#nearly 4% of all the time I played spotify this year.

[agent-cupcake]

Flashbang

Chapter 1 - Puppet Loosely Strung

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7/ Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: One Piece Live Action Buggy x f! Reader

Synopsis: Running away to join the circus doesn’t go exactly as you hoped it would.

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, murder, generally dark content

Word Count: 13.9k

Disclaimer: I don’t read the manga or watch the anime. This is based solely on OPLA Buggy because Jeff Ward.

Some quick notes before we start: This is what I've been working on this since October. Originally it was going to be one really big one-shot posted at the same time, but it's big enough that I can justify posting it as a series. I'll add warnings as I go, but this is not a happy story and there will be explicit content later on. The reader character might not be somebody you see yourself in, I had a very specific image of what character I had in mind while writing. To me, reader fic is more of a sort of play acting rather than "oh that's literally me" but I know that's not everybody's cup of tea. A lot of this is cope fic and it shows. When times get rough the porn gets rougher, right?

I had help writing this from an individual who is very dear to me. Flashbang wouldn't exist without her, especially since she was the one who gave me the clown brain rot. And then there has been the hours of brainstorming and spitballing and watching Jeff Ward shows/movies as she continued to feed my addiction. Thank you, my love, and also damn you because this wasn't what I needed.

New chapter every Sunday. Enjoy~

.

“Let me put myself in your shoes

As a puppet loosely strung

Around you, they were so confused

That a faulty man could have so much fun”

.

All it took was a little doubt. Through logic or confusion or wishful thinking, you could be convinced that the insignificant person who had parasitically driven you around for the past however many years was a stranger, and now they were gone. Everything that had ever happened fell into incomprehensible dust, and every thought you ever had belonged to somebody else. A cycle of a million memories you didn’t recognize spun through this foggy place, none of them real, none of them familiar. 

Logic, confusion, wishful thinking, or unconsciousness. An endless dream of nothing at all. But as soon as you became aware, it was awareness that those thoughts happened in the past tense, crushed inward by the unrelenting force of existence, and you were shoved back into a body. You—not the real you, the stranger you, the one made of heat and fury and pain, the one you couldn’t recognize—were gasping and thrashing in ignorant confusion, coughing out the sickening taste of blood in your throat. 

Everything, all of it, hurt. And that was all that existed. 

Until it wasn’t. 

Your panicked thrashing made you realize that you were upright, your body straining painfully against the various chains keeping you pinned against the wall in an X. The position put nearly all of your weight on your shoulders and left your head to sag heavily to the side, making the terrible, dizzying headache that much worse. Having suffered more than your fair share of them, you knew that this headache was from more than an uncomfortable position or your old injury. A hot throbbing pain radiated out from the back of your head, shooting little sparks down your spine. It hurt bad enough that nausea formed a tight, heavy ball in your stomach. Gritting your teeth, you forced your eye open, fighting the urge to cringe away from the light as it rolled this way and that. Colors and lights were nothing more than a nauseating smear, but at least you could see. 

Little by little, you became aware of yourself. From far away, you had a vague recollection of leaving, of nerves, excitement, and then of danger. But… no, why weren’t you at home? Doom settled in its rightful place as you realized exactly how little you remembered or knew, slotting into the spot of coherence and reason. Despite the pain, you fought against the shackles holding you in the uncomfortable position, irrationally desperate to be free of them. 

“There she is! Finally,” somebody said from your left. His voice hit like a hammer to the back of your aching head. You strained to look at the speaker, he sounded close, but you couldn’t turn your head far enough to make up for your limited vision. 

Luckily, he didn’t stay out of sight for long. The man’s boots were loud and deliberate as he slowly moved out of your literal blind spot. To your ill-adjusting eye, he was not much more than a blur of white and red and blue, his big smile smudged as you rapidly blinked to focus. A little shock of meaningless recognition in your brain saw the makeup and red nose and said ‘clown’, but the sheer ridiculousness of that made you even more sure that this wasn’t real. 

“Not a fun way to wake up, is it?” he asked. “Keep breathing, let it drain back and cough it out. Trust me, it’s over quicker that way.”

The question you tried to form was, “Who are you?” but all you could manage was a heavy groan followed by a fit of painful coughs, wheezing raggedly in between. Each desperate convulsion rattled the chains and caused the wood to creak, but did nothing to free your bound limbs. The man seemed bored by it, annoyed he had to wait for you to get ahold of yourself. 

Since he hadn’t immediately helped you down, you could only assume that he was the one who shackled you in the first place. Strung you up against a wooden board of some kind in a room you didn’t know. Cramped and windowless, it reeked of paint and sweat and sawdust and sweet salty rot—a unique smell that didn’t help your nausea. Clutter stacked up against the walls. Dense, humid air pressed against you like a heavy coat, paradoxically chilling. Probably because of the fever burning beneath your skin, slicking you up with sweat, soaking into your clothes and the bandana you kept wrapped around your head over the left eye.

Breathe. You focused on your breathing. Panic wouldn’t help you. 

“You done?” he asked. Without any other choices, you turned your head to shamefully wipe your face off on your sleeve before nodding. “Great. Well, now that you’re awake… Welcome!” He threw out his arms with the flamboyant manner of a showman with the greeting, but they wilted right after, his big smile dropping a bit. “Or, at least, that’s what I would say if you hadn’t let yourself in and stolen the opportunity from me.” 

That was bad. Very, very bad. You jerked in an awkward, uncoordinated burst, physically reacting to the danger he presented. 

“No, no, don’t leave on my account,” he said, waving his hands and getting closer as if to stop you. “Oh wait, you can’t! Hah! Yeah, ‘cause of the chains.” He smiled affably, like it was a harmless joke, standing close enough for his gloved fingers to skim along the chain wrapped around your neck. “I guess you’re not going anywhere, huh?” 

You didn’t respond, barely daring to breathe when he was so close. Smiles and melodrama aside, his blue eyes were oddly dead, fixed on you without the slightest bit of humor. And then it finally came back to you, the vital thing that you should have known, that you would have known if you weren’t strung up and suffering such a crippling headache. The makeup, the nose, the hat—

“You’re,” you began to say, but your voice was hoarse and weak, you could barely get it out when he was looking at you so closely, so intently. You cleared your throat, wincing at the metallic taste. “You’re the-that pirate captain Buggy, like on the-the poster?” Right! The clown guy, the red-nosed pirate. You were looking for him. So this was… good, wasn’t it? 

He gave you a flat look, clearly not sharing your weak enthusiasm. “Yes. I am that pirate captain. Buggy, the Genius Jester? The most feared pirate captain in all the East Blue?” He turned with a dramatic flick of his coat, messing with something that had to flash silver before you realized it was a knife. “The man destined to find the One Piece and become King of the Pirates. Yes. I am that pirate captain. And,” he paused, checking to make sure you were paying attention, “a very busy, very important man. I’ve got, oh, ten minutes or so for you to decide how this is gonna go. So let’s get straight to it.” He turned back, pointing the knife at you. “Who are you, and what are you after?”

The accusatory tone of his voice took you aback. “Nothing… I’m not anybody,” you stammered out. “And this… this isn’t what it looks like, I swear.”

Buggy, to your surprise, relented after a second of considering your appeal, nodding understandingly. 

There was no transition from his look of sympathy to raising the knife and aiming it at you. By the time you realized he meant to throw it, you barely had a chance to yelp. The blade took a loud, thumping bite into the wood beside you. On your left side, of course. Where you couldn’t see it. You could feel it, though. The air displacement ruffled the fine hairs around your ear. If you had flinched in that direction, it probably would be in your skull. With your dizzy head aching and confused, you had no regulation to your fear or discomfort, your breathing dangerously unsteady and tears pricking the corner of your eyes. 

“Let me try a different question,” Buggy said before you could collect yourself, pulling out another knife. “Who else knows about this place?”  

“Nobody! I swear, nobody else. I was just…” You didn’t know what to say. It was all you could do to breathe the thick, heavy air and fight down the tide of nausea.  

“Just what?” Buggy asked, leaning in with raised eyebrows to show that he was listening intently. You opened and closed your mouth, unable to come up with the right words. Thoughts churned through the thick sludge in your head, getting stuck or lost or confused. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said, the stumbling apology coming out more naturally than anything else, an attempt to buy time while you organized your thoughts. “Please doh-don’t…. I’m so ss-sorry.” 

Buggy sighed, standing up straight and raising his hand to aim. 

“Nonono, please d-” You yelped louder this time, flinching away as the knife streaked through the air and stuck not even an inch away from your right cheek. You exhaled a pathetic little sob, whatever you were bound to shaking with your body. 

“Listen, honey buns,” Buggy said. “Drop the act. Stop the whining. I caught you, red handed, sneaking into my lair.” He pulled something out of his pocket. Not another knife, but a piece of paper which he unfolded, holding it up for you to see. His wanted poster, creased into sixths from the way you folded it to keep it close, to keep it hidden. “I found this in your bag. You know who I am, and you know where you are. You have to, so let’s do away with all the theatrics, okay?” 

You swallowed hard, nodding quickly in the hope that it would appease him. 

“Right now, this is a conversation,” Buggy said, gesturing between the two of you. “A light interrogation, really. But if you keep being uncooperative and wasting my time, it’s gonna go from being interrogate-y to being torture-y real quick. You don’t want that, right?” Although he was unmistakably threatening you, Buggy’s tone was more natural than before. There was a bluntness to it, an honesty. Men like him didn’t idly use words like torture. 

You sniffed, trying very hard to calm yourself down. This was a misunderstanding, so you just had to convince him. Simple as that. He would understand. You would make him understand.

“Right,” you agreed. 

“Fantastic. So,” he loudly clapped his hands together, “who else knows about this place?”

“Nobody, I promise… I’m really sorry I broke in,” you told him, speaking slowly so your words didn’t catch. “I just wanted to meet with you.” 

Buggy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, the hair hanging out from the sides of his hat swaying as his head tilted curiously. “You’re a fan?” he clarified. “That explains why you’re so pathetic. Well I hate to break it to you, but there’s a reason I only hold meet and greets after shows.” 

“No, that’s not why! I-I want to join your crew,” you said. “I came to ask you to let me join your crew.” 

He blinked twice, staring at you with obvious disbelief. “Excuse me, what?” 

“I want to be a pirate,” you told him, louder. “Please. Please let me join your crew.”

Buggy’s expression didn’t change, but you could see the rippling shift of incredulity, befuddlement, skepticism, and then amusement in his eyes. That emotion burst outward into a loud laugh, making you flinch. “That’s the best you can do?” he asked. “Ask to join my crew?” He looked at you again, laughing even harder. “I don’t know what’s funnier—that anybody would send you to spy on me, or that you’d think I would consider hiring you.” 

“I mean it!” you argued, humiliation and desperation seeping into the thousand other discomforts of your position. This wasn’t at all how you wanted this to go.

“Sweetheart,” Buggy said condescendingly, “even assuming I believe you, this is a pirate crew, not an afterschool club.”

“I know. I know what pirates do, I know what you do,” you told him. “I’ll do anything, whatever you want. Please, please, just give me a chance.”

He nodded, turning to pace as he thought about it. 

“Okay, let’s say that I buy this… this act of yours,” Buggy said. “Do you have any experience? Maintaining ships, reading maps, loading cannons. You know, basic stuff.”

There was a line you had prepared to answer this question, one that would paint you in the most charitable light. You remembered that, but you couldn’t remember the line. All you could give was the truth. “A little.”

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Thought so. What about specialties? Unique skills? Any sort of talent that I can use in my show—anything at all. I mean other than,” he gestured vaguely in your direction, “that. We don’t need another one eyed midget. They’re surprisingly common.” 

“I’m not a midget,” you told him, nerves fading to incredulity. 

Buggy stepped back to size you up before seemingly conceding the point with a shrug. “And the eye?” He covered his left eye to illustrate. “Is that for a bit or something?” 

Your stomach twisted with a familiar lurch. Disgust. Shame. Phantom light in the dark. “It’s not.” 

“How’d you lose it?” 

“I didn’t… lose it.” 

“It’s still in there?” he asked excitedly, stepping forward and reaching to remove the bandana. “I have got to see this.” 

“No, please—please don’t,” you begged, trying to wriggle away from his hand. Pinned to the board with your hands bound above your head, there was nowhere to go. “Please don’t, please-” 

“Come on,” Buggy said, indifferent to your pleas as he pulled the sweat soaked fabric off of your left eye. “How bad could it be—AH!” He yelled in horror, jumping away as if you’d bitten him. 

The bandana hit the floor, leaving your ruined eye and its jagged scar exposed. You couldn’t hide. All you could do was flinch back, turning your head away. “I’m sorry,” you said, ready to continue apologizing before you realized that his shock had immediately dissolved into raucous laughter. “Why are you… why are you laughing?” you asked, pulling desperately against the chains. 

“I got you good,” Buggy said, his laughter subsiding. “The way you reacted, I thought that you’d be completely deformed. A real sideshow. But this…” He grabbed your chin, forcing it to the side so he could get a better look. “I couldn’t charge for this.”

“Please stop,” you begged, shaking off his grip and staring hard at his shoulder. 

“Ohhh. You’re really embarrassed about it.”

You didn’t say anything, focusing mostly on fighting the tears. 

“Okay, alright, yeah,” Buggy said, stepping back. “I think I’m starting to get why you would risk life and limb to beg me for a job. You grew up as a cute girl in a shithole town like this. A big fish in a little pond, as they say. Then, suddenly, BAM, you’re deformed, and, sure, they all say that it was tragic, but the truth is that they can’t stand to look at you. Even the people who loved you, the people you trusted, think you’re a freak. They abandoned you. So, without any other options, you come to me, pleading for me to give you a place amidst your fellow freaks. That about it?”

You didn’t say anything—what could you say to that?— which Buggy seemed to take as confirmation, nodding thoughtfully. 

“Well, go big or go home, right? As far as a starlet’s breakout role, you couldn’t go any bigger. Thing is, I’m not really looking for new acts. Not to mention your abysmal audition.” He sucked in a breath through his teeth, looking you up and down again. 

You could feel your chance slipping away. Just like that. Go big or go home, that’s what he said. 

“Please, Captain Buggy,” you begged, staring him in the eye despite how disquieting it was, despite how your skin crawled from exposing your left eye to somebody. Addressing him properly, at the very least, got his attention. “I promise that you won’t regret it. I’ll learn, I want to learn how to be a pirate, how to perform, all of it, everything. And if I can’t, I’ll do laundry and clean and cook, I have lots of experience with that. I don’t care what you ask me to do, if you let me join your crew, I’ll happily serve you for the rest of my life.”

Buggy didn’t respond right away. You thought—hoped—that it meant he understood how serious you were, but his expression gave you nothing. There wasn’t much light in the room in the first place, but somehow he found enough to shine unnervingly in his pale blue eyes. Somebody with a bright red clown nose shouldn’t have been able to look so intimidating, but the way he studied you burned with an uncomfortable intensity. It had been a while since anybody looked at you so frankly, so openly, without disgust or pity. 

“Why?” he finally asked. 

“Why…?” you repeated, confused.

“I get that you want to leave this place, and I even buy into your whole wanting to be a pirate thing, but, you know, aside from the obvious,” he gestured to himself, “why should I believe that you really want to serve me? You’re young and cute…ish, don’t you want freedom and empowerment and all those other things girls go on and on about?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Why would I?” 

A moment of quiet that wasn’t quite silence but twice as heavy passed before a slow smile began to spread over Buggy’s face, and then—of all the bizarre, uncomfortable responses he could have—he laughed. “Oh, you’re broken, aren’t you?” he asked, clearly overjoyed by the revelation. “Well, I’m sold. I’ll have to start you on probation just in case you’re secretly up to no good. But, after that, you can audition for real. I’m sure I can find something you’ll be useful for.” 

His reaction gave you whiplash. The word ‘broken’ was obviously bad, but everything else was good. You had succeeded. Only, you didn’t know why. You were still trying to decide if being called cute-ish was a compliment or not. 

“Hey, just one more thing, okay?” Buggy asked, tapping your cheek. Standing mere inches away, he smiled a rictus grin. It wrinkled his eyes, but they were without life or pity or mercy. “If you’re lying to me about anything, I’ll carve some symmetry into your cute little face. You’ll thank me for it too. You won’t want to see what the guys will do to you after I toss you out there.”

“I’m not lying,” you said softly, shrinking back. “I promise.” 

“Great!” Buggy said, his demeanor immediately cheering up. “Let’s get you down.” He walked behind the board you were strung up on, and you let out a shaky exhale. “Brace yourself,” he called. You had no idea what that meant, or how you were supposed to brace yourself when there was nothing for you to brace yourself on. “Three… two…” 

He undid the lock, and the chains keeping you bound to the board went slack. You dropped hard, your limbs as heavy as lead. Luckily, your head was too light to feel anything when you hit the ground with a dull thump and the loud cacophony of rattling chains, spinning and blank and utterly empty. There was a suspended moment of floating, lighter than air itself. And then you were blinking rapidly and nauseous, pain shooting up your arms and knees. 

Buggy dropped a key in front of you, metal bouncing on the old concrete. 

“Unfortunately we didn’t bring any real props with us, so I had to improvise,” he said. With numb fingers, you grabbed the key and worked it into the locked cuff around your wrist. “You lucked out, if this were the real Wheel of Death, you’d be blowing chunks!” He paused, looking down at you. “Can you hurry this up?”

“Sorry,” you said. Your shaking hands kept missing the keyholes, but you finally got the last lock on your ankle open. The cuffs hadn’t broken skin, but your wrists and ankles were rubbed raw, ugly bruises already developing. You’d had worse.

“Alright, upsy daisy,” Buggy said, crouching down to take the key away and grab the only chain you hadn’t gotten out of—the one around your neck. 

It acted as a noose, giving you no other choice but to lurch upward with an unappealing choking sound, your head spinning all over again, the weightless itch tingling all the way down to the base of your spine. You stumbled forward, unintentionally falling against him. 

“Holy shit,” Buggy exclaimed, helping you stand up straight with a hand on your shoulder. “I didn’t know girls came in fun size. Legally, at least. Are you sure you’re not just like… the maxiest midget?” 

“‘m dizzy,” you muttered, swaying despite his support. 

“That’s not really… Ah, whatever. Hey, at least if you fall, you don’t have that far to go.”

“I’m… I’m okay,” you finally said, which was mostly true. Breathing slow, steady breaths helped, and then you shook your head a little. The bump on the back of it throbbed painfully, and you’d have bruises on your knees the size of apples, but you would survive. You were still trying to get control over your body. It was heavy and unwieldy, although part of that must have been the exhaustion. 

“If you need to vomit, make sure to aim away from me,” he said. That was about all the warning you got before he decided it was time to go, dragging you along behind him like a dog on a leash. 

You realized you were leaving your bandana behind, your left eye uncovered, and reared back, trying to stop him. “Wait, I have to grab my-” 

“No time,” he said, talking over you and tugging again at the chain. 

There was nothing you could do but stumble over your own feet to keep up with him as he led you through the cluttered and dark storage area. You felt a tiny bit of relief that you were still in the familiar decaying buildings northside. The old warehouses were dark, dank, and dingy. Easily defended and difficult to navigate, perfect for criminals to hide out in. You knew them very well, and that helped orient you.  

"As I’m sure you noticed, I’m running a bit of a skeleton crew here. The rest aren’t coming ‘til the grand finale,” Buggy said, leading you into the main warehouse space by the chain around your neck like it was completely normal. The awful smell of rot and decay was only compounded by a sickly sweet, chalky scent you didn’t recognize. Gray sunshine flooded in through the broken windows around the high ceilings, piercingly bright. “And after that, we’re gonna blow this town.”

You didn’t respond, growing even more skittish. The two of you drew the attention of the people scattered around. Some were lounging, others were training. All of them turned to look at you, watching with the dark, focused stare of hungry dogs. Colorfully dressed, very dangerous dogs. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have an introduction to make!” Buggy called in a loud enough voice to fill the large space. “Crew, new girl. New girl, crew. Make sure to give her a nice, warm welcome." None of them spoke or reacted, watching you with varying degrees of hostility. Buggy pulled you forward a few steps so he could whisper to you. “See that guy?” he asked, pointing to a bald man with square features and an especially dark glare. “That’s Ivo. He was the one who caught you. To be completely honest, I think he’s still a little angry that he didn't get to keep you. If I were you, I’d try to stay on his good side.”

“How?” you asked, your uneasy stomach sinking further, but Buggy was already preoccupied with something else. 

“Oh, hey-” he called, flagging down a woman who was leaning against one of the steel supports. You stumbled behind him, holding the chain around your neck to ease the pressure. “Crina, I have got a very important job for you.” 

The woman slowly looked from Buggy to you, giving you a weighty once-over with dark, kohl-lined eyes. Her clothes were different from the rest, draped with beads and loose and layered in shades of purple. Beneath the mystique, however, you felt the same hardness you recognized in all the pirate’s faces. “You want me to look after the little rat,” she said with an accent you didn’t recognize.

"God, it’s like you can read minds or something,” Buggy said, laughing. “Anyway, yes. Make sure she doesn’t get up to anything naughty while I’m gone. In fact, don’t let her out of your sight.” 

“With all due respect,” Crina said, “why not just kill her?” 

“Because I don’t want her dead,” Buggy snapped, suddenly irritated. If Crina was surprised or off put by the abrupt change of his mood, she didn’t show it. 

“Of course, captain.”  

“I thought I saw some cages over there,” Buggy said, gesturing vaguely and forcing the chain into Crina’s hand. “Stick her in one of those. In the back, away from any prying eyes.”  

“A cage?” you asked.

“As fun as it is to see you all chained up,” Buggy said. “I worry that it might send the wrong message. Out of sight, out of mind—I don’t need you distracting my crew. They’re planning a very big surprise party. If you behave, I might be able to find some time for you later. Sound good?” 

You nodded, almost surprised by how good that sounded. He ruffled your hair before turning away, barking orders to some of the men. 

“Let’s go,” Crina said, pulling your attention back to her. “We have our orders.”

The cage Crina put you in, one out of several bolted to the floor in the corner out of the way from the main space, had just enough room for you to sit slouched, or lay curled on your side, meant for big dogs or small humans. There was a market for both, and you knew that this warehouse had likely housed both. 

The old, dilapidated buildings had been out of use for a long time, as long as you could remember. Barley Village had been originally built to be close to the mineral deposits, but as those dried up and industry trended towards the water, southward expansion left all of the old buildings empty and rotting. There was always talk about tearing them down, but it was only ever talk. One time you were told that some people wanted to keep the buildings available to people who wished for some privacy. But when you asked your dad if that was true, he got angry, telling you that was a lie, that he would never let that happen. He said it would just be too expensive to take them down, and that there was really no point in it.

But he also told you to never, ever spend time northside. Of all of the rules he gave you, that was the only one you ever truly disobeyed. You had no idea how many times you had gotten in trouble for playing here, climbing up rusted stairs and crossing the support beams up by the ceiling, using rocks to knock out the jagged edges of broken glass from the windows so you could go onto the rooftops. Your health problems made it difficult, and sometimes impossible, but you were patient. Plus, that had been before the accident, when your coordination was still good.

Back then, you didn’t worry about the many dangers that lurked here, and you certainly didn’t believe you could be hurt. You were too entranced by the world you created for yourself. The only thing you worried about was the beatings you earned when you got caught. Dad used to tell you that if you kept disobeying him by going northside, you’d wind up locked in one of these cages—or worse. It took you a while to think of the word, because it wasn’t funny, but it also was. Ironic. It was ironic.

You couldn’t even imagine what kind of reaction he would have to what you had done now, what punishment you would earn. It would be bad. You knew it would be very bad. 

Better not to think about it. Falling unconscious after being hit on the head was the most you had slept for the previous two days. It was the level of exhaustion that you could be staring down the business end of a sword with indifferent, sleepy eyes. Being locked up was bad, very bad, but you were content to lay listlessly on your side.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep because you weren’t entirely conscious when somebody kicked the front of your cage. “Hey, wake up.” Your physical response was to startle, jolting you awake enough to flinch away from the violence. But it was only Crina who crouched in front of the cage. “I have food for you. And medicine for the headache. I’m going let you out, and I suggest you don’t try to run. If the guys get a hold of you, I won’t stop them.”

“I won’t run,” you told her, your voice hoarse, your eyes fixed on what she had brought. A bowl of something that looked like stew and a bottle. More than food, you wanted water. Crina undid the lock and you shuffled out of the cage. Your head spun just as badly as it had when you dropped onto the floor earlier, your vision crawling with darkness and stomach heaving unhappily. She was right about the headache. It wasn’t a pain you ever got used to, no matter how many days you spent laid out from one. After an uneasy moment, you sat on the floor, grabbing the water and eagerly uncapping it. 

“Hand,” Crina said, holding out a glass bottle. You allowed her to shake two capsules into your palm, tossing them into your mouth before taking in a blessedly wet mouthful of water. It soothed your tongue and throat like a salve, although you knew your stomach wouldn’t be quite so happy to receive anything. The stew’s scent alone made your stomach clench and churn with equal parts hunger and nausea. Slow. You had to take it slow. 

“Thank you,” you told her, picking up the bowl. She’d brought a wrapped sailor’s biscuit to eat it with. Not very appetizing, but you hadn’t eaten much more than you slept. It could have been saw dust and you would have been grateful. 

“I have your bag,” she said to fill the silence as you ate, pushing the limp canvas towards you. “They took anything that looked valuable, but your clothes are all there. They need to be washed. I’ll lend you something to wear in the meantime.”

Since your mouth was full, you nodded your thanks.

“While you eat, I’m going to talk. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” Crina said. “You don’t strike me as the talkative type.”

She didn’t say that in an accusatory tone, but it still caused your heart to skip with anxiety. The fear had to be irrational, it wasn’t as if you had lied to Captain Buggy, so what did you have to worry about? Besides, only the guilty feared scrutiny, that was a favored line of your dad’s. 

“There’s a man in town asking if anyone has seen a girl. Petite. Missing an eye. Mentally unwell. He’s concerned that she might have gotten lost somewhere,” Crina told you. “From what I gather, her father is a pillar of the community. They’re all very worried.” 

You averted your gaze, anxiously pulling your hair to cover your left eye. Of course Randall would be looking for you, although you had hoped you would have more time before he noticed your absence. It didn’t matter that you left in such a way to raise as little suspicion as possible, or that you were an adult, or that you didn’t want to be found. Your dad asked him to be your keeper while he was gone, and Randall did as your father said. Everybody did. 

“Finish your food,” Crina prompted. “It’s worse when it’s cold.” 

Right. You started eating again, your movements mechanical. She said nothing, and you had nothing to say. 

“Everybody has their reasons for turning to piracy, and they’re not always pleasant,” Crina suddenly said. “Unless it interferes with my own business, I don’t care about who you were and why you ran away. It was a stupid choice, I think you know that. I won’t try and convince you to leave. Buggy seems to like you, so you wouldn’t be able to go anyway. But you need to understand that there will be consequences. The life you had before, no matter how terrible, did not prepare you for the life you’ve thrown yourself into.”

You stared hard at the bowl, thinking about that. It was true, you had to accept that you had blindly stumbled into a world you knew nothing about. But what choice did you have? The things that led you to this point were arranged like the rusty, creaky rungs of a ladder scaling the side of a building. Climbing up had always been the easy part, it was the inevitable descent that gave you trouble. You had to go slow, one rung at a time, blindly feeling with your toes, holding on with sweaty fingers, not looking up and not looking down because once you were on the ladder, you could only keep going. The first rung was spotting the Buggy Pirates, which you only did because you were sulking around the docks after seeing your father off on his trip. You only recognized the crew because your dad kept track of pirate captains with significant bounties. You only had the courage to sneak away from your house because dad was too far away to stop you. You only had the ability to scope out Buggy’s temporary hideout because of how much time you spent northside when you were younger. Those things all connected and followed so naturally and you didn’t know if fate existed, but you knew for a fact that you wouldn’t have wound up here on your own volition. It wasn’t a choice you made, it was the only way to get down from the roof that you had been stranded on for so long.

“I’ll give you some advice,” Crina continued, her tone lighter, “and I suggest you listen. You’re young and pretty, and you wouldn’t be the first to try and use that to get an advantage. It might work for a while, but men will get bored and your looks will fade. Before long you’ll be spat out into a cheap whorehouse with a couple of children you can’t afford and a hell of a rash.” 

The whiplash from your thoughts to the conclusion she had drawn made your stomach twist with disgust. “No,” you said. Was that what she thought of you? Even if the idea was utterly ridiculous, shame rolled uncomfortable through you. “I would never—I could never ever do that.” 

“Don’t be naive,” Crina said, rolling her eyes. “The boys you’re used to are disgusted by that scar, but the kind of men you’ll meet from now on won’t be. If your low self-esteem dictates who you let between your legs, you’ll find yourself in the gutter. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t sleep with men to get an advantage if that’s an option, only that you must be smart about it.” 

You pulled your hair forward again, shaking your head clear of what she was saying. She didn’t understand. It wasn’t the assumption that men would be repulsed by your scar—which they would be, you knew that—but that you didn’t have it in you to invite or manipulate male attention. In so many ways you were already ruined, but to stoop down to letting other men touch you would be too far, it would destroy you.

“Assuming you live past tomorrow night,” Crina continued, “get a knife and figure out how to use it. The men aren’t going to accept you as a member of the crew until you prove yourself. So if anybody gets too close, you prove yourself with blood.” 

“Do you think they’ll try to hurt me?” 

“I think you look like an easy target,” she said. “And I know you have no concept of self preservation or defense.”

“Yes, I do,” you said, frowning. You had made it this far, after all. That was more than anybody would have thought of you. 

“You don’t,” she said plainly. “The tablets I gave you are for treating pain, but imagine if they weren’t. You didn’t so much as ask me to clarify what they were.” 

You opened your mouth to argue, and closed it, shame squeezing your throat. You hadn’t even thought about that.

“It might not matter anyway,” she said, “depending on Buggy’s reasons for keeping you.”

“What do you mean?” 

Crina gave you a long, pitying look and you could tell there was something she wanted to say, something she was holding back. Eventually she shrugged. “That is between the two of you.”

You wanted to push for more, confused by the cryptic answer, but you didn’t. You could tell by the hard look on her face that she wouldn’t tell you anyway. 

“One more thing. The most important thing,” Crina told you, leaning close so she could whisper. “Never, ever mention the captain’s nose. In fact, never mention noses at all.” 

“His nose?” you repeated softly. “Is it… is it real?” 

“What did I just say?” she asked sharply. “He killed a few of the last new recruits for saying something that sounded like nose while he was in a bad mood.”

“He… killed them?” you asked. 

“Buggy is a very temperamental man,” she said, leaning back. “Try not to get on his bad side.”

“It sounds like you don’t like him.” 

“I do, actually. God knows why. Are you finished?” 

“Yes, thank you.” 

“Come on then,” Crina told you, getting to her feet and dusting herself off. “There’s running water on the other side. I’ll keep watch so you can clean up.”   

Although birds called and the breeze carried all sorts of noises from Barley Village, none of it really reached the northside. A solemn graveyard hush settled heavy between the wreckage of ruined buildings, drafty even in broad daylight. No ghosts hid in the shadows, no historical tragedy marred its name, but there remained the haunted imprint of people who were no longer around. 

Before setting you on your task of the day, Crina had given you a dress of hers to wear while your own clothes dried in the sun. You swam in it, but a sash at the waist made the fit look somewhat intentional and the long sleeves hid the ugly bruises cuffing your wrists. That, combined with having slept the previous night and most of the day, left you feeling oddly refreshed. Sure, all of the sleep had been in a cage and the only ‘bath’ you had was a couple of minutes alone with a spout that spat freezing water and a washcloth, but it was better than yesterday. Better than the day before that too, save for the bruises and big goose egg bump on the back of your head.  

Despite the headache, you were glad to be given something to do. The task wasn’t difficult. Busywork that kept you out of the way. Checking to ensure that everything which would be loaded on the ship was documented, organized, and ready for transport. It wasn’t entirely unlike what you had done in the past and, you imagined, would be doing in the future. It was, however, the opposite way around. The goods were obviously looted, you were creating a list to know exactly what and how much of it had been stolen. 

Vinegar, oil, wax.

You used the end of the pen to scratch beneath your bandana, which Crina had kindly retrieved for you. Sometimes the scar got itchy, like it had when it was healing. 

Twine, needles, thread. 

There was a particular smell to supply crates like these. Something to do with the place they were stored, or where they were made. Even now, years since you had been on a ship, it was overwhelmingly familiar. It made your stomach ache and chest clench, although you weren’t sure which quality of the scent was so unsettling. 

You scratched the scar again.

Vinegar, oil- 

Wait, you had already done that. Annoyed, you crossed out those words and crouched down to get into the next crate. Rope. It was coiled in tight loops like a huge snake, coarse beneath your fingers. Anything that was strong enough to endure the fury of the sea had to be coarse. Good rope was vital on a ship, you knew that even with your limited experience. Touching it reminded you of the time your dad tried to show you how to tie knots, and then subsequently had to treat your rope burn.

What would he think when he returned? Retired Marine or not, he was deeply involved with northside business and law. Missing supplies, missing daughter. Sometimes you felt an acidic sort of pleasure when imagining his reaction to your absence, but usually it was just dread.

Or worse. Prickling paranoia. You could run, for a time. But that was all it was. Running. He used to be a Marine, it wouldn’t be difficult for him to find you. When you were younger, the thought gave you comfort. 

But you didn’t want to think about that. Not at all. Not ever again. You stared very hard at the rope, desperate to put those thoughts out of your mind. 

You stared and stared and stared and-

Somebody grabbed you around the bicep, dragging you to your feet and forcing you back to reality. Yelping in fear, you were nearly knocked back down from the bloodrush dizziness of standing up too fast, saved only by the crates. 

“Good god, girl,” the unfamiliar man said, taking a step back, clearly put off by your reaction. “Are you deaf or something? I hollered at you three or four times. Were you sleeping?” 

Putting a hand to your racing heart, you looked from him to the still open crate and the notepad you had abandoned mid-task. You had no idea how long you had been sitting there. Long enough for your foot to go numb, prickling with pins and needles now that you were standing up. 

“I’m sorry,” you told him.

“The captain wants to see you. It’s urgent,” he said. When you didn’t immediately respond, still orienting yourself, he sighed impatiently and grabbed your elbow, physically dragging you away. You stumbled to keep up, trying very hard to avoid falling. “If Buggy asks why you took so long, you better tell him it was your fault.”

“I will,” you said to appease him, attempting to shake off his hand before realizing that it was pointless. “Please slow down.” 

“Not my fault you’ve got stumpy legs,” he said. “Keep up.” 

The unfairness of that stung, but you didn’t have much choice. You had a feeling that he’d keep on pulling you along even if it meant dragging you across the ground. 

“Where are we going?” you asked, embarrassingly out of breath. 

“There,” he said, nodding to one of the waterfront buildings. At least it was close. You never strayed so close to the water, the buildings were too squat to make for fun exploration and too exposed to give cover. 

The pirate released you when you got to the door, leaving you winded and scared. You adjusted your bandana and tried to catch your breath. “Don’t forget to tell him it was your fault it took so long, not mine,” he said, opening the door.

“I won’t,” you promised, the words papery thin on your dry tongue.  

You were in trouble. You had no idea what you might have done, but there had to be something. Why would you be summoned like this otherwise? A very bad feeling pressed against your sternum, but you forced yourself to walk forward. The door shut behind you. Inside, the air was dark and cool and wet, sending a little shiver down your spine. 

Buggy stood in the middle of the room, the only place where the sun found its way between the mangled teeth of glass and steel that used to be windows, his own little spotlight amidst the ruins. There were three other men on the edges of the light, their backs to you. One of them was bound. You did not like this. 

“There she is!” Buggy exclaimed, inviting you forward with his arms spread wide. “Come on, don’t be shy. Especially not after keeping us waiting so long. Your friend over here could hardly handle the suspense. 

Rocks and broken glass crunched beneath your feet as you approached them. Once you got close enough, finally, you could see the faces of the other men. One was the square-featured, angry man Buggy called Ivo. Another, a man you didn’t know. And the third, the one bound with a busted lip and developing black eye—

Randall called your name, trying to escape and rush to your side. Ivo grabbed him, pressing the blade of his knife against his throat.

“See, I told you, they’re working together,” Ivo said, glaring at you. “She tipped him off. No doubt this place will be swarming with the law before long.”

You stood completely still, staring at Randall with the steadily rising tide of panic sloshing in your stomach. After everything you had done to misdirect him, the note you left to beg he didn’t follow, the trouble you had put yourself through to keep from being seen, he was still here. 

“Are you okay?” Randall asked, looking you up and down frantically, concerned in a way he never had looked before. “Did they hurt you?” 

“I told you, she’s fine,” Buggy said with a grin. “I mean, yeah, Ivo over there did give her a little knock on the ole noggin—a love tap, really—but the eye was already like that when we found her.” 

“I wasn’t asking you,” Randall said, glaring at Buggy. 

“Shut up,” Ivo said, pressing the knife close enough to Randall’s throat that it broke skin. 

“No, no, let him go,” Buggy ordered casually, waving his hand. “He’s not gonna do anything stupid.” He threw an arm around your shoulder. “Not when I’ve got her.” 

Ivo reluctantly complied, releasing Randall. He watched you intently, and you knew what he was thinking. How could he save you?  

“Ivo over there thinks that the two of you are working together,” Buggy told you, smiling. His arm was heavy around your shoulders, oppressively so. “He thinks that we should kill you both.” 

“I’m not—I wouldn’t,” you told him. 

“And see, I wanna believe you. I really do. But he’s not talking, and,” Buggy ran his finger over your right cheek, reminding you of his threat from yesterday, “I’m starting to worry you’ve been lying to me.”

“I’m not,” you said, ice cold dread dripping into your veins a drop at a time. You fought your discomfort and forced yourself to meet his eyes, hoping he could see your sincerity. “I promise I’m not.” 

“Then how did he find this place?” 

“I don’t… I don’t know…”

“She used to hide here when we were kids,” Randall answered. “I thought she ran away, not that you freaks had kidnapped her. If I had known I’d find pirates here, I would have come armed.”

“Is that true?” Buggy asked you, pulling you even closer. Close enough to be embarrassing, to give the wrong impression, especially when he was stroking your cheek with a sort of affection that didn’t mesh with the danger in his blue eyes.

“I told you it is. Let her go, clown!” Randall shouted. His voice was loud enough to echo, and harsh enough to make you wince. That sort of rage wasn’t one you expected from him, but it was familiar all the same. 

“Oh, wow,” Buggy said with a laugh, looking up at him. “Is that jealousy I hear? She didn’t tell me she was leaving behind a boyfriend.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you said softly, your insides twisting at the thought. 

“Really?” Buggy asked. He shrugged, and looked at Randall. “If you’re not doing this because you want to have sex with her, why are you here?” 

“I am a dear friend—both to her and her dad,” Randall answered. “He asked me to look after her because she… She’s not in a sound state of mind. And she’s the only family he has left. Without her, he’ll have nothing.” He grit his teeth. “Take me, kill me if you’re that thirsty for blood, but let her go. Please.”

“You’re a real knight in shining armor. Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but she came here all on her own,” Buggy said, releasing you to approach him instead. “She begged to join my crew, got down on her knees and told me that she would be happy to serve me for the rest of her life. It was the most adorable thing.”

“No,” Randall said, his face twisting with disgust. “You’re lying. She wouldn’t do that.”

“Ask her yourself,” Buggy invited, stepping aside and sweeping out his arm. All eyes landed on you like a spotlight. Blood rushed in your ears, and you felt dizzy with it, ready to pass out on the spot. When you looked at Buggy, he smiled and nodded encouragingly. 

“It’s true,” you said.

“No. That is impossible,” Randall said. “This is insane. You are mad, you cannot make decisions like this for yourself.” You stared at his feet, your hands balled into fists. You were not crazy. You were not. That had to be true. “Whatever hysterics brought you here, give it up. These are pirates.”

“I’m a pirate too,” you declared, your hands forming fists at your sides. You weren’t crazy, or mad. You were thinking very clearly, more than you had in a while. 

“No, you are your father’s daughter,” Randall insisted, loud enough to make you flinch. “Can you imagine the agony he would feel hearing you say that?”

Your breathing was too fast, rapid enough to make your head spin. You kept shaking your head, tears flying off of your cheek, but you couldn’t recall when you had begun to cry. “I don’t care.” 

“Don’t care…? This bastard has already gotten into your head,” Randall said. “He has poisoned your broken mind with his lies and manipulations, please don’t let this go any further.”

You shook your head again, but there was nothing you could think of to say. You didn’t want to talk anymore, you just wanted this to be over. 

“Believe me, as much as I would love to claim otherwise, I had nothing to do with this,” Buggy said, raising his hands innocently. “You’ve got no one to blame but yourself. Think about what would drive a girl like this into the arms of a pirate. A broken heart, maybe? Was that your doing, lover boy? Did you break her heart? Make her feel like she wasn’t good enough?” 

“Keep your big goddamned nose out of our business, clown,” Randall said. 

The other pirates audibly gasped, and you could feel the sudden zap of tension in the air. Buggy’s taunting smile froze in place, his posture icing over like a statue. And then, a second later, he was rushing at Randall, burying his fist in the other man’s stomach. Randall crumpled onto his knees with a heavy grunt and you waited for something else, something worse. Crina said that Buggy had killed over jokes about his nose, and, right then, you believed it.

Nothing happened. You watched, frozen, as Buggy breathed in deeply, his shoulders rising and falling with it, and then he raised a hand.  

“New girl,” he called, snapping to beckon you closer. You obliged, rushing to his side. He didn’t look angry, not like you feared he would. Instead, he smiled. It was a mean smile, a frightening one. But a smile all the same. “Are you ready for your big moment?”   

“What?” 

“Your audition! I thought of the perfect act for you. Kill him.” 

You looked down at Randall, he was clearly still in pain, his eyes watering as he looked up at you. “I can’t,” you whispered, shaking your head again.  

“You can and will. Assuming you want to remain on my crew. Otherwise I’ll kill him and you’ll have to explain to daddy why prince charming was here in the first place.” He held out his hand towards Ivo. “Knife.” When he got it, Buggy flipped the knife handle first, holding it to you with a flourish. “You’re up, babydoll.”

“She won’t do it, clown,” Randall said through grit teeth. 

“Of course she will,” Buggy said. “For me.” 

As if moving through the dusky haze of a dream, you took the knife, wrapping your sweaty hand around the grip. The way Buggy smiled in response made your heart flutter, something to cling to amidst the horror and disgust. It didn’t feel real anymore. How could it be real? 

“I don’t know what to do.” Were those your words? Your voice?

Buggy laughed. “Of course you don’t,” he said, circling behind Randall. “C’mere, I’ll help you.” 

Randall was shouting and pleading, but Buggy had grabbed a fistfull of his hair to keep him from escaping. 

“You’ve gotta hold him still,” Buggy told you. “Like this, see?”  

“-don’t do this, please. You can’t… I love you!” 

You got a fistful of Randall’s hair, making him cry out in pain. There was no pleasure in the sound, only a roiling sense of disgust. It would be better when he was dead, and then he wouldn’t be in pain. 

“God you’re short,” Buggy said as he adjusted you into place, right between him and Randall. “You’ll be better off going for their ankles.” He wrapped his hand around yours, getting a good grip on the knife and holding it still. 

“-when he gets bored of fucking you. That’s all pirates do, rape and murder. You’ll never be one of them, you’ll just-”

“Start on one side and move to the other, easy as that,” Buggy said comfortingly, resting his chin against the side of your head. 

“-he doesn’t kill you, your dad will. Do you really think you’ll ever be able to hide from him?” 

Moving slowly, through a dream, you put the knife on the left side of Randall’s neck. It was no different from what a butcher did, really. 

Breath in. Pull. You instinctively locked up at the sound of Randall’s screams and the resistance of his flesh, but Buggy forced your hand, pulling the blade deep into his neck and then fast to the side. The knife got caught part way through, stuck in something hard. You tried to saw through it and Randall made an inhuman noise of agony. Buggy had to help you unstick it, to follow through until the knife slashed that horrifying scream short and then there was just a sort of gurgling sound and you didn’t know if it was because he was still alive or if it was an automatic process. 

There was so much blood, and it was hot, burning you. For some reason, you hadn’t anticipated the messy scarlet spray. From the deep slice came more blood. More, and more still. Randall’s heavy, limp body dropped onto the floor into a puddle of it, although you weren’t sure when you let go of his hair. Buggy released your hand, but you didn’t drop the knife, holding it in a death grip as blood streamed like red veins down your hand and wrist, down the blade and all the way to its tip before dripping to the dirty floor. The tang of iron filled your lungs. You shook all over, all the way down inside, your bones and organs shivering. It was your heart. It pounded frantically, like butterfly wings. And your breathing. Wheezing, gasping, gurgling like Randall’s had before he fell.

Your mouth opened to exhale, but there was nothing there. No air, no words. Nothing. Your cold gaze turned to look at Buggy, confused as to what you were supposed to do next. He had led you this far, but now you were lost. He smiled, and laughed, and took the knife away from you, tossing it to the side where it clanged and slid away. 

And then he folded you into his arms, your head pressed against his chest. His heartbeat was firm and steady, and he was so warm. He smelled of gunpowder and salty sea air and greasepaint and the natural warm scent of his skin. You clung to that, breathing in deep to excise the scent of blood. 

“Congratulations, babydoll,” Buggy told you. “Looks like you just got the part.” 

The first firecracker went off not long after the sun had gone down, kicking off the surprise party with an especially loud zip and then a bang and a bursting sizzle. “It’s a surprise party,” Buggy told you, his face illuminated by the flash of red. “As in, the people who live here are going to be so surprised by the party I’m throwing for my crew. Get it?” 

A chain of firecrackers followed the first, a show that the pirates set off amidst a barrage of explosions, lighting up the sky with brilliant colors and smoke, making the earth tremble beneath your feet. They acted as distraction and lure, drawing people further into the town and inviting the ship that had been lurking nearby to enter the harbor. 

And after that came the chaos. 

Many things happened that you were aware of, if only passively. Leaving the northside and then Barley Village, waiting at the dock, and then boarding the ship as men and women in colorful attire flooded the yard, overtaking the few armed guards. You were told to sit on the deck and wait, so you did. Aware of it all—noxious sulfur and smoke filling the air, thunderous claps of explosives, popping gunshots, screaming voices, roaring fires—but uninvolved. There was a sense of great quiet. Not outside where things were loud and violent and scary, but inside. You were very quiet on the inside. Far away from everything and everyone else. 

Blood flaked off of your skin, caking beneath the nails when you scratched your arm. It would have been nice to wash it off, but you didn’t know where you would go for that, and you didn’t want to get up.

“Yoo-hoo, is anybody in there?” 

A gloved hand waved in front of your face. 

You let out a hoarse scream, nearly tipping backwards from how violently you startled. It didn’t take long for you to realize how overblown the reaction was, Buggy’s laughter made the point quite clearly. 

“What was that?” he asked, almost laughing too hard to get the words out. He stood above you without his coat and hat, although he kept the striped headscarf, and a bottle tucked under his arm. 

“You scared me,” you told him, a hand on your racing heart.

“That noise you just made though,” he said, still laughing. “It sounded like one of those scream-y fireworks.”

“I didn’t know you were there.”

“Your fault, not mine. I was trying to talk to you, but you just sat there. I thought it was your eye that didn’t work, not your ears.”

“I guess I… zoned out a little.” 

“No shit. Ah, that was good,” Buggy said as his laughter subsided. “I had no idea human beings could even make sounds like that.” Letting out a big breath to settle himself, he sat down next to you. Very close, far closer than you would have, almost touching. “Kinda makes me wonder what other kinds of sounds you can make.” 

“I know, it’s annoying,” you said, staring hard at the deck. “I’m sorry.” 

Buggy laughed at that too, shaking his head. “You really have no clue, do you?” he asked. “Is it weird that I’m into it?” 

“Into what?” you asked. “I’m sorry, I… don’t understand.” 

“I know you don’t, and that’s okay,” he said with a mocking sort of indulgence, patting your head. “Anyway, I had a little business in town and snagged this from some rich guy’s house.” He held up a bottle by the neck and swished its contents a little for effect. “We’re going to celebrate.” 

“Wouldn’t you rather be out there?” you asked, the first coherent question that came to your mind as it scrambled to make sense of what he had just said. 

“Between you and me, this,” Buggy said with a confidential hush, gesturing to your burning town, “isn’t my thing. It’s a reward for my freaks, gives ‘em an outlet to express themselves artistically. I prefer a more… performative platform. True art deserves a spotlight and an audience.” He waved that away, smiling. “But this isn’t about me, it’s about you.” 

“Me?”

“You really impressed me earlier. I mean, yeah, your technique needs polish, and you’ve got no stage presence to speak of, but you displayed raw talent. I really think you have a shot at success, sweetheart. Stick with me, and I’ll make something out of you yet.” 

“Thank you,” you said softly, shying away from thinking about earlier. The praise though, that was heady. That made you feel warm. 

Buggy popped the cork off the bottle, taking a drink straight from it and smacking his lips appreciatively. “You like sweet things, right?” 

“I-” 

“You’ll love this then. Here, try it.” 

You eyed the bottle he was proffering to you warily. Alcohol was something you were familiar with, but you could count on your fingers the number of times you had actually tasted it. “I don’t know…” you said, trying to think of ways to reject drinking without seeming ungrateful.   

“You’re a pirate now, so you’ve gotta learn to drink like one,” Buggy told you, pushing it into your hand. “What’s the worst that could happen?” 

You sniffed the open lip, surprised by the sweetness. It didn’t smell as strongly of alcohol as you feared. Not like what your father drank. Maybe it would be okay. Trying to avoid embarrassing yourself, you tipped the bottle back just like he had. That was a mistake. It didn’t smell like alcohol, but you could taste it—feel it, even. Panicked by your body’s natural response to expel it, you swallowed as much as you could, coughing out the rest. Red liquid drooled down your chin, staining the dress that was already ruined with dried blood. Buggy laughed. A little at first, and then a lot. 

Flushing, you wiped your mouth.

“Oh, don’t be like that. That was hilarious,” Buggy told you. You looked away, even more embarrassed. “Your face was priceless. You threw that back with the confidence of a real fire-hazard, saggy skinned, dead eyed alcoholic. You were so serious about it too, and then… Good lord.”

“I didn’t know!” you said, trying and failing not to sound shrill. 

“It’s okay, you’ve got me to help you now. Try it again, but don’t be so greedy. Baby sips.” 

“No, thank you,” you said, holding the bottle back to him. 

“Drink. That’s an order,” he said, pushing it back to you. 

That gave you pause. “Do you mean that?” you asked. 

He nodded, urging you on. 

Your shoulders drooped in defeat. Trepidatiously, you took a small sip. At least you didn’t hack it back up this time. While the taste was sweet, the burn was not. It rose up like smoke into your head, you could feel it.  

“What if I get drunk?” you asked. 

“Oh, you’re going to get drunk, captain’s orders,” Buggy said with a grin. “I can’t stand watching you sit around moping about killing that guy. Besides, you’re a pirate now.”

The little ball of anxiety deep in your gut doubled. This was wrong, you knew it was. Or maybe you were wrong, and Buggy was right. You didn’t know. 

“I don’t want to embarrass myself,” you muttered.

“As long as you don’t jump into the water or shit yourself, you’ll be fine…” You looked at him, horrified. “Joking! C’mon, I’ve taken good care of you so far, haven’t I? You’ll be fine.”

The way he laughed made you want to believe him. He was your captain now. You nodded seriously and, steeling yourself, took another drink. And another. 

“See? It’s good, right?” Buggy asked, holding out his hand for the bottle. 

You licked your lips, cleaning up the lingering sweetness. “It is. Thank you,” you said, unable to keep yourself from admiring the way his throat worked as he swallowed, the view unfortunately obscured by his cravat. 

The perverse thought took you by surprise. Was it the alcohol? Already, your head was spinning, your thoughts a little more disorganized. It wasn’t like the quiet, empty feeling of before. It was warm and distant, it made your shoulders relax, the anxiety and uncertainty of before fading. This was a good idea, you already felt so much better. When he passed the bottle back, you didn’t have to be prompted to imbibe, chasing that feeling.   

“I don’t mean to pry, but when that guy back there mentioned your dad, it really seemed to get to you,” Buggy said. “What, did daddy not love you? Or maybe he loved you a little too much.”

You didn’t want to talk about that. You didn’t want to think about it. You took another big drink. 

On the horizon, the town was utterly ablaze. As the night grew darker, the flames rose higher. Which building was burning so brightly? It belched thick, black smoke into the night sky. Who was in it? Anybody you knew?

“Don’t wanna talk about it, hm? That’s fine,” Buggy said, stealing the bottle back. “With any luck, my freaks’ll kill him tonight, eh? Then you’ll really be free.” 

“He’s gone right now,” you said, your words soft and slurring together. “Out of town.” What would he think of the smoldering ashes? Would he believe you had perished in the flame? Somehow, you doubted that. He would know what you had done. There was no chance of freedom, not for you. 

“That’s even better,” Buggy said.  

Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned to him, both in confusion and disbelief. “How?” 

“Because, babydoll,” Buggy told you, shaking your shoulder to make sure you were paying attention. “It’s good to have somebody to hate—somebody to prove wrong. He tried to convince you that you’re crazy, he tried to keep you from ever being yourself. That pain and anger made you weak. But you’re not weak anymore. Tonight, I showed you how to be strong. It’s not enough to tell those assholes that they’re wrong, you have to prove it to them. That’s what tonight was about, right? You proved to your dad, to everybody, that you’re stronger than they thought. And, hey, you proved it to me, too. I wasn’t sure about you at first, but I changed my mind.” He threw an arm around you, pulling you close. “I like you, kiddo. A lot.” 

“I like you too,” you said, relaxing into the little side hug, very aware of every place his bare arm met your bare shoulders and neck. The alcohol had stoked a nice blaze in your stomach and chest, making your head spin in a way you didn’t mind that much. Smoothing the colors, softening the air, making you want to lean into his touch, made you crave more of it. 

Buggy pulled away, leaving the bottle in your hands. You felt a little cold without him.  

“You know,” he said, smiling at you. The far off flames glinted mischievously in his eyes. The flaring reds and oranges highlighted his cheekbones too, defined the sharpness of his jaw. You were caught off guard by how viscerally you reacted to the thought that he was handsome, your filterless mind caught in an endless loop of focusing on the fact. “Burning down this shithole is nothing compared to what I will do. The towns I’ll raze to the ground, the treasure I’ll steal, the shows I’ll put on. Now that I’ve got a crew, I’m gonna put on a show like nobody’s ever seen. The biggest, flashiest, greatest show ever. Everybody will be screaming my name, recognize my face. I’ll shine so bright that they’ll have no choice but to love me. ” 

Buggy’s intensity made you smile, you couldn’t help it. Alcohol had created a cloudy burst of affection within you, or maybe it was just the floodgates of tension finally collapsing, letting out something that would have otherwise been smothered. Either way, it was as intoxicating as the drink itself. 

“Are you laughing at me?” Buggy asked, his tone filled with steel. You looked to see his dark expression, his narrowed eyes. 

“I’m not,” you said, confused by his rapid shift in demeanor. “I’m… I’m happy. I’ll do anything to help you.” 

He relaxed. “Well, you’d better start working on your act.” 

That made you laugh, a dizzy, bubbly sound. “I can’t do an act. I wouldn’t know what to do.” 

“There has to be something. Let me think… Can you sing?”

“I used to, a little. But not for a really long time.” 

“Come on, let me hear it.”

You were drunk, you knew that for a fact because in no state of sobriety would you offer to sing in front of another person. But, right then, bubbling with alcohol and protected by the darkness of the smoky night sky, you felt invincible. 

“Oh, what do you do with a drunken sailor? What do you do with a drunken sailor? What do you do with a drunken sailor, early in the morning? Slash his…um… something, something, captain’s daughter. Toss him in… to… the dirty water…” Whatever coherence you held onto unraveled into a fit of drunken laughter at the awful rhyme. “I’m sorry, I think… I think I forgot some of the words.”  

“Seems like you forgot the tune too,” Buggy said, wincing dramatically. All that did was make you laugh harder. “Hold on a second, let me wipe the blood out of my ears.” 

You swatted his shoulder, although your attempted indignance probably wasn’t very convincing when you were still smiling. “Don’t be mean!”

“That’s a bold way to treat your captain,” he told you, but he was smiling too. 

“Please don’t be mean to me, Captain Buggy,” you said, speaking slowly to emphasize how serious you were. 

“Beg me again.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

“Nothing,” he said, waving it off in a way that made you think he was making fun of you. “Anyway, I’m being nice right now, especially after that performance. The critics would eat you alive for that one. So, singing is out. Clearly. What else have you got?”

“Oh! I know a, um, a rhyme. A joke.” 

He looked at you skeptically. “Really?” 

“What is that s’posed to mean?” you asked.

“You don’t strike me as somebody with… How should I put this… A sense of humor?” 

You frowned. 

“Alright, alright, quit pouting and tell me,” Buggy said impatiently, waving you to continue. 

You cleared your throat very theatrically, sitting up as straight as you could manage. 

“There was a young lass who thought

Very little but thought it a lot.

Then at long last she knew

What she wanted to do,

But before she could start, she forgot.”

Deflating, you laughed, surprised at how clearly you had delivered the words. Especially considering how long it had been since you heard them. 

Buggy didn’t look nearly as impressed. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a clean limerick before,” he said. “And now I know why. I mean, what’s the point of limerick without the ick.”

You blew a raspberry at him. “Fine, you do one.”

“Okay, but you have to prepare yourself,” Buggy said. You nodded encouragingly.

“There was a young plumber named Lee

Who was plumbing his girl by the sea.

She said, ‘Stop your plumbing,

There's somebody coming’

Said the plumber, still plumbing, ‘It's me.’"

Belatedly, you gasped, your hands covering your mouth. That shock dissolved into giggles. “That’s, oh, that’s… that’s dirty.”

“Aw, was it too much for your delicate sensibilities? Now that you’re a pirate, you’re gonna hear a lot worse than that. A looooooooot worse. I hope your unspoiled ears can handle it.”  

“I can!” you insisted, taking a big drink to steel yourself before setting the bottle aside. If you were going to be a pirate, you had to stop getting so flustered. “More. Please.” 

“Okay, okay…” Buggy cleared his throat. “A hooker roaming the East Blue, 

Once filled her vagina with glue, 

She said, with a grin, ‘Well, they paid to get in, 

And they’ll damn sure pay to get out, too.’”

You laughed loudly, as much at the joke as the taboo nature of it. You laughed, and then giggled in a bubbly, drunken way that you knew was too loud and embarrassing. “That is icky,” you told him. “Jeez, that’s…” Your faux seriousness dissolved into a fit of giggles again and you leaned against him for stability. “What would you even do?” 

“Yeah, I don’t know. It sounds like a sticky situation,” he said, nudging you with his elbow. That, of course, sent you into another fit of giggles. 

“I’m sorry, I’m…” you said. “I think I’m drunk.” You looked behind yourself at the town, the glittery haze of joy buzzing in your head fading at the sight. It was horrific, wasn’t it? And here you were, laughing like a fool. You couldn’t really comprehend the magnitude of it all, even if you could acknowledge that it was terrible. “Is it okay?” you asked, looking back at him imploringly. “Everything that happened tonight… I thought I would feel very different after, but I don’t. It almost feels like it’s not even real. You ever get that? When things happen but they feel so impossible that you get confused?”

“If you can think that clearly,” Buggy said, “then you’re not drunk enough. Bottoms up, babydoll.” You smiled at his use of the pet name and the fluttery feeling it gave you. What else could you do but oblige, tipping the bottle back like before. Only, unlike before, you kept it all down. There wasn’t any real burn, just more sweetness, more warmth. 

And then there was nothing left. 

“Woah,” you said, lowering the empty bottle and wiping your mouth. “‘s all gone.”

“And how do you feel?” he asked. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a dizzy sort of laugh. “I dunno…” you said, closing your eye, trying to collect your thoughts. “I’m…” Already things were getting even more fuzzy and foggy. Fabric stuck to your flushed skin, the salty air drying across your chest and cheeks. “I feel… very…”

Making an upset noise in the back of your throat, you pushed your hair back, catching the bandana and pulling it off so you could feel the breeze on your whole face. That helped. Drawing in a deep breath, you looked at him, trying to focus. Only, the second you saw him, all you could do was smile. His eyes were greedy about the light, sparkling with it. Even with the nose, Buggy was handsome. That was not something you could tell him though, not at all ever. Unfortunately you had forgotten what you were saying in the first place. 

“Very… what?” Buggy asked. “‘Cause if you keep trying to be a buzzkill, I’ll give you something to laugh about.”

Were you a buzzkill? You couldn’t remember what you had said or done to earn that title. It was hard enough to comprehend what was happening in the moment. “Like what?” you asked.

“Like… this!” Buggy said, using the sash around your waist to pull you closer so he could tickle your sides. You jumped and squealed, the bottle rolling out of your hands as you tried to fight him off. 

“No no no, don’t,” you cried, trying to escape. You were being too loud, moving too much, acting like an idiot, but you didn’t have enough control to stop. 

“Why not?” he asked. “You’re laughing, aren’t you?” 

It was true, you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, letting it out in panicked little bursts. Time had a bizarre elasticity to it, everything hitting you at once and fading just as fast. Laughing, sobbing, begging him to stop. It was easy to catch and hold onto one of his hands, but that left the other one free. And if you tried to catch that one instead, you had to release the first. There must have been a better way to do it, but you felt as if, bit by bit, particle by particle, the world was separating, the hot and humid air splitting, your limbs becoming loose, your capacity for rational thought dissipating like mist. 

Lacking any sort of control and with a completely undeserved sense of invulnerability, you tackled him. Buggy let it happen, still laughing. At least he had stopped. 

“God, it’s like being attacked by a drunk, one-eyed toddler,” he said. “What are you gonna do, whine me into submission?” 

“Don’t be mean,” you said seriously, your words ruined by something wavering between a laugh and a sob, or maybe it was just the drunken slur. 

“You attacked me. If anything, I'm the victim here.” 

“No! You started it!” 

“Hold on, are you… crying?” Buggy asked incredulously. “Aw, you poor thing. I mean, you were laughing so much, how could I have known you didn’t like it?” 

“I don’t!” you insisted. 

“To be clear,” he said. “You don’t like this?” He attacked your sides, not tickling so much as just teasing, but to the same effect. You yelped and sat up squirm away, swatting at his hands. 

Rather than laugh like before, Buggy groaned, his hips bucking up against you. A loud, harsh gasp left your mouth, your entire body going rigid from the liquid heat of friction, your thighs squeezing around him. At some point, your skirt had ridden up, your panties being the only barrier left. You didn’t think you had ever been as acutely aware of how achingly empty, electrically tingly, as you were right then. 

Bad. Very bad.

“Oh, there’s another fun noise,” Buggy said, laughing as he propped himself upright with his arms. “I can’t believe that got you.” 

“No,” you said quickly, dizzy from the intensity of your reaction and how close the two of you were. You could smell him, the sweat, the musk, the salt, the greasepaint, the gunpowder. You could see the glitter in his makeup, the fire catching in his eyes. “It jus’... surprised me.” 

“Is that why you’re shaking?” Buggy asked, rubbing your exposed thigh, the fabric of his glove catching the sensitive skin. 

“I’m… um…” Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to organize the drunken slush of your brain. Being so close to him, feeling his body against yours, sent deviously tantalizing tingling sparks through you. And guilt. It was wrong, he wasn’t doing anything to invite those feelings, you were just being weird and drunk and embarrassing and you couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. You’d have to tilt your head a lot, although the stubble would be more hazardous than his nose. The last time you kissed someone, you were both young enough that you didn’t have to navigate facial hair. And then there was the matter of the makeup. You tried to imagine what you might look like after, the slash of red and imprint of white. Maybe they’d mix into pink. You tried to force yourself to focus on something else, but you couldn’t meet his eyes either. Nervous and confused and filled with a million different feelings you had no name for, you squirmed again, thoughtlessly adding to the anxious feedback loop of heat and need and intoxicated emptiness. 

“You know, sweetheart, this reminds me,” Buggy said, “there’s still the matter of your physical. It’s standard procedure for new crew. We could get that over and done with while you’re… lubricated.”

“What’re you… talking about?”  

“I’ve gotta make sure you’re fit, healthy… Clean of anything you could pass on to the forty or so people you’re gonna be stuck with in an enclosed space for weeks at a time.”

“How d’you do that?” 

“You’ve been to a doctor, right? It’s kinda like that. I know it can feel a little invasive, so it might be better to do it while you’re drunk.”

“What…” you started to ask, but then Buggy shifted, his hips pushing up against you. The fresh wash of warmth it sent into your core scattered your mind, and you lost the already tenuous thread of thought. Your eyelashes fluttered, although you weren’t sure when you had closed your eye. “Umm…”

“Well, first,” he said, answering the question you hadn’t asked, “you’d have to take off your clothes. Then relax while I have a little look-see. It’s important that you stay as still as possible. I’ll have a hard time finishing if you can’t stop squirming around the whole time.” 

“Do you really have to?” you asked, your brow furrowing. It sounded embarrassing. But maybe if it was him, you didn’t mind? Your dad did all of your past medical check-ups so it wasn’t inherently wrong. But the thought of Buggy seeing you without clothes wasn’t exactly nice, you could only imagine his disgust. That was bad. 

“Depends on if you’re serious about being a pirate or not,” Buggy said.   

“I am serious!” you exclaimed. Your hands went to the sash around your waist to pull the bow free. If you did it quickly, you wouldn’t be as embarrassed. 

“Woah, wait. Holy shit,” Buggy said, “are you seriously—” He cracked up laughing, making you freeze. “I didn’t think you’d actually fall for that.”

“You’re… laughing,” you said, your fingers falling with the slow sink of humiliation. 

“You really were going to strip for me, out in the open and everything.” Buggy laughed harder, rocking forward. “I didn’t expect you to be so eager. Hey, if you really wanna get naked, I’m not going to stop you.” 

“I don’t, I just… I thought…” you said, pulling away from him and trying to get onto your feet to get away, embarrassment lighting the worst sort of fire within you.  

“Woah, calm down, it was just a joke,” Buggy said, his laughter fading. “You’re absolutely plastered, if you stand up, you’re gonna fall right back down.” You didn’t stop, resolute to get onto your feet and put some distance between you and him. “I won’t catch you.” 

“’m fine,” you told him. 

You finally got your footing and braced against your knee to lurch upright. For a second, you were standing up and weightless. And then you were nothing.

[desire-mona]

MONANA. ALL THIRTY TIME FOR YOU TOO RAAHHHHHHH >:D

from this post

1:A song you like with a color in the title

blue dream - dance gavin dance

2:A song you like with a number in the title

'39 - queen

3:A song that reminds you of summertime

jackie onassis - sammy rae and the friends

4:A song that reminds you of someone you would rather forget about

apple cider - early eyes

5:A song that needs to be played LOUD

THE SUMMONING - SLEEP TOKEN!!!!!!!

6:A song that makes you want to dance

radio silent - jomm and readyaimfire27

7:A song to drive to

oh girl idk i cant drive! weaponize your love - seven year witch

8:A song about drugs or alcohol

not exactly but theres a ref so. nearly witches (ever since we met...) - panic! at the disco

9:A song that makes you happy

sleepyhead - passion pit

10:A song that makes you sad

stanley ann - chris thile

11:A song that you never get tired of

goddamned saint - nickel creek

12:A song from your preteen years

oihyygu ok lemme open the old playlist. sad machine - porter robinson

13:One of your favorite 80’s songs

as - kimiko kasai and herbie hancock ALSO IT GOT REMOVED FROM SPOTIFY IM SO FUCKING UPSET

14:A song that you would love played at your wedding

forever - the little dippers

15:A song that is a cover by another artist

vincent - james blake (don mcclean cover)

16:One of your favorite classical songs

string quartet no. 8 - dmitri shostakovich

17:A song that would sing a duet with on karaoke

hmmm out of the woods - nickel creek

18:A song from the year that you were born

helena - nickel creek

19:A song that makes you think about life

when - dodie

20:A song that has many meanings to you

pirate radio - jean dawson

21:A favorite song with a person’s name in the title

marcel - her's

22:A song that moves you forward

she needs him - her's

23:A song that you think everybody should listen to

all of these but also moon river - jacob collier

24:A song by a band you wish were still together

low beam - her's :-(

25:A song by an artist no longer living

valerie - amy winehouse and that other guy

26:A song that makes you want to fall in love

sleep walk - deftones

27:A song that breaks your heart

sleep patterns - merchant ships

28:A song by an artist with a voice that you love

habibi - tamino

29:A song that you remember from your childhood

this side - nickel creek

30:A song that reminds you of yourself

lovegod - sarah kinsley

this was so fun ralphie im excited to read urs :3

[thesinglesjukebox]

YEAH THAT'S RIGHT WE'RE BACK WE WEREN'T JOKING AROUND NOW GET IN THE CAR BEEP BEEP LET'S RIDE

CHARLI XCX - SPEED DRIVE [5.07]

Oliver Maier: A dark cloud seems to hang over Charli XCX as of late. Last year's perfectly passable Crash was touted by her as her "sellout" album, and while it charted impressively, it didn't demonstrate the effortless hitmaking that Charli sometimes implies she could pull off any time, if she only felt like it. That success instead has rather randomly gone to the risible "Speed Drive," her first UK top 10 since 2015 and first Billboard entry since a year prior. There's a lot I don't like about it, but enumerating its faults feels futile when it has the baked-in defense of just being a cute song for the Barbie movie!(!!!) Put simply, though, it's lazy to the point of feeling contemptuous. I have far fewer reservations about switching my brain off and having fun with pop when it feels like the artist is laughing with me, not at me. [2]

Alex Ostroff: On Crash, Charli started leaning into obvious interpolations to try to hit the charts. Hopefully, "Speed Drive" is the tail end of that tendency and not her new normal. The mashup of "Hey Mickey" and "Cobrastyle" works significantly better for me than the way she lifted from September and Robin S. for Crash singles, and there are a few excellent line deliveries, but this still feels like Charli on autopilot. The album's worth of unreleased songs with SOPHIE do more exciting and interesting things sonically than this PC-XCX retread, and if she isn't pushing the boundaries of pop music in weird and abrasive new directions, I'd much rather have the hooks and big choruses of "New Shapes" and "Lightning" than an under-two-minute sketch of an idea. The problem, of course, is that Charli on autopilot mashing up Robyn and Toni Basil, but fully committing to the performance and vocal delivery, still ends up giving us a: [6]

Alfred Soto: Charli XCX's reputation as a unsung pop master crumbles every time she releases another middling single. From the "Mickey" lift to the perfunctory rhythm track, "Speed Drive" is closer to assembly line than a Barbie factory. [4]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The best Charli XCX songs in this lane are cleverly stupid ("Hot in It", "Yuck") or stupidly clever ("No Angel", "Vroom Vroom"), but this is just normal, garden-variety dumb -- less a song and more a collection of Pavlovian cues for stans to go wild over. All points here should be allocated to Easyfun, who at least does his job competently. [3]

Will Rivitz: Crash was Charli's worst release in nearly a decade for more reasons than I can fit in these few sentences, but most salient to "Speed Drive" was the record's uncharacteristically smooth polish. Her music achieves transcendence when it leans into its unsanded edges and hungover hedonism, channeling self-destruction and snottiness into bombast and excess. If it sounds like a first or second draft slapped onto Spotify before it's had the chance to hit a mastering studio, it's succeeded. Crash was too careful to hit those same highs, and as a result, its attempted mess felt lethargic and flat, indulgence as a single drunk cigarette instead of half an Adderall chased with absinthe. So, since "Speed Drive" sounds like it was mastered on a 2015 MacBook speaker and plays its two main interpolations as insouciantly straight as possible, it represents a return to form. Mess is more. [7]

Aaron Bergstrom: A perfectly acceptable Charli-by-numbers exercise: shiny, metallic PC Music production smeared over otherwise kitchy sonic references (and "Cobrastyle," which rules in any context); lyrics referencing cars, Japan, or cars in Japan; halfhearted attempt to tie it all back to Barbie somehow. [5]

Rachel Saywitz: Sonically, "Speed Drive" is one of the more interesting songs from this year's Barbie soundtrack -- unfortunately, that isn't saying much. A flurry of bubbling synth patterns echo the song's title, but what should be an exhilarating digital rush is overset by drab lyrics that sound like they came out of a Mattel exec's secret poetry diary (+ charm bracelet which unlocks the diary + a copy of the 2006 hit Barbie mocap film, The Barbie Diaries): "She my best friend in the whole world / On the mood board, she's the inspo / and she dressed in really cute clothes." Charli is in on the joke, but the joke isn't actually a joke -- it's a corporate branded major studio movie that was made to sell more toys, unable to subvert its maker no matter how many jokes it makes about male CEOs, discontinued toys, and "tax evasion issues." Can we just get Charli to soundtrack one of those poorly animated Barbie movies that know exactly what they are? Can we get a Barbie: The Princess and the Pauper remix album? Oh my god wait that would be incredible Mattel please call me I'll revoke my DSA membership please [5]

Hannah Jocelyn: I am a Barbie movie defender; you take your $100 million toy commercial and make the best possible trans allegory a cis woman can make, you have my respect. (Just as Little Women is the best queer movie a straight woman can make, love ya Greta!) I feel like mainstream feminism-attempting films, Barbie included, are so preoccupied with being Statements they'll sacrifice any momentum to get a message across. This is much less messy and complex than the movie it soundtracks, content to get in and out with its endearingly obvious samples. Charli's attitude makes the song sound more chaotic than it really is, but that effortlessness is a neat contrast to a movie that tries really fucking hard. Suddenly, I want to buy a 2024 Chevy Blazer EV. [7]

Brad Shoup: Like the vast majority of thinkpieces this movie elicited, this isn't really about Barbie, is it? It leaps into a gear and holds; there's nothing to distract you while the motor hums. It ends with Charli chanting "red lights," like she's desperate to pull over. [4]

Andrew Karpan: Perhaps the most important of the pop hits salvaged from an '80s nite at a club near you, "Speed Drive" is already a Greatest Hit among the stans, and justifiably so. Charli boils down what these nostalgia grabs are all about: misrememberences of a more understandable past, the fantasy of driving cars, the mood board stretched infinitely into the promise of a new century, the crux of Barbie itself. [10]

Jonathan Bradley: [A whiteboard with "Charli XCX Barbie soundtrack????" written on it and nothing else.] [3]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Even on this throwaway soundtrack cut where Charli sounds like she's putting in 25%, her pop flourishes and mannerisms are undeniably powerful. It's the way she rhymes "whole world" with "inspo", knowing it doesn't work; the way she races through the chorus like she's bored and speed-reading random words on a page; the way she robotically drones "Li-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ghts," unbothered at the laziness of the hook. This can't even clock in at two minutes. Give us nothing, queen! [7]

Kayla Beardslee: Charli understands how to craft a hook better than 99.99% of all musicians that have ever existed. [7]

Dorian Sinclair: I would not have thought to combine "Hey Mickey" with Robyn's "Cobrastyle" at all, let alone as part of a massive Mattel movie. Perhaps this is why Charli XCX is a pop star and I decidedly am not. The result mostly works, though it feels a bit less than the sum of its parts. And while I don't entirely get the focus on the car, maybe it's so she can run it back for the Hot Wheels film? [6]

Peter Ryan: Pop's foremost interpolator doubles down for a truly inspired how-hasn't-this-been-done moment. As a chase scene backdrop it's an [8], but on its own it's not even her third-best car tune. [5]

Katherine St Asaph: Brainless, reckless fun utterly unfit for purpose. The song is called "Speed Drive" and is perfect in tempo and stupidity for racing down the highway faster than God intended. And Charli still interjects "hah!" like no one else. But when do you go on the highway? When you're planning on driving for more than 2 minutes! [6]

Jeffrey Brister: Sleekly built, moves quick without fuss, pushes up a bit, but never really crests into high gear. I'm not asking for transcendence, but maybe an acknowledgement of a higher power while you lightly tap the gas pedal? [5]

Edward Okulicz: Having stopped writing good Charli XCX songs years ago, Charli XCX has, with this, ceased to even sound like Charli XCX. The only good bit about this is the "Mickey" interpolation. Driving around with this would give me a headache within about two miles. [2]

Vikram Joseph: In which Charli decides to write an AI version of a Charli song before the machines get there first. [4]

Will Adams: I will own up to being one of those who were WRONG and DUMB about "Vroom Vroom" when it first came out; I still wouldn't rate it highly, but I recognize its importance and impact on pop music. Special thanks to "Speed Drive" for helping me through that process by demonstrating what "Vroom Vroom" would sound like if there were significantly less effort. [3]

Jibril Yassin: Sucker needed this more than we did, but I'll take any new Charli songs that use actual choruses again. [8]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: I applaud Charli for staying faithful to "Hey Mickey": the only good thing here is the hook. [3]

Crystal Leww: Funniest thing about this song is that one of my best friends in the whole world made an edit of it, and once we were out, the original played and I was like, "man this is so slow." And then she told me that the BPMs are actually exactly the same. Good song for Charli in her popstar elder era, but I'd always rather be listening to the edit. [5]

Michelle Myers: This would have been a fine addition to my 2009 pre-gaming playlist. I can taste the Smirnoff Ice and MAC Lip Gloss. [6]

Samson Savill de Jong: This is a banger that resists much discussion, just pounding you with being really really good and fun and HOT (but not, funnily, at all sexy). It needs a third verse, as it's over just as it really gets going, but ultimately probably better to leave you wanting more than wishing it was over -- though I find it hard to imagine this couldn't have stretched all the way to 3 minutes. [8]

Ian Mathers: It's good, but I've gotta knock it for three things (all possibly totally unfair, but that's the Jukebox babey!!!!!): 1. "Mickey" is a fine song but I am so sick of this kind of interpolation; 2. it reminds me at least by implication of "Vroom Vroom," and you, ma'am, are no "Vroom Vroom"; 3. it's only my second favourite 2023 soundtrack Charli XCX is featured on. [6]

Leah Isobel: Enough time has passed that we can admit Crash was mid, right? That in marking the moment in which Charli finally, actually committed to being a pop star, it also signaled her turn from real emotion to two-dimensional shtick? That her fanbase not only enabled this particular turn, but made it her only viable option? That her career is now defined by the need to please a group of people who treat her work as impersonal meme-bait instead of creative output from a real person? That, viewed in this light, the fact that "Speed Drive" has become her biggest hit in a decade makes perfect sense, even though it's the unsatisfying sonic equivalent of a single leftover french fry, drenched in grease? That pop stardom is, in itself, the reduction of a real personality and perspective into a flat and marketable image; that the aching, sincere heart of True Romance is actually dead and buried; that my youth is never coming back; that all I have left is this shitty, misogynistic world? And that, despite everything, I am physically and emotionally incapable of scoring a Charli XCX song that samples fucking "Cobrastyle" lower than this? [4]

Tara Hillegeist: It says a great deal about Charli's grasp on how to make hedonistic abandon actually catchy, even after the multiple ways that particular approach to imperial phases has shown their ass, that she can nearly faceplant on a still-mangled enunciation of "kawaii" and yet almost get away scot-free with her brazen interpolation of "Hey Mickey." I can yet imagine this scoring a campily villainous dance number in a Russel T. Davies SFnal dramedy on BBC Three and working. Sadly, Rusty's currently on contract to Disney instead, so an entirely different sort of Toymaker seems to have run off with the obvious bait for tiresome queens at present, and I'm not sure the vibe quite comes together as the prophecy was meant to foresee. Too bad. It'd be an [8] if it did, but only hypothetically. [3]

Nortey Dowuona: The problem with "Speed Drive" isn't the flat, pedestrian drum programming, even though that roots the song to the ground and never lets it become the exciting driving song it's meant to be. The problem is Charli constantly pushing forward in her music to embrace the more compelling and vivid music of the late '10s, only to be over-praised for a competent rehash of already marked territory by her elders. The same happened to Earl Sweatshirt, who doubled back to play in more conventional positions then, after the praise, re-doubled down on his direction. The way to engage with their music is to stop jumping up to beg them to pander to our changing taste and the industry's desire to cling to conventional wisdom. Let the Charli XCX of 2014 go -- she doesn't exist anymore, Charli's competent Toni Basil cover notwithstanding. Maybe actually trust them to chart their own paths -- you crafted your own, right? [6]

Frank Falisi: The streamlining of Charli's glitch-heat into soundtrack-ready radio-licking songs is good! PC Music was always a project about products, caring and careful as it was. Pop is a product about the project of being alive -- it's its own experimentation, it doesn't require archness. But to be alive is to seek out live wires and hearts to plug into, to give shape to. The pastiche that has haunted Charli's work in recent years takes as its engine dead objects: nostalgia (Crash), flippancy ("Hot Girl", Bottoms), and now, incorporation (Barbie). Can you feel a song begin to think of itself as servicing an occasion instead of a feeling? But you don't have to rope in career tea-leafing to know "Speed Drive" is plain boring. More like a treatment for a song than a composition moving through ideas, it cannibalizes the occasion of "Vroom Vroom" for a compensatory GM tie-in, settling for chorus as brand shoutout and production that's nearly apologizing for itself. Haters -- Lovers? Likers? I can't imagine a human being loving this song -- will tell me it's a fun, short song written for a fun movie that's been over-think-pieced and that doesn't deserve the hyper-scrutiny it received. I still think we deserve better than just "just" as far as the product-as-art future Barbie takes to be inevitable. I also think -- whatever their occasion -- all the song sequences in the film felt disposably-conceived, thinking a little of partnering with the image and thinking a lot about servicing the partner, which is the brand. Maybe pop music in cinematic space has always been product placement of a kind. Or worse, once it was a way to show love through intertextuality and now it's the moving image as Tumblr page, a cloud of association, a hungry rolodex of fits. And the suggestion of a pleasurable essence isn't the presence of pleasure. I know there's no purity, I don't want purity. But you have to let "want" in, have to want "want" to mean more than "get." Otherwise it's the experimental rendered in a language we already know. What I mean is: every day the inclusion of "Boom Clap" in The Fault in Our Stars feels surer. [2]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

[protofans]

via mailer:

New single from Act III, “The Fight,” is now streaming on all the platforms. Click this link and pick your poison. We’re already up to like 30,000 plays on Spotify, so that’s something like 50 dollars! About 4 of us are gonna get to eat a burrito with that chunk of change (the other 4 will starve)!!! But seriously, we’re glad you’re all seeming to like it. There’s plenty more where that came from.

Cover design and new logo done by Caspar Newbolt with artwork by John DeLucca. I think they did a hell of a job, if I do say so myself.

And yeah… James Cameron may have beaten us by getting Avatar 2 out before we could release Act III, but mark my words, I almost somewhat guarantee that we’ll have Act III out before Avatar 5! The gauntlet has been thrown, Mr. Cameron. Come at us.

—FIGHT MERCH— Like that Fight art and new logo? Get it on some shirts! We’ve got a regular coal colored (nearly black) Tshirt, and girl-style scoop Tshirt to choose from.

And on top of that, we’ve got a pretty rad new raglan sweatshirt (raglan is the only way to go with sweatshirts. Believe me, I’m an expert). 

We’ve also got a pretty awesome windbreaker (with some rain protection) pullover with silver-ish print. This sort of a jacket is a first for us, so let us know how you like it by buying it or not (whichever is funnier). 

**please note** this new FIGHT merch will not ship in time for the holidays.

—CHICAGO— Our 2 shows at Reggies with Cybertronic Spree are now super sold out and we couldn’t be more excited to get back to Chicago for some Italian Hot Beef Sandwiches!…. and shows. See you there!

—EURO TOUR— And let’s not forget our upcoming Europe and UK tour! Get to a show and you’ll hear “The Fight,” as well as some other Act III jams. So get your tickets and help spread the word over there. Send your friends the link to “The Fight” to see if they like it and then bring them to a show even if they don’t. Maybe bring them to 5 shows. While you’re helping us with promotion, go ahead and start requesting “The Fight” at your local radio stations. And call in to TRL and demand that Cason Daly puts us on the show. Then Google who/what Carson Daly and TRL are.

MARCH 10th – Paris – Les Étoiles 11th – Amsterdam – Melkweg 12th -Berlin – Frannz Club 16th – London – Shepherd’s Bush 17th – Great Yarmouth – Sci-Fi Weekender 18th – Swansea – Sin City 19th – Oxford – 02 Academy 21st – Wolverhampton – KK’s Steel Mill 22nd – Glasgow – Stereo 23rd – Bradford – Nightrain

Remember that time in the last email where I said, “see you back here in about 3 weeks?” This is what I was talking about. Now that “The Fight” is out there, we’re gonna do the holiday thing for a bit, but then get right back into the studio at the start of the new year. Feeling good about this one.

-Commander

[gwynndolin]

Kitschke recs, Hejira by Joni Mitchell

So, funny story, since I think Joni Mitchell was literally only added to Spotify like, a few weeks ago or something like that, I ended up not listening to this until this very moment (The last two albums and a few of the future ones, I actually listened to a few months ago; I'm only just now getting back into writing these reviews 🙃). I actually must've not noticed this actually though, because I ended up listening to another album by a band called Hejira... Incidentally, I found that album to be quite interesting anyway, so honestly I'm not too upset about that mistake. Maybe I'll take a moment to review that album sometime soon LOL

Anyway, I've always known Joni Mitchell to be a pop darling, and admittedly, the only reason I think I put off listening to her for so long is, one, laziness, and two, I think for like, 4 out of the 5 jobs I've worked in my 9ish years of retail service, "Big Yellow Taxi" in some form or another has been on the store's music playlist, and I am so awfully tired of that song. Far too much of an ear worm to be played so often!!

Anyway, "Coyote" is a fantastic intro track. Joni Mitchell's singing is so velveteen and luscious, whoever produced this record really mic'd her up super well. I really enjoy the pacing on this song too, the delivery on her singing is really evocative to me of some of Paul Simon's faster paced song, while remaining super chill to fit in with the rest of the track. I really love how prominent the bass guitar is on this song too! The guitar is mostly kept rhythm and the drums are also similarly understated, compared to the bass which feels like it is carrying the lead here.

Speaking of being "evocative" I have to imagine Jeff Buckley was a big fan of Joni Mitchell's, "Furry Sings The Blues" sounds like a track Buckley would get on to me. The sort of mix of spoken word mixed with singing, the story telling, the almost Shakespearean delivery... It's really interesting to see where these musical fonts tend to come from!

The titular track, Hejira, is a really cool one. The guitar here really reminds me of some of Pat Methany's work. Apple Music's description of the album describes this album as a travel journal, and I feel like this track really hits that most out of all on the album. It's tonally very grounded, yet foreign enough to feel as though you've found somewhere you'd like to move to, if that makes sense.

Joni's lyricism is really quite something too. Her prose is such that I often forget to even really listen to the music; I get too caught up in just feeling it. People often describe certain artist's voices being an instrument in and of themselves, and although her vocals aren't necessarily technically impressive on this record (though its not as though I'm saying her voice is bad, not by any stretch, just that this album is pretty reserved all around, not a lot of room for any particularly belt-y verses or big runs, stuff like that) her voice fits the vibe of it all so well. It sounds silly to say this album was made for her, like she's literally one of the producers of the album, but like. Idk, it's kinda perfect in that way.

Fave Tracks: Coyote, Furry Sings The Blues, Hejira

Definitely a pretty solid 7/10. I can see why this is listed as one of her quintessential albums pretty much everywhere, and I'm excited to dip into some more of her music when I have the time. I think I have always been more of an 80's music fan, and haven't really dipped into much from the 70's. Likely just because both of my parents were born in the 70's, the music they ended up listening to around me was mostly 80's stuff.

I definitely wanna spend more time with this record too. I feel like this initial first brush review hasn't done it nearly enough justice. But I have other stuff to get to!

[haro-hawayu]

Gundam Seed Freedom Movie

Okay, I did it, I went to watch the movie:

There were wayyy more people than I thought going to see it. Basically the entire back section was nearly fully, I think there were about 5ish seats left to pick. Also, not too many girls, there were a total of about 10 (I was the first one there so I noticed when they came in) including myself--the only other girl who came alone & not accompanying other(s) just so happened to sit next to me. She cried like 4+ times during the entire movie XD

Movie Thoughts (SPOILERS under the cut):

My initial thoughts coming out: Story was kinda meh-ish, but mecha-stuff was really cool. I think if this movie came out within the first 5 years after the end of Destiny OR if I rewatched SEED/GSD more recently, I would've enjoyed all the Easter eggs and such a great deal more.

After sitting down & re-checking stuff online (just to make sure I understood certain parts correctly), I think if I get to rewatch it again, I would've definitely enjoyed it more.

Off the top of my head likes/dislikes

Likes: the new theme songs, METEOR, Shin redemption, Athrun being cool again, flashback featuring old chars, Athrun piloting scenes, Cagalli piloting scenes, Athrun beating Kira, AsuCaga, ShinLuna, Yzak, Dearka, Miri, Hilda, Murrue, Mu, Millenium crew, the cool fights, Torii & Blue

Dislikes: Kira going through his old dilemma from all of SEED/end of GSD, the NTR stuff, the slightly over the top fanservice-y stuff, pacing at the beginning, the Black Knights

More in-depth thoughts on certain things:

Shin & ShinLuna: Shin was easily one of the characters I disliked the most in GSD, and I'm really glad that he's soooooo much more likeable in the movie. Why weren't you more like this in Destiny?!! He's also such a Kira fanboy (I just wished that Kira wasn't so... in need of a slapping 80% of the time) and it's really funny. Especially when he wanted to help Kira when him & Athrun were fighting and he got decked in the process!! He's like so dumb-cute and I really love that for him. I'm glad he had his moment to shine in the movie! I'm a little tickled seeing the ShinLuna interactions given that GSD was kinda how their VAs (Suzumura Kenichi & Sakamoto Maaya) got together and married. I wish/hope there's an interview where they have the couple talk about their roles and such, it would be so interesting. Better yet is if there's a video interview, I would totally eat that up.

Athrun & AsuCaga: Athrun in GSD was also an ache in my heart. I'm glad they made him cool again in this movie (lol except for that one scene where Shura saw THAT image in his mind, like it's so funny/crazy/wtheckkk). Man, how I wish that they threw more AsuCaga hints earlier in the movie!!! I was such a hardcore AsuCaga shipper too!! I remember feeling so burned and feeling so hopeless at the end of GSD when they parted ways. But seeing them together just soothes my soul. ALSO THE NECKLACES YO!!!! They're as good as together in my heart even though they didn't have a face-to-face interaction in the movie. Like c'mon, Cagalli is training Toyah to be her successor, and left him in charge while she flew out to space. Orb is in good hands in the future and Cagalli can totally pull a page out of Kira/Lacus' book and just elope with Athrun, maybe not frolicking on the beach at sunset with suits off haha. Upon google searching, apparently there's like a side-novel thingy that features more of them!! Please make an OVA out of this too TuT

Music: The music was great!! I listened to the new theme songs beforehand, so it felt great hearing them in the movie. I was hoping Meteor or Vestige would play during the movie, and they totally delivered when Meteor was playing! I was so so happy. Also thanks to the music, I'm back on Spotify (I left it for a good 1-1.5 months because of FF7 Rebirth OST was NOT available on Spotify).

Soap Opera Story: Someone described the movie being too soap-opera-y and I can't agree more. I think the whole NTR stuff (Orphee & Agnes, the pseudo-love triangles or messy relationship stuff) or the Freedom vs Destiny theme with a heavy dose of LOVE ME NOT HIM/HER on top (is this Macross?? why isn't Lacus singing?? XD) was just a bit too much. But then I have to remind myself that this is me 20 years later, but for them, it's only been 2 years... they're not even 20 years old yet canonically... they're still teenagers yo.

Macross jokes aside though, I kinda wish Lacus got to sing at some point. That would've been quite nice, though I did like that they added instrumentals for her songs in the movie.

Also, I went in this movie not knowing if Miri would appear, but she did and all is well.

[belladonna-and-the-sweetpeas]

I was tagged by @waitmyturtles (thank you <3) to do the spotify random list. I don't use Spotify - so I shall put my current personal playlist on shuffle and list the first 10 songs that play. I have music on here from yesterday and from 15 years ago, so this is going to be fun! :D

BigBang - Fantastic Baby

I heard this song my first year in China. I had never heard K-Pop before hahaha. I've had a soft spot for this song since then, as it was the first non-chinese song I'd heard in public in nearly a year.

2. Paloma Faith - Upside Down

I went to an open-mic night at a bar in China between two of the covid lockdowns in 2021 and an acquaintance of mine sang this song. I love the genre and the lyrics.

3. Proxie - Silent Mode

Look, the music from My School President hooked me, I watched the concert, and then found so many amazing Thai artists from there. Proxie is one of them.

4. Demon Hunter - Carry Me Down

This song has been in my playlists for so long, I don't remember when or how I found it lol

5. Gemini and Fourth - You're Blushing

I like both of their voices and this song is light and summery. But let's be honest - I have every MSP OST and adjacent song in this playlist.

6. Elvis Presley x JXL - A Little Less Conversation

Throwback to high school. From an AMV playlist curated by my group of friends who turned out to all be queer - not surprising from a group of art and D&D nerds!

7. Ava Max - Kings and Queens

I tend to search for FMV's for all my obsessions (old habit from highschool days) and this song was used for a multi fandom edit. It went straight into my girl power song category :p

8. Pet Shop Boys - It's a Sin

For some reason, considering how into classic rock and older music my whole family is, this song didn't cross my radar until it was on a Bad Buddy playlist here on Tumblr. How could I not love it?

9. IVE - Love Dive

Another multi fandom song edit. That edit used a male cover of this song, but as I have no idea who the artist is (sorry!) I'm linking the original IVE version here.

10. 5 Seconds of Summer - Teeth

The art teacher at the kindergarten I taught at loved this song. Every time we had to stay late to do prep work, we'd blast it at full volume. I think it has also been used as a fan edit favourite for almost every single romantic pairing ever.

It's missing some of my top favourite artists and songs, as well as some that are currently on repeat, but not a bad random selection of my musical taste. It's been fun! I've been taking notes of songs to check out from everyone else's lists, so tag me in if you do do this. If you've been tagged before, ignore this, and if you want to do it and haven't been tagged, take this as your invitation! @sorry-bonebag, @petrichoraline, @chalkrevelations, @toastedpoptartsarelife, @user-patpran

[coolcattime]

What types of series do you most find yourself getting into? Do you prefer the more fun-with-friends type series, a more lore-focused, something that is a specific genre, etc...

So, my investment in any series kinda comes in two waves of:

Characters I can get invested in

The ability to emotionally devastated me

The character one is important to actually get me into a show, like I can’t think of any series where I’m not invested in at least one character, and I think a lot the times I don’t like something it’s because I don’t get a shit about any of the characters (best example I can think of is Telltale’s The Walking Dead: The New Frontier - in a game series where I can name nearly every single character from all three other seasons, I could not tell you the names with certainty of some of the major players in this season. AND I remember nothing about it other than being so frustrated that me and my friend who I played with didn’t play Season 4 - a season I ended up loving - for over a year).

I cannot think of a single form of media that I have gotten into where I’m not somehow invested in the characters. Basically as long as I enjoy the characters, it doesn’t NEED to be emotionally devastating. For example Spy x Family hasn’t emotionally devastated me yet but the silly vibes of these characters somehow still believing they are not a real family despite their love for each other and THEIR VERY REAL LEGAL TIES has gotten me so into that silly world (note: I am only part way through season one - like right after where the seasonal break would’ve been - so like there’s still potential for me to be emotionally devastated but it’s the best example I could think of of just a pure silly show because even fecking Bluey is fully of emotional devastation in a /pos way

To get onto Point B - basically everything I get obsessed with has Moments™ that wring my emotions through a grinder in like a /pos way. This is tv shows, this is youtube series, this is books, this is anime, this is musicals, EVERYTHING.

This doesn’t mean the shows can’t be silly, Oxventure Deadlands managed to really fucking get me because they’re silly TTRPG people surely nothing serious will happen and that lead to being genuinely shocked by a moment and the most tense card moment of a playing card being turned that I’ve personally experienced in media.

Hell, I got really into JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure which is typically an extremely silly show, but is the only media besides Your Turn to Die that has made me feel very emotional for the death of a character I didn’t actually like very much. 

Like I think everything I have any sort of hyperfixation on has emotionally devastated me, there is a reason I have a playlist called Sad Vibes that has at least one song from every musical I’ve ever been into (and two video games - though being two of three songs on my whole spotify not from musicals or musical based content). If it wouldn’t be the most spoiler filled list in existence I would make a list of the examples from everything I can think off (though if you want to know, I would be so happy to make one), but for now I’ll just say there is a reason I became absolutely hooked on Capsize and Redbeard as characters and it’s that the Mianite Season One finale got its hooks into my mind forever.

[hopewritcs]

Hopper x reader #4 my favourite number thank you 🥰

“LIKE IT’S JULY.”

pairing: jim hopper x f!reader

song: norway.

notes: me tryin not to make this a sad hopp fic despite the song bein somewhat sad bc all these songs for hopp requests wind up being sad ( sorry i listen to a lot of sad music friends lol ). anway i hope u liked it !! set pre & throughout canon !! though it’s explained in canon reader and jim have quite a bit of history, and the effects of canon events play into everything ! 

word count: 1.8k

part of spotify wrapped drabble night : accepting ! 

You were a fan of the summer months. Summer always meant something was going to happen--while for some people it meant peace and time away from work or school, for you it had always been a time of change in your life even on top of all the normal “summer” things. 

Post graduation from college you had moved to a new town in the middle of the summer. 

At the age of twenty-three you had met someone in that town who changed your life, his name was Jim Hopper. 

But life wasn’t kind to you and Jim. 

After dancing around each other for long enough, eventually he got married and you moved away from that place ( in summer, once again ). 

You thought of him, of your time spent with him. Those summer nights that felt like they were the beginning of the rest of your life but you couldn’t bring yourself to say so to him. But he’d moved on, and you could only stare at the phone number still etched in his handwriting in your notebook, as if a memory of it all. 

Losing touch with him, and trying to move on with your life, you didn’t realize you’d accepted a job in his hometown of Hawkins until you met someone who mentioned him -- and at that point you just did your best to hide the fact you knew the man they were talking about. 

They say it’s a small world, but how small did it have to be for Jim to show up back in his own hometown for good right when you felt like the place was finally your own. You’d wished for him to be right there so many times, that seeing him show up was almost like one of those daydreams. 

It was summer when you saw him again, of course. 

He was just settling back into town, and Joyce was telling you that he had lost everything -- he was just close enough to daydream about, but still out of reach. 

He didn’t see you, really see you, until July of that year. You’d been involved in a small fender bender and the police had been called to the scene and Jim, despite being the Chief of Police, had been the one to show up. He nearly dropped the notebook that was held in his hands when he realized who was standing leaning against the car that had been hit.

He thought he’d left you behind all those summers ago. 

“Y/N?” Jim asked, blinking as he flipped through the notebook to look at something other than you. 

“Hey Jim.” He realized then, with the ease of how you spoke to him, that you knew he was in town. That you weren’t surprised to see him there. That your guard wasn’t thrown like his was. 

He was fucked. But damned if he was going to show any sign of it. 

It was easy to fall back into a friendship with Jim Hopper, because despite it all -- the time, and the years, and everything else -- both of you felt as though you were still friends. It was everything else that was going to be harder to get back. Figuring out if it was even something to get back, that was another question. 

Of course, you wanted to. The summers you had spent with him all those years ago weren’t for nothing -- but you had both changed and weathered with the years and time you had spent on your own, you had to know what was going on. 

It was July of 1983, nearly four whole years after Jim moved back to Hawkins and the two of you had begun a friendship again before you kissed again.

It had been a simple morning, you spent a lot of time with Jim. Dancing around your feelings once again, both of you. Despite both of you at separate times confiding in Joyce-- 

“I don’t want to fuck it up this time, Joyce.” Hopper had said days before the kiss. 

“What if I’m wrong and I wind up looking like a fool if I say how I feel?” You had said the night before 

--and while she was a good friend to both of you, she was a little sick of listening to your complaining instead of doing something about it. 

The morning was spent at the Hopper cabin, because you’d brought over food and welcomed yourself in like you did every so often to make sure he was taking care of himself. 

What Jim had originally meant to be a kiss on the cheek, as your head was turned to make the coffee for the two of you, had turned into a kiss on the lips as you’d turned your head to ask him a question. 

The first I love you was said in August of that same year, at the Byers’ house during a small get together that you had forced Jim to go to. 

He was clearly uncomfortable in the setting, a mixture of teens as well as their parents, but he was going for you, which was nice. 

It was, in fact, the exact phrasing that he had used. He handed you the drink he’d gone to get for you and when he came back to the corner you’d been waiting in he shook his head, taking a sip of his own beer, “Can’t believe the things I do for love.” 

You nearly choked on the sip you were taking and turned to look at him. His own eyes were wide, like he couldn’t believe he’d just said that out loud, but he knew he couldn’t just shrug it off. 

You leaned in and kissed him. “We can leave early, grumpy, cause I love you too.” 

The summer of 1984 was spent with you, Jim, and El as you helped him hide her in the cabin--the two of you were living together at that point. You didn’t know what to do with the cabin, but you had El help you in attempts to redecorate it...as best you could.

“Are you really this attached to the cabin?” you asked one July night, sitting on the porch with Hopper and El. “I’m just saying we could look at houses just a bit bigger and still this far out in the woods if you want to be far away from the rest of the world.” 

“Are you saying there’s not enough space?” Hopper asked, looking at you over his cup of coffee. 

You and El shared a glance from under the blanket you were sharing and then both turned to look at him. 

“Okay it’s...” Hopper trailed off. 

“Small.” You suggested.

“Tiny.” Eleven added. 

“Cozy.” Hopper finished his thought, rolling his eyes at the both of you. 

You sighed and unwrapped the blanket from your shoulders before turning to El with a smile, “I think we’ll tackle this another night, let’s get to bed.” You stood up, and held a hand for her to take before walking to the door and then turning back to look at Hopper who still sat on the porch steps, “You coming to bed, grumpy?”

Hopper grumbled, standing up and turning to look at the two of you. “The cabin is just fine.”

You nodded, “Of course it is.” When he was close enough you leaned up and gave him a kiss before walking into the cabin with El and pushing Jim toward the kitchen. 

“This conversation isn’t over!” He called after you as you walked with El to her bedroom. 

July of 1985, you stood in Starcourt Mall with everyone but Jim was pushing you away from it all--he wanted you with El, away from everything where it was safe. 

Promises made in the food court of that mall before the rest of that night raged on that you never thought would be kept--promises of a future you didn’t expect to come true when the only people you saw come out of the mall were Joyce and Murray. 

July of 1985 he’d promised to spend the rest of his life with you. 

Summer of 1986 was something you were not looking forward to. You were no longer counting down the days to summers like you used to. It seemed as dreary as any rainy day to you, and you hated it. 

Hawkins was no longe the place you wanted it to be, and you’d moved last summer to California when Joyce had. You’d been with the kids--with El-- more, but work consumed a lot of your time--you tried not to think about everything. 

Summer was coming, it was already the March break for school, and you’d planned to spend it with El, but you’d instead been contacted by Owens. You didn’t know how, exactly--he wasn’t exactly someone you would call a friend or a foe entirely. But that’s how you wound up going with him and El. 

Which is how you wound up in the midst of everything, yet again, with no idea what to do or how to get yourself and El out of this. 

God, all you wanted was Jim and to be counting down the days to summer. Not to be in some van speeding down the highway trying to get to Hawkins and worrying about everything else. 

When it was all over, and you had somehow wound up back at the cabin, you looked over at El with tears in your eyes but a smile on your face. 

The damned cabin. 

You couldn’t escape it. Back where you started, and everything just reminded you of him. 

El had gone off into her room, and you were moving things around in the living room. When the door opened, you assumed it was one of the other kids, so you turned to ask them for some help.

There he stood, in the doorway of the cabin. You’d barely held back your tears earlier and now, looking at him, you knew you were going to cry. “Jim?”

“Hey, Y/N.” He spoke quietly, moving toward you. When he got to you, you pulled him into your arms and held him close. 

“Not fair,” you mumbled, muffled by his chest and the tears you were attempting to keep at bay. “You totally had the upper hand on me and knew I’d be in here didn’t you?” 

You could hear the smile on his face, “Had to get you back for all those years ago.” 

When you pulled back and looked at him, really looked at him, you saw that there were tears in his eyes too. “I so hoped you would come back, I didn’t want to believe you were gone.” You leaned into him and kissed him. Like it was the first time, like you were twenty-three again and it was the first summer you’d met. 

Maybe the summer of 1986 could be something good if you had Jim back by your side. 

[cato-of-blamesociety]

32 Weeks Tracklist/Song Picks pt. 1 (weeks 1-8)

How/Why did I choose/chose to use the songs I did

*Full breakdown, updated in real time(weekly)*

1. Silent Hill by Kendrick Lamar x Mr. Morale and the Big Steppers

This song was chosen due to subtle melodies but a hard hitting beat. MMATBS played a huge role in my life last summer when it debuted. I followed Kenny like crazy, checking his insta and youtube regularly to see what he would do next. The music videos were food that I consumed over and over again, trying to fully tap into his message. There were other tracks in the album I wanted to remix such as; Purple Hearts/N95/Crown...but Silent Hill just felt more like my style. The lyrics basically wrote themselves. I was able to adequately outline my views for this project, and my goals quickly in the introduction.

2. Promise by Lupe Fiasco x Drogas Light

Drogas was released in 2017, and honestly I can't recall which project I heard first: Drogas or DAMN(Kendrick). I do remember copping the physical CD at a Target and bumping it in the whip on my way home. Lupe has always been a favorite artist of my mine. Dopest metaphors, cool ass voice, and he doesnt compromise his craft. Anyway, in the song, he raps about how rappers lie so much that they can't maintain thier image or even their careers. For me, I have always wanted to rip this beat and I finally did. It provided a dope but repetitive rhythmic framework for me to lay out my direction, my goals, and intentions as a(n): husband, father, artist, this project, and really my life in general moving forward. I hope you vibe with it heavy.

3. Cuff If by Beyonce x Renaissance

As a recent fan of Beyoncé (Lemonade, Everything is Love, Black is King, and Renaissance), I have come to really use the messaging to lean more into my partner. The music that was released (Lemonade and beyond) I felt spoke more to me about cherishing these relationships between spouse, our children and our community. I may not have a huge impact on the world, but to someone close to me, I know that my existence may mean the world to them. This is especially true with marriage. At least mine. We learn to love each other better, to grow together, and hell, parent together. It's not easy. So it's moments like this one where we enjoy our company and have fun.

4. Cut Me a Break ft. TI x The Free Nationals

I happened to stumble across The Free Nationals about 2 years ago. I had begun listening to Anderson.Paak which put me on to Mac Miller, BJ the Chicago Kid, and The Free Nationals. There is a Tiny desk concert that made me respect Paak's talent but also his playfulness with the band made me want learn more. I searched them on Spotify and found that they had released a Self-titled album in 2019...which comes after the death of Mac Miller. He makes an appearance on "Time" and makes me tear up. Anyway, I love the fact that they also released an instrumental version of the album. I knew that I wanted to incorporate them on this project, and this track, "Cut Me a Break" features T.I. coming in hot, and honestly, I don't follow T.I.P.'s music so it was dope to hear an up to date verse from him. I have come to respect and admire his distinguished voice which definitely pops with the band's instrumentation. When I was jamming the instrumental, I starting hearing/coming up with magic metaphors. My album (at the moment untitled/nearly completed) is based on alchemy, growth and self improvement, and 32 weeks is another way to play with that motif and set the stage for the album release. Hope you enjoy!

5. Gray Area ft. Mick Jenkins x Kaytranada

Not going to lie to you all, Kaytranada was a fresh one on my radar. I really didn't know about him. In the beginning stages of writing this tape, I was on the hunt for new music, and it slips my mind but there was trajectory that I followed to landed me to find him. I believe the first project I heard was 99.9% . Then I checked out Bubba which made me realize I f***s with Kay's music. I was super excited when I saw that Bubba had an Instrumental Version. Next step was narrowing down which track I would use. This process took longer than expected because as true Kaytranada fans know...each track was hot. There were so many options. I ended up finding myself being moved by Gray Area. I loved the visualizer he had posted YouTube as well. Next thing you know, I began opening up about my parents, more so my dad, and how their passed down the creativity that I now express. I was visiting my mom one day with my wife and kids. She had on her dinning room table old cards/letters from years past. I spotted one that my dad had made/gave to her. It had his handwriting and omg it was very NSFW lol. Not really but it was definitely cringy for an adult son to read about his father's feelings for his mother. However, my mom began sharing stories about them dating, the nicknames, etc. I realized I got my naughty side from them, and my spark to create/write from my dad. I am truly grateful for that info, as it helps me understand who I am, and what I want to do with my life. I spue some serious dope lines in this track. I hope you enjoy!

6. Fake Names x Freddie Gibbs & Madlib

This one was fun to write. I really stretched my brain to make the metaphors work. A friend introduced me to Freddie's music. I believe Pinata was the first song I heard him on. I definitely went through his whole catalog. Much respect to his craft. When selecting Fake Names, i was searching through his more recent works and I had remembered that his collab with Madlib was fire. Those beats are gold. This one just stuck out the most most. Easy flow, to really take time to dig into the bars, low ambience for vocal presence to shine, and the beat switch which signals the end of my verse. I love the beginning lines expressing my goals. 3 main points: acknowledgement as an emcee, obtaining the bag, and completing every project in the works at the moment. Watch me accomplish each goal!

7. Wailin' x Outkast

This track I feel is straight forward. Although, it should be noted that Wailin' is the oldest track/instrumental that I chose for this project. There really is no true reason why, especially since I was aiming to keep tracks more modern...like no earlier than 2010ish. I have always loved Outkast and ATLiens & Aquemini are my favorite 'Kast albums. I have used Liberation on a previous project. I had begun writing the verse a long time ago, but never gotten around to finish it. However once I was in 32Weeks mode, it was easy and fun to complete. My favorite line pays homage to a song on the ATLiens album (not this one in particular) "Don't wanna float face down in the mainstream, I'd rather walk to my destination on my own two feet..". "Mainstream" speaks a lot about how artist end up either selling out, selling their "souls" , or even flopping/dead all for the fame. I don't worry about that. I do aim for recognition of my effort and skills as an artist, the bread for that said effort, and to continue doing what I do. I hope that if you are reading this you can understand and identify with all that I say. Also, as someone who is working hard to make a dream a reality, I hope you know that if you feel the same pain, the torment, or even the struggles of everyday life, I got you. That is precisely the reason I make music, to help the listeners cope with life.

8. Umbrella ft. 21 Savage x Metro Boomin

This one was one that I truly found joy in writing. Metro Boomin's productions are always fire. You will see later that I indulged in his work for this project. I came across the Album Heroes and Villains and really didn't truly understand where Metro was going with this. I knew it was catchy af though because each track had it's own vibe, and audio return value. The 1st two tracks are what really pulled me in. As I was searching for beats for 32weeks, I knew I wanted a Metro track...then I discovered that he released the Hero's version of his album...which the second half had all the instrumentals. It was like he was asking for artists to take a stab at creating their own origin stories/sharing them. Which is exactly what I did. Because I am adapting my own story to his track I decided to tell my story of my younger self; death of father, single mother household, selling substances, getting arrested for selling said substances, growing out of that mindset, and walking into the man that I am today. Needless to say, just like this only the first phase of journey, it is also just the beginning of 32 Weeks. I hope those of you seeing this..today 8/30/23 as I write this, or ten/twenty years later, that you find a gem or glimmer of hope from my heart to yours.

[prosopopeya]

2023 meme!

it's time

1. What did you do in 2023 that you’d never done before?

went to ireland.

got married again to the same person in ireland. (we finally had our originally planned ireland elopement.)

went to physical therapy

went to the gym and lifted weights (unrelated to the physical therapy)

took my husband to the er

saw death cab for cutie and postal service in concert!!

2. Did you keep your New Years’ resolutions and will you make more for next year? i don't like to make those so probably not. and also no.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? no

4. Did anyone close to you die? jon's aunt passed away, which was very sad and sudden. jimmy buffett also died. not close to me but a significant loss.

5. What countries did you visit? ireland! not a country but we visited my aunt and uncle in maryland and had a great time!

6. What would you like to have in 2024 that you lacked in 2023? i would like to get a new job that pays more with better benefits. but we'll see.

7. What date from 2023 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? same date as last year's meme, which is june 9. now it is the date where we got married in ireland. :)

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? working on healing my shoulder pain was pretty significant. also getting 69 bookmarks on a porn-centric fic of mine that's close to my heart. luckily i managed to catch it before it tipped over to 70.

9. What was your biggest failure? quitting going to the gym. i did genuinely enjoy it, but then i got that pinched nerve in my shoulder and the pain was pretty bad. i need to start it up again.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? yes, the pinched nerve in my shoulder. in ireland, i pinched my sciatic nerve and also nearly passed out from heat at the top of blarney castle. had a bad sinus infection when we came back and couldn't hear out of my ears very well for like a week.

11. What was the best thing you bought? the dress i wore to the ireland wedding.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration? various tour guides and people in ireland who made our time there so awesome.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? i mean like most americans.

14. Where did most of your money go? wedding, travel, door dash, hotels. same as last year.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? ireland, obviously. starfield, and then womp womp. heartstopper. death cab and postal service concert! seeing the eras tour by myself in the theater.

16. What song(s) will always remind you of 2023? olivia rodrigo's guts album. noah kahan. the eras tour concert.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you: i. Happier or sadder? the same i think. ii. Older or wiser? both i think iii. Thinner or fatter? i reject this iv. Richer or poorer? richer.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of? talk to people, exercise.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of? ordering door dash. but it's just so easy...

20. How will you be spending Christmas? we went to my mom's house this year. my brother broke up with his girlfriend (a good decision on his part) and she proceeded to start a barrage of threatening texts from different numbers that is continuing to this day.

21. How will you be spending New Year’s Eve? we watched candlenights and then took turns playing music in a joint spotify jam while he played powerwash simulator and i started working on some of my legos.

22. Did you fall in love in 2023? with the game coral island.

23. How many one-night stands? at this moment i have several games that i started and abandoned because something new came out: tears of the kingdom, red dead redemption 2, baldur's gate 3, starfield, octopath traveller 2. and i'm currently installing spiderman 2 to play that. i do want to go back and finish all these games but god. it's so much work.

24. What was your favorite TV program? heartstopper, probably. i feel like i don't really know what tv i watched this year. i did watch a bunch of sister wives to keep up with tiktok conversations, but i would not rank that a favorite.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? i wouldn't say i'm loving where i work right now. my now ex sister in law isn't high on my list of faves but hate is a strong word.

26. What was the best book you read? i did reread the horse girl au again so there's that. i read most of 91 whiskey. i investigated some a/b/o stuff just to give it a shot. i don't know how many actual books i read.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery? noah kahan.

28. What did you want and get? a new ipad, which was nice. powers johns lane, a new fave whiskey. married in ireland. 69 bookmarks. squishmallow. adhd diagnosis and medicine, which is going pretty good.

29. What did you want and not get? an interesting slime rancher 2 update. haunted chocolatier (jk concerned ape take your time).

30. What was your favorite film of this year? i saw everything everywhere all at once which was pretty great. i also saw the eras concert, the barbie movie, dungeons & dragons, the newest puss in boots movie. but there was a bit where i just watched a bunch of gay movies and i might have to give it to this english version of brokeback mountain that i enjoyed: god's own country.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? i mostly sat around and bought myself presents and it was great. i turned 35.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? feeling like writing more often. <- last year's answer is still true.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2023? comfy. comfort. comfortable things.

34. What kept you sane? quitting teaching <- still true. my husband. supernatural, bizarrely.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? i had a real olivia rodrigo moment this year.

36. What political issue stirred you the most? i mean i'd rather not think about any of it bc it all is depressing.

37. Who did you miss? my teacher friends. <- still true

38. Who was the best new person you met? we had a contractor at work who really talked me up and made me feel like i could find another job and get paid better. she was nice.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2023: work to live, etc.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:

Oh, yesterdays are over my shoulder, So I can't look back for too long. There's just too much to see waiting in front of me, and I know that I just can't go wrong with these changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes; nothing remains quite the same. With all of our running and all of our cunning, If we couldn't laugh, we would all go insane

- jimmy buffett, "changes in latitude, changes in attitude"

[pagegirlintraining]

hi you're one of my fav writers 🥹 thank you for your beautiful writing 🧡

can you answer 6 questions abt yourself to get to know you better?

1. fav food?

2. fav animal?

3. fav city/country?

4. singer/band?

5. fav fic (by yourself and sb else)?

6. fav colour?

Hi! :)

That’s so sweet of you to say 🫶🏼 I’ll try my best to answer all of these.

1. My favorite food is probably the Mac’n’Cheese they sell at Wawa, which is a tragedy because I no longer live in the US and we don’t have Wawa on this continent. So if we’re talking favorite food I can actually eat on a regular basis it’s got to be the veggie lasagna a friend of mine gave me the recipe for once.

2. I’m not sure I have a favorite animal actually 🤔 maybe penguins? They used to be the ones I looked forward to seeing most as a kid, when I still went to zoos.

3. Favorite city is New York. The food, the buzzing atmosphere, Central Park, BROADWAY?! I’ll go back there any day. Favorite country goes to Sweden, though I haven’t nearly explored enough of it so far.

4. I’ll start with the easy one: My favorite band, as this year’s Spotify Wrapped can attest to, is a Swedish band called Mares, who sadly already split up before I’d ever even heard of them. (Shoutout to @ishotforthestars for introducing me to who is now my most listened to artist💜). Picking a favorite singer is trickier. Vocally speaking it’s between Omar and Reneé Rapp, but then I love Sabrina Carpenter’s music as a whole a LOT. There’s no way for me to choose. And honestly I’m a bit proud I only mentioned three artists here 😂

5. Once again, I have two favorite fics I love coming back to:

Play my song by @ishotforthestars (eyyy, double tag) will always tug on my heartstrings in the best way possible.

But I also can’t forget Doesn’t everyone belong in the arms of the sacred by @alltoowille. Some of the paragraphs in this one I’ve read aloud multiple times, because the words are simply too beautiful to not sound them out.

As for my own, it might be The Time Of My Life. Then again I tend to get biased in favor of whatever I’m currently working on so 🤷🏻‍♀️

6. Finally a simple answer 😂 it’s forest green.

Thanks for the lovely ask 💜💜💜

[at-thezenith]

If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! Let's get to know the person behind the blog :D

i got three of these asks! so exciting. going to do them all here to avoid clogging up everyone's dash :)

1. i was a gymnast and a swimmer for most of my childhood. what do i have to show for it? stunted growth and amazing shoulders

2. i can speak conversational french but i can read and write far better

3. when i like a song i will play it over and over again without being bored so my spotify wrapped every year is so messy. my song of choice right now is bags by clairo BUT the electric lady studios version

4. i have a massive sweet tooth. i go bonkers for some dessert. apple pie? gone within a second. i am a menace in bakeries

5. i once nearly slipped on a cliff in iceland and died. glad i'm alive but it would have been a very scenic death. and yes i have incorporated it into my work because it's a pretty sick image im ngl

6. im a certified lifeguard and worked as one for the last 5 years, but i've never had to save anyone thankfully

7. i'm half scottish, half syrian. it's a pretty strange mix and i've never met anyone with the same ethnicity as me. culture and being disconnected from it is a big part of my work....wonder why.....

8. my absolute favourite movie of all time is the man from u.n.c.l.e, but i tell people it's the grand budapest hotel because arn*e h*mmer has ruined it for me :(

9. my first ever fandom was for my chemical romance. i will not be sharing my truly deranged antics from that era but i will say that when they announced they were getting back together i did have to take a moment to scream

[phagechildon]

Song of Our Soul - Part 1

Modern Wangxian reincarnation soulmate au where both hear a song in their dreams, a song so familiar yet so foreign. They catch glimpses of each other in their dreams, and hear their voices, but when they wake up, all they remember is the melody and the other’s faint emotions. Angst with a happy ending. TW: mentions of violence, child abuse, abandonment, suicidal thoughts, etc. Will add more One of my many AU ideas XD Decided to upload what I have so far since I’ll be gone most of the weekend. It’s not much, but hope you enjoy~ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |  ----

“Have you listened to it yet?”

“To what?”

“To the top song on Spotify right now!”

The whole classroom was in a buzz, and it wasn’t too hard to guess why. Overnight, an account with only six followers suddenly jumped to over ten thousand after releasing a new hit song. No matter how many times you listened to it, new emotions and memories were evoked and preyed upon.

The most confounding thing of all was that the masterpiece had no name. 

“I heard Chenqing is just some famous artist's side account where they drop their rejected songs.”

“There’s no way they rejected Untitled!”

“Well I heard he’s just a copycat that steals other people’s songs!”

The comment made the only silent one in the room clench his fists, feeling more unsettled by the minute. Unlike everyone else, he knew for a fact that he’s heard that song before. Not on a radio station, the internet, or played live. No. Though it sounded absolutely insane, he’s heard it in his dreams his whole life. It’s the very reason he pursued a career in music while also following in his family’s footsteps, training the country’s special forces in the art of lost martial arts. 

Lan Zhan couldn’t remember when he first started to hear the song, only that it was fairly early on. With that song sometimes came a voice, muffled and far away, but their laugh whistled and stayed. There were times where that voice was muted, the atmosphere gloomy and tense. He felt compelled to call out to them, to ask what was wrong, but the clouds always dissipated, the sun practically shining through. 

A year ago, his dreams started to change. That melody he dare not play for others played fiercer, and the voice he’d hear every now and then started to get more frequent and louder. At one point, both were like a violent maelstrom that raged with no end in sight, that voice’s call to him becoming slurs and grunts of pain. In this dream, Lan Zhan could feel phantom touches of pain, somehow knowing it didn’t even come close to the torture the song of his soul was in. 

“-Zhan, Lan Zhan…” they’d weep quietly. No matter how hard he tried to pursue the one that haunted him, to save him from whatever torment he faced, he’d only manage to find a hand pressed to the ground covered by pure white mist before a strong wind burst forth and sweep them away. 

After many months passed, the voice that called out to him became silent, as if losing faith in the world. Every night he could feel them just behind the thick white fog, see the end of a long red ribbon, and feel how utterly broken they were. Drowned and empty, lost and uncaring. 

While asleep, he knew the other’s name. Upon waking up, the only thing he remembered was the song, the red ribbon, and the crushing weight of the other’s soul nearly snuffed out. 

“... I’m not worth saving.”

The only other person who knew this song was the one from his dreams - the one he desperately wanted to hold close and shield from the world. An absolute absurd idea, considering he hated the thought of physical touch, even an accidental brush in hallways. Something was different about the soul in his dreams though. He didn’t know his name, let alone what he looked like, yet his arms and heart ached the longer he went without the other resting against him. 

After hearing the song around four in the morning, he almost didn’t go to school. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to click and listen in the first place, but when he did, he felt tears fall past his stone cold cheeks. 

While others felt different emotions each time they listened, Lan Zhan only felt one thing: desperation. This was his soul’s last attempt to reach out to the world before it was snuffed out. 

‘I can’t do this anymore. Find me. Please find me.’ 

No amount of research helped him figure out the identity of the artist. The username wasn’t reused anywhere else, however the profile picture, which was a distinct image of a lotus pod, helped him find a barely used Tumblr page after reverse image searching it. 

‘Subian’ was the username, and the only description was ‘there’s music in my soul.’

Browsing through the blog, Lan Zhan did learn a few things. His music loved nature, focusing on large lakes and forests. There were many memes and puns littering his reblogs too, along with funny cat videos and of kids being ‘stupid.’ 

He did find a few clues. There was one post where he ranted about how trashed and disgusting one of the train stations two cities away have been lately. Then another of him holding a large cup of blended coffee with hearts all around it. 

“The spicy mango sriracha coffee is simply delicious!” The caption said, then, he wrote even more in the tags: ‘okay not the best but I like people who dare be adventurous when it comes to spice.’ ‘I’m gonna get spicy ramen after this.’

Upon looking up the mentioned train station, he found at least five coffee shops nearby that like to do odd seasonal drinks such as the one he posted. Next, he looked up ramen shops. Unfortunately, there were far too many to even try to narrow down his music’s location.   

Those were the only clues he had to go on, which is why he forced himself to school, hoping he’d hear someone who knew a little more.

[random-jot]

3. Favourite musical artist / group you started listening to this year? 4. Movie of the year? 9. Best month for you this year?

3. Favourite musical artist / group you started listening to this year?

This year, I can safely say it’s been Shinedown. After previously knowing only two of their songs I saw they were playing Download Festival and dives down the rabbit hole hard, so hard that they became my #1 artist on Spotify wrapped

4. Movie of the year?

I haven’t watched nearly as many movies this year as I usually would but one that definitely stood out as something special is Jordan Peele’s Nope. Absolutely incredible movie which has firmly cemented Jordan Peele as one of my favourite contemporary directors.

9. Best month for you this year?

I think this year it’s gotta be June - I had Download Festival, Slam Dunk Festival and the Hella Mega Tour, all full of great music and great quality time spent with friends, plus finally getting a job that I actually enjoy doing for once, and ending with my birthday (which, okay, technically that was the first day of July, but y’know, it’s close enough, it counts haha)

Close second gotta be August, because of going to Edinburgh Fringe for the first time

Send me End Of Year asks!

[joannaderbot]

MY STORY

(20) Five profound COMMUNICATIONS received from God

During my early days/years of walking with God, I received four interesting vivid visions during the night. Originally, I didn't note the dates of their receipt but later began to pay attention to every detail.

In the first vision, God showed me the Dome of the Rock falling into a large pit (or a pothole) surrounded with dust coming from the fall. At the time I had no idea what I was looking at, but the golden dome and the blue square walls stayed in my memory until I saw this building in one of the video clips. I had to find out what this funny looking structure in Israel is all about.

The second vision was also very unusual. I saw a face and a strong torso of a person. He had beard and thick eyebrows. His chest was huge. Few years later, I saw his close resemblance in one of Akikane Karmarik's paintings that went missing in Australia.

One night I saw a big sign in front of me, each letter was about 30 cm tall. The sign read "WORK IN IRAN". I didn't have to check these words as I knew what they meant. Later on, but around the same period of time, two small writings appeared as well. They were "Janna Derbot - for Chinese People", and "Joanna Derbot - for occultists".

On the 18th June 2018, following my request to God to see Jesus, I received a vivid picture of a man's face with his arms stretched out on the cross. The face was so covered with blood mixed with particles of hair and some black bits that I couldn't recognize or compare it to anyone's face. Yes, it was a scary picture. I woke up to my own loud voice exclaiming, "My Jesus!!". This vision made me realize how much he actually suffered. The way Jesus is presented in churches doesn't show even close the amount of blood that was on him during the crucifixion.

On 30th March 2019 at 4:46 in the morning, I had an out of body experience. It was a one-off. Nothing like this repeated. I saw large lit with bright light sparks in a shape of diamonds falling on me while everything around me was pitch dark blue and I wandered how come these bits have light if there is no electricity connected or any light to be reflected against. I was at owe. Then away but above my head I saw an opening as if the ceiling in my bedroom was a part of Heaven. I then called "Father where are you?" I then began to lift up while my body was still in bed. My knees were blocking me to be fully detached so I had to 'return'. During this experience, I could hear music which few weeks later I found on my Pandora (or Spotify) station. The track played had a title "Yahweh". It was a truly amazing experience!

To date, God gave me over 350 dreams and visions. Some are stronger than others but nearly all of them I was able to interpret. I also learnt the dream language (based on the Bible) and continually provide free interpreter services to my close friends and family members.

All these types of experiences stay very vivid in my memory. My whole life seems like I am living in a dream. GOD IS VERY CLOSE TO ME.

......