#it should be easy but it’s so overwhelming for me most od the time

[dango-milk]

forever and always (zhongli’s version)

One second it was perfect, now you’re halfway out the door.

an ode to heartbreak masterlist: (x)

word count: 6321

genre: fluff to angst

pairings: zhongli x gn!reader

warnings: spoilers for zhongli’s backstory, the liyue archon quest, and liyue’s history in general

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additional notes: this fic was so hard to write omg. tense consistency? I don’t know her

You believe it was a Tuesday when you caught Zhongli’s eye.

You were starting to think that Childe had permanently moved to Liyue after he’d invited you out for lunch on that fateful day, promising to make up for what had happened at the diplomatic ball all those months ago. Begrudgingly, you’d agreed, solely for the fact that you were starting to enjoy finding ways to rile the Harbinger up.

“Ah, I’ve invited a friend over, if you don’t mind,” you heard him say behind the partition of the Liuli Pavilion. You raised an eyebrow, surprised that Childe had other friends besides you (if you could even call yourself his friend at all).

“Master Childe, your guest is here,” the waiter announced, and you nod in thanks as you make your way over to the reserved table. You raised your eyes, first to meet Childe’s in greeting, and second to look at his other visitor.

(Dear Celestia, he’s beautiful.)

You’d fought the urge to gape at the tall stranger enjoying a cup of tea adjacent to where you were standing. His eyes had peered over the rim to give you a quick once-over, which normally you would have found rude, but there wasn’t a hint of disrespect emanating from him—just pure curiosity.

Actually, you weren’t sure if he had the capacity to be anything negative, despite having just laid eyes on him for the very first time.

“Allow me to introduce (Y/N),” Childe said, breaking you out of your thoughts. “A very dear comrade of mine.”

“We only just met a few months ago,” you corrected him rather curtly, taking a seat and trying not to overwhelm yourself with the eyes you could feel practically boring into your soul.

“Yes, but all circumstances considered, I feel like I’ve known you forever by now.” Childe waggled his eyebrows in the most unattractive way possible, pulling a snort from you. “(Y/N), this is Mr. Zhongli, a consultant for the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” the man named Zhongli finally spoke, and you nearly wanted to keel over from the deep timbre of his voice. His voice sounded like entire mountains moving, and all you’d managed was a small smile and a polite nod.

“(Y/N) here’s from the Adventurer’s Guild,” Childe continued. “All the way from Mondstadt.”

“Interesting.” Zhongli set his cup down. “What do you specialize in?”

“Specialize—” you squeaked, before clearing your throat and shaking your head in embarrassment. “Well, I take on commissions like any other Adventurer, really. But I’m a...a scholar of sorts, so it’s my job to learn as much as I can about a region to add to the Guild’s intel. Help Adventurers know the lay of the land and the culture that surrounds it.”

“Impressive,” Zhongli mused, and you could tell that he meant it, by the way his eyes softened marginally. “And what made you move to Liyue?”

Childe snickered as he dug into his food. “Funny you should ask, because—”

You crushed his foot under yours. “Well, I’ve already learned much about Mondstadt, so I’ve decided to move on to different nations to expand my research. And the, er, pay is marginally better here, so it was a rather easy decision to make.”

You didn't explain any further, having already learned the dire consequences of running your mouth willy-nilly from no less than the person struggling with chopsticks sitting next to you. 

The memories of your last visit to Mondstadt didn’t help either, with their endless picking at your heart and at your conscience.

Thankfully, Zhongli had only nodded, murmuring “That sounds practical” before turning his attention back to his food. You’d taken it as a sign to start preparing your own dish, picking steamed buns and vegetables from the revolving center of the table.

As much as you had wanted to hear from Zhongli a little more, you couldn’t find the words to speak. Thankfully, Childe was happy to fill the void with anecdotes from his travels, as well as some other remarks that kept the lunch from being uncomfortably silent. It was jarring to see someone as rambunctious as him converse so easily with someone as serene as Zhongli, who acted as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

An image came to you then, of an orange-haired dog sprinting around in circles, its tail occasionally smacking into a black cat trying to sleep. A giggle slipped past your lips before you could stop it, and your cheeks burned when Zhongli and Childe turned to look at you.

But all good things come to an end, and it came in the form of a Fatui member coming over to whisper in Childe’s ear. The Harbinger’s face fell briefly, before sighing and waving his subordinate away. "There goes the rest of my afternoon plans," he complained, setting his chopsticks down and standing up.

"You're leaving?" Zhongli asked.

"Some new members thought it would be funny to mess around with some lawachurls, and now they've lost most of their supplies for the month." Childe pinched the gap between his eyebrows in annoyance. "I'd reckon some bone-breaking is in order—if they aren't already broken, that is."

You shook your head, knowing all too well what lawachurls were capable of, and wondered how they would compare against one of Childe's harsh reprimands. 

"The bill's covered, so please stay as long as you like." He bowed slightly to Zhongli, before turning to you with a grin. "I'll be seeing you around, lovely."

His gloved hand reached out to swipe lightly against your cheek, and you smacked it away, hearing nothing but an amused chuckle as he left.

As soon as Childe had left, it took you a while to realize the situation you were in.

Your breath stuttered.

Zhongli sighed. "I'm not opposed to punishment in response to reckless behavior, but Childe does have some interesting ideas in that department." He looked at you, and his eyes seemed to be smiling. "How long have the two of you been together?"

You choked on your drink, spitting it out rather unattractively before coughing the rest of the liquid out of your lungs. You accepted the napkin that Zhongli passed to you, cheeks warming uncomfortably as you patted your mouth dry.

"We aren't together," you finally said. "Not in that way. I just owe him something."

"In that case, you have my deepest sympathies," Zhongli replied, raising his glass to you with a humorous look on his face.

You elected to say no more beyond that, believing your character to be as good as ruined in the eyes of such a dignified gentleman, and instead focusing on the slice of pie you'd taken for dessert.

For better or for worse, it seemed Zhongli wasn't keen on letting you off so easily. "So, a scholar at the Adventurer's Guild," he started again. "It seems like a very interesting job indeed. Were your parents Adventurers, too?"

"My mother was, yes," you replied, and your throat tightened a little at the mention of her. "My father was a hunter at Springvale."

Zhongli hummed. "I'm sure your mother is proud of you for having progressed so far in your career."

"I doubt it."

Zhongli only looked up at you in confusion.

"My mother left me to go on an adventure and never came back." The words had come out as a spit, as if the words mixed horribly with the crumbs in your mouth and your natural reflexes had kicked in.

"My apologies," Zhongli said. "I was not aware."

"It's alright," you'd replied, wanting nothing more than to change the subject.

"Forgive me, but...your father?"

"He passed away a few years ago."

"I…" Whatever Zhongli had to say, it quickly died in his throat. "I am deeply sorry for your loss, (Y/N)."

You smiled at him, partially to assure him that he'd done no harm and partially to lift the heavy atmosphere that had settled over the two of you. You didn't want your first encounter with this man to be over your deceased father and absentee mother.

"You're right, though," you told him. "I have progressed quite a lot. And there's nothing I love more than learning about new things. The true spirit of adventure lies in the knowledge that you gain, the enemies you defeat, and the friendships formed along the way."

Zhongli nodded solemnly, a faint smile on his lips. "I couldn't agree more."

"There's so much more to see, so many sights and sounds to experience. And Liyue…" You sighed dreamily. "I stuck around for a couple of months for some commissions prior to my moving here, but I feel like I've yet to scratch the surface. The land is just teeming with stories and rich in history; some of the libraries here hold scrolls dating from even before the Archon War!"

Zhongli set his cup down yet again, lacing his hands together and propping his chin up against them. For the briefest of moments, you'd noticed his deviance from basic table manners, but all you were thinking about was what you've learned so far from the Nation of Contracts.

You were practically vomiting words at this point. "I even got myself into a little tiffy with some scholars at one of the tea houses...they were waxing poetic about how the first Mora ever created by Rex Lapis was something extra special, and it should be stored away in a museum.”

“And what did you say to that?”

“I said it wasn’t anything special. Just your average Mora, much like the ones we use every day.” You spun one of the coins Childe had left on the table. “I believe Rex Lapis would rather every single Mora be used in the way it was intended to be used.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Zhongli took another sip of his tea. “I have been making the same argument for quite some time now.”

“Oh, you must not be popular at tea houses now, either.”

Zhongli laughed with you, and it was a warm, fluttery feeling that spread throughout your entire chest.

Soon, you'd made your way out of Liuli Pavillion, having eaten your fill and having exhausted all of your stories with Zhongli.

"I can help with your research, if you'd allow me," he suddenly said, before you parted ways. "I do not wish to flatter myself, but I do know a thing or two about Liyue."

"You certainly do, judging from our conversations earlier," you agreed. "That would be very helpful, thank you. But how is it that you know so much, Mr. Zhongli? Did your father teach you?"

"Just Zhongli is fine." His eyes seemed to glow like molten gold. "And yes, my dear. My father taught me."

And so began a new chapter in your life in Liyue, one that had you spending your days with the educated—if not a little eccentric—consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. He made good on his promise, freely offering you his aid and declining any attempts of yours to pay for it. You were getting worried that you were practically taking advantage of him, as you found that you needed his help quite a lot, but he would always simply wave off any of your protests with a fond smile on his face, assuring you that your understanding of the city was enough compensation.

The only consolation that you got from never being able to repay him in kind was the fact that he seemed more than happy to talk about anything with you. You were an eager student, and it helped that Zhongli was a wonderful teacher, never once dismissing any of your thoughts as foolish or far-fetched. He spoke with a refinement that most men could only dream of having, his patience seemingly stretched all the way to the heavens, and his wisdom seemed beyond what was expected of anyone his age (which, you never really got to ask about).

His line of work was more than enough material to work with, as he constantly dabbled in different ceremonies for the dead, one of the key practices in Liyue’s culture. Initially, he’d been a little reluctant to let you in on some of the more morbid aspects of the job. He later relented, after you assured him that you were able to handle them, though he still kept you out of the room during the more “hands-on” moments.

When you weren’t out on commissions, you could always be found in one of Liyue’s many libraries, your nose buried in a book or a scroll you’d dug out of the deepest recesses of the bookshelves. Zhongli sometimes joined you, offering explanations on articles you didn’t understand and deciphering characters you found difficult. On days that work called his focus away, he would write some recommendations and leave it at the Guild for you to find. Other times, he would catch up with you over dinner, speaking about Liyue and debating historical facts until the night melted into the morning.

Though Mondstadt was forever in your heart, despite the memories attached to it, it was incredibly easy to fall in love with Liyue. You loved watching the sun rise above the harbor, painting the city with vibrant shades of red and gold. You’d remarked that perhaps this was the reason why Rex Lapis had moved his people here, of all places.

(“Aside from it being an ideal place for trade, yes,” he’d replied, sounding oddly wistful. “That might be one of the reasons.”)

You enjoyed milling through the market, hearing the merchants inviting people to look over their wares and the exchanging of gossip (which you admittedly indulged in on your many grocery trips). But the marketplace, apparently, was not the best place for Zhongli; your eyes had nearly popped out of their sockets when he told you that he’d given over a month’s worth of his salary to a gentleman who promised him a tenfold return in six months.

(“He was rather persuasive, you know,” he later told you.)

Days stretched into months, and it seemed like you knew Liyue as well as you knew the back of your hand. Your expertise eventually got you a promotion at the Guild: a top spot in the Intelligence Department, which allowed you access to more of the Guild’s files detailing experiences from other Adventurers. You were over the moon when you told Zhongli the good news, and though he didn’t squeal and jump up and down as you did, his smile was worth a million Mora. Childe was also in town then, and the three of you celebrated over a lavish dinner and some drinks on the side.

Even with Childe constantly getting on your nerves, Zhongli acted like a balm of sorts to ease the tension in the air. You found your bond with the Harbinger slowly turning into a real friendship, taking his constant challenges and snide remarks as harmless jokes that you easily passed back to him. Zhongli was only too happy to be a spectator, occasionally laughing whenever you and Childe exchanged playful jabs.

He looks so much better when he laughs, you thought.

As if he’d heard your thoughts, Zhongli tilted his head in your direction. You dropped your gaze as soon as it met his, and forced a laugh at one of Childe’s stories.

(You pray he doesn’t hear the hammering of your heart in your chest, either, as he walks your drunk asses home.)

“Xiangling!”

“Ah, (Y/N)!” The Wanmin Restaurant’s youngest and most talented chef returned your call just as she served a steaming bowl of black-back perch stew to a delighted customer. “Come in, come in.”

“Please excuse the intrusion,” you announced, waving at Chef Mao with a smile before taking a seat at your usual table. Chongyun and Xingqiu, two of Xiangling’s closest friends, sent you a friendly wave before going back to whatever novel Xingqiu had with him.

“Here you are,” Xiangling said, setting your order down in front of you. “Careful, it’s still hot!”

“Anything else I should be careful about?” you teased, alluding to the time she had served you an experimental dish that had your stomach in knots all afternoon.

Xiangling’s cheeks turned pink. “That was the first time I used a combination of Dendro and Pyro slimes. I thought it would give a little more of a kick.”

“I’m kidding, Xiangling. It looks great.”

Xiangling finally beamed, and seeing as there were no customers to serve at the present time, she allowed herself to sit in front of you as you ate. “So, what have you got for me this time?”

As soon as you’d swallowed your first bite, you dug around in your bag and brought out your notebook, the one reserved for recipes you’ve discovered around Liyue. Most of them were from the library, others from restaurants seeking to preserve their cuisine, and a small percentage were from locals who were willing to sit down and chat about some of their favorite recipes. You weren’t a bad cook, but you needed the input of a local chef, which Xiangling was only happy to fulfill.

It had surprised Zhongli when you’d told him of your intention to document Liyue’s cuisine, with the idea that food was just as important as buildings, attitudes, and language when it came to culture. Liyue, the center of trade and divided into two warring cuisines, was practically a holy grail for culinary enthusiasts. He of course agreed wholeheartedly, and handed over his own specialty, a slow-cooked bamboo shoot soup.

“Hmm.” Xiangling scanned your notes. “I’ve heard about some of these, but the techniques are pretty dated. You could probably make do with some modern supplies, like using cuihua wood instead of rosewood...aw, but it isn’t going to have that sweet tangy note to the soup...well, unless you add an extra teaspoon of sugar…”

“Hey, (Y/N),” Chongyun came over and sat at your table, all smiles as he bit off a part of his popsicle. “Lost Xiangling already?”

“Yeah,” you sigh in amusement, watching Xiangling mutter to herself, fully engrossed in your notes. “Liyue’s cuisine is a lot more complicated than I thought. Where’s Xingqiu?”

“He was called back home. Something about the cor lapis supply...I have no idea how he’s involved in that.”

“Cor lapis!” Xiangling snapped her fingers. “Have you considered stone boiling, but with cor lapis instead of your normal everyday rock?”

Chongyun sighed.

“Ah, well, if it works…” You weren’t too enthusiastic about going all the way to Mt. Aocang to harvest some cor lapis on a whim, but who were you to know? “In any case, I feel I need a little more hands-on help. How about a barbecue on Saturday night? I’ll bring all the supplies you need.”

“Ooh, that sounds—ack!” Xiangling yelped, her hand darting down to massage the foot that Chongyun had crushed under his heel. If you hadn’t checked to see what happened under the table, you would have seen Chongyun gesture sharply at the entrance of the restaurant, causing Xiangling to cough loudly.

“I—I mean, I’m sorry, (Y/N), I just remembered I have a large delivery on Sunday! Yeah, lots of spicy chop suey…maybe Mr. Zhongli can go instead!”

“Zhongli?”

“Me?” A smooth baritone voice cut through the conversation, and you turned in your seat to see the man himself, the director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor peeking from behind his arm.

“Right, Hu Tao?” If you hadn’t again been so distracted by Zhongli’s mere presence, you would have definitely seen Chongyun and Xiangling frantically gesturing for Hu Tao to play along. “A barbecue to help (Y/N) figure out how to create this recipe!”

“Hmm.” Hu Tao crossed her arms, her usual devilish smirk playing across her features. “I don’t know…”

“Hu Tao!” Chongyun hissed.

“Hehe, of course!” Hu Tao patted Zhongli’s arm like they were best buddies, and you had to laugh at the way Zhongli stiffened at the contact. “You’ll go, Mr. Zhongli, right? It wouldn’t be nice to keep (Y/N) all alone in the dark at this time of the year.”

“Whatever do you mean, director?”

“Aiya, I’m just saying, a gentleman as refined as yourself should be able to keep (Y/N) company and keep them safe at the same time, right?”

“R-really, it’s fine,” you laughed weakly, waving your arms. “Zhongli’s busy, and he’s probably tired after all the work he’s done today, so…”

“Not entirely,” Zhongli said. “I always have time for you, (Y/N).”

Silence fell. With rapidly warming cheeks, you turned to see Xiangling pursing her lips, evidently trying not to laugh, and Hu Tao’s signature shit-eating grin lighting up her entire expression.

“Well, then,” Chongyun coughed, trying to break the tension. “That settles it! Ah, Xiangling, you have a customer waiting…”

“That—that’s right!” Xiangling finally said, in between giggles. “Hu Tao—right this—hehe—right this way, please!”

You had no other choice but to watch Xiangling, Chongyun, and Hu Tao dash out of the restaurant’s premises, giggling up a storm and slapping each other’s arms.

Zhongli turned to you. “Have I said something?” he asked.

“...and...there!” You stabbed the last of the vegetables through the stick, and held it up to the glow of the moonlight. “How are you doing, Zhongli?”

Zhongli hummed in response, clicking the tongs as he flipped the meat he was grilling to its other side. “This is almost done,” he replied. “How do you like your meat? Well done?”

“A little on the rare side, please.”

“Alright.”

You placed the last skewer onto the plate, before leaning back and stretching. You’d figured that the best you can do in exchange for Zhongli agreeing to your little getaway was to let him pick the location, and you were so glad that you did—he’d picked out a spot on Mt. Tianheng that overlooked Liyue Harbor, letting you see the city in all its gilded splendor. Admittedly, it was a little difficult getting all the way up to it (even more so for Zhongli, who insisted on carrying the brazier that Xiangling had lent you), but the view at the top was completely worth it.

Soon enough, you had set down the basket and spread out a large table cloth (that you’d unceremoniously yanked from your dinner table when Zhongli came to pick you up) onto the grass, and you began grilling away, with no regard whatsoever for the recipes that you were supposed to be following.

Zhongli set the tongs down, and leaned over to check the skewers. He nodded in satisfaction. “Excellent work,” he noted. “I suppose we can grill half of these and leave the other half for you to grill by yourself at home.”

“Don’t be silly, Zhongli,” you said, nudging his arm playfully. “You’re getting a portion to take home, too.”

“Of course, of course.” Zhongli held up one of the first sticks you’d skewered with a slight grin, remarking without words the haphazard way you’d cut up the vegetables. You scowled and attempted to snatch it away, but he held it out of your reach—which, even as he was sitting down, was practically miles away from your arm’s length.

“Zhongli.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re being mean.”

Zhongli chuckled. “My apologies. You’re adorable when you’re angry.”

You snatched the failed skewer away from him and quickly turned away. “You...you shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Like what?”

“You know what.”

“I truly don’t.”

(Is he being serious?)

You snuck a look at him over your shoulder, and when you found the amused smirk still on his face, you huffed and crawled over to the grill, retrieving the meat that was about to go up in smoke.

“Oh?” You glanced over to see Zhongli flipping through one of your notebooks. “I know this song.”

“Seriously? Archons, just how old are you, Zhongli?”

Zhongli just smiled, as he’s always done when faced with the question of his age, and instead began to sing one of the lyrics off the page.

You didn’t expect to hear his singing voice now, of all times, under the glow of the moon and surrounded by the smell of barbecue and osmanthus wine. It was just as smooth and velvety as his normal speaking voice, washing over your entire figure like water over stones.

Before you knew it, you were singing along with him, as if you’d known the song all this time. The alcohol in your veins occasionally kicked your voice off-key, which only sent the two of you into hysterics; paired with full bellies and the cool winds of spring, you felt as if you were flying.

You weren’t sure if Zhongli was riding the same high as you were, given his typical reserved nature, but all doubts were dispelled when he leaned towards you, right as you were about to hit the chorus.

You wondered then, why those words sounded louder than the notes bouncing off the walls of Mt. Tianheng.

When you glanced over at him, your breath hitched; his eyes looked just like the setting sun.

The rising sun bathes the entire room in a soft light, but you feel none of its warmth.

The coldest area was, in fact, next to you; the only indicator that someone had occupied the space was a cup that had not been there the night before present on the nightstand. That aside, Zhongli’s side of the bed was pristine, clean, and—ultimately—empty.

You sit up with a tired grunt, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and letting the dawn of a new day settle on you. You stare at the cup on the nightstand and sigh, the initial hope that this morning would be different from all the mornings prior to today quickly turning to resignation.

Still, it would not do for you to mull in your sadness, so you push the covers off you and make your way to the kitchen. It all seemed predetermined to you, the way that you just knew that there would already be breakfast on the table, covered with a net to keep the flies away. You also knew beforehand that the house would be, just like his side of the bed, free of dirt and grime (only for them to accumulate once more, given that neither of you were ever truly home all the time).

If he has time to clean the house and make breakfast, he has time to kill in the mornings, you think bitterly.

Instead of sucking it up and eating anyway, you sit at the table, refusing to touch a single ceramic—in a quiet sort of defiance.

You sit there for seemingly hours, watching the sunlight filter through the broken window in the kitchen, illuminating the dust particles dancing in the air like snowflakes. The house is quiet, except for the chirping of birds, sweeping in the streets, and the occasional idle chatter. It was the noise you were used to, having lived alone for months prior to when he came along, but for some reason, it was different this time.

This silence was louder, more deafening. Void. Empty. Like the hole that’s made its home in your heart, festering and growing in size over the weeks. If you listened closely, you could hear the wind whistling through the gap, like a canyon void of all life; as a child of freedom, a child of Mondstadt, the wind had always been your source of comfort. Now, all it did was remind you of just how much you’d carved yourself out for the people you held most dear.

Wordlessly, and as if guided by some unknown force, you place your hand over your heart. It beats, as of course it must, but the crater presses against your lungs; now, you no longer wonder why it’s been so difficult to breathe lately.

It was perfect. Everything had been so perfect, but looking back, you had most likely baited yourself into it. But who could blame you, with a lover that felt like the first spring after eons of winter?

You would cry, but no tears spring to your eyes. They must have fallen into the abyss, too.

Your eyes flicker to the sitting room instead, and try as you may, you see no signs of Zhongli having occupied any of the cushions. You scoff—in scorn or in sadness, you no longer know.

But something else catches your eye: the book sitting dangerously at the edge of the coffee table. Usually, stray books lying around are a common occurrence in your house, but you know why this one piques your attention.

“Who’s Guizhong?”

When you received no immediate reply, you glanced over your shoulder in questioning. Your lover stood in the kitchen with his back to you, shoulders taut and back stiff, even more so than usual.

“I would have thought you’d come across that name sooner,” he replied. “It’s basic Liyue history.”

“Mm.” You returned your attention to the book that one of the older scholars had recommended to you. “I just never really went in depth with the subject. Who better to ask than—”

“I’ve forgotten.”

You glanced at him again, this time in surprise. For a moment, you hear nothing but the sound of the kettle clinking over the fire.. The silence that had fallen over you felt as heavy as mountains, and you opened and closed your mouth, trying to find the words to shake them off you.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know.” Zhongli turned on his heel sharply, patting his hands dry on his pants before walking over to you to kiss the top of your head. “I’m going out.”

You scrambled to your feet, tossing the book back on the table as you watched Zhongli pull his coat on. “Zhongli, please, I’m sorry—”

“No, my darling, that’s not it. I just remembered I’d be meeting a client today.”

“At this hour?” Your throat was rapidly closing, sending you into tunnel vision as Zhongli stepped down to slip into his shoes.

(Where have you seen this scenario before?)

“It can wait until tomorrow, surely…”

“I’m afraid not. I just remembered at the last second, and I don’t want to risk the director spiking my afternoon tea with Jueyun Chili again.”

That drew a small laugh from you, but that was all it took for Zhongli’s features to soften. He gathered your face in his hands and kissed you gently, reverently, so much so that your knees felt as if they were about to give out at any time.

When he finally pulled away, he studied your face for a minute, before closing his eyes again and sighing.

“Don’t wait up,” he whispered, before pecking your nose and disappearing out the door.

You stared as the door closed in your face, the sound of the kettle screeching fading to white noise in the background.

Two days.

He’d been gone two days after that.

“Don’t wait up,” he’d told you. And he had the audacity to look surprised, when he finally came home, to see you nursing a cup of tea in the sitting room, with heavy bags under your eyes.

And so the cycle had begun. He’d disappear for days on end, under a new excuse every single time, though the work-related ones had quickly disappeared under a concerned Hu Tao’s thumb. When you had spoken to the director, you prayed she wouldn’t notice the quiver in your voice, nor the slight panic that had taken over your expression when she’d disclosed the truth—Zhongli had suddenly picked up the habit of skipping work.

But of course, he denied it all when you’d confronted him.

He’d come home every now and then, and though it left a bitter taste in your mouth, you attempted to check for signs that he’d been with someone else—lingering perfume, marks on his immaculate skin, anything—alas, there were none. For now, at least.

Zhongli, in his infinite wisdom, honestly believed that keeping the house neat and tidy and leaving food on the table would be enough to make up for his frequent absences. You would’ve told him that a single conversation would be enough to help you make sense of things—if he was ever home whenever you were.

It had gotten so bad that you yourself had lagged behind on your own work, instead spending the nights as you had when you first arrived at Liyue all those years ago: drowning your sorrows in bottles of wine. And then you’d stumble home alone, the lanterns hanging around swirling like comets in the sky as you attempted to navigate through the streets.

If only finding him was as easy as making your way home after one too many drinks…

...you slowly sit up straight.

You didn’t need to wait for him—not when you could just go out and find him yourself.

How simple. You chuckle to yourself, feeling light-headed at the utter absurdity of the whole situation. You know Zhongli wouldn’t question it this time. You’ve been known to follow him around, after all, knowing you were bound to learn something new from your encyclopedia of a lover when you were out in the open.

When your hands finally find themselves around the now cold teapot, you wonder what you would learn from him this time around.

And if it was something worth learning about, you wonder again, when you find him all by his lonesome in Guili Plains, your front covered in blood from clearing the hilichurl camp you’d come across on your way.

You grunted as you hauled yourself up, marking the end of your arduous journey to the spot Zhongli had requested to meet at. Liyue sprawled out beneath you, glittering under the blanket of night, but you barely spared it a glance—not when the person you were aching to see stood right in front of it.

Standing there, you found yourself at a loss for words. The weeks following the incident on Mt. Tianheng had you avoiding Zhongli like he was the plague, which he did in return. For a while, you attributed it to the sudden increase in commissions as a result of the events of the Rite of Descension; the assassination of the Prime Adeptus, Lord of Geo, Rex Lapis himself had shaken the entirety of Liyue to its core. But once the dust had cleared, and Zhongli finally came knocking on your door this morning, you couldn’t kid yourself any longer.

Your thoughts had been a mess; the weight of Zhongli’s words that night lurked in the deepest recesses of your mind, and you couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was true. Had love, which left you crying by the front door grasping at tailcoats, come back for you once more? Had it finally settled in your life, after years of skirting around the edges and endless promises of never falling prey to its clutches forevermore?

The questions disappeared, seemingly into thin air, when Zhongli finally turned around.

For a minute, you two just stood there, as if time had stilled and all that was left in the world was the weight of his gaze.

“(Y/N).” He spoke your name with a reverence that one typically reserves for prayer.

You only stared at him in response, heart hammering in your throat.

“I don’t think I’ve ever really tested just how much you know about Liyue.” The wind picked up, and you caught the faint scent of Glaze Lilies. “Are you in the mood for some questions?”

You finally found the courage to speak. “Ask away.”

Zhongli turned back to the sight of Liyue beneath him, and to you, he looked like a god turning his divine gaze on the people below. “The amber on Mt. Hulao is said to be the work of the adepti, intended to trap intruders, monsters, and humans alike. True or false?”

You frowned. “It’s not an adeptus power. Amber is created by karst crawlers, most probably as a defense mechanism when something steps on it; the exploration team I sent out came back with a sample.”

Zhongli only hummed, and you worked up the nerve to walk over by his side. The familiar scent of incense quickly overpowered the sickly sweet aroma of Glaze Lilies, and you relaxed in its embrace.

“The goddess of salt, Havria,” he continued. “The gentle and kind deity who ruled over Sal Terrae who was said to be murdered by Morax at the height of the Archon War. Any thoughts on how this might have come about?”

“I…” You blinked in confusion. “I don’t...Zhongli, what is all this about?”

Zhongli remained silent, seemingly unaware of your bemused state.

You waved your hands helplessly. “The Archon War was a power struggle between deities of great ability. Fatalities were inevitable.”

“So you don’t believe that Morax, who slew countless other gods, gods that he once considered friends, had it in him to cast down another one if it meant clearing the way to becoming one of the Seven?”

“It may not have been Morax at all. Everyone was fighting against someone or something. What does the Lord of Geo have against salt?”

Zhongli chuckled, though it sounded a little distant. When he finally turned to you again, his expression was equal parts warm and wistful. He offered you his hands, and you placed your shaking ones in them.

“Last question.” He ran his thumbs over your skin. “You were there when you saw the Exuvia fall out of the sky at the Rite of Descension, yes?”

You nodded.

“Then Rex Lapis is dead.”

You felt your skin crawl, like lightning had started coursing through your system from your interconnected hands.

“True…” Zhongli cupped the side of your face, cradling it gently. “...or false?”

Looking into his eyes, you already knew the answer.

taglist (those in italics, I can’t seem to tag you :< ): @izayanna @onigiree @thetwinkims @cybersnotonline @decaffeinateddragonbananagoth @candyqueen10 @littlefluffbunz-4208 @xuenn @crushmylimbs @axerrri @idkwhattonamethis1000 @foelup @rasasvavda @themoonalienhere2000 @catharia-catharsis @catboyjesus @that-jax @xcherriess14 @friend-ofcloud @berryunderscore @xiao-chao @flerpdederp @bugtim3 @kelly339 @pinaplemess1 @ch1och1o  @blissmal @saeran-g @gloomdoomraccoon @casey852-blog @oxptify @the-dreaming-city @nadav-ii @simpforgojousatoru

[freshrecipesbycass]

Feeling Occu-pied? Let's Bake Your Stress Away

"We must have pie. Stress cannot exist in the presence of pie." - David Mamet

Is anyone else feeling overwhelmed, burnt out, or strained as of late?

I have found myself awfully tired of my workload and routine these last few weeks. When I feel like this, I know it's important prioritize my mental health. This means taking some time out of my schedule to do something that makes my heart happy.

Baking makes my heart awfully happy. Especially when there's fresh, local fruit involved.

***

This week's fresh, local fruit is sponsored by Reggie's Veggies, an adorable roadside produce stand in Meridian, Idaho.

Reggie's Veggies is somewhat of an illusion. When you drive up, it doesn't look like much. But once you enter the tent, you are completely surrounded but a plethora of fresh, locally sourced fruits and vegetables.

As I toured the stand looking for inspiration, the fresh strawberries caught my eye right away. They looked as sweet as candy and were picked right down the road.

While I reviewed those, the smell of peaches filled my nose. My inspiration had been found: a peach strawberry pie.

And, without further adieu, here is a step-by-step guide to a pie that will surely help bake your stress away:

The thing I love most about pies is that you can fill them with pretty much anything. As long as you have these simple basics stocked in your cupboard, you're ready to go.

I went with peaches and strawberries this time but you can use any fruit you desire.

***

First order of duty: preparing the fruit.

After washing the strawberries, I cut the tops off then quartered them. When handling the smaller of the bunch, I just left them halved.

Easy peasy.

Now the most difficult part of this recipe: pealing the peaches. (That was for effect, it's really not that hard.)

Start a pot of boiling water. While you wait (DON'T WATCH THE POT), slice an X at the top of your peaches. Once the water is rolling, drop in two at a time and them sit for a minute or two depending on their ripeness. More ripe = less time in the hot tub.

Then, pull them out and plop them in a bowl to cool to touch. Once you can handle them, peel the skin off with your fingers using the X you drew at the top. The skin should come off easy. If it's being stubborn, use a pairing knife and cut whatever skin refuses to come off.

Here's a quick video with extra tips on peeling.

Once your peaches are naked, it's time to cut them open and slice them up. (Sorry peaches.)

To pit, use a spoon and dig under the middle part of the peach. I like to get the entire center out, red flesh including, to avoid bitterness.

After the peaches are hollow, slice them however thick or thin you want. I wouldn't recommend cutting thicker slices than 1/3 of an inch, though, in order to make more room in your pie dish.

Peaches: DONE.

Now we can put everything together.

In a large bowl, add your prepared fruit and the rest of your ingredients.

Give everything a good fold over with a spatula until it looks something like this:

The main contents of your pie is done.

***

Now, onto the crust.

I typically buy frozen pie crusts because they're as easy as... well, you know. They're already rolled out to size and ready to be baked.

This time, however, my sweet grandmother made me some pie crusts. All credits to her ode.

If you want to make your own pie dough, all credits to you. Here's a link for an easy recipe.

Once your dough is rolled out to size, place in your pie dish and tuck the hanging edges under.

After your base is laid, you can fill the pie dish with your peaches and strawberries (or whatever fruit your using).

For the pie top, I decided to go with a lattice. You can leave your pie open or place an entire 2nd pie crust over top (just make sure to cut an X in the middle for air flow).

Here's a link to how to make the lattice design (it's not rocket science).

And here's some more extravagant crust designs for those feeling adventurous.

If you are topping your pie, make sure to brush with egg wash and dust course sugar over top before putting in the oven.

Once your pie is done to your liking, put it on a baking pan and then into a 375 degree oven for 50 minutes - 1 hour.

Watch your pie. When it's finished, it should be bubbly (peach pies especially) with a slightly tanned crust. Browned but not dark.

***

I sincerely hope making a pie eases your worries as much as making this pie eased mine.

I feel refreshed, and full of pie, so life doesn't seem so daunting anymore.

What are some things that you do that help you prioritize yourself? What do you like to do to get away from the stress of your everyday? Let me know in the comments.

Until next time, live and eat well!

[mrsalwayswrite]

Sing Me a Song (Joseph Liebgott x reader)

Can be read as a reader or OFC piece. I was playing around with writing in first person.

The song referenced is Only Forever by Bing Crosby.

Warnings: um...none really. fluff?

Tags: @evelynshelby​

It was a cold, white hell. Snow covered everything. Well everything that had not been destroyed by the most recent barrage. The air was frigid, the cold seeping into my clothes until it felt like my bones had been replaced with icicles. Splintered trees surrounded us, an ode to the destruction we faced. Stains on the ground reminded us where someone had been hit, either injured or died.

 The only thing that made this place even remotely tolerable was my fellow paratroopers...and him. 

 I sat next to Muck, sides pressed against one another with the idea of sharing warmth. Even if neither one of us had warmth to share. Our legs dangled over the side of Luz's foxhole, listening to him and Malark joke about something. A few other guys were around, listening in and adding their own commentary. Specifically, he sat across from me in the foxhole, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, fingers tapping out a silent beat on his thigh. 

 I remember the exact moment I met Joseph Liebgott. I knew he would be trouble for me. That messy hair, dark eyes and the don't-fuck-with-me attitude. Sure I found that attractive and his dry humor always made me laugh. Although his stubbornness and ability to pick a fight with almost anyone did irk me. He was untouchable. It was obvious he was a ladies-man, and knew it. I was...well, not someone typically picked up at a bar. I had always been alright with my lack of male attention, but for once, I wish I knew how to charm and flirt, to beguile a man and have the audacity to kiss one. 

 But that was not me. So I sat and watched from the sidelines. 

"What the fuck are they singing about now?" Liebgott complained, glaring across the no-man's land between us and the Germans in the Bois Jacques. 

 Sure enough, German singing could be heard, carrying with the wind. They seemed to be singing more lately, either to boost their own morale or annoy the Americans. 

 It sure got a rise out of some of the paratroopers. 

 "They just serenading you, Joe." Malark joked then called over to a passing Sergeant, "Ain't that right, Lip?"

 Lipton just shook his head, a small smile touching his lips. "Whatever you say, Malark. You boys make sure to keep your heads down. Ma'am too." He kept walking, probably to find Dike.  

 I giggled, smiling as Lipton walked away. No matter how many times I told him to stop, he still called me 'ma'am'. Something about it being disrespectful and even in the middle of a war his mother would find him and spank him with her wooden spoon if she thought he was being disrespectful. 

 Liebgott kept scowling. "Well I wish they'd shut the fuck up." He mumbled something under his breath, running a hand through his shaggy hair. 

 "Oh I see, you prefer me to serenade you." Luz smiled. "I mean, all you had to do was ask, really. Oklahoma where the wind comes sweeping…"

 "Shut it. I'm sick of your singing." 

 "Joe…" I reprimanded softly. He glanced over at me and gave the briefest of winks. That simple action, every time, always set my cheeks ablaze and a fire in my belly. I scrubbed a hand over my face, praying no one saw how flustered I was. 

 "Well what do you want? Not a lot of options here, unless you know where some band is hiding nearby." Muck said, rubbing his hands together for warmth. 

 "Shit, I don't know. I just miss music, good music I guess. Always had the radio playing in my cab."

 My heart broke at the forlorn look on his face. We all had our moments where the longing for home, to be anywhere but this terrible place, overwhelmed us. It was up to our friends around to cheer us up, however they could, but lately it was getting harder and harder to do. The constant threat of bombardment, the frigid cold, lack of food and watching our friends get injured and/or die. It killed the small hints of hope left in us. That we would survive. That we would escape this place.  

 He drummed his fingers against his thigh, some song probably playing in his head. Even those around us had grown silent, lost in their own memories of before. Who knew such a simple thing as music could be so meaningful. 

 "I'll sing for you."

 Then I realized the words I blurted out. Shit. 

 "Yeah? You sing?"

 Luz butted in. "Since when do you sing? And why are we hearing about this now? We could have been singing duets this whole time!" 

 I ignored him, keeping my eyes on Liebgott. "I used to sing in school. Nothing special."

 That may have been the biggest lie of my life. I used to sing all the time, whenever I could. I even sang for our local radio a couple times. Then war happened. It did not feel right to sing during training, just gave Sobel another reason to despise me, and here surrounded by blood and bullets, I did not even think about it. 

 For him though, I would do it. To make him smile in this frozen hell. I would sing for him. 

 "What are you going to sing?"

 "What would you like?"

 He paused for a moment before smirking. "Surprise me."

 Well there was no going back now. Butterflies were throwing a lively party in my belly, my hands were sweaty and my mind continued to berate me for my idiotic decisions. I pushed it all away. I had survived D-Day. I had helped take Carentan. I had fought at the Crossroads. I could sing one song for the man that made my knees weak with a wink. 

 Right?

 Shit. 

 Carefully I stood up, dusting the snow off my ODs as I mentally chose a song. What did I want to sing? In my mind I imagined myself back home, the sun shining on my face, sand between my toes and the sounds of the ocean waves crashing on the beach. Then I imagined him next to me. A huge smile on his face, like the ones from back in Toccoa when he would hide Guarnere's boots just to see him furious and swearing to make even a sailor blush. 

 So I closed my eyes, opened my mouth and let the song pour forth. 

 Do I want to be with you

As the years come and go

Only forever

If you care to know.

Would I grant all your wishes

And be proud of the task

Only forever

If someone should ask.

How long would it take me

To be near if you beckon?

Off hand I would figure

Less than a second.

Do you think I'll remember 

How you looked when you smile?

Only forever 

That's puttin' it mild. 

 When I finished the song, barely a sound was heard. Self-conscious, I opened my eyes to meet the stares and dropped jaws of my fellow paratroopers.  

 I met those dark eyes that I adored and softly said, "happy Hanukkah, Joe."

 Then my nerves gave out and I quickly dropped back down to sit next to Muck. 

 "What the hell was that? Were you planning on keep that from us this whole time?" Luz demanded, looking both offended and awed. 

 I just shrugged. 

 "That was beautiful." Muck whispered, nudging me in the side. 

 "Thank you."

 Buck called my name from behind, so I turned to see all the officers standing nearby probably making a plan since Dike was not around. Honestly I was mortified that they had heard also but the smiles on their faces alleviated some of the anxiety. "From now on, only you should be singing for Easy."

 "Hey!" Luz placed a hand over his heart, cigarette between his fingers. "You wound me, Buck. You love my singing."

 "Keep telling yourself that, George."

 Smiling at their silly antics, I was glad the attention was momentarily off me but I knew it would not be for long. It had felt good to sing again. I wondered if my self-imposed denial was without merit. If it boosted the morale of my friends, was it selfish of me to hold back? I figured I should talk to Doc about it later. He gave the best advice.  

 "You sang that….for me?"

 The question startled me out of my musings. I looked over the foxhole to see Liebgott staring at me with an intensity I had never seen before. It made a fire grow in my belly and my toes curl.  

 I nodded, biting my chapped lip. 

 His eyes bore into mine for a long moment. Then without warning, he shoved off the side of the foxhole he sat on and in two steps stood before me. Before a word could escape me, his lips crushed against mine with an almost bruising passion. 

 It felt as if the world faded away and the only thing that mattered was his soft, equally chapped lips, his warm breath and the feeling of his hands cupping my cheeks. Once my brain restarted, I kissed him back with equal passion. For a moment I was unsure if this was a dream or real. Either way I intended to enjoy it. I knocked his helmet off so I could card my fingers through his messy hair like I had fantasized about so many times. It was greasy and dirty but it was perfect. 

 Eventually the world resumed and I could hear the hooting and cheering of the guys around us. I pulled back slightly from Liebgott, my cheeks flaming from more than just the cold. 

 "Hell of a kiss you laid on her, Joe." Malarkey teased. 

 "Hell of a dame." Liebgott replied, his eyes never leaving mine as one of his thumbs brushed gently over my swollen, bottom lip. I could not help the small smile, amazed that this was real. 

 Quickly he snuck a brief kiss once more before pulling himself up and sitting next to me, his arm tucking me into his side. Not that I complained.

 "Why don't you kiss me after I sing to you? Huh?" Luz pouted but the huge smile on his face gave him away. 

 "I guess you didn't know the right song." 

 They laughed at my joke, the tension that typically hung over us like an axe gone for the time. The guys heckled one another and tried to convince me to sing again amidst pretending to recreate The Kiss scene Liebgott and I just gave them, like some high school play. 

 The snow and cold seeped through our clothes, threatening that we would never feel warmth again. The enemy sat in wait not far from us. For now, I pretended those dangers were imaginary. I laughed as Luz tried to sing like me, only to fail spectacularly, and be bombarded with snow balls. 

 Most of all, I felt a fresh breath of life in me as I scooted closer and laid my head on Liebgott's shoulder, his arm tight around my side. The faintest press of a kiss on the top of my head made my smile grow. 

 I wondered if I should have sang months ago or maybe it was this moment, that finally allowed me to show him how I felt. 

 His fingers thread through mine, and I realized it did not matter. I was happy. And that was something I planned on never letting go. 

[maeve-of-winter]

I love the way you write Parson and the Aces. Do you have any aces headcanon that you havent shared? (also ur metafic about the parse biopic is hilarious and I am thankful that you wrote it)

I’m sorry for the long delay in this ask, anon! I kept thinking I would be able to finish a fic that would include a lot more of my headcanons about Kent and the Aces, but I’m pretty stalled on that right now, so hopefully this answer is better late than never.

Also, I’m so glad you liked the Parse biopic fic! I wasn’t too sure how it would do, since I’d never tried writing metafic before, but I’m so glad you enjoyed it! (Link for anyone who’s interested: Lights, Love, and Legend.)

- I feel like in general, the Aces management and veteran players alike were all very, very nervous about Kent joining the team, mainly because of the drugs angle. Hockey is a very, very conservative culture in general, and a player fitting in with the team is pretty crucial as to whether he goes or stays, by choice or otherwise. The concern for Kent was both professional worry that he was into drugs and might create a toxic locker room situation and tarnish the team’s public image, and personal concern that he was also suicide/drug risk and might OD like Jack. There was a lot of emphasis on their “supportive family culture” once Kent joined the team.

- Kent was really handled with kid gloves by the other team members, and dudes kept on making excuses to hang out with him/show him around the city/include him on even the most mundane errands. Kent was dragged along on so. many. Target runs. “Oh, hey, have you seen the grocery store? I know you get your meals delivered, but you should know where it is, just in case!”

- The Aces management immediately decided Kent was going to be living with a veteran teammate and his family, and Kent gets to live with a couple of little kids who really look up to him and are fascinated by this new stranger who’s apparently going to be staying at their house for a while. And since Kent is a rookie, he’s tired all the time from the rigorous schedule and the extra stressors in his personal and professional life, so sometimes he accidentally just falls asleep on the family couch without meaning to. And once in a while when he wakes up, he finds that one or more of the kids have snuggled up to nap right next to him.

- Kent is reluctant to bond with his teammates’ kids at first, because he’s been prepped to hear the worst about himself and get all kinds of intrusive questions about his life with Jack in Juniors so many times that it’s in his head, and he’s worried about maybe being a bad influence on them. But he likes kids, because they’re so easy to please and they seem honestly happy to be around him, so he quickly finds himself helping them across the monkey bars and launching stomp rockets and giving them piggyback rides. It just feels so good to see them smile.

- One of Kent’s teammates is a Russian player nicknamed Yaks because he talks so much. Yaks takes a real shine to Kent and often invites him over to his house to cook for him. He owns several large and fluffy cats that he’s rescued as a part of the Aces’ partnership with the county’s animal shelters. Almost as soon as Kent sits down in this Yak’s living room, he’s overwhelmed by three huge cats trying to cuddle with him, and Yaks takes it as a good sign that his pets automatically like Kent so much. He encourages Kent to get a pet of his own, and this is where Kent gets the idea to adopt Kit Purrson.

- Kent starts learning Russian to surprise Yaks, and when he knows enough to hold a full conversation with him, Yaks ends up being impressed that Kent took the time and effort to learn (even if Kent’s accent is atrocious). Kent then gets the idea to learn the language of each of his international teammates to help them feel more adjusted to life in the US. (This is actually based on RL Boston Bruins captain Zdeno Chara, who knows seven separate languages.)

-  Swoops actually doesn’t really like Kent when Kent first signs the Aces. He hears all the rumors about his partying with Jack prior to Jack’s OD, and is deeply unimpressed. It also doesn’t really endear Kent to him that Kent almost immediately starts playing on the second line with him. 

But then he starts hearing the chirps Kent’s been getting from rival players about Jack’s OD. And he sees how Kent just takes it and tries to ignore it instead of chirping back, since losing Jack as a (boy)friend was painful and he’s still trying to process. And so Jeff gets angry, and so Jeff starts chirping back and fighting these guys to avenge his teammate. He wants to make things right for Kent.

And then one time when he’s out with Kent and the team, celebrating their victory, they change the channel to a recap of their game, which includes a highlights reel of all the guys Jeff fought that time for Kent. One of the commentators jokingly mentions, “There’s nothing Jeff Troy won’t do for Kent Parson,” and all the Aces laugh, because Jeff really has been like Kent’s knight in shining armor for a while now. 

Except Jeff glances over at Kent, who’s smiling for once, and his heart and stomach both lurch, and then he realizes, Oh, shit, there really isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him, and that’s how he realizes he has a thing for Kent.

Thank you for the ask, anon! Sorry that it took me so long to get to it!

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Kiwi 10

previously on Kiwi

As grueling of a schedule as it was, there was a bit of normalcy to the routine of it all that was an almost welcomed addition to her life. Each day had an itinerary, had a designated time for everything, nearly down to bathroom breaks and time to think. The entire operation was efficient and orchestrated a year in advance. At a very very recent point in her life, Lexa didn’t like the sanctity of the routine and often balked under the weight of it, rejecting regularity for sleepless nights and people who broke her, and for too much manufactured joy that came at the end of a straw or bottom of a glass. Strung out and hung over, she performed without remember, and found herself missing the joy of it all, digging a deeper pit into her own body and soul that she could ever fill up. 

But she was finding a way to make up for it. 

It started with her sister, as most things seemed to always. It started with apologizing and promising and fixing a lot of things she once thought to be irreparable. And once that was mended and blossoming, Lexa watered different parts of herself, allowing a small bit of her own forgiveness and honesty to shine through. 

There was rehab and therapy, of course. And more apologizing and promising and setting realistic goals and avoiding stressors and things that would make her weak. But from that was a kind of strength, and people saw it, the improvement, the urge and need to be good, to be an artist. That was what saved Lexa’s life, at the end of the day, her overwhelming urge to create and interpret and give back something to the world. 

Tour was debated hotly for an entire month before it could be completely agreed upon between the bandmates, but in the end, it was the absolutely gruelling schedule that Anya decided truly was the best way for her to keep an eye on her sister. She couldn’t do drugs if she didn’t have time. 

And even though Lexa found herself missing someone, something she hadn’t originally planned on experiencing, she welcomed the road life with open arms, hitting meetings in every town almost, and talking to a girl on the other side of the country almost non-stop. When she wasn’t bugging Clarke, she was writing, practicing, working out, or performing, and in the end, those were almost the only things that truly mattered. 

Deftly, Lexa’s fingers moved along the frets of her favorite guitar as she lounged on the couch in her suite. She knew she was in Texas, but not entirely sure which city, and she didn’t mind. She had the sunset and she had a great view. In a month she’d be in Europe before festival rounds, and then back on the second half of her tour until the fall. There was a schedule. 

Without noticing her sister approaching, she hummed along to a melody she’d been stuck thinking about but not sure what to do with entirely. The album they were touring on was heartbreak and pain and partying. It was some of her favorite things because she loved seeing those who understood her and the words. But it scared her to write something different and new. And as many times as she promised an ode to Clarke’s ass, she was afraid to write something so loving. So she strummed along and already felt a different kind of grit sneak into her words. She sang a few lines and wrote in her notebook, pausing and reworking and thinking out loud. She recorded a few bars on her phone before putting it together somewhat. 

No one would say she was unprofessional when it came to her work. It was important that she got things out, and she came with a full idea, formed and ready to be put together, a concrete idea that she was always eager to capture. Her words got a little better and the process got a little easier when she was sober, something she feared at first, if she was being honest. She didn’t need the crutch. Her entire last album was a way to heal. 

“Sounds good,” Anya finally offered, pushing herself from the wall where she leaned. “Different,b ut good.” 

“I thought we discussed your lurking.” 

“I lurk out of love.” 

“Hm,” Lexa grunted, tossing her pencil down on the notebook. She kept working on the guitar though, trying to get it right. 

Anya took a seat on the coffee table her sister’s feet were propped up on, and she grabbed the notebook, carefully skimming through the words jotted there in a deceptively neat hand despite how quickly they were laid upon the page. 

“I like this a lot, actually. Powerful.” 

“I don’t want to wri--”

“I know, I know. The basics. Universal human emotion with killer guitar. Nothing personal, blah blah,” the drummer muttered, hunching over as she flipped a page and looked at another idea, waving away the inevitable diatribe she’d already heard. 

“I don’t want to write sad songs anymore,” Lexa shrugged. “At least… I don’t know. I can’t say never. I just-- singing these songs, it’s been heavy. I kind of want to bring back some fun. Remember our EP?” 

“A lifetime ago.” 

“Yeah, but like pure rock’n’roll right? Like gritty guitar, quick fucks, bad drinks, having fun. Dirty but something to sing along to.”

“Except you don’t do any of that.” 

“No, but I miss… Do you miss having fun up there?” 

“I always have fun,” Anya shook her head, pushing aside her mane of hair as it fell in her face. “I have fun playing with you.” 

“I do too, I just… Clarke said something-- before you complain,” she interjected as Anya began to roll her eyes, “She said that she could see me enjoy certain songs more, and a lot has to do with who they were about.” 

“You’re afraid to write about Clarke.” 

“No… yeah, I mean. No one tells you that when you write about people, you’re stuck with the song, even when they’re not around.” 

Lexa sulked slightly as she fiddled with her strings and looked away from her sister with the confession. 

“You like her a lot,” Anya observed after a few moments of quiet and flipping through the pages until she caught something she liked. 

“Yeah, obviously.” 

“Good. I like her too.” 

“I think I might invite her out again before we head to Europe.” 

“You should.” 

“Is this…” Lexa took a deep breath and stilled her movements, almost a complete statue as she tried to formulate the proper words. “Is this what it feels like to exist, like normal?” 

“Relatively, yeah, probably,” her sister snorted a laugh and smiled as Lexa’s face twisted slightly. “You’re so used to living at extremes, but what you don’t realize is that life is exceptionally average most of the time, and my favorite things are moments of beauty in the most mundane spaces. Aiden smiling at me when he pulls my hair and bites my chin because that’s how he kisses. You, holding him. You and me on stage when we are perfectly in sync and the world is right. The best bite of a piece of pizza. Watching you the past few months, come alive. Fighting with Luke about not having enough wipes in the diaper bag. There is nothing wrong with feeling those moments and realizing they’re enough.” 

Lexa grit her jaw and nodded, still unflinching and unwavering, afraid to move an inch because she was certain the dream would end, and perhaps this was one of those moments, because the sun was setting, and her sister looked beautiful and alive and not like she was ready to commit her, but like she actually enjoyed being her sister again. 

Anya didn’t mean to say as much, but she closed her mouth and looked down at Lexa’s notebook again. 

“Invite Clarke for a few days. Let her get a feel of your life here. She won’t break your heart.” 

“You’re psychic now?” 

“No, but I think she couldn’t hurt to offer you a muse, even if you don’t want that.” 

“I can’t write about her.” 

“I think you already are.” 

“Nah,” Lexa disagreed, back to plucking the strings haphazardly. 

With a victorious smile, Anya picked one she liked the most and read it a few more times, attempting to hear what her sister had beneath it all. 

“I like this one,” she finally offered, handing over the page, bookmarked and dogeared in a way she knew would piss of her sister. “Tell me how to hear it.” 

Lexa took her time, looking at the page and debating as her sister looked on expectantly. This would be the moment, she was certain, that they began the next album in earnest. That alone was a journey that made her wary, which was why she hadn’t approached her sister with anything finished yet. 

“Low and singular at first, up to the first bridge and then BAM you come in, hard and heavy, just a beat, a heartbeat. I want it to be a blast, a catharsis, an unleashing.” 

“Fitting,” Anya agreed and nodded as she read, dashing a note here and there, drawing lines to indicate the swelling. 

“See, I can write songs not about girls.” 

“You can, I just think you want to write about a girl. So just let yourself.”

“It’s hard, being away and stuff. Kind of a weird time to start a relationship.” 

“When have you ever done anything the easy way?” 

As much as she wanted to argue, Lexa stopped herself and agreed. It didn’t matter. She knew her sister was right, and maybe that was okay this time. 

XXXXXXXXXX

Even though it was nearing the end of her shift, the bar still felt full of people in a way that weighed on her. She was hoping to leave at a mildly reasonable hour to crawl into bed and get a reasonable amount of sleep for the first time in a long time. The universe didn’t seem aware of that plan as she tried to re-read the letter left in her letterbox the day before. 

“You going to grab that order at the end?” Raven interrupted her thoughts. 

“Why fucking not.”

Struck by her sour demeanor the entire night, Raven debated how to handle Clarke. There were different moods for her that required different responses. She wasn’t quite sure which kind of friend she had to be for the evening. 

Even though she couldn’t admit it yet, Raven saw that Clarke seemed oddly different after meeting Lexa Woods. She was driven and happy and doing more. She was content and afraid of the future, but for different reasons. 

“Are you being a little crabby because you miss your girlfriend?” Raven sang, clearly aware that she was annoying her friend. 

“She’s not my… well maybe-- no wait. That’s not why I’m-- And I’m not crabby,” a flustered bar tender shook her head, processing all of the words and how wrong they all were. 

“You miss her.” 

“How can I miss someone I never had?” 

“Oh, you have her,” Raven rolled her eyes and crossed her arms as she watched her friend huff and be annoyed at the common knowledge. “She’s flying you out again to see her, for a few days and two different cities of tour dates. You’re dating Lexa Woods.” 

“I think I would know if I was.” 

“I’m honestly not sure you’d know.” 

For the rest of the evening, they worked and waited until the bar cleared out and they could wrap up the hard part. Raven poured them both a drink when the door was finally locked and sat down across from her friend, unperturbed by the sticky bartop or the cleaning they were about to do. 

With a flick of her head, Clarke took the shot and hissed against the feeling of the painful liquid on her throat. 

“They’re tearing down my building,” Clarke sighed. “I’ve got a month.” 

“No wonder you’re in a snit,” Raven nodded. 

“And I haven’t gotten laid in a few weeks.” 

“Yeah, I can tell.” 

“It’s just… It’s just… It’s just... “ she sighed and shook her head before pausing to pour herself another drink and taking it back. “I think I’m getting ahead, right? Like if life is broke up into categories, love, money, job, happiness-- and I can’t get all of them to be okay at the same time. It’s exhausting.” 

As she spoke, Raven finished counting the cash and carefully handed over the split from the tips, handing a pile over to the barback that wiped down the tables while they stood there, veterans and exhausted by the night, no longer excited to keep drinking and stay up until about four. Clarke braced herself on the counter and stared at the empty shot glass, watching a droplet drip down the side slowly then all at once. 

“So what do you have together now?” 

“Hm?” 

“Out of those things, what is working for you now?” Raven asked. “I mean. You’re dating a rock star. You have a great internship and you are somewhat decent at it. You have to move and that’s it.” 

“It’s a pretty shitty thing. I can barely afford the shitbox I live in now, let alone another place.” 

“Come live with me.” 

“In your studio? No thanks. We’re close, but I don’t think we can be that close without killing each other.”

“Why don’t--”

“I’ll figure it out,” Clarke sighed. “I can’t think of solutions tonight.” 

“We can drink, if you want.” 

“Yes please.” 

“And,” her friend grinned, complete and utter mischief and nothing good at all as she dug behind the counter and pulled out a magazine. “We can read all about a sexy singer and a mysterious blonde she’s been seen with.” 

“Are you kidding me? Where did you get that!” 

Even though she moved as quickly as possible, Raven dodged Clarke’s advance, wiggling her eyebrows as she surveyed the pictures and laughed, enjoying her friend’s discomfort. Stretch as she might, Clarke couldn’t grab the offending image and she groaned, growing agitated in a way that her friend enjoyed. 

“I’ve just been saving this to enjoy when I had a free moment. Thinking about how much I could make by telling them who the cute blonde sucking on Lexa’s Woods’ neck is.” 

“I wasn’t-- They didn’t-- We weren’t--”

“Hmmm interesting,” Raven mused as she opened the magazine and Clarke got a glimpse of the front cover for the first time. 

Completely mortified, she blanched, the blood disappearing from her ears and face as she saw a grainy image of the two of them out to a lovely late dinner post-concert last time she visited. It was a good night and she thought they were alone. She also just really liked to kiss Lexa and she didn’t want to wait. 

“When aked about the new friend, the singer simply smiled coyly and said she was very happy,” the bartender read before flipping another page. “And my horoscope is trash.” 

“Give me that,” Clarke finally snatched the paper, flipping through the rag before coming face to face with herself. 

There was no way for anyone else to know it was her, at least not really, but Raven knew as she slipped her beer and started sorting the receipts. She knew and she knew the right thing to say most of the time, too. It only took a few moments of flipping for Clarke to toss the magazine back ont eh counter and shake her head before pouring another shot. 

“You’re going to be fine, Griffin,” Raven promised. “You’re ready to be happy.” 

“I don’t know how to be happy.” 

It wasn’t quiet in volume, but it was hones and quiet in its purpose. Clarke took the shot and slumped slightly under the weight of the honest and the feeling of maybe trying to believe how her friend’s suggestion could be real. 

“You do.” 

XXXXXXXXXX

Defeated by the rain and the past week, Clarke adjusted the bag that hung on her shoulder and leaned slightly against her large suitcase in the lobby the chic high rise. No one else was around save for the attendant at the desk who casually watched her without actually looking, keeping an eye on the happenings for very important people lived in his building, and he took his job very seriously. 

It was an act of utter failure and somewhat dependence that Clarke despised above all else. She never wanted to need anyone, and she never wanted to be a burden. When it came down to the fact that she needed help, she recognized a kind of guilt and shame that made her rile against herself, as if her own bones were bending and getting smaller. 

With an uncoordinated effort, she made her way to the elevator when it arrived in the lobby, and she tried not to think too much, instead looking forward to a good bath and a good sleep to get her head back on straight. 

She was going to make short business of needing someone’s help. She wasn’t keen on being given charity, and she certainly wasn’t ready to make Lexa feel like she was being used. That scared Clarke more than anything. 

As soon as Clarke stepped into Lexa’s empty place, she was afraid she’d gone into the wrong place because it was not actually empty, but rather warm and alive. The warm lights and candles glowed against the dark of the windows, while a sound of sizzling and the smell of garlic came from the kitchen. A record scratched in the corner. 

“Hey, I was wondering when you’d get in,” Lexa smiled and reached to grab the bottle of wine. “I was afraid you’d be later and it’d get cold.” 

The bags dropped. 

“What are you-- Wh-- How?” Clarke furrowed and shook her head. “You’re supposed to be in Philadelphia.” 

“I play there tomorrow. I thought you were a real fan.” 

She was putting the finishing touches on the small dinner prepared and plated on the dinging room table, but Lexa was every bit comfortable, as if she hadn’t been on tour for the past three months and not anywhere close to New York. 

“But what are you doing here, now?” 

“Came to welcome you to my place, well, your place, our place? No, your place.”

“It’s your place, Lex.” 

“Yeah, but it’s yours when I’m not here, so tonight it’s ours, I guess.” 

Happy and cozy, bare feet moving around and finally standing in front of her girlfriend, Lexa smiled and towered there in Clarke’s confusion. 

“Did you miss me?” Lexa grinned, and despite all of the feelings and the anger and the self-hatred, Clarke melted at it. 

“Why are you here?” Clarke shook her head, feeling bad still. “I didn’t--”

“I wanted to make you feel welcome. Nothing less welcome than a dark place, with no food. I wasn’t even sure I’d left the heat on to be honest, and it’s been cold the pas--”

Without meaning to do it, Clarke lurched forward and hugged her girlfriend tightly. She buried her face in her neck, making them both wobble slightly but leaving her undeterred. 

“I got you a key made,” Lexa whispered, surprised by the outburst. “I want you to be comfortable here. I like… I like the idea of you being in my bed.” 

“Even if you’re not here.” 

“I’ve never had someone to come home to.”

It was quiet and honest and even though dinner was on the table, and even though the record was done on its side and it stopped, creating a silence that prevailed the many tired thoughts that possessed both, they stood there. 

“You’ve been having a rough time. I know I can’t be physically here that much, I want to be around for you,” Lexa whispered. “I made you room in the closet.” 

“I won’t be here long.” 

“You can stay as long as you want. I mean it.” 

“It’s been a real shit month.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“Aren’t you tired? Weren’t you in DC last night?” 

“So you are a real fan.” 

Clarke laughed even though she didn’t want to. Lexa’s arms stayed around her as she pulled away and she sighed because she had no other alternative-- there were too many feelings and thoughts that left her frazzled and she needed to hide all of that to savor this moment, regardless of the fact that she’d lost her home and was desperately missing the girl that cooked for her. 

“Want to come to my show tomorrow?” Lexa asked. “You can come up with me for the night and we could have two consecutive days together.” 

“Two? Wow, you must like me.” 

“I don’t just let every Tinder hook up house sit for me.”

NEXT

[cowandcalf]

10.11. – Review and some musing

Since yesterday I'm thinking about how to start this review. I guess it'll end up being an ode to McDanno. Because let's be honest…still after such a long time, years of being in love, my love for the boys is a blazing fire. They make me sit on the edge of the couch, smiling stupidly, happy with what I witness what's happening between them. They make me sweat and grin and cry and gasp for air.

So, I start with the boys. Honestly, I've never expected season 10 to be so freaking full of McDanno moments. Gosh, I'm still a bit beside myself. For example, the scene in Steve's office. Danny…Danny. This handsome man (and the haircut! This freaking hot Mohawk, gah!!!) gets me twisted in knots because I try to find out what's he's up to. Danny doesn't normally admit to Steve his inner secrets. The way he confessed so openly why he has made up the mold story? Uh-huh. Intense. He shows feelings. Shows how much he was worried about Steve without being ironic and ranting and cutting the air to pieces with his hands. Intense. That what it was. And Steve? Steve takes Danny's confession in stride, kind of shifts on his seat and says he was touched. Steve doesn't really know what he should do with this piece of information even though he’s known it the whole time. It's kind of a load of emotions getting dumped on Steve only to grow in intensity a second later.

The bonsai comment? So not Danny-like, at least, not to the Danny I'm used to. He admits just openly that he's started that hobby for therapeutic reasons, telling there that he's not okay, that he's needed some support, some help from the shrink-corner and that's new. Did he visit a therapist? A psychologist? Does he still have sessions? Steve didn't ask any of this but the questions hang in the air. Danny, being just Danny, tells him of course, he doesn't normally inform everyone that he has a bonsai but he's just said it to Steve. So, he wants Steve to know and he even takes his miniature tree to Steve's house where he’s gong to trim this little precious tree with the special clipper doing this with a steaming cup of coffee beside him on Steve’s table only dressed in a flimsy shirt and old boxer shorts and Steve forgets how to breathe and decides to wear only sweat pants made of heavy cotton farbric. Not so easy to stretch. So, many hidden signs.

And what's with the burst pipe full of sewage? Yak, that's something traumatic when that happens, meaning Danny’s house was flooded with that stuff, ugh. At least, the bathroom and normally Danny would freak out, ranting, complaining, telling everyone how he's drawn the short straw from life. But none of this is happening. Danny smiles when he explains how the shit-smell has chased him out of his own home and he seeks refuge…at Steve's house. I'm sure he just made that story up, too and Steve knows this but still. Six to eight weeks! That's a long time and they haven't even mentioned where Danny would sleep. Maybe with Grace gone and Charlie growing older Danny feels lonesome and needs company.

But I can't get over Danny's sweet smile. The smile where he's asking Steve to let him crash at his place. It's a smile where one couldn't hide effectively enough the crush, they have one the one person that stands right in front of them. It's a sweet, tender, meaningful smile, uncommonly in Danny's repertoire to make faces. It's a gentle, genuine smile and it's connected to the stay at Steve's place. And normally Danny is the one who's annoyed and not Steve. Somehow the tables have turned and Danny tries to coax Steve into doing something Steve's not so fond of just for the fun of teasing Danny. Steve plays the annoyed one very well and all he can come up with are used towels. Ha!

Danny pushes boundaries twice in a short amount of time. He barges in Steve's door the first time without telling or calling or asking if it's okay with Steve. Now, just the same. He packs his bags and even takes his bonsai with him, stores his luggage in the office for Steve to see because Danny knows already Steve won't say no. So, what has Danny in mind? Living together for about two months? Jesus! I love this scene. It reveals Danny's softer side, an unexpected side. He wants to be with Steve that's a fact. And Steve lets him. I'm really curious about what's going on. Guys!!!! Ahhhh!

And the helicopter scene! That's another great McDanno moment. First, Danny jokes about animals although he loves animals. But he teases Steve about the gooses. And Steve comes up with the helicopter ride and doesn't even ask Danny if he's okay with it. He knows very well that Danny hates to fly with him. And oh, surprise! Danny goes! He jokes about the wild goose chase and Tani rolls her eyes at the boys! But Danny doesn’t scream and digs his heels in the ground just for the reason to show how much he doesn't want to be with Steve in a freaking helicopter, in the air!! Nope, he just went after Steve again with this mysterious smile.

As for the record, I…god…I loved seeing them paired up again, chasing bad guys, like in the old days. Time changes things, I get that but it was a great moment. And guess what. Steve is super correct and knows all the rules and is the pilot of the helicopter and yet he lets Danny use his cell although is highly prohibited and against the rules. But he lets Danny be. And Danny gives two shits about rules because they're in a no-fly zone because of gooses so no rules. And that's heavily teasing and an odd flirting with Steve. He dares him and Steve goes with it as always.

And I love that Steve still trusts Danny with all he's got. The Adam case bothers him and he leaves it to Danny to get through to his rogue team member. But Steve can't deny himself the comment if Danny can manage secrecy and Danny only lifts an eyebrow, tilting his head and quips a nice answer in return. Not offended in the slightest. That's really new and I freaking love it. Danny is much more relaxed and that rises my interest.

The guys going to live together for a longer time. That's going to be interesting and my heart whispers already poems of love…mm-hmm.

The half-season finale was just as good, as fantastic as every episode from season 10. I'm so in love. There's something thrilling about this season. It's heavy on the feels. The unexpected McDanno moments throw me. It's overwhelming. The cases are interesting and I never forget that it just a show and things might be bent a bit until they fit. Yes, they mess up timelines and don't follow up often on loose ends. I don't really dwell on those moments. I take what I get and I tend to extract the best moments for me. These 42 minutes and something always fills me with a giddy joy. I'm still enjoying every moment. It's still a wild ride and every episode leaves me with a lot to think about.

Lou is surprisingly fun. He's the one I struggle with the most. He's often over the top but so far, his scenes are filled with quip, pulling faces while discussing important leads, adding a lot of solid ohana-feelings and deep-rooted devotion to the team. This season Lou kind of grows on me. He's good people when he's not losing himself in some stupid, senseless explanation about how to dip malasadas in coffee or how to be a respected young man, or some stories about the good ol' days in Chicago.

The team has grown together. Tani fills her shoes and she walks tall. She's badass, proud, unwavering and would make Kono proud. She's full of admiration for Steve with the needed respect. But she's also the one who kind of sees the private person behind Steve the boss-man. She's caring and she's not afraid to show it. She loves Steve deeply, like a sister. She also breeches with ease Steve's professional persona. She expresses feelings and thoughts that have Steve gulp because it's so honest and straightforward and I love that.

Junior… man, this guy captured my heart. He's great. He's Earth where Steve's Air. They match as perfect Brothers. I'm always calm knowing Steve's not totally detached from his former, very important life as a SEAL. Junior watches out for him. Always, everywhere. He's grown a fantastic backbone and I'll never get tired of watching him morphing into a SEAL. He becomes a brother and a teammate for Steve. My heart still skips a few beats remembering the scene where they freed Joe White and Steve ordered him to stay behind, to not get entangled with the danger. And Junior's answer came sharply and precisely like a shot. "Today I'm a Seal and you're not my boss. We're a team and I'm coming with you." He said it with such confidence it blew me away. And it took Steve one second to recognize Junior as his brother. Junior is Steve's younger brother and he's always all in or nothing. I love his courage and the tender, shy side he always shows together with Tani. I love this boy and he's a good company for Steve. Keeps him sane.

Adam…Adam. Yeah, there's a lot going on. The way he laid down his gun and the badge was dramatic. I'm not sure yet what to think of that. I have always liked Adam. He fits into the team although he has never undergone any police training. He's born and bred Yakuza got taught from his father, a big name in that world. He should have had the courage to just tell Steve that things went wrong and he has to quit the team. That would have been the right thing to do.

The way he did hide information to safe his girlfriend was okay for me. Steve would have done the same, Lou and also Danny were already in such a situation and they just did what had to be done without informing anyone. But with Adam things went sideways and he went rogue, also emotionally and friendship-wise. After everything was settled he should have gone to Steve and get things out of the way. Steve would have understood. There, I don’t get Adam’s intentions.

Quitting the team like that? The worst imaginable way for Steve. You don't just quit the team and that's an emotional blow for Steve just because Steve cares for every single member on his team. But as I see it, Adam's world shifted when he lost Kono. Being an important member of the Yakuza makes you a slave, for a lifetime. You never can get out. So, they say. No freaking chance. Adam's history proves that. He killed his brother. He tried to be an honest businessman only to realize his past bites him in the ass. He ran away and tried to start a new life with Kono only to lose Kono to her obsession with a case that grew out of hand. Adam loves with all he's got. He has found new love with an old friend, unsurprisingly a daughter of a Yakuza boss. Adam grew up with all those people and now he's back in this energy. He knows the game. He's found a new woman and he loves again. For a man like Adam, he will do everything in his power to protect his woman. He won't lose again a woman he loves.

And his move to quit the team is about the woman he now loves. He has to stay close, by her side. Maybe he realized he only can really play one tune, only be fully immersed in one game, being on the Yakuza team. He betrays Five-O but as it seems Adam has reached a crossroad and his decision is made when he sits down at the head of a big table with other members of Tamiko's family and members of her father's clan.

Quinn…she wasn't in the episode and with some shame I have to admit I didn't even realize it. Not until someone pointed out that Quinn was missing. God, that's so horrible of me. She's a great team member but I seem to have a blind spot for her on the team. She doesn't leave an imprint. I can't tell you why. It's just…she's there and it's really good and she isn't and I don't miss her.

And the cliffhanger! Wo Fat is back. His name at least and seeing Steve's face when he spits his name revealed how much it pains him to just spell it. I think Steve might still have nightmares over what he had to undergo getting tortured, getting to hear dark, poisonous secrets his mother designed and everything came back to haunt Steve never to be really free of that massive emotional trauma. And now his nemesis is back in the form of Wo Fat's former wife. Just as cruel, brutal and cold-hearted as her husband. A killer seeking revenge with the deep wish to get to Steve.

Wow!

Season 10…ten points out of ten!

[whatarubberchicken]

Day 1 - Concert

Yay! It’s @lovesquarefluffweek! Here’s the first little piece I made: some Ladynoir for your soul!

Day 1 – Concert

“Chat, really, what’s this surprise you have for me?” Ladybug called as she followed him across rooftop after rooftop. “I have a test to study for tonight!”

“I purr-omise it won’t take long,” he called back, giving her a cheeky grin when she shook her head at him. She may pretend to hate his puns, but he saw those soft smiles she gave him when she thought he wasn’t looking! Besides, even if she was as busy as she claimed, right now, his lady was indulging him, so he needed to take advantage of it.

With a deep breath, he made his last big leap and dove into his own darkened window in the Agreste Manor.

“CHAT!” he heard her hiss when she realized where he’d gone. He switched on the lights and turned to see her perched on the windowsill, motioning frantically for him to come out of there. “Chat Noir, what are you doing?!”

“Relax, Bugaboo,” he said easily. “Mr. Agreste is in Milan this week, and I asked Adrien if I could borrow his room for a little bit while he was out… visiting a friend.” He gave her a confident grin.

“Adrien’s visiting a friend? –Oh, never mind, that doesn’t mean we should sneak into his—” Ladybug’s voice trailed off when he pushed the button to raise the piano in the center of the room, dimming the lights to half at the same time. She looked around uncertainly, surely noticing the romantic atmosphere that he’d been going for. “Chat….”

“My dearest Ladybug,” he said, giving her a bow as he slipped into a formal accent. “It has come to my attention that the most lovely lady in all of Paris has had several songs dedicated to her, written for her, and performed in her honor, often by famous, talented musicians visiting our lovely city. But none—none, I say—of these songs have been performed by yours truly, the very first cat whose heart you stole. With your permission,” he said, taking her hand and bending over it, “I would like to amend that egregious error.” He paused just above it, not daring to kiss it just yet, and watched her for permission.

Was she blushing? He hoped she was blushing and it wasn’t just a trick of the light!

“Chat…,” she whined, clearly torn.

“Just one song, my lady?” he pleaded. “Then I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night!”

She sighed, the unsure look on her face slowly twisting into a reluctant smile. “You really play the piano?”

“Of course,” he said, releasing her hand so he could stride over to the bench and sit down. “I think you’ll find I play quite well.” He waggled his fingers at her. “I even wrote the song myself.”

“And you’re sure we won’t be waking anyone up?”

“As sure as the sun rises,” he promised. (It was 11, which meant that his bodyguard was still awake in the other room, watching anime with his headphones on, expecting Adrien to be in his room like a good little boy. Which, as it happens, he was.)

“Fine. Just one song,” she finally said, crossing the room to stand behind him.

He felt a thrill go through him. Finally! Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale had had their own odes to Ladybug; he had to make sure his was as good as theirs. Or better!

With a deep breath, he started playing the tune he’d worked on for months. Luka had helped him ‘find the melody in his soul,’ Nino had offered to mix it with a sick beat, and even Nathalie had allowed him to use his precious practice time to work on it (none of them knew who it was for, though). He couldn’t afford to mess this up!

He occasionally slipped on the keys, but in his defense, he wasn’t used to having claws when playing. He’d included little nods to Jagged, Clara, and even that ridiculous phrase Princess Fragrance had made him sing, all woven into the melody. He closed his eyes to let the music flow through him, losing himself in it until he crescendoed into the finale, cheerful and triumphant, and was happy when those final notes rang true.

He took a deep breath, pleased with himself. That had been good.

Wait. Ladybug was silent. She wasn’t clapping.

Why wasn’t she clapping?!

Did she hate it?! Had she left?!

He quickly looked around and spotted Ladybug standing right where she’d been when he started the piece; a dumbfounded expression on her face.

“Uhh, my lady?” he called tentatively.

She blinked several times, then looked at him like she was coming out of a trance.

“Chat… you—you wrote that?” she asked, her voice nearly a whisper. “For me?”

“Um, yeah?”

What should I do? What should I do?! he wondered frantically. This was not the response he’d been expecting! He’d thought at most she’d applaud him, then quickly pull him out of the room before they could be arrested for trespassing. Best case scenario would be to get a quick peck on the cheek for his troubles!

But this! Ladybug looked like her mind had been blown—and he couldn’t tell from her expression whether it was a good thing or a bad thing!!

“Did you… like it?” he finally asked, unable to bear the suspense anymore.

“Did I…,” Ladybug’s expression cleared and, to his delight, she beamed at him and came over to sit with him on the bench. “Chat, that was beautiful! I had no idea you could play, much less that well!” He blushed at the praise. “And you wrote it yourself?! That’s amazing!!”

“Well,” he said, ducking his head modestly, “only the best for my lady.”

“Thank you so much, kitty,” she gushed, giving him a hug and a quick peck on the cheek.

Ok, this… this was better than Best Case Scenario. He was gonna be high on serotonin for days.

“Wow, how long did it take for you to write that?” she asked, her fingers skimming the keys of the piano.

I have lost count of the number of hours I spent focused on your beauty and kindness, nights spent wishing I had just a smidge of your charisma and courage, your raw power and utter selflessness. Months of watching that fire that lives inside you and shines through every little thing you do….

“Ehh, a while,” he said, shrugging.

“Well, thank you,” she said again. “I—I just—I don’t…. Thank you.”

Chat smiled. His lady looked a little overwhelmed.

“You’re welcome, Bug.”

She glanced up at him and he felt his heart skip a beat. She really was blushing!

“We should get going,” she whispered.

“Aww,” he couldn’t help but tease her, because even though he was thrilled she’d enjoyed it and loved the sight of her blushing on the seat next to him, there was a part of him that was terrified of losing their easy comradery, “you mean you don’t have a song prepared to woo me with in return?” He gave her a playful pout.

“Ha ha, kitty,” she said, lightly nudging his shoulder. Then her soft smile got a mischievous gleam. “Actually,” she said, setting her hands on the keys again, “I do have one song for you.”

“Really?!” Chat said, lighting up. Was she really going to play for him?!

She was!! Ladybug was playing his piano!

It was a simple tune, light and cute and fun and—it sounded vaguely familiar. Chat frowned as he struggled to place it. He’d heard it somewhere before, he was sure of it!

What—

A lightbulb went off in his head and he scowled and turned to glare at Ladybug, even though inside he was laughing his head off at her teasing joke. She giggled at him and kept playing.

“Really?” he deadpanned. “Neko Funjatta?”

“I stepped on a cat,” Ladybug sang as she gave him a shit-eating grin.

“I’ll give you something to step on!” he growled, chasing after her when she gave a little squeak and leapt away from the piano, diving for the window. He let her escape just enough to follow her into the night, both of them laughing and tickling each other when she finally let him catch her.

-End.

WaRC

[theritualofourexistence]

Odes to Old Gods

I started this year intending to journal about things I survive. Then at the end of the year, I could look back on my challenges and think about them in a more positive way--wow, look at what I overcame! The plan was to document everything, both good and bad, so that I could think about them more as experiences and lessons learned than as... good and bad. 

Needless to say, I stopped keeping track of those things in April. 

Earlier this month, I pulled out the journal again to update the list. I ended up quitting on that too. 

I do think, though, that in a less chaotic year, thinking about my life this way would be good practice. So, here I am, sharing my list with you in the form of an end-of-year, wrap-up blog post. 

A few quick caveats: 

This year was hard for literally everyone except maybe Jeff Bezos. 

It is not healthy to compare challenges or struggles or suffering.

I am not sharing this because I am looking for sympathy... I believe that being vulnerable is a very important part of the human experience but we can all also use a reminder that we never really know all of what anyone is experiencing. We shouldn’t need that reminder to treat others with love... but the older I get, the more I think those reminders might be necessary.

Things I have survived in 2020:

- A bit of a stalking experience in January which has since been resolved.

- Losing my job, hunting for a new job, securing a new job, training for the new job.

- My first Harry Potter tattoo for my ten-year tattooiversary.

- The fires in Australia.

- An absolutely wonderful trip to NYC with my dad when I got to see both Beetlejuice and Hadestown and have an enormous strawberry cheesecake milkshake from Junior’s. 

- Losing Kobe Bryant.

- Parasite absolutely CRUSHING the Oscars.

- Having a really, really good visit with my grandparents in March before all hell broke loose. 

- Weinstein being convicted and sentenced.

[Everything after this point happened during a global pandemic.]

- Losing Grandmom. I was unable to attend her funeral and still have not had the chance to grieve this loss with my extended family. 

- Losing my health insurance.

- A Zoom party for my Grammy’s 80th birthday.

- Losing Breonna Taylor. And George Floyd. And so, so many others. This is the first year I have really committed to understanding the current race-related issues this country faces and BOY, do we have work to do.

- The stress but success of orchestrating a safe family trip so that I didn’t have to go an entire year without seeing my brother.

- Losing my shifts at my primary job due to virus-related concerns.

- Countless other family happy birthdays over Zoom.

- My 60-year-old mother returning to work face-to-face with a student population that largely ignores all virus-related guidelines despite her working tirelessly for months this spring to offer UHS providers an adequate work-from-home option. 

- Being diagnosed with hypertension.

- A nightmarish friend trip. Despite our best laid plans for a safe and healthy visit, Mother Earth decided to trap me 90 miles north of my best friends for 4 days. I eventually got to see them for about 12 hours and honestly, it was worth it. That is the only time I’ve gotten with them all year.

- Losing Ruth Bader Ginsberg.

- The selection of Amy Coney Barrett to the Supreme Court.

- Our sweet girl Clio being diagnosed with a seizure disorder and then coming down with a life-threatening upper respiratory infection. 

- Learning that my grandmother would be voting for Trump in the 2020 election.

- The actual election.

- Losing Rooster, my sweet, sweet boy.

- Learning that my uncle has been diagnosed with esophageal cancer.

- Missing Thanksgiving with my extended family.

- Getting really excellent holiday gifts for my favorite people.

- Missing Christmas with my extended family.

- Safely spending some holiday time with my immediate family.

That is FAR from everything. But I don’t have the energy? Capacity? Time? to sort through everything.

Here are the things from this year that I am still currently surviving:

- A global pandemic! And all the associated chaos. With my asthma and high blood pressure and obesity, I am considered high risk and am still not able to safely return to my primary job. 

- Hypertension! More on this later.

- Grieving Rooster. In the days after we said goodbye, I wrote a memorial that I will eventually share here. Psychology has recently analyzed data suggesting that losing a pet can be equivalent to losing a relative... I have never felt grief like this. It’s been over a month. I cry every night. 

- Managing Clio’s health. She is still adjusting to her seizure medication, which she gets twice a day, and is still on medication to help with lasting symptoms of the respiratory infection. She is fussy about food and her weight fluctuates a lot week to week. She is also a feral rescue who has only ever been handled by me, my mom, and our vet. If mom and I are ever going to vacation together again, we will need to find someone who can manage catching and pilling her twice a day... no easy feat. Fortunately, at the moment, vacations aren’t really a thing for either my mom or I and I am working hard to approach these concerns in a cross-that-bridge-when-we-come-to-it way.

----

This year has been overwhelming. The last two months alone have been overwhelming. And they would’ve been overwhelming without the added spice of a global pandemic. The number of Americans we have lost to this virus has doubled since I last posted here in mid-August. Some time this week we are likely to reach a point where we’re losing 4,000 Americans per day. PER. DAY. This year has been overwhelming.

----

There were some good things this year, of course. I am so, so thankful for all the time I got with my immediate family and the very brief but vital time I got with my friends. Fortunately I am only ever a text away from my closest friends and we are able to message pretty much every day. I am also extremely glad to have found a place in the fantasy enamel pin community. The family I’ve found in pin-land has carried me through some of my lowest points this year. I spent more time in view of the ocean than I typically do in a given year... even though much of that time was still riddled with anxiety. I did art this year. I read books this year. Some really important ones, in fact. If you read nothing else in 2021, read The New Jim Crow. I also got tattooed! I’m going to include those here because I think the significance of each reflects something interesting and important about all I have survived and am surviving this year.

----

In January, I got my first Harry Potter tattoo! My favorite quote from the entire series is delivered by Hagrid during the Triwizard tournament:

”What’s comin’ will come, and we’ll meet it when it does.” 

I got that incorporated into a tattoo. In January. 

Also in January I got a “Prisoner of Donuts” tattoo... because life just wouldn’t be manageable at all without donuts.

In March, I got a bird of prey carrying a book to represent one of my all time favorite poems, “On Thought in Harness” by Edna St. Vincent Millay. The final lines of that poem:

“Soar, eat ether, see what has never been seen. Depart, be lost, but climb.” 

In July, I was able to safely navigate getting a tattoo that symbolizes the saga told in The Lord of the Rings trilogy. LOTR is my first and oldest fandom and the story is still so, so important to me today. The lessons I learned from Tolkien when I was a kid also carried me through some of my hardest moments this year.

Also in July I got a Plumpy tattoo. That’s right. Plumpy. From Candyland. If you haven’t played the game in a while, you may not remember Plumpy. He’s one of the first characters you meet on the game board... and one of the worst cards to see when you’re close to winning the game. You could be three damn squares from the finish line and pull the Plumpy card and back to the beginning of the board you go. Plumpy is a really great reminder that even when we have no choice but to lose ground, we can gain that ground back again. And hey, once you pull the Plumpy card from the deck, you likely won’t see him again for a good long while. 

In October, I was able to safely navigate getting my second Harry Potter tattoo. Neville has always been one of my favorite fantasy characters and I chose to carry him with me permanently. His courage, despite so, so much bullshit, inspires me every day. I also got a nautical tattoo for my mom’s ancestors who came to this country and fought in the Revolutionary War. Just as my family has a long and proud history of fighting for what matters, I too will carry that banner, even if it looks very, very different in the modern age. My third tattoo of the appointment is a cuckoo holding playing cards, a nod to one of most important stories I’ve read: Ken Kesey’s “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.” This book has informed not just my personal journey with mental illness but my passion to work in the field as well. My final tattoo of my October appointment, less than a week before the 2020 election, is a weeping Lady Justice. 

----

This year has made me look critically at things I very comfortably ignored for a long time. I would hope that it has done the same for most of you. Very little if any of this year was easy for me... but the most important lessons are never easy to learn. I’ve spent this year more worried and more angry than I’ve ever been before... and all I hope to do moving forward is use that fear and that anger to make this country, this world, a better place. Miss me with your resolutions this year. Every single day we should prioritize surviving and treating others with understanding and active love. I worked hard to do that this year and I will continue to work hard to do that every day. I’m proud of the work I’ve done. And in case it wasn’t clear, I’ll be dragging as many of you as I can on this journey with me. If you really feel the need to make a resolution this year, resolve to learn. Resolve to understand. Resolve to read The New Jim Crow and then TAKE ACTION. Take action with your votes and your voices and your money. Resolve to act.

----

This year wouldn’t let me escape it without being put on blood pressure medication, despite my best efforts to lower my blood pressure without it. Although I had gotten back down into a healthy range for a few weeks, RBG’s death and the landslide of utter shit that followed that completely wrecked all the progress I had made. I’m not happy about adding a new medicine to my regimen. I’m not happy about adding a new chronic diagnosis to my already lengthy laundry list. I did not expect 30 to look like allergy pills and three daily moisturizers and foot stretches and Metamucil and acid reducers and migraine medication and iron supplements and six prunes a day and chronic pain and blood pressure medication... but here we are. I’m exhausted from working so hard to be healthy just to have all that work not be enough. I feel very much like my body is giving up on me... and that is a feeling I am struggling with a lot right now. My soul is a vibrant but powerless passenger in a car speeding towards the edge of a cliff.

I’ll keep trying though. I start my new medication tonight. Hopefully it helps. Hopefully the side effects are manageable. I don’t really feel like I can handle much more... but I guess we keep going until we can’t.   

----

I have no expectations for 2021 to be better. I don’t have much hope for it to be better either. This vaccine will saves lives and that’s really good news. But a lot of other things will be difficult, will stay difficult, will become difficult. I’m going to try to keep fighting, and I hope you do too. 

“What’s comin’ will come, and we’ll meet it when it does.” 

[satelitesdejupiter]

Interlude

Summary: There are things that can only be said when turning off the lights.   Eremika Week day 01 – Jealousy.

 He knew she would come.

Even if she hadn't been looking for him in sleepless nights for a long time, he knew she would come to him that night.

He shifted restlessly as if waiting for the sound of her footsteps when he looked at the shadow that crept toward the bedside lamp. He shuffled aside, giving her space to sit quietly.

As children it was common for her to go to his bed after nightmares. The custom was practically abolished upon entering the survey corps, but there were days too difficult to bear, and not infrequently he drifted away for her to lie in his bed. And so he did again. Eren looked at her, staring at her straight profile and saw Mikasa close her eyes, gave a tired sigh and rested her head against the headboard.

"Will you go?"

She nodded placidly.

"If necessary."

"You don't have to do this."

“You, Armin, Historia… Everyone is willing to make sacrifices. I cannot act thinking only of my own desires. No longer…"

“Can't you allow them to use you, that…”

"Nothing's decided yet," she interrupted. "Hange sees my going as a diplomatic gesture and opportunity to get to know the outside world with our own vision, but Zackly hasn't manifested," she mused and Eren stopped. Mikasa was not a soldier who could easily be dismissed, even temporarily.

"It wouldn't be bad at all either."

That information overwhelmed him. He was not prepared for such a betrayal.

"Do you want to go?"

Mikasa nipped her lip as if pondering, but nodded hesitantly.

"I can't believe."

"It could be interesting…"

"Of course, you can't wait to be treated like a princess or something with your parties, jewels and that nonsense. Or was it Kiyomi's promises to get boyfriends with stupid titles?"

"Eren, what are you talking about?"

 "The damn purpose of this trip. But apparently you're happy with that, aren't you? " Eren snorted with derision and Mikasa sighed in frustration.

"It has nothing to do with it. Just…" She sat leaning, looking serious. "There's a dish with fish that only mommy made. Cylindrical cut with rice… I had never seen anywhere else. But Hiruzu's embassy does not seem to eat anything else. Same about the raiment. I remember the clothes she sewed, some had the same cut on the collar that the women there wear. How many more things I don't know? I would like to know the country of my ancestors. ”

"You talk like Kiyomi cares about what you want."

She lay down staring at the ceiling.

"I have no illusions about this, nor am I willing to submit to the interests of others, if that's what you want to know. However, there is no harm in not abhorring the idea."

"But…"

She silenced his objection, lifting her head to her level as she propped her back on the pillow.

"I don't want to think about that anymore," she closed her eyes and he watched the circles around them, "Tomorrow we can, but not today, please."

It shouldn't be easy for her.

Mikasa hated change. She was methodical and a lover of routines. When they lived in Shiganshina and her mother asked to arrange the dispensation, she used to always order everything in the same place. The salt after the sugar next to the flour, which in turn was followed by the jar of cookies and nuts. She didn't even seem to rationalize these operations, not bothering if he or Carla moved, yet eventually she would put them back in the same sacred order even if unconscious. It was natural to her.

She shifted lazily, putting one of her arms over him and he slid his hands over the dark strands away from her forehead.

"You're so beautiful." He heard Kiyomi's voice haunt his thoughts and his mind returned to the events of that afternoon.

…

"You should come with us to Hiruzu, to know our customs, our country." Kiyomi proposed casually, setting the cup on the table.

"I don't think this is the right time," Mikasa replied, sipping the tea she had invited to have in the apartment reserved for the ambassador.

 "I don't say that for nothing.” She smiled kindly. "It would be interesting for Paradis to expand their zone of influence, I know many families who would be happy to meet you. Besides," She took Mikasa's hand, leaning into her."You're so pretty. Maybe you can't find a fiancé?"  And She laughed as if telling an unreasonable joke.

 Mikasa folded the hands in her lap.

"It's not something that I think."

"I'm afraid not," she agreed, "but it would be interesting if you thought. Nothing more solid than alliances formed under marriage, don't you think? I talked to your commander and have some great Hiruzu clans in mind. Everything would be done by your choice if you agreed to come with me, of course."

Eren clenched his fists, and before Mikasa thought of rehearsing an answer, he knocked on the ajar door no matter if he interrupted an important meeting.

"Mikasa, the horses are ready. Hurry up," he announced without ceremony, giving Kiyomi a rude look.

Mikasa looked grateful, rising hastily

"I have to go"

"I see," Kiyomi stood up, gesturing something that he learned to be courteous with her hands, "But please, think about my proposal. I would be genuinely happy if you visit our country for a few months. "

 …

 It was not the first time he had heard speculation about Mikasa's future.

 Those bastards.

 Kiyomi looked at her like she was an opulent acquisition, while Zackly seemed to ponder which fate would be most advantageous. They wanted to use her in their political game. Take away her right to act for her own life, direct her decisions, and ultimately use her as she was a breeder of soldiers. Eren was seeing something like this happen to a dear person, but he could never bear to see it happen to her.

He traced the delicate face tracing the outline of her lips.

Yes, she was really beautiful. Yet once again that beauty threatened to be a curse.

He didn't like to imagine where she would be if she hadn't arrived on time. Probably having a miserable life running into rich men's hands like a toy. It would not be so different if Kiyomi carried out her plan, uniting her with some clan noblewoman against her will, or if she stayed on the island to give birth to Ackermans soldiers.

She snuggled closer to him and his muscles tensed. Her breath skidded under his neck and the warmth of her hand held tight to his chest made him lose his mind, dragging his thoughts to shameful places.

"Mikasa, it's late," he called her with a pat on the shoulder. She looked at him confused and he quickly sat with his back to her.

"I'm sorry… I was sleepy," she said blandly, rubbing her eye, then glared at him softly. "Don't you find that nostalgic? It always happened in Shiganshina."

Eren shook his head, "We're not kids anymore."

She backed away.

"That's not it ..." he came up noticing that she had misunderstood.

She waited, but he didn't know how to correct himself.

Then he found frustrated that she had no idea at all. Maybe it was the habit of seeing him as a child or a younger brother. Someone she could sleep with without incurring vexatious situations.

Fortunately, no one else would see innocently that long-abandoned habit, and that's what he remembered when he said, "Hange will be here early tomorrow."

"And?" She leaned back against the pillows.

Eren bend toward her ignoring the inconvenience of his condition in order to find a humor line on her face.

Her lips parted in expectation caught his eye, and he looked away at the tattoo on his rib hand and involuntarily glued his fingers over the circles, skirting them.

"She could interpret it strangely."

Mikasa seemed to consider "There is nothing to interpret, and even if it had it would be no violation."

It was true that dating members of the corporation was not illegal, especially during their layoffs, and it was also true that there was nothing between them, but the way she dismissed the idea bothered him.

He leaned a little closer to her.

"Mikasa, what do you think people would think if they saw us now?"

Her breath hitched, and she instinctively tugged at the hand he caressed, but he didn't back away keeping his hand on her rib, massaging it with gentle strokes.

 She tried to keep her face placid, but throbbing in her chest betrayed her. All there was were stubborn green eyes, and those dark hair that she didn't remember how it almost stopped at the shoulder.

"They would assume things that do not exist," she replied, as if to defy him.

"But they would not be wrong to do it."

"Of course, you would never see me like that, nor ..."

"Contrary to what you seem to think, Mikasa. I am a man. And with eyes." He smoothed the curve of her waist tightly,"Not a child or a priest."

It was her turn to lean.

“Maybe I know that. And maybe I don't care what Hange will think tomorrow. ”

Before he drew any reaction, she closed the distance between his lips.

They had a taste of night. Cold and soft as the twilight breeze, but there was a moment when all the lights seemed to turn on. Eren moved his lips down her neck and he stopped inhaling her scent, his hand held firmly over her torso, "Don't go."

He didn't want to see her leave.

Not with Kiyomi, not to stop in some idiot's arms.

The thought of her choosing anyone, someone who would have everything he always wanted, at times seemed the worst case scenario.

"I can not promise".

"I know, I know," he repeated, kissing the curve of her shoulders and going to her lips as if to ensure the merit of being the only one who could.

Mikasa tugged a strand of her hair back, wondering how to say that even if Hiruzu was an ocean od distace she would still come back.

She rose over him making him lie down.

And so he fell silent about any complaint to Hiruzu that night.

[hagiasophias-blog]

baekyeol fic rec

Children of The Storm ー arias_of_snow Genre: Fantasy, Romance Length: One Shot Rating: NC-17 Summary: Most people his age had already given up their mermaid dreams, but Chanyeol had always been different. He had been claimed and branded by the ocean when he was barely a child, and had known since then that all the sailor tales were real. He survived the storm, and he grew stronger, and he knew the chance would come sooner or later to capture his own mermaid and make it cry its pearly tears for him. Little did he know that his chance would present itself in the shape of a silver haired boy, with eyes as black as the starless sky and the spirit of the tempest in his heart.

FOR THE FIVE SEAS THIS SHOULD BE PUBLISHED INTO A BOOK OKAY OH MY GOD /screeches like a mermaid/ IM CRYING A DIAMOND. The characters. Mermaid!Baek, how he's so delicate yet so strong, he has completely stolen my heart; Park Chanyeol, how he's taking everything so chill and so intriguing; I'm so amazed how the author didn't make them mouthing an i love you and I DIDN'T EVEN COMPLAIN bcs somehow their love was so LOUD in every corner of the story and how brilliant that is??

I'm Ready for The Fall ー aprilclash Genre: Fantasy, Romance Length: Chaptered Rating: NC-17 Summary: Baekhyun is a vampire who hates humans for good reasons and Chanyeol is a human who hates vampires for bad reasons. While vampires get killed and beheaded and the culprit is nowhere to be found, Chanyeol meets Baekhyun again and suddenly everything he's always believed about monsters doesn't matter anymore.

Oh dear. Perhaps this' how vampires felt when they're drinking blood- I mean the urge to keep drinking every word of this story was so strong and unstoppable I almost felt lightheaded. And the thrill pumped thru my body every time the scenes got so intense! The most interesting thing abt the story itself for me is how everything tangles perfectly in such a hidden grand scheme. I love how the author put Baekhyun's personal issue at the core of all the conflicts. Like how it could lead to the Blood War, that was really brilliant. And I couldn't stop re-reading the Bonding scene between Baekhyun and Chanyeol, man the intimacy in it was srsly overwhelming like I had no bloody idea how the Bonding works but I was almost sure I could sense how sacred and powerful it was. All in all this story is BLOODY perfect!

Bittersweet Baby ー blahrikeau Genre: Action, Romance Length: One Shot Rating: NC-17 Summary: Guarding the son of Seoul's mafia boss was never easy, but for Chanyeol falling in love with him was even harder. 

A tricolon to summerize this fic: enchanting dialogue, mesmerizing characterisation, hypnotizing scenes. This was my very first time having a crush on fanfiction dialogue. I really like how the author make them communicate effectively by exchanging one word Q&A. That was so SEXY and definitely the strongest point of this fic. The characterisation is another remarkable aspect which makes this fic feels so alive. They are so human. Chanyeol seemed just like an ordinary person despite his position as a body guard like he severally did mistakes and stuttered a lot. Yet his loyal character convinced the audience that he's worth the title. On the other hand there's Baekhyun whose character slowly comes to life like a sun rise. Cold, red, but slowly becomes warm, shines. They're amazing center of this story. The racing scene and the first fight-kissing scene are what make this fic will be remembered for the longest time. I must say every scene is special to me but these two will be the main reason why I want to read this fic for again, again, and again.

I Love You Baby, I Love You Crazy ー aestaeticism Genre: Romance Length: One Shot Rating: Mature Summary: It’s Valentine's Day and this is just an ode to Chanyeol’s love for Baekhyun.

I've stumbled upon fast pace stories like this but I think this' my first time reading from-mere-strangers-to-madly-in-love-lovers story in 5k words and miraculously the author managed to make it not sound been rushed at all?? Everything sounds so natural like how sun rises and sets. I really like how the story opened and ended. The intros to Chanyeol's forlorn love life is the most remarkable parts I like, built reasons why it traumatized him til he chose to no longer believe in love. Then he met Baekhyun, I was a bit taken aback to how the circumstances when they first met like it was no beauty at allーno fateful accident, no romantic rainy day nor meaningful conversationーit was a blatant cheap flirting but THAT what made this story so real like it has hard surface that I can touch with my own hands. Also the way they found and built their love, I literally had no idea how 10 dialogues and few stolen briefs thru the story but??? I can felt?? how strong? it was growing??? Unbelievably brilliant that is. And no, don't start with the sex scenes bcs THAT IS ACTUALLY MY FAVORITEST!! HEHEH 

[another-blog-bites-the-dust]

A kind of magic.

Summary: Roger discovers something about you...and his daughter.

Warnings: some angst, little bit suggestive at some points, swearing

A/N: Just some cute magical Roger fluff for y'all. Blocks of italic text are flashbacks! I hope you enjoy! 💖

You stood patiently waiting for the school bell to ring, it was approaching three o'clock one sunny afternoon. Roger was at the studio so you said you would pick up your daughter up and walk home. Surely enough, a few minutes after the bell rang, she emerged. You smiled and waved but she had a somber expression on her face and tightly clutched the straps of her backpack while avoiding your gaze. "Bea?" You softly spoke and crouched down to her level. You and Roger barely called her by her actual name- Beatrix. You mainly called her Bea or Trixie. He said it was an odd- yet beautiful- name when you initially suggested it, but it was an ode to your family heritage. 'She who brings happiness' and 'blessed' were the meanings behind it. Her middle name was Willow after the mystical origins of the tree. "Is everything alright, petal?" She shook her head no and remained quiet. You sighed and wiped away a tear on her cheek. "Sweetheart, you need to talk to me so I can help you. Tell me what's the matter."

She sighed loudly, Bea was a very dramatic five year old- you blamed her father for that part of her personality. "Something happened..." she trailed off.

You raised a brow "Something like what?" She remained silent and you grew suspicious. "Beatrix Willow Taylor- tell me what happened."

“My fingers!" She groaned and raised her arms before letting them fall. "My pencil snapped and I wished for it to be sharp again and then my fingers went all tingly. Then my pencil was sharp mummy!" She whispered. You blinked and swallowed hard at her revelation.

You knew this day might come. You were dreading it. You couldn't let Bea see you upset or worried because that would just make her feel worse. You smiled and held her arms "We'll go to grannies house before heading home. I can tell you what happened there, okay?" She nodded and you picked her up with a small groan. She had grown so fast, Roger constantly says that it feels like he just blinks and she's grown a foot. She was so like Roger in many ways...and yet she inherited a huge part of you. Bea and Roger were as thick as thieves- the best of friends as well as Father and daughter. God, how the hell would Roger react? It would change everything.

It was easy enough for you to hide your abilities but a five year old?! You'd have your work cut out keeping something like away from your husband. You turned your head and smiled "Do you know why you're called Beatrix Willow?" You asked and she shook her head no. "Well, they hold a very special meaning. A magical one." You grinned and Bea smiled.

"Magic how?" She asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Well the willow tree is believed to have magical powers, and Beatrix is-"

"Was..." you looked up and saw your mother standing there with her arms crossed over her chest "A very powerful witch." She glared at you slightly. You looked down at the ground when she did. "Hello my little pumpkin!" Your mother grinned at Bea and held out her arms for a hug. You put Bea down and she ran over to your mother who effortlessly picked her up. "I'm guessing something happened. Did it?" She questioned you and you nodded with a passive expression. "Then you better come in."

You sighed and followed your mother, already bracing yourself for her lecturing. "Bea, you thirsty?" You asked and she nodded. "Why don't you see if granny has any juice in the fridge?" Bea scampered off, skipping to the kitchen.

You looked to your mother who had a smug smile on her face. "I told you this would happen..."

"I thought I would have more time." You grit out.

You mother leaned forward and poured you some nettle tea that was on the table. "You were around her age when you found your powers." She was being far too nonchalant about the whole situation.

"Yeah but Bea is a half witch! I thought I'd have more time to prepare!" You groaned.

"Her abilities will hit her- and you- when you least expect it. Since she's a half witch her powers will be dearly compensated so her magic will be a little erratic, especially as she's adjusting to her powers." She looked at you with a scrunched nose and cocky smirk. "You should have contemplated marrying a warlock."

You rolled your eyes "Lets not get into this again. I'd rather focus on Bea right now." She nodded and  said something that sounded like ‘of course’. It came out as a murmur. Your mother was disappointed that you married Roger. A mortal. A regular human being. But he was utterly extraordinary in your eyes. When he played drums it was like he possessed magical powers he was so talented. You sighed and took a sip of tea, staring off into space. "It feels like it was just yesterday Roger and I were bathing her in the kitchen sink..." you softly grinned at the memory.

"Why are there flowers in the sink with Trixie?" Roger let out an amused snort.

"It's good luck!" You grinned and gently bopped Bea's nose with your finger, making her bubbly giggle.

"You believe lots of shit," he leaned over the counter and moved forward to kiss Bea on the forehead.

"You're right...you told me you were nine inches and I believed you." You smirked and Roger gasped, covering Bea's ears.

"You can't talk that way in front of our child!"

You laughed and flicked Roger with water "She can't understand us! Plus you just swore!" Roger playfully rolled his eyes and hugged you from behind, whispering 'my girls' in your ear before pressing a kiss to the side of your neck and looking at the little baby in the sink with an adoring smile.

Bea came in with a juice box and sat down next to you, breaking you from your trance. You looked up to your mother and silently asked her for a little help. "Beatrix," she was the only one that used her actual given name. "There's something special about you. About all of us."

Before your mother could delve deep into the history of witchcraft and terrify your daughter, you intervened. "Do you remember the book we read? The Wizard of Oz?" Bea nodded and your mother let out an unamused grunt at your reference, but it was the best way to help Bea understand. "There was a witch, Glinda. And she has powers, doesn't she?"

"I remember! I liked her dress!" Bea grinned from ear to ear before something inside her clicked. "Am I like her?" She softly asked with innocent eyes.

"Kinda, yeah." You nodded with a reassuring grin. "But dad isn't. He doesn't know that we have powers. We can't let him know about them." You warned. "I'll help you manage them, you don't have to be scared." You gave her a side hug and Bea seemed to have brightened up from when you picked her up at the school gates.

Your mother stood up and brushed herself off "Roger will be home soon, Y/N. You best be off." You nodded, with a tight smile. "Beatrix, my little pumpkin," she kneeled down and held her with a smile on her face. She also had tears in her eyes. You knew this was a huge deal for your mother. You were an only child and as Bea was your mothers only grandchild, knowing she had powers overwhelmed her. She was happy and worried at the same time- as were you. "Just because you're different- it doesn't make you any less magical."

"Thanks granny," she hugged her. When Bea pulled back, your mother made a toffee apple appear in her hand and the little girl gasped in amazement.

"Can I do that mum?!" She asked, full of hope.

"Most definitely not." You sent you mother a small, annoyed glare. If Bea found out she could conjure sweets that would be all she would do. "I'll see you later mum."

"Remember to use Merlin! He'll help!" She reminded.

"I'm not relying on the help of a cat." You deadpanned. That cat was a salty, sarcastic pain in the ass.

Your mother waved her hand and blew a raspberry. "He is more than a cat! I know you think it's nonsense but Beatrix will be able to confide in him!" You were hit with another memory. Nonsense. You could remember Roger using that word when you had found one of Bea's dolls she thought she lost when the band was over. The three year old was a sobbing mess, Roger hugged her tightly as John tried his best to console the poor girl by telling jokes all while you rummaged through her room, eventually finding it down the side of her bed. 

"You found it!" She gasped and clutched onto the doll for dear life. "How did you do it?!"

"Magic!" You grinned and tickled her sides.

You could hear Roger sigh "Y/N, don't fill her head with nonsense..."

"Magic isn't nonsense, Roger!" You let go of Bea and playfully poked Roger's arm. If only he knew the whole story...

Brian chuckled "Yeah Rog! Don't be boring! But, to be honest, you're bound to be like that since you're a dad now. As soon as Y/N popped that baby out of her va-" you sent Brian a deadly glare and he awkwardly cleared his throat. "Yeah..." he drawled out "As soon as Trixie arrived you automatically became a boring old dad."

"Thanks Bri."

"Y/N!" You flinched at your mothers voice "Use the cat!" You loudly sighed and stuck a thumb up. Your mother rolled her eyes at your attitude. "Perhaps it's finally time to tell him!" Your mother called out with an adamant smirk mixed in with her voice and you stopped in your tracks before barging out the door.

•••

Roger had Bea resting against him, she was in her pyjamas and was drifting off to sleep. "I think I'm going to put this one to bed." He quietly spoke and you nodded. Roger hated waking her up, it was like waking up a bear. "Trixie, wake up." He gently shook her and she opened her eyes with a sleepy groan. "Bedtime."

"Can you put me to bed, mummy?" She tiredly asked and Roger feigned offence.

"Oh so mummy is better at tucking you in and giving you a story than I am?" Roger tickled the little girl who wriggled and giggled in his hold. He pressed his lips to her bare arm and blew a raspberry, making her laugh even louder.

"Don't get her too excited!" You chuckled and then groaned when Bea jumped into the safety of your arms. You got a shock from her, an indication that her powers almost were exposed. You made a note of that- the more giggly and excited she got her powers would kick in. "Okay, bedtime! Say goodnight!" Roger leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Sweet dreams cheeky monkey," Roger grinned.

"I'm not a cheeky monkey!" Bea laughed and pointed at Roger "You're a cheeky monkey!"

"Oh no I'm not!" He dramatically protested.

"Oh yes you are!" Bea said back.

"Alright! Enough!" You butt in before your living room turned into a pantomime stage. You stood up with Bea clinging onto you "Say goodnight! Property!"

"Goodnight dad, I love you!" Bea blew him a kiss and Roger pretend to catch it. 

You looked at the spawn of Satan in the corner of your living room licking his paws. You motioned him to follow you and with a soft - almost begrudging- meow, he did. Merlin followed you into Bea's bedroom, you put her into bed and turned on her nightlight. "Okay, petal, no story tonight..." you looked at the cat who was curled up beside he young girl. She was the only person in the house he liked. "Do you fingers still feel tingly?"

Bea looked at them "A little...I don't feel very tired anymore."

You nodded with a sigh- a common side effect with discovering powers from within. "I thought you might say that," you made a cup appear beside her bed that had some special, soothing hot chocolate in it. It had a little lavender in it to help her get to sleep as well as some other potions to help keep her powers dormant for the night. "Now Merlin is here if you don't want to talk to me, he's special- like us."

"Special isn't something you usually call...or yell at me..." he looked up to you with bright green eyes. Bea gasped hearing the cat speak. "Hey kid, I'm glad you've found your powers."

Bea looked between you and the cat on her bed "Merlin can talk?!" She quietly said, her voice full of shock.

"Unfortunately yes..." you glared at the cat who hissed at you. You'd usually flip him off but not in front of Bea. "You can chat to him about anything as well as me." She took a long gulp of her hot chocolate "Good?" You asked and she nodded with a toothy grin. "Good. Get some sleep, sweetie. Sweet dreams, I love you." You kissed her forehead. "Remember, you are so special and being a witch is nothing to worry about or be ashamed of."

"I know that now. I love you too mummy, night night!" You left the door slightly ajar, Merlin was happily curled up at the end of her bed and had fallen asleep. As soon as you stepped out of her room, Roger was coming up the stairs.

"She asleep?" He asked and you nodded. Roger groaned a little and rubbed his shoulder. "Think I went a bit too mad at that practice session in the studio today- my shoulder is killing me!" He rubbed it and you frowned a little following him into the bedroom.

He continued to rub it "Let me have a look," you said and Roger took off his top. Your fingers danced over his skin and he hummed.

"You're so warm..." he hummed as your hand massaged over his sore spot. "You and your heeling hands trying to fix my old shoulder?" He half heartedly chuckled. You smirked and kept rubbing, using your powers to take away his pain. Like you always did. That's how you got the playful pet name of 'heeling hands'. Roger naturally assumed the pain just eventually disappeared on its own. "Uhhh..." he loudly and lonely groaned "Feels so much better."

"Guess I rubbed the right spot then hmm?" You teased a little and pulled back.

Roger turned around and gave you a kiss "What else do those hands of yours do...?" He suggestively wriggled his eyebrows.

"Don't you even start!" You playfully warned and got ready for bed. You could feel Roger watching you, he always did. He was amazed with you. The second his eyes landed on you years ago in a smoky bar, you had bewitched him. Since then you had been inseparable and full of love for one another. Roger was slightly terrified of your mother however- thanks to her evil looking glares she'd send him occasionally. But despite what she thought of him, it was effortless for you to fall in love with Roger. He was so carefree and smiley all the time that it made your heart do somersaults in your chest. You always wanted for him to be happy and never feel any pain. When he had the rare nightmare you'd place a hand on his head and take it away. If he had a cold you'd make him some soup with a few extra ingredients that he couldn't taste to make him feel better, and of course, take away the muscle aches and pains. "What?" You raised a brow at Roger who was still staring- he hadn't blinked in a while.

"Nothing," he whispered with a smile "Nothing...you're just...spellbinding."

You raised a brow at his choice of word. "Spellbinding?" You pulled the duvet over you "That's a new one." Roger climbed in beside you and cuddled into you. You ran a hand through his hair and soon the pair of you fell asleep. You kissed his forehead and let out a sigh after he had fallen into a deep sleep, oblivious as to what was happening. "Night, Rog."

•••

"Ah ah ah!" You warned Bea seconds before she made a mess of the kitchen. "You raise your finger up not down." You told her and she focused on pouring some sugar into a bowl.

A few weeks had passed since you discovered that she had powers and were teaching her everyday when Roger was out how to use them. Today you were making cupcakes with her. Merlin was sat next to Bea on the countertop "You're getting the hang of it!" He said. Bea smiled down at him- she loved the talking cat.

"You really are, petal! Now how about we crack the egg together?" She nodded and you magically made one fly out of the carton "Now what you to is tap your finger in the air- super simple! One, two, three, tap!" You both did it at the same time and it cracked into the bowl. "Well done! That's it! You're getting good!" You grinned and got rid of the shell.

You finished up the cakes and put them in the oven. You picked her up off of the countertop and put her on the floor, Merlin soon following. "Sorry I made a mess, mummy..." Bea said referring to the flour she had spilled all over the countertop and floor. She tried to pick it up and it levitated for a few seconds before falling back down and spilling out.

"That's alright because look what I can do!" With a wiggle of your fingers you made the dustpan and brush clean up the mess. Bea stood there with her mouth gaping open. "One day you'll be able to do that without even thinking about it! Clean the whole kitchen with the snap of your fingers in fact! Just like I do." You smirked and snapped your fingers together, a whole range of tools and cleaning utensils started to clean up the mess making the cupcakes had made.

"Can I fly?" She asked and you quickly snapped your head around to her.

"Flying on your own is very tricky- even I find it hard. I have a broom and one day maybe you can get one too but-"

She cut you off "Can we try and fly now?"

"Oh this is going to be fun..." you glared at the cat who made that comment.

You looked at the clock, Roger wouldn't be back for a while. You let out a defeated sigh "Give me your hands." You clicked your fingers again and the cleaning stopped, you'd need all your focus and energy to levitate. Bea held your hands tight "Okay, shut your eyes..." she did as she was told. "Now open them."

As soon as she did, the little girl loudly gasped "W-were floating!" She had a beaming smile on her face.

"Yeah! Now I'll let you go but I'm right here if you want to grab onto me." You let your hands slowly loosen, Bea was far too eager for you to let go. "See! You're doing it!" You looked down at the countertop and brought a glass of milk and a cookie up to her level. "Watch this," you tipped the glass upside down and all the liquid stayed in. "Magic can be fun huh?"

"What...the...hell is happening?!"

You flinched hearing his voice. You almost didn't want to turn around. You quickly brought you and Bea back down to earth and put the glass of milk and cookie back where they were. Bea looked at you, almost unsure of what to do or say so she grabbed onto your legs as you turned and hid behind them. "Roger-"

"Y-y-you an- and...that?!" He motioned to the air. "W-what?!" He shrieked and ran a hand through his hair. "What did I just walk into?!" He yelled with a mix of fear, worry, confusion and the faintest glint of amazement in his eyes. "What?!"

"Roger, Innever wanted to tell you like this. I wanted to tell you! So much! It was just so hard to find the right words!" You admitted and stepped forward but he stepped back a little.

"What even are you?" He whispered out with glossy eyes.

You sighed and let your head bow down "A witch..." you felt Bea squeeze you a little, you brought her forward, holding her close. "We both are." Roger's eyes moved to the little girl who was next to you. His cheeky monkey, his partner in crime, his little girl. The two people he loved and cared for most in the whole world...and he was hit with that. Witches didn't exist. Magic didn't exist. Those things lived in sheets of paper in fantasy story books. Where the hero got the girl and everyone lived happily ever after and where true love existed. Roger looked up to you and thought for a split second that perhaps it lived outside the pages of those books.

He thought he knew you better than he knew himself. He thought you told him everything about you...clearly not. "Dad?" A soft voice broke Roger from his thoughts. You glanced down to where it came from and tensed up- you had no idea what she was about to say. "Are you sad? Are you...angry at me and mummy?"

You looked up to Roger, tears now welling up in your eyes. "N-no!" He forced a reassuring smile, the last thing either of you wanted to do was upset or worry Bea. "I just," he looked at you for a second "I just need to go somewhere." You called out and chased after him but he was already out the door. You sighed and placed your head in your hands. You never wanted him to find out like that.

•••

"Is daddy going to be back soon?" Bea yawned while you tucked her into bed. It was getting late and you hadn't seen Roger since he stormed out hours ago.

"Yeah," you lied as you had no idea when he'd be back. "Get some sleep, petal. Love you." You kissed her forehead and left the room, practically dragging yourself downstairs. The tv was on and you planned to sit in front of it all night until Roger came home. If he didn't, you'd take Bea to your mum's house and find him yourself.

When you stepped into the living room you froze seeing a mop of blonde hair poking up above the couch. "Roger...?" You whispered. He turned around and sent you a thin smile. "God Sake Roger!" You quietly snapped and sat on the other side of the couch "Where the hell have you been?!"

"I actually went to see your mum..." your eyes went as wide as saucers. "She didn't kill me or put some weird hex on me...least I hope she didn't."

"Don't joke," your voice trembled and a tear slipped down your cheek. "Why did you go to see her?"

"Because I wanted to ask her some stuff. About...everything really." He quietly admitted, nervously playing with his fingers. "Wanted to try and understand a little better." He admitted and stayed silent for a few minutes. "I don't love you any less." You both looked at each other at the same time. Roger scooted over a little and delicately took your hand, intertwining your fingers and wiped away the tear on your jaw with his free one. "I just wish you said something to me."

"How can you expect me to just spring something like that onto someone?" You asked but it came out as a sob. "You thought magic was nonsense and I was then so worried about Bea because she got her powers the other week and I've been trying to get her to control them around you. I was worried what you'd think about her being like me." You loudly sniffled.

"But that's not a bad thing!" Roger tried to reassure you, tightly squeezing your hand. "She's as much of you as she is me. And you are unbelievably kind and beautiful and strong...I'd be so happy if she turned out like you."

You shook your head with a sigh. "I grew up completely different to you, Roger. I went to a school for witches and I grew up always worrying. Constantly thinking I was weird and that everyone would hate me or judge me for who I am. I read countless of books on good and bad things about witches and read the horrific things that happened to them. I had to find my place in their world." You looked up to him though your watery lashes. "Then I found you and...and I felt like I could be me. That I could be accepted by someone who wasn't a witch or a wizard or a warlock. That I didn't have to worry anymore. A part of me always did, of course."

"Why?" Roger asked, his thumb stroking your knuckles.

"Incase I frightened you or you left...that you wouldn't love me anymore."

"Y/N, I swear to you. That would never happen." Roger seriously said. "You and Trixie are my world. You both made it magical before I learned you could fly!" He half joked and you let out a watery giggle. "I love you with all my heart."

"I love you, Roger." You smiled. He leaned in and softly kissed you, wiping away your tears and your worries.

"I've got to ask something though..." you furrowed your brows. "Have you ever used magic on me?"

You timidly nodded "Only when I felt like I needed to...you'd have terrible nightmares and I'd take them away. And of course my 'healing hands'." You wiggled the fingers of your free hand and Roger softly smiled with tears welling in his eyes. "I only used my powers so you didn't have to endure any pain."

Roger leaned forward and delicately pressed his lips to yours. "You are so selfless..." he whispered and caressed your cheeks. Your eyes were shut but Roger was looking at you with half hooded ones. "What else have you done?"

You smirked "Sometimes when I feel really lazy I'll fill up the fridge because I can't be bothered going to the shops." Roger burst out laughing and you giggled.

"One thing for certain is you never fail to amaze me, Y/N." He kissed your forehead then your lips again.

"I wouldn't put her name and 'amaze' in the same sentence." Your head snapped around to the cat that was perched on the end of the sofa. Roger went wide eye and looked at Merlin before looking back to you.

He pointed to the animal "The...the cat talks?" His words left his mouth very slowly.

You nodded "The cat talks."

"That cat...talks..." Roger said again just because the first time he said it didn't sound mad enough. "Of course he does." He looked to you and a huge smile appeared on his face "I love you."

"I love you too, Roger."

He engulfed you in a hug and a tingle spread throughout his body. He always knew there was something magical and enchanting about you and now he could feel it. Now he knew. Roger pulled back but still held you with his hands. "Do you ride a magic broom?" You nodded and his head curiously cocked to the side. "Can I watch?" He asked.

A cheeky smile appeared on your face. "Tonight I'd rather ride another magic broom..." you bit down on your lip. "Yours."

Roger swallowed hard and boyishly smirked with a twinkle in his eyes. He stood up and pulled you with him. He practically had you stuck to his chest. "Well brace yourself," he gave you a bewitching kiss "It could be a bumpy ride."  

———————–————

Tags- (Tag list is open! Just let me know if you want to be tagged or not or if I've forgotten to tag you!) @rrrogah-tayluhh @rogerofmylife @phantom-fangirl-stuff @pyrotechnic789 @deacytits @mercurys-bike @happy-at-home @mhftrs @dannydelay @queenismylifenow @whitequeen-blackqueen @stateofloveandvedder @blondyfel @mespetitestortues @trickster-may @xtrashmammalstefx @trescharmant-mydear @makapaka11 @killerqueenbucky @hodgepodge-of-rog @fredthelegend @killerqueen-gunpowdergelatine @bowiequeen @princessleiaqueen @okdeaky @mizzallfandomz @fangirlofeverythingme @ellee677 @the-killer-queenie @bucket-of-kittens @jamiethewallflower @rogernroll @queen-irl-af @freddie-malek @deakysgirl @little-miss-queenie @sheridans-dynamos @multifangirl17 @deacon-pecan @drowsy-deaky @goodoldfashionedloverboii @rogerinameddow @beanie-on-a-string @valeriecarolinaw

[belle82devart]

73 Question Tag Game

Thank you to the lovey @thewanderer000 ❤

On a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now?

I would say a 6 or 7. Life can be so fucking scary (as well as people), but it still has it's charms and quirks that make it enjoyable and something to look forward to.

Describe yourself in a hashtag?

[#scared of everything] or [#justneedsahug]

If you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be?

Jeffrey Dean Morgan. He's got the swagger, the sweetness and the salt and pepper look isn't helping sway my opinion at all. Plus he's got strong arms, perfect for cuddles.

If your life was a musical, what would the marquee say?

(I hate to admit this, but I had to look up what a fucking marquee was.) The anxious and the strange.

What’s your wakeup ritual?

Get up, shower, have a little time for self loathing and negative personal views. Then go for the self affirmation card and continue the day.

What’s your favorite time of day?

Morning. Most days, the morning is where it all starts. Where the hikes in the mountains begin or where the next big projects begin.

Your go to for having a good laugh?

Crack videos of whatever fandom I'm obsessed with at the time. Or cat videos.

Dream country to visit?

I know it's not a country, but Europe in general. If it had to be a single place, Poland.

What’s the biggest surprise you’ve had?

Finding out while my mother threw up on the side of the road that 'hey, you're gonna be a big sister'!

Heels or flats/sneakers?

Combat boots. Now I can do heels, and I can do sneakers, but boots, especially combat style are my favorite.

Vintage or new?

Vintage all the way! It's oleasing to be able to experience something old and make it new in your eyes. I guess that's why I own a Polaroid camera and Walkman.

Who do you want to write your obituary?

My family. All of them.

Style icon?

My father. I've basically stolen all his band shirts and old biker vest/jackets. Sooo yeah.

What are three things you can’t live without?

Music, art, and friends/family. What's life without companionship? What's life without some sort of art? The world wouldn't suevibe without music, and I can't survive without any of the listed.

What’s one ingredient you put in everything?

Ketchup for most things, but not all.

What 3 people living or dead would you like to make dinner for?

- Vincent Price

- Bob Ross

- Anyone else who wants to eat my shitty cooking.

What’s your biggest fear in life?

Well, I absoluty am scared to death of spiders, but that's not my biggest fear. Failure and letting those I care for down... That's my biggest fear. I fear that I will never make anyone happy, that I can't do right...

God, this question called me out hard.

Window or aisle seat?

Window all the way. Give me the view !

What’s your current TV obsession?

- The Walking Dead

- The Witcher

- and The Boys

Favorite app?

Autodesk Sketchbook Pro

Secret talent?

For some reason, I can put people to sleep really easy when I pet their hair.

Most adventurous thing you’ve done in your life?

Went to Washington D.C. I got to see so many museums and cool little places.

How would you define yourself in three words?

Anxious. Sweet. Creative.

Favourite piece of clothing you own?

My leather jacket.

Must have clothing item everyone should have?

Fuzzy socks. Evwryoje deserves to have warm feet!

Superpower you would want?

Teleportation. I can go anywhere I want but also I can leave undesired sistiations when they get overwhelming.

What’s inspiring you in life right now?

People, music, books, movies/shows/games. You name it, i'll get something out of it.

Best piece of advice you’ve received?

Never give up, even when the odds seem stackwd agaisnt you. Always keep pushing forward and remember that there will always be someone in the world to fall back on when it gets to be too hard.

Best advice you’d give your teenage self?

You'll see and hear a lot of shit in life that'll being you down, that will make everything seem so bad... But it will get better. You'll make it to the next day, and you'll one day see yourself as a good person, even if you need that little push and reminder from your friends.

A book that everyone should read?

A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess

What would you like to be remembered for?

Being kind and helpful.

How do you define beauty?

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so it truly can't be defined generally without personal opinion slipping in.

What do you love most about your body?

My eyes. I really don't see anything worth while besides my eyes.

Best way to take a rest/decompress?

Curled up with my cats. I may be allergic but i'll be damned if I don't get a good rest without them.

Favourite place to view art?

Anywhere and everywhere. Sometimes it's fun going to a gallery and seeing the art others have created.

If your life were a song, what would it be?

Ça va ça va - Claudio Capéo

If you could master one instrument, what would it be?

Drums or the marimba.

If you had a tattoo, where would it be?

Upper arm or as a 3/4 sleeve.

What’s your spirit animal?

Maine Coon

Best gift you’ve ever received?

A small box made of cedar from my mother for my birthday. I don't know why but I was a sobbing mess when I got it.

Best gift you’ve ever given?

A 4ft x 6 ft painting in dedication to my aunts and their family after their car crash.

What’s your favourite board game?

Risk, Pandemic (Ha! Ironic), Monopoly, and Sorry!

What’s your favourite colour?

Blue and all shades of blue.

Least favourite colour?

Yellow.

Diamonds or pearls?

Neither. Give me some good old fashioned gemstones like quartz and I'll be happiee than a pig in mud.

Drugstore makeup or designer?

Drugstore. One, I don't have the money for designer makeup. Two, you can use drugstore and dollar store make-up to achieve the same look. And three, I don't wear makeup too often, so what's the point od paying top dollar for something I'll only use here and there?

Blow-dry or air-dry?

Either. Depends on how much time I've got on my hands.

Pilates or yoga?

Haven't done either but I would love to try yoga.

Coffee or tea?

Both!

What’s the weirdest word in the English language?

Hullaballoo.

hullaballoo. noun. 1. Sounds or a sound, especially when loud, confused, or disagreeable: babel, clamor, din, hubbub, noise, pandemonium, racket, rumpus, tumult, uproar.

Dark chocolate or milk chocolate?

Both, but also white chocolate!

Stairs or elevator?

Both

Summer or winter?

Both. I love the storms during the summer, and the snow during the winter. Especially New York winters (Buffalo in particular).

You are stuck on an island, you can pick one food to eat forever without getting tired of it, what would you eat?

Chicken parmigiana

A dessert you don’t like?

Anything with Nutella.

A skill you’re working on mastering?

Welding. This year i'll be starting the rest of my classes to get certified in it.

Best thing to happen to you today?

Nothings really happened yet, but that can always change!

Best compliment you’ve ever received?

"Wow, you've got some talent" when it comes to my art or writing.

Favourite smell?

Rhododendrons and the forest floor after a rain storm.

Hugs or kisses?

Both! And at the same time makes it so much better.

If you made a documentary, what would it be about?

Paranormal locations along the Blue Ridge Parkway or how religion ties in with art.

Last piece of content you consumed that made you cry?

A poem about beauty in death and how the earth always reclaims what has been taken. The poem was truly amazing.

Lipstick or lip gloss?

Both.

Sweet or savory?

Both!!!

Girl crush?

Kate Beckinsale

How you know you’re in love?

I truly have no idea! I mean, I haven't been in love before...

Song you can listen to on repeat?

Fistfight by The Ballroom Thieves

If you could switch lives with someone for a day who would it be?

Mads Mikkelsen. He's classy, he's goofy, and who wouldn't want to?

What are you most excited about at this time in your life?

Persuing my passions. I'm on the road to become a Graphic Designer, and that's just so exciting to me!

------------

Tagging: @whitecrawace-mind-palace / @rosadiazbiqueen | @johnlocklover221 | @yancy-trash

[magicalsalamander]

u always have such long in depth stories that are so well written. i've always wondered how you keep yourself motivated to write them and if you follow a schedule and if u have any tips to give to writers too

Thank you! I appreciate it!

An odd feeling fills my chest reading this because I don’t believe I’m in a position to be giving anyone advice. However, peer to peer, human to human, I’m more than happy to spare all the knowledge I got to you!

So, let’s break it down!

Let’s tackle the ever-pressing question: How to stay motivated and meth~od~ology. Again, this is just my input and methodology, so know this may not work for you or everyone, but maybe you can take bits and pieces of it and tailor it to yourself and find a better way to approach writing. Which is what I want you to do. My way of doing things is because...it works for me.

In regard to the product, I write long-winded stories because that’s how my mind works. Every author’s style is a “physical” manifestation of the way they process and emit information verbal, written, or symbolically. A writer’s style will match the author, so no style is wrong.

Sidestepping for a moment, but I’ll tie it in I promise. When I was younger I was painfully (I mean awkwardly painful that made others uncomfortable) shy. I even formed a stutter because I was terrified of speaking. Now, luckily, I can say that I have no issue with that and I’m totally fine public speaking or speaking intimately. I found my confidence by reading to pick up new vocab and mimicking people around me who were better speakers. I think by doing so I really formed the way I carry myself and write (i.e. going back to the point that a written is a manifestation of their personality). You can notice if you really look at a piece you can tell the state of mind a writer usually was in when they wrote this.

How does this tie into advice? Well, my “advice” is if you want to become a “better writer” work on yourself. Your perspective on life is unique. Mold your thoughts, ask yourself those questions that are hard, ask others questions, figure out different perspectives while you’re at it. This may be looking at things too seriously, but I want to give you a genuine answer. You know how politics can be divisionary? It’s usually them vs us? Well, both sides have their own reasons and to them, those are good reasons. Maybe not to you, but try understanding the opposite side, really look at their motives. You’ll be able to write antagonist better that way, and in turn, write a more solid protagonist.

So to bring it back, I write long stories because I found out I can’t do short fics (which I consider to be under anything basically under 5k) because it’s not how I process/imagine things. I’m huge on imagery, maybe because I’m also a traditional artist (drawing & painting) so I see the world with colors, shapes and relate those to emotions. I feel so unsatisfied if I write something that lacks a short background or gives the character a reason for something. I’m aware it’s possible to write short fics, because it’s the reader’s decision to interpret, but it’s not me. Know regardless of the way you write something the reader will have their own story.

This leads to my second point. I want you to answer these questions for yourself: why are you writing, who are you writing for, what are you writing about, when can you, where do you write? Simple questions, but they need solid answers. The simple things in life often need more attention than those that seem complex.

My answers to a few: I write for myself and no one else. I hope that this should be true all across the board. I find the biggest issue for writers on this platform (and maybe across other writing sites) is that individuals use it as a platform for validation. It’s not easy this day and age to go to a social media site and not be bombarded by likes, following, or any other feedback system that promotes that. However, I could care less if a post I put out has two, a hundred likes or a thousand.

Why you may ask?

Well, simply because—it doesn’t matter. This is for a number of reasons. A few of them are because people do click on the post but most often don’t leave a note or give feedback. This, I found to be true because people either forget, don’t bother to, or are too shy. This doesn’t mean that it wasn’t enjoyed, you have no idea the impact your post could’ve made, that could’ve been the best post they’ve read. I want you to keep in mind that you don’t need to prove yourself to anyone. Keep yourself in check with this. Also, remember, people will come to your story, sometimes it’s not the right time for them. Maybe the message in that fic, whether it be neutral or purposeful, will come to someone when they most need it. The time you post may just not be that time. So, don’t feel discouraged if you’re not getting notes.

You want long term building, not short term.

Motivation:

Motivation is such a fickle little minx, right? I want to address that usually the lack of motivation is because of many reasons, but typically its stress, anxiety, insecurity, and procrastination. Procrastination, the biggest factor in my opinion, under a psychological definition, is an irrational delay. It’s been linked to the activity under avoidance being the cause of stress and anxiety. When your feeling too overwhelmed you probably don’t want to write, right? It takes too much thought and energy. So when your feeling like this I advise you to either rethink why you write if it does increase your anxiety. Or distract yourself until you feel that you can come back with a fresh mind. There is no “deadline”. No timeline.

On the contrary, though, it’s a good method to keep yourself accountable, so if you can accomplish something with a bit of pressure then set a deadline. It’s how I was able to complete Gold Embers Touch the Blue Veil. I was so unmotivated recently. I always came home tired and nothing creative would come to me. But I said, “Nope, we’re doing this.” Because I knew if I just wrote something (i.e. drafted to draft) then I would feel better later because I gave myself a foundation. With that foundation and when I’m feeling frivolous with my words, I can now accomplish so much more because I have something to work with.

I don’t have a schedule. I write based on when the ideas come to me. How can I fit writing into my existing schedule? I always write a storyboard, then I tackle it from there, so start to finish always varies. Often my stories can take weeks if not a month or two to write. I take a few days break sometimes so that way I’m not hypercritical of everything I’ve written. I never rush to put out something for the sake of putting it out there. Rushing never usually gives good results.

There is no bad idea either. Don’t go into a story you’re about to write already knocking it down. Remember, write for yourself, I swear to you, if you enjoy what your writing someone else will too. You think J.K Rowling wrote HP thinking, “Ahhh, I need to change all this because my mind is telling me someone may not like this.” Hell no. She wrote her story the way she saw it and it’s amazing because it’s her.  

Methodology:

Write a storyboard. Will you for sure remember the thing you told yourself to remember in the morning? Did you forget to write down that appointment? Did you remember that you have that assignment due if you didn’t write it down? The majority will say they don’t. That’s why I’m a huge believer in having a “story board”. What that means to me personally is mapping out how you want the story to go. I personally can’t use the write-and-go method. I need structure so I can reference back and tweak it later. So, I recommend opening up a doc or whatever you have to use and follow this set up. It’s concise, keeps things neat and easy to follow. It’s basically a flow chart but a bit more professional. I’m sure you can find other templates, but this is mine.

Write about something you want, not something you think would get notes. Write it because you see that niche isn’t being filled, or if you want to add to that genre. As an example, there are a million and one coffee shop AU's, but what can you add?

Other things to keep in mind is the hero’s journey doesn’t have to be linear, Try to teach, teach the readers and yourself something. That way you keep something fresh for yourself. Grow each time you finish something. Whether you know it or not, you grow a little bit each time. Your opinions will change and grow, so take it all in stride.

With all that knowledge you’ll become a better writer because you’ll be able to see a wider breadth of ideas and put in details that don’t always seem obvious and develop your own style.

I’m sorry that this post was long and that I got preachy. But from my writing style, I guess you could already have predicted I would’ve done this, huh? Haha. I hope this was helpful!! Feel free to send me an ask if you have any more questions.

[merrybrides]

14 Pieces of Actual, No-Silly Wedding Planning Advice

There's a lot of wedding advice floating around the Internet. Problem is, a lot of it is useless fluff dreamed up by a) relatively well-heeled editors contractually obligated to spend their days inventing absurd nonsense to fill pages surrounded by advertisements b) people who've never planned a wedding/mistakenly think their very specific experience can be extrapolated. Or both!

Sure, those mason jars wrapped in polka-dotted ribbon are a cute idea on Pinterest, but it's a good way to wind up sobbing in the middle of your local Michael's two weeks before the big day. And all that money-saving advice? Yeah, the buffet's going to save you, but not as much as you may think.

Maybe you're planning to tie the knot at a 50-person backyard barbecue. Or maybe you're hosting 350 friends, family and business associates to some Gilded Age castle. Whatever. Here are a few pieces of real-talk wedding advice that you can actually use.

1. Maybe pay someone to do that. Are you supremely artistic and experienced in the ways of crafting? Is your great aunt Martha Stewart? Unless the answer to one of these questions is yes, think very carefully about any D.I.Y. projects. Examine your own abilities with a critical eye. For instance, I once tried to complete a "Cosmos manicure" and ended up looking like I'd let a four-year-old paint my nails. Face the music: Despite what Pinterest would have you believe, some of us are just not talented at some things. And your wedding is probably not the time to learn that lesson. It'll only be more expensive when you have to replace everything at the last minute.

2. Not everyone gets a date, and that's fine. Look, lots of us wanted everyone we've ever known and loved at the ceremony. But that's just not feasible unless your daddy is a robber baron. You'll want to invite as many significant others as possible, of course, and if someone is flying from Shanghai to Cleveland for your reception, you'd better allow them a date. But at some point, it's time to hitch the caboose to the gravy train, and once you do, stick 100 percent to your guns. Consider preparing an email in advance for anyone who truly does not understand that money doesn't grow on trees.

3. You are not the Lone Ranger. Perhaps you want to be the Stanley Kubrick of weddings, strictly controlling every single aspect of the entire production. But that way lies The Shining, my friend. When someone graciously offers to help, come up with some very specific detail they're well-equipped to handle. (If you've got it covered or this person is an absolute incompetent, politely decline, but I urge you to consider the offer, even if it's as simple as logging RSVPs.)

Also, on a more specific note, unless you're wearing that $100 H&M dress, seriously consider having more than one bridesmaid. If I'd known how much work getting my wedding garments and dress on was going to be, I'd have a bridal party of eight or nine really strapping gals.

4. Write thank-you notes as gifts come in. Do not get behind, unless you want to spend your honeymoon crafting odes to the lovely Waterford from Aunt Mildred.

5. Be ready to show some backbone. I'm willing to bet that most readers of this blog are very, very committed to not being a power-drunk nightmare-person Bridezilla during their planning process—and that's great! Never, ever be nasty. But know that it's perfectly okay to say no, no thanks, not gonna to happen when your florist tries to talk you into expensive hot-pink table overlays. (You'll also need to be prepared to wield that NOPE like a broadsword if you've laid down a law like no kids or no cellphones, by the way.) Let's practice together!  SORRY NO!!!!!

And once you put down a deposit on something, don't feel guilty about making sure that vendor gets her job done. If you're paying for a wedding planner, don't let her drop the ball. If your sample floral arrangements are the wrong color, speak up.

Now, a corollary: Pick your battles and save your emotional energy for the big stuff. Maybe you hate your cousin's formal kilt, or your bridesmaid's spray tan, or the best man's habit of wearing lime-green socks with dress shoes. For God's sake, just let it ride. Save your fury in case the limo never shows.

6. All you need is Google Docs. I've got a binder, a website, several notebooks and pieces of wedding-related paper lying all over my house. But the only tool I really needed to get through this without rending my garments and running screaming into the night was Google Docs. Sure, maybe your dad still hasn't gotten the hang of the Internet. But that's what the export to PDF function is for!

7. If you must give favors, give food. Don't give your guests something they're just going to throw away. No one in the history of party planning has ever gone wrong with a light snack. Definitely do not D.I.Y. anything. (See above.)

8. Limit your options. Planning my wedding I couldn't have any old thing that flitted into my brain, because I am a graphic designer and paid for my own wedding. 

A lot of things were simply out of budget. But honestly? THANK GOD. There are too damn many options out there, and limitations are your friend. The name of the game in wedding planning is eliminating as many possibilities as fast as possible. If you're pretty sure you don't want to get married in a barn, put your blinders on and stop looking at barns.

And for the love of God, do not let yourself get bogged down in any single decision. I spent weeks scouring New York City for wedding shoes and a hair comb. My mistake was ever considering more than five options in the first place.

9. Ask (politely!) for discounts. Hey, it can't hurt.

10. Treat thy bridesmaids as thou would like to be treated. I'm not talking no diet commands and no haircut lectures. That's table stakes. I mean don't pick a bridesmaid dress that would look good on you but not them. There are more body types than stars in the sky; maybe give them a choice of five dresses and let each pick her fave. It's not the end of the world if they don't match. Don't ask them to spend a fortune on something they'll never wear again, and give them some sort of thank you at the end.

11. Stop trying to be so damn unique. Look, weddings are not original. They are a template, a form letter drawn up hundreds of years before we were born. No matter how much money you throw at the planning process, your wedding is not going to be one of a kind. You don't need a special, hand-crafted symbol of your cosmic love on every escort card. Chill.

12. There is no perfect dress. You're probably not a paragon, and you're not marrying one, either. We live in the world of reality, not Platonic ideals. So do yourself a favor and pick a gown that's beautiful and within budget. Don't let the dress shopping drag on until the entire experience curdles.

13. Ask yourself: Who actually cares? Agonizing over whether to have a champagne toast, or pay for chiavari chairs, or (god forbid) shell out for peonies? Here's a question you should seriously ask yourself: Are my guests really going to care? Because this is technically a celebration of you, but REALLY it's an enormous party that you're throwing for your friends and family. This is not your fifth birthday party at McDonalds. You are hosting these people that you love. Every decision should come down to whether the guests like it, appreciate it, or notice it at all.

Remind yourself (as others have reminded me) that people care about the dancing, the food and whether a good time was had by all. They don't care about how much painstaking effort you put into the hand-aged programs and the very firm email you wrote to get the perfect amount of greenery in the centerpieces. You're better off focusing on the broad strokes that best facilitate the party than bothering overmuch with small details.

14. Have fun. Unless you are Olivia Pope and thrive on details and chaos, it's easy to get overwhelmed. (Yes, even if your plan is simply to order 25 pizzas and surprise all your buds at a bar, you still have to write the ceremony, write up the invites, etc., etc.) But this is fun! It's a happy occasion! Go forth and drink until you can't feel your face! And remember, as long as you're married at the end of the night, it was a success.

[thoughts-full-of-sand]

mess

Its been a mess for a while. A huge mess I've been trying to sort out for years, but the every time I get the feeling that I got close to untangling it, something happens and i realize a whole new part of that mess that i didn't see before. I won't write about how I got here because i can't be fucked. Right now I am dealing with knots i thought i figured out, some that i never could and a whole new knot that is intertwining with the first one. well actually all of my knots intertwine with the one i thought i got and i made me belive that once i solve it it will all untangle, which i still belive it will its just....a mess. lets start with the one i never got i guess. knot 1. The obligation. this knot has been there since i could remember. School, Uni (Unies), motivation, procrastination. Basically things my ADD directly impacts. Oddly enough, the intertwining knot i mentioned erlier helped me a lot in managing this one. I had to learn to siphon every once of will i have to work on it if i can't untangle it i will at least do my absolute best trying to do so, and i will untangle every small part i can or even force it open till i can have a way through even if its a tight one. That doesnt make dealing with it any easier though, just makes me put mire effort. With being at the end of a trimester, and the overwhelming fear that this is my last chance. If i fail again I am done. knot 2. The life goal. This is the important one. The one that got me trying again after i gave up. Its the love of my life. My life goal. My only real friend. The only one i truly loved. The only thing that made me experience true happiness. The only thing i was ever willing to fight for. The one i share every thing with, even this post I write knowing well i will share it with them even though i will not censor or coat any thing i need to get of my chest. Them being all those things made me feel like i found the thing that will make me happy, and all i gotta do is get them. live with them. go through it together, and how fortunate i am that they love me back, but ofcourse nothing is that easy. i met them at a time i was a total wreck, and because of living in denial of my horrible metal state I couldn't deal with their mental illness after we found out they have their own big knot to tangle. Enter BPD. The more i learn about it the scarier it gets. The more i ask the mire daunting it seems. "Dont bother" they told me. and for a dreaded may i listened for a bit. and that was the most painful thing i went through. As hard as it was for me I knew it was 10 times harder for them. the answer seemed simple after a bit, "as long as they seek treatment and i learn how to deal with it and support them we will have the life we want some day" I thought, honestly still makes perfect sense. the issue was saying that after i had already hurt them by listening to them, they took it in a bad way (along with a lot of other things, most of them rightfully so). Eventually i could not bare it anymore. I had to mend things and my only condition was treatment and i was promised that it would be the case once its available. Okay all good now, i will have to deal with it until they're ready and able to get treated. Welllll here is where i thought i got it. months and months after with my love for them growing by the day. after a lot of tough spots in our individual life, until a recent incident that happend in their life due to a very bad mental state led to them being taken away from my for a month. my mental health deteriorated horribly without them, and i had to not only endure the one person i care about being taken away, I also had to hide it from my family, maintain knot 1 as best i could and deal with my severe anxiety that sky rocketed from the lack of info. After they came back we were both at a new low when it came to mental fortitude. I had lost control over my anxiety, and they had lost control over their BPD. The thing with both those illnesses is that the worse you feel the worse they get. For them every thing gets either black or white when it reaches this point, and for me i always thought of the black. My mind would say "if they dont assure me then they dont love me as much" and knowing that its irrational i keep it in and keep keeping it in, until i break. When I break i ask for assurance, but their mind tells them if they need assurance then they can't see your efforts, and i end up making them upset. they seem to feel hurt. and i feel abandoned in my time of need. It got so bad for both of us that i decided to completely ignore my needs, but sadly ignoring your need for water doesn't make you any less thirsty. I eventually couldn't keep going this way. I needed to learn how to not need this and i have been trying since then and still am. i would spend every day working while i listen to books to help me understand what they go through and how to control my anxiety , and spending time with them. I saw their effort but they didnt think i did. I saw their pain but they didnt think i did. and i was doing every thing i can. The issue wasnet that i believed that there is no effort. The issue was that it wasnet the effort i needed. The effort i needed was the same sort they did. I needed their effort to understand their brain and control it as best they can, and i did every thing i could to hide my need for that. I decided to do my part in stead. I decided to work on understanding my brain and try to deal with it as best i could, because they had a lot more shit to deal and cope with. Only my effort wasnet enough, with how bad my mental state was I just couldn't control my anxiety as much as they needed me to. I needed their support, but i felt like i couldn't ask for it because it would mean that their efforts are not seen by me. and once i started breaking again, I decided that i have to express my need so both of us can talk and understand that we both need to work on the parts that hurt the other, so that we can over come them like we always do. Only to be surprised by them expressing that this is extremely hurtful to them, it seemed to me that they saw me as a selfish. I felt like i all the times i explained how hard it is for me was not heard. I felt guilty for how i made them feel. I felt upset because i felt like my needs and efforts were disregarded. I felt like i shouldnt feel upset because i understand how this would make perfect sense to them. As i try flusterlly to clear out all these misunderstandings and accusations i felt i was receiving, my heart stopped at its tracks when they ask for a break. all those feelings were x10ed. I felt guilty for making them feel this way to the point i wanted to hurt my self. I felt upset because i belived that my needs dont matter to them when they inconvenienc theirs to the point i wanted to punch the wall next me. I felt so bad for feeling upset because i still knew that this is just how their mind made sense of things to cope. And I filt so scared of losing them because they might believe all those things their mind is telling them that I wanted to kill my self before they leave me or before they kill themselves. Along with all these confusions and conflicting thought came a whole new knot. Knot 3. self respect. I never had self respect I never demanded my needs from any one. I only would manipulate them or make them sympathised with me to get them. I am a coward. I won't do that anymore. I have responsibilities that i need to respect and i have needs that i needs and rights that i need to enforce. that i need to That came to mind because of something i noticed. I felt from what they said that their needs and rights matter to them and that made perfect sense to me only i wanted us to meet half way since our needs conflict. I also intruprated some thing they said that my anxiety is ultimately my problem and its my responsibility and i need to deal with it. and both of those things i had no trouble with and made perfect sense to me. So why am i not applying that to me and their side. I should assert my rights and not ignore my needs. Also their BPD is ultimately their problem and they need to deal with it, just like i need to deal with my anxiety so it doesn't hurt the ones i love. I also believe firmly that the best way to go at it is to support and help each other achive those responsibilities. So i agreed to the break so i can work on my anxiety and i expressed that i want them to work on their BPD. but i didnt have the space to have a conversation so i believed i failed at explaining it properly. I was terrified of hoe they would react because i dont know what they might have intruprated what i said and if they take it in a bad way it could lead to unhealthy coping mechanisms, and i was worried at them. but i had to accept the situation as it was and move on. Well, my fear came true, i found out today that they had an OD since they'd turned to drugs to cope. I almost lost them. I almost lost the one thing i care about about. I almost had my biggest nightmare become a reiality. I am now more confused than ever, and i feel powerless. if i just mend things with no discussion and mutual agreement i will eventually start feeling the same way and hurt them again. If i stand my ground with no discussion they may keep interpreting my feeling and words the wrong way and feel even worse and get more reckless because of it. if i just dont talk about it and fix things i will go mad trying to figure out how to control my anxiety at the highest point it has ever been in my life. if i demand they talk i will be breaking our agreement for a break. if i beg they talk i will be going back to the way i always acted. if i take the easy way out i will have given up, and i dont give up aslong as there is any hope. all i can do is wait for them to see the big picture which i cant even expect them to do because i am not even having a chance to share my pov and express why i believe that this is what we need to do. i am tired. and i am stressed. I honestly just wish i could sleep a whole month off or better of die.

[obtusemedia]

The 50 greatest albums of the 2010s

These 50 albums are the records that stuck with me the most in this past decade. There are albums here that grew on me slowly over time, and others that I instantly clicked with. Some of these records are constantly on repeat; some I only pull off the shelf at a certain time of year, or when I’m in a certain mood.

Regardless of why I love them, these are my 50 favorite albums of the 2010s.

#50: In Colour by Jamie xx (2015)

Instrumental electronic music is really not my thing, but In Colour is one of the few exceptions.

Jamie xx — also a member of indie icons The xx — has said In Colour is meant to evoke the emotions of a night out in London’s nightclubs, but not work as typical dance music that would actually be played in those clubs. That description is dead on. 

With the exception of the bouncy Young Thug and Popcaan collab “I Know There’s Gonna Be (Good Times),” which serves as a fun break from the album’s moody atmospheres, none of these songs are danceable. Standouts like “SeeSaw” and “Girl” sound like the half-remembered soundtrack of a blacked-out night, with haunting whispers of vocals throughout. And the more pop-centric, heartbreaking ballads with fellow The xx members Romy and Oliver Sim prove Jamie can write stellar conventional tunes as well.

Best songs: “Loud Places,” “I Know There’s Gonna Be (Good Times)”

#49: Days Are Gone by HAIM (2013)

In their influential debut album Days Are Gone, the Haim sisters fused together ‘70s/’80s radio-friendly pop-rock, early ‘90s pop melodies and a modern Instagram sheen to create a collection of 11 instant indie-pop classics.

The San Fernando Valley-based sisters — Este, Danielle, and Alana — have both the songwriting and instrumental chops necessary to create the closest thing Millennials will get to a Fleetwood Mac album. Each song has approximately 40 hooks, plus some smooth guitar licks, just-funky-enough grooves and analog keyboards to get the job done. 

Given that 2013′s pop scene was more about disco throwbacks and Miley Cyrus riding construction equipment, it’s unsurprising yet a bummer that should-be hits like “The Wire” or “Forever” never became mega-smashes. But HAIM’s retro pop sound on Days Are Gone would serve as a playbook for the rest of the 2010s for pop stars seeking an indie edge and more pop-inclined indie artists alike.

Best songs: “The Wire,” “Days Are Gone”

#48: Teens of Style by Car Seat Headrest (2015)

Teens of Style is almost more of a sampler record than a proper album. Released after Car Seat Headrest signed to the legendary indie label Matador, the record consists of select songs from Will Toledo’s low-fi Bandcamp recordings, re-recorded.

But let’s be honest — those Bandcamp albums are rooooough. Toledo could write great tunes, but the sound quality was so bad that the songs sounded like they were recorded with a Game Boy Color. The re-recording was necessary.

The tracks here are still appropriately fuzzy, with Toledo singing them through a distorted vocal filter. But with actual production values, the massive guitars and energetic choruses of grunge bangers like “Times To Die,” “Something Soon,” and “The Drum” come to the surface. And it also features one of Toledo’s best songs, the Pet Sounds-meets-Pavement power ballad “Strangers.” It’s a must-listen for any ‘90s nostalgists or sad bastards.

Best songs: “Strangers,” “Something Soon”

#47: AM by Arctic Monkeys (2013)

This was an interesting experiment that seemed doomed to fail: Taking an aggressively British rock band whose previous formula had gotten stale, and transforming them into slick, swaggering American rock gods. But somehow, AM works. Alex Turner channeled a greasy charm in his winking croon, nearly developing a Western drawl. And although the production is significantly smoother, the Arctic Monkeys didn’t forget how to RAWK — the clanging guitars of “R U Mine?” and “Arabella” will wake you right up.

Yes, AM is one of those Urban Outfitters-core albums that was a favorite amongst suburban faux-hipsters. It’s not nearly as cool as it thinks it is. But it’s still the closest thing the ‘10s have to a classic rock masterpiece.

Best songs: “R U Mine?,” “Do I Wanna Know?”

#46: Charli by Charli XCX (2019)

This decade has seen two versions of London pop visionary Charli XCX: The glitched-out weirdo behind “Vroom Vroom” and “Track 10,″ and the snotty popstar who sang the hook on an Iggy Azalea hit and wrote a bubblegum track for a teen romance. What makes Charli such a fun listen is it’s her only project that masterfully balances her two sides. 

Do you prefer radio-friendly hook machine Charli? Here’s some synthy duets with Troye Sivan and Lizzo. If you want the experimental side of Charli, there’s the jagged “Click” and a song that sounds like it samples the THX theme. And the best songs take a little from both of Charli’s strengths (like the two tracks below).

Best songs: “Gone,” “Cross You Out”

#45: Harry Styles by Harry Styles (2017)

When Harry Styles, arguably One Direction’s most beloved member, announced his first solo album, I can’t imagine many fans expected it to be so...dad rock. 

Styles’ self-titled debut goes down easy, with its gentle guitars and singer-songwriter odes to love. It’s the kind of record that’s easy to scoff at — the pretty one in a boy band tries his hand at ~serious~ music — but remember, critics didn’t love Paul McCartney’s first couple solo albums either. Harry Styles’ impeccable pop-rock songwriting will cement its legacy,

Best songs: “Sign of the Times,” “Two Ghosts”

#44: Mylo Xyloto by Coldplay (2011)

Mylo Xyloto is unabashedly corny, and that’s what makes it great. You’d expect a Coldplay album to already have a high level of cheese, but Mylo Xyloto takes it to another level. Unlike the similarly poppy A Head Full Of Dreams a few years later, Xyloto’s head-first dive into synths and dance beats is actually memorable. There’s technically a loose connecting story tying the songs together, but all you need to enjoy the album is a love for massive, world-conquering choruses and a love of Chris Martin’s heart-on-sleeve emotions.

Best songs: “Every Teardrop is a Waterfall,” “Charlie Brown”

#43: Everybody Works by Jay Som (2017)

Plenty of great dream-pop albums were released this decade, but none of them feature as many variations on that style as Jay Som’s Everybody Works. All of Oakland singer-songwriter Melina Duterte’s songs are hazy and catchy, but she still manages to dabble in the sounds of grunge (“1 Billion Dogs”), Latin pop (“One More Time, Please”) and even early ‘00s soccer-mom pop (“The Bus Song”). And other than an overly-long closing track, Duterte nails everything she tries. Everybody Works is a little slight, but the music is too hypnotizing to resist.

Best songs: “The Bus Song,” “(BedHead)”

#42: The Suburbs by Arcade Fire (2010)

The Suburbs is an album that seems to sprawl out forever, just like its namesake. And with apologies to The Hold Steady, this album is the closest thing Millennials got to creating a Springsteen classic of their own. 

The classic-rock and new-wave influences that Arcade Fire melded create a feeling of both comfort and dread, perfectly encapsulating the feelings of someone trapped in endless housing developments and strip malls. The tension builds and builds, until it all gloriously climaxes with the ‘80s pop throwback “Sprawl II” — a triumphant anthem about feeling trapped. Arcade Fire’s follow-ups to The Suburbs might have dimmed the band’s reputation, but their Grammy-winning masterpiece still holds up.

Best songs: “Sprawl II” “Suburban War”

#41: Era Extraña by Neon Indian (2011)

The first sign that Neon Indian wouldn’t be a flash-in-the-pan unlike many of his chillwave peers, Era Extraña is a glitchy new wave pop masterpiece. Tracks like “Halogen (I Could Be A Shadow),” “Hex Girlfriend” and “Suns Irrupt” sound less like traditional synthpop songs than hallucinatory memories, yet they’ll never leave your head. And Texas keyboard wizard Alan Palomo’s biggest crossover hit is also on this album, the burbling gem “Polish Girl.” Jump into any point in the album — it’s likely a stellar tune stuffed with analog synth riffs.

Best songs: “Halogen (I Could Be A Shadow),” “Fallout” 

#40: MASSEDUCTION by St. Vincent (2017)

Indie hero St. Vincent made a sharp pivot into pop with MASSEDUCTION, her fifth album and first collaboration with super-producer Jack Antonoff. But given her art-rock leanings, this wasn’t going to be a typical pop album.

MASSEDUCTION is a gonzo record that manages to balance tearjerking ballads like “Happy Birthday, Johnny” and “Slow Disco” with new-wave freakouts like “Fear The Future” and “Sugarboy.” I’d call it one of those pop albums with an undercurrent of darkness under the shiny sheen, but the darkness on this album is more than an undercurrent. Panic is the overwhelming emotion throughout MASSEDUCTION, and Annie Clark was the perfect artist to convey that feeling through her weirdo pop jams.

Best songs: “Los Ageless,” “Happy Birthday, Johnny”

#39: Gossamer by Passion Pit (2012)

Gossamer sounded cutting-edge in 2012, with its warped vocal samples and fizzy synthpop production. Unfortunately, that production has already aged badly less than a decade later.

But that doesn’t mean that Michael Angelakos’ songwriting has suffered with time. His morose, depressed lyrics still sync masterfully with the sugary synthpop that backs them up. And even though Angelakos is writing about dour topics like the Great Recession, bipolar disorder and suicide, he doesn’t forget the hooks. Songs like “Carried Away,” “Cry Like A Ghost” and of course, the big hit “Take A Walk,” could easily slide into Top 40 radio if they weren’t so grim lyrically. And I’m sure once early ‘10s production comes back in vogue in a decade or two, Gossamer will once again sound fresh.

Best songs: “Take A Walk,” “I’ll Be Alright”

#38: Atrocity Exhibition by Danny Brown (2016)

Danny Brown’s music always seemed a little unhinged. But Atrocity Exhibition — one of the decade’s most unique, haunting albums — is a true look into his demented mind. The production is warped and fried, and the Detroit rapper’s inimitable whacked-out flow is pushed to its breaking point. The result is a record that sounds both cartoonishly fun and absolutely terrifying.

Brown’s hedonistic-yet-chaotic lifestyle detailed in Atrocity Exhibition is wildly entertaining to listen to, but it’s not a world you want to live in. It sounds like both dropping acid and getting curb-stomped at the same time. And it’s a sonic achievement I’m not sure Brown will be able to top.

Best songs: “Ain’t It Funny,” “When It Rain”

#37: Born This Way by Lady Gaga (2011)

Listen, I love Gaga. She’s my favorite pop star of all time, point blank. But she only has one perfect album: 2009′s sharp, concise The Fame Monster, which missed the decade cutoff by only two months. Every other record Gaga’s released has at least a few filler tracks. But Born This Way’s highs are so dizzyingly high that it’s impossible to not recognize this album.

Imagine if Gaga kept Born This Way to only 10 tracks or so, cut out the fluff. It would be wall-to-wall early 10s pop masterpieces: “Marry The Night.” “Born This Way.” “You And I.” And of course, “The Edge Of Glory.” And that’s not even counting the many solid deep cuts sprinkled throughout — there’s a biker song about riding goddamn unicorns. How could you hate that?

Born This Way is still an exhausting listen in its full, but that’s partly because it’s so exhilarating that you couldn’t possibly have any energy left afterwards.

Best songs: “The Edge of Glory,” “You And I”

#36: To Pimp a Butterfly by Kendrick Lamar (2015)

Like Gaga, Kendrick Lamar is one of the decade’s great visionaries, but he also tends to overstuff his albums (with one exception, we’ll get to it later). And To Pimp a Butterfly definitely has some filler in its back half. But when Lamar is firing on all cylinders, the album reaches heights that 99% of albums couldn’t even dream of.

The album’s eight-song first half is a stunning masterwork of songs that have wildly different tones and emotions, yet still manage to piece together a running theme of the confusing, troubled black experience in modern America. And even the rougher second half has furious cuts like “Hood Politics” and “The Blacker The Berry.”

I have to give Lamar all the props for having a grand vision with To Pimp a Butterfly. The best albums require a sky-high vision. But, like with Born This Way, if it had been trimmed by three or four songs, it could’ve been top-10 of the decade.

Best songs: “The Blacker The Berry,” “King Kunta”

#35: 1989 by Taylor Swift (2014)

There was a lot of anger when Taylor Swift won the Album Of The Year Grammy for 1989 over To Pimp a Butterfly. But, at the risk of sounding like I have no taste — maybe the Grammys actually got it right?

I know Red is the fan and critic favorite of Swift’s albums, but I’ve always found it to be wildly inconsistent (despite some incredible high points). 1989, meanwhile, doesn’t waste a single second. It’s a perfect pop album, delivering the gargantuan hooks and leaving before it lingers around too long. It’s one of those records where nearly every track could’ve been a hit single. And even if it isn’t Swift’s peak lyrically, it’s certainly her peak in terms of mastering pop music craft and production.

Best songs: “Style,” “Blank Space”

#34: I like it when you sleep, because you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it by The 1975 (2016)

This might be the most frustrating album on the list. On I like it..., a massive leap of a sophomore album from The 1975, there are so many untouchable pop classics: “The Sound.” “Somebody Else.” “Love Me.” “UGH!” “A Change of Heart.” “She’s American.”

But there are also some mind-boggling choices, like adding two lengthy, pointless instrumental interludes and ending the record on a couple of painfully boring acoustic guitar numbers — not The 1975′s strong suit. But the ‘80s retro flair of I like it... is so charming, and its sheer scope so ambitious, that I still find myself returning to the record over and over again. It was the album where The 1975 proved they were more than just pretty British bad boys, but true Millennial pop icons.

Best songs: “Somebody Else,” “A Change of Heart”

#33: They Want My Soul by Spoon (2014)

They Want My Soul is an album by Spoon, the world’s most consistent rock band since 1998. So naturally, it’s good — all Spoon albums are.

But They Want My Soul is a perfect back-to-basics record, returning to that classic crisp, uber-catchy indie rock sound that Spoon perfected in the prior decade. There’s a few new production flourishes, but for the most part, the Austin band just deliver an updated version of the goods. Why fix something that ain’t broken?

Best songs: “Do You,” “Rainy Taxi”

#32: House of Balloons by The Weeknd (2011)

Before he started pumping out Michael Jackson pastiches, The Weekend was mysterious and depraved as hell. His introduction to the world, House of Balloons, is still just as haunting and impactful as it was in 2011. Abel Tesfaye’s helium vocals contrast masterfully with his dark lyrics and the nocturnal, grimy production.

House of Balloons is certainly an album that needs to be listened to at certain points of the day/year — listening to it at noon on a sunny July day is just wrong. Wait until it’s nighttime and when the temperature drops — Tesfaye is from Toronto, after all — and embrace the darkness.

Best songs: “House Of Balloons / Glass Table Girls,” “The Party & The After Party”

#31: Soft Sounds From Another Planet by Japanese Breakfast (2017)

Japanese Breakfast — AKA Eugene indie rocker Michelle Zauner — is Oregon’s finest musical project of the century (no, bands that moved to Portland don’t count; sorry Modest Mouse, The Shins and Sleater-Kinney). And Soft Sounds From Another Planet is both her high-water mark and proof that Zauner has the potential to become an all-time indie great.

The songs on Soft Sounds take the classic dream-pop/shoegaze sound and tweak it a bit, fusing it with alt-rock and sci-fi new wave. The album’s centerpiece, “Boyish,” sounds like a gorgeous prom ballad from the ‘50s. But Zauner herself is who brings Japanese Breakfast’s songs to light. Her deeply personal and emotional songwriting strikes a chord, and her flexible vocals cut through the cloudy production like a foglight.

Best songs: “12 Steps,” “The Body Is a Blade”

#30: Run The Jewels 2 by Run The Jewels (2014)

RTJ2 starts with Killer Mike screaming in the studio. That furious, profane and chaotic energy carries throughout RTJ2, an apocalyptic hip-hop masterpiece.

Killer Mike and El-P had no shortage of political targets to spray their anger at with, from corrupt, violent cops to an unjust capitalist system. Songs like “Early” and “Crown” are tragic, paranoid retellings of police brutality that would leave even Fox News viewers sympathetic. But the key to RTJ2 is that Mike and El are still clearly having a blast. When they rip apart their enemies, they do so with glee, and El’s energetic dystopian production was at its peak with this record.

Best songs: “Oh My Darling Don’t Cry,” “Early”

#29: IGOR by Tyler, The Creator (2019)

IGOR is one of those albums that creates its own sonic universe. The blend of fuzzed-out synths, aggro hip-hop and sweet retro soul that Tyler, The Creator cooked up on this album is truly one of a kind.

The former enfant terrible of rap put his raw emotions to use by telling the story of a brutal story of unrequited love. Tyler perfectly captured the rollercoaster of emotions of that scenario, from queasiness to vengeful anger to dejection to finally acceptance. Every second is packed with hooks, ear-grabbing production and the relatable narrative. 

Flower Boy might have been the world’s introduction to a more thoughtful Tyler. But IGOR is when that potential was fully realized.

Best songs: “EARFQUAKE,” “A BOY IS A GUN*”

#28: Guppy by Charly Bliss (2017)

What if ‘90s rockers, instead of heroin, were addicted to Pixy Sticks? That’s what Guppy sounds like: Angsty lyrics and crunchy guitars, but all in the service of incredibly energetic and catchy pop-rock songs. Lead singer Eva Hendricks’ piercing, squeaky vocals just add to the rush of excitement each song has — it sounds like a literal child is singing sometimes.

Guppy isn’t going to be for everyone; not every person wants to down a king size bag of Sour Patch Kids in one sitting. But for a fun sugar rush with some legitimate heft, you can’t do much better than Charly Bliss’ electric debut album. 

Best songs: “Westermarck,” “Scare U”

#27: Carrie & Lowell by Sufjan Stevens (2015)

On the exact opposite end of the emotional and energy spectrum from Guppy sits Carrie & Lowell. Sufjan Stevens’ acoustic masterpiece is about the death of his mother, and the complicated feelings that arose from that moment. It’s a haunting, dark collection of songs that grapple with Stevens’ relationships with his deceased mother and God.

Fair warning: Carrie & Lowell is insanely sad. If you’re not in the mood for some downer songs, you’ll likely switch it off. But sometimes, we all need a good tear-jerker. And if you squint at it right, it might be the greatest Christian album of all time (that’s a stretch, I realize...but I’m sticking with it).

Best songs: “The Only Thing,” “Fourth of July”

#26: Late Night Feelings by Mark Ronson (2019)

When was the last time that a producer-driven album was this good? Or more miraculously, this cohesive?

Late Night Feelings is exactly what you think it is based on the title: a collection of nocturnal songs about heartbreak. Ronson mostly abandoned his trademark ‘80s and ‘70s retro sounds for a more modern pop sound (for the most part), with each track perfect for a night drive. And he gathered a murderer’s row of female singers and songwriters to accompany him. He got megastars like Miley Cyrus and Camilla Cabello to deliver some of their best-ever work, and gave indie darlings Angel Olsen and Lykki Li massive platforms to work their magic. Late Night Feelings is a blueprint for any other pop producers who want their album to be more than just a grab bag of singles and filler.

Best songs: “True Blue,” “Find U Again”

#25: Bloom by Beach House (2012)

Picking the best Beach House album is like picking the best Skittles flavor — they’re pretty much all great, and there’s not too much difference between any of them. But pound for pound, Bloom is the best Beach House record in my book, delivering as much hazy dreampop goodness as one could handle. More than perhaps any other record the Baltimore duo released, it’s all-killer-no-filler; the perfect bridge between the band’s early guitar-driven sound and their more recent reliance on keyboards. Even the secret closing track is great! But the album’s strongest section is its first four songs, arguably all of which could be a top-10 Beach House song. “Myth” in particular is the moment when it became clear that the duo had established themselves as perhaps dreampop’s greatest act.

Best songs: “Myth,” “Other People”

#24: Take Care by Drake (2011)

Almost all of Drake’s albums are famously overlong and stuffed with filler. Take Care, the Canadian icon’s sad-boy masterpiece, only commits one of those sins: It’s a bit on the long side, but nearly all of the 19 tracks are great. 

Take Care is probably best known for the tear-jerkings moments when Drake allowed himself to get aggressively mopey, such as the drunk-dial lament of “Marvins Room,” the mournful R&B of “Doing It Wrong.” But there’s plenty of fiery bangers amongst the tears — who hasn��t used “Lord Knows” or “HYFR” to get hyped? Take Care was the foundation that built Drake’s 2010s empire, and will likely be remembered as his ultimate classic record.

Best songs: “Marvins Room,” “Lord Knows”

#23: Currents by Tame Impala (2015)

If Take Care is the definitive hip-hop sad-boy album of the decade, Currents is certainly its indie rock counterpart. Aussie psych-rock wizard Kevin Parker took Tame Impala into synthier territory on this album, jamming as many '80s Casio riffs as possible next to his guitar grooves. Some Tame Impala fans might have decried the poppier sound on this album at the time, but I believe Currents will go down as Parker’s finest moment.

Best songs: “The Less I Know The Better,” “Let It Happen”

#22: Take Me Apart by Kelela (2017)

The perfect marriage of off-kilter, nocturnal indie pop and R&B, Take Me Apart is one of the top-tier night-driving albums of the decade. The production, led by indie heavyweights Ariel Reichstaid and Arca, along with Kelela herself, is masterful. It calls back to ‘80s and ‘90s R&B sounds while sounding like an alien transmission. And Kelela is the perfect vocalist for this style, managing to sound both sensual and robotic. Take Me Apart should’ve been a blockbuster hit, but for now, it stands as R&B’s most underrated album of the ‘10s.

Best songs: “LMK,” “Truth or Dare”

#21: Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming by M83 (2011)

You can’t casually listen to Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming. From the second you press play on the majestic opener “Intro,” you have to buckle up for a breathtaking 73-minute experience. Calling M83′s bombastic synthpop/post-rock mix “cinematic” has become a cliché at this point, but there’s no better descriptor for it. Especially when Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming is nearly the length of a feature film. Standouts like “Midnight City,” “Wait,” and “Outro” haven’t lost their luster after years of overplay, and there’s plenty of deep cuts to discover with each listen. Even the frog-themed acid trip is enjoyable! It’s no wonder Anthony Gonzalez followed up this album with the goofy and low-stakes Junk — there was no way he’ll ever be able top the bombastic, nostalgic glory of Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming.

Best songs: “Midnight City,” “Intro”

#20: Norman Fucking Rockwell! by Lana Del Rey (2019)

It’s about damn time that Lana Del Rey, one of the decade’s most iconic and influential figures, started getting some critical acclaim. And it makes sense that the rave reviews started arriving with Norman Fucking Rockwell! this summer. It’s easily her most singer-songwriter-y album, stuffed with clever turns of phrase and devastating lines. NFR is also Lana’s most somber album, with a focus on depression, romantic dissatisfaction and the death of the American Dream. And yet, it ends on a note of tentative hope, mirroring the disposition of many nervous Millennials and Gen Zers. It’s not my favorite album of hers, but undoubtedly, Rockwell is the moment when Lana established herself as a generational icon.

Best songs: “The greatest,” “Mariners Apartment Complex”

#19: Lemonade by Beyoncé (2016)

Some may prefer Beyoncé’s more R&B-focused self-titled surprise album, but I’m always going to point to Lemonade as her towering achievement. Beyoncé created a blueprint for a flawless breakup album here: There’s songs detailing her disbelief at Jay-Z’s affair, a group of fiery kiss-off anthems, some somber ballads about her grief, and finally, a triumphant moment of reconciliation. And throughout the story, Beyoncé masterfully samples a variety of genres, from reggae to hard rock to even country. And just when you think the album ends on a perfect note, Beyoncé tacked on her greatest-ever single, “Formation.” I’m always a sucker for albums that tell a complete story, and Lemonade was an instant classic in that format.

Best songs: “Formation,” “Don’t Hurt Yourself”

#18: Antisocialites by Alvvays (2017)

In contrast to Lemonade, Alvvays’ sophomore record Antisocialites only sticks with one musical style: ghostly, uber-catchy dream pop. It’s like Chromatics, but for the daytime. Good thing the Toronto group are masters of that sound. 

Their early-R.E.M.-meets-Beach House vibe was never been better than on Antisocialites, where every song is a melancholy gem. None of the songs are overly ambitious, but that’s not a problem when Alvvays’ simplistic beauty is irresistible regardless.

Best songs: “In Undertow,” “Dreams Tonite”

#17: DAYTONA by Pusha-T (2018)

Virginia hip-hop legend Pusha-T somehow made sounding in his comfort zone sound like the coolest thing in the world with his magnum opus, DAYTONA. At only seven songs and 21 minutes, the record is a textbook example of a tight and focused classic. Push’s coke-dealer bars and Kanye West’s dusty, sample-heavy production fit perfectly. The album at times almost sounds like a nihilistic The College Dropout. Late-era Kanye is nobody’s favorite, but DAYTONA proved that he and Push are still one of hip-hop’s best teams.

Best songs: “If You Know You Know,”  “Santeria”

#16: Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit by Courtney Barnett (2015)

Courtney Barnett cemented herself as one of the finest songwriters of her generation with her debut record, Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit. Barnett’s dry Aussie wit rarely feels too snarky, she just has a matter-of-fact view of the world that’s refreshing and unique. The album plays like a series of indie rock vignettes, with gloomier songs about coral reef destruction and imposter syndrome balanced out by goofy rock bangers like “Aqua Profunda!,” in which Barnett describes trying to impress a hot woman at the pool and accidentally passing out in the process. Sometimes is a truly fun, one-of-a-kind album that’s a perfect summer road trip listen.

Best songs: “Pedestrian At Best,” “Elevator Operator”

#15: A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships by The 1975 (2018)

As much as I adore The 1975′s three albums, all three of them unfortunately have a few fatal flaws. Their self-titled debut is consistent, but never transcendent. Their sophomore album is brilliant — except for the few painfully boring acoustic ballads and instrumental tracks. The Manchester group’s third effort is their closest to perfection, despite one or two pointless numbers (looking at you, “Surrounded By Heads and Bodies”). Matty Healy and co.’s thirst for genre experimentation is rampant here, with songs aping *inhales deeply* Oasis-esque arena rock bombast, wiry post-punk, tropical pop, gospel, cheesy ‘80s synthpop, melodramatic R&B, wonky electronica, and even jazz. And considering they nail all of those efforts, and threw in the generation-defining political anthem “Love It If We Made It” just for kicks...yeah, I’d say this album, and The 1975, are pretty damn incredible.

Best songs: “Love It If We Made It,” “It’s Not Living (If It’s Not With You)”

#14: Clean by Soccer Mommy (2018)

Clean is on the opposite end of the ambition spectrum from The 1975 — it’s mostly standard indie rock and singer-songwriter folk. But what Soccer Mommy, AKA Nashville artist Sophie Allison, did within those narrow confines was magnificent. Allison spent 10 tracks detailing heartbreak, anger and jealousy with spare, relatable lyrics. And the lilting, gorgeous melodies she paired them with on tragically beautiful songs like “Scorpio Rising” and “Wildflowers” could reduce anyone to tears. Clean is both a display of raw potential and a memorable statement in its own right.

Best songs: “Scorpio Rising,” “Cool”

#13: Blonde by Frank Ocean (2016)

I could never get into Channel Orange (besides “Pyramids”... that song goes HARD), but Blonde hypnotized me immediately. Maybe I just prefer Frank Ocean’s weirder side, as Blonde has very few concessions to the radio. It’s an atmospheric trip through Ocean’s mind, and the closest R&B got to dreampop this decade. It doesn’t all work for me— “Futura Free” is a weak closer, and the interludes like “Facebook Story” are pointless — but when whe record on point, it’s the best work of Ocean’s career. If you don’t feel goosebumps when listening to the silky smooth “White Ferrari” or when the harmonies come out at the end of “Self Control,” I’m not sure what to tell you.

Best songs: “Ivy,” “Self Control”

#12: Strange Desire by Bleachers (2014)

Jack Antonoff is likely the decade’s greatest pop producer, producing career-defining masterpieces for multiple artists on this list. But he still left some of his best tunes for himself. Strange Desire, the debut album for his side band, Bleachers, is a gloriously bombastic ‘80s pop fever dream. It sounds like a John Hughes movie soundtrack infused with Pop Rocks. 

Antonoff isn’t the world’s greatest singer, but his utter commitment to the cheese of his tunes makes up for that entirely. A more jaded person will probably listen to Strange Desire, shake their head, chuckle and move on. But as a proud cornball, I love this ridiculous, passionate pop album, random Yoko Ono cameos and all.

Best songs: “Rollercoaster,” “Like A River Runs”

#11: Night Time, My Time by Sky Ferreira (2013)

New wave and grunge shouldn’t go together. They’re diametrically opposed: one is bright and quirky, the other is morose and grimy. But in her debut album — and sadly, her only album so far — alt-pop genius Sky Ferreira melded the two genres seamlessly. Ferreira’s vocals and angsty attitude are a natural fit for alt-rock’s clanging guitars and angry lyrics, but she can also play the synthpop diva when needed. And on some of the albums’ best tracks, like “Heavy Metal Heart” and “Ain’t Your Right,” she comes off as a Seattle-friendly revamp of ‘80s stars like Pat Benatar or Joan Jett. It’s truly tragic that Ferreira’s second album has been in development hell, as Night Time, My Time is the kind of assured, rugged debut that signals the start of a brilliant career.

Best songs: “I Blame Myself,” “24 Hours”

#10: Ultraviolence by Lana Del Rey (2014)

Lana Del Rey is certainly one of the 2010s’ defining artists. But which album is her best work? It depends on your taste: the critics seem to prefer the more subdued, songwriter-y Norman Fucking Rockwell! The album with the strongest singles and most striking style is certainly her polarizing debut, Born To Die. And for those who have difficulty sleeping, I’m sure the boring-as-hell Honeymoon helps with that. (There’s also Lust For Life...that one’s fine, I guess.)

But for me, Ultraviolence is still Lana’s pinnacle. From the album-opening psych-rock freak-out “Cruel World” to the tear-inducing melodramatic album closer “The Other Woman,” it’s her most complete album. Her tragic retro California vision is fully realized here, as it explores the dark side of her persona. Even when the music sounds triumphant, like on the James Bond-esque “Shades of Cool” or G-Funk-evoking “West Coast,” there’s a strong undercurrent of misery. And Lana’s haunting vocals sell even the most ridiculous lyrics here. Most artists would sound silly singing “Pretty When I Cry,” but Lana sells the hell out of it. 

And if you still don’t get the Cult of Lana after hearing Ultraviolence — well, as she sings on “Brooklyn Baby,” “If you don’t like it, you can beat it.”

Best songs: “Shades of Cool,” “The Other Woman”

#9: Yeezus by Kanye West (2013)

Do you realize how difficult it is for an album to still sound abrasive, shocking and futuristic nearly seven years after its release? I remember a time when “Like A G6″ sounded like the future — now it’s just a goofy early-’10s hit. But I imagine Yeezus, Kanye West’s likely final masterpiece (sorry, Life of Pablo stans), will continue to freak out and delight future generations.

Working with fellow producing legends Rick Rubin (!) and Daft Punk (!!!), West decided to finally embrace how much of Middle America saw him with Yeezus. If crowd-pleasers like My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy and Watch The Throne wouldn’t change some people’s minds, then fine — he was more than happy to play the villain.

Yeezus’ distorted, pitch-black production still sounds fantastic today, and is a perfect fit for the album’s bitter, furious attitude. But despite all of West’s tirades, he still found time to let his humor shine through, giving us scores of funny moments, including his greatest-ever one-liner: “HURRY UP WITH MY DAMN CROISSANTS!!” And even if you missed the Old Kanye, there’s something here for you too: the soulfully profane “Bound 2,″ a crass love letter to Kim Kardashian with a gorgeous chipmunk soul sample.

This album is absolutely not for everybody, but its alienating and combustable nature is what makes Yeezus a masterwork to this day.

Best songs: “New Slaves,” “I Am A God”

#8: MY WOMAN by Angel Olsen (2016)

Angel Olsen, the greatest singer-songwriter of her generation, rarely sits still. Her three best albums all have a sharply different feel: 2014′s Burn Your Fire For No Witness is more traditional, sticking with fuzzy indie rock and hauntingly spare acoustic ballads. Her most recent album, All Mirrors, is the opposite — a maximalist, theatrical outpouring of emotions with a full orchestra on most tracks. But Olsen’s greatest work so far is the album she recorded between those two. If Burn Your Fire is a tad too minimalist, and All Mirrors is a bit too over-the-top, then MY WOMAN fits snugly between those two extremes.

But production is not what makes Olsen a genius, although she typically has good taste in it — it’s her songwriting. MY WOMAN has some of her sharpest pop-leaning tracks in the first half, like the fiery “Shut Up Kiss Me” and country slow-dance “Never Be Mine,” then some sprawling slow-burn ballads in the second half. In particular, “Sister” is a folk-rock rollercoaster that works perfectly for driving on a long trip alone, with the hushed opening gradually turning into an expansive, cinematic climax with an incredible guitar solo. And that song’s lyrics are a relatable document of self-disappointment and resentment.

From Courtney Barnett to Soccer Mommy, the late ‘10s have seen an explosion of insanely talented singer-songwriters. But none had the ambition, scope and operatic vocals of Olsen and MY WOMAN.

Best songs: “Shut Up Kiss Me,” “Sister”

#7: good kid, m.A.A.d. city by Kendrick Lamar (2012)

Arguably the greatest hip-hop concept album of all time, good kid, m.A.A.d. city is still Kendrick Lamar’s most consistent work to date. Lamar, who normally has a problem with overstuffing his records, only has one filler track here — the drowsy “Real” — and everything else either moves his narrative forward in a compelling manner, or it’s an unstoppable banger (or both!). 

The storytelling techniques Lamar uses to tell his autobiographical coming-of-age tale in Compton, complete with drugs, gangs and lots of anxiety, are fascinating and clever. Lamar raps as though he’s in that moment, adding in lots of random, world-building details about his life and twisting his voice in various ways to fit the scene. Even the voicemail and audio recording clips aren’t a distraction, but a clever way to add context to his story without dragging things down.

With his elastic flow and the record’s eclectic production, Lamar is able to have the listener feel exactly how he felt in certain teenage moments. From the dreamlike, gauzy high points of “Money Trees” and “Poetic Justice” to the adrenaline-pumping chaos of “m.A.A.d. City” and “The Art of Peer Pressure” to the murky low points of “Swimming Pools” and “Sing About Me, I’m Dying Of Thirst,” he absolutely nails each and every specific emotion.

But unlike many concept albums, a majority of good kid’s songs still sound fantastic out of context. “Swimming Pools” may be a song about alcoholism disguised as a party anthem ... but it’s a pretty damn great party anthem. And the triumphant finale, the Dr. Dre-featuring “Compton,” doesn’t have anything to do with the narrative, but it’s still insanely fun.

With good kid, Lamar managed to have his audience eat their veggies while not even knowing it. It’s both incredibly ambitious, yet still restrained just enough to not feel too heavy. You couldn’t ask anything more of a major-label debut.

Best songs: “m.A.A.d city,” “The Art of Peer Pressure”

#6: Modern Vampires of the City by Vampire Weekend (2013)

Modern Vampires of the City bored me when I first heard it. I was so excited for its release, right before my high school graduation. I’d listened to Vampire Weekend’s debut album and their sophomore record, Contra, over and over again, and was thrilled for another collection of peppy, preppy indie rock. That’s not what Vampire Weekend gave us with Modern Vampires.

Their decision to take a more somber and mature tone with Modern Vampires turned out to be the smart one, as the album is a major grower. On first listen, its ballad-heavy tracklist doesn’t grab you, but Ezra Koenig’s contemplative lyrics and Rostam Batmanglij’s stunning production reveal themselves on repeat listens. From the swaying breakup anthem “Hannah Hunt,” to the baroque, vulnerable “Step,” this album is when the two were at their peak creative partnership.

Koenig was about to turn 30 during this album’s writing, and you can tell he felt mortality creeping up. The album’s most blunt song about death, “Don’t Lie,” uses iconography of headstones and ticking clocks to show Koenig’s nervousness on the subject. Faith plays a major thematic role as well. But despite these heavy topics, the band managed to deliver a gorgeous, eminently listenable experience. It’s the prime soundtrack for any anxious 20-something fully entering adulthood.

Best songs: “Hannah Hunt,” “Step”

#5: VEGA INTL. Night School by Neon Indian (2015)

Remember how I said that Tyler, The Creator’s IGOR created a unique world of its own? So does VEGA INTL. Night School. And its neon-drenched, warped ‘80s nostalgia trip is a world I could live in forever.

The magnum opus both of Neon Indian and the entire chillwave movement, VEGA is unlike anything else. Ideally, one listens to it while driving down Los Angeles streets after 9 p.m., when the roads are mostly empty but the heat and the light pollution still fill the air. Neon Indian mastermind Alan Palomo stuffed VEGA with melted synths and off-kilter grooves that sound like a 1986 Jazzercise tape stuck in a microwave. The lyrics don’t mean much, but they convey this winking retro sleaze that Prince mastered back in the day.

But all the quirky production choices in the world don’t make a great record unless you’ve got the tunes to back it up. And Palomo brought the tunes. Every single song here is insanely catchy or has a killer dance beat or both. It’s like Thriller for an alternative dystopic universe — every song could’ve been a single. In fact, the tropical haze of “Annie” predicted a wave of similar-sounding (and worse) pop hits in 2016 and 2017.

It’s a shame Palomo hasn’t been able to follow up VEGA with a new album since 2015. Perhaps he knew he couldn’t top this instant, subgenre-defining masterpiece.

Best songs: “Slumlord,” “Dear Skorpio Magazine”

#4: Emotion by Carly Rae Jepsen (2015)

‘80s nostalgia was all the rage in the 2010s. And with apologies to Bruno Mars, Lady Gaga, Neon Indian, Daft Punk, The 1975 and many more who dabbled in Reagan-era throwbacks, that sound has a modern queen. And her name is Carly Rae Jepsen.

Emotion is such a perfect ‘80s pop album that it might be better than just about every actual ‘80s pop album (except Purple Rain and Thriller – I’m not that contrarian). Each song is deliriously catchy and stuffed with more hooks than should be legal. From the braying sax intro of the legendary album opener “Run Away With Me” to the glittering synths and slap bass of the energetic closer “When I Needed You,” every moment is euphoric.

Of course, we can’t talk about Emotion without discussing that technically, it flopped as far as sales go. Did Jepsen take too long to follow up the mega-smash “Call Me Maybe”? Did the label not promote it enough? Was the public just determined to define the British Columbia singer as a one-hit-wonder? Personally, I think it’s the latter — “Call Me Maybe” just sounds like the kind of goofy novelty song that comes as the singer’s only hit.

But Emotion is a defiant middle finger to anyone to who wants to define Jepsen by one song. At least a third of this album is better than “Call Me Maybe,” and the rest is on the same level. If you love synthpop, and you still haven’t heard Emotion, please do yourself a favor. Spend some time with the defining bubblegum pop album of the 21st century — I promise you won’t be disappointed.

Best songs: “Run Away With Me,” “Your Type”

#3: Melodrama by Lorde (2017)

On the surface, Melodrama and Emotion have a lot in common. Both Lorde and Carly Rae Jepsen took a long time to follow up their gargantuan, decade-defining hits with new albums. Both struggled to get a follow-up hit on their sophomore records (although at least Lorde had a second hit off her debut — remember “Team”?). And these two sophomore records happen to be the best two pop albums of the decade.

But that’s where the similarities end. Just like how “Royals” is an entirely different animal than “Call Me Maybe,” Melodrama is brilliant for very different reasons than Emotion.

In some ways, it makes sense that Melodrama didn’t pump out any hit singles. It’s a whispery, nocturnal concept album that doesn’t sound anything like 2017′s hits. Even the catchier tunes, like “Homemade Dynamite” or “Perfect Places,” have an undercurrent of nihilistic hopelessness to it, and not in the trendy “rich and sad” style that made Lil Uzi Vert and Post Malone stars. It’s more “holy shit, we’re coming of age while the world is burning down and we can’t do a thing about it.”

Earlier, I said Angel Olsen was the best songwriter of the decade. That’s still true, but Lorde is right behind her. Her lyrics are rich with detail and emotional resonance on Melodrama, relatably describing both a breakup and the subsequent partying in an unsuccessful attempt to forget about that breakup. “Liability” might be the decade’s most heartbreaking ballad — and this decade included an entire album about Sufjan Stevens’ dead mom.

“Royals” and Lorde’s debut album, Pure Heroine, showed a lot of promise. But it’s unfortunately all too common for budding pop artists to not meet those expectations. But with Melodrama, Lorde shattered the sky-high expectations she delivered for herself. We thought she could be another solid pop star. It turns out she’s actually the first Gen Z generational icon, and deservedly so.

Best songs: “Green Light,” “Liability”

#2: Teens of Denial by Car Seat Headrest (2016)

Like many Millennials and Gen Zers, I occasionally struggle with depression and anxiety. And although I can’t entirely relate to every moment on the album, there wasn’t a record this decade that encapsulated those emotions better than Teens of Denial, the decade’s greatest indie rock album.

Car Seat Headrest frontman/songwriter Will Toledo’s lyrics are painfully personal and embarrassing. It’s not entirely clear if these lyrics are based on his experiences or if he’s just an insightful storyteller, but Teens of Denial is powerful either way. The album’s loose narrative is about a guy who is not only depressed, but is surrounded by a world that seemingly heightens his depression at every step. 

This is most bluntly shown on the roaring, angsty opening track “Fill In The Blank” — where the chorus is literally someone telling him, “You have no right to be depressed/you haven’t tried hard enough to like it” — as well as the snarky faux-campfire singalong “Drugs With Friends,” where a bad trip results in the protagonist realizing he’s terrified of his peers and then he imagines Jesus himself casting shame upon him. But half the time, the protagonist brings his problems upon himself, most notably with getting a DUI in the epic, U2-meets-Nirvana arena-grunge anthem “Drunk Drivers/Killer Whales.”

Much of the record is Toledo (or his character) wallowing in sadness, which admittedly doesn’t sound like a great time. But like Toledo’s predecessor in Seattle angsty rock, Kurt Cobain, these songs of profound sadness are told via some incredibly catchy, singable (and moshable!) tunes. And Toledo’s vocals are perfect for this style of music, as his voice is both off-kilter and shredded, but still genuinely melodic when the song requires it.

Teens of Denial is an unforgettable experience, something that has to be listened to from start to finish. You might enjoy it more if you find its themes relatable, but the songwriting and ‘90s retro rock sounds are so incredible that almost anyone could find it irresistible if they’re willing to get angsty for an hour.

Best songs: “Drunk Drivers/Killer Whales,” “Destroyed By Hippie Powers”

#1: My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy by Kanye West (2010)

The first words sung in My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy are, “Can we get much higher?” The answer is no. This album is the peak not only of Kanye West’s confusing career; not only of the decade; but of the entire genre of hip-hop. 

My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy is one of those all-time classic untouchable albums that will soon be required listening for any budding music nerd, up there with Sgt. Pepper, Born To Run, Purple Rain, OK Computer and The Blueprint. To name it as my favorite album of the 2010s is a painfully obvious, and possibly even dull pick. Pitchfork, which gave the album an insanely rare 10/10 upon release, had it at #2 on their decade-end list — possibly to be cheeky, possibly as retribution for West’s recent heinous actions. 

Kanye West is an extremely flawed man, as we all know. I don’t need to recap his wrongdoings. But in some ways, his numerous mistakes just make Dark Twisted Fantasy even more resonant today. The album is partly about Kanye being a deeply troubled person, being aware of that, and yet being unable to change that no matter how hard he tries. He didn’t embrace his megalomaniacal tendencies like on Yeezus, but instead the album feels like an anguished cry for help. The three-minute autotune outro to the album’s breathtaking centerpiece, “Runaway,” literally sounds like that. And even the brag-rap bangers, like “Monster,” “So Appalled” and “Hell of a Life” have a menace to them.

Dark Twisted Fantasy is West at the full extent of his powers. Every single one of his strengths is amplified here. His lyrics, always a little corny and random, are entertainingly and quotably so. He brought out magical performances from guest stars, from Rick Ross’ smooth-as-hell verse on “Devil In A New Dress” to Nicki Minaj’s unhinged, career-best performance on “Monster.” There’s never been better production on a hip-hop album — impressive, considering the record jumps from style to style frequently.

But most importantly, Dark Twisted Fantasy is insanely ambitious. West had a vision, he exiled himself to Hawaii with his team, and he put his nose to the grindstone. It was when his music was the only thing he cared about — not his shoes, not the Kardashians, not Donald Trump. And that dedication was rewarded with a true masterpiece. West will never get any higher than this. And arguably, nor will music in the 21st century.

Best songs: “Runaway,” “Gorgeous”