#man. it feels weird to complete projects. it's almost a melancholy feeling

[uncanny-tranny]

I remade the crochet hook holder pattern, this time with a yellow cotton yarn. You can re-make things as many times as you want; never let yourself feel as though you only have one shot, an all-or-nothing opportunity to do something! Frankly, I like how this one turned out way better than my previous attempt, so I'll use it way more

[moonchild9350]

Miss You

summary: you dream of a mysterious man with blond hair who seems so familiar yet so distant.

pairing: Hyunjin x gn!reader

genre: angst, smut, alternate reality, sci fi au

word count: 2.0k

warnings: alternate reality, lots of dreams, sensual touch, clit/nipple play, unprotected sex (don't), creampies

notes: this idea is inspired by hyunjin's mv Miss You but with a twist. this is my weird brain in it's sci fi era lol. let me know what you think of this idea! I love feedback!

please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2025)

divider by @sweetmelodygraphics

General masterlist

He came to you in a dream, softly and gently, his face clear as day before slowly materializing, becoming nothing in an expanse of black. Everyday, you’d watch as he’d work, his eyes and body focused on the task at hand, a gentle smile on his face. Despite this, there was also a melancholic feel to his aura, as if something was missing in his little world.

You thought the man beautiful, but even that word seemed to be inadequate. You loved gazing at his face, a set of soft eyes that glistened, complete with chocolate brown orbs that caused shivers to run down your spine as you looked into them. His lips were plush, cushiony and tinted with pink, a complete contrast to his chiseled face.

His blond hair seemed soft and silky, the strands tied up in a half up, half down up do while other times they hung perfectly against his neck. Lastly, you loved gazing at his hands, the veins prominent and fingers long, adorned with various silver rings.

You couldn’t help but watch them as he painted, his wrist gently swooping across the canvas as he translated whatever scene was playing out in his head. As he mixed colors of white and green, he hummed softly, his voice muted yet projecting across the small room.

He gazed at the canvas in thought, his bottom lip snug between his teeth, and his eyebrow scrunched in annoyance, the tsk he let out harsh and short in the otherwise quiet room. You eyed the canvas, trying to see what disturbed his mood, but every time you tried to peer over his shoulder, the image would blur, almost as if you weren’t meant to see it. The only thing you could make out was the name Hyunjin, which must have been his name.

You tried it out, the syllables rolling off your tongue like water, the sound so pleasant your heart rate increased and your face became flushed as the heat rose. Hyunjin looked up and then smiled, almost as if the dilemma he was facing was solved. However, the smile still didn’t quite reach his eyes as melancholy was still present, taking over the beautiful orbs.

As he went back to painting, the scene faded away slowly, Hyunjin materializing as he softly whistled a tune. Right as it faded to black, you thought you heard him murmur something, the words jumbled and inaudible, but present nonetheless. To you, it almost sounded like he said, “I’ll see you again.”

You are dreaming again, you know so as Hyunjin is present again, this time he’s walking around the small room, his eyes searching for something. He has a camera in his hands, the strap hanging haphazardly in front of his body.

You wonder what he’s searching for, the look of frustration yet determination present. Hyunjin stops at some items placed perfectly on a table. As you take a closer look, you realize there’s a hand held mirror, rose, and bottle of perfume present. While you gaze at the items, an electric feeling spreads through your body, a feeling of deja vu spreading over you.

The items seem familiar but at the same time not, the thought confusing in the moment. You look up at Hyunjin and gasp, as he’s looking your way, a look of surprise on his face. It seems as if he has seen you, but you know this to be false, as he shakes his head and goes back to pondering the objects in front of him.

Eventually, he gives up and saunters over to another corner, this time stopping in front of a flower arrangement, the flowers wilted and clinging to the last moments of life. Hyunjin nods his head and smiles before lifting the camera to his face, squinting his right eye as he focuses his left through the lens.

He adjusts the zoom a few times before pressing the shutter, the soft click echoing throughout the room. He takes a few more pictures before finding another angle. Click, Click, Click. Hyunjin snaps picture after picture, his mood changing slowly from one of irritation to one of apathy.

You watch intrigued until the sun slowly sets, the once clear blue sky giving way to shades of orange, red, and purple. Once Hyunjin is satisfied with his work, he looks up and turns your way, almost as if he can see you, just like the moment before. He raises his camera and points it at you before pressing the shutter, the click going off with a flash, causing you to blink before everything fades to black.

You dream of Hyunjin again and again, the scenery the same little room each time. With each dream, you feel as if you know this man, however, just when you think you can remember from where, the idea slips from your mind to not return again until you dream again.

You find yourself frustrated, having watched Hyunjin paint, take pictures, and even write in a notebook, over and over. It’s the same scene again and again and you start to wonder if there’s any significance behind it. There has to be and you try to voice so when you dream, hoping that Hyunjin will answer, but he never does. He doesn’t even acknowledge your presence, and why should he as it’s all a dream right?

He seems happier, more hopeful with each passing dream, as if what he is searching for is within reach. You wonder what that is, slightly jealous that he may be getting the answers he’s been searching for, unlike you. However, despite the uncertainty of it all, you enjoy being with him in these dreams, finding peace in his company, as if you’ve been there before, watching, listening, and just be with him.

Once more you are dreaming, excitement brewing as you anticipate what will happen today. Maybe he will paint again, which you have grown to love as he seems the happiest while doing so. However, as you walk into the room, he’s standing at the window looking out into the scenery beyond, the sun shining brightly into the room.

He reaches up to grasp something only he can see, his fingers wrapping around the invisible item before he lets it go. Hyunjin is humming again, the tune you now recognize, which shocks you. You are frozen in place as he hums and then switches to whistling, the soft tune dredging up memories that must have been buried deep within.

You close your eyes and find yourself drifting, drifting to a time and place where you lived in happiness with a man, your lover. You both were happy and carefree, perfect for each other, soulmates. Your body is filled with warmth at the memory, as your brain tries to focus on the man’s face.

As time passes, his features become more clearer, until you realize it’s Hyunjin, the man who is present in this room with you right now, the man you have been seeing in your dreams for months.

“Welcome back,” Hyunjin murmurs as he turns around to face you, a gentle smile on his face as he looks to you.

His eyes are filled with joy, the melancholy that was present gone. He walks over to you and wraps his arms around you in an embrace, pressing his face into your hair. You both stand there in each other’s arms, as joy radiates off both of you.

Hyunjin.

Hyunjin who is your best friend. Hyunjin who is your lover. Hyunjin who is your soulmate.

You remember everything now.

How he was painting you over and over, the image never clear as you were trying to remember your love, how he was photographing all of your favorite items, his eyes full of longing for you. You realize you dreamt of these things and of him, as you tried to find your way back to him.

Tears have started to form in your eyes, whether they are from happiness or sadness, you’re not completely sure. However, you pull back and look up into your lover’s eyes, taking in the brown orbs as he gazes at you lovingly.

“Hyunjin, I’m so sorry for leaving you,” you whisper, your voice filled with regret but hope, hoping that he will forgive you for such a crime.

Hyunjin brushes the tears that are falling down your cheeks, as he gently smiles down at you.

“I’ve been waiting for you love. I’ve missed you,” he says as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

They are softer than you remember, the feeling like silk on your lips. He pulls you closer as he deepens the kiss, before laying you down gently on the couch. There’s a flurry of movement as he quickly but efficiently rids you of your clothes, before he rids himself of his, his eyes on you the whole time.

He coaxes sweet moans from you as he touches you, teases you, your nipples hardened and pussy soaking as he works the parts of you only he knows. You think you feel overwhelmed as he pulls yet another orgasm from you, a wide grin on his face as his fingers that you’ve watched for so long circles, pinches and taps at your clit.

You whimper as he finally sheaths his cock within you, stretching you out slowly and deliberately, making sure you feel every ridge, every vein on his length. As he bottoms out, you both let out a moan before he begins to thrusts his hips, coaxing sweet, wet, sounds from your pussy.

You are lost in him, your hands roaming his body, feeling the soft skin beneath your palms. You take him in as if you’re memorizing his body, his toned arms, his pinkish-brown nipples, to the look on his face, his eyes scrunched up in pleasure as he drives his cock in and out of you over and over.

You take in the thin sheen of sweat that has formed, causing his body to glisten as twilight takes over, the setting sun’s rays casting shadows across his face as he grunts and sighs in pleasure.

You don’t want to forget him, not again as you seemed to have done, for reasons you are not entirely sure. You know you won’t forget him though as he brings you to orgasm, as you whimper, as the pleasure spreads through you, your walls clenching over his cock, holding him in.

You watch as Hyunjin reaches his orgasm, a strangled cry leaving his lips as he murmurs “I miss you. I miss you.”

He stills once the last drop of his cum paints your walls, his gaze locked on yours. He leans down and presses a wet kiss to your lips before dragging his tongue down your jaw, your neck, and chest until he wraps his lips around your nipple and sucks.

You gasp at the sensation, your hands moving to tangle in his hair as he nips and suckles, alternating between the two buds to give them equal attention. You feel his hips rock into yours once more, the drag slow, achingly slow as he makes love to you.

As he drags his cock into you, he opts to swallow your moans, and instead you both find yourself gasping and breathing in tandem, your body, mind, and souls becoming one. The pleasure is increasing, the white hot sensation building and building until it becomes too much and you let go, clutching onto your lover as your walls milk his cock dry.

And in the afterglow of your love making, you lay quietly in each other’s embrace, your bodies a sweaty mess. Time seems to slow as you breathe as one, as the sun finally sets, saying goodbye to yet another day.

You realize this is the moment you want to live in forever. Here with your lover, your best friend. Here with Hyunjin.

And as you come to this decision, Hyunjin looks up at you once more before he says with finality:

“I’ve missed you.”

taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground @katsukis1wife @my-neurodivergent-world @hanniebaeee @hwanghyunjinismybae @channiesrightasscheek

taglist open! dm or ask to be tagged (ages must be pinned or in bio)

[demenior]

Dem’s Big Post About The Spn Fics Part 1/2

aka The Wrap Up to celebrate To Exist Again and To Become a Man now being finished!

(This will be a long post. This is your only warning.)

Admittedly this is a bit of a weird thing to be doing, but I wanted to try it out for 3 reasons: 

I love talking about my own work and 

It functions really well as a self-reflective tool for me to improve on, and 

I can answer some big questions people might have because there was a LOT of worldbuilding in these stories. 

We’ll start off with reflective stuff, and move into the juicier world-building focused stuff later into the post. There will be major spoilers for both fics to come!

To begin with a funny anecdote, Why Did I Write These Stories?

I was beginning to write and work out the story that I wanted to write for Spn (what will now be To Destroy a Man. As I was writing the scene, I realized I had a LOT of ideas and while I was trying to avoid as much exposition as I could, it became quickly apparent that I was needing to create my own au (this scene eventually became chapter 34 of To Become a Man). A short prequel seemed like a good idea, to quickly hash out the ‘prior’ events that I needed to go through so all the readers could be on the same page. While plotting out prequel points, I realized Sam and Dean were going to have drastically different experiences during the same time period, and I was trying to figure out who’s pov would be better for which scenes, and how to keep momentum when they’re going through such radically different types of changes. Ultimately I decided to split their povs, which I also thought would be a fun project! And I naively assumed each pov would take about 2 chapters each, rounding out to maybe 15k total.

I had my ending points: Dean n Cas soul-merged and (basically) married, Cas on the lam from heaven and a complete anomaly, and Sam juiced up full of powers and a weird mix of archangel and antichrist but still 100% human and ready to fight God. 

Now I needed to add weight to these changes, so I wrote 200k of build-up.

Am I proud of these fics?

OF COURSE I AM!!! These are the longest fics I’ve ever written AND finished AND in the fastest freakin turnaround ever (both were finished writing, barring edits, in like 6 months holy shit)

I didn’t write a single scene that I “didn’t” want to write. If I had trouble writing it, as in it was fighting me, I scrapped it. Most obviously was the scene in Dean’s pov where he and Sam were intended to meet some other hunters and Dean declines working with them because he’s nervous about being outed as queer. It was meant to be a good scene! I wanted to introduce some new characters! But it just wasn’t working so I said ‘thank you, next!’. 

But it means this story was an absolute joy to write. Because for a while all I was doing was ‘if I wanted to write one scene into supernatural, what would I write?’ and then just DID that!! It’s why there’s a lot of ‘Salmondean do dumb shit or have really dumb heartfelt conversations’ scenes.

Would I change anything?

If I’d been less eager to start sharing, I might have planned out the story beats a little tighter so there were less ‘soft’ chapters and a draw/pull for people to come back and keep reading. I felt Dean’s story specifically lagged at points and could have used some tighter editing (there was a noticeable lull in directed movement between Dean n Cas getting together, until Sam corrupts Amy).

I also probably would have held Sam’s story until I’d finished Dean’s so I could make the two line up better! Probably could have inserted more scenes into Sam’s fic that way, and made sure things were a little more consistent. In an ideal world one concept I had was to release 1 chapter from each pov every week that would correspond to the same time frame so we’d be getting real-time SalmonDean pov narrative. Unfortunately that didn’t work!

The biggest takeaway overall is for me to focus more on what moves the plot, and to make my scenes do more than 1 thing so I can cut down on wordcount and increase my efficiency. 

Of course every writer will find things they want to fix in anything they’ve ever written, so these are minor “mistakes” at best. I’m so dang proud of these fics. 

Onto more interesting things!

How Did I Put These Fics Together (because it’s different than anything I’ve ever done before)

Normally when I write a story, I plan out the beats I need to hit, see where I need to insert any kind of foreshadowing/buildup, and then write from A to B to C and so on and so forth. Hence, this is why I can normally post things as I complete chapters, because it’s all a linear progression. 

For these two stories, rather than linear plot/a normal story structure, I just sat and free-wrote any and every scene that came to mind and then pieced them into a kinda-linear form like putting a quilt together. You’ll note that this is why there’s not a lot of internal callback or a feeling of sense of time flowing within the fic (save for points where I went back and specifically edited it in). How long does the story take place over? Hard to say! Your author has the barest grasp on linear time even on a good day (how many times did I say ‘see you on [wrong day]’ at the end of chapters lmaaoooo)

This also meant EXTENSIVE editing on the back end once I decided in what order I wanted my ‘quilt pieces’ to be. Hard to say if this is a bonus or a negative!

But I did want to try and capture the vibe of the lives they lead, as a bit of a ‘slice of life’-style story, when the slice of life is the profound weirdness of the Winchester roaming life, and how things are status quo- until everyone almost dies oh shit!! And then they have to keep living because no therapy we die/undie like Winchesters. Do I think I captured this effectively? Hmm. Good question. 

Dem where the FUCK did the inspiration for a lot of the magic and creature weirdness even come from?

Honestly? Music, primarily. And completely mishearing lyrics!

Nightwish ‘Ever Dream’: the line is ‘my song can but borrow you grace’ and because my brain is scrambled eggs on a good day, I heard ‘grace’ ‘song’ and ‘borrow’ in that order and have had, for YEARS, the mental image of Cas borrowing Dean’s soul to power himself up for battle.

From there I’ve always been enamored with the ‘wavelength of celestial intent’ descriptor that Cas drops in s6 for “what he is”. 

I also really like ocean metaphors mostly because I’ve been obsessed with the ocean and things in it since I was like… 5??? So really this was me just rolling with what I know lmao. I love using (somewhat) accurate scientific metaphors for very intangible things!

I was also finishing my degree in biology/ecology while writing these fics and I think it shows

Stars ‘The Night Starts Here’ gives us the series title and the fic titles. Except for ‘To Exist Again’. TEA was almost titled ‘The Upwards Fall’ because I wanted all 3 of the Main Stories to have titles from this song, but I couldn’t make anything else work in tandem with the series name ‘The Love It Takes’ while also working for Sam’s personal story. So Sam, as always, is the rebel <3

Stars ‘Up In Our Bedroom, After The War’ is basically the vibes of the whole story. TFW has been, literally, to hell and back!!! There’s a bit of melancholy and sadness, a lingering dark, but the chance of a bright new tomorrow and a soft start.

Let’s Talk About Themes in The Story! What were you looking to accomplish? 

My earliest notes for TFW are, as follows:

Dean’s journey of self-discovery (who am I when I’m not trying to be Dad?)

Dean wants to settle down! He wants a big family! He wants to be domestic!

Basically: Dean doesn’t want to have a short life of hunting. He wants to live!

Dean’s journey of realizing he’s bi, and him accepting that

Dean’s relationship to Sam is both older brother/parent 

And continuing Dean balancing these roles while also letting Sam be an adult 

Dean’s Big Issues/Fears about never being good enough for people to want to stay with him (these are effectively highlighted in that Cas thinks he’s not useful enough to be wanted)

Sub Plot:

Castiel’s autonomy

Cas’ fall from grace, to trying to restore Heaven, to wrecking it further

He’s majorly depressed by the end of s7 (before purgatory)

Wants to stay in Purgatory but doesn’t tell Dean

Remains depressed after leaving, but resolved to keep living on because he’s clearly meant for something

After the seraphim reveal: does he have free will?! How does he grapple with this? How does he live in a way he can be proud of?

And lastly

Sam gets his powers back CAUSE THATS HOT

where tf did they go????

he got them from Lucifer?????

sleeper agent??????

Sam is The Chosen One

Accepts that he is More Than Human and to celebrate all parts of him

Lucifer and Sam friends?? Work together????

Sam needs autonomy in his choices/his life

If you compare these to the overall arc of TFW within the two stories, I think I got a lot of them! But you’ll also note a lot of these things aren’t concrete goals that are easily measurable (ex: Dean wants to learn to bake pie. In chapter 1 he starts a fire in the kitchen. By the end of the story he finally makes A Good Pie.) part of the lack of concrete milestones was why I felt it was important to tell Dean (and Cas’) story by going back to the point they meet, in s4! Dean’s gradual change towards his feelings for Cas, his relationship to Sam (heavily influenced by the s7 events of this fic) and then his own relationship with himself were such slow burns that I felt it would be a disservice to try and cram a change like that into a timeline like “1 year”.

I felt like these subtle changes and adjustments actually felt a lot truer to life-- people often change in very small, gradual ways over time, even without realizing it and often times not consistently! If only we could all gain skills like the sims, where we can easily level up and remain at that high level of performance! 

So the Guy Who Ate Satan, A Celestial Nuke that Developed Sentience, and Dean walk into a bar…

Sam’s story in Spn The Show has always been a ‘chosen one’ kind of narrative. Sam is living with one foot in the realm of the monsters, and I wanted to bring that back full force! It really makes sense for him that he should only continue to grow in power, might, and magic!! As the story progresses.

Cas also got a power up! I do desperately love in the show that he was kind of a grunt/nothing angel, and so even when he defected to TFW he was a huge help for them, but in the scale of things he was an annoying fly to most other angels. It really worked for the underdog story of s4/5. In this I wanted to give him a power up, and originally it was actually going to be close contact with Sam that eventually changed Cas into something unknown (you can still see traces of this in ch34 of TBAM, where Death remarks ‘Castiel could be [Sam’s] first creation’. But for a combo of reasons: how Sam’s magic needed to have intent, the entire concept of free will and consent, and how much I wanted Dean and Cas to have their effect on each other, I decided to go with the route that Cas has actually always been something angel-adjacent rather than becoming something new. TFW/Supernatural has always been about free will and making your own story, so I amplified that with Cas.

Dean has always been A Normal Guy, which is part of the appeal of him and Sam (2 normal dudes!) taking on the Very Not Normal. As explained above, Sam’s story is ‘normal guy finds out he’s the chosen one’ and so, in a story about very large concepts and huge monsters and acts of magic, I felt it was very important to keep Dean as normal as possible. To the point it became a running gag to me, personally, in that ‘no matter what cool shit happens around him, Dean has to stay as Just A Guy’. And it’s a very humanizing role that allows the story to have the scale it does!

What were the most important themes in your story?

Sam’s Autonomy

I wasn’t even going to include the plot about Lucifer’s death in this story— that was going to come up in a later story, actually! And rather than Sam having ate Lucifer, the original idea was that they’d become a SamandLucifer entity (this harkens back to a concept I wanted to write when Swan Song first aired). 

That storyline would have involved a lot of mental ‘Sam and Lucifer discuss what it means to live, which one of them is more worthy of life and if they do deserve to destroy the world for the pain they’ve been forced to go through, just to create the dichotomy of good and evil for everyone else’ discussions. There would be a lot of talk about how Sam hates and fears Lucifer for the pain Lucifer put on Sam, how Lucifer hates Sam because he and Sam are the same but Sam’s brother loves him anyways, etc. 

Ultimately that was scrapped because Sam’s entire story in the show is always about how the world and everyone around him manipulates him and that he never actually gets to make choices about his own life or body that aren’t influenced or part of someone elses’ design. And that always bothered me that Sam was never allowed to be himself without having to be ashamed of it, and I wanted to make sure that Sam’s triumph of being proud of himself/proudly choosing to exist (again) was evident in his story

In the end I needed Sam to have this visceral win over his tormentor. As the story shows, in this case Lucifer was abused and put into a position where he was incapable of empathy and could only express himself in violence. Sam even understands this! But it doesn’t change the fact that Lucifer tortured Sam in unimaginable ways for thousands of years. 

With that in mind I didn’t like the idea of Lucifer and Sam having “co-ownership” of their new identity, so I made the choice that Sam had to be the survivor. This tied in well with Sam’s new crusade to restore free will to the universe, because he’s breaking the narrative of his own story!

While Castiel wasn’t a pov character, his own autonomy and free will was equally as important. You’ll note that many, many paragraphs and conversations revolved around that theme and that in the end Cas followed himself (and love!) which ensured his freedom of self <3

The Brothers are WEIRD PEOPLE!!!! And Codependent to a Worrying Degree, but It’s Also How They Survive

It’s very hard to show “unusual” relationships when you’re writing from the pov of the two people who don’t think there’s anything weird about their relationship. Sure, they say ‘yeah it’s probably weird that we still share a bed’ but that’s kinda more in line with ‘I had a nightmare and I want to be close to the person who makes me feel safe’. Hashtag normalize co-sleeping when you need it!!!

From there I did try to point out how the boys have a weird perception of lifestyle in the little things they did. 

From thrifting everything from clothes to appliances to books (thrifting is a valid lifestyle! It’s incredibly handy when you’re on a budget.) 

To never actually having condiments or knowing how to use a dishwasher cause they’ve lived in a car, a motel room, or squatted in old houses their whole life.

I tried to have them wear each others’ clothes or casually swap things as much as possible. They live out of each others’ pockets!

Also the brothers are just weird people!! It’s hard to show from their pov, cause they don’t know how far off from normal they are, but like…

Everything about Sam and Amelia was NOT right like holy shit those two were wilding in their grief. They are very lucky things worked out for them and that they got to be hashtag Weird Girls together

Dean explicitly, in the story, gets horny after killing stuff!! Violence has done a number on his psyche and he’s gotten some wires crossed that maybe shouldn’t have been, or maybe could be worked out in a safe space but… uh… how likely do we think Dean is gonna go find a safe space to deal with any of his shit???

LOVE!!! Love is truly what this whole story is all about

If you’ve read the stories, you know how much emphasis I put on love. Love is the strongest force in the Spn Universe! It’s what averted the apocalypse and saved the world (Swan Song), it’s what created free will (Cas’ entire arc!) I love love!!!!

I went out of my way to not put any definitions on platonic love vs romantic love because I think love is love is love and how you express that is the difference. Neither is more powerful than the other because LOVE is powerful!! Sam and Cas are the most important people in Dean’s life and he loves them equally! He shows this by giving Cas kisses and stealing Sam’s socks.

It’s a personal pet peeve of mine when I have to hear explanations like ‘I love you, like a brother’ or ‘I love you, but like, as a friend because I’m a lesbian and you’re a man’ etc etc in media. If you have to continuously define how your characters love each other, then I don’t think you’re doing a good job of portraying their relationship. So you’ll see that I never put those parameters in any conversation. Dean DOES muse that he loves Cas differently than he loves Sam or Bobby, specifically because there is a romantic and sexual tone that his feelings for Cas takes, but not because he loves Cas more or less than he loves Sam or Bobby.

Which means, if you haven’t realized it yet, the Series + Fic Titles are meant to be a complete sentence because the power of love IS the thesis of this series:

The Love It Takes To Exist Again (Sam’s journey!)

The Love It Takes To Become a Man (Dean’s journey!)

The Love It Takes To Destroy a Man (TBA)

And now for fun stuff. Behind the scenes!!

What’s Something People Probably Don’t Know?

The demonic fungal/hydrothermal vent growth on Sam’s arm was thrown in literally as I was posting the chapter because I had just finished a 48 hour cram session of writing a report on tube worms for an ecology class (I was chanting my tube worm song as I wrote it) and it ended up being a HUGE hit with both readers and myself. But it was so last minute I had trouble fitting it in more throughout the rest of Sam’s story!

Cas’ orders? That may or may not have bound him to Dean and removed his free will? Were written into Sam’s story and I went ‘oh SHIT that’s compelling’ and then left them there as a ‘guess I’ll figure that out when I get to Dean’s story lol’

Originally Dean and Cas were supposed to get together after having their souls bonded, and have been in a UST limbo the entire time before that. Mostly because I think the entire concept of ‘we just got married of the soul I guess we should try dating?’ is very funny. CLEARLY the two of them were way more eager to fall in love than I anticipated (thank you Cas for your honesty) but you can still see shades of this original idea here and there (especially in ch35 of TBAM)

I never intended Dean and Benny to connect so well!! Benny was going to reunite with Andrea, she was going to live, and they were going to go off into the world and leave the story. And, uh, here we are. I’m still debating if I need to adjust the relationship tag or not haha. Polyamory is fun, especially when I was planning for Sam to be the polyamorous brother...

Speaking of, I can’t believe I forgot about Sam and his sexuality! If I rewrote TEA I would have had Sam contemplate more on his lack of sexual appetite due to trauma, up until he meets Benny and he gets to rediscover how he wants to be a sexual person

Many of Sam and Dean’s absolutely stupid sibling conversations were lifted near-verbatim from conversations I’ve had with my siblings

And lastly...

Dem where’s Kevin????????????? Where is our sweet baby boy????????

He’s SAFE!! He’s in the Hunter pipeline somewhere cause Sam handed him off to Bobby’s people. He and his mom are safe and at some point they probably got rib sigils like SalmonDean did against angels, but for demons. I didn’t have room in this story for him!!! But my baby boy is SAFE and I want to get him back to university because it’s WHAT HE DESERVES!!!!

To that point: god there were/are SO many characters that I just didn’t include in the story so far because I didn’t feel comfortable including them without stalling the story for them. To that point: pretty much everyone who is alive/dead in s8 is that way in this story, except Bobby who gets to live.

[Check Out Part 2 for reader questions!]

[agent-cupcake]

Cupcake!! Do you listen to music while writing? If yes what kind?

Yes! I absolutely do! I really love music, I’d say it’s secondary to literature as far as my choice of creative input so this is also just my personal recommendations regarding music as a whole with explanations and unwanted commentary because I’m dumb and this is one of my favorite things to talk about.

Firstly, my ongoing(ish) story Beastie and the Bard is musically driven so here are some songs I have on my playlist for that. I tend towards pieces that are melancholy but melodic. Entrancing, perhaps.

Lolita by Ennio Morricone - Contextually, I realize this is a bizarre (even tone deaf) pick given the source material, but... Whatever. This song, in general, just reminds me of Dimitri. Although a heavy, militaristic march might suit him better, the heart rending sound of this song just works for me when I think of him. The piano sets the tone immediately, lingering on some notes in a wistful, sad way. And it is sad, the cello and flute join in to make that clear. But, at a certain point, the instruments begin to dance around together, opening up and almost seeming like they want to resolve the song and create something happier, or at least something bittersweet, only to be drawn back into the uneasy tragedy of the main motif. I dunno, for me, it just absolutely aches like betrayal. 

Shallan’s Lullaby by treefin / Black Piper - This music box rendition of Shallan’s Lullaby from Stormlight was the melodic inspiration for my bootleg lullaby that reader writes for Dimitri (perhaps not the first part as much as the way it shifts around 1:07). It’s haunting.

Isabella’s Lullaby from The Promised Neverland - Pretty self explanatory, I think. This one hits the sweet spot of beautiful and sad, from the harp to the vocals it just fits. 

Howl’s Moving Castle Merry Go Round of Life original and the cover by the Grissini Project - Both versions are incredibly special pieces of music and I’d be surprised if you hadn’t heard this theme before, very good for the more whimsical parts of the story (not that there’s gonna be any more of that).

Shadows of the Lowlands from Xenoblade 2 - While I’m about to recommend this entire soundtrack, this vocal piece is stunning. This guy’s vocals, no joke, sound like a Tolkien Elf. We Are the Chosen Ones is done by the same vocal group and soloist so it’s also making this list although the tone is def a bit different. 

Okay now I’m just gonna point out my favorite soundtracks. For all of these, I have COMPLETELY LEGALLY downloaded most of these from other sites, I’m linking youtube just based on superficial searches to hopefully give you a taste and maybe encourage you to NOT BREAK THE LAW and acquire these soundtracks on your own

Fire Emblem Three Houses - This is obvious and I’m sure you’ve all heard it, but go have a listen if you haven’t. but first, is anyone else disappointed about the Three Houses official release soundtrack? Considering the delay I guess I kinda expected more. Granted, the soundtrack IS phenomenal. Not so much in its entirety, which is emblematic of the game as a whole in some ways, but the set pieces? Unforgettable. This soundtrack is a case study in how powerful a small pool of musical motifs and set-up/pay-offs can be. The little promise of God Shattering Star at the very beginning of the game, Those Who Sow Darkness giving a taste of Shambhala, and then the use of the main melodies of Season of Warfare (Main Theme) and Song of the Nabateans. For the most part, both melodies are used in dramatic songs, creating this unbreakable musical connection between Edelgard and Byleth. Or, if you think about it, Edelgard and the Rhea. For example: the thunder version of Funeral of Flowers doesn’t have the game’s theme, but the rain version does (those two songs were WRITTEN to be layered I stg). And then there’s that somewhat bastardized version of the main theme in At What Cost, highlighting the intended twisting of the usual heroic take on that melody. I do have a potentially unpopular opinion, however. The Apex of the World is boring and tonally dissonant with the final battle in Azure Moon. A lot of people really like Edelgard-Dimitri likes Edelgard! There’s very little heroism in that mission, at least to me, and a song like At What Cost would have fit SO MUCH BETTER. I mean, that is also Edelgard’s theme so hearing that being twisted up into this decidedly more dark song would be thematically appropriate to her ultimate choice. The title also just seems like it suits her and Dimitri. Edelgard claims that she has weighed the cost of war, she believes she is capable of taking on the cost of victory without really knowing what it would be. Dimitri's whole story was him trying to find revenge no mater what the cost and now that he has it, he’s fully understanding what it will cost him. I understand why they would use the traditional hero song to cap the route, but it seems weird that they’d be willing to subvert so many other aspects of tradition while holding to that for a song that, in my opinion, is the least interesting of all the final battle songs. As you can probably tell, At What Cost is a song that is very tonally inspiring to me. I also love Funeral of Flowers (Thunder and Rain separately and layered together), The Long Road, and Roar of Dominion for getting hyped to write.

Final Fantasy VII Remake - Ever since I got this soundtrack, I’ve been addicted. I really don’t have much to say on this one other than just to recommend you give it a listen if you’re even passingly interested in orchestral video game music. There’s some misses for me (specifically the Wall Market stuff and anything that gets into the weird electric guitar/techno stuff) but it’s overwhelmingly fantastic and can work for active listening music and for background music while you write. I’d follow up recommend you get ahold of the Acoustic Arrangements soundtrack. I can’t link you on this one but it’s worth the extra legwork to procure it COMPLETELY LEGALLY. 

Final Fantasy Distant Worlds - I was actually able to see the Distant World’s tour when it swept through Houston and at that point I had no idea what the fuck a Final Fantasy was. At all. However, seeing One Winged Angel live is not something I will ever forget. Ever. This soundtrack is great for some background listening and although it is often too upbeat for my usual tastes, it’s good when I need something easier. Okay. Real talk. I was about to recommend to you a bunch of FFXIV music (the MMO), choice selections from FFXV, and try and dig up some songs that are only available in live recordings. If you like Final Fantasy music, I recommend all of these things. The games are a clusterfuck but the music is even moreso and it’s worth your time if you like this kind of thing.

Xenoblade 2 - See? Told you I was gonna recommend this. Actually, ranking wise, I would say that I like it more than Final Fantasy. This soundtrack is magical. I cannot stress that enough, there is a level of whimsy and beauty that went into this soundtrack that all at once draws upon the genre and being it’s own thing. Like, I get it, there’s a lot of misses. The electric guitar is jarring and annoying. Listen to Sea of Clouds, like, actually listen to it. Listen to Desolation. Pay attention to the motif used in connection with Elysium and then the other songs that its used in. The Power of Jin. This is a sometimes sad but mostly beautiful and whimsical soundtrack that is good for listening and for using as background music. 

Xenoblade 1 - I don’t have as much to say about this one, I don’t feel as if it’s as emotionally resonant as my other recommendations. BUT it is gorgeous. The area themes are wonderful and perfect for setting tone. 

Hollow Knight - Hollow Knight’s soundtrack takes one step back from the drama of the others and revels in its depressive simplicity. There are songs with a more cheerful tone, and the magical whimsy of Xenoblade 2 is very much brought to life in many of the pieces, but for the most part the soundtrack is as gorgeously melancholy as the game itself. One of my favorite things in music is when songs are given new life through new context and the White Palace --> Pale Court transition is haunting. 

Diabolik Lovers - OKAY I KNOW I KNOW hear me out. This soundtrack has no right to be as gorgeous, emotional, or quality as it is. This song, Lovers, is the younger sibling of Lolita’s theme, okay? Thematically, that’s kinda hilarious, but I mean it. If you like that song, give a few of the songs from this OST a chance.

BioShock, BioShock 2, and BioShock Infinite - BioShock 1&2 are different from Infinite. A lot more grungy, a lot more angry and discordant, the strings buzz and there’s a lot more horror to it all. Infinite, on the other hand, is very pretty. Infinite’s soundtrack is about the characters and their journey and feelings. The first two game’s soundtracks are about the ruined city of Rapture. It depends on what you’re in the mood for. I write using Infinite’s music more often, but there’s pieces in the first two that capture this empty, yearning feeling that is good for setting mood.

Pathologic - “Half Life’s soundtrack directed by Genghis Khan.” It’s bizarre. It’s grungy. 

Void (Typrop) - Basically the same deal. I dunno man, I like being inspired by horror.

Outlast - It’s an orchestral horror game soundtrack. Like the game itself, there’s a lot of horror movie inspiration. 

Dishonored 1 and Dishonored 2 - This is mostly background music. It’s a stealth game so it’s kinda uneasy, but I think there’s something really unique. Maybe the instruments? There’s a lot of weird sounds used. 

Higurashi - This is a compilation of horror themed songs from the anime soundtrack, but the VN soundtrack and the non-horror stuff is pretty good, too. Michishirube is my favorite.

Madoka Magica Rebellion - The main anime soundtrack is gorgeous. The bells, the strings, the drama... I’m recommending Rebellion specifically because it’s the more cohesive and story-driven soundtrack. This one is not as horror-ish and weird than the others, it is very beautiful and nice to listen to. Sad, in some parts, too. 

Code Geass and Resurrection - Brass? Got it. Dramatic strings? Got it. Bombastic set piece songs? Triple got it. This soundtrack oozes style. In some ways, that makes it not good for writing, but in others it can. Depends on what you’re writing. I think the melodrama can be incredibly useful for getting my mind in that frenzy state. 

Okay I’m done. Thank you for bearing with me. 

If we’re talking what songs inspire specific things, the Ferdinand piece was accompanied by a lot of the Diabolik Lovers soundtrack and Final Fantasy. When I wrote my sad Felix piece, it was all about Hollow Knight with a spot of Bloodborne and Dark Souls.  

[fatalism-and-villainy]

Nobody asked for a Qi Ye reaction post but here one is nonetheless (at almost 1500 words.... hello.)

[~spoilers~]

One of the first things I can say is that I love love LOVE Priest’s writing style. It’s hard to say how much of this is a translation thing, because I did get the vibe that this translation was a lot smoother and better than the other cnovel translations I happen to have read. But god!! Her style is very densely allusive, and a challenge to follow at times, but so so beautiful. The story’s narration also shifts perspective a lot in the middle of chapters, which gives it this almost cinematic bird’s eye effect for me (except with internal-emotional states more than visuals). I can see it being the kind of thing that might bother people, but I love it – and I think that it ties in with the themes about the ephemerality and impermanence of life, and the way these little moments are all part of a much bigger sphere of existence.

I also like the way she does humour more than MXTX, honestly? I find the slapstick humour in MXTX’s works to be overdone and distracting from the other story and characterization work going on in her works. Whereas here, the humour landed more and also felt like it tied in more with the actual development of character and themes. Like, for instance, Liang Jiuxiao’s battle with the sable wherein he gets scratched every time and exhausts Beiyuan’s entire supply of antidote – it’s over the top, but also genuinely funny to me, AND I feel the comedic setup of Liang Jiuxiao constantly being an unwanted visitor contrasts very well with the entire heartbreaking scenario involving Beiyuan drugging him for Zhou Zishu, as well as his general progression from a Pure of Heart, Dumb of Ass archetype to being completely shattered by the evil and corruption in the world.

(The Sex and Kissing stuff is also, imo, more sensual and generally hotter to me than MXTX’s stuff – not trying to pick on her specifically, she’s just my only point of comparison for these novels.)

The main romance is ehhh… Mixed Feelings? I loved Wu Xi in all the parts he wasn’t playing the role of “love interest who expresses their love via violent jealousy”, but the parts where he WAS…. woof. Like, I don’t necessarily mind jealousy when it’s internal sensations, or when it’s a very intentionally fucked up dynamic, but I like it less so when it’s couple who’s riding off into the sunset and are the only foil to the general aura of melancholy and sadness in a story? Really hope that’s a one-off specific piece of characterization and not a general Thing for Priest…

I did actually like the gradual development of Beiyuan’s feelings, and the way there’s no Big Moment of Realization – or rather, there is a moment of realization, but it’s not super dramatic, it’s just sort of settling into something that’s been there awhile.

Another problem with their relationship for me though, I think, is how rushed the denouement of the book is, and how many important things are glossed over. Like, okay, they’re riding off into the sunset, but are they actually going to talk about the fact that Beiyuan seduced Wu Xi for Deception Purposes and then drugged him…? Taking advantage of Wu Xi’s very earnest and intense feelings in the process? Like, they stay in the capital for three months of negotiations before they leave, all while Wu Xi hides Beiyuan in his house – there must have been conversations and Relationship Negotiations? And yet we don’t See any of that, we’re just treated to them riding off in a carriage with some cheeky little line about how Beiyuan has the rest of his life to make things up to Wu Xi (presumably by having rough sex)… like ok.

The racism… there was a lot of it in the presentation of Nanjiang! I think the thing that stood out to me though was the line about Wu Xi’s having a kind of intuitive understanding of how people are (an intuition attributed to children, even!) despite not being cultured – it slots so perfectly into the kind of colonial propaganda that posits colonized people as having this innate, intuitive understanding of the world or connection with nature or what have you – but of course they’re not mature, they’re not cultured, they don’t have the capacity for rationality, that we do. To be fair, the line I’m thinking of is also applied to Liang Jiuxiao, but it is of a piece with how Nanjiang is characterized throughout the novel – like, oh, they’re so simple! When they like someone they just get married! It’s presented as a romantic ideal, but in a way that portrays Nanjiang as being Simple and Rustic and lacking the cultural complexity of the Great Qing. (Especially since we b a r e l y see the country or its people on the page.)

(Not to mention the way Wu Xi’s bodyguards from Nanjiang are portrayed as being confused and grossed out by him being in love with a man – contrasted with the commentary about how commonplace sex between men is in the Great Qing. Feels very like Nanjiang gets cast as less “enlightened”?)

I think those elements are also part of why the romance doesn’t fully stick its landing for me – because Wu Xi does take in and consider Great Qing cultural stuff, and incorporate it into his worldview alongside the influence of his home culture – and we don’t see Beiyuan doing something similar in return. He wants to leave for Nanjiang in part because he’s exhausted with capital politics and wants freedom, but why Nanjiang specifically? What does the country mean to him? How’s he actually going to fit in there? (This is another thing that also could have been filled in more with more actual writing about what goes down after that final battle.)

I honestly was deeply moved by Helian Yi. I shed literal tears for that man on multiple occasions. I do feel like I would have benefitted from more actual exploration of his past life-relationship with Beiyuan? Because as it was, I felt like that aspect of Beiyuan’s characterization was kind of informed rather than fleshed out – what did he see in Helian Yi in the first place? And I think the unrequited love would have been more poignant if we’d had more flashbacks to when it was requited.

Also, the possible-incest reveal?? What even was the point of that…? (I know people have posited that that’s why Helian Yi originally had Beiyuan killed, but with that final deleted-on-JJWXC extra I feel like it’s meant to be that he thought Beiyuan was responsible for Su Qingluan’s death. Another thing that should have been elaborated on, plot-wise…)

In general, the ending was very rushed. It gave me distinct “project due the next day” vibes.

ZHOU ZISHU!!!! – my main emotional engagement with this, tbh. I loved what was done with him, loved getting to see more of the atrocities he was behind (haha), loved the chilling “ends justify the means” ideological track he was on, loved how enmeshed he was in Hierarchy and political intrigue and how Carefully he handled himself around his social superiors… yeah.  

I am also…. Also losing my mind over the entire Vibe between Zhou Zishu and Liang Jiuxiao. Misplaced devotion… broken pedestals… weird subtextual hard-to-define Feelings... selfishly wanting to hide the worst parts of yourself from someone…. Ahhhhh it’s good. Love those intricate complex homoerotic friendships. If there Exists any fic (whether platonic or less so) that anyone wants to rec… pls do 👀

I have to say, another problem I had with the ending was that I don’t think the tonal dissonance was well-balanced. Like, there’s a very melancholy atmosphere for pretty much everyone except the main couple, and I do understand that their getting away from the capital is the only thing that engenders that happiness (as a big theme of the book is that the politicking in the capital is exhausting and demoralizing – and to my understanding that is similar to the themes at work in Faraway Wanderers.) But I don’t feel as though those two streams were working in communication with each other in the final chapters – I would say that the cutesy scenes with the main couple just felt jarring in contrast to the sadness and regret that permeated the rest of the narrative. I think perhaps they were too saccharine, rather than emphasizing escape and looking forward to different possibilities? I’m not sure. (It also seems questionable to present Nanjiang as an Escape, given that Wu Xi is in charge now?? They’re still right in the thick of politics?) Anyway, this all is why I like the placement of that final extra at the end of the narrative, because it Is a turning back to melancholia that I like to see during nominal happy endings.

[lavendersoft]

My Soulmate’s Soulmate.

Part 4

Soulmate AU-

Synopsis: Before you meet your soulmate your world is black and white, without color. When soulmates meet, their world glows with vibrancy. The reality, however -as harsh and uncommon as it is- is that you are not always your soulmate’s soulmate.

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung x Reader, Jungkook x Taehyung (poly!au),

Warnings: N/A

Author’s note: jungkook is kinda dumb for the sake of plot. forgive pls.

--

Her mouth fell agape as she continued to stare at him. Taehyung started to get anxious, she looked like she had totally spaced out.

“Y/n..? Listen, I know it’s a lot to proces-“

“A lot to process? A lot to process?!” She immediately covered her mouth with the book she had been fidgeting with, her voice getting a bit too loud for a bookstore.

“I’m sorry. It’s just- yeah! Okay? It’s a bit more information than I had been expecting. I mean, I’m your soulmate and you’re my soulmate’s-” She places the book back in her lap and places a palm on her forehead, collecting her racing thoughts. Her voice was soft and her eyes cast downwards when she spoke again “It’s just that I know how you feel. I’m not my soulmate’s soulmate either.”

Another piece to the puzzle.

“He told me years ago, when we were still teenagers. I’ve always suspected he’d find his partner. Actually, I expected it. It just hit hard when it actually happened. It’s just difficult, I've been dealing with all this for so long.”

There was something in her voice, the way her eyes seemed glazed over, the way she lost herself in deep thought, the way her hands tremble as if she could break down right here, it was all Tae could do to keep from crying. This whole situation wasn't fair, they didn't deserve this. Especially not her.

“This is all new to me. I thought you were just ignoring me because you were already in a committed relationship, not because...” his voice died out as he realized what he was saying.

Not because you weren't my soulmate, too.

Her face contorted in what seemed like guilt or empathy for just a split second.

“I had no idea about Jungkook. To be honest, I wondered why he attached himself to me from the beginning, but I figured he was just friendly.” He was only half-joking.

She let out a genuine laugh and shook her head as if to say “that’s ridiculous, you idiot.”

“I just always assumed soulmate’s came in pairs.” He finished. Her giggles died down to a small, sad smile.

“Me too.”

After a moment of thought, she looked him in the eyes with sternness.

“I need you to be honest with me. How often have you seen him since you two met?”

“He’s scheduled at least six meetings with me.”

There was a flash of melancholy that crossed her face.

“He told me he was working overtime.”

She didn’t seem surprised, just a bit sad while she nodded her head and eyed the hardcover in her hands. Tae wanted nothing more than to reach over and hold her hand, to comfort her as much as he possibly could. But he knew that would be inappropriate, considering the current situation. So instead he studied her. Her mannerisms, the details of her face, the way her hair fell, the curve her neck that peeked out through her oversized nit sweater, the color of her fingernails, the twinkle in her eyes, the way the light from the window hit her features just right, making her look like a perfect muse for a painting. She was ethereal. And he was falling hard.

Taehyung searched her face as he contemplated confessing his feeling for her. To some extent, she probably knew. But she didn't know how he’s gotten but a wink of sleep since they met. She couldn't know that he can’t bring himself to bear the thought of never being able to be with her. There was no way for her to know how weak she made him, how he feels like sighing when she so much as speaks his name. She couldn't know. He felt like such an idiot, falling for someone he’s had a handful of words with. Then, he remembered his own soulmate-paired parents and the story of how they met. “Love at first sight,” his mother would always tell him, “It was like a light switch that could never be turned off. It was immediate and felt so natural, like breathing.” His mother had always been a hopeless romantic, that's where he got it from.

He took a moment before taking the chance.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night we met at the restaurant, Y/n. I’ve wanted so badly to see you but something inside told me that I’d never be able to get over you if I saw you again. And I was right. You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

She finally let out the breath she’d been holding. She looked overwhelmed, which was understandable.

She met his gaze and for the first time, it felt like she’d actually seen him.

“Taehyung,” Her voice was filled with sympathy when she reached over to ever so gently place her hand on top of his own, alighting his skin.

“I think the first step is breaking the news to Jungkook.”

—

*Two weeks ago*

Jungkook sat at the tiny little not-so-busy cafe with a warm coffee in his cold hands. The weather had been getting so chilly lately. He instantly thought of you and how adorably whiny you get when your cold.

He grinned fondly as he plans a sweet little movie night, with lots of blankets and warm snacks as the fireplace crackles. He just wants to snuggle up with you while watching horror movies.

He brings the coffee to his lips once again as his thoughts snap back to the current situation.

His company had given him free rein over the cover of his new album. It was the first time he’d have full control over the aesthetic points and he was ecstatic. He had so many ideas rushing through his head constantly ever since he heard the news.

So many ideas, in fact, that he thought it’d be best to meet with a professional to find the absolute right path to go down. He didn’t know if he’d get another chance like this so he had to make it count. It had to be perfect.

It took about two minutes to find the perfect person for the project.

He was a well-established freelance artist that had worked with many different celebrities before, and his portfolio was amazing. Jungkook was impressed immediately and made the first call.

Which turned out to be the best and worst decision of his life.

He heard the bell to the cafe ring softly but paid it no mind as he was so lost in thought.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

At the sound of his name, he looked up to find the most handsome man Jungkook had ever seen. Dressed in all black except for the leopard print coat he had slung over his broad shoulders. His hair was a dark silver styled in loose waves, longer at the nape. Several piercings adorned his ears and he sported a plethora of rings with a simple silver coin pendant necklace. The man had already moved to take a seat in the booth across from him.

“I’m Kim Taehyung, we spoke over the phone? Good to meet you.”

It was all Jungkook could do not to scream.

What the hell? What the hell? No. No way, this can’t be happening! No! This isn’t real!

Taehyung hadn’t been paying too much attention to Jungkook’s silence, going ahead and pulling out different works and sketches from his bag to show Jungkook as references.

“From what you told me over the phone, I kind of went ahead and made a few rough drafts, you know? This one, I think, is my favorite.”

Taehyung pushed a piece of paper with beautiful different colors on it. Jungkook had to blink away the tears from his eyes. Jungkook’s eyes couldn’t even focus, they darted around the vicinity.

“Come on now, it’s not that good. Don’t cry.”

It was so good, so good. He’d literally never seen anything like it before. This was the first object he was able to focus on in what felt like hours at this point.

“I- I’m sorry I have to g-go. Um.. I’ll uh.. call you.” Jungkook new he looked absolutely insane, slamming his laptop and packing up in a panic.

To his surprise, Taehyung hadn’t looked angry at all, just confused.

“Oh, okay. So rain check, then?” He asked.

“Y-yes, rain check.”

With that, he ran out of the building, with a migraine unlike anything he’s ever had.

That night he had told you about Tae. He’d felt your heartbreak but had convinced you to stay, yet again.

Right before you two had fallen asleep that night he made you a silent promise.

He would make this work. He’d find a way to keep you from leaving, and to keep you happy.

—Two days later—

He made a phone call to Tae. They rescheduled their meeting. He kept it as professional as he possibly could. But he felt it, the pull of the Bond. He would have given anything just to touch Tae.

But not you. He won’t give you up.

He wondered how Tae so seemingly effortlessly hid how much he wanted Jungkook. I mean, he must be hurting so much, too. Jungkook felt a pang if guilt.

This was a mistake.

He shouldn’t have rescheduled. He should have gone with another designer for his album cover. He should have deleted Tae’s number. It would have been less painful for everyone involved.

But that’s easier said than done. Ever since he met Tae, it was almost like he couldn’t breathe if Tae wasn’t there. And seeing him again just solidified the fact that everything is so much... so much brighter when Taehyung’s near.

Jungkook is completely hooked.

That’s why Jungkook kept seeing Tae. Throughout the next week or so he scheduled so many meetings with the beautiful artist.

He told you he was just working extra hours.

Jungkook he fell deeper each time he saw Tae. The meetings became less and less professional and more personal. Jungkook learned Tae was from Daegu, that his parents were farmers, that he is the oldest sibling, that he can sing, and that Tae had the most wonderfully weird sense of humor.

However, each time Tae would crack a joke and send him one of those lovely smiles, Jungkook’s heart would clench in guilt.

Tae reminded him of you. The same odd, sarcastic sense of humor. The same bright smile.

He kept thinking how betrayed you’d look when you found out about these secret meetings.

“Hey, Tae, I have someone I’d like you to meet. I think you’d like her.”

If only he knew back then how right he was.

-Present-

Jungkook sat at his desk finishing up the editing for his new single. He’d felt so guilty due to all the time he’d put into meeting Tae behind your back. He planned on taking you out tonight to compensate. But that was before he got the text that made his heart drop.

Please meet me as soon as you can. I’m at the little bookstore on the corner. It’s important.

I’m with Taehyung.

He didn’t bother shutting his laptop or even grabbing his bag when he rushed through the door of his office.

He had the most gut-wrenchingly terrible feeling about this.

--

Taglist: @ourwhispersbecomeouranthems @fantasyjoon @ally22042000 @ireadfanficsonthisleavemealone @embrace-themagic @lexi-tries-art @ccmemoirs @just-call-me-trash-can

[quickspinner]

MLHolidays2k19 - 23. Carols

Part 2 - 20. Traditions 

Part 3 - 21. Blankets 

I was thinking about today’s prompt, and then I played this song and remembered the carols prompt and got to thinking, so we’re jumping back a few prompts. 

New York was full of inspiration, and Marinette’s favorite place to find it was a little bistro she’d stumbled on a few weeks into her assignment. A wide variety of people came and went, and they often had live music. Tonight, though, she just couldn’t seem to get interested in anything, even though one of her favorites was playing, a nice-looking young man with pierced ears and dyed hair who played the guitar beautifully. He had a fun style and Marinette had sketched him more than once in the past, but tonight she was just staring into her drink, stirring it listlessly, her sketchbook idle under her other hand. The people swirled around her little table but she just didn’t feel like watching them. The music was nice, but it seemed a bit melancholy.

Or maybe that was just her. 

She was startled out of her thoughts as the blue-haired guitarist began to sing. He rarely did, and it was always a treat. Marinette loved his voice and the songs he chose always seemed to resonate with what she was feeling at the time. 

I’m dreaming tonight of a place I love Even more than I usually do And I though I know it’s a long road back I promise you

It was no different tonight. His voice was smooth and mellow with just the right amount of longing. He sounded like she felt, and the song went straight to her heart as the words penetrated.

I’ll be home for Christmas You can count on me Please have snow and mistletoe  And presents under the tree  Christmas Eve will find me where the love lights gleam I’ll be home for Christmas  If only in my dreams

She’d heard the song many times since Thanksgiving, often enough that she had largely stopped noticing it, but now it struck her dumb. 

Marinette stared at the singer, who remained calm and relaxed, but with just enough tension in his body and in his face for you to believe he really felt it. For a moment Marinette felt he was looking right at her. She reached up quickly to wipe away the tears that had begun to cluster on her eyelashes. She’d never heard this song played on an electric guitar before but it fit him, and he made it fit the song too. Somehow he captured the perfect tone of wistful longing hidden under a brave smile, and it robbed Marinette completely of her ability to be brave any longer. She hunched down in her chair, clutching her drink, and hoped no one would notice the tears. 

Marinette had no idea how long she’d been sniffling there when a shadow fell over her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad,” said a male voice, low and smooth and...with an accent? She looked up to find the singer standing next to her table, with his guitar case in his hand and a friendly, sympathetic smile. 

“Oh,” she said, sitting up straight and grabbing her napkin to wipe at her eyes. “You didn’t. Truly, I was already sad. You just sang what was in my heart, I guess.” Marinette tried to smile, and the man’s face brightened.

“Pardon me, but are you French? Your accent—” Marinette was having the same revelation; she hadn’t been wrong, though his singing had always been perfect, when he spoke, he did so with an accent; lighter than hers, but distinctive. 

“Yes, I’m from Paris,” Marinette smiled. “I’ve only been in New York a few months. And you?”

“I’m also from Paris,” he answered in French, and it sounded like music as much as anything he had done with his guitar. He gestured at the chair across from her. “May I join you? It’s been a while since I was able to speak to anyone from home and, well...it seems like maybe we’re both a little homesick tonight.”

“Please, go ahead,” Marinette said eagerly, and he sat down immediately, tucking his guitar case under the table.

“It’s been months since I’ve been able to speak French with anyone,” he said with a self-conscious smile. “It feels good.” He held out his hand across the table. “My name is Luka, by the way.”

“Marinette,” she answered, shaking his hand. Luka’s smile widened.

“That’s a very pretty French name.” He leaned his elbows on the table, clasping his hands in front of him. “What brings you to New York?”

“Work,” she replied. “I work at a fashion design firm and they’re based in Paris, but they sent me to New York to work on a collaboration with another company that’s based here.”

“They must trust you a lot,” Luka observed. “You must be very capable for them to send you here on your own.” Marinette felt a little fluttered at the compliment, and didn’t quite know how to respond. Luka continued, with a slightly knowing smile, “I’m also here for work, playing backup for my mother’s old partner. It’s been fun, but this time of year, you definitely start to feel the distance. My boss is having a big Christmas party but it’s not the same as Christmas at home.” Marinette wasn’t sure but she thought he was blushing a bit. “I feel foolish admitting it, but I’ve never been away from my mother and sister at Christmas, and I miss them.” He swallowed hard and looked away.

Marinette leaned forward and patted the hands he had clasped on the table. “I feel the same way. I’ve never been away from home at the holidays either. When I think about missing my father’s bûche de Noël...” Her throat closed up and she couldn’t say anymore. 

Luka took her hand before she could pull it back across the table and squeezed it, and for a moment they just sat, connected but not looking at each other as they both tried to pull themselves together. When their eyes finally met again, they both shared a sheepish smile. 

“You okay?” Luka asked, and then cleared his throat, letting go of her hand.

“Not really,” Marinette giggled weakly. “You?”

“Nope,” he laughed back. “All right, well, how about this. If it sounds good to you, I can go get us another round of drinks or some food, and you can tell me about your family, and I can tell you about mine, and maybe we can at least keep each other company for a little bit, enjoy having someone to talk to without having to stop and figure out a word every few minutes—” Marinette giggled, and he smiled. “Because I can tell you, they don’t teach you the names of musical equipment in standard English classes.”

“Ugh, it’s the same with the technical terms where I work,” Marinette sighed. “I know exactly what I want to say but sometimes I just can’t find the right way to say it and I feel so stupid!”

Luka’s grin broadened. “I’ll get us a menu.” 

Marinette’s tears were soon forgotten in the joy of having someone from home to talk to.  Luka was a good listener. He asked insightful questions and seemed actually invested in the answers, and when he spoke he had interesting stories to tell. They shared plate after plate of food until they were really just nibbling for the sake of justifying their continued presence as they compared neighborhoods and swapped stories of their travels. 

“Seriously,” Luka grinned as Marinette laughed, her hands over her mouth and her eyes sparkling. “He rolls up outside our houseboat playing a piano on top of his giant tour truck—because of course he can’t have a bus like a normal rock star. And I’m just staring there like an idiot because it’s Jagged freaking Stone playing the piano on top of a truck outside my house, and then my mom just rips into him like’s her scummy ex-boyfriend.” Luka paused for a sip of water. “Because apparently he was. And my sister and I are just completely freaking out but only on the inside because a Couffaine never sweats where you can see.” 

Marinette could barely breathe for laughing, but she waved for Luka to go on.

“So he finally gets down off the damn truck and they have something almost approximating a conversation between two normal human beings, and it turns out he needed a guitarist and he wanted my mom to come play with him. And she basically tells him to fuck off but he can have me if I want to go.” He shrugged. “The money was good and I’ve never been to the States so I said, sure, what the hell. And here I am, Jagged Stone’s backup guitarist.” He rolled his eyes. “I get why mom was so pissed at him, though, he fires me like once a week, but…” He shrugged. “I’m good at what I do, and I’m laid back enough not to care about most of his weird antics, so his agent always just sends me home for the day and tells me to come back in the morning. I’m pretty sure she thinks nobody else could put up with him for this long so she has a vested interest in keeping me around.”

“Still, that’s terrible,” Marinette giggled. “I met him once, actually, years ago. He probably doesn’t remember, we met as part of a school project, but he wanted these sunglasses shaped like the Eiffel tower and colored like the French flag. I ended up making them because I couldn’t find anything like what he described.”

“You made those?” Luka raised his eyebrows. “He loves those things. Never lets them out of his sight. He left them in a restaurant once and Penny had to drive a six hour round-trip to go get them.”

“Really?” Marinette blushed, eyes wide. “Wow. They were so...wow. Okay.” 

“Yeah,” Luka grinned. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him you’re in town unless you want me to. He’d probably have you making glasses shaped like the Empire State Building next.”

They both giggled at that, and when the laughter finally died, Luka sighed and rubbed his neck. “I should really get going.” He hesitated. “Could I give you my number? Maybe we could hang out again sometime.”

Marinette smiled. “I’d like that.” Luka grinned and they traded phones to type in their numbers. They split the check and both got up to go. She got a bit stuck trying to get her coat back on, but Luka stepped behind her to help, chuckling, and sorted her out quickly. 

They walked together at the door, and just outside, Marinette turned to Luka. 

“Luka, do you—“ she hesitated and bit her lip.

“Do I?” he prompted with a gentle smile.

“Do you want to come over and spend Christmas Eve with me tomorrow?” she blurted in a rush. “I mean, I know we just met but if you’re going to be alone and I’m going to be alone and neither of us wants to be alone then…” She shrugged. “Why should we be? I can cook and maybe it won’t be the same but—“ she paused as Luka laughed quietly.

“”You don’t know how nice it is to hear somebody talk that fast and still be able to follow,” Luka chuckled, and though the laughter faded, the warmth remained in his smile. “And as for us being strangers, you’ve been listening to my music for a long time, so I think you know me better than you realize.”

Marinette’s eyes widened slightly. He’d noticed her, all those times he played?

Luka cleared his throat, glancing away for a moment before bringing his gaze back to hers. “I’d love to spend Christmas Even with you, Marinette. Text me the details? I’ll pick up some wine and bring my guitar and neither of us has to be alone.”

Marinette felt all bubbly inside at the thought of cooking for another person after all this time. Suddenly she felt motivated to clean up and find a nice tablecloth and put up some lights. All of those things she had always loved but couldn’t see the point of with no one to share them with. “Great! Yes, okay. I’ll see you then!” She had so much to do, she needed to plan a menu and make a grocery list and—“Bye!” she called with a bright smile, setting off with a bounce in her step.

Luka watched her go for a moment, his own smile growing. She practically sparkled as she bobbed down the street, clearly lost in her plans and looking so happy...

Yeah, he wasn’t going to feel bad about ditching Jagged’s giant Christmas party at all.

[grimelords]

October Playlist

My October playlist is finished and it’s complete from Rico Nasty to Rachmaninoff. I absolutely guarantee there’s something you’ll love in this 3 and a half hours of music, and probably something you’ll hate too! Something for everyone!

If you’d like to have these playlists delivered to your inbox instead of having them randomly appear on your dash, please subscribe to my tinyletter here.

listen here

Santeria - Pusha T: In anticipation of Jesus Is King I relistened to the entire Wyoming Sessions project a few times, and a year removed from all the hype and controversy here's the thing: it's fucking great. The individual albums ranged pretty widely in quality and felt slightly unfinished for how short they were sometimes, but taking the project as a whole 5-album 120 minute playlist it turns out it's a masterpiece. My personal tracklist goes Ye/Daytona/Nasir/KTSE/Kids See Ghosts, which isn't release order but I think makes it flow the best - both Kanye albums bookending it and the less impactful Nas and Teyana Taylor albums buried a bit further in where you can appreciate them now that you're deep in the mindset of the whole thing rather than alone on their own.

Puppets (Succession Remix) - Pusha T & Nicholas Brittel: This remix is such a perfect match: Pusha T’s corporate villainy finally given a context and prestige it deserves. It’s also short enough that it could feasible be the actual theme song next season, which would be a marked improvement imo.

Use This Gospel - Kanye West, Clipse & Kenny G: I am and remain a Kanye stan, even after everything. It’s nice to see him going back to the extremely uneven mastering of MBDTF era, it’s a sound that is uniquely his and it’s fun to see him revisit it. The thick vocoder harmony is so soupy you get lost in it, and the way it opens up to include the full choir in the No Malice verse is beautiful. Kanye reunited Clipse through Christ and we have Him to thank for that at least. The Kenny G break is great, and the grain and dirt on the whole track when the beat kicks in is so gritty you can feel it.

Man Of The Year - Schoolboy Q: I didn't love the Chromatics album they surprise released but it did thankfully remind me of the time Schoolboy Q sampled Cherry for Man Of The Year. Taken exclusively on lyrics, Man Of The Year is a triumph: he's the man of the year and it's all worked out but the sample and the beat underscores the dead eyed melancholy that runs through the whole of Oxymoron of never winning even when you've won.

Cold - Rico Nasty: This song fucking tears your face off. Imagine STARTING your album at this level of intensity. She just goes straight to 100 and burns the house down. Outside of Lil John so few rappers can get away with just straight up screaming in the adlibs but the way she just lung tearingly screams GOOOO through this is fucking sick.

Fake ID - Riton & Kah-Lo: TikTok songs are becoming their own genre, but it’s a very nebulous sort of a mood encompassing everything from aughts pop punk hooks to skipping rope raps like this. It’s a strange new way for songs to blow up that everyone seems compelled to write articles about but my take on it is it’s exactly the same as ads were in the old days. Remember how many songs did absolute numbers because someone put it in a Motorola ad? Same thing except you’re not being sold a phone this time, so in some ways it’s better. Anyway, this song bangs. The spirit of 212 era Azealia Banks lives on even if she’s doing her best ever since then to kill it.

Doctor Pressure - MYLO & Miami Sound Machine: There was a very good era in the mid-2000s where you could just put mashups out as singles and they’d chart, it was sick. My only two examples are this and Destination Calabria but I’m sure there’s more. Drop The Pressure is a masterpiece but as an alternate version this mashup is equally masterful.  

If You’re Tarzan, I’m Jane - Martika: Martika is unfortunately best known for the 1989 one hit wonder Toy Soldiers, a sort of boring overdramatic ballad which is best known for being sampled by Eminem in 2004 in his quite bad super duper serious song Like Toy Soldiers. I say unfortunately because every other song on her first album is great, it’s all hypercolour 80s synthpop and I love this song especially because it is so completely stuffed with activity it becomes dizzying. It gets so lost in itself that they completely abandon the dramatic pause before “I’m Jane” for some reason toward the end and instead just layer three different tracks of vocal adlibs. Every part of this song is great, the weird ‘o we o we o’ chant before the second verse? The neighing horse guitar before the bridge? The musical tour of the world IN the bridge? The part where she says ‘I want to swing on your vine?’. This song has everything.

You Got Me Into This - Martika: Every part of the instrumentation in this is amazing. The bass sound, the main synth, the extremely athletic brass, the wonderful echoing 80s snare that’s as big as a house. I just love it. She also does some really intriguing slurs on the word ‘love’ all the way through, just moving it around absolutely anywhere.

Space Time Motion - Jennifer Vanilla: I love when someone has such a clearly defined aesthetic and mission from the very beginning. Jennifer Vanilla is the alter ego of Becca Kaufmann from Ava Luna who I've had in this playlist before but never competely investigated. Jennifer Vanilla feels like an episode of Sex And The City where Samantha gets really into Laurie Anderson and she is incredible. This video is the best mission statement I’ve ever seen and is currently criminally underviewed so please do your part and support the Jennifer cause by watching these two videos.

So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings - Caroline Polachek: Caroline Polachek said watch me write a Haim song and did it. Apparently the very early versions of this album started when she was in writing sessions for Katy Perry, but then it started to turn into something else and she took it for herself, and I think you can hear that. With more normal production and a little faster this is a hundred percent a Katy Perry song, but instead it’s completely uniquely Caroline Polachek and it’s all the better for it. And also Katy Perry must be furious because her new songs are simply not good at all.

Electric Blue - Arcade Fire: I just love the obsession of this song in the outro, chanting over and over and over “Cover my eyes electric blue, every single night I dream about you”

Promiscuous - Nelly Furtado and Timbaland: I got a youtube ad for one of those Masterclass videos the other day and it was Timbaland teaching production. This ad went for five minutes for some reason and I watched the whole thing and it made me admire Timbaland even more. He’s demonstrating his compositional technique which is basically to just beatbox, and then loop it, and then add some extra percussion layers with more beatboxing and hand percussion, then loop that and add a little melody by singing or humming. ‘It’s that simple’ he says. Then later he goes back in and puts in actual drums or synths or whatever. I was stunned because suddenly a lot of his music makes sense. Without the barrier of instrument or timbre to get hung up on it allows him to write from this instantly head-nodding place of just making up a little beat you can sing and dance to immediately. Listening to a lot of his music now you can hear the bones underneath everything so clearly, all his beats are supremely beatboxable and all his melodies are very hummable, they’ve never overcomplicated by instrumental skill or habits, they just exist to serve the song.

Serpent - TNGHT:  TNGHT are back baby and this song is like nothing I’ve ever heard before. It feels like afrofuturist footwork from another dimension, the mbira sounding lead against the oil drum percussion in this cacophony of yelps and screams that just builds to an irrepressible energy without a bassline in sight.

Ghosts Of My Life - Rufige Kru: I'm reading Mark Fisher's Ghosts Of My Life right now and some good person has put together a spotify playlist of all the songs he mentions. He has a whole essay about why this song is sick so I’m not going to go into it here but it’s interesting to hear about someone growing up with jungle when it’s a genre that has always felt very niche to me. I guess partly as a result of it never really making it mainstream as a genre here, and also me being a little too young for it.

Renegade Snares - Omni Trio: My biggest introduction to drum and bass comes from the game Midnight Club 3: Dub Edition and this really great song from the soundtrack that is finally on spotify after a very long absence. At almost the exact same time as I discovered this song with its spacious piano and repitched snares, I discovered Venetian Snares and breakcore in general. Having no particular frame of reference for breakcore as an offshoot of drum and bass only amplified its appeal to me as a completely alien genre that sounded like nothing else I’d ever heard, and so my personal history with drum and bass is a story of walking backwards into it after the fact which is interesting if not helpful.

Punching In A Dream - The Naked And Famous: The Mark Fisher book also mentions the Tricky song which I’ve never heard from which The Naked And Famous got their name and I thought ‘man remember The Naked And Famous, they were sick?’. The sort of harder edged Passion Pit instrumentation mixed with pop punk, a winning combination.

Vegas - Polica: My favourite part of this song is the unexpected blastbeats after the chorus, using their two drummers to their full advantage and just shaking the song by its foundations every now and then lest you get too comfortable.

Right Words - Cults: I’m beginning to suspect I may be the last surviving Cults stan but if this be my lot I’ll gladly do it

Running From The Sun - Chromatics: The new Chromatics album got me to relisten to their definitive document Kill For Love, and something new I appreciated this time about an album I love a lot is its length. Kill For Love is almost 80 minutes long and it luxuriates in that length. It’s sequenced perfectly so it never feels like it’s long for no reason, but large chunks just completely space out and go out of focus in the soft neon light and the second half of this song is a good example. The whole thing just evaporates into smoke and it feels perfect. If this were a shorter and more concise song that had a proper ending it wouldn’t feel right, this whole album has no straight edges at all and it’s all the better for it.

Chance - Angel Olsen: I cannot belive this song. This feels like she wrote her own version of My Way looking forward instead of back. Instead of the ruefully triumphant "I've lived a life that's full / I've traveled each and every highway" it's “I don't want it all / I've had enough / I don't want it all / I've had a love." before the turn from the future to the present at the end, where she gives up on a forever love in exchange for right now. I love how raw this vocal take feels. It's not her best voice but it feels very very honest as a result. She's just singing her heart out in this huge showstopping closer. In an interview she said "I didn’t love the recording of it very much, and now I just feel in love with it as a closing statement, because it’s a way of saying, ‘Look, I have hope for the next thing in my life.’ I’m not going to anticipate negativity or hate or an end. But instead of us looking towards forever, why don’t we just work on right now?"

Something To Believe - Weyes Blood: This album just keeps paying dividends. I’m systematically going through long obsessive periods with every single song on it and now it’s Something To Believe’s turn.

Don’t Shut Me Up (Politely) - Brigid Mae Power: Without meaning to, Brigid Mae Power seems to have created some incredible fusion of folk music and stoner metal. The way this song absolutely sits unmoving on one deep and resonant chord for so long is amazing. When it does change chords it feels like a full body effort to get up and shift. She has a similar feeling to Emma Ruth Rundle, who more explicitly wears her metal influences, but Brigid Mae Powers' strength is in how much it resembles the traditional folk side of the spectrum. Her voice is also amazing, with the huge effortless runs she goes on about halfway through just coming unmoored from the song completely and floating off into space.

Sweetheart I Ain’t Your Christ - Josh T. Pearson: I had a real problem with Josh T. Pearson for a long time because of how he presents as so authentic on this album, and as I’ve previously discussed in these playlists the concept of authenticity in country music is a source of neverending anguish for me. But his newest album The Straight Hits! has largely cured that for me because it’s not good at all, is extremely contrived (all the song titles have the word ‘hit’ in them) and he’s shaved his beard and replaced it with one of the worst irony moustaches I’ve ever seen. So now I’m free to enjoy The Last Of The Country Gentlemen as a character construction, which allows me a far deeper and truer engagement than the idea of a man actually living and thinking like this which is frankly a little embarrassing.

Codeine Dream - Colter Wall: I love this song, it has that feeling that great folk songs do of feeling like you’ve always known it. The strongest moments on this Colter Wall album to me are in songs like this that chase this particular feeling of morose isolation, and where he leans away from storytelling like his biggest hit Kate McCannon - a kind of cliche country murder ballad. This song is fantastic because of the way it wallows in this black depression not as a low point, but as a reprieve from the lower previous point. Things are as bad as they get now, and they’re always going to be like this, but at least I don’t dream of you anymore.

Motorcycle - Colter Wall: I only just found out about Colter Wall this month and have been listening to this album over and over. When I first heard him I though it was strange I'd never heard of him before because he's obviously some old country veteran based off his voice, but it turns out he's 24 and this is his first album he just sings like he ate a cigar. I love this song especially because it's so straighforward. It's a simple and supremely relatable mood: what if I bought a motorbike and fucking died.

Who By Fire - Leonard Cohen: I watched American Animals a couple of weeks ago and it’s a great movie, highly recommended. This song plays near the end and I waited for the credits to find out what this great song was, and like a rube found out it’s only one of the most celebrated songwriters of all time. I’ve never had much of a Leonard Cohen phase, somehow. In my mind I always get him mixed up with Lou Reed, which I’m learning is actually way off. I love the harmony vocals in this, and the way they move around into the shadows in the ‘who shall I say is calling’ parts.

Words From The Executioner To Alexander Pearce - The Drones: Alexander Pearce was a convict who escaped Sarah Island’s penal settlement in Tasmania with seven other convicts in 1822. He was recaptured two months later alone. In 1823 he re-escaped with a fellow convict, Thomas Cox and again was returned alone.He was executed by hanging later having eaten six men during his escape attempts.

It Ain’t All Flowers - Sturgill Simpson: I found this album going through the Pichfork 200 albums of the decade list and I feel like a fool for not having heard it sooner because now I am completely obsessed. Sturgill Simpson is doing the very best work in country music right now because he's looking backwards with one eye and forwards with the other and this song is a great illustration: a perfect Hank Williams Jr type country song with big voiced hollers that morphs into a surprise psych freakout for the whole second half.

Desolation Row (Take 1, Alternate Take) - Bob Dylan: I’ve always liked Desolation Row a lot as a song but the acoustic guitar on the album version is simply not good, it's just kind of mindlessly playing this long directionless solo the whole time and over the course of a song this long it really adds up to just being annoying. Luckily because it’s a Bob Dylan song there’s a whole universe of alternate takes and mixes and this is a great pared down version I found without it. The best kind of Bob Dylan songs are the ones where he just makes an endless stream of allusions and bizzare imagery, and this and Bob Dylan's 115th Dream are my favourite examples of it.

Living On Credit Blues - El Ten Eleven: This is a groove I get stuck in my head a lot, and this is also a song I think would work well as a theme for a tv show. I've been meaning to do a 30 second edit of it just for my own amusement, maybe I'll do that soon. El Ten Eleven are a duo where one guy plays drums and one guys plays a double necked guitar/bass and looping pedals and somehow against all the odds of that description they manage to make emotional, driving instrumental music of very deep feeling, like this song which is one of my all time favourites.

Dusty Flourescent/Wooden Shelves - Talkdemonic: This is sort of a companion Living On Credit Blues, and Talkdemonic are similarly an instrumental duo with good drums. This entire album from 2005 is highly recommended, it's a sort of halfway between the post rock of the time and a kind of acoustic hiphop instrumentals that ends up sounding very rustic and homemade, like a soudtrack for a winter cabin.

Turnstile Blues - Autolux: This is a perfect song, built around a perfect beat. Every part just fits perfectly.

Fort Greene Park - Battles: The new Battles album is finally out and I absolutely love it. I cannot think of another band that has shed members in the same way as Battles; originally a quartet on their first album, then a trio for their second and third and now down to a duo for their fourth album - and somehow still performing material from their first album live. The paring down has seemingly only servers to focus them and the new album sounds fresh but still distinctively Battles, with no sense of anything lost or missing. This song is my standout so far, and the guitar line in particular is so good and interesting to me because I don’t think I’ve ever heard Ian Williams play something so distinctly guitar-y in his whole career. This is a straight up pentatonic riff with bends and everything. Filtered through his usual chopped and looped oddness it feels like he’s almost gone all the back around the guitar continuum and is this close to just doing power chords next album. And I’ll support him!

Diane Young - Vampire Weekend: I've listened to this song a lot in my life and I only looked up the lyrics the other day to find out that the opening line is 'you torched a SAAB like a pile of leaves' which I somehow never noticed. What a power phrase. There's also this very good quote from Ezra about it: "I had this feeling that the world doesn’t want a song called ‘Dying Young’,“ says Koenig, "it just sounded so heavy and self-serious, whereas ‘Diane Young’ sounded like a nice person’s name.”" and he was right to do it. This song is 100 times better because he’s saying Diane Young than it would be if he was saying ‘Dying Young’. That’s a songwriting tip for you.

Monster Mash - Bootsy Collins & Buckethead: Hey did you hear Bootsy Collins and Buckethead did a cover of the monster mash? Thank god for freaks.

The Dark Sentencer - Coheed And Cambria: There's not that many bands that I absolutely loved as a teenager that I've completely abandoned. I've moved on from a lot but I'll still keep up with them if they have a new album or something. Coheed And Cambria are one that I've almost completely turned my back on. They've had 3 apparently pretty patchy albums since I stopped listening after Year Of The Black Rainbow, which was extremely bad and really taught me what people mean when they say an album is 'overproduced'. On a whim I decided to see what they're up to now and listened to their album from last year and guess what: it rocks. It's got everything you'd expect from them: big riffs, bad and confusing lyrics, his weird high voice, overwrought and overlong songwriting, cheesy muscleman solos. Everything about this band is sort of cheesy and embarrassing and takes itself way too seriously, but I'm discovering slowly that that's what's so good about it. The weird pulp sci-fi story and mindset that underpins this whole band is ridiculous and overwrought and as a result it gives the music a reason to exist the way it does. It’s so big and dumb because the story it serves is so big and dumb. It feels exactly like reading Perry Rhodan or some increidibly long and dense but not especially good series like that, it’s pulp music and that’s what I love about it.

Romance In A (6 Hands) - Sergei Rachmaninoff: Piano works for 4 hands (where two guys sit next to each other on the same piano) have always seemed to tend towards the realm of the gimmick or party trick, and works for 6 hands (where three guys do it) even more so - but this Rachmaninoff piece is just beautiful and I can’t believe I haven’t heard of it before this month. It doesn’t overload everyone with a million things to do, it just builds this very wide harmonic bed for the simple melody to swim in - then the way the melody transfers over to the middle register is just magical before the tension of the final section takes over and builds.

Love's Theme - The Love Unlimited Orchestra: I’m so glad I got to learn about the Love Unlimited Orchestra this month. Aside from having one of the best names in music, they were Barry White’s backing band and had their own solo instrumental records too. Here’s a fun aside: Kenny G was a member when he was 17 and still in high school. This is a genre of music that has seemed to totally disappear into the realm of parody and farce only which is sort of a shame because it is unironically very beautiful and dense in its own way.

Dancing In The Moonlight - Liza Minelli: Can you believe I thought Dancing In The Moonlight by Toploader was an original until the other day when my girlfriend played this Liza Minelli version that predates it by several decades? This also isn’t the original! It was written by a band named King Harvest in 1972, with this version AND a version by Young Generation both coming out in 73 and a whole bunch of others in between (including a Baha Men version in 94) before Toploader finally had a proper hit with it in 2000. Truly the world works in mysterious ways. This version is the finest I think, it just goes and goes, frenetically unwinding at a breakneck pace before opening up into a flute solo of all things and then winding up again even and finishing in a kick line breakdown. Absolutely no limits.

Girls - Royal Headache: The sheer amount of power and melody that this song manages to pack into a minute and a half is incredible, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard a more instantly relatable opening lyric than “Girl! Think they’re to fine for me! Oh girls! And I’m inclined to agree!”

Pov Piti - Matana Roberts: In anticipation of Matana Roberts new volume of her Coin Coin album series that just came out I relistened through the three previous albums and they are even more powerful than I remembered. This song serves as a pretty good mission statement for the whole project, and the heartrending tortured screams that open it set the tone for the rest of it. Matana Roberts sings the injustices of slavery into being, and her sing-song delivery highlights the trauma - her indifferent delivery mirroring the indifference of the world at large. The way she rattles off this story like she’s gone over it a million times and grown numb to the facts only accentuates the pain in the telling, a pain that rises to the surface in the screams of her instrument and herself.  

Kingdoms (G) - Sunn 0))): This new Sun 0))) album is one of my favourites they’ve ever done because it’s so straightforward and back to basics. Every song is just ten minutes of straight up no-nonsense, big, rich, drone. They even put the notes in the track names so you can drone along if you like.

listen here

[elle-boll]

Work my Magic (Roger Taylor) (Pt. 1)

I’ve been gone for aeons, that’s what exams and school does I suppose loll. Well, I know I haven’t posted recently and this is a little half-assed but I’ve had this idea for ages, so just take as it is please n thank u !! There’s also a change in perspectives :)

Summary - Life as a dancer should be simpler. A depressive episode has forced your friend into taking action, the problem is, it’s not easy to be gay, even worse when it’s towards an upcoming rockstar

Warnings - In later updates, there will be homophobic language and internalised homophobia, so if you are sensitive to that, I wouldn’t recommend getting invested. Depressive tendencies. 

Word Count - 1.8K

---

The morning had fog. Misty, dewy drops moistened strands of my hair. I could barely see past a single lamp post. Traffic lights were merely a painted blur. I should wear my glasses more often. I walked with nothing but a lazy stare on my face, God I’ve always been so tired on Wednesday mornings. I could barely feel any breeze on my face, a large coat covered my figure, probably numbing me with its warmth.

The train station was probably close. All I could think about was my lost love. I couldn’t count how many months he’d been gone. Since I’d let him go. I didn’t regret it, I just had the weight of guilt upon my shoulders. Everything was so private and I still let him go, there was no hope I’d find myself another lover like him. One that would love me back.

Next thing I knew, I was standing on the platform with a ticket in my hand. I forgot I was on my way to work. I shook my head, trying to bring myself back to the present. All I could hear was the chatter of a few men. It was still early, still dark, but that didn’t mean the train stations would be empty. I looked down at the yellow lines, the chattering seemed to die down as footsteps wandered about.

“That has…it’s....come on...it has to…” I barely caught most of the conversation. My mind was so focused on those yellow lines. I stood still till I took a breath, going to make my way to a nearby bench before I heard those footsteps come closer.

I felt my scalp sting as my hair was yanked on. Little hairs ripped from their follicles. Despite it being in a ponytail, it still hurt. I yelped as I went to grab the back of my head. I spun around and came face to face with a blonde-haired man. His face fell from amusement to utter terror and embarrassment.

“Oh..Oh God, I’m so sor- Jesus fuck uhh, I’m sorry, fuck...uh shit” His words came out in jumbled messes. All I did was stare in disbelief. “Fucking ‘ell, man, I’m so sorry, I-I thought you was a mate of mine, I’m sorry, fuck uhh, I’m just...I’m gonna book it...again, sorry!” He stepped back with his face red and practically flaming. His voice was raspy, it stank of cigarettes. His eyes were wide and striking blue. I looked over his shoulder as he did exactly what he said he would, book it. Two men were standing and obviously trying their best not to burst into tears with laughter. I took my hair from the ponytail, rubbing the back of my scalp as the train slowly rolled into the station.

They didn’t sit in the same carriage as me, despite the vast amount of empty seats. They did walk in, the blonde saw me sitting there, and immediately he turned around. The laughing faded out as they entered the other carriage. The morning sun slowly rose over the mountains of the British scenery. The train quickly passed by every scene that I could try to immerse myself in. I was so caught up in staring out the window, I almost missed my stop.

---

I sat in the changing room, staring at the wall in silence. I could hear the pipes rumbling as I leaned against a row of lockers. My coat barely hung on my shoulders. The door was knocked on. My dance partner, Cheryl...or Cherry as she made us call her, stepped in. Her fringe was clipped back with an abundance of bobby pins and her short hair made it into the most pathetic and smallest bun on the bottom of her head. 

“You know girls can’t be here,” I said, my voice was even empty to myself. She shrugged and stepped over the bags to sit next to me.

“Nervous for tonight?” She asked, one leg being placed over the other. I chuckled, “Absolutely wrecked”. She placed a hand on my shoulder, rubbing it gently. “He won’t be here tonight…” She whispered. I didn’t have anything to say back.

I simply shrugged her hand off and went to take off my shoes. Her dress hung off the bench. A simple blue, handkerchief dress, one she’d worn a multitude of times for practice. I had a tight fitted top and bottom on me, one that, while I was so uncomfortable, felt like another layer of skin. She stood up and took my hand, placing a small kiss on it, offering a smile before she stepped out of the room.

---

I felt the makeup team apply a variety of liquids and powders to my face, I tried not to cough when a large puff hit me directly on the forehead and cheeks, white powder dusting the entirety of the area. I stared at myself in the mirror, stage makeup painted across my face, my face chiselled and trying to be sculpted. I felt like an art project. I was going to be displayed like an art project. 

I turned slightly to see Cherry. She always looked so beautiful before a show. The towel that was wrapped around my shoulders was stripped away as they added a few final details.

The bright lights were blinding, even behind the curtain, peeking past, revealing the specks of dust floating around. I always had butterflies. What man wouldn’t? I could hear the chatter, but I couldn’t see anyone, couldn’t see if he was there. I was so lost in my mind, that the music had started, I panicked as I almost missed my cue, but managed to make it in time.

Cherry’s face barely touched the ground, gliding across the stage with bare feet, her eyes never squinted against the harsh light as she stared directly out to the crowd. My feet guided me towards her, my arm stretching out slowly to barely touch fingertips with her, but just about catching her fingers. I walked her around me. She stared me in the eye and I felt the familiarity of the routine, that I couldn’t mess this up. 

I had her raised in the air before my hand rested on her lower back, turning behind her to run my hands up her body before I had to drift myself away, letting her finish the routine as planned.

I stepped past the curtain and tried to see her. She was like an angel.

---

I’d retreated back to the locker room after the entire show had been completed. I changed into the clothes I arrived in before Cherry burst in.

“We’re goin’ out and we’re getting smashed, okay!?” She was out of breath. “I’m sick of seeing you mop around, there’s a band on down the road, drinks on me” She grinned, I stared at her before looking down.

“Cherry, I-”

“Please, Y/N?” Her voice went quiet, eyebrows furrowing together as she gave me a sad smile. I sighed, before nodding. She had a key to the studio, no need to carry all my stuff with me. Her hand grabbed mine as she led me out, I watched the cleaners sweep the floors as she dragged me out. She was still in her stage makeup and dress, she was always so careless. 

She was right when she said it was only down the road. She dragged me, quickly being ID’d. I sat at a table by the wall, which was adorned by paintings and photos, my attention was grabbed as the band started a new song. My head turned and I paused.

I watched as the man who yanked my hair was viciously smacking a variety of drums and cymbals. His face was sweaty and his tongue was caught between his teeth as his lips remained parted. His hair was in sweaty, greasy locks as he had his shirt unbuttoned. 

I swallowed the ball in my throat, but I didn’t pry my eyes away. I don’t know if he noticed me, I did notice when he turned his head slightly in my direction he lost his rhythm though. I couldn’t make out the name of the band of the front drum head, I should wear my glasses more often. I kept an eye on him as Cherry made her way back with two drinks in her either hand. My knees were still weak from prancing around a stage but I felt more built-up watching him play. 

I never noticed how Cherry was trying to see and line up what I was staring at, but I looked at her and saw the glimmer in her eye flicker manically when the two dots connected in her mind. “You and that drummer are hooking up” She smirked.

“Cher, I’m a man...he’s not gonna take that, not in a million years” I scoffed, words coming out through gritted teeth in a spiteful tone.  

“I can work my magic” She smiled, before sipping her drink, her hair now down, fringe a fluffy mess.

---

It was late, but the pub was still booming with people. The band had recently gotten off stage to make room for another group. Cherry had stood from her seat, smiling at me and I felt my stomach drop as she walked off.

---

I watched Y/N’s face fall as I strolled off. He had always been a melancholy individual but God was he depressed. 

I squeezed past hoards of people and in between tables and chairs. I reached a door, letting myself in and as I passed a door with a blurry window, I tried looking in. I could make out three figures before I heard a voice by my ear.

“Pardon me, are you lost or?” A man asked, his voice was slightly raspy but still quite cheery. I turned to look at him. A tan complexion and long, dark hair. His teeth protruded past his lip and shining brown eyes. 

“You played tonight, didn’t you?” I raised a brow, leaning against the door and seeing his physique relax as he offered a humble chuckle. “Well, I am only the singer, my friends did most of the playing” A laugh slipped past his lips and I chuckled with him.

I chatted with him for a bit, his name was Freddie, he was very kind and very open to just talk.

“So, I have a friend, he’s outside there, and he had his eye on your drummer...weird question, the blondie wouldn’t happen to be uh…” I started to realise the environment we were in. I looked at Freddie, waiting to see if his face would fall into displeasure or into an annoyed expression, instead, his smile widened a bit, I continued. 

“To be into men?” I finished, I watched as Freddie contemplated, his tongue slowly passed in between his lips as his brows furrowed in contemplation.

“Let me work my magic…”

[giannimaldonado]

Album Of The Day: Satan Is Watching

When most people born after a certain period of time think of the genre that is “country”, and what it has morphed into in the context of this day and age, a lot of unpleasant images spring to mind. Pretty boy, clean cut, poser rednecks who’ve never seen a farm outside of their music videos, trying to pretend to be another “honest Joe” when they couldn’t be any further from such a thing, making trashy, twangy glam rock mixed with watered down trap music/EDM for white southerners who might have interesting views on those of different races, rolling around in million dollar sports cars while adopting the moniker of “working class”...is probably what your mind immediately begins to conjure up in that brain of yours.

I honestly can’t say that I blame you. Country, or, at least, MAINSTREAM country, has lost its way completely. Luke Bryan, Brad Paisley, Tim McGraw, and Blake Shelton polluted this once proud, grassroots, amazing genre with pandering, trite garbage aimed at making money off of dumb hicks in the bodies of frat boys whose trucks cost more than your own damn house.  Gone are the days when country music was filled to the brim talent, creativity, passion, and heart. Now, this “jock country” has taken its place, having thoroughly fucked country up the ass a few too many times that it has lost its way. For good, perhaps.

Underground country’s usually no better. There’s some exceptions (we’ll get to those soon), but for the most part, it, too, has gone off the rails and destroyed itself completely. It’s often just indie folk or what have you with even more acoustic guitars, though perhaps with more twang, whiny vocals that are trying (and failing) to recreate a stereotypical southern accent, a reliance on cheap gimmicks, sarcasm, and irony to carry their trash because the excrement can’t do that itself, and a musical quality that tries SO hard to imitate the great Mr. Cash, but is little more than a cheap, pale imitation that folks who wear WAY too much flannel and wire rimmed glasses will eat up like it’s the second coming of Joy Division.

No matter how you look at it, country has been thoroughly gentrified for the most part, just like many genres that were previously for a much different variety of people. Like trap music, or blues, or hardcore punk, or black metal. All of the original meaning is gone, driven out by money hungry label executives, clueless and ignorant listeners, and musicians hellbent on half-assing their way to fame and fortune.

It’s a crying shame, it really is.

But fret not, dear reader! There is still a soft, seedy underbelly of the country genre that has taken the long dead (yet forever revered and loved) sound of “outlaw shit”, as Mr. Jennings would put it so eloquently, to its most logical extreme. One that would make Nelson, Cash, Haggard, Coe, and others that might’ve been at the top of their “underground”, “anti-mainstream” game seem rather...accessible. These aforementioned artists and their peers are still greats who, in their primes, were powerhouses that made some of the greatest works the genre would ever produce. But when compared to this particular sound...they just don’t hold up as well. The rawness, the grassroots nature, the down-to-Earth (and sometimes below the Earth) attitude, the simplicity, the honesty, the bluntness, the intimacy, the melancholy...all of it gets turned way up to eleven. It’s dark, it’s mischievous, it’s harsh, it’s gritty, it’s angry, it’s bitter, it’s darkly humorous, it’s lonesome, it’s ornery, and it’s damn sure pretty fucking mean.

Call it whatever you want. “Southern gothic”, “dark country”, “death country”, “gothic country”. It doesn’t matter what name you apply to it. All that matters is that it’s country. Real fucking country. Country meant for the guttersnipes, punks, street urchins, hobos, peasants, and forlorn drifters. This ain’t pretty boy music. This isn’t nice, Christian contemporary that you can play at your local uptight establishment. These aren’t harmless tunes your the posers can get drunk and go mudding to. This is country as it was meant to be. The eptiome of the term “outlaw shit”.

There’s a plethora of wonderful bands in this scene. Sons Of Perdition, Sixteen Horsepower, whatever project Jay Munly’s got going on this time around, The Dead South, the early days of The Devil Makes Three, The Builders And The Butchers, Wovenhand, Ghoultown, Coffinshakers, The Pine Box Boys, and, of course, everyone’s favorite descendant of the Williams family tree. The third one, that is.

But all of those fall short of that truly, truly, TRULY horrific honky-tonk, old-time, folksy, backwoods atmosphere that this duo produces. One that hails from the isolated, empty thickets that lie out in rural Wisconsin. A mentally disturbed pair of “prophets of the country doom”, as they have decided to label themselves. A fine example of those who have gone completely mad, completely sad, and doing so makes them feel very glad. They revel in their craziness, and while no album sounds the same, each one is marred by a couple of recurring themes: humanity is worthy of being sent straight to the fiery depths, these boys are depressed beyond your wildest comprehension, a rebellion against both God and Satan, and a desire to document the lifestyle of society’s forgotten ones, hated ones, and feared ones.

Let me introduce you to Those Poor Bastards.

Fitting name for a couple of enigmatic, largely unknown, extremely obscure pair of men known simply as Lonesome Wyatt (impassioned orations and guitar-based melodies) and The Minister (everything else).

The Minister is completely anonymous, with no one having even seen his face, while all that’s known about Lonesome Wyatt is that he’s from Wisconsin, (probably) lives alone, and is likely of an unsound state of mind.

Why is that all important? Well, go listen to their albums, and then you’ll find out why these little intricacies are vital to the dynamic duo’s imagery, music, and cult status.

While all of their material is quite good in my opinion, today we’re going to look at my favorite album from them, and possibly my favorite album from any country artists EVER! Everyone, please proceed to throw on “Satan Is Watching.”

What you’ll first be met with Lonesome Wyatt letting out a loud, wild, manic screech that almost doesn’t sound...human. It’s not even a word. Just an unhinged howl like Lonesome Wyatt’s been possessed by some sort of demon from the pits of Hell, having taken over the “doomsday preacher boy” to spread the wicked gospel. A hell of a start to an album of any kind, let alone a country album. It’s bold, but it lets you know right off the bat that they aren’t fucking around. This is going to be a rough ride from start to finish, and you’ll be left quaking in your seat once Those Poor Bastards has pierced your mind, heart, and soul with their fiendishly unholy sound. A truly nihilistic piece of art about how this world is foul and wretched, and deserves to burn to a cinder.

But that’s just the first song.

Things only manage to get worse from there. Everything from songs about how Lonesome Wyatt’s a degenerate who revels in just how much filth and squalor he lives in, to songs (well, more like suspiciously suicidal rants) about how life is fucked and there’s just no point in living it anymore, to various “take that!” pieces towards lovers who have wronged him in times that have long since passed, presumably. Typical topics for country artists, but contorted and warped to the point where they sound like miniature horror stories being yelled and hollered by a crazy, top-hat wearing yokel than the struggles and strife that are endured by the common man/downtrodden fellow. Hell, there’s even a Johnny Cash cover! A twisted, perverted, scummy, bone-chilling, haunting, eerie take on the previously wholesome, innocent love song The Man In Black made for June. I can’t exactly look at it the same way, what with these mysterious hooligans having thoroughly butchered it.

Instrumentation is minimalist and simple. Nothing too fancy or technical here. It’s quite self-explanatory. Despite how evil it is, the rhythms are still toe-tappingly catchy. The drums, being pounded upon by the fiery hands of The Minister, provide anything from a nice, plodding beat you can stomp your feet to, all the way to a rowdy raucous of a banger that’ll have you doing some sort of line dance with the living dead. Lonesome Wyatt beats upon his acoustic guitar like it owes him money. Not even really playing it. Just smashing the strings until weird, disgruntled, odd noises come out of it. He also seems to thoroughly shatter his ability to talk without a sore throat, pushing his voice to its very limits. The bass compliments everything very well, providing a creepy, fuzzy, dirge-like texture in the background to keep the menacing tone alive and well.

All in all, while this may not “experimental”, “avant-garde”, or even “progressive”, this is certainly an album that’ll give you the heebie-jeebies, and for a country album, it is most certainly “out there”. It takes the usual country tropes, and either turns them into something out of a David Lynch movie, or subverts/plays with them to fuck with the audience and make them contort their face with confusion...and excitement. A spooky bit of acoustic noise that’ll restore your faith in country music, and remind you that there is still a small resemblance of a spark left within the dying genre.

Please, I highly recommend you check this out.

This has been another installment of “Esoteric Warfare”, and remember...

NOISE, NOT MUSIC!

[amoebo-id]

a o t d !!!

no more than 1 release per artist to keep it interesting. selection and ranking is arbitrary and would prob be wildly different if i did this tomorrow. also i only went down to #42 cause everything after that didn’t feel like real aotd status - at least as far as the specific relationships i built over the past 10 yrs with the music i was listening to

#1 laurel halo quarantine

nobody did machine-body dialectic like laurel halo in 2012. i loved everything else from her this decade too but every time i listened to Carcass it made me leave my body physically. absolutely unreal album art too

https://laurelhalo.bandcamp.com/track/carcass-2

#2 e+e the light that you gave me to see you

2012 was a good year. pop/ambient/noise/radio-dj-tag sound collage ascended to spiritual intensity. makes you feel like a child experiencing awe. also fire-gut used to have probably my favorite music video ever but i think it’s gone now

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-p-SSuwW9cw

#3 ilovemakonnen 5

not to be confused with Drink More Water 5, this one’s from 2010 during his mostly-forgotten diy outsider-pop phase. off-key singing and amateur beats and the sheer absolute joy of making cool songs. all 5 are perfect

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ORKpg_-z0Mk

#4 macintosh plus floral shoppe

would’ve made top 10 on album art alone. music, aesthetics, and cultural impact are inseparable here but going back to the album reminded me just how engaging its 2010s-updated chopped-and-screwed sound is, musically not just conceptually

https://vektroid.bandcamp.com/track/420

#5 jason lescalleet this is what i do 17

hard to pick a favorite from jason lescalleet’s semi-monthly document of his electroacoustic / field recording / tape loop practice but i’ve cried to multiple tracks on tiwid 17 so it gets the nod. couldn’t find any of them online so here’s something else of his

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t33x8OOm68E

#6 barrio sur बड़ा शोक (heart break)

dedekind cut guy’s weird one-off side project ended up being my favorite thing to come out of the last few years’ obsession w cowboy/western/country music/aesthetics. pure mystery

https://soundcloud.com/user-366783613/redemption-7inch

#7 cities aviv come to life

i think maybe people thought cities aviv was just another no-flow pseudo-”conscious rap” type rapper in 2014 but actually this album is nuts. hyper-energetic vaporwave rap? what if death grips were happy? idk

https://citiesaviv.bandcamp.com/track/url-irl-2

#8 beach boys the smile sessions

this cool fresh 1960s rock myth arrived fully formed and way more fun than the other ones. brian wilson’s concepts and songwriting got so unwieldy we had to wait 50 years to hear the sessions. i don’t care about conversations about his genius or whatever these songs kick ass

https://oldmasterpainter.bandcamp.com/track/surfs-up

#9 mindspring memories & intl. debris international memories

did this really only come out in 2017? i feel like i’ve been listening to it since i was born. tangential lateral kind of wormhole out of vaporwave into two meditative spiritual infinite-feeling loops that perfectly complement each other

https://noproblematapes.bandcamp.com/track/sad-horizons

#10 nyege nyege tapes sounds of sisso

absolutely obnoxiously insanely high energy high pitch high bpm dance music. i can’t believe this isn’t what people mean when they say future bass. set me down the path of historical and contemporary non-”global north” ideas about dance/rhythm/bass which i’m still on

https://nyegenyegetapes.bandcamp.com/track/mshamba-video-mster

#11 blithe field face always toward the sun

the most gorgeous implementation of the sorta-ambient guitar-looping vignette aesthetic. is this a real trope or did i listen to this album so much i convinced myself it was a thing? for me this is the sound of what its like to feel completely content with life and at ease in the moment

https://blithefield.bandcamp.com/track/zen-den

#12 anohni hopelessness

listening to this album and singing along while driving my car made me feel absolutely disgusting. unbelievable hooks, grossly hi fi sound design, and overblown drama add up to imo a scary effective type of explicitly political or ‘protest’ music

https://anohni.bandcamp.com/track/drone-bomb-me

#13 21 savage, offset, & metro boomin without warning

why is these 3 pop stars’ vaguely halloween-themed one-off collab my favorite trap album? 21 savage, offset, and metro boomin were all wildly corny in different ways but everything was perfectly balanced. i hope metro boomin makes like one seriously ambient album next decade

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bWv-bR_X-VM&list=PLC1uUM4twa8i6zsD_Sn1LRUq4vhl_PLCx&index=11&t=0s

#14 laura les big summer jams 2018

‘crying in the club’ type bangers with no fear of ugliness and no fear of beauty and no fear of wildly unfashionable tropes like skrillex-y dubstep and guitar solos. so much input from other trans/queer artists it felt like a big t4t party

https://osno1.bandcamp.com/track/the-river-feat-scum-yung-skrrt-and-99jakes

#15 triad god nxb

the other triad god tape from 7 years later is just as good. what was this man doing in the intervening time? i just imagine him riding london public transit while it rains or something. i love knowing that most of his cantonese spoken-word/rap parts are insults and jokes rather than like, melancholy observations

https://soundcloud.com/hipposintanks/triad-god-remand

#16 dj koze knock knock

what if pop music sounded like this? somehow every song on here is wildly danceable, wildly sing-alongable, and also wildly detail-oriented. feels like a transmission from an alternate present where things are okay

https://djkoze.bandcamp.com/track/club-der-ewigkeiten

#17  ocora world of traditional music

box set of “world music” recordings from the label that french electronic composer pierre schaeffer started in the 1950s as a project to teach people in rural west africa how to dj. ethnography can be a fucked up idea but afaik ocora is one of the good ones and if you can sorta try to disengage from the tropes/cliches that get imposed on it, the music is phenomenal. hard to find a track specific to this box set but here’s another from the label

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XJm8rn6gW5I

#18 oneohtrix point never replica

opn feels like an artist i’ve ‘grown out of’ i guess but samples never felt more alive or more dead than they did on replica. set a template for the kind of melancholy ‘soundscape’-y vibe that i spent years trying to find more of after

https://oneohtrixpointnever1.bandcamp.com/track/power-of-persuasion

#19 rihanna anti

the most perfect imaginable pop album. i keep trying to move it higher up. i almost put club chai vol 1 on this list purely cause of the Woo remix but then i remembered the original is better

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_dDCUKElEwk

#20 colleen a flame my love a frequency

colleen’s ultra deadpan singing and wriggly rhythmic synth put me in a trance. everything sounded dry as hell even though it was covered in reverb. i think maybe some people were put off by the corny song names and lyrics

https://colleencolleen.bandcamp.com/track/separating

#21 dj paypal drake edits

back when drake seemed like a sorta-shitty dude rather than seriously creepy, dj paypal used the power of footwork to expose both the melancholy-ambient modality and the serious-bass-music modality latent in his voice and beats

https://mallmusicinc.com/track/brand-new

#22 huerco s. for those of you who have never (and also those who have)

not really as ambient as it first seems imo, but rather like a really intense focus on what we mean when we describe things as ‘static’ or ‘dynamic’. i know it’s corny but i wanna say these tracks are fully both and fully neither

https://brianleeds.bandcamp.com/track/promises-of-fertility

#23 girls rituals reddishness

for a track so deliberately shitty-sounding I Know had no right to be so fucking danceable. persona and production synthesized into the only ‘singer-songwriter’ music i could really get into

https://temporaryenjoyment.bandcamp.com/track/i-know

#24 chromatics kill for love

fakeass 80s retro melancholia digitized and pushed so far past pastiche it turned into pure slime. the phone call in There’s A Light Out On The Horizon came straight from the void

https://soundcloud.com/johnnyjewel/chromatics-kill-for-love-album

#25 actress ghettoville

the only genuinely post-apocalyptic music. specifically the postapocalypse in wall-e but if there was no wall-e to clean it up

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QcCPdfUFq6k

#26 playboi carti die lit

every beat on this album was reducible to a 4-second loop that perpetually demanded its own repetition and playboi carti somehow knew exactly what to do with them

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-2pjiKmhlAI

#27 charli xcx vroom vroom

the charli xcx that came after this was fun, but there was black hole levels of power compacted into when she said vroom vroom on Vroom Vroom

https://soundcloud.com/vroomvroomrecordings/charli-xcx-vroom-vroom

#28 pacific breeze: japanese city pop, aor & boogie 1976-1986

it’s kind of amazing to think that this compilation only exists because vaporwave aesthetics made ‘japanese grocery-store kitsch from the 80s’ a marketable thing in the us. anyway every single one of these is an absolute bop

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jl91bvEKj20

#29 young thug barter 6

i can’t get enough of listening to young thug’s voice. i’ve seen his rhythmic-melodic-textural sensibility described as virtuosic and i don’t know really if that term means anything but it feels right to me

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qg9ZxQKSDuw

#30 magic eye babylon

smeared dreamy lo-fi guitar music w wistful buried melodies pushed to an extreme. every song sounded the same and i wish there was more than the one cassette

https://magiceye.bandcamp.com/track/flame

#31 tirzah devotion

you could say this was ‘stripped down’ r&b but i think more accurately what separated it was that every sound stood exactly and only for itself

https://tirzah.bandcamp.com/track/basic-need

#32 mount eerie clear moon

it’s amazing how well mount eerie navigated the move from a lo-fi sound/mode/affect to a hi-fi sound/mode/affect. clear moon wasn’t his first attempt but it was the one that most embodied the feeling of the new possilibities that had been opened up

https://pwelverumandsun.bandcamp.com/track/through-the-trees-pt-2

#33 kelela aquaphoria

this mix was such a good idea it immediately seemed shocking nobody else had tried afaik. and kelela executed it so well you forgot the tracks already existed in other contexts

https://soundcloud.com/kelelam/aquaphoria

#34 james ferraro skid row

not sure what it means that the only james ferraro i really love is also the one i think of as the least abstract/conceptual. his recited lyrics had a rare spoken-word-poetic power

https://breakworldrecords.bandcamp.com/track/to-live-and-die-in-la

#35 salyu x salyu s(o)un(d)beams

absolutely unbounded sense of joy and creativity and possibility hovering between bangers-lite and ‘soundscape’-y electronic manipulation

https://soundcloud.com/snouu/salyu-x-salyu-s-o-un-d-beams

#36 dj rashad just a taste vol 1

double cup got all the press but it was so smoothed-over it could never have done something as absurdly beautiful as Ghost or even Go Crazy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OZuHPAbte9U

#37 yves tumor serpent music

i’m sorta put off by the high-gloss sheen of music like this but serpent music somehow had the right combination of total cohesion and a ridiculous density of impactful moments

https://soundcloud.com/pan_hq/yves-tumor-the-feeling-when-you-walk-away-pan-73?in=pan_hq/sets/yves-tumor-serpent-music-pan

#38 maral mahur club

lo-fi beat collage elevated to something that could actually genuinely be called world music

https://astralplanerecordings.bandcamp.com/track/avesta-khani-reggaeton

#39 lucki ecks watch my back

did not expect this super low-stakes sadboy trap to end up on this list but i love his min-effort flow and somehow every beat is exactly the vibe even when the tracks aren’t volume balanced

https://soundcloud.com/boob7/leave-wit-you-prod-plu2o-nash-clams-casino?in=boob7/sets/watch-my-back

#40 arca stretch 2

not sure why i get more out of arca’s nonsense broken-beat non-rap than any of her later projects

https://unonyc.bandcamp.com/track/tapped-in

#41 klein only

a new way to do fucked up noise w pop leanings. ‘audacitycore’

https://klein1997.bandcamp.com/track/pretty-black-2

#42 city arcadia

another mysterious transmission, this time w lots of harp

https://soundcloud.com/halcyon-veil/city-arcadia

[midorree]

Gay Minds Think Alike

@paperhatcollection co-wrote this with me, they are so fucking talented, and I had a blast writing this with her! Give her as much love as humanly possible, and we hope you enjoy this wreck of a fic! 

Love is a funny thing. It’s hard to define, harder to understand, sometimes changing with the winds and other times a sturdy rock in an otherwise turbulent river. Sometimes it’s like a recurring idea or a thought you can’t shake from your head, or as much a part of your like as your voice or the way your heart skips a beat when you see you one and only soulmate. Sometimes it's slow, built up over a thousand small moments, other times you trip and crash headfirst into a crush.

Sometimes it’s like tripping on the top step of a staircase and tumbling your way to the bottom, where you land at the feet of your crush.

Which is exactly the situation Anti found himself in, laying on his back at the foot of the stairs, his gay dumbass gaze locked onto the face of Chase Brody standing above him.

The first thing Anti was aware of was the way his breath was knocked from his lungs, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the fall or from the way that Chase was looking down at him. Anti found himself captivated by the gaze, his breath caught in his throat by the way Chase batted his eyelashes, or maybe he was just blinking, but Anti didn’t care. He wasn’t sure of the angle did something, or if he’d gotten a mild concussion, but Chase was so pretty. It was as if the gates of heaven glanced upon his pitiful existence just to give a taste of what it all felt like. When Chase opened his mouth to speak, it was as if a chorus of angels backed his words, the light about them nearly forming a halo around Chase.

“Woah, dude, did it hurt?”

Anti felt himself grin, a look he imagined to be sly but in reality, looked rather dopey. “You mean when I fell from heaven?” he asked, almost certain it would end in his favor.

“In what world would you fall from-” Chase frown, shaking his head ever so slightly and sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Never mind. No- when you fell down the stairs, are you okay? That looked like it hurt, dude. And now you’re just kinda… staring off into space, I think?” He added a small wave of his hand back and forth over Anti’s field of vision, checking if his eyes moved along with the movement. Anti blinked. Once, twice, then refocused on Chase, the vacant look finally falling from his face.

“Oh.” Anti tried to ignore the way the lump in his throat turned into a rock in the pit of his gut. “Um… yeah. I’m uh, I’m fine. Yeah. No problemo here.”

Chase shrugged. “Alright man, if you say so. Need a hand up?” he offered, holding out his hand to Anti. Anti’s mouth went completely dry as he looked anxiously at Chase’s outstretched hand; endless possibilities flashing through his mind.

He could grab Chase’s hand and try to play it off coolly, standing to his feet in a smooth motion that would allow him to regain some of his composure. He’d pull Chase’s hand closer, planting a kiss on the back of his palm and wink to him, and totally embarrass himself because he’s got Clumsy Bitch Disease and it’s fatal, so he’d definitely mess up somehow.

Maybe his own hands would clam up and he’d gross Chase out, and then he’d never speak to him again and he’d die alone with fifty cats as his only company. The saddest part being, one of the cats would definitely be named Chase. Maybe even Marvin if he were up for it. One day once he was old and alone he’d wake up to find out Chase the cat had passed away peacefully in its sleep, and he’d mourn the last link he had to his lost love while gazing sadly out his window. It would be raining.

Maybe he’d trip over his big fucking feet again and pull Chase down with him, and then Chase’s weight would be pressed against him, their lips inches apart, their eyes meeting-

Anti made a low whine in the back of his throat, acutely aware of the clock ticking faster and faster as he left Chase hanging for a response.

“No, I- fuck you.” Anti blurted out.

Even before the words had fully left his throat, Anti could feel his internal narration freeze in panic, then go into maximum overdrive. Before Chase had a chance to register what dumbass sentence just came out Anti’s mouth, and before Anti could see the look on his face when he did, Anti had glitched out of the current plane of existence, hoping his useless gay soul would just hang on a string and he would die a quick painless death.

Chase blinked then shrugged, sighing inwardly to himself. Geez, some people.

-----

In the quiet of dawn, when the world was just beginning to wake from its gentle slumber, and the first rays of morning’s light snuck through the thin gap between closed curtains when Chase shot upright in bed with the sudden realization that Anti wasn’t delusional, he’d been trying to court his dumb butt.

If it hadn’t been six in the goddamn morning, Chase probably would have screamed bloody murder. “Oh my god,” Chase whispered-screamed to himself, shoving the blankets aside and nearly tumbling out of bed in his hurry to stand. “Oh my fucking god, oh man, I’m so dense, what the fuck-” his efforts to stand did ultimately end in him tripping and hitting the floor with a loud THUD, but Chase was up the next moment, too absorbed in his breakthrough to notice the collateral damage. “Okay Chase, calm down. Maybe Anti didn’t realize what he was saying- he probably got a concussion falling down the stairs or something, you know how egotistical that glitch is,” He gulped. “I hope.”

“I mean, not that… I… well it has been awhile since I’ve been with someone, but…” Chase paused and gave himself a light slap on the side of his face. “No, bad Chase, you’re projecting. But what if I’m not- I mean, it wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Anti’s not that bad a guy once you get to know him, and he’s got those fucking eyes, that shitty laugh of his that’s always so much louder than everything else in the room like he’s trying to make sure everyone pays attention to him.” And it fucking works, by the way. Chase couldn’t count the number of times he’s felt his gaze pull towards the glitch, his attention stolen in a moment, left breathless as he watches the way Anti effortlessly manipulates the room with a word or a gesture. Chase felt himself shiver just thinking about it, picturing the gleam in his eyes, the smirk tugging his lips up.

“Oh, fuck,” Chase whispers to himself, shoulders slumping downwards. “I’ve got it bad.”

He shook his head, staring blankly at a wall, before returning to his bed. He sat on the edge, letting his head fall into his hands, taking a deep breath as a shudder ran through his body. The worst part was, this could still all be in his head. He didn’t actually know for sure if… oh fuck, this was just like him too, wasn’t it? Chase didn't exactly have a history of… successful relationships, to put it bluntly.

Love isn't fun. Sometimes it’s hard, harder still once you’ve lost at its game. Sometimes love is the thing that fuels you, that keeps you going on during cold nights, while other times it’s the thing that takes half of your soul and throws it into the void. Sometimes it’s like a dream, blissful and sweet, while other times it’s a melancholy memory, bittersweet in the moments you know you’ll never have again. And sometimes… sometimes it feels like your only source of air, like something you could never live without, no matter how many times it chews you up and spits you out.

Yeah, Chase Brody was a dead man.

-----

Maybe, Chase thinks, a bus will run me over and my problems won’t matter anymore.

No such luck was waiting for him, it seems, as he made his way downtown. Maybe the recording studio would be on fire, and they’d have to cancel recordings for today. Wouldn’t be the first time, although Marvin had sworn to Ireland and back that he’d be more careful with his magic from that point on. Or maybe Anti was too busy editing footage for everyone's videos, and he wouldn’t leave his editing room for the entire day, and Chase wouldn’t have a chance to talk to him.

Too bad as soon as he walked into the office, he was smacked in the face by reality, and left breathless by the smug grin Anti was sending his way. Somehow, he seemed to radiate a confidence Chase could only wish he had, even when casually standing by the water cooler and flipping through a script for someone’s video. Chase faltered to a stop, catching Anti’s eye from across the room and giving a weak wave in response. He was almost sure the beating of his heart was audible to those around him.

In reality, Anti was baring the dopiest smile a gay man could bear, staring at his favorite person head-on. Soon enough, he had the thought that Chase may be weirded out by his staring and proceeded to pretend he was doing something important. Such as flip through a finalized script that was already good enough to be on camera, and ‘scan it for errors’. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Chase halt midway across the room, glancing back over in time for Chase to flash him a grin and wave. Anti nearly short-circuited, causing him to drop the papers, which fluttered to the ground and fanned out into a heap around him.

Cursing under his breath, Anti knelt down to recollect them, trying to hide his apparent blush from embarrassing himself in front of his crush two days in a row. From across the room, Chase gasps in surprise when Anti drops his papers, rushing over to help. He wasn’t even sure if Anti noticed him right away, at least not until they reached for the same paper. Their hands brushed, Chase’s resting on top of Anti’s, a slight spark leaping between their connected hands.

Than Chase panicked, jerking back and somehow managing to hit Anti square on the nose.

“Ow! What the hell?!” Anti snapped.

“Fuck- shit, I’m sorry!” Chase blurted out, dropping what few papers he’s managed to collect back onto the floor. He reached out towards Anti, unsure what he’d really be able to do but wanting to make sure he was okay, only for Anti to jerk away and glare at him. Chase flinched and pulled his hand closer to his body, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Uh, um, I thought you might need uh, you might want a hand?”

“I’m fine,” Anti grumbled, gathering the remaining papers together in a pile and straightening them out. They weren't in any way shape or form in the correct order, but Anti didn’t care right now. No, instead he was just focused on the annoyance bubbling in the back of his head, cause that was better than focusing on the bubbly feeling he got when he looked at Chase’s cute, apologetic face. He started to reach out before catching himself, wanting to comfort him, but he knew if he started to do that he’d end up a stuttering, nervous wreck before the minute was over.

“I… I have to go. Gotta, um, reorder these.” Anti awkwardly stammered out, standing and almost dropping the papers again, before catching them against his chest and turning to leave. As he did so, his jacket caught in the air, flaring out and fanning around him like a cape. It was somehow an even more dramatic flair than what Marvin was able to manage, and that guy wore an actual cloak.

“I like your jacket.” Chase blurted out, standing quickly. He coughed into his fist, his throat suddenly remarkably dry, and he nonchalantly edged closer to the water cooler. “I mean uh,” Chase paused to lick his lips, which suddenly felt as dry as his throat did. “That’s a really nice jacket, Anti. It suits you.” He licked his lips again, mostly because his saliva was depleting rapidly from his mouth. He grabbed one of the paper cups from the cooler and finally got himself a drink, drowning it in a single gulp but somehow still just as thirsty as he’d been before. When he looked back up from his cup, he realized Anti had ceased storming off, and was staring at Chase with an unreadable expression. Oh- Oh fuck. Chase had assumed he’d already left. Instead, he’s watched as Chase stopped and gulped down an entire cup of water, in the middle of a fucking statement.  “Uh, I, um. You… jacket, uh, looking good?”

Anti, oblivious to what Chase’s message to him was, stated, “No, you can’t have my leather jacket, you already stole Jackie’s.” and turned around and left.

It was an hour later, after Anti had reordered the script and begun editing footage for Jackie’s latest ‘parkour’ video (it was actually just him on patrol, but no one needed to know that) that Anti removed his headphones, stared off at a blank wall, and realized Chase had been complimenting him.

“FU-

----

“Henrik, I fucked up!” Chase yelled, bursting through the door to Henrik’s makeshift clinic.

Henrik sighed, putting down his clipboard. He didn’t look surprised in the least, just tired. “I knew it. Where did he stab you?”

“Uh… what?” Chase asked, confused.

“You tried to steal Anti’s new jacket, didn’t you?” Henrik paused, sighing. “Oh, I’m sorry, ‘borrow’ his jacket, just like you’ve ‘borrowed’ clothes from the rest of us. I still want my sweater back, by the way.” Chase was pretty sure that sweater was currently folded up in one of his dressers, right next to one of JJ’s spare bowties and one of Jackie’s jackets. But now wasn’t the time for that.

“What? No! I just… had a realization…” Chase began, faltering and adjusting the brim of his hat, glancing around the room as if expected someone to leap out at any moment.

Henrik looked puzzled for a good second before his expression cracked, an assuming smile turning the corners of his lips. “That have certain feelings for Anti?”

“How the fuck did you know that?”

A small smirk teased on Henrik’s oh so smug face. “A little birdie told me.”

And by birdie, he was referring to the fact that he’d listened to Anti rambling on about his crush for hours over the course of his visits to Henrik’s clinic, during which Anti had managed to compare Chase to everything from the sun to a Greek god. The amount of giddiness Anti radiating from Anti could power the entire goddamn planet, and Henrik found watching his half-assed attempts at catching Chase’s eye akin to watching a morning soap-opera you kinda hoped would turn into a trainwreck of gay feelings.

“I mean… Hen, I’ve been out of it so long, what if he doesn’t like me back?” Chase asked, his voice raising several pitches from his panic. “What if he rejects my attempts? What if I try and bring him some coffee to flirt with him, but I spill it all over his shirt and he hates me forever? And the tension in the office raises a lot? And what if because of that, the others start to hate me? And then I have to move out of the country, change my name to Scooter Bronan, and become a drug dealer on the lonely streets of LA!”  

Henrik almost felt bad for laughing, but not by a lot. A drug dealer? Preposterous, Chase wouldn’t be able to sell water, a legal substance, without a license.

“Henrik!” Chase whined. “Stop laughing, I’m serious!”

“Chase, would you do me a small favor for me?” Henrik asked, as he stood up from his desk and walked towards a storage closet. “Get in the closet.”

“Is that a metaphor? I’m openly gay-” Chase began, only for Henrik to cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“I’m aware, get in the closet, please.” He opened the door, smiling welcomingly, yet Chase was getting mixed signals from the whole ‘get in the closet’ thing. Reluctantly, he stepped into the closet, letting the door shut behind him. Chase settled down on an upside-down bucket, listening to Henrik move around the clinic from the other side of the door. After a moment, he heard Henrik speak up again. “And Chase? Please be quiet for a moment, if you would.”

“Alright…?”

Nodding to himself, Henrik set his plan in motion. First things first: alerting the other disaster gay. One text later, and Anti was coming any moment now, not aware that Chase was in the closet. Literally speaking, of course, everyone knew that Chase swung both ways, and Anti had been over the moon the first time he’d found out about it.

Glitching into existence already sitting on the examination bed, Anti was holding a five-hour energy bottle that he threw back into his mouth and downed it all in one go. “Henrik, you’re not going to believe this shit.”

“Let me guess, you have a crush on Chase?” Henrik asked, grinning to himself as he set about changing the bandages around Anti’s neck. He’s done this so many times, he could probably manage it with his eyes closed.

“Oh, haha,” Anti said with a roll of his eyes. “The usual, anyways,” he tossed the now-empty bottle behind him, where it landing it the trash with ease.

“Show off, how many times did you practice that at home?” Henrik asked.

“Moving right along,” Anti replied without missing a beat. “So you know how eye contact is something important for every humanoid should have a grasp on?”

“Yes?”

“I forgot how to maintain eye contact when Chase was looking at me, and I dropped a bunch of papers in front of him like an absolute clutz,” Anti explained, sighing dramatically. “Now Chase probably thinks I’m the biggest doof in the whole office! And he punched me! I’m never washing my face again, by the way.”

“Yes you are, your I’m forcing you to take a shower.” Henrik cut in. “A crush is no reason to abstain from basic hygiene.” Normally, he’d already been halfway done by now, but Henrik was going slower than usual. “Anyways, I’m sure he doesn't think that. And what really happened?”

“Oh- um, he tried to help me pick up the papers, you know, cause he’s a perfect fucking angel, but then our hands touched and I think maybe I’m not so dead inside? Maybe this man is the cure to fucking cancer?” he sighed dreamingly. “There was a spark between us, I just know it. Or, you know, maybe it was my glitchy electrical powers zapping him, cause he ended up yanking back and smacked me on accident.” Anti paused than shook his head. “It was an accident, so I’m not really upset at him.

“Anti,” Henrik began. “We all know Chase could stab you and you’d be on your knees thanking him for breathing in your direction.”

“Cause he’s fucking perfect, that’s why.” Anti snapped. “Have you seen that guy? He’s so sweet and caring, he puts others well being in front of his own, and just- have you seen the way he looks when he helps someone? That pure smile on his face, I don’t know how he does it, but somehow he manages to make me think that maybe the world isn’t so doomed after all? And when he laughs just makes the room brighter, it makes my entire day when I can make him laugh, I’d do anything for it.”

Anti paused and chuckled. “And I swear every time I hear it my heart’s gonna beat out of my chest. I don’t know how much longer I can take this without bursting at the seams from all these stupid feelings, but I can’t just make a move, what if he doesn’t like me back? I would die alone with fifty cats, one of which is named Marvin, and I have to spend the rest of my life referring to Marvin as human Marvin, and I never speak to Chase again because he’s allergic to cats and he won’t ever come near me. I’ll have to quit and get a new job and move towns and call myself Connor and become a shell of former self.”

Henrik hummed knowingly, glancing at the closet. “What exactly do you feel for Chase?”

“I… I kinda…” Anti began, then muttered under his breath.

“You kind of what, Anti?”

“I kind of love him?” Anti whispered, grinning sheepishly.

“I can’t hear you,” Henrik said, tilting his head and leaning back. “Could you speak up, please?”

“I said I fucking love him?! Okay?! Henrik?! I love him!” Anti screamed,  face turning a light shade of red.

Nodding to himself, Henrik finished applying Anti’s clean bandages and smoothed them out, double checking his work before backing away and dusting off his hands. He spun on a heel, crossing to the closest door, and opening it while stepping aside to reveal a very shocked and very blushy Chase Brody.

“Alright, was that straight enough for you?” Henrik asked than caught himself and chuckled. “Ah- my bad, I should wait for you to come out of the closet, shouldn’t I?”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, I’m not-” Chase stammered, not prepared for the fuckery that Henrik has laid down in front of them.

“Nonsense!” Henrik cut in, grabbing him by the arm and leading him out of the closet. “We were just talking about you, actually! Weren't we, Anti?”

Anti opened and closed his mouth without saying anything, looking from Chase to Henrik and back to Chase again. “Henrik! You set me up, you son of a whore!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, you were talking about Chase on your own account, weren’t you?” Henrik asked, unable to stop himself from smiling right in Anti’s face. “Why, I couldn’t have stopped you if I’d tried!”

“You could have! You could have stopped me right there!” Anti screamed, pointing at the now empty closet. “Chase was in the fucking closet the entire time, and you didn’t have the human decency to stop me from being gay!”

“It’s called doctor-patient confidentiality,” Henrik explained. “If Chase didn’t want to come out of the closet, I had no right to force him.”

“I didn’t even know what I was saying, I don’t even like Chase! I was just exaggerating to be funny! You like drama, so I gave it to you!" Anti protested.

“You… you were?” Chase asked, his voice soft, broken, and his expression crestfallen. He sniffed, scrubbing at the corner of his eye as he looked off, trying not to appear too heartbroken and failing spectacularly. “I… oh. Well, I hope you had fun, Anti. It’s not like some of us actually care about our feelings.”

“No! Chase, I didn’t mean to- please- I don’t- what- Henrik! See what you did?” Anti asked, turning back to the doctor and unable to keep the desperation from his voice.

“Me?” Henrik asked, putting an arm around Chase’s shoulder and bringing him closer, comforting him. “I didn’t do anything, except listen when my friends came into my clinic of their own accord and start gushing to me about their crushes.”

“I should go.” Chase blurted out before anyone could say anything else. “Anti you… you enjoy your game, just leave my heart out of it.” he pulled out of Henrik’s arms, heading towards the door with a slow, dragging pace.

“No, you’re not going anywhere, we need to set some things in order,” Anti said, sliding between Chase and the door, placing his hands on Chase’s chest. “I… I didn’t mean it,” he admitted, fidgeting in place. “I… Chase look, I’m really fucking dumb sometimes, and I don’t work well under pressure, and I’m pretty sure Henrik has been stealing my brain cells during my visits-”

“Actually, I’ve been trying to replenish them you disaster child.” Henrik cut in.

Anti glared at him than softened his expression when he returned it to Chase. “Chase, the truth is I… I um, I … Feel… good when I’m near you I… you… we… have something? Please? That we don’t have with the others? You… I… love… I love you.”

Chase sniffed, rubbing his face with one hand than looking up at Anti with a sly grin, all traces of his sadness gone. “Is that so?” Chase asked, leaning closer and grinning. “Cause, I think I love you too,” he admitted, planting his lips on Antis in a quick, stolen kiss.

“I… uh, holy shit, what, hands, do, I, um, fuck, Chase-”

“Chase, you broke him, his last brain cell was a gift to you.” Henrik gasped, placing a hand over his heart. That dramatic bitch.

Lifting one of Anti’s hands in his, Chase interlocked their fingers together, smiling at his new boyfriend. Anti still having yet to form a coherent sentence, managed to stammer out something that vaguely sounded like ‘You… smile… good’. Chase giggled and planted another kiss, on his cheek this time, tugging him towards the door. “Common, let’s go break the news to everyone else before you crash completely.”

Maybe love wasn't so bad after all.

[the-stoned-ranger]

The universe is vast and strange

So, I’ve been working on a new fic in the Boosh fandom. I’ve been puzzling over the second chapter because I needed a better idea of how to write Noel, and looked up his astrological chart. Unfortunately, the online sourced I found lacked a birth time, and I puzzled over it for a while before giving up.

But then, last night I had a dream last night that I was walking across a muddy baseball field with Noel Fielding. We were talking about experiences we’d had while living in haunted apartments. Right before I woke up, I asked Noel what time he was born, and he told me around 4:30 pm.

So, immediately upon waking up, I cast a chart for him with a 4:30pm birth time. Obviously, this isn’t everything, but it’s a quick delineation based on what jumped out at me the most. Feel free to comment or hit up my ask box if you  have any specific questions or just want to know more.

Ascendant in Libra: When guessing someone’s birth time, the Ascendant is the best place to start as it symbolizes a person’s outward appearance and how others perceive them.

Libra Ascendant natives are generally attractive, charming, and well-liked. They are very image conscious, and invest a lot of time and effort in their “look”. They can be very experimental with trends and makeup. They consider fashion and makeup to be art.

Speaking of art, Libra rules art! So many people with this placement are natural artists, both creating and critiquing art.

Another Ascendant in Libra characteristic: big, bright blue eyes.

Uranus conjunct Ascendant: Uranus here makes the native a bit of a rebel. They enjoy playing with their look in a way that subverts people’s expectations of them, and can often be genderbenders. They are nonconformists, eccentrics who are proud of their eccentric nature, and their confidence and unusualness draws others to them.    

Capricorn Moon, 3rd house: Capricorn moon people are not very comfortable with emotions. They prefer logic and reason to the intangible and theoretical. They dislike outward expressions of emotion, whether from themselves or others, and they tend to keep a tight lid on their feelings. When they do express their feelings, they will often try to use sarcasm as a mask for their emotions. This Moon placement can create a lack of empathy, but the native doesn’t really mean this in a malicious way--they’re just kind of clueless about these things. Since they can be somewhat emotionally detached, many natives with this placement attain professional success, as they are not plagued with the self-doubts and insecurities of more sensitive moon signs.

That’s not to say they don’t ever achieve emotional intimacy with others. They may have lots of acquaintances (especially considering the 3rd house placement), but they do not let people into their inner circle until they’ve been thoroughly vetted. Once someone makes their way into their inner circle, the Capricorn moon native is often reluctant to let them leave.

When the Moon is in the 3rd house, the native has an excellent sensitivity to language. They can be great mimics, and pick up languages and/or accents very easily. They have a lot of manual dexterity. Natives with this placement may also be excellent artists. Since Noel’s Capricorn moon sign is not very comfortable with expressing emotion directly, art is the way that he distills and communicates what he is feeling.

Since the 3rd house rules siblings, 3rd house moon natives may have a very close relationship with their younger siblings. They may be something of a mother figure to their younger siblings, either because the mother was absent/emotionally unavailable, or otherwise nurturing them. Noel’s close relationship with his brother Mike and the fact that they frequently work together seems to fit with this placement, as Noel has somewhat “brought up” his brother in comedy and nurtured his career.

5th house in Aquarius: The 5th house rules artistic expression (especially writing and theatre), and Aquarius is just fucking weird. If you’ve ever watched Noel’s work, well, that’s his 5th house Aquarius in action. Surrealism, absurdity, and the willingness to get weird with it are all trademarks of his work.

In addition, people with this placement are attracted to other weirdos. They are at their best creatively when they are working with people who are just as strange as they are. They have wide social circles, full of eccentrics.

5th house ruler (Uranus) in 1st house:  This placement makes the qualities of the 5th house very prominent to other people. Noel’s creative projects are a big part of his self-image. Other people perceive him as playful, almost childlike. He is very flirty and dramatic, almost theatrical.

Mars in Pisces, 5th house: Mars is the planet that represents sexual desire and drive to succeed. Pisces is a very imaginative, romantic, and creative sign. Thus, placed here, Mars can create a strong desire to succeed in both creative pursuits and romance.

However, Mars is not very potent when in Pisces. There is a certain lack of clarity and direction when it comes to achieving goals. While this can cause problems with a native’s career path, this is actually a very beneficial placement for artists. Mars in Pisces gives the native incredible artistic energy--they can stay up for days, completely immersed in a project, and they will not often give up on their artistic projects until they are finished. One downside is that the Mars in Pisces native is very, very susceptible to the influence of drugs. Drugs allow them to see into the shadow side of the world, to delve ever deeper into their imagination. In pursuit of ever-greater creative clarity, they can be prone to addiction.

Sexually, they may be the more passive partner. They have a rich fantasy life, and they use sex as a way to forge an almost spiritual connection with their lovers.

7th house ruler in the 5th house: Natives with this placement often make lasting partnerships with their creative collaborators. Business and creative partners can become lovers, and vice versa. Natives with this placement can negotiate and sign contracts related to their creative pursuits (especially theater). Play is a necessary part of their relationships, and they want a partner who is romantic and fun. Any significant relationships must allow them to pursue their creative impulses.

Venus in Gemini, 8th house: This is an intense and often contradictory placement. Venus in Gemini natives tend to have frequent, short-lived, and playful relationships. It’s not unusual for a Gemini Venus to be in love with two people (or more!) at the same time. However, the 8th house placement requires more intensity.

The 8th house is the house of sex, death, and power. Venus in the 8th house demands nothing less than a deep, transformative, soul connection with a sexual partner. However, Gemini’s flirtatious and often flighty nature may cause them to pursue short-lived affairs outside of the relationship, which may undo their efforts to have a deep and meaningful relationship with their partner.

Gemini Venus in the 8th may enjoy role play as a way to explore sexual taboos. They like switching things up and experimenting in the bedroom. Others find this quality almost addictive, and they may have their share of overly-attached lovers and admirers.

12th house ruler in the 8th house: Burn him, the man’s a witch! For real though, the 12th house is the house of spirituality, hidden enemies, and the collective unconscious, while the 8th is the house of the occult, the pagan, and the taboo. Noel’s highest spiritual octave is attained when he engages with the occult, ghosts, demons, etc.

Natives with this placement also lose their boundaries during sex. Sex is how they release grief and sadness. Their sexual encounters are tinged with melancholy. Even if their sexual relationships are short-lived, they are rarely casual.

[uomo-accattivante]

Oscar Isaac in the role of painter Paul Gauguin is trouble you see coming from a mile away—the kind you live to regret falling for anyway.

He’s a holier-than-thou painting bro with a “slightly misanthropic” streak (Isaac’s generous wording), eyes glinting with disgust in his first close-up. Pipe in one hand, book in another, dressed all black save for an elegant red scarf, he slams a table and shames the Impressionists gathered around him: “They call themselves artists but behave like bureaucrats,” he huffs after a theatrical exit. “Each of them is a little tyrant.”

From a few tables away, another painter, Vincent van Gogh, watches in awe. He runs into the street after Gauguin like a puppy dog.

Within a year, a reluctant Gauguin would move in with van Gogh in a small town in the south of France, in the hope of fostering an artists’ retreat away from stifling Paris. Eight emotionally turbulent weeks later, van Gogh would lop off his left ear with a razor, distraught that his dearest friend planned to leave him for good. He enclosed the bloody cartilage in wrapping marked “remember me,” intending to have it delivered to Gauguin by a frightened brothel madam as a bizarre mea culpa. The two never spoke again.

Or so the last two years of Vincent van Gogh’s life unspool in Julian Schnabel’s At Eternity’s Gate, itself a kind of lush, post-Impressionistic memoir of the Dutchman’s tormented time in Arles, France. (Not to mention artistically fruitful time: Van Gogh churned out 200 paintings and 100 watercolors and sketches before the ear fiasco landed him in an insane asylum.)

Isaac plays Gauguin like an irresistibly bad boyfriend, a bemused air of condescension at times wafting straight into the audience: “Why’re you being so dramatic?” he scoffs directly into the camera, inflicting a first-person sensation of van Gogh’s insult and pain.

Yet in the painter’s artistic restlessness, Isaac, 37, sees himself: “That desire to want to do something new, to want to push the boundaries, to not just settle for the same old thing and get so caught up with the minutia of what everyone thinks is fashionable in the moment.” He talks about “staying true to your own idea of what’s great.” He talks about “finding something honest.”

From another actor, the sentiment might border on banal. But Oscar Isaac—Guatemalan-born, Juilliard-trained and, in his four years since breaking through as film’s most promising new leading man, christened superlatives from “this generation’s Al Pacino” to the “best dang actor of his generation”—might really have reason to mean what he says. He’s crawling out the other end of a life-altering two years, one that’s encompassed personal highs, like getting married and becoming a father, and an acutely painful low: losing a parent.

He basked in another Star Wars premiere, mined Hamlet for every dimension of human experience, and weathered the worst notices of his career with Life Itself. Through it all, he says, he’s spent a lot of time in his head—reevaluating who he is, what he wants, and what matters most.

Right now, he’s aiming for a year-long break from work, his first in a decade, after wrapping next December’s Star Wars: Episode IX. “I’m excited to, like Gauguin, kind of step away from the whole thing for a bit and focus on things that are a bit more real and that matter to me,” he says.

Until then, he’s just trying “to keep moving forward as positively as I can,” easing into an altered reality. “You’re just never the same,” he says quietly. “On a cellular level, you’re a completely different person.”

When we talk, Isaac is in New York for one day to promote and attend the New York Film Festival premiere of At Eternity’s Gate. Then it’s back on a plane to London, where Pinewood Studios and Star Wars await.

Episode IX, the last of Disney’s new Skywalker trilogy, will see Isaac reprise the role of dashing Resistance pilot Poe Dameron, whose close relationship with Carrie Fisher’s General Leia evokes joy but also melancholy after Fisher’s untimely passing.

Each film was planned in part as a celebration and send-off to each of the original trilogy’s most beloved heroes: in The Force Awakens, Han Solo (Harrison Ford); in The Last Jedi, Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill); Fisher, meanwhile, had hoped to save Leia’s spotlight for last but passed unexpectedly long before filming began. Director J.J. Abrams, returning to close the trilogy he opened with Episode VII, has since said that unseen footage of Fisher from that previous film will ensure the General appears, however briefly.

For his part, Isaac promises the still-untitled ninth film will pay appropriate homage to Leia—and to Fisher’s sense of fun. “The story deals with that quite a bit,” he says. “It’s a strange thing to be on the set and to be speaking of Leia and having Carrie not be around. There’s definitely some pain in that.” Still, he says, compared to the first two installments, “there’s a looseness and an energy to the way that we’re shooting this that feels very different.”

“It’s been really fun being back with J.J., with all of us working in a really close way. I just feel like there’s an element of almost senioritis, you know?” he laughs. “Since everything just feels way looser and people aren’t taking it quite as seriously, but still just having a lot of fun. I think that that energy is gonna translate to a really great movie.”

Fisher’s absence is felt keenly on set, Isaac says. As if to reassure us both, however, he reiterates: “It deals with the amazing character that Carrie created in a really beautiful way.”

Two months after Fisher’s death, Isaac’s mother, Eugenia, passed away after an illness. A month after that, the actor married his girlfriend, the Danish documentarian Elvira Lind. Another month later, the couple welcomed their first son, named Eugene to honor the little boy’s grandmother. Work offered a way for a reeling Isaac to process.

There was his earth-shaking run at Hamlet, in which Isaac starred as the titular prince in mourning at New York’s Public Theater. And then there was writer-director Dan Fogelman’s Life Itself, a film met with reviews that near-unanimously recoiled from its “cheesy,” “overwrought” structure, filled with what one critic called the genuine emotion of “a damage-control ExxonMobil commercial.”

The reaction surprised Isaac. “I thought it was some of my strongest work,” he says. “Especially at that moment in my life. This guy is dealing with grief and, for me, it was a really honest way of trying to understand those emotions and to create a character who was also going through just incomprehensible grief.” He’s proud of the performance—and, in a strange way, heartened by the sour critical response.

“To be honest,” he says brightly, “there was something really comforting about it.” That the work “for me, meant something and for others, didn’t at all, it just made the whole thing not matter so much in a great way.”

“I was able to explore something and come out the other end and feel like I grew as an actor,” he explains. “That matters to me a lot. And the response to that, you know, it’s interesting of course, but it was a great example for me of how it really doesn’t dictate how I then feel about what I did.”

He thinks for a moment of performances and projects that, conversely, embarrassed him���ones that to his shock, boasted “really great notices” in the end. “You just never know, you know? It’s completely out of my control.”

Isaac is an encouraging listener in conversation, doling out interested yeahs and uh-huhs, and often warm, self-deprecating laughter. When I broach a particularly personal subject, he seems to sit up—somehow, suddenly more present. It’s about his last name.

Óscar Isaac Hernández Estrada dropped both surnames before enrolling at Juilliard in 2001. He’d run into several Óscar Hernándezes at auditions by that point, and taken note of the stereotypes casting directors seemed to have in mind for them—gangsters, drug dealers, the works. So he made a change, not unlike many actors do.

Whether Óscar Hernández might have had a crack at the astonishingly diverse roles Oscar Isaac has inhabited, we’ll never know. But given Hollywood’s limiting tendencies, it’s less likely he might have played an English king for Ridley Scott in 2010’s Robin Hood, three years before his breakthrough role as a cantankerous folk singer in Joel and Ethan Coen’s Inside Llewyn Davis. He was an Armenian genocide survivor in last year’s The Promise, an Israeli secret agent in August’s Operation Finale, and now, he’s the Frenchman Paul Gauguin.

Star Wars’ Poe Dameron, meanwhile, or the mysterious tech billionaire in Alex Garland’s Ex Machina, or the army commando in his second Garland mind-twist, Annihilation, specify no ethnicities at all. It’s the dream: to be hailed as a great actor, period, and not a “great Latino actor” first. To be appreciated for your talent, and seen as “other” rarely at all.

There’s a crawl space between those distinctions, though, where another anxiety lives. The one that makes you wonder: Am I “representing” as loudly as I should? Am I obligated to do so in my work? If I don’t, what does that make me? Questions for when you grew up in Miami, or another Latino-dominant place, reckoning with how you’re perceived in a spotlight outside of it. Isaac listens attentively. Then for several unbroken minutes, talks it out with himself.

He rewinds to yesterday, when he boarded a plane from London on which an air steward addressed him repeatedly as “señor,” unbidden. “It was just a little weird. So I started calling him ‘señor’ as well. I was like, thank you, señor!” Isaac recalls, cracking up. “But then at the same time, I had that thought. I was like, but no, I should really, you know, be proud of being a señor, I guess?”

“I think for a lot of immigrants, the idea is that you don’t always just want to be thought of as other. Like, I don’t want him to be just calling me ‘señor.’ Why?” he asks, more of the steward than himself. “Because I look like I do, so I’m not a mystery anymore? It did bring up all those kinds of questions.”

He grew up in the United States, he explains; his family came over from Guatemala City when Isaac was 5 months old. “I’m most definitely Latino. That’s who I am. But at the same time, for an actor it’s like, I want to be hired not because of what I can represent, but because of what I can create, how I can transform, and the power of what I create.”

Still, Isaac has eyes and ears and exists in the year 2018 with the rest of us. “I’m not an idiot,” he adds. “And I know that we live in a politically charged time. There’s so much terrible language, particularly right now, being used against Latinos as a kind of political weapon.” He recognizes, too, the necessity “for people to see people that look like them, because that’s a very inspiring thing.”

As a kid, Isaac looked up to Raúl Juliá, the Puerto Rican-born actor and Broadway star whose breakthrough movie role came as Gomez Addams of the ’90s Addams Family films. “But I looked up to him particularly because he was a Latino that wasn’t being pigeonholed just in Latino parts,” Isaac adds.

“I do think there is a separation between the artist and the art form, between a craftsperson and the craft,” he says, applying the difference in this context to himself. He calls it “that double thing,” as apt a term as any for that peculiar, precise tension: “Like yes, I am who I am, I came from where I come from. But my interest isn’t just in showing people stuff about myself, because I don’t find me to be all that interesting.”

“What is more interesting to me is the work that I’m able to do, and all that time that I spent learning how to do Shakespeare and how to break down plays and try to create a character and do accents,” he says. “That, for me, is what’s fun.”

But it’s always that “double thing”—reconciling two pulls and finding a way not to get torn up. He wants American Latinos “to know, to be proud that there is someone from there that is out and doing work and being recognized not just for being a Latino that’s been able to do that.” On the other hand, he’s “just like any artist who’s out there doing something. I feel like that’s…” He pauses. “That’s also something to be proud of, you know?”

Isaac’s focus lands on me again. “And I think for you too, you’re a writer and that’s what you do. Your identity is also part of that, but I think that you want the work to stand on its own, too.” His sister is “an incredible scientist. She’s at the forefront of climate change and particularly how it affects Latino communities and low-income areas. And she is a Latina scientist, but she’s a scientist, you know? She’s a great scientist without the qualifier of where she’s from. And that’s also very important.”

Paul Gauguin’s life after van Gogh’s death by gunshot at 37 revealed more repugnant depths than his dick-ish insensitivity.

He defected from Paris again, this time to the South Pacific, determined to break from the staid art scene once and for all. He “married” three adolescent brides, two of them 14 years old and the other 13, infecting each girl with syphilis and settling into a private compound he dubbed Maison de Jouir, or “House of Orgasms.” “Pretty gnarly, nasty stuff,” Isaac concedes, though he withholds judgment of the man in his performance onscreen.

To do so might have made his Gauguin—alluring, haughty, insufferable, brilliant—“not quite as complex.” Opposite Willem Dafoe’s divinely wounded depiction of van Gogh, however, he found room to play. “It was interesting to ask, well, what’s the kind of person that would feel that he’s entitled to do those kinds of things?” The man onscreen is an asshole, to be sure, but hardly paints the word “sociopath” onto a canvas. He’s simply human: “I think that anyone has at least the capacity to do” what Gauguin did, Isaac reasons.

The actor has had more than one reason to think on a person’s capacity to do terrible things in the last year. Two men he’s worked with—his Show Me a Hero director, Paul Haggis, and X-Men: Apocalypse helmer Bryan Singer—were both accused of sexual assault in the last year, part of a torrent of unmasked misconduct Hollywood’s Me Too movement brought to national attention.

“It’s a tricky thing,” Isaac says, “because you get offered jobs all the time and, I guess, what’s required now? What kind of background checks can someone do beforehand? There isn’t a ton.” (Just ask Olivia Munn.) “Especially as an actor, to make sure that the people you’re working with, surrounding yourself with, haven’t done something in their past that I guess will make you seem somehow like you’re propping up bad behavior.”

Carefully, he expresses reservations about the phenomenon of the last year. “People don’t feel like they’re getting justice through any kind of legal system, so they take it to the streets,” he ventures. “It’s basically street justice. You have no other option. And what happens when you take it to the streets is that damage occurs, and sometimes people get taken down, things get destroyed that you feel like maybe shouldn’t have.”

“But some of it had to happen, and hopefully now there’ll be more of a system in place to take these things seriously,” he says. “It seems like it is starting to happen more, but then you see things like, how can this person get away with it? How can that person? It just boggles the mind.”

He pulls back again, remembering what’s out of his control.

Tomorrow, he’ll be back in an X-Wing suit, as Poe struggles to accept the same truth. In a year, he’ll be home in New York with his wife and young son, focusing on matters more “real” than Hollywood, its artists, and its art. Whatever he chooses whenever he returns, he’ll be ready—for the critics, the questions, for this new reality.

“All I can do is just do what means something to me,” he says. “You just have to find something honest.” One expects he will.

###

[quiet-onset]

Gætir (11)

Pairing: Thor Odinson x Reader (eventually), Bucky Barnes x platonic!reader

Word Count: 4,523

Tag List: @givemeanorigami, @ktjnn, @dreamingaboutthewonderland, @whatisanniedoin, @msvega24, @champion-ofthe-sun, @art-flirt, @moose-on-the-l00se, @snowstorm8162, @loricwizardbluetoastedcake

PREVIOUS - NEXT

Chapter Eleven:

Your father was a brilliant man. And he knew it.

The difference between him and other geniuses was that he used his intelligence to help others. He had worked on many different projects over the years. Some were successes and some were failures, but that never stopped him from trying again. He was a psychologist and a scientist, both areas of expertise coming in handy for his current project.

He was making rounds around the lab, his white lab coat catching the light breeze. He marked a few things down on his clipboard at each station before continuing. He’d give words of encouragement to each of coworkers. He was listening in on a small debate between two lab techs before he heard his name being called.

“Daniel! Daniel!”

He turned to see his head assistant, Paul, rushing toward him. Your father gave him an amused look as Paul grabbed him by the arm and hauled him away. “Where’s the fire, Paul?”

“This is serious! We think it might be working.”

Daniel paused when he realized his close friend was serious. They were just outside the simulation room when he placed his hands on Paul’s shoulders. “Don’t play games with me.” He warned.

“I’m not.” Paul nodded. “Come on.”

When they entered the simulation room, there were a few lab techs inside, waiting for the two men. Paul nodded to one of them which prompted them to start the simulation.

On the screen, a brain appeared, colored in many different hues in each lobe. Paul pointed to it, “This is a brain with PTSD. You know we’ve been trying different combinations for years to try and perfect the serum.”

“Of course,” Daniel said. “To try and balance out the hormones.”

“We’ve finally found it.”

Paul pressed a button on the keyboard and waited for the simulation to change. A chemical equation appeared on the side while the men watched the dark red of the brain faded into blue. Daniel let out a breath of disbelief before smiling wide. He looked at his partner. “Do you realize what this means?” Paul said.

“This could cure PTSD, reduce panic attacks,” Daniel gushed. “The impact is endless!”

The two were busy basking in their success and happiness that they didn’t notice the group of observers slip into the room. When Daniel finally saw them, he tilted his head in confusion. There weren’t any tours scheduled for today, he thought.

“Ugh, Paul, can you make sure this updated paperwork is on my desk within the hour?”

“Of course.”

Sending Paul on his way, Daniel walked up to the group, shaking the tour guide’s hand, a supervisor he recognized as Garrett. “I didn’t know we had a tour today.” He smiled.

Garrett spoke to the group. “And here we have the man in charge. This is Dr. Daniel Y/L/N.”

“Pleasure to meet you all.”

“These are the investors that just bought into Tomorrow. Meet Mr. Müller, Mrs. Schröder, and Dr. Schmidt.” He introduced your father to each of them as he shook their hands.

As Daniel shook Dr. Schmidt’s hand, he noticed the ring on his finger. It seemed to resemble tentacle, peaking his interest as it did look familiar to him. “Those are German names, right?”

“Very perceptive.” Mrs. Schröder nodded, her accent thick and heavy.

“It seems you’ve had a breakthrough.” Mr. Müller added.

“Oh,” Daniel said. “We’re just, um, putting the final touches on the research. All of this is just in theory anyway.”

Dr. Schmidt clapped a hand on his shoulder, “Don’t undersell yourself, son.”

Daniel looked into his eyes and felt an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. He thanked God when Paul called him away from the group. When he started speaking, Daniel wasn’t listening but was trying to eavesdrop on the group’s conversation.

“I want him.” He heard Dr. Schmidt say. “He will be a good addition, and his research is almost complete.”

“How do we know it works? This is meant to help with mental illness, not create an army.” Mr. Müller asked.

“Obviously, we will test it. We have more than enough test subjects. It's simply a matter change of fixing the hormone imbalance.” Mrs. Schröder said.

Garrett nodded, “Hydra will not be disappointed. Dr. Y/L/N is the best of the best.”

Now, Daniel wasn’t sure what Hydra was or what army they were trying to build, but he knew that, if tampered with correctly, his research could be used to make people docile.

So, Daniel excused himself and went straight to his office. When he typed Hydra into the web search bar, he had to hold back a gasp. A worldwide terrorist organization stemming from Nazi Germany was trying to steal his research.

For a moment, he felt paralyzed, as if he couldn’t breathe. He had never been up against something so evil, something way above his pay grade. But here he was. And he knew that he couldn’t just sit idly by while his researching was being stolen.

So, he started working himself into a frenzy. He finalized his research by hand, opting not to enter it into the system. He then printed all of his essential research files before deleting them from the Tomorrow server and his computer. After gathering his work, he looked around his office for what he feared might be the last time before exiting and booking it to his own home.

When Daniel arrived home, the door slammed open and closed, perking your mother’s ears up. When she saw that it was only her husband, she relaxed. “Don’t do that!” She scolded. “You know the girls get scared like that.”

“Are they home?” He asked frantically.

“The twins are. Y/N should be on the school bus back right now. Why?”

“We have to go. Now.” He said. “I’ll go pack a bag for the twins. You pack Y/N’s. We gotta leave.”

Your mother’s brow snapped together in confusion. Daniel was usually so laid back and relaxed, so seeing him pace around the living room in a frenzy had her worried. “Woah, slow down. What’s the problem?”

“The people I work for, they’re…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “Dangerous. We need to pack and go.”

Just as your mother was about to respond, you walked through the front door with a big smile on your face. You learned how to play a new song on the guitar during music class that day; you were eager to show them. Upon seeing the surprise and fear on their faces, your smile dropped. You were only eleven at the time, but you could sense the tension. You looked at the two, your shoulders drooping a bit. “Mom, Dad, what’s wrong?”

Your dad didn’t hesitate walking up to you and crouching down to your height. “Nothing, sweetie. Say, do you wanna go on a trip?”

“Dad, I—”

“I need you to go to your bedroom and pack a suitcase. Just the essentials. We’re going away for awhile.”

You shook your head, “What about school? What about my friends?”

Your mother looked over his shoulder and gave you a look. She knew you could argue all day. You were like her in that sense. “Listen to your father, hon.”

Only after eyeing your parents one last time do you head toward the stairs. You climbed the stairs hyper-aware of your mom and dad watching you. You waited until you were down the hall and heard their voices again to tiptoe to the edge and crouch down. Your sisters peeked out of their room to see you on the ground. “What are you doing?” Melody asked.

“You look stupid,” Harmony added.

“Any other day, I’d have a comeback that you probably wouldn’t even understand,” You whispered to the twins. “But right now, I need you to shut up so I can listen to Mom and Dad.”

Your sisters started to protest, but you shushed them, waving them back to their rooms. Your parents were finally getting back to the issue at hand, so you needed silence.

“Daniel, you know I can protect us,” Dahlia said quietly.

Your dad sighed, “You haven’t done that in years. I thought you wanted a low profile.”

“I do, but not at the expense of my family. I was born to protect others.”

“Dahlia—”

“Danny,” Your mother used his nickname, knowing that it would calm him. “I made a home here from nothing. I found you, we had three beautiful daughters, and I’m not gonna let some dangerous people run me out of my home.”

You could tell your mother was starting to get angry at the thought of anyone threatening her family, but Daniel simply placed his hands on her shoulders and rubbed up and down. They both stood there for a moment in silence, relishing the sheer presence of each other. With three kids running around, and him working all the time, it was rare that they had time to themselves. They knew, though, that this peace couldn’t last forever.

“Please. They know too much.” Daniel pleaded. “We need to take the girls and my research and go.”

“Your research?” Dahlia asked. “What can they do with that?”

“I’ll tell you on the way. Just humor me, please.”

Your mother sighed, and you knew that was her sign of conceding. You saw her nod and watched as he placed a kiss on her forehead. That was when you raced to your room to avoid being seen. You began throwing clothes in a suitcase, vaguely hearing your sisters call you weird and your mother’s footsteps coming up the stairs.

It was about an hour later that you were on the road. It had taken a bit longer than planned due to your begging to take your guitar with you. When the five of you were finally in the station wagon, you tuned out your sisters’ bickering as the car drove the road.

You watched your familiar neighborhood disappear out of your window, watching as the roads gradually became more and more unrecognizable. As if the world could sense your melancholy, it started to drizzle outside, the water droplets bouncing off the car’s exterior. You tried to make a game of following one droplet as it ran down the window, your parents’ small talk rendering you annoyed.

You knew you weren’t a grown up and that you probably wouldn’t understand the magnitude of whatever was happening. You still wanted to know. You felt like you deserved to know. Your parents were uprooting your entire life with virtually no explanation, then had the nerve to talk about the weather as if nothing had happened. Was it that easy for them?

You lost your train of thought as the car made a left turn onto a dirt road in the forest. You sat up, turning to try and see behind you. There was nothing around that you recognized, but you had to admit that you were scared. The rain was starting to pour and the fact that fog was starting to become apparent didn’t help.

“Dad, where are we?” You finally asked.

“Just trust me, sweetie.” He told you.

He found a conveniently cleared space just big enough for the car and stopped. Dahlia turned to him in her seat. “How long have you had this place?”

“Since I found out where you’re really from. Just in case.” He said with a shrug. “It’s completely off the grid. I made sure of it.”

He announced that it was time for everyone to exit the car. Your sisters jumped out, ready to play in the rain. They were always very fond of that sort of weather. You trudged out behind them and groaned when you felt the ground sink under your feet. “I hate mud.” You muttered.

You saw your parents starting to cover the car with branches and leaves. You stood behind your mother with your arms crossed. “So when will we know what’s happening?” You asked.

“Get your things from the trunk, Y/N.” She said.

You rolled your eyes and attempted to stomp your way to the back of the car, your feet slapping the mud. Your father eyed you. “Don’t roll your eyes at your mother, young lady.” He warned.

You grabbed your suitcase in one hand and your guitar case in the other. You waited for the rest of your family to grab theirs as you looked at your surroundings. There were trees all around; you couldn’t see much else past their leaves. You figured it must be much prettier and less ominous when it wasn’t raining.

A few minutes later, your father would lead your small family on a short hike. It couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes, but your sisters would not stop complaining in their young age. Your mother would hush them with a short look in her eye as they continued. Then, you saw it.

A small clearing with an old cabin dead center.

It was a bit elevated, the front acting as a sort of porch. The wood was fading from brown to a sort of grayish color. It was a small, sad-looking cabin, but it seemed to match the situation perfectly so you couldn’t complain. This was your new home.

It took a while getting used to you. The cabin seemed much smaller when you entered, and you were disappointed to learn that you’d have to share a room with your sisters. You loved your sisters, but living in the same room as them proved to be a challenge. It took a whole year of bickering and family meetings to finally fall into a groove.

You all had a sort of routine. Your mother would teach you with what little books and material she managed to bring along. Then you went hunting with your father while your sisters learned survival skills with your mother. When the two of you came back, you would go out back to gather firewood for the tiny fireplace. Then, you’d eat dinner with your family and go to bed, repeating the entire process in the morning. It was a weird routine, but it was yours, nonetheless. You followed it to a tee.

Until one day, it was interrupted.

Your father had gone out of a shopping trip. Every few months, Daniel would have to go out and buy new clothes for you and your sisters, as you were still growing. He made sure to dress so his face couldn’t be seen and went back out into the world. Sometimes, you were jealous of him, but you knew it was for the best.

Everything was going smoothly as Daniel exited the clothing store. With two shopping bags in each hand, he walked toward the car he’d hot-wired to get there.

Then, all of a sudden, he collided with a stranger, his hat falling off in the process.

“I am so sorry.” The stranger said. He bent down to help Daniel pick up his belongings.

Daniel tried to keep his head down as his heartbeat sped up. “It’s fine, really. You don’t have to.”

“No, I insist. Besides, I’m the one who bumped into you.” The stranger picked up his hat just before Daniel could grab it. He looked up at the stranger and nodded in thanks.

Without another word, he put the cap on his head and booked it to the car, leaving the scene as quickly as possible.

Later that day, you were out hunting with your father near the clearing where your parents had parked their car nearly a year and a half ago. You separated from him but stayed where he could see you. You were aiming for a bird that settled on a low branch with your rifle. You never had great aim, but you were sure you could hit that bird. Suddenly, you saw three men. Your eyes widened as you watched them start to uncover the car that you’d left behind.

When Daniel saw the distress on your face, he silently made his way over to you. “What’s wrong?” He whispered.

You pointed and waited as your father’s reaction mimicked yours. His head snapped your way as he grabbed you by the shoulders. “You run back to the cabin as fast as you can. Don’t make any noise until you get through the clearing.”

“Dad, what’s going——”

“Tell your mother that they’re coming. Then take your sisters and hide. Understand?”

You nodded quickly, taking off with a quick shove from your father. You ran as fast as your feet could carry you, making it back to the cabin in five minutes flat. You saw your sisters smiling at the fire they’d just started as you ran across the clearing. Dahlia looked at you with concern as you frantically kicked dirt over the fire, prompting your sisters to whine. You ignored them and turned to your mother, “They’re coming.”

You watched as your mother’s face slowly changed from confusion to seriousness. She bent down to look your sisters in the eyes. “Melody, Harmony, you go into the cabin with Y/N and hide. Listen to your sister, do you understand?”

You almost cringed at the fear in their eyes. Harmony’s lip trembled, “Mommy?”

“It’ll be okay, baby. I promise. Now go, hurry.”

You followed your sisters into the cabin, putting on a brave face. Melody immediately turned to you, “Y/N, what’s happening?”

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly. “We just need to listen to Mom and Dad, okay? We’ll be fine.”

You looked around the small cabin for any kind of hiding space for the girls. You’d be damned if you hid before them. You noticed that the kitchen cabinets under the sink were small, and the twins would probably fit inside. “Here, come on.”

You let them crawl inside before crouching down. “You two stay down here and don’t make any noise unless me, Mom, or Dad says so. I don’t care who else comes in here. You don’t come out unless you hear one of us, got it?”

They nodded, tears in their eyes. You were about to say that everything was going to be okay, but you didn’t have the chance. You started to hear a commotion outside and knew you had to hide. You reminded them to be silent before you reluctantly closed the cabinet doors.

You ran to the nearest closet and got in. You were two seconds from closing the door when you heard a shout from the porch. The closet door wasn’t fully closed, but you wouldn’t be able to close it the rest of the way without being noticed by whoever was there, so instead, you peeked through the small crack.

Suddenly, you jumped as the front door collapsed, a body flying through it. In the doorway, you could make out your mother heaving in labored breaths. You let out a small gasp as you looked at her eyes.

They were dark blue. And they were glowing.

You watched as she stomped on a floorboard, pulling something from underneath. She unsheathed a sword that gleamed in the light. The light that reflected off your mother’s sword shined in your eyes, and you stumbled backward. You couldn’t see much of the fight, but when you saw your mother standing over a man, you thought it was almost over. You thought your mother had won.

But the man pulled out a gun.

Dahlia didn’t have any time to react before she felt a searing pain tear through her chest. She tried to fight against it, but it was like her body was paralyzed. You covered your mouth with your hands, tears running down your face as she collapsed to the floor. You tried your hardest to not make any noise as you watched your mother take her final breaths.

The man stood from the floor and dusted himself off as if he hadn’t just taken your mother’s life. Two men walked in, dragging your blood covered father behind them. They looked at the woman on the floor, and one of them chuckled. “We thought she almost had you, soldier.”

The man looked at him with cold eyes, his voice cutting through the silence. “What did I say about talking to me?”

The other man gulped, “Don’t.”

You only heard a deep grunt in response before the man they called soldier spoke again. “Outside. Let’s go.”

You immediately stepped back into the coats that filled the closet. You watched as they dragged your father back outside, the soldier following behind them. You could vaguely hear your father speaking as you slowly left the closet. “Please, leave them alone. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

You went up to your mom, tears in your eyes as you realized she was not yet dead. She took labored breaths as you cradled her head in your lap, careful to not make a sound.

“Y/N,” She croaked quietly. “You have to run.”

“I can’t leave you, Mom.” You whispered.

“You have to.” You could see her eyes rolling back. “Take the twins and run.”

With tears streaming down your cheeks, all you could do was murmur little no’s as her eyes rolled back in her head and closed for the final time. Quietly, you put her head back on the floor, wincing as you heard your father groan in pain. You went to the cabinet and whispered your arrival before opening the doors. “Melody, Harmony,” You started. “We have to run. But you still can’t make a noise.”

They nodded quickly, tears gathering once again in their eyes. “Where’s Mommy and Daddy?” Melody asked.

You parted your lips to answer but hesitated as you looked in the direction of your mother’s body. You shook your head. “Let’s go, c’mon.”

On the way out the back door, you reached under the kitchen table, grabbing the handgun that your father taught you to use. You tucked into the back of your pants before following the girls into the woods. As you entered the mess of grass and trees, you heard of the men shout, “They’re getting away!”

You tried your best to lose them, making sure you and the girls zigzagged to confuse them a bit. However, the three men had been trained in tracking their prey. It was only a matter of time.

Believing you’d lost them, you allowed yourself and your sisters to stop for a drink of water at a stream. They sat on the edge where you could see them as you crouched down and splashed your face with water. “Y/N?” Harmony asked.

“Hm?”

“You know we never mean it when we say we hate you?”

You looked up at their wide eyes as they sit side by side, cuddling with each other. Your brow furrowed as you stood up straight. “Of course I know that. Why do you ask?”

Melody watched the water as she spoke timidly. “Sometimes, when we got mad at Mommy and Daddy, we said we hate them, but now we don’t know where they are.”

Harmony sniffed, holding back tears. “What if they think we hate them?”

You looked at them sympathetically. You knew they were too young to understand what was going on. Hell, you didn’t even understand. But one thing that you knew for sure was how much your family loved one another. You were not gonna let them feel bad for being children.

You pulled your feet from the mud under you and walked to the edge to sit. Pulling your sisters close to you. “Don’t do that. Mom and Dad know you love them. And they love you, okay? Don’t you ever question that.”

You looked up at the setting sun as the snap of a branch got your attention. When you turned your head, you were relieved to only see a squirrel. Still, you stood up and dusted your pants off. “We should keep moving. Let’s go.”

Your sisters groaned but stood up anyway. You let them walk in front of you so you could see them. You hadn’t gotten a hundred feet away from the stream when it happened.

You felt something zip past your right ear and then your left one. Just like that, your sisters were on the ground, blood pouring from their bodies. You were paralyzed with fear and with anger. The only thing that made you turn around was the command of a voice. “Move and you’re dead.”

You could hear two sets of footsteps coming up to the scene as you heard the man’s gun cock loudly. Suddenly, the booming voice who you recognized as the soldier who killed your mom carried through the air.

“I gave you one command. To capture the kids.”

“What does it matter?” You heard the man turn around. “Two less witnesses.”

“Do you know what happens to people who disobey me?”

“Please, tell me. What hap—“

He didn’t get the chance to answer. While they were talking, you’d turned around and pulled out your gun. With shaky hands, you’d aimed at the man’s head, your teeth grinding in anger. You pulled the trigger, and the man fell face forward onto the ground. 

Just like your sisters.

That was when you finally saw the man who killed your mother. His hair was long and brown, his eyes a shade of blue that seemed to pierce through to your soul. What caught your attention though was his arm, the metal clicking into place as he straightened the limb. Letting out a huff, he leaned over to the last man. “Go prep the van.”

As he went to follow orders, the soldier stared you down, not worried about the gun you pointed at him. “You’re not gonna win this, kid.”

You said nothing as you simply cocked the gun once more. He sighed and watched your hands shake. You pulled the trigger once, your brow raising in shock when he catches it and drops the piece of metal to the ground.

With tears welling up in your eyes, you pull the trigger again. And again. And again. The soldier uses his metal arm to deflect them all, careful to not send then ricocheting back to you as he steps closer and closer with every shot.

Finally, the barrel is empty, and he is towering over you. He roughly grabs the gun and throws it to the side, causing you to jump.

“Let’s go, kid.”

Everything else was a blur of your screams and your family’s dead bodies. You vaguely remembered him throwing you over his shoulder, hardly flinching as you punched his back and kicked at his front. Once back to the clearing, he threw you into the back of a van and looked down at you. You thought you saw a glimpse of sympathy as he placed his hands on the doors. He then avoided your gaze and looked down at the ground. “Just be glad you’re alive.”

When he closed the doors, you were only left with a reflection of yourself.

Your eyes were dark blue. And they were glowing.

Forever Tags:

@jockarchie, @kimmy-h-life, @ben-platt-deserves-the-world , @thewordofthenerd , @wishuponastarlana, @yumel21, @here-for-your-bullshit, @bethbat, @iamafangirlofeverything

[s-o-n-de-r]

From indie rock to mega pop: sonder editor Andrew’s top albums of 2017

I spent a lot of time paying closer attention to a wider range of music in 2017 than I have in past years, so a lot of records made their way onto the sonder desk. Keeping up with all the new music in any given year is a monumental task, but certain records stick with you, and while everyone has their own picks, these are mine.

SAINTE – smile, and wave

SAINTE, the new project of We Are the In Crowd members Tay Jardine, Cameron Hurley, and Mike Ferri, took a while to get their debut record out, but this seven-song EP is a sleeper hit.

When SAINTE was first revealed, it was pitched as songs written as We Are the In Crowd but didn’t really fit the mold of the pop-punk band. What we got with SAINTE was an awakening, a refresh. Smile, and wave is poppy rock baked in neon-y ‘80s influences – it’s catchy and bright, but it’s not shtick. Whereas the last album We Are the In Crowd put out (Weird Kids) hopped around different song styles, this new band goes full steam ahead in one direction. It’s honest – not just musically, but lyrically, and this hits you hardest when you realize that Jardine spent a good portion of the previous year under the thumb of depression and anxiety. As such, this music is cathartic, especially the freeing and poppy “With Or Without Me,” the optimistic “If You Ever Feel Alone,” and the cruising anthem “White Lies.” And the first track, “Eyes Are Open,” debuts the whole project: “Starting right now, our eyes are open.” This record is a reason for you to keep yours open, too.

Jule Vera – Waiting On The Sun

When Jule Vera dropped their sophomore album Waiting On The Sun, it was a radical departure from their previous EP, in a great way. Waiting On The Sun mixes and matches all these influences that you would never expect to pair well together. But they do. It’s modern, but it’s folksy, too and has influences from a wide selection of genres, not to mention a palpable sense of southern rock. Each song’s separate identity keeps you going through the album because you’re not exactly what the band will throw out next. Fittingly, the album closer, “Can’t Help,” is the most enigmatic song on the album and leaves you thirsting to go back the beginning and try to process the range of music you heard.

Neaux – Fell Off the Deep End

This one was actually released in 2016, but it got a re-master and re-release in 2017, so we’re counting it for 2017. Neaux’s music, a violet-tinged mashup of shoegaze, grunge, emo, and punk, is captivating even if you’re completely uninterested in the genre. This is especially true of Fell Off the Deep End, which bleeds deliberate lo-fi meandering. It’s possibly the most un-pretentious album of the year. These eight sludgy songs are industrial addictions, conjuring up images of leather jacket smokers in dark alleys on cold nights. This is an album that is difficult to listen to only one song off of. Sierra Kay’s blunt honesty makes her an open book, and it makes this album great to just zone out to.

Neaux also released their follow up, Chain Up The Sun, this year, but we felt it didn’t have quite the magic to it that makes Fell Off the Deep End so good.

Lorde – Melodrama

In the realm of mega-pop, so much of what a musician does can often instantly induce cringe – this is the case with Taylor Swift’s catastrophe Reputation or the disappointingly theatric After Laughter (by Paramore). It almost comes with the territory. Big pop names, in an effort to re-invent themselves every record cycle, often go way over the top. But Lorde, the New Zealand pop singer/songwriter behind the radio hit “Royals,” did the opposite and blessed the world with one of the best pop albums in recent times. Melodrama is a hit because it does what daring pop does: It exists within the confines of a genre that encourages homogeneity by rejecting said homogeneity. Lorde’s glittering vocals glide next to grandiose piano and dreamy electronic arrangements that crash into deep and powerful drum-and-bass segments that echo of some of the grooviest pop of the last decade. All this considered, the album’s best song is “Liability” because it’s just Lorde alone with a piano riff and a heart-wrenchingly honest confessional: “They say ‘you’re a little much for me / You’re a liability.’” Such melancholy coming from a “star” shows us the universality of sadness that can go straight to our core, but don’t over-analyze this song – it just makes you feel.

It’s actually astonishing how well put-together this album is – Jack Antonoff, who you’ll see later on in this list, had a major hand in this record, and it’s his trademark production and co-writing that brings out the depth of this record, although most credit of course goes to the songwriter herself. Lorde is unafraid of not only pushing boundaries, but totally destroying them, and it shows: Melodrama is critically acclaimed all around the music journalism world.

Lights – Skin & Earth

We went into depth on Lights’ latest release in our full-length feature, but as the year has progressed, Skin & Earth has stood strong. Our last three albums on this list all stand out because they have a remarkable sense of journey and adventure, a thread that gets carried throughout the entire album. This is especially true of Skin & Earth – “Intro” and “Skydiving” set the tone for the entire album: Fresh and exciting and a new version of Lights in a growing discography of different things. Skin & Earth is Lights’ take on the broader themes in pop in 2017, but of course in her own way. This album is practically bursting with songs you can’t skip.

The Maine – Lovely Little Lonely

The Maine are easily one of the most under-rated bands in the alternative/rock industry. They may have caught their initial break in the Vans Warped Tour scene, but they’ve long outgrown that. They’ve gone (and stayed) independent and have released phenomenal album after phenomenal album, coalescing with this year’s Lovely Little Lonely. Vocalist John O’Callaghan’s pensive and poetic lyrical voice is at its strongest on this album, and musically, the band sounds more refined than they have before. Lovely Little Lonely is a walk through all the emotions that make us human, and with the record’s wistful transition tracks (“Lovely,” “Little,” and “Lonely”), this album stops to breathe and let the listener absorb everything. O’Callaghan has always had a knack in bringing out meaning in life’s ups and downs, and songs such as “Taxi,” “I Only Wanna Talk To You,” and “Don’t Come Down” send you through such roller coasters. But Lovely Little Lonely is no one-man effort. The Maine may qualify as an alternative rock band, but the tag doesn’t even begin to do it justice. Lovely Little Lonely is genre-bending and utilizes just enough dreamy and baroque instrumentation (such as in the title tracks) to slot it truly within its own world, something of a rare white elk in the music world. It is no coincidence that a truly independent band with a respectable work ethic put out one of the best albums of 2017. Out of all the albums on this list, Lovely Little Lonely is the one with the broadest appeal. It’s a record for nearly anyone.

Bleachers – Gone Now

The margin between Lovely, Little, Lonely and our album of the year was so slim it was almost non-existent. What both albums do spectacularly is transmit their particular sense of emotion with almost 100 percent accuracy. Both of these albums make you feel, and they make you feel heavily. They’re both cohesive and filled with variety and great musicianship, but there can only be one number one, and that goes to Bleachers’ Gone Now.

Gone Now is so well-done it may not only be the album of 2017, but one of the best of the entire decade. If you’re not in the know, Bleachers is the brainchild of Fun. member and general music savant Jack Antonoff, who has had a hand in producing some of pop’s biggest recent hits (he worked on Taylor Swift’s 1989 and Reputation, as well as Melodrama, which I previously discussed, and with countless other big names).

That being said, Antonoff’s best work is with Bleachers, a format that finds him engaging himself at his quirkiest. Often, self-indulgence can be boring and pretentious, but Gone Now is a liquor shot of authenticity in the most Antonoff way possible. Nearly anything Antonoff touches reeks of his style, a unique watermark on a piece of music. Gone Now is this as well – it’s weird at times, infinitely self-referential, and often forgoes typical song structure (because it can), but all of this only enhances the struggle at the core of this album. Gone Now is a beautiful rendition of loss of youth and depression and self-care and working through internal strife. These things, give or take, are often at the core of music, but Antonoff has excelled at writing heart-tugging music since his days in Steel Train, and Gone Now just shows how much he’s honed it. These songs don’t just dump their messages on you all at once; they build up to sonic crescendos and get increasingly neurotic before dropping huge weights on you, resulting in some profound sing-along moments. The lead single, “Don’t Take The Money,” is a great example of this. That’s kind of an anomaly, as most lead singles are just there to catch ears, but each song on the album burns with its own intensity and takes your hand through to the next one. Consider how it starts out with “Dream of Mickey Mantle,” a song about an actual dream, before transitioning into the Ben Folds-esque “Goodmorning,” a song about waking up in the morning and feeling the crushing weights of life fall onto you.

Granted, it could be difficult to process the wild variation in tone and style that this album has, as songs go from ‘80s influenced pop to having experimental saxophone hooks to repeating lines distorted by bizarre vocoder effects, but once you realize that this is actually Antonoff at his most honest, it feels right. In fact, Gone Now works because of how experimental it is, not in spite of. Heck, the album ends with “Foreign Girls,” which starts off sounding like it’s going to be something out of a ‘70s sci-fi movie, but turns into a warm and endearing ditty. Unpredictability explodes from this album, but underneath all of it is genuinely cathartic and meaningful pop music, and that’s what makes it my album of the year.

---

Article and photos by sonder editor Andrew Friedgen. Album art by the respective bands. Like this? Sonder is an independent music, travel and photography publication at sonderlife.com. Give us a follow here or at our Twitter, Instagram or Facebook if you like this!

Also check out:

Our features throughout the year

Our index of every band we’ve photographed