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newmusickarl · 7 months

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5-9’s Album of the Month Podcast – Episode 8 Out Now, Episode 9 coming soon!

The September review episode of the 5-9 Album of the Month Podcast is fast approaching and as ever I will take a seat alongside 5-9 Editor Andrew Belt and Check This Out’s Kiley Larsen to review five high profile album releases from the past month in music, and ultimately name one as our Album of the Month at the end of the discussion.

For the next blockbuster episode, the five albums we will be discussing are:

Eat The Worm by Jonathan Wilson

The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We by Mitski

Strange Disciple by Nation of Language (poll winner, thanks for voting!)

This New Noise (Live) by Public Service Broadcasting

Everything Is Alive by Slowdive

If you want to listen to the August episode or any previous episodes on Spotify simply click the link below, but also be sure to follow 5-9 Blog on Instagram and Twitter for more news and polls relating to the podcast, along with other great content like film reviews, sports articles and more.

Listen to the August 2023 episode here

Album & EP Recommendations

Laugh Track by The National

Anticipation can be a funny thing. When asked on the January episode of our podcast earlier this year what were some of my most anticipated records for the upcoming 12 months, a new album from The National was one of my picks. As one of my favourite bands, I couldn’t wait for the next instalment in their catalogue and by the time April and The First Two Pages of Frankenstein came around, my hype-o-meter had hit fever pitch. Sadly what I found, left me massively disappointed.

Whilst some fans took to the record immediately, for me Frankenstein was (and still is after numerous plays) the sound of a band seemingly out of ideas and just going through the motions. What’s more, frontman Matt Berninger’s lyrics sound forced, clunky and even clichéd at times. The rich, multi-layered instrumentation we’ve come to know and love with The National seems non-existent too, as the Dessner brothers fail to deliver much of note. Bryan Devendorf is also given a backseat in place of an uninspired drum machine, whilst Phoebe Bridgers’ advertised guest spots are nothing more than backing vocals. Of course, there are still moments like Once Upon A Poolside, Eucalyptus and Alien that show glimmers of The National at their best, but overall these moments are too few and far between.

So when it was announced last week that The National were releasing their second album of 2023 titled Laugh Track, my expectations were hopeful but a bit more modest. The good news was the singles from this tenth studio album were a bit more promising, with Bon Iver collaboration Weird Goodbyes (one of my favourite songs of 2022) and the mini-epic Space Invader clear of anything we had been given on Frankenstein. It turned out to be a good indicator for the rest of the record as Laugh Track has turned out to be The National album I was hoping for at the start of 2023.

For me the contrasting contents is evident from the front covers of the two albums alone. Where Frankenstein is dull pink and monochromatic, Laugh Track is vivid and full of colour - which for me represents the huge difference in sound between the two. Bryan Devendorf has more of a presence whilst the Dessner brothers are stringing together interesting musical arrangements again. Matt’s lyrics suit the flow of the tracks better too, with some lines punching you in the gut like we know he can. But above everything else, a few of the songs here can stand shoulder to shoulder with The National’s very best.

Weird Goodbyes and Space Invader I already mentioned but outside of those two this album is littered with stellar moments. Alphabet City I wasn’t sure about initially, but it seems at home here as the album’s opener. Recent single Deep End (Paul’s In Pieces) has a great driving riff whilst Turn Off the House wouldn’t sound out of place on Trouble Will Find Me. Phoebe Bridgers also has more to do on the brilliant title track, with the line “So turn on the laugh track, everyone knows you’re a wreck” showcasing Matt Berninger at his self-deprecating best. The piano-led Hornets is another stand-out in the back half before Crumble, the country-inspired collaboration with American singer-songwriter Roseanne Cash, also hits home.

The album is fantastic up until that point, but it is the colossal closing track Smoke Detector that sends the record into another stratosphere for me. Clocking in at just shy of eight minutes, it is like Sleep Well Beast cut The System Only Dreams In Total Darkness cranked up to 11. It sees Matt Berninger poetically rant over the top of an ominous riff as it begins to surge, the volume of his vocals steadily escalating along with it. Anchored around a heartfelt refrain of “You don’t know how much I love you, do you?”, it eventually explodes into a thrilling final couple of minutes led by the Dessner brothers’ climatic duelling guitars.

Whilst I appreciate some will still prefer Frankenstein and others may even be left lukewarm by this album as well, for me this is The National I know and love. Several songs here I immediately put alongside my favourites in their catalogue and overall it is just a beautifully arranged record from beginning to end. Whilst it certainly won’t trouble the likes of Boxer, High Violet or Trouble Will Find Me in any album ranking, it is great to know that The National haven’t lost their touch just yet.

Listen here

Lost In Love by Zivi

Another highlight of the last few weeks, Los Angeles-based singer-songwriter Zivi recently released his hypnotically hazy and guitar-driven debut album - Lost In Love. Released on the seemingly infallible Mama Mañana Records, Zivi’s debut transports you to the desert-dusted sights and sounds of Southwestern America, where mesmerising laidback grooves meet tales of romance and life on the road.

Working with an exceptional array of talented musicians, Zivi brings together an eclectic mix of guitar textures that evoke different feelings and memories at every turn, jumping from the upbeat, timeless rhythms of Move Along to the bluesier riffs of Disappear and Midnight Train. The album then reaches it’s peak around the midway point, with the melancholic strums and enchanting electric koto chimes of Come On bringing the wow factor, before the strutting chords of single Faded take over. On masterful centrepiece Need U Tonight, Zivi then sings of “letting down our guards”, with his passionate vocals taking centre stage amidst a spellbinding arrangement of toe-tapping drums, melodic guitars and some beautiful harmonies with female vocalist, Phoebe Wilson.

That song feels like the emotional heart of the record and after that Zivi steers the listener into the realms of 70s-inspired soft rock for the final stretch. Way Out vividly captures the feeling of breaking free being described in the lyrics, with those words resonating through a sonic eruption of whirring organs and spiralling guitars. The riffs are similarly bold on Solidarity and Passenger, before White Ocean offers up an enthrallingly soulful finale, with the wave crashes wonderfully painted through sounds of church organs and echoey saxophones.

With an excellent team of musicians by his side, an unshakeable trust in his own songwriting and the time, care and effort taken to perfect these songs, Zivi has crafted a truly memorable debut that ranks amongst the year’s best first-time outings. So, if you need some warm, comforting sounds to counteract the incoming colder weather - look no further.

Listen here

Watch Zivi's brilliant live performance at Meow Wolf here

Black Rainbows by Corinne Bailey Rae

I’ll admit, beyond her overplayed and overly twee breakout hit Put Your Records On, before this month I couldn’t name you another Corinne Bailey Rae track. With that being the case, I went into this fourth album from the British singer-songwriter with little expectation, other than a recommendation and some extremely positive reviews. As a result, I was blown away by the absolute tour de force with which I was presented.

Across the album’s ten tracks, Corinne effortlessly jumps from genre to genre whilst sharing her thoughts on subjects such as slavery, spirituality, freedom, hope and survival. Whilst these radical style switches can be jarring at times, it also makes for an absolute thrill ride with not a single dull moment to be found. In just the opening three songs alone, Corinne flies between the rip-roaring A Spell, A Prayer, the experimental jazz of the title track before landing at the stomping rock riffs of Erasure.

It’s then in the middle section where the best songs can be found, with Corinne’s soulful cries of “I wanted to know you” gracefully gliding across the stirring arrangement on album highlight, Red Horse. She then immediately does a complete 180, firing into the full throttle garage rock of New York Transit Queen, a song that wouldn’t sound out of place on the recent Hives record. Near 9-minute epic Put It Down is then the entire album in a nutshell, starting out as a magical slice of smooth R&B before transitioning into a pulsating buzz of electronica.

Black Rainbows is an album that on the surface sounds like it should be a hot mess, an “everything including the kitchen sink” collection of sounds and styles that would’ve quickly misfired in anyone else’s hands. Full credit to Corinne Bailey Rae though, as she keeps the project anchored and makes the dramatic transitions seem like the most natural thing in the world. An incredible record that you simply must hear.

Listen here

Softscars by yeule

If after Corinne you want more genre-hopping brilliance, then look no further than the third studio album from Singaporean musician, Yeule. A concept album which sees each track represent an old wound from Yeule’s past, it’s an exhilarating, near flawless ride through the cross-section where dream-pop, shoegaze and alt-rock all collide. Brilliant from start to finish, it’s particularly worth your time for the likes of x w x, sulky baby, ghosts, inferno and aphex twin flame.

Listen here

Lost In A Rush Of Emptiness by Bleach Lab

If you’re after something a bit more traditional in sound however, then I recommend the utterly stunning debut from London-based quartet Bleach Lab. Bringing together elements of shoegaze and melodic indie rock, gorgeous flourishes of strings and the softly spoken vocals of frontwoman Jenna Kyle, it’s an album that will leave you completely entranced from the get-go. Particularly worth diving into the majestic opening trio of All Night, Indigo and Counting Empties, along with the astonishing 7-minute closer, Life Gets Better.

Listen here

With All Due Disrespect EP by Bellah Mae

And then on the EPs front, rising popstar Bellah Mae landed on my radar earlier this year through her charismatic performance at Nottingham’s Splendour festival. An absolute pro at post-breakup takedowns, her debut pulls together all her catchy, often hilarious singles to date into one fun blast of a shortplayer. Whether it’s the sarcastic brush-off of Boyfriend of the Year, the sweeping balladry of On Purpose (For My Future Daughter) or the meme-tastic roast of her ex found on Date Your Dad, Bellah’s charm and unique way with words will have you smiling in no time.

Listen here

Also worth checking out: Magic 3 by Nas, End by Explosions In The Sky, STONE by Baroness, Cellophane by Holy Holy, Heaven and Gold by Cleo Sol

Tracks of the Week

ONE MORE TIME by Blink-182

Get the tissues ready, pop-punk legends Blink-182 are back.

Whilst it may not be a big deal to everyone, for 90s kids like me who grew up with Blink-182’s music, seeing the original line-up of Tom, Mark and Travis reconcile and get back together for a new album brings nothing but joy. Well, maybe not nothing but joy - I’d be lying if I said this song didn’t leave me deeply moved. As memories and callbacks to their heyday are made during the song’s music video, the comeback single itself is an honest love letter from the trio to one another and a touching ode to their brotherly bond.

Watch the music video here

Another Life by Spector

Continuing the build to the release of their fourth album in late November, titled Here Come The Early Nights, indie heroes Spector have served up the second taste of their forthcoming project. Sonically it is the type of upbeat anthem we have come to expect from Spector but lyrically it is slightly different to the norm, as typically witty and guarded frontman Fred Macpherson shows a rare glimpse of vulnerability as he ponders on a lost love.

Listen here

Looking For Loving by Nimmo & Satellite

Summer may sadly be coming to an end, but there’s always time for one last dance banger – especially from the ever-brilliant Nimmo. Still yet to deliver a bad song throughout their career, this energetic collaboration with Satellite features plenty of heart and an instantly catchy chorus.

Listen here

Gemini by Bathe Alone

A shoutout to Twitter friend Joe for putting this new single from Atlanta-based multi-instrumentalist Bailey Crone, AKA Bathe Alone, onto my radar. Filled with lush, dreamy sonics and Crone’s own whispery vocals, it’s an intoxicating song in which to fully lose yourself.

Listen here

Love My Way by Share

And finally this week, New Music Weekly favourite Nile Marr has recently teamed up with musician Kaylen Alan Krebsbach to form new band - Share. It’s an instantly intriguing combination of talents and their first single, a blissful cover of the Psychedelic Furs’ classic Love My Way, is now out in the world. An excellent, faithful cover that leaves me waiting to hear more from the duo.

Listen here

Also worth checking out: Black Heaven by Creeper, Into Your Room by Holly Humberstone, Big Pharma by Sleaford Mods, When The Rain Comes by Sugababes, All the Time In The World by Sunship Balloon

REMINDER: If you use Apple Music, you can also keep up-to-date with all my favourite 2023 tracks through my Best of 2023 playlist. Constantly updated throughout the year with songs I enjoy, it is then finalised into a Top 100 Songs of the Year in December.

Add the playlist to your library here

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lady-wren-of-tella · 11 months

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Undeserving (I Love You Too Much to Let You Stay) -- a Zivy oneshot

word count: 5,215 tw// mentions of past abuse, extreme self-doubt I've been working on this oneshot for a while and I'm so proud of how it turned out. I hope you enjoy this very self-indulgent piece.

love you guys <3 (and thank you @miirohs for your help + enthusiasm)

Zira wakes up with her skin crawling. Her eyes flutter open and Zira is greeted by the beautiful sight of Ivy’s freckled face soft with sleep, red hair resting on the pillow around her like a halo of protective fire.

The sun streams through the bedroom window, light blessing Ivy with its golden touch.

Zira looks at the personification of perfection and feels her heart sink.

With grace and stealth learned on the most bloodstained of fields, Zira slides out of bed, careful not to disturb Ivy. She walks around the bed to close the curtains, trying to breathe through the feeling humming under her skin. Everything about this morning feels wrong, and, unfortunately, shrouding the bedroom in shadow doesn’t help anything.

Still asleep, Ivy lets out a deep exhale and Zira feels her body warm with a mix of affection and guilt.

She’s perfect, look at her, Zira’s mind whispers. You’re ruining her.

She dresses quickly, deftly slipping out of her bed clothes and putting on a simple day gown. The tailored fabric feels soothing on her skin, but the steel circlet she slides over her head to rest against her forehead feels better. Zira resists the urge to hold it to her nose just to let the calming smell of metal wash over her.

The sheets rustle as Ivy turns over and Zira’s heart jumps. Her heartstrings strain at the sight of the frown on Ivy’s face as her arm falls through a space beside her that should have been filled. Guilt pools in her gut, but every fiber of Zira’s body screams at her to get out.

The princess ducks out of the bedroom, making sure to close the door as quietly as possible.

Mornings in the Imani palace are bright, sunlight bouncing off the marble tiles in the hallways. The guards draw the curtains away from the windows as Zira walks past, bowing shallowly.

Zira wants to scream.

Hide yourself away. You’ll hurt them if you stay close.

She scratches her nails down her forearm, finds a bit of comfort in the sting.

Walking to the kitchens takes longer than Zira thought it would. The route feels drawn out, with more corners to round and stairs to the basement, but eventually, her hands meet the worn wood of the kitchen doors and she pushes them aside.

Sam Yinlar, the royal cook, looks up and smiles at the sight of her, quickly retying the strings of his stained, white apron.

“It’s rather early,” Sam comments, quietly dismissing the other people working in the kitchen as Zira pushes herself up to sit on the farthest corner of the counters. “It’s been a while since you’ve visited me like this.”

Zira sighs, letting her head fall to her knees. “Hi, Sam.”

“Zira.”

She huffs, twitching her fingers and summoning a fork to her hand from right next to Sam. “If you’re not helpful, I’m going to leave.” She allows the ferrokinesis humming in her blood to sing, crushing the fork into a metal ball. “Better yet, I’m going to fire you.”

Sam isn’t phased, he continues cutting the vegetables on the cutting board in front of him, corner of his mouth tugged upwards with amusement. “With all due respect, Princess, you’ve been threatening me with that since you were seven. I’m going to call your bluff here.”

“Sam.”

“What’s bothering you, Zira?” Sam pushes, scooping the neat cubes of vegetables into a ceramic bowl. He gestures vaguely at her with the point of his cooking knife. “And don’t try to get around the question. I know your tricks.”

Zira pinches the metal ball, kneads it as if it was clay. “It’s Ivy,” she finally says, and winces because she knows how it sounds.

The royal cook freezes. He sets the knife down calmly and fixes Zira with a look so focused she wouldn’t dream of breaking eye contact. “Zira. Is everything okay? Is she hurting you?”

Zira wanted to scream, earlier. Now, her eyes water. Now, she wants to cry.

It takes a deep breath to keep the rivers of emotion at bay.

“No, Sam. It’s me.”

Sam’s eyes narrow. “Elaborate. Now.”

“I think I’m hurting her,” Zira breathes, unable to help the way her eyes flick down to her hands, as if expecting to see scarlet pooling in the creases of her palms. “She’s too good for me, Sam. Everyone knows it.”

Flinching isn’t something Zira does much of anymore, but the sound of Sam stabbing his knife into the wood of his cutting board makes her tense too obviously to be missed.

“Zira Sevaan,” the man's voice rings, forceful as it bounces off the surfaces in the kitchen. “Look at me right now, and listen.”

She complies.

“Have you hurt her?” Sam asks and Zira frowns, irritation simmering in her gut at his stupid question.

“I just said-”

Sam sighs, yanking his cooking knife out of the cutting board and setting it down calmly once again. “I’m going to be blunt, Princess. Have you hurt her in the way your mother used to hurt you?”

Zira stills.

She swears a shadow shifts in the way it shouldn’t, but that’s just her memories playing tricks. They like creating little hallucinations to mess with me.

It takes work to make her vocal cords work to form the sounds of her answer. “No.”

An encouraging glint shines in Sam’s eyes. “Have you purposefully put her in situations where she could get hurt? Are you manipulating her?”

“She’s with me, Yinlar. I think that’s dangerous enough,” Zira shoots back bitterly. “You likely only know half of what I’ve done.”

Like always, Sam is patient, wise in his rebuttals. “I know you’ve killed people, I know you’ve done worse, and I know you’d do it again in a heartbeat if you had to.”

Again, Zira’s gaze flits down to her hands. Seeing tan, scarred flesh feels wrong. She almost craves the sticky sensation of blood seeping into every little line and crease in her skin, almost misses the sharp, unmistakable scent of it.

“It’s like I told you. I’m going to ruin her. I’ve done awful things– for Delphine’s sake I practically killed her best friends! She deserves someone so much better than someone damaged and morally unsound.” Zira rips off her circlet and rakes an angry hand through her hair, grateful she didn’t bother to braid it before coming down to the kitchens.

“She still loves you and chooses to be with you?” Sam asks pointedly.

Zira nods, and it pains her. “That’s the probl–”

Sam Yinlar cuts her off. “You haven’t coerced or manipulated her into being your partner, correct?”

“No. Of course not.”

He smiles. “You have done awful things, yes? And you’d do them again?”

Zira hesitates before delivering the honest answer waiting on her tongue, if only because the pause has the potential to make her sound like a better person. “If the situation called for it.”

If she asked me to, goes unsaid. If someone threatened or hurt her.

Sam smiles wider, and Zira braces herself for the killing blow.

The royal chef may not be a Mythica, may know nothing about what war feels like, but he beats Zira every time. He corrals her into a corner so she can’t escape with practiced deflection before forcing a mirror in front of her face and a basket full of truths into her arms.

“And no matter what, you’d never even think of harming Ivy?”

I’d rather die, Zira could say.

You’ve said that before, she knows Sam would retort calmly, so I don’t think that even begins to describe a fraction of your feelings towards this girl.

You’re right, Zira would admit.

She settles for a simple, “Never.”

Sam knows me well enough at this point to fill in the blanks.

The royal chef nods, as if Zira’s measly answers could solve her problem, the insecurity and guilt chewing at the worn threads of her being. “Then you have your answer, Princess. You aren’t hurting her, and you aren’t going to hurt her.”

Zira groans in annoyance, throwing her head back against the cabinets above her and relishing in the sound and spark of pain it produces. “You’re not getting it!”

Sam frowns. “Zira, you came to me with a concern, and I talked you through it. You said you thought you were hurting Ivy– that you didn’t deserve her, and I explained to you how that clearly isn’t the case.” He leans on the counter, weight on forearms. “What am I not getting?”

Zira wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. Now, she does both.

The sob that rips its way out of her throat is painful, it sounds guttural, made worse by the way it echoes in the kitchen. Instinctively, she draws her knees to her chest, clawing at the skin of her upper arms as she wraps them around herself.

She buries her face in the little space her crossed arms create, letting her tears flow freely as her body trembles.

Sam is at Zira’s side in a heartbeat, standing in front of her and gently pulling her into his embrace. He drops his chin to rest atop her head, squeezing her body once to try and stop the shaking. “Hey. Kid. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Zira whimpers.

She feels pathetic, dirty.

She goes to claw at her skin again, but Sam stops her gently, just keeps hugging her until she eventually melts into the steady comfort of his hold.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get it, Princess. Do you want to explain it to me?”

It takes a few seconds, far more than a few, but Zira eventually gathers herself enough to answer.

“I don’t deserve someone as perfect as her,” she whispers, words muffled by the rough fabric of Sam’s apron. “She’s far too good to be with me, and I don’t deserve her.”

The admission leaves her feeling scrubbed raw.

Sam exhales deeply, a thumb rubbing twice at her shoulder when she trembles again. “Ivy’s hardly perfect. She’s hurt and killed people too.”

Zira frowns. “Don’t do that,” she orders firmly. “Don’t try and make her sound like a bad person just to make me feel better about what I’ve done.” She takes a calming breath. “I don’t deserve someone good.”

Sam squeezes her tighter, but Zira knows he’s wrestling with the idea of pushing apart to look her in the eye. “I don’t care what anyone else says, Zira Sevaan. You deserve every good thing that comes your way.” He taps a random pattern onto her shoulder. “No one is perfect. Everyone has done good and bad things. The mistakes you make don’t define you as a person.”

Zira pushes herself away, quickly drying her tears. “They weren’t mistakes, though, Sam. I made the conscious decision to murder and torture people.”

“You realize it’s wrong, though,” Sam tries.

“I’d do it again.” Zira is stubborn.

“Zira,” Sam tries again, firm. “You are not a bad person. You did bad things, but that doesn’t make you a pad person. You were hurt. You are still hurting. The bad things you did don’t cancel out your right to heal.”

“That’s not what my mother said,” Zira mumbles, ghosting a thumb over her forearms as if remembering how it felt to have bruises there. “That’s not what a lot of people say.”

Sam frowns. “Your mother was abusive and I don’t care what other people have to say. You deserve to be happy.”

Vulnerability is terrifying. Vulnerability flays Zira limb from limb, dissects her for Sam’s observant eyes to pick apart. This time, she doesn’t shy away. This time, she sticks it out and steeps in the discomfort.

“Feeling happy feels wrong, sometimes. It feels like I deserve that almost less than I deserve Ivy,” Zira confesses, falling into the embrace Sam offers again.

Sam just holds her, simple and meaningful in his display of affection and comfort. “I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it: you deserve the good things that are happening to you, you deserve to have Ivy and all the happiness she brings you, and you are not a bad person.”

The tears start flowing again and Zira doesn’t bother stopping them. She lets them fall, lets Sam’s words soak into the hollow cracks that had formed over the years of her existence.

The two of them take solace in the silence.

“I’m a good person,” Zira tries out saying, just to hear the way it rolls off of her tongue. She whispers it like it’s a secret.

It feels almost instinctive, the way Sam’s hold on her tightens. “You are. You really are.”

Zira keeps going. “I deserve good things.”

“You do, Princess.”

“I deserve the happiness my partner makes me feel.” Her voice cracks and wavers. I deserve to wake up beside her every morning and brush her soft hair away from her pretty face just to kiss her on the nose. I deserve to be able to bicker with her about staying in bed or actually fulfilling our duties.

“I couldn’t have said it better, kiddo,” Sam whispers. “Now how about we make some plica for you to enjoy at breakfast with her?”

Zira smiles softly, drying the final tears from the corners of her eyes as the two of them step apart and she hops down from the counter. “I’d like that a lot. Thank you, Sam.”

Already walking away to grab ingredients from the cabinets, Sam smiles at her over his shoulder. “Go be helpful and grab some bowls for me.”

Anytime, Princess, goes unsaid.

— --

Zira takes a deep breath before pushing open the doors of the library with her foot, tray stacked high with plica in hand. The servants said she’d be here. I hope they’re right, she thinks as she balances the tray while slipping through the space in between the doors.

Sure enough, a head of familiar, red hair whips around at her entry.

Ivy’s face goes soft, eyes sparkling, and Zira feels her heart warm at the sight.

“Good morning, love,” Ivy says, beckoning her lover over. “You brought plica!” she exclaims happily, spotting the contents of the tray. “Is that what you were doing this morning?”

Walking over to set the tray of pastries down on the big table in the center of the table, Zira settles down on the couch right next to Ivy, settling against her side even as her gut swirls with guilt she tries to get rid of. “I thought I’d pay a visit to Sam,” she answers, shrugging in an attempt to seem casual.

An arm comes to rest around Zira’s shoulders, soft fingers brushing across the nape of her neck, and Zira’s heart jumps. “That early? You should have stayed in bed and visited him later,” Ivy admonishes fondly, thumb ghosting over the base of her lover’s skull

Zira’s breath catches in her throat and her heart skips too many beats.

You’re going to hurt her.

She flinches backwards hard enough that she tumbles off of the couch, knees and elbows making painful contact with the floor. The loss of Ivy’s warmth against her side makes her shiver, but the guilt woven into every fiber of her being keeps her from returning to the other’s embrace.

Hands still outstretched as if she had tried to keep Zira from falling, Ivy schools her face from shock and sadness to kind and contemplative. “Bad day?” she asks.

“Bad day,” Zira answers quietly.

They developed the system a bit ago, and it works better than Zira could have ever imagined. In the early days, Ivy would ask “Good day or bad day?” before even coming close to making contact, because some days, the very thought of being touched made Zira want to both stab someone and disappear.

Ivy nods and readjusts on the couch, crossing her legs and scooting over to only take up one half of the couch. “Good day,” she answers for herself.

Take what you want, she means. Whenever you’re comfortable, I’m here.

Shame making her face warm, Zira rises from the floor and sits back on the couch, crowding herself as far into the corner as possible.

Ivy points to her forehead, at the circlet resting against her skin. “You should take that off. Your skin’s going white.” Her eyes soften, voice too. “It’s hurting you.”

Zira’s heart aches and she reaches up to take the steel thing off, taking a deep breath and willing her ferrokinesis to mellow out. Immediately, a headache she didn’t realize was forming begins to subside.

Reaching out slowly, giving Zira time to pull away if she wanted to, Ivy takes the circlet from Zira’s hands. “For now,” she says softly, “just be Zira for a bit. Forget the circlet and the title. I want to talk through this.”

The circlet transforms into a steel rose in Ivy’s hands.

Zira makes the flower float upwards with an almost missable twitch of her fingers, not looking away from the mesmerizing green of Ivy’s eyes. Just as slowly as the other did, she stretches out a hand, gently tucking Ivy’s red hair behind her ear. Zira grabs the floating rose out of the air and tucks it behind her lover’s ear as well.

“Thank you,” Ivy whispers, her breath ticking the skin of Zira’s palm as she leans into the lingering touch. “It’s beautiful.”

Zira smiles softly, ghosting the pad of her finger across Ivy’s cheekbone. “It’s not the only one,” she says, heart sparking at the sight of the blush beginning to color Ivy’s cheeks.

You can’t have this with her.

The princess’s face falls and her hand drops like a stone into her lap.

Kindly, Ivy leans away, resting against the back of the couch once more. “I’m here,” she says simply. “I’m here if and when you need to talk, always.”

Zira feels the cracks forming, prepares to shatter and braces for the feeling of accidentally cutting herself on the shards of her being. She steels herself, draws upon familiar impassivity to keep from bursting into tears right there.

“You’re so good,” she chokes out in a low whisper after a bit. “And you’re good to me.”

Ivy tilts her head to the side in confusion, not having heard her, silently gesturing to ask for an explanation.

Don’t tell her, Zira’s thoughts whisper, in a voice that sounds eerily like her mother did. She’ll realize the truth and leave. You’ll be alone.

“I don’t want us to be together,” she says, trying to sound firm. It comes out weakly, her voice wavering and betraying the uncertainty, guilt, and sadness she had been trying to hide. “We’re– we’re not a good match.”

She had kept an admirably even disposition throughout the entire interaction thus far, but Ivy flinches hard, arms instinctively drifting upwards to wrap around herself protectively. But she doesn’t whimper or cry, even though her eyes water. “Explain – now – because you’re not making any sense.”

See? You’re hurting her.

Zira wants to scream and cry and break herself to pieces so she can’t hurt this being of perfection before her.

The princess cuts off her connection to metal, afraid of what could happen with her wild emotions and the metal resting so close to Ivy’s skin.

“Take the flower off,” she orders quietly, as if volume could soften the blow. “Please.”

Ivy frowns, a single tear falling from her eye. She wipes it away quickly, hand returning to rest on her opposite shoulder. “Why don’t you do it yourself?” she challenges, but it sounds weak too. “You’re more than capable of controlling metal.”

“Please,” Zira pleads again, panicking at the feeling of her ferrokinesis humming under her skin again. “I can’t. Take off the flower and set it on the table.”

“Next to the plica you made for someone you spent time making for someone you’re not a good match with?” Ivy shoots back, but she complies, setting it down next to the tray of pastries. “There, done. Now–” her voice cracks with emotion and another tear falls. She wipes it away just as swiftly. “Now,” she tries again, “explain, Zira.”

Look! See? She’s crying. You’re hurting her and keeping her close to you when all it’s doing is damaging her more, the ghost of Kamara’s abuse returns once more to say.

“Please go,” Zira asks, desperation bleeding through the syllables that fall past her lips.

Ivy lets out a bitter laugh and the sound grates on her lover’s ears. “You’re not making any sense right now. You walked in this room with plica you made for both of us, gave me a pretty rose you made out of your royal circlet, and now you want me out of your sight.” Her bottom lip quivers, voice shaking. “Explain,” she begs.

With every second she spends near you, she only gets more hurt.

Zira forces iron-strong resolve into her voice, uses it to mask her breaking heart. Please, love, she pleads in her head, please go before I hurt you more.

“Go, Ivy.”

Zira almost flinches at how cold she sounds, hating how it sounds like her mother did.

Ivy stands up from the couch, expression unreadable. “I want an explanation soon,” she says, defeat weighing down every word. “I love you,” she says softly before turning on her heel and leaving.

The door slams shut behind her.

Zira takes one look at the steel flower and the tray of plica and bursts into tears.

—

They avoid each other for the rest of the day. Zira hides away in her office, tending to her queenly duties. The title is still new and fresh, and she’s still drowning in work. The servants tell her that Ivy spent the day in town with her friends.

Night falls mercilessly and Zira falls asleep at her desk.

She startles awake at the feeling of someone’s hand resting on her shoulder, papers fluttering sadly to the ground when they’re knocked off by her wild movements.

“Easy, easy,” the voice soothes, and Zira recognizes it with a twist of her heart. “It’s late, Zira. You should come to bed.”

Still half asleep, Zira leans into Ivy’s touch. “Missed you,” she mumbles, voice muffled by her arm and slurred by sleep. “Missed you a lot,” she chokes out, groaning as she uses her aching muscles to sit up.

Ivy laughs lightly, and Zira doesn’t realize how forced it sounds. “I’m here now. You need to come to bed, or you’re going to hurt your neck.” She takes Zira’s hand, lacing their fingers together before tugging gently. “It’s a bad day, so I’ll sleep somewhere else.”

“No,” Zira says, and she feels her face burn in embarrassment when she realizes how quickly she responded. “I want— If you want, please stay with me.”

With a sardonic huff, Ivy’s hand falls away. “What I wouldn't have given to have heard that this morning.”

Now look at what you’ve done, child. Just as I predicted, you’ve caused her pain.

Zira’s blood goes cold at the reminder of their conversation that morning. She thinks back to the flinches and the fear, how volatile, dangerous, and guilty she’d felt. “I’m sorry,” she whispers after a moment. “I just didn’t want to hurt you.”

The words tip Ivy over the edge. “Too late, Zira,” she spits back. “You already did that.” She moves away, sitting down in a chair a few paces away from the desk, and Zira finds hope in the fact that she didn’t leave. “I think we’re both too tired to talk it out right now,” she admits.

Zira gets woken up completely by that, reaching out for Ivy instinctively. “No. I’m awake and I need to explain.” She turns in her chair to face Ivy completely. “And I need to apologize.”

Ivy nods. Go on, the gesture says.

“You are a good person– the best I’ve ever known,” Zira begins. “You deserve happiness, a perfect partner, and every other good thing that comes your way.” She takes another deep breath. “I am damaged. I am a bad person who’s done bad things and you shouldn’t settle for that. I don’t want you chained to someone unworthy.”

Zira’s skin crawls and her ferrokinesis begs to be used.

Ivy’s face shutters. “You’re not a bad person,” she says firmly. “And even if you were, that would change nothing.”

“It’d change everything,” Zira argues, frowning. “And if I am not a bad person, I’m a dangerous one. Death and tragedy follow me around like I have them on a leash, and we both know neither take well to being controlled.”

Vulnerability is a demon Zira hates facing. Ivy sees her attempts at loose avoidance and forces her towards the confrontation, somehow both unflinching and comforting.

“What are you so afraid of?” Ivy challenges.

“Myself,” Zira answers simply, watching as clarity and understanding flutter across her lover’s face. “I have damaged everyone and everything that has ever been in my life. I can’t do that to you.”

Ivy sees the twitching of Zira’s fingers and pulls her into a tight hug, one arm around her waist and another cradling the back of her head. “Cry if you want to,” she whispers, pressing a long kiss to her lover’s hair.

Zira breaks. “I can’t ruin you,” she admits into the warmth of Ivy’s neck and shoulder. “You’re so good – so perfect – and I’m afraid of ruining you because I’m too selfish to let you go.” She chokes on a sob, on the weight of keeping everything at bay.

The metal in the room cheers, screaming and begging for attention.

Immediately, Zira tears herself away from Ivy, scrambling backwards across the massive office to cower in the farthest corner. The breaths don’t come easy, getting caught in her throat. Her chest heaves as the tears turn messy.

Ivy gets up slowly. “Zi-”

“Don’t come near me!” Zira begs, crossing her arms in front of her chest and pinning her arms between her arms and torso. “Don’t come near me,” she repeats, quieter this time as she trembles.

It’s going to happen and you’re going to see. You’re going to lash out and you’ll ruin her and what you have together. Just like everything else, it’ll end with blood on your hands.

“Take deep breaths,” Ivy soothes as she sits down on the floor too. She starts taking off all of her jewelry, setting it down in front of her.

And Zira wants to cry, because Ivy understands, and feeling so seen is terrifying.

“Listen to my voice and take slow breaths. It’s going to be okay.” Ivy meets Zira’s eyes unflinchingly, somehow isn’t terrified by what she finds burning in her brown eyes. “You’re not going to hurt me because you’re not that person and you’re strong enough to hold back.”

Deep breaths, Zira tells herself. Focus on one bit of metal and make it your anchor.

She lets her ferrokinesis rip into Ivy’s necklace, uses the overflowing energy to take it apart and reassemble it in the air. The channeling works, slowly, and Zira starts to relax as her heart rate calms.

The metal chain links separate, a thousand little pieces suspended in the air.

Zira takes a deep breath, blinks, and it goes back together. She exhales, and commands the necklace to float back down onto the floor.

Ivy breaks the silence tentatively. “Zira? Good time or bad time?”

The princess looks up, drying her tears. “It’s fine,” she assures, voice scratchy with the remnants of her crying. “I’m okay now.”

As she crosses the room to sit right next to her lover in the corner, Ivy smiles. “See? I was right, love. You didn’t hurt me. I’m okay.”

“This time,” Zira retorts, tamping down the anxiety that prickles her skin at Ivy’s proximity.

Ivy rolls her eyes. She takes Zira’s hand, grip loose enough to slip out of if she wanted. “Do you trust me?”

Zira answers immediately. “Yes. Of course.”

“Then trust my decisions,” Ivy says simply, holding Zira’s gaze unflinchingly. “Trust that I am happy with you and trust in my faith that you won’t hurt me.”

It takes a second, but Zira concedes. “Okay.”

Ivy allows herself to celebrate the small victory with a little smile, but she doesn’t stop pushing. “Trust that you’re not going to “ruin me”– whatever that means. No one can deny that you made mistakes, but you’re a good person and you deserve happiness.”

Zira opens and closes her mouth, not sure what to say.

Stifling a little laugh, Ivy leans forward, kissing her tenderly. “Don’t feel guilty, love. You’re allowed to want this and you’re allowed to have this. You’re not going to mess anything up.

The influx of emotion makes Zira’s eyes water again.

“I don’t know how–” she chokes on her own feelings. “I never want to lose you.”

“You don’t have to.”

It never works like that. We both know that and it’s stupid to pretend otherwise.

Zira hesitates, trying to make sense of the heat in her veins and the pounding of her heart. “I think I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” she admits quietly, and smiles at the way it makes Ivy’s face light up. “I think, someday, I could be good enough to deserve that.”

Ivy smiles, and Zira knows she’d give up everything to see that for the rest of her life.

“It’s late,” Ivy says softly, brushing her fingers through Zira’s soft hair. “Let’s go to bed.”

— --

Zira falls asleep feeling loved. Her eyelids flutter as they fight the weight of exhaustion and she struggles to stay awake, the repetitive motions of tracing little patterns on the bare skin of Ivy’s shoulder lulling her to sleep.

She brings her hand up to make constellations out of Ivy’s freckles, distracted for a second by the gentle curves in the waves of Ivy’s red hair. Zira brushes it away from her face with a feather-light touch, scared of waking her up.

The princess smiles, overcome by the comfortable warmth in her heart.

Moonlight streams through the gaps in the window curtains, swathing both of them in gentle silver. For the first time in a while, silver doesn’t feel threatening or cold.

Ivy looks peaceful, happy, at home in their bed. She looks perfect, beautiful, good. Even in sleep, the gentle embrace she holds Zira in is comforting. When she was still awake, she’d tighten her hold every few minutes, just to hear the other girl giggle softly with tired amusement.

Right before she’d succumbed to her exhaustion, Zira brought them even closer to each other, intertwining their legs and lying close enough that their noses brush, comfortable with the proximity and touch.

At every point of contact, Zira feels her skin buzz pleasantly.

She takes a slow, tired blink, and smiles again. This is perfect, appreciate it, her mind whispers. You deserve it.

The stars sparkle overhead as she leans forward to kiss Ivy gently.

“I love you, Ivy,” she whispers against the soft skin of her lips. “I love knowing that for the rest of my life, I’ll have you by my side.”

Zira falls asleep feeling loved.

#ladywrenoftella #lady wren:: writing #writing #creative writing #my writing #writing wip #wren is writing #zivy

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