. You’d reached the point of no return, and surely if you didn’t say something now, he’d find out when he took you. “Oh, no, it’s just that… I’ve never been with a man is all.”

The realisation swept across his face, the expression telling all the tales of how he felt about being the first man to have a woman. “Aaahhh…. And do you…. wish to be…?”

“With you?” You swatted the air dismissively. “More than anything.”

“Brave. Brave girl.” With that, he scooped you up in his strong arms, and got up from the chair. You wrapped your legs around his torso as he carried you effortlessly to the table. The journey was short, and before you knew it, your bare back was laid on cool wood. Your legs hung off the edge, and with one strong yank, James pulled the tattered dress from your hips, tossing it heedlessly behind him.

“Knees up — heels on the table.” He then ordered, sternly. Pulling your knees towards your chest, you adjusted yourself on the table and swallowed hard, feeling vulnerable. Short of hearing the snap of latex gloves, you were left feeling like you were about to be examined by a doctor.

James disappeared from your view then, sinking down below the edge of the table. With nothing to look at, you gazed up at the ceiling with wide eyes, anticipating the next move. When it came, you let out a yelp, your legs closing on either side of his head. James had pressed his lips against her, peppering little kisses against your centre, and after a moment or two of that, opened his mouth to slip his tongue deliberately along the folds. The sensation of his tongue darting out to taste you was enough to send you to the moon, but he continued, delving further into you. Your legs opened again, exposing more of your aching cunt to him.

You felt his nose press into the mound of flesh as he flattened his tongue on your clit, lapping at it hungrily. Your body responded by squirming, a desperate whimper pouring from your throat. His hands were suddenly on your pillowy thighs, holding you tight where you were. With a vibrating groan, his tongue abruptly changed techniques; he began flicking the tip of his tongue into the underside of your clit. Your moans - though they were teetering on the edge of screams — bounced off the walls of the empty room.

In a delirium of ecstasy, you’d gripped the hair at the crown of his head, pulling it hard. He grunted into your pussy, sending vibrations deep into your core. His hand came down on the side of your ass with a resounding slap. You shuddered violently, your sopping cunt clenching tight against his chin, wetting it as your first orgasm came in sudden waves. James slipped his tongue deep inside of your entrance, feeling the pulses as they gradually subsided. Before pulling away to look at the flower in front of him, and what he’d done to it, he let out a throaty, pleased growl. A small puddle had formed on the table, your slick arousal leaking from the hole like sweet nectar dripped from the centre of a fruit.

“Ahhh…” he exhaled. “Divine.”

His eyes darting to the side, James made a mental note to have Miss Evers re-polish the table. After this, it would certainly need it.

The way he gazed upon you, seemingly satisfied with just how wet you were drove your head into the table with a thunk. You arched your back with a whimper, somehow still unsatisfied. From the side, came his voice. “Use your words, my darling.”

Your eyes snapped open, startled that you hadn’t heard him move around. You swallowed, looking up at him piteously. For a moment you dug deep into your own mind, battling with coherency to find the correct words. And, disappointingly, all you could muster was: “I… want more.”

“Yes….. yes, you do.”

Gently, with two fingers, James pulled your jaw towards him, moving your head so that your cheek laid against the table. There was a certain predatory nature in his gaze as he looked at you. “Open up,” he demanded, his thumb prodding your lips. “That’s my girl…”

He smeared his thumb along your warm, strong tongue, depressing it and feeling around the rest of your mouth. He glided over your smooth teeth, digging the fleshy pad into the decently sharp points of your incisors.

“Don’t bite me… too hard.”

With that, he began unbuckling his trousers with one hand, sliding the belt from its loop. You watched intently as this handsome, charming stranger handled himself; taking himself out his undergarments and his trousers, roughly adjusting his cock so that it was free for your devouring. He closed his hand along the length, pumping it several times. A generous droplet of precum leaked from the red, sweating tip and before it had time to string away, he guided his cock to your mouth.

He smeared your lips over the head, coating it in his own dripping seed. His hips then bucked the length into your mouth, bringing a whimpering gag from deep within your throat. Gentle, he thought. With the way your mouth eagerly worked him, doing your best to suck and lap at his aching cock, that thought was whisked away seconds later.

Wet sounds filled the room as James fucked your pretty little mouth, your lipstick smearing waxy, blood-coloured streaks on the shaft of his cock. In your peripheral, it was quite a gruesome sight, but he seemed to enjoy it, tilting his head to watch.

You closed your lips around the tip as it slid out, letting your tongue flatten on the underside of it. You felt every throbbing vein, but every time your tongue or lips grazed that one, the protruding one, James making sounds that you’d only ever dreamed of hearing a man make. It was a breathy, higher pitched moan, or a choking gasp, and each time he did, the corners of your lips curled up into a smile, delighted with eroticism. You pressed your tongue hard into it, sliding it up and down. From this angle, you realised, you couldn’t do much else… but perhaps that’s how he’d wanted it.

You remembered his previous mention of biting, so thinking that it was something he favoured, you began toying with his sensitivity by grading your teeth along his shaft. He hissed, ceasing his thrusts to crane his neck back, revelling in the amalgam of pain and pleasure.

“Harder,” he demanded.

You furrowed your brows in concern, daunted by the new territory that lay ahead. You closed your mouth a little more, the ridges of your teeth gently clamping down on his swollen cock. Suddenly, James gripped your face hard, squeezing your cheeks together like a fish. You winced as he leaned forward to hiss in your open mouth, his demeanour suddenly callous and dreadful. “I said not too hard.”

He released it sharply as you did, and punishingly bucked his hips into your wanting mouth. His thrusts were quick, and marvelled at the tiny, pathetic gags that broke from your throat every time he hit the back of it. You were so delicate, but so… willing.

Suddenly, he pulled his cock from your lips with a sick, filthy slurping sound, and holding it in his right hand, moved back to the head of the table. His breaths were ragged, hungry. You blinked away the tears that had accumulated.

“You nearly ruined my makeup…” You whispered, wiping the slimy collection of drool and precum from your chin.

“I’ll do more than that.” Gripping you at the knees, James yanked you down the table’s length, your ass slipping easily against the polished wood.

Briefly, you felt the velvety hot tip of his cock teasing your cunt. He slid it between your wet folds, exhaling loudly at the slickness that greeted him. He teased you with a thrust of his hips, the tip of his head slipping slightly. You whined as he pulled away.

“What did I say about words?”

Like a toddler throwing a tantrum, you moaned shakily, gritting your teeth. “Don’t do that…”

“Do what?”

“Tease me…”

“Oh, but it’s fun. I’ll do so until you beg for it.”

“PLEASE!” You howled a moment later, taking fistfuls of his shirt and yanking him closer. You wiggled your hips at his groin, your cunt trying to find his cock desperately. You writhed around like a cat in heat, whimpering and leaking more cum onto his expensive mahogany table. In one of your hip sways, the hot tip brushed past your entrance, leaving a springy line of pre-cum in its path. In response, you rocked your hips against his, trying to pull him in further. The sensation had you gasping, rolling your head from side to side. “Please, please, please, I simply mu—

Your screams faded away into the back of his mind, dull and muted like they came from behind a brick wall. James watched your lewd, begging performance with a bemused smirk, chuckling through closed lips. Every anguished whimper, every desperate plea that his lack of action brought forward from your lips seemed to send you closer to the edge of madness. He enjoyed that. Too much, perhaps.

He reached up, running a single finger down the side of your neck, pausing to feel your pulse throbbing away beneath the skin. Such liveliness, such… James swallowed, suppressing the dark sludgy desire that clawed at his insides. His urges had been worse and worse lately, and now with the hotel open… Not now… not with her.

“What do I need to say?”

“Nothing more.” James took hold of his cock, stroking his fingers over the tip, dragging the slickness along his shaft. He exhaled, lining himself up. At first, James popped only the tip in and out, playing with his food. Each thrust, he slipped a little farther in. Out of the kindness of his heart, James was gradually getting you used to the feeling of fullness, but once he felt your slick walls, he grit his teeth. He had told you that he was a gentleman first and foremost, but… such is life. He swiftly sank his hard length into you with little friction. You were soaked and all it took was one determined thrust.

For a moment, you felt nothing but a searing pain as the thickness of his cock stretched your cunt wide open. Tears welled in your eyes, a cry bouncing against your rolled lips. The stinging was replaced with a dull ache, and finally, a warmth.

“My, my…” He admired. “Taking it so well already.”

You nodded feebly, doing your best to muster a smile amidst your punishing euphoria. Had you not been as wet as you were, it would’ve been excruciating. And when he started pounding, it almost was.

James must’ve sensed your discomfort because he brought his hand to your pussy, his thumb circling your clit. Mercilessly. You cried out like a wounded animal and that seemed to only drive him to continue, stroking his finger down length of your pussy before returning his attention back to the bundle of nerves. Your hips swayed back and forth on the table, desperately trying to get away from the pressure that was blossoming deep within your cunt, just above your bladder. It felt like a tangled mess of fire, and your whole centre was aflame.

You shakily lifted your head, watching as his pelvis smashed into yours, over and over again, his cock slipping easily from your aching, drenched cunt. Your hands climbed his torso. You fiddled with the buttons until his shirt hung open lifelessly, like two ghosts on either side of his body. He moaned as your fingertips explored his stomach, his ribcage, and then curled around the small of his back, forcing their way up underneath the restraint of his clothes. You felt uneven skin, the way that flesh raised once it had healed over deep lacerations.

James suddenly picked up speed, drilling into you harder and that released something in you. You felt devious, immoral, and wanted to howl like a banshee. In fact, you did. You let out a shrill, dirty moan, the kind you heard coming from those brothels as you passed them by. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes before streaming down your temples, disappearing into the hair that laid on the table. Your fingers flexed, nails digging into his back and leaving crescent-moon shaped indentations amongst his scars. Feeling your clenching, he growled and lolled his head back in ecstasy.

You pulled your leg up, pressing your nylon-covered toe against his jawline and gave it a little push.

You heard his breath hitch.

You pushed harder, craning his neck off to the side. His moan said more than any words could’ve. With a devious smirk, you drug your toe down the length of his throat, pressing hard into his windpipe.

James jerked his hips harder and harder until you felt his cock twitch inside you, hot and angry, the first spurt of his orgasm planted deep inside you. He then backed his hips out slightly, just enough for the thick ropes of cum to cover your cunt. His cock bumped into your clit with tiny thrusts, forcing every last milky drop onto you. James straightened up, clenching his fists tightly.

“Ravished. Deflowered. Desecrated!” His words echoed loudly off the walls.

His arms came down with a loud thud on either side of your head, his shirt acting as blinders. There was nothing else in that moment; just you and him and the way he’d claimed you, taken every ounce of innocence you had left.

His hands traced along your collarbone, up the sides of your neck. The black thoughts wormed into his brain, screaming for sating attention. Which weapon would he use? Where he'd cut first - an artery? Arterial blood was always so… satisfying. Would her screams be as such? The final moment, the look in her eye? Perhaps, he could hear those desperate, soprano shrieks if he just…

Thunk-thunk-thunk.

Your lids peeled open, one by one. The blazing light that filtered in through the crack in the deep red curtains burned. You hardly remembered being in a hotel room… alone, and the hotel room you remembered wasn’t the one you were in now. This one looked more or less like any new hotel room that you could’t afford. Moving yourself into an upright position, you let out a depressed bleat… the headache. How much champagne did you have last night? You couldn’t remember.

Sleepily rubbing your eyes, you stumbled towards the door. “Just a minute!”

You were completely nude. That wouldn’t do to answer the door in. Panicked, you looked around the empty hotel room, considering the bed sheets for a moment. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a Praising the gods for the robe that had been hung on a hook by the door as you slipped your arms into it and hurriedly tied it round your waist. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the framed photo near the door; your hair was a wreck, makeup smeared, and there were the faintest whispers of new bruises along your collarbone and neck.

The doorway was empty, as was the hallway.

Except for the box at the floor.

Despite giving a complete stranger your virginity last night, you had more sense than to bend down and open a foreign box. Clutching the robe at your chest, you began gingerly prying open the edge of it with your foot, wiggling your big toe underneath the fine cardboard until the lid popped off.

Inside, carefully arranged and wrapped in delicate pink tissue paper, laid a dress; a dress that was terribly similar to your own, but considerably more expensive. Atop it, a package of fine silk nylons. And atop those, in exquisitely elegant penmanship, a handwritten note lay. It read:

Thank you for a splendid evening, my dear. My deepest apologies about your dress — please accept this as a replacement. As for the flowers, it only seemed fair, considering the circumstances.

xoxo James P. March

You picked the box up, again checking the hallway to see if the deliverer was there. Still, empty. With a sigh, you shut the door, leaning against it. As you leaned there, holding the box in your arms, the corner of it digging into the middle of your neck, you winced at a sudden pang of soreness.

Your eyes drifted to the clock on the nightstand. “Nearly noon!? Oh, RATS!”

You pushed yourself off the door and changed hurriedly, throwing the robe off your shoulders and onto the floor. Mother! Mother would be furious and nothing was more terrifying than her rage. You’d rather be chopped up and filleted than have to deal with Mother’s anger, even as an adult. You pulled the nylons up as far as they could go without clips, and snatched the mink stole off the bed.

You threw open the heavy door and turned to your left, hoping for the best. You began running as quickly as you could down the lengthy hallway, barefoot. The straps of your shoes were hooked around your middle finger. With no markers, and no indication of where you were going, anxiety climbed your throat. Somehow though, after winding back and forth and up and down for what felt like hours, you managed to find the lobby.

As you emerged from the hallway, it was considerably less busy than last night. Where the band had been, waiting chairs and tables had been placed, a courtesy for guests waiting to check in. The cleaning team of the Hotel Cortez was marvellous, you had to admit. As you ducked your hips away from the edge of a chair, you spotted him. James March was leaned against the bar, chatting gayly with the bartender. The bartender nodded, swiping a rag over the spot directly in front of him. A glass of bourbon sat in front of James, perspiring. Much like you were. So it hadn’t all been a dream. He looked the same as he had last night, no hint of a hangover or fatigue. Just… charming. You inhaled and headed for the door.

“A perfect fit!” He called out from the balcony, his glass raised in a cheers. A few guests turned, searching for the voice. You jumped. The man had a talent for startling you — you’d give him that. You turned, your brows upturned in the middle, asking silently for clarification.

“The dress!”

“Oh! Yes! It does…. Thank you! It’s beautiful, Mr. March!”

“How’s your neck!?” He asked, lowering his head slightly.

The question threw you off. “….fine, but I really must be going, Mr. March! Bye!”

“Come back to the Hotel Cortez any time, my darling! As my guest.”

James watched you hurry out the door, knowing that if you did come back for a second time… it would be the last time.

[mister-eames]

this is probably discussed before and it’s right there in your header, why are eames and arthur dressed as each other in the first level of the dream?

I'm going to be on my BS here and you're probably going to slowly back away and say ash, wtf, take off the tin-foil hat but BUT, heres my take:

So, I think they take inspiration from each other: but on seperate levels. On the first, Arthur dresses like Cobb, they almost look like siblings in the way their mum made them wear the same outfit. This is out of necessity, Arthur needs to be a blunt instrument in this level, a thug, he doesn't need to appear or be refined in any way.

BUT Eames is dressed like Arthur even when he's being Peter Browning. We only see Peter Browning ever wear a plain white shirt. Take for instance below, Peter at work and Peter in the brief photo:

Even Fischers PROJECTION of Peter is wearing a plain white shirt:

HOWEVER when Eames forges Peter, Eames chooses to go with the exact same outfit that Arthur is wearing on the plane. Why? Either, like Arthur in leather, he thought he had to channel who he thought he needed to be - an assertive, powerful man (like Arthur) - or it really just was a Freudian slip and he simply had Arthur on the brain. I like to think its a combination of both - because I know Eames didn't shadow Peter for that long only to mess up the shirt - he was thinking about Arthur even if he didn't realise it. He had Arthur all over his mind. He went to sleep on that plane looking at Arthur and THEN he got told two minutes later hey, uh, this might be the last time you ever see each other bc limbo and THEN this outfit moment:

Now, bear with me - on the second level everyone is dressed in a very interesting manner - Cobb/Mr Charles is dressed like Fischer - Ariadne is dressed like Saito in his very first appearance - and Arthur is dressed like Arthur save for the paisley tie - very curious because a) its not an Arthur tie, and b) it matches what Eames is wearing even without having seen him first. Arthur now knows he needs to be extra resourceful on this level, he needs to be wily, he needs to be creative, knowing what he knows now about the very real threat and possibility of limbo and c) maybe he needs some mental reassurance/comfort in a veritable warzone - it's the most cohesive these two are dressed, which has always been a study in contrast, and its especially reflected in the merry chase/go to sleep moment. These two outfits are finally complementary:

TLDR; I think how they dress reflects: a) who they think they need to be (drawing inspiration in each other), and b) changes when the stakes get much higher i.e. subconscious filtering

[etirabys]

What were the major factors for you in deciding whether to have kids?

Unwillingness to forego one of the most intense and unique human relationships possible: "The key to the sociobiology of mammals is milk. Because young animals depend on their mothers during a substantial part of their early development, the mother-offspring group is the universal nuclear unit of mammalian societies."

When I was younger, my major objection to having kids was that it would interfere with my career. I cared a lot about my career and looked forward to transitioning from a student who worked really hard and excelled in classes to a professional who worked really hard and excelled in the workplace and also earned a boatload of money. But then it turned out that I wasn't a hard worker, I just loved studying and taking exams. I don't have a career or the relationship to a career I envisioned, so that's the major obstacle removed.

Seven years ago, I went to a meetup hosted by an economist who liked historical reenactments. His three adult children were in SCA garb, served the guests food from a medieval Persian cookbook, and sat around arguing with him (and the rest of us) about economics. It was my first encounter with a family where the children shared interests with their parents and talked like peers. It fundamentally changed my mind on what families could look like.

Similar story: I visited my friend's family two years ago, and stayed in his teen daughter's room because there had been an in-house auction to determine whose room would go to the guest. She won and was monetarily compensated for it. In addition to having another example of a Relatable Family Where The Members Actually Like Each Other, I found my friend and his spouse's financial philosophy appealing and will be compensated for pregnancy and childcare by my spouse. 20% of my objection to having kids was objection to the financial arrangements of traditional marriage (which imo fucked over both of my parents when their relationship broke down... but more so my mom), so it shifted me on the kids issue to see & adopt a financial arrangement that to me feels more autonomy-preserving, egalitarian, and respectful of my labor and opportunity costs.

I knew I didn't want to be pregnant, didn't particularly like infants, didn't want to interact with toddlers for more than an hour (I like them but get very fatigued and have to go lie face down to recharge), which seemed like a good argument to not have kids. But I also simulated being 70 and childless and it felt distinctly bad. Among other reasons I noticed for the first time that I want a connection to the coming generations, which was startling.

It was hard not to notice that the giant would make an excellent dad, and also that we have complementary skill sets and preferences qua parents.

I read "Selfish Reasons to Have More Kids" after I'd already decided to have kids, but when I was discussing the decision with friends, multiple of them brought the book up. Its basic argument is that we (I suppose I mean Americans and East Asians here) invest in our children well past the point where it matters, which increases the quality of life difference between parents and nonparents, which sucks because lots of people would enjoy raising kids if the unnecessary expectations were dropped. Once I actually read the book I found it suspect (I stopped reading when Caplan described a study and then drew an inference that didn't logically follow), but the conclusion seems true based on observation and common sense. My own parents and I had a lot of conflict over piano lessons because proficiency in an instrument was expected in their milieu. My mom regularly fought me to make me eat breakfast (to this day I don't eat in the morning, my body just isn't made for that) even though it would have been fine to send me off to school with a banana to tide me over until lunch. People trade away health and career points to breastfeed even though the evidence is shaky that it matters. My sister is pursuing a zero screen policy with her child and said this choice significantly increases work and emotional toll. Once I noticed I was the type to be an overworked neurotic parent and that I'd priced my own terrible personality in when simulating how hard childrearing would be, I also noticed I could (with effort) not be that person and have an easier time. So my expectations of parenting changed.

[weirdagnes]

The Layers of Victoria's Laboratory

I cannot begin to express how much I love LBP2 soundtrack, but this is probably my most favorite along with The Factory of Better Tomorrow by Richard Jacques. The soundtrack of the game is as creative as its gameplay.

Victoria's Laboratory was composed by Winifred Phillips, a Grammy award-winning video game composer. I honestly can't even describe what genre this is, the closest to its genre is symphonic steampunk metal. It's a unique fun mix of classical orchestra (opera vocals, strings, bells, organ, and flute), folk (accordion), and modern instruments (electric guitars, drumkit, and beatboxing).

The counter melody of the vocals and instruments are so addicting, I always come back to listen to all the stem tracks because it's so good on its own as much as it is mixed together. Then I learned from her video demonstration of her book A Composer's Guide to Game Music that this is the method she works with.

Basically, she teaches how "vertical layering" works when composing music. Sections of your music should be able to stand on its own and correspond to the difficulty level and scenery of the game, but be complementary to other sections of your music. She demonstrates by making 3 sections - percussion and rhythm (exploration level), melody (interaction with important event), and padding (final level) - each having their own foundation and leading instrument when isolated but does not clash with the main melody, rather compliments it when it comes together with the other sections.

It's perfectly demonstrated in Victoria's Laboratory. The beauty of LittleBigPlanet is that it lets you interact with the soundtracks. You can listen to the stem tracks individually and really hear how each track can stand on its own even without the leading melody.

(Link to the stem track in the titles)

———

Track 1 - Melody

3 layers - opera vocal, organ, bell. This track is very gothic in sound, haunting and grave, almost church or baroque-like. The operatic voice serves as the main melody, the top layer. The organ is very subtle padding, a grim presence like the instrument itself can sound in some organ pieces. The bell complements the organ, representative of metal/steel being hit.

Track 2 - Vocal Fugato

6 layers (possibly) - soprano, mezzo, alto (all doubled). This is the most brain stimulating track out of all. It sounds too full to only have 3 layers and it sounds too authentic to have an octaver or choir fx so there is possibly 6 or more recordings of the vocals to achieve the choir effect.

A fugue is a style where two or more melodies repeat the main theme, develops and intertwine melodically. Fugato is a style where a passage of music may be in fugue form but the entire music is not strictly in fugue.

The vocal section, along with the main melody, gives the haunting or madman feel, which I think fits the imagery of Victorian and science themes of the character (Victoria).

Track 3 - Accordion, Flute, and Beatbox

4 layers - accordion, flute, and 2 layers of beatbox. I'm actually not sure if it's flute, but it sounds like a woodwind on synth. The "pop" sound sounds like a mouth noise than synthesized sound, and there are parts where the beatboxing and the pop sound overlaps and it's physically impossible to do it so that's why I think it's 2 layers.

The pop sound is reminiscent of bubbles or caps opening, the flute like a kettle whistle or a train’s chimney, the beatbox like a bustling, hissing, and clattering in the kitchen or of machine parts. The accordion adds the whimsy and the sound of train. Already, this stem track paints the colorful scene that is Victoria's steampunk bakery-laboratory domain.

Track 4 - Strings

4 layers but in ensemble soundfont - 2 violins, cello, and contrabass. Pretty much nothing else needs to be explained here, it's a classical orchestra, serves as support to the vocal fugato.

This track gives the classical, old era vibe, which is again, fitting to the Victorian era theme of the game's level.

Track 5 - Guitars

6 layers - lead, rhythm, 2 guitar noise FX, 2 bass synths. I love how this track sounds so full, textured, and creative with sampling noises from a guitar. This track is reminiscent of pipes and machinery, supporting the industrial imagery of the game level.

Lead guitar is panned left and switches between two different types of distortion. Rhythm guitar is panned right, uses overdrive, and consistently chugging.

2 layers of guitar noise FX - one is panned left and the other is on the right. You can hear muted down/up strums, pick slide, fret noise, etc. but they're extremely coated in distortion FX.

2 bass synths - Serves as foundation. One synth is in the lower octaves, the other in the mid. With the way it glides, portamento saw may have been used.

Track 6 - Drums

3 layers - drumkit, low-tuned conga, digital bass drum. A different instrument may have been used instead of conga because it sounds way too low, but it may just be because of mixing. The difference between the bass drum of the drumkit and digital bass drum can be heard clearly at (2:43) where the digital bass drum is a continuous low pulse and the kick is like a heartbeat. In some parts, the snare, ride, and conga supports the melody's rhythm.

———

All in all, I believe it's a total of 26 or more layers and 6 tracks, and that's insane! Imagine working with that many instruments from different genres, making sure the texture of each stands out but not clash, and mixing it all without making it muddy. All while staying true to the themes and aesthetics of the character and her game level.

In the A Composer’s Guide to Video Game Music demo video, she considered the character’s traits and backstory in choosing what instruments and sounds to associate to the character when making their soundtrack (i.e. purple alien character with a big mouth = mouth noises, animal noises, sci-fi synths). No doubt she’s done the same to Victoria, which is why her soundtrack is so descriptive of her game level and character design through instrumentation.

And that’s exactly why I love instrumental VGM; just like character design, you can design music unique for your character even without lyrics.

I wish there was a behind-the-scenes on the LBP2 soundtrack, I would’ve loved hearing a more thorough breakdown on how Winifred Phillips composed this song.

[ultfreakme]

Who are your favorite romantic relationship's couples in books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series (can be canon or non-canon)? Feel free if you want to write the reasons or not of why you love them...

Sorry if you've answered this question before......Thanks....

Hi Anon!! Hope you're doing well! OOOOH this is a tough one, I have so many ships I enjoy, I think I change pairings and find new ones every few months. But if I had to pick........

AkaFuri (Akashi x Furihata from Kuroko No Basuke): I've shipped them the longest, I'm pretty sure my writing got better through writing and researching for fics of the ship. I also transitioned from traditional to digital drawing through drawing this ship, so yay it's them! I love them because Furihata was someone Akashi and everyone underestimated but Furihata defied everyone's expectations, conquered his fears and managed to stand up against him. Kuroko and the Seirin basketball team changed Akashi's opinions and made him see everyone as equals, but Furihata sorta kickstarted that.

ItaJun (Itadori x Junpei from Jujutsu Kaisen): I actually shipped them back when JJK was first airing! So that's three years with them dear god. I made a post about them but to summarize, I love the potential they had & loved how they clicked together!

Zukka (Zuko x Sokka from Avatar The Last Airbender): This one's relatively new but they got me obsessed enough to write a 300k word for for them and made me go on an unstoppable and frankly unhealthy drawing spree for months (I have a callous on my hand...unsure if it's because of just them but they definitely didn't help). I love their dynamic, they play off each other well, make up for each other's weaknesses and their interactions are always funny to watch. They're very cute to me.

JonJay/JayJon (Jon Kent x Jay Nakamura from DC Comics): A CANON COUPLE!!! They're very adorable and I enjoyed watching the way they helped each other get to their goals in their introduction comic as a couple(Superman Son of Kal El). Watching Superman be bi and have an Asian bf was just, very inspiring. The way Jon's heroism and ideals are defined by Jay's ideals is so cool.

I have a lot more which I can put as honorable mentions: Korrasami (The Legend of Korra), SatoSugu(Jujutsu Kaisen), Stucky (the Captain America Trilogy was awesome and the only part I like from the MCU), KiriBaku(I think I'm pretty much over them now unless I get back into BNHA), Calliette(bring back First Kill please please PLEASE), XiCheng(Jiang Cheng x Lan Xichen from MDZS), BingQiu & MoShang (both from Scum Villain Self-Saving system).

These are the ones I remember. There's probably some crucial formative ship for me that I'm missing but rn I think this is it.

My qualifications for being obsessed with a ship are:

HAS to be gay

They should be complementary in some way

The franchise they come from needs to have a plot that isn't their relationship, but their relationship, or just the character's motivation is sorta woven into the overarching theme of the story. Example; In AkaFuri, Furihata is instrumental in defeating Akashi and his team because Furihata isn't there to exactly take down Akashi. He CAN'T. But if he works with everyone else on his team, he stands a chance and can make a difference. The ultimate theme of KNB is that we should value friendship, teammates and should lift each other up rather than view the world as enemies to defeat. Korra and Asami are seemingly polar opposite with Korra being a representative of spirits while Asami is a representative of human technological advancement. TLOK is about harmony between these two aspects of the world, and Korrasami's relationship is a representation of that. I think pretty much all my ships can work like that (Jiang Cheng is too cynical, never lets anyone close and is prone to conflict, Lan Xichen is too trusting and too complicit, never wanting conflict and therefore not really confronting anything and BOTH of these flaws of theirs are to their detriment, etc etc).

I think I like ships which I can use to examine the themes of the main story, and see how the union of two people could influence the meaning of the canon.

And, I'll be honest, it's also about how aesthetic they are together and how good the smut potential is. It's shipping in the end, and I can write thousand-word meta essays but also be going gaga over their smut lmao.

Hope this was an adequate reply!! Also please don't apologize, I hadn't answered this before I think? haha i keep forgetting what i write.

[techtechonmymind]

Alright first thoughts for Golden Age! I am a firm believer that music needs time, but I want my initial thoughts.

Baggy Jeans - Damn, listening to the song by itself without the performance or music video really calls into focus the absolutely beautiful vocal work happening. So beautiful. These five sound lovely together - and so much of it is Ten’s additional presence. He just has such a bright, twangy voice that cuts straight through any time he’s in the mix. The same thing happened in SuperM’s Super One. His “baggy jeeeeeans!” is so cute lol.

Call D - Wow, some really weird instrumentation in this. Like what, a melodica? Some other weird horn/keys situation happening. I like it. Ten and Taeyong sound beautiful. I love Ten’s “Call me, I’m waiting for you.” It’s very 90s boy band haha. The pre-chorus is really beautiful.

PADO - Yeahhhhh, this song is EXCELLENT coming after Call D. They do complementary wind things. I like that the choruses have a different vocalist highlighted - first Junjun then Haechan. The jazzy vibe is awesome.

Interlude: Oasis - Chenle sounds lovely. I tend to prefer these transitional songs/intros/outros/interludes that have like… none of the neos on them lol. My username is literally Intro: Neo Got My Back haha. But I do like this one - EXCEPT, just like in the live performance, the ultra high pitched chimey/triangley synth is really, really grating. Gives me a headache.

The BAT - ahh, this is cool. I already like this song, but I think it’s placed well in the album. Yuta sounds lovely. Taeil sounds lovely, of course, but he’s not as present in this song as I thought he would be. His adlibs are wild, but if I’m not mistaken, Yuta is doing most of the vocal section in this song.

Alley Oop - this uses the kind of marching band brass section that’s kinda popular these days (industry baby-esque). It’s a song using a sports metaphor so that makes sense lol. It’s subtle though, so that’s nice. Yangyang and Taeyongie sound good together. OH MY GOD YUTA IN THE BRIDGE 🥺❤️

That’s Not Fair - Alright, first of the two new songs. Wow. Creepy! Ten??? Ten and Mark are doing well with this vibe. I love it. It’s quite theatrical - same as Baggy Jeans to some extent and Call D. This is a very consistent album - it has a lot of running themes. Sorry, I’m being annoying but Ten again cuts through so clearly. He sounds great. They all are building out the sound well, it’s cool.

Kangaroo - Yayyyyy loved this song live haha. Aw Taeil! I didn’t realize he was on this song. I think Kun covered his lines live. So I guess this song isn’t Kun and the kids haha. WEEOOWEEOO! Adorable. It’s as cute as it was, and Taeil sounds great. I kinda wish it had more Kun, though. He just fit the vibe soooo well. I can’t imagine Taeil doing this choreo lol I hope we see it someday ❤️ very cute. Such a hard shift from That’s Not Fair lmao.

Not Your Fault - (deep inhale) Here we go. Okay, I’m cheating and listening twice three times lol. I think it’s interesting that each vocalist is basically getting pretty big chunks one after another. The chorus being primarily one vocalist is interesting too. Very not-SM, but the vocalizing happening underneath is still there and it’s nice. It’s quite stripped down. Really highlights their vocals. Doyoung > Xiaojun is so beautiful. These two sound so great together. Ten and Xiaojun do kind of a weird stylized thing with one of their lines each - it caught me off-guard, but I liked it. The first time I listened, I wasn’t sure about the bridge, but I do like it. Is that Kun whose voice is sitting up a bit higher??? Yeah, I don’t see anyone else who it could be. Cool - haven’t really heard him sound like that before. Doyoung really anchors this song down.

Golden Age - Haha, this song feels weird right after such a stripped down ballad. But it’s a great closer. This is so specific, but I freaking love how they sing “jigeum uri”. Haha. You know, I think one of the incredible things about this song is that if you didn’t know NCT, I don’t think you would be able to catch that it’s 20 different people singing this song. Love the drum fill during Taeil’s section. I don’t think people gave enough credit to this song for giving Taeil the ending line - it’s what leaves the biggest impression on you.

All in all, really loved it! No song was even remotely sub-par this time. Pretty cool.

[spiritualsoul1969]

Atri’s Hymn: A Symphony of Spirit and Matter

The Cosmic Symphony of Atri

In the vast expanse of Vedic wisdom, Rishi Atri stands as a beacon of cosmic harmony, where the tangible and intangible, the seen and the unseen, merge into a divine orchestration. Unlike the linear perception of life that separates spirit from matter, Atri’s hymns in the Rig Veda unravel a truth often overlooked: spirit and matter are not separate forces but interwoven melodies of the same universal symphony. His wisdom teaches that existence is a song, where the notes of our material experiences harmonize with the silent rhythms of the spirit.

Imagine life as an orchestra. The instruments represent our physical bodies, actions, and daily engagements, while the melody they produce is the spirit flowing through it all. Atri’s vision was not of renunciation but of integration—the ability to recognize that even the most mundane acts can be infused with the divine.

The Dance of Opposites: Atri’s Key to Balance

Atri’s teachings emphasize that spirit and matter are like the sun and the moon, each playing a role in sustaining the cosmic dance. The material world is not an illusion to be rejected but an instrument to be tuned. When we live in sync with the universal rhythm, we cease to struggle against life and instead flow with it, much like a musician immersed in his art.

In modern times, this means not viewing work and spirituality as two conflicting pursuits but as complementary forces. Atri's wisdom calls for conscious action—bringing awareness to every thought, word, and deed so that even our worldly engagements become a form of worship.

The Inner Sound: Listening to the Symphony

Atri’s hymns speak of a sound beyond hearing, a silent melody that plays within every being. This is the primordial vibration—the echo of creation itself. To access this inner symphony, one must learn to listen, not with the ears, but with the heart and soul.

The world is filled with noise, distractions, and chaos, yet within us, there exists an unbroken melody of peace and wisdom. When we learn to attune ourselves to this sound, decisions become clearer, relationships become more profound, and life transforms from a struggle to a dance.

The Practical Toolkit: Living Atri’s Wisdom Daily

To incorporate Atri’s hymn into everyday life, one must cultivate awareness, harmony, and integration. Here is a practical approach:

Sacred Mornings – Begin your day by chanting a simple affirmation: "I am both the song and the singer; my actions and my spirit are one." This aligns your energy with the day ahead.

Mindful Work – Whatever task you perform, whether writing an email or cooking a meal, do it with complete awareness. Treat every action as a sacred ritual, an offering to the universe.

Resonance Meditation – Sit in silence and focus on your breath. As you inhale, imagine pulling in cosmic harmony; as you exhale, release all discord. Listen for the unstruck sound (Anahata Naad) within.

Balancing the Opposites – Embrace both material success and spiritual depth. Do not reject one for the other. Instead, integrate them. Make wealth an instrument of service, and let service be your true wealth.

End the Day in Gratitude – Before sleeping, reflect on the symphony of your day. Acknowledge moments of disharmony without judgment and resolve to refine your inner music tomorrow.

Becoming the Symphony

Atri’s hymn is not merely an ancient verse; it is a living philosophy that calls us to merge our worldly existence with spiritual awareness. The true seeker does not escape the world but transforms it into a song. Each thought, each act, each breath is a note in the grand composition of life. When you walk, walk with rhythm; when you speak, speak with grace; when you love, love like the universe itself is singing through you.

By embracing Atri's wisdom, we are not merely listeners of the cosmic symphony—we become the music itself.

[freehawaii]

$1.6 BILLION IN FUNDING AWARDED TO THIRTY METER TELESCOPE - OR NOT?

Science.org - February 28, 2024

U.S. astronomers will have to make do with one giant ground-based telescope rather than the desired two, the National Science Board (NSB) announced yesterday.

Meeting last week, the panel of scientists that oversees the National Science Foundation (NSF) capped the budget of the U.S. Extremely Large Telescope Program (US-ELTP) at $1.6 billion, enough for a substantial share in one 30-meter class telescope. But US-ELTP represents the interests of two such projects—the Giant Magellan Telescope (GMT) in Chile and the Thirty Meter Telescope (TMT) in Hawaii—which are building components but not fully funded. The board has given NSF until May to come up with a process to choose the lucky winner....

So in 2018 the two projects joined forces as US-ELTP and made a joint offer to NSF: a share in both telescopes that would give U.S. astronomers two complementary giant instruments covering both hemispheres, something that Europe’s Extremely Large Telescope, rapidly taking shape in Chile, could not do.

NSF carried out preliminary design reviews on both projects, which the agency approved in early 2023, but the estimated costs continued to balloon. Each telescope now has a price tag approaching $3 billion, which would make just one of them the costliest project NSF had ever undertaken. In an editorial in Science in November 2023, Turner argued that insisting that NSF fund two telescopes put both projects at risk.

At its meeting on 22 February, NSB acknowledged the ambition and vision of the US-ELTP proposal but noted it would take up 80% of NSF’s funding for major projects. As NSB could not condone starving other fields, it set the $1.6 billion cap and tasked NSF with setting out a plan for choosing a telescope and its subsequent timeline by the board’s next meeting in May.

[existentialmagazine]

Review: Indie-rock band about-faces share a dreamy new single ‘Cinematic and Chrome’, a nostalgically infused piece of transcending ease

Since their debut single ‘Under The Sun’, about-faces have now a mass of previous accomplishments to their name, including features on BBC Leeds, a standout performance at the 'By The Sea' Festival selected by BBC Introducing, and recognition as Danielle Perry's self-released artist of the month. Their follow-up ‘The River’ found itself to be just as resonant with fans, marking about-faces as an act not to be overlooked on the scene despite their fresh new faces. Now sharing ‘Cinematic and Chrome’, the indie and soft rock sensation are ready to really solidify their position as a rising force sure to take over the music scene entirely.

Slowly fading in, ‘Cinematic and Chrome’ approaches you like the opening credits of a movie esteemed for its cinematography, flowing through golden, warm scenes of autumn days seeped in a retro film flair of nostalgia. It may be hard to imagine how sound alone can transport you to such vivid imagery, but through the soft drum beats, bass twangs and shoegaze feeling, reverberant electric guitar riff ‘Cinematic and Chrome’ layers your ears with a sound so familiar and yet so intangible that you cannot help but reflect on times long ago. The vocals are equally transparent, carrying raw emotion in the tenderly sung lines, a delivery filled with bittersweet flair in every line from fluctuating highs to melancholic lows. The instruments settle around them, falling into steady, quieter drums, a casual guitar riff and intermittent bass, a carefree breeze of noise that puts you at ease to listen along to. Complementary female vocals by Danielle Capstick weave around their male vocalist’s words for a light chorus, together singing of a love story that cannot help but bear all of the emotion tenfold to how it could be portrayed alone, singing the same lines and yet displaying such separate emotions. Taking over half of the following verse, Danielle sings angelically alone before lead vocalist Sennen Ludman's impassioned lines once again return, a masterpiece of entwining approaches that explores love’s complexity in such a sonically dynamic way. Pushing forward, things only further evolve through a bridge of striking bass, building drums, hazy sound and one final cathartic chorus climax to see things out.

Through sound alone about-faces have shared just as much of this story as their lyrical unravellings, displaying both the union of love and contrast in perspectives through moments of solitary vocals, harmonising lines and others’ that seemingly battle to share their piece. As such it’s no surprise that the words seek to detail how love can often be more than meets the eye, speaking on a journey of lovers that’ll keep you guessing if they’re still in love, out of love, or if they’ve ever truly been in love at all. From the opening admission ‘found love in the autumn, decayed in the summer’ , there’s a sense of heartbreak front and centre, comparing their love to nature’s passage of time and the imagery of fallen leaves once beautiful turned bleak. Continuing ‘she swears she’s never leaving… my ex missus, she said the same thing’ , it’s hard to depict when and where each line falls in their love story, a conflicting concoction of information that never leaves you quite sure if they’re still together or longing with regret. There’s a definite hint of insecurity peeking through too, comparing his partner to an ex as un-dealt with trust issues arise, held back by the past and unable to let go as he expresses an inability to believe his new lover’s words. More multi-faceted lines like ‘two lovers kissing, I’m not breathing’ continue this theme of duplicity, in one hand potentially exploring the passion of their romance and the true feelings that emerge when together, or in an other could be referencing the breathlessness in their lungs as they look at others’ kissing while they yearn for what once was. The real beauty of ‘Cinematic and Chrome’ is that it’s real, that it feels like an authentic relationship built upon hardships and broken communication, taking you through everything from grieving its ending to appreciating the growth and infatuation once held, to in part hoping this dysfunctional couple made it through - as that’s what it really means to be human.

Check out ‘Cinematic and Chrome’ for yourself here to dance through the mesmerising sound tinged with the complexities of love.

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Unknown

// This coverage was supported and created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator.

[ask-serendipity-sky]

Story time- Making Music

Gather around the bonfire, it's story time, (not just because because I want to inform you all about my life, this has a purpose for reals lol).

Anyways, let's get it...

When I was a wee teenager, I decided to join the church's band with other teenage people. I was around 17ish.

Now, this church was insanely conservative and insane, in general, and dating was prohibited and if you dated anyone, people would watch you like a hawk and make up rumors, and try to break you until you repented.

(I know...this place was toxic but I went because my parents took me and I didn't know any better.)

So as time went on, I began spending a lot of time with guitar boy....

Guitar boy had hair the color of gold, played soccer, and he had a six-pack.

We clicked right away. We had chemistry. Our voices were complementary. Like puzzle pieces. Our instruments blended together.

I thought he was the funniest person I'd ever met.

I felt all butterflies in my brain. Even the sky had a prettier shade of blue.

I would see him practically everyday and I couldn't get enough.

We liked each other bad.

And this was all while having eyes on us at all times.

So to escape those eyes, we began doing duets. Just me and him practicing for hours and hours. Hiding behind the excuse that we needed to practice so we could spend time together and be able to be ourselves without anyone judging. We would use any excuse to work together.

Christmas? Say no more, we can put some songs together.

New Year's? We got you covered.

Birthday? We can get you some music for that.

We spent so much time together that it was inevitable.

We fell in love.

We had no label for a while because it was all scary and that way if they asked if we were in a relationship, we could easily say no.

But it was thrilling.

Since we couldn't openly hug, kiss, or hold hands in public, we would sit next to each other.

We would hold each others pinky fingers because we thought that didn't look as suspicious lol

He would come to me so he could tune his guitar and lightly brush my hand when I was giving him the key to tune to.

We would sneak out of our houses and take a blanket to the park so we could watch the sky. We had a list of promises to each other about the future. We knew each other's deepest secrets.

All of this went on for a long while...and no one found out until years later.

After doing well on a song, we would glance at each other. It wasn't just to let each other know we did well on the song, but to transmit our feelings to each other.

People thought that it was just us acknowledging that we had done a good job, but it was more than that. It was magic and love and all those pretty things.

So when I see Jikook, I think "Yeah, it's exactly like that."

Anyone who has fallen for a band mate and for some reason couldn't be in a relationship with them will understand. And they will see it immediately when they see Jimin and Jungkook interact.

There is something about making music with the person you love. It's unexplainable.

Music becomes the axis your relationship gyrates upon.

For guitar boy and me, it was permitted because we were just making music, it's not like we were making love.

But here is the catch, for a musician, those two concepts are pretty much the same thing.

[bluboothalassophile]

Could you please do a damirae new year’s kiss with them already being in a relationship happy holidays

Hello

So... this is late to the take, and there is no established relationship, but I hope you enjoy at least.

Neighbors AU

For Damian Wayne, he HATED New Years, he despised it, he despised the interruption to perfect lighting, he despised the rival sounds, and he hated his neighbor! The neighbor was incessant in her playing of the piano, which was a tolerable instrument, but what was not tolerable was her selection in genre.

Jazz.

He knew the daft woman was tasteless; having seen her a time or two in the bloody elevator, and collecting their mail. Flats, black coat, no distinct style beyond looking frumpy, and violet hair! VIOLET HAIR! Of all the ridiculous, degrading things to make matters worse.

And to make matters worse, Damian had purchased the penthouse suite with the knowledge he’d have no neighbors to interrupt his time; which he needed for his side profession; which he was beter known for; art. Jazz though, incessant Jazz! It was always, always, always, always Jazz playing through his bloody floorboards; and he wanted to kill his neighbor! Jazz that interrupted his concentration, his focus, his zen, his work, his passion; it was always blood JAZZ! He hated Jazz! It had no structure, set style, and worse, no complementary melodies; just playing a bloody instrument could be considered ‘Jazz’ and ‘art’ which was bloody bullshit. He would have respect for his downstair neighbor if she played classical consistently, but it was bloody Jazz! All The Bloody Time! And worse when her group was in, but tonight, tonight! Of all Bloody, Fucking Nights, she DARE to Throw a Party Below Him which had VIBRATED HIM Almost off his bloody balcony!

Damian Wayne was many, Many, MANY things but suicidal was not one of them, and tonight, he fully expected the wannabe musician to be OUT on the bloody town, not throwing a raging party in the building which seemed intent on testing building code regulations!

Storming down to the elevator, which rattled, from the raging party, and had him contemplating if he should lie down; in case the damn thing broke and went freefalling, or if he should just suck it up and take the risk. Displeased, but pleased not to die on his quest to yell at his senseless, tasteless, tactless neighbor, the elevator pinged open to a raging party in the hallway. Shoving his way through the mass of people; either making out, or pawing senselessly at each other, he shoved his way to the door, and pounded on it.

The door was yanked open, and he almost hit the woman who answered. He scowled at the violet haired offender; the woman was smiling brightly.

“Oh, heyya neighbor!” she chuckled. “Sorry about the noise, we were trying to be quiet, but my Zayde knows how to paaarrr-tae! And get booze… I’m drunk!” she whispered conspiratorially.

“I do not care about your personal follies,” he started; not permitting a true examination of her beauty off put him from what he had come here to do. For she was shockingly very stunning, and this lighting he resisted the urge to ask if he could use her as a model. She was a very striking woman, he would wager she was indigenous, or perhaps German; given her nose and eyes.

“Of course you don’t,” she slurred with a roll of her eyes. “Always judgy, and rude, you think yourself superior, right Mistah Wayne!”

He blinked blandly at her demanded.

“HA! Bet you didn’t fink I knew who you wuz…” she giggled as she swung around and skipped into the party.

“Get back here!”

“No!” she laughed as she appeared with a flute of something in her long, elegant fingers.

“I am attempting to be polite, this night, but between your abhorrent tastes in musical practices, and your ridiculous celebration of the New Year, I have come to demand you turn down this atrocious noise!”

“Noise!?” she snorted.

“NOISE!” he roared, and suddenly the room was silent.

“Mistah Wayne,” she giggled. And the music resumed much louder this time.“This noise is Zayde’s FAVORITE music, and I only get to see my Zayde a few times a year, so… fuck off, or I’ll kiss you if you’re standin’ here at midnight.”

“I’m not leaving until you turn off this bloody noise!”

Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six!

“Are you sure you’re not leaving?” she slurred with a baleful glare.

“Not until you put a cease to this noise,” he snarled.

FIVE!

“Very well, I’ve kissed worse,” she sighed drunkenedly as she knocked her flute of something back with the practice that accompanied a seasoned bourbon drinker or college shot taker. She made a face as she set the flute aside.

FOUR!

“I will not leave because you kiss me!”

“Oh, I don’t need you to leave,” she snorted. “I need you to Shut Up!”

THREE!

“I beg your pardon!”

“No you don’t!”

TWO!

“I’ll…”

“You are a very persnickety bastard when you open your mouth, which ruins the illusion your this hot, mysterious billionaire, and kissing you will get you to Shut Up! And Get Out!”

“I!”

ONE!

Damian didn’t get another word in as the cheers erupted, and horns blared, and the woman’s mouth crashed onto his with an enthusiastic kiss which tasted of champagne and fine red wine, he was too stunned not to accept the kiss. But damn the woman could kiss, she kissed with an unbridled passion and master which shook him to his core. He reacted on instinct, looping his arms around her as he stumbled back a few steps, falling onto her couch.

HAPPY NEW YEARS! Erupted everywhere, and she smiled as she pulled away.

“Finally, now stop complaining, I need to go say night to Zayde!” she was off him, leaving him baffled, stunned and confused as hell as he sat there befuddled at what had happened.

~~~*~*~*~~~

It was the next week he found out that his mysterious neighbor was the World Renown Concert Pianist Rachel Roth, who was the granddaughter of famous singer Lucifer Morningstar and renown violinist Alan Roth; both renown musicians in their own rights. Their children had married and produced Rachel.

Damian still could not figure out where between the kiss and the revelation that his neighbor was Rachel Roth when he had actually returned to his penthouse suite.

[not-a-space-alien]

Magnanimous Moonrise Chapter 20M

In this chapter: Valen discovers he and the humans have more in common than he thought

Warnings: Discussion of disordered eating and self-harm/cutting

Thank you for waiting so patiently for chapter 20!! btw I know the dual chapter format doesn't work super well for dialogue-heavy chapters, so I'll probably try something different the first time I get to a chapter where I think having two perspectives doesn't benefit the narrative.

Story masterpost

Complementary chapter

***

Valen was able to quell his mounting anxiety for a little while by resting in the coffin, with the door locked.  Cozy and safe in the dark.  Lex and Ari made indistinct sounds in passing outside, whispering, thinking him sleeping.

They gave a soft knock to rouse him, asking him to come out and permission to lift him bodily onto the couch, which he granted.  They arranged him in the mountain of pillows, throwing a blanket out over his legs.  Lex crooned over him and made sure he was as cozy as possible. 

It felt…a little infantilizing, but he would take whatever comfort and softness was offered to him at this point.  Maybe he could be a creature with dignity again sometime later in life.

The two other hunters came soon enough. Ari opened the door.  One of the male hunters said something boisterously, which he couldn’t make any sense of, but which seemed to be a joke because the other humans all laughed at it.

Valen could tell Ari was unamused even just by looking at the back of her head.  "You think you're so funny. You're gonna need Jesus to save you if you don't knock that shit off."

The larger one came in first.  Bailey, he remembered.  “You're right. We're actually here to deliver a pizza. You want an XL or medium?" The smaller one, Jerome, came in just in time for Bailey to hook his arms around his shoulders.

"What is this, dinner and a show?"  Ari shut the door.

"Nah, we’re not doing standup.  The show is what this is for.”  Bailey gestured to a large instrument case strapped to his back, which Valen realized must be a guitar.

"You think you're so goddamn funny."  Ari seemed to know her job was to play the irritated straight shooter, otherwise their antics would just be annoying rather than endearing.

"You know you love us."

"Only because nobody else will."

Bailey grinned widely, then turned towards Valen.  "And there's the man of the hour! You're gonna eat like a king tonight."

Valen pressed himself fearfully into the back of the couch. The hunter’s tone was light, but all of a sudden, all Valen could picture was earlier when Bailey had been looking at him through the sight of a rifle.

"It is man, right?  Jerome insisted it was man.”

“You were all juiced up on T when you got here,” Jerome added.  “So I assumed.  Sorry you haven’t been able to get your juice while you’ve been here.  It’s clearly worn off by now.”

Why are you worrying about getting my pronouns right?  Why is that what everyone’s focused on?  He knew they were probably just trying to be respectful and make him feel better, but it did little to put him at ease.

Lex had done that, insist that Nick use the correct pronouns while torturing him.  As though Lex thought torture was okay as long as she wasn’t also being transphobic.  Like his gender was more important than his basic rights.

“S-sir, with all due respect, I appre-appreciate the apology, but I worry more about having my personal structural integrity respected than my gender identity.”

The four humans all looked at each other awkwardly.

“Right…” Jerome said.  “Listen.  I know an I’m sorry isn’t gonna do jack shit for something like….this.  But we really do mean it.  We’re sorry.  That’s why we’re here to try and make up for it, even if it’s just a little bit.”

No, no, no, he couldn’t handle this.  It was as if experiencing kindness from these four was just throwing it into relief how universally hated he was by everyone else.  All his friends had left him, his husband and family were a menace, and now the humans, the ones he’d been trying to help, treated him like this.

Valen burst into tears.  “You left me there, you just left me there, all of you.  You just watched.  And you’re the kind ones.  What hope do I have, on either side of the border?”

Lex came over and wrapped her arms around him.  “Shh, shh, you’re okay,” she soothed.

He tried to scoot back to put some distance between himself and Lex, choking back a sob.  “I’m not okay!  I’m very much not!  I’m a starved and injured vampire in a room with four vampire hunters, who helped someone torture me!  I would say this is as far from okay as one can be!”

Lex withdrew, looking hurt.  Ari took her elbow and pulled her away.  “Give him some space, Alex.”

Jerome sat down on the edge of the bed.  Valen clutched the blanket to himself, tears streaming down his face.  “I get it,” Jerome said.  “We suck.  I know we suck.  I’m sorry we suck.  Please let us try and suck a bit less by helping you.”

Valen loosened his death grip on the blanket.

“You’re safe,” Lex said.  “I promise you’re safe now.”

“We realized how fucked up it was, what we did,” Ari said.  “And now we’re trying to fix it.  That’s it.”

“Okay,” Valen said, voice wobbly.  “Thank you.”

“Do you want us to just feed you and leave?” Jerome said.  “We were gonna, um, kind of hang out, but…well, if it’s just gonna make you feel worse, we don’t have to hang around.”

Valen tried to control his breathing.  He was trying so hard to just listen, but they were four vampire hunters.  “You can go about your business.  I won’t–I don’t mind.  I’ll stay out of the way.  You won’t even know I’m here.”

“Er,” said Jerome, awkwardly fiddling with one of his locs.  “No, I mean, we were going to hang out here, with you, to try and make you feel better.”

Got it.

She’s fucking rabid.

I told you it hurts them.

Put her in the trunk.

Fuck, tie it up first.

Settle down!

Valen curled in on himself, ears involuntarily pinned to his head, lip wobbling.  “I–I–I–”

“It’s okay,” Bailey said, sitting down and putting an arm around Valen.  “Breathe, babydoll.  It’s okay.”

I’m sorry we suck.  Please let us try and suck a bit less.

Valen broke down into tears.  “Why did you think it would be okay to do that to me even if I wasn’t innocent? Why do you think anyone deserves that?  I was in there for six months, locked in the coffin except to be taken out and tortured, and you didn’t even give me a chance, you kidnapped me and tortured me, you didn’t even let me talk, and–and–”  His protest dissolved into wretched sobs.  “Why do you think it’s okay to do that to any living creature?  You’re monsters.”

Bailey eased back, face dark.  The humans all looked at each other awkwardly as Valen continued to bawl.  

Jerome patted the blanket. “Listen…” he said.  “Like I said, saying sorry can only go so far.  Trying to make it up to you can only go so far.  I’m not saying it’s right, or we should have let it happen.  But maybe you’ll be less freaked out if you understand.  Most of us have lost family members to vampires.  We know what happens to them.  They just get taken and snatched up out of nowhere, thrown into the meat grinder.  It’s happened to us, and it can happen again, to anyone we care about, at any time.  I don’t know if you’ve ever been through something like that, but it….does things to you.  Makes you numb.  Makes you care less about things you’d normally care about.  Makes you think someone on the other side should have a turn suffering.  Makes you think maybe you should just let the unthinkable happen if it means it can stop the flow of blood.”

“It’s fucked,” Bailey says, tears welling in his eyes.  “The whole thing is just fucked.  Valen, man, please, you gotta understand.  The only vampires we ever meet are the ones who cross the border, and they're usually the worst of the worst.  We never met anyone like you before.  We’re on edge all the time, knowing every night someone wants to kidnap or kill us.  Obviously I’m not saying it was right, but surely you gotta understand at least a little bit, right?  We’re not total monsters, I promise we aren’t.”

“You know what vampires are capable of,” Ari added.  “You know how they can be dangerous.  But you don’t feel it like we do.  You’ve never been a prey animal.”

Valen had felt like a prey animal more than he cared to admit, more than he could describe.  But they were right, to an extent…

Valen squeezed his eyes shut and took in deep breaths, trying to calm himself.  “Yes,” he said carefully.  “I understand, in theory, the reasons behind your actions.”

“I’m sorry it took us so long to realize,” Lex said.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry we just ignored the way you were suffering.”

Valen thought about the humans at his previous home, the ones the other nobles fed on, and how he’d refused to feed on them, and then did nothing else to help them.  He had even less justification.  He hadn’t done that out of mortal peril and desperation like they did.  It’d been out of inertia and apathy and lack of initiative.  Out of fear of change and radical action.

He’d thought to himself, If I free those humans, they’ll just go get more, so it wouldn’t do anything.  And he’d been right, in a way, in that the problem was systemic and not on an individual level.  But…he’d refused to feed on them out of squeamishness, and then walked past them every day and didn’t help, the same way these humans had done to him.  He understood the reasoning far better than he wanted to admit.

“Okay,” he said, his rabbit-quick heartbeat finally slowing down.  “I understand why you did it.  I do.  It’s just difficult to feel safe.”

“We’ve learned our lesson,” Lex said.  “We’re not gonna let something like that happen again, to you or to anyone.”

Valen nodded.  “Thank you.  Thank you, ma’am.”

“There, see?  Everything’s okay.”  Bailey slung his guitar around and started to pluck a few strings.  “Now, time for dinner and a show!”

Valen couldn’t help but smile.  Bailey and Jerome were just so….goofy.  It felt weird.  Like as though he hadn’t expected the vampire hunters to have any personality beyond wanting to hurt him.  “Excellent,” he said timidly.  “I’ll be sure to spread the word about the excellent service at your establishment, haha!”

“Oh he’s funny,” Jerome said.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s funny, but he’s also fucking hungry I bet.  Time to chow down, big guy.”  Bailey rolled his sleeve up.  “Ari said the arm is an option, yeah?”

“Um…” Valen shrank back.  “I can’t bite–You–you pulled my fangs out.”

Bailey blinked.  “Ah.  Shit.  We did.”

Ari wordlessly handed over her knife.  

“Right…” Bailey said.  He took the knife unhappily.  Jerome looked like someone had threatened to stab him, and took a step back without a word.  Valen looked at him apprehensively.

“All right, here I go,” Bailey said, looking queasy.  He positioned the knife over his arm, in the spot where it seemed safest.  He took in a pained, hissing breath as he made a cut with the knife.

“Jesus, you big baby,” Ari said.

“Ey, ey, some of us don’t see blood once a month, ya know.  Only when something’s the matter.”  He sat on the edge of the bed and held his bleeding arm out to Valen.  “Eat up.”

“Thank you, sir,” Valen said politely, and bobbed his head in a bow.  He leaned forward and took Bailey’s arm delicately, drinking in small, dainty sips.

“There ya go,” Bailey said, ruffling Valen’s hair.  “Bet that feels better.”

Valen finished his drink, swiping his tongue over the wound to close it, then bringing his head back up, licking his lips.  “It does.  Thank you, sir.”

Jerome was still cowering against the wall.  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Ari said.  “The two of us are plenty.”

“Is everything okay?” Lex said.  “Like, something up?”

“Um.”  Jerome swallowed and drew forwards, wringing his hands.  “No, I–I want to help.  I want to help him get better.  I do.  I just…”

“Is getting fed from too much, even if it’s from an open cut?” Lex said.  “Blood loss affect you?”

“Um...”  Jerome nervously shook his head.  “I, no, that’s not it.  I-”

Valen panicked a bit, guilt and fear flooding him, as he saw the internal struggle about whether or not to feed him.  “Don’t feel obligated, sir, it’s quite all right.  I’ve had more than enough for today.”  Two feedings was definitely enough to stave off the hunger–if he wanted to get back to a healthy weight, he’d definitely get better faster with more, but this had saved him from the hunger at least.  But what was the issue?  Was Jerome afraid of him?  That wasn’t good, at all.  It’d seemed like things were going well, but now he started to spiral into anxiety again.

“I want to,” Jerome said, sounding like he was about to cry.  “I do, I’m sorry.  I just can’t, man.  I’m sorry.”

Bailey squeezed his shoulder.  “You don’t have to tell them, J-man.”

“No, I…Okay, yeah, I want to.”  Jerome sighed.  He rolled up the sleeve of his hoodie, revealing a series of scars striped up his forearm.  They looked old, but they were easy to see because they were raised and bumpy, and darker in color than his already-dark skin.  “I just, um…I just got some baggage about cutting myself,” he said, swallowing thickly.  

Lex and Ari both looked sorrowful.  “Oh,” Lex said softly.  “Of course.  Don’t worry about it.  Whatever you can handle.  It’s fine if you can’t.”

Valen was horrified by the reveal of this injury, but….the humans all seemed to know what this meant, and Valen….didn’t know what could have caused an injury like that.  His imagination ran wild trying to guess.  Had Jerome been forced to cut himself to feed vampires before?

“I would never force you, sir,” Valen says.  “I promise.  I don’t know….why, or who would make you do that, but…”

The humans all looked at him like he’d grown a second head.  He shrunk back fearfully.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry if that was rude, sir, I am–I just don’t understand, I-”

Jerome laughed, his thick voice breaking up the tension in the air.  “Of course.  Oh my God.  Vampires don’t scar, so of course you wouldn’t know.  I can’t imagine they self-harm either.”  He ran his fingers over his forearm.  “I…did this myself.  When I was younger.”

“What?  Why?” Valen blurted out before he could stop himself.  He was horrified by this idea.

“It’s hard to describe,” Jerome said.  “I was…in a lot of emotional pain.  It felt like…I didn’t deserve to not be in pain, in a way, that I deserved it.  Or maybe it was easier to have a bigger problem.  A cut on the arm is easier to treat than feeling like shit, you know?  You probably wouldn’t get it, but it made sense to my brain at the time.”

Never in a million years would Valen have guessed a human would feel like that.  He’d had thoughts like that before, but they’d been driven by guilt, and disgust at himself.  He’d never cut himself, but he’d starved himself often enough.  But he did that because he needed to hurt others to feed, why would a human hate themselves enough for that?  Why could they possibly feel guilty about existing like Valen did?

Maybe he shouldn’t say this.  Maybe when he tells them about he’d sometimes gone days without eating because of the shame and self-loathing, only eating when the hunger pains became too much to bear, maybe they’ll say he should have done that, because he’s a monster and hurts others when he takes care of himself.

“I…do get it,” Valen says bravely.  “More than I care to admit.  I…often starved myself for similar reasons.  I felt too guilty to eat.  Too guilty for existing.  I never cut myself, but I often had self-inflicted pain.  It was….stupid.”

Jerome let out a slightly choked murmur of pity, putting a hand on Valen’s shoulder.  “It wasn’t stupid, man, neither of us were.  I mean, heck, for you, it at least made sense, right?  Because you felt guilty for drinking people’s blood, yeah?  That’s only natural.”

“No, I…I still did that to myself even when I started drinking the imported blood.”

They all blinked at him.  Oh, they…they didn’t know about the imported blood?  But of course, how would they know?

“There are specialty shops on the other side of the border who import blood from overseas,” he explained.  “Where there’s infrastructure for collecting it from paid volunteers.  Places where things are kinder.”

“That’s awesome!” Lex said.  “Holy shit!”

Valen nodded.  “Yes.  So I shouldn’t have felt guilty for eating then, but…  It still lingered.”  He looked up at Jerome.  “I wouldn’t have thought humans would have any reason to feel that way.  You’re innocent.”

Jerome gave him a sad smile.  “It’s so much more complicated than that, man.  We got…things to cope with even though we don’t have to drink blood, ya know?  I dunno if you want me to dump all this on you, but my…  I was depressed as fuck growing up.  It’s easy to fall into when things seem so hopeless.  It’s so hard to stay outta jail, when it feels like they’re trying to get you in there. And my… the first time doing it was when…”

He put his head in his hands, starting to cry. Bailey sat down and put his arms around him.  “It’s okay.  You’re all right.”

“When my Daddy found out I was gay,” Jerome choked out.  “And I told him I was worried about–about catching GRID, or whatever that-that gay flu going around is, that people are dying from and he said- he said maybe it would be better if I did.”  He broke down into full-blown sobs.

Lex and Ari came over and added themselves to the comforting hug as Jerome cried.  Valen stared at him with misty eyes, absolutely blown away.  For some reason, he hadn’t imagined humans to be capable of such cruelty.  At first, to anyone–he wouldn’t have guessed they could be so cruel to him, a vampire, but to say such a thing to another human?

Why? 

His worldview had started to crumble in his hands.  He’d mostly been picturing humans living picturesque, ideal lives ruined only by the monstrous actions of vampires.  How had he been so narcissistic to think the world revolved around him and his crimes like that?  Why hadn’t he thought that humans were fully-realized individuals who could invent their own bigotry against other humans?

“I’m…sorry, sir,” Valen said.  “That’s unbelievably cruel.  I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Jerome sniffed and looked up at him, wiping his eyes.  “Yeah,” he said, voice wobbly.  “But hey, I don’t have to care about what he thinks anymore.  Fuck him, haha.  I got everyone I need right here.”

“Yeah, man, yeah you do.”

Jerome disentangled himself from the hug.  “Well–Well I don’t care that my blood ain’t good enough for the Red Cross–it’s good enough for you, and you know blood better than they do.  Come on, let’s figure out some way to make this work, huh?”

The group tossed ideas around, and hemmed and hmmed for a while, before Jerome eventually agreed that it would be okay to make two pinpricks, like a bite, rather than a cut.  It took a lot longer to get the blood out, but Jerome didn’t mind, and good-naturedly played with Valen’s hair while he did so, which was soothing.

Valen was overfull by the time he was done.  He was starting to get a bit afraid that he’d throw up again.  “Thank you, sir.  I feel much better now.”

“Well, we ain’t done yet!”  Bailey jovially picked up his guitar.  “Get ready!”

“R-ready for what?” Valen stammered.

“He’s gonna play you a song,” Lex said.

“It’s supposed to make you feel better,” Jerome said.  “If you’d rather not, we don't have to.”

Valen drew the covers further up himself.  “That-that sounds nice.  That could be nice.  Thank you.”

“Right,” Bailey said.  His fingers started working at the guitar strings, plucking out a jaunty tune.  “Now I’m good on the guitar here, and Jerome’s got the golden pipes, so I’m gonna let him lead, and I’ll be the backup singer.”

Jerome reached into his bag and pulled out a tambourine, shaking it.  “And you ladies might know the words to this song, so feel free to sing along.”  This with a wink at Valen, which caused him to slide down into the couch.

Jerome started singing.

Oh it happened one night when the moon was bright

And full, but not as full as my heart.

Lex and Ari instantly recognized the song and joined in, smiling widely and laughing.  Apparently this song is….very funny, but Valen had never heard it.

When I saw her, I knew she could tear me apart

She was pale and dead and covered in blood but hey

Nobody’s perfect

And she paralyzed me with a glance

No persuasion needed

And no sooner had my lips touched hers 

Than all the blood had left my body

But it was worth it in the end as the feeling fled my limbs

Valen went beet red, realizing suddenly that the song was about a human man taking a vampire lover and getting killed for it.  It was undeniably a sad story, but…it was so chipper.  Was this supposed to be a joke?

Bailey knelt down next to Valen, gesturing to him grandly during a particularly intense verse.

Oh you’re so big and bad it’s true

But that’s what I like about you

Jerome knelt on his other side, shaking the tambourine.  

It’s true that you could snap me in half 

But baby, maybe I’m into that.

Valen tossed the covers over his head, mortified. 

And if this ends with me getting all my stuff sucked out, Well,

That’s sort of what I was hoping for

There was silence for a moment, no one singing, the guitar twanging.  He cautiously raised his head and peeked over the blanket, only to find that everyone was looking at him and pointing.

“I’m sorry,” he stuttered.  “I don’t know the words.”

“Oh, this part is just a big growl,” Bailey said.

Valen’s eyes bounced around the room.

“Go on,” Jerome said.  “Give us your scariest growl.”

Valen nervously clutched the blanket, scanning them all one last time to make sure it was really okay before letting out a tiny, strangulated noise.

They all knew Valen had a better growl in him.  Hell, they’d heard him give better growls, in the basement.  But he was afraid to go too hard, to seem too threatening.  Nobody pushed it.  They gave a cheer.

Valen’s spirits soared.  He’d participated, and they were all cheering for him.  He knew it was supposed to be a silly song, clearly it was supposed to be a silly song, but….  It made him feel better.  Less alone.  Less different from the humans, to know that he wasn’t the only one who’d had lofty ideas about love between humans and vampires, to think about a world where a human would walk up to a vampire and kiss her.

His eyes shifted over to Lex and Ari.  He couldn’t decide how he felt about them.  But he was definitely feeling something.

***

Tag list <3

@aceouttatime

@annablogsposts

@cc1010foxy

@darlingwhump

@emcscared-whumps

@nicolepascaline

@oddsconvert

@pigeonwhumps

@pumpkin-spice-whump

@some-thrilling-heroics

@soursagas

@thecyrulik

@whuarri

@whump-cravings

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@whumpycries

@whumpsday

@zillastar13

[dr-jem-nutcase]

Monster vs Aliens OCs

Warning: long post

My h/c is that there were other monsters throughout the years in Area 5X that weren't around as long as the four main monsters when Susan was captured, like the Invisible Man. These are my two contributions to this supposed string of short-lived monsters. This is gonna be a LONG post, so fasten your seat belts!

von Wolfmann

a werewolf from Germany. He was in Area 5X from 1958-1965 and the first monster there.

Abilities & Personality:

His abilities as a wolfman were strength, agility, speed, and moderate resistance to physical harm. In this form, he was muscular and tall (almost as tall as Link). But in every transformation, he lost a lot of his human reason and conscience, and whatever he could remember after reverting was like a fog with faded distorted noises. He slowly learned to retain some amount of human reason and conscience but sometimes he couldn't achieve that. The only thing that could kill him was a silver bullet or another wolfman/werewolf. He was very stubborn and oftentimes serious, so he often came across as crotchety and cold to the other monsters. If you were nice to him, he'd warm up to you in due time, even if you didn't speak German. He LOVED music, especially anything that reminded him of home. He learned to play an instrument (probably the piano) at an early age but stopped, so he barely remembered how to play it when he came across one several years later. He oftentimes sang to himself, especially in the years before Link, the next monster, was captured. The Invisible Man couldn't carry a tune and Dr. C largely only hummed something while working, so von Wolfmann was pretty much alone in his endearment for music. As a wolfman, his hands-down favorite food was fresh raw meat. His hands were too large for silverware, so he had to use his bare hands and later on a complementary napkin

Backstory:

He was born and grew up in Bavaria (in modern-day southeast Germany, early 1880s). His former name is unknown. He was bitten by a cursed wolf at the age of 6 and, after accidentally killing 1-2 family members within the first transformation, ran away from home and went to live in the forest away from humanity where he was first bitten. Over the years, he fought off other werewolves/wolf-people in that part of Germany and killed them all by the age of 18 in order to protect humanity (turn of the century/early 1900s) and even found and killed the cursed wolf that killed him, perhaps putting an end to its terror and the terror it caused. He was caught shortly afterwards and placed in an insane asylum, sometimes in solitary confinement off and on. He was misdiagnosed as an epileptic, but after each "seizure", anyone who was in the same room as him would be dead or seriously injured. There was little to no belief that he was actually a wolfman. He escaped after 3 years and in the process was shot and almost died (1910s). This cycle repeated itself a couple times throughout the years (capture, asylum, escape) (1920s-30s). Upon his last escape, he knew what the German government was up to in World War II and tried to stay out of the Nazi regime. Unfortunately, he was found and captured again and used as a means of extermination in a Nazi death camp. He could never forgive himself for that. He escaped during Germany's defeat (1940s), found his way back to his homeland, and lived alone as a hermit (1940s-50s).

Capture & Imprisonment:

In 1958, he was found, arrested, tried (amazingly, had to do it at any time other than a day with a full moon), and sentenced to death for his crimes against humanity (before, during, and after the war), but the USA intervened in his death sentence, took him into custody, and brought him to Area 5X to lock him away from humanity and turn his death sentence into a life sentence. Being 2 miles underground, he was perpetually stuck in mid-transformation: the abilities and height of his full wolfman form but now fully retaining his human reason and conscience. He REFUSED to learn English when given the opportunity, but he was so relieved and a bit happy that he wouldn't be a full fledged wolfman anymore. These final years were some of the better years of his life. But despite being directly away from full moons, he got a bit irritable and short during the days of a full moon, not much different from the PMS moodiness a lot of girls get. Link came in 1960 and fought with von Wolfmann for a couple days until the wolfman put him in his place. After "taming" Link, he took him under his wing, taught him German as a first language, and sort of had a father-son relationship with him. He talked with Link during most of his imprisonment, and Link, after learning English from the Invisible Man, became a crude translator between the rest of the monsters. von Wolfmann called the Invisible Man "Unsichtbare", the German word for invisible, and Dr. Cockroach "Kakerlake", the German word for cockroach.

Demise and legacy:

He died of old age in his sleep in 1965. Reverted back into a human when he died. His body was never sent back to Germany, not only because whatever family he had left couldn't be identified and found but because he was and still is regarded by the German government as a war criminal. His cell is completely sealed off and serves as his tomb, never to be opened again. Link was pretty devastated at his passing and Insecto sort of filled that void in his heart. He's forgotten most of the German by now but remembers some if something in German pops up like in someone else's conversation or in a movie/TV show.

The Cyberian

(pronounced like Siberian), also known as Cy, an unfinished cyborg from the former USSR. She was in Area 5X from 1981-1985 and the second female monster in the facility's history.

Abilities and personality:

Her left arm was a power cannon that could shoot power beams when her wrist was fully bent downward and her fist was clenched. Her eyes lit up in the dark and could be a projector of her memories like a video. She was resistant to most physical pain and her longevity was expected to be longer than the average human's, maybe even longer than Dr C's. She couldn't be suffocated but she wasn't waterproof due to her cyborg-transformation being incomplete, and her body, like most electronics, would begin to shut down after half a minute of being submerged in water. If rescued within that time frame, she was drowsy and weak but eventually recovered. Ultimately, the only thing capable of completely destroying her was herself. She was brutally honest, didn't believe in flattery, told something like it was, and had to be trained in the art of discretion. Like, she wouldn't be afraid to slap a Karen across the face and tell her to shut up. But down to the bottom of it, she was sweet, gentle, and friendly. In cases of strong emotions, she absent-mindedly spoke more Russian than English, oftentimes forgetting that no one else understood her. She LOVED chocolate and wasn't expected to share, even if she got a giant bag from Costco.

Back story:

She was born in October 1962 in Yekaterinburg [in modern-day Russia] and raised there. Her former name is V.P. Telegina. Her parents divorced when she was 2. She was raised by her dad and paternal grandparents, and her mom hardly had anything to do with her. At the age of 18, she, an aspiring engineering student, was kidnapped and partially transformed by her uncle, a scientist unofficially and secretly working for the Soviet government, to be not just a cyborg--a walking, talking weapon disguised as a human being--but the link and key to a weapon of mass destruction. He was going to use another subject but after having a fallout with her father--his brother and also a scientist, he decided to retaliate. Her father, trying to help her, was framed for assault and imprisoned. She was taken into custody by the government until her uncle could get her back and complete her.

Capture and imprisonment:

She was rescued and smuggled out of the country by USA spies within the following two days of her being held by the Soviet government. At this time, her transformation was only in progress and would be permanently halted. She was the only monster who chose and agreed to have her name changed and be locked up in Area 5X. Her "capture and imprisonment" were a coverup to keep her hidden from the Soviet government. However, she wasn't told that her fellow inmates were monsters when she brought to Area 5X, so she was definitely afraid when she met them but, after learning they weren't gonna kill her or anything, she came to love them and referred to them as her boys. She actually could've left the facility in 1992, shortly after the USSR collapsed. She was proud to be Russian and always would be. However, she didn't approve of needless violence and attacks against humanity (like what's been going on in Ukraine. She would've HATED Putin), especially since she was transformed against her own will for the sake of assaulting innocent people. She spoke only Russian when she arrived but learned a good amount of English from the Invisible Man and Dr. Cockroach as time went on. She and Link taught each other English and Russian swear words. She was only monster who didn't call Dr. C "Doc" (other than von Wolfmann); she had always called him "Doctor". She was present when the Invisible Man died in 1984. The two had bonded in a father-daughter relationship over the years as he kinda reminded her of her own father, so she was pretty upset. Throughout her "imprisonment", she put up a front of toughness sometimes, especially when she first arrived, but really felt overall vulnerable and often uncertain, sometimes afraid, of herself. She had quite a bit of pent up anger and depression about her transformation, who did it, some post-divorce childhood problems courtesy of her mom, etc., but she couldn't express or confide them well due to her poor English skills. She was never happy about being a cyborg. The only way to make her happy about it was to either revert her back to her fully human form or put her to good use.

Demise and legacy:

She committed suicide in 1985 (in her cell after excusing herself from the common room) by shooting her head off when she learned via newspaper that her father, the only person who not only knew how to restore her to her original human body but was willing to do it, was executed [this was when Monger allowed the monsters to have copies of their formerly local newspapers] and that she would always be a cyborg, a means of death and destruction, forever. She was 22, the same age Susan was in the movie. This type of parallel pulled a lot of heartstrings for the rest of the monsters, especially since Link and Dr C briefly saw the aftermath of her suicide right before Monger sent them away to their cells. The two unnecessarily felt responsible to some extent for what happened and, when Susan came, Dr C vowed to never let that sort of tragedy happen again. Cy never shared what she read in the newspaper, and none of the monsters could read or understand Russian, so only Monger, via a Russian translator, knew why. Her suicide was the main reason Susan had that "Hang In There" poster in her cell in the movie. Another part of Area 5X has participated in a few different experimentations since the 1950s, like nuclear weaponry, aquamation (cremation with heated alkaline water instead of fire) and whatnot. Robosapien's body was used in cryonics testing shortly after her death and so far she's still intact and well-preserved to this day. Only Monger and a few long-time personnel in the Monster Containment Facility know. However, with the advancement of technology and modern science, some scientists in Area 5X have contemplated reviving her as a semi-artificial human, and it would be possible because she's a cyborg. It's a morbid, disturbing concept that a handful of people are uncomfortable with, but overall her future is unknown.

BONUS - A/U if Cy was still alive by the timeline of the movie

She chose to stay in the facility after collapse of the USSR in 1991, which the news totally blew her mind. Fast forward...she was a bit apathetic towards Susan's case at first, believing that her size was irreversible, and for that reason is the only monster who doesn't call Susan by her human name. It's either "Ginormica" or "Ginochka" (first 1 [or 2] syllable[s] of a name + "-ochka" is a Russian take on nicknames/terms of endearment for people). The only time she called her Susan was when the monsters were trapped in Gallaxhar's ship and urging her to leave. Nevertheless, Cy cares about her and is protective over her like the cool streetwise older kid mixed with a mama bear; their relationship isn't a besties one. She finally embraced herself as a cyborg because her being finally has a sense of good and purpose: saving the world. She wants the rest of her transformation completed in order to better help Team Monster. She was introduced to alcohol shortly after her release and LOVES hard liquor. She and Monger are the ultimate rivals in a drinking game. A couple of the monsters want a wifi hotspot to be one of her transformation features, but she has already said a big NO. She's been regarded as beautiful, like Susan, probably being featured on the cover of Vogue at least once. Russians hailed her as a hometown hero, and the Russian government tried to claim all the credit for saving the world.

[maranello]

🎼 please miss fio ily <3

I chose this because this is what it feels like for me whenever we converse (hamsters notwithstanding) ❤️

It’s a conversation between two of the same instrument! I love how there are parts where you can’t tell where one piano ends and the other comes in—like they are finishing each other’s sentences seamlessly. Complementary and with pace it goes! Yet with gentler pauses/lulls in between that sound like those moments of deeper reflection and thought. You just get the sense that these two pianos are inseparable, yet each of them has a clarity of voice that doesn’t get muddied into just one giant blob of beautiful sounds. I love that it has that this bright, butter yellow tone to it that is just so simple and lovely. It really just feels like when you meet someone and realize you have the same correct opinions and share the same passion (i.e. when I found out you were actually tifosi in an era of public Ferrari hatred) and you’re just racing through all these topics of conversation and happy to have found someone who gets it!! This may be one of the most known piano duets of Mozart, and I had a few other sonatas in mind, but I stand by my choice. This music best represents our friendship.

I chose Murray Perahia and Radu Lupu’s version specifically because I think it’s the one that has the lightest opening notes. Most versions I think stay longer on the notes, but for me, the way the second phrase should be played should pick up like a skip instead of taking it as a full step if that makes sense. In any case, Perahia’s recordings of Mozart are held up as one of the standards to be measured against anyways.

send 🎼 for a mozart recording

[strangerthings4theories]

Mirror Images: Billy And El Are Reflections Of Each Other

As you read this post, hold the following concepts in your mind: yin and yang in Chinese philosophy. The Light Side and Dark Side in Star Wars. The real world and the Upside Down in Stranger Things.

That, my friends, is the level of thematic significance the Duffers are giving Billy and El. And it’s my top reason for believing Billy will come back.

Why?

El is arguably the main character of the show. Any character who’s linked to her so profoundly will be a Big Fuckin’ Deal.

You cannot, CANNOT, create such a consistent dynamic by accident, which tells me that...

...the Duffers have huge intentions for Billy. He will become more significant to the show, not less! If you think he’ll return just for flashbacks or memories, you’re not thinking big enough.

Buuuut I’m getting ahead of myself. First let me show you what I mean when I say Billy and El are mirror images. It’s pretty mind-blowing...

1) The broad strokes of Billy and El’s lives echo each other: their family backgrounds, their traumas, and their journeys in the show.

>>They’ve suffered under abusive fathers. In fact, in S2 they have encounters with their fathers in back-to-back episodes - El with Brenner in episode 7, Billy with Neil in episode 8. 

Both fathers are likened to the Mind Flayer in the power they wield over their children. In episode 7, El’s hallucination of Brenner tells her she has a “wound... growing and festering” (my paraphrase), a clear reference to the tunnels of the Upside Down. Kali, as the creator of the hallucination, is trying to tell El that he is the source of the wound, and El won’t heal until she’s confronted him. 

In episode 8, the title card “The Mind Flayer” opens on Neil driving back to the Hargrove house, implying he’s the real Mind Flayer in Billy’s life. As I’ve argued elsewhere, Billy won’t heal either until he’s confronted Neil.

>>Billy and El lost their mothers because of their fathers. Brenner fried Terry's brain with electricity for daring to defy him. Billy's mother left for an unknown reason, but we’re led to believe she couldn’t take Neil’s abuse anymore. The way she's presented in Billy's memories leads me to believe she has since passed away.

Billy and El are both devastated by their losses. When El tells Billy at Starcourt, “[Your mother] was pretty,” she’s trying to tell him she understands.

>>Billy and El have “adopted” sisters, Max and Kali. Max represents Billy's better nature; Kali represents El's darker nature. In the same season where Billy constantly insists Max isn't his sister - thereby rejecting her - El finds Kali and embraces her. This symbolizes Billy and El’s complementary journeys: Billy is learning to accept his light while El is learning to accept her darkness.

>>Billy and El are wounded and angry because of what’s happened to them. In S1 El worries she's a monster, and in S2 she nearly kills a man in her anger, only to stop herself at the last second (against the wishes of Kali, her darker nature). Billy lets his rage define him. He's turned into a bully over his teen years, and in S2 he nearly kills Steve. Max (his better nature) stops him.

>>Billy and El are viscerally connected to the Upside Down.

The Upside Down is pursuing El. We’re not sure why yet, but their predator/prey dynamic is the main source of conflict in the show. Brenner says to her in S1, “It [the Upside Down] is reaching out to you ‘cause it wants you. It’s calling you. So don’t turn away from it this time.” His words form the backbone of the narrative:

In S1, El opens the first Gate, introducing the Upside Down to our world and setting the events of the show in motion. At the climax, she defeats the Demogorgon, the Mind Flayer's first servant.

S2 deals with the evolving consequences of El opening the first Gate. At the climax, El closes the Gate (symbolically “turning away" from the Upside Down) and catches the Mind Flayer's attention in the process.

In S3, the Mind Flayer comes after El to kill her. She runs from him, and her friends intervene to save her.

In future seasons, the Mind Flayer will regroup and try again but to corrupt her this time, not kill her. The climax of the entire show will hinge on the resolution of their conflict. El will be forced to stop running and face the Mind Flayer head-on.

In S3, Billy is caught by the Mind Flayer and turned into his instrument to hunt El down. This creates a yin/yang situation where Billy and El are revolving around each other, with the Mind Flayer in the center pulling on them both. At Starcourt, El saves Billy's soul by bypassing the Mind Flayer completely - building “the rainbow bridge.”

If you remember that Brenner and Neil, their abusive fathers, are likened to the Mind Flayer, their interaction becomes the story of Billy re-enacting his trauma, and El helping him heal it.

2) Runaway Max gives us a special case of Billy and El mirroring each other.

In S1, one of El's biggest moments happens in episode 6. Mike and Dustin have been cornered by the bullies Troy and James. Right when all hope is lost, El shows up and breaks Troy’s arm. After that, she confesses tearfully, “The gate. I opened it. I'm the monster.” This brings forward her inner struggle - am I a monster for the things I do? - which she will no doubt revisit in future seasons.

Keep in mind that Troy is around 12 years old, and El breaks his right arm.

Jump forward to S2. At one point, Billy complains, “Yeah, we're stuck here [in Hawkins]. And whose fault is that?” - implying it's somehow Max's. She disagrees. “Yours,” she mutters under her breath.

In the show, we never get an explanation. Runaway Max tells us everything.

Back in California, Billy is spiraling deeper and deeper into a pit of rage. One fateful afternoon, he takes it out on Max and her best friend Nate, a 12-year-old boy. When Max resists him, he seizes Nate's right arm and twists it behind his back. He holds it there, watching Max.

“What are you going to do?” he asks, a crazed look in his eyes.

When she does nothing, he breaks Nate's arm.

The fallout is catastrophic. Within weeks, Neil decides they should all move away from California for the good of the family.

Now think about this. El breaks a 12-year-old boy's right arm to save her friends from bullies. Billy breaks a 12-year-old boy's right arm... because he is the bully.

It’s part of the wider pattern: El is light, Billy is darkness.

3) The Duffers use physical markers to underscore Billy and El’s similarities.

>>When the MF wrecks Billy's car, Billy's forehead smashes into the windshield, leaving a gash. At Starcourt, he slams El into the wall, giving her a wound in the same spot. Thematically, their wounds tell the story of Billy suffering abuse, then turning around and inflicting it on El. He’s perpetuating a cycle, and it’s up to him to stop it.

>>Both Billy and El are limping by the time they reach Starcourt. El's leg is injured from the Mind Flayer, while Billy injures his in the car crash. These wounds tell the story of El, the “innocent,” suffering pain through no fault of her own while Billy, the “guilty” one, is being punished for his crimes. (I put those words in quotes because I believe the show will challenge our assumptions.) 

A sad footnote: El has Max and Mike to help her walk. Billy has no one.

>>In S2, Billy gets a nosebleed out of the same nostril as El. This says a LOT, marking him as a future “superhero” and putting him in the same class as El, Kali, and El's mom Terry.

Off the top of my head, only two other characters get nosebleeds, Mayor Kline and Steve. But the blood never comes cleanly out of one nostril the way it does with El. I believe that was a purposeful design choice to avoid muddying the symbolic waters.

...

Y’all, I’ve already hit my picture limit for a single post, and I’m not even done yet :p So I’ll stop there for now. Eventually I’ll show you how El is connected to the Demogorgon in the same strange way as Billy.

You see what I mean though? There is no fuckin’ way Billy is dead for good. Why would the Duffers give him this much resonance with El, then drop him? 

It makes no sense.

If you ask me, they’ve got plans for our boy. World-altering plans. He’s not just coming back; by the end of the show, he’s gonna be a Big Goddamn Hero.

»»————-　✼　————-««

Billy Is Alive - A Meta Series