#00s sound collage

[lovhrin]

𓇻   ॱ˖  FROM ME TO YOU park sunghoon mini smau

──ॱ˖ ❀ If there was one person yn would always remember, it would be park sunghoon, the only boy who was kind to her on her first day of school. to her, that small act of kindness meant everything. to him, it was probably just another ordinary day. or at least, that’s what she thought.

in which the most popular boy in school is tired of hiding his interest in the least popular girl in school.

❀ pairing : popular!sunghoon x quiet!femreader

❀ genre : school!au, friends to lovers, fluff, angst, smau, loosely based on kimi ni todoke

❀ taglist : closed! @tasnemluvs @honestlyatomicpanda @hhyvsstuff @skepvids @who-tf-soddhi @beigerin @tinyteezer @sasfransisco @giraffeass @velv3ts @seiamor @steddie-steddie @blvengene @starry-eyed-bimbo @ilovbeshotaro @river-demon-slayer @thinkinboutbin @starsunoo @nishimurarikisfinestan @i03jae @greentulip @naevis-hung-up @itsactuallylina @academiq @rikidaze @en-dream @rkivesfilm @kittyyy003 @haechology @univershoon @riribelle @jiiyen @elegancefr @daniellesyellowhands @sunooqvrlsx @justsvstuff @xeee334 @jungcatwonie @starbyeol1512 @right-person-wrong-time @kirakun @rairaiblog @miukidoll @unstableqi @wonuziex @yurisblooming @yyawnjun @pluggtalkk @mydearyeseo @yurisblooming @juyeoz

00. no boys allowed

soft, soothing music drifted through the café, wrapping the space in a sense of peace as the girls enjoyed their meal. the atmosphere was nothing short of serene just as expected. yn always had a way of finding the perfect spots, places that felt like a hidden sanctuary away from the world.

"yn, maybe try eating the food instead of just taking pictures of it," yizhuo teased, laughing at the way yn's face instantly turned red.

"sorry, they're just too cute," she said, finally taking a bite of her totoro cream puff and letting out a satisfied hum. "i need a good collage of photos before school starts, my photography teacher wants us to document our spring break and school starts tomorrow.”

"well, that shouldn't have been hard," yunah said, mouth full, completely ignoring yizhuo's scolding look before taking a sip from yn's drink. "you document everything, you probably haven't even realized how many photos you've taken over the brea—oh!" she suddenly cut herself off, a teasing glint in her eyes as she placed a hand over yn's. "speaking of school, have you thought about joining me for sports day?"

yn awkwardly glanced to the side, avoiding yunah's expectant gaze.

"oh, come on! i even got yiz to join my team," yunah pouted, giving yn her best pleading look.

"which is never happening again," yizhuo chimed in, taking a sip of her kiki themed latte. "i'm only going because you promised to buy me ramen for a month."

"come on, yn! i want both of my girls on my team," yunah whined, taking another sip from yn's drink, despite having her own.

"this is really good," she mused, making yn nod in agreement.

"i know, right?"

"but that's beside the point!" yunah quickly refocused, leaning in with wide, pleading eyes. "please?"

yn looked at her friend and sighed. she was never the sports type, she got tired too easily. she was more of an artsy girl, someone who kept to herself. plus, she had only transferred at the start of the year and still didn’t feel completely comfortable. but she couldn't ignore the fact that yunah and yizhuo had been nothing but kind to her since she moved. she felt like she owed them at least a little consideration.

"i'll think about it," she said at last, meeting yunah's hopeful gaze. "for real this time."

“promise?”

“promise.”

a comfortable silence settled between them, the only sounds being the occasional clink of utensils and the soft hum of café chatter. the girls stayed lost in their own worlds, scrolling through their phones and picking at their food, perfectly at ease in each other's company.

that was until yunah looked up, her eyes widening as she stared past yn and yizhuo toward the entrance.

"what the hell are they doing here?" she muttered.

yn and yizhuo turned to look over their shoulders. yizhuo immediately groaned.

"i thought this place was girls only?" she joked, rolling her eyes.

but yn barely heard her. her focus was locked on the boy who walked in last, trailing behind the others.

sunghoon.

last . masterlist . next

──ॱ˖ ❀ finally starting!!

[goldberrg]

surely "bestfriends"

summary : You and Billy have been best friends for a while, but when he comes over unexpectedly.

TW's – cursing, sex (in details)

The end of your pencil tapped against the edge of your desk, the side of your head resting on your hand. Your leg bounced to the same rhythm as your pencil, while you listened to your teacher finish up telling you guys about a project. You were all reading "Pride and Prejudice", or at least had read it, and now needed to do the final project for it. You were aloud to work in groups of up to four, but you knew you'd only be working with one person – your best friend, Billy Hargrove.

Billy's step-mom, Susan, and your own mother were close friends. They worked together, and when you had been invited over for dinner the first week they moved to Hawkins, you and Billy had clicked. The two of you spent most of the night in his room, flipping through his vinyl's and helping him hang up his posters. You couldn't help but mock him about the clichè Playboy posters he had, and all the random crap in his room. But the two of you hit it off, becoming close friends quick.

And now he was your partner for every english assignment, art project, and science project. Those were the three classes you shared together. The first time you tried pairing up with someone other than him, a girl named Cheryl, he didn't speak to you for three whole days. Even when he drove you to and from school, he blared his music so loud your ears rang for hours afterwards.

Only after the project was over, and you showed up at his door with two tickets to see a movie.

Once your teacher had finished giving out her information and instructions, the class dispersed to get with their groups or partners. You leaned your head back, already finding Billy getting up from his seat behind you. He tossed his backpack onto the now-vacant desk beside yours, slamming his body into the chair with a grunt. This was your cue to get up and go get the poster board you would need for the project. You returned with a plain, white board compared to the other varying colors of purple, green, blue and red.

— Get your gross feet off the desk. — you ordered, glaring down at Billy since your hands were preoccupied. Billy rolled his eyes, but complied and removed his feet, the legs of the chair falling back onto the floor.

— Alright, doll, what's the plan? — Billy questioned, reaching into your backpack and pulling out your personal copy of the book. You'd already read the book various times throughout middle school and early high school, so you and Billy switched off borrowing your book.

— I figured I'd paint the board, sort of like a collage. Have different things on it. — you explained, looking down at him from the other side of the desk.

— Sounds good to me. We have two weeks, right? — he asked, quirking an eyebrow up at you.

— Yup, so if you don't finish the book by then, I'll kick your fucking ass. — you hissed, watching as he paused his skimming through the book.

— What?

— There weren't any lions in the book, jerk. You have two days to finish it. You're three fourths done, because that's how much we've read together, so you can finish a hundred pages by Thursday. — you sighed, rolling your eyes.

You walked over and sat in your own chair.

— Yeah, yeah, alright Your Highness. — he grumbled, closing the book and tossing it on top of the poster. — What else? We're doing the whole 'main characters, theme, plot, climax' stuff, right?

— Of course that's the only word you'd remember. — you grinned, shoving his shoulder as he laughed. — The dramatic structure, yes. And all the other stuff. We'll split it up. — you said, putting the book away. — You're coming over after dropping Max off, right? — you asked, standing up.

— Yeah. Most likely around 4:00. — he said, standing up as well when the bell rang and slinging his bag over his shoulder. — Let's go, doll.

Once Billy dropped you off at home, you laid the poster board on your bed and your backpack by your desk. You decided to shower and change into comfy clothes before Billy came over, after all you had about an hour. So you grabbed a pair of skull pajama pants and a big shirt, before heading into the bathroom. You turned the water on high, stripping off your clothes from the day, leaving you in your underwear. Grabbing your moms essential rose oil, you dropped a couple drops into the shower before leaving it slightly unopened on the rack next to the shower. The smell would help relieve the tension of the day, and get you focused for schoolwork. Finally, you took off your bra and underwear, stepping in.

The hot water hit you in the face, and you welcomed it. Scrubbing your face, you made sure to get your mascara and concealer off so that when you got out you wouldn't look horrifying. You let the water travel to your hair, smoothing it down your shoulders. Steam filled up the bathroom, the smell of rose invading your senses.

The roaring of the water was so loud that you didn't hear your front door open or Billy shouting for you name.

Billy pulled up to your driveway, hopping out of his car and heading up to the front door. Max had been dropped off at Mike's, not Dustin's, so it was a lot closer than he thought. He decided not to stop at home afterwards, and just head straight to your place. So he got there around 3:20, rather than 4:00. Not that big of a deal.

Banging on the door, Billy waited a minute or two for you to answer. When you didn't, he tried again, but louder. After the third time, Billy just barged in, rolling his eyes at the fact it was unlocked.

— Hey! Y/N? — he called out, hearing the shower running. Kicking his shoes off by the door, Billy tossed his jacket onto the back of your couch. He didn't hear a response from you, so he headed towards the bathroom. Knocking on the door with his knuckles, he leaned against the frame.

— Come in! — Billy's eyes shot open, looking at the closed door in shock.

As you were putting shampoo into your hair, you heard a knock on the bathroom door. You looked over at it through the glass doors, thinking of who it could be. Your mom wouldn't be home until later, and an intruder wouldn't fucking knock. So you probably lost track of time, and it was Billy.

— Come in. — you called out, not minding if he did or not. The glass walls were textured and opaque so he wouldn't be able to see anything porn-worthy.

And the two of you had paraded around in front of each other with your underwear on before, it wasn't much different. There was a pause before the door creaked open, and the outline of Billy came in.

— Sorry I'm early, doll. — he said, his voice darker than normal. — It didn't take as long to drop Max off. And I figured I'd stop by right after to get a head start on the project, maybe hang out for a while. I didn't realize you'd be naked.

— It's fine. — you laughed, opening the door slightly so you could poke your head out. He was sitting on the sink counter, shirtless. Every other girl in Hawkins was wet for Billy Hargrove, how could they not be? And of course you fell into that category. But you couldn't express it like they could, even though you were closer to him than they were. A few times a week, you'd find your hand sneaking down your underwear, his name leaving your mouth as you writhed against your sheets.

— Don't take too long, alright? — Billy pleaded, when he looked up and saw you looking out of the shower. His cheeks were red, but you passed it off as the hot steam. — Why the hell does it smell like roses in here? There aren't any flowers. — he questioned suddenly, lifting his nose in the air and diverting his eyes away from your wet neck.

— It's my momma's rose oil. I use it to relax. — you said, a 'duh' tone to your voice as you closed the door. — And I'll take however damn long as I please.

— Course you will. — Billy grumbled, and you smirked to yourself. You washed away the shampoo as Billy fired off more questions. — Why do you need rose oil to relax? Doesn't that burning water help?

— Not entirely. It helps my muscles from being hunched over all day, and the steam helps with my nose. But the rose oil adds the extra flare. It's rejuvenating.

— Rejuvenating? The hell's that supposed to mean? — Billy ridiculed, hopping off the counter and moving closer to the door so he could hear you better over the shower.

— It's like... I don't know Billy! — you huffed, opening the door suddenly and popping your head out. You were startled when you came face-to-face with him, noticing the way his eyes darted down to your nearly exposed chest and back up. — It helps with headaches, my skin if I apply it directly onto it, and the smell is just nice. Don't you think? It's just fucking relaxing. Unlike you right now. It's amplified in the shower, so I apologize if you're not getting the full treatment. — you snapped, getting frustrated. Having Billy so close in an intimate setting was rough, especially when you couldn't touch. It was like a goddamn museum, you can look, drool and adore. But if you touch, you're getting arrested.

— I'm getting the full treatment just fine, baby. — Billy snickered, leaning closer to you as his eyes dragged up and down your hidden form. Your face heated up, and you shot your hand out, shoving his face back.

— Pff, yeah right, Hargrove. — you scoffed, closing the door and diving under the water. Your breathing was heavy and you tried to mellow it out by focusing on your conditioner.

— You still with that Caden guy? — Billy suddenly asked, his voice now on the other side of the doors, causing your eyebrows to furrow.

— No, I broke it off two weeks ago. Remember? He couldn't decide if he wanted me or Jenny more, even though he was fucking her the whole time.?— you laughed dryly, running the conditioner through your hair as you shook your head at the memory.

— Good. — Billy muttered, but you still caught it. — You could do so much better than him.

— Yeah? — you laughed, shaking your hair to even out the conditioner. — Like who, you?

— Exactly like me. — you stopped, and turned to the end of the doors. There was an audible zipping sound, causing your heart to speed up.

— That so? And what makes you think that, Billy? — you called out, biting your lip and turning to face the water again, washing out the conditioner, in hopes of calming yourself. Your heart hammered against your chest when you heard the shower doors open, as if it was about to leap out of your throat. You didn't turn around however, opting to close your eyes as the water hit your face.

— Cause. — he replied simply, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

Your eyes shot open as rough hands gripped at your hips, spinning you around. Your arms collided with Billy's chest, your head tilting up to look at him. His blond hair was beginning to stick to his face, and his blue eyes stuck out more than ever against the tiles. You weren't given anymore time to admire him, because his lips were on yours instantly. Both of you were swallowing water, your lips pushing against each other desperately. Billy walked the two of you backwards carefully, making sure you didn't slip, until your back hit the wall. You were now out of the harsh spray of the water, and you broke away to gasp for clear air.

— Are you.. — you attempted to ask, not wanting him to regret this, and have the friendship ruined.

— Yes, yes I'm sure, Y/N. — Billy said, not giving you the chance to finish. His hand reached up, pushing your wet, dark hair out of your face before leaning back down to capture you in another demanding kiss. Your fingers tangled in his damp curls, tugging slightly when his hands gripped your waist tightly.

Billy moved his hands under your thighs and crouched, indicating you to jump, and you did. Your legs tightened around his waist for dear life, knowing that if either of you gave out it'd end in a naked hospital trip.

— Fuck. — you moaned out, breaking the kiss as his cock rubbed against your pussy, tilting your head back. Billy ducked his head, attaching his mouth to the center of your throat, biting the thin flesh before sucking it. You whimpered, moving your body up and down the slick wall slightly, giving the both of you more friction. His nails dug into your ass, pinning you to the wall so you couldn't move.

— Don't do that, princess. — he warned lowly, vibrating against your throat. You could feel the occasional pulse of his cock against you, and you wanted nothing more than for it to be in you. Whether it was your mouth or pussy, you didn't care. You just wanted it.

— Billy, please. — you whined, after having waited patiently for him to finishing sucking on your neck.

— What do you want, baby. — he growled, pulling back to look up at you. You didn't answer him, instead you held onto his shoulders tightly so you could unwrap your legs without death. Once your feet were safely on the ground, you flipped the two of you, so his back was against the wall and your back was facing the water. Giving him a smirk, you kissed the corner of his mouth before getting on your knees. Billy's tongue darted out, licking along his lips while looking down at you, his hand running through your wet hair. Grabbing his dick in your hand, you pulled at it a few times, twisting your hand along the base. Leaning down, you gave the tip a few kitten licks, gathering the pre-cum onto your tongue. Looking up at Billy, you waited until his eyes fluttered closed before taking the beginning of his dick into your mouth.

— Ugh, Y/N. — Billy grunted, his hold on your hair tightening. You smiled internally, licking the underside of his cock, and then left to right in order to ease your mouth farther down. It took a few minutes, but soon enough the tip had gone past your tonsils. Your eyes were watering, and saliva was dribbling out of the edges of your mouth. Billy's hips bucked against your mouth, his tight grip on your hair giving you a steady rhythm. Continuous moans streamed out of his mouth, and eventually you were roughly pulled off of his dick.

— Not yet, baby. — he said, more so to himself than you. You understood what he meant, and grinned in satisfaction. Putting his finger under your chin, Billy guided you to stand up. Holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger, Billy pulled you in for a slower, more passionate kiss. Your hands rested on his chest, relishing in the warmth of the water and his body. His free hand traveled down the small of your back, tickling you as he went, before gropping your ass.

— Billy.. — you gasped, your voice breathless. You grinded yourself against him again, growing impatient. You looked into his eyes, chewing on your bottom lip to keep in your needy whines. Billy simply smirked down at you, fully aware of what it was you wanted – no, needed.

— Hmm? — he hummed, a wicked grin on his face. You let out an impatient huff, ducking your head to harshly bite at his shoulder. Billy hissed out, the hold on your ass tightening before it released. You thought he was just gonna move you two, but instead he brought his hand down in a harsh slap.

— Ah, Fuck. — you cried out in shock, arching your back.

— Don't bite. — he warned, and then he finally pushed your body against the wall on the side, the cool tile instantly calming down your burning ass cheek.

— Then fuck me already, you jerk. — you snapped, running your thumb over the bite mark on his shoulder. Billy's eyebrow rose at your bold statement, and you simply grinned up at him. His fingers ran down your stomach, tracing at your curves and marks of imperfections. He kept eye contact with you as his middle and ring finger dipped between your folds, slowly dragging from your entrance to your clit. Your body jumped at finally being touched, a sigh leaving your mouth. His thumb rolled around your nub, your hips jerking occasionally, while his middle finger worked it's way inside you. A small grunt sounded in your throat, and you held onto Billy's shoulder, leaning your head against the wall. Once his middle finger was in to the knuckle, he pushed in his ring finger and began pumping them in and out of you, curling them.

— Ugh. — you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulder. Billy started kissing his way around your jaw, neck and chest, occasionally licking your nipple for fun. He added his forefinger after a minute, another moan escaping. You bit your lip, hard, holding in another whimper.

— Why are you being so quiet, princess? It's just us. — he mused, biting at your earlobe.

— I don't wanna boost your ego. — you snickered, yelping when his thumb pressed down on your clit and his fingers dug inside you even more.

— Yeah, well. — he laughed, shaking his head. — You can't hide the sounds you're making down here. — he snickered, slowly pulling his three fingers out of you and bringing them to his mouth. His tongue moved between his fingers, licking your juices and the shower water off of them. You watched, mesmerized.

Once his fingers were cleaned to his liking, he gripped the back of your thighs, having you jump up again. He gave you a nod, questioning if you were ready or not. You nodded yours quickly, having been ready for this for months. Aligning his cock with your entrance, Billy didn't have the ability to ease himself in because of your guys positions. So with one quick thrust, he was inside you, his hand splayed out against the wall and the other gripping your ass.

— Fuck. — you screamed, throwing your head back, crying out when it hit the wall. Billy was big, bigger than his three fingers. Your arms pulled him closer, trying to even out your breathing and relax your muscles around him. Billy didn't move, small moans being breathed into the crook of your neck.

— I'm sorry, doll. — he whispered, knowing it hurt. You didn't have lube or a condom, and not much preparation.

— No, no, don't apologize. — you said quickly, squeezing yourself around him to emphasize. — It's fine. You can.. you can start.

Billy removed his head to look at you, but when you gave him a nod he started moving. He thrusted slowly, not wanting to lose his grip on you or push your body. Both of you were breathing heavily, and you moved your body along his, matching his thrusts with your own.

— God. — he moaned, pulling his cock farther out before slamming back in, continuing the movement over and over again. Your nails scratched their way over his shoulder blades, biceps, back and anywhere they could reach. The pain was decreasing as the thrusting went on, and when Billy moved you slightly to the left, slamming back in, your eyes shot open.

— Holy fuck, right there, Billy! — you shouted out, arching yourself into him.

Billy smirked up at you, licking his bottom lip and doing as you said. He quickened his pace, no longer hearing your hisses of pain, and thrusted into you quickly. The sound of his skin slapping against yours, as well as the sound of your back hitting the wall, echoed throughout the bathroom, overpowering the shower.

— Ugh, god. — Billy grunted, throwing his head back. — I can't hold out much longer, Y/N. — he moaned, looking down at you just as you opened your eyes to look at him.

— I'm close too. — you whimpered, hiking yourself higher up on the wall, screaming out when his cock hit the spot again, but deeper. — Fuck, fuck, fuck. — you moaned, a streamline of curse words leaving your mouth. — Billy, I'm.. — you tried to warn him, but a high pitched moan escaped before you could finish as the heat in the bottom of your stomach exploded. A wave of warmth washed over you, your toes curling and your thighs squeezing around Billy, pulling him closer. You mouth fell open, letting out a small, quiet gasp as you orgasmed.

Billy pulled out quickly, feeling his own orgasm wash over him, and his hot cum sprayed over your stomach and the tops of your thighs. Your head fell to his shoulder limply, your body slipping down the shower wall, as it shook from your orgasm. You could see your thighs wiggling, and Billy gently lowered you to the floor. When the cold shower water hit you, you welcomed it, letting the cum wash off of you.

— Hey. — Billy whispered, his arms wrapping around you from behind. — This isn't a one time thing. I want you to be mine.

— Good. — you grinned, a giddy feeling coming over you, more intense than your orgasm. You turned around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. — Let's go take a nap, that project can wait until later.

[ak-vintage]

Miller Tours | Secret Springs Resort

Prompt: Joel Miller & Speedboat Rides

Created for the Secret Springs event hosted by @secretelephanttattoo

Dividers by the incomparable @saradika-graphics

The first words he says to you are a blunder, and though unintentional, you would be lying if you said they didn’t sting a little.

“Howdy. Welcome in.” His voice is low and warm, friendly but somehow calmer, more subdued than you had come to expect from the little beach town’s many small business proprietors. “You must be my 2:00. Boat tour for two?”

He glances up at you from his post behind a weathered, white-washed counter, the little hut at the edge of the marina looking like something out of time. There’s a wooden sign with peeling paint hanging over the door, “MILLER TOURS” printed across its surface in navy blue lettering, and rather than a credit card reader or a sleek tablet on a swiveled mount, he has an old bronze cash register at one end of the counter. Spread out before him are two binders describing the features of different tour packages, and there’s a corkboard on the far wall featuring a collage of sun-bleached photographs of past adventures, all of which are held in place with shining silver pushpins.

Boat tour for two? It makes sense. That is what your reservation was for. Still, something in your chest seizes at the question, and you offer him a pained smile.

“Uh. Just one, actually,” you say, hoping that will be the end of the discussion. Of course, that is wishful thinking.

Quirking a frown at you, the man behind the counter pulls a clipboard from a drawer and scans it quickly. He says your name like a question, and you nod, lips pressed together in a tight line.

“Okay. So Bryan won’t be joining us today?” he asks. You think you see something like understanding in the tightness around his eyes, the way his prominent brows pick up just a bit in the middle, wrinkling his golden, sun-warmed skin.

“Nope. Just me.” You tug at your coverup, a delicate, crocheted thing you’d bought specifically for this trip because of the little peeks of skin it afforded, letting you show off your new bikini while still having the illusion of some coverage. The person you had bought it for, however, is hundreds of miles away now, admiring someone else’s skin, someone else’s body.

And you are here. Alone.

“I…I hope that’s all right. I’ll still pay the two-person fee, it’s not a problem,” you say after a beat of tense, significant silence.

However, instead of the reluctant acquiescence you’re expecting, the man grants you a soft smile, and he shakes his head, his dark, salt and pepper curls bouncing as he does. “That won’t be necessary, darlin’. Why don’t you let me get locked up here, and we can get you out on the water?”

A wave of relief passes over you at that, and you nod readily. “That sounds good…” You hesitate, unsure of how to address him, but he rescues you quickly from any further social awkwardness.

“Captain Miller,” he says as he rounds the counter. He extends a large, calloused hand in your direction, and you shake it happily. His fingers dwarf yours, but rather than feeling intimidated, instead it just makes you feel safe. Cared for. “But you can just call me Joel.”

You spend the afternoon lounging at the back of Joel’s speedboat, a tidy, well-kept thing that cuts through the water like a knife, showering you with mists of saltwater as he makes a circuit up and down the coast of Secret Springs. He lets you run the boat’s radio, lets you choose the speed, lets you tell him when you would like to stop and take pictures and when you would like to keep going. You quickly take off your coverup to bask in the afternoon sun, soaking in its rays and luxuriating in the ocean breeze, and he almost manages to keep his eyes focused on the ocean. You almost manage to stop yourself from blushing under his gaze.

About an hour in, Joel reaches down into the storage compartment underneath the helm and pulls out a cooler with a chilled bottle of crisp white wine and two glasses. He pours you a generous glass, mumbling something about not knowing much about wine but knowing that this one is usually a crowd-pleaser. You, of course, offer him the other glass, and though he protests that he really shouldn’t, that it’s bad manners to drink on the job, he eventually accepts. You pour him his own splash of wine, and when he asks you what you would like to toast to, you tell him, “New beginnings.”

As the sun begins to lower in the sky, Joel takes you to a secluded cove on the southern end of town. There’s an area there that has been roped off for swimming, and he drops anchor and tells you you’re welcome to take a dip if you’d like before he takes you back to the marina. You slip into the cool water with no further prompting, eager to refresh yourself after a day in the summer sun, and this time, he makes no attempt to hide the way that he watches you as you float leisurely in the shallows.

By the time he is pulling the speedboat back up to the marina, hopping out onto the dock to haul it the rest of the way in with a length of rope twisted around his thick, tanned forearm, you realize you haven’t thought about Bryan once all afternoon.

When you head back into the Miller Tours building to settle up on your bill, you ask Joel for a piece of scrap paper, and he hands you the final, useless length of receipt paper from an old roll he had stashed away behind the counter. You hand him back your payment for the excursion, a generous tip, and your phone number and the name of the hotel you’re staying at scrawled across that length of receipt paper.

“You sure about this, darlin’?” he asks you as you head for the door.

You glance back over your shoulder at him and smile, feeling lighter, happier, freer than you have in months.

“Definitely,” you say, and then you watch as Captain Miller slips the piece of paper into the front pocket of his shirt.

Tapping his hand over that pocket, as though to promise you he will keep it safe, he replies, “Get home safe, sweetheart. I’ll give you a call tomorrow. See if we can’t get that ‘new beginning’ you’re after started off right.”

[domm1etae]

sent to tempt me - chapter one

chapter one: the first glimpse

chapter summary: Yunho arrives at his new dorm, hoping for peace and quiet, but his expectations are shattered when he meets his unexpected and enigmatic roommate

pairing: yunho x mingi

genre: smut (not yet but there will be eventually), angst, fluff, romance, m/m, non!idol!ateez, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, drama, coming of age, collage, religion

rating: 18+ (for the whole series bc there will be smut eventually) | mdni

word count: 2.2k

warnings under

collage, roommates, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, bad boy mingi and religious church good boy yunho same-sex attraction, m/m, teasing, dark themes, homophobia, self discovery, pet names, strangers to lovers, religion and religious topics, aaaand more will be added soon hehehe

 next chapter | AO3 | this fics masterlist

author's note: my first series, yaaaay! I’m so excited about this, and I hope you’ll like it. let me know how you feel about the first chapter in the comments. also, should I make a tag list for this?

Yunho grew up in a house where silence spoke louder than words. Yunho grew up in a house where everything had its place.

Every Sunday morning, he woke up to the scent of his mom’s freshly brewed coffee and the sound of his dad humming hymns in the kitchen. Breakfast was always ready by 8:00 a.m. sharp, the same time they left for church.

His family wasn’t unkind; they loved each other in the way a well-rehearsed choir loves its conductor: faithfully, dutifully, but not too loudly. The Jeongs didn’t argue or slam doors. They lived in neat, quiet harmony, with Bible verses framed on the walls and a family portrait taken at the church picnic hanging above the mantel.

Yunho always knew his role in this symphony of order. He was the son they prayed for, the one who didn’t talk back or skip curfews. At 13, he was the boy who stayed late after services to help clean up, stacking chairs and sweeping floors while other kids hung out in parking lots blasting music. He was the one teachers praised, neighbors admired, and his parents held up as an example, they always smiled proudly, calling him “their angel.”

And Yunho liked being good.

At least, he thought he did. Until the dreams started.

Dreams that left him waking up in a panic, drenched in sweat, begging God for forgiveness before he even got out of bed. Dreams that weren’t about the soft curves of a girl’s body, like he knew they were supposed to be, but about sharp jawlines, strong hands, and broad shoulders.

It wasn’t just the dreams. It was the way he couldn’t stop looking. At first, it was small things—admiring how his classmate’s uniform shirt stretched across his chest during gym class or wondering why he felt so warm when he saw certain smiles. He convinced himself it was normal. Just admiration, nothing more. But it didn’t stay fleeting.

He prayed for hours at night, whispering to God to make it go away. “Please, Lord,” he’d say, clutching the cross on his bedside table until his hands hurt. “Don’t let me feel like this.” But the thoughts didn’t stop.

He never told anyone. Not his friends, not his parents, not even the priest during confession.

He thought about telling Father Lee once. After Sunday Mass, he lingered outside the confessional, hands trembling, heart racing. But when he finally stepped inside, knees pressing into the wooden kneeler, the words froze in his throat.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” he managed, his voice barely audible.

The priest’s calm, steady reply came through the lattice screen. “What troubles you, my child?”

Yunho’s hands gripped the edge of the pew until his knuckles turned white. He wanted to say it. He wanted to confess. But the weight of it, the shame—it was too much.

Instead, he mumbled something about talking back to his parents and skipped dinner that night, too sick with guilt to eat.

Books became his escape.

Yunho discovered literature the way some kids discover a secret hideout: by accident, but it quickly became his sanctuary. He wasn’t one to seek it out; books, like distant cousins, were something that didn’t seem to fit in his world. But on a lazy summer afternoon, when his parents were busy with their own lives, Yunho wandered into his father’s study. The room smelled of old wood and dust, filled with shelves of books that always seemed too formal to touch, too thick to bother with.

It was there, buried under a stack of untouched textbooks, that he found an old copy of The Great Gatsby. The cover was faded, the corners of the pages slightly curled, but something about it called to him. There was no reason for Yunho to pick it up—he wasn’t interested in the world of the Roaring Twenties, the glamor or the excess—but something about the worn edges, the ink fading in places like a secret waiting to be unraveled, made him curious.

He sat down on the living room floor, cradling the book in his hands, the cover smooth under his fingertips. When he opened the first page, it was as if the world had shifted. The words seemed to leap off the page, weaving a narrative that was both foreign and familiar. He got lost in it: the parties, the glamour, the yearning, the tragedy. The way Jay Gatsby’s life felt so full of promise, yet so hollow at the same time.

There was something about the way words could paint entire worlds, how they could make you feel things so vividly that it almost hurt. With every turn of the page, Yunho found himself sinking deeper into Gatsby’s world, a world that was both dazzling and dark, where no one was who they appeared to be. For the first time, Yunho could relate to the idea of masks—of playing a part and feeling alone, no matter how many people surrounded you. It was as if the book had taken something deep inside of him and pulled it into the light.

For Yunho, books weren’t just stories; they were freedom.

They were a bridge to a place where no one judged him, where no one expected him to be perfect. In the pages of The Great Gatsby, there was no family name to live up to, no prayers to recite, no duty to be a certain kind of son. There was just the raw, beautiful act of existing without judgment. The characters, flawed and human, didn’t try to pretend they were anything other than what they were. They loved, they hurt, they sought something more—but they were always, in some way, authentic.

Books gave Yunho a place to escape the life he had to lead—one that demanded perfection, one that demanded silence when all he wanted was to shout. Every character, whether they were noble or tragic, flawed or redeemed, felt real to him in ways his real life didn’t. He could be whoever he wanted to be when he opened a book. He could think things that scared him, feel things that frightened him, all in the comfort of knowing it wasn’t real.

He read everything he could get his hands on—Shakespeare, Frost, Brontë. Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, Hamlet—the classics that made him feel like he was standing on the edge of something monumental. He fell in love with the way poetry could turn pain into something beautiful, the way prose could make even the simplest moments feel profound. Each word he read felt like an invitation to a world he was never allowed to explore in real life.

There was power in poetry. The kind of power that made you feel seen even when you weren’t speaking. A line from a poem could echo in his chest like a secret whispered into his ear—how the pain in the words felt like his own pain, and yet it was shared, universal. He began scribbling lines in the margins of his notebooks, quoting his favorite poets, trying to capture something of the way they made him feel. But his words never seemed enough. His words never seemed to touch the depth of the feeling, the longing he couldn’t explain.

In books, there was no shame. No guilt. Just characters and their stories, raw and human. No one to look at him with pity in their eyes, no one to ask questions he couldn’t answer. He was free in a way that no one ever told him he could be.

When the acceptance letter from the University of Seoul arrived, Yunho saw it as a sign.

A fresh start.

A chance to focus on his studies, to leave behind the heavy silence of his house, the suffocating expectations of his family. To be free, not just in his mind but in the world. He dreamed of quiet nights in a tidy dorm room, stacks of books surrounding him, the hum of a desk lamp keeping him company as he read well into the night. He imagined himself walking the leafy campus, the world sprawling before him—endless possibilities, untouched and waiting. He imagined being the kind of student who got lost in lectures, who lost track of time in libraries, who got so caught up in books and ideas that the rest of the world felt far away.

He imagined a life where he didn’t have to hide who he was. Where his thoughts didn’t feel like a burden. He could be a literature major, someone who was known for his intelligence, for his passion for the written word, without anyone ever asking about the things he kept hidden. No one would ever know about the turmoil inside him, the yearning that crept up every time he thought about something or someone in a way that didn’t feel right.

The thought of a fresh start was everything he’d dreamed of. It was the chance to begin again, to bury his fears in books, to embrace his studies without the guilt.

But when he stepped into his new dorm, those dreams started to crack.

The first thing Yunho noticed about the dorm was the smell.

It wasn’t bad—just different. A faint mix of cleaning solution and something else he couldn’t quite place, something organic, maybe even a little musky, like a place that had been lived in. It hit him instantly, a sharp contrast to the scent of the fresh air outside. As he stepped inside, the small living room greeted him with beige walls, mismatched furniture—an old, faded gray couch with a wobbly coffee table in front of it, and a tiny kitchenette tucked into the corner like an afterthought. The kind of space that made you think the people who built it were more concerned with efficiency than comfort.

There were two doors leading to separate bedrooms, just like the housing brochure promised, and a narrow hallway that led to a cramped bathroom. It was basic, functional, nothing fancy.

Yunho let out a small sigh of relief. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough. It was quiet—blissfully, eerily quiet. The kind of quiet his mom had warned him about, the kind he’d been desperate for since they’d first dropped him off at the university.

“Call us when you get there, alright? And eat well! Are you sure you’re not forgetting anything? Don’t forget your vitamins—oh, and make sure you pack extra socks!” His mom’s voice had been a constant hum in the back of his mind the entire journey. She was always so concerned, so fixated on the little things.

His dad, quieter but just as insistent, had kept reminding him to stay focused on his studies and “be a good boy.” It wasn’t that they didn’t trust him, but they’d never really let him out of their sight long enough to be sure he could take care of himself. So, as Yunho unloaded his suitcase into his new dorm room, his parents’ voices still echoed in his head. “Eat well,” “Take care of yourself,” “Stay safe.” They said it as if every part of his life depended on their supervision.

But now, as he stood there alone in his new room, he felt a little freer than he expected. Sure, the place wasn’t what he’d dreamed of, but it was his. No hovering, no expectations. It felt… private. Safe.

He dropped his suitcase by the door and took a moment to look around. For a second, the room felt empty—like it was waiting to be filled with something, or someone. Yunho had imagined this moment a thousand times in his head, but it didn’t match what he had expected. He’d pictured coming here to study, to read in peace, to finally get a break from the pressure of his family and the silent, constant burden of expectations that never seemed to ease. Here, he thought, would be his fresh start.

Then he saw it.

A black leather jacket draped over the couch.

It looked expensive, the kind of thing Yunho had only seen in movies or on mannequins in department stores. The leather was soft and worn, creased in places where it had clearly been lived in. The silver zippers glinted faintly under the fluorescent lights, and as Yunho stepped closer, the scent of cologne hit him—sharp, musky, and a little too out of place in a room this plain.

Yunho frowned. His roommate must have arrived already.

Curious, he stepped closer and reached out, fingers brushing against the cool material. It felt smooth under his touch, almost like the jacket had been designed to be a piece of armor—something protective, something that spoke of confidence and mystery. A strange thought flickered in his mind: Who was this person?

He had barely processed the thought when he heard a voice, smooth and low, slicing through the silence.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have left it there.”

Yunho froze, his breath catching in his throat, as the sound of another voice rippled through him.

 next chapter | AO3 | this fics masterlist

[okieduckie]

🌼Let's get to know each other better! ASK GAME🌼 ask/tag these questions to the last 5 people who liked and reblogged from you 🐸

🔴 Do you like your name? if not, what name would you have liked instead? 🟠 where are you from? 🟡 gender?sexual orientation? 🟢 neurotypical or neurodivergent? 🔵 the color you love the most? 🟣 do you have any pets? 🔴 favorite flower? 🟠 tea or coffee? 🟡 favorite childhood book? 🟢 something you like of yourself? 🔵 what was your dream job when you were young? 🟣 favorite kind of candy? 🔴 list your favorite comfort movies? 🟠 what's your favourite season? 🟡 do you like it when it rains? 🟢 are you afraid of thunder? 🔵 do you like your laugh? 🟣 favourite stim toys? 🔴 what type of music do you like? 🟠 icecream flavour? 🟡 favorite cartoon from the 80s? 🟢 favorite cartoon from the 90s? 🔵 favorite cartoon from the 00s? 🟣 if you were an animal, what would you be? 🔴 what's the last song you listened to? 🟠 sweet or salty? 🟡 do you have a favorite plushie? take a picture : ) 🟢 what is the most annoying sound for you? 🔵 what's your superhero name? 🟣 what's something you're really good at? 🔴 what's something you're really bad at? 🟠 which emoji do you use most often? 🟡 do you play video games? if so, which ones? 🟢 do you have a favorite fairy tale? 🔵 do you like horror movies? 🟣 who's your favorite disney character? 🔴 who's your favorite disney villain? 🟠 do you believe in magic? 🟡 halloween or christmas? 🟢 do you collect anything? if so, take a picture of your collection : ) 🔵 your favorite gemstone? 🟣 show your latest doodle/drawing/collage

[bidonica]

Some artists are taking their art off twitter in protest because of Musk's latest AI scraping announcement, and many are pointing out if your art (and text) is public on the internet it definitely has already been scraped quietly before, while Elno is probably just pushing his own proprietary AI, which... I guess is a silver lining on a cloud of shit.

But it got me thinking of the old adage "when they give you something for free, it means the product is you", and how up until not long ago that meant socmedia platforms would host your content in exchange for information on what you liked, how old you were, your political leanings, your physical and psychological ailments, and so on and so forth, into increasingly murky ethical territory. We've seen what the algorithm has done to push entire demographics of voters towards reactionary politics. BUT, as tenuous as it was, this exchange between the content host and its users still left the latter with agency. You can be influenced, but ultimately you can choose not to buy, you can choose not to click on the ragebait article.

In the system that's shaping up you don't get to have that. Right now it feels like: oh you want to put up a little exhibition in a corner of the town's square? The licence fee is that your paintings are also ours now, and we can cut them up and turn them into a brand new collage. You want to step on a shoebox and give a little speech to whoever wants to listen? We have the right to record you and sample your voice so we can make a new tape where you say things you never really said, but it sounds like you.

I honestly don't know where we go from here; the only solution I can think of is legislation catching up with the technology and putting a cap on it, and/or the rise of a new platform whose selling point is that it's unscrapable (though it would probably amount to it being a gated community).

It's sad though, I started using the internet regularly between the late 90s and the 00s and there was such a sense of it being an infinite sandbox where anyone could build whatever they wanted from scratch, while now we're funneled towards predetermined spaces where whatever form of self expression is going to be monetized by your virtual landlords and worse, regurgitated as something different you have no control over.

[hswriting]

The Moment I Knew - Part 5

[Image alt ID: a collage of four picture on a soft pink background. The first picture is of a black and white eye. Makeup is smeared under it from crying. The second picture is of a locket necklace with a picture of a couple inside. The third picture is of a strapless pink, silk like dress, about mid thigh in length. The final picture is of pink lips with sparkly lip gloss. End Alt ID]

- - -

Masterlist Series Part 4 Part 6

- - -

2.9k words

- - -

Millie and Harry have decided to go on their first date together

Time has never went slower. I have done my work for the week and requested another assignment. I have done my home exercises for the day. I have journaled my heart out about this date. My anxiety and fear. My excitement and joy. Why am I so nervous?

I’ve known Harry for a while now. I’ve never felt the need to be nervous before. But now there are expectations. It’s not just friendship anymore. It’s more than that now, and I’m afraid I’m going to mess it up again.

5:00

5:10

5:14

Time is so slow.

I already took my shower. I’ve pinned my hair up really cute. I’ve got on a small bracelet. I’ve done my makeup light and simple. I put on my short, shiny, pink dress, pantyhose, and my black shoes. I have a clutch that matches my dress. It’s not super warm out. The snow was melting but it got cold again so I throw on a jacket. I sit on the couch and look at my phone.

5:47 pm.

It’s almost time. I walk in front of the mirror one last time to make sure I look okay.

“Find at least one thing Millie.” I tell myself. I scan myself over.

I like the way the gloss I put on my lips makes them shine. I also like the way my eyeliner brings out my eyes.

Knock knock

I feel my heart race at the sound of the door.

“Millie?” I hear echo through the house. It’s Harry.

“Coming!” I yell back. I take a deep breath and step out of my room and see the Christmas lights still hanging in the hallway. It’s after new years. I really should take them down. I continue to walk down the hallway. When I step out, I feel Harry’s eyes glued to me as soon as I’m in view. He looks over me and my outfit.

“You look stunning Millie.” He says and I feel heat creep up my neck and to my cheeks. “Breathtaking.” He says. I look at his outfit and he is wearing a nice pair of black jeans, a band t-shirt, and a leather jacket.

“You look great too Har.” I say. He steps towards me and wraps his arms around me. I smell a cologne on him that I’ve never smelled before, but it’s incredible.

We separate and he takes my hand. I feel a blush creep up to my cheeks. He leads me outside to the car and opens the door for me as he always does. There’s a bunch of purple flowers on the seat, some similar to the ones on my wrist.

“Harry!” I say excitedly. “These are beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like them.” He says. He closes my door and walks around and gets in. He starts driving. We end up in a part of town I haven’t really been to before. We park in the lot of a restaurant. I step out of the car and meet Harry at the front of the car. He takes my hand again and my stomach is filled with butterflies. He walks me to the door and we go in together.

The waitress takes us to our table and I open my menu. I am looking down the list of food items and see the prices and my eyes about fall out of my head. Why is ravioli 26 dollars? Is there gold on it?

“Harry these prices are wild!” I tell him. He shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it. Get whatever you want, love.”

“No, I am definitely paying for myself for this one.”

“Millie. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t pay for your dinner? I knew what the prices were when I chose this place for our date. It’s okay.” He says as the waitress takes our drink order and brings them back.

“Please H, let me help.”

“Millie. Let me do this for you.” He said. I gave in. I looked down the menu again and choose their broccoli chicken alfredo. Harry chooses something I don’t even know how to pronounce. The waitress walks away and Harry and I exchange a look. I open my clutch and pull out a box for Harry and he chuckles before he does the same.

“Looks like we had the same idea.” I laugh.

“Gift giving is my love language after all.” He replies with a smile. We slide them across the table to each other.

“You first.” I say and he pops the small box open. It’s a small band bracelet with words carved into it. You’re the reason I believe in fate, you’re my paradise. It’s one of his favorite songs. I had it made a while back and it was just going to be one of those random little gifts to give him, but when we planned our date I figured today would be a good day to give it. He immediately puts it around his wrist and he finds it hard to take his eyes off of it.

“I love this.” He says. “You always get the most thoughtful gifts.” I blush again. My face can’t get a break.

I reach to open my box. The box pops open easily and I see a silver locket. I open it up to see our first selfie together on one side, and the letter H carved into the other side. He stands up and comes behind me. He helps me place it around my neck and he closes the clasp. It hangs perfectly on me. He goes back around the table and sits down.

“I know you were upset when you had to get rid of your locket. I don’t even know if you realize how much you still reach for it. So I wanted to get you a locket that doesn’t have any bad memories attached.” He tells me and I feel tears well up in my eyes.

“Thank you Harry. I love it.” I tell him, unable to fathom any other words. My hands immediately cling to it and find comfort in holding it. I do my best to keep the tears in so I don’t ruin my makeup.

I see plates coming towards us, but am taken by surprise at who is holding the plates.

“Rachel? When did you start working here?” I ask her as she sets them down.

“About a week ago. You’d know that if you still bothered to talk to me.” She says half laughing, half serious.

“I’ve had a lot going on.” I defend myself.

“Looks like it.” She says. “You just never text or call me anymore. I thought you would have after the Kellen thing. Looks like you moved on pretty fast.”

“Rachel, that’s enough.” Harry demands her.

“Making your way through our friend circle one guy at a time. I didn’t realize you were like that.” The tears do finally spill from my eyes. I can’t even make any words come out of my mouth.

“Rachel. It’s time for you to leave us alone.” Harry says.

“I have to go back to work anyways.” She says and walks away.

What in the hell just happened?

“I’m so sorry Millie.” Harry says to me.

“I think I’m going to go to the bathroom for a minute. I’ll be back, okay?”

“Okay.” He says. I get up and walk as fast as I can to the bathroom. I finally get in there and look in the mirror. My makeup has started to run from crying. I grab wipes out of my purse and take it off. I put on another light face of makeup and take a good look at myself in the mirror.

I would never just hop around our friend group. That’s not who I am. Surely she was just saying that because she wanted to hurt my feelings.

If that’s really what she thinks of me, I won’t go around them anymore. Just me and Harry if he still wants to stay. Unless now he doesn’t want me. I can’t say I would blame him. Having her act like that would scare me too.

I hear a knock on the door to the bathroom. “Millie.” I hear Harry say on the other side. I take a deep breath and walk out to find him standing there about to knock again. “I was worried. You had been gone a while.”

“I needed to fix my makeup and take a moment to calm down. I’m sorry.” I tell him. I lean into his open hug. His arms wrap around me tightly and I feel so safe.

“Don’t be sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah.” I say.

“Do you want to pack up and go home or do you want to eat?”

“We can eat if you want. I don’t want her to ruin our night.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s okay as long as you don’t mind.”

“Come on then.” He says and lets go of me. His arm lays along my back he gently leads me back to the table. We pick up and start eating. We pay the bill and walk out. Harry opens my door and lets me in. He gets in and starts the car, but we don’t move.

“I know that probably wasn’t the best first date you’ve ever been on, and I’m sorry. We can watch a movie or something tonight if you want to continue the date, or if you want to try again another day we can, love.”

“Can we watch a movie at your house?” I ask. “I want to continue the date, but your fireplace would feel so good right now.”

“I’ve got the heat going, but if you’re still cold you can have my jacket. Yours is so thin.”

“I don’t want you to be cold.” I tell him. He shakes his head and takes his leather jacket off. He helps me put the arms in to put the jacket over the one I have on. He finishes helping me and takes a good look at me. He bites his lip and looks away.

“Does it look stupid?” I ask.

“No. Of course not.”

“What’s that face for then?” I ask. He hesitates for a moment.

“You look really good in my jacket.” He says blushing. I smile at him.

“You can take a picture if you want Har. It might last longer.”

“Very funny.” He says, rolling his eyes.

“I’m serious. I don’t care if you take my picture. Just don’t let me see it.” I tell him.

“If you’re not comfortable seeing it I don’t have to take it.”

“I want you to have it. I just don’t want to see it until I’m feeling a bit better about everything.”

“It’s okay. I won’t take it. I don’t want to do any harm if you’re not doing well.”

“Har, if you don’t take it, I’ll take a selfie for you.”

“A selfie?”

“Yes.”

“Here.” He says. He unlocks his phone and hands it to me. I am a bit confused by this. “Maybe a selfie is a better step. But it’s up to you. Either way you’re going to look amazing.”

I hold up the phone. I put a dog filter on my face and take a selfie for him. I cringe at how I look. I can see the weight I’ve gained recently in my face. I used to not worry about it because Kellen told me it didn’t matter, but since the breakup I have been really conscious about it. I don’t even want to see this picture.

“Can I have one with no filter?” He asks. I hand him his phone.

“You can take it. I don’t want to do another selfie.”

“Okay.” He says. He holds the phone up and I give Harry a big smile. I’m sure he will love it. He snaps the pictures and puts his phone away. “You look great.” He tells me.

“Thanks.” I tell him. He puts the car in drive and we begin the route to his house.

We get inside and he takes time to light the fireplace. He sits in the couch and turns on the tv. I sit beside him as he chooses a movie. I grab a blanket from the back of the couch and cover up.

“Anything you want to watch?” He asks me and I shake my head.

“Whatever you want.” I tell him. He nods and finds something on Disney plus. He presses play and sets the remote down.

“Do you want to cuddle or is that too fast for you?”

“We can cuddle if you want.” I tell him. I am slightly anxious because we have never done anything more than hug. Harry lifts up his arm and lets me lay my head on his chest. He wraps his arm around my shoulders. I can hear his heartbeat. I feel so safe wrapped in his arms. We watch the movie, but I accidentally fall asleep.

- - -

I wake up in a bed I’ve never seen before. The sheets are tan. The pillows match. The blanket is a dark brown. It’s so warm though.

I look around the room and see pictures hanging on the wall. Harry is in almost all of them. Him and a little girl. Him and an older woman, who I can tell by her face, is his mom. One of him on stage. He looks younger. A few of a dog. I didn’t realize he liked pictures so much. I look in the nightstand to find a note.

Millie,

I know it could not have been comfortable to sleep in your dress, but I didn’t want to wake you to change. Feel free to grab something from my closet if you want some clean clothes.

-H

I slept pretty good despite being in my dress, but I don’t know how I feel bout taking his clothes yet. We just started dating yesterday., but I like him, so what should it matter. I’m afraid of moving too fast just because I’m afraid l will do something wrong.

Maybe just his jacket again would be okay since I’ve worn it before.

I find it in the closet and slip it on again and look in the mirror. Find one thing. I look and look but can only find that I like the way his jacket looks on me. I like the way it smells. I like the way it makes me think of Harry.

I step out of Harry’s bedroom and hear music coming from downstairs. I walk quietly down the stairs and realize it’s Harry singing.

You’ll never love yourself half as much as I love you. And you’ll never treat yourself right but darling I want you to. If I let you know I’m here for you. Maybe you’ll love yourself like I love you. Oh and I’ve just let these little things slip out of my mouth cause it’s you…

I step around and into his vision. He stops and greets me.

“Good morning.” He says. “I made coffee for you if you want it. I’m making breakfast.” He slides me a mug of coffee and I take it gratefully.

“Thank you.” I tell him after I take a long first sip. I sit down at his table.

“How many eggs would you like, love?”

“One please. Thank you.”

“Do you want toast?”

“Yes please.” I say and he smiles at me. He quickly makes my plate and serves it to me at the table. He sits down across from me and we begin to eat.

“How did I get to your room?” I ask him before I take a bite.

“I carried you.” He said nonchalantly.

“Up the steps? Harry I’m too heavy for all that.”

“No you’re not. I just wanted you to be comfortable.”

“I would have been fine on the couch. Where did you sleep then?”

“On the couch. I have extra blankets and pillows.”

“Har!”

“It’s fine, love. I don’t mind.” He says, putting a piece of toast into his mouth. There is a small window of silence.

“I have to work today at noon. You’re welcome to stay here, or I can take you home if you want.”

“I’ll go home. I don’t want to intrude on your space while you’re gone.”

“You wouldn’t be intruding.”

“What would I do while you’re gone?”

“Anything you want. Throw a party, make a mess.” He says with a chuckle.

“No way.” I say with a laugh. “I think I’ll just go home.”

“Okay. You can keep the jacket for now too.” He says as we finish our plates and put them in the sink. He gets another jacket and we put on our shoes. Harry holds my hand all the way to the car.

“I can’t wait for all of this snow to be gone. I worry about you slipping again.” He says softly as he opens my door. I climb in and he goes around.

“I’m sorry I make you worry.” I tell him and he gives me a smile.

“You don’t make me worry. I worry because I care about you. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” He says and puts the car into drive.

We pull into my driveway and put the car into park. I start to get out but Harry puts his hand on mine and stops me.

“Can I walk you to your door?” He asks. I nod. We get out and walk together. We stop at my door.

“Text me when you can?” I ask. He nods. He takes my hand and leans towards me. He plants a small kiss on my forehead. A wide smile paints both of our faces. He lets go and gets back in his car. He drives off only once I’ve unlocked the door and gone inside.

- - -

Masterlist Series Part 4 Part 6

[lovejustforaday]

2023 Year End List - #2

Ooh Rap I Ya - George Clanton

Main genres: Baggy, Chillwave

A decent sampling of: Trip Hop, Dream Pop, Synth Pop, Vaporwave, Breakbeat

Okay okay so yeah I'm very late to the whole George Clanton thing. Look you guyz, vaporwave and its adjacent scenes have never really been my cup of tea due to the general over-saturation of super amateur "vibes" artists with no songwriting chops. The gratuitous Japanese has also always reeked of pretentiousness to me. But there's almost always at least one diamond in the rough.

And I know that Clanton is really more regarded as a chillwave artist, and I know that there's a meaningful distinction between these genres, especially since the term 'chillwave' is at least a year or two older. But I guess in my own mind I just kinda put him in with the former, so he wasn't particularly high on my list of things to check out.

That is, until I saw those peculiar genre tags on his latest record and the general praise it got on my favourite insufferable hipster website rateyourmusic.com (sue me bitch). Baggy and chillwave together? Now THAT was something I had to hear.

And it just so happened to turn out that his stuff blew me away completely. Even upon my first listen, this LP had basically already skyrocketed to the number 2 spot on my year end list and managed to hold on for the rest of the year.

Every note off of Ooh Rap I Ya is drenched in a multicoloured neon slush that tastes like pure fifth gen console nostalgia (yes that's the only thing I can recall about the 90s tyvm). A portal to a dimension floating in a solution of sheer serotonin, with groovy baggy rhythms and gooey, acid-y synths. Layers upon layers of unabashed awesomeness condensed into thirty eight minutes that feel like hours of non-stop raving that still somehow ends all too soon.

There's been way more than enough homages in the 21st century paying tribute to 80s synth pop and its related genres. I'm glad that someone out there finally decided that the early 90s British baggy scene and its related "Madchester" club culture deserved a work of similar celebratory fondness. Not that I'm honestly too well-versed in it myself, though hearing this certainly makes me feel like taking that genre deep dive next year.

But like all good throwback revivalism, this record doesn't just rehash the era that it's paying tribute to. There's a lot of contemporary production techniques and ideas being applied here, and it's all filtered through a very post-internet 2.0 chillwave online aesthetics lens. And while sonically it feels incredibly optimistic, the lyrics have definitely been injected with some of the generational existentialism of its time.

Moreover, this basically just kicks ass more than 98% of anything else released this year. The songwriting is tight, the riffs are infectious to no end, the sound design is simply godlike, and Clanton's trippy pretty boy vocal styling blends seamlessly into this genre. It's just some good fucking timeless music that happens to be heavily influenced by a very time-and-place sound.

"Justify Your Life" has a very particular vibe, as though it was written from that headspace you get when it's 2:00 am and you should be tired, but instead your mind is hyper awake and you're up just kinda reflecting on everything over the last six months. The whole thing rides on the wave of a breezy looped guitar feedback sample, taking little plunges into deep plasmatic psychedelics during the chorus. Very chill and daydreamy, but also a little agitated and melancholy.

The torrential, churning feel-good chaos of "Punching Down" is almost enough to make me feel sick. So sugary and whimsical, you'd be totally forgiven if you missed George's lyrics dissing on the subject of the song, who might just probably be himself. The combination of rubbery arcade synths and a blown out drum machine pattern absolutely buries this song in a totally orgasmic collage. Someone shook the soda can and let it spray all over the damn place. Makes my brain go all fuzzy.

"I Been Young" is a quarter life crisis anthem that's musically somewhere halfway between INXS and Chapterhouse. Very boy band meets neo-psychedelia. The lyrics are poignant in a way I think all of us are destined to feel at some point. But there's also a kind of bittersweet, triumphant silver lining at play here, as in "yeah, life is pretty fucked, but look how far you've come!". Clanton does the great big beautiful chorus thing in a way that I've heard very few artists really manage to pull off so cool and effortlessly. Those colossal piano chords are purely divine. No other song this year comes quite so close to the sentimental, end-credits energy that this song manages to emanate from its very core. Insanely potent, and plainly one of the greatest songs of the decade so far.

"You Hold The Key And I Found It" has me swimming downwards in slow motion. This is for the point of the night at the rave for when you're beyond blasted, and you're kind of just absorbing your surroundings, with every second being its own little eternity. More vaporwave than anything else off the record, but this is a brilliant example of the genre's potential when the songs have the right amount of pulse to them.

"Ooh Rap I Ya" glows like little flourescent fishies swimming in an aquarium. Little bit of a new jack swing meets trip hop vibe on the beat here which makes it extra comfy and danceable. Those "ooh rap I ya"s during the bridge that give the album its title are just so sexy and snappy; I believe I've caught myself singing it at random at least a dozen times in the last month alone.

The sluggish closer "For You, I Will" is insane. This. Song. Is. Massive. I can't get over how utterly consuming it sounds, like impenetrable walls being erected towards the sky that obscure the nature of reality. This one simply must be heard on headphones to get the full experience. George Clanton employed the help of Hatchie 💖 to do the backing vocals on this, which I personally thought was a really cute addition seeing as how her 2022 record Giving The World Away was basically the only other prominent LP of the last few years (or decades, more likely) to pay a lot of homage to the 90s baggy sound.

For as consistently brilliant as the album sounds to my ears, I do admit I have one gripe with this record that I just couldn't look past to give it a 10.

The gripe is that "F.U.M.L." to me is just a weaker, simpler take on "I Been Young". I guess the whole ultra-teenage upbeat pop punk "let's chant gleefully about being edgy and depressed" has never really been my thing either (Looking at you Wheatus, grrrrr), no matter how many layers of nostalgia or even irony you try to bury it under. Maybe an uncharitable take, it's still a pretty decent song and production-wise it's excellent, but I have basically no fondness for it when compared to anything else on the LP.

But anyhow, shut the fuck up already Bradley cuz this record is goddamn amazing. Ooh Rap I Ya has very quickly become one of my favourites of the decade - heavily grounded in the psychedelic baggy sounds it derives from, while managing to be so incredibly forward thinking in its maximalist production and songwriting. George Clanton just landed himself at the top of my list of artists to be on the look out for new releases in the next few coming years.

9/10

Highlights: "I Been Young", "Punching Down", "For You, I Will", "You Hold The Key And I Found It", "Ooh Rap I Ya", "Justify Your Life", "Everything I Want"

[kittybonbon123]

Welcome home redemption au

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You know that felling when your life falls apart and once it seems like your life is being put back together into pieces it falls apart all over again? Well that how Wally’s life was. they thought that they were doing something good. Something that helped everyone and kept them safe from the truth…..

Büt thåt wáś æ łįę.

Wally just wanted to go to sleep and sleep through her curse maybe get this right, maybe actually maybe do something,but nope here he was 2:00 am holding up a dead mutilated sally over his shoulder running through the woods in his partly torn night gown. Holding back tears until she was in the middle of a large circular grassland field. Placing sally down in the middle of the large field, Wally finally started to sob as they started to draw around sally with a piece of chalk.

“*sniff* I’m so- so sorry- sally.. *sob* *hic* don’t worry about anything…. *sniff* I’ll- *hic* *sob* *sob* I’ll f-fix everything… I promise..”

As he was finishing drawing the clock/leaf like glyph on the grass, he give one final look toward Sally’s body getting down on both knees. “Don’t worry Sally *sniff* ill get this right.” Hands trembling he sliced his already Healy scarred right hand open enough to draw blood. Dripping the blood on Sally’s forehead and chanting the three words.

“Reverśé,rëvìve âñd førget..”

In a bright flash of blinding blue/white and red light the giant satanic glyph began to shot a beam upward to the sky as Sally’s body began to rise. Wally could do nothing but watch as his former friend body was lifted at lest 14 ft into the air.

“Everything will be ok sally I promise.”

But suddenly an large collage of colors came raining down from the sky surrounding Wally in its light. Wally looked up to see about ten people on staffs.

“Wally darling stop this right now!! You have taken this to far!”

“W- wha-what is this?! Why is this happening?! Please please don’t tell me it’s them…!”

For a moment the beam of light was visible to suddenly disappear and bursting into blinding bright lights and exploding. Wally who had reacted to late was caught in the blast letting out a blood curdling scream as it slowly started to fade out.

It had only had been a few seconds before the other neighbors had came running to the sound still in there pj’s.

“What on earth is going on he-!”

Before Eddie could finish his sentence the sight of the complete calamity of the once great and mighty grassland had most of the grass burned to a crisp and the once soft to the touch trees felt like hot iron. The smell of ash and sulfur had Eddie cutting off his sentence.

“Wha- what of earth?!? What happened hear?! Where’s wally!?”

Frank yelled. Looking around at the charred wreckage of the forest.

“We’re trying to save you…”

Said a female voice. A pale tall woman with long maroon with lime green eyes stepped forward to face the neighbors.

Behind her were at least four girls and five boys.

For the 2d girl she had black curly hair with red eye and tan brown skin holding a golden scythe.

For the 3th and 4th both of them had blonde curly hair and light blue eyes with dark brown skin, they seemed to be twins.

The three boys had red hair and different colored streaks and gold eyes with light tan skin.

Another had dark green hair and dark pink eyes with light brown skin.

the last one had dark blue hair with dark purple eyes with black replacing the outer white of the eyeballs.

“Who are you?” Julie asked.

“I think it better if we explained this at howdy’s shop”

(srry if this feels rushed.)

[sweetdreamsjeff]

John Zorn's "COBRA" live at The Knitting Factory

Cobra was recorded at the Knitting Factory, NYC, throughout 1992. John Zorn acted as conducter for the monthly impromptu jams, which were recorded and are dated according to month.

Jeff Buckley participated in April's recordings. Buckley contributed voice (tenor) to track 4, "Taipan," and track 5, "D. Popylepis."

@crudecube

2 years ago (edited)

Setlist for anyone trying to find a particular artist from the Knit.

0:00 - "Hemachatus Haemachatus" (Track 1)

2:12 - "Naja Naja Atra" (Track 2)

5:52 - "Many-Banded Krait" (Track 3)

16:19 - "Taipan" (Track 4)

17:49 - "D. Popylepis" (Track 5)

18:29 - "Lampropeltis Doliata Syspila" (Track 6)

21:01 - "Boomslang" (Track 7)

32:08 - "Maticora Intestinalis" (Track 8)

38:21 - "Acanthopis Antarcticus" (Track 9)

42:21 - "Hydrophiidae" (Track 10) > (Abrupt cutoff @ 44:51) ================[CUTOFF]=================

I may have got some wrong since they're so difficult to distinguish, with the ambient noise and faded transitions and all. If my approximations are correct, that leaves 4 tracks missing, which would get it to about an hour in length.

How do you play John Zorn's COBRA

The BBC documentary series On the Edge: Improvisation in Music (1992) includes a short segment of Zorn explaining and conducting two versions of Cobra.[8] His goal with Cobra, Zorn said, was to "harness" the creative developments in improvisation and extended techniques by New York City's downtown scene musicians in a semi-structured way, but "without hindering" their performances; he was interested in telling the musicians when to play, and with whom, but without telling them what to play. Plus-Minus (1963, 1974) by German composer Karlheinz Stockhausen was a key inspiration for Zorn, inspiring him to develop methods play with or against each other and in response to his cues but without dictating specific notes, sounds, or other formal structures. Though Cobra can be performed by any number of musicians plus a prompter who handles the cards, Zorn has stated that at least ten musicians are ideal, with care taken in selecting the musicians based on their improvisational skills and personalities.[7]

Release Date 1992

Duration 01:00:50

Recording Date 1992

Recording Location Knitting Factory

Jeff Buckley Guest Artist, Tenor (Vocal)

ALL MUSIC REVIEW

Live at the Knitting Factory Review by Scott Yanow

Calling this set of performances bizarre would be an understatement. John Zorn inspired (through obscure game playing that is not explained anywhere on this CD) these 14 eccentric "tributes" to different types of cobras. Because many of the performances utilize samplers and voices (in addition to conventional instruments and miscellaneous devices), the wide range of sounds attained from the 87 musicians (heard in different combinations) is impressive, if often quite unlistenable, ranging from humorous interludes to very obnoxious noise. For a few examples, "Cobra 4" has a man screaming over and over again, "Cobra 2" features a sound collage with a male opera singer repeating the same four notes continuously, and "Cobra 5" has, among its many vocal noises, a man imitating a dog barking. There are some colorful segments, but in general, these self-indulgent performances would be much more interesting to see in person than to hear on record. Taken purely as a listening experience, one is surprised that this material has even been released.

JOHN ZORN'S COBRA LIVE AT THE KNITTING FACTORY

Knitting Factory Works release date: 1995

CD#: KFW 124

Cobra was recorded at the Knitting Factory, NYC, throughout 1992. John Zorn acted as conducter for the monthly impromptu jams, which were recorded and are dated according to month. Jeff Buckley participated in April's recordings. Buckley contributed voice (tenor) to track 4, "Taipan," and track 5, "D. Popylepis." Credits for both track 4 & track 5: Jeff Buckley (voice, tenor) M. Doughty (voice, tenor) Judy Dunaway (voice, mezzo-soprano) Mark Ettinger (voice, tenor) Gisburg (voice, soprano) Cassie Hoffman (voice, soprano) Nina Mankin (voice, mezzo-soprano) Chris Nelson (voice, baritone) Juliet Palmer (voice, alto) Wilbur Pauley (voice, bass) Rick Porterfield (voice, baritone) Eric Qin (voice, baritone)

[nnjzz]

SECLUDED BRONTE + RYOJI IKEA + LA SPHYNGE

SECLUDED BRONTE uk RYOJI IKEA fr / jp / swe LA SPHYNGE / fr Le Petit Café 14 bd de Strasbourg 75010 M° Strasbourg St-Denis / Château d'Eau... EARLY SHOW !! 19:30 portes 20:00 aktion 22:12 fin P.A.F.  6€ SECLUDED BRONTE uk  "  ... trans-acoustic miniature lodge from London that propagates  Music Theatre from Hell. The trio - the infamous Bohman Brothers and radiologic composer Richard Thomas - revel in Psychedelic No Wave Go Go OuLiPo Disco Lipogrammatic Fantasy Rhythm and Poetry ( Felix Kubin ) Entre Ivor Cutler, Eugene Chadbourne, The Shadow Ring, mon cul sur la commode, ta mère devant la piscine,The Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band, The Temperance Seven, Fluxus, le GRM ( Parallèle - what else ), Lol Coxhill, ceci, voire cela & what have you .  Une fois n'est pas coutume * : il y aura de la CHANSON ( sic ) mais surtout PAS QUE. Formé il y a une bonne vingtaine d'années, il s'agit d'un super ( super ) groupe, " minimaliste et brutaliste " qui opère en secrétant des structures hybrides, sous forme des pop-songs parfois,lorgnant vers la tradition du music-hall bien british mais contaminées par une certaine forme d'entropie galopante (ou :  bien discrète), brassant ( et bruissant ) large à l'aide d'objets amplifiés, guitare, piano, limericks, monologues impromptus, gags, chorégraphies, et ... autres formes de procès ( ou processus). " ( toujours à ) creuser un sillon idiosyncrasique au cœur de ce que l’on pourrait appeler l’art-music.Selon leurs propres dires, ils ne sont pas tant un rayon dans un magasin de disques que le magasin de disques lui-même. Drôle de record shop où l’on retrouverait dans le même bac : du Rock ‘n’ Roll, du bric-à-brac, des sons de grenouille taureau, de la noise abstraite, du hardcore, de la musique concrète, des bandes originales de films, de la poésie, des chansons et mêmes des sketchs ! Ne pas s’y tromper : Secluded Bronte improvise rarement, mais leurs compositions se construisent sur les débordements incessants.Ils adoptent principalement une approche conceptuelle de la musique. " ( Instants Ch. )   Les frères Bohman opèrent dans les marges de l’underground londonien depuis des décennies.Ensemble ou séparément, dans Morphogenesis, The Bohman Brothers, The London Improvisers Orchestra... .. Il leur arrive de collaborer fréquemment avec le cinéaste Peter Strickland - il a publié un 7" d'eux sur son label Peripheral Conserve et ils incarnent le temps d'un caméo des bruiteurs de cinéma dans son BERBERIAN SOUND STUDIO. Richard Thomas est multi-instrumentiste, inclassable, écrivain, comédien... The Bohman Brothers are known for their unique live performances mixing theatre, speech and sounds made from a Heath-Robinson-style array of found objects connected to microphones and laptops.” “It’s hard to describe the raw, explosive audio art they perpetrate. Everyday objects and sounds are worked on until they become saturated with lurid suggestion, resulting in a bizarre, hysterical immediacy … in the traditions of the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band, the Bohman Brothers kitchen-sink realism laughs at the grand claims of lofty art. They will show you fear in a sponge from a drainer.” (Ben Watson in The Wire).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7c6vahmDcy8

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IRaf9rhmybw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_zpg5E-72Gc

https://soundcloud.com/secluded-bronte

https://thebohmanbrothers.bandcamp.com/

https://fforddallan.bandcamp.com/music

https://fortevilfruit.bandcamp.com/album/in-their-70s

https://www.richardthomascreative.com/

RYOJI IKEA fr / jp / swe " Armé d'un ordinateur portable, d'une poignée de patches bricolés avec MAX/MSP et d'une collection de samples piochés chez Olivier Messiaen, Eric Dolphy ou Les Nuls, Ryoji Ikea s'évertue depuis 2019 à réaliser une synhtèse de l'esthétique Mego ( " de la grande époque " ) et du plunderphonic éhonté par des collages publiés sporadiquement au plus grand étonnement de Web surfers ayant fait une faute de frappe dans la barre de recherche de leur navigateur. " https://ryojiikea.bandcamp.com/ LA SPHYNGE / fr / jp New band in town. Juliette Bineau ( Minitel... ) & Saada Abe ( They Lived, entre autres... ). AVANT-PREMIERE MONDIALE. Pas de lien, pas de problème. Expect the unexpected. Fly - Jo L'Indien

[joemuggs]

Heavy footsteps in your attic means a spectre telepathic

Been thinking a lot about hauntological things lately, especially vis-a-vis 90s electronic music due to this compilation I reviewed. And I also did a little essay for State51's Greedmag, about the Ghost Box reissues and what it all means. The mag is sold out, so reposting the text here.

👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

When the Ghost Box label arrived it seemed, appropriately enough, like an apparition. Springing out of nowhere with its perfectly realised audio, visual and phrase making aesthetic, it was an uncanny (or unheimlich as its fans loved to say) weird and wobbly echo of the British past. It melted together drizzle on the downs with Pelican books, municipal library leaflets, Ceefax, public information films, folk horror, the Radiophonic Workshop, local news segments about mummers and morrismen, trippy bits of the avant garde that got slotted into odd cracks in TV programming: things which in the mid 00s seemed so very far away in a distant, misty past. These references came, after all, from a time before websites, before rave and jungle, before lads’ mags and EasyJet: from The Old Days. 

It's funny, then, listening to those first few Ghost Box releases, when they’re ticking towards two decades old themselves: steadily approaching being as old now as some of their references were when they were made. First up, very pleasingly, they still sound deeply weird. The gently disturbing folk melodies played on rudimentary retro synthesisers on Belbury Poly’s first EP and album, and the tiny disjointed collages of half-glimpsed children’s TV scenes, hippie films and rituals on The Focus Group’s Sketches and Spells retain all their power to open up little portals to parts of your mind you didn’t even know existed, to pasts you’re not sure whether you ever experienced or not. Second, and perhaps even stranger, they sound less archaic and perhaps less kitsch than when they first emerged.

There are reasons for this. First of all, it’s worth noting that, although the way it turned up fully formed with artwork, music and website all as one gesamtkunstwerk could make it seem so, Ghost Box didn’t materialise out of a vacuum. Aside from obvious contemporary allies like Broadcast and Trunk Records, the sense of a historically deep British folklore blurring into the eeriness of pre-digital-era pop culture was humming in the background already. Julian Cope’s The Modern Antiquarian had come out in 1998, its pages laid out and mock-faded to look like a 60s/70s guidebook, mysticism and mischief interwoven throughout it. Coil’s turn of the millennium output too – notably the Musick to Play in the Dark series – brought together English pastoralism, dark futurism, deep-dive psychedelia, old synthesisers and a commitment to being deeply disconcerting.

Musically you could hear precursors to Ghost Box in 90s electronica outliers like Plaid and Ultramarine, and in oddball retro ephemera collagists like Solex, Tipsy and People Like Us. And on the fringes of folktronica in the early 00s, acts like Tunng, Colleen and Neotropic were likewise using technology to open up cracks that let stranger parts of the past leak out. But looking back, now that all of this stuff is the past, maybe it’s a little bit less defined by its source material than we thought at the time. Maybe this wasn’t just about accosting the past in its weirdness and absurdity, but filtering, preserving and channelling it forwards, making sure that the chosen parts continued haunting the future?

Remember, this was a time of a very dramatic material shifting in relationship to the past. From 1999 Napster – quickly followed by AudioGalaxy, LimeWire and the rest – presented the opportunity to access a vast swather of recorded music, and what you couldn’t find there you could increasingly on specialist blogs. At the start of 2005, just before these first Ghost Box releases, the launch of YouTube marked the first creak in the opening of the floodgates for video too. Even though internet was still creaky by today’s standars, you could still discover an obscure artist and have their entire discography within hours. 

All of this led to bafflement, derangement, even anxiety. Received wisdom in mainstream – and even much alternative – culture media was that this glutting would lead to a homogenisation or levelling of culture. Everything being available all at once meant there was no longer a clear distinction between populist and underground, new niche aesthetics would not be able to develop before they were assimilated, it was, perhaps, a cultural End of History. And in a sense this was true. Certainly, to the horror of inky press commentators who’d earned well from the certainties of the post-1950s definitions of youth culture and subculture, there was no “new rock’n’roll”. There was no new punk, no new acid house, no single sound that rewrote the rulebook. 

Of course, change hadn’t come to a halt. The future was just increasingly, in William Gibson’s unforgettable phrase “unevenly distributed”. Cultural evolution was no longer defined by single radical paradigm shifts in a single, central pop culture, but rather moving forwards in syntagmatic shifts: the piecing together of what would become new traditions. This is the reason young people today talk in terms not of genres or scenes, but “aesthetics”. And this is where we come back to our folktronicists and hauntologists: in this everything-all-at-once deluge we needed people to coalesce aesthetics that we could cling on to. 

When Belbury Poly mapped harpsichords onto analogue bass, or made audio allusions to Delia Derbyshire and John Baker, they were reinforcing connections, between fey psyche pop, cartoons, dramas, leaflets, animated geometry from 5am Open University broadcasts, in the way that synapses are strengthened during dreaming. The same when The Focus Group created micro fragments that were Polish Jazz, Italian horror, Dr Who and J Dilla all at once: this was creating a grammar of weirdness, a very specific binding together of sound, image and idea that could withstand the surge of undifferentiated information swirling around it in the outside world. These records didn’t just create sounds that still sound good now, they didn’t just set a grammar of peculiarity in motion that echoes through today via all kinds of odd internet moments and disparate creations from Scarfolk to chillwave. They also gave us a toolkit: a post-postmodern set of methods for coherently blending together the our hyperspecific special interests into new essences and letting them leak forward into the future, unleashing brand new hauntings. 

[bloodbecomeswater]

SCRAP, PRINT, BOOK WORKSHOP

30–31.03.2023 11:00–18:00 BELKA studio for sound and form & КО-ОП FIG.3

Творческата работилница се провежда в рамките на два дена, резултатът от които ще бъде обединен в краен продукт - книга. По време на първия ден ще бъдат създадени произведения на тема, чрез експериментиране със семпли техники за множество отпечатъци, колаж, монотипия и рисунка. На втория ден участниците ще се запознаят с различни похвати и практически занятия по изготвяне на книжно тяло. За целта и в двата уъркшопа ще се използват страници от стари списания, карти, разписки и непотребна хартия. В края на работилниците всеки участник ще си тръгне със собственоръчно изработено издание, с уникално по рода си съдържание.

Моля, обърнете внимание, че мястото ви е запазено само в момента, в който вече сте заплатили билета си. Това може да стане чрез онлайн плащане тук или на място в арт пространство KO-OP.

The workshop takes place over two days, the result of which will be combined into a final product - a book. During the first day, themed artworks will be created by experimenting with simple techniques of multiple prints, collage, monotype and drawing. On the second day, participants will be introduced to various techniques and hands-on sessions on making a book body. Pages from old magazines, maps, receipts and unused paper will be used for this purpose in both workshops. At the end of the workshops, each participant will walk away with a handmade publication, with unique content.

Please note that your place is only reserved at the moment you have already paid for your ticket. This can be done via online payment here or on site at the KO-OP art space.

[meowmeowmeowimacat]

great homestuck rereading discussion T+15 (Feb 25) (contd.)

(30 image limit bite my ass once again :middlefinger:)

back to main

SF 19:00 > love this panel! so mysterious! id expect nothing less from the great TT :33

SF 19:00 > [You'll need every advantage you can get.] idk why but this sounds ominous :{{

SF 19:00 > wait that wallpaper is soooo cool

SF 19:01 > i also swear ive seen that art before?

SF 19:01 > so cool though

SF 19:01 > wait let me search somethin rq

SF 19:03 >

SF 19:03 > i knew it

SF 19:03 > this is so cool though and i do think it suites her

SF 19:04 > ...i wonder if well ever see TG and GG's wallpapers?

SF 19:05 > some speculation: TG seems like a cool dude who likes to rap. so maybe snoop dogg? Kanye West? Eminem? maybe a rad and awesome collage of his favs?

SF 19:05 > ok so for GG... really too mysterious for me to guess at rn

SF 19:06 > maybe something plant related? like their username?

SF 19:06 > ok anyways back to readin

SF 19:06 > why is a lab singnal unsecured?

SF 19:06 > wait...

SF 19:07 > theres 413 again...

SF 19:07 >

SF 19:07 > well at least theyve reconnected

SF 19:08 > i relate to this kid on a spiritual level i think

SF 19:08 > also timers now down at 40 sec? maybe we shouldnt have done that violin solo after all...

SF 19:09 > [EB: so what is it, like an apple or something? EB: what good will that even do? TT: We'll see. TT: I've found no evidence that anyone has successfully created the item. TT: And the content of the card appears to be variable from session to session. TT: In one instance it was described as an "eggy loking thign" [sic].] rose why so verbrose ._.

SF 19:09 > tho eggy loking thingn is beautiful

SF 19:09 > :33

SF 19:09 > egg

SF 19:11 > well door problem solved. john when you learn carprentry please put your hinges on the opposite way next time thank u

SF 19:12 > yea but you fixed his hinges issues so doing it was worth it i think

SF 19:12 > he is free <33

SF 19:13 > me when im an epileptic seizure causing thign

SF 19:13 > ayo 2 news

SF 19:13 > blessed

SF 19:14 > also tree

SF 19:14 > wait... its the apple

SF 19:14 > [S] john take bite of apple...

SF 19:14 > lets do this thign

SF 19:15 >

SF 19:15 > is... is he dead???

SF 19:15 > what??????

SF 19:15 > where john

SF 19:16 > wheres my boy

SF 19:16 > my silly goober man

SF 19:16 > :<<

SF 19:16 >

SF 19:17 > epic rap battles of history: coughing john vs hydrogen meteor

SF 19:17 > i dont want him dead tho :,<<

SF 19:17 > at least the song was amazing?

SF 19:17 > wait his dad was in the house as well

SF 19:17 > uhh this aint good

SF 19:18 > ight. curtain close and a third newspost

SF 19:18 > donation commands?

SF 19:19 > heheh lol problem sleuth

SF 19:20 > [I thought it might take about one month, but it turned out to be more like two. And by "this point in the story", I guess I mean "the beginning". Really everything that's happened so far probably serves as more of a prologue than a first chapter.]

SF 19:20 > but why kill off john?

SF 19:21 > [55 days, 247 pages (with 295 images). That's a little more than 5 images per day, which is almost the exact pace I set with Problem Sleuth over the course of a year. I was very surprised to learn this! Mostly because many of these Homestuck pages are a lot more detailed and labor intensive, especially with the Flash animations mixed in there.] what. hussie is not human. no way. how

SF 19:22 > so thinking about important dates... the comic was started 413 (keeps appearing everywhere) and this doofus up and dies on 607? inconcevable

SF 19:22 > i wonder if this number will keep appearing as well. and for that matter.... let me check......

SF 19:23 > ok... rose appears on 526

SF 19:23 > do these mean anything? probably not

SF 19:24 > butttttt its always good to keep in mind i think

SF 19:24 > well i suppose i can finally answer the questions for "day 2"

SF 19:25 > and time to upd8 my page count to 247

SF 19:25 > FINALLY

SF 19:27 > Favorite Panel: Favorite Pesterlog: Favorite Flash (if applicable): Takeaways:

SF 19:27 > second time ive seen the above, and it certainly wont be the last

SF 19:27 > (i am slow)

SF 19:28 > brb reading through my archive of what ive written so i can make a better decision and try to avoid recency bias

SF 19:29 > this is still funny to me lol

SF 19:29 > bonk bonk bonk :33... a little sad now tho :,<<

SF 19:30 > this was funny

SF 19:32 > amazing panel

SF 19:33 > and of course we met emily rose today

SF 19:33 > i stand by what i said earlier :33

SF 19:33 > and here!

SF 19:34 > ok... ive skimmed stuff and forwarded my fav moments... lets do this eggy lokin thign [sic]

SF 19:39 > Favorite Panel: i honestly cant decide between 174, 223, and 238 Favorite Pesterlog: i dont really remember there being as many, so ima say the recent one (p240) with eggy lokin thign because thats funny Favorite Flash (if applicable): i really liked the violin one with rose (p222)... but also that last one felt SUPER impactful. like, the music was amazing... but john dies! probably. idk. i hope not but it sure looks like he did somehow rip :,<< Takeaways: rose is cool. nough said

SF 2/25/25, 19:41 > { (forwarded from #homosuck | tuesday) finally finished day 2 of the reread! i think john died or something though

}

SF 19:44 > wait just realized i can copy and paste emotes

SF 19:44 > i dont feel fear at this but lmao i genuinely didnt know this

SF 19:45 > we learning folks

SF 2/25/25, 20:19 > { (forwarded from #great homestuck reading thread [SW edition] | 1/14/25) [TG: like the size of texas TG: or just rhode island TG: theyre always throwing around these geographical comparisons to give us a sense of scale like it really means anything to us TG: but its like it doesnt matter its always just like: WOW THATS PRETTY FUCKING BIG TG: like mr president theres a meteor coming sir. oh yeah, how big is it? its the size of texas sir TG: OH SHIT TG: or, how big is it? its the size of new york city sir TG: OH SHIT TG: sir im afraid the comet is the size of your moms dick TG: OH SNAP TG: sir are you familiar with jupiter TG: you mean like the planet? TG: yeah TG: well its that big sir TG: hmm that sounds pretty big TG: i have a question TG: is it jupiter? TG: yes sir, earth is literally under seige by planet fucking jupiter TG: OH SHIT]

TG might be my favorite kid thus far lmaooo }

SF 20:19 > completely forgot about this convo rip. is it too late to change my fav pesterlog???

[velvetliz]

Detailed Introduction; The Artist ♥

Though I posted an introduction image earlier, I thought maybe a more detailed introduction may be helpful to explain what all you might find here on this blog. So I suppose this post and more to follow are the opposite of a TLDR.

As I stated in my image intro, I am a 90s baby. I was born 1990 so I remember the majority of the 90s, I remember a time before being able to use computers or internet. My first internet connection was through the horrid sound of dial up when someone in your house picking up the phone would disconnect you in a heartbeat. I remember when video games were an item only available at certain establishments where you had to insert your quarters to play. So many things I could mention but the 90s and 00s were a great and admittedly intense time to grow up. So much was changing so fast and it still hasn't slowed down. My growing life had more than it's fair share of struggles; a dubious home life, bullying, emotional/mental abuse and/or neglect depending how you look at it. It had good times as well, but as most of us know it's easier to remember the bad times when they leave the deeper scars. I am open to talking and discussing this more, but only if my viewers ask for it. That aside, I learned I wanted to be an Artist at a young age, my first introduction to the art world was in Second grade. While I did have other interests, art is what stuck tried and true while the others I either lost interest or life circumstances made them unobtainable.

Eventually I got my Bachelors of Art, originally it was going to be both in Studio Arts and Graphic Design, though some issues with the college caused it to be Graphic Design focused. More than happy to share that story at a later time, but basically I ended up saving my final Graphic Design course for about two years so I could also take the studio courses I was interested in and gave a big Fuck You to my college in the process. My entrance into Graphic Design was more to learn how to take care of my own marketing and to have a fall back plan if needed once I finished school and was on my own, I also got a minor in Business Administration since my main goal was to work for myself one day. I make used of the Graphic Design for my own purposes daily, and for awhile I did freelance work and a couple of my designs are out there across the nation but that's not what my passion was in.

Originally my work focused on forcing imagery into the public of the unfortunate day to day horrors of our world, the entire purpose to create a reaction because we've become so numb to these horrors since they happen so often thus making it harder for us to make positive changes as a society.

Though as college often does, my focus was broadened and I found myself exploring other subject matter. I found myself loving mixed media, for me specifically that being graphite, ink, charcoal, watercolors, gouache, acrylic, etc. put together. Though I did do some collage, found object sculpture, and silversmithing; those were the mediums I always came back to. Eventually I had a gallery show that focused on The Beauty of Mortality, which in turn lead me to taxidermy and now my mixed media often includes using animal bone as my canvas, more specifically animal skulls. I take great care in making sure the skulls are ethically sourced which I mention because it is a common question. I see my Art made with those pieces as mementos and thanks being given to the animal that it once was by giving it a honored place in a home.

It's there that I've mostly landed in my Art currently, though I still enjoy illustration and as I get older I find myself working with more mature topics (read nsfw) though fully admit the human form has always been a challenge for me, though perhaps that is why I've become more drawn to it lately as it's nice to have a challenge from time to time and learn something new/continue to hone my craft. Originally I was planning to run the festival circuit in my part of the nation, vending at all sorts of festivals and conventions as those were the environments where I truly thrived, unfortunately life had other plans and due to my health I am now almost strictly online in all my endeavors, however that is a story for a different post. Please feel free to ask questions for further details and explanation! I am a fairly open book and enjoy sharing my life experiences with others.

[girls-lesbiband-cry]

Honestly, I have been trying to formulate the best way to get my sentiments about Nightcord at 25:00’s song for the Project Sekai film, The Light That Dwells Here, for a week now. So join me, if you like, for an uncharacteristically negative review.

The Light That Dwells Here is not a bad song by any means, it has an excellent second verse, and the engaging harmonies and melodic interplay that I’ve come to expect from N25. That being said, the production of this track is very dated. Especially when compared to all of the other unit tracks released for the film. This is mainly due to the instrumental’s over reliance on very common mid 2010’s EDM synths, rhythms, and chord progressions. Until the twangy guitar riff comes in on the second verse, it just sounds like any top chart EDM pop song from the year 2015, which is disappointing.

I didn’t want to compare it to all of the unit songs by simple virtue that Wonderland x Showtime and Vivid Bad Squad are not girl bands, but for the sake of critique I have to seeing as DECO*27 was the lyricist and composer for every song. Now, of course, I commend him as creating five wildly different songs is no small feat, but I can’t help but feel as if The Light That Dwells Here‘s production was a means to end for a stellar 2Dmv rather than a song truly emblematic of the group. Smile*Symphony is eclectic with its use of speaking lines as a sonic collage, FUN! is elevated because of its unique use of “childlike” instruments, Fire Dance has a bombastic energy by implementing compositions found in K-pop music, and SToRY has fun twist on the standard J-Rock sound by adding flares of 90’s west coast rock. But The Light That Dwells Here just doesn’t have anything truly unique in its production to truly make it a track that represents N25 in any way beyond them singing it.

And to reiterate once again, it’s not a bad song. It’s catchy and pleasant to listen to. However, it could just be so much better and that bothers me.