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letterstothemidnightsociety · 3 years

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Alright, so if you've been following along with me, Supernatural season 3 starts out on a trio of episodes that are Really Fun, slides into some episodes that are Pretty OK, then takes a real nose dive into Bummersville. Hoo boy guys, I really hope that this season picks up. I mean, it won’t, but I can still dream. 2021 was maybe not the year to start watching this season. Fair warning.

The next three episodes for this season are just, like, real downers. First we get “Fresh Blood,” which, aside from the terrible title, starts out on a high note. Gordon (gross) somehow manages to catch up with Bela (HOW??) and threatens her if she doesn’t hand over the Winchesters. Bela, in all of her class and grace, won’t give them up because she has a high price point and Gordon is really lowballing her here. Just like, yes, ok, please stay forever, you’re amazing and I love you. And what a scene this is! You have two characters, one with a strict moral code (albeit one that allows for violence and winning at all costs) and the other with almost NO moral code, but an allegiance that can be bought with the best price and it’s such a fun back and forth until Gordon pulls out a gun. And then she pulls out her phone and just has Dean on speed dial and that’s maybe my fav part. Bela has run into the Winchesters twice and they maybe legit hate her but she’s very much like, oh yeah, my BFF’s the Winchesters, I love those idiots!

I love that we come back to this moment later in the episode when Bela, like, three days later, is like, Oh! I guess I should warn the Winchesters that some crazy guy is after them! She’s just so casual about it you kind of get the feeling that, even though technically Gordon was threatening her life, she doesn’t view him as A Threat. She gives the Winchesters a heads up just to be like oh yeah, you might want to watch out for this mild inconvenience, and she seems legit shocked when Dean freaks out. There’s this moment that plays across her face like, oh shit, did I...did I fuck up? And it adds a nice bit of depth to her character. She’s seems honestly worried, both for the lives of the Winchesters but also that Dean won’t like her anymore and that is just a charming bit of A C T I N G!

I am gonna miss her SO MUCH when she dies at the end of this season. WHY did we CANCEL HER???

But despite the fun beginning, this episode is about monsters and how people become monsters and how other people are probably the reason. Because our main baddie is a vampire who hunts to...well, listen if we look at the facts that he lays out in his monologue, it’s a little more tragic - he’s trying to replace the daughters that he lost hundreds of years ago, cool motive, still murder. In practice though, he goes around turning hot blonde coeds into vampires and then ?????? Who knows. I’d like to believe that this was a problem with the CW executives or maybe casting/directing and not with the writing, but it’s SPN and you really can’t be sure with anything. The fact is, this is a CW show from the early 2000’s and a lot of their extras are cast to type. And that’s maybe me exhibiting some girl-on-girl crime, but there are other episodes that did a much less blatantly gross job casting their extras/Very Special Guest Stars.

Anyway, the POINT of this guy is that he’s a monster because someone killed his daughter and he’s just been trying to fill that grief hole inside of him for centuries. This is not unlike Gordon, who ALSO has been trying to fill a grief hole that he’s had for decades, except he’s not killing people and resurrecting them as blood suckers, he’s just killing them. And then, when the Vamp decides to turn Gordon it’s a real sweet moment of comeuppance for like, a HOT second and then you’re like, awww dude, ya done f’ed up. That was a bad idea. You’ve made a HUGE mistake.

More importantly, our Vampire In Question finally runs into the Winchesters and get’s to say things like “I was desperate! You ever felt desperate? I've lost everyone I ever loved. I'm staring down eternity alone. Can you think of a worse hell?” and also “I just ... I didn't care anymore. Do you know what it's like when you just don't give a damn? It's like ... it's like being dead already.” and Dean’s v. much like, THIS IS TOO REAL ROY.

Sam may ALSO be feeling Too Real feelings because he is DONE dicking around with Gordon and honestly yes, I like this, this is good Sam development. It’s nice to know that Sam has a breaking point. And I admit I’m of two minds about this moment because 1) I love the idea of Dark!Sam this season and that maybe Sam’s decision to actually kill Gordon is just one step in that process but 2) I ALSO love the idea of Sam Lite finally having a breaking point and Gordon is IT. I don’t know which theory I like more in this scenario, but they are both good theories.

I think as much as this episode wants to draw parallels between the monsters and Dean (thank you artful editors), you can’t look at the “I’ve lost everyone I ever loved,” line and not think of Sam? Cuz he’s got one (1) person left in his life that hasn’t died horribly, so how desperate is he about to get through the end of this season? I’ve definitely been watching this season with eyes on all the ominous Dean foreshadowing, but the Sam foreshadowing is also there, just buried under the heavy weight of a thousand smulders and suicidal levels of denial.

And also, FUCK the tag on this episode! Guys, it is CUTE but it is also HORRIBLE. Dean starts teaching Sam how to fix the Impala and at first it’s all, “Oh! Adorable Brothers Being Brothers!” and I loved it but then I almost immediately hated it because you realize this is about making sure Sam can get along without him once he’s gone and Dean just accepts his own death with such casual ease that it’s just...INFURIATING!

This scene was rude and I HATE IT!

Cut to - “A Very Supernatural Christmas” Special!

Guys, I was so excited when I got to this episode. THIS is Classic Supernatural Shenanigans. Plus, you know a Holiday Special is the ultimate sign that this show has Made It, right? Or it could be a sign that they’re selling out, who knows, but I think we can say that at this point in the series, SPN is established enough to start having fun with their fans. That’s what this says to me. BUT THEN what we get is like...oh boy.

First - like, I’mma beat this horse to death, but what is WRONG with this FAMILY? John Winchester very quickly devolved into the sort of father that forgot about every single holiday and did not ever, even a little bit, make up for it. It’s not a surprise, but it kind of wrecked me seeing a flashback where Baby Dean is just so attached to a father who can’t be bothered to actually care for his children. I know he’s not in this episode because Jeffrey Dean Morgan was tied up in other projects, but the fact that John doesn’t show up at the end to button the flashbacks with a But then he DID show up for Christmas! just makes this plot line that more gutting. And despite Dean’s hero worship of their father, this is maybe the Christmas where Baby Sam stops believing in his own father. The only bright side to this is that it continues to enforce the fact that Bobby should have sued John for custody. Bobby should maybe STILL Sue for custody so that Dean at least would feel like someone wants him for once in his life, damnit.

And then we wrap this episode up with the Best Worst Christmas of all, because we see Sam start to...also?? accept that Dean is about to die? Cuz that’s what this episode is really about - Dean’s Last Christmas. And everything about that makes me ~ u p s e t ~.

So Sam decides to put his curmudgeonly grinchy attitude aside in order to make it a special day for Dean and ugh. UGH. UGHGHGHG. Season three is the worst guys, and I can’t believe I didn’t realize that until right this second now.

So let’s wrap this up with "Malleus Maleficarum", honestly an episode that is mostly forgettable until we get to, like, the last five minutes. Sure, witches and curses and selling your soul, woohoo whatever.

But then we get some real Ruby centric reveals and like, WHAT is happening?? First off, the scene where Ruby and Tammy have a moment is a real Moment. There is some baggage and tension here and it is heavy. And then Tammy drops the mic when she reveals that Ruby used to be human.

THEN, Ruby legit saves their asses by killing Tammy with a fancy magic knife. Ok, Dean does the actual killing, but Ruby brought the fancy magic knife. So between the hot and heavy tension with “Tammy” and her repeated attempts to keep the Winchesters alive, we’re left wondering what IS Ruby’s deal? I personally wonder how much of the show’s mythology the show actually has figured out at this point? Because interviews with Kripke definitely walk the line between “Oh we definitely have this whole thing worked out,” and “yeah, we’re sort of finding things as we go along,” which is maybe why it’s able to last as long as it does. More on that later.

Of course the big kicker is the final scene between Ruby and Dean. Dean is almost on board with Ruby at this point in the season, and much like his scene with the demon in “Sin City”, they share a kind of vulnerable moment together where Ruby admits that, yeah, she was human once and yeah, Hell will destroy you, body and soul, and yeah Dean’s worst fear will probably come true - he will become the thing he hunts, no ifs, ands or buts about it. And Dean knows that Ruby knows that Dean knows that there’s no way to save Dean from his fate, but they both agree that they can’t take Sam’s last ounce of hope away from him because, for both of them, Sam is their hope. Ruby and Dean both see the war happening around them and they know that with Dean gone, Sam’s maybe the last guy holding back the tide to save all humanity.

Which, honestly? Bull shit. Do you know how many hunters are out there? Neither do I, but this season seems to indicate that there are a LOT. We have barely scratched the surface on the hunter community and it’s a damn shame that they are all weirdo loners because there is a war going on. You know what works great in a war? An ARMY. Buncha mentally unstable, martyr-complex ijits who can’t put their differences aside for one damn MINUTE so that maybe, JUST maybe, the could actually defeat the evil they’ve spent their entire lives dedicated to fighting. And if Ruby and Dean wanted to help Sam, what they should probably do is get him plugged in to that community. I do believe that of all they backasswards, self-obsessed, painfully anti-social crazies out there, the Winchesters are THE WORST.

Listen tho, this was like, a solid scene between these two. Just a lot of work goin' into this and it paid off.

Anyway, back to the mythology for a hot second - This sort of loosey-goosey stumbling into your own world building is probably another one of those things that you’ll only really get in a show with this many episodes per season? It’s that room to play and experiment and just make stuff up as you go along. I think the slow drip method of releasing episodes ALSO helps in this scenario because you’re able to see what fans are reacting to in almost-real time. When viewers are binging episodes, I think you're less likely to see what specifically they’re reacting to and more wholistically they’re reacting to. And that’s not to say you won’t see those specific things that they like/love eventually, but by the time you get there, your season’s been produced in its entirety and you’ll have to bear that in mind for (hopefully) next season. But with SPN, they were writing and producing the show at the same time that some of the episodes were airing. That’s why they were able to make decisions on the fly, based on what fans responded to. And definitely by this point in the show, there was a sizeable and vocal fan base that made their feelings VERY well-known. We’re only in season three, but they’ve already had a number of con appearances and a pretty active online presence. That kind of feedback has got to be helpful, from a writing perspective, but it also allows for things like characters getting cut because nobody liked them for some dumb reason. BUT, if you’re fighting to stay on the air for 100 episodes or longer, responding to fan reactions is what’s gonna do it and that’s a fact.

#Supernatural #Supernatural rewatch #SPN #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Bela Talbot #Gordon Walker #Ruby #SPN Season 3 #Fresh Blood #A Very Supernatural Christmas #malleus maleficarum #It's gonna lighten up on the next three episodes #I promise #I hope #Don't watch this season if you're still feeling 2020 #Is my personal opinion

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beni-draw-ikemen-please · 4 years

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KINTSUGI - REPAIRING WITH GOLD CHAPTER 1

Ikemen Vampire Canon x OC

K I N T S U G I

Chapter 1 - Don’t tell anyone.

Word Count 2064

Pairing: Leonardo Da Vinci x Seiya Amanogawa x Comte Saint Germain

Tags/TW: Graphic Depictions of sex, intercourse, smut (you name it), angst, mentions of death and suicide. Please proceed with caution.

A/N: This is a work of fiction.

If you don't like OC+Canon fanfiction, this might not be the fic for you.

This is fan fiction for Ikemen Vampire, character designs are owned by Cybird. My story however, features my own OC/MC Seiya Amanogawa who is from Modern Japan/Europe, who travelled to the Louvre for inspiration.

Seiya is female so I will be using she/her as her pronouns. I will also be describing her accordingly. I designed Seiya and she is my Original Character.

If you don't like OC+Canon fanfiction, this might not be the fic for you.

This work is intended for mature readers. No minors please. Graphic Depictions of sex, intercourse, smut (you name it), angst, mentions of death and suicide. Please proceed with caution.

K I N T S U G I

Chapter 1 - Don’t tell anyone.

His golden locks fell beautifully in place, like a masterpiece set within the confines of an ornate golden frame. Right there, in the middle of the museum. The spotlight is carefully placed to highlight the gold that accentuated the piece. And there, in front of it all, with just the right amount of distance, is a lone bench.

That’s how Seiya saw him. A figure to be admired from afar. A treasure, so valuable and so bright, she steps back, almost instinctively, it made her feel smaller and smaller.

She would open her leather-bound book. And very carefully, she would write short letters. They weren’t really addressed to anyone in particular. Maybe they were addressed to her future self, who knows? But she wrote them, every single day. It wasn’t her journal either - no - it was far more complex than that.

Seiya knew in her heart, she wouldn’t be able to bear it, if he ever found out. How much she loved sitting just by the balcony of Vincent’s room during afternoon tea time, so she has the perfect view of the his hands as he gracefully pours tea into the day’s chosen china.

Viridian, with golden leaves and soft speckles of purple, almost white. She knew they were one of his favourites. Wedgewood. She took mental notes every time Sebastian gave her a pointer not to miss, especially when it came to afternoon tea.

She would duck her head, ever so slightly, and she would catch a glimpse of his lips, almost looking like they were kissing the fine things and smiling, so perfectly, complimenting the blend Sebastian had carefully prepared.

It was one of her guilty pleasures. And, it was only after she had shown Vincent what she really drew in her sketchbook that the angel allowed her to use his balcony.

Vincent noticed her when she first arrived. She was this scared, trembling frail little creature, and he wanted to make her feel more at home. Which turned out easier than expected. She spoke modern Dutch, at the very least the sounds were similar to the older variant.. Sometimes she would hear him speak words that made her head tilt in confusion.

But she enjoyed his company. And Vincent felt the same.

They would often draw together. Vincent with his easel and brushes, and his apron that’s stubbornly stained with paint, and her ink and paper.

She told him how she hated it when her hands stained of charcoal, or anything, so she stuck with inks. She would often grumble, how she missed modern pens and this thing called a brush pen. And Vincent wondered about it often.

They threw the case towards the makers of the mansion, first, Isaac - who felt comfortable around her, enough to actually draw and fiddle with objects around so vulnerably. Isaac asked for more time, maybe even more materials to create different prototypes. Then, the trio approached Leonardo. And they were able to make something similar to the modern brush pen in about a week’s time.

And so she drew more and more and more with the brush pen. Funny how she thought, she was using another man’s present to draw another man. And those two men happened to be best of friends. For over a century. Maybe, even more.

Seiya kept her notebook to herself. The red leather stood out, so she would often wrap it with a soft lace handkerchief that was too big to be folded and tucked into her pocket. She would keep it in her tray whenever she assembled the residents’ meals or changed sheets. Her notebook never leaves her sight. Vincent grew curiouser and curiouser every time he would catch a glimpse of the red leather peeking through the black lace. For someone who looked like her, her choice of colour would almost be too bold for a maiden in 19th century Paris. Always black, she would say. Or, if black wasn’t an option, wine red. Or the darkest violet possible.

Vincent remembered the first time he accompanied her to shop for a new dress with Leonardo. They picked up a white dress, made from the finest leavers lace, that she wore with a frown on her face. She covered herself with her arms and asked to change immediately.

“It’s too bright for me…” she said, and Vincent couldn’t make out if she softly cursed in Dutch, or in Japanese, or a mixture of the two. She would, however, hum in satisfaction whenever she saw black velvet chokers, or black leather gloves, and thinking of that contrast made him smile.

He noticed how intently she would spend on each of her drawings. And Vincent would hear the silent flicks of her brush. It would be a long steady stroke for a while, and then flicks of texture. And then she would stop, and sigh, wait for the ink to dry and she would close her sketchbook ever so quietly.

“What are you drawing, Seiya?” he wouldn’t be so bold as to peek over her shoulder as she worked, unlike how Arthur had attempted so many times.

Seiya didn’t say much and it was rare to hear her raise her voice even just for a bit, but when it came to her sketchbook, she was vocal and protective.

Arthur attempted many times to uncover the mystery of that book, but Seiya never let anyone, not even Vincent take a peek inside.

Maybe it’s her diary? He thought about this many times. Maybe it’s some sort of visual diary where she draws her feelings instead of writing them down. Thinking about it like that, Vincent stopped asking her and instead, just enjoyed the tranquility and meditative togetherness of their afternoon painting sessions.

The only person he thought knew about the notebook’s contents would be Leonardo. They spend an awful lot of time together, after all.

Comte had assigned the man to be Seiya’s caretaker, and Leonardo took that duty to heart, sometimes too seriously.

Sometimes, during their drawing afternoons, Leonardo would suddenly just pop out of nowhere, grab her notebook and throw it in the grass. The first time he did that, Vincent was so shocked his hands stopped painting, his paintbrush falling on the grass unnoticed.

There was only the sound of the wind, and the shifting of fabric as Seiya smoothed her skirt and walked towards her notebook. She would have a pained expression on her face, and she would wipe her book clean with the hem of her skirt. And Leonardo would just stand there, puffing his cigarrillo in, and blowing it all out with a heavy sigh.

“Fanculo…” she whispered. And Vincent froze. His neck slowly guided his eyes toward Leonardo, who now looked more annoyed than when he first walked in.

Vincent usually did not know how to respond to situations like these. Their silence made it impossible for him to intervene. Leonardo was not violent, no, and he wasn’t the type to insult women. But Seiya didn’t like it when someone ordered her around.

Dealing with Theo at first proved to be one of the hurdles she had to overcome before making the mansion her home too. Vincent would always remember the face she made when Theo called her a ‘hondje’. And the long road it took for them to actually make an effort to sit down, have an actual conversation and eventually get to know each other.

But with Leonardo, it was something different.

Seiya was composed, and usually calm - at least Vincent thought so - he always felt relaxed whenever they were together. Seiya would often say something and he would apologise for not listening carefully to what she had to say. In the end though, they both agreed that it was more that she spoke too softly, rather than him spacing out and not listening.

Vincent knew that feeling too well. And maybe, it was one of the reasons why they enjoyed each other’s company. Soft souls, his little brother called them.

But with Leonardo, it was different.

Seiya acted more like a child around him. She would pout, call him names and he would let her. And then they would retreat to his room. Sometimes the library. Sometimes, her room, very late into the night.

“I told you. You should stop these silly doodles.” When Leonardo finally spoke, it sounded more like a request than actual lecturing. Seiya would look away, and she would hold her dear treasure closer to her chest.

Vincent, without a word, held out his hands to both of them, as if trying to stop the eruption that was about to happen. Seiya would whisper, that it was none of his business. That made Vincent realise that her notebook was something more valuable than they all deem it to be. And that it was very personal. And, for whatever reason and content it held, Leonardo was against it.

He hated it. Vincent could see it. Enough for him to go out of his way to get it off her hands and into the dirt.

This would happen every now and then, and oddly enough, Vincent knew he should get used to it.

In the evening, Vincent brought her a pot of flowers. Hoping she would calm down. Vincent knew his friend did not like cut flowers so whenever he wanted to cheer her up, he would pick a small pot from their growing collection, and walk it to her room.

That day, he could remember she argued with Leonardo again. She was upset that he did what he did during their “good days”. Vincent felt great earlier in the day and wanted to paint, and she too, felt inspiration course through her hands. And Leonardo just shattered that moment.

Vincent frowned a bit as he leaned against the wall a little further away from the door of Seiya’s room. He could now understand why she was so upset and his heart ached for her. But what he didn’t understand was why Leonardo hated her notebook. Did he dislike that she drew? He couldn’t put his mind around it.

Seiya stormed out, and ran to the opposite direction in tears. After a while, he found her behind the lush greens of the Gazebo. Almost how a little kid would hide themselves after a fight with a another kid after an afternoon at the sandbox. He remembered how quietly she cried. And how warm her hand was when he helped her out of the grass.

They sat underneath the stars, just by a bench near the gate of the mansion. And there, she showed him. He didn’t really say anything, no, Vincent just sat with her. Hoping his presence would alleviate the stress and agitation she felt. Seiya felt like she needed to tell Vincent what was happening.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Her voice was always soft, like a silent prayer you hear inside a church. You should make out the words, but they would always sound like some foreign incantation made to sound familiar.

Vincent would often lean in and apologise. Asking her to repeat herself one more time, for his sake. Seiya would chuckle a bit and she would take a deep breath and would speak a little louder.

“Do you dislike Leonardo?” He asked her one time. And she looked at him with the strangest expression on her face. It was as if it was obvious that she did, but she also looked like she was shocked to hear him ask this question. It was hard for Vincent to understand her, most of the time.

Seiya did not say anything, but she gave him her notebook. Vincent’s eyes widened with interest and curiosity. He was excited and Seiya chuckled when she saw the eagerness in his blue eyes.

“Are you sure?” He asked just to be sure. It was dark, but he could still see the pink on Seiya’s cheeks. Her hair looked like starlight illuminating her from the nipping dark of dusk.

Vincent never felt like this before. The build up curiosity all stemming from the enigma that was her notebook, made the first look inside the pages of this mysterious book all the more exciting. He felt like a pirate, opening the treasure chest, seeing the valuable contents for the very first time.

And then, he stopped.

“You can’t tell anyone. Please?”

To be continued.

MORE A/N:

I’ve been wanting to write this for so so so so so so so long. I’m currenlty writing a very self-indulgent longfic for Twisted Wonderland and my OC so I had no excuse not to write this one. The title came very naturally and I felt like that’s when the chapters really took off in my head. At first there were just notes, or screaming/typing I shared with friends. But I felt I needed to do baby Seiya right and write her story out.

I hope you like my IkeVamp writing attempt! I also posted this on Ao3 (onibeni). In the days I can’t draw for Kinktober, I’ll write (at least I’ll try). So this will be good practice oho~

Thank you for reading! ♡

#ikemen vampire #ikemen leonardo #Ikemen Comte #Onibeni Seiya

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suspendedsatellite · 4 years

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edge (1/1)

title: i stood at the edge

pairing: Gen, Past Magnus Bane/Camille Belcourt, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood

rating: G

setting: Canonverse

word count: ~3000

summary: Snapshots of Magnus’s relationship with Camille throughout the years, and an introspection on all that happened between them.

“If I could hate you, I would find myself drowned in this shallow sea.”

It’s not that simple.

His fingers curled around the cold metal railing of the balcony, the wind almost strong enough to send shivers up his spine. Magnus’s thoughts were at once too loud and too hollow, echoing back and forth in the recesses his mind.

It wasn’t something Raphael or Simon could possibly understand, the weight of memory on nights like this. Not quite guilt, nor regret…just a sense of longing and sorrow for a fleeting time that had long passed. For a woman that neither of them had ever met.

(For the man that he used to be, and the man he would never be.)

No matter how many years passed, he would never forget the emptiness of that night. Not when it still clung in the corners of his being, blurring out the edges of his thoughts.

---

On one of the highest rooftops, Magnus looked over the city of London. The only sound around him was the chilly, early spring wind whispering through spaces between the buildings.

Most of the taverns had cleared out already, and the cabbies had all returned home in the early hours of the morning. It would still be quite a while before the sun rose– perhaps if he looked a little more carefully, he could find the nooks in the alleys where the night children were reveling in their scarce hours of freedom. A few wolves would be stalking through the streets, the young ones not yet able to control their transformations.

But what did it matter, if there was anyone down there at all? Not one of them would ever see him.

(And why should they? There was nothing worth finding here.)

If he took just a few more steps, off this ledge…that was all it would take to break this silence. Living for just a single moment, one breathless fall, before fading. None of it would matter. Forgotten, from a world he never belonged in anyway.

(Who would ever know?)

“You know it probably won’t work, right?”

A honeyed voice broke into his thoughts, and he spun around to see a woman leaning against the brick pillar of a chimney, the details of her features hidden by the shadows. In her hand was a wine glass, and as she tilted to take a drink, he caught the faint, unmistakable scent of blood.

“I’ve seen a couple of them try it, but your magic tends to kick in right before you hit the street. Fear’s a rather potent trigger.”

“What do you want?” Magnus glared at the intruding vampire as he felt an annoyance creep into the empty calm from moments earlier.

“Hmm. Nothing much, just a show. And in case it worked out for you, I was thinking I’d get a nice meal. Warlock blood’s pretty hard to come by.” Her nonchalant tone didn’t have even a hint of unease, which meant she was probably fairly powerful. Magnus found himself impressed despite himself.

“Well, you’ve rather ruined your chances then, haven’t you? Should’ve stayed quiet.” The moment was officially over now, and Magnus walked back away from the edge. He shook his head– it had been a stupid thought, a momentary lapse of logic.

(One that happened far too often these days.)

She looked up at him for the first time, allowing her beautiful face to catch the moonlight. Her eyes seemed to glow, framed by thick lashes that contrasted sharply with her unearthly pale skin. Dark hair spilled over her shoulders, a few strands picking up and flowing in the breeze as she walked slowly over to him.

For a second, he forgot how to breathe. Magnus had seen many stunning beings of every species over the years and he was immune to the effects of a vampire’s encanto, but the way this woman commanded the air around her left him enchanted nonetheless. When she stopped in front of him, he could do nothing but stare.

“It’s alright. I think your pretty face might be worth a bit more than a drink.” Her crimson red lips formed words that he barely caught in his stupor, but as she moved her hand up to cup his face, he jerked back in surprise.

Her laughter was like the sound of bells.

“You poor thing. I wasn’t going to scratch you for a taste, don’t worry.”

It was his turn to grin now. This was a game he knew how to play.

“I’m sure you weren’t, but one can never be too careful. I wouldn’t want a lovely lady like you to get hurt.”

Her elegant eyebrows rose in confusion, and, for the first time in weeks, he laughed. Lowering the glamour on his eyes, he let his magic flare around him. Magnus was pleased when her eyes sparked with a wild hunger instead of the fear he was so used to seeing whenever he used his magic.

The magic inherited from the blood of a Greater Demon.

“You’re full of surprises aren’t you? You should show that off more often. I wouldn’t mind getting…burned a bit, for a taste.” She let her lips open, giving him full view of her tongue as it traced the edges of her perfectly white fangs.

“You play a dangerous game, my lady.”

This time, he didn’t draw back when she approached him. He let her trail her nails lightly across his arm, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Darling, I’ve got nothing but an eternity of boredom waiting for me. I like living as close to the edge as I can. Especially since this one’s a whole lot more fun than the one you were dangling from.”

She leaned in close to his ear and lowered her voice to a sultry whisper.

“What do you say to some company tomorrow night? Somewhere out of this dreadful cold?”

Magnus wasn’t sure what he wanted, but in that moment, nothing was more alluring than the warmth in her voice. He felt her lips curl into a wide smile against his neck as he nodded.

---

“Magnus. I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to come to this.”

He glanced up and felt his heart break a bit at the look Raphael was giving him. How could he regret anything when the living proof of what he had saved was standing right there? No matter how much he owed Camille, he would never be willing to trade away the family he finally found here.

“Raphael, dear, you have nothing to apologize for.”

Raphael might not ever understand his feelings, but he respected Magnus deeply. He knew a little too much about the complicated past Magnus shared with Camille, and would have kept his silence this time as well if it weren’t for Aldertree’s threats to his clan. Over the years, Raphael sought his help less and less frequently, and Magnus wasn’t sure if that was something that should make him happy.

The scared, uncontrolled young vampire had become the leader of an entire clan, overturning the most dangerous woman either of them had ever known to earn that title. Magnus was so proud of Raphael, but a part of him realized that now he was no longer needed.

This was probably what parents felt like when their children left home, he thought.

No matter how much time passed, though, he wanted Raphael to know he had a place to return to. That was one thing that wouldn’t change.

“Really.” He added when Raphael turned away, refusing to meet his eyes. “Camille went too far, and she should have known that.”

“She was important to you.”

“Yes.” He wouldn’t lie. “She was, a long time ago. And maybe even now.” Magnus gripped Raphael’s shoulders gently, turning the vampire towards him.

“But I would never choose her over my family.”

---

“Magnus Bane! What are you doing with that vermin off the streets?”

Camille’s lovely face was twisted in a vicious sneer as she looked down at the young vampire lying on their couch. Magnus suspected this might happen, but he had hoped she would at least offer some pity for her own kind.

Thank god Raphael was out cold.

“His name’s Raphael. He dug his way out just last night and would have razed the town. He’s already killed two mundanes. I had to get him somewhere before the shadowhunters found his trail.”

“You could’ve just taken out the problem down there instead of bringing this filth into our home.” He was left incredulous at what she was suggesting.

“Camille, would it kill you to show some sensitivity? You know what he’s gone through.”

Her coldness was one thing he had never expected after the first time they met years ago. He knew she was a ruthless woman, but she had also pulled him out of a darkness that nearly swallowed him. Looking at the unconscious vampire, Magnus was reminded of himself years ago when he still feared his own powers.

Camille, however, saw none of this. Instead, she scoffed.

“Life’s tough, sweetheart. Especially for nightchildren. If he can’t dig himself out of his own problems, that’s not my business. Or yours.”

“He’s a child.” It was true. The kid couldn’t have been more than eighteen or so.

Camille sighed and put her arms around Magnus. Her skin felt icy, even through his clothes, and the scent of blood clung to her.

She had been hunting.

Magnus wondered if anyone had died tonight.

Probably not.

Unlike Raphael, her control was perfect, and the only deaths at her hand were dealt intentionally. It was a level of mastery that Magnus had always admired, but sometimes he wondered if that was why she held so little sympathy for other downworlders.

“You’re still so soft-hearted.” Her tone was sweetly exasperated now. “You have to learn to nip the weak ones at the bud before they become the burden of an entire clan down the line. It’s our way.”

Magnus turned to her, eyes hard.

“It’s not my way, Camille.”

---

He shouldn’t have been surprised when Ragnor appeared at his side late that night. Despite drinking an entire bottle of his strongest wine, the memories refused to fade from his mind. It figured that tonight, all the spirits of the past would come to haunt him.

“I thought you left for good that time, after the wedding. At least you’re a ghost that’s welcome here.” Magnus played along, just as he always had. Surely he was allowed his own private delusions after the day he’d endured.

“Am I, truly? You never seem to listen or take my advice.”

“I humor you often enough. And you forget that last time, at least, I followed through.” Magnus grinned, remembering the triumphant kiss with Alec in front of a crowd of wide-eyed shadowhunters.

“A good thing you did.” Ragnor chuckled. “That boy’s been good for you.”

Magnus poured another glass of wine and set it in front of Ragnor’s chair, even though he knew his friend would never be able to touch it. Ragnor’s eyebrow rose, and the two of them stared at each other.

“I wish you were here.”

“No you don’t. You’re just upset about Camille and wish you could replace her ghost with another.”

His heart clenched. He wondered if Ragnor would truly believe that if he were here now.

“That’s not true, Ragnor.”

The ghost’s expression softened.

“No? I suppose not…a pity then, that I can’t join you now.”

Magnus squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that soon the illusion would be gone, leaving him alone again.

“I…I’m so sorry.” He didn’t know if he was apologizing to Ragnor, Raphael, or perhaps even Camille.

Was there anyone he hadn’t failed?

“What should I have done?” He whispered.

But he was right– when he opened his eyes again, there was nothing but silence from the empty seat across from him, the glass of wine on the table sitting untouched.

---

“Ragnor, listen–”

“No, Magnus, you listen to me. You promised me, when you came here ten years ago, that you put her behind you. Now she shows up and crooks her finger at you and that’s it?”

“It’s different now.”

“Bullshit. You’re going to help her hide the bodies, and then what? Sleep with her, throw some parties together, wait a few decades for her clan to do this all over again?”

“I can’t leave them to the Clave, Ragnor!”

“And why not!?”

“She has Raphael this time. He’s the one who called me.”

Ragnor fell silent at that admission.

“…How did Raphael end up there?”

Magnus sighed and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. That was the same question he had been asking himself for the last few months ever since he found out.

“Camille brought him over three years ago. He didn’t talk to me about it, probably because he knew about what went down between us.”

Ragnor sighed.

“Magnus, that’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it? If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t have been caught in this mess.”

“He wanted a clan, and god only knows what Camille promised him.”

“I should have warned him.”

“And you think he’d listen?”

“I should have tried.”

(I should have given him a home.)

---

“What was she like?”

Magnus glanced over at Alec, about to deflect the question and the argument that was sure to follow. But he realized that there was no judgment or doubt in Alec’s eyes this time, just simple curiosity.

“Sorry, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.” Alec scratched his head and looked away. “It’s just…I guess I’ve always wondered.”

“Why I was with her, you mean?” He laughed a bit half-heartedly. “Sherman asked the same thing when he and Raphael asked me to find her.”

“Simon.” Alec corrected half-heartedly. “And yeah, I guess so. What did you see in her?”

Magnus chuckled, then bit his lip, thinking carefully before he spoke again.

“Alexander…it was a different time. I wasn’t kidding when I said it was ancient history, almost literally. I was a different person back then. And so was she.“

(But that wasn’t really it, was it?)

"Though…maybe not quite as different as you might expect.” Magnus added.

Alec remained quiet and his gaze patient as Magnus struggled to find the right words.

“She was powerful in a world that was determined to hunt her down.” He recognized the nostalgic reverence in his voice, so different from the scorn he usually carried when he spoke about her. Perhaps it was easier to admit to this now that he knew those words would never be twisted against him.

(Perhaps time could make these memories kind again.)

“I was ashamed of who I was. I had the blood of both my parents on my hands before I was ten years old. An abomination and a murderer, and I was reminded of that every day by the silent brothers that named me and raised me.”

“Magnus–”

“No, it’s fine.” He hated talking about this part of his past. “It was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t make it fine.”

“Maybe not.” Magnus shrugged off his boyfriend’s concern, unable to look Alec in the eye. “But time dulls things, and I’ve…made my peace with it now. Camille was one of the people that showed me how.

“She was selfish with all her toxic indulgences, but so beautiful in all of it. She didn��t even need an encanto to have downworlders and mundanes alike bowing at her feet. Might as well have been Queen of the Downworld.” Alec rolled his eyes at that and Magnus laughed.

“Glad to know some things don’t change.”

“Ah, yes, the eternal beauty of the undead.”

“I meant the indulgences.” Alec frowned. “Overindulged in the end with that den of hers.”

“She certainly became more…reckless.”

“That’s one way to put it. I’d call it cruel.” Alec’s eyes were just a little colder when they looked at Magnus this time, the protective shadowhunter in him showing through.

Magnus sighed.

“Alexander…shadowhunters aren’t exactly kind to people like us. The seelies create their own realm, but vampires, werewolves, and warlocks like me…we’re forced to find our place in the war between the shadowhunters and demons.”

“That doesn’t justify murdering mundanes for sport or keeping them as slaves for their blood.”

“No, it doesn’t. And I’m not trying to justify or forgive her, Alexander. But in a world that didn’t allow her a single freedom, that was disgusted with her simply for who she was, she was fearless and strong enough to throw it back in their faces.

“And she taught me to do the same. To wear my cat eyes with pride and take my place as a high warlock of the downworld.”

Alec was silent, and Magnus was afraid he said too much.

“Alec, I don’t approve of anything, anything that she’s done here it’s just-”

“No, Magnus, it’s okay, I know.”

---

“Camille, it’s not that simple. You know that I love you but I can’t do this anymore.”

“You’ll regret this Magnus. Raphael’s already left, and Ragnor and Catarina will leave you too.” She glared at him for a moment before her bitter words turned sweet.

“You’ll come back to me, Magnus. You always will. You fancy yourself a High Warlock now, but we both know you’re still just the lonely boy standing at the edge of the London skyline, waiting for me to call you down.” Her words struck a chord in him, and for a moment, he shivered, as if feeling the same chilling wind of that night again.

“No, Camille. I’m not.”

---

The sunlight was already creeping in from between the curtains by the time Magnus opened his eyes. A soft breeze drifted in from the balcony, like an old friend calling to him.

“Magnus?” A soft voice, hoarse from sleep, broke the silence.

“Go back to sleep darling. Sorry I woke you.” Magnus pressed a kiss against Alec’s forehead. As he attempted to rise, however, an arm wrapped around him tightly.

"Stay. Please?”

“…Of course.”

(It still called him sometimes, in a gust of wind so cold that it froze him down to the very bone. But he had a place to return to now, far from that distant edge.)

---

author’s notes: This was largely written back in April, 2017 based on a lot of headcanons for me on Magnus and Camille’s relationship. I wanted to take a more nuanced look at the way he might have felt for her, and…this is what happened. I found it again recently so I decided to publish it here, but I’ve been out of the loop with the SH canon for quite a long time now, so apologies if any of these details have now been jossed by canon.

#shadowhunters #t: oneshot #gen #malec #magnus bane #camille belcourt

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ty-talks-comics · 5 years

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Best of DC: Week of September 11th, 1019

Best of this Week: Gotham City Monsters #1 - Steve Orlando, Amancay Nahuelpan, Trish Mulvihill and Tom Napolitano

Who wanted this?

Serious, this is a strange team of characters to put together for a story, but it’s so jarring in a way that it makes me really interested to see what their team dynamic is like. This book carries so much of a Universal Monster movie vibe while mixed in with the superheroics of comic books in a manner that it’s already caught my eye.

The book begins with several haunting establishing shots of Monstertown, one of the few neighborhoods in Gotham that is doing well under the control of Bane. These shots set the tone for what the story will be; a grimy, dark outing where the only light to be found is in the darkness. Naheulpan does such an amazing job capturing the essence of Gotham, while at the same time making things feel so...40s and 80s right before we’re introduced to our first hero, Andrew Bennett aka. I, Vampire.

Bennett, having been hunting down vampires that choose to spill the blood of innocents, dispatches a large group of evil vampires and learns of a new vampire king that’s soon to be restored to life. Bennett tears out the lead vampires heart and tries to drink his blood to kill him, but finds that his blood is poisonous to him. He then vows to kill their new leader no matter what. Within only a few pages Bennett is established as a noble vampire unlike some of his kin and those who were previously unaware of him are given all that they need to know about the man. His scene also feels very reminiscent of The Crow or Queen of the Damned in terms of style and color palette.

Soon after, we cut to a newly freed Waylon Jones who’s very excited to leave his past life as a criminal behind to carve out a new life in Monstertown, but sadly he knows that people will still only ever see him as Killer Croc. I can see that his arc will be all about redemption as he tries to make things in his life right after all of the turmoil he’s been forced to go through. Part of me wonders if he’ll ever learn about Roy Harper and his death at Sanctuary, given that he acted as Roy’s sponsor when the archer was getting off of heroin. He’s not seen again after his two pages which does suck quite a bit as I thought he would have a larger role starting out.

Things start to heat up as we run into the actual lead character of the story, Frankenstein, former Agent of SHADE. It has been quite some time since Frankenstein has been seen in any book, I think the last one he was in was a Valentine’s Day special from 2018. Before he is even shown, we see patrons of a local bar running in fear of the chaos that the undead one has wreaked in search of one of the last open cases SHADE had before Leviathan destroyed them. Frankenstein is not here to play games, holding the throat of a man infected with a disease that turns him into a bull-man.

Naheulpan draws this scene with the dourness that Frankenstein is often known for as Orlando scripts him to say that “in a far world you would live, but now more than ever… the world is not fair.” Napolitano’s letting also helps to make this scene even more saddening with Frankenstein’s shaky word balloons even if Frank himself is anything but. He lights the man on fire after smacking him upside the head with a bottle of ”Damn Fine Whiskey”, totally not Jack Daniels’, and watches as the creature tries to crawl away in fear and pain, terror in his burning eyes.

After this short excursion, we are introduced to our last few cast members in The Orca and Lady Clay, the latter of whom I had no clue existed. While I have limited experience with Orca as a character, mostly from Nightwing: Rebirth and the Injustice 2 tie-in comic, I know her story (and have an attraction, don’t judge me) and it’ll be interesting to see if Steve Orlando plays into the romance angle from the latter comic to give Croc the strong beau that he’s been missing since Enchantress was taken from him. Lady Clay, however, is new and exciting to me because she doesn’t know who she is anymore and finds solace in taking on the appearances of others like a Faceless Person. I’m very interested in whether or not she’ll betray the team for a sense of understanding from the main villain.

Throughout the book there had been murmurings of an opera going on in the city. This plays as the hook that will cause all of the plot to go full steam ahead in the next issue. While the crowd thinks they’re watching an amazing show, they are soon sacrificed to bring back Melmoth, an immortal whose blood was used to help in Frankenstein’s creation. Melmoth’s entire motivation is to continue being what he considers the “Last King.” He wants to subjugate all beneath his feet and will kill as many as he needs to do so, yet his followers see him as some sort of savior.

Gotham City Monsters succeeds as a story in the vein of the cheesy horror movies I liked to watch at a younger age. The stories and motivations given for each individual hero are simple, much like to protagonists of those old movies and gives this comic a nice monster movie team up feel. Naheulpan’s art is grim and made even better by Mulvihill’s gritty coloring and great use of dark inks for the moments that need shadows. For a first issue, this one was a blast and I absolutely cannot wait for the next one!

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

Runner Up: Wonder Woman #78 - G. Willow Wilson, Tom Derenick, Trevor Scott, Norm Rapmund, Romulo Fajardo Jr. and Pat Brosseau

Love is dead. Cheetah has killed her.

The fallout from Cheetah’s actions continue as Wonder Woman has lost her will to fight and is easily overpowered by her most deadly foe. Things begin in the most bleak way possible as illustrated by Tom Derenick. We cut back and forth from the immediate past to the current present as Cheetah wrests or destroys Wonder Woman’s armaments.

Her sword is cut in half and her shield is demolished after swipes from Cheetah’s new Godkiller sword. Her tiara is broken and sent flying after a solid punch. The Lasso of Truth is snatched away as Cheetah mocks her, asking who is truly worthy. Even the Gauntlets of Submission are absolutely destroyed after being hit with the sword.

Cheetah smiles with absolute glee as Diana is driven before her, helpless and unable to defeat her with her new and powerful weapon. She manages to escape into a nearby river and calls Atlantiades to help her. The demigoddess hears her call and with the help of Steve Trevor, they find Wonder Woman, broken and defeated without love.

Superman is commonly thought of as being the main hope in DC and there is a lot of merit to that, but at the same time, Wonder Woman is just as much of an inspiration to some if not more. She has almost never given up hope, even after killing Maxwell Lord in the past or losing her ability to see, hell even after fighting the Amazons after they invaded Man’s World she wasn’t at all fazed. Losing to Cheetah and feeling the crushing weight of the world on her shoulders now that she doesn’t have the hope of love to keep her head up high. It’s even worse when Steve Trevor is also suffering from this lack of love. Even while giving Diana a soothing bath for her injuries and trying to console her, his eyes are empty of the love they had and she can tell.

Not only is love gone, but so is compassion as we see in a short scene shortly after the bath. A mail carrier on a bike accident hits a car and no one does anything to help him. It's telling that people just either drive around him or stand idly by seeing no reason to try to walk through traffic. We see even later on that people are far more willing to commit crime, especially after Lex has been offering people gifts and changing how they think, bringing out the darkness inside.

Eventually Wonder Woman is left with no other choice than to ask Veronica Cale for help. Veronica Cale, who has nothing but enmity for Wonder Woman, decides to help her as she doesn't even remember the feeling of dread that she had when her daughter was trapped in Themyscira and see this as an opportunity to show the Gods that mortals can see what they cannot.

In a way, Cale and Cheetah are similar in that regard. They have nothing but hate for the Gods and Wonder Woman and will do everything they can to tear them down, Cale with wit and guile and Cheetah with pure rage.

G. Willow Wilson is absolute bringing out the bloodlust from Cheetah that we haven't seen in some time and is making her a pretty credible threat. If her trajectory continues the way that it jas, then there's no doubt in my mind that this entire run of Wonder Woman will end in one of their deaths and that is exciting.

#dc comics #dc #gotham city monsters #frankenstein #killer croc #i vampire #steve orlando #amancay nahuelpan #monsters #wonder woman #cheetah #steve trevor #veronica cale #g willow wilson #tom derenick

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theeverlastingshade · 4 years

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Favorite Albums of 2019

2019 proved to be another harrowing year to be alive, but there was plenty of phenomenal music released throughout the year to help distract from the encroaching apocalypse. While there were unfortunately a few artists like Kanye, Chance, and Xiu Xiu that dropped absolute bricks so unlistenable that you’d be forgiven for questioning your fandom in the first place, we were graced with much better than expected returns from the likes of Fennesz and Vampire Weekend, a culmination of a decade’s worth of increasingly realized releases courtesy of (Sandy) Alex G, Sharon Van Etten, and Weyes Blood, a further sharpening of their respective aesthetics from the likes of Tyler, the Creator, Earl Sweatshirt, Kim Gordon, Solange, and Sun O))), and promising first impressions from artists like 100 Gecs and glass beach. Duster ended their almost two-decade long silence, Empty Country rose from the ashes of Cymbals Eat Guitars, the legendary Jai Paul demos finally received a proper release, and plenty of artists like Big Thief, FKA twigs, and Oso Oso that completely leveled up this year and released the best work of their careers to date. No matter what kind of music you’re into, there was plenty to enjoy throughout this year. Here are my favorite albums of 2019.

10. Anima- Thom Yorke

While his work with Radiohead has been consistently great throughout their three plus decades together, Thom Yorke’s solo work has generally left a lot to be desired. That all changed with the release of his third LP, Anima. The record is full of the skittering beats, sinister synths, and general feeling of encroaching dread as the bulk of his work, but the execution has never before landed with such force. Yorke was inspired to tweak his approach to electronic composition after watching some recent Flying Lotus live sets. He began to improvise with loops the way that FlyLo did while performing, and then he sent the files to Radiohead producer Nigel Godrich who parsed the arrangements down to manageable samples for Yorke to work with. The songs on Anima all sound familiar from someone whose been recording electronic music on his own for over a decade, but they’re each far punchier and allow for more space to develop in all their exquisitely rendered texture. Anima is the rare veteran record that leans into the artist’s sweet spot while introducing just enough new wrinkles to an established formula that it allows you to hear them anew.

Anima consists of nine songs that are firmly rooted in the sort of moody, minimal electronic music that splits the difference between experimental bass and minimal techno that he’s always trafficked in to some extent. What’s noteworthy here is how crisp and sharp everything sounds. The songs throughout Anima are minimal but memorable, with instantly recognizable melodies that waft unassumingly from a few synths and a sprinkle of percussion. Whether it’s the strutting bassline propelling “I Am a Very Rude Person” or the unsettling synths juxtaposed against the steady hi-hats and repurposed samples of children cheering from “15 Step” on “Twist”, or the blaring sirens and chimes that give a great deal of dimension to “The Axe”, Anima is a gorgeous listen at every turn. Every song here is produced superbly, with great pacing and a generous use of space that allows plenty of breathing room for every arrangement. Nothing sounds rushed or inconsequential, and the record wouldn’t work nearly as effectively if any single song was omitted. It’s the first release that Yorke and Godrich have put together that doesn’t sound like it exists strictly in the shadow of Radiohead or any specific genres/scenes of electronic music.

The themes of the songs on Anima are the kind of tormented, dystopic nightmares that Yorke has been writing about throughout the vast majority of his career. Nothing else is as explicit as “The Axe”, in which Yorke chastises some unidentified piece of tech for denying him the experience that he sought “Goddamned machinery/Why don’t you speak to me?/One day I am gonna take an axe to you” and in most of the songs on Anima Yorke conveys images with abstract imagery and minimal phrasing. On opener “Traffic” Yorke grapples with an increasingly online world gripped by groupthink and hivemind “Submit/Submerged/No body/No body/It’s not good/It’s not right/A mirror/A sponge/But you’re free” while on “I Am a Very Rude Person” he finds solace in the creative process “I have to destroy to create/I have to be rude to your face/I’m breaking up your turntables/Now I’m gonna watch your party die”. On the record’s most impressive song and centerpiece, “Dawn Chorus”, Yorke looks back on his life and questions whether he would be capable of not repeating the same mistakes if he had a chance to do it all again “In the middle of the vortex/The wind picked up/Shook up the soot/From the chimney pot/Into spiral patterns/Of you, my love”. It’s one of the most quietly devastating songs that Yorke has ever written, and a testament to his unrelenting, unassuming brilliance.

Essentials: “Dawn Chorus”, “Last I Heard (...He was Circling the Drain)”, “The Axe”

9. Basking in the Glow- Oso Oso

Oso Oso became one of the defining contemporary emo bands with their exceptional 2017 sophmore LP, The Yunahon Mixtape, and with their phenomenal third LP, Basking in the Glow, they’ve continued to heighten the very things that landed them rapturous reception with TYM. Frontman Jade Litiri is still penning the most absurdly tuneful melodies I’ve heard on any album that’s come out this year, and his command over songcraft has only gotten tighter in the years since his 2015 debut, Real Stories of True People Who Kind of Looked Like Monsters. BitG is a collection of 11 tracks that blend emo, pop-punk, and straight up indie rock into a concoction of warm guitar pop that’s as immediate as it is accomplished. Nothing on BitG is surprising or unprecedented in any way if you’re familiar with Oso Oso’s prior work, but the band has improved considerably on all fronts, and they’ve never played with such confidence. Few records that I’ve had the pleasure of coming across this year offered such immediate pleasures right out of the gates while letting the intricacies of the music slowly make their way to the surface after repeated listens to the extent that Oso Oso managed with BitG.

Oso Oso did little to alter their approach this time around. They’re still playing ridiculously catchy guitar pop that places a premium on melody above all else, but the songs on BitG are sharper, and more fleshed out than the bulk of their past work. The hooks are massive, and don’t sound like afterthoughts in the way that hooks do in so much music today, and are for the most part the main draw here. The compositions are mostly upbeat, and draw from each of the aforementioned genres seamlessly without ever sounding strictly beholden to one dominant scene or sound. Oso Oso are working within fairly limited parameters which makes the immense range on display all the more impressive. There are immediate pop-punk anthems (“The View”), urgent emo slow-burners (“Priority Change”), acoustic lullabies (“One Sick Plan”) and thematically timeless, immensely cathartic sendoffs (“Charlie”). Nothing on BitG sounds forced, or derivative, or anything less than a tasteful display of staggering growth. Frontman Jade Liltri doesn’t have tremendous range as a vocalist, but few vocalists working today are as consistently expressive as he is, and the melodies that he’s imbued these songs with are richer, and more generous than those on any other album that I’ve heard from this year.

The songs on BitG are accounts from someone losing themselves in the thrall of newfound love. They’re primarily upbeat guitar pop songs that perfectly capture that dizzying sensation of the honeymoon phase when everything is rendered through a warm, euphoric glow. But even the more straightforward sentiments are peppered with self-deprecating jabs that allow you to glean his songwriting from more than just the obvious angles, such as on “The View” when he delivers a phenomenal hook “My eyes lit up when I saw it/A way of lookin for everything I wanted/My eyes lit up when I saw it/The view from where you sit/And apathy, I was in love with it” and the last line completely alters the depiction that he’s initially setting up. “Wake Up Next to God” tackles the struggle to love yourself (“Maybe I’ll figure out what it means/When I mean more to myself”) while the title track deals with navigating complacency “And these days, it feels like all I know is this phase/I hope I’m basking in the glow/Is there something bigger I don’t know?”. Everything comes to a head on the astonishing closer “Charlie” where Jade comes to terms with a breakup and resolves not to let it break him “I know it has to end/We’ll just play pretend, pretend/Yeah, I think that’s fine/’Cause you and I had a very nice time”. Those lines perfectly encapsulate the ethos of Oso Oso, and cap off one of the decade’s most accomplished emo records.

Essentials: “Charlie”, “The View”, “Basking in the Glow”

8. Titanic Rising- Weyes Blood

While every Weyes Blood record preceding Titanic Rising was a perfectly solid release in its own right, few artists managed to improve on all fronts as dramatically as Natalie Mering did this year with Titanic Rising. TR is a lush chamber pop record that finds Mering composing some of the grandest, and most impressive songs of her career to date. With the exception of the instrumental title track and closing track “Nearer to Thee”, the songs on TR are sweeping chamber epics flush with strings, brass, and synths that congeal remarkably well under the weight of her stirring voice. The songs are paced superbly and never verge on overstaying their welcome, but are produced with such rich texture that they allow new details to emerge with each listen. Not unlike acts like The War on Drugs or Amen Dunes, Mering tapes into well-worn forms with immediate comparisons that come to mind right out of the gates, but the music unfolds in a spellbinding haze that renders those points mute. Although her music has never before swelled with such expansive arrangements, she still manages to imbue these compositions with her strongest writing to date. TR sounds like the culmination of a singular voice that she’s been honing throughout the past decade.

TR is a gorgeous sounding record, and there’s nothing here that sounds fussy or overworked. The compositions are dense, but the arrangements move with a sense of grace that magnify Mering’s sentiments without drawing anything away from her stunning voice. Songs like “Wild Time” and “Everyday” contain some of the sharpest melodies that I’ve listened to all year, and the way they emerge patiently beneath heaps of tastefully arranged piano, strings, and brass only serves to maximize their impact. Even on songs like “Picture Me Better” that showcase the closest that TR veers towards minimalism, she’s composing with a deft intuition that keeps the arrangements economical without forsaking a sense of wanderlust. “Andromeda” begins with a lumbering bassline and kick drum rhythm while acoustic guitar softly snakes around her slowly blossoming voice. Shortly afterwards a string section slides into the mix and a massive chorus springs forth from beneath the mix. It’s anthemic but rendered in a dreamy hazy, and it already sounds like a classic. “Everyday” and “Something to Believe” are baroque pop at its most immediate, the former deploying a jaunty kick rhythm, lush strings, and sun-kissed harmonies while the latter is a breather that features terrific interlocking harpsichord/electric guitar leads snaking around her soaring vocals. And on “Movies”, her finest song to date, her effect-laden vocals and warbling synths build to a transcendent peak before transitioning into a spell-binding string-led coda. It’s an incredible sounding coda, and not a moment of it feels unearned.

Even at the album’s most indulgent, (as on “Movies” which is also unsurprisingly TR at its best) the music still still brilliantly serves the narratives at hand. TR consists of 10 songs that examine the highs and lows of love through a distinctly contemporary lens. “Andromeda” begins with a reluctance to allow love into her life “Stop calling/I think it’s time to let me be/If you think you can save me/I’d dare you to try” before Natalie eventually succumbs to the temptation to not close herself off completely “Love is calling/It’s time to give to you/Something you can hold on to/I dare you to try”. “Everyday” finds Natalie lamenting the state of modern dating “True love is making a comeback/For only half of us, the rest just feel bad/Doomed to wander in the world’s first rodeo” while “Mirror Time” examines a periodic love without boundaries that plays out in short burst from time to time “Got a feeling our romance doesn��t stand a chance/Stand a chance to last/You threw me out of the garden of eden/Lift me up just to let me fall hard/Can’t stand being your second best”. On “Movies” Natalie is offering her ode to the films that she loved growing up that have helped shape the person that she is. She longs for her life to have the same sort of neat dependability as she’s come to expect from movies, lamenting the mundane realities that defines actual human life “Some people feel what some people don’t/Some people watch until they explode/The meaning of life doesn’t seem to shine like the screen”. Like the rest of TR it’s an unabashedly intimate yet grand sounding song that exemplifies the multitudes of Mering’s songwriting, and it’s as human as music gets.

Essentials: “Movies”, “Andromeda”, “Wild Time”

7. Purple Mountains- Purple Mountains

After over a decade since the last Silver Jews record, Dave Berman returned to music earlier this year and released a self-titled album under the moniker Purple Mountains. Purple Mountains detailed Berman’s struggles with depression in the years following the dissipation of Silver Jews, and a few weeks after the record came out he took his life. The music on PM is unrelentingly bleak on its own terms, but when viewed through the context of its aftermath it achieves an unbearable melancholy that makes it difficult to revisit. Berman has spent his music career as the mastermind behind Silver Jews penning sharp songs that use humor and wit to navigate the inner turmoil that’s plagued him throughout his whole life. Although PM isn’t a particularly easy record to digest from a thematic standpoint, I can still hear quite a bit of humor and hope embedded within the music that runs counter to the narrative. There isn’t a single Silver Jews record that’s anything less than good, but on PM Berman’s songwriting hit a new peak that showcased his singular voice in a newly refined, mature temperament with all the effortless irreverence that he’s provided in spades throughout all these years held perfectly intact.

PM is a jangly indie rock record that sounds like a perfectly natural extension of the music that Berman was making in Silver Jews, but it’s disarming to hear just how straight up tuneful this record is. Immediacy is not the first thing that comes to mind when describing Berman’s work, but the songs on PM are some of the tightest that Berman has ever penned, and many of them contain his finest melodies to date. “All My Happiness Is Gone” is a dead ringer for any kind of conceivable anthem for 2019, and when Berman sings those lines throughout the chorus against a stirring string section, rollicking drums, and a jaunty acoustic guitar lead it sounds far more like a triumphant admission of apathy than the sort of shrugged off platitude the words themselves alone might suggest. The following song “Darkness and Cold” slows down the tempo, but works in tandem with what came right before it as an anthemic melody swells up while he describes the experience of watching his ex-wife begin to go on dates again “Love of my life going out tonight/Without a flicker of regret”. The juxtaposition between the music and lyrics animates the record from start to finish, and helps offset some of the particularly devastating moments.

There’s no way around the fact that the record was written in the wake of the dissolution of his marriage. The struggles with depression and substance abuse penned throughout the record are commonplace themes in all of Berman’s work, but the collapse of his marriage happened in the years following the last Silver Jews record, and every song here feels tethered firmly to the end of that relationship. “She’s Making Friends, I’m Turning Stranger” finds Berman coming to terms with his innate introversion “She’s making friends, I’m turning stranger/The people on her end couldn’t make it plainer/Sometimes I wish we’d never came here/Seeing as I’m held in such disdain here” while closer “Maybe I’m the Only One for Me” suggests that Berman is able to find contentment in the admission that perhaps he simply wasn’t meant to be in a lasting relationship “If no one’s fond of fucking me/Then maybe no one’s fucking fond of me/Yea, maybe I’m the only one for me”. At its core, PM details the sort of weary acceptance of life in all of its difficulties that Berman has resigned himself to. There are moments of profound beauty sprinkled throughout his deadpan sentiments that hint at something beyond the veil of frustration and apathy.

Although things panned out tragically in the wake of PM, there’s a rush of catharsis that his vulnerability allows for that elevates the sentiments throughout the record to dimensions beyond the sort of gloomy, one-note rock of which it runs parallel to the pantheon of. Berman has always written with an unflinchingly honest gaze at himself and the world around him, and while not necessarily portraying himself in the best light he’s always grounded in his genuine beliefs. Thankfully, he hadn’t lost an ounce of his wit or wisdom in the years following Silver Jews, and his penchant for the absurd is kept well in check throughout PM. This is particularly evident on the album highpoint “Margaritas at the Mall” which finds humor by poking through the holes of the hollow capitalist complex “We’re just drinking margarita’s at the mall/This happy hour’s got us by the balls”. On “Storyline Fever” Berman examines the way we’re swept up by the narratives that we construct to examine life more neatly “You got storyline fever, storyline flu/Apparently impairing your point of view/It’s making horseshit sound true to you” and even on the bleak state-of-affairs- recap opener “That’s Just the Way That I Feel” Berman slips in some amusing imagery in-between his morose depictions of his inner torment “I nearly lost my genitalia/To an anthill in Des Moines/I was so far gone in Fargo/South Dakota got annoyed”. No matter the tone that he struck, Berman was always resolute in his openness, and thankfully his parting gift to us remains steeped in that conviction.

Essentials: “Magiritas at the Mall”, “All My Happiness Is Gone”, “Darkness and Cold”

6. Magdalene- FKA twigs

It’s been five years since Tahlia Barnett’s last full-length LP as FKA twigs, and in the time since she’s released the exceptional EP M3ll155X, directed several music videos, and acted in the film Honeyboy as the rest of the musical landscape slowly began to catch up to her warped approach to avant-garde pop. M3LL155X suggested a more maximal, mutated take on club music, and it now seems like a sly feint within the greater scope of her artistry in light of Magdalene. The songs on Magdalene rarely utilize more than strings, keys, drums, bass, and Barnett’s heavenly falsetto, with very little generally happening at any point in time. The vast spaces allow for her highly expressive vocals to emote more heavily than we’ve ever heard from her, the instrumentation is rich and varied despite the tight parameters, and she’s managed to make the most of the eclectic roster of collaborators that worked on the album. The album was inspired by the story of Mary Magdalene from the Old Testament, and in examining how Mary was maligned by her peers Barnett draws a clear through line from the cruelty women suffered as a result of conservative ideology from then up to the present day. The result is a deeply moving record about her experiences within a continuum of marginalization. It feels urgent but far from self-important, and cautiously hopeful without any tangible sense of real optimism. Magdalene has stronger writing, singing, and production more adventurous than the vast majority of records that I’ve listened to this year. It’s the most compelling and expressive release in her short but singular career.

Magdalene sounds like a perfectly natural extension of LP1. It’s more minimal, and sways with a more forlorn baroque undercurrent that propels her skittering electronics into warmer abstract shapes. Arca, Oneohtrix Point Never, Nicolas Jaar, Hudson Mohawke, Future, Sounwave, Skrillex, Cashmere Cat, and Kenny Beats are among the people who are featured or produced songs on Magdalene, but despite the myriad of people that contributed it’s still an incredibly cohesive record perfectly suited for Barnett’s voice. “Thousand Eyes” opens the record to a chorus of pitched vocals set against swelling strings pouring down from the heavens. The record gradually grows more pensive and moody as it progresses, allowing the Future collaboration “Holy Terrain” to sound like the most fitting pairing imaginable by the time we reach track four. Their chemistry is undeniable, and it’s a perfect bridge between the corrosive piano ballad “Sad Day” and the sleek synth rhythms of the record’s centerpiece “Mary Magdalene”. Unsurprisingly, the Jaar contributions and the OPN contribution rank as some of standouts here. Daniel Lopatin’s touch is all evident all over “Daybed” as a lone violin plays in the distance while a kick drum and synths collide softly. It’s the ideal ambience over which Barnett’s voice urgently sings of her experiences with depression. And the skittering keys coupled with the drum and bass assault that propels Barnett’s massive hook on “Fallen Alien” make for some of the most powerful and compelling music of her career to date.

Magdalene opens with “Thousand Eyes” which is the sound of the wall of voices signaling the disintegration of a relationship, presumably the one between her and ex-fiance Robert Patterson “If I walk out the door, it stars our last goodbye/If you don’t pull me back, it wakes a thousand eyes”. Magdalene primarily delves into the aftermath of her relationship with Patterson, with songs like “Cellophane” and “Sad Day” that touch on not being enough for someone “They’re hating/They’re waiting/And hoping/I’m not enough” and taking the chance on being hurt again “Taste the fruit of me/Make love to all you see” respectively. In addition to the songs that focus on heartbreak Magdalene also touches on the ways that women have been maligned throughout history on the album’s centerpiece “Mary Magdalene”. Here she touches on how women have had their achievements erased from the history books “A woman’s war/Unoccupied history/True nature won’t search to destroy/If it doesn’t make sense” and pays tribute to Mary by acknowledging her as someone who was maligned as a whore due to a misreading, instead of an equal to Jesus. And on “Daybed”, one of Tahliah’s most impressive songs to date, she lays out in stark terms her struggles with depression “Tired of my resistence/Smothered is my distance, yeah/Careful are my footsteps/Possessive is my daybed” over eerie synths and strings courtesy of OPN.

Despite the thematic ambition on display throughout all of Magdalene, it never comes across like an oppressive slog. It’s all too common for records with such weighty concerns to collapse under the weight of their subject matter, but Magdalene is never anything less than an immensely engaging record. The production is gorgeous from start to finish, and the restraint that Tahliah opts for allows the impact of her outre leaning sound design to land that much more powerfully. With nine songs across 38 minutes every moment feels like it’s purposefully building towards something transcendent. She continues to fuse r&b, baroque pop, synth-pop, experimental bass, trap, and avant-garde electronica into something only recognizable as hers. The pacing is superb and while the obvious peaks like “Fallen Angel” and “Cellophane” provide a great deal of momentum, the transitional breathers like “Mirrored Heart” are just as exquisitely rendered and deeply felt as anything else she’s ever done. Magdalene sounds at once both very much of this current cultural climate and completely out of step with everything but her own sensibilities. Tahliah has been in a class of her own since LP1 dropped, but Magdalene makes a much stronger case that she’s one of the most compelling musicians of our time.

Essentials: “Fallen Alien”, “Daybed”, “Mary Magdalene”

5. Agora-Fennesz

The music that Christian Fennesz conjures as Fennesz has always taken on a larger than life quality far greater than the sum of its parts. Through a combination of heavily processed guitar, manipulated samples, and droning synths Fennesz has managed to carve out a singular lane within ambient music that began in earnest with his 2001 masterwork, Endless Summer, and can still be felt deeply on this year’s Agora. Agora consists of four massive ambient compositions within the span of forty-seven minutes. The music is darker, and flickers with a discernable sense of dread that’s most reminiscent of his stellar 2008 record Black Sea. But tone aside, Agora is a singular record unto itself, and quite possibly the best thing that Fennesz has done since ES. There’s a sweeping sense of scale present in these compositions that’s notably grander than we’re accustomed to hearing from Fennesz. This is still unabashedly ambient music, but there’s a weight to these songs that lends them a more dramatic and unnerving disposition than the genre typically allows for. Plenty of compelling ambient producers have emerged this decade and have helped push the genre forward to thrilling new heights, but with Agora Fennesz proves that he’s still in a class of his own.

There are few producers throughout this century, working within the parameters of ambient or otherwise, that have consistently crafted such vibrant soundscapes that flow so effortlessly with texture, space, and undeniable melodic intuition. Despite not a single song clocking in under ten minutes they each justify their length through exceptional pacing, sublime sound design, and a palpable sense of discovery lurking around every corner. Each song on Agora is constantly in a state of building towards or coming down from some massive peak, and there isn’t a moment that doesn’t feel earned or purposeful. Fennesz gives himself just as much time as he needs to really flesh out each of the compositions, and we’re better served for his patience. Each composition consists of droning synths, loops of guitars caked in distortion colliding alongside each other, and the occasional reverb-drenched vocal sample. The tone of these songs are uniform in their remote temperaments, but the dynamics of contrasting textures that animate each are in a constant state of flex and offer plenty to unpack throughout the course of multiple listens. Like most of Fennesz’s work, there’s a warmth to Agora that’s unusual for ambient music, and even at Agora’s darkest it still sounds positively radiant. The sound design and mixing of Agora is the main real draw, and there’s a strong case to be made that it’s the best produced album of 2019.

Right from the moment that the droning synths begin to flare up on “In My Room” it becomes clear that this is going to a far more ambitious outing than one could have reasonably expected from Fennesz this far into his career. Much like the two great 2019 Sunn O))) records, Agora exemplifies the greatest qualities of the musician making the record on a grander scale than we’ve ever heard prior. “In My Room” gradually builds up volume and additional texture as it progresses, slowly blossoming into a massive wall of sound that seems to slyly live up the grandiose production of the group whose name likely informed the song’s title. “In My Room” builds steadily throughout the course of its runtime culminating with an enormous eruption that trickles out organically, while the following song “Rainfall” builds to a blistering peak of guitar distortion early on and simmers in a vat of field recordings smeared in reverb, and soft-swelling synth melodies peaking out beneath the rumbling of the samples. His careful restraint is felt throughout all of “Rainfall” as he teases another eruption that never quite arrives. The title track then follows suit, and continues in the vein of slow-burning, doom-laced ambience that sifts through a multitude of texture while it simmers eerily yet gorgeously for several minutes before transitioning into closer, “We Trigger the Sun”.

As “We Trigger the Sun” slowly drifts towards its majestic conclusion it ends Agora with the slightest hint of uplift, courtesy of calamitous, droning synths that envelop the mix in a bright haze. Agora doesn’t end too differently from where it began, and it’s remarkable to hear how Fennesz managed to wring such potent emotion out of such a narrow set of parameters. No two songs on Agora sound alike, but the pacing of each individual song, and the sequencing of the record on the whole, renders it a spectacularly cohesive listen. For nearly two decades now Fennesz has proven himself to be one of ambient’s greatest contemporary practitioners, and with Agora he’s continued to lean into his intuition for melody, atmosphere, texture, and tone, while trimming down his compositions so that, despite being unabashedly maximal, they still adhere to a purposeful sense of economy. Like most ambient music Agora necessitates your patience, and it doesn’t offer any immediate entry points to give a quick summation of what you’re getting into. But if you allow Agora to let its spectacular sound design wash over you, you’ll find that it's a pleasure to continuously lose yourself in its spellbinding current.

Essentials: “In My Room”, “We Trigger the Sun”

4. Remind Me Tomorrow- Sharon Van Etten

Sharon Van Etten has been releasing increasingly well-realized, intimate folk rock records for a full decade now, and with her fifth LP Remind Me Tomorrow she’s released what may very well go down as her magnum opus. Eschewing the narrow sonic parameters of all her prior records, RMT is a pristine, synth-pop record that’s brighter and bolder than anything that she’s released prior. The shift towards synths being the most prominent instrument in these compositions doesn’t fundamentally shift her songwriting the way that those sort of observations tend to posit. There’s still a hushed intimacy at the heart of her compositions, and the arrangements on RMT offer more texture and atmosphere than we’re used to hearing from her guitar-led compositions, but her approach to structure and songwriting remains recognizable to that of everything that she’s done prior. RMT is elevated, simply, by stronger songwriting and a heightened level of experimentation that Sharon has never really indulged in prior. There’s nothing that will rewrite your perception of her artistry, but it’s the most consistent and comprehensive testament to her greatness as musician to date.

What’s particularly impressive is how cohesive a listen RMT is despite such a heightened range on display throughout the entire record. All of her past LPs are cohesive, but they all work within incredibly narrow parameters. The album was produced by John Congleton, and therefore has an unsurprisingly massive sound that allows torch-bearing epics like “Seventeen” and “Hands” to tremble with an immense fervor that she’s never quite summoned beforehand. On RMT the downtempo, industrial-lite noir ballad “Jupiter 4” emerges right on the heels of the the synth-fuzz swagger of the record’s first single “Comeback Kid”, but nothing about it sounds contrived or forced. It’s easy to get the sense that Congleton may have encouraged her to step further out of her comfort zone than ever before, but regardless of the impetus the sheer audacity behind some of what she attempts here would be impressive even if they didn’t quite land with the impact that they do. The pacing is masterful, with comedown waltzes like “Malibu” and “Memorial” popping up after heavyweights like “Seventeen” and “No One’s Easy to Love” respectively. “You Shadow” and “Hands” emerge towards the end of RMT and each slowly continue to build up one final, cathartic peak before the serene closer, “Stay”. Sharon was well ahead of the pack of introspective singer-songwriters well before RMT dropped, but the vast gulf between her artistry and the bulk of her contemporaries has widened immensely as a result of this record’s eclecticism alone.

RMT is her first album in almost five years, and in that time Sharon has acted in the OA and Twin Peaks, she’s obtained a degree in psychology, she’s gotten married, and she’s had her first child. The album on the whole isn’t explicitly about motherhood, and the bulk of the songs actually focus on her relationship with her now husband, but that monumental transition animates every moment of the album with a renewed sense of focus and clarity. There are straightforward love songs like “Malibu” that revel in small details “I walked in the door/The Black Crowes playing as you cleaned the floor/I thought I couldn’t love him anymore” and some that are sonically more abstract like “Jupiter 4” that succinctly hone in on her emotional headspace “I’ve been waiting, waiting, waiting my whole life/For someone like you/It’s true that everyone would like to have met/A love so real” even as the songs threatens to collapse in on itself at any given moment. RMT’s first single “Comeback Kid” was the first indication of her sharp sonic overhaul while also hinting at the emotional stakes she was grappling with in her private life “Don’t let me slip away, I’m not a runaway/It just feels that way”.

“Hands” is a slow-burning, sludgy synth-pop song about getting over the small things in relationships that really don’t matter “Put your hands on your love/I’ve got my hands up/Mean no harm to one another” while “No One’s Easy to Love” illuminates Sharon’s reluctance to enter into another relationship with the ghosts of past ones continuing to haunt her “The resistance to feeling something that you put down before/But keep quiet of it as you could not face it anymore”. One of the record’s most powerful sentiments arrives on the last song “Stay”, with Sharon expressing how the love between a parent and child is a bond that will last a lifetime “You won’t let me go astray/You will let me find my way/You, you love me either way/You stay”. Her voice is calm but firm, and confident in the uncertainty about how the relationship between her and her child will progress outside of the love that she’ll always feel. It's one of the most tender and vulnerable moments in a discography with songs brimming with those descriptors, and it ties the rest of RMT together as a snapshot of what her life looked like as she transitioned into motherhood.

The highlights on RMT are immense, and every song here is worth talking about, but the song that's impossible to ignore, which happens to be the greatest song that she’s ever written, is “Seventeen”. An epic of grand proportions in the lineage of Springsteen epics of grand proportions, “Seventeen” slowly builds and builds and builds while quaking with a level of urgency I’ve only heard a few other times this decade. “Seventeen” is propelled by a motorik rhythm that underpins a delicate piano melody and a procession of blaring synths while Sharon’s voice increasingly swells with fervor. The song is about Sharon talking to her seventeen-year old self and trying to provide a sense of reassurance that things will turn out alright despite what she’s going through in the moment “I see you so uncomfortably alone/I wish I could show you how much you’ve grown”. As the centerpiece of RMT, it serves to reinforce how far Sharon has progressed as a musician throughout the decade, and RMT on the whole hints at a myriad of other compelling directions that she may take her sound moving forward.

Essentials: “Seventeen”, “Jupiter 4”, “Hands”, “No One’s Easy to Love”

3. Leak 04-13 (Bait Ones)- Jai Paul

Before June of this year I thought there was a very strong chance that I would never get to hear Jai Paul’s exceptional debut LP. After it leaked in early April 2013 all traces of it vanished from the face of the internet and Jai went dormant. “BTSTU Demo” and “Jasmine Demo” were the only songs that he actually released from the album, and those two alone suggested that Jai was onto something truly idiosyncratic. They teased a remarkably well-realized fusion of Prince, Neon Indian, and J Dilla with a lighter, more malleable touch. After Bait Ones leaked Jai went reclusive, but as the decade progressed you could hear the influence of those irresistible leaks trickling down into the entire landscape of pop music, particularly when sampled by de-facto gatekeepers like Drake and Beyonce. By early 2019 it should have been evident to anyone that heard those leaks that pop music throughout the second half of the decade had come to resemble a post-JP world despite there being only two songs officially released to his name. On June 1st of this year Jai released the leaks in their demo forms, sequenced the way that the leak was initially. Six years on from that leak, the demos not only validate the hype, but present something of a wunderkind who was years ahead of his time.

After an unassuming ten second interlude “Str8 Outta Mumbai” kicks off the record proper, and it becomes immediately clear that Bait Ones is a very different kind of pop album. Constructed from sleigh-bells, lazer synths, a propulsive low-end, samples of Ravi Shankar’s soundtrack to the film Meera, and Jai’s infectious, understated falsetto “Str8 Outta Mumbai” is remarkable for striking a simultaneous balance between sounding like a timeless classic and the future of pop music. Everything is layered superbly, nothing dominates the mix, and it’s difficult to fathom anyone arranging music quite like this save for Jai. “Str8 Outta Mumbai” is the best song that he’s released to date, and is well worth the price of admission alone, but it’s just the beginning. Following right afterwards is “Zion Wolf Theme Unfinished”, and it sustains the momentum of the former while continuing to showcase Jai’s intuitive sense of melody and rhythm and providing some meta-commentary on his elusive nature “Can I make you fall in love with me?”. The percussion is warm and jittery, and there’s the constant thrill of discovery at every moment as some new instrument enters the fold without disrupting the sense of flow. All of the songs on Bait Ones are beats that stretch the confines of pop music through the incorporation of eclectic styles, disparate genres, and the pervasive sensation of of borders eroding between different sounds and cultures. Nevertheless, Bait Ones has the feel of a plunderphonics record, with the sequencing in particular giving the impression that it was constructed from a patchwork of influences he plucked from in accordance to his whims alone.

The songs on Bait Ones all split the difference between art pop, synth pop, and r&b to seamless effect. Some songs are built around samples, but for the most part these are compositions that Jai recorded from the ground up himself. Aside from the intro interlude and the “Good Time” interlude, “Str8 Outta Mumbai” is the only song here that isn’t a demo. The official release of Bait Ones is very similar to the version that was leaked, with overall fidelity improvement and the removal of unlicensed samples being the primary differences. Bait Ones is sequenced the same way, but it’s clear that the overall mix on the vast majority of these songs isn’t quite finished yet. Nevertheless, the songs on this album are examples of pop music at its finest. The smooth bass and synth strut coupled with Jai’s sensuous vocal delivery on “Jasmine Demo”, the back and forth harmonies over flickering hi-hats and bright synth lines on “Genevieve Unfinished”, the gorgeous multi-tracked harmonies that close “100,000 Unfinished”, the short-lived, but satisfying clipped harmonies and stomping percussion on the “Baby Beat Unfinished” interlude, and the slow, synth-fuzz creep and overall superb arranging alongside Jai infectious vocal line on the “BTSTU Demo” are just a few of the many exceptional moments on Bait Ones where it sounds clear that Jai is just as intuitive and inventive, if not more so, as most of his peers. Bait Ones is a sharp example of pop at its most omnivorous, inviting, and curious. With just a little bit of tweaking, Bait Ones could have been a serious contender for AOTD.

Most of the songs on Bait Ones seem to touch on a missed connection and the struggle to remain present. On “Str8 Outta Mumbai” Jai struggles to strike up a conversation with a love interest “Want to talk to you, but you don’t know what to say/And you don’t know what to do” but makes a resolution that he’s in it for the long haul “Grinding, this ain’t no quick ting/I wanna last/It’s gonna take time”. “Jasmine Demo” and “Genevieve Unfinished” are tender pleas for connection, the former draped in funky basslines and soft synths swells while the latter is up-tempo synth-pop propelled by cow-bells, frantic kick drums, and bright synth arpeggios. On the other end of the spectrum there’s “Crush Unfinished”, which finds Jai taking things as they come and not rushing into anything serious “It’s just a little crush/Not like I faint every time we touch”. The rough vocal mixing actually heightens the sentiments that Jai expresses throughout the course of Bait Ones. Jai’s first song, “BTSTU Demo”, in a strange feat of prescience features the hook “I’ve been gone a long time/But I’m back and I want what’s mine”, which makes it a perfect fit for the album’s closer. There’s an undercurrent of weariness that runs throughout Bait Ones, a sense of trying to make up for lost time. By the time we reach “BTSTU demo” Jai sounds comparatively renewed, and unwilling to be taken advantage of any longer.

Along with the release of Bait Ones Jai released two one off singles titled “Do You Love Her Now” and “He” respectively that were recorded during the same sessions but weren’t leaked. Both “Do You Love Her Now” and “He” are great singles that rank up there with the rest of Bait Ones and confirm Jai as among pop’s true auteurs of the moment. It’s surreal to have the demos still in the same form as when they were leaked, as well as the prospect of new music from Jai supposedly on the horizon. Whether or not he ever decides to follow-up this masterful collection of demos seems uncertain, but it’s nothing short of miraculous that Jai saw fit to revisit the pain of having his work compromised for the sake of sharing it with the world this far after the leak. Few pop albums from this decade seemed to so fuse such disparate genres so seamlessly and inventively with such striking, undeniable melodic intuition. Bait Ones already sounds like a future benchmark of pop craftsmanship, the kind of record that still probably wouldn’t have gained a tremendous amount of traction had it been released through conventional channels, but one whose influence would still continue to ripple for years to come through the underground and mainstream alike regardless.

Essentials: “Str8 Outta Mumbai”, “BTSTU Demo”, “Zion Wolf Theme Unfinished”

2. U.F.O.F.- Big Thief

There are few musicians that have developed as remarkably this year as Big Thief. Their first two records, 2016’s Masterpiece and 2017’s Capacity, are both solid records that demonstrate a song command of songcraft and a striking, singular voice in songwriter and vocalist Adrianne Lenker, but with U.F.O.F. and then again later this year with Two Hands, Big Thief have become one of the best bands active period. U.F.O.F., the first of these two phenomenal records, is one of the most beautifully realized folk albums that I’ve had the pleasure of listening to all decade. The music is delicate, but sturdy, intricate and well-constructed but never showy despite the band’s considerable chops. The arrangements are economical and tight, and the band have superb chemistry with one another that allow the album’s naturalistic compositions to feel that much more organic than they would otherwise. Each of these songs unfolds with a natural sense of grace and patience that plays down how intricately they’re each composed. No other album this year achieved such a well-realized aesthetic, and for that alone U.F.O.F. is an impressive record. But the dreamy compositions coupled with Lenker’s wise-beyond-her-years voice touching on loss, nostalgia, growing old, and questioning who she is elevates U.F.O.F. to the state of one of the decade’s understated greats.

Big Thief is a four piece that, in addition to Adrianne Lenker, consists of guitarist Buck Meek, bassist Max Oleartchik, and drummer James Krivchenia. Each member of the band contributes equally to these recordings, and it’s unlikely that these songs would work with anyone else filling in for one or more of these roles. With the exception of the solo acoustic guitar and vocal interplay of “Orange” each of these songs is fleshed out considerably by the remaining members of the band, and the tight interplay between the members on U.F.O.F. is more pronounced than on the vast majority of records that I’ve heard this year. In a decade dominated by bedroom auteurs and laptops, the notion of a four-piece band playing dreamy folk songs skews downright subversive. But whereas Capacity found a hungry band that sounded unlike anyone else on the precipice of greatness, U.F.O.F. is the sound of that band mastering their voice and claiming a sound for themselves. Electric and acoustic guitars snake around each other nimbly, the rhythms unfurl patiently, and Lenker’s delivery is soothing and eerie simultaneously. Their music conjures all manner of nature, but through a surreal gaze that could only exist within your subconscious. Both “From” and “Terminal Paradise” originally appeared on Lenker’s solid 2018 debut solo LP Abysskiss, and while they were among the highlights of that record, when fleshed out with the rest of the band and rendered through the same production as the rest of U.F.O.F. their potency spikes dramatically. On U.F.O.F. Big Thief claim this sound for themselves alone.

As a lyricist and vocalist, Lenker has continued to develop immensely from record to record. The sentiments on U.F.O.F. are wise, touching, and ultimately profoundly human. She remains an astute observer and masterful impressionist, painting vivid scenes with the barest of words “Vacant angel, crimson light/Darkened eyelash, darkened eye/The white light of the living room/Leaking through the crack in the door/There was never need for more/Things we’re meant to understand/Crawling closer to your hand” as on the first verse of “Open Dessert”. The title track finds Lenker nostalgic for her home state of Minnesota “Going back home to the Great Lakes/Where the cattail sways/With the lonesome loon/Riding that train in late June” while “Contact” finds Lenker confronting her habitual state of feeling numb to everything around her “Wrap me in silk/I want to drink your milk/You hold the key/You know I’m barely, barely”. On “Strange” she’s contemplating the nature of mortality and the beauty that will outlive us “You have wings of gold/You will never grow old/And turquoise lungs/You have never been young” while “Century” seems to find Lenker contemplating power dynamics in a relationship “No resolution, no circling dove/Still caught in the jaw of confusion/Don’t know what I’d do for love/But stay another hour”. And on the stunning closer “Magic Dealer” Lenker looks back on her life so far with a resolution to remain more present moving forward “Starve, magic mirror/I thought the crumbs of your life wouldn’t dry/It hurts to see clearer/Falling like needles, the passage of time”.

Nothing on U.F.O.F. underwhelms or sounds out of place, but the best of what’s here makes a strong case that Big Thief have grown into one of the defining bands of their generation. Album opener “Contact” sets the tone with delicate fingerpicked guitar, jangly electric guitar, and a lumbering tom rhythm that lays a nice foundation, but by the time the chorus hits Lenker delivers a goose-bump inducing vocal melody that propels their cozy arrangements into anthemic territory. The singles “U.F.O.F.” and “Cattails” are both delightfully knotty compositions that sustain the wanderlust temperament through faint traces of droning bass, the aforementioned intertwining guitars, and sparse percussion. “Century” provides a nice mid-point breather with a jaunty rhythm and some of Lenker’s sharpest and most restrained melodies, while “Strange” chugs along with a comparatively quick rhythm and steadily builds into, what might have been a piercing guitar solo on Two Hands, but is instead a cathartic wall of Lenker’s multi-tracked voice that soars triumphantly over a rollicking bass solo. And on career highlight “Jenni” Big Thief come the closest that they’ve ever come to straight up shoegaze as the band chug along at a crawl while thoroughly enveloped by distortion. The pacing is immaculate, and when the chorus of “Jenni’s in my room” hits, it lands like one of the most awe-inducing moments that I’ve listened to on a song all year. It’s the sound of Big Thief fearlessly pushing past their acknowledged parameters, and into the unknown.

By the time we reach “Magic Dealer”, Big Thief have completely grown into themselves as a band “. They play with a sweeping serenity that feels timeless, but somewhat far removed from the current musical climate. There’s something profoundly human that the four members of Big Thief are able to tap into with their playing that imbues their compositions with a heightened sense of catharsis. Adrianne Lenker is able to articulate what’s ultimately so sacred about human life, her voice aching and tender but with firm conviction. Their intensity and earnestness sound genuine and well-earned, and there’s no pretense of self-righteousness or self-seriousness. Two Hands is a remarkable record in its own right, and cements their position as one of the most compelling bands currently active, but it’s U.F.O.F. that stands as their magnum opus to date. Their progression into the sublime, singular indie folk band that they are today is genuinely inspiring, and their 2019 records provide a compelling example of a band breathing new life into well-worn forms of music. U.F.O.F. and Two Hands provide an engrossing dichotomy of the band’s sound, and regardless of where they decide to take their sound moving forward, it’s clear that right now Big Thief simply cannot miss. Contrary to what one of the decade’s most relentless myths would lead you to believe, bands like Big Thief have helped ensure that guitar music is in a great place at the moment.

Essentials: “Jenni”, “Strange”, “Contact”

1. House of Sugar- (Sandy) Alex G

Very few artists have released a body of work this decade that’s as rich and rewarding as that of Alex Giannascoli’s. After having released several great records on bandcamp he signed to Domino starting with his great 2015 grab-bag Beach Music, followed by his terrific, eclectic 2017 record Rocket, and this year he dropped his magnum opus and eighth LP House of Sugar. On HoS Alex marries his strongest proclivities, those being off-kilter, supremely melodic guitar pop songs with warped production and a plethora of pitch-shifted vocals that tastefully imbue his vignettes with direction and distinction. Most of the songs consist of Alex’s vocals, acoustic guitar, drums, piano, and bass, with a variety of synths that provide welcome texture all throughout. He’s also supported by a variety of musicians that he tours with, in addition to the vocals and violin of Molly Germer and vocals of Emily Yacina. The songs are richer, and generally more unpredictable than we’re used to from Alex, but they perfectly exemplify his gift for songcraft through strong melodies, engrossing narratives around gluttony and deceit, and spectacular production. It’s not quite as immediate as 2012’s Trick or 2014’s DSU, and it doesn’t have the kind of range that 2017’s Rocket does, but on the whole HoS is the most well-realized record that Alex has released to date. It caps off a strong decade of experimentation from one of the most exciting voices in music at this moment.

Like the rest of his records, HoS was written and recorded primarily by Alex, but contains plenty of tasteful contributions from members of his touring band that also helped flesh out Rocket including Samuel Acchione, Colin Acchione, John Heywood, and David Allen Scoli, Molly Germer, and Emily Yacina. The music on HoS still retains the intimate, bedroom pop glow that’s marked all of his records despite the heightened fidelity. HoS is the richest, most beautifully produced record in his catalogue to date. More so than on any of his prior records HoS finds Alex seamlessly weaving analog and electronic instrumentation to infectious effect. Opener “Walk Away” begins with slurred pitched shifted vocals over warm acoustic guitar and within short order a lumbering drum beat, droning violins, and harmonized chants emerge alongside Alex’s low-pitched croon. “Walk Away” could have easily collapsed under the weight of how packed this mix is, but the pacing is sublime, and by the time a lone jangly violin begins to ripple down the mix it sounds like euphoria. The next few songs lean into Alex’s sweet-spot for infectious guitar pop, but by the time we hit career highlight “Gretel” HoS begins to shift back towards more abstract compositions. And a song like “Gretel” is just impossible to simply gloss over. Opening to chip-tune chants, a decayed synth melody, and a boom-bap drum beat “Gretel” erupts into sinister, distortion-laced guitar pop and quickly introduces one of the most anthemic melodies that he’s ever penned. Like Sharon Van Etten’s “Seventeen”, “Gretel” sounds like a victory lap, the culmination of sorts after an incredibly impressive decade as an artist despite in this case being a meditation on greed that twists the story of Hansel and Gretel into one where after leaving Hansel to die, Gretel can only think about returning for more candy “I don’t wanna go back/Nobody’s gonna push me off track/I see what they do/Good people got something to lose”. “Gretel” perfectly balances the dichotomy between sweet and sinister, and contains some of Alex’s best production to date.

Although the opening suite of songs on HoS consist of the singles, and therefore by default some of the record’s most buzzed about songs, the abstract, electronic-influenced (particularly what sounds like the influence of Oneohtrix Point Never) middle section of HoS accounts for some of the most compelling production of Alex’s career to date. “Taking” unfolds slowly as the acoustic guitar that opens the song begins to make way for what sounds like warped sitar drones, a barrage of chip-tune vocal melodies, and subdued synths. The repetitious, Panda Bear-esque vocal dirge “Near” provides some of his most thrilling, and unpredictable synth arranging to date while the following song “Project 2” is propelled by an erratic hi-hat/kick rhythm and radiates the new-age sheen of early decade vaporwave. The bad trip nightmare-fueled rush of “Sugar” bleeds otherworldly pitch-shifted vocals, violin arpeggios, and a sinister synth melody while providing a sublime transition between the jaunty, country-influenced swing of “Bad Man” to the acoustic ballad “In My Arms”. By this point Alex has gotten all of the overt electronic experimentation out of his system, and ends HoS with two more gorgeous acoustic ballads, “Cow” and “Crime” respectively, and the surprising, but welcome Springsteen-esque live cut of “Sugarhouse” (which doesn’t yet have a studio recording). HoS is paced superbly, and despite having more range than all of his records that aren’t Rocket, it remains a remarkably cohesive listen through even the most overt sonic shifts. While it’s understandable that many longtime fans of Alex G may have found some of the experiments on Rocket a little too gimmicky, on HoS it’s hard to deny that he completely commits to the warped-americana meets electronic guitar pop aesthetic, rendering the atmosphere rich and engrossing from start to finish.

The lyrics on HoS aren’t particularly direct for the most part, which shouldn’t have come as a surprise to any fans of his, but they do a nice job of framing his depraved vignettes which each fixate on characters succumbing to their gluttony. “Taking”, “Hope”, and “SugarHouse Live” hone in on drug dependency, with the narrator of “Taking” succumbing to it “That’s how she found me this morning/Buried my head in her arms/Lifted my spoonful of sugar/Taking”, “Hope” providing a harrowing look at the havoc that opioids have wreaked in Alex’s community from a survivor’s perspective “Yeah, Fetanyl took a few lives from our life/Alright” and “SugarHouse Live” using gambling as a metaphor for drug addiction “You never really met me/I don’t think anyone has/But we could still be players together/Let SugarHouse pick up the tab”. “Near” depicts its narrator in a state of unrelenting lust “I said no/Hold my hair/I’m not there/Black feather/Come big boy/Tear me up/Draw my blood/No fucking” while “Crime” finds its narrator sidestepping his comeuppance for an unidentified misdeed “They killed him for the crime/But I know that they’re mistaken/It was me the whole time”. Throughout HoS Alex does a superb job of blending reality and fiction to deliriously blurry effect, with aspects of both informing one another and making it increasingly difficult to hone in on the distinction.

HoS doesn’t have too many songs with the kind of immediacy that many of his past LPs have, but the highs on HoS are without question the best songs that he’s ever written. “Hope” opens with unbearable devastation “He was a good friend of mine/He died/Why write about it now?/Gotta honor him somehow” and finds Alex singing about the opioid crises in Philidelphia, “You can write a check in my name/Eddie take the money and run” over some of the sharpest guitar arrangements of his yet. On “Southern Sky” Alex, along with the harmonies of Emily Yacina and Molly Germer, provides one of the most gorgeous vocal melodies of his to date over jangly acoustic guitar, violin, and a lumbering rhythm. The warped collage breakdown “Sugar” is one of the most fascinating songs that he’s recorded to date, and is perpetually on the verge of breaking down as guitar drones, violin arpeggios, and the unsettling, borderline-incomprehensible vocals “You will be a bird/All of my life/Whirl in the air/Speck in the sky” collide violently with one another. The tender deep-cut “Cow” ranks as among Alex’s most beautiful songs, even more so for obfuscating the object of his affection “You big old Cow/You draw me out/Lie on the ground/Kiss on the mouth”. Most of HoS takes multiple listens before the pleasures of each song begin to emerge, but few records I’ve heard this year struck such a fine balance between immediacy and abstraction.

From Race through HoS it’s hard to deny that Alex G has had a remarkably fruitful decade of releases. With HoS he’s cemented his status as one of the most compelling artists in not just indie rock, but music in general. His surreal storytelling, sharp melodic instincts, and relentless tinkering have propelled his rich catalogue of lo-fi DIY releases onto a level, alongside Car Seat Headrest’s Will Toledo, that’s far beyond the bulk of his peers. HoS, alongside Rocket before it, has further expanded the parameters of Alex’s sound, and teases a multitude of future directions that he could pursue that are far beyond anything that records like Race or Winner could have ever suggested. That sense of unpredictability and adventurous spirit are traits of his music that are just as compelling as the singular voice and immense sense of intimacy that all of his music is imbued with, and with each release from DSU onward those traits of his have been paying some serious dividends. Regardless of what his next record sounds like (I’m really hoping for some freak-folk or straight up ambient) it’s impossible for me to not to just give him the benefit of the doubt at this point. As long as Alex is following the direction of his whims alone, the results will likely remain captivating for many years to come.

Essentials: “Gretel” ft. Molly Germer, “Cow”, “Southern Sky”, “Sugar” ft. Molly Germer, “Hope” ft. Molly Germer & Emily Yacina

#alex g #big thief #Jai Paul #Sharon Van Etten #fennesz #fka twigs #purple mountains #weyes blood #oso oso #Thom Yorke

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mediocremagicman · 6 years

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Wednesday night draft!

7 Person Hour of Unstable (3xUST)

After another awful Ixalan draft last week I was so excited when the vote came up to do Unstable this week. So far the format has proven to be a ton of fun and I can't get enough of it. This draft I ended up in a black/green counters deck with a some die roll synergy. I very much like this archetype since it is a well crafted combination of the traditional magic archetype B/G +1/+1 counters with the Unstable nonsense of die rolls. While I thought the deck looked solid I lacked just enough of everything to make it work. I would either find my cards that rolled die, or find my Willing Test Subject without any way to roll. This lackluster performance resulted in a 1-1-1 record which put me in 5th this evening.

The Draft (Each pick in order from top to bottom, then left to right)

Over My Dead Bodies was my opening rare. This card can be very powerful but is very hard to set up. The undeathtouch means in order for this card to be effective you need more creatures in your graveyard than your opponent, otherwise it does nothing. That said it's exactly the kind of wacky nonsense I voted for Unstable to get, plus taking it early meant I could build around it. I took it and hoped to see if I could make it work. Oaken Power Suit makes my first contraption choice of the night. It's a rare and for good reason, it lets you turn your cheap chump creatures into threats while protecting the actual threat you want to have. You have to have a big creature for it to be really effective but pumping for +2/+2 or +3/+3 is still worth the effort spent to assemble it. capital offense is a solid piece of instant speed removal. It doesn't kill simple big creatures but in this format those are few and far between. Most of your threats are creatures that start off small and have abilities that get out of hand. With capital offense those very abilities are the creatures downfall. In the worst case of a creature it can't kill it can still serve as a combat trick and let you still get there. Turbo-Thwacking Auto-Hammer is another solid contraption choice. Like the Power Suit it turns almost any creature into a problem. Subcontract is a card I've heard a great deal of debate about. Some argue that because you don't get to pick the card that you won't get something worth spending the card. I don't buy into this argument since even if your player outside the game picks the worst card it is still a one for one trade for which you only paid one mana. While some cards have a higher potential upside most cards also have a floor that is much lower. Since this cards floor is never zero it's always worth playing unless somehow you ended up with 23 other cards of pure upside in which case go you. A foil Adorable Kitten is too adorable to leave in the pack. Also experience has shown me that this card is much better than it looks. A think a 1/1 with an ETB lifegain trigger would not be playable. It's tiny and it doesn't block well so the lifegain is just a minor speed bump for your opponent; the format that is already slow so the effect is minimal. This analysis goes out of the window when you have a good creature to augment it with. Have you ever been in a parking lot with 5 speed bumps? Repeating that lifegain trigger can slow your opponent to a stop. Entirely Normal Armchair is a risky card but is again exactly the kind of thing I am drafting Unstable to play with. Against an eagle eyed opponent it's totally dead but potentially kills a creature for just two mana. The best way to hide is is to play it under the land you play for your turn. In the past I've also gotten good value out of it by hiding it under the creatures that have a trigger to sacrifice an artifact for some value. You drop it under the creature as you play it and then be sure to stop and ask your opponent if the ETB trigger resolves. So remember if someone plays one of those without an artifact to sacrifice be careful to not fall into this trap. Overt Operative is my first way to assemble a contraption. It doesn't matter here since I already have good contraptions but when evaluating cards that assemble you have to balance how good they are without contraptions with how easily the card does the assembly and how good your contraptions are. If a card assembles contraptions easily and is decent without them then it should be taken with the idea that you can find the contraptions later. Others are only worth playing when you already have good contraptions. My pool falls into the latter group so I'm willing to take even the mediocre assemblies but this card fits into the first category. The menace makes it easy to get the trigger and makes the card playable even without contraptions. Mother Kangaroo is one of the creatures I spoke of earlier that start off relatively harmless and become a threat over time. The worst case of a 2/2 for five mana does happen but it's not likely and if I can find a decent augment to combine it with then I can have a real engine working. Buzz Buggy is another good contraption; the format is grindy and tends to lead into locked up board states. Having the ability to give trample helps you break that lock and win the game. Willing Test Subject is a powerhouse common in the die roll deck and seeing it this late is a sign that deck is open. Like the Kangaroo it slowly grows bigger and bigger as the game grinds on, but unlike the Kangaroo I don't need to find another card to make it work. Krark's Other Thumb is another great card for the die roll deck. It lets me get better results, but more importantly lets me roll more dice. The triggered ability on Willing Test Subject can trigger for both the die you would roll and the extra die you roll with the Thumb. Midlife Upgrade is a contraption assembly card that fits into the other category than the Operative; you must already have good contraptions but when you do it's worth playing. Don't forget you can chose an X of zero and just use it to assemble a contraption. Box of Free-Range Goblins seems like it would be good in a goblin tribal deck which is an archetype that seem feasible but have yet to see.

Split Screen is a weird, fun, and very powerful card. It checks everybox I came here to check. The ability to pick from four cards every time you draw mean you almost always get something you need. Four mana does seem pricey for an artifact that does nothing as it comes in, but these games go long enough that you will life long enough to get your value. When it's daylight Old-Fashioned Vampire is worth playing and when the sun sets it's a one of the best creatures in the format; it doesn't even die to capital offense. Extremely Slow Zombie is a card I've had trouble evaluating. Even with the drawback of last strike a 3/3 for two seems like good value but every time I've drafted it I've ultimately cut it from the final deck. Snickering Squirrel is a key part of the die roll archetype when you build it so that your deck cares about results of the die rolls. It doesn't help with cards like Willing Test Subject which only care about the raw die roll. The second Armchair is significantly worse that the first since after they see one your opponents are usually very vigilant about looking for it for the rest of the game. But I'm greedy and here to have fun so I'll take it. Steady-Handed Mook is another one of the contraption assembliers worth taking without contraptions. Duplication Device is another very strong contraption and now that I have two good ways to assemble the I'm looking for those. It's a little weaker than one would think because of the tendency of creatures to grow larger with counters which it won't copy but making a copy of the strongest thing is still worth a pick/assembly. Another capital offense is just a good as the first. Voracious Vacuum is a lackluster host that can become an engine when augmented. I think Mother Kangaroo coming around this late in the pack is a sign that green was open. Eager Beaver is playable in a host/augment deck that needs more hosts but that is far from what I am doing with only one augment.

Clocknapper i again hits all the things I wanted out of my Unstable draft. Taking your opponents beginning phase. Is essentially a timewalk since you steal their draw and prevent them from untapping. Even with the double cost I'm splashing it. Luckily I'm in green so I can look to grab fixing in this last pack to make it work. This Ineffable Blessing is the one where I pick a number and draw a card whenever a creature with the chosen number of words enters the battlefield. I quickly glanced through my pile (which is allowed at my LGS, always remember to check if you don't know) I realized I had a critical mass of creatures with two words in the name which I decided made the Blessing worth taking. Wild Crocodile is some exactly the kind of fixing I need now that I'm trying to splash the Clocknapper. Finders, Keepers is one of the few unconditional removals spells in the format and even has an upside I'm actively seeking out. A foil Top-Secret Tunnel was my next pick. Like the trample on Buzz Buggy it breaks board stalls. Selfie Preservation is ramps for two mana. In a slow format like this is ramping to your big things early is a major advantage. Plus it helps with the splash, although I made it much worse by forgetting to find Islands with trees in the art. Multi-Headed should be relatively easy to trigger in a B/G die roll deck and since that is what I'm building I took it even though I don't really have enough of the die rolls to really make it work. Willing Test Subject can can give me die rolls and benefit from them so I'm taking it here just like before. Hazmat Suit (Used) works well because the stat boost plus menace makes blocking difficult enough that you usually get through. Plus I had gloves in my jacket pocket so there was no downside. Another Selfie Preservation is making me feel pretty good about my decision to splash now that I have three pieces of fixing. Quick-Stick Lick Trick is my weakest contraption so far but still worth playing because of the lifelink. The rest of the pack just wasn't good for my deck. Can't get playables every pack.

The Final Decklist

Conraptions 1x Quick-Stick Lick Trick 1x Top-Secret Tunnel 1x Duplication Device 1x Buzz Buggy 1x Turbo-Thwacking Auto-Hammer 1x Oaken Power Suit

Enchantment/Artifacts: 2x Entirely Normal Armchair 1x Ineffable Blessing 1x Krark's Other Thumb 1x Split Screen 1x Hazmat Suit (Used) Instant/Sorceries: 1x Subcontract 2x Selfie Preservation 2x capital offense 1x Finders, Keepers Creatures: 1x Wild Crocodile 2x Willing Test Subject 1x Steady-Handed Mook 1x Voracious Vacuum 1x Ninja 1x Overt Operative 1x Clocknapper 2x Mother Kangaroo 1x Old-Fashioned Vampire 1x Multi-Headed Lands: 6x Swamp 7x Forest 3x Island

Round 1 (2-0) I played against a R/B deck. While they had strong start game one my deck had more late game inevitability, especially when they draw lands and I continue to increase my cards value with contraptions. Game two they didn't even have the good start from game one and could not find their black mana which resulted me in rolling them over.

Round 2 (1-1-1) was against a B/U deck featuring Phoebe, Head of S.N.E.A.K. herself. Game one they managed to play her turn three which made me hesitant to cast my Old-Fashioned Vampire. I tried to get her with my Entirely Normal Armchair on my turn three but they spotted it and the game went into a grind. I put my deck on Split Screen to look for a removal spell in vain. The game slowed to a grind when I played a Mother Kangaroo which stopped Phoebe from attacking. Eventually I felt I needed to play the Old-Fashioned Vampire just as a 3/3 blocker and draw a card off of the Ineffable Blessing that had found its way into the battlefield. They of course stole the box and Phoebe (who had accumulated a counter along the way) starting crushing me in the air as a 5/6. WIth nothing else but lands waiting on my screens I drew a Willing Test Subject, played it and the other one in my hand. I then started sweating bullets when I played my 8th land and the last card in my hand. I passed the turn and tried to keep up my best poker face as they scanned the battlefield and contemplated what to do. They stole my Overt Operative's text to get menace, then they stole my Willing Test Subject's box so I only had one blocker with reach. They went to combat and swung when the Entirely Normal Armchair snapped and killed Phoebe. I guess she just wasn't sneaky enough. With her out of the way the game swung back in my favor and I took it quickly. Game two I took a hand with all three colors and played Steady-Handed Mook as my first play on turn three to assemble Duplication Device. I thought I might have them when I copied Phoebe with the Device, intending on stealing her text box from her and leaving her inert but I failed to draw a land and didn't have enough mana to activate the ability. Three more turns I failed to draw a land and the game was lost. Game three started with 5 minutes left. Although they managed to play Phoebe I killed her with a capital offense and then time was up.

Round 3 (1-2) I fought a B/W control deck. Game one they drew 5 of their 6 plains. They managed to slow it down slightly with Buzzing Whack-a-doodle on doodle but without islands they didn't stand a chance. Game two they managed to have their blue mana and open with an unblockable Blurry Beeble. With that looting to help and I had to contend with two of their three Magic Words and a Spell Suck. Game three I sideboarded by putting on sunglasses I got off to a good start by playing some creatures and turning on the Split Screen but they used two five finger discounts to turn my Ninja Kangaroo and Split Screen against me. The Kangaroo put a stop to my attacks until the split screen found them the removal they needed and they took it down.

#original #pics #mtg #Unstable #mtg drafting #unstable drafting #limited mtg

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dreamtofbluebirds-a · 4 years

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Glasmar Muses

Below are characters specific to the Impressive Title fandom. Niche as it is, this was the roleplaying group I grew up with and thus I’ve chosen to mirror these biographies over onto this About page. Lineage was not included in order to keep things more brief.

In short, these are for tagging purposes as well as to give people an idea of what character I may be referring to.

Hati

/ m a t e [ s ] | -- / p e r s o n a l i t y | He is a chaotic presence, shifting wildly between being laid-back and approachable to being uncivil and rude. Authority is hard to achieve over him, as is respect, for he often challenges it. He and his brother grew up under a malicious father who ultimately pitted them against each other--a fight Hati won, and will never forgive himself for. He lost half of himself that day and remains deeply traumatized due to that. Quirks include refusing to speak eloquently despite being capable of it, overeating, increased aggression and being particularly careful with youths. This, of course, only applies to the youths of someone he's neutral or positive with; anything less and he's not beneath killing. A good trait for living in a pack, a bad trait as a loner. His high intelligence is safeguarded behind many thoughtless actions and self-sabotaging behavior, but as a friend, his loyalty is second to none... so long as he's allowed to speak his mind.

Glendale Mercer

/ m a t e [ s ] | -- / p e r s o n a l i t y | His humor tends to be a little 'boyish' and nonchalant or even sarcastic, but it veils his sharp wit and ability to play two sides of the same coin. He's a loyal friend to some and a devious infiltrator to others; his allegiance isn't easily earned. He started off with a strong attachment to his sister Apa and founded a pride with her before later abandoning it for Meurtrier. Time passed as he grew in cunning and usefulness until he eventually took the side of Caine Caliver, one of very few to have earned his respect. Redacted, he was revived via the will of the gods; this has been changed to having used an unknown number of his nine lives to survive during a nomadic period. He acted as a trader for some years, bartering for services or goods, or stealing what he wished for.

Abyss Crimson

/ m a t e [ s ] | -- / p e r s o n a l i t y | She is a cheerful girl. Easily mistaken as young or immature, she's typically the first to be optimistic during any hardships and the last to speak ill, but she's fiercely loyal to her family. Similar to her mother, she's incredibly small and most of her siblings dwarf her in size. Despite her weaknesses, she shows strength in her resilience and would follow her friends and family to the end of the world.

Emeriss

/ m a t e [ s ] | -- / p e r s o n a l i t y | One of the last Jungle Najureans, a rare cousin to the known Najureans, Emeriss is a wise and friendly feline. She's prone to adopting small orphaned animals and raising them as her own, letting them free once they can survive on their own. She helped lead Zeitgeist for a time and had her one and only litter of cubs there. She'd had a single cub before, but he passed away some time ago and she rarely speaks of them. Since the pride disbanded and she lost contact with Raidius, she became a guide through dense jungle so others wouldn't get lost, but the want for such help diminished and so she's moved on. Keeping a relatively good relationship with the lesser animals afforded her greater reach, and she soon came to learn that Emerald Clan still lived in their distant and lush home, and set off to join them.

Erebus Crimson-Donovan

/ m a t e [ s ] | -- / p e r s o n a l i t y | Absolutely a creature hailing to the logic of 'the ends justifies the means', he's typically on the more unsympathetic side of things. He believes that the strong may do what they wish with the weak, but he also values ancestry unless a person was proven weak. In that way, he might come off as valuing cubs or the 'untested'. He's not particularly oppressive with his opinion so he's more inclined to debate it.

Noxol Delirious

/ m a t e [ s ] | [Info needs double checked] / p e r s o n a l i t y | Noxol is a feline of few words. His sense of humor might've improved over the years, but his natural state is to speak only when spoken to--often this will irritate his brother, Fexol, who enjoys talking. He was born from a demon and mortal pairing, raised as the eldest between himself and one other cub from the next litter, Fexol. His parents' communion was not meant to be, and his grandfather Sigma swore to purge them all, sending his other son Naberious, known as Federal, after them. He overwhelmed them, killing the lovers and blinding the then adolescent Noxol in an eye, and upon Noxol's escape he chose to take Fexol, a cub, as a prisoner. Some time passed as Noxol conflicted with himself over what to do. He was not strong enough to beat Naberious, much less Sigma. He met Maya Crimson and began a family after falling for her, finding comfort in her embrace. Sigma soon arose again however, catching wind of him after Fexol managed to escape. He was unable to capture Noxol. This was a blow to Noxol, who in the events, had been turned away by Maya as his sense of duty to his brother and revenge toward his paternal family brought him far from her and the life he'd created with her--and she could only wait so long when no word was given. He sought a new family briefly, siring cubs from a female named Shard, who was slaughtered upon birthing by Naberious. In his grief, a calling had been sent to his father's spirit, who helped pull Shard from the abyss but did not have strength to do more than carefully nurse her back to health before returning to the long-lost relic his soul had coalesced into; a twilight sword. Noxol would have a meeting with both Shard and Maya later after the cubs had grown, but all three would go their separate ways in the end. This began a quiet era for Noxol, who having failed in his relationships, turned himself towards getting stronger physically and emotionally. He learned of the spirit world, or the between-worlds as he calls it, and made visits, killing demons and wraiths. This evolution was slow-going and soon he found himself revisiting where his parents had died so long ago. Here he found Reym's relic, something demons sometimes turn into upon their departure. Sigma was a collector of these and yet this had eluded him. In the between-worlds, Reym had formed into a sword, black as night and a faint ruby hue in the reflection, and silver at the hilt. Noxol understood Razor's intention the second he touched it. End corruption, save lives, protect his children. And to this he had sworn his life, and so he continued to fight, the corruption he faced leaving him slightly altered as no mortal or partially-mortal being was ever meant for this fight. He grew horns. Noxol grew strong and faced off with his father's side of the family time and time again until, eventually, slaying his grandfather and freeing his brother at last. He proceeded to spend more time cleaning up the demon-infested realms, teaching Fexol how to fight and control his powers, before finally bringing them back to the mortal planes to live the rest of their lives as protectors. As can be imagined, he takes this quite seriously, but even he has grown tired of living one fight to the next. It's time to move on.

Fexol Delirious

/ g e n d e r | ♂ / a g e | Mature Adult / p r i d e | -- / p r e v i o u s . p r i d e s | [Info needs double checked] / s e x u a l i t y | Bisexual / s p e c i e s | Half demon, half clouded leopard / m a t e [ s ] | -- / p e r s o n a l i t y | Fexol is an incredibly shy feline, preferring softer voices and a gentle touch over anything else. Mirroring Noxol's story, he was captured by his Uncle and used as bait to draw Noxol back. Much of his time there was mired in slavery and other terrible things, causing him to be incredibly avoidant of arguments or any authority. He ran away from Sigma's control a few times, meeting his previous mate in his terror-killed freedom. When he was freed by his brother, he spent some time learning how to control his power and put it to good use; he's a defensive soul and can increase his defense for a limited time while also sporting a naturally high regenerative ability, making him the most unlikely tank to exist. A few quirks were impossible for him to entirely overcome. He has trouble hunting due to feeling bad for lesser creatures, typically only eating fish because he was once told 'they do not feel pain' and the fact they usually can't talk. He's expressive and tends to have his ears a little lower or his stance, and remains a bit too gullible to some things--just, not when something obviously crosses his morals. He also can sometimes forget his filter and casually mention dirty things, not unlike how a child might. He frequently attempts to break or remove his small, budding horns. Hurt his brother or anyone he cares about and he'll prove as difficult as a wall to move. The same applies to random creatures he feels bad for, sometimes--don't take him on a hunting trip.

Valen Donovan-Faire

/ m a t e [ s ] | -- / p e r s o n a l i t y | Sharp-tongued and without much patience, Valen tends to expect little and to be left alone. She spent a little time in Meurtrier as an adolescent assassin, then reunited once more with her mother and moved to Blitzkrieg. She's been on her own now for a little while.

Impurity Saint

/ m a t e [ s ] | -- / p e r s o n a l i t y | He's sassy and cunning, and prefers male pronouns. He led a pride for a short time and due to being unable to find new members, they disbanded before he returned. Impurity then chose to stay with another pride for a time with his previous mate and cubs until, once more, fate moved them onward. He is speciesist to a degree, speaking highly of his kind and showing extra effort in such relations, but he rarely discredits effort from other species. In his travels he came across Emeriss who was heading for Emerald Clan and chose to travel with her a little ways, eventually growing interested in likewise joining the clan.

Perseus Donovan

/ m a t e [ s ] | -- / p e r s o n a l i t y | He truly believes strict adherence to strength and intelligence is the only way to succeed. He believes blood is tied to these things, and had left Meurtrier while young to learn blood magic from an old feline. By the time he returned, he found the pride led by another--and they didn't live up to his expectations. For a time, he hung around the mountains far from their furthest scouting parties and came closer to watch the pride of one of his sisters, but this too disbanded and he returned to his studies. He considered most of the old world he'd known as being dead and passed. Prides as he saw it had grown soft from lack of conflict and the known world was tame, so when he stumbled upon Gruppe Von Morder and heard their ideals, he finally swore his loyalty to another.

Pyre Phantom

/ m a t e [ s ] | -- / p e r s o n a l i t y | Pyre tends to not take others seriously, making him difficult to handle in a pride and usually requiring at least one fight to knock sense into him. In addition, he doesn't care for the idea of a singular 'mate', preferring to breed and date openly. He sadly lacks the ambition to lead anything so he lives as a roving male... at least until he find a pride willing to accept such an individualistic creature as him.

Secura

/ m a t e [ s ] | -- / p e r s o n a l i t y | Secura tends to be motherly and concerned, protective of cubs and youths alike. She often hung around just outside of pride territories and brought back lost cubs or helped find homes for abandoned ones.

Vivian & Charlotte

/ m a t e [ s ] | -- / p e r s o n a l i t y | 'Violet' as they're used to being called, are in fact chimera twins. They were born with two heads fused down the middle and sharing the same body, thus the left side is Charlotte and the right is Vivian. They rarely differ in opinions and are generally kind. They're interested in how the world works, but due to issues when moving, they cannot risk going too far from home. Each side represents a half of their body's movement, making them unable to fight or engage in athletic behavior, but they work together well enough that it'd be hard to see issues from them walking. They're often heard talking quietly, especially if moving, because they can't operate without communicating what each side is doing.

#{ Glasmar. }#{ Hati. }#{ Glendale. }#{ Abyss. }#{ Emeriss. }#{ Erebus. }#{ Noxol. }#{ Fexol. }#{ Valen. }#{ Impurity. }#{ Perseus. }#{ Pyre. }#{ Secura. }#{ Violet. }#impressive title

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seventeen-scenarios-blog · 7 years

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[DRABBLE REQUEST] Vampire!Minghao (G)

Request: When a powerful vampire falls for a human university student Requested by: Reirei anon Word count: 3,971 Genre: Fantasy and fluff, I guess? Warnings: None!

A/N: I tried :( I’m sorry I had to tweak the request a little to make the story flow better. Ended up including more of the ‘university’ aspect of the request than the ‘powerful vampire’ part, I hope you don’t mind!

For the upteempth time today, you find yourself pursing your lips at your laptop, your pen repeatedly tapping a restless rhythm against the keyboard. You’ve been staring at your year-end report for hours yet all you’ve churned out so far were a measly three paragraphs.

So much for a major in art, you think, all too ready to throw everything out of the window at this point. You loved art, but the compulsory art history module is a whole other story altogether. It is simply too dry and boring for your taste. “Forget this,” you sigh to yourself. “I’ll try this again tomorrow.”

Slapping your laptop shut, you put your study materials aside and pull out your trusty, dog-eared drawing pad out of your backpack. Nothing like a quick sketch to alleviate the mounting stress of university life.

“Slacking off again, I see.”

You hide the smile that threatens to break across your face when you hear that familiar voice from behind you. A slender, tall man enters your vision, making his way towards you and stopping just next to the window. At once, you slap on a stoic mask and start drawing.

“At least I was trying to get some work done,” you argue, the graphite of your 5B pencil flying freely across the paper. “What about you? Don’t you have a Medical History exam next week? Shouldn’t you be studying for it too?”

Your words were whispered under your breath, but his keen hearing picked it up anyway. “Med His?” he almost scoffs as he rolls down the blinds, blocking out the afternoon sunlight that was shining into the room. “I have no need to study for something like History. After all, I lived through everything, remember?”

Your pencil falters as you listen to his words. “Right…” you murmur, your eyes drifting up to stare at your reflection on the glass as the blinds slowly come down. As you expected, the spot next to your reflection -- where his own reflection was supposed to be -- is empty.

“Vampire.”

It’s already been a little over 10 months since you’ve met the man next to you. Well, truthfully speaking, you did meet once him when you were just a baby, not that you were able to retain that memory, anyway. Xu Minghao has been someone you’ve only heard of all throughout your life, from your childhood and past your adolescence. Stories about him were told from your both your grandparents and your parents. They’ve described him as a never-aging, charismatic entity who rules over an influential blood bank company as CEO.

How ironic, you always thought: having a supernatural bloodsucker reign as leader of a blood bank.

Despite being a relatively young vampire of 100 years, he’s probably still lived through a lot of China’s greatest and arguably most tumultuous moments. It is a wonder how your family got involved in his affairs. After saving your great-grandfather’s life during the Chinese Revolution of 1946, your ancestor had sworn unwavering loyalty from himself and his descendants.

That’s how you found yourself growing up under the protection and wealth of the famed Haicheng Blood Bank. In exchange, your family offers to him administrative assistance and business prowess. From what you understand, his perpetually 20-year-old appearance would have undoubtedly aroused some suspicion from the media, thus he can only remain as an unseen but powerful figurehead holding the reins, supported by his most trusted followers.

Thankfully, your older brother Junhui has taken on the role to serve Haicheng Blood Bank, succeeding your father. This would allow you to freely pursue your a course of your choice in your tertiary education. Drawing and painting has always been something you loved and showed talent for as a child. Though you are sworn to silence about your family’s secrets, nothing made you happier than being able to further your passion without the burden of supporting the company.

Which is why you are more than surprised when you found out that the very CEO himself has to attend the same university as you are, under the guise of the CEO’s son.

“It will only be for about a year or so,” your father had assured you when you went slack-jawed by this revelation. “Rumours about Haicheng Blood Bank not having an heir are starting to go around in the media, and this is the best way we can do to dissipate them. Junhui and I will manage the blood bank in his absence.”

“And make sure you stay the hell out of his way,” warns your mother.

The prospect of meeting the famed being thrilled but also chilled you on equal extent. This was, after all, a vampire in question. But with you taking a major in art and him in medical science, crossing paths with him would most probably be unlikely. You thought that you’d be able to get through your first year of university without running into him at all.

But that, of course, is just a thought.

It had been an ordinary day at the start of the semester. You were just having a light snack at a sandwich bar after a long, mentally-draining lecture. Orientation period had just concluded, and the freshmen were out and about, chatting animatedly amongst their cliques as they make their ways across the campus. You can only watch them pass by with a wistful sigh.

You are introverted by nature, and the damning family secret you have to retain forges a pretty solid barrier around you when it comes to getting to know new people. You can only accept the fact that your four years in university would be lonely like your other schooling days.

Halfway through snorting at the variety show playing from your phone between the mouthful of bread you were chewing on, your attention had been rudely snatched away by someone. You looked up to see a pale, slim man just entering your peripheral vision. But that wasn’t enough to steal your attention, it was the way he dressed.

Decked out in a fitted black suit and pristinely pressed white collared shirt, the newcomer strides towards you with an air of grace and majesty. You watched him, utterly baffled to see someone this young this formally dressed in the middle of campus.

Is he some kind of undergraduate professor? you wondered, eying his style of clothing. He looks like he has just walked straight out of the 1920s. Shrugging to yourself, you turned your attention back towards your smartphone, your index finger reaching out to rewind the video back a dozen seconds to make up for your distraction.

But then the sounds of a steel chair scraping across the tile floors pierce through your earphones and you yanked them out, startled to see the man himself pulling out the seat next to yours. Your jaw slackened and almost hit the tabletop when an airy, almost silvery voice rings out.

“Is… this seat taken?”

Your phone nearly slipped from its prop against your cup of milk tea at his sudden request, the electrical device seemingly as shocked as you were. You were just one of the few students lingering about in front of the sandwich shop, and you were fully aware that there are plenty of empty tables around the vicinity for him to sit at. Yet, it’s not everyday you get someone asking if he could sit next to you, and especially not someone as… holy crap…

Looking up, you took in his facial features at close proximity, and you swore that you could hear a chorus of singing angels in the background. This man… He was just about the most attractive man you’ve ever laid your eyes on. His attire itself fitting for a red carpet, and he was the movie star.

His skin was a milky white that complimented pale blonde hair which was styled and slicked back. His eyes were sharp, deep set and prominently double-lidded, set above an intricately carved nose and perky, pink lips. He vaguely reminded you of the classic snobby chaebol heir trope you’ve gotten to know through your years of binge-watching Korean dramas: aloof, haughty and filthy rich.

In other words, he was devastatingly handsome, and he was talking to you.

But not being one to judge someone by his cover, you figured that letting him sit next to you would probably be the most polite thing to do. “S-sure, go on ahead…” you mumbled, your hand clumsily sweeping away your belongings off to one side to give him some space. Not wanting to appear as anti-social, you were quick to unplug your earphones and tuck them into the pocket of your sweater.

The man sat next to you, settling his briefcase onto the floor next to him. Good lord, this man owns a briefcase? He set his pristinely cuffed wristlets on the surface of the table and started staring at his own fiddling fingers. And the whole table lapsed into silence, and you forced yourself to slow down your chewing so as to not fill the quietness with your grotesque noises.

You didn’t know what you did to have someone this good-looking being in this close proximity with you, but you definitely weren’t going to complain if this meant that you could make a new friend that day.

And so your mind started to whirr as you deliberate with possible conversation starters: Are you from around here? What major are you taking? What year are you in? Or more importantly…

“What’s your na--” “Do you remember me?”

You look up at each other, stunned as both your concurrently spoken words dissipate into thin air. Taking his words into account, you looked up and shyly scanned his features. Maybe he was a friend from elementary school, or a distant relative? Unfortunately, try as you might, you couldn’t put a finger on it.

Snagging your bottom lip between your teeth, you bowed and shook your head. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t quite…”

To your surprise, he lets out a tinkling laugh. “Of course you wouldn’t, I didn’t expect you to. After all…” You involuntarily jerked backwards when he leaned forward with curious eyes that seemed to bore into your soul. “You had only been a baby when we first met.”

And the gears in your head cease to move at his statement, and in a split second everything clicked into place. Could it be?

“Are you,” you gasped, utterly awestruck. “Mr. Xu Minghao?”

His laugh melted into a small but serene smile. “I did go by a lot of names in the past,” he responded. “But in this life, yes.” He extended his right hand. “I am known as Xu Minghao. It’s my pleasure to finally see you again.”

“Hey, I thought I told you to never wear that copious amount of toxic fumes around me? I can smell it even in my dreams, thank you.”

You snap back into reality at the library, only to see Xu Minghao sitting across of you, resting the side of his head against the tabletop with his eyes closed. Now that you’re both nine months into this gimmick, it’s rather easy to forget that the man in front of you is a supernatural being, and an empowering CEO at that.

Thankfully, with your advice, he’s long replaced his stifling suit and tie for plain, comfortable shirt and sweats. He’s even dropped his styled hair and opted to let it down naturally just above his eyes. He looks like any other student now, despite having lived for at least five times as long as anybody here.

Throughout your life you’ve imagined a vampire to be threatening, powerful and bloodthirsty, but Minghao was nothing like this at all. Though having lived for about a century, he’s nowhere near ancient, completely affluent with modern technology. You’ve gotten to know him as witty but soft-hearted on equal levels, sharp-tongued but gentle all the same. He had quickly become an irreplaceable companion of yours, and you feel like you’ve known him all your life.

You blink cluelessly at him before glancing down at your sleeves. “What’s wrong? And I thought vampires don’t need sleep.”

“That perfume,” he replies with a slight whine, rubbing the back of his palm against his nose, “I thought I told you not to wear that anymore. And just because we don’t need sleep doesn’t mean we shouldn’t.” Heaving out a long breath, he tucks his head in between his arms and shut his eyes again.

You give your wrist a tentative sniff, wincing when you realise that you’ve did indeed apply a tad too much of your cologne this morning. It was a heavily jasmine scented spray your mother had given you before you left for college, having warned you to apply it if or when you interact with Minghao.

Her intention are obvious. Having been married into the family, your mother still isn’t too familiar nor comfortable with the thought of having a bloodsucker for a family friend. The last thing she wanted was to see her daughter get eaten alive.

“You really don’t have to wear that around me, I promise,” comes Minghao’s sleepy mumble. “I’m not going to bite you or anything.”

You purse your lips skeptically. “You’re really different from the vampires I grew up watching,” you observe. “I recall a certain sparkly one from the movies not being able to tolerate even a whiff of human scent. I know I’m going to sound really stupid asking this, but why don’t you bite people when you clearly need their blood to survive?”

He chuckles, “I’ll welcome all sorts of stupid questions from you if this means you’d get rid of that toxic spill.” He then pauses pensively, as though thinking of the right words to use. “I don’t know what other vampires do; I’ve never met others. But I believe that taking the blood of another human being is an incredibly intimate affair and should require the consent of the other party.”

For some odd reason, your heart considerably warms by his proclamation. He’s different, you know he is. You know that Minghao will never hurt you in any way.

“Alright, alright,” you concede, returning your attention back to your sketchpad. “I’ll stop wearing the cologne.” The only reaction you earn from him is a grunt of approval and a flash of his thumb. With a shift of his head, he now lays the right cheek on his downturned palms, allowing you to come face to face yet again with Minghao’s striking features up close.

A thought suddenly occurs to you, and as if possessed you flip to a fresh page on your sketchpad. Grabbing your favourite charcoal pencil, your right hand begins to dance across the creamy white sheet.

The sounds of the lead scraping against paper fills in the silence of the library, and Minghao lets out a soft grunt of disturbance. “Drawing again?” he half-heartedly asks, and you make a sound from your throat to acknowledge his question. Your tongue pokes out at the corner of your lips as you concentrated on your new piece of art.

“I don’t get drawing.” He purses his lips though his eyes remain shut. “I’ve lived for a hundred years and I’ve seen pretty damn amazing advancements in technology. Why continue jotting things down on paper when whatever you’re drawing can be captured with just one snap of the camera?”

“Because what’s the fun in that?” you question, looking up from your work to scan his face again. “And please, hold still. I won’t be able to draw you well otherwise.”

It takes a while for the vampire the process your words, but when he does, he bolts upright, his eyes growing comically wide. “Wait wha--?!”

“Xu Minghao!” you cry out in protest, slapping your pencil down against the tabletop. Several glares from other students shoot your way, and you wince, muttering out a quick apology at them. “Put your head back down please, I want to complete my drawing.”

“Let me take a look at that.” Minghao’s voice contains a mixture of both curiosity and confusion, and before you know it, he snatches your sketchpad from underneath your hands and stalks away from his seat. “Minghao no, I’m not done!” your cry comes out in a hushed whisper, and you scramble out your seat to tackle him.

Supernatural strength aside, Minghao is also a whole foot taller than you are. As a result, he simply holds his one arm out and presses it against your forehead, easily holding your body away from his.

“Give it back to me, you vile vermin!” you hiss, your arms flailing in vain attempts to grab your precious sketchpad back, and your fingers fall inches short away from him. Minghao lets out a lazy yawn, finally able to get a good look at your art.

“Come on, it’s still just a rough sketch,” you try to plead. “It’s nothing worth looking at, so please give it-- WOAH!” You lurch forward with a yelp of alarm as MInghao abruptly releases you. You flap your limbs blindly to try to get a grip on something, but your body fails you and you land in a messy heap on the carpeted library floor.

“Xu MInghao, what in the world--” The voice dies in your throat when you look up at him. He is staring at that piece of paper with utmost fascination, as though he has never seen anything more interesting in his life. His lips are parted and pupils dilated, and you think that he is going to literally drink in the sight before him.

It is just a simple sketch; you only had rough outlines marking the contours of Minghao’s face, his tousled hair and round ears. You have no idea why Minghao’s this amazed at all. “M-Minghao?”

He doesn’t react, but someone else does. An irritated clear of a middle-aged woman’s throat has you wallowing in dread, and it doesn’t require any spoken words to know what is going to happen next.

“Thanks for getting us chased out of the library.”

You both are lying in the dull lights of the auditorium stage: a secret hideout for the both of you. You have your laptop set up in front of you once again, for Minghao is still unrelentingly holding on to your sketchpad. You’ve given up on getting it back, letting him indulge in his wonder as you know that he would easily bust any attempts from you to get it back.

“If I had known my drawings amazed you so much, I would have shown them to you a long time ago,” you said in an amused huff while typing away at your report. “What was that you literally just said about drawing being pointless again?”

You only hear the constant flipping of your sketchpad, and you roll your eyes with a smile. And suddenly in ceases, and you glance towards him to see him lingering on one page.

“Is this... “ he murmurs. “Is this how I really look like?”

“What?” you dumbly wonder despite hearing his question loud and clear. Minghao pulls his gaze away from your drawing and meets your eyes. “This. Is this me?” With a turn of the ring-bound book, he shows you the artwork in question: the newest one you did in the library.

“Well, yeah,” you say sheepishly. “Hope it doesn’t creep you out or anything. It’s just a quick doodle of mine. It’s nothing special, it’s not even completed.”

He bites down on his lips, allowing you to catch a brief glimpse of his sharp, elongated canines. Then the next few words you hear from him actually make your heart accelerate at an alarming rate.

“Do you think you can complete it?” He holds out the sketchpad to you again, and you receive it with a befuddled expression. “Sure, I guess?” Why is Minghao behaving like this? “But can I ask why? It’d seem a bit more natural if you were not aware of me, though.”

He drops his gaze, suddenly meek. Is he really the all-powerful vampire you’ve grown up hearing stories about? The one who saved your great-grandfather’s life in the middle of a raging war? The one making profits by the millions from his blood bank? “I uh… never really seen myself. Not since I, you know, turned.”

“Wait, why not-- oh…” Realisation hits you with a pang and a hint of melancholy as you recalled the unique characteristics of vampires you read about in middle school. Minghao can’t see himself in reflections, nor can he be captured in photos. Sympathy wells in your heart. You don’t know much about Minghao’s past, but you can’t help but wonder if he ever wanted to just be a regular human.

“Alright, I’ll finish it,” you comply with a soft smile. “You have to go back to that original position for it to work, though.”

He complies immediately, turning over onto his stomach and placing his head onto his hands once again. “Like this?”

You grin as you grab your pencil once again. “Wonderful.”

And… It’s done. You flick away the flakes of eraser dust of the paper before holding it up against the light to admire your masterpiece. Putting it next to Minghao’s peacefully resting face, you can’t help but giggle at the similarities. He has fallen asleep halfway while you worked, allowing you to trace his features more accurately.

“Here, you dork. I’m done,” you call, reaching out to prod the snoozing male. Minghao stirs awake, his drowsy eyes opening one after another. You slide the drawing over to him before turning away, suddenly nervous with the prospect of your close friend evaluating your skills.

“I hope I didn’t get too rusty while studying for finals,” you shakily laugh. “But I did try my best. I hope you like it.”

A hand, colder but comforting, clasps over yours. You turn your head around, only to see Minghao watching you with the softest, gentlest eyes you can ever imagine. “It’s perfect,” he sighs, and those two words found their way to melt your heart. You have had other people complimenting your artistic flairs before; your parents, your brother and your professors had sung praises at you. Why does it mean so much more coming from Minghao himself?

“T-Thanks?” You wanted to mentally slap yourself for stuttering, but you are too transfixed and captivated by his gaze on you. And you’re both trapped in a trance where neither of you are willing or able to break eye contact. There just seems to be this potent yet foreign emotion pooling in his pupils, and you can’t seem to fathom it at all.

You gulp while your cheeks found their way in between your teeth, hoping that it’d take your mind off the way your heart hammers like a jackrabbit caught in a cage.

But your hopes of having coherent thoughts are dashed when he lifts his hand to ruffle it through your locks while letting out a low chuckle. From the moment he makes contact with your skin, every hair on your body stands on end as though an electric current shoots through your nerves. Though his fingers are icy, your body flares up in heat, and suddenly you decipher the look in his eyes.

Affection.

Oh… oh no.

Helplessly, your stomach begins to flutter at that thought. Is this… really what you think this is? Does Minghao actually like you?

A vampire and a human, how cliche, yet so… so surreal.

Though you are uncertain and maybe a little confused, everything seems to fall in place when you find yourself leaning into his hand. And the silly grin you feel breaking across your face says everything that needed to be said.

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dreamtofbluebirds · 4 years

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GLASMAR MUSES

In short, these are for tagging purposes as well as to give people an idea of what character I may be referring to.

HATI

/ m a t e [ s ] | – / p e r s o n a l i t y | He is a chaotic presence, shifting wildly between being laid-back and approachable to being uncivil and rude. Authority is hard to achieve over him, as is respect, for he often challenges it. He and his brother grew up under a malicious father who ultimately pitted them against each other–a fight Hati won, and will never forgive himself for. He lost half of himself that day and remains deeply traumatized due to that. Quirks include refusing to speak eloquently despite being capable of it, overeating, increased aggression and being particularly careful with youths. This, of course, only applies to the youths of someone he’s neutral or positive with; anything less and he’s not beneath killing. A good trait for living in a pack, a bad trait as a loner. His high intelligence is safeguarded behind many thoughtless actions and self-sabotaging behavior, but as a friend, his loyalty is second to none… so long as he’s allowed to speak his mind.

GLENDALE MERCER

/ m a t e [ s ] | – / p e r s o n a l i t y | His humor tends to be a little ‘boyish’ and nonchalant or even sarcastic, but it veils his sharp wit and ability to play two sides of the same coin. He’s a loyal friend to some and a devious infiltrator to others; his allegiance isn’t easily earned. He started off with a strong attachment to his sister Apa and founded a pride with her before later abandoning it for Meurtrier. Time passed as he grew in cunning and usefulness until he eventually took the side of Caine Caliver, one of very few to have earned his respect. Redacted, he was revived via the will of the gods; this has been changed to having used an unknown number of his nine lives to survive during a nomadic period. He acted as a trader for some years, bartering for services or goods, or stealing what he wished for.

ABYSS CRIMSON

/ m a t e [ s ] | – / p e r s o n a l i t y | She is a cheerful girl. Easily mistaken as young or immature, she’s typically the first to be optimistic during any hardships and the last to speak ill, but she’s fiercely loyal to her family. Similar to her mother, she’s incredibly small and most of her siblings dwarf her in size. Despite her weaknesses, she shows strength in her resilience and would follow her friends and family to the end of the world.

EMERISS

/ m a t e [ s ] | – / p e r s o n a l i t y | One of the last Jungle Najureans, a rare cousin to the known Najureans, Emeriss is a wise and friendly feline. She’s prone to adopting small orphaned animals and raising them as her own, letting them free once they can survive on their own. She helped lead Zeitgeist for a time and had her one and only litter of cubs there. She’d had a single cub before, but he passed away some time ago and she rarely speaks of them. Since the pride disbanded and she lost contact with Raidius, she became a guide through dense jungle so others wouldn’t get lost, but the want for such help diminished and so she’s moved on. Keeping a relatively good relationship with the lesser animals afforded her greater reach, and she soon came to learn that Emerald Clan still lived in their distant and lush home, and set off to join them.

EREBUS CRIMSON-DONOVAN

/ m a t e [ s ] | – / p e r s o n a l i t y | Absolutely a creature hailing to the logic of 'the ends justifies the means’, he’s typically on the more unsympathetic side of things. He believes that the strong may do what they wish with the weak, but he also values ancestry unless a person was proven weak. In that way, he might come off as valuing cubs or the 'untested’. He’s not particularly oppressive with his opinion so he’s more inclined to debate it.

NOXOL DELIRIOUS

/ m a t e [ s ] | [Info needs double checked] / p e r s o n a l i t y | Noxol is a feline of few words. His sense of humor might’ve improved over the years, but his natural state is to speak only when spoken to–often this will irritate his brother, Fexol, who enjoys talking. He was born from a demon and mortal pairing, raised as the eldest between himself and one other cub from the next litter, Fexol. His parents’ communion was not meant to be, and his grandfather Sigma swore to purge them all, sending his other son Naberious, known as Federal, after them. He overwhelmed them, killing the lovers and blinding the then adolescent Noxol in an eye, and upon Noxol’s escape he chose to take Fexol, a cub, as a prisoner. Some time passed as Noxol conflicted with himself over what to do. He was not strong enough to beat Naberious, much less Sigma. He met Maya Crimson and began a family after falling for her, finding comfort in her embrace. Sigma soon arose again however, catching wind of him after Fexol managed to escape. He was unable to capture Noxol. This was a blow to Noxol, who in the events, had been turned away by Maya as his sense of duty to his brother and revenge toward his paternal family brought him far from her and the life he’d created with her–and she could only wait so long when no word was given. He sought a new family briefly, siring cubs from a female named Shard, who was slaughtered upon birthing by Naberious. In his grief, a calling had been sent to his father’s spirit, who helped pull Shard from the abyss but did not have strength to do more than carefully nurse her back to health before returning to the long-lost relic his soul had coalesced into; a twilight sword. Noxol would have a meeting with both Shard and Maya later after the cubs had grown, but all three would go their separate ways in the end. This began a quiet era for Noxol, who having failed in his relationships, turned himself towards getting stronger physically and emotionally. He learned of the spirit world, or the between-worlds as he calls it, and made visits, killing demons and wraiths. This evolution was slow-going and soon he found himself revisiting where his parents had died so long ago. Here he found Reym’s relic, something demons sometimes turn into upon their departure. Sigma was a collector of these and yet this had eluded him. In the between-worlds, Reym had formed into a sword, black as night and a faint ruby hue in the reflection, and silver at the hilt. Noxol understood Razor’s intention the second he touched it. End corruption, save lives, protect his children. And to this he had sworn his life, and so he continued to fight, the corruption he faced leaving him slightly altered as no mortal or partially-mortal being was ever meant for this fight. He grew horns. Noxol grew strong and faced off with his father’s side of the family time and time again until, eventually, slaying his grandfather and freeing his brother at last. He proceeded to spend more time cleaning up the demon-infested realms, teaching Fexol how to fight and control his powers, before finally bringing them back to the mortal planes to live the rest of their lives as protectors. As can be imagined, he takes this quite seriously, but even he has grown tired of living one fight to the next. It’s time to move on.

FEXOL DELIRIOUS

/ g e n d e r | ♂ / a g e | Mature Adult / p r i d e | – / p r e v i o u s . p r i d e s | [Info needs double checked] / s e x u a l i t y | Bisexual / s p e c i e s | Half demon, half clouded leopard / m a t e [ s ] | – / p e r s o n a l i t y | Fexol is an incredibly shy feline, preferring softer voices and a gentle touch over anything else. Mirroring Noxol’s story, he was captured by his Uncle and used as bait to draw Noxol back. Much of his time there was mired in slavery and other terrible things, causing him to be incredibly avoidant of arguments or any authority. He ran away from Sigma’s control a few times, meeting his previous mate in his terror-killed freedom. When he was freed by his brother, he spent some time learning how to control his power and put it to good use; he’s a defensive soul and can increase his defense for a limited time while also sporting a naturally high regenerative ability, making him the most unlikely tank to exist. A few quirks were impossible for him to entirely overcome. He has trouble hunting due to feeling bad for lesser creatures, typically only eating fish because he was once told 'they do not feel pain’ and the fact they usually can’t talk. He’s expressive and tends to have his ears a little lower or his stance, and remains a bit too gullible to some things–just, not when something obviously crosses his morals. He also can sometimes forget his filter and casually mention dirty things, not unlike how a child might. He frequently attempts to break or remove his small, budding horns. Hurt his brother or anyone he cares about and he’ll prove as difficult as a wall to move. The same applies to random creatures he feels bad for, sometimes–don’t take him on a hunting trip.

VALEN DONOVAN-FAIRE

/ m a t e [ s ] | – / p e r s o n a l i t y | Sharp-tongued and without much patience, Valen tends to expect little and to be left alone. She spent a little time in Meurtrier as an adolescent assassin, then reunited once more with her mother and moved to Blitzkrieg. She’s been on her own now for a little while.

IMPURITY SAINT

/ m a t e [ s ] | – / p e r s o n a l i t y | He’s sassy and cunning, and prefers male pronouns. He led a pride for a short time and due to being unable to find new members, they disbanded before he returned. Impurity then chose to stay with another pride for a time with his previous mate and cubs until, once more, fate moved them onward. He is speciesist to a degree, speaking highly of his kind and showing extra effort in such relations, but he rarely discredits effort from other species. In his travels he came across Emeriss who was heading for Emerald Clan and chose to travel with her a little ways, eventually growing interested in likewise joining the clan.

PERSEUS DONOVAN

/ m a t e [ s ] | – / p e r s o n a l i t y | He truly believes strict adherence to strength and intelligence is the only way to succeed. He believes blood is tied to these things, and had left Meurtrier while young to learn blood magic from an old feline. By the time he returned, he found the pride led by another–and they didn’t live up to his expectations. For a time, he hung around the mountains far from their furthest scouting parties and came closer to watch the pride of one of his sisters, but this too disbanded and he returned to his studies. He considered most of the old world he’d known as being dead and passed. Prides as he saw it had grown soft from lack of conflict and the known world was tame, so when he stumbled upon Gruppe Von Morder and heard their ideals, he finally swore his loyalty to another.

PYRE PHANTOM

/ m a t e [ s ] | – / p e r s o n a l i t y | Pyre tends to not take others seriously, making him difficult to handle in a pride and usually requiring at least one fight to knock sense into him. In addition, he doesn’t care for the idea of a singular 'mate’, preferring to breed and date openly. He sadly lacks the ambition to lead anything so he lives as a roving male… at least until he find a pride willing to accept such an individualistic creature as him.

SECURA

/ m a t e [ s ] | – / p e r s o n a l i t y | Secura tends to be motherly and concerned, protective of cubs and youths alike. She often hung around just outside of pride territories and brought back lost cubs or helped find homes for abandoned ones.

VIVIAN & CHARLOTTE

/ m a t e [ s ] | – / p e r s o n a l i t y | 'Violet’ as they’re used to being called, are in fact chimera twins. They were born with two heads fused down the middle and sharing the same body, thus the left side is Charlotte and the right is Vivian. They rarely differ in opinions and are generally kind. They’re interested in how the world works, but due to issues when moving, they cannot risk going too far from home. Each side represents a half of their body’s movement, making them unable to fight or engage in athletic behavior, but they work together well enough that it’d be hard to see issues from them walking. They’re often heard talking quietly, especially if moving, because they can’t operate without communicating what each side is doing.

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