#personally i altered my middle name and later found out it was a real name | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inkmemes · 3 years

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this country ( 2017 - 2020 ) sentence starters ↪ taken from the bbc mockumentary. trigger warning for mentions of religion, death, sex. alter as you see fit ♡

“i like the underdog.”

“don't be a fucking dick.”

“everyone comes together on days like today and just forgets their utter hatred of each other.”

“everyone who's anyone's going to be there and there are people from my past that would love to see me slain.”

“there's a tea rooms there and under the counter they've got a panic button and if i take one step inside, they can press that. the police will be there in three minutes.”

"he whatsapped me the other day asking us to go laser quest with him and i ... well, i clicked on it by accident, didn't i? so he knows i've seen it."

"i mean, i get it, but it's not making me feel nothing."

“it's baffling. i'm baffled by the entire situation, if i'm honest.”

“what the actual fuck? what the actual fuck? you have fucking lost your head, mate. you have lost your fucking head.”

“when i get hold of you, i swear to god i will fucking deck you.”

"someone's just been throwing plums at my house. i'm going to kill them. i can't believe it. i can't believe it. all over this. plumming on here, plumming on that. plum on the sofa, look! there's nothing left that hasn't been plummed."

“i've had a target on my back since the day i was born.”

“thank you very much, enjoy your free potatoes.”

“do you know how small your brain is?”

“hogwarts is that way, dumbledore.”

“he used to say i looked like the puppet off the dolmio advert.”

“there's a kid crying over there. do you want me to...? i can tell him to shut the fuck up if you want?”

“he genuinely looked like a moomin.”

“on my first day of karate club, karate master goes to me, [name], i don't know why you're here because i can't teach you anything. if anything, you should be teaching me." and just gave me his black belt.”

“you know that little old blind man? yeah, when i was punching him in his face, the lens from his glasses broke and cut my knuckle.”

“some things are just best left in the past, where they belong.”

“what's the point in knocking if you're just going to walk in anyway?”

“it was a miscarriage of justice though, cos what people forget is 12 out of them 20 hostages actually found it funny.”

“i lied so much i still don't know what's real life and what's plain lies.”

“i'm so glad you're out of that lying phase.”

“he likes to be the only person on the road, so whenever he sees a car coming the other way he just pulls over.”

“nasa went through hundreds of them in the '60s. and now every time i see a really bright star in the sky i can't wish on it, cos in my head i'm thinking, ‘that's probably just a spacecraft with some monkey bones in it.’”

“you absolute traitor. that's my cheese - it's my fucking house!”

“don't you dare eat that cheese. you eat that and i will smash this. i promise you, i will smash you with this.”

“fuck! you switched them!”

“yeah, i can see it's fucking burnt, sherlock.”

“i honestly am ashamed to know him, sometimes.”

“if you knock on someone's door, don't take no for an answer. get into their house. if they say, ‘leave my house’, stay. and if they say, ‘i'm going to call the police’, you walk upstairs and see if there's anybody else upstairs to sell to.”

“she looks like uncle fester.”

“right. i'm going to piss in their flowers, then.”

“you really need to go home. your mum's called the police and everything.”

“you're also fired from being my best mate, by the way.”

“in business, there will always be setbacks. i don't drink my own juice, fray bentos doesn't eat his own pies. but that's business.”

“do you know what, i don't actually want to play this any more, because it is actually very, very boring.”

“i'm ashamed of myself, that's not usually me, so don't get the wrong impression.”

“i genuinely think one of them fancies me as well.”

“it's fate her moving across the street.”

“the problem with finding a girlfriend in the village is that most of the girls you meet round here are old-age pensioners.”

“yeah, i am looking for a relationship, but thing is i've just got so many trust issues, yeah, with being fucked over massive in the past, so no matter how much i get close to someone now i'm thinking in the back of my head, ‘shit, am i going to get fucked over?’ because i've been fucked over in the past massively. my last relationship proper fucked me up.”

“i went through a really dark phase. listening to papa roach and just blowing everything up with them little french bangers.”

“shut up, you don't know what you're talking about!”

“i don't like the man. i know he's my uncle, but i don't like him.”

“it's just malicious lies, that's all it is.”

“i'm not saying i've got a cruel heart, but if she ain't willing to take me as i am rather than the monster i've become, then she can literally just jog on back to sea with all the other fish cos i don't care.”

“what do you look for in a boyfriend?”

“the key to dating, yeah, is the two rs and the three ts. 'respect, rapport, and talking, talking, talking.' don't ever let that ball hit the ground. good relationships are built on great conversation.”

“on a date, you've got to tell them all the interesting stuff about you, because that's what they'll be interested in.”

“he said to me, he goes, ‘you can't smoke on here.’ i said, ‘i'm not smoking, i'm vaping.’ the look on his face when i said that. i don't think he knew what vaping… what a vape is.”

“you would make me the happiest mouse if you say yes and become my spouse.”

“here's a tip, [name], next time you take a chick out on a date, don't bore her to tears.”

“roses are red, violets are blue, i've got five fingers, the third one's for you.”

“get out of my way, pipe cleaner.”

“[name] phoned me the other day at three in the morning saying, ‘come quick,

there's a hedgehog in the garden that looks exactly like grandad.’ so i got up, i got dressed and i ran over to [name]'s as fast as i could and then i just stopped in the middle of the street at three in the morning and thought, ‘what the fuck am i doing with my life?’

“you're joking me? because if you are joking me, that is massively harsh.”

“oh, let me get a song up on youtube. you're going to absolutely love this, [name]. here we go… listen to this. oh, for fuck's sake, advert.”

“let's go down the pub and get shitfaced.”

“where do i see myself in five years? well, me and [name] will have a flat in the middle of the village and all of our furniture will be inflatable and we'll have cable and it will pay for itself, because we're going to use the spare room to breed quails, because their eggs are worth fucking shitloads.”

“is this about the calippo, still? because you offered to buy me that.”

“if he wants to go, good luck to him, i say. i reckon he thinks that i can't live without him, which is a laugh, because he went a whole weekend away once and i got on all right. i just ended up following this cat around the village.”

“i've got to do what's right for me, at the end of the day, instead of worrying about other people.”

“how about you say sorry? sorry for the massive knife that's hanging out the back of my back because of you.”

“oh, and while you're stabbing me in the back, feel free to bend down and kiss my arse.”

“can i just ask you an honest question? why would you want to leave the village when we've got a pub and a shop?”

“i think you don't know how lucky we have it to be doing nothing with our lives, like. we're all going to die, anyway, so what's the point in doing anything?”

“i want ownership of the words fucknut and dickmilk.”

“i had this come through the post. and i've got a few concerns about it. firstly, this guy on the front looks really arrogant. not the sort of guy i was expecting, if i'm honest.”

“this is starting to stress me out a little bit.”

“why are you trying to stress me out? you know i'm already stressed out as it is.”

“the bloke that used to live in there, right, kept hearing strange noises coming out of his attic at night. and he'd go to the fridge and find that food was missing from the fridge. so he thought, ‘i'm just going to go up to the attic and check this out.’ and he found an entire family of peruvian panpipe buskers just living up there. and he thought ‘i'm just going to leave them to it, ‘cos they're not really doing me any harm.’ and then, a few years later, he thought, "well, i'll just go up to the attic to check on them. ‘see if they're all right.’ and it turned out they'd all died of asbestos poisoning. yeah, he doesn't live here any more.”

“some people will always be scared of me, and i can't change that, no matter how nice i am. but there's a balance to be had between being nice and being feared.”

“don't really like catching up. it's not my thing.”

“i just watched this video of this girl doing a random act of kindness on youtube. she basically paid for this old man's shopping at the till. and this old man was, like, about 90 years old. and he's so fucking old, like, you could see through his skin. and he just starts bawling his eyes out. he's like, ‘you're fucking joking me, this ain't fucking real life.’ i just thought... i want to make someone feel like that. ‘cos that's... i really… that's what i want to do.”

“i'm not dead. just can't be arsed to text her sometimes.”

“you know, correct me if i'm wrong, but four texts a day is complete madness. no-one can keep up with that.”

“i am doing kind things selfishly.”

“i was at midnight mass one year, right, someone got tipped off i was there. as i was coming out the church, someone tries to shoot me with a crossbow.”

“well, i haven't seen the film, have i? that's why i came here - to watch the fucking film - like a normal human being.”

“i've made an effort by coming here tonight. i didn't want to come.”

“i had to wheel him here from his house in an asda trolley, cos he was just too heartbroken to move.”

“sometimes you don't know what you got until you ain't got it any more. like blockbuster's. i just took 'em for granted - and then, one day, gone, and you spend ages trying to figure out what went wrong, and then you realise it was your fault all along.”

“i thought you said you wanted to fix things.”

“she wanted it to go that way, and it just wasn't gonna go that way. she even got me thinking that they'd get back together… ..but that's manipula.... manipulative people... do that. and he's better off without her.”

“that wasn't much to write home about.”

“it's fucking dead, isn't it?”

“basically, somebody's been sending me threatening letters, and i don't know who's doing it - and i am concerned, because my peripheral vision is poor, so, if somebody attacks me from the sides or snipes at me from an upstairs window, i am fucked - but my hearing is excellent, see? so i just need to spend a few days inside honing my sonar, and i'll be fine then.”

“if you don't like the work, the circus is in town and they're always looking for clowns.”

“his soul is just going to crumble to dust.”

“this really is not a good situation for me. a physical threat is something that i can deal with, but a sexual thing is not my area of expertise.”

“just really fucked in the head, mate.”

“what have i done? i haven't done anything wrong.”

“do you know how sad that is? that is so, actually, sad. that makes me sad for you, that you can't take a joke.”

“i think i just got a bit carried away with the whole thing.”

“your finger's going up my arsehole, mate.”

“i'll hold the back of your head, so you don't bash yourself.”

“when i lie in future, i don't want a massive lecture on how bad lying is, cos deep down, you're the worst of us all, mate.”

“i'd quite like a coke.”

“it's going to be like gluing a breadstick back together, because… like, as if a breadstick's been in a blender and it's all… ...the pieces smashed up.”

“like, this one time i started a fight club in the village hall, and i got a black eye from beating myself up. but it made my enemies think, ‘fuck, if she can do that to herself, what the fuck can she do to me?’”

“i'm absolutely 1,000% sure i've broken it in two places.”

“i knew this day would come.”

“i should be in tk maxx, getting the bargains that i deserve.”

“unlike you, [name], i'm not a fashion disaster.”

“i'm still warm in my grave, and she's sucking off the pallbearer.”

“you know, it took me ten years to get over [name], and i only went out with her for half a day.”

“i swear to god, if i see him here again, i swear to god, i will have no hesitation in just going up to him and just planting one on his face.”

“right, then keep your nose out of my business, yeah? nosy old cock-womble.”

“[name]’s attitude to me is puzzling. if i walk past her in the street

and say hi, she'll tell me to fuck off. yet every year, she sends me a really sweet, nice christmas card. you know, there's just no consistency there.”

“he's good-looking up close, isn't he?”

“don't show me any weakness, because i will take advantage.”

“no, put the brick down, you fucking psychopath.”

“when i asked him, he just said, ‘come to my office now,’ which means we're in the fucking shit, cos we're always in fucking shit.”

“i shouldn't be paying you at all.”

“i've always had a son. i talk about him all the time.”

“he's my son. he's not my dog.”

“it reminds me of the wicker man. i don't really know why.”

“i just find it weird how you can be so close to someone and they can be such a big part of your life, and then the next minute, you're just sort of strangers in the night.”

“i don't want the emotional implications.”

“well, about five years ago, i sold my birthday to my mum for about 200 quid, which means my mum's legally entitled now to never celebrate my birthday ever again for the rest of my life. not even, like, a happy birthday cup of tea, or a moonpig card, nothing - which is the worst decision i ever made in my entire life.”

“he deserves that anyway, because he's been sexting my nan, so…”

“what's this surprise? cos i need to know whether it's going to be worth this walk.”

“i always see them banners above the motorway, and i always thought, ‘who the fuck does them?’ well, now i know. people like me.”

“did you know you can't get stung by a stinging nettle if you grab the leaf top and bottom, like that? it's only when you touch it on the sides, it stings. agh, actually, that stung, then.”

“pez dispenser, they're cursed. they are, i'm not even joking. honestly, when i had one of them, i had the worst bout of bad luck i ever had in my life.”

“i swear down, it's a short cut. it might be a pleasant walk, we might enjoy it.”

“i'm not scared of the fox twins. i'd just like to sit them down and ask 'em plainly, ‘look, guys, what is going on? ‘cos this has just gotten completely out of hand now. you know, stop walking on your knuckles, stand up straight, be the best version of you that you can be. get a job, even. there's a trolley boy who works at tesco's, you know, who may as well have been raised by wolves. if he can get a job, you guys can walk it.’”

“yes, there has been talk of strange goings-on in the woods, ghost sightings and the like. but… ...they're never from particularly reliable sources.”

“i live with a ghost. there's a ghost in that house. he's like a civil war cavalier, with all the hair and the hat and all that. and every time i walk into the living room, he doffs his cap. and on his shoulder, he's got this crow that barks at me. it means i spend less time in the house, really. not because of him, because he's-he's quite peaceable. but the crow is malevolent. and i'm not having that. i can't share my house with a malevolent bird.”

“that's haunted as fuck.”

“am i going mad here, or does that, to you, look like that's where just ghost will hang out all the time?”

“look at him, little red riding twat.”

“if he's got an attitude with me, i swear to god, i'll just grab the steering wheel and drive us all into a wall.”

“it's a bit annoying, actually. cos this is not the first or the second time i've had to tell you, really, is it?”

“his sparkle has just gone.”

“you know my dad actually wrote the song wonderwall on the back of a beer mat in the space of ten minutes, don't you?”

“i've just got a tiny, tiny, tiny little favour to ask you.”

“when i think of [name], i think of someone who is very loyal. and very, very stupid. sort of more stupid than loyal. sort of 70% stupid, 30% loyal, probably. because she's very loyal. but extremely stupid.”

“do you know what? i actually don't think he loves you at all and i don't think he's ever loved you.”

“all right, that's harsh and unnecessary, but fine.”

“frankly, she is behaving like the antichrist.”

“i literally just got here.”

“you are such an unemotional slab of ham, [name].”

“i've got so much shit on that man you would not believe.”

“there's something in my eye.”

“i just can't quit him, you know?”

“yeah, we might have a fiery relationship, but when we're together, it's just… it's just pure chemistry, isn't it?”

“i'm not proud of it, believe me. but at the end of the day, i'm a very vindictive person, you know? it is what makes me me.”

“i basically went out and bought an alpaca off gumtree for £500. of all the mistakes i've made in my life, that was possibly the largest. definitely the physically largest.”

“yeah, i really don't wanna talk about that.”

“her only loyalty is to herself, staffies, and the tv channel dave… ...which, in my opinion, is a tv channel made by knuckle-draggers for knuckle-draggers.”

“i can't move on till i've seeked revenge, unfortunately.”

“if that was in france, that would be fine, but we're not in france.”

“the only thing we had in common, really, was stealing, and that was more my thing that i got him onto. but it just goes to show, you know, some friendships last and some friendships don't, but that's just the way it is.”

“you know it was me that got you sacked, don't you?”

“the thing i learnt about friendship is, you gotta accept each other's flaws, no matter how toxic they may be.”

“shit-stirring from beyond the grave.”

#rp meme #rp prompt #rp starters #rp sentence meme #rp sentence starters #this is the nichest meme ive made #but this show is so fucking funny okay

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moonbaby26 · 3 years

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Title: What’s in a Name?

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Continuation from last chapter. You and the others are finally homeward bound, flying back to the U.S. from the events in Egypt and Greece. You get to hear a little more about Peter’s eastern European roots while passing time on the plane together.

Warnings: None, just fluff and Peter being Peter.

Notes: I know where some things I’m referencing don’t match the comics. Blend of comic canon and the movie version going on here.

Chapters: Previous Chapter Here

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp , @wintwrsoldiwr , @tommy-braccoli , @amourtentiaa , @cringingmemeries , @bi-panicatthe-disco , @himbos-are-my-lifeblood , @simp4mcuwomen

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

—————————

The morning sun was still low and red on the horizon as you’d stepped back out into the open air of the flight deck. But seagulls were already calling from somewhere up above as men milled around, checking and readying a set of helicopters that you knew would soon be taking you ashore.

You wouldn’t miss this boat itself of course, none of you belonged here after all. But you’d be lying to say it’d been easy to let go of Peter when morning had come. You’d woken up far more tangled than you remembered going to sleep as, chest to chest, his good leg wrapped over you and one of his hands somehow far up the back of your shirt.

The longest part of getting ready had been the procrastination of leaving that bed. After that, it only seemed like minutes before you were all awkwardly standing up here now, waiting on next instructions. It wasn’t as if you’d had anything you could pack after all. Besides that somewhat silly polaroid picture you’d seen Peter carefully stowaway in one pocket of his shorts, you had no possessions to speak of here. Even the shoes they’d given you were some poorly fit military boot. The tops of them scraped against your ankles as you walked and you’d be glad to be rid of them whenever possible.

The Professor and Moira approached after another moment, Moira hurrying a little more as one of the helicopters began to fire up, followed by the other soon after. She had to speak louder over the rising noise of the blades rotating faster and faster.

“Keep these on you!” She called, going to each of you in turn, handing over a U.S. passport with a driver’s license closed separately inside. She only opened them briefly to check that she was matching each to the correct person. “The flight we’ll be taking is just a commercial plane. The government has contracted them and dictated the pickup and landing points, but it’s civilian pilots and flight crew. Normal security still applies, but only those with U.S. citizenship are allowed aboard.”

As she’d gotten to you and Peter, she’d handed both passports to you as you’d had your hand outstretched, and he’d still been holding on to his crutches. You quickly opened one just to see which was yours, so you could pocket only your own. The first one opened was his however, but even in the low light of early sunrise, your brain hitched on something unexpected.

The picture looking back at you was clearly him, albeit a little younger, and with slightly longer hair than the way he wore it currently. But that wasn’t the issue. You reread the name printed in front of you more than once, before glancing up to him as if to confirm.

It said Pietro Django Maximoff.

“Your real name isn’t Peter?” You asked, even over the helicopter noise before you could stop yourself. But the realization was already dawning on you almost before that last word left your mouth that so many people were called one name by friends and family even if their legal name may still be another. You felt a bit stupid then for your reaction, instantly wishing you could take the question back.

But thankfully he only leaned in with a smile, taking his passport and license from you even as he spoke right against your ear. “Define real.” He pocketed them, before continuing. The helicopters were at their full ready now. “But it’s a bit loud here, babe. I’ll tell you all you want to know about my sexy alter ego later, deal?”

—————————

By the time you’d gotten to the airstrip on shore, it was full morning sun now. And just as Moira had said, there was already a large U.S. commercial jet waiting there. You also found out you weren’t alone, as you’d had to join a line of people already waiting to board. They were checking credentials as people moved up one by one onto a mobile stairway that had been rolled up flush with the plane’s open door.

Looking around you, most of the would be passengers still looked like military of various branches though. Army, Navy, Air Force, they still had on their uniforms. But there were others too, likely diplomats being evacuated you thought. Men, women, even a few children as you’d seen the curious eyes peeking out from behind their parents’ legs as you all had also moved through the line.

“It had to be damn stairs,” Peter mumbled as the two of you neared closer to the plane. Without any actual terminal here, boarding straight from the tarmac was the only option.

“If Hank can help carry the Professor up them, wheelchair and all, I’m pretty sure I can handle you.” You responded, only meaning to give him a little grief.

But he just spun things right back on you of course. “Oh, you can handle me any time.”

And when your stare said you didn’t seem to find that quite as funny as he did, he only shrugged, still smiling. “Sorry, you left yourself wide open for that one.”

“I did.” You admitted. “But I still want to hear the story of that driver’s license. And why did you even have one to begin with? Seems a little unecessary.” You said, still moving up every few moments as you neared the bottom of the stairs.

Yet he just kept smirking at you, almost a seeming delight in his eyes then, realizing that you were that curious about it. “Now who’s impatient?” He taunted, just before turning back to flash said documents to one of the workers now checking them.

“Do you have anything to declare?” The woman asked him.

With the way he paused, you knew his brain was churning then to select whatever he would deem the funniest or wittiest response. But as odd of looks as you were all already getting, mostly from Hank and Kurt’s vivid blue skin as usual, it probably would be best not to test the waters any further. You did want to get home after all.

“We don’t,” You answered before he could, relieved when she seemed to want to hurry you all aboard and away from her as much as you did. She handed Peter’s passport back to him, then took your own in quick succession to glance it over as well before seeming satisfied enough as she handed it back to you.

After you were past her, it was the issue of the stairs however. Obviously they expected Peter to just figure it out, but you knew you could lend a hand. The trick was going to be in trying to keep that act of levitation a little more subtle though, still being in mixed company here.

“You should have let me have a little more fun with her,” Peter said, though glancing back with some curiosity as you moved behind him.

“I don’t want to make a scene,” you responded quietly. Really, referring to her just as much as what you were about to attempt. “Pretend you’re going up the stairs anyway. Move a little like you’re walking.”

The person in front of him on the stairs wasn’t looking back, and only more of your friends were directly behind you. With the sidewalls of the stairway also going up about waist high, the people still on the ground couldn’t see the little glow that went around his legs as you willed him to levitate just high enough that his cast didn’t drag the steps as you both continued towards the plane’s door.

“Woah, hey at least give a warning.” He responded, lifting his good leg up enough for it to also miss the now passing steps even as his crutches hit once or twice.”

“I did.” You answered, though still trying to look past him the whole time to make sure no one was looking back from the plane’s doorway. Once you’d gotten nearly to the top, you set him back down to do the last couple steps on his own and enter the plane normally.

Once inside though, the aisle really was too narrow to use his crutches properly. Maybe on a more normal flight more measures would have been taken to assist the disabled, but there sure wasn’t anyone offering anything today.

Kurt was behind you, and offered to take the crutches while Peter put one arm over your shoulders and you both half hobbled, half shimmied awkwardly down the aisle until you reached the first open seating.

Being a larger jet meant for transoceanic travel, there were seats in groups of three on both the left and right side of the plane, but a row of four in the center as well. You ended up in one of the rows of three on the side, letting Peter take the aisle seat to have more room for his leg, while you sat in the middle, and Kurt beside you at the window as he’d laid Peter’s crutches down on the floor underneath the seats.

You finally felt like maybe you could relax a little then, just glancing around a bit. There were some old magazines in the seatback in front of you, but probably not much of anything else any of you could really do now in however many hours it’d take to get stateside. You were pretty sure a passenger jet like this would be a good deal slower than the high tech military one you’d gone to Egypt in.

You were only looking up at the light and air vent controls above your seat next as a sudden movement and curse surprised you as your eyes darted back to the aisle.

“Goddamnit.” A man said.

His soft sided suitcase had just burst open, spilling most of his clothing onto the floor as he then paused to shove it back in as best he could. He struggled with the zipper a moment, but it only slid back and forth uselessly, no longer sealing the bag back. “Cheap ass government issue,” He added, finally just picking up the whole thing and holding it closed against his chest as he walked on.

And that random event would have been nothing more to you, except for the way you saw Peter move his head back then, sucking in a pained breath through his teeth as he gripped the armrest between you.

Kurt noticed too, leaning forward as he asked, “Are you alright, Peter?”

“Yeah, sure,” He grunted.

But as you glanced down to see Peter’s other hand now clutching his broken leg, you also saw a newly materialized pair of sunglasses pressed between his fingertips and the cast. As well as a military jacket now folded messily under his seat.

“That was you.” You spoke abruptly, yet low enough just for the three of you. “You took those out of that man’s suitcase!”

“Well I didn’t think the stupid zipper was going to break when I tried to close it back! He’s right, that was a cheap zipper.” Peter admitted.

“And you hurt yourself trying to get back into the chair didn’t you?” You chided a little more, not quite sure what was worse, the thievery or the recklessness.

“I hit my foot on that damn bracket, and the vibration went through the bone.” He motioned to the metal bracing that bolted the seat in front of him to the floor.

“Thou shalt not steal,” Kurt said, not judgmentally, but just as if this should be an inherent truth as he still looked to Peter with concern.

“Oh man, so I get like twelve hours of flight time to look forward to, trapped next to you two goody two shoes then? Awesome.” He joked back, though already looking back down then at the sunglasses in his hand with a little admiration. They had a mirror finish as he spun them over in his fingers. “And hey, you guys are the ones who burned up my last jacket back in Egypt, remember? I’m not going home empty handed. I’d been wanting one of those army looking deals since we got here. Buzzcut there seemed like he’d have one.”

“Mama look!”

All three of you paused your talk then to see a small boy now standing in the aisle as the movement of people had slowed once more with passengers stopping to put their luggage in the overhead bins. But his mother didn’t seem to be paying him any mind as he continued to point. She was talking to the man in front of her as that man fought with an oversized suitcase.

The boy continued staring though, likely at Kurt. But it wasn’t really a fearful gaze, more excited than anything.

“Guten tag,” Kurt said cheerfully regardless, just waving in return.

And at that the boy’s eyes really went wide. “Sprichst du Deutsch?” The boy stammered a little, yet with the biggest grin.

“Ja, ich komme aus Bayern.” Kurt replied.

And that spontaneous connection over a surprise shared language would have been truly adorable too if Peter wasn’t suddenly leaning right over you to interrupt it.

“Yo, Kurt, ask him if I can borrow some of his markers!” Peter pleaded abruptly.

“What?” You and Kurt both said almost simultaneously.

“The markers, he doesn’t need the whole box. I only need like three colors, tops.” Peter answered, motioning back to the boy. And when still neither you or Kurt seemed to understand this sudden sense of urgency, Peter actually put his hands together like making a little prayer. “You told me you didn’t want me to steal, so I’m trying not to. Come on, at least a red one?”

Kurt really was confused then, but he did lean forward, saying something else in German to the boy.

At that request the boy did look down at the coloring book rolled in one of his hands, and the small pack of markers sticking out of his pocket that evidently Peter had somehow put a target lock on.

But he really did like Kurt apparently as after only a couple moments of thought, the little boy opened the marker box to pull three out.

“Sweet!” Peter said as the child handed over red, black, and blue to him. “I’ll give them back in a bit, right?” Peter added though, smirking at him. “Thanks, little dude.”

And it was all just the oddest thing to you as the boy only happily waved bye to Kurt after, the movement of people starting again as he and his mother continued on to go sit a few rows further back.

“I don’t even know what just happened,” you said after they were gone.

“That was world class negotiating, babe. I mean Kurt literally just smooth talked some colors from a kid with a coloring book in his hand on a twelve hour flight.” Peter responded.

“You are actually going to give them back though aren’t you? You told him you would.” Kurt replied with a little concern.

Peter kind of shrugged, “I mean yeah, I guess so.”

“He’ll give them back,” You added for him. “Or I will.”

“Okay, okay, jeez. Yes, it’s not going to take me hours to do anything. Ever. I’ll have this baby gussied up in no time.” Peter responded, patting his cast gently. “You can’t leave a blank canvas to a guy like me. Especially if I have to stare at this thing for weeks.”

And he was right, you weren’t even in the air yet before he just started doodling away.

————————————

Thankfully the plane only stopped one more time, at an air base in France to pickup more U.S. government evacuees, before at last the wings were over water and you were finally pointed home.

By now Peter’s cast looked more like those advertisements or example sheets on the walls of any tattoo parlor. Yet when you made a comment as such, the sly grin you got in return made you instantly wish you’d thought that through a little better.

“Ah, so you’ve been in a tattoo parlor then?” Oh he was so interested in this topic now. You could see that wolfish look coming into his eyes. “You’ve got some ink somewhere?”

“I don’t.” You’d thought of doing it though, quite a bit actually. But it was such a commitment. You’d probably keep that tidbit to yourself for a while though, lest he try to drag you immediately to a tattoo shop on the drive to D.C.

“I’m not totally sure I believe you.” He answered, though leaning in to whisper in your ear after, “Think you’ll let me check some time?”

The fact that he was still so bold with Kurt literally right beside you, made you wonder if you really should be making sure whatever rental car you ended up with later was just some sort of bucket seat tiny two door thing. If it was a boat like sedan with a full bench back seat, you might actually be in trouble tonight.

“We’ll see,” Is all you answered back though. At least for a moment before you realized now was as good a time as any to flip the conversation back on him.

“So when do I get to hear the Pietro story?” You asked, relaxed into your seat as much as the small space would allow. “Kurt and I have nothing else to do. Let’s hear it.”

“The who?” Peter teased back, just working on giving one of the pin up girls he’d drawn a little better shading.

“Or Django. Either Pietro or Django, they both sound pretty interesting I think.” You replied playfully.

Peter glanced at you, but smiled a little. “You’re just going to be disappointed actually. I was just hyping it up, there’s really nothing to it.”

“Then go on, it’ll be a quick story then.” You still wanted to know more about him of course, and every piece was just another part of the whole picture.

“Django was my grandfather. Mom’s dad back in the old country.” Peter replied, still just finding more and more little details to add to his drawings. “I didn’t really know him. Mom never liked to take us back there much to visit. I mean it makes more sense now of course. She didn’t want my Dad to know where she was. But back then I just figured she thought that place was creepy.”

“What place?” Kurt asked innocently enough. You both were actually equally curious to whatever Peter might say about his family. Like he’d said before, Kurt wasn’t used to having friends his own age. And learning more about each other now was all part of growing those bonds.

“Wundagore Mountain,” Peter replied. “And trust me, as much as it sounds like the newest ride at some amusement park, it’s totally not. I remember being like five and going back there thinking Dracula himself was going to yank me out of that freaking soviet tin can Mom was driving us around in. Wanda still swears she heard voices up there. I mean I don’t know, we stayed with Mom’s aunt one time and she tells us this thing so creatively called Man-Beast was going to come down off the mountain for us if we didn’t behave.”

Peter glanced over to the both of you, further clarifying, “Not like Hank or anything though, it was basically just a werewolf I think. But if it’s a werewolf, call it that you know? What the hell is a Man-Beast? They had so many weird things that could take children. I feel like every story was, oh but don’t do that or Porga will get you. Oops, you talked back to your mother? Guess Tagar is coming tonight. Darn, forgot to brush your teeth? Nice knowing you, kid, Bova’s going to take you to live in the woods forever now.”

You were sort of just staring and listening, but out the corner of your eye you saw Kurt only nodding as if in complete understanding. You would hazard a guess that parts of Bavaria evidently had very similar folklore. Between the two of them, they could likely trade stories like this the whole flight.

But Peter just continued, “But yeah, Django was my gramps, just met him a couple times. And Pietro...well that’s just me. Like I said, nothing special. I was Pietro all the way until Mom started us in kindergarten.” He smirked a little. “Guess she figured the dorky little Jewish kid with the curly brown hair needed all the help he could get fitting in with all the John’s, Mark’s, and Scott’s of the world. And yeah, feel free to tell Summers I said that later.”

So she’d Americanized his name. It wasn’t unheard of with first or second generation immigrants, but still there was something a little sad about that. Yet you smiled softly, that image of the kindergarten age Peter frankly adorable in your mind. “You were a baby brunette?”

“Until the old X-gene flared at 12 or whenever that was yeah,” But he paused, a little surprised, just then realizing what look that was on your face. “Oh stop, you’re picturing it now aren’t you? I was a total dork, don’t do that. Seriously, no! I swear I will never let you find those pictures.”

But you just kept grinning. “No need. I can imagine this forever.”

“Hell, where is Jean?” Peter looked around in a little show of dramatics. “Memory wipe needed on aisle 3, Red.”

It was just too funny though, and honestly it made all the sense in the world. The physical resemblance between Peter and Erik would have been a lot more noticeable had they both still shared similar hair color and texture. Yes, you would bet Peter’s hair had even had that bit of auburn in it too back then.

“But I do have a question,” You spoke then, your tone sincere. “What do you actually want to be called?”

“Sexy?” He answered at once.

But you didn’t let him off the hook that easily, still waiting patiently for the real answer as you just watched him.

Finally he relented, but still seeming a bit non committal. “I mean I’ve heard both for so long, I answer to either. Really, I do. But if the Django comes out though, that’s Defcon 1. It means I’ve done something catastrophically wrong and Mom is about to go full on nuclear on my ass.”

You considered this for a moment, before trying it. “Pietro,” you said, looking for any difference in his expression.

He did grin at you, eyebrows going up a little.

“Peter?” You asked then.

And to that he just continued to smile. “Babe, it’s like you’re trying to pick the name of the new dog.” He raised the pitch of his voice a little, imitating a generic wife you guessed. “Honey, which one does he like better? Did his ears go up at that one?”

“Hey, I’m just trying to figure things out,” you defended. “Guess I’ll just go back to imagining all that curly brown hair now.”

“Noooo.” He whined.

———————————

The three of you had joked and talked for quite a while. But somewhere, maybe about two thirds through the flight, things did quiet back down. Eventually you decided to try and sleep some if you could. You weren’t tired yet, but you knew you would be by the time you landed.

With the difference in timezones, even though you’d left early in the morning Greek time, it would likely only be around lunch time in the U.S. after landing. While you already would have been traveling for almost twelve hours.

It was as if you’d get to repeat the day all over again. You had all that time still ahead of you, including having to convince the Professor to let you drive Peter home.

You closed your eyes for a bit, thinking of all the hypotheticals of what you could say. What you would argue if needed, and what Xavier may say in response. But as you tried to let your thoughts drift further, you realized you’d crossed your arms, little chill bumps on them as you opened your eyes to look up at the air vent above you.

Was it stuck open? You fiddled with it a moment, but felt no difference. Shifting to sit back up a little, you looked at the seatback in front of you again as well, in the pouch there with the old magazines.

“They don’t have any blankets,” Peter said quietly, easily interpreting the reasoning for your search.

You’d thought he’d already been asleep just as Kurt was though. You were surprised as Peter reached out, smoothly laying that jacket over your chest and arms. The one he’d taken earlier.

“See.” He added. “Crime does pay sometimes.”

You gave him a skeptical look still, but the jacket really did make the difference as you leaned back again in the seat, snuggling into it. “Thank you, thief.” You answered softly.

“Any time.” He smiled a little, before reaching down to click the button on the armrest between your seats. He moved the armrest up and out of the way, then running a warm hand under the jacket to find one of your own.

You grasped his hand when they met, intertwining your fingers together.

“Have a nice nap, see you in Jersey.” He said, yet closing his own eyes as well.

“See you in Jersey, Pietro.”

You felt him squeeze your hand more at that, and you couldn’t help but smile.

————————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

#quicksilver #quicksilver x y/n #quicksilver x you #quicksilver xmen #quicksilver x oc #quicksilver x reader #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x oc #peter maximoff x reader #x men fanfiction #xmen fanfiction #xmen fic

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skyeventide · 3 years

Text

my trsb fic has so many notes to the text that they didn’t fit within the ao3 notes’ section character limit lmao, so here is the lengthier version of it. you can consider it a teaser I guess? but either way, I need some place to store these and link them back in the fic.

contents here, cut for length

on the matter of the mother of Gil-Galad

Celebrimbor’s names

shibbolething all over Thauron’s name

actual quotes and canon

On the matter of the mother of Gil-Galad

Meril-i-Turinqi is a Book of Lost Tales character, lady of Tol Eressea, kin of In(g)we but also similar to the Solosimpi, which is to say the Teleri.

The character of "Meril" on the other hand, is a proto-Amarie, Finrod's love interest. In the early draft of Meril's appearance, Finrod is married and is father of Gil-Galad: this draft is obviously discarded and Finrod becomes childless, while Meril transforms into Amarie, who does not join the exile. Gil-Galad is instead transferred to Orodreth, which iirc is Tolkien's last word on the matter (I don't count the Fingon thing as even canon-adjacent, ChrisT was quite clear in admitting the mistake). Now I recall Orodreth is said to be married to a Sinda; why did I discard that? Cause I initally forgot it. Rip to me and Orodreth.

However, what I had was: a proto-Amarie, who is a Vanya, and a BoLT character who is of the family of Ingwe (so a Vanya), but also like the Teleri (so of the third clan, even though not a Sinda). And so Meril-proto-Amarie became Meril-i-Turinqi, wife of Orodreth.

The full headcanon on Meril here would have her as daughter of a Vanya who is kin of Ingwe and of Telerin nobility (or royalty? they're all big on intermarrying between royal families), which fulfills both sides of the coin and also stays true to the statement that Elenwe is the sole full-Vanya to join the exile (I'm gonna assume this excludes any non-royalty followers). Now regarding the parentage of Orodreth, he is here son of Angrod, as I feel that is a better option in almost all respects. This poses some issues with regard to age, as I recall Orodreth-son-of-Angrod and Idril as being named the only two non-adults to do the journey to ME (again... this surely excludes any non-royalty youngsters, but nonetheless). Obviously these issues grow even further if one also includes the matter of Celebrimbor being Aman-born to a wife who doesn't follow Curufin (and therefore the matter of his age at the time of exile), but reconciling these versions is borderline impossible with how the origins of Celebrimbor keep changing throughout the conception of the legendarium.

Long story short, I up the age of Orodreth to be at least old enough to speak softly with Finarfin (here his grandfather) during the flight of the Noldor, but I have him already married though childless. Finduilas is born early into the exile and Gil-Galad is her younger brother.

Meril returns to Aman at the end of the First Age and rules Tol Eressea for the exiles who are stuck there until the Ban is fully lifted.

Celebrimbor's names

FN = father-name, MN = mother-name

I do not claim to have come up with "Tyelperinquar is an epesse", that headcanon, which nonetheless I'm sure happened separately for other people, is one I first read in a fic by Tyelperintal on AO3. That of course means that I could no longer go with the FN Curufinwe MN Tyelperinquar option, and needed another mother-name, which I also borrowed from the same story, and went for Ilvanon, "the perfect". It's pretty, and also speaks of a mix of high expectations and love.

What in this story made me accept the epesse headcanon is the matter of the origin of "T(y)elperinquar" as a name. Vinyar Tengwar (and most recently also NoME) explains how "silver fist" is a name common among the Teleri, famous for their ability to smith silver even among the Noldor, and it is also mentioned how other similar names, such as Tegilbor "calligrapher", are given to people based on their skill. This, however, directly contradicts the fact that elves don't give the same name to more than one person. That statement is problematic in itself (impossible that all elves across all time are aware of all names that ever have been used -- and also of course there's the usual royalty exceptions, that however may well be exceptions because they are royalty), but if it is a common name among the Teleri and we are to keep the duplicate names lore in mind... my only solution is that it's a coveted epesse, given to the very skilled.

Celebrimbor picks it as his chosen and preferred name over FN, already shared by two people and preferred as chosen name by his father, and the potential arrogance of picking his MN with its meaning.

This still led me to problems of both spelling and language choices.

As far as spelling goes, there's several variations. I'm marking with * the one that is not canonically attested, but can be inferred.

Pure Telerin: Telperimpar

Quenya-Telerin compound that maintains the Telerin spelling of silver: Telperinquar

As above, but shortened: Telpinquar

Pure Quenya: *Tyelperinquar

Pure Quenya, shortened: Tyelpinquar

I use all these except the last one at various stages: I decided (though I go back and forth on this) that his household might have used pure Quenya, and his mother sticks to it; the person in Tirion panicks and uses the shortened version Telpinquar, which together with Telperinquar (Telerin spelling maintained) was more common among the Noldor. The Tirion passage exemplifies the uses and applications of these names, how they were given and altered.

This leads me to problems of language and POV, Celebrimbor vs Tyelperinquar. His mother, in her POV, always uses the latter, but Celebrimbor himself uses the former. The true problem here was adapting my feeling that Celebrimbor would be far more used to thinking of himself as Celebrimbor (as opposed to the Quenya name) vs Tolkien's statement that elves do not use names in another language when speaking in X language. This doesn't stay wholly true through the legendarium and the texts, so it's something I've decided to partially ignore when it comes to POV, though I tend to stick to it in first person dialogue. Something that again I try to tackle in the text itself -- when Galadriel tells Celebrimbor which language to speak and which name to use for her.

I am not entirely satisfied with all my choices here and I might revisit them in the future, but for the moment, here we go.

Shibbolething all over Thauron's name

Another language and spelling headache. As I encountered the problem of Sauron, I encountered that of the spelling of his name: the eternal TH/S issue. Were I to have Celebrimbor's mother, and Celebrimbor himself, stick to the Shibboleth? I initially attempted to circumvent this by using Gorthaur, but the issue described just above, about mixing languages, yet again bit me in the ass.

Of course it comes down to characterisation: would Mrs Curufin stick to the Shibboleth, and would Celebrimbor? The matter with Celebrimbor was that I don't believe he spoke Quenya with any real frequency after the Nargothrond business, not as a choice but rather due to circumstances and preferences of those around him. With Ercasse, the conflict is part of the character, and that sadly meant that the TH/S choice became less of a personal choice and more of a political one, as usual.

That got me thinking about the circumstances around her and something interesting came to me: Finarfin spoke Quenya with the Shibboleth, because of the Teleri. And in the Darkening he becomes king in Tirion, and also has to adjust things with the Teleri -- not an easy task, imo, when he turns back only after the pronunciation of the Doom, and not just after the kinslaying occurred. Additionally, the Vanyar spoke preserving TH. Additionally x2, by the Fourth Age, Exilic Quenya (which uses S) is associated with those who rebelled and returned to Aman -- meanwhile any Sindar preserved TH naturally, as it's a sound that never went out of use in Sindarin.

So I chose to take these things and make something of it. If Finarfin maintains TH to keep the Telerin influence; if the Noldor who remain in Aman decide to step closer to the Vanyar in an anti-rebellion reactionary manner and to conform to the speech of the king; if Exilic Quenya gains the lower status of language of the exiles; and considering the canon fact that in later ages the elves are more likely to preserve language rather than change it -- what are our chances that Shibbolething gains opposite connotations as time passes? My conclusion was high chances. So I decided to implement it.

And so Ercasse doesn't have to think about her personal allegiances anymore and has a path built in for herself in these social changes. And Sauron is Thauron. (Unless Galadriel is talking: she doesn't Shibboleth, and uses “Sauron” and “Sindarin”.)

Quotes and canon

Many things I wrote are based on canon snippets. Here I tried to collect them.

On Celebrimbor and the mention of the bath of flames in his speech. It isn't, in fact, a corny lineage reference, but rather a metaphysical or pseudo-physical concept of purification from the Lost Tales:

Yet now the prayers of [their parents] came even to Manwe [the highest Valar], and the Gods had mercy on their unhappy fate, so that those twain Turin and Nienori entered into ... the bath of flame... and so were all their sorrows and stains washed away, and they dwelt as shining Valar among the blessed ones, and now the love of that brother and sister is very fair;

On the naming of Mithril (appears in the upcoming Nature of Middle Earth, as well as already published in Vinyar Tengwar):

[Celebrimbor] was a great silver-smith, and went to Eregion attracted by the rumours of the marvellous metal found in Moria, Moria-silver, to which he gave the name mithril.

On Celebrimbor's ambition and assorted choices, from Letter 131:

In the first we see a sort of second fall or at least ‘error’ of the Elves. There was nothing wrong essentially in their lingering against counsel, still sadly with the mortal lands of their old heroic deeds. But they wanted to have their cake without eating it. They wanted the peace and bliss and perfect memory of ‘The West’, and yet to remain on the ordinary earth where their prestige as the highest people, above wild Elves, dwarves, and Men, was greater than at the bottom of the hierarchy of Valinor. They thus became obsessed with 'fading’, the mode in which the changes of time (the law of the world under the sun) was perceived by them. They became sad, and their art (shall we say) antiquarian, and their efforts all really a kind of embalming – even though they also retained the old motive of their kind, the adornment of earth, and the healing of its hurts. […] But many of me Elves listened to Sauron. He was still fair in that early time, and his motives and those of the Elves seemed to go partly together: the healing of the desolate lands. Sauron found their weak point in suggesting that, helping one another, they could make Western Middle-earth as beautiful as Valinor. It was really a veiled attack on the gods, an incitement to try and make a separate independent paradise.

Legolas and Aragorn and my choice to use the word love:

"[...]Yet whatever is still to do, I hope to have a part in it, for the honour of the folk of the Lonely Mountain." "And I for the folk of the Great Wood," said Legolas, "and for the love of the Lord of the White Tree [Aragorn]."

Celebrimbor and the Elessar. It must be noted that this Celebrimbor is not Celebrimbor son of Curufin, but I still liked the tidbit of lore. From there my choice to have three different Elessar stones, one made by Feanor, one by Enerdhil of Gondolin, one by Celebrimbor (in the fic redressed to Celebrimbor son of Curufin, and without the romantic love for Galadriel):

But he did not say to Galadriel that he himself was of Gondolin long ago. Therefore he took thought, and began a long delicate labour, and so for Galadriel he made the greatest of his works (save the Three Rings only).And it is said that more subtle and clear was the green gem that he made than that of Enerdhil, but yet its light had less power. For whereas that of Enerdhil was lit by the Sun in its youth, already many years had passed ere Celebrimbor began his work, and nowhere in Middle-earth was the light as clear as it had been, for though Morgoth had been thrust out into the Void and could not enter again, his far shadow lay upon it.Radiant nonetheless was the Elessar of Celebrimbor; and he set it within a great brooch of silver in the likeness of an eagle rising upon outspread wings.

On the vale and the stream where Formenos is located, I utilised this passage from Lost Tales:

[...] here the entire people of the Noldoli are ordered to leave Kor for the rugged dale northwards where the stream Híri plunged underground, and the command to do so seems to have been less a punishment meted out to them by Manwe than a pre-caution and a safeguard. In connection with the place of the banishment of the Noldoli, here called Sirnúmen ('Western Stream') [...]

Relevant LotR quotes about the Eregion passages, used for soil description extrapolations and other elements:

Suddenly Gimli, who had pressed on ahead, called back to them. He was standing on a knoll and pointing to the right. Hurrying up they saw below them a deep and narrow channel. It was empty and silent, and hardly a trickle of water flowed among the brown and redstained stones of its bed; but on the near side there was a path, much broken and decayed, that wound its way among the ruined walls and paving-stones of an ancient highroad. ‘Ah! Here it is at last!’ said Gandalf. ‘This is where the stream ran: Sirannon, the Gate-stream, they used to call it. But what has happened to the water, I cannot guess; it used to be swift and noisy. Come! We must hurry on. We are late.’ [...] "...there is a wholesome air about Hollin. Much evil must befall a country before it wholly forgets the elves, if once they dwelt there." "That is true", said Legolas. "But the Elves of this land were of a race strange to us of the silvan folk, and the trees and the grass do not now remember them: Only I hear the stones lament them: deep they delved us, fair they wrought us, high they builded us; but they are gone. They are gone. They sought the Havens long ago."

More TBA if anything comes to mind.

#writing stuff #trsb21

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familyagrestefanblog · 4 years

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Ml analysis: Native American miracle box

While is it obvious that the new miracle box is of native American origin I still went to do some research on it to see if I can narrow it down to a certain tribe and find more connections hidden in the lore.

So not to waste any time, here is my result:

The native American miracle box is in possession of the Souix Lakota tribe. Just like with the Ml Tibetan guardian monks represent not only 1 but 4 groups, the native American Miraculous tribe is a combination of the Lakota, Dakota and Nakota and where we can safely say that the monks will primarily lean towards the Tibet representation, I would say here we will primarily lean towards the Lakota. Therefore, I will call the native America Miraculous tribe Lakota but know that the other two tribes are included in this as well.

So a dead giveaway for the identity of the ml Tribe is Jessicas Shirt. In general Jessica has the hairstyle, the physical features and the accessories typical for representing an “Indian” character and her shirt is a direct confirmation of that heritage.

On her shirt is an obvious reference to the Lakota flag which pretty much tells us that this is the Tribe we are dealing with. Nice, why cant it always be this easy?

Under the cut I cover three more points to go into more detail, read more if you’re interested ^^

1. The medicine wheel

I must give it to miraculous, using the medicine wheel for the upper layer of the miracle box is one genius move imo.

The Medicine Wheel is a sacred symbol and way of life used by the indigenous Plains tribes to represent all knowledge of the universe. Unfortunately, I don’t have enough time to really get into its teaching and living ways to be comfortable explaining its practice in more details, so in this part I want to cover only what has been directly acknowledged by Thomas Astruc. And that would be the animals (duh, obviously) and the elements.

The first thing I had to learn the hard way in this research is that there is not one "true" way for this symbol to be arranged. The way its used, what animal belongs to which color or element and even what KIND of animal is in it can vary STRONGLY from location to location.

So I accepted that the arrangement can not be pinpointed down to perfect accuracy through research. We were already given all the animals and colors, now all I can really do here is present to you a possible variation of the miraculous arrangement I put together after looking up and trying to understand the differences between the real life ones to continue from here on.

There are only two animals we know for sure the connected color of: The eagle, Jessicas miraculous of freedom and the Thunderbird. In his tweets Thomas mentioned the elements so I decided to include them in the arrangement, how or if they will be incorporated into the show I can not tell you though. But still I wanted the elements in here as well ^^

As already said, the eagle is red and the thunderbird is in the green center. As you can see I put the bear to black, the Wolf to yellow and the Buffalo to white. Those seemed to me the most likely combinations and even if they don’t end up right, it wont do harm to any of this.

Buffalo: white and air because the Lakota have a white Buffalo woman legend where air was one of the main elements she controled and used.

Wolf: yellow and fire. Fire because in Lakota legends the wolf/ coyote is a very unpredictable animal. He's both a trickster and a hero, not always moraly sound but always clever. It's a dangerous but strong and lively nature that I do think the show could represent with the fire element. Yellow is one of the two cases where I was left with this option by default.

Bear: I choose black and water because that's a combination I have seen the most

Eagle: I already know Red and choose earth in combination. At first I thought about putting fire in this place because of its normal association with red but in the end choose earth because I think it's the element that fits the best to Jessica.

But the reason why I decided to include the elements is because of the green thunderbird in the middle. Because where the other 4 animals are connected with the 4 elements, the thunderbird would here represent inner balance and harmony. Of course this isn't it's power, but the layout makes it quite obvious that the thunderbird is the equivalent of the ladybugs and cats yin-yang. My assumption right now is that this is how the show will cover the different types of "balance" although the world cultures it incorporates, but let me come back to this one another time.

2. more cultural references and meanings

The thunderbird represents the most powerful one of this miracle box because the thunderbird is the one animal that is present in every Souix Lakota tribe and holds an enormous cultural and spiritual significance. It is a mythological bird and is associated with several legends starting from controlling the storms, lightnings and thunder to being the protector of the humans and even being a helper of the creation of reality (Reality in Ml are the LB and Cat hence why its place in the middle of the box is well deserved) It only makes sense that it would be chosen for this and I know it may seem cliché but please hear me out, which is why im convinced this is the miraculous of the chiefs.

A couple of details do support this for me but please remember I'm not exposed to alot of native American cultures I'll do my best to get things right but if I do interpret something(s) wrong feel free to correct me.

For one, well, the symbol. While looking up the clothing for a later point I did see a symbol like this on some of the feather headdresses.

Definitely not on all of them, I couldn't figure out if there is a system behind the pattern usage or tied to a distinct area but I do know that it is THERE and not exactly rarely either. Noticeably it isn't a 1 to 1 fit but that is an all time returning thing in miraculous. Real life and historical things like this have to be slightly altered for the show to be able to incorporate them. A great example for this is the old English flag in "Darkblade".

So at this point I'm used to this pattern, so yeah, this could very likely be a symbol they took inspiration from.

The second reason why I think it it's the miraculous of the chiefs is because the piece with the symbol on it looks like one of these

In combination with the feather on it. The feather headdress is also called a war bonnet and was originally only worn in battles and only by the person who has truly earned that honor. Each feather represents a distinct honor earned in battle which is why we see feather headdresses in such different lengths. How this translates perfectly into a miraculous I think is obvious. The headdress is a symbol of true leadership and worthiness of such a status, hence why it were especially the chiefs to earn such impressive ones. Turning it into a miraculous wouldn't change too much about it since such a powerful miraculous is an honor and duty you have to be worthy of as well. Them being originally used only for battles is a perfect fit too, because so are the miraculous.

Then of course once again, the thunderbird.

The thunderbird being the great mythical protector animal of these tribes makes it naturally a perfect fit for the miraculous animal of the great chiefs. The chiefs were not only the leaders they also were the primary warrior in battles which is seen by the war bonnets. Having the Thunderbird be the miraculous of the chiefs highlights their status as the tribes protector in such a genuine way, I personally really really love it.

As the last point of 2. I want to bring up the outside top of the Miracle box and the way its designed. While looking through the clothing symbols and pattern I did notice some that looked similar to the ones on the box. I deliberately tried to find a more recent example of usage because in the end of the day Miraculous is a show for TODAY so if the show used patterns for example that may not have been used in the past but are now associated with the Lakota that’s still valid. So the possible matches for design inspiration I found stem from a picture of chief Arvol Lookinghorse who holds the responsibility of spiritual leader among the Lakota, Dakota and Nakota People to this day.

3. Their location and monuments

Researching the lakota made me think of where this guardian group has its roots, which made me remember something I found on my guardian mountain - mount kailash theory a while ago (I swear right now everything comes back to that theory). In it I showed you the monuments-line around the world always separated by a length of 6666km between each other (basically the height of Mount Kailash) and while I didn't mention it there, there is also one of those "mythical" monuments in the USA.

The bears lodge butte (in Wyoming)

I mean LOOK at this, that is out of this world and breath-taking in every sense of the word! That is a location of a miraculous guardianship if I had ever seen one. Also known under the (sadly) much more well known name of "Devils tower" but this will be the one and only time you will read of me calling it like that. The fact that this butte is still officially called by this disrespectful and bastardized white peoples name is a freaking insult. I'm calling it the bears lodge as this was its original english name.

The bears lodge is not just a monument in the USA it is the VERY FIRST official monument (1906) and the location of the butte also checks out perfectly with the areas the Lakota settled in real life. I couldn’t get the exact scale but I think you will still understand just fine.

Adding to the Bears Lodge butte I also wanna bring up the "other" medicine wheel. Which is, just like Bears lodge, located in Wyoming.

As we know the rest of the native American miracle box is made of the zodiac signs just like in our normal miracle box. Confirmed not only on Twitter but also in the very intro of the New York special.

But the same way the miracle box is similar to ours the Medicine wheel as monument reminded me of something as well. Of course I'm talking about the ritual circle in the Kwami "dimension" of the box seen in “Sandboy”.

And just like the native American monument it is also of "astronomical" nature. Taking a closer look at the Chinese Kwami circle one can see that the outer ring is made of specific places for each Kwami signified with a picture of their "animal".

And in the inner circle is obviously the moon circulation.

Meaning, put very simple, this is a design specifically meant to represent the Chinese calendar and culture this miracle box is based on. Therefor this should also exist for the native american one. My guess Is that for all the boxes/cultures Miraculous is gonna include they will also have an “ritual circle” equivalents for each based on all the different kinds of stone circle monuments around the world, including the medicine wheel of the Lakota.

But not only was the medicine wheel monument used for astronomical purposes, with it the people wanted to give things back to mother nature. They placed things right in the middle of the wheel under the stones so nature could take it back "spiritually" (for a lack of a better word on my part) through their rituals and chants. Which is something once again similar to what we see with the Kwamis.

First if all, when the Kwamis (who are the embodiments of the abstract concepts reality is made of) enter their "dimension" in the miracle box the guardian symbol opens right at the center point, letting them cross the layers of reality.

Second, the Kwamis are obviously able to take material objects with them to the in-between dimension. Supporting and verifying the Lakota’s ritual because at the very least in the ML world its actually true. And thirdly, when the Kwamis try to reach Nooroo they chant as well and once again the collected energy is combined in the middle to cross the layers of reality. Gabriel is transformed though so he, as Hawkmoth, is able to almost take over the connection and therefore the miracle box if the Kwamis hadn’t blocked him.

This shows that the spiritual dimension layers are interactive from both sides under certain circumstances. A normal human being wouldn’t be able to cross the layers and take control like this but the more a person is involved with/ powered up by the miraculous the more power they hold interdimensional. Which is the idea of a ritual to reach the spiritual side of nature brought to a new 11 as TV shows usually do.

4. The design of the guardian.

I'm definitely not the right person to properly judge this in depth therefore I will just showcase my opinion based on the research.

The way I see it for the guardians design they tried to combine the guardian "look" with the native American one.

The pants, staff and robe-like upper part are obviously influenced by the guardian we already saw through Fu's flashbacks, whereas the colors, the hairstyle and shoes (etc) are kept more Lakota-like. Though, as far as my opinion counts in this, the much darker skin and the eyebrows in comparison to Jessica does make me question if he is supposed to represent the same native American tribes as her. His bushy eyebrows are a physical characteristic I recognize in rarely any real life photos and neither did I notice such a noticeable difference in skin color.

Jessica and the guardian simply do not really look like they are of the same heritage to me, but again, who am I to say this isn't a legit representation? Besides that, it makes alot more sense that this guardian wasn't lost for almost 200 years like the ones in Tibet, so it is a fair option to consider that this black guardian may not be of "original Lakota heritage" but he is simply a worthy man born in this area of the USA (who knows in what year considering the guardians life spans) who was chosen and trained for the guardianship simply because he was the right fit for it just like Marinette.

I think it's only fair to consider that option as well, especially since we have NO official background on him. But that's just my opinion.

And as the last thing I want to bring up is the symbol on his robe because this is something I'm going to need help with.

We can hardly see it and I've tried my best to find something in my research but I just couldn't find anything fitting.

If anybody has the means and knows if this is a cultural reference as well, I would appreciate it if this knowledge could be shared here as well. I really would love to know ^^

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #ml spoilers #ml theory #ml new york special #ml new york spoilers #Native american miraculous #Lakota tribe in Ml #ml sugar #Miraculous world #Miracle box #ml sandboy #thomas astruc tweet #guardians of the miraculous #Jessica Keynes

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theeverlastingshade · 3 years

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Favorite Albums of the 10s

25. Shaking the Habitual- The Knife

The Knife made a name for themselves with their third and most celebrated LP, Silent Shout, but it’s their fourth LP, StH, that pushed their idiosyncratic blend of electroacoustic synth-pop to the furthest, most far-flung places that they’ve gone yet. The record deals with a diverse range of topics from the surveillance state, to fracking, pollution, gender discrimination, and unchecked greed with colorful, ketamine-fused candy cotton synth work and ritualistic percussion. There are long passages of ambience like the menacing build of “A Cherry on Top” dispersed between roaring apocalyptic dance numbers like the astonishing industrial eruption “Full of Fire” and the electro-acoustic freak out “Without You My Life Would Be Boring”. With the exception of the mid-album ambient epic “Old Dreams Waiting to Be Realized” every song on StH justifies its length with consistently engrossing arrangements that sustain their momentum without compromising an ounce of their potency. Everything about the record lives up to its title, from its thematic ambitions, to the breadth of the sonics, pacing, and performances themselves. StH if the full manifestation of the darkness that was lurking beneath the surface of their music from as early as their breakout single “Heartbeats”, but thankfully the music never collapses under the weight of their thematic concerns. Their resilience remains inspiring all these years later, and if Karin and Olof never reunite for a fifth LP we couldn’t have asked for a better send off.

Essentials: “Full of Fire”, “A Tooth for an Eye”, “A Cherry on Top”

24. XXX- Danny Brown

Hip-hop grew to remarkable heights throughout the 10s, and yet there were few rappers that displayed the level of growth and consistency from record to record throughout this past decade quite like Danny Brown. The Detroit native spent the aughts hustling the mixtape circuit, finally catching a spark with 2010’s The Hybrid, his strong debut LP. But a year later Brown returned with his sophomore LP and magnum opus XXX, a twisted rap odyssey that ignited the blogs, and signaled that a new era of hip hop was beginning to emerge. XXX found Brown rapping over an assortment of wonky boom-bap instrumentals courtesy of Bruiser Brigade producer Skywalker that fused classic hip-hop, trap, baroque pop, and techno into shapes far more disorienting than the beats that the vast majority of his contemporaries were rapping over. While it was evident beforehand, XXX really cemented the notion that Brown could rap over anything. The beats here are generally extremely impressive, and there are plenty of singular stylistic touches like the slurring violin stabs of “Lie 4”, the menacing synth lurch of “Monopoly”, or the distorted brass loops of closer “30”, that really stand out, but the appeal is first and foremost Brown’s rapping. His voice alone is one of the most versatile and unpredictable instruments in hip-hop, but aside from his masterful vocal alteration, always perfectly synched to the tone of any given moment on any given song of his, he’s a naturally gifted writer, as thoughtful as he is straight up hilarious. Whether bragging about his destructive lifestyle (“Die Like a Rockstar”), describing how much he loves cunnilingus “I Will”, mourning the desolation around him “Party All the Time”, or reveling in his come-up “30”, Brown is a thoroughly engaging presence throughout the entire album. On XXX profanity and profundity march gleefully hand in hand with one another, casting Brown as one of the last decade’s most singular voices.

Essentials: “Die Like a Rockstar”, “Monopoly”, “30”

23. House of Sugar- Alex G

On Alex G’s latest LP, House of Sugar, his concoction of warm guitar pop and warped electronic production reached a new peak. The songs on HoS detail the misdeeds of various characters succumbing to their greed, and the vignettes that he paints are growing increasingly well-realized thanks to a continuously sharpening songwriting voice and a plethora of tasteful pitch-shifted vocals that help imbue his characters with color and personality. HoS opener “Walk Away” provides a reasonably sonic barometer for what’s to come before dropping us into a series of the most immediate pop songs that he’s ever penned. “Hope” and “Southern Sky” are nimble acoustic guitar pop songs that are almost disarming in their immediacy, and framed around references to the real life death of a friend of his due to opioids and a dream he had, respectively. By the time we reach acoustic guitar and sitar-drone of “Taking” the pitch-shifted vocals are at the forefront of the music and HoS shifts gears into its abstract middle section which owes a lot to the new-age beat deconstruction of avant-garde electronic producers, specifically Oneohtrix Point Never. On the instrumental “Sugar”, a sublime concoction of pitch-warped whispers, dissonant strings arpeggios, and creeping acoustic guitar plucks, HoS reaches the depths of its depravity. The next song, “In My Arms”, leads us to the suite of sublime acoustic reveries that close HoS, arguably peaking with the gorgeous acoustic love ballad “Cow”. The dramatic sonic left-turn that HoS takes midway through may leave some new listeners a little cold, but for most Alex G fans nothing about the eclecticism of HoS should come as a surprise. Nor should the overwhelming quality of the songs here. From Alex G’s debut, Race, in 2010 up through HoS, he released a remarkable catalog of some of the most eclectic, and vital indie rock of the century, and I have no reason to believe he won’t top HoS at some point.

Essentials: “Gretel”, “Sugar”, “Walk Away”

22. Sea When Absent- A Sunny Day in Glasgow

A Sunny Day in Glasgow may be one of the 21st century’s most underrated bands, but not even Pitchfork could resist the coveted BNM tag when it came time to review their fourth and strongest LP, Sea When Absent. Building off of their first three idiosyncratic LPs that superbly fused electronic pop with shoegaze and dream pop, A Sunny Day in Glasgow moved into decidedly more psychedelic territory with their fourth LP while still retaining the sharp melodic sensibility of those first three. Much of the shift is easy to credit to vocalist Jen Goma who joined the group on their third LP, Autumn Again, and here her soaring vocals deliver rich melodies that are more fleshed out and focused than anything on their past releases. SWA sidesteps the kaleidoscopic sprawl of their 22 song sophomore LP, Ashes Grammar, and instead delivers 11 tight, stargazing pop songs. Whereas on the prior records it more often than not felt like the band were throwing ideas at the wall to see what stuck (with primarily successful results) on SWA the band commit more thoroughly to their ideas, writing songs that are well within their wheelhouse but have never been so well-realized. “Byebye, Big Ocean (The End)” and “Boys Turn Into Girls (Initiation Rites)” erupt with a wall of dazzling distorted guitars that slowly build into engrossing melodic payoffs while “Never Nothing (It’s Alright (It’s Ok))” and “The Body, It Bends” are sublime, soft spoken breathers that put a premium on texture and melody, and are among A Sunny Day in Glasgow’s most impressive songs yet. Even seemingly inconsequential moments like the “Double Dutch” interlude positively radiant with melodic warmth and joyous energy. Their strain of sun-kissed, jubilant dream pop tonally stands in stark contrast to much of the pop that’s dominated the airwaves this past decade, but their temperament doesn’t sound naïve so much as defiant. They have yet to follow up SWA with another LP, and I can’t blame them if they feel like they’ve said everything that they have to say with SWA.

Essentials: “The Body, It Bends”, “Never Nothing (It’s Alright (It’s Ok))”, “Boys Turn Into Girls (Initiation Rites)”

21. Strange Mercy- St. Vincent

Annie Clark has spent the past decade releasing music under her St. Vincent moniker, collaborating with the likes of David Byrne, producing for Sleater-Kinney, and appearing on the sketch comedy Portlandia. Although she began her solo career in earnest with her strong 2008 debut, Marry Me, in 2011 Clark released Strange Mercy, her third, and strongest record to date. Produced by John Congleton, SM is a compelling fusion of art rock/and chamber pop that often lands with a jarring, visceral impact, but is still imbued with a sense of grace that heightens the sentiments of her bewitching songwriting. Her first two records showcased her singular voice and tastefully, ornate baroque arrangements, but on SM Clark begins to let loose and lean into her virtuosic guitar playing. Songs like “Cruel” and “Northern Light” are propelled by her nimble riffs caked in distortion while strings rise and fall in a satisfying sweep all around her triumphant vocals. “Surgeon” brings the pace down to a crawl and gets a tone of mileage out of sensuous synth arrangements as Clark sings softly of depression and carnal desire “Stay in just to get along/Turn off the TV, wade in bed/A blue and a red/A little something to get along” before the song erupts into a furious storm of guitar distortion. The balance between fury and serenity animate the record from start to finish, and Clark seamlessly toggles these impulses from start to finish. On the title track, over a lumbering tom/kick drum rhythm, the incessant ping of a synth, and bluesy guitar licks Clark brilliantly sums up the record’s theme with a scene of police brutality “If I ever meet that dirty policeman that roughed you up/No, I, I don’t know what” that depicts the contraction inherent in the way justice is carried out by police in the west, and the way those contradictions bleed through to our understanding of morality on the whole. SM is a record full of these sorts of messy contradictions, and the music constantly reflected that perpetual sense of disarray with songs as colorful and chaotic as they were controlled.

Essentials: “Northern Lights”, “Surgeon”, “Strange Mercy”

20. A Moon Shaped Pool- Radiohead

Radiohead’s eighth LP, 2011’s solid but unremarkable King of Limbs seemed to cement the notion that while Radiohead may not have another game changer left in them, they were probably weren’t ever going to make a bad record. And with all of their various solo pursuits it seemed plausible that we may never get another Radiohead record, as underwhelming as capping off a career as thrilling as theirs with KoL would have been. Thankfully things didn’t pan out that way, and in 2016 Radiohead released their ninth LP, A Moon Shaped Pool; the platonic ideal of a master stroke from a legacy act. The album is partially composed of older songs re-worked into new forms, such as the tense string onslaught of opener “Burn the Witch” while a few of the newer songs like the gorgeous, ambient “Daydreaming” are string-laden compositions that are as eerie as they are radiant. For a band that’s been prophesizing the increasingly dismal state of the world that we now find ourselves in for the past several decades, they sound increasingly comfortable with their position in the world, and there’s no question that they’re in full command of their craft here. The production is sublime throughout the entire record, with a sense of encroaching doom bubbling just beneath the surface juxtaposed against rich baroque instrumentation. AMSP is the Radiohead album most informed by Johnny Greenwood’s work scoring films like There Will Be Blood and Phantom Thread, and as a result there’s a remarkable sense of immersion at work even for a Radiohead album.

So while there are some recognizable forms from records past, such as the brass-lead krautrock strut of “Ful Stop”, or the twitchy IDM drum work of “Identikit”, the spectral production heightens the potency of everything here. The compositions on AMSP are the most elegant, and nuanced of Radiohead’s to date, and Yorke’s voice continues to age superbly. Yorke’s lyrics touch on familiar topics, more relevant now than ever, such as climate change on “The Numbers” “The numbers don’t decide/The system is a lie/A river running dry/The wings of butterflies” the dangers of unchecked authority on “Burn the Witch” “Abandon all reason/Avoid all contact/Do not react/Shoot the messengers/This is a low-flying panic attack” and the broader, horrific realities of the world that we live in on “Ful Stop” “Why should I be good if you’re not?/This is a foul tasting medicine/A foul tasting medicine/To be trapped in your ful-stop”. What’s more unexpected are songs like the graceful string-led “Glass Eyes” and the devastating ambient closer “True Love Waits”, two songs that are poignant tributes to Yorke’s ex-wife, Rachel Owen, who passed away from cancer in late 2016. AMSP isn’t just a spectacular late-career gem that would make a superb swan song; it’s also the most human record that Radiohead have made yet.

Essentials: “True Love Waits”, “Daydreaming”, “Ful Stop”

19. Eye Contact- Gang Gang Dance

Few bands set the tone for the kind of cross-culture hybridization that would become the sonic norm for music throughout this decade quite like Gang Gang Dance. Throughout the early aughts they cut their teeth in the Brooklyn noise scene alongside bands like Animal Collective, Black Dice, and Exceptor blending noise, experimental rock, and worldbeat into blistering, unconventional shapes. As the years progressed Gang Gang Dance gradually began to open up their sound, folding elements of hip-hop, dance music, and psychedelic pop into a colorful concoction of rhythmically robust, delightfully manic pop music that was just as forward-thinking as it was infectious. The shift really began on their criminally underrated 2005 LP, God’s Money, but began notably on their terrific 2008 LP, Saint Dymphna. On the follow-up to SD, their remarkable fifth LP, Eye Contact, the sound of Gang Gang Dance crystallized into something more immediate and far-ranging than anything that they had done prior (or since so far). On EC, everything that the band had attempted throughout the course of their career (tribal rhythms, eastern melodies, shards of refracted noise) was gloriously combined into a hyper-saturated tapestry of progressive future pop. EC is the peak of Gang Gang Dance’s prior decade of sonic exploration, and nearly a decade later there’s still nothing that sounds anything like it.

Beginning with the astonishing slow-burn intro of “Glass Jar” that finds the band patiently building up what begins as a pent up ambient composition toward something more volatile that eventually rips open midway through, spilling into a calamitous, euphoric release into the song’s second half, EC is bursting with joyous energy and possibility. The melodies are some of the sharpest, and most direct that vocalist Lizzi Bougatsos has ever penned, providing a warm immediacy that cuts through even the most outre arrangements here, and they continually expand into shapes as the songs continue to progress. “Adult Goth” and “MindKilla” are bolstered considerably by Lizzi’s dynamic vocal performances, and the off-kilter, spellbinding synth arrangements of the band’s keyboardist Brian DeGraw, while “Romance Layers” provides an ideal mid-album psychedelic breather.. And on the album’s closer, “Thru and Thru”, the band deliver a send-off that succinctly sums up a prior decade’s worth of experimentation into a nearly six-minute song overflowing with eastern melodies, mesmerizing chants, and infectious tribal rhythms that congeal into a sound that couldn’t possibly be mistaken for anyone else. Although they’ve only graced us with the somewhat underwhelming 2018 record Kazuashita since, when Gang Gang Dance are firing on all cylinders, as they are on all of EC, there’s simply nothing like it.

Essentials: “Glass Jar”, “Adult Goth”, “Thru and Thru”

18. Shields- Grizzly Bear

Although the zeitgeist was already beginning to dramatically shift by the time that Grizzly Bear released their fourth LP, Shields, guaranteeing that it wouldn’t have the same immediate impact that they enjoyed with its predecessor, their 2009 breakout LP, Veckatimest, they still ended up releasing their magnum opus. Compared to Veckatimest’s approachable folk-pop leanings there are moments on Shields that sound downright prog, but the band never let these intricate baroque pop/psychedelic folk arrangements get away from themselves or compromise the remarkable melodic instincts that were undeniable on their terrific sophomore LP, Yellow House. The ten songs throughout Shields are perfectly paced, and there isn’t a single moment that overstays its welcome, but they each develop just as much as they need to. The band’s primary songwriters, Edward Droste and Daniel Rossen, were each peaking as singular songwriters in their own respective rights on Shields, and they both deliver a handful of the band’s strongest songs to date. Droste’s songs tend to creep in ethereal waltzes with delicate baroque instrumentation (“gun-shy”, “A Simple Answer”) unfolding patiently while sustaining a remarkable sense of tension while Rossen’s are jaunty folk rippers that unfurl in unpredictable, and thrilling cacophonies that still retain the grace that the ornate instrumentation demands (“Yet Again”, “Speak in Rounds”) but unfurl in far more complex structures than those on Veckatimest.

Grizzly Bear’s progression from Droste’s cozy lo-fi folk bedroom project to a knotty baroque folk juggernaut was one of the most quietly satisfying of any band from the past decade, and on Shields they hit a gorgeous peak. While Droste and Rossen had peaked as songwriters here, their contributions never overshadowed those of Chris Taylor or Chris Bear, and the chemistry on Shields is sharper than most bands ever come close to achieving. It’s easy to get lost admiring the sheer craft of their meticulous arrangements, crisp production, provoking but elusive songwriting, and the sharp interplay between Droste and Rossen each on their own individual merit, but on Shields everything that previously stood out about their artistry is amplified, and congealed in a way that’s approachable yet inimitable. On Shields Grizzly Bear umped the ante from Veckatimest on both fronts, and proved that they could grow more immediate and melodic while still dazzling with rich compositional complexity. Grizzly Bear followed it up with Painted Ruins in 2017, that while a perfectly good record in its own right is nowhere as cohesive, and most unfortunately, patient. And to be honest, I haven’t heard a baroque folk record released since Shields that’s as consistently engrossing, or one performed with such remarkable execution. Shields isn’t their most immediate, but it best distills their singular essence, and its generosity knows no bounds.

Essentials: “gun-shy”, “Yet Again”, “The Hunt”

17. The Money Store- Death Grips

Anyone from future generations looking to hear a band that’s most emblematic of the 10s as a full decade probably couldn’t do better than Death Grips. The trio consisting of vocalist MC Ride, keyboardist/producer Flatlander, and drummer Zach Hill released their abrasive Ex-military tape in 2011, and right out of the gates the trio had a fully-formed sound that plucked unapologetically from west coast hip-hop, industrial, hardcore, and noise. Although far from the first band to draw equally upon genres like these, Death Grips stood out immediately thanks in no small part to MC Ride, who has since proved to be one of the last decade’s most compelling frontmen. His lyrics are cryptic, and intelligent yet visceral, with a deceptively wry edge. Although there’s quite a bit of variety to his delivery, it’s always propelled forth with an overwhelming intensity that can take some time to become accustomed to. Ex-military was received rapturously by critics and bloggers, but as exciting as group like them may have seemed at the time it would have been hard to predict any kind of real longevity for them. And their unrelentingly antagonistic streak (leaking No Love Deep Web, putting a picture of Zach Hill’s dick on the cover of said album, skipping performances or just playing recorded music instead of performing, trolling fans, faking a breakup) would have decimated the momentum of almost any other band, but Death Grips feed on this sort of chaos like a troupe of anarchist vampires. Their arc from Ex-military to 2018’s Year of the Snitch is one of the most rewarding streaks of any act throughout the 10s, and while most of these records are great, there isn’t one that better distills their essence than their 2012 debut LP, The Money Store.

While Ex-military presented them as an admittedly idiosyncratic, yet undeniable product of their environment, TMS blew their sound wide open proving that they had range far beyond sounds of their native state. Right from the bass arpeggios that jolt opener “Get Got” to life, it’s clear the fidelity has improved considerably, but they haven’t compromised an ounce of their fury. This still scans as music custom-tailored for little other than violently thrashing your limbs, and little else from the past decade as been anywhere near as effective at distilling that aesthetic so neatly across the run of a single record. But on TMS Death Grips were still writing actual songs, with memorable hooks, sticky melodies, and conventional structures that served to heighten the potency of their tantrums. Songs like “I’ve Seen Footage” and “Hacker” are shocking for how immediate and unthreatening the band sound despite MC Ride’s sour bark, while songs like “The Fever (Aye Aye)” and “The Cage” showcase early peaks for Flatlander’s immaculate, and underrated synth work. MC Ride is at his best here, whether talking shit and espousing authenticity (“Hustle Bones”), calling out doubters (“Bitch Please”), or just railing against general conformity, he delivers 13 career defining performances in neat succession. Death Grips have continued to relentlessly experiment on all their subsequent records, and while some have come close to matching the excellence of TMS, they’ve all fallen short. Thankfully, the immense exhilaration and urgency of TMS sound more potent with each successive year that we inhibit this desolate hellscape.

Essentials: “I’ve Seen Footage”, “The Fever (Aye Aye)”, “Hacker”

16. Twin Fantasy (Face to Face)- Car Seat Headrest

It shouldn’t come as any surprise that a re-recording of a devastatingly personal LP that Will Toledo recorded at 19, with better production, stronger arrangements, and cleaner vocals, would end up being his best record to date. What was surprising was that he decided to return to the record of his that’s most important to him, and give it the sort of justice that it deserves after having developed into a far more adept talent in the years following its release. And although I’m sure some of those songs (if not all of them) were painful to revisit, the discipline and audacity paid off enormously. Twin Fantasy centers entirely around falling in love with another man at 19, and the arc of their relationship from mourning the distance between them on the opening song “My Boy (Twin Fantasy)” to the newfound acceptance of their relationship’s dissolution on closer “Twin Fantasy (Those Boys)”, detailing the highs and lows with unabashed sincerity. While the original still holds up fairly well, there’s no question that the re-arranging, cleaner vocals, and stronger fidelity overall just heightened the potency of what was already there without diminishing any aspect of the original record. Will’s cleverness, sense of humor, and dynamism as a bandleader elevate TF beyond a melancholic teen drama into a searing document of formative growth, demonstrating craft, ingenuity, and wisdom far beyond his years. More so than any other record released throughout the last decade, TF exemplifies just how potent indie rock still is.

This new version of TF is more of a “re-imagining” of the original record than anything else, and as such the thematic scope as it initially existed, along with the exact same track listing, is held perfectly intact. The record’s two epics, those being “Beach Life-In-Death” and “Famous Prophets (Stars)” are both even longer, and benefit more so than anything else here from their new arrangements. The fidelity has been cleaned up notably, but TF is still far from overproduced, and without any fuzz obscuring a lot of the detail you can hear just how crisp, and superbly layered these arrangements are. The new-wave outlier “Nervous Young Human” practically radiates with a newfound sheen, and is handedly the most radio-ready song the band have ever written, but it still folds seamlessly into the record’s mid-section between the anthemic, distortion-fueled peaks of “Sober to Death” and the record’s mid-album power-pop stunner, “Bodys”. Toledo’s drawing from a great deal here of different sub-genres here, and he manages to land on a remarkably uniform sound that belies the myriad of intricacies at work that prevent these compositions from being crushed underneath the weight of their own ambition. The album’s greatest achievement is how deftly Will manages to tell a story about the most profound event of his life coupled with music that’s as multi-faceted as the human experience being conveyed. TF may be proudly out of step with the current cultural zeitgeist from a sonic perspective, but the sentiments conveyed throughout are sublime missives from a distinctly millennial outlook. As far as concept albums about a single relationship are concerned, Toledo has set the bar this century with TF.

Essentials: “Famous Prophets (Stars)”, “Beach Life-In-Death”, “Bodys”

15. Modern Vampires of the City- Vampire Weekend

Vampire Weekend have come a long way from the indie afro-pop roots of their debut to their pastoral, jam band informed fourth LP, Father of the Bride, but on their third LP, Modern Vampires of the City the band refined their sound to a sublime strain of chamber music and art pop filled with Ezra Koenig’s strongest writing to date. Whereas their first two records were entirely produced by the band’s multi-instrumentalist and not-so-secret weapon Rostam Batmanliij, on MVotC Ariel Reitscheid, a producer known for working with acts like Charli XCX, Haim, Solange, etc joined the proceedings, and there’s a lighter feel to a lot of the arrangements, but everything has more dimension overall, and the low-end really pops on a lot of these in a way that it hadn’t really before. There are plenty of welcome production choices throughout, like the sprinkling of auto-tune on “Step”, or the blistering saxophone solo on “Worship You” that do a great deal to expand the parameters of the band’s sound without ever finding them really going out of their depth. Compared to their prior records there’s a fairly vast tonal gap on MVotC, with a heightened sense of existential dread and fixations on mortality, nostalgia, and faith. It’s weighty stuff without question, and the exceptional pacing goes a long towards helping evenly pack in the melancholic, languid compositions like “Everlasting Arms” and “Don’t Lie” with infectious up-tempo numbers like “Diane Young”, “Unbelievers”, and “Finger Back” that, while far from the best of what’s here are still as immediate as anything they’ve ever released and benefit from the same immaculate arrangement, production, and writing as everything else here even if they don’t break as much new ground. But the best of what’s here are without question among the best pop songs released so this far century.

Both opener “Obvious Bycycle” and “Step” are devastating looks at nostalgia that frame Ezra’s thoughtful character sketches in rich compositions that in the case of the former consist of soft wisps of grand piano, percussion that sounds like a stamp being punched, and surprisingly visceral bass, while in the case of the latter the band opt for gorgeous harpsichord arrangements, and a swaggering bassline. But “Hannah Hunt”, which is for the record the best VW song to date, is on another level entirely. It opens like the sun after the storm with field recording of a crowd of people clearing away for delicate grand piano and the gentle rumble of bass. Ezra sings of a relationship slowly starting to break apart as a couple travels the country together “A gardener told me some plants move/But I could not believe it/’Til me and Hannah Hunt/Saw crawling vines and weeping willows”. The song slowly builds into a rousing baroque pop crescendo over roaring keys as Ezra delivers one of his most devastating lines to date “If I can’t trust you then damn it Hannah/There’s no future, there’s no answer/Though we live on the US dollar/You and me we got our own sense of time”. Rostam left VW in 2016, and although their first record without him, the aforementioned 2019 comeback LP, FotB, his absence was sorely felt. On “Hudson” it almost sounds like Rostam is singing to Ezra, under that lens especially, it’s functions as a poignant, but fitting cap to VW’s first era. As great as FotB, Rostam’s 2017 debut Half-Light, and I Had a Dream That You Were Mine, his 2016 collaboration with Hamilton Leithauser of The Walkmen, I hope that MVotC isn’t the last time the two of them work on a full LP together.

Essentials: “Hannah Hunt”, “Step”, “Ya Hey”

14. Channel Orange- Frank Ocean

Few albums released throughout the last decade have brought about the sort of sweeping sea change that Frank Ocean’s sublime debut LP, Channel Orange, did. Ocean’s kaleidoscopic, self-released 2011 mixtape Nostalgia, Ultra established his artistry as something far beyond that of the go-to hook ghostwriter identity he cut his teeth establishing for himself. A year and a half later, amidst signing to Def Jam, collaborating extensively with Tyler, the Creator, Kanye West, and Jay-Z, and writing a now legendary tumblr post stating that his first love was for another man a few days before releasing his immensely anticipated debut LP, Frank Ocean released that album, and decided to call it Channel Orange. Like Ocean’s music itself, the narrative surrounding his ascension feels both timeless (moving to LA after Hurricane Katrina struck his hometown of New Orleans, ghostwriting and joining Tyler, the Creator’s hip-hop collective Odd Future before releasing his own music, which drew primarily from soul, classic r&b, and funk more than anything that was on the radio at the time) and modern (sampling extensively on N,U, having a few key co-signs that seemed to unlock all the right connections, leveraging the power of the internet along with the rest of Odd Future to build and sustain a fanbase) but none of it would matter if the music didn’t live up to the hype. But all of this is particularly interesting to consider when talking about CO, especially considering that it’s the best debut LP of the 10s, and an absolute master class in songwriting.

CO is a remarkably fully-formed debut LP that finds Ocean in complete control of his craft on all fronts. The instrumentation is a lush palette of analog keys, bass, and strings, and with the exception of a few fairly stripped down ballads, shows a keen command for maximalism that never sounds overwrought. Even a song like the colossal, mid-album change-up “Pyramids”, is saved from complete indulgence after the beat seamlessly shifts into a woozy down-tempo trap instrumental with plenty of space for Ocean’s falsetto to linger in. Ocean would shift gears dramatically with the 2016 visual album, Endless, and his second studio LP, Blonde, trading in the rich, dense analog soul and r&b for a minimal psychedelic soul sound. While the production on Blonde and Endless is more impressive than that of CO, neither record was quite able to match the lush immediacy that seemed to come to Ocean so naturally here. Ocean produced the record alongside the musicians Jonathon Ikpeazu, Malay, and Om’Mas Keith who all provided additional keys, drum programming, and/or guitars. Earl Sweatshirt, Tyler, the Creator, and Andre 3000 are the only guests that provide verses, and while each completely delivers, CO is Ocean’s record through and through. Regardless of whether Ocean is singing about the emptiness of privilege (“Super Rich Kids”), or depicting a tale of someone’s life falling apart due to crack addiction (“Crack Rock”) or delivering the closest thing he’ll likely ever come to a straight forward love song (“Thinkin’ Bout You”) his eye for detail, wit, intelligence, and empathy render the characters as rich, and multi-faceted regardless of what angle he’s coming at them from. The warmth and immediacy of the instrumentation and Ocean’s voice draws you in, but it’s the sheer strength of his songwriting that elevates CO from simply being another immensely promising debut to the classic that it is.

Essentials: “Crack Rock”, “Bad Religion”, “End / Golden Girl” ft. Tyler, the Creator

13. Sunbather- Deafheaven

Deafheaven were far from the first band to blend black metal, shoegaze, and post-rock, but on their stellar 2013 record Sunbather they distilled elements of these genres into a punishing, and breathtaking sound that’s unmistakably theirs. Their solid 2010 debut Roads to Judha showed tremendous promise, but their songwriting wasn’t on par with their ambitions yet. But on Sunbather, Deafheaven lived up to that early promise. Sunbather is primarily a blistering fusion of black metal drumming and shrieks engulfed in walls of shoegaze guitar that often give way to instrumental outros that shine with the radiance of Sigur Ros or Explosions in the Sky. George Clarke delivers the lyrics in an indecipherable shriek that either amplifies the intensity of the surrounding arrangements, or is used as a sublime juxtaposition to their fleeting moments of transcendent beauty. Sunbather is seven songs long, and superbly paced so that the band’s lengthier compositions are evenly split between songs that include a dreamy minimalist guitar/piano composition (“Irresistible”), a menacing baroque-noise march that congeals midway through into a jangly guitar conclusion (“Please Remember”), and an eerie collage of vocal samples and droning strings (“Windows”). This odd assortment of songs may seem random, but they do a nice job of breaking up the surrounding onslaught, and demonstrating the band’s range, while still adhering to the record’s searing aesthetic. It’s remarkably accessible music as far as metal is concerned, and if you can make it past the tone of Clarke’s voice there’s a lot to love about this album.

For all of Sunbather’s seemingly impenetrable harshness, there’s a great deal of beauty glistening just beneath the surface. On Sunbather, Deafheaven managed to strike a near perfect balance between beauty and chaos that, while greater heights were achieved later on, they never quite improved upon. The longer numbers here transition into moments of transcendent, cathartic beauty, and back into frenetic fury so subtly, and masterfully, that the juxtapositions quickly begin to seem less like extreme exercises in contrasting dynamics and tones so much as the fluid spectrum of Deafheaven’s multi-faceted artistry. And while the lyrics throughout Sunbather match the brutality of the corresponding arrangements, they also match their life-affirming, triumphant sense of urgency. Whether Clarke is reflecting on habitual patterns and habits that he just can’t shake “Lost in the patterns of youth/And the ghost of your aches comes back to haunt you/And the forging of change makes no difference” on “Vertigo” or ruing the alcoholism that he inherited from his father “In the hallways lit up brightly but couldn’t find myself/I laid drunk on the concrete on the day of your birth in celebration of all you were worth” on closer “The Pecan Tree”, his lyrics throughout Sunbather imbue his tortured yelps with a devastating poignancy rendered all the more morose by the band’s unflinching, formidable poise. It’s not hard to hear why Sunbather was the best reviewed album of 2013, and a game changer for black metal. Few records, metal or otherwise, have managed to convey such overwhelming emotional intensity through such ambitious composition. Its crushing beauty hasn’t lost an ounce of its potency in the years since.

Essentials: “Dream House”, “The Pecan Tree”, “Sunbather”

12. To Pimp a Butterfly- Kendrick Lamar

Kendrick Lamar caught the attention of the zeitgeist with his generation defining sophomore LP, Good Kid, M.A.A.D. City, but that record’s follow-up, To Pimp a Butterfly, cemented his status as one of the definitive musical auteurs of his generation. Whereas the former record was a gripping street epic that seamlessly tucked a coming of age story into the larger fabric of a blockbuster west coast hip-hop record, the latter record blew open the history of black music and wove together a tapestry of disparate styles that congealed to express a more multi-faceted look at the black experience. The beats are composed of live instrumentation courtesy of Terrance Martin, Kamasi Washington, Thundercat, and a plethora of the west coast jazz elite, and they span the likes of jazz, r&b, soul, and funk alongside instrumental hip-hop without showing the seams. The music runs the gamut from uplifting anthems (“Alright”) to bouts of unbridled fury (“The Blacker the Berry”), and everywhere in-between, but thanks to Kendrick’s deft pacing and execution nothing sounds out of place, and there’s no mistaking these songs for the work of anyone else through sheer scope alone. Kendrick’s writing and rapping had increased considerably since GKMC, but throughout TPaB he spends less time trying to prove what a capable rapper he is, and far more time using his ability to explore the nuances of systemic racial issues through the lens of a plethora of different characters. TPaB couldn’t have possibly sounded more out of step with the zeitgeist upon its release, but in venturing beyond what hip-hop in the mid 10s sounded like, and exploring perspectives beyond those of himself, he was able to tap into something far more universally human.

Throughout the course of TPaB Kendrick tackles a wide plethora of topics with music that’s matches the breadth and scope of his thematic ambitions. The g-funk strut “King Kunta” is one of the most immediate songs in his career, and he juxtaposes the song’s infectious backdrop against verses that evoke the resilience of Kunta Kinte in the novel Roots as a through line for the jarring shift he experienced throughout his come-up after growing up in poverty. “u?” brilliantly distills the sort of tragic survivor’s guilt that Kendrick experienced in the wake of his success watching so many of his friends continue to succumb to the perils of systemic racism through harsh free-jazz arrangements, while “i” gains power within the context of the record as an uplifting neo-soul anthem of self-love after the preceding storm has subsided. The uplifting anthem “Alright” has become a canonical protest song in the wake of civil unrest as a result of excessive police brutality while the finale, “Mortal Man”, begins with some of his strongest verses to date before transitioning into a fabricated interview with 2Pac. There’s an absurd amount to unpack within the songs on TPaB, but the album never buckles under the weight of its ambition, and delivers performances that are striking at every turn. Kendrick never shies away from depicting the devastating realities throughout the history of the black American experience, but he finds reasons to persist through these tribulations in the power of community, god, and love.

Essentials: “The Blacker the Berry”, “u”, “Wesley’s Theory” ft. George Clinton

11. Lonerism- Tame Impala

On Tame Impala’s debut, Innerspeaker, the band proved adept at piecing together the finest moments from their record collections into strange, idiosyncratic new shapes, but on their sublime sophomore LP, Lonerism, they began to push their sound into the present moment. The flanged guitars, shuffling drum rhythms, and frontman Kevin Parker’s Lennon-esque falsetto are a hallmarks of classic psychedelic rock, but the spellbinding synth textures, evocative samples, and cavernous production showcase a definitively 21st century sensibility. There was no mistaking them for a pure homage act on Lonerism. With the exception of piano on a few tracks courtesy of Jay Watson, and a spoken word interlude courtesy of Melody Prochet, Lonerism was written, recorded, and produced entirely by Kevin Parker, and it helped signal a major shift from bands being the dominant artistic vehicle in indie music to the solo artist taking up that mantle. Lonerism is a perfectly paced album, and aside from a few breathers, and a few epics, it almost plays like a greatest hits set. There were signs of the disco-prog synth act that Tame Imapa developed into on a few of Lonerism’s more immediate moments, but this is still thoroughly steeped in the lineage of psychedelic rock, acid rock, and blues rock. With Lonerism, Parker began to show signs of the poptimist that he was all along, but he hadn’t yet compromised the instrumental ingenuity that he’s capable of for a strong melody, and so here you get the best of both worlds; the band’s sharpest hooks and most adventurous production. Lonerism is where Tame Impala evolved from a promising project with immense potential into one of the defining musical acts of Parker’s generation.

Lonerism is a record that completely lives up to its title as a concept record about isolation. Every song here finds Parker grappling with some aspect of self-imposed isolation set against hazy, psychedelic pop/rock instrumentation. Some songs like, the disarmingly immediate “Feels Like We Only Go Backwards” spells out his anguish explicitly, with a love interest that he keeps falling for against his best judgement, while “Endors Toi” finds Parker rejecting the hardships of reality for the bliss that’s only possible when you’re literally dreaming. The lyrics rarely go deep, but on a record like this they’re entirely beside the point. Thankfully Parker’s writing works superbly within the context of the concept without detracting from the instrumentation and production. Parker wrote a few strong hooks on IS, but they were the exception, not the norm. On Lonerism, Parker’s melodic intuition had fully blossomed, and the hooks on songs like “Elephant”, “Why Won’t She Talk to Me”, and “Feels Like We Only Go Backwards” were more immediate, and more memorable than anything on the top 40 at the time. The songs on Lonerism are bursting with sonic personality; whether we’re talking about the euphoric streaks of synth that send “Apocalypse Dreams” into the stratosphere, the phaser-smeared guitars and immersive samples that bring “Sun’s Coming Down” to its triumphant finale, or the propulsive drum fllls that propel “Endors Toi”, Lonerism is the most sonically rich record that Parker has ever released. Parker would achieve more audacious and unexpected heights on his superb 2015 follow-up, Currents, but he has yet to top Lonerism’s consistency, and near perfect balance between studio experimentation and pure pop craftsmanship.

Essentials: “Nothing That Has Happened So Far Has Been Anything We Could Control”, “Sun’s Coming Up”, “Apocalypse Dreams”

10. Flower Boy- Tyler, the Creator

Flower Boy may not have come as a surprise to those who closely followed Tyler Okonoma’s progression from the lo-fi hardcore hip-hop days of Bastard and early Odd Future through his chaotic, candy-coated third LP, Cherry Bomb, but for the casual listener it may have seemed like an unthinkable evolution. And no one could have predicted its consistency. The signs of Tyler progressing into melodic, psych-leaning neo-soul were on the wall as early as his terrific 2013 record, Wolf, but on FB his melodic sensibilities, compositional chops, and an increasingly empathetic outward writing perspective all coalesced into an idiosyncratic tapestry of vibrant sound and color unlike any hip hop record ever recorded. It’s the first time that Tyler’s chops had fully caught up with his ambition, allowing him to completely deliver on the promise of a truly genre-adverse opus that Cherry Bomb merely hinted at. The lyrics are somber, and reflective, demonstrating Tyler’s newfound sense of maturity that would have been unthinkable throughout the early OF days. The sincerity and vulnerability of the lyrics go a long way towards heightening the potency of his vibrant, melodically rich compositions. FB capitalizes on all the strange contradictions that have always been inherent in his music, while removing the adolescent excess that have bogged down each prior release. The result is a highwater mark for what hip-hop and neo-soul can sound like unbridled with concern for what music should sound like. That attention to detail and unrelenting creative spirit are what helped propel FB into being the classic record that it ended up being.

Eschewing the lo-fi Neptunes meets MF DOOM beats of his past records, Tyler landed on a perfect blend of neo-soul synths, jazz strings/horns, and drums that split the difference between classic boom-bap and mid-10s trap for FB. The music is bright and vibrant, with a wealth of detail tucked within each mix that rewards multiple listens. There are songs that are completely in Tyler’s wheelhouse, like the frantic, mid-album trap cut “I Ain’t Got Time!”, and a few like the show-stopping psychedelic soul ballad, “Garden Shed”, that dramatically expand the parameters of his sound, but they all cohere together superbly into a fully-realized kaleidoscope of sound. Even the songs like “Pothole” and “November” that seem like more run of the mill Tyler cuts showcase a renewed sense of focus and tight production that belie their simple construction. FB is a record that’s focused on unrequited love, and while themes of abandonment, disillusionment with fame, growing pains, and insecurity emerge as on past records, the bulk of the action is focused on Tyler coming to terms with both his bisexuality and the anguish of a missed connection. Rarely does heartbreak sound so unflinchingly, thrillingly alive. True to form, the music is never mopey or saccharine, but it’s always brimming with the intensity of young love. FB is the record that Tyler has always set out to make, and while I’m sure he’ll top it at some point, it currently stands at the definitive realization of his singular vision.

Essentials: “911 / Mr. Lonely” ft. Frank Ocean & Stevey Lacy, “Garden Shed” ft. Estelle, “See You Again” ft. Kali Uchis

9. Until the Quiet Comes- Flying Lotus

After Steve Ellison, aka Flying Lotus, dropped his masterful third LP, Cosmogramma, it seemed like he could take his sound anywhere, but doubling down and improving on the maximalist excess of Cosmogramma would have proved a near impossible task. Thankfully, on his stellar follow-up LP, Until the Quiet Comes, FlyLo swung all the way in the opposite direction, and despite it being the flavor of the decade minimalism rarely ended up sounding better on any other artist. UtQC is a minimalist electronic jazz/instrumental hip hop record with dreamy meditative arrangements that belie their complexity at every turn. The album is a concept record that finds FlyLo exploring the realms of human consciousness coupled with ambitious arrangements and immersive production that complements his thematic ambitions perfectly. FlyLo is still making beats in a traditional sense, but the compositions on this LP are more rich and varied than the entire discography of most producers, and the music he draws from spans the likes of ambient, psychedelia, r&b, post-rock, progressive rock, and meditative astral jazz as much as his usual instrumental hip hop, IDM, and free jazz touchstones. And so while UtQC is more insular, less immediate, and more likely to necessitate multiple listens than any other record of his, it’s the best showcase of FlyLo’s versatility, melodic intuition, and use of texture.

The compositions are short and sweet, and barely last longer than it takes for FlyLo to introduce an idea, tweak it, thwart expectations, and move on. Like on Cosmogramma, UtQC incorporates live instrumentation weaved throughout various compositions (Thundercat’s bass playing was cemented as a staple element of FlyLo’s sound here) as well as vocal features from the likes of Thundercat, Thom Yorke, Laura Darlington, and Niki Randa. The features are all utilized tastefully, and heighten the potency of the existing arrangements without detracting too much. There are songs like “All In” and “Yesterday/Corded” that just feature FlyLo alone constructing remarkable, lived-in soundscapes from his usual toolkit of drum machines, samplers, sequencers, and keys, while others like the title track and “DMT Song” that commit thoroughly to their minimalism, and coast effortlessly around strong melodies or guest vocal performances. Many of these songs retain the visceral low-end and celestial sweep of his best work, but they don’t serve to overwhelm and disorient as much as they sedate and mesmerize. “Getting There” hits the sweet spot, with and infectious, heavy-hitting low-end juxtaposed against Niki Randa’s sweeping falsetto. UtQC may not go for the jugular as FlyLo’s prior two records, but it’s just as captivating in its own quietly confident way.

And a few of the songs on the back half of the record are some of the most gorgeous that FlyLo has ever composed. The loose and dreamy “Only if You Wanna” provides a simple but sublime bridge from the drum and bass rush of “The Nightcrawler” into the droning r&b mirage with Yorke’s vocals wafting eerily through the crevices in the mix. From there the record moves into “Hunger” and “Phantasm”, two songs that skew the closest that FlyLo has ever veered toward straight up ambience, and they slowly unfurl into gorgeous, unpredictable string progressions as Niki Randa and Laura Darlington deliver understated, ethereal vocals, respectively. From there we’re led into “me Yesterday//Corded”, one of the strongest songs that FlyLo has released to date. It begins in the same somber, minor-key tone of the preceding songs before erupting into a cosmic drum and bass coda with a euphoric melody and pitch-shifted vocals. The final song, “Dream to Me” is a whirring synth and woodwind lullaby that brings everything full circle, leading us right back into the intro, “All In”. UtQC breezes by in nearly 47 minutes, but there’s another singular, self-contained universe of detail packed into this record’s spellbinding grooves.

Essentials: “yesterday//Corded”, “Electric Candyman ft. Thom Yorke”, “All In”

8. Carrie & Lowell- Sufjan Stevens

By the time that Sufjan Stevens released Carrie & Lowell he had already released several classic records and had undergone several stylistic change-ups, but nothing in his discography established the precedent for a masterwork quite like C&L. On C&L Sufjan returned to the sparse chamber folk sound of his superb fourth record, Seven Swans, but he replaced the short vignettes and character studies that peppered that record with an engrossing scope that centers around his tumultuous relationship with his late mother who suffered from substance addiction and schizophrenia. The music is hushed, and minimal, consisting of little more than finger plucked guitar, banjo, ukulele, and an assortment of strings underneath Sufjan’s tender delivery. His music has always radiated a sense of overwhelming empathy, and so when plumbing the depths of his psyche for memories of his mother the tone is often devastating and cathartic in equal measure, but never overly morose or self-pitying. With C&L Sufjan succeeded in honoring his mother’s memory as honestly and as faithfully as he could while his songwriting hit a new peak.

C&L sustains an almost overwhelming poignancy throughout its duration, but it’s never a slog. The heaviness of the sentiments never really subsides, but these songs are each filled with strong hooks, sweeping melodies, and a disarming directness that he’s never quite managed on prior records. Songs like the opening cut “Death with Dignity”, “Should Have Known Better”, and “The Only Thing” soar with warm, infectious hooks and nimble guitar arrangements alongside a few electronic and orchestral embellishments, while songs like “No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross” and “Fourth of July” bring the tempo to a crawl and bask in Sufjan’s falsetto and minor-key acoustic guitar arrangements. It all comes to a head on the devastating centerpiece “No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross”, as Sufjan depicts the self-destructive behavior he engaged in right after his mother’s death “There’s blood on that blade/Fuck me, I’m falling apart/My assassin/Like Casper the ghost/There’s no shade in the shadow of the cross” just so that he could feel closer to her.

Essentials: “No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross”, “Death with Dignity”, “The Only Thing”

7. Some Rap Songs- Earl Sweatshirt

Earl Sweatshirt was arguably the greatest living rapper before dropping his magnum opus, Some Rap Songs, but since its release it’s become much harder to dispute. On SRS Earl runs through 15 songs in 22 minutes, delivering sometimes little more than a hook and a verse per song before transitioning into the next one. The songs operate according to their own logic, and forgo traditional song structure for a loop-based compositional approach. Earl produced the bulk of the record himself, and heavily opted for dusty, de-tuned pianos, shuffling, lo-fi percussion, and a plethora of discordant texture. Earl’s precision is remarkable, and what may initially scan as awkward or clumsy flows slowly reveal themselves to be masterfully sidestepping the rhythms entirely. But for all its challenging aspects, SRS is hardly a precious, posturing sort of record. It demands your full attention, but will reward it several times over.

The songs throughout SRS are bleak missives from a remarkable talent unpacking years of trauma. The record tackles many of the same themes of abandonment, drug abuse, and depression as his past records, but he’s cut out any lingering excess in his prose, distilling only what’s absolutely necessary into each bar. The rapping is lean, and virtuosic, but never showy, and the brevity of the songs themselves is indicative of how succinct and substantial the music there is. Songs like “Red Water” have just a single couplet that he repeats a few times as the ebb and flow of the instrumental sustains the onset momentum, while other songs like “The Mint” are closer to convention, but still unfold along unpredictable loops, and verses that zig zag in and out of the mix at irregular intervals. There are songs like “Cold Summers” and “The Bends” that are the closest that Earl comes to rapping accessibly, and there are those like “Playing Possums” and Peanuts" that owe more to tape loops, ambient, and noise music than anything resembling hip hop. SRS and it’s follow-up EP, Feet of Clay, are easily the most challenging, experimental, and divisive records that Earl has released to date, but they’re also singular masterworks that push hip hop into stranger, and more human realms.

Essentials: “Peanut”, “The Mint” ft. Navy Blue, “December 24”

6. New Bermuda- Deafheaven

After releasing their superb second LP, Sunbather, Deafheaven had become one of the most acclaimed metal bands of the century, and had achieved a level of popularity unprecedented for metal bands. Never mistaken by anyone as purists, Deafheaven began their career flirting with through lines between shoegaze, black metal, and post-rock before tastefully combining them on Sunbather. While they easily could have churned out another LP of post-rock/blackgaze of the same stripe, the band went deeper and darker, and re-emerged with their third LP, New Bermuda, the heaviest, and arguably most melodic, record of their career to date. Across five songs that collectively clock in around 46 minutes Deafheaven continue to expand their parameters of their sound, incorporating heavier tremelo guitars, incendiary blast beats, and sweeping post-rock passages that are more adventurous, expansive, and gorgeous, than what any other bands are doing today. NB may lean the furthest towards the brutality of classic black metal, but the band’s 2015 onslaught still amplifies an immense feeling of transcendence alongside the terror.

Opener “Brought to the Water” rustles to life with the ominous sway of church bells before its lead guitar riff kicks into gear, foreshadowing the premium they place on atmosphere with foreboding timbres. Throughout the next several minutes the band continue to build a scorched earth black metal composition bristling with distortion and rapid fire drumming that eventually slyly segues into a sugary breakdown reminiscent of “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None the Richer. It’s disarming, and unprecedented, but a perfectly logical evolution of their sound that reaffirms their status as the most versatile band at the vanguard of contemporary black metal. “Luna” and “Come Back” are two of the heaviest songs that Deafheaven have ever released, and get a ton of mileage out of their seismic guitar riffs and pummeling percussion, while “Luna” boasts one of the loveliest melodies they’ve ever penned, gliding alone a star-dusted, stratosphere-bound guitar riff. Closer “Gifts for the Earth” is a succinct culmination of the preceding 38 minutes, capped off with their most cathartic coda to date with jangly guitar and minor key piano softly swirling around Clarke’s feral shrieks. The warmth exuded beneath Clarke’s shrapnel-laced delivery posits Deafheaven as a band executing well-beyond the scope and limitations of metal.

Essentials: “Gifts for the Earth”, “Brought to the Water”, “Luna”

5. Halcyon Digest- Deerhunter

By the time that Deerhunter geared up to record their fifth LP, Halycon Digest, they already had a rich body of work behind them, but very little of their music set the kind of precedent for where they would go on HD. Here, Deerhunter tapered down their most avant-garde impulses in favor of cleaner guitar arrangements and big, bright melodies, unearthing the pop band they’ve always been at their core with poise and aplomb. The walls of guitar noise, ambient interludes, and studio effects that had defined their previous releases became relegated to marginal aspects of their song craft, and they began opening up their songs like never before. Thankfully, they didn’t dilute their sound, they just cleaned it up, and the 11 songs that make up HD are the most immediate, and richly produced (thanks to Ben Allen, who produced this record after nailing Animal Collective’s Merriweather Post Pavilion a year prior) of Deerhunter’s career to date. Deerhunter’s shift towards accessibility only seemed to accentuate their inherent strangeness, and HD remains one of the most engaging and endlessly replayable indie pop records of the 21st century.

From the droning low-end thump that ignites opener “Earthquake” it’s clear something substantial has shifted. Allen’s biggest contribution was a heightened low-end that caused Josh Fauver’s bass to really pop without distracting too much from the rest of the arrangements. This extra oomph propels songs like “Don’t Cry” and “Coronado” well into infectious, anthemic territory while it helps ground more ambitious cuts like “Helicopter” and “Desire Lanes”. Frontman Bradford Cox had completely grown into his role as a charismatic, provocative frontman with the pipes and poetic disposition to back up the antics, and propel his band towards a stadium sized sound even if they would never end up touring them. Bradford’s vocal melodies on closer “…He Would Have Laughed” and centerpiece “Helicopter” are the strongest that the band ever penned, while he delivers two of his most impressive vocal performances on the lulling “Sailing” and the pensive “Earthquake”. The closer, a tribute to the late Jay Reatard, is perhaps Deerhunter’s finest moment to date, with Bradford spinning surreal couplets “I live on a farm, yeah/I never lived on a farm” around the band’s steady harpsichord pulse until the composition bursts with euphoria, and then slowly begins to fade out before cutting out abruptly. Deerhunter have never made a bad record, but HD was the last time they showed how simultaneously adventurous and immediate pop music can be.

Essentials: “He Would Have Laughed”, “Helicopter”, “Desire Lanes”

4. Black Messiah- D’Angelo & The Vanguard

In the years following D'Angelo’s spectacular second LP, Voodoo, it seemed increasingly likely that he would never release another record. But then in the twilight days of 2014 D'Angelo surprise dropped his 3rd and best LP to date, Black Messiah, with a new band supporting him called The Vanguard (which consisted of Questlove on drums, Pina Palladino on bass, Isaiah Sharkey on guitar, Roy Hargrove on horns, and a handful of other musicians). BM eschews the warm r&b/neo-soul solo singer-songwriter sound of the first two D'Angelo LPs in favor of a fiery cocktail of avant-garde soul, jazz funk, and psychedelic r&b that’s simultaneously more abrasive and experimental than anything he had done prior. D'Angelo still has a remarkably agile falsetto, but it’s been notably weathered by the years away, and it now has a grainier disposition that happens to be a much better fit for the songs throughout the record. The band’s chemistry is just remarkable, and it’s hard to believe that they weren’t all cutting records with each other for decades prior. Unlike most artists that come back with new work after a notable dry spell, D'Angelo has never sounded more human than he does on this latest LP of his. Thankfully, despite the years apart D’Angelo hasn’t lost an ounce of his remarkable talent, and brings a magnetic charisma, sublime range, and a much sharper point of view to songs that reflect the turmoil of the preceding years of unrelenting police violence, yet respond in a multitude of ways. The Vanguard prove to be an ideal backdrop for D’Angelo’s songwriting, and together they achieve a new standard for neo-soul.

Although it had been 14 years, D'Angelo’s return felt right on time in the immediate wake of the deaths of Eric Garner, Michael Brown, Tamir Rice, and plenty of others at the hands of the police. While D'Angelo’s music has never shied away from political statements, BM is by far the most explicitly political record of his career. “1000 Deaths” opens to a sample of a Khalid Abdul Muhammed speech about Jesus being black and quickly gives way to a visceral, funk rock rhythm and red-lining guitars with D'Angelo dissecting the difference between courage and cowardice “Because a coward dies a thousand times/But a soldier just dies once”. On the following track, “The Charade”, D'Angelo opts for searing soul that builds into his most anthemic melody to date while he delivers devastating imagery of the cruelty still inflicted on black people all over the world “All we wanted was a chance to talk/‘Stead we only got outlined in chalk” while “'Til It’s Done” contains D'Angelo’s finest melody to date and finds him questioning the nature of our existence and whether we’re really reckoning with the way that capitalists are destroying our planet “Perilous dissidence evening up the score/Do we even know what we’re fighting for?”. He also delivers some of his best love songs to date, including the funky mid-tempo shuffle of “Sugah Daddy”, the tender soul ballad “Betray My Heart”, and the spellbinding centerpiece “Really Love”. These songs fold neatly within the larger fabric of the record as a whole, and complement the politically charged songs without breaking the greater aesthetic. D'Angelo’s conviction is palpable throughout it all, and the newfound wisdom that he accrued in the years since Voodoo enrich the perspective that he brings to the songs in such a generous, humble way. Even if D’Angelo never releases another record we couldn’t have asked for a better swan song from him.

Essentials: “’Til It’s Done”, “The Charade”, “Really Love”

3. MBV- My Bloody Valentine

Like D'Angelo, it didn’t seem likely that My Bloody Valentine would ever follow-up their masterful second LP, but 22 years after the release of Loveless, in the dead of February 2013, MBV, the third My Bloody Valentine, finally emerged. There are 9 songs here, and they can neatly divided into three sections that find the band progressing from an extension of what they were doing in the 90s to styles never associated with them. MBV picks up right where Loveless left off, beginning with expansive suite of shoegaze songs rendered with the kind of sublime texture and tone as we’ve come to expect from the group, and slowly but surely they branch out into psychedelic pop, ambient, and pure noise, realms they’ve teased in the past but have never quite committed to prior. You can hear the band straining against their limitations, and although seeking out perfection is a fools errand, they nearly achieve it.

There’s no mistaking MBV as the work of any other band, but here they’re painting in darker, bolder hues than they’ve used in the past. Beginning with the opening song, “She Found Now”, their sound is much richer, and more forlorn, than it’s ever sounded, with thick plumes of guitar washing over wispy androgynous vocals and faint, skeletal percussion. Even as the tempos increase and the melodies begin to peak out beneath the fuzz, that wistful, melancholic tone remains. “Only Tomorrow” amps up the tempo with a driving rhythm and scorching guitars perpetually firing into the red

while “In Another Way” is a bludgeoning slice of driving noise pop with a strong melody from guitarist Belinda Butcher. “Nothing Is” coasts off the hypnotic repetition of its bludgeoning guitars for 3.5 minutes, and perfectly segues into the glorious noise piece, “Wonder 2”, which closes the record on a note of whirring guitars that approximate the overwhelming euphoria of first wave shoegaze, but takes the listener to much stranger places.

The nine songs throughout MBV strike a perfect balance between updating the shoegaze style that they perfected on loveless while wading into new territory, but it all hangs together beautifully. Kevin Shields and Belinda Butcher still harmonize on the bulk of these songs, and they’re ethereal delivery is still the perfect counterbalance for the aggression of the guitars. The searing slow-burn of “Who Sees You” is the peak of their vocal interplay, while on the midsection pop numbers like “New You” and “In Another Way” Butcher takes the reins and delivers two of the band’s strongest melodies to date over driving percussion and sleigh bells. The relative immediacy of “New You” is new sound for the band, and they completely deliver on its hypnotic pop premise. “Is This and Yes” and “Nothing Is” are the two instrumentals at the polar ends of the band’s sound that perfectly balance out the more dynamic songs, and the aforementioned noise piece “Wonder 2” complements the opening song “She Found Now” perfectly in that it’s an exploration of what My Bloody Valentine might explore more of if they ever release a fourth LP. It’s a miracle that MBV even exists in the first place, so the fact that it’s this good is just icing.

Essentials: “Only Tomorrow”, “New You”, “In Another Way”

2. Blonde- Frank Ocean

After releasing his generation defining 2012 debut Channel Orange, it was hard to say where he was going to take his music next. A cryptic series of videos in mid-August 2016 featuring Frank building a ladder led to few clues, but at the end of this week we received an audio-visual album titled Endless. Before anyone could really acclimate themselves to sleek, genre-agnostic minimalism of Endless, the proper follow-up to CO, titled Blonde, released a day later. Whereas CO was the sound of a singular talent discovering what he can do, Blonde is the sound of that talent capitalizing on those gifts with unparalleled precision. On Blonde Frank opts for a striking minimalist palette of psychedelic pop, avant-garde soul, ambient, and jazz, that are off-kilter and adventurous without sacrificing the warmth of his past work. Like CO, Blonde primarily explores themes of nostalgia, heartbreak, identify, and the nature of human perception, and here his eye for detail and attention to detail remains unmatched by any songwriter of the last decade.

From the opening song “Nikes”, Blonde presents itself as a drastic stylist departure from what Frank was doing prior. The first half is a distorted r&b dreamscape with Frank crooning in a pitch-shifted higher register, and actually has him rapping a few verses, before returning to his normal register. Blonde is filled with strange, yet tasteful stylistic touches like this, from the distorted shrieks at the end of “Ivy”, to the collapsing, pitch-shifted orchestra that gives way to an eerie children’s choir’s on “Pretty Sweet”, the album rarely shifts into anything that scans as conventional. “Pink and White” is the most straight forward moment on the album, but the verses rarely stay grounded, and soon give way to a soaring chorus that slyly tucks Beyonce’s voice into the fold before the instruments dissolve from the mix entirely. “Skyline To” and “Godspeed” flirt with ambience and put a great deal of emphasis on exploring texture and negative space, while “Close to You” is a brief, glitchy cover of Stevie Wonder’s classic that provides a terrific segue from the “Facebook Story” interlude into the record’s devastating centerpiece, White Ferrari. The record covers a remarkable amount of ground sonically, but it coheres in a way that completely belies this scope.

“Nikes” sets the tone for the record on the whole as Frank watches his friends lose themselves to the spoils of his fame and begins to recognize himself as a placeholder for a partner’s lost love. “Self-Control” depicts the story of one of Frank’s relationship’s imploding “I’ll be the boyfriend in your set dreams tonight/Noses on a rail, little virgin wears the white” set to a mesmerizing neo-soul slow-burn that unfurls a gorgeous, understated melody while “Nights” juxtaposes the highs of the come-up “Oooh nani nani/This feel like a Quaalude” with a guitar pop/boom-bap instrumental and the perils of fame with a woozy, cloud-rap adjacent second half “Shut the fuck up I don’t want to hear your conversation/Rollin” marijuana that’s a cheap vacation". The record hits its peak with the spectacular ballad, “White Ferrari”, the strongest song of his career to date. Over warm acoustic guitar provided by Alex G Frank details the permanence of the love that he’ll have for someone that he’s no longer in a relationship with “I care for you still and I will forever/That was my part of the deal, honest/We got so familiar”. The humility and humanity of the moment is heartbreaking, and speaks volumes about the depths of Frank’s artistry. Blonde set a new benchmark for avant-garde pop, and is arguably the most influential album of the past decade.

Essentials: “White Ferrari”, “Nights”, “Self-Control”

1. Cosmogramma- Flying Lotus

After breaking through with his superb sophomore LP, Los Angeles (a singular blend of IDM, trip-hip, and woozy Dilla & Madlib-esque instrumental hip-hop) it would have been easy for Flying Lotus to continue mining the same sounds for successive records that were just slight variations on that singular template. But for FlyLo’s third LP, Cosmogramma, he blew his sound wide open, eschewing the quantized beat grid for a lusher, more sprawling sound that couldn’t be confined to standard rhythms. Cosmogramma is steeped in the lineage of instrumental hip hop and IDM like its predecessor, but it manages to juggle a wider palette of disparate styles such as four on the floor, drum and bass, jungle, free-jazz, and experimental bass while incorporating a wide variety of guest musicians that do a superb job of fleshing out his expansive compositions. Cosmogramma is a record that can barely contain its ambition, and despite having been released over a decade ago it still shines like a beacon illuminating the boundless possibilities of where music can go.

The sublime fusion of the live instrumentation, supplied by Thundercat on bass, Miguel Atwood-Ferguson contributing string arrangements, and Ravi Coltrane providing tenor saxophone, among many others coupled with FlyLo’s mind-warping production is what gives the album it’s compelling thrust. The first half primarily splits the difference between frantic drum and bass/synth-pop heaters and atmospheric cosmic-jazz interludes, and the pacing is just remarkable, with no moment overstaying it’s welcome and plenty of space to give each idea the space it needs to develop. Thom Yorke drops by for a wispy vocal performance on the agile IDM strut “And the World Laughs With You” while Thundercat delivers a formal career introduction on the tender ballad “MmmHmm” before the record shifts into the infectious four on the floor centerpiece, “Do the Astral Plane”. From here the record deploys the astral jazz and eastern influences in a more pronounced fashion on songs like “German Haircut” and “Dance of the Pseudo Nymph” respectively. The celestial ambience of “Table Tennis” featuring Laura Darlington is a welcome breather for the life-affirming synth surge of closer “Galaxy in Janaki”, ending the album on a somber, but ultimately uplifting note with Flylo sampling the ventilators that his mom was hooked up to on her death bed for a euphoric, synth-streaked send-off.

The enduring appeal lies in its function as ambition existing for the sake of ambition. The songs throughout Cosmogramma all vary in texture, tempo, and tone, and they all around great on their own, but it’s the journey from start to finish that Cosmogramma exemplifies as a spiritual experience. Cosmogamma was intended to function as a loose concept album of sorts about lucid-dreaming and out of body experiences influenced by the study of the universe, heaven, and hell, and it’s remarkable to hear just how much of that vision that he’s able to convey without the prevalence of vocals. Although electronic music has changed dramatically in the decade since Cosmogramma was released, the execution of FlyLo’s masterpiece hasn’t been in matched, in electronic music or anywhere where else. Cosmogramma is both the pinnacle of where music has been, and a glimpse at the possibilities of where it could go moving forward.

Essentials: “Galaxy in Janaki”, “Do the Astral Plane”, “MmmHmm” ft. Thundercat

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twst-headcanons · 4 years

Note

Hey! I was scrolling through some of your older posts and i found the band au one. I was really interested about it so maybe if you haven’t done it, could you do a continuation of it through hcs?

AUHROENFOSHDJNDKD WAIT OHMYGOD ANON THANK YOU IVE BEEN MEANING TO POST MORE STUFF I ALREADY HAVE PLENTY MORE WRITTEN ABOUT EACH SO I HOPE YOURE OK WITH ME POSTING THE BASIC BIOS

HEARTSLAYBUL

A band of five boys looking to enjoy the rest of their highschool experience together before moving on to the real world as adults.

Riddle Rosehearts; A junior at Night Raven, and the young heir to his mother's company. He wishes to do the best he can to take on her business once he graduates, though feels pressured to do so.

Trey Clover; A senior at Night Raven, and Riddle's childhood friend. He looks forward to having enjoyable moments with Riddle and the others before graduating and moving on to college.

Cater Diamond; A senior at Night Raven, and a generally easy-going and "people's person" type of guy with a need to make others around him smile. He thought joining a band might be a good way to promote his social media, and an overall nice change of pace.

Deuce Spade; A sophomore at Night Raven, and a former "bad boy", Deuce is looking to redeem himself so that he can have a pleasant and worry-free highschool experience.

Ace Trappola; A sophomore at Night Raven, and a bonafide flirt as well as an active troublemaker/class clown. He thought joining a band might garner him more attention from girls.

SAVANACLAW

A band of three boys looking to make a change, and their voices heard in the world. Struggling with different issues, they decided to come together to form a band.

Leona Kingscholar; A "super" senior at Night Raven, and the second-born son of a recently-deceased millionaire. Feels as if he was cheated out of his "rightful" inheritance, he hopes to vent his frustrations via music.

Ruggie Bucchi; A junior at Night Raven, and a lower-class student who was lucky to make it to the prestigious school in the first place. He joined Leona's band in hopes of getting famous and being able to give back to the struggling community he grew up in.

Jack Howl; A sophomore at Night Raven, he looks up to his seniors and hopes to support their efforts as best he can, and joins Leona's band to put his drumming skills to good use.

OCTAVINELLE

A band formed by three childhood friends hoping to promote the Monstro Lounge, a restaurant gifted to Azul by his parents. Found out that they enjoy performing together as a band, and decide to continue even after the Lounge gains traction.

Azul Ashengrotto; A junior at Night Raven, and a young yet passionate restaurant owner. He hopes to make it in the restaurant business, and formed a "temporary" band with Floyd and Jade to promote the Lounge.

Jade Leech; A junior at Night Raven, and childhood friend of Azul. He wishes the best for his friend, even if it means joining his band and working at his restaurant.

Floyd Leech; A junior at Night Raven, and childhood friend of Azul. A bit of a loose cannon and rather unpredictable, it was a miracle that he agreed to joining Azul's "temporary" band.

SCARABIA

A duo focused on sharing their culture with others, Kalim's only real goal being to make others smile while Jamil tries his best to keep him out of trouble.

Kalim Al-Asim; A junior at Night Raven, and a wealthy foreign-exchange student sent to attend with his servant, Jamil. He thought it would be fun to perform music and pick up an instrument, hoping to spread the joy his culture brings him to others.

Jamil Viper; A junior at Night Raven, and a fellow foreign-exchange student sent to watch over Kalim while they're overseas attending school. He decided to perform with Kalim as to make sure he wouldn't get in any trouble or messy situations, picking up an instrument as well.

POMEFIORE

A band of three boys formed by an agency with the goal of spreading Vil's influence as a celebrity. Clashing opinions oftentimes cause concern for the stability of their band in the long run.

Vil Schoenheit; A senior at Night Raven, and a famous model/social media influencer hoping to dip his feet and test the waters of the music industry. He demanded that the agency only pick him the "fairest" musicians to choose for his band.

Rook Hunt; A senior at Night Raven, as well as a friend and admirer of Vil's. He decided to pick up the bass in the past but never got serious with it until he heard that Vil was looking to form a band, and asked to join.

Epel Felmier; A sophomore at Night Raven, and a candidate hand-picked by Vil's agency. He hates the thought of being seen as fragile and "pretty", and started learning how to play the drums by Jack. He oftentimes has opinions differing from Vil's, and gets irritated easily by arguing with him.

IGNIHYDE

A pair of siblings hiding anonymously behind the alias of "Ignihyde", they work together as a DJ duo.

Idia Shroud; A senior at Night Raven and a textbook shut-in, he has a talent when it comes to technology, and secretly enjoys making his own music in his free time. Prefers to keep to himself, and is viewed as "the strange student", or even as "mysterious".

Ortho Shroud; A child attending the local middle school, he oftentimes comes after school in hopes of Idia opening up more around others. He was involved in an incident that left him missing a leg and needing a prosthetic, oftentimes joking that he's like a robot because of how the prosthetic is modeled. Asks Idia if he can sing for some of his songs, or at least help him with the instrumentals, even if the answer is usually an embarrassed "no".

DIASOMNIA

A band of four who've known eachother for most of their lives and act as family, and are hoping to stay with eachother for many more. They have decided to create slightly altered "personas" to act as onstage.

Malleus Draconia; A college student attending the local university his grandmother works at, in hopes of taking up her place as a professor once she retires as a means of "continuing her legacy", as Lilia jokingly phrases it. His "onstage persona" is a powerful mage and dragon fae who rules over a civilization.

Lilia Vanrogue; An older college student who never had the chance previously to attend, becoming a father and caretaker by the time he was fresh out of highschool. He used to play the bass, but had to prioritize taking care of Silver and Malleus over his own personal hobbies. He thought it might be fun to start a band with Malleus and Silver. His "onstage persona" is a vampire fae who acts as an advisor to the powerful dragon fae in power.

Silver Vanrogue; A junior at Night Raven, he's a rather sleepy and quiet individual who suffers from narcolepsy, even if it isn't immediately obvious. He's rather indifferent to the idea of being in a band with his father (and Malleus, who he somewhat views as an adoptive brother), and his "onstage persona" is that of a knight training to protect and serve the powerful dragon fae ruling over the faerie civilization.

Sebek Zigvolt; A sophomore at Night Raven, he's actually a rather shy and skittish boy when not acting as his onstage persona, though he's taken to adapting it into his regular behavior to fit his tall and intimidating stature. He decided to join his childhood friend, Silver, in Malleus' band, hoping to grow less shy and to impress Malleus, seeing him as an older brother figure. His "onstage persona" is a rather boisterious yet serious knight-in-training, hoping to live up to his master's expectations and more.

EXTRA INFO

- Night Ravens is a group formed by all seven main vocalists to perform a song for homecoming week, as per the request of the oh-so-generous Principal Crowley.

- No magic exists in this AU. Think of it as a sort of "spin-off" BanG Dream! universe.

- The Diasomnia boys still go by their names onstage, though they act differently according to their onstage personas.

- Each dorm name is their band name. For example, Octavinelle would perform regularly at the Monstro Lounge.

- Any boy that might have "strange" or non-human features are human. If they get body modifications (such as the twins with their teeth, perhaps) then they keep it, but Malleus doesn't have horns offstage, the Savanaclaw boys don't have animalistic features, the Octavinelle boys cannot turn into mermen (sea creatures?), and both Idia and Ortho have normal hair, even if it may be dyed.

- Ortho is a normal human boy, though he lost his left leg in a currently unspecified incident that might be delved into at a later point in time. All that will be currently mentioned is that Idia feels immense guilt and like he was the one responsible for it happening.

- In this AU, it isn't specified whether Silver is adopted or if he's Lilia's biological son. Malleus was put into Lilia's care as his parents couldn't be bothered to raise him/make the time to care for him and his grandmother is busy as a well-known and highly-regarded university professor.

- The setting that this AU takes place in is a city based in a country similar to the United States, and works on the United States school system. This is moreso for convenience on my end, though as it is unspecified it can be adapted to other school systems as needed.

- The faculty are all teachers at the school, though Sam runs an on-campus convenience store. Yuu is the insert character, and Grim is an online friend of Yuu who very conveniently happens to attend Night Raven as well.

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intergalacticsuperstar · 4 years

Text

Dreamology | Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Tom is the boy of your dreams...literally. After everything you have been through together with him asleep, will fate finally bring you together while you’re awake?

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader, oneshot

Warnings: fluff :) some light angst and a nightmare

Word Count: 5.3k (that’s my longest ever!)

Notes: This is inspired by the book Dreamology by Lucy Keating. Definitely the hardest I’ve ever worked on a oneshot, so please enjoy!

masterlist

----

You raced on the steps of Colosseum, trying to catch up with the boy of your dreams.

“Tom! Wait for me!”

You giggled as Tom reached the top, cheering and jumping up and down.

“Oh my god, Y/N! This is absolutely amazing! I can’t believe you went here!”

Finally, you reached the top, standing next to him, and touching shoulders as you looked over the city of Rome.

“Me either,” you panted, taking it all in. “It was incredible. But, the Colosseum was a little more worn down.”

Tom sighed, happy and content. The two of you stared at the city lights. The lights shined like glitter, and in the sky, the Aurora Borealis shone brightly.

“I also don’t think the Northern Lights can be seen in Rome,” he commented.

You shrugged. “Must be your doing. Or my brain got bored, wanted to throw in something special.”

Tom turned toward you, leaning one arm against the stone of the Colosseum and the other grabbed your hand. You felt butterflies swim up your chest and heat your cheeks.

“This is amazing. Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” you answered while smiling.

He pulled you in, wrapping his arms around you and putting his chin on your shoulder you can look out over the city together.

“Let’s come here every night.”

“It’s your turn tomorrow,” you answered, amused.

“Well, I choose here again. This is beautiful, you are beautiful… I wish I could just stay here forever.”

“Me too.”

You yawned leaning further into him.

“Nooo,” he whined. “Don’t fall asleep. I want to stay with you longer.”

You smiled at him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He sighed, kissing your forehead.

“See you tomorrow.”

---

The mornings were always your favorite. For a few blissful moments when you woke up, you could still pretend Tom was there, right next to you, holding you tightly. Every detail was memorized and perfect.

But, ultimately, you had to get up, and you had to face reality.

A reality where Tom doesn’t exist.

The first time Tom showed up in your dreams or you ever really remember dreaming at all, you were seven. Nothing was out of the usual, but when you closed your eyes that night, a boy was there on the other side.

You were standing in a field of rolling green grass. The sun was high and shining, warm on your skin. Ahead, back turned to you, sat a boy your age with curly brown hair. You were confused at who this might be, but not scared.

In fact, you felt safe and comfortable. And you were even aware of the fact that you dreaming, which you hadn’t recalled ever doing before.

You walked towards him slowly. Grass squishing between your toes.

“Hello,” you said when you finally reached him.

He jumped back, surprised. “Oh, hi,” he responded, obviously a little shy.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Tom. Who are you?”

“I’m Y/N.”

Tom smiled at you and you took that as a sign to sit down next to him.

“Where are we?” you asked.

He shrugged.

“I don’t know, but it’s really pretty.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Want to play tag?”

Tom immediately nodded with a grin and you both stood up, chasing after each other all night.

Looking back, you always laughed at the memory. You were seven so, of course, the first idea that came to your mind was to play a game of tag. But, little did you know, Tom and you were just alike and quickly grew to be best friends.

“We are just dreaming, right?” you asked, sad as you began to grow tired after your long time of playing tag with Tom that first night you dreamt of him.

He looked down.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Well, maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He grinned and the two of you hugged.

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And the next night, you did see him. And you saw him every night after that. Usually, the location changed automatically when you were younger. But, as you both grew older, you learned how to control the dreams and the locations.

The world was at yours and Tom’s fingertips.

You could show each other memories, you could make up places, go to places that you’ve always wanted to go to. But, it was always easier to go to a place in your memories, sometimes adding elements or combining both you and Tom’s memories together.

And, as you grew older, you and Tom fell in love. You had decided that you were soulmates, and each time you fell asleep, you looked forward to being with him. You could be your self with Tom 100%. There was no pretending.

After a bad day, he would comfort you. And you would do the same with him. You’d give each other advice for real-life stuff, and try to make sure that each other were loved and supported.

There were only a few setbacks.

It’s hard to explain, but there were unwritten rules when it came to these dreams, and it didn’t take long before you and Tom figured it out.

For one, you couldn’t give any personal information about yourself besides your first name, age, and birthday. Anything that could hint to a location was barred out. There was no explaining it, you simply could not talk about it.

The memories were also altered to avoid revealing locations. Anything that gave away how to find each other was blurred or changed. For example, when you went to Rome, you couldn’t tell him or show him you were there. But, the moment you left, you could tell him and show him anything you wanted to.

The most you knew about Tom’s actual info, like the stuff you would find on a driver’s license, was that he is a boy, he is the same age as you, his birthday is June 1st, and he has a British accent, which gave you a clue. But for all you knew, he could be British and be living somewhere else entirely.

You couldn’t make plans to meet up. You couldn’t find each other awake. Those were the unwritten rules.

You both hated them, but as you got older, it didn’t matter. You were just happy to have each other when you went to sleep, even if it was kind of weird.

Because your dreams were so uniquely centered around Tom, and they were lucid and vivid, you never related to anyone else when they would talk about their dreams.

“You are telling me you dream up a boy you’ve never met every single night?” your friend asked you one day at lunch in middle school.

“Yeah...is that weird?”

“It’s pretty weird. It happens every night and you remember them?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, of course.”

“Wild.”

A few years later, another friend would try to get you to forget about Tom.

“Come on, Y/N. How about you try to date someone that’s… I don’t know… real? Dream boy sounds like a dream, but you deserve to have an awake life, too.”

But, you never did find anyone else. Tom had just set too many high expectations for you, and every time you tried to connect with someone, it didn’t stick.

You and Tom avoided talking about real-life relationships as much as possible. It was weird, and it usually made things more complicated. And besides, it was most likely that Tom wasn’t even real anyway, so it was unrealistic to give each other expectations about who to and who not to date in awake life unless the other was asking for advice.

Ultimately, though, it didn’t matter. You and Tom loved the time you got together.

You were lying on a hammock on a beach. The waves were crashing, and the sun had been frozen at sunset for a few hours now. You were growing worried. For the first time in your life, Tom was nowhere to be found.

It was year 8 in school. Tom and you had been growing even more cuddly lately. You were both excited for the summer and looking forward to high school.

It was normal to be off a little here and there. Sometimes you would beat him to sleep and other times he would beat you. When you were little, it was easier. You both had a bedtime around the same time. But, once you hit middle school, it became normal for you both to fall asleep at different times. Usually, it was around the same, but sometimes you would go to bed early and he would stay up late doing homework. Or vice versa.

At least you knew that you were on the same or close timezones.

But, at the four-hour mark of him not showing up, it was pretty concerning. You had gone to be pretty late anyway. It was a Friday, so you were free to do whatever you wanted. But, Tom not being here? That was a first.

That four-hour mark hit and you grew frantic. The scene changed from one of a gorgeous sunset to that of a small, dark, stormy island. It was rocky, and you were at the top, alone. You were scared. It was windy, and you were soaked from head to toe, shivering.

You tried to stop it, but the nerves of Tom not showing up anymore made you lose control.

You experienced your first ever nightmare.

Another four hours, and you were miserable, begging to wake up. Worried that Tom was hurt, and you just wanted to be done with this nightmare.

And suddenly Tom was there.

“Y/N!” he screamed, realizing where you and he were.

“Tom?” you screamed back through the rain.

He reached for you, and the moment the two of you touched, the rain lessened. But it didn’t stop entirely.

“Darling, what are we doing here? Are you okay?” he asked frantically, searching you over.

“I-I… I couldn’t control it… you… I was scared…,”

Tom didn’t wait for you to finish your thoughts. Instead, he focused on changing the scene. The next thing you knew, you and him were back on the warm beach. You, however, were still soaked and shivering.

Tom took off his jacket and wrapped it around you. He pulled you down with him, sitting in the sand, and you fell into his chest.

“Where have you been? I-I was so worried,” you said to him.

He sighed. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. My friend had a birthday party and we ended up staying up all night playing games. I must’ve finally crashed. I didn’t know you would be worried.”

“Oh. I just… I didn’t know what happened. This had never happened before, and the next thing I knew I couldn’t control anything in the scene.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll warn you next time.”

“You better,” you answered, finally smiling at him. Your body suddenly dried and you were wearing new clothes.

You yawned loudly. Tom smirked.

“Already waking up?”

You rolled your eyes.

“You were up all night! Now it’s your turn to spend some time alone.”

“Fine, fine. See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

---

As you got older, you longed to know even more about each other. You just wanted to meet him in real life. Or rather, you wanted him to be real. You didn’t want to only have him in your dreams.

You were sitting in floaties in a lazy river of this waterpark you went to one time. Tom was to your right in his own tube.

“So, I have this really cool opportunity coming up,” he mentioned casually.

“Hm?”

You were both 18. It was the summer before your freshman year of college, but it looked like Tom had other plans in mind.

“It’ll be a long process. Probably a whole year. But, if I get it, it could change my entire life.”

“Wow, Tom. That’s amazing. It’s good, I hope?”

He grinned, “Yeah, very good.”

The next thing you knew, Tom was jumping over into your tube and you squealed. The tube expanded to fit both of you, and Tom wrapped you in his arms.

“I hope it works out,” you finally said after you were both settled.

“Me too,” he said and kissed you on the cheek.

---

He never really mentioned it after that. You had no idea what it was, so you figured that whatever it was must’ve put his location in jeopardy. That was another rule you discovered when you got old enough. Careers were off the table.

You had ideas though. You knew it was creative, and you were pretty sure it had something to do with the performing arts. Tom liked to dance and put on little plays for you sometimes.

You, however, were going to college for film production.

It was during your sophomore year that everything changed.

You were with one of your friends who was a total Marvel nerd. You were eating lunch together when she squealed suddenly, causing you to jump.

“What was that all about?” you grumbled, tired from your day of classes. You still had one to go, but you couldn’t wait to get back to your dorm room and relax.

“Marvel just posted who they are casting as Spider-Man! Spider-Man, Y/N! In the MCU! This is absolutely nuts!”

You chuckled, but you didn’t really care. You had seen most of the Marvel films, but you weren’t really obsessed like your friend was.

“Oooh, he’s pretty cute,” your friend said.

She turned her phone around to show you and you immediately froze, the cup that you were setting down now stuck in mid-air in your hand.

It was Tom. Your Tom.

Your friend was starting to feel awkward when you finally unfroze from the spell.

“Give me that!” you said, snatching the phone out of her hand.

“Hey,” she whined but didn’t really care.

Your heart, however, was beating out of your chest. Fingers shaking, you scrolled through the article, barely reading the words. All you could focus on was the pictures and the name.

Tom Holland.

“What is it?” your friend asked, gazing at you with a curious expression.

“I-uh… I have to go.”

You stood quickly, gathering your things. You made the easy decision to skip your next class, and went back to your dorm room.

You set down everything haphazardly on your bed and went to your desk to open your laptop. The name ‘Tom Holland’ immediately went into the search bar, pulling up mostly articles about the Spider-Man announcement. But, finally, you found an IMDb page that showed everything he was in before.

Just to think, at any time in the past few years, you could’ve accidentally watched one of his movies and discovered him long ago.

Would the rules change now? Would you be able to talk about him to him? You started getting excited for the night.

---

Of course, hours later, you were so nervous and excited you couldn’t fall asleep. You sighed, frustrated, checking the time to see 1:01 am. Tom was probably already asleep and waiting for you. It was another hour before you finally crashed.

“About time,” Tom says when you enter the dreamland.

He’s smiling-- no, he’s glowing. He looks radiant and powerful, and full of joy. If you weren’t so focused on revealing what you know, you probably would have just kissed him all night.

You are in his bedroom, the one from when he was little. The bed sheets are Spider-Man themed and he has trophies on the wall. You had a feeling you knew why Tom chose this place tonight over another. Sometimes the subconscious chooses for you. A time where Spider-Man was only a dream must be on his.

He’s sat up on the bed, leaning on his arms casually, looking at you as you stand in the sunshine coming through the window.

“Thomas Stanley Holland,” you said, punctuating each word. “Your parents are Dominic and Nikki Holland. You live in London, England. You're an actor. You used to be Billy Elliot. And now, you are the next Spider-Man.”

You finished with a smile, matching his grin.

“You know,” is all he said, eyes full of wonder.

You nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

You jumped onto his bed, and he wrapped you into a big hug.

“The rules must’ve changed,” you said.

“At least for me, anyway. I still don’t know about you.”

“Maybe you will, someday. Now that I know you are real and not a figment of my imagination.”

After that, the two of you spent the rest of the night figuring out the logistics. Your instinct was to immediately go find him. Now that you had his info, you could meet up. The problems were that you still couldn’t talk about meeting up, Tom knew nothing about you, and the topic sort of… made him nervous.

“Don’t you think finding each other would mean… I don’t know, upsetting the cosmos?” he said, when you brought up the topic.

“Upsetting the cosmos?” you asked, eyebrows raised. “Since when have we cared about upsetting the cosmos?”

He sighed, clearly trying to not upset you, but knowing that he probably would.

“Look, it’s just that… we already have an amazing gig here. We get to be with each other every night. Do whatever we want. And there’s these rules… that are clearly controlled. So what happens when we do exactly what those rules have tried to prevent us from?”

You stared at him.

“We get to be together, Tom. For real. People don’t think I’m crazy because I’m obsessed with the boy in my head.”

“I just don’t think we should rush into this. Trust me, darling, I want to see you too. But, I also don’t want to ruin what we have. Besides, my memories from these dreams have always been different than yours. What if I don’t remember you out there? What if we meet and we forget because we upset the cosmos?”

You rolled your eyes. “You're being superstitious.”

“I’m being careful.”

You turned away from him.

“Hey,” he said gently, reaching for your hand. “I’m sorry. Please, do you understand?”

You sighed, finally looking at him again.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Despite your general anger, things cleared up between you two pretty quickly. You never could argue for long, but this little debate lasted over a week. You were upset and you felt like he didn’t want you in his life.

Nonetheless, he kept reassuring you, making you know that he loved you, and trying to make it up to you. He really was just paranoid and worried what would happen if the two of you met in real life.

---

Time passed.

And as it did, things changed.

A lot of things.

The first year or so, it was fine. Everything was great. But then, Captain America: Civil War came out. Tom Holland’s popularity was growing.

Tom began to have more responsibilities with press work. He got signed to more movie roles, and soon he was jet-setting across the world.

That was the worst part, you thought. When he was traveling and the timezones changed, you often didn’t see each other for days. You hated it.

One time, you didn’t see him for almost two weeks, and it would’ve been longer if he hadn’t forced himself to take a nap so he could see you.

When he finally would come back, he was exhausted, and instead of wanting to talk, he usually just wanted to cuddle in some dream cloud. This was fine, of course. You were just happy to have him back, but for the first time in your life, Tom wasn’t always there to talk to you.

And as the fame grew, so did the inconsistency.

It was just hard to line sleeping schedules up. You were busy with school, him with his career. It was also weird because while you knew everything about him, he didn’t know anything about you.

Sure, he knew you. He knew you better than anyone. But, he didn’t even know your last name. Or where you lived. Or what you were studying.

During the day, Tom didn’t have to be reminded over and over every time he got on social media that you were out there in the world and he couldn’t see you. But, that’s what you had to deal with.

Now, it really wasn’t all bad. It was just different sometimes than what you had been used to your entire life. There were still plenty of nights that it was just the same old Tom and you, causing trouble, laughing all night, holding each other in each other’s arms.

There were still plenty of the good moments. It was just strange that there were some bad moments. Those never happened before.

---

A couple years passed, and you finally graduated school. It was time to dive into the work field and as a film production major, the place to do that was in LA.

You and Tom were sitting at the top of an old stone castle. It was sunset, and you guys were having a picnic. This was one of the better nights as of recently. Tom wasn’t working, so he was home.

He was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen in the light of the sunset.

“So,” you began. “I have some news.”

Tom perked up, looking at you. He gave you a slight smile.

“Oh yeah?”

You smiled back, a little nervous. It was always hard to talk about where the two of you were going. The “cosmos” as Tom had started to call it in the past few years prevented you from saying anything. Even when Tom went on business trips, you never knew where he was exactly until he got back.

“Yeah,” you responded. “I’m… I’m moving. For my career.”

Tom’s eyebrows raised.

“Oh. Oh, that’s… that’s great. You’re moving… like far?”

You nodded. “Like different timezones far.”

“Wow, well, I’m happy for you. I still think it’s unfair you get to know my career but I don’t know yours.”

You smiled, laying your head against his chest.

“Yeah, well, you just had to go and become famous.”

He wrapped his arms around you.

“Are you excited to move?” he asked quietly after a moment.

You nodded. “Yeah. I think so. I think it’ll be my best chance at a good opportunity.”

“That’s wonderful, love. Whatever it is, I know you’ll be great.”

“Thank you.”

He looked down at you.

“I love you, you know that?”

You couldn’t help but grin, reaching up and giving him a soft kiss.

“I love you too.”

He yawned and carded his hand through your hair. It was his tell-- you knew he was about to wake up.

“See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

---

It took awhile, and a lot of hard work, but before you knew it, you were steady on your feet in Los Angeles, the film capital of the world.

During this time, you and Tom were still close. The timezones thing didn’t end up being too big of an issue most of the time.

After a bit of time though, you got an exciting gig, working on a new big movie. There were some big stars in the cast, and you would be working in the camera department. Already, people were saying this movie could be an Oscar contender, so to say the least, you were ecstatic.

It was your first day on set. You were setting up some cameras that the Director of Photography had instructed you to do. A lot of the crew was milling around. Today was the first scene with actual actors, and you were excited to meet them.

You were pretty sure the last you heard the lead was Timothée Chalamet.

The door to the studio opened, and you heard the director cheer in the distance.

“Ah wonderful!” she, the director, said.

You were tightening a tripod when the director continued talking.

“Everyone! Can I get your attention?”

The whole room quieted down as people turned their heads to the director. You finished tightening the tripod as she said, “I know things have been hectic trying to get the cast secured… Unfortunately, Timothée Chalamet had to drop out of this film in favor of another.”

Finally, you looked up.

“Luckily,” she continued, “We got Tom Holland to sign on last minute.”

You froze.

Your eyes were wide.

Your heart was pounding.

There was blood rushing to your head.

You weren’t even breathing.

Instead, your eyes were locked on him.

On Tom.

Your Tom.

Your living and breathing Tom who was standing 10 yards away from you in full costume for the role.

He smiled at everyone, waving, and then, his eyes locked to yours.

You couldn’t even smile or try to do anything; you just stared at him in complete and utter shock.

He was staring too. For a moment. And then another. His eyes were wide. Another moment passed. And then his face went slack, like it wasn’t phased at all, and continued to smile at the crowd.

The director said some more stuff that you didn’t hear, and before long, everyone was back to work. You didn’t move. At least, you didn’t move until the DP came over to you, nudging you on the shoulder.

“Hello, earth to Y/N,” he said, waving his hand in front of your face. “It’s time to film the first scene for today.”

You shook out of your trance.

“Uh, right, right. Sorry, yeah. Let’s do this.”

That entire day was torture. You were focus pulling the camera, making sure the actor, Tom, was in focus no matter how much he or the camera moved. It was a hard enough job how it was, but now? Now, it was extremely difficult. Your hands were shaking the whole day. You weren’t even sure if you took a full breath once.

When it was finally over, and the last scene of the day wrapped, Tom made a swift exit, heading out to get his makeup off and costume off. You had to help pack up the cameras with the crew.

You were moving extremely fast, trying to get done, and the moment that you were, you darted off to the costume trailers, praying he was still there.

He was, and you barged in. Thankfully, he was already dressed in sweats and a t-shirt. He was in the process of tying his shoes when you came in. Luckily, no one else was there.

He looked up, surprised. You froze again.

“Can I help you?” he finally said.

You frowned. The boy you knew better than anyone was right in front you, and it was like he didn’t even know you.

“Do you… do you remember me?”

He shook his head slowly.

“I’m sorry. I don’t.”

He gulped, and you squinted at him.

It was quiet as the two of you stared at each other.

“You’re lying,” you finally said, shocked.

“What?” he responded quickly. “No I’m not.”

“Yes you are,” you exaggerated, pointing your finger at him. “You always do that gulp thing when you are lying!”

He stared at you, tense for a moment before sighing and slumping against the counter.

“Aha!” you exclaimed. “See! Why did you lie to me?”

You were surprised at how natural it felt. You thought for sure that you would be frozen and nervous while trying to speak to him, but right now, the two of you together. It felt natural. Like it was just an ordinary dream.

Except this time, it was real life.

“I’m sorry,” Tom said, looking over with a pained smile. “I… I panicked.”

“Because of the cosmos? Well,” you said, lifting your arms out and looking around, “looks like nothing has exploded yet.”

You and Tom stared at each other, smiles slowly and slowly growing until both of you were grinning.

He flew out of his seat and pulled you into a hug, spinning you around.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe this is real! Are you sure we aren’t dreaming?” he said.

You giggled, and he set you down, hands still on your arms.

“I’m pretty sure we aren’t,” you said, and unexpectedly tears welt in your eyes.

“Aw, don’t cry,” he said, lifting his palm to your cheek. You set your hand over his.

You giggled again, tears falling. Tom also got nervous when you cried.

“I’m just so happy. I- I can’t believe it.”

“Me either, darling. But here we are.”

He looked deeply into your eyes, and you felt like melting. You felt like you were dreaming in real life. You finally understood what people meant to feel like that.

“Y/N?”

He said your name. He said it so softly that the world could have suddenly disappeared and your name would still go on drifting into eternity. You loved the way he said your name, and to hear it in real life, in person, while awake, it was something truly magical.

“Tom?”

He pushed a piece of hair out of your face.

“I love you,”

You giggled again, and he smiled and poked your nose.

“I love you too,” you responded, barely believing that this was happening.

And he pulled you in for the most magical kiss you had ever shared.

---

That night, there was a lot of talking. You went back to his place, and you told each other everything… everything you didn’t know anyway. (Which truthfully wasn’t much, but was still a lot).

He learned your full name, and kept saying it over and over. You were pretty sure he never stopped smiling the whole night. You didn’t either.

You told him about your career, about living in LA. You talked about each other’s hometowns which was an exciting first for both of you. One you had been wondering about forever.

Turns out, Tom’s brothers, Harry and Sam, who you definitely knew, (Sometimes they appeared in Tom’s memories.) knew about Tom’s dreams. You never really told anyone in your family about them, but Tom was pretty excited to call them and introduce you to them. They thought the whole situation was fascinating.

You continued to talk to Tom for the whole night. You snuggled up with him in bed, and you both just rambled and rambled about all the things you were never allowed to talk about before.

You don’t even remember falling asleep, you just know that you did because the next thing you knew, you were on an airplane.

For a little, you barely noticed you were dreaming… sometimes it was like that. But when you did, you sat up in your seat, looking for Tom. He wasn’t there yet. You got annoyed with the airplane and changed the scene to somewhere in your hometown. Somewhere you had never been allowed to show before.

Meaning, the rules must’ve changed. You can show Tom everything now.

It didn’t take him long to get there, excited as soon as he saw you. You embraced and both rejoiced in the fact that you didn’t have to lose this special part of your lives.

“Guess the restrictions are gone now. Tom… this is my hometown.”

You spent half the night showing him your “restricted” memories and the other half looking at his. You made promises to go there in real life.

And when you finally settled down with him on a large tree branch, somewhere majestic and beautiful, you didn’t grow sad when you both started to get tired and you knew it was almost time to wake up.

Because when you woke up in the morning, you weren’t alone. Tom was right next to you. He had his arms around you. You were awake.

And just like that, the boy of your dreams was now your reality.

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

AN: Thanks for reading! I worked super hard and long on this, so please let me know what you think :)

Taglist:

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kickingitwithkirk · 4 years

Text

Deuxième Omega

Summary: Jensen is not dealing well with his unexpected divorce and before the ink is even dry, he is pushed into another union with a complete stranger.

Pairing: Alpha!Jensen Ackles x Omega!OFC

Word Count: 3363

Warnings: A/B/O, angst, angry Jensen, cursing, alcohol abuse, parental manipulation, arranged marriage, Alpha dominance over Omega, unintended injuries.

A/N: So, get this; a lot of my original writing ideas from my weird as hell dreams about Sam Winchester but for some reason Jensen is starring in this one. I’m gonna blame the bad PMS I’m having for all the angst in this.

A/N II: There is no intentional hate or malevolence intended towards any of the Ackles family. This is a purely fictional piece containing real and created persons/names/events set in the fictional A/B/O verse.

*Supernatural doesn’t end in season 15 and some dates/events have been altered to fit the story.

*no beta, all mistakes are mine *photos found online

Jensen was sitting slouched on the leather couch staring at the paperwork that had been dropped off by courier this morning, official notification of the dissolution of his marriage to Danneel when Jared entered his trailer. “It’s not gonna say anything different no matter how many times you look at it.”

“I know,” Jensen sighed heavily, “never thought I’d be in this position.” He tossed the papers on the table and picked up his beer draining it in one go.

“You better not drink anymore, we’ve still got two more scenes to get through before we can leave tonight.”

Jensen rolled his head towards Jared leaning across the kitchenettes bar counter with a very concerned expression.

Jensen had always been a social drinker, he did love his beer, the slight softness over his toned stomach was the biggest indicator. But there had been constant uptick in his drinking during the mandatory two year waiting period for an Alpha/Beta divorce. So far, it hadn’t seriously interfered with work but there had been several instances of his obvious imbidding that Jared, Alex, even Misha ended up pumping him full of coffee to get him through.

“Then let’s get them done so I can get really fucked up before that shit show happens tomorrow.”

“Jack, give this new marriage a chance. Your dad said she’s a good match right? You never know, maybe it’ll work out like Gen and me.” Jared’s marriage had been a private match and he was happy with the Omega that his family had chosen.

Jensen snorted, getting up and walking out of his trailer, “Yeah, you lucked out with her, not always the case. Look at me, I’m getting a second hand Omega.”

*** To say the atmosphere in the private arrivals area was strained was an understatement. The Ackles were seating several feet apart awaiting their son.

“Mommy…daddy, how’s it..go..going?” They both turned in unison to see their very drunk middle child staggering towards them followed closely by Jared and Clif.

“Jensen Ross Ackles, how could you show up in this condition!” Donna Ackles snapped as he gave her a cheeky smile before passing out. “Fuck!” Jared blurted out, catching him before he face planted onto the tiled floor.

“Jared Tristan Padalecki you’re to blame for this!”

“I’m the one who’s been there for him, not the one forcing him to do something he’s not ready for! This is on you, I’ve tried to get him to stop but he’s hurting like hell and you don’t care!”

“You can’t speak to me that way young man! I always knew you came from trash and this proves it.”

Jared let his inner Alpha surface, eyes glowing red in anger, “If you ever speak disparagingly about my family again…” Clif quickly stepped in between them giving Jared a look.

“I’ve had it with you inserting yourself in our family business! I’ll make sure you never have contact with Jensen outside of work ever again!”

“You go ahead and try, Jensen’s forty two years old and more than capable of making his own choices. The only reason he’s agreed to this is because you’ve duped him into believing this is the only way to uphold your family’s social standing in the Dallas Pack because all you care about is how you look to those fucking country club bitches!”

“Alan, could you please bring the car around so we can get away from this embarrassing situation.” The older Alpha gripped his mates arm giving her a firm look of disapproval and steered her towards the exit. They could still hear her grousing, “how dare he deliver Jensen in this state,” as they went out the door.

Jared hefted his friend over his broad shoulder and carried Jensen back out the private entrance as the SUV pulled up. Clif opened the back door and helped Jared place him in the vehicle, carefully laying him across the seat.

“How bad has it been for him?” Alan inquired after Clif shut the door so his mate couldn’t hear.

Jared pulled off his beanie, running both hands through his hair, not hiding his frustration before answering, “He’s been in a downward spiral, drinking continuously, got him to stick to beer. I found him looking at the divorce papers and as you see… ”

Alan sighed heavily. Jensen’s divorce came out of nowhere, everything on the surface appeared good between him and Danneel but in hindsight he realized there were telltale signs all along, the biggest was her reluctance to have children.

Anytime anyone inquired she waved it off, saying she wanted to wait till Supernatural had ended, it wouldn’t be fair to leave all the responsibility for rearing their pups predominantly on her, she wanted Jensen there, to be a hands-on father.

Alphas were involved to an extent in care and raising of pups, but it was unusual for one to be as hands on as the Betas or Omegas were.

Jensen was one of those exceptions. Whenever with his siblings, he was right in there helping, never turning down a chance to play with them, even princess tea parties with his only niece. When on vacation or at conventions with Jared and his mate, he always was willing to help with their pups.

“I want to formally apologize for what Donna said, she overstepped the lines of etiquette. This is no excuse but she doesn’t know how to handle this situation. Jensen’s always been her favorite and she personally picked Danneel as his mate, it’s been a slap to her ego.”

Jared smiled, “I accept your apology Alan. Jensen’s always said his mother has been a…handful.”

Alan laughed, “That’s the diplomatic way of putting it,” he signed again, “Donna’s family always spoiled her being the only Omega, somewhere along the way she’s forgetting that being part of Dallas society doesn’t give you the right to treat others badly.”

*** Late next morning

Jensen was sitting on the edge of his hotel bed contemplating how he got here.

He thought Danneel was the one. When they were introduced by his mother a few months before his twenty seventh birthday they instantly clicked and started dating that night.

Jensen proposed six months later, couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have found a love match. Danneel stated she wasn’t ready to give up her career yet, so they compromised and decided on a long engagement.

Supernatural started filming its fourth season when Kripke announced that the series would end with season five. Danneel also found out her current role was being written out of the series she was in about the same time so they set the date for May 2010.

Jared’s surprise wedding in February that year reaffirmed Jensen’s desire to settle down and start his family in a few months. They bought a home outside Austin like Jared and his new mate Genevieve. Things were going as planned, then the unexpected happened.

A couple months before they finished filming the CW announced Supernatural was being picked up for season six under new leadership.

Jensen returned to Vancouver not long after they were married. Danneel continued working, doing guest starring roles on other series and was cast in the occasional recurring role of Jo.

Every year when the show went on hiatus Jensen would bring up about starting their own family, he was feeling the biological pull more and more. Once again, she stated it wouldn’t be fair for them to have a family and him be a drop-in father, and moving to Vancouver full time, nope, he worked too many hours.

Danneel started dabbling in other interests outside of acting and in 2018 they opened The Family Business Brewery with her family. A few months later Jensen was served with the divorce announcement.

*** “Jensen, it’s time.” He looked up and Alan was saddened by the lost look in his son’s eyes. There was a resignation in those green eyes that never existed before. Saying nothing Jensen got up, slipped on his suit jacket and walked out of the room.

Alan mentally shook himself but that nagging feeling was back once again, something wasn’t right about this whole situation.

*** The Uber stopped at the back door of the small country church. The woman in the backseat thanked the driver and got out, pulling the garment bag with her. She walked to the door and rang the bell. It opened revealing the minister’s wife.

“You’re very late, the wedding is starting in fifteen minutes.” She said, hurrying up a staircase to the second floor and entered an empty room. “Where is your family? They should have arrived already to help you get ready.”

“There is no one coming,” the woman replied as she hung the garment bag over a closet door next to the mirror attached to it. The minister’s wife’s jaw dropped in surprise, “and it won’t take me long to get ready. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

She unzipped the bag removing a veil and shoes having arrived already in her dress, chosen by the groom’s mother, and attached the veil to the headpiece holding back part of her simply styled hair. She looked at herself for a moment before pulling the front part of the veil over her face then joined the minister’s wife who was to escort her to the chapel. She placed the shoes she wouldn’t wear until after the ceremony on the small table outside the double doors and took her place in front of them.

Jensen was sitting in the first pew of the small country church wondering why this place was chosen for the wedding as Donna and Alan made their way to sit next to him. His siblings, Joshua and Mackenzie, were already seated in the one behind him with their mates as the rest of the Ackles clan that had been invited filled up the rest of the pews.

He looked over at the bride’s side. There was not a single person seated in any of those pews. He frowned, finding it strange, wondering where her family was when the intro music started.

The minister took his place and gestured for him to rise. Jensen couldn’t move, his body feeling like it was tied down with lead weights. “Jensen!” His mother hissed at him in a low tone.

Suddenly, he felt himself get up, urgently needing to get away from her as his inner Alpha became agitated, as if it sensed something was amiss.

Each secondary gender pairing had their own ceremonial traditions so he was required to remain facing forward when the music changed and the doors behind him opened.

As the guests stood Jensen focused his senses on her as she proceeded down the aisle. He couldn’t scent her, too many different scents mingling together to isolate hers. He listened to the whispering material of the dress as she slowly walked, finally stopping next to him. In his peripheral vision he could see her head bowed under the thick veil obscuring her face and hair, her hands were clasped together in front of her, devoid of a bouquet.

The minister started speaking, talking about the obligations each Alpha and Omega were required to follow as dictated by the book. Jensen inhaled sharply, realizing what was occurring.

This wasn’t the common ceremony but the ancient, traditional version that only the extreme believers still used today. There was absolutely no out for either party from once the proceedings started.

If he objected to the ceremony he would be shunned by his pack, his family would be forced to never acknowledge him again or suffer the same censure; if the marriage didn’t work and they separated, he was responsible for her care as she would be set aside from society and forced to live in isolation.

He looked over at his parents, Alan was pinching the bridge of his nose trying to quell his anger knowing that his mate had put Jensen in an impossible situation as Donna sat there with a fake, placid look.

His own mother had irrevocably bound him to this Omega for the rest of his life.

The rest of the ceremony was a blur, neither party was required to say anything, there was no exchange of rings or a kiss at the end. The minister finished the ceremony and turned to the altar signing the marriage certificate with a quill pen dipped in ink. Jensen signed next, his hand was shaking so violently in anger making his signature barely legible.

The Omega didn’t sign, only her name was required for legality and the minister filled it in. He poured a powder on it to set the ink, blew off the access, rolled it up and tied it with a piece of twine before handing it to Jensen offering his blessings for a fruitful marriage. It took every ounce of his acting ability to politely smile, shake his hand, thanking the minister for the proceedings.

He turned, marching out without acknowledging his bride and she obediently followed behind him, pausing to grab her shoes along the way and scurrying to the waiting limousine climbing in after him.

Jensen sat in the back on the farthest side pouring himself a drink from the bar as his new wife sat quietly near the still open door. A few minutes later Jensen was on his third glass of whiskey when his parents climbed in and the chauffeur shut the door. He started the limo and as they pulled out Alan pressed the button to close the privacy window between them.

The tension in the back was so palatable an icebreaker couldn’t have cut through it. “Donna how could you…” Alan was unable to say anymore, his disgust for what had happened thick in those few words. “I did nothing wrong,” she snapped back, “I only had Jensen’s best interests…”

“Like when you threatened to sabotage my friendship with Jared again? By the way, Clif’s the one who dropped the dime on what happened after I passed out last night, not Jared, so you don’t get to blame him for that too.” Jensen threw back the rest of his drink before continuing.

“Oh, don’t think I’ve ever been ignorant of your disdain for him ‘cause the clan he comes from isn’t good enough for those highfalutin bitches in your social circle. Or how you’ve persuaded me to do this only to find out you took it to the extreme, forcing me into an impossible situation, accept this marriage or lose everything. Congratulations mom, you are still the queen bitch, sorry, bee, your precious reputation is secure.”

They traveled the rest of the way in silence. The limousine pulled onto the grounds of the country club in front of its grand entrance. Jensen got out before the chauffeur finished putting the car in park leaving his new wife to scramble out behind him as Alan and Donna got out the other side.

Jensen finally took a good look at his bride. She was in a simple, modestly cut, long sleeved dress, the only adornments a row of buttons down the bodice, no jewelry and apparently a pair of shoes that didn’t fit as she was struggling to get them on.

She was still fussing with her left shoe when he spoke in a stern voice, “Since our wedding was in the traditional, we’ll continue with its edicts. You are not to remove that veil, acknowledge or speak to anyone. You will not leave my side for any reason. Where I go, you go, three steps behind me. Nod once if you understand.” She nodded once.

“Son, I think…”

“Dad, as the traditional also states, I’m well within my rights to make demands of my Omega without interference, am I not?”

Alan acquiesced, “Yes, you are.”

“So” Jensen rubbed his hands together, “let’s go celebrate this disaster, shall we.” Putting on a fake smile, he went into the venue to greet his family with his Omega obediently three steps behind him.

*** Several hours later

“This shit has got to stop cause I swear it’s the only time I’m doing this dad.” Josh grunts, annoyance thickening his voice as he helped guide his inebriated brother to his hotel room. “Come on.. have ‘nother drunk, ‘posed to be celebrating my disaster marriage to that…’mega..don’t even want her.”

“Jensen, shut the fuck up! I’m not gonna stand here and let you insult your mate.” Josh snapped at him.

Jensen ripped his arm loose, “ ‘en go, not stopping you…and she’s not my mate,” his free arm waves unsteadily as he points towards his new wife standing by the main door, “my real mate took my money, my home, my fucking heart!!!”

Josh turned his back on his brother, “Jensen, I can’t stand seeing you like this, you need to get it together.” He headed for the main door, pausing to speak to his brother’s new wife, “I’m sorry he’s taken his anger out on you now. My brother is a good man, an honorable Alpha,” he stepped close to her and lowered his voice, “there is far more to this than what you’ve been told, please be patient with him.” He left slamming the door behind him.

“Fuck him,” Jensen muttered staggering into the bedroom and sitting on the edge of the bed slumped over.

“Jensen, your brother is right, you have got to pull yourself together. Therefore, as the Alpha of our clan, you are banned from our family. When you are back to being yourself, the Alpha you once were, you may appeal for re-admittance.”

Alan then did something he hadn’t done since Jensen was a small child, he bent over and placed a kiss on his son’s head, “I love you and I want my son back.” Nodding to his new daughter in law he left.

It hurt him tremendously knowing he wouldn’t see his son for a long time but it was for his own good. Now his Omega was the only one who could help him mend. Hopefully Jensen would see this marriage wasn’t the biggest mistake he’s imagined it to be.

Jensen didn’t move until he heard someone shuffling their feet. He looked up squinting at his new wife still standing by the bedroom door. Sitting up straight he grunted at her and passed out, falling backwards on the mattress. She slowly walked over and hesitated a moment before reaching out touching his shoulder, shaking him.

Getting no response she sat down near him lifting her right foot, gingerly removing the ill fitting shoe with a gasp and then repeated with her left. The blisters on both her heels that had busted open earlier were raw and had bleed. She detached her veil and wadded it up, stuffing it in a shoe and bent over untying Jensen’s and removed them too.

Standing up she gripped both his jacket lapels and hefted him upright to lean against her as she worked it off letting him flop back down and unbuttons his shirt leaving him sleep the case of everything he drank off. She left a pain reliever and bottled water on the nightstand.

Quietly shutting the bath door she found the dress had too many small buttons down the back. She laughed mirthlessly at the irony she was stuck in the dress like this marriage. Pulling the skirt up over her knees she sat on the counter to soak and clean her sore feet in the basin.

Once the worst of the ache was gone she pulled the drain and climbed off to finish washing up the best she could. The mirror reflects back the emotional toll of the last few months in her eyes.

She went over to the bed only to find her husband had moved, sprawled out over its entire surface. Searching for extra bedding and not finding any she gave up going back into the main room and curled up on the couch hoping to find a comfortable position to get some sleep for a few hours so she could briefly forget what her life had become.

Part II

SPN: @donnaintx

Dean/Jensen: @flamencodiva

#alpha!jensen ackles x omega!ofc #alpha!jensen ackles #alpha!jared padalecki #a/b/o ofc #supernatural a/b/o #alpha!jensen ackles x omega #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #a/b/o rp

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hansolmates · 4 years

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jjk; angel’s trumpet [03]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, mentions of smut in future chapters w.c; 5k a/n; we’re finally getting into some traction with the main plot! who are we liking more so far, w1!jk or w2!jk??

[02] [03] [04]-> masterpost

Instead of going to the doctor, you take a trip to the library. If Namjoon thinks your ideas are supernatural, you’re going to find someone who believes in the supernatural.

He calls you in the morning just to make sure you’re going to his recommended doctor. You fabricate a lie that the doctor friend he recommended is busy so you’re going to go find another one in the meantime. Just in case Namjoon decides to ask said doctor about your current mental and physical state, you want to make sure you cover your tracks. As much as you want to give it another go and help Namjoon understand your precarious situation, you weren’t up for another possibility of rejection.

You wanted to avoid Namjoon’s rejection so much that you’d rather turn to unconventional alternatives to finding your answer.

Unfortunately, Tony Stark and Steven Strange do not exist in this universe, and therefore you need to turn to more practical measures.

Seoul University has a zillion libraries, and you decide to go to the general library in the hopes you’ll find something in the subject of world-hopping. Unfortunately you haven’t been in a huge library since you were a senior in college, and the smell of paper, sad students and ink all but overwhelms you.

You’re about to start wandering when a young voice snatches your attention. “Miss,” you feel a tug at your belt loop, and you notice a little boy looking up at you with a pout. “I lost my way after using the bathroom and I can’t find the daycare.”

A little part of you wonders who on earth could’ve let a boy no older than five out of their sights, especially in such a spacious building. Alas, you smile and offer him your hand, suggesting that the two of you look for a map.

“Well it’s a good thing we found each other!” you say brightly, encouraging the kid to follow you to the kiosk, “I was just about to look for a map because I’m a little lost too, we can read it together.”

The boy tells you his name is Bogum, and you respond with yours and explain that it’s okay to get lost, especially when this library is so big. He listens to you with rapt attention, wide eyes as you spell out the words “daycare” using the little paper map you brought with you from the lobby.

Bogum and you stop in front of a plain room with a cheap powder blue baby gate, deep in the children’s section of the library. It’s there that you spot five or so children huddled over the flatscreen television, ‘oh’ and ‘ah’-ing over whatever film’s prattling on. You’re not surprised that Frozen 2 remains a sensation in both worlds.

Bogum opens the door first, and you make eye contact with the only adult in the room. He’s lean and friendly-looking, holding a child in their lap as they sing along to “Into the Unknown”. Your heart is caught in your throat, begging to be released as your eyes widen in surprise.

“Hobi!” you blurt instinctively, but you immediately clamp your mouth upon realizing. You really need to get used to this, but honestly how can anyone get used to this kind of situation? Hoseok will definitely be the fourth person you’ve alarmed in the past five days.

Hoseok’s jaw drops slightly, head tilted as the rest of the mini-crew train their eyes on you. You shrink in the presence of children, knowing from experience nothing gets by them.

“Is that your girlfriend, Hobi-ah?”

“Do you know her, Mr. Hoseok?”

“She looks scared, what did you do?”

The affronted man presses his lips in a thin line, “Dunno,” he answers vaguely. He seems unperturbed, hands settling in his traffic cone orange sweatpants. He gestures to the snacks in the middle of the room, releasing the children’s inner fire for food, “but it’s fruit snack time! Go ahead and grab your water from the cubbies, you can eat while you watch.”

The babies cheer, and you smile fondly as the kids rip open their packets and giggle over Olaf. You wish you could go back to simpler times.

“So,” Hoseok stands up, and gestures for you to sit at the small kids table in the back, “Do I know you? I don’t know if I know you, but I feel like I know you. Because you know me.”

Deciding you need to sit down for his bombardment you squeeze your legs into the worn Fisher-Price desk, running your nails over the crayon stains and pencil shavings. “Uh, no?”

“Did we have a class together? Hook-up? Friend’s hook-up that I tried to coerce into a threesome?”

“Ohmygod, there are children here!” you hiss, but Hoseok just smiles plainly, offering you a bag of fruit snacks that he snagged before the children emptied his bowl. You accept the gesture, unable to make eye contact.

Seeing the members out of their clan of seven is still jarring to you. You can’t imagine a world without the seven of them together. Like they always say, Bangtan is fate.

“I just wanted to return Bogum,” you say, crinkling the foil bag in your grasp, “and I’m actually looking for a professor who has her office hours here. I have uh, questions on my thesis on alternate universes.”

“Ah, are you referring to Professor Song?” you nod, “she cancelled her office hours for today, if you bothered to email her. And anyways, she doesn’t take kindly to questions on supernatural phenomena. Not since her latest book on paranormal channeling tanked.”

Your face visibly falls, dejected. You probably should’ve tried to schedule an appointment. “O-oh.”

“But as a non-judgemental soul, I would be happy to assist you on your ‘thesis’.” Hoseok air-quotes, noting that the kids are only in the very beginning of Frozen 2 and they have a whole hour and a half to their own devices. “And in exchange, I want to know the real reason as to why you’re looking for her, especially because you referred to me so excitedly as Hobi, and not Hoseok,” he crosses his arms, “and only my mother and sister have the right to call me that.”

You feel like a kid sent to the time-out corner, inevitably forced to fess up. It didn’t work out as well as you hoped with Namjoon, and you feared to be disappointed when Hoseok disagreed with you as well. Of course, you can’t blame them. If Hoseok came up to you and said he came from an alternate universe, you’d run for the hills.

But Hoseok is sweet and sincere, and he’s definitely not letting you go. In fact, he’s empathetic, already distressed from seeing you sweating and wringing the poor fruit snack packet.

He drags over a mini chalkboard cart, poised to take notes. “C’mon, I won’t bite.”

You frown, “Promise you won’t laugh at me until the very end?”

“Promise.”

Forty minutes later and in the turning point of Frozen 2, Hoseok has drawn up what looks like a convoluted flowchart detailing every single thing you’ve said up until this point. It reminds you of a child’s drawing, symbolizing all the dead-ends and turns of your life, but you’re sure Hoseok doesn’t want to hear that.

Within the first ten minutes of your story, Hoseok is shaking his head. “That’s crazy. C’mon, prove it. If we’re really friends in an alternate universe, how much do you know about me?”

Hoseok's face falls farther and farther into his lap as you respond with a straight face. His birthday, favorite foods, hobbies, music taste, and even feelings towards melodramatic movies are laid out in your words like a personal diary.

He crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes. “Tell a secret that you know about me.”

That stumps you. You make a face, stuffing a strawberry gummy in your mouth as you think about any conversation you could’ve possibly had with Hoseok in the past year. There’s a possibility that whatever happened to Hoseok in your world hasn’t happened in this one, but you have to at least try.

With as much confidence as you can muster you say, “When you were in the 3rd grade, your older sister was playing with sticks in your backyard and accidentally stabbed you.”

He narrows his carmine eyes, “Where?”

“Left breast,” you chirp, “under the nipple.”

Hoseok’s face twists like he’s in the 8th dimension, and he clutches his left breast comically. “You’re either psychic or telling the truth,” he marvels, nearly cracking the bud of chalk in his fingertips.

You fight the urge to sigh in relief, running a hand through your hair. You can’t believe that actually worked.

“Okay so obviously because I need to know my alter-self, what’s Jung Hoseok like in World One?”

“World One?” you snort.

“Yeah, since it’s your home world. This is World Two, because this is your second reality.” He says as if it’s the most obvious thing, waving his hands in the air.

“You’re a rapper and incredible dancer in the world’s top boy band.” and Hoseok doesn’t know whether to think you’re an impeccable actor or really telling the truth by the way you smile so tenderly. “And you managed to get your mom the barbeque restaurant she always wanted. Best place for pork belly wraps.”

And because you know he’s a softie for his mother, you already have a tissue stretched out for him, confirming that you have him convinced. Seeing it all laid out terrifies him, not because he’s scared of someone infiltrating his reality, but because you’re lost. You’re lost and you can’t go home and he can feel like he’s known you all this time. Not because you know every single fact about him under the sun, but something tells him you were meant to find him today.

“So, you got hit by a truck in World One, and end up in World Two just like that?” you nod again, and Hoseok starts to line up whatever code he’s created on the blackboard. “What were you doing before that?”

“I went drinking with my friend Sehlyung.”

“Uh-huh, and before that?”

“Got into a fight with the guy I love.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Even worse, he ended up being the first person I met once I entered your world.”

Hoseok blinks, “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Your face sours, “Impossible. Jungkook didn’t recognize me either.”

“Anything else happened that day? Perhaps something to do with the both of you? It can’t just be coincidence,” Hoseok insists, and you almost see the potential theories looming over his head.

Wishing you bought some aspirin on your way, you pinch your brows together. You’ve recollected that night one too many times that it’s been starting to overwhelm you. You hate thinking back to how harshly Jungkook rejected you. How much his words pierced you clean like you were soft and breakable. The twist in the knife was seeing him again in this world, only for him to reject you again for an entirely different reason.

“Wait,” you bite your lip, the final memory from your last conversation with Jungkook resurfacing.

“Maybe in another world, we’d work out. But not this one.”

“He said maybe we’d be together in another world,” you say slowly, the words sinking in your form like a key to a lock.

Hoseok snaps his fingers, a huge white grin beaming on his face. “Shit, this is straight out of the Twilight Zone or something. Cool!”

It’s then that the credits roll for Frozen 2, and the children are pouncing on him like leeches to a sweet treat. They laugh and beg for his attention, teasing him because he said the s-word.

“I’m sure this Jungkook kid has something to do with why you’re here—ow, Haneul! My hair is precious!” Hoseok is busy fending off kids and trying to continue your conversation. He gets up from the tiny chair to prevent them from reaching, and you follow suit. “In the meantime,” he reaches for your phone, typing something, “here’s some books Professor Song recommended to me when I was fascinated in alternate universes. Maybe they’ll help, I don’t know. But good luck, update me when you get a chance! I work here most days.”

“Thanks Hoseok,” and before you can second guess yourself, you find space between the children to wrap your arms around him. Thankfully, he doesn’t push you away, and hugs you back just as tightly. You can’t help it, and bury your face into his shoulder, trying to conceal your sobs. He even smells like World One Hoseok. You miss them.

The rest of your afternoon is spent in the library, searching for book after book regarding the supernatural and other phenomena. A little part of you hoped Hoseok would join you in your navigation, but he had a job and you had yours. He already offered you an ear and much, much more.

You feel a little stir-crazy, despite the fact that these books could contain important information, only Jungkook’s words seem to register in your brain.

“Maybe in another world, we’d work out. But not this one.”

You groan, stretching out your back so you could reach the final book out of Hoseok’s recommendations. You blush when your joints complain about your lack of exercise and sudden exertion of physical activity. This last one just so happens to be on the highest possible shelf. There’s really no need to have more than five books on supernatural phenomena, but you’re already here and it’s vermillion red cover is taunting you like a bull to its matador.

Fuck it. Making sure no librarians are watching, you hop on the first shelf, heels dangling in the air. You could climb trees like it was nothing when you’re a child, but ten years later you can feel all the joints in your body protest at the sudden bout of athleticism.

Alas, even with the added height you can barely reach the top, fingers brushing over the hardcover. You’re starting to sweat with nerves, thankful for the whirring of the icy air conditioner. With a sigh you attempt to climb on the next highest shelf, until the familiar smell of detergent and florals invades your personal space. Even his scent is the same.

“Y’know, there’s a help desk for a reason.”

Your shoulders slump as Jungkook wordlessly instructs you to get down from the shelf. You feel the warmth of his palm shadow your back, not touching you but prepared to in the event you slip and fall. With a cross of your arms, you hug your books to your chest, refusing to make eye contact as he retrieves the book for you. Call it being petty, or overly defensive because of past events, but you’re not ready to talk to Jungkook right now.

Conversely, Jungkook is piqued. He’s lived here for the past six years and it’s the first time he’s seen you in this library. Twice in the span of two weeks is definitely something worth noting, especially when his new co-worker just so happens to be friends with you.

In fact he’s excited, curious. He just entered the library, dropping off some proofs for his graduate school’s office when he spotted you in the corner of one of the shelves, determined. Something warm and light brings a smile to his face when he sees how endearing you look trying to get that too-high book. Despite the fact that he’s still on the fence about your sanity, he wants to make sure you don’t almost-die a second time from head injury.

“Here ya go,” He easily grabs the book and Jungkook is prepared to plop the book in your pile, but you’re hugging the others so tightly that he has to wedge it between two other ones.

You press your lips together as Jungkook goes into your personal space, miffed that you’re being a little defensive. After all, you’re embarrassed from the last time you saw him and you’re heart is beating wildly, confused over the man in front of you. It takes a wiggle before you concede, letting him tuck the red novel between two other larger books.

“Thanks,” you mumble, nodding at him once before swiftly turning the corner, skirt swishing.

The smile on his face is wiped clean when you don’t even bother to spare him a little eye contact.

“Hey, wait up!” he exclaims, and he’s immediately shh’ed by at least five students and an angry librarian. He deflates, giving sheepish bows as he walk-runs after you.

He feels like the tables have turned, now he’s the one chasing after you. Should he apologize for leaving you on the sidewalk two weeks ago? Should he offer to hold your books, or drive you home? Maybe not drive you home, because he brought his bike today and he fears that you may be traumatized by the fact that you almost ate pavement under his wheels. If he has to ease into it, maybe he could offer his phone number up as compensation for accidentally almost-killing you? Suggest that his number is for you to contact him as an IOU. Smooth.

You look over your shoulder briefly, suppressing a groan as Jungkook makes it painfully obvious that this is not the end of your interaction. He’s boring into you, looking past you and his eyes are dark with information. As much as you want to know what’s going on in his mind, seeing Hoseok and Jungkook within the same hour is wholly overwhelming, especially when you just laid your whole life story out to Hoseok in a daycare.

He’s now staring holes in your back as you hand over your books and work identification to the unsuspecting librarian, who chalks up your awkwardness between two friends toeing around a relationship. To the unsuspecting eye, it’s not out of the ordinary. You can’t just tell Jungkook to “kindly fuck off because I’m still processing your existence” because he’s really done nothing wrong. Inevitable, you let him heat your skin with his imploring eyes until he starts to squirm like a garden snake. He’s waiting for you, silently begging you to turn your head and acknowledge how hard his brain is working right now. This boy is always after attention.

Finally, you spare him. “Yes?” you say softly, keeping your focus on the bookkeeper checking you out as Jungkook hovers over your form.

“Uh,” he scratches his head, searching for words, “are you hurt? Y’know, from the other day?”

“Judging from the way I was prepared to climb the shelves, no,” you stuff the books in your tote bag, “are you hurt?”

“Uh, no.”

“Okay. That’s good.” You brush past him, making it a blatant point to stride out the first door you see.

Even with all the telltale signs, Jungkook continues to feel something. An urge, a bell, something. He doesn’t know what, but he’s compelled to follow you. For a small thing you sure know how to walk, and he has to pump his legs a little to catch up with your speedy form.

He follows you to the middle of the campus courtyard, where students are lounging about and studying or playing football. It’s already starting to turn dark, and the orange sky sits impatiently on your bodies as you try to walk as fast as possible to your apartment.

“Hey—hey, c’mon!” his long legs manage to get close enough to you, but he has to halt as soon as you stop, whipping around to glare at him.

Jungkook stumbles as you’re centimeters away from him, visibly annoyed. You’re super close, impossibly close to him. He holds his breath, fearing he’d fan your face and you wouldn’t appreciate his chicken-salad breath. He doesn’t understand why you’re upset, but he wants to jab a thumb between your brows and even out the adorable expression that pinches your visage.

“What, do you need something from a stranger?” you bite icily, and he doesn’t understand the pang in his chest when you refer to each other as strangers. It’s true, you are, but you don’t have to be so harsh about it.

“I, I just want to know why you knew my name,” he replies weakly, hands going up as if he committed a crime. “Back then, I’ve been confused ever since,” it’s wholly innocent, and genuine, “I just wanted to know if you’re okay, I guess?”

It’s then you soften, melting like the yolk in the sky. The strap of your bag digs in your palm, the leather probably indenting your skin.

“I got really drunk last night,” you concede, and at the very least it’s the truth, “probably woke up drunk too. I stumbled outside and when I saw you, and mistook you for another Jungkook I know.”

You’re pulling this excuse out of your ass, and you hope that someone watching you from above (or below) will give you a reprieve on this one. He seems to believe this notion, probably used to one too many drunk girls fawning over him half-sane.

“Another Jungkook?” he balks, mouth parting like a baby kitten, “a Jungkook with the same name and face?”

“Uh kinda, like Mario and Wario?” you say, and you know Jungkook will get the reference if he remains a video game lover, “what’s that called, doppelgangers?”

“I’m partial to Luigi and Waluigi, but I get it.” he replies with a small smile, proud to have gotten you to open up, even a little. “That’s cool. I’m sorry for freaking out back there.”

“Understandable,” you look at the grass crunching at your feet. You definitely understood, but it still hurt recollecting the way he pushed you off of him like a bug. “I’m sorry for mistaking you, I just kinda stumbled out of an apartment and got walking, I thought I was in a dream or something.”

“So uh, where’s this other Jungkook?” and it’s an innocent enough question, and he’s almost boyish about it, rocking back and forth with his hands in his jeans. “I’ve always wanted to meet my own twin, I just didn’t expect them living in Korea and having the same name. That’s like a two for one deal!”

You wince, avoiding the way Jungkook tries to bend down to match your eyes. “He’s uh, not around anymore. Completely gone,” you mutter.

Completely gone? Did that mean the person you were worrying about on the streets, the person who you worried over so thoughtfully in place of Jungkook, is dead?

Jungkook puffs out a breath of air, running a hand through his hair. Boy, does he feel like a piece of shit for bringing up tough memories. “I’m so sorry,” he gushes, voice cracking as he tries to get you to lift your head, “I was just being nosy, alright? The fact that you knew my name freaked me out and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And when I saw you in the library I pounced but I realize that this is such a huge mistake and—”

“Jungkook,” you hold up a hand, a twinge of a smile barely grazing your lips, “I already told you, it’s understandable you would’ve been freaked out. Don’t blame yourself,” you size him up a little, looking up and down and he automatically straightens his back. He feels his ears heat beneath his hair, “but you look like the type of guy to be too hard on himself.”

He laughs, nodding profusely, “So I’ve been told.” Feeling lighter at the assurance of your feelings, he sticks out his hand, “then can we call a truce?”

It’s then you see it.

“Tiger lilies,” you marvel, hands reaching out instinctively to touch the tattoo adorning his arm. It’s the same design, same position, the dark ink vibrant as ever.

“It’s my birth flower,” he puffs out his chest a bit, feeling elated that someone appreciates the fine art he spent weeks drafting. Tattoos aren’t particularly popular in this area, so he can’t help but feel a little cheeky that someone’s attracted to them. He watches the way your eyes sparkle over the black ink, the most positive emotion he’s gotten out of you since meeting. “Tiger lilies, they mean—”

“Please love me,” you finish, letting go of his arms so it drops to his side. You finally look up at him, and your eyes prick.

He looks so much like him, it hurts. Seeing Hoseok and Namjoon also pained you considerably, but nothing compared to how much it ached to have Jungkook around, vying for your attention. How well you knew his body, and how much you wish you could hug him. Today he’s even dressed a little similarly to how you’re used to, soft and comfortable in black sweats and a Carhartt hoodie. But this Jungkook isn’t scarred by the industry, and it fills the curiosity that plagued you for days on end. Your Jungkook is always vibrant, but the one in front of you is radiant. He’s young, eager, and ready to take on the world.

Jungkook grins, impressed by your knowledge. He wonders about your birth flower, and whether you have it tattooed somewhere on your body. “Is that your birth flower too?” he asks, debating on whether or not it’s too late to ask you out for coffee because evening is approaching. Maybe dinner was more appropriate? But it would be like a date? Maybe pizza or McDonalds to keep it casual?

You see the gears turning in his head, and you feel like you’ve wasted too much time thinking. “Ah, no,” you flounder, rapidly shaking your head, “just some random information I’ve picked up.”

“Are you into flower meanings?” he tilts his head.

“Not particularly,” you say ominously, and you try not to ache when he seems disheartened at your lack of elaboration, “but I will be. I’ll see you around, Jungkook.”

You can tell he has more to say, especially because Jungkook is one to finish what he starts. But you can’t give him that satisfaction now, not when you’re onto something. You spare him a wave over your shoulder, not wanting to see the disappointment in his face when you leave him in the dust for a second time.

And with that unpromised promise, you go back into the direction of your apartment. You have some extensive research to do tonight.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

W1.

Jungkook wakes up to the sun, and he bolts up in his bed.

“Hey!” he yells to no one in particular, knowing his voice is loud enough to echo throughout the dorm. “Why did no one call me? We had practice!”

Instead of passing out in the studio he’s wrapped up in his sheets, bundled comfortably as if he’s been in bed for hours. He’s almost disoriented, looking around the room and waiting for someone to barge in and tell him to hurry up and get somewhere.

After working on his music, the seven of them were supposed to meet up. The plan was to take a nap from ten to eleven, and be at the studio to go over some modifications to a new setlist. However, those plans evidently did not go through, because he had a full night’s sleep for the first time in weeks and that only happens if there’s a schedule cancellation or vacation.

He feels particularly antsy because he couldn’t work on anything last night. His mind was like tunnel vision, completely filled by visions of you and last night’s fight. It’s frustrating, especially when there’s so much he’s behind on already.

But today’s a new day. He takes his time in his room, popping out all his joints and doing leg and arm stretches on his mattress. For once, no one’s ushering him away to do the nth task. He mindlessly scrolls his phone, taking note of the insistence for him to return to social media but pins it away for yet another promise of next time.

Mindlessly clicking his phone button on and off, his wallpaper shows a picture of your back facing the sunset. An old, innocent picture that could be mistaken for a random shot Jungkook stole on an empty night in Dongdaemun. With a sigh he throws his phone somewhere between the sheets, rubbing his eyes. There’s nothing he can do now but move forward, and he takes that in stride.

But when he walks out of his room, the air feels terse. It’s strange, as if he could cut through the tension in the room with a butterknife.

He looks on in confusion to see all the other members settled in the living room, hovered over their phones. They’re all still in their clothes from last night as well, grave expressions on their faces.

Someone’s choked sobs are echoing from a corner of the room, and Jungkook is worried when he sees Taehyung sobbing in Hoseok’s arms.

“What happened?” he asks, brows knitting together as he walks over to Namjoon, looking over his phone.

Namjoon immediately presses his phone to his chest, concealing whatever is on the screen. Jungkook’s heart pangs at his block, because Namjoon isn’t one to hide things. He’s feeling cut out of a secret so deep that it must be either a secret, or something he shouldn’t see. “It’s,” he takes a deep breath, and Jungkook feels it. He feels that whatever Namjoon has to say is going to be hard.

Seokjin speaks up for the leader, bright eyes that always spark like fireworks now dim. “We got a call from Sehlyung early this morning. Before it got light out she—she was frantic. She said Camille wasn’t answering her calls after they went drinking.”

No. No.

“Then BigHit got a call from the hospital. They said a truck hit the curb, knocking her clean,” it doesn’t even sound like Seokjin’s speaking, just the shell of him, regurgitating information. “She’s alive, but it’s critical, no one’s allowed to see her until she’s stable. We don’t know when,” Seokjin bites his lip, choosing his words carefully, “or if, she’ll wake up.”

Jungkook doesn’t even register that he’s crying until Seokjin pulls him into his arms.

#jungkook fic #bts fic #goldenclosetnet #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios

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the-cult-of-russo · 3 years

Text

Push and Pull (Part 17)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing, angst

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Daphne walked down the street, soaking up the sun as she went. She left her hoodie at home for once, opting instead for high waisted skinny grey jeans with an off the shoulder tee and her usual boots. Her purple hair was once again thrown into a messy high ponytail, the fancy hair of the date from the night before now gone. She didn't have the time nor patience to make it look fancy. She’d tried to push most thoughts out of her mind about last night. She’d spent far too much time thinking about her little interactions with Matt and she didn't like it. Instead, she decided to stuff all of it in a box and bury it deep in the corners of her mind.

She'd already been to see Brett that morning. She’d chewed his ear off for not telling her about Keiran waking up. He'd apologised and put all the blame on Matt. Matt had been truthful when he said it was his idea. He’d told Brett how they were all going out and Brett thought keeping it from her would be good for her. In his words, she didn't go out and have fun anymore. He’d reassured her though that even though the asshole was awake, he was still in no condition to leave the hospital. His jaw was wired shut too so he hadn't been able to tell them anything or answer questions. He'd refused to write anything down when they tried. It was one less worry. It meant the impending court case wouldn't be around the corner and she could live with that. But the nightmares had kicked back up and she knew they wouldn't fully go away until this was done and buried. The only temporary relief she found was the two times she slept with Matt. It itched the back of her brain, this innate need to go to him, to get her fix. But she refused to go crawling to him like that. If it happened then it happened. Spur of the moment like it had been the last times. Changing that would alter how things were with them and that just wouldn't work.

She wasn't planning on going to the firm. She didn't really want to see Matt and get whiplash from his moods. She never knew how to deal with him, he flipped on a dime. But Brett had asked her to go over with a case file since she was 'such good friends' with them. She obliged since it was on her way home. She'd be working on the case for Mrs Grimes today and seeing what leads she got.

As she stepped into the building, she noticed it was devoid of clients today. Karen sat at the desk scribbling something in a pad and when she saw her, she stood up and hugged her.

"Hey!" She grinned. Daphne shot her a smile back with a nod. Now she was sober she wasn't as cheerful as the night before. But she really liked Karen. She'd woken to a text this morning from Karen saying she and Foggy had talked on the way home and they were now official. She was happy for them.

"Brett wanted me to play messenger," she snorted, handing her the case.

"Is that my new best friend?" She heard Foggy call from the side office. He appeared a moment later practically running to her as he hugged her. It was a huge bear hug and her feet stopped touching the ground for a moment. When he put her back down she noticed Matt standing in the doorway.

"I thought I was your best friend?" He huffed as he made his way to one of the many chairs in the room. He bumped into another no doubt for Karen's benefit of the blind man act. Foggy scoffed glancing over at him.

"Nah. I've been waiting this whole time to replace you. And now I found someone! She's basically you but she's actually cool," Foggy smirked. Daphne bit her lip to stifle a laugh as Matt looked offended.

"Okay guys, calm down. It's too early for me to be playing referee," Karen smiled fondly as she took her seat back behind her desk.

"What brings you here? Did you miss me or miss Matt?" Foggy grinned cheekily at her. She opened her mouth to swear at him before she remembered that she was supposed to have been on a date with Matt and Karen was right there.

"I'm sure she missed me. Didn't you?" Matt smirked, sensing her irritation and discomfort. He held his hand out to her, sat there waiting for her. She pursed her lips, forcing a smile on her face as Karen looked at them with a grin.

When she stood in front of him, she took his hand and he pulled her closer until she fell in his lap. She was sideways and had to hook an arm around his neck before she slipped right off. She had no idea what he was playing at going so hard with this. The plan was to make out like they decided dating wasn't working but he seemed to be enjoying annoying her. Maybe they were the same person.

"I actually came by to bring you a case from Brett," she grouched when one of his arms snaked around her waist, the other hand resting lightly on her thigh. A quick glance to Foggy and she saw him beaming like his dreams were coming true. She wanted to hit him. This was all his fault.

"A likely story," Matt smirked as he 'looked' at her.

He was having too much fun messing with her. She needed to flip it back on him so she could leave.

"You know what? I did miss you. Is that a crime, Mr Lawyer?" She asked sweetly, resting a hand on his chest as she nuzzled the side of his face. She heard him take a deep inhale, his arm tightening around her.

"Just a misdemeanour, I can get you off easy for that," he whispered devilishly. It sent a tingle right down her spine and she mentally slapped herself out of it. Sensing eyes on her she looked over and saw both Karen and Foggy watching them with stupid smiles.

"What?" Daphne huffed, feeling her cheeks flame.

"You two are adorable. Team Maphne for life," Foggy laughed. Karen giggled covering her mouth a little. Oh how she wanted to say something. Send some sass his way. But she really did care about Foggy and doing that would only ruin his very new relationship.

"You two are the adorable ones. We need a ship name for them," she grinned, loving how they both got really shy when the tables were turned. She glanced at Matt and raised a brow.

"How about… Koggy?" He asked with a laugh. She let out an elegant snort as Foggy made a noise of protest.

"Koggy?! What kind of name is that?" He asked indignantly.

"Because Maphne is any better?" She scoffed.

"Koggy is better than Faren," Karen giggled, looking at Foggy affectionately.

"It's a great name!" Foggy grinned, changing his tune real quick.

"Wow, real smooth," Matt teased. The way she was sat he was right by her ear and she tried not to squirm as it tickled her.

"Alright, I gotta head out. Things to do, people to spy on and all that good stuff. Let me up," she demanded, smacking Matt's hand that was on her leg.

"Nah, I think you should stay," he smirked. She tugged the hair at the base of his neck and not lightly, making him hiss a little.

"Actually, before you go… there was something I wanted to talk to you about," Karen piped up hesitantly. All the eyes in the room seemed to turn to her.

"Alright, shoot," Daphne nodded. She guessed she'd be sat on Matt a little longer. She didn't necessarily mind it but it was causing that itch to jump his bones to get worse.

"So… obviously I work here and this is my real job. But I've been doing some stuff for the Bulletin. Investigative journalism and stuff. But I just wanted to know, since you're a PI and all… if maybe you'd teach me a few things?" She asked hopefully with a smile.

Before she had a chance to answer, the boys piped up.

"Absolutely not," Matt said firmly at the same time as Foggy's mortified 'no'.

"What? Why?" Karen asked, frowning at them both.

"Karen… what Daphne does is different. It's more dangerous and you shouldn't get involved," Matt stated seriously. Daphne noticed how his grip got tighter and she felt like she was in the middle of an argument that wasn't involving her against her will.

"You could get hurt," Foggy chimed in.

"Come on! Not all her cases are that bad and besides, I'm already investigating stuff for the paper, so what does it matter?" Karen protested. Daphne tuned out the ensuing argument and felt herself getting annoyed. While she understood the boys wanted to protect Karen, they had no right telling her she couldn't do something. She was almost mildly offended that they acted like she was some bomb or something and she'd get Karen killed just by shadowing her a little.

"I'll do it," Daphne said firmly. The argument seemed to stop completely and Karen beamed at her.

"Really?" She asked hopefully. She felt Matt go completely tense and she shoved his arms off her and stood up.

"I actually start a case today. It's not dangerous. The client wants to know if her husband's cheating, she wants proof in case he tries to divorce her and take everything. I'm just doing some recon today. Surveillance, maybe some hacking," she explained. Karen’s eyes seemed to light up when she mentioned hacking.

"Could you teach me that?" She whispered excitedly, like the others wouldn't hear.

"I can teach you some stuff. Nothing that will get you in too much trouble," she snorted.

"Hang on a minute-" Foggy started, but Daphne whirled to face him with a face like thunder. It promptly shut him up.

"Karen, could I have a minute with these assholes?" She asked politely. Karen bit her lip to stop a smile as she nodded.

"Yeah. I was thinking of going to the coffee shop down the street anyway since our machine crapped out,” she scurried out, no doubt knowing what Daphne was about to do.

There was a tense pause in the room after Karen left and Matt was the first to break it.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" He bellowed, standing up and glaring her way.

"You shut up!" She yelled at him, pointing a finger in his direction. His mouth clamped shut not expecting her to be this mad. But then she turned to a frightened looking Foggy.

"And you! You've been in a relationship with her for less than 24 hours and you're just bossing her around? What is with you two? You want her safe? That's great! But guess what? Investigating isn't all safe and not knowing what you're doing is the quickest way to get in deep shit! If I teach her some things, I can make sure she covers her tracks and she doesn't make any rookie mistakes. Or would you rather she fucked up because you two decided to be goddamn dictators?!" She fumed at them, glancing from one to another. Matt bit his lip, jaw ticking and he lowered his head. Foggy just heaved a sigh.

"You're right. I didn't think about it like that. I know she loves this whole Bulletin thing and she won't let it go. But like you said, if you teach her at least it'll be safer," Foggy relented apologetically.

"You've got to be kidding me," Matt scoffed as he walked over.

"What else do we do, man? At least this way she actually knows what she's doing. And it's a safe case, right?" Foggy asked as he glanced at her. She understood he was worried about Karen and it was sweet but he couldn't just control what she did or didn't do.

"It's safe. Just a typical affair case," she nodded reassuringly.

"Right, like Mr Lee's simple affair case?" Matt asked tensely. It felt like all the air got sucked out of the room and even Foggy frowned at him.

"Foggy, why don't you catch up with Karen and make things right?" Her voice was tight and low and Foggy took the hint. He shot Matt a glare before he left. She turned to face Matt who was glaring in her direction, his mouth set in a grim line.

"I always thought I was petty but you always seem to make me look like a Saint," she fumed. He lowered his head and sighed.

"Daphne-"

"Go fuck yourself. You want Karen to go out there investigating with no real tools or knowledge, then be my guest. But when she's been taken by the Chinese or dumped in a goddamn river by the Italians because she poked her nose where it shouldn't be and didn't know how to cover herself, don't come crying to me!" She growled as she stomped her way to the door.

"Don't walk away!" Matt called after her. His voice was a mixture of anger and desperation. She clenched her jaw as she turned to look at him.

"I shouldn't have said that. I know I'm an asshole. But I don't want Karen to get mixed up in this," he pleaded.

"She's already mixed up in it, Matt. She was the moment Fisk went after her. I'm just looking out for a girl so she doesn't get herself in trouble. You can't just lock her in a cage," she muttered tensely. He seemed to actually take her words in as he deflated.

"You ever use Mr Lee or my attack against me again, you'll find yourself all over the papers as everyone reads who you really are," her threat was laced with venom and it hung in the air. Matt laughed mirthlessly, looking incredulously at her.

"Wow… is that how it is?" He muttered with a strained voice.

"Doesn't feel nice does it? When people hold things over your head like that? I put up with a lot of shit from you, and yeah sometimes I deserve it. But I won't put up with someone purposely hurting me, putting salt in my already raw wounds," she seethed. He looked taken aback for a moment before he looked upset, taking a step towards her. He opened his mouth to say something but she cut him off.

"We don't like each other yet for some reason I tell you things I don't even tell Foggy or Brett. I tell you about my nightmares, about my fears around the court case. I've shown you some of my most vulnerable parts of me and you spit in my face. I won't let you use it against me," she hissed. He'd really hit a nerve with his cruel words and she felt like the weight of the world was crushing down on her. For all of his assholery, she really didn't think he'd hurt her like that.

"I'm sorry," he lamented, taking off his glasses and looking her way imploringly.

"Are you? Or are you just going to do it again and again?" She asked, defeated. He shook his head vigorously as he took another step her way.

"I fucked up, okay? I get… I get scared when I think about something happening to Foggy or Karen, and you just... I felt backed into a corner and I lashed out at you. You didn't deserve it," he sounded genuinely sorry and she chewed the inside of her cheek. His moods were draining and she heaved a sigh.

"Goodbye, Matt," she murmured before slipping out the door.

Everytime she felt like they made progress in tolerating each other it felt like they took ten steps back. How could they go from playful teasing each other and pushing buttons to this? It had really cut her deep when he said those words. It cut her deeper than she felt comfortable with. Like she said, she'd told him things she hadn't told anyone else, opened up to him despite their weird relationship. And it felt like smack in the face that he'd say that to her. She needed space from him. It felt like she saw him all the damn time these days and it was starting to give her a migraine. She believed his apology. He sounded sincere and she could see it in his eyes. She believed that he just wanted his friends to be safe, especially since he knew all too well the horrors of Hell's Kitchen. But it didn't take back the hurt she felt in that moment. That he'd cut her so deeply for someone else even though she was only trying to help.

She ended up at Fogwell's gym. The place was deserted, not a soul in sight as she walked in. She hadn't even meant to come here but her feet just carried her there. It felt weird being in here without Matt, but he was the last person she wanted to see. She didn't want to get too caught up with his bullshit. He'd said sorry and she wanted to forget it happened. Maybe avoid him for the rest of her life.

She ended up taking her rage out on the boxing bag. She didn't think about her form or technique and she didn't have Matt there to lecture her about it. It was just pure pent up aggression and she needed it gone. She spent hours there until she was spent, her muscles crying out at her to stop. She was exhausted. Mentally and physically. Her life seemed to have gotten so much more complicated since she met the lawyers.

The way home seemed to take forever with her aching body and it was only just turning evening. But she needed to start her work on the Grimes case, so she forced herself up the stairs in her apartment building. She was surprised to see Karen sitting outside her apartment on the floor waiting.

"Hey!" She grinned, standing up and brushing the dust off her pants.

"Didn't think you'd show. Figured Matt would lock you up or something," she muttered tiredly. Karen gave her a concerned look.

"I spoke with him. Thank you… he really seemed to listen to what you said. It's nice to have someone on my side for once. He said he was sorry and he trusted you to keep me safe," she replied softly.

Daphne just nodded, not wanting to hear about the vigilante at the time. Karen seemed to sense her mood.

"Uh… come in. I'll set up the laptop," she sighed, unlocking her door and letting both of them in. She led Karen to the sofa and she grabbed her laptop, the pair sitting together as she booted it up.

"So what are we doing?" Karen asked eagerly.

"I want to get into his computer. I want to see his emails, including any secret accounts he has. I also wanna check his files. We're looking for anything about him cheating on his wife," she explained. She brought up her hacking software, fingers clicking on the keys as she got everything ready.

She went through it carefully with Karen. Showing her how to use the password cracking software and remote access. Karen diligently took notes like an eager student, constantly asking good questions and Daphne was impressed. It took an hour since she was doing it slowly to really make sure Karen was following along and understood how to do it, but then they were finally into his computer.

"First up, emails. You'd be surprised at how these CEO types just don't cover their tracks when it comes to their emails. I swear, they think they're untouchable," Daphne snorted. Karen shook her head with a grin as she leaned in next to her to view the screen. Daphne really thought she'd need to find a secret account or something to hit the goldmine. It wouldn't have been that hard to do and she fully anticipated it. But apparently it wasn't needed.

"Oh my god," Karen whispered, looking at one of the emails they'd found. They'd come across emails that referenced past rendezvous with his PA and some others at his work, but now they were staring at a picture of the dude balls deep in his PA in his office.

"Tell me about it," Daphne grimaced. She took a screenshot of it as she had with the other things she'd found, sending it straight to her wireless printer.

"Poor Mrs Grimes," Karen frowned, leaning back a little with a sigh as Daphne looked through more emails.

"I don't think she's too cut up about it. She was more concerned with him trying to take her money than him actually cheating," Daphne said with a shrug, trying to ease her mind a little.

"I really hope I never get that old and jaded with love," Karen scoffed.

"I'd say the same but I'm pretty sure I'm already there," she smirked, earning a bump to her arm from Karen with a chuckle. They spent some more times combing through the emails. There weren't any more pictures but emails from other women talking about meeting up or past meetups, some escort service receipts and some emails of him talking dirty. Mrs Grimes had been right about him and his PA and also in her assumption that there were more. He seemed to be fucking a few ladies at his company.

"What do you think we should do next?" Daphne asked with a glance next to her.

"Uh… his files, right?" Karen replied hesitantly. Daphne nodded, pleased with her answer. It wasn't like Karen hadn't ever snooped before but she was new to that part of things and she wanted to make sure if it ever came to it she'd go looking in the right places.

Daphne was poking around in his files when she found a folder labelled 'honey'. It piqued her interest enough that she clicked on it.

"Holy shit, jackpot," she breathed, sitting up a little better and squinting at the screen.

"This guy is just…" Karen muttered as she scrunched up her face. There were hundreds upon hundreds of pictures of him engaging in various sexual acts with plenty of women. He seemed to have a penchant for capturing his little escapades on film. Daphne plonked the laptop in Karen's lap for a second, jumping to her feet as she went over to her small desk in the corner of the room. She rummaged in the drawer before grabbing a new memory drive. Printing that amount of pictures would be time consuming and wasteful. She'd just give the drive to Mrs Grimes.

When she sat back down, she grabbed the computer and pushed in the drive, dragging the folder onto it. A little bar popped up saying that it was copying them over.

"This seemed easy," Karen stated. She sounded a little disappointed and Daphne snorted as she looked at her.

"I know. The rich normally leave clearer trails when it comes to this. Honestly though, the amount I'm getting for this case, I'm not gonna complain. I thought I'd have to do some surveillance at the least," she explained. It had been ridiculously easy but it was kind of nice to work a case that solved itself so simply and she hadn't even needed to leave her apartment.

"I guess Foggy and Matt will be happy," Karen smirked ruefully.

"I guess they will," she replied, unable to even try and keep the tense tone from her voice. Daphne set the laptop down on the coffee table while it transferred the files to the device. Karen took a deep inhale as she looked at her and Daphne just waited to her to press about the whole thing more.

"We're friends, right?" Karen asked softly. That one caught her off guard and Daphne moved to sit sideways to face her and Karen mirrored her action.

"Yeah," she replied. She hadn't known the girl long but they got on really well and she enjoyed her company more than she thought she would. It was also fun that she loved to snoop as much as her. Karen pursed her lips thoughtfully, her fingers absently picking at her pants.

"You and Matt aren't okay, are you?" She asked, sounding guilty. Daphne felt a little bad that she thought it was her fault after the scene from earlier but maybe this was a good time to follow the original plan. To say they didn't work out so they could leave that behind.

"No, we're not. But honestly… our thing has always been a little tense and complicated. I guess we just clash too much. It'd never work," she said honestly. The thing in her mind was them being friends or even people who could be around each other without wanting to scream.

Karen looked genuinely forlorn at the news and Daphne looked away from her. She didn't think the whole white lie of the date would have been a big deal but now she was friends with the woman, she found herself feeling guilty about it.

"Matt's been different since he met you. He talks about you a lot and seems distracted quite a bit. I know he can sometimes get… intense, but… whatever it is between you two, he seems to feel quite strongly about it," Karen murmured thoughtfully. Daphne couldn't help the scoff that left her lips as she shook her head. He did feel strongly about his very clear dislike and mistrust of her.

"I'm serious! I'm just saying… maybe don't give up completely on him. He's been through so much and he always seems like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. I want him to be happy, he deserves it. And I think he'd be happy with you," Karen was so sincere and Daphne licked her lower lip as she glanced at the wall. She couldn't tell her the truth about it all so she couldn't understand just how wrong she had it. Then she'd know Foggy lied to her and know the truth about Matt.

After her awkward silence, Karen shot her a sad smile.

"I'm sorry. I'm prying and I shouldn't," she frowned.

"No. It's fine. It's just… really fucking complicated. Sometimes I'm around him and I feel like I can just open up, you know? But then other times he's just… he's a complicated guy and half the time I don't know which version of him I'm getting. Honestly, it's draining," Daphne muttered with a sigh. Some vague truth that she could work around. Karen let out a small chuckle and nodded.

"He's definitely complicated. Sometimes it's like he purposely complicates things because he doesn't think he deserves to be happy. It's like he just subconsciously sabotages himself," she sighed.

Daphne honestly agreed with her even though she knew it wasn't so much the case with his strained relationship with her. But she could see how much of a martyr Matt was and how he would deny anything that made him genuinely happy. Maybe that's why he always had such a stick up his ass.

A little ding from her laptop finally eased them from the uncomfortable topic and Daphne ejected the memory drive, standing and getting the Grimes case file. She put in all the things they'd printed off and cellotaped the USB drive to the inside of it. She stuffed it into her backpack and decided she'd go see Mrs Grimes in the next few days with her findings and see if there was anything else she wanted her to do. She almost felt like she hadn't earned all the money and it made her feel weird.

"You know, we could use someone like you at the Bulletin," Karen grinned playfully from the sofa. Daphne glanced back at her with a snort.

"Journalism isn't really my thing. But if you need help with finding something out I wouldn't mind helping you," she said softly. She didn't even like reading the papers if she was honest. Karen grinned with a nod in understanding.

"Can I ask you something? Off the record," Karen asked curiously. Daphne quirked a brow, turning around to lean against the desk and face her.

"Go for it," she shrugged.

"You work with Daredevil sometimes, right?" She asked tentatively. Daphne's eyes widened a little and she looked away. She had no idea how she'd know that. Only Brett and Foggy would know.

"The Chinese trafficking ring… I covered that story for the Bulletin. When I questioned detective Mahoney about it I knew he wasn't telling me the full truth. I pressed him a bit and he told me you and Daredevil were the ones who did it and the cops were just back up," she explained sheepishly. A scoff left Daphne's lips, she couldn't believe Brett would just go handing out her information like that.

"He only told me because I promised to keep it out of the story. It would put a huge target on you and I wouldn't do that. Plus, he knows how I feel about Daredevil," Karen murmured.

"How do you feel about Daredevil?" Daphne countered, glancing at her curiously. Karen smiled a little, tilting her head.

"He saved my life. And I think he does good for this city," she replied. Daphne nodded, chewing her lower lip at the uncomfortable line of conversation.

"He does," she agreed carefully. Karen was quiet for a moment, shifting in her seat like she wanted to say something. Daphne knew before she spoke what was coming next.

"Do you know who he is? Like really is, under the mask?" She asked tentatively. Daphne tried not to let her discomfort show. Lying to Karen was starting to really bother her and she understood now why Foggy hated doing it too. But she wouldn't tell her. It wasn't her place, her secret to tell. She just didn't know why Matt hadn't told her already. She was clearly a supporter of Daredevil and even though she would be upset with the lies, she'd get over it eventually.

"No, I don't. Honestly, I think it would be more trouble than it's worth if I did," a lie wrapped in the truth. She knew how much trouble it was because she was living it. She wondered how different her life would currently be if she'd never found out. He was an asshole the first time they met when he donned the mask and suit, but that was because of her snooping in what he deemed to be his turf. But it really began once he knew that she’d figured out who he was. She wondered if he'd treat her any different if that had never happened. She understood how he lashed out at the beginning, it was understandable back then. This stranger, a PI no less, knew his biggest secret. One that could get him locked up or killed along with his friends. But she felt like they'd moved past that point. Proved she could be trusted with that. Yet it always seemed like it was in the back of his mind with how his moods switched on her. Like he'd be okay with her until he remembered she posed a threat in his mind and then he'd get defensive.

"I guess I'm just curious really. I wonder who he is in the day. What does he do, what's he like," Karen snorted softly.

"Probably an asshole, honestly," Daphne retorted absentmindedly. Karen giggled and shook her head, making her smile.

"Probably," she agreed playfully. They thankfully moved on from that topic and just spoke about menial random things for a while. Karen picked her brain about some cases and asked her a lot of tips and tricks writing down all the answers. By the time it was time for Karen to leave, it was dark outside. Daphne had refused to let her leave unless she called a cab to take her home. She walked her downstairs and waited with her until the cab pulled up to reassure herself she was safe. It wasn't even just for Foggy and Matt's sake. She really did like her and she didn't want something bad to happen to her. She already had a spotty past with her involvement with Fisk and now she was poking around as a journalist. No matter what the guys said, Karen's job was actually more dangerous than hers in a lot of ways. Daphne did her thing behind the scenes, keeping herself a secret as much as she could. Karen was posting stories with her face and name attached to them. It was risky.

Karen stopped before getting in the cab, muttering something to the driver before taking another step back towards her.

"I know you don't wanna talk about it and I promise this is the last thing, for now at least...but last night at the date, when we all hugged and said goodbye, I told Matt something. I didn't want you to hear it obviously. I really thought you two would work out. But now it's all gone to shit, I figured I'd tell you. Maybe it… helps somehow. Changes your mind or something," Karen murmured carefully. She looked almost hesitant and Daphne looked at her apprehensively. She wasn't sure where this was going but she remembered the whispered exchange the pair had and her curiosity about it. Now she was wondering if she even wanted to know at all. Taking her silence as acquiescence, Karen continued.

"I told him how much I really like you. That I thought you were a keeper. You want to know what he said?" She asked seriously. Daphne wasn't sure she did and didn't think it mattered since the double date had been a giant lie and scheme for her and Foggy to be together. He no doubt just lied.

"He told me that he can't seem to keep hold of good things in his life. That people always leave. And I get it, I'm not blaming you for wanting to walk away if he's being an asshole. He's my friend and I care about him but so are you. But he thinks you're a good thing in his life and honestly… I think maybe he's lashing out because he thinks you'll leave him anyway. So he's getting to it first before you can hurt him," Karen said softly.

Daphne wasn't sure what to make of that. She wanted to say it wasn't true but from what she knew of Matt, that kind of 'pushing people away before he got hurt himself' thing lined up with him. It was the same kind of thing she did. But at the same time she couldn't even fathom that Matt considered her to be a good thing in his life and she couldn't even tell Karen that without admitting she knew Daredevil's real identity. On how much he saw her as a threat to his life and friends. How he most likely only kept in touch with her so he could keep a watchful eye.

"I'll keep that in mind," Daphne said with a weak smile. Karen seemed pleased enough and gave her arm a quick squeeze before she climbed into the cab. Daphne watched it drive away and rubbed her temples. She longed for her old simple life. When it was just her and her job. No stress or feelings involved, no drama. But there was still that part of her that knew she'd miss it now. Miss Foggy and his bright smiles and his stupid jokes. Miss talking to Karen and the girl talk. She'd even miss the playful version of Matt she'd met a few times even though it was rare. This was why she'd sheltered herself for so long. It was fucking exhausting.

When she got back inside of her apartment, she heaved a sigh as she made her way back to her couch and lay on her side. Awkward topics and avoiding lies aside, she liked Karen's company. Her and Foggy were easy to be around because she knew where she stood with them. They didn't go bipolar on her like Matt did and she didn't struggle to figure out what was going on in their head. They were easy to read. It didn't suck the life out of her being around them. But she also knew that she couldn't completely avoid Matt and also be friends with them. They were his friends first and he worked with them. And unfortunately for her, both Foggy and Karen seemed to think she and Matt should try with each other. They really didn't get it. Karen less so since she didn't know the full story. She tried not to dwell on Karen's parting words too much. She hated that she'd given her a logical explanation for Matt's mood swings. But at the same time it wasn't logical because she couldn't believe he actually cared about her in any way, not even as a friend. As much as Daphne didn't want to sleep, the impending nightmares making her head spin, she was absolutely drained and ended up slipping to sleep curled up on her sofa anyway.

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