#jaywalking at night challenge

[jinxfmrl]

Can you imagine what TikTok is like in Gotham?

[gayboymint]

Stop fucking jaywalking in dark clothes at night or I hit you with my car on purpose challenge. Christ. Stop being stupid.

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Could I request a matchup? For male and female companions?

I’m a young(Er) adult whose more of an introvert. I’m quite pale (not due to vampirism) but genetics. This and a condition called POTS makes me dislike extreme heat. (And extremely cold.) Things in the middle temperature wise is when I thrive. So I live for Fall and Spring. I have dark hair and lots of freckles and moles. Some of them are kind of big and embarrassing but most are in areas that are usually covered (stomach, upper thighs).

I enjoy reading books and writing stories. I also love baking, and I especially enjoy singing while I bake. I don’t sound super good but it’s more of a happy place thing than a performance thing.

I’m not very open, especially to strangers. I mean I’m really nice and try to be polite and friendly but I don’t really trust anyone. I’m always on the lookout for something bad to happen. I don’t know why I just am.

I enjoy being outside in nature but not with other people or large groups. Like concerts are NOT my thing lol. For me being outside is a reflection time for grounding myself away from the noise of the world.

However I am not an outdoorsy person. I do not enjoy camping. Or extreme hiking. I greatly enjoy my indoor plumbing and air conditioning m/heater.

Alignment wise I think I’m neutral good. Or chaotic good. Honestly it depends. Like if it’s an asshole boss or misogynistic government making the rules I say fuck em because they’re unjust. But at the same time I feel guilty jaywalking because it’s technically illegal and could potentially be dangerous/cause accidents.

I’m not very romantic but I do long for romance. I just think it has to be the right person at the right time for me to really open up. I move super slow even in friendships. And sex to me isn’t just a bodily function it’s way more meaningful. I can’t do one night stands. And for me to even consider having sex I would need to trust and respect the person and know they respect me in return.

I’ve been through ALOT of trauma in my life. Like way more than the average person which is probably why I’m so closed off and internally judgy of other ppl. I would really like a s/o who’s been through a few challenges of their own, so they’d “get” it in a way. I don’t really relate to people who’ve had easy happy lives. It just doesn’t compute to me lol.

So who do you think I’d be a good fit for??? (Both male and female companions please!! And thank you!!)

-🔴 Red circle nonnie

Okay, for you 🔴 Red Circle Anon, I’m thinking your companion matchups would be Gale (Male) and Karlach (Female)! 

☸ Gale is a perfect companion for you! More of an introvert himself, Gale doesn’t always “get” social interaction, so he greatly appreciates your preference to mingle in smaller parties on occasion. He’s spent quite a lot of time in Waterdeep with just Tara his Tresym and his Mother, Mrs. Dekarios, so he is used to doing things on his own: reading and practicing spells and the like. He loves that you are into reading as well. Despite teasing from Tara, he thinks it’s a perfectly lovely date idea to sit near each other, reading your respective texts. 

And he greatly enjoys reading all the things you write, if you’re willing to share them. He finds it incredible how you can weave (ha, get it, weave?) such fantastical plots and emotions together. I mean he is a wizard, but he thinks his ability to influence the physical and astral world around him has nothing on the power behind your mighty quill. He also enjoys listening to your singing from the kitchen as he works on various potions and spells. He needs to hear it every so often, almost like how he needs to consume magical artifacts: it brings him peace and grounds him in a reality he vows he won’t let slip away. 

Gale adores your freckles, I mean adores. He probably has them all mapped out somewhere in his study. He loves trailing his finger from one to the other, especially when it makes you blush. Gale also has no issue using his magic to accommodate your need for milder temperatures due to your condition. Whether you need it cooler or warmer, he can use his hands to help you regulate your body temperature. And if that isn’t enough, he can conjure large amounts of ice or fire. Whatever you need, your wizard will get it for you! He makes a mental note to read every piece of literature on the subject he finds in his travels. He finds every part of you stunning, illness or moles be damned, and has no problems reminding you of that, as many times as it takes. 

He himself isn’t the most fond of roughing it so to speak, but he does love feeling the sun on his cheeks and the wind on his face. He especially enjoys taking walks with you, holding your hand as he over-explains the history of magic and its role in The Weave. 

He is very pleased that you’re a kind and courteous person like he is. His Mother raised him to be a respectful man and the idea of being with a partner who takes joy in unnecessary violence or revels in others' suffering makes him physically ill. He cares so much about others, as evidenced by his fear of hurting a large population should the orb in his chest explode. He cares that you care too. 

Contrary to you, however, Gale thinks himself a huge romantic. He perceives love often, even when it may not be there. It’s not that he’s desperate, it’s just that the “boring” parts people often think mean nothing, are the parts of a relationship that mean the most to him. The quiet. The parallel play. The kind words here and there. The interest in the other’s hobbies. That is love to him. That’s not to say he isn’t interested in sex, oh no. He quite enjoys the feeling of your bare skin on his, the sweaty tangle of your limbs, and the euphoria that comes with it. But, similar to you, he sees it as a joining of souls. (Quite literally if you agree to make love in the astral plane with him.) He worships you and you alone and wants to be worshiped in return. Please give him your undivided romantic attention- he thinks you’re such a wonder, he doubts whether he’s deserving of it at times. 

Gale may not show it often, at least not in ways people might think, but he’s endured a lot in his life as well. Despite holding up Mystra as this wonderful goddess, it becomes clearer how unstable their relationship (if you’d call it that) was. He was so wounded, he tried so hard to mend it and ended up planting a bomb in his chest trying to fix it. And then there’s the thing with the Mindflayers, sheesh. Talk about a tough break. It’s rough, but Gale is determined to keep going to fix it. He has to. For himself, and more importantly for you. 

Once both issues are addressed, and the current evils vanquished, he’d want more than nothing to settle down with you back home in Waterdeep. He’d love to introduce you to his Mother, and Tara (if you haven’t already met her). You are the love of his life. And he can’t wait to share the rest of it- the good and the bad- with you. 

♨ You might think Karlach isn’t your best match, her being quite loud and outgoing, but you’d be wrong. The two of you are like this perfect balance of Yin and Yang- where she wants to dive in headfirst, you advise caution. Where she wants to swing first and ask questions later, you’d rather work out an agreement. The two of you often end up compromising on each of your extremes to find a happy middle that works well for the two of you. 

She does find it a bit frustrating that you don’t tolerate extreme heat very well, as it can make sleeping in the same bed difficult if the weather is already warm out. But she understands. When her internal engine is fixed, she’s certain her temperature will be much more tolerable to you. On the other hand, she’s incredibly proud that she can save you from freezing temperatures, should night ever be particularly cold or you two find yourselves deep in the Underdark. 

And she loves your moles. No, really, she thinks they’re the cutest little things! She’s a red tiefling who spent years watching every kind of soul and creature imaginable enter hell, but none compare to you and your many beauty marks. 

She’s not the most fond of sitting and reading for extended periods, but she loves it when you read aloud to her. She can sharpen and polish her weapons as you regal her with all the many stories you’ve written down over the years. She loves the imagined ones just as much as the real recorded ones. (She especially loves it when you include her in your stories, she finds it so flattering!) 

And she lives for your baking. As a Barbarian she’s almost always hungry. (Hey, a girl has gotta keep up that strength somehow!) She’s so glad you’re gifted in that department. Her attempts almost always end up resembling charcoal more than any sort of food. 

Despite having been forced to fight in hell, Karlach has the personality of a golden retriever. She loves most people and is pretty polite to those she meets. Of course, that doesn’t mean she’s not gonna challenge them to a fight, but she has the decency of mind to say a greeting first. So it’s safe to say she appreciates your good-naturedness as well. You are two peas in a pod that way. 

However, unlike you, Karlach loves a good loud and large gathering; she fits right in! She’s loud and large herself! But she knows you have a limit for those sorts of things, so she won’t drag you to too many of them. 

Alignment-wise, Karlach is the embodiment of chaotic good lol. She’s a Zariel Tiefling Barbarian with a heart of gold. 

She too can’t rush into physical romance, not because she doesn't want to, but due to her engine. When sex is potentially dangerous, you’re forced to rethink what romance and love mean to you. Karlach gets coming at it from a different point of view. And she has no problem waiting until you’re both safe and ready to be with each other in that way. She’s had her fair share of trauma as well. But whereas you claim to be closed off and judgy, it seemingly made her happy and wise. The two of you both underwent difficult times and developed your own unique trauma responses that just so happen to complement one another. Karlach may be saddened that happiness and joy don't come as easily to you as they do to her, but she’ll be damned if she didn’t try her hardest every day to bring those things to you. You’re the love of her life, after all.

[alphaman99]

intellectually sound

Michael Smith

Without revealing their identity, a lifelong friend of mine, someone who lived just across the holler from my old home place in the Magnolia State, mentioned this earlier this morning:

“I just mentioned to someone that a friend of mine was in the Galapagos, and their response was “what’s that?” There seems to be no such thing as a common body of knowledge in our culture anymore—things you can expect everyone with walking around sense to know. Sometimes I feel like my whole life is an episode of Jaywalking with Leno, which I always assumed was staged. Apparently not.”

At the risk of falling into the crevasse of that common body of knowledge, “Jaywalking” was Jay Leno (an ancient late-night talk show host that was funny) doing “man on the street” interviews of random people about current events and personalities in the news. As my friend noted, sometimes the answers were, how shall we say, uninformed.

In my opinion, the lack of a common body of knowledge is not only an aggravation, but also a chasm that prevents common understanding of this world – and if we don’t have a common understanding of the world, there is little we can do because opposition becomes a matter of ignorance rather than principle.

There was a knock-down, drag-out funny video on Twitter this morning, apparently a serious one, in which a lefty social media star called PoliticsGirl who claims she just doesn’t understand why people still vote for Republicans – and as par for the course – continues talking long enough to show you why.

She is completely ignorant. 100% weapons grade dumbass.

She is not ignorant because she doesn’t know stuff, but recalling what President Reagan said about liberals, she is supremely confident about things she “knows” but is entirely (and provably) wrong about. Her entire knowledge base rests on lies, bigotries and bogeymen the media and Democrats have designed and labeled for her to hate. She's a nice little useful idiot, with the emphasis on idiot.

Since I have friends who egg me on to torment you with my thoughts, another friend emailed something to me – a 2019 article titled “Thoughts on Prosperity from a Hipster Coffee Shop”, written by a former college student by the name of Alyssa Ahlgren, who was in grad school pursuing her MBA at the time. Of her generation, she says:

“We are so well off here in the United States that our poverty line begins 31 times above the global average. Thirty. One. Times. Virtually no one in the United States is considered poor by global standards. Yet, in a time where we can order a product off Amazon with one click and have it at our doorstep the next day, we are unappreciative, unsatisfied, and ungrateful.

Our unappreciation is evident as the popularity of socialist policies among my generation continues to grow. Democratic Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez recently said to Newsweek talking about the millennial generation, "An entire generation, which is now becoming one of the largest electorates in America, came of age and never saw American prosperity."

Never saw American prosperity! Let that sink in. When I first read that statement, I thought to myself, that was quite literally the most entitled and factually illiterate thing I've ever heard in my 26 years on this earth… [M]y generation has only seen prosperity. We have no contrast. We didn't live in the great depression, or live through two world wars, the Korean War, The Vietnam War or see the rise and fall of socialism and communism. We don't know what it's like to live without the internet, without cars, without smartphones. We don't have a lack of prosperity problem. We have an entitlement problem, an ungratefulness problem, and it's spreading like a plague."

So, another case of know-nothings, but this time about life.

It is a frame of reference thing. When a certain frame of reference exists for long enough without challenge, people seem to forget what it took to create that framing.

I think that this, beyond wars and natural disasters, is the real root cause (somebody call the Vice President) for the fall of civilizations. We forget so much that we don’t realize we don’t know what we don’t know anymore.

And that is why our young like AOC but neither understand nor oppose the stupidity of Marxism.

I know I have said it before, but the greatest fallacy people believe is that because something as always been a certain way for them, it will always be that way. Humans fight to climb Maslow’s hierarchy one rung at a time, but there are no guarantees they won’t slip and fall all the way to the bottom, and all at once.

So, Michael, what do we do? That is most certainly the inevitable question.

I’m not sure we can do anything until a catastrophe of such Malthusian proportions befalls our civilization (or at least our corner of it) that society in general either remembers history or realizes they must set about relearning it.

This is not something an individual can change; this is a social learning experience, a situation where many, many people say “Oh, sh*t!” at the same time. It must be broad and deep enough to completely reset our references by reframing them, maybe not to zero, but to something that approximates it.

Only then will the important things in life be appreciated enough to study and learn about, thereby rebuilding that common body of knowledge.

As Alanis Morrissette (who was a hipster coffee shop favorite) once sang:

You grieve, you learn

You choke, you learn

You laugh, you learn

You choose, you learn

You pray, you learn

You ask, you learn

You live, you learn.

Oh, yeah. If you don’t know who Alanis Morrissette is, go ask your mom.

[merrock]

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: Pallavi Sharda

full name: Devika Anand Vyas

nickname(s): N/A

pronouns & gender: she/her, cis woman

sexuality: Bisexual

birth date: November 15th, 1990

birth place: New York, New York

time in town: Three months (since July 2022)

housing: Historical Downtown

occupation: EMT

family: step-father, Rafael Bardales; mother & two sisters (not in town)

personality: Loyal and determined, it would be impossible to mistake Devika’s professional drive for coldness. Her care and desire to better the world around her is obvious, even if her approach to things isn’t entirely conventional. Still, she tends towards considered decisions, and has trouble abandoning a choice once she’s made it. She struggles to accept things she feels are unfair, and has a bad habit of deflecting serious conversations or connections with humor. Her focus is both a weakness and a strength, as she can be single-minded to the exclusion of her own well being.

BACKGROUND / BIO

trigger warning: familial death, car accident

Before Devika Vyas was even born, she’d already suffered a terrible loss. Her father, Anand Vyas, was a smart man — a professor of physics at a prestigious New York university — but all it took was one mistake to cut his life short. He’d chosen the wrong moment to jaywalk, and never made it home to his family. His widowed wife suffered through the second and third trimesters of her pregnancy, carrying the triple burden of grief, caring for her two young daughters, and trying to manage her burgeoning law career, alongside all the normal challenges of pregnancy. Devika’s birth, on an unseasonably warm day in November, did little to ease her mother’s burdens, but despite everything, she was a happy baby, easy to soothe, and the grief that had lingered so overwhelmingly began to dissipate, day by day. Anand’s absence was unmistakable, but the Vyas women had each other, and so they carried on.

Devika was five when, after a whirlwind courtship, her mother married a man who worked at a competing law firm. Devika adored her step-father without hesitation, and he swiftly became the only father she’d ever really known. When it all came crashing down a few years later, eight-year-old Devika had been too young to really understand the extent of her step-father’s transgressions. She was old enough to understand that he was leaving, however, and as months without contact turned to years, she was forced to admit that she didn’t really have a father after all.

If her mother went on another date after that, Devika never heard about it. Instead, she focused even more on her career, and set an unspoken example for Devika and her sisters. They didn’t brag about accolades for art projects or dates to school dances; it was grades, and academic success that would feed into some kind of meaningful career. Devika had little idea what she wanted to do with her life, but it was easier to keep her head down and keep the peace than to admit that something was missing.

Medicine was an obvious choice for her career field, and eventually,  she decided she’d be a doctor — and not just any doctor, but an orthopedic surgeon. Four years of college, another four of medical school, and then five years of residency passed without a hitch. Devika worked hard, and saw results, stuffing her growing disenchantment with the work and her job down so deep she couldn’t even dream of giving it voice. Unfortunately, she couldn’t suppress the fact that she failed Part I of her certifying boards, and was thus ineligible to take Part II ( the oral boards ) on schedule. Devika could’ve retaken the exam the following year, but there was a kind of freedom in the failure — for the first time in her life, she could choose a path that was purely what she wanted, and not a capital-C Career with the prestige she felt her mother expected from her.

Still, it would be easier to make those changes away from the influence of her family. A late-night google search revealed there was also an opportunity to reconnect with someone she’d firmly relegated to her past, if she was brave enough to reach out. In an uncharacteristically impulsive move, Devika moved away from New York for the first time in her life, equal parts scared and exhilarated by the changes ahead. After three months in Merrock, she’s found an apartment, with the help of her step-father. She’s also completed her EMT training course, and can finally begin work at the firehouse, officially starting this next chapter of her life.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Miss Raven, may I have some reader platonic friendship headcanons with Idia, Riddle, Ruggie, Floyd, and Kalim? I really want to know what it generally would be like to be friends with them!

Curiouser and Curiouser...

A lot of your hang-outs are done remotely. It gives Idia more confidence to speak to you without showing his face. Usually you hold voice calls while you talk about random things, or playing an online multiplayer game while raging outloud to one another.

You have weekly anime binge or movie nights! To keep it fair, you take turns picking something new to watch every time you finish with the last thing.

Idia’s very opinionated about the media he consumes. When he gets in the mood to gush and/or rant, expect to be up listening to him until 3 am (with barely any pauses to allow for you to comment).

The few times you’ve met in person, Idia really struggles to make conversation. More often than not, he hunches over in his hoodie and frantically texts you what he wants to say... even though he’s already standing right next to you.

Of course, you attend geeky cons together, like all otaku do! You stay up together for hours the night before, mapping out the quickest routes between panels, which artists and vendors you want to buy from, and which guests you want to sign your faces.

Riddle’s like your personal alarm clock. He somehow always remembers important dates and deadlines, and makes sure you never forget them, either! 

Riddle is the friend that’s responsible for arranging hang-outs. Everyone else gets too lazy to coordinate schedules or to find a location everyone would have no problems reaching, but Riddle does so with ease. He has spreadsheets, polls, and maps primed for this very purpose!

He can be naggy and a worrywort at times. Riddle brings along everything and anything you could possibly need on an outing (umbrella, water bottle, bug spray, first aid kit...), because you can never be too prepared!

He follows the rules, and makes sure that you do, too. Riddle’s the type of person to hold his arm out in front of you to prevent you from jaywalking (even when there are clearly no vehicles coming your way).

You know you can count on Riddle when you need advice! He may not be knowledgeable on everything, but he has a good head on his shoulders and can talk some sense into you while you’re having an emotional moment.

Ruggie’s hard to pin down. He always has his hands full of part-time jobs, so finding a time when he’s free to hang out is a challenge.

He prefers to do things that won’t cost him money (or, if they cost money, only when someone else is footing the bill for him). His favorite things to do with you? Just running around in a park or playing a team sport.

Ruggie shows up to any gathering with food, siphons as much as he can (even bringing containers to take food home with him), and then peaces out. Whenever you eat at a restaurant with him, the most Ruggie will do is drink the free water and eat the free bread, or ask to taste “a little” of what you ordered.

He’s one of the most loyal friends you’ll ever have! Ruggie sticks with you through thick and through thin, and he’s definitely willing to lend a helping hand to whatever problem you might be facing (... but he’ll also hand you an IOU later).

Ruggie’s the moodmaker of your friend group. He doesn’t necessarily always have a joke, funny story, or a bad pun on hand, but he’s always smiling or laughing, and encouraging you to do the same!

Floyd’s the flaky friend! You could spend an eternity arranging a date and time for a hang-out, but there’s a 50% change he won’t show up, even if he agreed to it beforehand.

He’s always causing trouble, which, by association, also gets you in trouble, too! You might be chasing after Floyd to convince him to attend class, only to realize that now you’re late for class, too! He also tends to bait you into doing stupid things with him by annoying you or hurting your pride until you cave.

It’s not uncommon for him to tease you. Unfortunately, the teasing goes a bit too far sometimes and ends up actually hurting you. At times like that, you give him a little scolding (though he might not listen anyway). It can be infuriating at times to be his friend, since he has his very high highs and very low lows.

Floyd likes to roughhouse He’ll greet you with a noogie or tackle you without any regard for his surroundings, or for your safety--he just wants to hug you hard!

He shows up at gatherings with unexpected guests (it could be his brother, it could be people he just picked a fight with--) or unexpected “gifts” (here’s a whipped cream pie for your face~). It’s always a mixed bag with him.

Kalim’s your (overly) enthusiastic, extroverted friend that’s always inviting you to out! He’ll walk with you to and from class, and invite you to hang with him afterwards. The arcade? Let’s go! A restaurant? Sure! Throwing a party this weekend? Heck yeah!!

He’s so rich that he’s a little out of touch with “normal” people’s budgets (like yours). Kalim will get you all these crazy expensive gifts for your birthday and not understand why your jaw drops, or he’ll ask if you want to join his family for a luxurious trip to a Pyroxene ski resort without first considering how taxing the cost may be for you.

Kalim’s super generous and hospitable! He offers you tons of food when you hang out, lets you pet his (many) pets, and lets take as many flowers as you want from his garden... He really spoils you!

Since he has had servants taking care of him his whole life, Kalim can’t do a lot of common things like wash rice or clean his room--so even though he’s almost an adult, he’s really considered the “baby” of your friends group. It’s up to you to stop Kalim from adding dish soap to wash his rice!

He’s always looking on the bright side of things! When the chips are down, you can turn to Kalim’s optimism to shine a ray of sunshine onto you. He may not have advice on how to make your situation better, but he can offer a smile and a dance to lift your spirits so you can think more clearly!

[just-come-baek]

get in, loser 1

Pairing: Taeyong x female!reader

Themes: smut | mafiaboss!taeyong | carthief!reader

Word count: 6.2k

Summary: How to get noticed by the most dangerous man in the country? I guess stealing his sport car and dying it hot pink must catch his attention.

Warnings: car theft | speeding | alcohol consumption | jaehyun being taeyong’s henchman | hardcore brainstorming | taeyong being touchy | more in next chapters

A/N This series will be around 5 chapters long. New updates shall be posted once every two weeks I hope. Also, @starlightbebes challenged me into posting chapter 1 on Taeyong’s birthday, so I won. ^^ Pay up.

***

Considering it was Saturday night, the city seemed oddly serene. Any other night, I’d witness some wild shit, yet tonight, it was quite peaceful. No prostitutes were arguing with no-cooperative customers, no inexperienced adolescents throwing up in the public trash cans, no aggressive football spectators fighting with their rivals.

Despite the calm aura, the city was vibrant; colorful neon signs were blinking, inviting people into different liquor establishments, cars honking on drunken pedestrians jaywalking across the streets, a few undiscovered musicians playing on the main square with plenty of tourists recording them.

Each establishment promised an unforgettable night, and for some people, it would be a real dilemma to pick one among such a rich palette of entertainment. I, on the other hand, had a pretty well-defined plan of stealing a fancy car – a precious possession of one, infamous crime lord in the country.

It wouldn’t be my first car theft, yet it surely was going to be the most meaningful one. Everyone in town knew that Lee Taeyong was up to no good. When it came to his personal taste, though, it was impeccable. The most expensive, the most extravagant, the fastest cars belonged to him, so stealing one of his astounding vehicles would be the cherry on top of my villainous career.

Rumor had it, tonight he’s celebrating in his VIP club – the Cherry Bomb; if you ask me, its name is a little bit tacky, but who I am to judge? The crowd of people trying to get inside was enormous, so despite its name, the local must’ve been quite profitable.

Being the most dangerous crime lord in the country must be a pretty time-consuming profession – I wouldn’t expect him to get to the club before midnight. Regardless of what must’ve been on his to-do list tonight, his schedule was bound to be packed.

It was almost 1 o’clock when matte black carbon-fibred McLaren P1 LM with “DRAGON” written on its registration plate pulled over in front of the club; in an instant, people in the queue grew silent, mesmerized by the handsome man who nonchalantly got out of the car, tossing the keys to the valet boy.

Lee Taeyong was just as good-looking as he was deadly – with his styled-up tousled vibrant-red hair, ripped black jeans, and a top-brand leather jacket, he made people turn their heads despite their gender and sexual orientation. In all honesty, I did my research, I had dozens of pictures of him, and I knew what to expect. The pictures didn’t do him justice, though. His natural beauty was enchanting, but when topped with his charisma and cocky confidence, it was a lethal mixture.

When Taeyong strolled inside his establishment, I, just like the other people who were in rapture, could finally get my shit together. It was remarkably difficult to remain in the right state of mind when he was within your eyesight, and tonight, it was going to be my most significant theft, so I couldn’t get distracted.

“You can do this,” I encouraged myself before running across the street, ready to execute the first stage of my plan.

I didn’t dare to doubt my skills for even a second. Tonight I would succeed, and Taeyong would have to call an Uber to get back to his grand mansion.

***

It’s been three days since my ingenious heist, and I was getting impatient. I wanted Taeyong to find me and talk to me, yet I was waiting and waiting, and he didn’t seem interested in getting his car back. It was actually disappointing. I couldn’t contain my curiosity; I just needed to see his reaction after I had his car tuned. I had made sure to be caught on their CCTV, so he would quickly track my traces, but it only proved me he was working with rookies.

Checking the time on my wristwatch, I walked into the run-down car repair shop, wanting to sneak one last peek at my masterpiece before I’d put a cover over it so Taeyong would gasp upon the big reveal. The new car paint looked amazing – Doyoung, my friend and a mechanic, did a great job dying it hot pink. Too bad, he was too scared to wait for Taeyong with me. I couldn’t blame him, though. Taeyong was known for his short temper, and it was understandable that Doyoung didn’t want to stick around to witness Taeyong’s wrath.

“What is taking him so long?” I asked myself as I plopped down in a ripped leather armchair, cracking a cold one. “How long does it take them to find the guys who don’t want to be found?” I wondered, pulling my phone, scrolling through the new content on my social media.

It was taking them forever, but when the sun was slowly setting behind the horizon, I could hear a vehicle park in front of the car repair shop. Judging by the engine’s roars, the car was expensive.

It must’ve been Taeyong himself.

“Finally,” I hollered as I got on my feet, throwing my slowly dying phone on the armchair. If the crime lord showed up, he needed to be welcomed accordingly. Taeyong was a royalty amongst gangers, and he deserved the best treatment.

Midnight blue Bugatti Chiron registered under “FURY” stopped on the parking lot, and I waited for Taeyong to get out. Seconds passed, and he was still sitting comfortably in the vehicle, building the tension. I didn’t feel stressed, though. Although we hadn’t been properly introduced, I knew a whole lot about him – he was famous for his rage. However, right now, he had to be impressed rather than enraged. Or at least, it was the emotion I hoped for him to feel.

Only a complete psycho, and me, would dare to steal one of his automobiles.

The descending sun was blinding me, and when I raised my hand to block the direct sunlight, the car doors opened. Even in daylight, Taeyong looked like a five-course meal. Today, he was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a Gucci T-shirt; the outfit was simple, yet on him, it looked elevated.

“Very impressive,” he shouted loudly before he coolly walked over. “You’ve got balls, I have to give you that,” he added, and I smirked, considering his words as a compliment. Men of high positions often have trouble complimenting people, let alone women, and Taeyong didn’t seem to be an exception.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, too,” I answered politely, offering him a handshake, which he contemptuously denied. “I must say, I expected to meet you sooner,” I jabbed, but Taeyong only looked at me condescendingly before he walked inside, impatient to check up on his stolen property.

“My people located you yesterday morning, but I wanted to see you in person, and you must know, I am a busy person,” he explained, studying the shabby interior. “No one steals from me.”

“Well… I already have, and it was easier than I previously assumed,” I answered confidently before approaching the cover. “I have a surprise for you, are you ready?” Taeyong didn’t even flinch, and I considered his indifference as an agreement. With one quick pull, I uncovered the vehicle, allowing him to see my teeny tiny change. “I hope you like pink.”

Taeyong grew silent.

I had told Doyoung to change the car paint to hot pink, yet Taeyong didn’t even blink. I expected him to get pissed or, at least, annoyed, but when I looked at his features, I couldn’t see any reaction.

“Actually, pink is my favorite color,” Taeyong emotionlessly announced, and I only stared at him in utter confusion.

What the fuck?

“Well… I expected a different reaction,” I spoke, the wires in my brain incapable of coming up with anything intelligent. A guy with such a foul reputation favors the color pink.

Imagine my shock.

Apparently, Taeyong is a man of many layers.

“Who are you?” Taeyong condescendingly asked as he sat comfortably in the armchair, putting my phone on the armrest. Calmly, he leaned backward, crossed his legs, and entwined his fingers over his bent knee, waiting for me to tell him everything he wanted to know.

“I think you already know who I am,” I stated, and he just stared at me intensely. His people must’ve done a background check on me, yet he still wanted to hear it again. Stealing his car was one thing, but disrespecting him about such trivial matter seemed way worse. Doing something so risky and bold was admirable in his eyes, but wasting his time like this was just annoying, so I simply did what was expected of me.

I told Taeyong about my childhood – how I spent my allowance on go-kart races; it was my escape whenever my father got drunk and picked up fights with my mom. Then, I disclosed my secrets on how I began stealing cars – when I was seventeen, because of excessive drinking, my father needed a liver transplant, and it was the only way of getting money remotely quickly. Later, at the age of twenty-one, I participated in my first street race, though this time, it wasn’t because I needed money – I did it because I enjoyed the thrill.

“How did you steal it? How, on Earth, did you go inside the club without any of my workers noticing you?” Taeyong asked, and although he must’ve already concluded my operating plan, he wanted me to explain it myself. This time around, I didn’t even hesitate.

“I blended in,” I shortly answered with a shrug. “It wasn’t that difficult to find out all the information I needed to get inside unnoticed. I checked all your staff’s social media accounts; it took me like… three days of stalking to get their names and work schedules. That night, I sneaked into the club right after your arrival, and when somebody asked me something, I told them I was busy doing the thing the manager wanted me to do. They just assumed I am the new girl. Normally, I don’t do things like that when I steal a car, but this time around, I wanted to do something extra. Are you impressed?” I challenged, and Taeyong cocked his eyebrow, deeply in thought.

“Huh, last question. Why have you done it?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I inquired rhetorically, and Taeyong didn’t even bother to give me a proper answer. He seemed bored, and it was making me feel a little bit fed-up. “Well… in all honesty, I am sick and tired of freelancing, I want to work for you,” I elaborated, and Taeyong just chuckled as if I just told him a hilarious joke. Why was he laughing? It was a reasonable proposition, and besides, I’ve already proven my amazing skills.

“I’m not recruiting, sorry,” Taeyong spoke when he stood up and glanced at his pink vehicle. Well… it was a harsh rejection. “You have one day to return my car, or I will have my henchman kill you,” he added, walking up to me until he invaded my personal space.

“Asshole,” I whispered loud enough for him to hear me. Taeyong already knew what I was capable of, yet for some reason, he still decided not to give me a chance. It was a dick move, and I couldn’t let him have the last word.

“You’re feisty. I like that,” Taeyong said at last, “Let’s meet on Friday, at the Superhuman. Midnight. Don’t be late.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, and don’t forget to bring my fucking car.”

***

“She’s here,” Jaehyun told Taeyong as soon as the gatekeeper forwarded the message. “I can’t believe you didn’t kill her back then,” he added matter-of-factly, remembering the infamous car theft. No matter how many times he thought about it, he couldn’t comprehend how someone could be so stupid to mess with his boss. What puzzled him even more, however, was the fact that Taeyong seemed rather impressed by this woman’s actions.

“I was surprised too,” Taeyong answered honestly. “Can you believe she had the audacity to ask me to recruit her?”

Jaehyun was stupefied. “Well… are you going to?”

“Actually, I am not sure,” Taeyong replied hesitantly. It wasn’t how the regular recruitment process worked, but the woman intrigued him. She had seemed quite keen on working for him, and he was curious how much she wanted this job. “I haven’t decided yet,” Taeyong added, and Jaehyun looked at his boss in concern; Taeyong was impulsive in his decisions, and the fact that he hasn’t made up his mind yet was rather peculiar.

“You can’t be serious,” Jaehyun commented, hoping for Taeyong to come back to his senses. This wasn’t the way the things were dealt with here; if someone dared to mess with the leader, death was the kindest thing they could hope for. If other members found out about it, they might’ve thought Taeyong was getting soft. She disrespected the leader, and she ought to have faced the consequences.

“Bring her in, Jaehyun,” Taeyong ordered, dismissing Jaehyun’s concerns.

“Of course.”

“I expected to meet you in one of the VIP lounges, not in your office,” I spoke the second Taeyong’s henchman led me into an expensive-looking office at the back of the club. “You should’ve given me heads-up, I would’ve dressed accordingly,” I carried on, glancing down at my not suitable clothes.

My outfit consisted of a cropped T-shirt, denim shorts, fishnets, and a pair of combat shoes, and it did not look appropriate under these circumstances. I was expecting a flirty conversation in Taeyong’s natural habitat of leather lounges, expensive drinks, and beautiful girls competing amongst each other for his attention, but instead, he surprised me with a job interview in his private office at the back of his club. If only I had known, I would’ve dressed suitably.

“Leave us alone, Jaehyun,” Taeyong spoke in an authoritarian tone, and his associate left the room without any further comment.

The second I heard the doors click, I let out a breath of relief. For some reason, the henchman’s presence gave me chills. It was difficult to remain composed with Taeyong in such close vicinity, however, when accompanied by the other dangerous man, I felt uncomfortably anxious.

Taeyong’s piercing gaze was fixated on me, and it made me blush a little bit. He was hot as hell, and in all honesty, any woman would react this way if alone with him.

With one fluid motion, he commanded me to sit, and with a sheepish smile on my face, I obliged.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” I started, but Taeyong only smirked, sliding an A4 format envelop across the desk. “What is this?” I asked in confusion, but Taeyong just sat back, entwining his fingers together, enjoying my reaction.

Gang members didn’t sign employment contracts – that’d be silly.

“You admittance,” he started, and I cocked my eyebrow, trying to understand what the hell was going on. “Inside the envelope, you’ll find all the necessary information about your new assignment. Bring this car to me within a week, and you’ll be officially the newest addition to the family.”

It was interesting.

Taeyong had already seen me in action, yet he needed another proof of my qualifications. Actions speak louder than words, but my most recent ones screamed and ought to echo in his ears for years!

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s just a regular procedure, don’t take it personally,” Taeyong added, but I wasn’t exactly buying that. There must’ve been something that he didn’t tell me. There was a catch, it must’ve been. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have that playful spark in his eyes the whole time.

 “I’ll text you the meeting location sometime this week,” he added with a genuine smile, and I didn’t even dare to question how he got my number. “Good luck, doll,” smirking, Taeyong whispered, and I started questioning his intentions.

It must’ve been a set-up.

“I look forward to hearing from you,” I answered respectfully, quickly standing up, wanting to run out of the club. Curiosity was killing me; I had to peek inside the envelope, but I couldn’t do it in front of Taeyong. I hoped he acknowledged me as fearless and confident, and I couldn’t allow him to change his opinion about me. One hesitant glance at the papers could ruin my image, and I couldn’t let it happen.

“Are you out of your mind? You can’t be serious! Tell me you didn’t recruit her,” Jaehyun angrily stormed into Taeyong’s office, fed up with the leader’s decision. The girl left the club alive, and it’s not the outcome he anticipated. Jaehyun would break her neck if only Taeyong told him to. Letting her scot-free was a mistake, and it was crazy that Jaehyun was the only one to realize it.

“Calm down, Jaehyun,” Taeyong announced casually, making Jaehyun a bit confused. “I did give her an assignment, but don’t you worry about it. She’s gonna fail. She’s good, but not that good,” Taeyong added, and both of them smirked mischievously.

***

I’ve never been more anxious. My grip on the envelope was tight, my knuckles turning white, and I really had mixed feelings about opening it. Taeyong’s mischievous smirk couldn’t have been a good omen.

On the other hand, I couldn’t let the stress weaken me, so I did what any other person in my shoes would do – I went to the liquor store and bought the biggest bottle of gin they had. Regardless of what Taeyong had assigned me to do, it would be easier to digest when drunk.

Then I hailed the cab and dialed Doyoung’s number. He picked up after the fourth ring. “I’m coming over,” I quickly said, notifying him before my arrival. As my friend, he would help me if the alcohol was to fail.

“You’re alive, so I assume it didn’t go that bad,” Doyoung spoke when he opened the doors and let me in. Not bothering to greet him, I walked passed him and shoved the bottle of gin into his hands. “Are we celebrating?” He asked, kicking the doors shut, “please, tell me we’re celebrating.”

“I don’t know,” I answered, plopping into an old armchair, throwing the envelope on the coffee table. “We’re about to find out. Taeyong gave me another assignment, but pour me a drink first. I’m not sure I can handle it sober,” I explained, and Doyoung knew what to do. Within a minute, he was back with two Scooby-doo mugs and a bottle of tonic.

“It can’t be that bad,” he started as he sat down on the couch on the other side of the coffee table, pouring us drinks, which were basically 80% alcohol. “I mean… you’ve stolen his car; can it get any more challenging than that?” Doyoung asked, and I actually had to admit he was right. Taeyong’s the most dangerous crime lord in the country; as long as he didn’t make me steal Kim Jongun’s tank, I should be fine. However, on the second thought, I didn’t know Taeyong that well, so the guess might’ve not been that farfetched.

“I don’t want to open this envelope,” I confessed as I picked up the mug with Shaggy’s face and took a large gulp.

“Do you want me to do that for you?” Doyoung proposed, and I nodded. Perhaps if Doyoung read it out for me, it would’ve been easier to accept my fate. “Because you’re all stressed out, I’m all fidgety too,” Doyoung added before he grabbed the envelope, looking inside.

“What does it say?” I inquired in curiosity, hoping to hear some good news.

“It looks like you gotta steal a yellow Ferrari LaFerrari,” Doyoung started, as he pulled out a picture of my target. OK, it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, it was doable. “And it belongs to someone called Yuta,” he spoke, and I jumped to my feet and snatched the papers out of Doyoung’s hands in disbelief.

It must’ve been a sick joke.

“It can’t be,” I whispered, refusing to comprehend what Taeyong wanted of me. He was a complete psycho if he thought I could steal one of Yuta’s cars.

“Do you know this dude?” Doyoung inquired, reaching for his cup with Fred.

“Do I know this dude?” I deadpanned, trying not to burst out in tears. I was royally screwed. “It’s Nakamoto Yuta. He’s the royalty of Yakuza. He’s basically Taeyong’s biggest rival,” I explained, and it got Doyoung speechless.

“Well… it sucks,” he whispered, downing his drink, ignoring the burn. “What are you gonna do?”

“Good question,” I replied, coping Doyoung’s actions, drinking my gin to the very last drop. “Even if I manage to steal his car, how am I supposed to get it across the border? It’s a suicide mission.”

“Is there anything else in the envelope?” Doyoung asked, and I put all the papers on the coffee table. Among documents about Yuta’s bio, there was a check for 20 grand written under my name. “Mr. Bad Boy must’ve felt generous,” he commented, but I didn’t find it amusing. Mr. Bad Boy, as Doyoung eloquently put it, would kill me if I failed this mission.

“Generous or not, I’m gonna be dead if I don’t bring this car to him within a week,” I muttered, feeling helpless. I lacked ideas on how to conduct the theft successfully, and the time was slowly running out.

“You can do this,” Doyoung stated confidently, not even a sliver of hesitation in his tone. He was absolutely sure of my skills, and I wished I had as much faith in myself as he had in me. “We have no time to waste; pack everything you need, we’re going to Japan.”

“Do you have a plan, though?”

“We’ll come up with one on our way.”

***

Doyoung was right; we had no time to waste. God, in times like these, I was really thankful he was my friend. Right now, when I was a nervous wreck, he was the voice of reason. If it wasn’t for him, I’d get wasted and pass out in the poodle of my own vomit. Thanks to him, I was only slightly tipsy, but productive as fuck. We made a stop by my apartment and his car repair to get everything necessary, and then took a train to the harbor.

The first ferry to Japan was leaving the docks at 7 o’clock. The journey was about to last more or less 8 hours, it was plenty of time to finish the entire bottle of gin and come up with a foolproof plan on how to steal that Ferrari.

“How about you seduce Yuta, and he lets you borrow his car?” Doyoung voiced his seventh plan this morning, and in comparison to his previous ideas, it actually seemed doable. “It’s great in its simplicity,” he added, and I shook my head in disappointment. Even if I was his type, how was I supposed to bullshit my way into his pants without any Japanese skills?

“How about you seduce Yuta, and when he’s busy drilling your ass, I’ll sneak into his mansion and snatch the car?” I proposed, and Doyoung fake-gagged at the thought of doing this. Or maybe, he just has had one shot of gin too many. One could never be sure…

“How about you seduce Yuta and talk him into doing it in his car, and when you’re about to do it, I knock him out with a rock?”

“How about we go to Yuta’s club, and you challenge him in a singing duel, and you win the car fair and square?”

“How about we find Yuta’s doppelganger to steal his identity and pay him to steal the car for you?”

“How about we kidnap Yuta and keep him hostage until they give us the car?”

“How about we hypnotize Yuta into making him lend us his car?”

Truthfully, we struggled a lot while trying to figure out the best way to prove my worth to Taeyong. Stealing Yuta’s car wasn’t an easy assignment – some people would say it was impossible. Thankfully, we came up with one solution throughout our drunken brainstorm that wasn’t that bad…

We were so drunk that I couldn’t actually remember who came up with this idea. One second, Doyoung and I were brainstorming, then, a moment later, someone woke us up because we reached the shore.

“Come on, we have no time,” Doyoung said as he picked up his bag, urging me to pick up mine and get off the ferry. I rubbed my eyes and looked at him, wondering how, on Earth, he wasn’t hungover. “You’ve got only six days left…”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I answered, groaning.

I had an unpleasant feeling in my gut, telling me this week was going to be awful, but at least we had figured out a plan. It was far from perfection, but with proper execution, I could pull this through.

***

By sheer luck, I managed to accomplish my seemingly impossible mission. Though I didn’t fully believe in the plan, we didn’t make a single mistake, and after three days of data analyzing and one night of the actual heist, we were on our way back.

Hopefully, it was the only recruitment assignment that Taeyong wanted me to fulfill.

On Friday, one hour before the meet-up, Taeyong sent me the location.

In an hour, I’d become one of his people, and I wanted to look worthy of the new position. Wisely, I chose my best outfit, deciding to wear a pair of black leather trousers, a modest white button-down shirt, and fancy boots on a 10 centimeters heel. I looked formal, but with a fierce twist, and I gave off that cutthroat businesswoman vibe. I lived for this outfit. And to top it all, I carefully applied make-up, making sure to highlight all of my features.

I expected to meet with Taeyong in his extravagant mansion, yet he surprised and scared me at the same time with his decision. This gig cost me a lot of stress, and the last thing I wanted was to meet with the most dangerous thug in the country in a deserted meeting point in the city outskirts.

Trying to remain calm, I sighed to shake off all types of negative thoughts. Terrifying scenarios were playing in my head in which Taeyong shot me in the head and dumped my body somewhere in the woods. Taeyong was a dangerous gangster, but I believed he had the honor and would not kill me without any concrete reason.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same thing about his henchmen – this Jaehyun guy in particular. It was obvious the guy hated me and was pissed with Taeyong because of me. I didn’t fancy meeting with him, it would be best if Taeyong and I could talk alone.

Punctually, I arrived at the meeting point. Nonchalantly, I got out of the vehicle, shut the doors close, and leaned against the hood, waiting for Taeyong to appear. The night was warm, yet a little bit windy – it was perfect for the employment celebration.

Taeyong was running a bit late, but I didn’t mind. Besides, he was the most wanted thug in the country; he wasn’t running late – anyone he was meeting with was just too early.

So I waited.

Thankfully, I had plenty of time to psych myself up, so when I heard an engine roar in the distance, I didn’t panic. I was confident enough to face Taeyong and genuinely smile in response to his compliments. This theft was epic, and I expected to hear how impressed he was of me. It was the only reaction I hoped to get.

I was right, it had to be Taeyong. Who else could’ve been in the jet black Audi R8 Spyder registered under “WHIPLASH”?

Having parked right beside me, Taeyong got out of the car, carefully inspecting the Ferrari. His focused eyes were studying the vehicle’s features as if trying to tell it indeed belonged to Yuta. In the meantime, I studied Taeyong’s outfit.

Tonight, he was wearing all black: a pair of high combat shoes, black cargo pants, a see-through shirt, and a leather jacket. The outfit was on point, but when topped with his new haircut – tousled and of powder pink color, Taeyong looked like a model. I wouldn’t be surprised if I found out that modeling companies contact him every once in a while to recruit him.

“How did you do it?” Taeyong asked, his tone telling me he didn’t believe in my talent. Well… that hurt a little bit, but proving him wrong gave me a lot of pleasure at the same time.

“It wasn’t easy,” I started, not really wanting to spill the beans; especially, when the story wasn’t as impressive as he might’ve thought. “I really wanted this job, so I had to figure out a plan. You know how it is… you gotta discover your enemies’ weaknesses and use them to your advantage.”

“It doesn’t answer my question, doll,” Taeyong remarked, smirking at the nickname he once again used to refer to me. It must’ve really stuck with him. “I gotta be honest with you, I expected you to fail, but you actually did it. I’m impressed,” he added, and I smiled, swiping my hair to the back in a nonchalant manner.

“What can I say? I’m really good at what I do,” I replied, looking into his eyes, trying to remain in the confident pose. “Now, it would be a mistake not to hire me,” I trailed off, making Taeyong smirk again. He was gorgeous, but when that mischievous smirk decorated his face, he was just breath-taking.

With his hands in the pockets, Taeyong took a few nonchalant steps toward me and placed his hands on the hood of the car, leaning in, trapping me between his arms. His stern glace was trying to penetrate my mind, to read me, but I managed to remain calm.

I wanted to work for him, not to hop on his dick, and though the second option seemed rather tempting, I had my priorities set straight.

“From the moment I saw you, I knew you were special,” Taeyong whispered in a husky voice, and I looked up into his eyes, swallowing hard. He was indisputably intimidating, but I couldn’t let his charm overtake me. “You seem troublesome, but at the same time, awfully skilled.”

“You bet,” I answered, trying to ignore the fact that Taeyong just pushed his leg between my thighs, inching closer and closer with every second. “Is that how you treat all your employees?” I asked, trying not to lose my cool.

“They’re not employees, they’re family,” Taeyong clarified, and I rolled my eyes, actually expecting his kind of answer from him. “And that would be weird if I treated them this way, wouldn’t it?”

“They wouldn’t be your family, but your orgy if you ask me,” I spoke matter-of-factly, waiting for his reaction since I doubted anyone was this frank with him.

“Why do I have a feeling you’re gonna be a huge pain in the ass?” Taeyong asked, hopefully not expecting an answer. “Quite talented one,” he added, dropping his head down to my neck, placing a delicate peck against my sensitive skin.

“But hey, it’s what keeps everything fresh and exciting,” I offered, suggesting looking on the bright side of these circumstances. “So… speaking of my recruitment…” I mentioned, internally wishing for Taeyong to keep his hands to himself. I was trying to be professional, and it was incredibly difficult with the boss, basically making out with my neck.

“One more test and you’re officially a new addition to the family,” Taeyong said sternly, finally pulling out. “You said you race, I want to see you in action,” he added, and I bit my bottom lip due to stress. Seriously? Another test? He got to be kidding me. “Don’t worry; it’s a formality at this point.”

Honestly, his words didn’t cheer me up at all. I had stolen his car, and then I had been to Japan to steal his rival’s car. And now, he wanted me to pass another test. Come on!

“All you gotta do is to give me a lift back to my mansion,” Taeyong announced, somewhat excited to see my driving performance. “The route takes up to 20 minutes, so I’m gonna give you ten. It sounds fair, doesn’t it?”

“What about your car? I wouldn’t leave it here if I were you,” I remarked, trying to make out a logical answer. I wouldn’t leave my bike here, let alone a sports car, knowing how much crime was going on in this particular part of the city.

“Normally, I’d not, but you see… I caught a flat tire,” Taeyong explained, and I cocked my eyebrow, trying to see which tire was pierced. I didn’t notice any damage, but then, Taeyong pulled out his gun, shooting through the left back tire, making his point. “It was an exceptionally unfortunate accident,” he added, and I rolled my eyes at him.

He was a mad man.

“OK, fine, get in, loser,” I said, inviting him inside the car. Having sat comfortably and fastened our seatbelts, Taeyong put the location into the GPS. “Are you gonna time me?”

“Of course,” Taeyong answered, extending his arm, staring at his expensive wristwatch. “You have ten minutes, starting… now.”

Carefully, I chose one of my playlists before driving off.

It was a wild ride. I was driving twice as fast as the road signs were telling me to while singing my heart out to Backstreet Boys’ biggest hits “Everybody” and “I Want It That Way”. At this point, Taeyong was probably questioning whether it was safe to get in the car with me, or not. Though I encouraged him to join me in this carpool karaoke, yet he decided not to.

The navigation system was giving me weird directions, trying to lead me into congestion. Listening to my driver’s instinct, I sped through some self-discovered shortcuts. Judging my Taeyong’s expression, he had no idea what I was doing.

In the middle of “I Want It That Way”, I had to speed up even more. Each song is about four minutes long, so I still had about three minutes left to make it to the mansion, and though I seemed rather calm, I was out of my mind.

I’ve gone too far to lose right now. I couldn’t let this short race end up my flourishing career. I had stolen two cars within two weeks, and both vehicles belonged to the most dangerous men in their countries. I couldn’t lose now.

Breaking probably all traffic laws, I managed to reach Taeyong’s mansion before the boys got to finish the last chorus.

“You’re a triple threat, doll,” Taeyong said, and I wondered what the third admirable thing about me was. Undoubtedly, he was impressed with my theft and racing skills, yet I didn’t have a clue what was the third factor. “You’re officially one of us,” he added, and I smiled widely, ecstatic to finally hear his words of approval.

After so much testing, I finally proved my worth to him, and he took me under his wings.

Having pulled out his phone, Taeyong gave me a few instructions. “From this moment onward, Lucas is your direct superior, you gotta report everything back to him; I texted you the address. Be there first thing in the morning. Better be on time, Lucas doesn’t like it when people are late.”

“Thank you, Taeyong.”

“Don’t thank me, doll,” Taeyong replied, opening the doors, ready to exit the vehicle. “You have no idea what you’ve got yourself into.”

“I’ve got one more question…” I hollered, and Taeyong sat back in the passenger seat, waiting for my final inquiry. “What am I supposed to do with this car?” I asked, and Taeyong shrugged nonchalantly, suggesting it was not his problem.

“Get rid of it, obviously,” Taeyong answered, confirming my suspicions. “It belongs to Yuta, and the last thing I want is him realizing that I have it. Burn it down, dump it in the lake, I don’t care, just make sure it’s not gonna be found.”

“Great,” I whispered, losing enthusiasm with each voiced letter. It was problematic to bring it here, yet disposing of it was going to be even worse.

“Don’t lose your spirit, doll,” Taeyong added, leaning down towards me. With his right hand, he raised my chin and pressed a delicate peck against the skin of my cheek. “Good luck, make your daddy proud,” he whispered before exiting the car, shutting the doors close.

Though Taeyong was long gone, I was sitting in the vehicle, not leaving the driveway. What the hell just happened? Not only was he using this stupid nickname, but then he dropped that daddy bomb. I was not prepared for this.  

[gil-estel]

~✨gil-estel’s long-promised spn rec list✨~

the general criteria:

(all fic will fit at least one, many will fit most)

✓ long (10k+)

✓ published after 2017

✓ canon-verse

✓ plotty and/or casefic

✓ nuanced exploration of dean winchester’s bisexuality

the fics:

Bender by vipjuly (destiel, 13k, rated E)

In order to protect a sorority from a vampire, Dean allows Rowena to transform him into a girl so he can go undercover.

He's still Dean. Just in a female body.

This is surprisingly easy.

Build a Home by domesticadventures (destiel, 20k, rated T)

After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them.

He doesn’t.

Everything Comes Back to You by VioletHaze (destiel, 33k, rated E)

Dean knew better. Of course he did. But Cas seemed so charmed by the antique-filled bed and breakfast that Dean went along with it when the proprietor mistook them for a couple. Telling himself it gave them a strategic advantage to be so close to the crime scene, he agreed to the weekend special she offered them. When the case ended up being a bust, they stuck around anyhow because hey, the second night was free…

it never gets dark by vaudelin (destiel, 30k, rated E)

Normally Dean wouldn't get out of bed for a run-of-the-mill kidnapping, even without the hangover, but when Sam can't even write out the missing kid's name, he has to admit something's up.

Helping Sam, Patience, and Claire figure out who (or what) erased all traces of the kid is as good a distraction as any to get over Cas bailing from an abortive love confession. But when finding answers comes at a terrible physical price, the team is left with no choice but to call in any help they can get.

Like it or not, Dean and Cas have some uncomfortable truths to confront, and when worst comes to worst they'll discover what truly matters in the end.

Kelp! I Need Somebody by andimeanittosting (destiel, 27k, rated E)

It’s been a week since Michael was defeated and Dean freed, but Castiel can’t seem to get back on the horse. Dean, on the other hand appears to have bounced back completely, with one small exception: he no longer dares touch the now-human Cas at all.

When they receive a call from Jesse and Cesar to come investigate a series of mysterious drownings near their New Mexico ranch, Dean jumps on the job, much to Cas and Sam’s dismay. But more challenging than the kelpie they encounter, Jesse and Cesar’s relationship holds up a mirror, showing Dean and Cas the future they wish they could have. When Rowena and Charlie get involved, a shake-up is inevitable.

let me lay here so slow (i need never get old) by vaudelin (gen & bg destiel, 10k, rated G)

The day of Dean's fortieth birthday, told from Lebanon's point of view.

like moses and batman and james dean by saltyfeathers (destiel, 31k, rated E)

dean used to turn tricks. over a decade later, he met cas.

One Cold Night by xylodemon (destiel, 16k, rated E)

"Dean, are you all right?"

"Yeah. I'm just —" Dean shivers again. His teeth clack together. "Jesus Christ, it's cold."

So Goes the Song by aeli_kindara (dean/lee webb, 21k, rated E)

The first time Lee meets Dean Winchester, it’s courtesy of a chokehold.

Someone Who’s Feeling For Me by ellispark (destiel, 46k, rated M)

Dean sees her for the first time in nearly six years in some no-name town in Idaho, and it's panic at first sight.

Lisa Braeden, the one woman Dean ever actually had a shot at a real life with, back from where he buried her in his mind. And her hand is on Cas's arm like it's no big deal, like it belongs there. Cas, Dean's dorky, sweet, badass, angelic best friend, and he's just standing there next to Lisa and not moving her hand away.

Dean feels the jealousy rising, and it's not directed where he expected it to be. Because it takes this exact moment for Dean to realize he's in love with his best friend. He's in love with his best friend, and Lisa is looking at Cas like he's the best thing since automatic rifles, and Dean is utterly fucked.

Suck It, Judy Garland by midrashic (destiel, 20k, rated M)

It had to be St. Louis. Or, the one where Sam and Cas get fake married for a case, and Dean loses his mind.

Superheroes by aeli_kindara (dean/omc, 4k, rated T)

"I fuckin' hate group projects."

Dylan gives Dean a wary glance. He gets it — he’s not the biggest fan of these things himself. But when you’re a group of two, “I fuckin’ hate group projects” is awful close to “I fuckin’ hate working with you.”

In which a teenage Dean Winchester makes a friend and leaves something behind, and Sammy doesn't know when to shut up.

Talkin’ Bear Mountain Picnic by MittenWraith (destiel, 41k, rated E)

Strange things were happening in a small town in Northern Maine that had gained a reputation as the most honest town in the world in only a matter of weeks. Residents were going out of their way to confess their sins-- everything from jaywalking to murder, infidelity to true love. Sam, Dean and Cas all have their own reasons for wanting to stay far away from an honesty curse, but with Jack and his natural bluntness serving as their last line of defense, they decide to investigate. The last thing they need is another Veritas situation on their hands. The honest little town might be enjoying their newfound liberty to speak their minds, but the cause of this particular curse might prove to be Dean and Cas’s undoing.

The Thirty Six Questions That Lead to Love by aeli_kindara (destiel, 13k, rated M)

“So I need you to be my gay dads,” says Claire.

Though The Course May Change by imogenbynight (destiel, 51k, rated E)

After a couple who went missing several years ago from an Oregon couples retreat are mysteriously returned on the same night that another disappears, Dean and Charlie plan to go undercover to find the cause--until Dean's foot meets his mouth, and he finds himself fake-engaged to Castiel instead.

The Tunnel of Love by xylodemon (destiel, 21k, rated E)

"We might," Cas starts slowly, pausing like he's choosing his words. "We might have to kiss."  

Dean just stares at him.

You Start to Grow Wings by FagurFiskur (dean/omc & destiel, 11k, rated T)

Dean feels his face warm up, suddenly all too aware that he’s sitting right next to his very male friend. He can’t make himself look over, too nervous that he’ll catch Eli’s eye and make this whole experience even more excruciatingly awkward. He wants to leave, but he also doesn’t wanna call attention to how uncomfortable he is.

He’s known gay people exist of course, but he’s never seen them outside of Very Special Episodes on sitcoms. Never seen something so explicitly, in-your-face gay.

At seventeen, Dean falls for another man for the first time. Twenty years later they happen to meet again and things are somehow much more complicated.

[strawberrysoup]

Yes, Sheriff || Chapter 1

Sheriff Carol Danvers takes her job of protecting the citizens of her small town very seriously — there are just some that she cares about more than others. A lot more, in fact, and she will take care of her sweet baby girl whether she likes it or not. 

relationship: Carol Danvers/Reader rating: Explicit chapters: 1/? length: 5,413 warnings: Dark Carol Danvers, coercion, manipulation, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat  additional warnings: open the read more and CTRL + F, search “content warnings” to skip to detailed trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter. 

This is my entry for searchforanotherway’s Onyx Night Challenge! My plan is for this story to span several chapters, so it certainly won’t be finished by the deadline of January 11th but I wanted to try and write a fic longer than just a oneshot. That being said this chapter can stand alone and doesn’t have to be read in conjunction with other chapters for plot coherency or effect. Oh, also please keep in mind that I’ve never written a reader insert before, so go easy on me if anything seems off! 

Being the sheriff of a very small town and the rather empty surrounding county came with some very particular challenges Carol hadn’t necessarily expected when she signed on. Burgess was mostly concentrated in a small area where the main town was built, about three or four streets worth of businesses. Beyond that were what they jokingly referred to within the department as the Suburbs, mostly cute little farmhouses with plenty of space in between. Of course, the distance between plots hadn’t done them any good when the fire broke out about 6 years ago, before Carol signed on with the department, and had taken out 12 houses. 36 people had died, the fire was so hot and spread so fast through the 100 year old homes the volunteer fire department had barely been able to keep it from jumping the road. 

Y/N’s parents, her only family, had been 2 of the casualties. She would’ve been too, had she not been spending the night at a friends house on the other side of the Suburbs. From what Carol had been able to gather, the young woman had just graduated from getting her Masters degree in library sciences and had intended to only move back home for a little while before moving to the city permanently. The death of her parents had destroyed many of her plans, especially when she had to deal with so much fallout from the insurance companies and lawyers. Luckily her family had owned the land her house sat on, the money from the home insurance had come through and y/n inherited everything. She’d rebuilt the house, smaller but just as old fashioned in design, and taken a job as the town’s librarian, enabling the previous one to retire (the woman had been older, didn’t actually have the education necessary to be a librarian and was happy to step aside so sweet little y/n could have the position). 

Most of the town seemed to have a soft spot for y/n. When Carol first started, the entire population had been leery of her. She’d expected it, luckily, and wasn’t shocked by the reserved nature of the people she served. She was relatively shocked when they started accepting her presence, their topics of conversation ranging from now the town fair is very important around here so you need to handle it correctly—those townies will run amok if you’re not careful to do you think you could drive past the library this evening while y/n walks to her car? I get so worried when she’s out late like that with no one around. It was consistent that the townsfolk would find a way to wriggle y/n into conversation but they didn’t seem to know it was a collective issue; every person who asked her devote some extra attention to the young woman did so covertly, as if to prevent anyone from knowing. It was endearing and cute and Carol honestly didn’t have much to do most of the time so she didn’t mind the little side tasks. 

The small town and county police department was made up of 90% locals who were happy to respond to most calls. They mostly dealt with domestics and property violations, occasionally some sort of larceny or robbery or breaking and entering calls. Wilson and Barnes were trained paramedics and dealt with the medical calls, luckily, although when she rolled into town Carol had forced all of her deputies to get certified in multiple emergency life saving techniques. The nearest ambulance dispatch was an hour away and she was baffled the former Sheriff hadn’t enforced even basic CPR certifications. Rogers, one of her two deputies, handled most of the domestics with Carol as his back up if necessary (it was almost never necessary, even if Rogers didn’t have that disarming Good Ol’ Boy Charm he had biceps as wide as y/n’s thighs and could handle most things on his own). Rhodes, her second deputy, was good for dealing with bored teenagers who liked to play at crime, breaking and entering and minor burglary, along with trespassing. Property violations and agricultural issues were big in a town like Burgess too, but Odinson (another transplant like herself) had grown up in an even tinier town devoted to farming and could handle such problems in his sleep. Pietro, the youngest and greenest in the department, handled what she considered the beat; traffic and parking violations, jaywalking that caused endangerment, vandalism, etc. Most of what came down on Carol’s shoulders were the big issues—the small amount of drug situations they dealt with, any prostitution or assaults. The other officers said they liked her to be open for those sorts of calls, which left her driving around on patrol at least 50% of the time with nothing to do. 

It gave her more time to talk to locals than she expected, more time to subtly watch y/n than she could’ve ever anticipated. The more she watched her, the bigger Carol’s problem became; y/n was lovely and sweet and beautiful and Carol was finding that she had a crush on the young woman. Well, it might’ve started as a crush. Carol found herself very quickly falling down a rabbit hole of obsession and honestly wasn’t all that mad about it—the longer she watched, the more she realized how perfect y/n was, in general and for her. 

Carol had embraced her bisexuality at a young age, had dated men and women over the years but never really found anyone to her liking. She had an incredibly dominant personality, both in general and in the bedroom and finding someone willing to unconditionally follow direction was hard. Moving to a small town had seemed like a sexual death sentence in all honesty, until she came across y/n. She was so small and demure, averted her eyes and blushed constantly under Carol’s strong gaze and said yes Sheriff when prompted with the most precious drawl. Carol could look down her nose at the woman, could imagine the way she’d feel slotted right against her chest with her head tucked perfectly under her chin, knew that y/n was just short enough that she’d have to stand on her tiptoes when Carol put her thigh right between those pretty legs and made her work for her orgasm, those tiptoes slipping for purchase while her pussy ground hard into her thigh.

It had gotten harder and harder to ignore, the all too carnal desires she had for the young woman and she was relieved when she decided there was no reason to ignore them. There was no reason not to take y/n as her own— she’d take good care of her, in every way, and love her so deeply that she’d never dream of anything else, never want anyone else. Carol was meticulous and careful and manipulative, even if she pretended not to be. It wouldn’t be hard to get her right where she wanted her. 

The spark plugs in the glove box of her cruiser were a testament to that. It had been easily to quickly take them after the sun had gone down, Carol knew for a fact there weren’t security cameras anywhere nearby and there was no one around to see (usually the library was rather busy right up until close, but most of the population was at the high school football game a town over). Several of her officers were there too, Carol correctly assuming that it would be a slow night for calls. Peter Parker had offered to take the dispatch shift and run the receptionist desk so that the usual evening dispatcher, Wanda could attend the game too. 

Carol sat straighter in her seat as y/n emerged from the library, taking the time to carefully lock the doors—first the door that led straight to the her help desk and then the double doors that opened into the main library, the entrances separated by a wall between the doors and a small hallway that allowed y/n a little bit of privacy in her “office” unless someone needed extra assistance. The keys went into her purse, exchanged for her car keys with a generous pause that made Carol cringe slightly; she wished y/n would have her keys ready and out when she left the building, the long hesitation while she stood alone in the dark was ample opportunity for a mugging or abduction. She’d impress the importance of being prepared and quick once she had an opportunity that wouldn’t betray the fact she’d been watching her from afar. 

There was another uncomfortably long pause as she unlocked her car and climbed in, leaving the door open for an extended time while she settled and Carol was sure y/n didn’t lock the doors even once it was closed. It would evidently be a rather long conversation regarding safety. Carol smiled when the car didn’t start after several minutes and turned up her radio. Most of the townsfolk would call the non emergency line at the station when they had car troubles and Carol was nearly positive y/n would do the same. It took about five minutes give or take for her radio to crackle to life, Peter’s voice coming through. 

“Sheriff, Rhodey, are either of you near the library? Y/n just called in from the parking lot, she just finished closing up the building and can’t get her car to start." 

"I’m just across the street, actually— Coach Steveson asked me to make sure y/n got home alright since he figured nobody would be around because of the game,” it was true, Carol regularly got requests from different citizens asking her or the other officers to check in on people and y/n was one of the top requests, obviously, because everyone knew she was alone, “tell her to wait in her car, I’ll be over in just a second." 

"Will do, Sheriff!” There was a click and crackle on the radio and Carol smiled; Peter made an excellent receptionist but his dispatch skills could use some work and professionalism, not that she really minded the candor.

She cranked her car on and reached into the glovebox to retrieve the spark plugs she’d grabbed earlier, glancing at herself carefully in the rearview mirror. Her hair was pulled back to show off her undercut, the front in a twist away from her face with some strands having managed to escape over the course of the day. Y/n liked the undercut, evidenced by how flustered the poor thing got the first day she saw it (actually that was the day Carol realized y/n wasn’t straight, the poor thing had been so caught off guard she’d stuttered and blushed and had 100% rubbed her pretty thighs together under her skirt).

She quickly popped across the street, spark plugs tucked discreetly into her pants pocket and pulled up beside y/n’s car. The door opened immediately, much to Carol’s displeasure; she was sure Peter relayed the message that y/n was to stay in her car. The order was likely too ambiguous and Carol would be more careful in the future. 

“I’m so sorry to bother you Sheriff,” y/n started immediately as Carol exited her cruiser, “I hate to call but my car won’t start, I could pop the hood but I have no idea what I’m looking for." 

She looked embarrassed, hands twisting together at her waist and Carol had to carefully arrange her features to prevent her excitement from showing, her demure little baby was so cute, "that’s alright y/n, I always want you to call if you need help. How about you get back in and pop the hood for me, I’ll take a look." 

Y/n did so quickly before joining Carol at the front of the car, much to her amusement, "you go ahead and sit down, sweetheart, I might want you to try cranking the engine, okay? I’ll tell you when." 

The pet name was easy to pass under y/n’s radar, the endearments a regular part of the small town life. Even Carol got called sweetheart and honey on a regular basis, but it didn’t stop y/n from blushing darkly all the way down to her chest. Carol carefully kept her eyes from trailing down the neckline of y/n’s sensible tank top (it was hot as hell outside and paired with a long, flowy skirt Carol was sure anyone would think it professional enough for a small town librarian) despite the fact she desperately wanted to know if the redness spread all the way to her tits. The young woman did as directed, quickly hustling around to sit in the driver’s seat with the door open. 

It was easy to quickly reattach the spark plugs, just so that when the mechanic showed up in the morning they wouldn’t be suspiciously missing. She didn’t bother disconnecting anything else, instead staying ducked under the hood long enough to justify a good look around before standing straight and closing it. 

"There must be something going on below the surface honey, everything up here looks fine,” she stated, walking around to meet y/n as she stood up, “why don’t I give you a ride and I’ll call Tony out in the morning to take a look." 

There was a torn look on y/n’s face at the suggestion and Carol watched the gears turn in her head; leaving her car overnight in the lot wasn’t the problem, no one would tow it or anything, the problem would come in the morning when she needed to get back to the library to open. The blonde had already considered all of the options though and smiled sweetly when y/n hesitated. 

"I’m just about to get off for the night anyway, we could swing by your place and grab some of your clothes and you can stay the night at mine, I can drop you over here on my way in,” she offered, enjoying the flustered way that y/n shifted on her feet, “I guess I could just drive around to come pick you up at your place before I start my shift…" 

The sheer thought of inconveniencing the town Sheriff made y/n look like she might cry and she quickly shook her head, "no, no I can stay over tonight. I’d hate to make you go out of your way—no, thank you so much for the offer, it’s so kind thank you." 

Y/n wouldn’t look up from her feet but Carol didn’t push, couldn’t push quite yet. Instead she encouraged y/n to grab her purse and held the door of the passenger seat open while the smaller woman slipped inside. She’d call Tony in the morning, say she couldn’t find anything wrong with the car but would you please take a look for y/n’s peace of mind. The mechanic would surely be happy to help and would make up some excuse for why the car hadn’t started so y/n wouldn’t get embarrassed over not being able to properly start her car. 

The ride to y/n’s house only took about five minutes and she was quick to collect an overnight bag before running back out to the cruiser. Carol kept a very careful eye on her as she continued on to her own home, a good fifteen minutes further into the suburbs. She could tell y/n was confused, if Carol’s house was further than hers why couldn’t she stay at her own home overnight? It would’ve been on the Sheriff’s way into town, just a quick stop. But y/n was a good girl and never questioned those she considered superiors, instead just sitting in vague discomfort as they got farther and farther from her home. 

Carol lived on what was considered the very edge of town, as a new addition to the population it was hard to get a place closer, but she appreciated the the isolation. Y/n waited until Carol opened her car door to do the same, shuffling nervously along behind her up the steps. The house wasn’t as nice as the one y/n had built but it was quaint and old and smelled like all of the old houses that had survived the fire. 

"Here we go,” Carol unlocked the door and waived y/n inside with a pleasant smile, “I left dinner in a slow cooker this morning, give me just a minute to change and I’ll get it all together." 

"Oh, Sheriff, I couldn't—" 

"Of course you can sweetheart, I’d be insulted if you didn’t,” she joked with a smile, “you can put your stuff where ever, make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back." 

Carol could tell y/n had been expecting her to show her to a bedroom and pressed her lips together; y/n would be sleeping in her bed by the end of the night but the poor thing didn’t know that and wouldn’t know what to do if Carol instructed her to put her things in there. She changed quickly, into a pair of tight joggers and a slightly cropped workout top that showed her abs—she wanted to see what shade of red y/n’s skin would turn at the sight. Plus, she had aspirations of y/n riding the hard planes of her abdomen until she came and a short shirt would make that easier if she could make it happen, no matter how far fetched the hope. 

Y/n’s eyes immediately dropped to the exposed skin when Carol returned and the blonde wanted to coo her face turned so red, it was so cute, her baby was so precious. She carefully pretended not to notice the staring, crossing into the kitchen quickly and checking on the crock pot of spicy pulled pork. 

"I could put this over a salad for you or put it on a roll, which do you prefer?” She turned back just in time to see y/n’s eyes snap up from where they’d been locked on her ass and was unable to hide the that came over her features; teasing her at this point would be a mistake, but it was so hard not to, “come over here and I’ll make you a plate honey." 

Y/n shuffled over, red faced and very obviously embarrassed to have been caught checking out the ass of the local sheriff, "just-just a sandwich, please." 

Carol made sure to pull from the bottom of the pot, where the meat would be the spiciest for y/n’s sandwich before handing her the plate and grabbing a bag of chips to go with it from the pantry. Y/n dutifully went to go sit at the table, waiting patiently while Carol fixed herself both a sandwich and a salad. She didn’t bother to ask if y/n drank, pouring them both a large glass of the strongest red wine she currently had in the house (bought specifically for this occasion) and setting one down in front of y/n. 

"This is my favourite wine,” she stated, looking to subtly manipulate y/n’s coming actions, “it’s a bit expensive but I haven’t had such lovely company over in a minute, might as well share it." 

The wine was already poured, Carol’s favourite, and it was expensive; there was no way y/n would reject it now. The food was spicy, she’d likely drink the entire glass, and with her smaller stature would certainly not be entirely herself afterwards. And poor y/n played right into her hands, following the script Carol had written in her head to a T. She got flirtier as the meal progressed, as her wine disappeared, responding to Carol’s carefully probing words beautifully. The blonde was two seconds from stealing her off her chair to sit her right on her lap when y/n gave a little sigh. 

"I think I drank a little more than I meant to,” the words were punctuated by a little hiccup and Carol cooed in response, immediately standing when y/n pressed to her feet. 

She didn’t give the shorter woman time to move too far, carefully latching an arm around her waist and drawing her in close, her other hand catching y/n’s cheek gently to direct her gaze, “that’s okay, baby, I’ll take care of you." 

Y/n took just a second longer to process than it usually would’ve taken before her cheeks darkened, her lips parting in surprise, "O-oh, I—" 

Carol hushed her gently, her lips finding purchase against y/n’s jaw and running the length of her cheek to her ear, "you’re so shy for me baby girl, it’s so precious. I’ve always wondered if that blush goes all the way to your tits." 

The tank top came off easily, y/n squeaking in shock but not fast enough to prevent her bra from following. Carol’s hands grasped her hips and she walked the smaller woman backwards until she could lift her to sit on the counter, her lips pressed hungrily against y/n’s own. Her skirt lifted easily until the fabric bunched at her waist and Carol pressed herself firmly between y/n’s thighs, happy for the extra bit of height. She wished she’d put on a strap on after changing, she could’ve slipped right into y/n’s pussy so easily at this angle.

"Wait-wait, Carol—Sh-Sheriff!" 

"You’ll feel so good after this,” Carol’s lips trailed down her cheek, to her neck and down to her pretty tits, lapping at her nipple gently, “just let me…" 

Her lips engulfed one of y/n’s nipples and she gave a deep, languid suck while the young woman on the counter writhed. One hand kept purchase on y/n’s back, a careful but firm hold to prevent her from squirming away while the other trailed down to her panty covered pussy. She was wet, a spot beginning to form on the fabric and Carol grinned. Her teeth scraped over y/n’s nipple, drawing a sharp cry from her and quickly slipped her fingers up into her wet cunt while she was distracted. Although it didn’t take long for her baby to notice the intrusion, her legs shifting and her thighs attempting to close even as Carol stood between them.

"You’re so wet, baby girl,” she cooed darkly, watching y/n’s face coloured with humiliation, “you want this so bad, don’t you? You want me to make you cum? Huh? On my fingers or my tongue?" 

"N-no, wait,” her head spun as she reached down, grabbing Carol’s wrist in a weak attempt to keep her fingers from pumping into her cunt, “Carol, I don't—" 

"When we’re fucking you call me Sheriff or Sir, do you understand?” Her thumb gave a rough pass over y/n’s clit and she jumped, a short whine escaping her even as her eyes started to shine with tears, “tell me you understand, y/n." 

"Y-yes sir,” she hiccups slightly but was rewarded with Carol’s lips returning to her nipple, tongue laving over her sensitive bud forcefully enough that y/n tried to wiggle away. 

Carol immediately withdrew her hand from y/n’s pussy and slapped her cunt hard through the fabric of her panties, earning a yelp and the blonde was forced to hold her hip tightly in place with the other hand, “you don’t try to get away from me baby, not ever." 

It was easy to lift y/n over her shoulder, her baby screeching in shock as she was forced to hang upside down. The walk to her bedroom was quick and she tossed y/n onto the bed without hesitation, absently deciding to add more weight to her workouts— she liked manhandling her baby girl and some extra training might help it go smoother, especially if y/n decided to be naughty and needed a bit of extra restraining. 

Y/n was still dizzy from the ride, too shocked to attempt to slip off the bed and simply not coordinated enough to try anything clever. Carol caught the edge of her toy box with her toe and dragged it over to the edge of the bed for easy access, slipping onto the mattress and covering y/n’s small body with hers. She quickly returned her mouth to the perky tits beneath her, lips latching onto the under stimulated nipple and sucking hard. Y/n whined him response, chest rising with each hard tug in attempts to lessen the pressure.

"I’m glad your pussy’s so wet,” Carol murmured after releasing the abused nipple with a pop, hand reaching over the edge of the bed to dig one of her smaller strap ons out of the box, “I don’t know if I have any lube." 

She whipped her top off quickly after finding the one she wanted, followed by her pants. Forgoing underwear had been convenient and she quickly worked to attach the strap on around her waist. The moment y/n realized what was happening, her face scrunched and the tears came back with a vengeance. The no trying to run away rule was obviously immediately forgotten as she scrambled for purchase on the bed, her coordination nonexistent after the strong wine. Carol reached out and easily flipped her onto her stomach, subduing her flailing limbs with ease.

"What did I say about trying to get away from me baby?” Carol yanked the skirt down over her legs, catching the waistband of her panties in the same tug and shucked both articles across the room, “now I’ve gotta punish you before I fuck you, naughty girl." 

"N-No, no! Wha—" 

Carol slapped her hand down on y/n’s ass with enough force to make her shriek, the sound lighting the blonde’s pussy up like nobody’s business. She could feel her wetness dripping, the press of the strap on over her clit delicious. When she finished up the spanking, leaving her pretty ass red and raw and painful, Carol flipped y/n onto her back once more. The yelp she let out made the blonde smile, knowing that even the soft fabric of her sheets would feel like sandpaper at the moment. 

"Awe, don’t cry baby, shhh,” Carol stretched out above her, letting the cock of her strap on drag against y/n’s wet little cunt in the process and wiped the tears away from her cheeks, “shhh, be a good girl now. You’re gonna take my cock so well, won’t you baby girl?" 

"P-please, I don't—" 

"You don’t what, baby girl? You don’t wanna take my piece?” Carol’s hand immediately found her wet pussy, scooping a good amount of arousal onto her fingers before bringing it back up to smear the moisture across y/n’s lips and cheeks, “this greedy little cunt disagrees. It wants my cock bad baby and who am I to deny this pretty pussy anything." 

The head of the strapon nudged between y/n’s pussy lips, drawing a loud whine. Her knees drew up as Carol pressed deeper and deeper and the blonde was quick to spread her thighs wide, the muscles jumping as she pressed those pretty thighs flat to the mattress. When Carol finally bottomed out, y/n was whining and squirming, hands pressed against her taut abs. The movement chafed her raw ass against the sheets and the blonde knew the pain must’ve been a sharp burn.

"Is it a lot baby?” The blonde panted slightly, clit well stimulated by the strap on, “is that a lot for your little cunny? This is one of the small ones baby girl, you better get used to the stretch." 

Carol withdrew and thrust in deeply before y/n could speak, repeating the motion roughly several times before she fell into rhythm pounding away at her pussy. Y/n wailed, her ass dragging brutally over the sheets with each sharp thrust and igniting a truly awful burn. The squelch of her pussy was obscene though and Carol shivered at the sound—she was so wet it was dripping out of her pussy, sliding down her ass crack and soaking into the bedsheets. Her mind might not’ve been entirely on board but her cunt was 100% involved, ready, and excited for the pounding even as her burning ass was rubbed raw by the bedding and the constant, torturous movement. 

"God your pussys ruining my sheets baby,” she slapped at y/n’s clit several times in rapid succession, drawing a loud wail from her lips, “your cunts so excited to be fucked, so fucking wet its gushing. You’re gonna be a good girl and cum for me, aren’t you? Cum on my cock baby girl, cum on it!" 

Y/n wailed in response, her little body pulling tight for several seconds before she came so hard her eyes rolled back and she shook. Carol fucked her through it with force, only stopping when the desperation for her own orgasm set in. She pulled her cock from y/n’s gaping pussy and removed the strap, dropping it over the side of the bed as she moved up her baby girl’s body until her cunt was positioned over that little gasping mouth. 

"Mouth open, baby girl,” she ordered, hands digging into her hair to angle her chin up, “you’re gonna eat my pussy until I cum." 

A small noise escaped y/n, some cute little grunting whine as Carol flattened her cunt over her mouth and thrust her hips forward. The drag was lovely, y/n’s open mouth warm and wet against her sopping pussy lips. 

"Use your tongue,” she ordered with a small gasp, feeling her orgasm getting closer as her hand closed over the back of y/n’s head to keep her mouth pressed firmly against against her cunt, hips rolling swiftly back and forth as she chased her own end.

She moaned loudly when little kitten licks teased her lower lips, concentrating the movement of her hips to press her clit against y/n’s tongue. The drag was wonderful, a loud cry escaped her lips as she started to cum and she doubled her efforts, fucking y/n’s face brutally into the mattress until it abated. She let her weight rest suffocatingly over y/n’s mouth and nose for several seconds, lifting up just before she could start to panic. 

“God that was even better than I could’ve imagined, you’re so good for me baby girl,” Carol slipped down her prone form, kissing her soundly but gently and licking the cum and arousal from her shell shocked face, “fuck, I knew you’d be perfect." 

Y/n looked up at the blonde with big, wet eyes even as Carol continued to whisper praises against her lips. A hand had returned to her sopping pussy, Carol collecting her cum with taunting fingers before swiping the residual from her own messy cunt as well, bringing it up to y/n’s mouth. When her baby girl’s lips didn’t open she grabbed her jaw, squeezing with increasing pressure until her mouth opened and she was able to shovel the mix of their cum into her mouth. 

"Swallow it down baby girl,” Carol cooed, hand sealing over y/n’s nose and mouth tightly until her throat visibly worked several times to swallow the load, “so good, so precious sweet girl." 

The blonde’s eyes glanced to the bedside table and she sighed lightly, ignoring the huge wet spot on the bed beneath y/n and lying to her left on the mattress. She easily pulled the smaller woman on top of her, y/n’s little waist cushioned between her sticky thighs and her head rested perfectly between Carol’s breasts. She could see the bright red, chafed skin from her position and smiled darkly—y/n would feel it for days, everytime she sat would be a reminder. 

"It’s gotten late baby, we should go to sleep. We’ll wake up early and go to breakfast at the diner before I drop you off at work,” her hands worked gently up and down y/n’s back with soft, sleepy touches, brushing the top of her ass with careful fingers. 

“I—”

Carol hushed her before she could get a word in, “go to sleep baby, the alcohol in your system must be making you drowsy by now, especially after that kind of fucking. We’ll talk in the morning." 

content warnings: alcohol consumption, nonconsenual vaginal fingering, strap on insertion and fucking, ass and pussy spanking, cunnilingus and face riding (is that what that’s called? i’m honestly not sure how to tag that), suffocation, and cum eating. hmu if i’ve missed anything. 

[saphinc]

since written aesthetics are a big thing in appless rps now ( and i always struggle with coming up with things for them 😳 ) , here’s 150 general aesthetics for the rebel label !!

       (   tw for  drugs , alcohol , violence  )

leather jackets

graffiti

spray cans

cuss words

tattoos too young

piercings

cigarettes by no smoking signs

colored hair

cash only

laughter at night

jumping fences

lighting fires

speeding in a getaway car

evading cops

ignoring do not trespass signs

red solo cups

skateboards

anti captialism

flash cameras

punk rock

hood up

shameless flirtation

heavy eyeliner

canvas shoes

broken glass

peace signs

lazy grins

beanies

chains

chokers

middle fingers

inciting violence

bottles of beer

lying in the dark

bad ideas

texting at midnight

keying cars

spiking punch

writing on skin

pack of matches

bleeding knuckles

black ink

screaming at the sky

chaotic evil

straight edge

handcuffs

walk of shame

throwing punches

walking alone at 3am

police sirens

screaming matches with mom

bruised knuckles

burning pretty things

down with the government

sleeping in detention

skipping class

self-deprecating humor

motorcycle helmets

no muffler

red tinted

beer pong

never say sorry

numbing emotions

self sabotage

starting a riot

defending the defenseless

petty theft

sitting on the roof

sneaking out at night

smoke fogged car

backpack full of liquor

avril lavigne

rolling your own cigarettes

bad poetry

lace tights

jaywalking

lost of rings

close to tears

making out

fake ids

bumming smokes

home in the cemetary

lying through your teeth

judgmental glares

feeling unwanted

bloody nose

hiding in closets

yelling in a megaphone

toxic friends

signature hiding places

mixtapes

running away

starting fights

motel rooms

nose rings

uncontrollable anger

ironic emojis

crashing cars

poorly suppressed anger

not giving a damn

cuts on your cheek

scattered notebooks

lighting off flares

horror movies

friends with the devil

reckless behavior

night in a jail cell

being the bad guy

black coffee

breaking dishes

xeroxed licenses

fighting security

making your loved ones cry

explosive temper

society’s burden

immediate retaliation

always in trouble

endangering others

a bad reputation

vulgar threats

about to erupt always

tripping strangers

no patience

breaking expensive things

untamed hair

challenging glint in your eyes

unloaded gun

expelled from school

internal regret

a hissing tea kettle

bad karma

underthinking everything

worse than your demons

bad intentions

homemade blackjack

poisonous smiles

not letting anyone in

thriving on chaos

done with everything

trusting no one at all

punching walls

holding grudes

stealing cars

definitely going to hell

hopeless youth

resting bitch face

always high or drunk

smashing things with a bat

smoke rings

rock concerts

[linernotesandseasons]

My 20 Favorite Albums of 2020

MY 20 FAVORITE ALBUMS OF 2020

LISTEN HERE!

       2020 has been a long year. A year full of unrest, darkness, death, depression, & a global pandemic. In 2020 I turned to these songs & albums for comfort. I gained 20 new favorite works of music that I will hold onto for the rest of my life. I have been making this end of the year favorite albums list since 2012, so this is my ninth annual list! For this year, I talked about where, when, & why I fell in love with the following 20 albums. These are the albums that I used to mark Time & Space this year. These are the albums that I will return to and remember the chaos, calm, & comfort of 2020. I also made a 60 song Spotify playlist with a few songs from each album (two of the albums aren’t available on Spotify) that you can listen along with HERE! Ok, here they are, in no particular order, my 20 favorite albums of 2020!

ANGELICA GARCIA   /   Cha Cha Palace

       Angelica Garcia’s dynamic, groundbreaking sophomore album Cha Cha Palace was released on February 28, 2020 to a pre-COVID America. On that Friday I had dropped off my ballot for a local Colorado election and went to Larimer Lounge and saw Seratones play a sweaty rock show. I had no idea what was coming or what was about to change. Cha Cha Palace bookmarked my next couple weeks of waiting, and the CD lived in my car for quite a few essential-worker-commutes through a shut down, sheltered Denver into the Spring. Fittingly, Angelica Garcia’s bombastic, authentic energy is where we begin my list of my favorite albums of 2020.

       If you listen close to Cha Cha Palace, Garcia will tell you a lot about her roots. For starters, she duets with her mother Angelica Maria Garcia on the traditional, vocal swirl of “La Llorona” (”The Weeping Woman” from the 1940′s) and also her grandmother Filomena Garcia with a darker, more foreboding take on “La Enorme Distancia.” Roughly translated “The Enormous Distance” is a Mexican folk song originally by Jose Alfredo Jimenez, the king of Ranchera (Mexican Folk music) in Mexico in the 50′s & 60′s. Garcia proudly weaves her Mexican & Salvadorian roots into all the colorful corners of Cha Cha Palace, but it is on the standout, song of the year contender “It Don’t Hinder Me” where she truly gives you a glimpse into her youth growing up in East LA & then Richmond, VA (Richmond’s Spacebomb Records released Cha Cha Palace!) Over one of the crunchiest, wailing-est electric guitars you’ll find on this list, Garcia lets her vocals flutter & soar as she sings about being a kid; peeling mangos in the kitchen, being yelled at to make your bed, dogs in the street, jaywalking to the corner store with your cousins, peering through a chain-link fence, a backyard party playing “Suavamente,” feeling left out, alone, or alienated. Garcia stands up for the kids in America who look & feel like her, like they don’t belong. With her lyrics and her voice (seriously listen to this album, she can really sing) shutting down haters at every turn “But what they say now - It don’t hinder me! It don’t hurt!” Elsewhere, Garcia uses that powerful, elastic voice to drive the bouncy, laugh out loud funny “Karma the Knife,” the looped, rhythmic “Agua De Rosa,” and personal favorite (another song of the year contender!) “Lucifer Waiting.” Riding a thumping synth line, twinkling keys, a great low-end bass, and her own yells & yelps; Garcia lets her enunciation take the song places. The way she draws out the “Luuuuucifer” and the way she stacks up “waiting in the cooorrrrnnneerrrr.” Cha Cha Palace is a masterpiece and Garcia’s vocals & rhythms will take you on a journey through Mexico, Salvador, & Virginia, before ending up right back in east LA where, as Garcia would put it “In American identity, there is no one face.”

       “Born of the bones from under east LA / Cultura Chicana is alive today / I want some freedom with my pan dulce / Been wearing my roots & flying this flag / I see you but you don’t see me / Jicama! Jicama! Guava tree / I’ve been trying to tell you but you just don’t see / Like you I was born in this country...”

ANJIMILE   /   Giver Taker

       I was late to the party on Anjimile, but Giver Taker has been a comforting companion during the last few tumultuous months of 2020 here in Denver. Part of the allure of Anjimile (full name Anjimile Chithambo, but they release music as simply Anjimile-emphasis on the “Jim” please) is that these songs have been growing and being rebuilt & remade for quite some time, much like the maker themselves. Billed as a debut album (out on Father Daughter Records-I went ahead and hit for the cycle, that’s what I call buying the vinyl, CD, AND cassette!) many of the songs on Giver Taker have been around for years, solo versions & demos Anjimile recorded by themselves, found here fleshed out with gorgeous, layered production & instrumentation. Chorally trained, Anjimile’s distinctive voice drives these songs, at times stately & elegant (like in the measured “1978″ and the blooming “Your Tree”), but with the capability to be sultry & charming like on the bouncy, effervescent “Baby No More.” The instruments on Giver Taker are lovely; horns, strings, reeds, banjo, congas, all played by a full cast of collaborators. Much like Angelica Garcia wearing her roots on her own 2020 album (see above!), Anjimile’s roots are found all over Giver Taker. The gorgeous album cover painting has a background of sugarcane plants, native to Malawi (where Anjimile’s family is from) and behind that, the river from “The Lion King” (one of Anjimile’s favorite films!) “Maker” deals with Anjimile’s spirituality, and the idea that, as they put it... 

"The realization that just as I could build my own sense of spirituality & build my own faith and relate to a God of my understanding, I could do the same thing with my gender and my sexuality. And that's what I did.” 

       In “Ndimakukonda” Anjimile sings in their parent’s native Chichewa, and powerful closer “To Meet You There” sticks with you long after the album ends. From a gorgeous finger-picked opening, the stage is set.  A hurricane off the coast of Florida, a queer, trans kid searching from Texas to Florida to Boston for the truth. Simple words about the end, or maybe the beginning. Then the song swells with drums & strings & horns and transports you away from any of those states, dancing through clouds & waterfalls, maybe with Zazu & Simba & Nala. Voices swell, singing along with Anjimile, lifting up praise “I celebrate your celebration! I revel in your revelation! I holler in your hallelujah! In plain view your azaleas grew!” an inspiring ending to a truly inspirational & exciting album. 

       “After death, after life / I was up half the night / Hurricane never came / Not for me, not again...:

AMERICAN AQUARIUM   /   Lamentations

       There is a point about two minutes and 46 seconds into American Aquarium’s dramatic, title track opener “Me & Mine (Lamentations)” that makes me feel something every time I hear it. The song starts simply enough. A finger picked acoustic guitar (maybe it’s his trademark 1968 cherry red Gibson J45?!) and BJ Barham’s trademark North Carolina drawl singing about blue collar hard luck. The farmers, the coal miners, his grandfather, the hard work, but also the Darkness on the Edge of Town, “unpaid bills, broken homes, & opioid addiction.” The true story of the disenfranchised American South. Another sad one from the king of sad songs. But then... He pivots. The same pivot Barham used to change his life from alcoholic, road-worn, burnout, to his current credo of hard work & effort. A glimmer of hope as he growls “You see me & mine we ain’t the kind to sit around, idle & complain!” With that, a minor note rings out and the song plunges headlong into a true anthem. This isn’t your typical folk/country/pop/flannel/americana whatever bullshit. American Aquarium will punch you in the face with songs about the value of hard work and standing up for what you believe in. The last three minutes of “Me & Mine” explode into fuzzed out electric guitar, signifying that Lamentations (their eighth studio album!) is deeper and more meaningful than anything American Aquarium has done before. Songs about fighting to change your bad habits & addictions. Songs about challenging your parents religion and calling out (and maybe internet shaming!) your racist uncle. From the southern Petty-ness of sing-alongs “Before the Dogwood Blooms” and “Starts With You” (one of the songs I sang the loudest to in my car this year) to the expected sad ones, and even a special, dark one named after North Carolina tobacco (”Brightleaf & Burley”) about the socioeconomic impact of the illegalization of marijuana in the South! Throughout Lamentations rings with American influences, but challenges current American values. 

       This is not a band that I would’ve picked as one of my favorite current bands. It makes sense actually, looking back. I grew up on country radio in western slope Rifle, Colorado. KMTS played Garth, Tim McGraw, Travis Tritt, Toby, Kenny, Dierks, and all my high school friends were gun-shooting, camping, fishing good ol’ boys. Later in college, I fell again for Jason Aldean, Luke Bryan, FGL, etc cuz it was “country.” I always knew that Petty, Springsteen, Fleetwood, & Neil Young were technically better, but it’s hard to deny a good pop-country sing along chorus when you’re four beers deep and riding windows-down on a dirt road. Hell, even Phoebe Bridgers (keep reading-if you didn’t think Punisher would make this list you’re crazy!) sings about singing along to some “America first rap-country song.” (Spoiler alert, she’s talking about how modern country isn’t actually country, and not Lil Nas X. “Old Town Road” rules and i know 100% that Phoebe & BJ & Darius Rucker would agree!). Anyway, back to the American Aquarium mythology. I saw them on a whim, drunk & newly single at the Marquis Theater (holy goddamn do I miss the Marquis and LIVE MUSIC!) back in late Summer 2015. I ordered a Tecate tall boy at the bar (the 24oz kind) and worked my way into a diehard crowd drinking & singing along. Wolves was brand new and BJ opened with “Man I’m Supposed To Be.” I hadn’t been to many small shows like that at that time (been to a couple hundred since!) and I loved how people sang & danced & drank & ACTUALLY SANG! When the Burn. Flicker. Die. songs hit, I was hooked. Over the last five years I’ve had a blast at every AA show and I’ve come to appreciate the value of live, original, independent, rock & roll! I appreciate how BJ encourages us to work hard, get lucky, and GET BETTER! When the time comes (maybe not till we’re all vaccinated and it’s 2022 or whatever) I can’t wait to hear these songs the way American Aquarium intended. I’m going to walk into a dark, sweaty rock&roll club, I’ll order a Mexican beer and a shot of American whiskey, crowd in with people, and I’m gonna sing along to "The Luckier You Get” so fucking loud. 

       “I was born in the shade of a longleaf pine / The proud southern son of Caroline / Proud of who I am & where I’m from / But I ain’t so proud of how far we’ve come... / Down here we’re still fighting for all the wrong reasons / Old men still defend these monuments to treason / To the right side of history, we’re always late / Still arguing the difference between heritage & hate / The only dream that ain’t worth having / Is the one you won’t chase down / They say sing your songs, boy & shut your mouth / But I believe in a better South...”

AMERICAN TRAPPIST   /   The Gate

       There are two specific moments on The Gate that I especially love. If you’ve followed my yearly favorites list at all, you know that Joe Michelini (who fronts American Trappist & fronted River City Extension) is one of my favorite living songwriters. But after the relative lightheartedness of 2018′s Tentanda Via, 2016′s self-titled, & 2012′s Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Your Anger (miss you River City!) The Gate is a goddamn dark, noisy masterpiece. The guitars are heavier, multiple songs contain 1-3 minute instrumental intros before the vocals enter, and frontman Michelini cuts loose with loud whoops (exclamations? yells? excited moments of pure joy/energy/anger release?!) that are captured perfectly just as the songs hit their respective peaks. The first moment is found on track three, as the laid-back guitar of the backwards-looking “Moses (Revisited)” starts to really pick up. At four-&-a-half minutes, another guitar enters and Michelini starts to quicken his pace. “Have you got something to say?” he asks more urgently, then as the guitars start to really wail “Ask me how I felt, living like I was. My future on the run...” Then he hollers and the guitar explodes into a monstrous solo. Most of the album is contained between that whoop and the next whoop not encountered till track 10. In between, “...Rides Again” recalls River City Extension’s under-appreciated farewell album Deliverance with it’s more uplifting, wandering guitar, and the title track uses a mix of whispery vocals, repetitive falsetto, and an ungodly low baritone to create a vampire-y “Unfresh Dirtwolf” vibe. “Active Recovery” rides a straight forward rock & roll riff and near-spoken-word delivery into a delightfully fuzzy guitar solo. Finally we’ve reached my personal favorite, get on the big train and take a ride with “The Real Thing.” If you’ve paid attention at all, this is a classic American Trappist tune. A repeating, echoing riff, a steady drive, and then three minutes in, the song just jumps the tracks and grows wings. The kind of song that makes me want to be back at live shows. The kind of song that makes me want to be drinking cheap beer at Larimer Lounge, hugging the east wall, sweat & noise & rock & roll, “what if love was nothing like the real thing?...” and then Michelini bookends the “Moses...” whoop with another one, setting it free. The music so energized & electric that I whoop along without realizing it. I wrote a little more about my special connection with The Gate this year (besides for those whoop-alongs!) a Retrospective Anthology Mix I made for myself and The Mix I traded (along with a pair of brand new red shoelaces!) for an advanced copy of The Gate way back in April! Thanks American Trappist! As long as you keep making em, I’ll keep putting em my end of the year favorites list. The Gate is special.

       “I’m decomposing, underreacting / I do the right thing but nothing happens / It is within me / It is within me to love somebody...”

BARTEES STRANGE   /   Live Forever

       The songs on Bartees Strange’s debut album Live Forever carry an instant sense of Nostalgia & familiarity. Maybe it’s the mix of influences that I love (Bon Iver, Fall Out Boy, mid 2000′s emo, pop-rock, & hip-hop etc...!) maybe it’s the way Bartees manages to make those “old” influences sound new, fresh, exciting, and completely at home with his voice & production. Whatever the reason, every time I hit play on Live Forever (usually in the kitchen, beer-in-hand), it feels like an old friend. It feels like I’ve known these songs for the last five years, like they’ve always existed. The way his voice twists around & around, up & down in “Jealousy,” the way the Aaron Dessner-esque guitars & synths stab in on “Mustang” (a nod to Bartees’ hometown of Mustang, OK), and the way “Boomer” wastes absolutely no time with it’s “Aye bruh aye bruh aye bruh” intro. Pure, comforting, exciting magic. 

       Bartees Leon Cox Jr. came up in a band as Bartees & The Strange Fruit. A nod to Nina Simone, a National covers EP (!), and a supercharged debut full length later, here we are in 2020 with Bartees showing up on a ton of end of the year lists. Bartees hails from Washington DC (by way of Mustang, Oklahoma) originally from England, son of an opera singer, lover of music. I am so thankful this album exists in this time and I (and a ton of other music fans get to enjoy it!) Bartees had made his technical debut (a The National covers album!) as a black kids’ response to not seeing enough people of color in the audience at National shows. When it comes to blending his influences, he talks about hip-hop saying “I love how rappers rap about dreams – money & cars & pretty girls & big houses & buying their mom a yacht. Expansive, out of this world, unbelievable shit, & sometimes they get it. It's like this very big Christian principle of like speaking things into existence in a way. When I look at rock music, it's like, ‘I'm sad.’ I'm like, ‘Yo, let's bring a hip-hop ethos to it.’ Like, I want to write rock songs about, like, ‘I want to be the biggest artist in the world.’” Big dreams Bartees, big dreams. I love Live Forever and I can’t wait to see what’s next!

       “To have a life you love but know you’re undeserving / Last night I got so fucked up, near lost my job / It’s nice to think that folks are near, waking up was hard this year...”

DUA LIPA   /   Future Nostalgia

        It seems like every year when I start creating this list, there is one big radio album that I listened to and loved so much, that it’s impossible not to include. Last year it was Lizzo, 2018 had Janelle Monae, & 2017 Kendrick Lamar. This year that big, undeniable pop radio album is Dua Lipa’s Future Nostalgia. With nods to a wide swath of club genres, as well as pop, disco, & funk, 25 year old Dua Lipa sounds confident and full of swagger on her sophomore album. She’s already released a DJ mix alternate version of the entire album! It’s sometimes hard for me to describe why I love certain pop songs, but Future Nostalgia feels so easy.  Smooth synths & keys, elastic, rubbery basslines, a mix of Nostalgic (and maybe futuristic?!) influences, and Dua’s energetic vocals driving everyone to the dance floor. She channels Prince & The Beegees, mixing 70′s disco & 80′s funk, everything danceable, fluid, & modern. My favorite lyrical moments on the album are when she lets her feminism show through, like on the opening title track “No matter what you do I’m gonna get it without you. I know you ain’t used to a female alpha” and on the dark, catchy closer “Boys Will Be Boys” that talks about rape culture, mansplaining, & slut-shaming. But my personal favorite memories of Future Nostalgia come from taking it along on a few camping trips in the Colorado mountains. Criss-crossing the Continental Divide with the windows down, sunlight streaming through, belting out “If you don’t wanna see me, dancing with somebody!” to high alpine lakes & pine trees. 

       “Did a full 180, crazy / Thinking ‘bout the way I was / Did the heartache change me? Maybe / But look at where I ended up / I’m all good already / So moved on it’s scary / I’m not where you left me at all, so...”

EZRA FURMAN   /   To Them We’ll Always Be Freaks

LISTEN/BUY ON BANDCAMP       

       Ezra Furman is one of the most important, lifelong favorite artists that I discovered in 2020, and even though To Them We’ll Always Be Freaks isn’t exactly a proper new album (cannot fucking wait for the next one Ezra!) it only felt right to include this collection of demos and behind the scenes material from 2016′s unbelievable Transangelic Exodus on my 2020 list. The basic story is this, Ezra Furman makes a lot of music/records, solo or with a lot of musicians. The Harpoons, The Visions, by herself. They recall a lot of things; punk, soul, doo-wop, plain old American Rock & Roll, being yourself, being whoever you want to be, being alone, all the things that matter. For Transangelic Exodus she wanted to do something different, to abandon her instincts. To “get weird.” To make “A record of maximal impact, maximal originality & excitement.” If you haven’t heard Transangelic Exodus, it is all of those things and more. I recommend you wait till a cold night in your kitchen, pour yourself a stiff drink, & listen to it front-to-back... LOUD. I missed it in 2016 (& for a few years after) but I was lucky enough to hear Ezra in time to catch her at the Bluebird last year and it was one of the best live performance I’ve ever seen. Also, Bandcamp exclusives are what fueled my Friday mornings through Covid times, giving money to artists & causes that I love. Ezra has done SO MUCH since 2016 (last year’s Twelve Nudes is a pysch-punk masterpiece!) and To Them We’ll Always Be Freaks (aka Making Ourselves Up in the Rearview Mirror) (aka “Wing That Shit”) borrows its name from the absolutely transcendental, broadway-esque “Suck the Blood from My Wound” which was the opening track on Transangelic Exodus. It is a collection of “demos, rehearsals, & shots in the dark” from an important record that means a lot to a lot of people. Rather than diving into the fun differences of all these demo versions, I wanted to quote myself from February, the feelings that I had immediately after seeing Ezra that night, totally present at the Bluebird...

       I was able to be present for an hour and a half. To let go, to suspend, to kick against things and break down barriers that I have built myself in my own mind. It is so important to do that for ourselves and everyone has to work to find their own different methods of getting there. Some people never do, but it is still important for us to encourage & push them. A needling supportive jab of growth. For me, it has always been music. Most viscerally rock & roll (Ezra’s electric guitar playing stirs a power in my body & brain that I can’t put into words… like it could make me fly. Like Peregrine Falcon fucking fly. Or deadsprint all the way to San Francisco) but always all kinds of music. The power to broaden my horizons. To teach me things. To understand someone else. To see the world (politics, religion, sexuality, the true self, humankind) through new eyes. “Skin on my fingers peeling, making way for my new form.” To hear someone say who they are (who they really are) and to believe them. I want that for myself. To know who I really am. To feel beyond a shadow of a doubt, what I should do and who I should be. And to believe me. I am inspired by Ezra and hundreds of others, to push forward through doubt. To find myself even in the darkest shadows of doubt. To scream at doubt and befriend it. To wrap it up in the backseat of a red Camaro and keep driving. Last night I glimpsed something like Utopia. As Ezra says about her Jewish practice of Shabbat (google it!) “It’s like touching Utopia, weekly. It reminds us of what we want the world to be like” And it was like touching utopia. Like a breath of Spring breeze. Like change. Keep digging. All the way down. Till you’re standing upside down in an alternative world. It’s beautiful there, magic is possible. I know because… because well… Ezra told me.”

       “For the immigrant / For the refugee / For the closeted / For the out / For the vulnerable / For the homeless / For the searching / This record is an exercise in empathy / A ripening of nightmares & a sudden blooming of spirit / It’s a protest record / Dreamed in dark corners of the heart of a queer grandchild of Holocaust survivors / & what if you had to leave your home because the government was after you? / May our vulnerability & difference be a window into the lives of those who are deeply threatened by institutional callousness &  hatred / And may this spur us to great courage & kindness / ‘Do not oppress a foreigner: you know the feelings of the foreigner for you were foreigners in the land of Egypt’ Exodus 23:9...”

FIONA APPLE   /   Fetch The Bolt Cutters

       If you love end of the year lists as much as I do, then you’ve probably read enough about Fetch The Bolt Cutters already. In fact, a few of the albums on this list (spoiler alert, Phoebe & Sault coming! Keep reading!) were so good, so immediate, that my entire social media feed was filled with seemingly nothing else for days stretching into weeks. Fiona Apple coming out of hiding to release her first album in eight (?!) years was one of those moments. Thinkpieces, interviews, and then the inevitable, deserved flood of end of the year lists. As someone who missed most of Fiona in the 90′s and 2000′s, Fetch The Bolt Cutters felt like a revelation. Like finding a brand new, fresh faced artist, fully formed, rebellious, and 100% herself. Turns out Fiona has been doing this shit since I was 10 years old! With an aggressive, current-world-situation-necessitated title lifted from Gillian Anderson’s detective in “The Fall” (she’s trying to save a locked up woman from a serial killer) Fetch The Bolt Cutters is as determined & relentless as it sounds. Pianos twinkle & spiral, drums pound & knock, Dogs bark (one of them is her pit-bull-boxer mix Mercy), pots & pans bang, bells ring, and Fiona herself uses her voice as one of the most versatile instruments, shrieking & whispering, hissing & howling, defiant & absolutely riveting. In fact, almost everything about the music that Fiona Apple makes is head turning and Fetch The Bolt Cutters reminds me of so many things that made me fall in love with music in the first place. It feels free & it makes me feel free. She defied her record label who wanted her to follow a normal album rollout for an October release, and released it in April instead because she felt like it was needed at the time. She recorded most of the album at her house, on garageband and her iPhone. The songs are angry, defeated, cathartic, triumphant, & sometimes laugh-out-loud funny. Her writing is honest & heartfelt, working through trauma for herself from as far back as middle school. Fiona refers to her brain-stuff-writing as balls of yarn saying...

“You’ve got these stories you’re not telling anybody. Each one of those stories is like this little ball of yarn. If you don’t express them, they end up getting tangled together inside. Then it’s really hard to sort through them. I got some balls of yarn out in this album and wove them into something I can actually work with...” 

       Through it all, Apple’s vocals, lyrics, & rhythms are so fresh, so innovative, so exciting, that I feel like I’ve discovered a brand new artist. Thanks Fiona for unraveling that yarn for the last 25 years!

       “Hurricane Gloria in excelsis deo / That’s my bird in my tree / My dog & my man & my music is my holy trinity / Tony told me he’d describe me as ‘pissed off, funny, & warm’ / Sebastian said I’m ‘a good man in a storm’ / Back then I didn’t know what potential meant / & Shemeika wasn’t gentle & she wasn’t my friend / But she got through to me & I’ll never see her again / I’m pissed off, funny, & warm / I’m a good man in a storm / & when the fall is torrential I’ll recall / Shameika said I had potential...” 

JOY OLADOKUN   /   in defense of my own happiness (vol. 1)

       Joy Oladokun grew up going to church religiously in small town Arizona. Inspired to play guitar by seeing Tracy Chapman on VHS, she wrote her first song about Aragorn from “Lord of The Rings”. There are parts of Joy’s music, truths in the deep, deep melodies & lyrics that I will never understand. She is a Queer, Black woman born to Nigerian parents, dealing with (and singing about) life challenges that I will never know. But then, there is also a magic & familiarity that I feel in Joy’s songs, because we have connections that only we can have. Connections that come from thinking about the same things from our formative years. The way she writes about growing up in the church, the way she challenges the church, the way she pushes her family & friends still in the church to be better. Musically, in defense of my own happiness (vol. 1) (all lowercase please!) sounds like Joy’s own map of America. Folky, woodsy Arizona, some LA soul & production, and big Nashville choruses, like contemporary radio. But the writing found in these songs is different & essential. Effortlessly cool lead single “Smoke” opens the album with the line “yesterday I left my joint sitting on the counter...” Oh yeah, she loves to get high! (sorry church, I’m 100% sure Jesus doesn’t care about marijuana!) Riding an undeniably catchy chorus, and drums & keys that carry the song down a blacktop road, this one got a TON of play this Summer when we in Colorado were trapped in wildfire smoke and I made my littlest sister this Smoke & Fire Mix. After “Smoke” she tackles identity & religion on the Mat Kearney-esque (look him up!) Nashville folk-pop of “Sunday” & “Bad Blood” saying,

"The biggest privilege of being a songwriter is being able to write the type of song that I needed to hear when I was younger, 'Sunday' is the song that 12-year-old Joy, seated in the back of church youth group, needed to hear. She needed to hear that you can be queer & happy. Queer & healthy. Queer & holy. She needed to see married women kissing & playing with their kids." 

       It’s inspiring that Joy chooses to use the word privilege in that quote instead of responsibility. The privilege of being a songwriter is the impact you can have on others. Joy has been outspoken about social justice, both inside & outside the church, and has continued to release singles challenging the racism running rampant in America. Her heartbreaking “Who Do I Turn To?” deals with the fear that comes with simply being black in America. “Mercy” features a verse from rapper Tim Gent and touches on the current pandemic (and the off-the-deep-end religious turn Kanye has taken). Finally the album closes with the gorgeous, finger-picked, I-wanna-do-better ballad “Too High” (oh yeah, when she gets high she gets... too high!) and “Younger Days.” A peaceful, soul-inflected closer, with Joy’s vocals swelling & wandering through her life & memories to the conclusion “Who I was would be proud to see the person I became...”

       “Sometimes I get jealous of jesus for falling asleep in the middle of the storm / Sometimes you gotta feel like drowning to be reborn / Oh I haven’t slept in three days / I know I’ve gotta find my way / Through all of this smoke...”

THE KILLERS   /   Imploding The Mirage

       I knew Imploding The Mirage would be on my 2020 Favorites list months before it was actually released. It reminded of when Josh Ritter released some super important singles during the Summer/Fall 2015 (a very transformational time for me). Similarly the singles from Imploding The Mirage (The Killers sixth studio album!) came right on time earlier this Spring & Summer. Mirage’s first single was the classic Killers get-out-of-town anthem “Caution” and it arrived on March 12, early on in the pandemic and under stay-at-home orders. “Caution” introduced me to “the featherweight queen” and found me many nights dancing in the kitchen, the volume turned up on Lindsay Buckingham’s wailing outro guitar solo. “Caution” was my number one most streamed song on Spotify in 2020. After that came “Fire In Bone.” A groovier track, released in April with gorgeous peacock single art (the only art from the album that isn’t painted by the wonderful Thomas Blackshear) and fallen for in June, dancing with my brothers & sisters at the lake, one of the first times we had hung out during quarantine. One of my goals with this year’s list is to remember the exact moments when I fell in love with a song or album, and that moment for Imploding The Mirage was playing “Fire In Bone,” right here...

       Shortly after that, opening track “My Own Soul’s Warning” had me dancing in the shower and the lovesick, ultimate Flowers jam “Dying Breed” had me rolling down my windows and belting along till August when Imploding The Mirage finally got it’s official release. I have non-guilty-pleasure-loved The Killers since Hot Fuss (and accidentally downloaded a virus on my best friends desktop computer trying to download a "Mr Brightside” acoustic version off of some weird site on dial-up internet in Silt, Colorado in the mid-2000s!) and it’s exciting to know that Flowers & Co. can still do something that sounds phenomenal (thanks Shawn Everett!) in 2020. Oh and... word on the street is that they got a follow up coming in early 2021 so yeah... The Killers killin’ it. 

       “Cause it’s some kind of sin / To live your whole life / On a might’ve been / I’m ready now / I’m throwing caution / What’s it gonna be? / Tonight the winds of change are blowing wild & free...”

MIPSO   /   Mipso

       After years of encouragement, and with gentle but insistent nudges from my partner’s father; Chapel Hill, North Carolina’s Mipso finally made it on my end of the year Favorites list with their sixth full length album! I had seen them way back in 2016 at the Lost Lake Lounge here in Denver (probably on his recommendation), they were touring on their first few albums, still more bluegrass-y, but I loved them and I loved their “Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes” cover. Since then, Lila’s dad would send us their music, send us stickers through the good ol’ USPS, and Mipso kept honing their craft. Smoothing out their folk, adding pop influences, with sharp songwriting, and warm, Appalachian instrumentation. And, as Lila’s dad says, if you close your eyes, it might as well be Paul Simon singing. 

       The four members of Mipso share songwriting and frontperson duties equally and each member brings their own depth & humor to the band. Guitarist Joseph Terrell’s (he’s the Paul Simon sound-alike) songs are brighter & folkier. “Never Knew You Were Gone” is a gorgeously, wistful, violin-led, apocalyptic opener. “Hey Coyote” reminds me of Christopher Porterfield & Field Report from Wisconsin, with it’s gentle plucking and mystical lyrics about Wile E. Coyote & Coyotl, the Native American mythology version of the trickster. “Help” is maybe the biggest & darkest folk tune on the album, a minor tinged, string-y  burner, that dives into a huge chorus. Mandolinist Jacob Sharp leads the rhythmic & driving “Hourglass” and the late-night rain of “Just Want To Be Loved.” Double Bassist Wood Robinson gets in on the fun with the comforting, wandering of “Shelter.” But it is violinist Libby Rodenbough’s contributions to the album that make it truly great. Her impassioned vocals & lyrics command “Your Body” over an insistent banjo. She visits the darkness on the enchanting, cheater’s tale “Like You Never” and revisits the apocalypse mentioned in track one, on her rollicking closer “Wallpaper Baby.” Finally, it is her tender folk that ties the whole story together on “Big Star.” She sings of the end of time; of swimming & Summer & Colorado. A true classic, a lost Gregory Alan Isakov telescope, mountain stream tune. In the zine accompanying Mipso’s release, they introduce the album this way...

       “Future Readers,

Times are tough. You probably know this... Shit has lately been hitting the fan in a big way. Maybe chickens coming home to roost is a better metaphor, since we’re talking about history. Maybe a bunch of chickens have roosted on a giant fan, and they’re finally shitting... We recorded the album back in the latter half of 2019. when all We The People had to worry about was rampant income inequality, a sham democracy, & rising oceans. Ah, the good old days. At least now people can’t pretend it isn’t there. Beats the nineties! A Japanese theme park recently released a set of guidelines aimed at reducing the spread of airborne droplets of the virus on rollercoasters. ‘Please scream inside your heart’ they said. We hope you enjoy our album.” 

       Thanks Mipso, this one is special. And thanks Lee Cummings! From Chapel Hill to Ashville, Carrboro to Greensboro, this is an album I’ll hold onto for awhile. 

       “We went down to the water / With a blanket in the back / Had some candy from Colorado / Let the sunlight lay us flat / I awoke from the strangest vision / You & me at the end of time / Would you believe that big star was missing / But I found in your eye... / We went down to the water / When the red was in the clouds / Cracked the windows like kid summer / Like we were breaking out / We went down to the water / Never mind the rising tide / After all we are the daughters / Of unbelievers running wild...”

PHOEBE BRIDGERS   /   Punisher

       The Phoebe Bridgers mythology grows with every tweet, every guest feature, every new project, every new skeleton suit, and every Grammy nomination. It’s almost hard to believe Punisher is only her second solo full length, but if you’re following the fake_nudes mythology you know that she’s been busy in the years between Stranger in the Alps (her impressive debut) and Punisher. She formed supergroups with Lucy Dacus & Julien Baker (boygenius) and Conor Oberst (find Better Oblivion Community Center on my 2019 Favorites list). If you’ve talked to me about music this year at all, you know that Punisher has been a favorite talking point, as much for its typically dark Phoebe masterpieces about mental health, alien abduction, & depression, as for how it has overtaken the entire indie world. Phoebe fucking Bridgers has achieved legend status. The day I fell in love with Punisher was September 1st, when I hiked up across from Red Rocks Amphitheater to stream Phoebe playing THIS show and gaze longingly at the Rocks, wishing I could be inside. Watching a full moon (song) come up in the West, Phoebe playing to my East, drinking beer & reading lyrics, It was cathartic & special but goddamn did I miss live music in 2020. 

       Ok... on to the songs. Punisher begins innocently enou... umm... it actually begins with a TERRIFYING minute of soft, unsettling sound, a “DVD Menu” track playing after the horror movie has ended, that moment when you’re both sitting there, stunned & pale, too scared to get up and go turn the light on, googling “______ movie ending explained,” and considering death, dismemberment, and I don’t know, alien abduction. I burned myself my own Punisher CD with “DVD Menu” as both the opening & closing tracks because... (spoiler alert) I Know The End. Getting up to turn the light on doesn’t help much, as “Garden Song” is a haunting, ear-worming, whisper of a song that tells a decidedly LA (most of these songs reference SoCal in some way and I love it!) tale about the Rose Parade, killing nazis, growing a garden, and ends with a happy plot twist. Surprise, Phoebe’s got everything she wanted! “Kyoto” was the big single (the “Motion Sickness” as it were), a green screen miracle, a monster uplift of a chorus complete with horns, finds Phoebe singing about boredom & international travel. I personally love the back-to-back of “Chinese Satellite” & “Moon Song” and I feel like they capture Phoebe’s ability to combine the mundane & the heartbreaking & the wryly funny all in the same couplet. She has a lot of great jokes hidden on Punisher (why aren’t more people talking about how funny she is?!) like when she ends “Kyoto” singing “Guess I lied. I’m a liar, who lies. Cause I’m a liar.” There’s a jogging joke in “Chinese Satellite” (a song about not believing in God) about running around “Why would somebody do this on purpose?” and in “I See You” she sneaks in “If you’re a work of art, I’m standing too close!” and if you know the joke in “I Know The End” then you know! That brings us to the emotional centerpiece of closer “I Know The End.” A true road song, written on an epic road trip Phoebe took through Northern California; all Wizard of Oz, Arcade-Fire-Mountains-Beyond-Mountains-Sprawl past outlet malls, all the way to the end of the world. I won’t spoil the ending if you haven’t heard it, but it’s a cathartic, deserving send off to 2020, and I’ve screamed out loud to it in my car more than anything else this year. Love you Phoebe, Love Punisher, absolutely can’t wait to see what’s next.

       “Driving out into the sun / Let the ultraviolet cover me up / Went looking for a creation myth / Ended up with a pair of cracked lips / Windows down, scream along / To some America first rap-country song / A slaughterhouse, an outlet mall / Slot machines, fear of God / Windows down, heater on / Big bolt of lightning hanging low / Over the coast, everyone’s convinced / It’s a government drone or an alien spaceship / Either way, we’re not alone / I’ll find a new place to be from / A haunted house, with a picket fence / To float around & ghost my friends / I’m not afraid to disappear / The billboard said ‘The End Is Near’ / I turned around, there was nothing there / Yeah, I guess the end is here...”

ROACHE, MOONCHILD, KILEY   /   Improvised Sessions   

LISTEN/BUY ON BANDCAMP       

       I have so much fun making this list every year. I start a draft in January, update and change things as the year goes on, and agonize over my final cuts until usually December (or sometimes January of the next year or later!) I enjoy writing about why I loved the albums I chose, and I enjoy reading everyone else’s end of the year lists and finding new favorites. I also love the randomness of it all, and I love love LOVE that albums like Roache, Moonchild, Kiley Improvised Sessions exist. This album was released exclusively for free (or name-your-price!) to bandcamp on Christmas Day, features almost no vocals, a wide swath of exciting instrumental music. Mostly electronic, guitars, keyboards, & drums; at times abrasive, at times relaxing, a true masterpiece. Long live Bandcamp! What can I tell you about Roache, Moonchild, Kiley? Honestly not much! I know of them from seeing Fiona Moonchild absolutely shred guitar for Scott Yoder on a tiny stage at the Lion’s Lair on Colfax in early 2019. She was theatric & phenomenal, equal parts Bowie & Heavy Temple, Mazzy Star & The umm... Beatles?! One the greatest live shows I’ve ever seen (small venue or otherwise) & then Yoder, Moonchild & crew packed up and headed back to the Pacific Northwest. Roache was a new find, singer, artist, instrumentalist (harmonica maybe? the credits are minimal!) and Conor Kiley is an unknown. The music is alluring. The first four tracks (”First” “Second” “Third” & “Fourth” obviously!) swing between bouncy, noisy, jazzy piano, and down tempo grooves. “Desert Underground” employs a mournful harmonica over plinking Western guitar and “Fire” brings fuzzed out, grungy guitar and finally some growling vocals from Roache. The last two tracks put everything to bed instrumentally and the album fades out into bandcamp obscurity. The credits provide only a few hints to the recording saying...

“A cathartic release, recorded on tape in the Summer of 2020. This album was recorded on occupied Duwamish land.”

SAMANTHA CRAIN   /   A Small Death

       Samantha Crain is a Choctaw songwriter from Shawnee, Oklahoma. She is six days younger than this writer (34!) and has been putting out strong, sturdy-but-tender folk albums since 2007. On her sixth full length, 2020′s A Small Death, Crain writes about the mundane and the essential in a way that brings her stories and her truth to electrifying life. Blooming from front to back with energy, depth, emotion, & powerful instrumentation, A Small Death is one of my most favorite albums of this year. When Crain announced A Small Death, she referenced the title as the idea that “everything is always starting over again, all the time.” She talked about her own experience with starting over after multiple car accidents had left her immobilized, unable to use her hands, unsure if this album (or any album) would ever be made by her again. You can hear in these songs her frustration and her defeatedness, but also her celebration, her determination. From the desperate swell of gorgeous first single and opener “An Echo” to the ebullient push of “Pastime,” and the resigned melancholy of “Tough For You.” Crain’s instrumentation holds up to the songwriting, and her band uses flourishes of trumpet, clarinet, accordion, saxophone, and pedal steel (both the mournful-country kind in the late-night-heartache of “High Horse” and the honky-tonk country kind in the blistering, defiant closer “Little Bits”). Crain touches on her Choctaw heritage proudly, both in “Holding to the Edge of Night” when she sings “I am a legend of this land here; I am a keeper of this life.” and most notably in the penultimate track “When We Remain” sung in Choctaw, a tradition Crain carries over from her 2017 album You Had Me At Goodbye.  Crain’s songwriting is wonderfully intimate, A Small Death is full of deeply personal memories, old friends, roommate challenges, love, & ephemera (a bar tab, a parking ticket, photo booth strips, stubs from movies & baseball games, an 8-ball, a $20 dollar bill!) 

       My favorite tracks are the louder ones, “Reunion” is a bouncy, soulful swing about seeing high school friends and “watching exes eye the spouses, but I came alone, I think it’s glamourous.” Haha! “Garden Dove” rides a straight up NIrvana/grunge riff into a bellowing love song. I’ll close by sharing my two favorite personal memories with A Small Death. In July, I had streamed the record but probably hadn’t really heard it you know? (there was a lot going on this Summer) and Chris Porterfield from Field Report (his new one Brake Light Red Tide is beautiful, though not on this list!) posted about “Holding to the Edge of Night” after midnight saying... “I dare you to go outside and listen to this song right now. This new Samantha Crain record is everything.” Naturally I took the dare, walked out under the moon, and laid down on the sidewalk to actually listen to “Holding to the Edge of Night” I felt, as Crain so deeply & eloquently puts it that “evening was my prize.” A truly great, classic song that I will listen to on night walks for the rest of my life. Lastly, in August, for my birthday, my partner asked me to pick a record to listen to, and she made fancy drinks to-go in Denver’s Cheeseman Park. Watching the sunset from the hill under the columns at Cheesman and thinking about how Crain talks about memory in “Joey” when she sings...

       “Sometimes I feel like my memories never happened. Could you remind me, take me back for a night? Was it ever real? I don’t feel like that girl anymore. Was it heavenly? I don’t even see through those eyes anymore. A hundred small deaths, a hundred before. I am a revolving door. I am a revolving door...”

       “What’s that silence inside me that expands into the dark? / With the traffic lights all changing for no one anymore / The karaoke laughter tumbling out the door / My eyes well with contemplation of the pleasures I endure / Holding to the edge of night...”

SAULT   /   Untitled (Black Is)

       Where to start with Sault?! They put out two albums this year?! They put out two albums last year?! Nobody knows exactly who is in the band?! Sault is what I love about music, what I love about new music! I wrote an alternative version of this list where I referenced everyone who has released two albums this year (?!) because honestly I like Sault’s second of the year album Untitled (Rise) a whole lot too! I mean Bartees had his album of National covers, Phoebe has her orchestral Punisher companion EP, Shamir has two very different exciting records!, not to mention Hiss Golden Messenger’s two full live albums and uh... Folklore & Evermore. But anyway, what can I tell you about Sault that you haven’t read on however many end of the year lists already?! A collective of young artists, internet sleuthing has led me to believe possible members include London soul singer Cleo Sol, American rapper Kid Sister, & producer Inflo. A wonderfully rich blending of genres: R&B, house, disco, post-punk, boogie, dub, gospel, reggae, funk, soul, spoken-word, & protest chants. 

       Released into a world in turmoil, with Black Lives Matter protests erupting outside my door, Untitled (Black Is) is an album very specifically not made for me. Released into a world that I’m a part of. Protesting injustices in a system that I work within. Music with a purpose. Music so rich & wonderful, with a message we cannot continue to ignore. The only response I could have to Sault’s albums is to do better. To work harder. To take to the streets. To call out systemic racism so embedded in our culture, in my workplace, in my friend groups, in my family. When they released the album on June 12, it was posted with these words...

“We present our first ‘Untitled’ album to mark a moment in time where we as Black People, & of Black Origin are fighting for our lives. RIP George Floyd & all those who have suffered from police brutality & systemic racism. Change is happening... We are focused. Sault x”

I feel grateful & lucky to listen to & learn from Sault.

       “Thief in the night / Tell the truth / White lives / Spreading lies / You should be ashamed / The bloodshed on your hands / Another man / Take off your badge / We all know it was murder...”

SHAMIR   /   Shamir

       Shamir Bailey waited until album number seven (and his second album of 2020!) to release a self-titled album. Shamir is worth the wait. A glimmering, mesmerizing rock&roll masterpiece, full of experienced songwriting, noisy electric guitars, and shiny pop grooves; these are some of my favorite songs of the year. Las Vegas by way of Philadelphia, Shamir has built a DIY career in the indie scene by releasing seven albums in five years. He has honed his songwriting & sound, pushing himself far from his (admittedly popular & wonderful) dance debut Ratchet in 2015. One of the things I noticed about my list this year (and about my music tastes in general) is my ever growing affinity for strong vocal performances. From Angelica Garcia to Anjimile, Fiona Apple & Joy Oladokun, a bunch of the albums I loved this year stand out for their vocals. Shamir’s strong & versatile voice guides every song on the album and makes for fascinating listening. Lead single and track one “On My Own” came into my life at some mask-wearing, socially distanced outdoor hang this June, and quickly made it on to just about every Summer playlist after. It’s huge & memorable, with stabs of crunchy Pixies electric guitar and proud, loner-anthem lyrics. "Other Side” is the one that should have got massive radio airplay, all rolling drums, country western tinged (is that not a banjo I hear Shamir?) with shimmering Orville-Peck-bedazzled-suit-&-a-retro-microphone production leading a mega singalong chorus! Finally, between interspersed clips of talking that Shamir describes as “Field recordings of me with my friends-just being ridiculous” personal favorite “Diet” rides a choppy, 90′s alt-rock guitar to a blistering chorus that compares vampires sucking blood to getting to know someone! Ha! I can’t wait for Shamir to bring some of these songs through Denver on tour! It’s not too late to hop on the Shamir bandwagon!

       “Couldn't take it anymore / Where do I begin? / I'll get around to it after a glass of gin / I prefer to be alone, but you can join if you like / I'll stay strong for you 'cause I don't want to be seen when I cry / Done giving up my light / Just to stay in the dark...”

SOTOMAYOR   /   Origenes

       Sotomayor is a brother/sister duo from Mexico City who blend traditional Latin & Central American cumbia with other world rhythms & styles (electro, afrobeat, dancehall, merengue, peruvian chica!) on their truly magical third full length Origenes. One of my favorite concert series of the last few Summers has been Levitt Pavilion’s free outdoor concerts in Ruby Hill Park here in Denver. They introduced me to Sotomayor back in 2018. Picture enormous rolling grassy hills, kids laughing & playing & singing, tall cans, picnic dinners, & DANCING! Siblings Raul & Paulina Sotomayor worked with 28-time Latin Grammy winner Eduardo Cabra (Calle 13) recording between Mexico and Puerto Rico to release Origenes (translates to “origins”) on New York based independent label Wonderwheel. They have expanded their palette, making dance music to get bodies moving at clubs & dancehalls across the world, and the percussion throughout Origines is relentless, hypnotic, and downright sweaty fun! Paulina’s voice glides effortless over top of it all, sometimes strong & commanding, sometimes slipping sweet & sultry between synths or stabs of latin guitar. As a dance duo with Raul on beats and Paulina on vocals (they perform with a live band) the Sylvan Esso comparisons are unavoidable. I love you Nick & Amelia and I love Free Love, but Sotomayor has got me dancing in the kitchen cooking Hello Fresh more than a few times this year! Origenes is not to be missed!

       “No sé por qué, pero me ha pasado / Que nunca lo he olvidado / Que aquellos ratos que rompen los platos / Aquellas historias que guardan las olas / Pequeñas esporas, momentos a solas / Se desempolvan viejas memorias / Nunca es tarde para recordar / Lo que nos une...”

       ““I don't know why, but it has happened to me / That I have never forgotten / That those moments that break dishes / Those stories that the waves keep / Little spores, moments alone / Old memories are dusted / It is never too late to remember / What unites us...”

SPILLAGE VILLAGE   /   Spilligion

       The story of Spillage Village recording Spilligion (the Atlanta supergroup’s fourth full length album) is the stuff that will always make me remember the state of music in 2020. Spillage Village is an Atlanta collective comprised of the EARTHGANG duo (you may remember them from my 2019 Favorites list!) and a bunch of other collaborators (more on them later). Rapper & singer J.I.D. had rented a house in West Atlanta to work on his own third solo album, but when the pandemic hit, he invited the other members of Spillage Village to shelter-in-place and they all hit record. The result is a journal-entry-like album of the 2020 Covid pandemic, songs both uplifting & depressing, a group of musicians analyzing & expressing their feelings the best way they know how, through music. During their recording quarantine, they bonded over yoga, smoking weed, board games (monopoly & trouble), campfire s’mores, and talking current events & politics. Through it all, the music they were making was hopeful, forward looking, and religious. EARTHGANG’s Doctor Dot & Johnny Venus drive the rapping with J.I.D., but Mereba is their not-so-secret weapon. Her singing & rapping on the Sunday afternoon soul of “PsalmSing” and Coldplay-off-key piano of “Hapi” is inspiring & memorable. Brothers Benji & Cristo add production & basslines, Chance The Rapper makes a guest appearance, and closer “Jupiter” sounds like a darker, woodsier Avicii & Aloe Blacc track, backed by campfire acoustic guitars & banjos. Personal favorite, the apocalyptic “End of Daze” rides strong verses from almost everyone, references Pascal Siakim, Ronald Reagan, Nipsey Hussle, Sun Tzu, Damn Daniel, MF Doom (RIP), Future, Jesus, & Satan! Spilligion is the result of friends & collaborators, taking on 2020, stuck inside, making music & memories, marking a year unlike anything any of us have seen so far. When I look back, Spillage Village will be one of the bands that helped me mark my weird time & space this year. 

       “When I make it to the heavens, what's the code? Do I call a phone? / Security at the gate, no plus one, come all alone? / All along the race of life, I took a jog alone / Along the coast, I'm tryna cope, I raise a toast / & we consulted with the Most High / She told me watch my back, front, both sides / Hit a few baddies you never smashed 'fore y'all both die / Let the smoke rise, take the bodies to the crypts / & when the poor people run out of food, they can eat the rich...”

TAYLOR SWIFT   /   Evermore

       One of the main themes I found while making my 2020 Favorites list is comfort. This year, I turned to familiar music for comfort, and I have been a Taylor Swift fan since 2010. I love Evermore (I also loved Folklore) and I love how it makes me feel young and makes me think of memories from my 20′s. Growing up listening to country radio, I got “Teardrops on My Guitar” & “Tim McGraw” as I headed off to college. Then, I jumped then fell for Fearless while laying hardwood floors in Aspen, Colorado in the Fall of 2010. My best friend (Hey Stephen!) introduced me to Taylor as a gifted songwriter who has grown & matured over the years, but still every bit as intelligent and full of wonder & fairytale feelings on Evermore. That was right before Speak Now came out and I was in the midst of a break up from a High School & College first love. Speak Now feels like a lifetime ago, as does Red, but those albums saw Taylor changing her sound, honing her songwriting, and building her arena-worthy legacy catalog. Then there was some long, late night road trip drives with nothing but 1989, and discussing the merits of pop vs. country. I fell out of touch for a bit with Reputation & Lover, but again, Taylor was building her legacy. When she finally reemerged with a political stance, and an inclusive, progressive vision, I was back in! Turns out just in time, because 2020 brought the huge surprise of Taylor collaborating with some of my favorite musicians (specifically Aaron Dessner of The National) on not one, but two new Taylor masterpieces. 

       OK, that’s a lot of backstory, let’s talk about some of the high points on Evermore. New personal favorite “’tis the damn season” tells a familiar back-home-for-christmas story just in time for the holidays over Dessner’s brooding guitar and (surprise!) Josh Kaufman on lap steel (Hi Josh!) (see Josh Ritter & Bonny Light Horseman!) “happiness” is a gorgeous piano ballad (finished only a week before Evermore’s release!) with the life-long-lesson of finding the good in a heart-wrenching break-up. The second half of Evermore is stellar & deep with The National getting involved even more. Frontman Matt Berninger (or as a friend called him “Bon Iver’s Deeper Daddy”) lends a certain methodic languidness to “Coney Island” and Bryan Devendorf adds those signature, pounding National drums to the unbelievable catchy-singable “Long Story Short.” Predictably, The White Man, Bon Iver shows up in his traditional spot at the end, with his vocoder machine the Messina popping up in “Closure” and lending trademark pain to closer “Evermore.” As we wind out of these fairytale woods, I am drawn back to Taylor’s words upon Evermore’s even-more-surprising-than-Folklore’s release. “It feels like we were standing on the edge of the folklorian woods and had a choice: to turn & go back or to travel further into the forest of this music... I have no idea what will come next. I have no idea about a lot of things these days and so I’ve clung to the one thing that keeps me connected to you all. That things always has & always will be music.” Thanks for the music Taylor, glad you traveled further into the forest. Evermore. 

       “Don’t treat me like some situation that needs to be handled / I’m fine with my spite & my tears & my beers & my candles...”

THE 1975   /   Notes On A Conditional Form

       The 1975 has always been a mood band for me. I’m tempted to say “vibe” band, but I guess that’s even more scene-y, hipster-y, or whatever. In the same way that I’ve defended Taylor Swift’s songwriting in the early 2010′s & Third Eye Blind’s deep cuts in the late 90′s/early 2000′s, I have proclaimed The 1975 as our greatest pop-rock band. I have said that they are one of the best sounding live bands I’ve ever seen. To this day, I can’t listen to “Me” (Matty Healy’s addiction-facing, heart breaking slow burner that closed their Music For Cars EP way back in September 2013) without tearing up. I think of driving through Idaho in the dark with my little brother, lights blurring out the Subaru windows, him moving to Portland in the Fall of 2015, me cut loose & drifting, trying to find a meaning for my next chapter. Skip forward a few years and the opening chords of “A Change Of Heart” transport me immediately to a bridge in Portland. It’s raining again and the city lights are blurred out the same Subaru windows. I will always associate The 1975 (I’ve taken to calling them simply “The 75!”) with my little brother (they’re his all-time favorite band) and the power of shared music experience. I have so many memories tied with their music, late night drives, dance parties, coffee conversations, and when I make these favorite lists, those are the things I want to mark. 

       I could say a lot about Notes On A Conditional Form. It’s The 75′s fourth full-length album and it’s hella rambling. They threw everything on this one. The sequencing might be off, it goes from an emotional, Greta Thunberg-narrated opener about Climate Change, to the ferocious, post-punk of “People” to a sweeping instrumental track, to a down tempo dance-y favorite “Frail State of Mind” to another instrumental, to another low-key favorite “The Birthday Party” to another dance-y catchy fav “Yeah I Know.” Now we’re seven songs in, no “Sex” or “Chocolate” apparent singles and we’re not even A THIRD of the way through the record! I love the messiness and massive-ness of Notes, I love the Phoebe Bridgers feature (can you believe she was going to OPEN for them at Red Rocks?!), and I love the unedited-ness of it all. There are points in the last third of the album; that drop three minutes into “Having No Head,” those Grimes-y beats & vocals on “What Should I Say,” or the heavily effected vocal Matty sings with his Dad on the penultimate, Burt Bacharach-y “Don’t Worry,” There is so much to dig into here, drums both real & electronic, rock, pop, world music, jazz, dance, and through it all, Matty Healy (tongue firmly planted in cheek) cheekily poking fun at celebrity & fame. For all of the not-so-great memories I have from COVID, all of the quarantine, stay-at-home, shelter-in-place times; I have many fond memories of dancing in the kitchen, drinking fancy cocktails, cooking Hello Fresh, and absolutely blasting Notes On A Conditional Form. In fact, I listed to this one on the google home speaker so much, that it showed up on Lila’s end of the year top 5 albums! This one’s for you Will, first time The 75′s made it on my end of the year favorites list! I can’t listen to them without thinking of you and I love it. Long live music and the connections it builds. See y’all next year!

       “People like people / They want alive people / Young surprise people / Stop fucking with the kids...”

[soundofseventeen]

For the song thing, can I ask for one with the song Dumb dumb by Rv? Much love

{it’s an hour until midnight but uh, I’m trying to clear my requests so I can freely start new projects. Happy New Year everyone if we arent on tomorrow! I can’t wait to see what it brings for you!!!!}

Grease vibes with Mingyu, definitely lmao. Same timeframe and everything.

Like, okay listen, you just recently moved out of your house and hometown and into your own place but you’re still the new kid on the block. You’re unfamiliar with everything: the sites, the trends, the fun things to do…you’re even unsure as to whether you were in the right building (yes, you were).

However, you didn’t plan ahead like buying furniture (other than the bedroom set), kitchen essentials, and having them delivered to your new address so you spent a better part of the day running back and forth across town pulling out proof after proof that you were on your own, you weren’t scamming anyone and you planned on making your payments at the earliest possible convenience.

Needless to say, you would’ve dropped dead at the diner from the exhaustion but the booth’s cushions were more comfortable than you expected it to be so you settled for catching your breath instead. The waiter who took your order was a friendly boy named Seokmin who promised your milkshake would be out before you could pass out. Only instead of it being Seokmin, it was a different dude with an all-black attire and set it in front of you before moving to the jukebox behind you to choose a song. 

“Name’s Mingyu,” he says without turning to face you. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around, but if you don’t see me, you’ll hear about me. Believe the rumors or not, I don’t care.” He finally turns around to get a look at your face, taking the cherry stem from his mouth and pressing it to your palm, which when you took a sip of your milkshake, you noticed he took it from you, but he disappeared from your line of vision. 

A couple weeks pass by when you bump into him again as the movers leave once your bed frame’s assembled. He sticks his head into the front door, looking nothing like the person who looked so uninterested in you. “Oh hi! You must be my new neighbor! I’m sorry I didn’t stay and chat last time. I just wanted to let you know that I see some dudes coming up and they have a fridge…you don’t look too happy about that…I’m about to have lunch and I’d be more than happy to…okay, I’ll take that a yes. Be right back.”

once you settled in with your new life there, you seemed to get a quick understanding of Mingyu and it frustrated you, especially with that reputation he warned you about. In the streets, he liked to cause mayhem with 13 other boys who you figured out that the honeybees they swatted at for getting too close to their sugary beverages were more dangerous than they were. (Although Yoon Jeonghan, Lee Jihoon, and the notorious Xu Minghao could shut you up with a simple stare.) Sure they liked to jaywalk and challenge the drivers to hit them, and maybe you had to pound on the wall to get their little raves to calm down, but the way he treated you infuriated you the most.

When he was your dorky neighbor, he could make you laugh about the dumbest things like how many times he’s had to patch up his leather jacket bc he either caught it on the door after a night of drinking or because Aji got ahold of it and made it her favorite chew toy. And the times he’s knocked at your door to steal a band-aid bc he cut his finger chopping vegetables. He was loud, warm, vibrant and unapologetic about everything life offered. He also liked stopping by to give you any extra food he made just to hear you compliment him. And he liked to take you out…a lot.

But around his friends, he was rather standoffish. He didn’t really give you the time of day when you bumped into him in an alley somewhere. (His friend Vernon was quite the street artist and often liked to watch out for the fuzz. They often included Seungkwan and Seungcheol to the patrolling because they could smooth-talk their way out of anything.) And while he never made fun of your insecurities, he still liked to poke fun at you to maintain his cocky image when you were out together. He could also be very indecisive, immature and just plain rude which had you storming away from him half the time. 

You felt dumb, but you didn’t know why you liked both sides of him. you couldn’t really control yourself because it felt like he had you wrapped around his finger, which made you nervous because you couldn’t tell if he liked you or if he was just using you until another new someone came in and caught his eye. But he did drunkenly give you his ring one night, declaring his love for you and promising that one day he could be a man and treat you right. The ring stayed safely on your nightstand where you examine it late into the night whenever you felt that he couldn;t be himself.

[argylemnwrites]

Basically

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x MC (Cassie Vanderfield)

Book: Open Heart (just over 1 year after the end of Book 1)

Word Count: ~1500

Rating: PG

Summary: Bryce checks up on Cassie with a little treat after a very big day.

Author’s Note: Written for Day 4 of the Autumn writing prompt list (prompt - Pumpkin Spice) as requested by @omgjasminesimone.

Bryce strode out of the main hospital, checking his phone for the time again. He should just make it. Glancing both ways, he darted across the street, not caring that he was jaywalking. Cars tended to stop for people running in scrubs. 

As he entered the lobby of the Edenbrook administration building, he turned to his left and made his way to the coffee cart. Thankfully, the line was short, with only one older guy ahead of him. This location was usually pretty busy seeing as it had the best coffee on campus. It regrettably had taken Bryce all the way until September of his second year of residency to discover it and when he did, he felt like such an idiot. Of course the administration building would have the best coffee.

“Lahela, what are you doing over here? Did you get lost? The ORs are across the street.”

Bryce turned and saw Jackie standing in line behind him, wearing a button down shirt and dress slacks instead of her usual scrubs.

“Just tracking down the best coffee. Why are you so fancy and in the admin building? Have you been causing trouble?”

Jackie rolled her eyes. “Ines had an ob appointment, so I took the applicants on the tour today.”

“Shouldn’t they get someone more qualified? Like someone who is going to be chief resident next year?” Bryce teased, knowing it would get Jackie riled up. She didn’t disappoint, letting out a huge scoff as she shook her head.

“I know you know that I’m one of next year’s chiefs, Bryce.”

“I don’t know, Jackie. I might have forgotten since you’ve only mentioned it a couple times a week for about the past year,” Bryce said with a wink. He knew Jackie was proud of the fact she’d been named one of the chief residents, and he got that it was an honor, but it was just too much fun to resist poking the bear. Jackie opened her mouth, undoubtedly with some snappy retort, but quickly jerked her chin at him.

“Ah, just shut up and order your damn coffee.”

Bryce spun around and saw that the man ahead of him had indeed stepped to the side, waiting for his beverage. Bryce took a step up to the counter and placed his order.

“One tall pumpkin spice latte, thanks”

He heard a snort behind him, but he ignored it, joining the other customer off to the side as Jackie ordered her iced coffee. She was not ready to let it go, however.

“I didn’t realize you were rushing a sorority this year.”

Bryce just rolled his eyes, “Yup, hoping to pledge Delta Phi with my roommate,” he replied as he took the drink from the barista. “See you later, Varma,” he said with a little nod of the head before walking over to the bank of elevators and pushing the call button. He was still waiting for the elevator a few moments later when Jackie joined him once again.

“Seriously though, are you a 19 year old girl?” she asked before taking a sip from her straw.

“It’s not for me,” Bryce said with a little shake of his head as the two of the stepped onto the elevator.

Jackie stared at him with her eyebrows drawn together for just a second before realization flashed across her eyes and she let out a little scoff. “God, you two are just sickeningly cute, aren’t you. You know, I think I preferred it when you thought you were being sneaky and that we couldn’t all hear what you were up to through the walls intern year.”

“Nah, you don’t mean that.”

“I don’t know, at least then I didn’t have to endure this nauseating couple-y crap. Why’s she over here today, anyway? I thought she was on nights.”

“She had her fellowship interview here today. I thought I’d bring her a treat and see how it went since I’m carrying the trauma pager starting at 5 and probably won’t see her the rest of the night.”

“Like I said, disgustingly cute.”

Bryce just grinned at Jackie, gesturing to let her out first as the elevator dinged their arrival on the fifth floor.

“She seriously drinks pumpkin spice lattes?”

“She calls them her ‘guilty pleasure’ and I was forced to promise not to tease her about it.”

“And you agreed? Man, she has you whipped,” Jackie said as she elbowed him lightly, following him down the hall towards the diagnostics and internal med offices.

“Either that, or she agreed not to tease me about my guilty pleasure,” Bryce said with a wink.

“And what might- never mind, I’m guessing I don’t want to know.”

As they rounded the corner, they nearly collided with Cassie herself as she came down the hallway, brown leather bag in hand and wearing a crisp navy blue suit. Cassie let out a little yelp of surprise before she realized who it was.

“Easy there,” said Bryce, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder, “that could have been messy.”

Cassie instinctively smoothed her skirt as she spoke. “So, what brings you two over this way?”

“I was just heading to the med ed office after leading an applicant tour. He’s playing at doting boyfriend and checking up on you after your interview,” Jackie said, pointing her thumb over at Bryce and rolling her eyes.

Bryce shrugged and handed her the coffee in his hand, “I wanted to hear how it went before I’m tied to the trauma pager. Also, I figured since you skipped the coffee this morning out of nerves, you might be getting a caffeine headache.”

Cassie smiled warmly, squeezing his hand before taking a sip, her eyes lighting up when she tasted the pumpkin spice.

Jackie noticed her reaction instantly and scoffed, “Seriously, a pumpkin spice latte, Cassie? Are you really that much of a basic bitch?”

Cassie shrugged and raised her eyebrow at Jackie, taking another long sip of her latte. “I like what I like. You think liking pumpkin spice makes me a basic bitch, Bryce?”

“If it does, you’re my basic bitch,” Bryce replied with a wink, throwing an arm around her shoulder and giving her a squeeze.” Jackie grimaced and shook her head.

“Gross. Alright, I’ll see you two later. You coming to Donahue’s on Saturday?”

“We’ll be there,” said Cassie, waving as Jackie strode passed them into the med ed office on the left.

“So how did the interview go?” Bryce asked as they walked down the hallway back to the elevators.

Cassie glanced both ways down the hallway, trying to gauge if they were alone. “Let’s head back to the res lounge. I don’t want to talk about it here.”

Bryce turned to face her, wondering if something went wrong, but she didn’t look upset or anything, so he grabbed her hand and the two of them made their way out of the admin building and back to the hospital. Once they were in the res lounge, away from where attendings could hear them, Bryce asked her again.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

Cassie nodded as she pulled him down onto the couch. “I think so. My interview with Banerji was great, but I’m not sure how things went with Ramsey. I think it went alright, but he’s kind of hard to read, and he said some things that made me think he doesn’t want me to match here.”

“What kind of things?”

She shrugged, “Oh, you know. He made a comment about the importance of learning a variety of provider styles, of challenging oneself. It felt kind of loaded.” She took another sip before she continued, “What if I don’t match here, Bryce?”

Bryce shook his head, “Don’t worry about that, we’ll figure it out.”

“But you’re here for another four years. And I don’t want us to have to-”

Bryce cut her off with a quick kiss. “We’ll cross that bridge if we have to. And hey, maybe you’ll match somewhere else because you’ll find a diagnostics program you like better than Edenbrook.”

Cassie shook her head. “I have good reasons to stay here, Bryce.”

“Just keep an open mind when you’re interviewing, okay? Don’t sell your career short for me. We’re strong enough to handle long distance for a couple of years.”

Cassie smiled at him, “Hopefully I’m just over analyzing what Ramsey said.”

“Yeah, but it’ll be okay, no matter what happens. We’ll be okay.” Bryce checked the time on his phone. Damn, it was 4:53. “I gotta go grab the pager from Trini. Are you gonna be alright?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. Like I said, it wasn’t a bad interview. That comment just made me worried. Go save lives.”

Bryce dropped a quick kiss on her cheek as he scrambled up and headed toward the lounge door. He was almost through it when Cassie called out, “Hey, Bryce?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for the coffee.”

“Anytime, Cassie.”

Tags: @mfackenthal @lilyofchoices @thequeenchoices @octobereighth @feartheendlesssummer @tallulahshh @fortunatelywaywardsandwich @dreaming-of-movies @choicesarehard @universallypizzataco @omgjasminesimone @srta-give-me-my-jax-rl

[solitaria-fantasma]

Dark Arts and Demons - Ch. 36

“You’re going to crack your teeth, if you keep that up.” Mystery’s voice cut through the tense silence in the van, and snapped Vivi out of a cloud of angry, buzzing thought.

The woman took a deep breath, and unclenched her jaw.

“That’s better.” Mystery adjusted himself on the bench seat, and draped one paw to dangle over the floorboards. “Now, while we’re waiting for the traffic light to cycle back around to us, let’s talk.” Vivi had to resist the urge to tense again, and settled for tightening her grip on the steering wheel.

“What is there left to talk about?” She grumbled. “We found Arthur’s body, and now we have to cleanse it-”

“Without harming Penn.” Mystery tacked on with a pointed look over his glasses. Vivi’s scowl deepened just a tad. The light turned green, and the van lurched forward with, perhaps, a bit too much acceleration, and Mystery made a disgruntled noise as he was jerked back against the seat from the change in speed.

Vivi quickly slowed back down to the speed limit, but maintained her frosty silence as they left Tempo behind. Mystery righted himself on the seat and adjusted his spectacles, rolling his eyes as if to some invisible audience as the van turned onto the main street of town.

He let Vivi keep her silence as they rolled through downtown Tempo. It wasn’t a very large town; in short order, they passed the hair salon and the laundromat, the groomers and the local accounting firm. There went the name-brand convenience store that had only been allowed into town on the condition that they set up shop in an existing storefront, and the motorcycle dealer who managed to squeeze their inventory into a parking lot designed for an old cafe.

Mystery poked his nose out the window as the local coffee shop rolled by. The labrador lazing around on the front steps barked in greeting as they passed.

“...how much do you trust me?” Mystery asked quietly as the downtown strip began to shrink in the rearview mirror. Vivi gave him a cold side-eye, as if the unspoken implication that she didn’t trust her lifelong companion was an insult in and of itself.

“I trust you with my life.” She replied stiffly. “You’ve proven time and time again that I can.”

“Then will you trust me to tell you that Penn is an unfortunate bystander?” Mystery leveled Vivi with a calculating look. Tellingly, she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “Vivi, I know how close to home this all strikes - trust me, I know.” The canine implored. “But what good does it do to lash out?”

“......” Vivi ground her teeth again, and took a slow breath in through her teeth. “...it makes me...feel better.” She admitted grudgingly; haltingly. Now that she said it out loud, it sounded terrible. Hadn’t she scolded Lewis for doing just the same, months before? Lashing out at Arthur without considering all sides of the story had nearly killed them both...and here she was, lashing out at Penn without considering all sides of the story.

Back at the restaurant, Lewis had pointed out that they hadn’t cleared all the ghosts from the factory building, and he was right. Both he and Mystery had reported sensing lingering spirits after that first night, so it was, in fact, plausible for one of them to have still been hanging around when Arthur was…commencing his plan. Whether there had or hadn’t been a remnant of the green spirit left, like Arthur had feared, didn’t matter, and if nothing else, Vivi trusted the grudge Mystery carried against the green spirit to point their anger at the right target.

And Penn…was not that target.

“.....! WhAT TH-” Vivi abruptly slammed on the brakes, and Mystery flew into the footwell with a sharp yelp. The brakes shrieked, and the van shuddered to a dangerously quick stop just inches away from the disheveled jaywalker who’d stepped off the median without looking. The man glared through the windshield with sharp green eyes before looking away, and continuing on across the road as if nothing had happened. Vivi shook her head, grateful that there had been no-one behind her, and slowly drove off again as a dazed Mystery pulled himself back up onto the bench seat.

“What - pardon my language - the fuck was that?” The canine questioned. Vivi cast a derisive look at the man’s retreating form in the rearview mirror.

“Just some waffle-brained tourist who thinks they own the road.” She muttered. As Mystery sprawled on the seat, still reeling from the sudden stop, she reached over and scratched his ears. “Sorry, buddy. I’ll keep a better eye on the road this time.” She promised.

…….

“....ugh, no.” Vivi snapped the heavy tome shut and dropped it on the table she’d set aside for rejected texts (which was piled higher than she would have liked already). Mystery nudged another book her way with one large paw, still skimming through his own tome, and flicked his seven long tails. Here, in the privacy of their own home, he hadn’t been able to pass up the opportunity to stretch the legs of his true form.

It made the library a little crowded, in all honesty, but Vivi wasn’t about to tell him that.

“Try this one next. I’ve got some promising topics in this one, but nothing yet concrete.” The kitsune sighed as he flipped the last page, closed the cover, and carefully picked it up in his mouth to move it to the ‘potential’ table. Only a few books sat waiting to receive it.

“Nnnoooot this one, either.” Vivi frowned as she flipped the pages of this new book. “This one’s all about exorcism. Good thing I didn’t have this one packed up in the van, huh?” She muttered under her breath as she set the rejected book aside. Sullenly, she looked over the stacks of books they had left to cover, and curled her lip at the hours and hours of research they surely had ahead.

Usually, she wasn’t one to shirk away from the ground-work like this, but her mind just wasn’t focusing like she wanted. Something kept nagging at her; a thought that she’d let an important clue slip through her fingers.

She hated it.

“....I’m going to brew some tea.” Vivi announced loudly, swinging her legs for dramatic theater as she popped up out of her chair, and stretched her arms above her head. “Maybe a good cup of ginseng will help me focus.” Shaking out her arms, she headed for the kitchen. “Stree, do you want anything?”

“I’ll gladly take a bowl if you’re brewing.” Mystery called after her, still skimming through a new book. If Vivi noticed how he sprawled out just a little bit more in her absence, she chose not to mention it. “Perhaps with a dash of jujube, if we haven’t demolished Lewis’ stock already?”

“Sure, sure.” Vivi called back distractedly, moving down the hall with a thoughtful frown on her face. Running on a mixture of distracted practice and muscle memory, Vivi filled up the coffee maker with fresh water, and set it to heat up as she dug out the tea mix from the cabinets. She preferred her tea from scratch, in all honesty, but she and Mystery had a lot of work to get done, and not a lot of time to waste on making fresh tea.

Her thoughts remained on the safety-challenged stranger as she fished out a mug for herself and a bowl for Mystery, and Vivi began to drum her fingers on the countertop as she waited for the coffee maker to finish. No-one’s eyes were that vivid by nature, and cosmetic lenses were a coincidental reach. Ugh...she must be thinking too hard about the green spirit, and her anger towards it was coloring her memory.

Vivi shook her head, and admonishingly tapped her own forehead with the heel of her palm.

She had to get her head on straight. Arthur was counting on her.

The coffee maker ‘ding’ed, and Vivi quickly filled up her own mug, and then the bowl, with the boiling water. She dropped in the tea bags, and then carefully picked up both vessels to carry them back into the library. She had to remember to thank Arthur for talking her into buying this heat-resistant glassware - carrying a bowl full of boiling water would have been a pain without Lewis’ beloved oven mitts, otherwise.

“You’re gonna have to let this steep.” Vivi called ahead to Mystery as she made her way back down the hall. “And don’t spill on the carpet again, or I’m breaking out the feeding mat!”

[berniesrevolution]

JACOBIN MAGAZINE

On September 6, Dallas police officer Amber Guyger entered the apartment of her upstairs neighbor, Botham Shem Jean, removed her service weapon, and shot the twenty-six-year-old man, killing him. One week later, on the day of Jean’s funeral, a Dallas judge released to the press the results of a search warrant that claimed to find a small amount of marijuana in the slain man’s apartment. “There could only be one purpose for that,” family attorney Lee Merritt said of the search warrant. “The only purpose is to look for information to smear the dead. That is exactly their specific intent.”

For black residents of Dallas, it was a familiar story. From police dragging their feet in arresting Guyger to Guyger’s conflicting statements about what happened to the marijuana found in Jean’s apartment, it appeared the fix was in. “There’s a lot of anger in the streets,” Dallas Pastor Frederick Haynes told the Dallas Morning News. “We’ve seen this movie too often.”

In Texas, like elsewhere, it is extremely rare for police to receive any sanction — personal or professional — for killing another human being. As the Jean case lurches toward its seemingly inevitable, devastating outcome, there will be the usual calls for police reform; the handwringing about training and accountability. But a look at the trade journals, message boards, and public behavior of police shows that the authoritarian mentality runs so deep that even minor reforms will be met with an intractable, reactionary wall.

“Follow Commands or Die”

“I am going to say what no one else is saying,” police officer Travis Yates editorialized in 2016 in Law Officer Magazine. “Follow the commands of a police officer or risk dying.” After lamenting “the lack of submission to authority [that] is throughout our society,” Yates concluded: “The way I see it, we have two options to stop police use of deadly force. Police stop being police or . . . citizens can do what an officer says to do.”

Yates isn’t an outlier. In 2014, in the midst of the Ferguson uprising, veteran Los Angeles police officer Sunil Dutta wrote in a Washington Post editorial, “I’m a cop. If you don’t want to get hurt, don’t challenge me.” The victim of “outright challenges to my authority” while he worked his beat, Dutta warned, “here is the bottom line: if you don’t want to get shot, tased, pepper-sprayed, struck with a baton or thrown to the ground, just do what I tell you.”

This demand for complete obedience has real-world consequences. A 2011 investigation of the Seattle Police Department (SPD) found “a pattern or practice of using excessive force against individuals who express discontent with, or ‘talk back to,’ police.” A review of obstruction arrests — known as “contempt of cop” arrests — revealed the target of these police confrontations. In a city where black people make up 7.9 percent of the population, 51 percent of obstruction arrests were of black residents.

In one infamous incident, an SPD officer punched a seventeen-year-old black girl in the face for arguing over a friend’s alleged jaywalking violation. Several months later, a Native American wood carver named John T. Williams was shot and killed on a busy street during rush hour when he failed to turn around fast enough for an SPD officer. Williams was partially deaf. (Charges were never filed against the SPD officer who murdered Williams.)

The obsession with absolute compliance is an inversion of the rational order of things: in this case, it is the responsibility of the person being accosted by police to do and say the right thing, to be completely and totally accountable for all of their actions, real or imagined. The trained officer bears no personal responsibility for doing the right thing; they are simply an agent of violence and chaos acting on instinct — a difference between the police and the public enshrined in law.

Sometimes, it’s unclear even what constitutes compliance in the mind of a police officer. Video of the 2016 murder of Daniel Shaver, an Arizona man, shows a police officer with his AR-15 rifle trained on Shaver, who is face down on the ground in a hotel hallway. The officer screams contradictory commands at Shaver who tries to comply while begging police not to kill him. Then, out of nowhere, Officer Philip Brailsford opens fire on Shaver, shooting him five times and killing him.

Shaver had committed no crime, he posed no threat to Brailsford or any other officer present, he tried to comply with the officer’s impossible commands. He was gunned down anyway.

“Every Individual Is a Potential Threat”

Among the t-shirts marketed to police and their supporters online and at conventions — such as the popular “Black Rifles Matter” shirt and the classic “BDRT” (“Baby Daddy Removal Team”) shirt — is an assortment of warrior cosplay. Law Enforcement Shirts offers a confusing shirt featuring a Spartan helmet against an American flag backdrop and text reading, “Fate whispers to the warrior you cannot withstand the storm. And the warrior whispers back, I am the storm.” Another shirt features a skull with a Blue Lives Matter flag wrapped around it and the text, “I hunt the evil you pretend doesn’t exist.”

The police-as-warriors worldview appears frequently on cop websites.

“Being a police officer requires preparation for death, daily,” a popular listicle on the PoliceOnewebsite states. “Officers put on bullet proof vests and carry guns for a reason: they are ready for the fight, and unfortunately not every warrior comes home. . . . Cops are at war out there.” The article goes on to restate another major theme on police blogs and message boards: “People sleep peacefully in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.”

“Our officers often are thrust into the role of warrior to fulfill their obligation as guardians,” local police chief Chuck Jordan editorialized in the Tulsa World in 2015. “We are living in a world that is comprised of criminals who will visit violence on their victims as well as police officers without a second thought.” This is why Tulsa police must wear body armor and carry assault rifles and other “warrior equipment” — to protect themselves against the “ever-increasing levels of violence and types of weapons that we are facing.”

(Continue Reading)

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#1yrago Cop charged with assault after beating "jaywalking" pedestrian

Leaked footage of a police officer repeatedly punching a pedestrian led to charges for Christopher Hickman, the Asheville, NC cop who also lost his job after the attack on August 24 last year. Hickman claimed that Johnnie Jermaine Rush was jaywalking and had assaulted him when challenged, but bodycam video showed a more sinister incident in which Hickman, who is white, told his black victim "you are going to get fucked up hard core", chokes him, repeatedly strikes his head with his fist, then tases him.

"I beat the shit out of his head," Hickman says on the recording. "Not gonna lie about that."

The police chief, Tammy Hooper, has also offered to resign.

Police said they plan to present an investigation into whether Hickman’s actions against Rush were criminal to the district attorney next week.

“This is a human rights issue, and Hickman should’ve been charged from day one,” local Black Lives Matter leader DeLores Venable said during Wednesday’s meeting, per the Citizen-Times report. “If no one would’ve leaked it or said something, we would be in the dark.”

Hooper issued a public apology March 1, saying, “The acts demonstrated in this video are unacceptable and contrary to the department’s vision and the progress we have made in the last several years in improving community trust.”

Jaywalking is a ridiculous crime to begin with, but "jaywalking" in the dead of night on an empty road in Asheville? No wonder people were curious about the circumstances of the arrest, and no wonder the footage had to be leaked before the public saw it. Hickman was just prowling around looking for a donkey to pin.

https://boingboing.net/2018/03/09/cop-charged-with-assault-after.html