#cash's weird sound effects!!!!!!!

[nsomniacsdream]

I have a hard time talking about American law enforcement, because I have ptsd (like a therapist told me this and everything) from my own experiences with cops and because it's so balls quaking insane.

Like, a cop in the United States can pull you over for any reason. Which is a nice way of saying no reason, because literally anything can be used after the fact as justification. A cop can say its cuz you looked at him, or didnt look at him, or it looked like you were holding something, or looked like you were driving too perfectly for it to be natural. It's insane.

There are apparently no circumstances where a cop can't just kill you. The line the courts have applied is "reasonably believed" you were a threat, but that's such a nebulous nothing limit that people get shot for reaching for their license, having their phone in their hand, you're running away with no weapon, not being able to follow conflicting commands, like anything. And cops are almost never charged, because every court is going to believe he could "reasonably believe" he was threatened. Fuck, if you give me enough time, I can make any situation seem juuuuust plausibly threatening enough to pass that bar. It's insane.

A cop can just rob you. Like tell you to give him your wallet, take all the cash out, and just walk away with it. Exactly like you would imagine getting robbed in an alley would go, except no one can help. And he doesn't even have to hide it, he just drops it in a box at the station and they put it in their bank account. It's legal. You can't prove it wasn't drug money. I can't prove any money wasn't at some point drug money. It's insane.

If a cop just walks in your front door and says "I'm here to kill you and your entire family" YOU ARE GOING TO PRISON IF YOU STOP HIM. There is no positive defense for assaulting a police officer in the United States, and doubly so if you kill him. You have effectively no defense against a homicidal cop, which happens same as any other job. Unless for some reason you have cameras all thru your house and clearly caught the audio of him saying that he's there just to kill you, you have zero chance of not going to prison, probably for life. And that's assuming you aren't killed "resisting arrest" while being taken into custody. It is a crime, in this country, for you to defend yourself under any circumstances if the person you're defending yourself from is a cop. That's insane.

You don't have civil rights if a cop says so. You have the right to have a gun, right? A lot of states have open carry. A cop can shoot you if he sees you have a gun. Doesn't matter if you have a license and everything. So you effectively don't have the right to bear arms if a cop can shoot you for exercising it. You have the right to protest. Unless a cop tells you to stop. He doesn't need a real reason to tell you to stop. And if you don't stop, you can be arrested or shot. So you don't really have the right to protest, do you? A cop cant just search your car or house, right? Unless he claims he heard something, or smelled something, neither of which can be proven. So a cop can search whatever he wants, as long as he pretends there was a "reason". So you dont have protection from unreasonable search and seizure, do you? These are no longer rights- they're things the cops allow.. for now. But legally, those rights have already been found to not actually be rights, because any random cop can decide to take that right from you, for any reason. It's insane.

These aren't like crazy things that I'm just making up, these aren't some weird twisted way I'm looking at something, these are all very real things that we all just.. ignore? Police abolitionists and the media bring these things up all the time, and the overwhelming response to it is: so what? Don't break the law and it won't matter. Blue lives matter. More police funding. Cops should have tanks. It's insane. And I always feel like im just rambling and sound insane when I say this kind of stuff because if you wrote a book and had the dystopian government doing the stuff that the police in this country do every single day, those same people who "back the blue" would line up to say stuff like "*Books government* wouldnt have a chance before us real americans stopped them" on twitter and not even get a hint of the irony.

[not-the-cheese]

one sentence summaries of every TMA episode

(1-60 i'll add more soon)

part 2 up!

world's most effective anti-smoking PSA

man DOES NOT open coffin. everyone claps.

woman is judgemental towards neighbor even though she has hobbies that are just as weird.

book makes multiple people fall off chair.

man finds bag of teeth and decides he absolutely needs to fuck around and find out.

worm sti.

there was a SCARY MAN in the WAR.

fuck this tree

well at least ted bundy was a great father :)

i'm like 55% sure vampires are real and i'm willing to take those odds

bitches be dying. you're next.

we kill this man because he made the soda too warm.

sorry ur husband's dead. maybe get some help.

Unbox with me ! (GONE WRONG)

hah i'm safe from this one because i have decided to Never Go Into a Cave Ever.

man is so annoying about this spider that even his cat can't be bothered

man's bully finds a book about a Bone Turner and subsequently begins turning people's bones.

this guy sucks at DIY home improvement

aw maybe this priest didn't do anything THAT bad!

oh fuck nevermind

THE SKY ATE MY SON.

the worms stole my identity. i haven't left the house in days.

man beats german children at game of bravery and wins a coin (he later loses this coin)

my ex boyfriend gets casted in the muppets and dies

sorry mom, i've abandoned jesus for a new religion : jesus in the dark.

tall squiggly and HANDsome

old man arm wrestles demon through door knob

the buzzfeed unsolved guys finally catch a ghost but it's their sound tech

immortality but at what cost

working at the big meat factory was so traumatizing it made me vegetarian

i go to america and get almost killed by a furry

well if you love that wasp nest so much why don't you MARRY it (and then she did)

antisocial boat crew bands together to exclude one guy from a midnight party. he dies from the rejection.

bone apple teeth

remember when that norwegian guy threw a tantrum about us not digging a hole? turns out we were right to not dig that hole.

babe come over my parents have taken ill and passed away

man fucks around and it costs him everything

HOMOPHOBIC CHINESE VASE

oh god oh fuck the worms are here

thank you for participating in worms! please rate your wormsperience from 1 to 10.

the wormsperience has left me deeply scarred. i'm going to get lost in a tunnel about it.

🎸music makes me loose control🎸

spooky stories to tell at the next police slumber party

child threatens to run away and join the circus one too many times, and now the circus has come to cash in.

these mosquitoes are mad sus

man frequents local barnes and noble and then dies(?) after liking a book too much.

realtor gets eaten by the backrooms twice. it's a terrible shame.

both me and this weird goth dude have an unsatisfying italy vacation

guy who turns people's bones gets a new job where he continues to turn people's bones.

man who should never be allowed to build prisons builds a prison.

Something Big Is In The Water.

what if u heard me about 15 feet behind you fumbling around and calling out ur name 😳 (and we were both prison guards)

i'm going to be honest i didn't retain anything from this episode except that this guy has the silliest old man voice ever

everybody hates the tax man, including these creepy taxidermy animals

hmmgh. ant house.

so turns out being only 55% sure that vampires are real in my career as a vampire hunter has had some consequences.

the only thing keeping you company in space is your abandonment issues

🎶 the snack that smiles back 🎶 (my husband!)

maybe the real treasure was the house siblings we encased in spider web along the way.

your dead brother wrote books about ancient myths and WHAT

Part 2

[seamistgale]

Bernard was being haunted.

His sus-o-meter isn't up to 100%, but if he's being real, it never is. The downside of being into conspiracy theories was that you were only partially sure which one was more skewed than the other. One day he could be convinced Batman is more cryptid than man, and then he'd stumble on some fascinating witness accounts that make him rethink the Vampire hypothesis.

This time, however, he's fairly sure this sort of freaky shit only happens to people in those cookie-cutter horror movies.

… Except this particular ghost might be of midwestern decent, or something, because they sucked at properly haunting.

Example number one:

It was rare that Bernard had dishes piled up. He lived alone, and occasionally Tim would come to his apartment; with a couple of games, some takeout boxes, and a movie later, there would be way more things to clean up than a whole weekend on his own.

The last time Tim came over, Bernard didn't bother cleaning up for the night, and then the trash just…. Disappeared.

Not like 'a burglar broke in for some weird fetish reason, and my trash is now gone' gone, but more 'the trash is in bags, the dishes are clean, and I swear the air smells fresher' gone.

That was strike one.

He brushed it off because Tim had been there. It was unlikely he just went on a stress cleaning spree at Bernard's place but… Well, Bernard's caught him doing way weirder shit. It's fine.

(it's not fine. You just didn't move things around on someone else's turf.

"…Clean up?" Tim echoed back from the phone, sounding as confused as Bernard felt the following morning. "I-- no, of course not!" and then hurriedly continued to reassure Bernard he'd never do that. Because Tim was nice like that, even after Bernard low-key accused him of giving him the Gotham equivalent of pissing in someone else's yard.

So, that was strike one in the back of his hindbrain that something was up.)

Strike two and three came together.

See, in Gotham's economy, sometimes your employer doesn't have your paycheck the week it should be. Who cares if you need to pay rent through or your landlord will double your rent? Neither your boss nor the landlord in question, obviously. So what he usually did was have a nest egg the size of his rent just in case.

But this month Bernard had splurged a little too much, so he was short. It was nothing big, he was just five bucks short.

The issue was, that his landlord was paranoid and was already breathing down his neck for not paying the next month's rent the day before the new month started. Like clockwork, his landlord put a warning under his door, ready to evict him the same day the month started if Bernard didn't have the rent in cash the next morning.

He knew the eviction notice was at the door, but chose to ignore it because it didn't matter, he'd get those five one way or another by the end of the day.

By the time he came back, two things were out of place. The first was the eviction notice on his table. Again, no one moved someone else's shit around.

Strike three happened while counting his nest egg, and would you look at that! He had more money than he'd counted. Nothing ridiculous, just… He had those five bucks now.

All these little things were easy to miss, or misremember, but Bernard was not most people. But the catch here was… All these things were good things. Sort of.

So not only was this happening when he wasn't around, but they were happening to his… Advantage? He'd even call it good fortune if one was willing to ignore the lack of privacy… And maybe he would have, if this wasn't Gotham. Privacy was a mix between a luxury and a currency. Sometimes a kindness.

In some ways maybe it would have been an effective scare tactic, to mess someone's shit up, but this was not the way he'd personally go about it if he wanted someone to leave the building.

So here Bernard was, staring again at the dishes he had placed as bait, because he wasn't an idiot and tempting a ghost into anything remotely violent was stupid. The dishes were cleaned.

He squinted at the ceiling, then at the rest of his apartment, trying to gauge whether trying to make first contact was going to get him more haunted, killed, or turn him into a Saturday morning cartoon.

Finally, he picked up a cup. Not a glass cup, because why would he give the ghost any ammunition, but a couple of fairly clear plastic cups, a marker, two sticky notes, and filled both cups with tap water decently enough so a mild tremble would be noticeable.

The first sticky note said "Yes", and the second, predictably, said "No."

"So." Bernard sat in front of the cups, feeling halfway like a dumbass for doing this in the first place, and halfway like he's about to do the worst decision of his life because it might just work. "You from out of town, or are you just really shitty at this?"

[aayakashii]

could you feed us lyca simps?

I hope you don't mind the little slice of life fluff I ended up writing for this request, I just think he's too cute for his own good (๑•́ ᎔ ก̀๑) and thanks for the request!!

neapolitan

Warnings: none. Just tooth rotting fluff and slice of life. Lyca knowing nothing about the world, while MC holds his hand to introduce him to the fun things of life.

“You know you don't have to follow me right now, right? I'm just going to the store to restock my first aid kit…” you say, sighing in defeat, as you side-eye the tall boy prancing right beside you, almost attached to your hip.

Lyca puffs his chest, a small pout appearing under his sharp fangs.

“No, I have to! I don't trust that shop man. He is weird… He looks at you weird!”

Well… You couldn't quite deny that fact.

“But don't you have homework from Professor Moby?”

“Who is that again? You know I don't remember their names” Lyca asks, scrunching his brows and scratching his head, as if he was searching his brain for the right face to attach to the name.

“Professor squirmy” you suppress a smile as you use Lyca's nickname for the eldritch teacher.

“Oh! I have already done all my homework from his class, though?”

“Really?” you look at him with widened eyes “That's very responsible of you, Lyca. That's great!” you smile, giving him two thumbs up.

You do wonder how he managed to finish it all so quickly, since he had difficulty reading harder kanjis, but you just chalk it up to Subaru helping him out without your knowledge.

He huffs, cheeks just a little bit rosy.

“Of course! That's nothing for someone like me. I'm gonna be an exemp… exemp… eggs-emm-puh-larry… member of human society!” Lyca says, slapping his own chest with a loud thud.

“An exemplary member of human society, right?” you repeat his words, more fluently than him, so he can hear how it's usually pronounced.

“That's what I said.” he mumbles and pushes the door to Darkwick's local store open, pointing to the inside of the dimly lit shop “You first.”

You widen your eyes once again, and chuckle.

“Wait, when did you learn to be so gentlemanly?” you say, as you walk through the door with him right after you.

“The blonde gigolo has been teaching me some things. He says being a gen-tle-man would make people respect me more.”

You nod at his words right as the door closes loudly behind him, the chime bell slamming against the door frame.

Okay, well. Maybe he still needs a bit of practice.

You wince at the loud sound, but after just a few seconds, you immediately relax, feeling the cool air inside the store hit your body. The fragrant scent of pastries being displayed inside a small shelf and the gentleness of the low lights also lull you into a sense of tranquility.

It seems like the effect is the same on Lyca, because you see the way his shoulders slump a little bit and how his grumpy face gives way to an eased expression.

You decide to browse through the shelves for a bit, absentmindedly, before getting your supplies. Lyca stood close, his nose sniffing every little thing you pointed out.

After a lot of explaining about products (No, Lyca, you cannot eat tide pods, those are for washing clothes. Yes, Lyca, you can actually eat hard candy, they aren't made for biting though. No, Lyca, just because tide pods and hard candy look similar, doesn't mean they're the same thing), you grab all your needed supplies and make your way to the cashier.

Thinking hard about how to keep Lyca from growling at the shopkeeper, you barely notice how the werewolf walks towards a small freezer a few steps to the side of the cash register. You finish paying when you hear his voice calling at you.

“Hey! Hey! What's this?” he points to the inside of the freezer and you walk to his side, his hands instinctively grabbing your bags so he could carry them for you.

“Those are ice cream pots.” you look at the multi colored labels that advertised a small range of different flavors. “Have you ever eaten ice cream, Lyca?”

“What's that?” he looks inquisitively at the small containers.

“It's a type of frozen sweet. It has lots of flavors and it's usually eaten when it's hot outside.”

He hums, still staring at the pots.

“Do you like sweets, Lyca?”

“Hmm, not really…”

“Oh, I see...”

“But! It's, um. It's hot outside, right?” he replies quickly, looking at you expectantly.

You smile to yourself, thinking about how his tail would probably be wagging if it was out right now.

“That's true, it's very hot outside. I think ice cream sounds great right now, what do you think?”

“I- I agree! Of course.” he huffs, as if he wasn't almost hopping with joy at the idea.

You chuckle and open the freezer, grabbing a small pot for the both of you. After paying for the frozen treat and grabbing two spoons, you two go out into the merciless heat of Darkwick's campus.

“Okay, so.” you sit under a huge tree overlooking a lake, hiding from the sun rays under the cool shade, and grab the ice cream pot.

Lyca sits right next to you, back straight as a plank, paying full attention to you and the mysterious treat you bought.

“I bought this one because it has three of the most classic flavors, and since you never ate ice cream, I figured you should taste the most common ones first. It's called neapolitan.” you explain, opening the lid and giving him a spoon “It's vanilla, strawberry and chocolate”

His eyes sparkle, looking at the frozen sweet. Your eyes widen as you see his wolf ears and tail pop out instinctively, but you choose not to mention it.

“Oohh! It looks good! Which one should I try first?” he asks, tail sweeping the grass under him.

“You can try whichever you want. Go crazy!”

You immediately regret your words as he shoves his spoon deep into the ice cream, grabbing more than one flavor, and eating a huge spoonful in one go.

“Ugh!! My head!!” he yells after a little while, clawing at his own forehead.

“Lyca! You can't eat cold things so quickly, you'll get brain freeze” you scold him, rolling your eyes.

“Well, tell me that sooner!” he groans, still holding his head, eyes shut tight.

“You're supposed to know that instinctively!”

He grunts, shaking his head as the sharp pain disappears slowly.

“Grab just one flavor at a time for now, so you can see which one you like more. Then you can mix everything. Like this” you say as you scoop a bit of strawberry ice cream into your spoon and eat it.

He mimics your action, scooping a bit of vanilla ice cream first.

Lyca's face falls as he smacks his lips repeatedly, tasting the ice cream.

“It's not that big of a deal.” he says, visibly disappointed.

“That's okay, now try the pink one.”

He does as you say and immediately scrunches his face.

“Uwah! That's awful! I don't want to eat it!”

You sigh, thinking about how Lyca seems more like a werecat than a werewolf at times.

“That's fine, it's just your personal taste. Now try the brown one. It's chocolate.”

Lyca hesitates, not really trusting your words after the previous experiences, but scoops a bit of chocolate ice cream either way. As soon as he eats the treat, his ears and tail perk up.

“Ohhh!!! This one is good!!” He yells, tail wagging a thousand miles per hour and eyes sparkling as he scoops a huge amount of chocolate ice cream again.

“Careful, or you're gonna get brain freeze again!” You scold him, but immediately give up, sighing and smiling at the sight of him happily smearing chocolate onto his face, like a big baby.

“I like the brown one mixed with the white-ish yellow-ish one! The pink one is gross though!” He says grabbing the ice cream with his hands, spoon immediately forgotten.

“Ah, Lyca! You're not supposed to eat it with your hands! You'll get all dirty…” you fret, afraid he'll get his uniform stained once again.

“But it's better this way, because I can feel how cold it is with my hands. You humans are so weird with all your rules…” he grumbles.

You sigh, as he pouts and licks his hands clean, grumpiness fully back.

“You have to learn these rules to become human though? But…” you trail off and he looks at you as you rummage through your pockets, fishing out a handkerchief.

You hold his cheek, wiping his face clean, ignoring the little blush that tinted his face as you got closer.

“But as long as it's just us, you can eat however you want. Just don't do it in public. And don't tell Rui I said this! He thinks I spoil you way too much. Deal?”

Lyca looks away, clearing his throat that suddenly got parched, despite all the ice cream he had just eaten.

“Hmpft. D-deal.”

[tasteleeknow]

CALL OF THE SIREN

PAIRING: siren!minho x fem!reader GENRE: smut. fluff. fairytale!au CONTENT: 18+ minors dni. WORD COUNT: 5.7k

SUMMARY: the effect he has on people is obvious, they’re drawn to him like he’s an oasis in a desert. then, with a small jingle of a bell that announces his arrival into your store, he attempts to ensnare you.

NOTE: my step back into writing after a little break. please let me know what you think! this is my interpretation of a siren. i know some people write them as mermaid type creatures. i wanted to write more the bird type, pretty bird singing in a cage and never touched and all of that jazz. whatever, hope you enjoy!

do not repost to other sites, including translations.

“Would you just come for an hour or so? Please?” you friend asks, tugging on your arm and giving you her best puppy dog eyes. 

“You just go,” you whine. “I’ve just had a new shipment in, I really should—” 

“It’s Sunday,” he interrupts. “Your books can wait,” she tugs you a little harder. “30 minutes.” 

“45.” 

Elsie was perhaps the only person you could call a real friend. She loved you, she’d proven that over and over throughout the years. Still, she was a very different person than you were. She sought out new faces and new company seemingly every hour of the day she had free. 

“Why are you so obsessed with dragging me around like a sidekick?” 

“Why are you so obsessed with this bookstore?” she retorts. 

“Why are you so obsessed with that man?” 

“What man?” she says, faking ignorance.

“Oh, come on.” 

“Listen, you just have to meet him once, alright? It’s not—” 

“It is that weird,” you correct before she can finish. “You and everyone else have lost your minds. I really don’t see how it’s possible for any man to—”

“You’ll see.” 

You sigh. “Let me lock up.” 

—

It’s as busy as the last time you’d been dragged to the monthly market. It always felt like the entire region descended onto the field far too small to accommodate them all. You weren’t used to crowds like this. Your days were happily spent in your village bookstore, room enough for your books and a small apartment out back. 

“There!” Elsie exclaims.

A crowd surrounds a small stage, obscuring your view of whatever has captured their attention. Your friend grips your hand and tugs you so suddenly you barely manage to stay upright, ducking your head as she barrels through the sea of bodies. The bustling sound of the market fades as she pulls you to a stop. Her eyes are fixed on the small makeshift stage, constructed from various wooden crates stacked beside each other. He’s singing: the man on the stage. He stands there in front of you, white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows with his hair falling into his eyes. He’s pretty, you’ll give him that. But when you turn to speak to your friend, the look on her face makes the words stick in your throat. She looks transfixed. She looks like he’s offering her the world on a silver platter, holding it out to her with his bare hands.

A strange feeling bubbles up in your chest, like you should wrap your arms around her as if she might at any moment lunge onto the stage. 

Then the singing stops. 

“That’s him,” she breathes dreamily, still failing to pull her eyes from the man on stage. 

“Thank you for coming,” the man on stage announces just before leaping off the stage and walking directly towards you. The crowd begins shuffling around, making their way to the small booth where they can offer their cash as a thank you for a clearly enrapturing performance. 

“You looked away,” he says when he reaches you, like that means anything at all. 

Your friend grabs your hand, as if she's afraid you might turn and run. “This is Minho,” she says. “He performs here every month. We uh—We had a drink last month and I said I’d bring my best friend next time.” 

You tug your hand from your friend’s, a little amused by her clear infatuation. Then you hold it towards him, inviting the stranger to shake it. He doesn’t. Instead he looks down at it like you’ve just held up something rotten in his face. 

“Minho doesn’t like touching people,” your friend explains, grabbing your hand again and saving you the embarrassment of letting it fall to your side. 

“Right. Well, I uh— I enjoyed what little of your performance I heard. Your voice is nice.” 

“Nice?” he says, cocking his head a little. 

Nice wasn’t enough of a compliment for him? The man refuses to shake hands and has a big ego. Your brows draw together, growing confused at your usually very intuitive friend’s infatuation. 

Elsie laughs, swinging your hands back and forth between you. “It’s heavenly, more like. Nice is a ridiculous way to describe it. Doesn’t it just… feel like it’s seeping into your chest? Like you could drown in it?” 

The man—Minho—looks at you with anticipation, curiosity: like your answer is important. 

“I—I mean, sure. I suppose.” 

“Should we all get a drink? There’s a shake stall, just near the lake,” your friend says, pulling Minho’s eyes from yours as she leads you away.

—

The remainder of the day is uneventful. You stay an hour and your friend chats away with the strange man like a lovesick puppy while you make yourself sick on a far too large vanilla milkshake. Love gives people rose tinted glasses, you conclude that night as you fall into bed. He was pretty and he had a nice voice, but clearly your friend's view of him was magnified by her heart. Infatuation does that to people. 

—

The gentle jingle of the bell above the door is one of those sounds you’d grown so accustomed to, you now barely heard it. It was background noise, like the sea birds or the crashing of the waves against the cliffs. You were so close to the cliffside here, it was the biggest selling point of the place. If you cracked your window open at night you could fall asleep to that sound. It was a stark difference to the car horns and sirens you’d grown up with. 

“Excuse me?” a voice says, startling you from your reverie. 

“Minho.” 

“You remembered.”

“I’m good with names.” 

He looks around the store, taking in the high shelves and the ladders installed to reach. “Yes, you’d have to be. Elsie told me you were… attached to this place.” 

“I love it.” 

He tilts his head a little, that look crossing his face again. You feel like you’re under a microscope. 

You clear your throat, stepping down from the small step you carry around the store to reach difficult places. “Do you need help finding anything?” 

He shoves his hands in his pockets, gazing around the store lazily. “I don’t do a lot of reading to be honest. I could use a few recommendations.” 

You brush your hands down your front. “Alright. What genres do you like?” 

He shrugs, offering you a lopsided grin. 

“You have to help me a little.” 

“Give me three of your favourites.” 

“We might not have the same taste.”

He shrugs again. 

Okay, fine. He’d be buying either way. 

He follows you around the store, a quiet shadow as you collect the first three books to come to mind. He’s quiet as he pays, placing his card down on the counter between you. Doesn’t like to be touched, you’re reminded. You slide the brown paper bag across the counter for him as you tuck his receipt inside. 

“Here you go.” 

“Do you think I’m pretty?” he says casually as he scoops it off the counter. 

You’re quiet for a moment, processing the question. “I’m sorry?” 

“I know it’s an odd question.” 

“Odd doesn’t—” 

“Humour me.” 

Elsie has a lot of explaining to do. “Sure. You’re pretty and your voice is heavenly. It seeps into my soul.” 

He grins. “You’re lying.” 

“Look, I think you’re strange. You… make me feel uneasy and—” 

“Uneasy?” 

“Not in a bad way. I don’t feel.. unsafe. I just… feel like I’m missing something. It’s uncomfortable.” 

“Not knowing something makes you uncomfortable,” he says, still grinning. It isn’t a question. 

“Why are you here? You clearly didn’t come here to buy books.” 

He juggles the brown bag into one hand so he can hold out his other towards you. “I came to shake your hand.” 

“I thought you didn’t like to do that.” 

“I don’t.” 

“So why are you—”

“Humour me.” 

You sigh, reaching out and grasping his hand in yours. He jolts as your palms connect, dropping the contents of the paper bag across the floor as he stumbles backwards. Okay, he really doesn’t like being touched. You round the counter to collect the books from the floor, cringing a little at the way one of the brand new paperbacks has landed. 

It’s only when you’ve collected all three and righted yourself you realise Minho is standing deathly still, silent. 

You raise your eyes to him. He looks shaken. You can’t help feeling sorry for him. “I don’t know what—I don’t know why you don’t like being touched, but it’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay to protect yourself.” 

You place the bag at his feet and take a step away from him. “Did you—Did you feel anything?” 

You frown. 

“When we touched,” he clarifies. 

“Like what?” 

“Nothing. I uh—” he bends to collect the bag. “Thanks for the books.” 

And with that, he’s gone. The small bell announces his exit. 

—

It’s days like these, with the sun high in the sky and the gentle spring breeze, that you’re so grateful for life you can hardly contain it. You close the shop and take the small walk to the cliffside bench with a book tucked under one arm and a thermos in your chilled hands. She’s waiting for you there. She knows weather like this draws you out. 

“The princess emerges from her tower, at last!” Elsie practically shouts as you lower yourself onto the bench beside her. 

“No shouting on days like this.” 

“Is that coffee?” she asks, gesturing to your thermos.

“Tea,” you correct, passing it to her before she can ask. 

“Mm, prefer coffee,” she says just before taking a healthy sip. 

“You should’ve brought some then.” 

You’re both quiet for a while after that, opening your book to read silently as Elsie gazes out over the ocean, thermos grasped between her hands. 

“Do you know something?” she says eventually. “I think you were right about this place.” 

You place your book by your side as she passes you the half empty thermos. “Was I?” 

“I know I tease you for it. But I get it. Why you spend all your time here, I mean. It’s nice.” 

“Nice?” you laugh. “What an understatement.” 

She turns towards you. “Oh, I'm the one understating the beauty of things now?” 

“Don’t start.” 

“I know he came to the store.” 

“People do that when they want to buy books.” 

“That man doesn’t need to go to a store to buy books.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” you question.

“Come out with me tonight and I’ll show you.” 

“Where?” 

She grins. 

—

“What the hell is this?”

“Minho’s home,” your friend answers.

“Elsie, this is a fucking palace. What the hell is he doing busking at the local market?” 

She shrugs. “I asked him the same thing. Come on,” she says, attempting to lead you towards the imposing doors. 

“I wasn’t invited,” you point out.

“I have a plus one.”

The sound of chatter and laughter floods through the door as it opens. Half the town are his dinner guests by the sound of it. Elsie pulls you through the stately rooms, each with high ceilings and decadent carpets. 

When she passes you a drink, you still haven’t spotted him. You recognise faces from your store, people who have dropped by once or twice on a lazy afternoon and others who are regulars. Members of the local book club practically keep you afloat. 

“Is this a celebration?” 

“No, he just holds these regularly apparently. Has a private concert before dinner.” She tips back her head and finishes her champagne in one go. “That’s where they’re going now. Come on, let’s get good seats.”

It’s the kind of place you’d read about in fantasy novels, with high ceilings and chandeliers and carpets that could be worth more than your shop. It’s utterly ridiculous. A tiny sliver of embarrassment sneaks its way inside you at the idea of someone that had all this stepping into your store. You stamp it under your boot before it can settle. Your store is everything. You’d never been prouder of anything in your life. 

When the man of the hour emerges, the room quiets. People shift in their seats, leaning ever so slightly towards the stage where he stands. This stage is nothing like the one at the markets. It’s a permanent, elaborate construction, raising him high enough that even those peaking their heads into the packed room from the very back can get a clear view. 

Then he starts singing. 

It’s just like the last time you heard him. It’s pleasant, beautiful even. But as you take in the faces of those around you, you get that frustrating feeling again: you’re missing something. He stands centre stage, lulling the entire room into a dazed wonder. You get the urge to climb on stage and shake him. Tell me what this is! But you don’t. You wait for him to finish, wait for him to release his captives. 

Thirty minutes later Elsie takes your arm as you filter out of the room and towards the dining room, only stopping when Minho steps in front of you—blocking your exit. 

“Did you enjoy the performance?” he asks, a polite smile pulling the corners of his lips up. 

It sets your friend off on a speech that makes you want to pull her aside and give her a gentle slap across the face. Snap her out of whatever has taken root inside her brain. 

“And you?” Minho finally asks. 

“It was fine,” you answer. He didn’t need his ego fed. 

He laughs. Laughs. Like the idea that you weren’t totally enraptured by him like a sort of admiring zombie was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. Your eyes drop to his neck as you wonder how your hands would look wrapped around his throat. 

“Elsie, they’ll be starting service now. May I have a word with my guest? Just for a moment.” 

Your friend looks between you both, like she’s missing something obvious. You understand the feeling. Then she leaves with a gentle squeeze of your arm. 

“You’re rich,” you announce after a moment of silence. 

“Very observant.” 

“How?” 

“And blunt.” 

“I don’t like not knowing things.” 

“Yes, yes I know,” he smiles. Then he collapses into one of the empty chairs and looks around the room like he’s never seen it before, like it doesn’t belong to him. “People are… generous, with their donations. They like my voice.” 

You scoff, collapsing into a chair across the aisle from him. “You expect me to believe all of this is just from… busking?” 

“They really like my voice.” 

“Yes, I know. Will you tell me why?” 

“Must there be a reason?” 

He takes a deep breath when you give him a pointed look before pulling himself to his feet and crossing the aisle towards you. You get the urge to run, but you don’t. You hold your breath instead as he kneels at your feet. He holds his palm up towards you, like he’s expecting a high five. 

“I’ll tell you,” he says. “If you hold my hand while I do.” 

“You won’t fall over this time?” 

“I'm much closer to the ground if I do.”

It’s a strange request, but everything about him was strange. You hate not knowing things. So you press your palm to his, watching his face for any discomfort. His eyes fix on where your hands connect as he folds his fingers to intertwine with yours. It’s far too intimate for someone you’d only met twice before, but you need answers. 

“This will be… odd,” he says. “You’ll have to be open minded.” 

You huff out a small laugh. “Yes, well I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.” 

He smiles. It’s a sad smile.

“I’m cursed,” he says eventually. It’s blunt and plain, no room for doubting the seriousness of it. “I exist to tempt others, to lure them without ever being able to touch them.” He takes a deep breath, readjusting the way your hands are intertwined so he can rest them in your lap. “It’s a safety measure, I assume. No one can resist me so to counteract any complications that might create… touch is repulsive. To both parties. I sing and I tempt them with beauty… and they want me. They want me so badly they throw their money at me in the hope it’ll make me see them.”

“Cursed.”

You look down at your intertwined hands, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours. Okay so he’s either teasing you or he’s completely insane. 

“I can prove it to you,” he says, seemingly interpreting the look on your face successfully. “If I must. It won’t be pleasant.” 

“We’re holding hands,” you point out. You weren’t in pain.

“Yes,” he says with a small smile. “We are.” 

“Well, doesn’t that disprove your… story.” 

He squeezes your hand a little. “You aren’t lured in the same way. My voice is ‘fine’, as you put it. I’m pretty enough, but I’m not—” 

“What’s your point?” 

“Curses can be broken,” he says. “Surrounded by all those books and you’ve never read a fairytale?” 

You want to shove him onto his ass and wipe the teasing smirk off his face. 

“You’re a curse-breaker. Come to set me free.” 

You yank your hand from his. 

“Is this fun for you? Do you want me to fall for this story you're spinning and make myself a fool just for you to waltz into the dining room and laugh about it with your friends?” 

He frowns. “No.” 

“Why do you sing?” you ask. “If this is a ‘curse’ that you hate so much. Why set up these events to sing for them all?” 

“I need it,” he says, brows still drawn together. “Or I'll die. I… feed from their adoration, or the curse does. It’s wrapped around me, yanking at my soul. I feed it or I die.” 

The look on his face, the tormented glaze to his eyes. It’s too convincing. He’s either as good of an actor as he is a singer or he’s…

“How would you prove it?” 

He pulls himself to his feet. “I would let someone touch me. Your friend, perhaps.” 

“And what would happen?” 

“She would… be upset. She’d be in pain.” 

“It hurts?” 

“It’s excruciating.” 

“You can’t do it to me instead?” 

He shakes his head. “You’re the exception, angel. I can’t hurt you even if I wanted to.” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“That’s what you feel like to me.” 

“Well, don’t.” 

“Alright.” 

He’s quiet as you leave the room, as you leave his house. You pull your phone out to let Elise know you’ve left early. She’ll understand. You don’t like crowds. 

— 

It’s weeks before the small bell above your shop door signals his arrival. You’d almost managed to put him from your mind and then there he is, standing in your space with his hands shoved in his pockets. 

“What do you want?”

He steps towards you. He looks nervous. 

“I’d like to be free, angel.” 

“I said not to call me that.” 

“Right, sorry.” 

You sigh, stepping down from the ladder to face him. “Okay, tell me what to do.” Humour him. 

One corner of his mouth lifts up. “What?” 

“How do I free you? Break the curse,” you say, gesturing at nothing in particular. 

He looks around you, at the shelves crammed to bursting with books. “No fairy tales at all?” he questions. When you say nothing he redirects his attention to you again, suddenly looking a little more solemn. “I’m afraid you’ll have to fall in love with me, angel.” 

You laugh. You can’t help it. “Oh alright, then,” you manage eventually. “Is that all?” 

He isn’t laughing with you, you realise. It sobers you. 

“I would really, really like to be free.” 

“The fairytales you keep alluding to. Don’t they usually fall in love before the big curse is revealed? A little less pressure that way don’t you think?” 

He pulls one hand from his pocket and rubs the back of his head. “It would feel… wrong. To spend time with you while keeping that from you. Wouldn’t you feel… used? If you did end up… feeling something for me and then discovering I had something more to gain from you.” 

You frown. “Yeah, I guess I would. But if you want to be free that badly, why does it matter? You don’t know me.” 

“Like I said, I can’t hurt you. It’s… maybe it’s part of it. I don’t know. I feel…” he trails off, eyes dropping to the ground. “It’s strange,” he continues after a moment. “I’ve known about you, that someone like you existed out there somewhere. Someone who could fix me. I just—How long have you been here? How long have you had this place?” 

“5 years.” 

“5—” he pauses, sucking in a deep breath. “Right.” 

“How long have you been… like this?” 

“6 years,” he says, shoving his hand back in his pocket. “You’ve been here this whole time. This curse is cruel, I shouldn’t be surprised. I just—” 

“Swear to me,” you interrupt, taking a small step towards him. “Swear to me this isn’t some elaborate joke. I don’t want to see anyone in pain. I don’t want you to have to prove this to me. I just… I need you to look me in the eyes and swear to me.” 

He takes a hesitant step towards you as he lifts his hands from his pockets. “Is there someone you… someone you don’t like very much?” he asks, a tiny smile forming on his lips. “Someone you wouldn’t mind seeing getting a very short jolt of pain?” 

“You said it’s excruciating. Is it that way for you too?” 

He nods. 

“No, there’s no one I’d want to feel pain.” 

He sighs. “I want to prove it to you. I want you to be sure of me.” 

“You’ll have to prove yourself worth trusting. If I'm going to love you, I’ll have to trust you, won’t I?” 

He reaches slowly for your hand. You let him take it, lifting it up so he can inspect it. He traces his finger over your palm, tracing the lines that cross your skin. “I’ll do my best,” he whispers. 

—

It doesn’t take you long to recognise his patterns of behaviour. He visits the shop regularly, finding some way to touch you in these small ways before he leaves. You can’t help but stay quiet as he does, afraid to interrupt him. You can see it, the way he gets comfort from your touch. You suppose if you’d been unable to touch another person at all for six years you’d be a little desperate for human touch as well. Your hands are the focus of his attention. You’re sure he must know them as well as he knows his own. He traces the lines on your palms, plays with the rings on your fingers, wraps his fingers around your wrists. 

He’s replaced the local bookclub as your biggest customer. It’s not possible for him to be reading all the books he buys. Still, he comes in once a week to ask for more recommendations. You slip in the occasional test. A vampire romance or fifty shades of grey. He never comments on it. Not until today. 

“Are you trying to hint at something?” he says from the lounge chair tucked into a corner of the store. He’d taken to spending time reading as you worked. It was the only evidence you had that he read at all. 

“Hint at what?” you ask from behind the counter. 

“Your kinks.” 

You choke on your tea, slapping your palm against your chest to prevent the liquid from entering your lungs. 

“I’m sorry?” you choke out. 

“I’ve noticed your recommendations are getting a little… adult. Do you have a thing for BDSM?” 

You duck around the corner to check for any quiet customers lingering between the shelves. “Would you be quiet?” you scold as you march towards him. One of your regulars is perusing at the back of the store. 

“Come on, angel. Don’t be shy.” 

“Are you telling me you’ve been reading them?” 

“I liked the one with the priest. Forbidden fucking is exciting, isn’t it? Doing it where you shouldn’t—” 

You slap your palm over his mouth. You can feel his grin form. “If you don’t shut up, I’m banning you from the store.” 

His eyes sparkle with mischief but he nods. You release him before wiping your palm on your jeans. 

—

It’s only a few months after that when you notice it. He’s your employee. You didn’t hire him and you don’t pay him but as you hand him the box opener so he can start taking stock of the next box you find yourself frozen with the realisation. 

He frowns, pulling himself to his feet. “What’s wrong?” 

“What are you doing?” 

He closes the box opener. “Well I was about to use this sharp thing to slice the tape from this box so I can take the books out.” 

“Shut up.” 

One corner of his mouth lifts up. 

“You’re working here,” you point out. 

“Am I?” 

You nod. Silent. 

“Would you like me to leave?” 

You frown. “No.” 

He smiles, sliding the knife open. “Then I’ll continue with the box, shall I?” 

—

You stir awake at the gentle nudge against your shoulder. “Angel,” he whispers. “It’s late.” 

“How late?” you mumble, rubbing at your eyes as you uncurl your body from the unnatural position you’d fallen asleep in on the lounge chair. 

“I closed an hour ago,” Minho says. He crouches at your feet, hair standing on all ends from where he’s dragged his fingers through it. You reach out to smooth it down. 

“Thanks,” you say through a yawn. 

“Why are you so tired?” he asks, reaching out to take your hand so he can trace patterns across it. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” 

“Any reason?” 

You trace over his face with your eyes, taking in his long lashes, the slope of his nose, the curve of his upper lip. “Would you… be spending time with me if I wasn’t…” you trail off, suddenly embarrassed. 

“Do you trust me?” he whispers. 

Your eyes flick across his, the soft light from the lamp doing just enough to make the deep brown clear. He needed something from you. You’d barely known him a year and he was the strangest person you’d ever met. It was probably foolish to trust him, dangerous at the very least. 

“I do,” you answer. “I… trust you.” 

He rocks forward, bringing his head down to your lap so he can press his lips to your hand. He peppers little kisses across your skin and you tangle your free hand into the hair at the back of his head. It falls down the back of his neck now, longer than it’s ever been before. 

“Keep me,” he mutters, just clear enough for you to make out. “Will you keep me, angel? Please. I can’t hurt you. I swear.” 

“Okay.” 

—

“What?”

You blink, finding Minho’s sparkly eyes fixed on you. He’s smiling, like you’ve missed something funny. 

“You were staring,” he says. 

You drop your gaze to the floor, feeling your cheeks warm. 

His soft footfalls as he approaches are the only sounds in the store. It was a quiet day, heavy rain preventing many customers from venturing out. He arrives at the bottom of the ladder, holding it steady as you descend. When you turn he doesn’t remove his hands, caging you in. 

“Am I pretty?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you breathe. 

“Yeah?” he repeats with a small smile. “Have I grown on you?” 

You fiddle with the tie on his hoodie as his fingers stroke through your hair. Grown on you felt like the wrong way to describe it. Inside you. He’d tangled himself with you and now you weren’t sure you could ever let him go. You’d spent a few sleepless nights imagining spending your days in the store without him. A small part of you was afraid. Afraid that if—when—you told him you loved him, he’d leave. Curse broken, needs fulfilled. 

“A little,” you mutter, eyes fixed on his chest. 

“Only a little?” 

You look up into his eyes, then to his lips. “Would you leave if it was more than a little?” 

“Hm?” he questions as he tugs a little on one of your earlobes. 

“That’s what you’re here for isn’t it? You need me to—” you suck in a breath. “You need me to love you. Will you leave after that?” 

He frowns, hand dropping to cup the side of your neck. It’s a comforting hold, his thumb stroking gently behind your ear. “Why would I leave?” 

“I’m your curse-breaker, right? That’s my purpose? That’s what you need from me.” 

“I don’t need anything from you, angel,” he says. It’s a little unfocused, like his mind is somewhere else. His thumb keeps stroking.“It’s been two months since I needed to sing. It let me go.” 

You drop the hoodie ties and grip the fabric instead. “What?” 

He offers you a small smile. “You freed me,” he whispers. 

The curse is broken… and he’d stayed. “You’re still here.” 

“Mm, do you want me to leave?” 

“No,” you answer quickly before pulling him towards you, tasting him for the first time. He stumbles a little, humming into your mouth as he steadies himself. It’s a frenzied stumble around the store. You are hardly aware you’re moving at all before you find yourself pushed up against a wall of books. 

“The store is open,” he mumbles into your neck. 

“Don’t care,” you mutter before you grip his hair and pull his mouth back to yours. 

He laughs, taking a large step backwards and detaching you with ease. “Yes, you do. I’ll be right back.” 

You attempt to catch your breath as he locks up, dropping your head back against the books and closing your eyes. You loved him. You loved him and he knew and he didn’t leave you. 

His finger traces your lips when he returns. “You’re smiling,” he whispers. 

Your eyes flutter open. “You didn’t leave me.” 

He frowns. “I was just locking up.” 

You huff out a short laugh. “No, I mean… two months ago.” 

“Ah,” he says before pressing his lips together and adopting an exaggerated thoughtful expression. “Why didn’t I leave?”

You press your finger to his cheek. “Do you think I’m pretty?” you ask. 

His eyes flick to yours, the teasing expression dropping off his face. “Angel,” he whispers. “You’re wrapped around my soul.” 

You’re both quiet after that, little noises of pleasure the only sounds between you as he pushes you against the shelves. You snake your hands under his hoodie, pressing your hands to his skin. He’s so warm. He’d taken your hands shortly after you’d entered the store, cold and wet from the downpower. You’d frozen still as he lifted them to his mouth and breathed over them, warming them gently. 

“Love touching you,” he mumbles against your lips. “So soft. You were worth it.” His lips move to the corner of your mouth. “I couldn’t touch anyone… for years and you were there at the end… a soft angel come to save me, hm? Let me feel you…” 

He continues muttering the same way as he presses kisses across your skin. You snake your hands up his back, lifting his hoodie as you go. He barely detaches his lips from you for a second as he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside. 

The rain seems to get heavier as you’re consumed by him, offering you a curtain of privacy from the world. It feels completely safe, here with him, in your favourite place on earth. It's yours, this place, him. You bite into his neck, just enough to leave tiny marks in his skin. He grunts, threading his fingers into the hair at the back of your head. “The angel bites,” he laughs as he slips his other hand up your thighs and under your dress. 

“Stay here with me,” you gasp into his mouth as his fingers brush your clothed centre. 

“I’m staying,” he breathes. 

“You can’t leave.” 

He smirks as his fingers brush back and forth, barely touching. “Listen to me. I’m not leaving you, yeah? I’ll never walk out the door again if that’s what you want.” 

“You have a—a palace,” you gasp as he hooks his fingers into your underwear. 

His lips ghost over yours as his fingers explore you, slipping through your folds leisurely. “Would you rather live there?” he asks.

“Wouldn’t you?” 

He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth before releasing you. “Wherever you are,” he whispers as he tugs your underwear down your legs. 

“Here,” you breathe. 

“Alright, we’ll live here.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, like you can hold the sentiment inside him and physically prevent him from changing his mind. We, he said. We’ll live here. Suddenly his hands are under your thighs and he’s practically scooping you up, slotting himself closer towards you and lifting you up against the shelves. His bare torso is warm against your thighs as you wrap yourself around him securely. 

“That sounds nice,” you mumble into the crook of his neck. 

“Just nice?” he says back, the mischief clear in his tone. 

“It sounds so wonderful, I could die from joy.” 

He chuckles against your temple. “Don’t do that. Don’t leave me.” 

“One condition.” 

“Hm?” 

“Would you fuck me now?” 

He makes that face again, like he’s deep in thought. His mouth forms a straight line. You kiss it off him, forcing him to part his lips. “Alright, angel,” he mumbles. “I’ll fuck you now.” 

His movements are lazy and patient as he pulls himself free from his trousers. You practically latch yourself onto his neck, sucking at his skin desperately. Then he’s playing with you, wetting the tip of his cock along your folds like he has all the time in the world. You’re on the brink of tears when he finally shoves you against the shelves and lets you sink down onto him. 

“‘m inside you,” he mumbles into your shoulder. 

You hum, dropping your head back. “Yeah,” you breathe. “You are.” 

please don’t forget to leave feedback, it took me lots of time and effort and hearing your thoughts is what makes me want to write more. thank you.

[ellecdc]

hear me out - a remus fic but set in come back be here, like maybe a muggle and remus is instantly smitten but has no idea how to navigate but everyone is pushing for him to actually go for it and it’s just chaos but in the best way possible… regardless come back be here was AMAZING

CBBH Remus x muggle!barista gn!reader

(Pretend they have phones for this okay? Thank you lol)

CW: just fluff, swearing, self deprecation, making a fool of oneself - you know, the remus lupin special

Remus would describe himself as many things.

He was a wizard. He was a werewolf. He was a business owner. He was an uncle. He was a friend. He was a war hero.

He was also, apparently, a coward.

He knows this to be true because he’s sat in the same spot that he’s been haunting all week – a chair in the far back corner of the café – pretending to look over ledgers in his notebook while he actually watches you work.

It’s fucking pathetic, is what it was.

He watched as you smiled politely at every customer in line – even the ones who weren’t as polite to you as Remus thought they ought to be.

He felt silly, really, watching you like a creep. He shouldn’t be here to begin with. He had stumbled upon this café completely by accident two weeks ago whilst in the city to pick up more muggle literature to add to his bookstore on Diagon Alley.

It was here he saw you, as if you were a siren calling him to this sodding caffeinated inlet to damn him to hell.

What a willing victim he was. 

But he shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t get caught up with you. It was unthinkable. Most witches and wizards would have a hard time coming to terms with someone like, well, someone like him. 

He was a burden. A risk.

It was selfish to think he could entertain the thought of you.

Suddenly, as if she’d known he was talking poorly of himself, his phone buzzed.

Remus tried to steal himself as he took a deep breath. 

Right Lupin, you’ve done scarier things before. He thought to himself. You’ve run with wolves, you’ve gone undercover into enemy bases, you’ve deceived the dark lord right in front of his slimy fucking face, and you’ve even told Sirius once you thought his hair looked weird. By all means, you can talk to a barista.

Except...well...he really kind of couldn’t talk to a barista. He had made it all the way to the counter, even smiled politely at you as he stepped up to the cash register and...

And then words left him. Failed him. Completely abandoned him. He even thinks there may be a little stickie note in his brain that says ‘resignation effective immediately’ where words should be because he’s staring right at you with your gorgeous eyes and lovely hair and perfect features and for fuck sakes why isn’t he saying anything!?!?!

“Is there something I can get for you?” You asked so sweetly like this bloke wasn’t standing with his mouth agape at your cash register making a sure and utter fool of himself; like you had all the time in the world for the poor bastard.

“Uhm, uh...” He tried finally as if only now realizing he had functioning vocal chords. 

“Uhm, fuck, I’m so sorry uhm...”

You chuckled at him. Holy shit you chuckled at him. It was the most beautiful sound Remus thinks he may have ever heard. He hoped you’d do it again, though, at the rate he’s going it was really very likely. 

“I’m so sorry. I swear I’m not usually like this. Uh,” He apologized awkwardly as he scratched the back of his neck. 

“I hope this isn’t too forward, but I think you’re lovely and would, uh, like to get to know you. You don’t have to say anything now!” He interrupted as you began to interject. “In fact, for my pride's sake, I’d prefer if you didn’t. But I’d like to leave my number here for you, in case you’d like to text me some time.” 

He offered you the kindest smile he could muster as you took the now crumpled and sort-of-damp-from-his-sweaty-palms note in your hand with a smile of your own.

Now, Remus wouldn’t say he ran out of the café, per se. He would describe it as more of a jaunt, or perhaps a brisk walk. But he did nearly take out a woman with a pram as he all but flung the door open in his haste to get away. 

You stupid ridiculous bastard. He scolded himself as he made his way to the closest apparition point. If Sirius could see you know, you’d never hear the end of it.

His phone buzzed and Remus nearly dropped it in his haste thinking it might be Sirius having somehow actually seen what just took place.

Then he nearly dropped it again as he saw a new text from an unknown number.

Perhaps Remus wasn’t such a coward after all.

[two-dolla-bills]

Top 10 mechanisms songs that you can get away with playing at a retailers without too many side eyes

I got a job in retail and I felt inspired lol

Disclaimer: this is not a list of the best mechanisms songs/the ones I think deserve to go "mainstream", they're just the ones that would blend in the best

1. Sirens

This song is probably the mechanisms' least "centered" song. It doesn't mention any characters, it has no narration, and out of context it just sounds like A Song that you might hear on the radio. Sirens is to the mechanisms as you're the one that I want is to grease, you know?

2. Trial by song

THIS one. It's in the same category to me as Sirens; you can listen to it by itself and not suspect much. Unlike Sirens which can be completely separated and still make sense, this one is more like a whole new world from Aladdin. There are parts that make it obvious that it's from a larger whole, but if you just so happen to catch the "safe" parts you won't suspect much.

Points were deducted due to Mr. Soldier's unique vocals. (Unique as in not very common in mainstream music)

3. Empty trail

This is no offense to Dr. La Cognizzi, but sometimes when she sings it's hard to make out what she's saying, which works in her favor in these circumstances. It sounds country/rock, which help it blend in with some dad rock songs. If I remember correctly, the melody was actually taken from a Led Zeppelin song, so if you aren't paying attention to what's ACTUALLY being said you can get away with claiming it's a cover.

4. Ties that bind

Although this one does mention many plot points, many fans have stated that they had no idea what the fuck was being said until the have looked for the lyrics (myself included) this, combined with it's jazzy rythm, make it able to blend in with other songs, similarly to empty trail

5. Odin

The most "normal" song out of the entirety of The Bifrost Incident. This song made it to the top five because it has similarities with Roam by the B-52's, but had points deducted due to it clearly being about an awesome space train

6. Lost in the cosmos

This might just be personal opinion, but it sounds like a church song. You can pull off the effect of it being about earth Jesus and not space robot Jesus if you have particularly bad quality speakers and a busy store w/lots of noise. Again, the lyrics kinda give it away as to not being entirely main stream

7. Stranger

Look it's a banger, ok? Many of the lyrics could be taken as just being metaphors, but I feel like you have to squint to "see" it. Pay too much attention and shit gets a little weird. Also, points deducted because it's two men singing together and not a man and a woman, which throws a wrench into the works. At kohl's it might raise some eyebrows but in like hot topic it'll blend in a little better

8. Redeath

You would think a song about a sphoenix (space phoenix) would be lower on the list but you'd be wrong. It's a really pretty song with a good original melody, and it's something that can be drowned out by a particularly rowdy crowd. Like Stranger, it would blend in better at a hot topic than at kohl's, but only slightly.

9. Elysian Fields

The melody in Elysian Fields is taken directly from the song wayfaring stranger, which has been coverd by Jonny Cash, Ed Sheeran, Poor Man's Poison, and The Longest Johns, AS WELL HAS having been featured in the movie 1917 and in the video game The Last of Us II, which make it very recognizable. Because of this recognizability, people who know the original song may be caught off guard by hearing it in a Walmart with completely different lyrics. It was originally in 7th place, but the popularity of the original takes off many points

10. Once and future king

It's a banger, don't get me wrong, but it also very heavily and clearly mentions plot points from the album, which itself is heavily base on Aurtharian mythology; something very well known in the western world (also the names are not common at all and most haven't been in fashion in centuries). In a crowded, busy space with not very good quality speakers it could potentially blend in, but one or two names might sneak out. The only reason it's on the list is because of the instrumental outro, which sounds normal enough

[violettavonviolet]

Marvel Fic Rec's

All fics are finished and absolutely amazing! I've sorted these by ship and the word count goes up as you scroll. This is the first half of my Tony Stark fic recs, the second half is linked below.

Fics that haven't left my brain since I read them are marked with a star.

Gen

It Matters to Me

Shyane

Summary:

Tony doesn't like having an empty seat to his right.

3k, past character death

Inhale, Exhale *

Oceanbreeze7

Summary:

The Arc Reactor did so much more than what everyone had realized.

Or maybe they never thought to question how a metal cylinder could exist inside the sternum of a human being without causing any lasting damage.

Or

The story that questions a little more on how the Arc Reactor would actually affect the biology of a human being.

9k gen

Amateur Theatrics

galaxysoup

Summary:

In which Thor’s primary problem-solving method (a mighty blow from Mjolnir) fails to have the desired effect on a magical artifact, and his secondary method (a mightier blow from Mjolnir) proves to be actively disastrous.

26k teen

Frostiron

The Perfect Height

The_Winter_Writer

Summary:

Thor wasn't really sure why everyone in the kitchen was staring at Tony, half-asleep and tucked against Loki's side, until he realized that none of their teammates had actually seen Tony standing without shoes on.

1.7k not rated

Dollars to Donuts

thespacelizard

Summary:

University AU. Tony texts Loki offering money for Loki to be his personal takeout guy. It’s weird, but so is Tony, and Loki is strapped for cash. The arrangement becomes something more when Tony changes the script and asks him for something else – a favour. 

All human English University AU because that is all I know how to write. Ace!Tony, and Ace!Loki. AU fluff.

6k teen

Breathing Out Your Praise.

Michaelssw0rd

Summary:

There are seven Hebrew words for praise and worship. Even though Tony does not know the words, he worships his lover- the god of mischief- in the essence of each of them.

7.3k mature

The Golden Apple

orphan_account

Summary:

Prompt: "Offering someone mortal a golden apple, wasn’t just offering them immortality, it was synonymous with asking them to spend eternity together, which was basically a marriage proposal and a question to become a family in one go. Which yeah, someone should have told Tony that. Loki totally failed to mention it, thinking it was common knowledge. Tony just thought that it was a weird gift of art decoration. It was a fucking golden apple, it didn’t look like something to eat, he wasn’t all that informed or interested into myths, how was he supposed to know that having the apple sit prettily on his desk and not eating it just showed a painful and long indecision akin to rejection to everyone who knew what the offering of an golden apple actually meant?"

Tony had honestly thought everything was fine.

So why was Loki acting so strange after giving him that apple?

9k teen

Fighting, Flyting, Flaunting, Flirting *

Redring91

Summary:

-

“What’s flyting?”

“Tis a form of verbal battle performed in the courts of Asgard, where opponents trade insults in verse.” Thor explains.

“Offensive poetry?” Tony clarifies, because that sounds awesome.

Thor nods. “Loki was by far the best skilled at it – it was not for nothing he came to be known as Silvertongue. He ceased competing in official matches after a time though. He deemed there were none on Asgard who could claim to be a worthy match for his attentions.” Thor levels a thoughtful look towards Tony at this.

“So, you’re saying that Tony derailed the fight because Loki enjoys it when they’re insulting each other?” Clint says slowly.

Thor gives a rather helpless shrug. “Loki has always enjoyed flyting.”

9.3k mature

Accepted

Arkada

Summary:

Tony’s less of an Avenger and more of an Avenger for hire - and that means his services are available to anyone who can pay the price. So when Loki shows up and asks for a consultation, it’d just be bad practice to turn him down.

Loki doesn’t exactly pay by credit card. No, he’s offering something much more appealing...

21k explicit

A Supervillain’s Guide to Getting Married

LulaMadison

Summary:

Written for this prompt on Avengerkink: "Even though there's the frequent battles with the Avengers, and his plans are always being thwarted, Loki likes it on Earth. He doesn't want to leave! But Odin (and Thor) rather want him back in Asgard. Loki decides it would be a good idea to marry a local, and have an excuse for staying put. Maybe he tries meeting some new people, but they don't interest him much. Better to stick with the people he knows (and would never admit to maybe kind of respecting a tiny bit). So Loki decides to marry an Avenger."

41k mature

Tea with the Hatter (TGIF)

theorytale

Summary:

It's seven a.m., Thursday fourteenth November, 2013.

It always is.

61k mature

The Underwater Basket-Weaving Society of America *

thisiswhatthewatergaveme

Summary:

Loki's crash landed, which is great. Only what do you do with a powerless, power-hungry ex-god looking for retaliation?

130k explicit

tripping and falling over the red line of fate *

graveltotempo

Summary:

While trying to escape from an ambush in Afghanistan, Toni ends up on Asgard.

Things do not get easier from there.

Between prison stays, death sentences, and a secret that could kickstart another 1000 years war, she does find her soulmate. So maybe, it isn't all so bad.

131k gen

The Midgard Offensive

NamelesslyNightlock

Summary:

As Thanos begins to assemble the Infinity Stones, the universe cries out for its heroes. Tony and Loki have never quite claimed to be that, but they know that they’re still going to do a damn fine job of defending their planet regardless. There’s just no way they’re letting an angsty purple eggplant tear them apart and destroy everything they’ve built together. No way in hell.

143k  teen

pink raspberry cosmo

graveltotempo

Summary:

It's the last night of the Millennium.

Tony Stark's plan is to score a night with Maya Hansen, listen a bit to her research and have a fun little night.

But then he meets Loki, a handsome Prince from a faraway land, and the timeline is veered completely off course.

269k teen

Stony

Follow in Your Footsteps

Sineala

Summary:

When Tony is twelve, his soulmate's name appears on his wrist. Unfortunately, it's hard to find out anything at all about Steve Rogers.

It turns out there's a reason for that.

6k teen

The Winged Soul *

inukagome15

Summary:

It wasn't until he was three that he realized he was different and no one else could see the wings.

14k teen

To Have My Time Again...

WilmaKins

Summary:

It's been two years since Siberia, and Tony Stark is still dealing with the fallout - personal and political. Life is quite complicated enough, without Bruce falling through a wizards roof yelling that Thanos is coming. 

Thor and Loki are stalling, but time is running out. The fate of the universe is at stake. Steve Rogers is back in the picture. Really, the last thing Tony needs is for their plan to go horribly wrong and bring Howard Stark forward in time. 

But his Dad *is* standing in his office, whether he likes it or not. 

So, it looks like Tony will have to fix that mess too.

166k teen

marvel fic recs part 2

[thefaultinoursprinkles]

the fallout show is actually pretty enjoyable. maybe because I’m obsessed with the world and love the new perspective. and yes the props look like they’re from Amazon and the humor is a little “Reddit” for lack of a better term, but the plastic-y look and cringy humor matches the vibe of the games to be quite honest.

with the props/sets though it’s interesting, like they all have this cheapass look but also it’s clear a lot of care and detail were put into the set pieces/costuming, so it gives the vibe of like a YouTube skit where everything is super cheap but you’re like “wow this looks really good considering what they had to work with” except that this show had a fucking $153 million budget so it’s like. come on man.

I DO think that the sets are amazing, for the most part, even if the costuming and props leave something to be desired. like it’s clear that’s where most of the budget went.

I also appreciate that basically the whole cast is unknowns or up-and-comers rather than the marvel-starwars-disney Big Names Only casting that seems to be the only way mainstream media is cast. so that’s cool, I always love the potential for new talent to cut their teeth and get their big break. plus I hate seeing the same shitty fucking actors over and over again. if they’re good idc but like Scarlett Johansson or Jermey renner just suck. like they are not even good at the craft. even like Chris whatever the fuck who plays Thor has some genuine talent and can be enjoyable to watch, but so many of them are just so baaaddd.

the soundtrack is great, honestly, all the picks are bangers & I love the Johnny cash & I actually love the choice to use sound effects from the games in the sound mixing. it’s very fun. like again, cheesy, but it’s a cool design choice.

and like ultimately, that doesn’t really impact my enjoyment of it. all in all it’s so far above my expectations. I’ve been dreading it since it was announced bc I love fallout as a “mythos” (basically) and I did not think a nostalgia-bait fan service big budget mainstream major release could ever have any redeeming qualities so the fact that it’s “fun to watch” and “has a plot” is pretty neat.

also one of the brotherhood people is a they/them which I thought was neat. as of yet they have not gendered them at all like no “brother” or “girl” or “man” or “he/she” it’s been exclusively they/them or their name.

oh! speaking of the brotherhood, I like how they are portrayed. like they are fucked up clutists with a self righteous god complex and I think they’ve really shown that, rather than the brotherhood fanboys ‘fascism is awesome’ characterization that you see in the fandom. the main brotherhood guy having to deal with his idealistic idea of what the brotherhood “should” be versus what it is is intriguing and I’m excited to see more. also very excited to see more prewar stuff.

And so far my biggest complaint so far is the weird ass ghoul. like they make this big deal about him basically being a corpse and he looks like some dude got a bad sunburn. like with all the gore and horror elements I wish they would have made the ghoul look more.. you know.. like a ghoul.

[pennyserenade]

i need to speak with david duchovny's manager and pr team--maybe i even need to become them--because they've got him on such the wrong track its sickening. i understand there comes a point where you can't do much, but do they not understand that they have a 90s heart throb/a rare still kinda liked white man on their roster? lots of the lgbtq community knows of him. before i even knew him as fox mulder or watched the x-files i called him 'the x-files guy.' its just that the projects they put him in are bad, not even objectively. just terrible all around. he wants to do comedy, okay, throw him the bone but make him do something fun. get his ass in the bottoms and booksmarts of movies. he doesn't need to be a main character; he never is. if he's got to be in those movies make him be in the good ones. when you've got his appetite for that effectively suppressed you've got to divert his attention to serious drama. i'm talking about making his ass WORK. a24 horror, maybe. unsettling and odd projects, that clash well with his brand of humor but also allow for him to be able to help with his own character. david duchvony is at his best when he's got room to analyze and add to the project in some way. i hate to sound like i'm up his ass, so forgive me for it for a moment as i say this: he's got a big brain, and more often than that his creative input is both well thought out and correct. i'm sure he could be an asset on the right projects. and you mustn't forget that he is david duchovny. you must make him remember he's david duchovny. in the '90s he got uber famous for chasing aliens and being weird and boyish. in the modern day he needs to cash in on a little bit of that nostalgia while he roots out a spot for himself again

[ernmark]

Didja miss me? I got caught up on the Juno Steel episodes a few weeks ago (still working on Second Citadel, more on that later), and now that I’m vaguely getting my life back on track, I’m sticking my toe back in this fandom, just in time for the beginning of the final season! 

So here we go:

Juno Steel and the Vanishing Act (Pt 1) Reaction

First off, it’s so nice to see Cas Kanagawa again. She sounds so much calmer, so much steadier. Which makes sense, given that the last time we saw her she had just accidentally killed her father and had spent years under the thumb of a hyper-controlling stepmother, and she’s finally free. 

So this exchange here is really striking:

JUNO: I'm glad you get to do what you always wanted, Cass. Honestly.

CASS: You... what?

JUNO: I said I'm glad. That's weird, now

CASS: No, I mean... no sarcasm? No bad jokes? No insults?

JUNO: Reading's not all I learned how to do over the past few years.

CASS: Yeah. Yeah, I think I can tell. Okay, I'll admit it. I do owe you. I don't have any money to give you, but I think I can help you out. (Vanishing Act)

It’s two ladies who have survived some real hard shit, who used to bring out a lot of the worst in each other, after they’ve gotten help, escaped from a toxic situation, and taken charge of their lives. Holy shit, that feels nice.

That said, I kinda want her to keep a bit role here. When the plot focuses on a character, it’s usually not because good things are coming to them, so I’m just fine keeping her in the director’s chair of her documentary series.

But that brings us to the actual mystery. 

We’ve got Carrie Gold (As in Kerry Gold, the canned tomato brand… cuz you throw tomatoes at a bad actor, get it?), the really terrible actress who bought her way onto a show, and owner of the Prismacrystal Chimes, who’s about to humiliate herself at her big debut. 

“Taking out my Chimes would be sabotage! And if my acting career doesn't take off after, why... ehm. Never mind.”

It may be that she’s actually out of money, and she was hoping for a glamorous career as an actor might save her from it. Notably, there’s no mention of her donating actual cash, just the Chimes. And the Chimes are an heirloom, so they may be the last thing of value she’s got, and this kind of publicity would be a good boost in its value– and having it ‘stolen’ would be a great way for them to disappear out of her possession without her losing face. Possibly the pawn ticket is hers, and she’s been selling off her other valuables?

(The Chimes, by the way– the scene where they were brought out, with the music and Juno’s narration and all? That was gorgeous. And I’ll talk more about the lighting part elsewhere.)

We’ve got Warner Jayne (my mind kept going back to German film director Werner Herzog? Or Warner Bros.?), the producer who’s bankrolling the show, arranged for Carrie’s involvement, procured the Chimes and the sound/lighting design, and notably doesn’t think the show can stand on its own without a lot of glitz and glamor.

“God, this show needs it. It's unwatchable, I...Oh. Don't tell Billie I said any of that.”

We’ve got Billie Dalton (as in the Dalton Gang?), the director whose grand project is about to be butchered onstage by Carrie’s acting, but maybe rescued by the special effects, but generally resents the interference. She’s the only one with the key to the Chimes’ lock, and the only person aside from Carrie who actually handles it. She’d have the opportunity to walk off with it while everybody’s eyes are on the stage. 

“Having those Chimes stolen in front of everyone, having Carrie Gold scupper the show... It would all almost be worth it for Warner Jayne to get what he deserves.”

We’ve got Clotilda Fairborough, actual actor whose big break is about to be shattered by her incompetent costar. 

“I'm going to drag this show kicking and screaming into something like artistic credibility, and you owe me for that, so act like it... or you'll see what happens when I'm not feeling so cooperative.”

These three have, in my opinion, the same motive: they’ve got a lot riding on a play that’s about to be ruined, which he didn’t believe in in the first place. Warner has a lot of money invested in this. Billie and Clotilda have their reputation on the line, and they might not get another chance. So it behooves all of them to get everybody’s eyes on Lono on their show, but not actually be paying too close attention to the play itself– so putting a priceless work of art on stage and then declaring it’s gonna be stolen at a very specific time during opening night? That’s perfect publicity.

USAmericans might be familiar with a grim joke: “Apart from that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?” Alternatively, nobody thinks too hard about what was going on in Don Juan Triumphant right before the Phantom of the Opera dropped a chandelier on the audience. Any shortfalls in the play itself will be barely a footnote, but everybody will be talking about the event.

So everybody’s got a motive to throw a wench (hee hee) into the works, but the presence of the pawn shop ticket at the end has me putting my money on Carrie.

(There’s the obvious option, of course, that Nureyev is actually on the crew as a stage hand and he’s just being overlooked because nobody ever notices techies, but if that was the case, I feel like the stage crew would have been at least mentioned before now. A passing line, or something, but we’ve got nothing. )

(Also the transcripts on the official website are an actual godsend)

[yakuzabrainrotlive]

Finished Y4 today!! Just said "fuck it" and played for like... 10 hours??? This is part 1, no way I can fit everything in one post.

A bit of a Kiryu rant/monologue at the bottom.

Akiyama... my beloved, my king..... you kept your money in your office?? In cash??? And the safe itself didn't even have a proper safety system like a passcode?? 😭 Oh my god....

I find it so funny how Kiryu takes like... 10 seconds to consider when Katsuragi tells him he'll have to take on an entire clan's worth of people alone. He really said "aight, bet" LMAO

OKAYYY saw this coming, kind of. Yasuko was really the mvp, taking Katsuragi's ass out like that. Incredible. Rest in peace, queen🫡

This conversation made me UNWELL emotionally. I know Kiryu isn't someone who's shaken up lightly, but this one hit deep for me. What I wouldn't do to see what was going on in Kiryu's head at this moment...

CAN SOMEONE END THIS MAN FR-

-oh. Thank you, Arai! Very cool. I was so happy when I saw this.

I honestly find this man so FASCINATING. He truly feels like his loyalty remains with the Greater Good™ instead of a particular person. He has principles and isn't afraid to enforce them. Love it.

FINALLY. Now, I don't have any issues with Kiryu's thing where wants to live in peace and leave the whole Yakuza life (mostly) behind. BUT.

Since Kiwami 2 I've kind of felt like he's been... indecisive? Nah. I feel like he hasn't been able to stick to that decision. Probably because he has important people in the clan and he feels a sense of responsibility for the clan, idk.

It's almost felt like he's been in.. denial(??) about how much he wants the Tojo clan to remain standing. He's constantly been in a weird sort of limbo where he is neither Yakuza NOR a civilian. And my issue isn't even there, it's with how he's been coming through like a whirlwind, deconstructing the foundations of the Yakuza circles and then just... leaving Daigo and, in a way, Majima to do the complicated clean up and rebuilding. Now, Daigo and co. ARE grown adults and they could ask for help, but... It's always felt weird to me. I know Haruka and the other kids are his uncontested #1 priority and I fully support that, but I also don't think Kiryu realizes just how much shit Daigo especially has been saddled with. Now, I don't know how much Kiryu COULD have done, but... I don't know. It's always felt off to me.

I don't think Kiryu should make a full return to the Yakuza life or anything like that, but I hope he's starting to acknowledge his own feelings and role in all this. Maybe he could be like an advisor or consultant Daigo could call upon when shit is starting to hit the proverbial fan?

At times it's felt like Kiryu has been actively self-sabotaging his own wish to be away from this life. He says he wants to remain at a distance, but he also takes up the mantle of crisis handler quite quickly when he hears there's a storm brewing in Kamurocho. Again, it's probably got to do with his resolve to save people and avoid unnecessary bloodshed, and he HAS resolved the crises effectively AND in a way that's saved many lives, don't get me wrong, but... he has actively made life more difficult for himself this whole time by keeping up this weird inner struggle.

Now, I do acknowledge that trouble does come to find him as well. Ryuji probably would have hauled Kiryu's ass to a duel no matter what he did, and in Y3 Kiryu's sworn brother DID get shot so it was understandable he'd wanna know the truth behind the case. But I feel he has also taken bigger, more active roles than he would have had to.

I do hope Kiryu sticks to this decision and stops running from all this. Stops denying the role he keeps assigning to himself. It's tragic that he keeps being dragged into things because of his decision to join the Yakuza when he was still quite young, but it's time to deal with the hand he's been dealt because of that decision.

Gahhhh, I ADORE how complex Kiryu is. I might sound whiny or like I dislike this guy, but that's not it at all! Kiryu is still solidly in my TOP 3 and I love him.

[dontirrigateme]

*arrives at lecture hall and takes out notebook* *raises hand* 4, 12, and 24 please!!!

I'm sorry, the lecture has ended. Thank you for your interest.

lol anyhoo, thanks for the ask, stranger...however, I'm going to find it a little difficult to lecture when i feel like we've talked about these things to no end. That being said, let's see what I can come up with.

4. The character I relate to the most I think is the bazooka. I seem inconspicuous, but I'm volatile and I'm also kidding. You know my answer is going to be Nixon (minus the wads of cash and Yale education). The sleep issues, the cynicism, the way we value pets over children (kidding again, stand down). But also, if he has a job to do he doesn't screw around (I mean...not a lot). Another character might be Speirs - he does the job and moves on to the next thing, doesn't indulge in rumors (except to perpetuate them...I'd totally offer cigarettes to people if I caught them talking about the POW story). But he does what's necessary for the given situation, and moves on. Like when the war is going on, he abandoned hope and accepted that he'd probably die, because that's what he had to do in order to be effective. Then, when the war is over, it was okay to hope again, and the mission now is to preserve life (so to speak), so we see him doing everything he can for Chuck when he gets shot. Also, we have the same mindset when it comes to looting (for anyone reading, when I saw this episode for the first time and saw Harry not sharing the silverware with Ron, I told my sister, "I'd be taking shit off the walls then," and Ron promptly goes for the giant nazi banner).

12. I think i mentioned somewhere that I was more shocked at the things that were true (like the stuff Speirs did, I don't know how that guy lived through the war, he had no business being that badass). I had said it was Blithe's death, and the most shocking thing about it was that first they had you believing that it took about 4 years for his wounds to finally kill him, and then that they just shrugged and were like "our bad" and never fixed the episode where it says he died. Weird.

24. A character to be my best friend? Can I say all of them? Assuming I can't, I'm gonna go with the smokestack. Favorite character, I freaking love that guy. Smokey would be an absolute blast to hang out with - he's scaring Tab with bugs, swimming in the Roman baths at British museums, and telling the military that his dad wrote a note that says he has to come home now. The guy sounds like so much fun and he deserved more screen time dammit.

I know, not much of a lecture. I will hang my head in shame accordingly. But I appreciate the ask. 🙃

[jackfromthefairytale]

bad omens: concrete jungle [the ost] liveblog

whoop whoop I'm here we made it

C:\PROJECTS\CJOST\BEATDEATH: we got some noises? if I had more than half a braincell right now I might have tried to decipher it

v.a.n (w/ poppy): single. love the ambience in the verse, gives sci-fi/superhero specifically dark knight vibes. poppy's vocals, particularly the roboticness of them, fit very well, especially with the knowledge that this is a "character-focussed" song. idc what everyone else says this bangs

the drain (w/ health, swarm): single. industrial vibe, not the biggest fan of the guy's vocals but it does fit the mood. low-key wasn't expecting noah to start singing? tdopom vocal sample, nice touch. I quite like the intensity of the instrumental behind the whinyish vocals in the verse. outro is. ominous.

terms & conditions (w/ bob vylan): vibes. anti capitalist vibes. can you hear me through the white noise? yo the lyrical content in this? they really went there? I gotta check out this band

hedonist (recharged) (w/ wargasm): I haven't heard much wargasm but it checks out so far. drumming stands out on this one. god the breakdown starts stops gave me a heart attack. this is like if hedonist was a wargasm song basically

even: it's light? his vocals are quite nice here, ethereal. checked the credits and michael taylor is the only one other than noah credited and I can hear some chief influence in the vocal style. I'm not sure what the genre/style here is exactly but I vibe with it

loading screen: nick ruffilo song. nice soundscape with the synths and drums. really vibe with this. it sounds bright like a shopping centre at night but without the bad vibes. I want to live here

anything > human (w/ erra): most excited for this. that intro riff is!!! the glitchy effect on jesse's voice? is noah singing lower? is that jt? this second chorus is gooood. IS THERE ANYTHING MORE THAN HUMAN? BREAKDOWN!!! it's weird because it's quite obviously more a bad omens song than an erra song but it is very cure era erra at the same time? (dan braunstein I see you) but also it's like an undefined erra song? it's still Jesse Cash Guitar Work but ? bad omens ambience? bad omens production? bad omens structure, even? good old fashioned heavy song.

digital footprint: uhh this is 4 and half mins long? there's a breathing exhale sample on repeat. not vibing tbh.

nervous system (w/ iris.exe): production is great. oh the guitars kicking in! her voice is nice. this song is danceable. I'd listen to it more as a vibe/background noise than a focus song

C:\PROJECTS\CJOST\FINDPEACE: more noises

artificial suicide (unzipped) (w/ thousand below): it's fast. drumming is different?

the grey (unzipped) (w/ thousand below): it's pitched. the lower harmony is more pronounced. it's also faster. and the drumming is more pronounced. it's like a nightcore version? oh that instrumental bit! it scratches an itch actually.

the death of peace of mind (w/ we are fury): love this so far. beat drop at the chorus? loving this a lot. the choral effect on the second prechorus?

the death of peace of mind (w/ so wylie): single. a very different vibe to the other one, it's more direct to the original compared to the other one. it's also got less going on which is also quite effective. the bridge section is beautiful.

bad decisions (lofi) (w/ dahlia): definitely quieter. kinda sounds fundamentally the same but with a different lead vocalist. instrumental after the chorus changes. the whole machine trained voice is still not sold on me, the accent/voice has noticeable quirks from noah's voice on the original but it's still inconsistent and I find that uncanny. it is a vibe but again. not sold.

just pretend (credits) (w/ let's eat grandma, chief): oooh. not sure which of the girls is singing but she sounds good. has enough of a let's eat grandma flair in there. oh there's michael. their voices work well together. this sounds more let's eat grandma than chief tbh. sounds really good though. bridge filled with longing as it should be. I think noah may have rerecorded for the bridge the vocal pattern is a bit different. I love this

C:\PROJECTS\CJOST\CLEARMIND: more noises. there's definitely something to be deciphered

artificial suicide (live): cheering. it's got the intro monologue thing. mm that riff. better than studio. also it shows he's human with parts of the chorus.

like a villain (live): murder robot wife glados my beloved. jolly vocals! no band should ever sound this good live. this bridge sounds so good live, like you know something big is coming. (it's the breakdown). I love the falsetto on that last "hold on". outro riff?

the grey (live): my beloved.

what do you want from me? (live): zumba time (I'm literally in bed). mix is a lot clearer here than on the studio version thanks matt. does that chorus/main riff go lower in this live version then in the studio?

nowhere to go (live): that first verse stripped thing they do live is ethereal. folio is going off here (as always). I think the crowd need to be louder in this mix for the bridge

v.a.n (live) (w/ poppy): does not need to go this hard. noah's harmony in the verse with the vocal effect stands out straight away. that outro riff is so poignant here

the death of peace of mind (live): I haven't listened to this song in so long it goes so hard. intro sounds especially film soundtrack. is that saxophone (second chorus)? mm that breakdown.

just pretend (live): gonna sob I love this song I wrote a thoschei fic inspired by it. the crowd are living for this. those outro vocal bits! the crowd sounds are not going lol. emo acoustic alternate edition? help I might write that part two to that thoschei fic I had I mind 😭

this ended up a lot more developed than I thought it would

also go listen to cure by erra it bangs lol

k gnight

[yamayuandadu]

Christmas special: Santa and his helpers. Divine living fossils in Greek sources

For reasons unknown to me, while poorly researched hot takes like “Aphrodite is LITERALLY Inanna” (nevermind that that in areas which plausibly had contact with Greece the closest analog to Inanna would be Ashtart, notably dissimilar to Aphrodite) are repeated over and over again, the actual presence of specific eastern deities under their actual names in Greek sources seems to be a matter mostly of interest to experts in Bronze Age Anatolia. Even generally credible sites will overlook them. Obviously, part of the problem is that the survival of Bronze Age Anatolian deities - whether Hittite, Luwian, Palaic, Hattian or Hurrian - in the Iron Age was the exception, not the rule. The situation is still weird, though. The following article is meant to shed some light on the two main examples, Santa and Maliya - or, according to Greek sources, Sandas and Malis. Needless to say, Santa has nothing to do with Santa Claus; I’m publishing this as a Christmas special only because the accidental homophony is funny to me.

Santa

Santa’s name has a variety of spellings in cuneiform, with either a ta or a da, and transcriptions both with and without diacritics (specifically, with š - read like the English sh sound in “cash” and so on - in place of s) can be found in literature. Variable orthography was not uncommon for names written phonetically rather than logographically. I admit I went with “Santa” here entirely because it’s funny. There’s also a variety of derivative Greek forms, but we’ll get to that in time. Santa’ career began in the earliest textual sources from Anatolia, the texts from the Assyrian trading colony, so-called karum, Kanesh (modern Kultepe in Turkey). These have been dated to roughly 1800 BCE, and are largely just the ancient version of store receipts, legal agreements and guarantees. The early attestations of Santa are therefore basically limited to theophoric names, ie. names invoking the name of a deity, and do not offer much information about his character, beyond telling us that he was viewed as an appropriate figure  to name children after by some of the locals the Assyrian traders did business with. The only thing which might shed some more light on what sort of deity he was is his name. Its precise origin remains unknown, though there is a reasonably popular theory that it comes from one of the Anatolian languages, perhaps Luwian, and that it can be translated as “the furious one” or something to that effect. Luckily, later sources do offer a bit more insight. Texts written in either Hittite or Luwian pretty consistently portray Santa as a warlike deity armed with a bow. He also had some sort of connection to the plague, being invoked against it in rituals. Seemingly he was not a solo act in the Bronze Age sources, his entourage included Annarumenzi (“the forceful ones”) and Marwainzi (“the dark ones”), two groups apparently sharing his interests. Santa was also persistently associated with Iyarri, a plague and war deity similarly armed with a bow. In addition to shared interests in war, plagues and archery, the two also shared roughly the same circle of attendant deities. An interesting thing to note is that there is a single text which refers to Iyarri as female, but since it describes an omen seen in a dream and so far has no parallels, it remains a matter of heated debate if it means that this name referred to more than one deity, that Iyarri’s gender was variable for one reason or another, or simply that it’s a strange dream vision which does not necessarily reflect anything anyone ever actually believed about Iyarri. I personally find the first two options reasonable as temporary assumptions to stick to until more material surfaces, but your mileage might vary. Last but not least, a single text links Santa with Iyaya, a goddess of springs; it has been proposed she was his wife but due to scarcity of sources caution is advised. Sometimes spousal relations between deities are presumed based on too little evidence, which Steve A. Wiggins once satirized by noting applying the same logic to Christian saints would lead to theologically puzzling interpretations. After the collapse of the Hittite state, Santa disappeared from available records for a few centuries, just to resurface when the Neo-Assyrian Empire expanded into eastern Anatolia. Evidently he retained a degree of importance in the eyes of kings of so-called “Neo-Hittite” states, which confusingly were mostly Luwian-speaking (they also used a unique writing system in addition to cuneiform, Luwian hieroglyphs aka Anatolian hieroglyphs, but this is a long story in itself). As far as I can tell, this is also the first time when we get an indication he was the city god of Tarsus. The city does already appear in earlier sources, though to my knowledge no texts associate it with Santa. Still, the consensus view is that presumably the local political situation has been relatively stable between the end of the Bronze Age and the Neo-Assyrian expansion, which also meant local religion did not change much. It also seems plausible Santa was doing fine all along further west in Lydia, but we know very little about the western half of Anatolia in the Bronze Age so whether he was already present there earlier or if he was introduced at some point - perhaps by refugees from collapsed cities in Hittite territory - cannot be determined.

A coin from the reign of Caracalla showing Sandas and a horned lion (Wikimedia Commons) The Neo-Assyrian evidence of Santa continuing his career is not exactly plentiful, but it can be supplemented with quite literally dozens, if not more, references starting in the fifth century BCE or so. Coins from Tarsus from both Hellenistic and Roman periods depict him; theophoric names are incredibly plentiful; and due to Greek presence in the area, he starts to appear in Greek texts. A few different forms of the name are attested in this context: Sandas, Sandes, Sandon and so on. Note that Sandan is incorrect, and if you see it, you’ve stumbled upon someone trying to convince you The Golden Bough is still credible, since this misspelling is Frazer’s fault. Nominally, the interpretatio graeca of Santa was Heracles - how come, we do not really know; note Heracles was VERY commonly used as a translation of foreign deities, though. I think assuming it boils down to both being portrayed as formidable warriors, as a number of experts do, is sensible. You can find quite a lot of examples of this link in primary sources, it even pops up in Nonnus’ Dionysiaca. However, nothing is ever as simple as it sounds, and functionally “Sandas” remained essentially an entirely separate deity. A tradition which hardly aligns with presenting him as an alternate name of Heracles can be found in two sources: implicitly in the writings of Dio Chrysostom, and much more explicitly in those of  Stephanos of Byzantium, both of whom likely depended on accounts of local tradition from Tarsus. According to Dio, Tarsus was founded by a titan, while Stephanus outright calls Sandas one of them, and a brother of Cronus, Rhea, Iapetus, and a number of mysterious figures: Adanos, Olumbros and Ostasos. The presence of Iapetus is the real oddity to me, honestly - Kronos and Rhea are not unexpected, they are well attested, were worshiped for example in Olympia, and they do appear alongside “non-standard” titans at times, a good example being Ophion and Eurynome, but he’s not exactly an a-lister himself even among titans; I cannot really explain why he’s here. What about the other names? All of them seem to be deities originating in Cilica, specifically city gods. Adanos was the mythical eponymous founder of Adana; Olymbros might be related to a city from Hittite sources, Ellibra (there’s also a “Zeus Olybris”, possibly a related epithet), and Ostasos is otherwise unattested, but presumably also represented a city based on the context of this passage. The last two gods are so obscure that as of the 21st of December 2022 googling Olymbros brought up rather few results:

In a way, the Cilician gods enumerated by Stephanos certainly did fit the label of titans - they truly were theoi proteroi, obviously not in the way Hesiod used this term, but in much more literal way. They were, essentially, divine living fossils.

Maliya

While Santa is the best attested example of a Bronze Age Anatolian deity living on in Greek sources, he is not the only one. Most often, his fate is compared to that of Maliya. She has much in common with Santa, in that both of them first appear in Kanesh in theophoric names, both appear in both Hittite and Luwian sources, and both survived until the Hellenistic period and acquired well attested associations with Greek deities, both via interpretatio and as independent figures. The meaning of Maliya’s name is unknown - or at least, there is no widely agreed upon explanation. A recent theory is that it might be derived from a term referring to “mental force” or something along these lines. She was in origin a river goddess, but she was also associated with gardens and, perhaps unexpectedly, with craftsmanship, especially with leather working. She had assistants named Maliyanni, “the small Maliyas” (yes, really) who have been compared in scholarship to Greek nymphs; something that will be relevant later. A curiosity worth mentioning here is that in addition to her Hittite-Luwian career, Maliya was seemingly also adopted by Hurrians in the kingdom of Kizzuwatna (normally it was the other way around - due to prestige of Hurrian culture, Luwians and Hittites adopted Hurrian deities). She was worshiped during a local Kizzuwatnean royal festival, ḫišuwa. In related texts, she appears in esteemed company, the creme de la creme of the western variant of the Hurrian pantheon. Among the deities invoked are Ishara, the tutelary goddess of Ebla already attested in the very oldest texts from Syria; Allani, the queen of the dead (portrayed as upbeat and friendly in her only literary appearance, and remarkably popular); Nupatik (one of the oldest and most broadly distributed Hurrian gods) in two hypostases; and oddities like Kurri, possibly a relic of the once politically powerful cult of Kura, the head of the Eblaite pantheon. So far no studies seem to investigate the reasons behind Maliya’s survival after the fall of the Hittite empire, so there is no explanation I can offer. At most occasional speculation about there in fact being two only linguistically related Maliyas can be found in scholarship. The evidence postdating the Bronze Age comes chiefly from Lycia and Lydia. Lydians seem to be responsible for the form of the name also found in Greek sources, Malis; Lydians stuck with the original Maliya. Her character changed to a degree compared to the Bronze Age, for example she might have developed a distinctly warlike side. In both Lycia and Lydia, Maliya developed a close association with Greek Athena. It was so close there is a Lycian depiction of the judgment of Paris where the other figures appear under transcribed Greek names, but Athena is replaced by Maliya! We also have the inscription in Lydian dedicated to her from the temple of Athena in Pergamon. What was this connection based on? Experts are not entirely sure. It wasn’t even necessarily entirely theological: Athena was prominent on Rhodes, and Rhodes was in turn influential politically in Anatolia. However, it cannot be ruled out that it was based on a shared association - either with warfare, craftsmanship, wisdom or just with specific cities. Despite the power of this specific case of interpretatio, similarly in Santa’s case, Maliya also had a separate role under her own name in Greek texts. Hipponax records a short prayer to her, which does not really say anything about her character. A single poem from Lesbos describes her as a weaver; there’s an admittedly recent and not yet widely accepted theory based on it, courtesy of Ian Rutherford, that if Arachne was not an invention of Ovid, she might have had her forerunner in a hitherto unknown adversary of Maliya, which could account for the story taking place in a Lydian city. However, my favorite reference to Maliya/Malis comes from Theocritus’ Idylls: in the well known episode about the abduction of Hylas carried out by nymphs, specifically naiads, one of them is inexplicably named Malis.

In other words, one of these nymphs in the famous Waterhouse painting might be her, if you want to believe. Worth noting is that this might indicate preservation of information about Maliya’s original character as a river goddess, something absent from Lycian and Lydian sources. However, note that the Maliades, naiads associated with the river Spercheois, are not related - this name is instead linked to the completely unrelated toponym Malis. Finally, there is an oddity which may or may not indicate a connection existed specifically between Maliya and Santa. Hellanikos states that a certain Malis, a slave of queen Omphale, had a son, Akeles, with Heracles. It has been argued that this might be a distant memory of a myth about Santa and Maliya, but as those two are not directly connected anywhere else, this is not exactly plausible.

In place of a bibliography

I recently finished obviously less humorous rewrite of the wikipedia Maliya article, created shiny new ones for Iyaya and Iyarri, and I am currently working on Santa but I failed to complete that one on time. All the sources used can be found there. I will add a small disclaimer, though: while Rutherford’s 2017 article is excellent as a source of information about Sandas, the few paragraphs devoted to Nergal are questionable, especially the baffling theory trying to connect Erragal with Heracles. Erragal was a separate deity from Nergal, and I do not think you can draw any real parallels between Heracles and a minor deity whose claims to fame include being married to the goddess of butchers (actually better attested than her husband) and a rather minor role in the flood myth as one of the deities tasked with wreaking havoc (next to such luminaries of the Mesopotamian pantheon Shullat and Hanish)... 

[honourablejester]

Numenera Character Concept

Okay. So the Dungeon Dudes recently did a video on 5 non-D&D ttrpgs they played in 2023, and one of the ones they mentioned was Numenera, from the Cypher System. And I’ve been curious about that for a while because the Fast Character online character builder (throws up quick pre-gens for D&D 5e) also supports the Cypher System, and the whole concept of the character descriptors intrigued me. I can choose to be a ‘craven’ character, and that has mechanical impact. That’s fascinating. So I decided to browse this system/setting a bit. I got the Numenera Players Guide pdf (the Cypher System Core book and the two Numenera Core setting books will have to wait until I have more free cash). Just, you know. To see.

And, first thing. I do like this setting. It’s a science fantasy setting where the whole is a billion years old and all the ‘magic’ comes from ancient lost nanotechnology from previous civilisations that no one understands or often even knows exists anymore. The whole concept of the setting is that your characters are exploring a strange, deadly world littered with the ruins and ancient unknown magic/technology of previous lost civilisations. Artefacts of that technology are a main gameplay element, as ‘cyphers’, one shot artefacts that produce effects, are things your character constantly discovers and equips, along with ‘artifacts’ (multi-use objects) and ‘oddities’ (weird little bits and bobs, like ancient photo displays and doorbells and other weird bits of junk).

Also, the emphasis is, at least from the descriptions, on exploration and discovery, not combat. You don’t get XP from combat or killing things, you get XP from dealing with complications and problems your DM throws your character mid-flow, and from your party’s overall actions and what they’ve discovered. That’s cool to me. I’ve mentioned before that I really want a game experience that’s about exploration, so this system/setting already sounds awesome. So.

The book I got is mostly a 64-page player facing character creation guide, with a little bit of preface on the system and the setting. Judging from the options as compared to Fast Character, this are very much the core, basic, PHB sort of character options. Just your essentials. But. Something did immediately catch my eye. And not the descriptors. A character focus instead, actually.

Characters in Cypher follow the pattern of an [adjective] [noun] who [verbs]. The noun is your character type, essentially your class, there’s 3 options in this book, the adjective is your character descriptor, or personality, and the verb is your character focus, the thing they do in the world, which can be wild. You’ve got options like ‘Works the Back Alleys’ and ‘Carries a Quiver’, and then ones like ‘Murders’, and then ones like ‘Howls at the Moon’ and ‘Exists Partially Out of Phase’. So the structure is who you are, what you are, and what you do. And. The thing that caught my eye was ‘Wears a Sheen of Ice’. Which is basically an ice mage. Cold damage my under-appreciated beloved. So. Here we go.

Of the three character type options, I am tempted by Jack, the rogue/skilled option, but ice mages are mages, so we’ll go with Nano. And the thing I actually had the hardest time with was the descriptor, despite those being the thing that drew me towards Numenera in the first place, but it came down to two: Tough, and Strong-Willed. Strong-Willed has a flaw/inability that’s tricky for me, on a character that wants to explore, in that it’s harder for a strong-willed character to solve puzzles and use/remember lore, which feels weird for a high-intellect explorer character, but … I’ll do Tough on a different character. For my ice mage, I feel like being stubborn.

So. Juvenna Rorkh, a Strong-Willed Nano who Wears A Sheen of Ice.

As a Tier 1, starting Nano, with everything added up, I’ll have a Might Pool of 10, a Speed Pool of 10, and an Intellect Pool of 18. I’ll have an Effort of 1, an Intellect Edge of 1, and Might and Speed Edges of 0. I can bear 3 cyphers at a time, I’m practiced with light weapons, and I’m trained in understanding, or at least attempting to understand, the numenera (the cyphers/artefacts/etc).

For my Nano background, the source of my abilities … Forbidden Knowledge is tempting, given exploration, but we’re not Learned or Intelligent, we’re Strong-Willed. We don’t like things to be fussy or complicated. No piecing together information and puzzles. No, I think we’re going to be Psionic. We interface with the mystical nano-machines of this world by raw force of will. And I think we gained our psionic abilities from the suggested ‘natural result of extreme exposure to technology’. We got flooded by a nanite cloud, maybe not an Iron Wind, but definitely some concentration of nano-machines, and our raw stubborn kicked on and helped us survive and take some of them with us.

For my background connection, I decided to roll on the table, and the result was that I trained for a while with a group of Aeon Priests, presumably to develop my psionics, and they still regard me pretty fondly.

For my two starting esoteries (magic powers from technology), I could go Ward, for a +1 to Armour, since I don’t have any yet, but I’ll get Ice Armour from Wears a Sheen of Ice, which is also a +1 for 10mins. I could still take Ward, because they stack. But. I want Onslaught (basically an energy attack), for an offensive option, plus something for my Ice Esoteries to change to cold damage. And I want Scan, because I do still want some exploration-focused options. So. Maybe we’ll get a chance to pick up Ward later.  

I also get 3 GM-chosen starting cyphers, and a starting oddity.

From Strong-Willed, I got a +4 to my Intellect Pool that brought me up to 18. I’m trained in resisting mental effects, and in tasks that require focus or concentration, but the difficulty of any task that involves figuring out puzzles or problems, memorizing things, or using lore is increased by one step.

And from my Sheen of Ice, I get a nice stronglass weapon that looks like ice. I get Ice Esoteries, which influences any other esoteries I might have to be ice-themed if possible. My minor/major effects when I roll a 19/20 will have ice themes as well, the suggestion is for minor to produce slippery ice around the target to make footing dangerous, and the major to coat them in ice for a minute, making everything they try 1 step more difficult. And I get Ice Armour, which will coat my body in a sheen of ice when I wish it, giving me a +1 to Armour for the duration, I feel no discomfort from normal cold enviroments, and I get an extra +2 to Armour against cold damage specifically (I’m not sure if that’s total +2 against cold, or +2 extra after the base +1).

You also get a connection to the other players from your focus, and I love the one from Wears a Sheen of Ice. I get to pick one member of my party and, due to a weird quirk on the part of the numenera/nanites that give me my powers, if they’re standing next to me when I ice-armour up, they also get the benefits of my Ice Armour. So, like. One of your buddies, your nanites just like them. I love that.

So. Juvenne Rorkh. A highly intelligence, pig-stubborn, single-minded psionic ice mage, who doesn’t like things to be fussy or complicated, and whose nanites are weirdly fond of one person in particular. My first attempt at a Numenera character.