#BUT also one shot where we get to see the clear outline of his... package. at the beach

[dropoutfailure]

nobody in film criticism ever talks about Mikhail Kaufman's faggy high boots in Man with a Movie Camera (1929)

[tamapalace]

Kingdom Hearts Tamagotchi First Impressions

Disney fans rejoice! Bandai America sent us the Kingdom Hearts Tamagotchi to review and we want to share our first impressions of this Kingdom Hearts collaboration with you. Here’s our first impressions of the device:

Packaging - The box that the Kingdom Hearts Tamagotchi comes in is really cute, and simple. We love the white and blue checkered background with golden hearts and crowns. You’ll also see a pixel form of Sora in color holding his iconic key blade. Per usual, you’ll see the Tamagotchi Nano right in the center. The back of the packaging is in Japanese, but features a sticker over the Japanese verbiage with the English disclaimers.

Build Quality - You know the routine, these Tamagotchi Nano’s are solid. They can definitely survive a few drops without an issue, and perhaps any scratches. It is important to note that since this device is imported in from Japan, and not localized, however the back does feature a traditional phillips screen instead of the push button you typically see in Japan. We received the Light Mode shell which is absolutely gorgeous, and probably one of our favorite Tamagotchi Nano shells. The shell is pearly white and not too glossy, more matte. The blue graphics around the screen and Kingdom Hearts logo at the top in gold along with the golden dotted outline around the screen, and the Kingdom Hearts Tamagotchi logo in gold at the bottom are a high end and classy touch that we simply love.

Screen - The Tamagotchi Nano platform features a higher resolution screen than the Tamagotchi Mini platform, so you’ll notice more pixels and details over the Mini. It is very important to note that the screen on these Tamagotchi Nano’s is recessed, its cute deep in the device and is very hard to photograph because of the reflection and necessary angle to capture a clear shot.

Game Play - If you’re a Disney and Kingdom Hearts fan, then you’re going to love this Tamagotchi. The opening sequence is really cute as it features the Kingdom Hearts logo followed by an animation of the Gummi ship dropping off Sora, who is the first character you’ll meet and need to raise that can evolve into any one of 20 characters. There are even 6 secret characters you can get, which makes it real fun.

For eating, the meal is paopu fruit, but then they become a heartless, you have to select the heart as it is not possible to give items like paopu fruit when full, when there are enemies, when sleeping, or when tense. The snack is sea-salt ice cream bar, however if they become a harmless, you have too select the exclamation point as you cannot give them a snack when enemies are around, when sleeping, or when tense.

Be careful for enemy attacks! Periodically throughout gameplay you’ll notice that enemies appear at regular intervals. These enemies will occupy the screen (appearing from the right next to your Tamagotchi) as time goes by, and all you need to do is select the “A’ button to repel them before they take over the entire screen. Enemies cannot be repelled when your Tamagotchi is asleep or tense. There are three enemies in total who will attack, be prepared as this keeps gameplay fun!

Not only are there enemies that will appear, but there are also memorable sights. Occasionally you get a glimpse into the characters memories, when you see the memory screen, press one of the buttons to view it.

Typical for the Tamagotchi Nano, there are three mini games to choose from. The first one is called Gummi Ship which is the ship that dropped off Sora in the opening animation. Simply press the A or B button to move the Gummi Ship around to avoid fitting flying meteorites. The A button moves up, and the B button moves down. The second game is called Pink Agaricus, which is where you press the A button repeatedly for 10 seconds to make the Pink Agaricus happy. Lastly, the third mini game is called Coliseum which is where you are told which buttons to press on screen and you input the button presses to match.

If you neglect enemy attacks or neglect to take care of your Tamagotchi, they’ll become tense. If you get tense, simply press the A button to get back to a good mood. If they remain tense all the time, you will have to say goodbye! There is a goodbye sequence where you’ll see your character and the Kingdom Hearts heart on screen.

This collaboration is super cute. We loved seeing familiar characters such as Donald Duck and Goofy, and more. We enjoyed fighting off the enemies and playing the mini games (Gummi Ship was our favorite!). If you’re a Kingdom Hearts fan, this Tamagotchi has your name written all over it. Being able to raise up to 20 characters, where 6 are secret is even more fun.

[duskholland]

Lingerie | Tom Holland Smut

summary ↠ your co-star Tom offers to photograph you in your new lingerie, and it only escalates from there.

word count ↠ 3.9k

warnings ↠ this is pretty much just pwp I won’t lie. we’ve got some dirty talk, a lingerie-filled photoshoot, a lil bit of thigh riding, oral (fem receiving) and then MxF sex

a/n ↠ quarantine is doing ~stuff~ to me and I couldn’t stop thinking about the concept of Tom being your photographer and getting more and more riled up so....here ya go. enjoy! this is the first time I’ve posted nsfw stuff in a very very long time, so any feedback would be appreciated :) also a huge thank you to @rhapsodyparker for being my fave hype man - love you mate !

18+ !!!! this contains NSFW material, so do not read if you are a minor.

Spending a few weeks in London with your new co-star Tom and his brothers had been the brilliant idea of your manager. When your schedule had presented you with a some valuable weeks off between projects, she’d suggested that bunking down with him in his London house would be the perfect way to get to know the man before you spend the next months acting out your latest project. You’d seen him around at a few awards shows, and he hadn’t been opposed to hosting you, so with a few heavy suitcases and an open mind, you’d moved into the house he shares with his brother Harry and his best friend Harrison.

It’s been three weeks since you first rolled up, and things are going well. You’ve been enjoying getting to know the guys and the city they love so much, and it seems like every day you grow more and more comfortable around Tom - which is only a good thing, given that your upcoming project requires you to tangle with him in a few risqué scenes. But you’d be lying if you said that your feelings for the brown eyed star are merely platonic, and over the last couple of days especially, you’ve found your thoughts wandering. You catch yourself stiffening as you watch him throw back a pint of beer, his sturdy fingers wrapped carefully around the glass. And something in the pit of your stomach stirs every time he sits by you, his thigh pressing flushed to yours. You’ve even caught him staring at you from across the room a few times, his eyes trailing over your figure, and you haven’t been able to stop yourself from imagining his curly brown hair rubbing at your inner thighs.

It’s a game. A dangerous, heated game, and with every passing day, his eyes seem hungrier as they meet with yours, and he seems to inch closer to you. Neither of you have acted on the sizzling tension that ripples between you, but you know it’s just a matter of time before one of you moves a little too close, or touches the other for a little too long, and it all explodes.

“What have you got there, Y/N?”

You’re pulled from your dirty thoughts by a question coming from the man you’re daydreaming about. Tom walks into the kitchen, raising a hand in greeting as he peers down at the package you’re holding. His deep brown eyes meet with yours as you smile at him in greeting.

“Just some clothes. I’m doing a brand deal and they want me to take some pictures and post them on my Instagram,” you explain. You put the package down on the kitchen table and carefully begin to cut along the seam.

“Getting that money, eh?” You laugh as Tom slips into a chair beside you, watching you curiously with his chin resting in his hands.

“A girl’s gotta make a living,” you reply. “Hey, do you think Harry would take some shots for me? It’s always hard to get the angles right.”

Tom hums beneath his breath. “Yeah, I’m sure he’d be down for that. He and Harrison are out at the moment, though, so you’ll need to wait-“ He falls silent as you tip the contents of the package onto the table, your cheeks warming immediately as you take in the garments you’ve been sent.

Lingerie. Several different pairs of matching bras and panty sets, in a scattering of different colours and designs. You feel your heart beat faster in your chest as Tom stares down at the pieces, his own face blushing a deep red.

“I think Harry might die if I make him take photos of me whilst I’m wearing this,” you admit, picking up a red lacy bralette. Tom’s younger brother has always been nice to you, but he radiates the sort of nervous energy that can sometimes put you on edge, and you immediately know you can’t ask him to photograph you. “Guess I’ll just have to struggle through this by myself,” you mutter dejectedly.

Tom’s eyebrows raise as he looks between you and the lace in your fingers, realisation replacing his shock. He sits up straight, stretching out his arms and his biceps flex as he meets your gaze. “I can always help you,” he offers shyly. You meet his eyes and his tongue slips out to wet his lower lip.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“I’m not as good as Harry, but I like to think I’ve picked up a few of his tricks.” Tom reaches out, fingers connecting with the tops of your arms, and your breath hitches as he grins cheekily. “Besides, I’m sure I could help you with some of your angles. If you want, of course.”

The question hangs in the air. As his fingers gently trace over your upper arm, you know this is the opportunity to back out. He’s looking at you through heated, brown eyes, but you know he’ll leave it alone if you decide to draw the line here and maintain the professional distance you’ve been slowly narrowing. But you don’t want to, and suddenly, you’re overwhelmed by a longing for him to keep touching you, and the idea of him photographing you as you lounge around in this new, sexy lingerie sets your heart racing.

“I’d love that, Tom. Are you free just now?”

He nods quickly, the tips of his curly brown hair wafting in the air. “Definitely.”

[-----]

It takes you about twenty minutes to get ready for the shoot. You’ve been around in Hollywood for long enough to know how best to do your makeup and tie your hair, and much to your relief, the lingerie clings to you perfectly. The contract you’d signed states you only have to post photos in one of the sets, so you pick one with a nice, deep burgundy hue and then walk out into your bedroom where Tom’s waiting for you. His wide eyes fall on you and suddenly you get a little self-conscious, reaching up to cross your arms over your chest as his gaze slides up and down your figure, drifting over every inch of exposed skin. When he drags his eyes back to your face and gives you a bit of a smirk, a shiver rolls down your spine.

“You look stunning,” Tom says, voice hoarse. He clears his throat quickly, averting his eyes as his cheeks gain a healthy colour. “Really, Y/N… You look amazing.”

His compliments bring a smile to your face, and you carefully put your hands back to your sides. You feel tentative and shy, but you approach him anyway and pass him your phone. “Thanks, Tom,” you mumble, meeting his eyes quickly. “Um, I was thinking you can just get a few of me the window, and then after that, maybe a couple on the bed.”

“Sounds great.”

You hesitate for a moment, looking at him carefully. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Tom runs a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face as he chuckles lowly. “I don’t mind at all, Y/N. There are worse things to do than take photos of a pretty girl like you.” You bite your lower lip as you smile bashfully at him. 

“Okay,” you say. You move over to the window before adding a quick, “I will pay you back, Tom.” You punctuate your promise with a wink, and then turn around and try out a few positions against the window.

Tom gives you a few pointers as he starts to capture your shots. You know what you’re doing, but his advice helps you twist and angle yourself in the most flattering ways. The main focus has to be on the sponsored lace clinging to your chest, and as time goes by and he gradually moves nearer and nearer to you, your thoughts grow darker. You’d be lying if you said the seductive smiles and soft angles you’re throwing out are just for Instagram. It makes your heart race and a heat build between your legs to have him watching you so intently, occasionally chewing on his lower lip as he works. When you turn around and face the window directly, you arch your back purposefully and you can feel his stare hot on the curve of your ass, and as you throw your head back over your shoulder to meet his flushed face, you know you’ve caught him right in the act of checking you out.

“How are the photos?” You ask, breaking the charged silence after a few moments of sustained, intense eye contact. You relax your position as Tom steps nearer and passes back your phone, but he lingers by your side before draping a hand over your back. His hand rests on your naked hip, his touch gentle but it causes you to push into him greedily. He’s warm and he smells like pine trees and man, and your body is thrumming with so much sexual energy that you can feel your lace panties dampening.

“You look unreal,” he says, watching over your shoulder as you flick through the photos. “I’m not even sure they do justice to how incredible you look right now.”

You smile gratefully, favouriting a few of the shots. “You know, I think we’ve got as many as we need, actually. You did a really good job, Tom. Thank you.” You put your phone on the windowsill and turn to look at him properly. When his hand goes to slip from your waist, you reach down and grab at it, pushing it back into place firmly. His eyes meet yours, a curious questioning mixing with the dark lust, and you give him a smirk. “I know you liked watching me.” Your gaze briefly dips down to his crotch, and the way you can see the outline of his cock straining against his jeans. Emboldened, you lean up and brush your lips by his ear, “If you want me, you can just tell me.”

You keep your lips by his ear. When he reaches up and wraps his other hand around your waist and pulls you closer, you let your mouth drag down his neck, pressing soft, light kisses to his pale skin. You keep going until he whines, and then you suck against his sweet spot and nibble at the skin, teasing him gently until he wraps his fingers beneath your chin and tilts your face up to look at him.

“You’re such a tease, you know that, love?” He speaks, voice dropping an octave. His eyes are on your lips and the deep red lipstick you’ve coated them with, a burning fire dancing in his eyes. “Walking in here with all that lingerie, kissing my neck like that.” His fingers move from your chin and up to cup your cheek. “I want you,” he whispers, mouth brushing yours ever so slightly. The confirmation makes you wrap your arms around his neck, and you place a kiss just beside his mouth, grinning softly.

“Then have me.”

His mouth captures yours in a heated collision of lips and teeth, and you moan into his mouth as his hand slips back into your hair and tugs at your strands. His hot tongue slips into your mouth as you kiss him back passionately, your body burning from all the pent-up frustration you’ve been pushing back for weeks. The hand on your waist slips up to your back, holding you flush against him as his groans, his face flushed and his forehead sweaty, and your core throbs as you hold him close to you.

Tom breaks the kiss after a few mind-numbing minutes, and you know you’ve got lipstick smudged over your face, but you don’t care as he leads you over to the bed. You straddle his waist as he sits up against the headboard, his hungry hands trailing over every part of your exposed skin as your heart rate spikes. His thighs are firm and you can’t help but grind down against one of them as he pulls your mouths together again. The friction you get through your wet panties from his tough black jeans makes you whimper into his mouth, and he pulls back with a lazy smirk on his face, his pupils blown wide with lust.

“You’re so bloody hot,” he murmurs, hand brushing over your arm. “Can’t believe you’re here right now, looking like this. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He leaves a few soft kisses to your shoulder, gazing up at you softly, his brown curls strewn messily across his forehead. Your heart skips a beat. 

You run a fond hand through his curls before pulling at the hem of his t-shirt. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes.” Tom laughs but holds up his arms as you pull it up and over his head, and then you roll from his lap as he wiggles out of his tight jeans and throws him aside. He pulls you back to his lap, this time positioning you so your centre rests over his black Calvin Kleins, and you rock down to feel his length pressing up against the fabric. “Shit, Tom,” you curse, the pressure sending rolls of pleasure through your clit. Your forehead falls to his as his hands move your hips, helping you grind against him as both of you feel a little relief. “I want you so bad.”

Tom moves quickly, flipping the position until you’re the one on your back, your head nestled in the soft pillows, and he’s pressed over you, caging you in with a strong arm either side of your head. He catches your lips in another kiss, and when he pulls back, he lets his teeth tug at your lower lip, catching your moan in his open mouth.

“Can I take these off?” He asks, pulling at the waistband of your red panties. You nod quickly and raise your hips as he tugs them down your body, his large hands pressing your thighs up and apart as he settles between your legs, his eyes drifting down your slippy slit. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re absolutely soaked for me.” He drags a light finger through your folds, applying a very light, very teasing pressure to your clit, and it makes you grind down against him. “So fucking needy,” he coos, finally rubbing your tender bud with a little more pressure. As you gasp and fist your fingers in his hair, he moves his face nearer your core. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen a cunt this wet and hot for me. Mind if I have a taste, darling?”

His filthy words make your body shake, and the moment you’ve nodded your head, your back arches from the mattress as his soft, warm tongue slips out and wraps around your bud. One of his hands anchors your hips to the bed as the other accompanies his mouth on your core, and you moan loudly as he slips two sturdy fingers into your wet, aching entrance. It feels unbelievable to have Tom pressed between your legs, his fingers curling and pounding into your heat in a way that makes you cry out loudly. And his mouth - oh, god, his mouth - is unbelievable. You can tell he’s enjoying it by the way he works his tongue so smoothly, teasing lightly through your wet folds before circling back to your bud, kissing it and lapping over it and sucking it until you’re a sweaty, delirious mess above him.

Your fingers ache from the hold you’ve got on his hair, and you suck in a breath as you feel your edge approaching. “God, Tom, you’re so fucking good at that. I’m gonna cum if you keep it up.”

For a wonderful moment, you think he’s gonna keep going. He’s got his fingers pressed flush against your sweet spot and it feels so amazing that you’re about to melt, but then he smacks his lips and pulls back, leaving you high and dry and panting desperately on the sheets.

“Oh, what was that? You were gonna cum?”

You blink desperately down at him, surprised to see him looking up at you so confidently, with that teasing smirk dancing over his face. “Tom, I swear to god, you’re such a dick-”

“Shh.” He reaches up and drags his messy fingers over your mouth, and you part your lips to let them in. You swirl your tongue over his digits, humming lightly as you suck off your tangy juices, his eyes watching you darkly. It feels so dirty, but it sends a thrill down your spine, and your core continues to throb as you pull at his shoulders and bring him back up to you. “I think it’s only fair that we cum at the same time, princess? Don’t you?” He whispers. 

You release his fingers with a pop, sighing frustratedly as you trail your hands down his toned front. His muscles pull taut and tense, and as you grab a peek at the lines of his abs, you find yourself wondering how you ended up like this with him. He’s so handsome it makes you ache, and it’s as if he can hear your thoughts as he presses a few kisses to your jaw.

“And you call me a tease,” you respond, eyelids fluttering shut as he drags his mouth over your neck. “Stop messing around and fuck me, Tom.”

“Mm, so demanding.”

You grab at his hair and tug his face away from your collarbones and up to your mouth, kissing him hard. “I need you,” you whisper hurriedly against his lips. “I’m going to explode if you don’t fuck me.”

His lips pull into a warm smile. “Well, we can’t be having that, can we?” He replies. “Condom?” You point at the bedside table and he disappears for a few moments, leaving your body cold and empty. Once he’s procured a shiny silver packet, you watch with wide, hungry eyes as he pulls off his boxers, pumps his length a few times, and then rolls this plastic over his tip before you even get a chance to touch him. He notices your pout and bites his lower lip as he moves back over you. “You can touch me next time,” he promises. “Right now, I just want to be with you.”

“Next time?” You mumble, your lips going to his ear as he pushes your thighs apart. You kiss his lobe softly, dragging your teeth over his skin until he whines. 

“If you want there to be a next time, of course,” he adds. You make brief eye contact as your heart pangs in your chest, but then you find yourself distracted as his cock rubs through your aching slit and you curse, gripping his shoulder hard.

“I definitely want there to be a next time,” you promise. His tip prods at your entrance and it takes everything in you to keep back a whine. “Now, please, Tom, let me feel you.”

He presses a small kiss to your lips, and then follows through with your request. Your fingers dig into his arms as his length fills you completely and deeply, your jaw falling slack as you moan loudly.

“You’re so wet for me, love. Feels so good around me-” Tom’s voice breaks into a groan as his hips meet yours, finally in as far as possible. “Fuck, wish I could stay like this forever.”

You scatter a series of hot, breathy kisses to his forehead as you adjust to him, before running a hand over his shoulder and nodding certainly. “You can move now,” you say.

He rocks into you gently, exploring your hot heat with care as his hands move all over you. One moment he’s gripping at the lace on your boobs, the next he’s got his fingers slipping over your hard nipples, and after that he’s pulling on your hair. All whilst his cock pushes into you, gradually growing more fervent, your soaking pussy welcoming him in easily. Your groans mix with his as you cling to him, your entire body shaking from the tension building in your body as he fucks you hard and fast.

“I love your pussy,” he rasps, teeth digging into your skin as his sweaty forehead rests on your shoulder. With every thrust, he adjusts the angle, only settling into a proper pace as he hits your special spot and you moan loudly, raking your fingers down his back. “So fucking perfect, baby.” His mouth drops praises all over you and it just makes you feel even more into it as you push your hips down to meet his thrusts.

“You fuck me so well, Tom,” you groan into his hair. The muscles in his back ripple beneath your touch as he fucks you roughly. “God, you’re gonna make me cum.”

He manages to keep himself supported on one arm as the other slips down, his hand roaming between your bodies to find your pulsing bud. As he rubs over your trembling clit, you feel your orgasm build quickly in the pit of your stomach, everywhere feeling alert and hot and needy as you pull him closer.

“Mmm, you gonna cum for me, Y/N? Let me feel you clenching around me as you scream my name?” His voice is dirty and dark and the way his lips curl around your name makes you clench tightly. “C’mon, let go. I’ve got you.”

And he rolls his hips against you just as his fingers rub your clit, and it’s so deliciously hot that your head rolls back and your orgasm peaks. Your chest heaves, the lace wrapped around your breasts pushing up against Tom’s hot chest as you cum noisily, your body tingling as a pulsing warmth spreads out from your centre. Tom grunts and screws his eyes shut as you clench and squirm beneath him, and a few moments later you feel his rhythm falter as he reaches his peak too. You rock together as your highs mix and build, your hair sticking to your face as your moans turn to whimpers and your grip on his arm relaxes, and when he pulls out, you’re left feeling empty but satisfied. You breathe deeply as Tom collapses beside you on his side, his hand grabbing at yours as his eyes find yours, searching your face carefully.

“Wow,” is all you manage to say. You shiver from the pleasurable aftershocks, your body feeling light and tingly and completely fucked out, and when Tom pulls you nearer, you let him hold you in a hug against his hot chest, feeling happily settled in his embrace. “Anyone ever told you that you’re really good at that?”

Tom laughs gently, his hand pushing your hair from your face which allows him to kiss you again. It’s softer now, not burning quite as fiercely as it had before, but it’s still unbelievably nice to have him this close to you, loving on you so tenderly. “You really are something else, love,” he compliments. His eyes sparkle brightly as he squeezes your hand. “And I wasn’t lying earlier, I really would be down to do this again.”

He looks vulnerable and nervous for a second, but you quickly smooth away his nerves as you kiss him softly, gripping at the back of his neck. Your lips fit perfectly together, and it’s as if everything has finally slotted into place as you admit, “I would be more than happy to do this again, Tom. Maybe you can even take me on a date.”

His entire face seems to light up, and he leaves a quick kiss on your cheek as he grins. “I would love that, darling.”

[------]

A few hours later…

[@yourusername has posted a new photo]

| image |

@yourusername: good things come to those who wait...

Comments:

@tomholland2013: 🔥🔥🔥

@fan1: omg do u guys think they’re dating

@fan2: why has she tagged tom on her chest like that

@fan3: omg i ship it

[------]

any feedback? I would love to hear any thoughts you have on this!

masterlist

taglist ↠ see this post to be added :D

[shesawriter39049]

|FEVER| M|

Pairing: Namjoon X Reader

About- Namjoon just has a kink for letting you do whatever the hell you want with him...Whether that be putting him in a hot pink suit shirtless! Or, telling him he’s a good boy as he fucks you into oblivion!

OR- Namjoon and yourself hooked up 5 months ago when the boys were in London on Tour, and you were the creative director for there British GQ & Harper’s Bazzar Cover! Now, months later he’s prepping to release his second mixtape “RM vs Rap Monster”. Opting to go a complete 360 from his first release Mono in all realms. So, with that being said BigHit thinks he needs someone with a little more... “umph” Take a wild guess as to who they call...

WC:1.2k (Sneak peek)

WARNINGS: Switch OC (Top & Bottom...but there's no real dom/sub tones here) Service top/power bottom Namjoon, praise kink, Fingering, Unprotected sex(Back shot), come play, dirty talk, light choking, light overstimulation, (This is lowkey a little softer than it sounds) The OC kinda leads this, but Joon isin’t the cliché “sub” he just likes letting her take control.

NOTE- Just my take on the OG cliché Artist X Stylist AU (Though she’s more of a full package, Art Director/Stylist/Photographer ETC) I have tried to add some minor elements to make it a little more realistic. I will say I typically stray from “Idol-verse” just because if we’re being real, the cultural difference alone sometimes stunts my creativity...BUT I just had a little fun with this one...so I hope you all enjoy it. Also, I don’t go into much physical details but in my mind regardless of race, aesthetic wise the OC is a huge contrast to what he’s use to which is part of her appeal. I picture a tatted Barbie of some sorts...

SIDE NOTE: No shade, but shade, I was lowkey inspired to write this bc I have very strong opinions about the creative team at BH....

*** Let me know if you guys want the full thing or not...I kidna flaked on posting because it is such a cliché lol

SONG- FEVER DUA LIPA  FT ANGELE

~~~~~~~

“Well, it’s a yes for me” Eyeing him in this Hot pink-fitted Burliti suit, which you paired with a very sheer black Arnar Mar turtle neck. The minute you saw the piece on the runway you’d been dying to get it on someone with melanated skin, and it just so happens, the boys are fresh off the US leg of their stadium tour! So, lucky for you, baby boy’s been in the sun a lot, and Namjoon’s currently a sinful shade of brown and you're totally here for it…

Then to top it off, the mesh material of the turtle neck creates the perfect silhouette around his offensively toned chest, outlining the muscles sinfully. Eternally snorting at the way the fans are gonna thank and curse you out all at the same damn time once they see the looks you’ve pulled for this man!

And yes, you had your crew bring extended shades of foundation and concealer, because his face and neck will match if your name is going to be attached to these damn photos! 

Head tilted to the side as you silently observe the way he rakes over his reflection in the mirror, it’s a sixth sense you’ve acquired as a stylist at this point. Half of your job is essentially being a hype man/self love coach, real shit, a lot of these artist aren't always as...confident as one may think!

And just like clockwork Namjoon runs his palm down his thighs, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles on his pants for the umpteenth time in the span of oh I don’t know 30 seconds? Which in turn prompts you to say….

“You look good Joonie...” Musing over your second glass of Don, the compliment was genuine, tone warm, soothing even, not a hint flirtation insight because that wasn’t your motive. You weren’t trying to get him flustered you’re just trying to gas him up a little, you wanted to see Namjoon get alittle cocky and feel himself!

Ears perking up like an overgrown puppy, head whipping in your direction “Yeah?” The way this man’s eyes just lit up like the soul skyline. I just-goddamn, an almost bashful smile toys on those plush lips of his, and you can’t help the way your chest flutters with nothing but fondness.

“So fuckin cute” Flutters off your lips, as you hide a smile of your own behind a half empty whine glass. The delivery was so faint it almost go lost in the background music floating through the air. However the slight flush hitting his cheeks let you know Namjoon heard you whether he wanted to admit it or not!

”Mmmhmm, the color looks fuckin insane against your skin, not to mention, the way everything's going to pop once we tone your hair a little! “ Eyes drinking him in from head to toe, though there was nothing suggestive playing within your iris. Very much aware of time and place and right now your genuinely looking respectfully! Seeing if any alterations are needed, making sure you like where everything sits along his frame. Making notes in your phone of places you want to pin and adjust later...snapping a couple shots here and there. 

Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the lapels on the blazer “But like-I mean-I- dont’-It doesn’t look like I’m... trying too hard or anything?” Brows furrowed in the center of his face, jaw tight, wincing slightly at his own words, almost as if he was afraid of your response. The vulnerability within his delivery was more than evident, and no matter how common this is with artist, it’s still just as devastating! Regardless of how much he tried to play it off as if he was just making casual conversation, you can see how blatantly uncomfortable he is . Gazing back at you wide eyed, and uncannily exposed, pointing at the outfit in question. Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the the blazer, switching posses subtlety trying to get a better feel for the suit.  

You stayed silent for a minute, taking the time to actually process before speaking which is rare, not gonna lie. Gaze piercing as you hop off the bed, wine, and accessories in hand, swaying closer. “It’s fashion”. The baited pause almost implied that’s all you had to say, as if one-word was self-sufficient, and in your mind it was...but you knew better than to just leave it at that.

“Art at its finest Mr. Kim” You smile something a little devious, and he flushes even deeper as you slowly start to invade his space eyes locked with him meaningfully. You can physically see the shift, the closer you get, Namjoon starts fidgeting slightly under your gaze but he doesn't back down.

“It gives you room to play, create...it’s something that let’s us connect to people without saying a damn thing.” Suddenly the hand that wasn’t holding your alcohol has become a prop, flailing around haphazardly as you spoke, pointing at the various pieces hanging on clothes racks in your suite! The penthouse has essentially been transformed into your own personal walk in closet for the next 5 or so days! “It’s a statement. A opportunity to tap into a side of yourself that maybe you can’t always verbally articulate to the world around you! More importantly, it’s supposed to be fun, it’s literally something that can be removed within seconds! I mean we all have to wear clothes so why not just enjoy it?”  Head cocked to the side as you appraise him, brow quirked, eyes warm, yet there's a clear challenge playing within your gaze.

Namjoon’s watching you intently, almost as if he’s taking mental notes as you speak...the heaviness within those dangerously honed eyes of his could almost be unsettling to some, but you quite like it. Made you feel as though he actually gives a flying fuck about what you’re saying.

“In my opinion the only time it looks like someone’s “Trying too hard” Making little air bunnies with your spare hand “Is if they look uncomfortable in what they’re wearing, confidence is key, and I know you know that better than anyone RM!” You muse batting your lashes in Namjoon’s direction, and he dimples back at you, eyes sinking into tiny crescents, face rivaling the color of his suit, trying to hide said smile behind his own glass of champagne.  

“I could put you in a damn clown suit...” Words trailing off your tongue lackadaisically as you grow distracted searching the bar for a specific chain from John Hardy. “Which” Focus snapping back in his direction making the later splutter a little “Would be fire as fuck if I did by the way, but-”  Namjoon ended up cackling midsentence, almost choking on his drink in the process, fist pounding against his sternum.

Yeah..killing the leader of Bangtan wasn’t really high on your list tonight....

“Ayee, none of that shit...” Smacking him in the back a little more so just to be an ass because he wasn’t even choking anymore “Don’t die on me until we at least get this damn photoshoot done, I had to cancel my trip to Jamaica for this shit!”

Now he’s damn near choking and his laugh was contagious, it’s just.. loud, carefree so yes, your cackling, and there's nothing cute about it. But you honestly don’t care, you let yourself get lost in it! Finally able to feel the atmosphere in the room start to shift to something a little less scripted and a little more organic...

Throwing his hands in the air as If he’s waving a nonexistent white flag “I’m sorry, noona” There’s a pout playing in his lips, not exactly aegyo per say, but it’s fuckin adorable “Blame PD-nim, it’s his fault we had to do this so last minute” Wheezes from his throat, in the form of a slight whine, almost rivaling Jimin if I’m honest.

You already know he was laughing more so due to your delivery, specifically, your casual use of profanity over anything else. This is actually something you use to be self-conscious about, especially at your first shoot with the boys, at the shoot for GQ . Well aware it wasn’t as common in Asia for people especially women to use “fuck” like a comma. So you were hoping they wouldn’t be offended, or uncomfortable by your dialect, and, thankfully they didn’t seem to mind. Much like Joonie over here, they found it entertaining over anything.

“Yeah, a huh, sureee...” Eyes rolling to the back of your head playfully as you start lightly altering the suit in question with clips and pens. “Stay still babe” The pet name slipped off your tongue effortlessly, honestly, that's what you call most people in your life. However you were far too focused to notice how wide eyed and flustered the man before you became upon hearing it directed at him so casually.

A faint little “Sorry” muses off his lips as he gnaws on his inner cheek, trying to stay still as you ghetto-rig hems into place until you can get this under your sewing needle.

“ No, but real shit…” You sigh, taking on a slightly more serious tone “If you step in front of that camera like you own the bitch, regardless of what your wearing..., then they can’t tell you shit! If your comfortable there’s no such thing as trying too hard” You shrug nonchalantly like that was the simplest concept known to man, downing the rest of your drink “Alright, that’s all, thanks for coming to my Ted talk” Waving him off as if you’re about to leave the room and he pouted playfully, jokingly begging you not to leave him yet...it felt good to be able to banter like this. The shift continuous shift within the atmosphere was more than welcomed…

Hesitantly you watch his eyes find their way back to the full length mirror, which promptly smacks you back to reality!

Unfortunately you didn't fly all the way to Seoul just to drink,  and shoot shit with Namjoon for hours on end,  your actually here to work…

Sooo...

“Alright” Placing your arms on his shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze as you peer over his shoulder. Meeting his gaze through the glass, chin resting gently against the blade. “Back to the reason you came Mr. “I’m sooo anxiously” Shooting him a teasing little smirk in the process “The suit, yay or nay”

So, here’s the thing technically the official fitting is tomorrow, and as far as his team knows he’s in the studio with Yoongi and Hoseok finishing up a song!

Which of course raises the question as to why he’s here..alone..mind you..no staff or security in site.

Just Kim Namjoon and yourself.....

~~~~

Heyyyy, Lemme know if you guys want this or not, it will leave kinda open ended because it was supposed to kinda be a 3 part mini series initially. Part 1 ends the morning of the shoot, the full thing is set to be around 6/7k! Spoiler, the company is going to want to keep her around for more than just Namjoon’s solo project....

Also, YES...I did see that they actually put Tae in that Burliti suit (I wrote this long before that shoot was released)...I actually hated the way it was styled it though...I never thought I’d say this but MGK’s team did a better job than BH....

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

🎁🔥GUESS WHO?🔥🎁

Prompt: Y/N’s first day back to work from her vacation is also coincidentally her birthday, as the day goes by, one mysterious box is placed on her work table. The content of it is a devious surprise and Y/N needs to find out who is the mysterious person who dared to give her such a kinky birthday present.

Word count: Long-ish

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Reader

Warnings: +18, smut, bondage(handcuffs), use of a vibrator, fingering, rough sex, mentions of voyeurism, oral sex (female receiving), dirty talk, cursing.

My Roman lovers: @ziasaph, @reigns-5sos, @mindofasagittaruis

Notes: What a better way to start 2021, then with a Roman kinky fic?! I wish you all a Happy New Year loves, may 2021 be kinder to us all. Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

“Happy birthday, to you..” I turn around to the sound of a person singing, just to see Sasha Banks holding a chocolate cupcake and a present bag on her hands.

“Hi Sasha.” I smiled

“Happy birthday babe!” Sasha ran up to me, placing the cupcake on my working table and hugging me tightly.

“Thanks Sasha”

This was my first day back from my vacation, and coincidentally it was also my birthday, so I was excited to see some of the good friends I’ve made while working for the WWE as a chiropractor.

“Here this is for you!” Sasha handed me a present bag.

“Oh Sasha, you really didn’t have to-“

“Shush! I love you, so of course I would pamper you on your birthday” Sasha said as I opened the bag to find a pair of Louboutin’s I had my eyes on for quite sometime, but couldn’t afford it.

“Sasha, are you insane? I can’t accept these! It’s way too expensive!” I gasped

“I am perfectly sane, you will accept these and I don’t care if you think they’re too expensive! I love you, you’re one of my best friends in this company and a human being with a heart made of gold. So if there is someone who deserves these is you” She happily said

“Sasha, I don’t even know how to thank you enough” I whispered with tears on my eyes

“Just say you will be my friend forever babe” She winked

“I don’t need presents to be your friend love”

“That’s why I gave it to you. I don’t care how much they cost, I just want to make my best friend happy on her birthday”

I hugged her and whispered ‘thank you’ on her ear

“So, who else has came here today?” She asked

“Oh! Bayley, Charlotte, Xavier, Kofi, Cesaro, Big E, Alexa, Naomi, Jey, Becky, Seth, Finn, Renee and Dean” I said, listing my close friends

“I was the last one then? Damn it!”

“It’s ok, I know you were busy today love”

“So...no Roman?” She whispered

“No, no Roman” I answered slightly disappointed.

Sasha along with Bayley and Renee were the only 3 people who knew about my stupid crush on Roman Reigns. It’s so stupid of me to think that a man like him would ever look at someone like me.

If he would ever look at someone on this company, it wouldn’t be the thick girl who worked as a chiropractor and yes one of the beautiful toned Divas of this company.

But still I couldn’t help but daydream about having him on top of me.

“Maybe he doesn’t know it’s your birthday?” Sasha tried to make it less uncomfortable

“Really Sasha? He’s friends with Dean! Everybody knows Dean is an open mouth, loud as fuck and can’t keep it to himself not even if his life depended on it...Roman just chose to ignore it, and it’s fine. We’re not close or anything so, I wasn’t expecting him to show up at my office door and fuck me on top of this table” I lied while chuckling weirdly

“Let’s be honest babe, everybody secretly wants Roman Reigns to fuck them on top of a table!” We both laughed at her statement before she continued “It’s his loss anyways babe”

“Yeah I guess so...”

I was making my way back to my office, from the women’s locker room, when a big black box with a golden ribbon called my attention on top of my desk.

“What the hell?” I said as I approached the box carefully. All of my closest friends had already wished me a happy birthday and gave me their presents so this was, to say the least, weird and unexpected.

I saw a blood red card on top of it, so I opened to find the handwritten saying

‘I hope these will make your birthday night unforgettable. Can you guess who’ve bought these for you? ;)’

Ok, that’s pretty fucking weird! I thought

From the corner of my eye I saw Sasha passing by and loudly whispered

“Sasha! Come here”

She entered my office “What’s up girl? Are you ok? You look scared”

I closed my office door and locked, and made my way back to the table by her side.

“Ok, I’m feeling a little paranoid. I just came back to my office to find this box and this card. Here” I handed the card to her and she red silently.

“Did you look what’s inside of it?” Sasha said

“Nope. And to be honest I don’t know if I can..what if it’s like a prank or something?”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out Y/N”

She opened the box, inside of it there was a fancy red paper, I took it out of the way to reveal what was underneath it and I tell you I almost passed out.

Inside the box there was a lavender and purple (my favorite colors) vibrator, it was actually pretty cute...two pairs of handcuffs, lube, nipples clamps and a whip.

“Oh my gosh” Sasha gasped as she took the clamps on one hand and the whip on the other. “Someone wants to get kinky with you girl!” She examined the items carefully

“What in the actual fuck?” I whispered shocked “Give me that!” I took the items out of her hand, shoved back into the box and quickly closed with the black lid.

“Jesus, I can get fired if someone sees that in my office! Who the hell would do that?”

“Someone who wants to get some! And wants it rough” She chuckled

“Sasha it’s not funny! I could not have a job tomorrow morning if someone from the company found these”

“Who do you think did this?” She asked seriously

“How am I supposed to know? I have no fucking clue!”

“Maybe someone who’s name starts with an R...” She smirked

“R?... What ar-... Oh hell no! Nu uh, that’s impossible!” She couldn’t be implying that Roman was behind this, was he? No! Of course not, that’s a dumb thing to think of...but a part of me wished it was him, even though I know it wasn’t.

“Why impossible? You’re a gorgeous woman Y/N! You two would make a beautiful couple, plus, I‘ve seen his handwriting before and I’m pretty sure it’s quite similar to this one” She said as she inspected the card closely.

“Obviously someone wants to make fun out of me, so I’ll just pretend this never happened” I took the card out of her hand and shoved inside the box.

“Or someone has an eye on you for a while and decided to finally make a move”

“Sasha, please don’t tell this to anyone”

“Your secret is safe with me babe. Just promise that when your secret admirer finally show up, you’ll tell me if you guys made a good use of his presents” She laughed

“You’re the worst!” I laughed along

I made my way back to my hotel room later that evening with my hands so full of packages I could barely walk. I opened the door and carefully placed the bags, along with the black box, on the floor.

I went to the bed and sat down on the edge, while I stared at the box.

*Could Sasha be right? Could it be Roman who did this?* Was the only thought that crossed my mind

I decided to forget all about it and take a shower to wash off the day.

As I was rinsing my hair I heard some noise coming from the bedroom

*What the hell was that?*

I blamed on my super active mind and turned the shower off.

I got changed into some clean oversized t- shirt, and went full on commando. I was brushing my damp hair, when I decided to lay out the contents of the black box on the bed.

I roamed my eyes on each item slowly, until they stopped on the lavender and purple happiness. I turned the vibrator on and felt slightly tempted to use it.

*Oh fuck it! Happy birthday to me I guess”

I got rid of the t-shirt and lay down on the bed naked.

I closed my eyes, letting my mind imagine my wet dream, in form of a man... his face, his body, his cock and how I wish I could feel it inside of me, stretching me as I teased my clit with the vibrator.

I moaned Roman’s name and heard someone clear their throat on the foot of the bed. My eyes shot open and my heart nearly stopped beating when I saw who was in front of me. The vision was so unexpected that I even forgot I was naked.

“I see you liked my gift then” He smirked

“Wh- What are you doing here? How did you get inside of my room?” I whispered

“Does it matter?” His eyes had an evil glimpse to it

“Roman... I- I can explain” I begin to stutter

He placed his index finger on his lips in a shh motion and I stopped talking. He hungrily stared at every inch of my naked body, making me feel quite self conscious of the imperfections of it. I grabbed the blanket to cover my nakedness, he notice what I was about to do and yanked the blankets off the bed

“I’ve been waiting for years to see you like this, so don’t you dare cover yourself from me now”

He took off his shirt and pants leaving only his boxers on, from where I was laying I could see the outline of his hard cock and the wet spot of pre cum near of it’s head. He crawled on top of me slowly, like a predator, with dangerous eyes that were glued to my own.

“At first I was only gonna watch you... I wanted to see you pleasure yourself with my gifts, but when I saw your body fully naked on this bed moaning my name” He grunted “I couldn’t control myself, I couldn’t see this” He took the vibrator off my hand and placed on the bed by our side “Having all the fun with you, enjoying every part of your beautiful body, stretching your sweet pussy while my own cock only got to watch, he wants to have his own fun with you baby girl. He wants to make you feel real good” He leaned closer to my face, his lips brushing mine as he asked “Do you want that Y/N? Do you want my cock to make you feel good? Do you want it to stretch you out baby? Do you want it to fuck you hard and rough? Or do you prefer it slow and sweet? Do you want me to fuck you from behind?...Or maybe I should eat you out first huh? Eat that sweet pussy until you’re begging me to stop, I can’t wait to feel you come on my mouth...around my cock,milking it really nice” He growled “Tell me Y/N, what do you want?”

“I want it all, I want everything” I panted as he dry humped me

“Will you let me do whatever I want with you baby girl? What I’ve always wanted to do?”

“Yes”

He smiled satisfied, leaning to kissed me roughly and sloppily as he grabbed both of my wrists into one of his big hands pining it over my head.

“If anything I do bothers you or you feel like your not feeling it or don’t like it, you let me know ok?”

I nodded

“I need words baby girl”

“Yes, I understand”

“Good” He smiled and I felt something cold close around my wrists. I looked up to see the handcuffs around my wrists being closed on the headboard of the bed. Roman sat up and looked down do my naked body at his disposal.

“Fuck, you’re such a gorgeous sight” He said as he palmed his hard cock through his boxers. “I can’t wait to bury my cock deep inside you” He panted

“Roman, please do something” I whispered

His hands roamed the sides of my body until he stopped at my breasts as his hands squeezed them hard while pinching my nipples.

“These were made just for me. Do you see how they perfectly fit my hands? I can only imagine how even more beautiful your breasts will look with my cock sliding in between them��� His eyes were glued on my breasts.

I tugged at my handcuffed hands, begging “Roman, please, I need- something”

“Let’s take a look on this pussy...are you wet for me Y/N?”

“Soaked”

He raised his eyebrows “Really? Let‘s see” Two of his fingers slides through my folds “Fuck baby girl, you are soaked. Jesus, we won’t even need lube” His fingers traced lazy circles around my clit, making me moan in pleasure. One callused finger slipped inside of me.

“Oh baby girl, you’re so tight, fuck I will barely be able to move. I can’t wait to feel your sweet little pussy stretch around my cock”

He took his finger out and cleaned with his tongue, humming in pleasure to the taste of my juices.

“You taste amazing, Y/N. Fuck I need more” He slide down my body placing his head between my thighs. His tongue gave a long lick from my entrance to my clit sucking it. Making his way back to my entrance again dipping his tongue inside of me, beginning to fuck me with his tongue.

“Oh my god, Roman, please fuck me! I need you inside of me please” I whined

“As you wish baby” He smirked

He slides his cock through my folds to lube it up, then places the head of his cock at my entrance

“Are you sure about this baby girl? ‘Cause once I start I won’t be able to stop myself”

“Roman, just fuck me already would you?” I said impatiently

He chuckled lightly saying “Easy tiger, we’ll take this slow, I don’t want to hurt you” Roman leaned down to peck my lips and returned to his previous position.

He started to slowly slide inside of me, inch by inch, painfully slow. He’s the biggest man I’ve ever been with, so I knew that we needed to take it slow, but fuck he feels so good I just wish he would roughly thrust into me, so I wiggle my hips to take more of him.

“Fuck Y/N, slow down! You’re too tight and I’m not exactly small, if you keep rushing things you’re gonna end up hurting yourself and I don’t want that”

“I know is just that your cock feels so fucking good, I just want you to fuck me Ro”

“Trust me baby, there’s nothing that I want more then fuck you senseless, but I want you to enjoy it as well ok?” He kissed my nose then my lips

When all of him was finally inside of me we both moaned loudly, I’ve never felt so full before and it was both a dream and a nightmare

“Motherfucker! Jesus fuck Y/N, you’re so fuckin- Oh my god.. I gotta focus ‘cuz I feel like at the slightest move I’ll cum” He pressed his forehead to mine as his thumb slowly traced circles on my clit.

“Roman” I gasped “Please don’t tease me like that, fuck it feels so fucking good” I cried as I felt my walls tighten around him

“Oh fuck!” Roman growled loudly “Don’t do that baby girl, don’t squeeze my cock like that, you’re gonna make m-“

“Move,please” I circled my hips

“Fuck it” He said as he forcefully grabbed my hips and begin to quickly thrust me.

“Oh Roman...harder, I need harder”

“Harder?” He chuckled “Like this?” He pounded into me mercilessly

“Yes! Just like that, oh please, don’t stop” “Fuck Y/N you’re going to get me addicted to you baby girl” He kissed my lips vigorously

“I say we should push you a little further..” Roman took the vibrator from the bed and placed on my clit.

“Ooohhh”

“Fuck, you look so beautiful baby girl, a whimpering mess underneath me”

“Ro- Roman I’m gonna cum”

“Cum baby, I wanna feel you cum around my cock”

And I did. My orgasm was so hard that my juices made a mess on Roman’s thighs and the bedsheets.

“Y/N, fuck baby...so fucking gorgeous, my messy girl” He chuckled “Where do you want me to cum baby?”

“Inside” I panted while I felt another mini orgasm come through me

“Fuck, I’m officially addicted to you baby girl. You’re my wet dream come true...gorgeous face, delicious body, perfect pussy..so tight for me. And on top of it all, you want my cum inside of you?! You are beyond perfect Y/N”

He thrusts into me 3 more times before finally cum, filling me up with his seed.

As we tried to recover our breaths, Roman uncuffed my wrists and placed a sweet kiss into each one.

“You ok baby girl?”

“Mhmm” I hummed

“Did I hurt you? Was I too rough?”

“No, of course not. You were perfect!”

“Good baby” He smiled

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure thing baby”

“Why? Why me?”

“Why not you?” He asked sincerely while he brushed my hair with his fingers

“I don’t know, I can’t picture someone like you with someone like me.. I mean, there are so many beautiful women in the company that fit you better...I’ve never thought you could find me attractive”

“Are you serious? Have you looked yourself in the mirror? You’re gorgeous, so perfect Y/N. Yes, there are beautiful women in the company but they’re nothing compared to you baby. You stand out, exactly because you’re different from all of them. You’re unique”

“Still...I don’t know..”

“Oh so you don’t believe me? Maybe I’ll have to show you then”

I could feel his cock beginning to harden on my thigh

“Show me? How?”

“Well baby girl, good thing there are more items of the box for us to try it huh?”

“Us?”

“Yeah, you don’t really think that I’m gonna let you go right? Now that I’ve tasted you, you’ve got me hooked baby. We’ve got the whole night for me to change your mind about us together. And I bet you that I will” He smirked as he leaned down to kiss my neck...

What a great way to celebrate my birthday 🎁

[stankris]

G.C.F. in Helsinki

Normally I’d stick to analyzing words and shy away from writing about a video or editing choices, but the overall response to Jungkook’s latest gcf (at least that I’ve seen) has kind of been disappointingly lacklustre, so I felt I had to throw in my two cents.

I’ve seen praise of how aesthetic it is or how his editing skills have become more polished, but the general opinion seems to be that gcf Helsinki lacks a story or that it was made mainly for work and therefore is missing something.

Of course, the video acts as a promo for the winter package, but it’s character is so distinctly Jungkook. And by god, I felt so emotional watching it the first time. If some of his earlier gcf’s read like stories, this one to me reads like poetry. A bit more subtle and abstract in its message perhaps, but not without meaning.

What I got from it was an anticipation of change and the members trying to realize themselves as individuals. This seems especially obvious to me if you think about where they are in their careers.

They’re facing military enlistment soon, and the end of their old contract. They have a new contract, but I don’t doubt that it will mean changes in how they work in the future. And the enlistment of some, if not all, members will certainly mean big changes to the group dynamic.

There are even clear references to coming war in the lyrics of the song JK chose: “why’d you spend your time leading the chorus, when the war was just waiting before us, as if you didn’t know.”

Thank you also to @aishirii (KMDestiny on YouTube) for pointing out that a large part of the gcf was filmed at the Castle of Finland, a sea fortress on the coast of Helsinki. Another reference possibly hinting at military enlistment.

And I don’t think this is a stretch, because it would be almost more odd if this wasn’t on all their minds.

Another reason I interpreted it this way is because of the clear division between before and after JK interrupts his own gcf with a sniff and a “sorry”. It’s almost jarring when the screen turns completely black and the song cuts out for this interruption, so you really can’t miss it.

Up until this point, this gcf had followed JK’s usual style. He shows his members as a group and individually with some silly moments thrown in where they pretend to fight each other. (If anyone thinks Jungkook doesn’t pay attention to lyrics just know that during this play-fight scene there’s a line that goes, “set away your hate”.)

Then comes the interruption and Jungkook seems to apologize for the silliness he just showed us. It’s almost like, “ok, I’ll get serious now.”

And after the interruption we only ever see the members on their own. They each get their own series of solo shots, but we never see them as a group again.

The couple shots there are of birds also mirror this.

Pre-interruption, we get the lyrics, “lose the sight of what’s to come, below or what’s above”, and on the “above” JK switches to a shot of three birds flying overhead as a group:

And immediately after the interruption, we get the shot of a single bird flying alone, mirroring how each of the members will be shown solo from now on:

Add to that the fact that Talos’s song used in the background of this gcf is called To Each His Own, and seems to be about making one’s own decisions and self-determination: “I’ll take the desert, you take the coast, to each his own.”

I’m sure with the changes headed their way they’re all trying to figure themselves out as individuals, who they are outside of BTS and the group.

The use of the colour in this gcf was also so transformational and seemed to indicate change.

Everything starts off bleakly grey and rainy:

But there are moments when the colours change and grow warm.

There’s a moment when RM smiles and the colour grading warms up, but the most stark is right after JK’s own solo shots. The black border transforms into a white one, the focus on the colourful leaves is shifting, and though the redness of the leaves indicates fall, this moment felt to me like spring suddenly arrived.

The shot we get of Jimin immediately afterwards is also filled with movement and colour with his bright red coat.

He ends the gcf on a similarly transformational shot, where the sunset/sunrise turns from greyscale to brilliant, warm colours.

I could ramble on, but there’s only so much I can say with confidence, and I think I’ve outlined the major themes Jungkook was toying with here. I just appreciated the heck out of this gcf and hope others will too, for more than just its aesthetic.

[ripperwinchester]

Hide and Seek

Summary: When Dean gets loose the only way to get out is to play his game but it doesn’t quite go as expected 

Pairing: Demon Dean X Reader

Warnings: Smut, Angst

Words: 1618

Not having the old Dean around made things hard for you at times, you would spend most nights babysitting him while Sam tried to find a cure. You felt hopeless at some points, but you knew your Dean was in there, and you would do anything to get him back. While you’d admit he did get annoyingly more hot than before, it also came with being more annoying too.

It was Saturday night, you and Sam had been out all day, leaving Dean in the bunker locked in the dungeon. After arriving home you, decided to make dinner for the boys. Sam had decided to keep working on a cure for Dean, in the library, while you made dinner in the kitchen.

You got the hamburger meat out of the fridge, took a knife from the chopping block and sliced open the package. You threw the patties onto the hot stove top.

As you put the cooked hamburgers onto the plates you heard a crash in the distance.

“Sam?” You yelled, there was no response. You knew it was probably just you being paranoid. Sam had probably just knocked over a pile of books in the library. Despite you trying to reassure yourself, you still peeked your head out of the kitchen door and called his name again. This time you heard a faint thud.

You grabbed the knife off of the counter and made your way to the library trying to be as quiet as possible. You found yourself searching the halls and making your way into the library. Looking around the room you saw no sign of Sam, while continuing to search, your attention only got averted when you heard muffled footsteps. Calling out Sam's name, you yet again got no response.

As you followed the footsteps, you felt a funny feeling in your chest that something was wrong, and boy were you right. You found Sam in the hallway knocked out cold, you dropped down to the ground to help the younger brother, you searched for any open wounds. While not finding any, you decided to check his pulse. You placed your pointer and index finger on his neck. Just before you could get a clear indication, you heard a voice you knew all too well.

It was Dean.

He was singing your name over and over again asking you to come out and see him. A thousand thoughts ran through your mind, starting with how did he get out in the first place? He was locked downstairs in the dungeon strapped to a chair with handcuffs that Rowena had made to insure he couldn’t escape.

“Come on out Y/N, you know I’d never hurt you.” He yelled while slowly walking around the bunker, head turning at every corner.

You knew he wasn’t going to give up, so you picked up the knife from beside Sam that you had sat down and silently tried to make your way back to your room to grab some kind of weapon. Something that wasn’t your kitchen knife. You had only moved about a few feet before you heard a big crash. Suddenly, an alarm sounded and a slow red light started flashing.

The power was completely shut off, and it was pitch black besides faint flashes of red. You couldn’t see a thing, your breathing became heavy. You took the knife in your left hand and put it to your side while your other hand was feeling the wall trying to not to run into anything. You only moved when the walls would turn red from the alarm.

“Nowhere to run now, don’t worry it’s only hide and seek.” He called out in a hoarse voice.

You could hear him coming closer, but knew you didn’t have a chance against him in this situation So you did the only thing you could think of, play his game. If you could get him into a room, you would be able to trap him, which would buy you enough time to make it to your room, grab a weapon and try to get him back to the dungeon.

“Alright Dean, you win. Come get me, well, that’s if you can find me.” You spoke firmly. You started to run, you knew it wouldn’t take him long to figure out where your voice had come from, and if you wanted any chance of getting him back, you couldn’t be dead.

“Not a very good idea babydoll. You’re playing with fire you know?”

“Oh I know I am, but it’s no fun if you can’t catch me.” You replied in a seductive tone, trying to egg him on. You could hear him snarl from your response, so you knew time was running out. You stumbled your way into Dean's room, and decided to sit on the desk placed behind the door. Your hope was since it was dark, when Dean walked in, you would be able sneak past him.

In what felt like no time, he had found you, slowly he had pushed the door open while he hummed a light tune. You saw him for a split second while the alarm had flashed red. You positioned yourself to be able to run when the door shut. Knowing that you had to act fast, you silently hopped off the desk and pressed yourself against the wall. You knew you had to knock him out in order to get past him.

You took the knife you had been carrying and approached his backside, You felt large hands wrap around your neck and you dropped the knife to the floor. He pushed your back against the wall.

You stared into Dean's eyes as they flicked into pitch black. He kept one hand on your neck and the other was slowly moving up the inner part of your thigh, tracing patterns. He moved his lips up your neck, and then to your earlobe.

“Did you really think you could outsmart me?” He whispered while looking you up and down.

You struggled to speak, “Dean, you don’t want to do this.” It wasn’t that Dean was choking you and you couldn’t breathe, it was more like, you really loved it. Well more importantly you loved him, and even with him as a demon, him being this close to you made something inside you get excited.

He hummed in response.

“Y/n, we’ve wanted to this since the very first moment we met you.”  He said, with his light touch moving further and further up.

“Let me go, Dean.” You said, squirming, his had hand had lightly brushed over your throbbing core.

“We both know you don’t really want that Y/N.” This time when he brought his hand back, he didn’t take it away. Instead, he started rubbing circles on your sensitive clit through your shorts. A quiet moan escaped your parted lips.

“D-dean we shouldn’t be doing this.” You stammered as you felt every hair on your body stand up from his touch.

“I see the way you look at me, I know that little mind of yours has dirty thoughts about how you want me to touch you. You can’t fool me with your good girl act.” He grinned.

“No, there is no act, Dean, i’m just not bad like you.” You lied, there were countless times you had imagined you and Dean being intimate just, not while he was demon.

“So you’d feel nothing if i did this?” He placed his lips on your neck lightly sucking, grazing his tongue along your skin and removing his hand from your thigh and placing it under your shirt kneading your breasts.

You could feel him smile against your neck as you let out another moan.

With his right hand still clutching your throat, he took his other hand and pulled the fabric of your shorts to the side. He moved his hand up to your panties and began playing with lace. His fingers danced around everywhere. Everywhere, except where you needed him the most. You were so wet it was unbearable.

“I want you Dean.” You pleaded.

Dean smirked, he released your neck from his hold and grabbed both of your hands, pinning them above you. He leaned into you, so his lips could attack yours. You closed your eyes and melted into the kiss until you heard the door slam open. Before you could react you heard a gunshot and a loud grunt. Your hands fell by your side as Dean fell to the floor.You looked over in the dark to see the outline of Sam in the doorway.

“Y/N are you okay, did he hurt you?” He asked running over to check on you.

You tried to stop your heavy breathing as Sam walked over. You glanced down at the demon who had been shot, it was only in the shoulder but you wished he hadn’t been shot at all. You looked up at Sam.

“Yeah i’m okay.”

Sam wiped the sweat beads from his forehead. He leaned to down to pick up Dean to carry him back to the dungeon before he woke up. “Thank god I got here when I did.” He spoke.

You finally got your breathing under control from the aftermath of what you and the older Winchester were about to do.

“Yeah, who knows what things he might have done.”

Your eyes looked back down to Dean laying on the ground. You instantly thought of what he had said to you, did he mean it? Had he always wanted to do those things to you? Did he feel the same way about you?

You kept your eyes trained on him. Demons always lie, right?

[dashielldeveron]

Viper V: de Futuro.

Warnings: violence, swears, the law.

Summary: the famous sewer scene, like they have in every rom-com.

Day five of the bomb threat. It was confined to Manhattan now, although no one could be certain. Bomb threats tended not to last so long, but this one had reason to extend: all of the sewers in lower Manhattan were backed up, and so far, no one could locate the cause. Authorities had the inkling that the bomber—Isadora’s kidnapper, your identity thief, twice—had blocked the sewers off somewhere downtown, maybe linked with the subway.

Which meant NYC was in uproar, mostly for transportation issues. The streets never cleared, and all attempted to avoid being outside for long due to the rank smell—but when one lives in an overpopulated, urban area, that tended to be difficult to evade.

All applause for your identity thief. He’d turned the city upside down with a few, simple actions. If he weren’t directly aiming and igniting this in your direction, you’d be impressed.

Too bad Tom was being a little prick. Wanting to be thorough in initiating you to be consigliere, he wasn’t letting you have a spare moment to yourself, and when you collapsed on your bed at home each night, your brain transformed into mush.

“Who should I give this job to?” Tom tossed you three profiles across his desk and kept striding towards his liquor cabinet.

“Sydney,” you said, picking out his file and setting it in front of his chair, “He’s got the subtlety that Moss and Murtagh don’t. Also, Bauman called; he wants to hire you to plan an operation for him across the Hudson, and Judge Le sent you this package in the mail.” You pulled a slender rectangle out of your blazer pocket and threw it his way. “It’s weighted like a fountain pen, probably in thanks for your help last week.”

Tom caught the package without looking away from his liquor cabinet and unwrapped it as he chose his bottle. “Excellent. I want you to look at Bauman’s initial operation to see what your instincts are. If you can’t figure anything out, give it to me. Text Sydney that he’s going to Harlem for the next five days. Tell him to leave his rings at home.” He dug his fingernails into the crack where the tape didn’t cover the cardboard and forced it open, and he tapped the opening into his palm. “You’re right,” he said, holding up the fountain pen, “Engraved. Put it with the rest.” He threw it back to you.

Catching it with both hands, you slid it into the pen cup. “Also, Holland, we should get the New Jersey representatives on the payroll soon. They’re trying to introduce a local law that’d let them gerrymander more often, and we want them in our pocket, if they have that power.”

“Get on it, then,” said Tom, and he poured an unhealthy amount of whisky into a tumbler. He held up a hand. “Wait. I don’t want them if they haven’t passed that law. Get them in our good graces but don’t commit to anything serious.”

You jotted that on your legal pad. “Got it. Are Z and Haz still going to the Heights today?”

“If the streets are manageable.” Tom took a deep drink and winced. “Fuckin’. Fuckin’ bomber.”

“Are we doing anything about that?”

Tom drained his glass. “You bet your arse we are.”

***

“You’re the worst,” you said, attempting to rest your weight by the pads of your index and middle fingers on the grimy wall of the sewer so that the pressure was removed from your heels for even a moment. “I’m not doing this again.”

“Tell me how you really feel,” Tom muttered, waving the flashlight in your direction.

“I could be touching the Gawain diamond right now. Maybe. It’s unclear when it’s coming in.” You pushed off of the wall and rubbed the grit between your fingers. “Instead, I’m living like a goddamn ninja turtle.”

“If you want pizza after this, just say the word,” said Tom, “but stop fuckin’ complaining. Come on. I’m hearing voices in the distance.”

“You could have sent some lame-o soldier to do this.” You leapt over a sopping puddle underneath a grate but managed to land in a deceptively squishy moss.

(Harrison had also voiced this sentiment. Why would the don and his consigliere go perform a humiliating task? “I want her eyes on everything they can be when it comes to this case,” Tom had said as if you hadn’t been present, and he loosened his tie enough to slip it off but keep the knot. “And I’m not letting her out of my sight.”)

“Yet I want you.” Tom peered around a bend, holding out his arm to keep you back.

“Yeah, well,” you said, “You may need my brain, but if it’s scrambled from not relaxing, it may not be on its best behaviour.”

“We’ll see about that,” Tom said under his breath, and he stood upright, dropped his arm, and beckoned for you to follow him farther. Before he could take could take more than three steps, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Christ, Viper, if you wanted time off, all you have to ask. Not—not now, of course. Gotta get situated. But once things calm down, you can…” Tom turned towards you, and in his face was an exasperation you hadn’t seen since you missed your mother’s birthday: weak, raised eyebrows with a mouth open simply because it didn’t take any muscles for it to drop and eyes with the suggestion of watering.

You shook your head. “I don’t want any time off.”

Tom shook his head in tandem, biting his lower lip and furrowing his brow. “Then what do you want?”

A series of shouts came from down the sewer, and Tom’s hand shot to his gun over the clatter of running footsteps from the other direction. You hissed at him that he couldn’t shoot in the sewer; he’d ruin their ears. Tom reluctantly withdrew and trudged forth.

You came upon a capacious, underground crossroads with tunnels going in six directions. Tom began to speak, but your hand on his shoulder silenced him as you listened.

“The police,” said Tom, “are down that one.” He gestured towards the one towards your left.

“Agreed,” you said, placing your chin on the back of your hand; Tom took a deep breath. “But listen: what’s the tinny sound? I’d say it’s chains dragging on the floor, but it’s not sixteenth century Spain.”

“There are so many things I want to say to you right now, but none of them are appropriate for this situation.”

“Tell me later,” you said, “Someone’s gotten to the blockage before we did.” You approached the tunnel, Tom close behind. “Ffffffuck. We won’t see raw evidence.”

Another shout and water rushing—holy shit, more like a fuckin’ deluge—surging your way.

“Oh, my God,” you said, and you grabbed Tom’s hand and ran—which tunnel did you come in? That one, sure. You chose that one.

Tom ran past you, but he came to a halt when you couldn’t keep up. You made the grossest decision of your life to take off your heels and run in the sewers in your bare feet. (“I’m gonna get the plague, and it’s gonna be your fault. I’m gonna get the plague, and hepatitis, and all my organs are gonna fail.”)

Shouts and watery footsteps from behind. An instruction to split up. A gunshot reverberated down your tunnel, the bullet skimming the wall, and you stuck a finger in your ear and twisted to pop it.

You came to a fork in the tunnel and bolted down the left path (“That’s how you get out of a maze,” you said, “you just keep your hand on the left wall.”), and Tom glanced back when you yelped at having stepped in a wet moss. A low pipe struck the back of Tom’s head, and his knees buckled, his hands flying to his scalp.

“No, no, no, it’s okay,” you said, peeking back down the sewer, “Come on. Stand up. We’ll be out soon. Arm around my shoulder. Let’s go.”

Tom put his arm around your waist, and his palm tightened around the spot where it curved into your stomach. Wrenching him upright, you urged him to put as much of his weight as he needed on you, mostly because you were a masochist who wanted to drop dead right there, and if this is the closest to romantic contact you’ll get, you’ll take it.

You came into another open crossroads and let him lean against the sewer wall while you stretched, water trickling in after you, not yet covering your feet but rising.

“Firehoses,” Tom said, his hand flat against the sewer (that had better not be the one he touches you with), “The chain dragging noise. Firehoses. They must be trying to blast out the blockage with water pressure.”

Nodding, you rolled your shoulders backwards. “If you say so. Which is—”

“Don’t say anything,” said Tom, “I hear someone coming.”

From another tunnel approached the manic splash of a runner—panting. Heavy panting. When he entered the crossroad, he doubled over and tried to breathe. Dressed in black. Hiding his face. Gotcha.

His head snapped towards you when you moved towards Tom, who snaked his arm around your waist again for support. He whipped out a gun, and though it’s too dark to make out what type it is, you get the feeling it wasn’t the one fired earlier.

“The fuck are you?” he barks, and it’s natural; it’s not the same person as before, who was very careful to conceal his identity. His gun shook for a second before steadying.

Tom opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You spoke for him. “You don’t know me?”

“You’re not with the police?”

“Are you with the bomber?”

You heard a click. “What’s it to you?”

“Personal interest.”

“A chick with personal interest. Not police.” He cleared his throat. “What up, Viper?”

You reached towards Tom’s holster and aimed his gun at the grunt before he could protest, but Tom did let out a choked sound: the barrel had grazed the outline of his cock—and you cocked his gun, hand never trembling. “Tell me about my identity thief.”

“You already know everything,” said the grunt, edging backwards and stumbling on sewage, “Precision like Mozart and justice like it’s judgment day. And if I can shoot you now, then the first part of my boss’s justice will be served pretty hot.”

“Justice,” you said, staring for a moment at the sludge between your toes, and you flexed them. “Then you know it’s not justice for me to shoot my hostage right here and now.” You pulled Tom into a chokehold and dug the barrel into his forehead. “You wanna get out of here, huh? Go on, then, before I blast this concussed fireman’s brains out.”

Tom’s hands gripped at your forearm, initially trying to pry you off but falling still. The grunt was hesitating, but his gun was lowering.

“C’mon. Don’t make me come over there.”

He bolted. Your grip on Tom’s neck loosened, and your arms fell to your side. Panting, Tom ran his fingers through his hair, only a suggestion of gel left. He shook his head at you, his eyes wide and jaw dropped.

“You are,” he said between breaths, “the craziest woman I’ve ever come across. And that’s why this is working—mmf!”

He inhaled sharply at your return of his gun to his holster, and you, grinning with a glint of wickedness in your eyes, glanced at his belt, jerked the holster back to its place at his side, and lingered with your fingers in his belt loops (the leather kept his pants fabric a little tighter to his skin than necessary, and you bet if you cared to, you could easily feel around for the v of his hipbones).

You were close, so close, and he couldn’t make himself look anywhere besides into your eyes. “Who’s talking here, Viper or the adrenaline?” he asked under his breath.

You yanked his belt loops to your hips. “Are you saying this doesn’t turn you on?”

“Is scared to death in the realm of turned on?”

“Sometimes,” you said, stepping away. It was the adrenaline talking. You had no idea how your aim was; you don’t shoot the guns, and Tom had been helpless in your arms. Pure luck had never felt so sexy. You shifted your foot on the edge to examine the underside, and grimacing, you said, “We’re getting out of here before I obtain several parasites. How’s your concussion?”

“Unsure if it is,” said Tom, his hand flying to the back of his head, “I wish I could see the bruise when it appears. Still not the best on my feet at the moment.”

“Well, lean on me, then, if you need to.”

***

Warm water bubbled up to your ankles. The foot soaker thing had been commandeered from a secretary in the business side of Osseous, and you were going to stay in it until you burned and scrubbed away the first five layers of skin.

Tom clutched an ice pack to the back of his head, and he hunched over to scroll through his phone on his lap. “I can still order that pizza, you know.”

“Let me have some semblance of professionalism around you, Holland,” you said, writing down the sewer events on your legal pad, “Besides, I have leftover hibachi at home.”

“Please order the pizza; I’m starving,” said Haz, untying his boots and removing them.

“Put a vegetable on it, for the love of God,” Zendaya said without looking up from her phone, “How you eat is abominable.”

“I eat vegetables.”

“Potatoes are a starch,” said Zendaya, “Have you guys been on twitter today?”

“What’s going on?” Tom popped his back and folded both his arms behind his head.

She flicked down her phone with her index finger. “A twitter account for Epiales, that political writer, was created this morning.”

“It’s fake,” you said on reflex.

“How do you know? It’s verified.”

“It can’t be.” You began to stand but sat again. “I’m not getting out of the foot bath. Come over here,” you said, frowning.

Z obliged, and she scrolled through the tweets for you. Shaking your head, you said, “It’s bogus. Total bullshit.”

“How would you know?” Haz asked from the liquor cabinet.

Oh. Um. “Look at how the sentences are structured. Epiales has flawless grammar. I don’t even have to go through all of them; there’s a comma splice in this tweet. Rookie mistake. That’s not something you do once you know it’s wrong. Plus, didn’t Epiales say on his website that anything not on the website, in that law journal, or in the Times wasn’t him?”

“Yeah, he did,” said Tom.

Zendaya pursed her lips. “So, who’s this fuck?”

***

When you got home that evening, you smushed your face in Trout’s belly for as long as she would let you. Simple and soft. She wiggled loose and trotted off to your bed before you felt okay again.

After reheating the hibachi, you settled into bed to write down that day’s plant records so that you could watch Netflix. Trout reacquainted herself with your freshly scalded feet.

Normal stuff. A couple of names you missed—you added those to your notes. A standard run-through, except for the conversation that occurred soon after you left.

You trudged through your own conversations; did your voice really sound like that? Z had departed for the day; you listened to her goodbyes, but Harrison and Tom loitered in his office.

“Something’s gotta be up,” came Harrison’s voice, distant but distinguishable, “Viper’s a little too smart for her own good.”

“She already has Dr. Prine,” said Tom, his voice muffled, like he was pinching his lower lip, “Who’s to say she doesn’t have other connections in high places?”

“What if she’s behind the bombs and kidnapping?”

“No. She wouldn’t want herself out in the public eye.”

Harrison sighed. “But how’s she know where everything is? No one’s that clever.”

“She is.” Tom paused. “The latest Epiales article—the one on the website. It did mention something about the mob.”

Shit. Shit! That had been the one you’d written in Tom’s childhood bedroom, the one where you were desperate to finish and needed something. You’d slipped.

“You think she knows Epiales?”

“I’m thinking the interview wasn’t a coincidence and that there wasn’t a burner phone. She’s got to have a way to contact him.”

“What if she’s feeding him information about us?”

“Epiales hasn’t done much with the information so far, if that’s true,” said Tom.

���Tom,” said Harrison, “She knew that the twitter was fake. Completely convinced. She knows exactly what to say to everyone and can act like a chameleon in any situation, seems like. I like the girl, but how do we find out if she’s a snake in the grass?”

“Well, Haz, you know what you do with snakes,” came Tom’s voice after a beat, “Charm them.”

***

de Futuro: concerning the future; at a future date.

***

taglist: @hollandroos @starksparker @pparkerwrites @qxeen-of-hearts @stealth-spiderr @presidentbttrflyfreak @parsleysbaby @madmadmilk @paradoxparker @gryfinpuffs @bi-writes @astronomyparkers @wheremyotpat @infamous-webhead @laurfangirl424 @softspideys @gendryia @plethoraofpuppies @laucontrerasv @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven @spiderboytotherescue

[bubmyg]

i’ll be home - myg

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: lawyer!yoongi, fluff

word count: 1,851

summary: he was supposed to work late for your first christmas together, married, so he asks that you go to your parents because it’d make him feel better that you weren’t home alone or where you come home to find out that yoongi hasn’t forgot about the cat sweater you bought him or the artificial tree in the attic

a/n: the final part of aicaib!!! thank u for sticking w me through this series (this is the first time i’ve written a one shot for every member woah) as always, if u need the series masterlist, ask me. this is also part of my lawyer!yoongi series, so if you’d like that masterlist, also let me know :’-)

“Please go to your parents’ tonight,” Yoongi squeezed your hands, pleading, “I’m not asking you to spend the night there. Just go. Eat dinner with them. I don’t like the thought of you being alone.”

“I’m not alone,” You argued, chin dropping to your chest to eye the wiry haired poodle lapping at your ankles, “I have Holly.”

He sighed, dropping your hands to curl long fingers around your cheeks, pressing his lips just above the corner of your mouth. “Angel.” Dark eyes flicked down to you, pursed lips hovering a feathery space away from your skin. “Go,” He chided, “and take Holly. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

You grumbled as Yoongi’s lips trailed down to your jaw.

“Is that a threat?”

Yoongi shrugged off his blocky dress shoes after the third time he’d tripped on the lip of wood from the garage to the foyer, balancing long cardboard boxes and grey tinted plastic bins on his shoulders to pile on the rug in the living room. His shoulders sagged when he peeled the slick black off his heels, puffing out a breath as he stared at the spot where the tree would go.

It was sad really, cleared of the lamp and the corner table and the tiny porcelain pig that normally took purchase there. It’d been cleaned like that for weeks, all intents and purposes to put the tree up for three consecutive weekends and never quite getting there due to scheduling conflict. Now, it was Christmas Eve and all your presents sat underneath what you’d deemed the makeshift tree, or rather, the lavish dining table that a family of two and a dog had no use for.

You’d placed a metal star standee in the center of a knit tablecloth to the oak top of the table, just for good measure.

He forgot the tree broke into three separate pieces, sending the top tumbling into the coffee table and jostling a holder of stone coasters. Pine needles coated the length of his wool sweater by the time he managed to wiggle the tree’s center into the tripod stand, leaving an entirely inconspicuous trail from the damaged cardboard box in the corner of the room to the place where two-thirds of the tree now resided.

The plastic green covered the grinning grey cat plastered to the front of Yoongi’s sweater, outlining the Santa hat perched on top of the character’s head and masking the string of multicolored lights that collage the surface of the top. It was a gift from you, one he’d promised to wear and had artfully avoided until he found yours that matched, tag still on, buried in a ridiculous crevice of your closet. Maybe it was the guilt of taking a case this close to Christmas and continually delaying the construction of the tree to where he had to send you to your parents under the pretense that he wouldn’t be home until late on Christmas Eve, of all things, just so he could sneak in and do it all himself.

But now he couldn’t stop seeing the amused light in your eyes when he’d opened the sweater, your elbow nudging his stomach and cheering, “I have one too! We can match, if you want…”

Yoongi did want to. Now and always. Last names, glittering metal bands, cat sweaters, and all.

He replaced the star on the dining table with your folded sweater, a bit crumpled from being smashed behind a box of his boots, but the grey kitten smiled nonetheless as he plopped a shiny red bow on the corner of the fabric.

The shards of the artificial tree once snagged on Yoongi’s sweater pooled around his socks when he stretched to place the top third of the tree in place. His torso scratched against the limbs, rolled as far as the arches in his feet would allow. With a grunt and a semi dangerous totter of the entire structure, the top was on the tree while a fine layer of sweat beaded across his brow.

“Lights,” He muttered to himself, swiping at his forehead with the cuff of his sweater. “I need lights—” Yoongi paused, index finger lifted, as if pondering the weather or at the very least speaking to someone, “—or music. I need music first.”

He managed to connect the wireless speakers stationed between the rungs of the balcony upstairs, cascading a playlist he found titled Holiday Tunes down into the glowing warmth of the living room. Yoongi clapped, triumphant.

“Okay. Now lights.”

He found them buried underneath a quilted stocking, an unopened package of shatterproof ornaments, and three different stems of mistletoe. He considered the short stalks of green clutched in his palm, the red bow hand tied at the end with ends tickling at the underside of his wrist.

“Couldn’t hurt…” Yoongi squinted, the towering doorway in the threshold from the garage to the hallway arched and daunting for someone who could barely reach his favorite coffee cup in the kitchen cabinet. “Right? Right.”

For once, he wished he were tripping over Holly so that his nonsensical ramblings could at least be heard by someone.

He managed to tape the mistletoe with a half tacky piece he found pasted on top of the (empty) dispenser you kept in a drawer filled with grill lighters and a half opened box of plastic spoons and the spare key to the car you traded in two months ago. Only the bottom link of his spine seemed to be pulled from how high he’d had to stretch after dragging over the leather upholstered footstool and balanced socked feet in the center.

Yoongi found himself tangled in three strands of lights, all connected, two that were half on, tiny twinkling lights burning hot through his black slacks as he pulled out kinks in the braided wire, leaving them in an equally messy pile on the floor. One strand, the one that worked completely, barely covered the circumference of the hulking bottom of the tree and he was halfway through dragging a new strand out from the blue tinted tub (one he thought was red rather than “bright white” but he was willing to take the gamble) when he swore the garage door was opening.

Holly found him first, toenails clacking down the length of the hall and skidding sideways into the door frame before letting out a delighted yip! and stumbling straight into his shins. The wire of the lights was still secured in Yoongi’s front teeth as he crouched, roughing gentle palms across the puppy’s muzzle until you rounded the corner, propping your shoulder against the door frame.

He met your accusing gaze with wide eyes and rounded lips, the perfect circle of his mouth causing the lights to tumble out and drape across Holly’s neck. “Hi!” He chirped, brushing the lights of his wriggling puppy with a nervous smile, “How was dinner—”

“We drove by your office,” You pushed yourself up, taking a scuffing step closer, “and you weren’t there.”

Yoongi worried the inside of his cheek into his molars, “I was. I came home early.”

You hummed, “I can see that—”

You were cut off by the brunt of his torso smacking into you, arm circumventing your waist, hand clutching yours as he swayed you in a dramatic circle. Something festive but softer floated down from the speakers but his guiding footsteps barely followed the beat anyway, socked feet nudging at your slightly chilled ones.

“You really thought I’d leave you home alone on Christmas?” Yoongi’s gums blinded your heart a bit, arm squeezing you tighter against him as he corrected, “Our first Christmas together, might I add.”

“This isn’t our first—”

His thumb and index finger twisting at the band on your second finger from the left had your heart stuttering into the base of your throat. “This ring was a little different last Christmas,” He mused, centering the diamond to lace your fingers again.

“You spent too much…”

“I’ll buy you three more,” Yoongi squeezed your palm, “We can renew our vows twice a year, if you want.”

“I don’t,” You grinned when he feigned offense, pressing your face against his chest, “Can’t top the best day of my life.”

His chest rumbled with a scratchy laugh, chin on top of your head as he directed your blind figure out of the living room to the tune of some song featuring the tinkle of bells and Holly’s high stepping claws against the hardwood. “I got you an early present,” He mused, dropping your hand to reach for your half wrinkled sweater on the dining table.

Your eyebrows furled for barely a second, fond annoyance meeting the roll of your eyes as you opened and let the hem of the sweater fall. “I bought this,” You jabbed an index finger into his stomach, “and this one.”

“Just put it on.”

“I didn’t go to my parents, by the way,” You cocked an eyebrow at him after shoving your head through the slightly too small hole, threads snapping in the process. You centered the sleeves of your sweater over your watch and bracelets while picking your hair out of places it shouldn’t be, watching him with a tiny, knowing smile.

“Why?”

You hummed, plucking absently at some leftover pine needles still taking residency on his chest, “Didn’t want to hear my mom tell me how you’re too busy for me.”

Yoongi curled his index finger underneath your chin, pressing his lips gently to yours. “Hmm, I am,” He rolled his eyes in time with you, pecking down your chin to the pulse point on your neck, “I have a tree to decorate.”

You snorted, letting him pull you in messy, looping circles back into the living room. “Do you?”

“I’ve been busy, miss,” The tree appeared to weep when his wincing gaze sliced over to it, taking in the lopsided top that he hadn’t quite secured and the singular strand of lights that was buried much too far into the artificial limbs, plug in to add the next strand nowhere to be seen and the lights he’d half untangled still red. Not white. “I mean, I didn’t think you’d come home just yet so I—”

You placed a gentle palm on Yoongi’s cheek, leaving a tender kiss to him lips.

“It’s perfect.”

His nose wrinkled, chin cocking just enough to brush the tip against yours, “Is it?”

“No,” You pecked his mouth again, “but we can fix it.”

“I got it inside, at least?” Yoongi’s eyes twinkled a bit as he cheered, “and I put up mistletoe!”

You followed the path of his pointing finger, only to find the spot he was referring to void of any green foliage. Instead, that piece laid in a sad lump on the floor, Holly’s nose buried against the stem as he danced on top of the leaves at his newest discovery.

“We can fix that, too but…” You shrugged, “You better kiss me, reverse the bad luck of letting it touch the floor.”

“Oh, is that the rule?”

“You’re the lawyer, Yoon.”

[dreamerfae]

für immer

A/N: für immer means forever

Summary: Touka brings an injured Ken home that night and their relationship began then. AU Ghoul Ken x Human Touka.

Word Count:  4,271

Rating: Teens and Up

Genre: Alternate Universe, Tragedy

Notes: AU where Ken is a full ghoul and Touka is a human. Set in an era where ghouls are recognized as people like humans are, and are allowed to be like humans.

Ken ran and ran, holding a hand over the big hole in his torso, under the heavy rain. His feet hurt, his body numb and vision slowly fading. Turning into a narrow alley, he hoped that this would make his enemies lose sight of him. When their presences disappeared, he let out a huge sigh of relief and slid down the wall. He tried to force his eyes open but it was no use, as he succumbed to the darkness.

"That damned Nishiki! Purposely closing the shop slowly—" Touka paused in her sentence as her eyes narrowed at an outline of someone's body laying on the floor. Taking a step closer, she gasped when she saw a white-haired male lying in a puddle of his own blood. There was a gaping hole in his stomach and she quickly squatted down beside him to check whether he was still breathing.

She tensed upon feeling his breath. He was alive, but barely. At that moment, she knew that he was a ghoul. If he were a normal human, he would have died from blood loss a long time ago. Her mind debated over whether she should leave him to die here or nurse him. Freak it, she cursed. She didn't want to be responsible for this guy's death if she did leave him alone.

Touka grimaced at the amount of blood she cleaned using 3 bath towels and quickly bandaged his torso without looking at the huge wound. Finally, she settled his body onto her bed and watched as his eye twitched in his sleep.

The male stirred and slowly opened his grey eyes. It then darted all over before looking directly at her. Kaneki bolted up from the bed and jumped to the corner of her room. He bared his teeth at her and brought out his kakugan. Before he could let his kagune out, he doubled over and groaned in pain.

"H-hey! You can't just get up so fast like that! You're injured!" Touka exclaimed as she made an attempt to walk towards him and try to get him back onto the bed. A kagune tendril shot out from his back and turned into the form of a spear before pointing so closely at her face.

"Don't come any closer to me." He warned. He couldn't tell whether she was an enemy or friend and had to be cautious.

His attitude was starting to piss her off. "Excuse me, I was the one who found you half dead in the alley and bandaged you up! The least you could do is thank me, and not point your kagune at me!"

Kaneki glanced over to the bloody bath towels beside him and then down to his bandaged body. Withdrawing his kagune and kakugan, he relaxed and sat down. "..Thank you."

"Good. Now lie back down onto the bed. You need to rest."

He does as he's told and turned to face the wall. He heard her saying some stuff as she cleared the towels up but he doesn't bother when he's busy thinking of sleeping and leaving as soon as possible.

The first thing he did when dawn broke was move the woman from her sofa to the bed and left her house through the window.

--

Touka awoke to the bright morning sun and frowned when she saw that he already left her place. He still looked pretty weak last night and she hoped that he was okay. At the back of her mind, she wondered what happened to have made people attack him until he was fatally wounded. But she swept the thought away. It's not like she'll ever see him again.

She went on with her usual life, working at a cafe near her home and spent her days peacefully.

It's been one week since Kaneki met with the lady who saved his life. His stomach hasn't healed at all and he cursed himself for being so weak. This was all because he couldn't find any food in this ward, nor could he kill anyone here due to the strict laws of this ward. In his previous ward, he was able to get human meat with ease and still get away with it.

He walked on the streets, hand grabbing his shirt tightly when his torso throbbed and he bit his lower lip to bear with the pain. A delicious coffee scent penetrated the air and he directed his attention to a small cafe in the corner. He hoped that coffee would be able to heal his wounds a little or at least ease the pain. With those train of thoughts, he entered the cafe and was shocked to see the same lady who nursed him a week ago, working as a waitress there.

Both of their eyes widened when they saw each other and Touka quickly guided him to a corner seat before sitting down beside him. "Hey, are you alright? Your stomach..."

The male shifted his chair away from her, purposely putting some distance between them. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for--" He hissed when her hand settled over his stomach and she quickly retracted her hand.

"Don't lie. I'll be done with my shift in an hour. Wait for me here. Don't you dare leave without a word this time." She glared menacingly at him and he nodded with a swallow.

After her work was over, she guided him back to her house and passed him a brown paper bag. He brought it to his nose and sniffed. Human meat. His eyes looked to her, as if asking how she got this. "I know how hard it is to get food in this ward and you don't seem like you're from this ward either. So I borrowed some from my co-worker. He's a ghoul too. Don't worry, it isn't poisoned."

Despite her last sentence, he still opened the package warily and inspected the meat before taking a bite. She watched him chew slowly, swallow and smiled when he started to eat more of it. Within seconds, he was finished with the package and she handed him another one.

His kakugan was out again and she stared curiously at them. He was slightly disturbed by her gaze and asked, "What?"

"It's my first time seeing a ghoul's eyes up close."

"..And?"

"They're pretty."

He froze at her comment. Did she just compliment him? No one ever compliments a ghoul's eyes. They all say it's scary. This is the first time he's hearing a human say that.

"What?"

"I'm not lying. Hey, can I see your Kagune? I didn't manage to see it fully the other night." She asked.

"No."

She frowned. "Is this how you repay someone who saved your life and gave you food?"

Kaneki dragged a hand down his face with a sigh. He brought out his kagune as asked, and had 4 tentacles in the air. Her eyes dazzled at the sight of red scaly tentacles and she reached out to touch one. "Why isn't it sharp? You pointed a sharp one at me that time."

He answered her by sharpening one tentacle and making it soften. "We ghouls can control it."

She stared in awe and then looked at him. "So beautiful..."

His breath hitched, and he teared up a little since no one has ever called him that. Beautiful? How is he beautiful? All he's ever done his whole life was kill people and ghouls with these. They're ugly, sinful, disgusting. He's anything but beautiful.

All his life he was overcome with hatred because his human mother abandoned him when she realized that his father was a ghoul and she gave birth to a full ghoul too. From then on, he hated and couldn't trust humans. But why—when she cupped his face and pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth with a smile—did it make his heart beat so fast?

"You had a very lonely expression in your eyes earlier. I couldn't help it. Sorry." Touka said.

Though he swore to never trust humans again, he moved closer and enveloped her in his arms. Just once, he wanted to know how a human's warmth felt like. She was warm, unlike a ghoul's normal body temperature of 30 degrees. Pressing his nose into her hair, she smelt like coffee and flowers.

To his surprise, she returned the hug and wrapped her arms around his waist. Tears brimmed in his eyes when she pulled him closer and he tightened his grip around her. The way she hugged him and ran her hand soothingly down his back made him feel so wanted and so loved. It was something he didn't have, not even once in his life.

He separated from her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that—"

Touka saw his tears and smiled sadly. Poor boy. He must have been devoid of love for a long time. Maybe because she lost her family at a young age, that's why she understands how it feels to be lonely. Though he hasn't said anything about the reason why, she could see it in his eyes. I'm lonely. I need someone to love me.

She can't help but want to give him what he wanted. Since he was one head taller than her, she had to stand on her toes and wrap her arms around his neck to reach for his lips. She pressed her lips gently against his and he froze on the spot.

So many things ran through his mind but the main one was why is she kissing him? She was a stranger to him, and yet she's been doing nothing but weird stuff and stepping into his privacy. As much as he hated humans, he couldn't hate her. Not when she nursed him, gave him food, hugged him and now kissed him. It took him some time to relax his body and open his mouth to accommodate to hers. His arms go around her to pull her close and he inhaled the flowery scent of her. If he could eat human food, he'd say that she tasted like sweet strawberries.

They separated hesitantly and gazed into each other's eyes. Touka's hand caressed his cheek and she smiled. "Let's date."

His mind said no, he shouldn't date her because he's a ghoul and someday she'll get hurt. But his body said yes, because he has craved love for a long time.

"Okay."

—

When Touka asked where he was staying, he told her that he was sleeping in different areas at a time. Sometimes the park, below a bridge or on rooftops. He hasn't found a job so he doesn't have enough money to buy or rent an apartment. He was homeless basically, so she asked him to move in with her. Since he was new to the ward, he didn't have many items with him. So they also went to purchase some necessities and new clothes.

Once they were settled down with everything, Touka sat down beside him on the bed and intertwined their fingers together before laying her head against his arm. His heart started beating real fast, just like the time she hugged him. She doesn't say a word but he could see that she's smiling.

"You can do anything you want with me, you know." She finally spoke.

"..I'm sorry. I'm new to this so I don't know what I should do."

This was the truth. It was his first time dating, and on top of that, his partner was a human girl.

"It's okay. We can learn together."

--

Being a novice at dating, Kaneki didn't know how to be a boyfriend. It's been a week since they started dating and the only thing he's done for the past week was stand outside the cafe and watch his girlfriend work. He felt like a stalker of some sort but he really didn't know how to do this relationship thing.

Touka was aware of his presence whenever she worked and each time she turned in his direction, he'd quickly hide behind a tree or wall and hope she didn't spot him. But alas, she did and would always laugh at his silliness because he looked so cute doing that, as if they were playing hide and seek.

After the one week, she finally invited him in for a cup of coffee and settled down beside him. His heart raced at the proximity of their shoulders almost touching and he stared down at her hand which rested on the table. Trembling, he placed a hand atop hers, and watched her eyes light up and cheeks turn pink. He felt his own face warm as well, and decided to take it a step further, intertwining their fingers together.

Being a man of few words, he didn't know any romantic words to say in this situation. Touka knew that, turned her hand over and laced her fingers with his before giving him a smile. All he needed was encouragement and a little help along the way.

Ever since he was little, Kaneki has had problems trusting others and always kept to himself. He did everything alone. Ate alone, hunted alone and slept alone. For the past 25 years of his life, he's been doing that with no problems. After his mother abandoned him, he thought he had closed his heart off to prevent anyone from entering it. But Touka did, so easily and made a mark there.

She'd give him a big smile and welcome him home each time he returned from work, listen carefully to what he said, and touched him so gently and with so much love. Just as how she stormed into his life, he found himself falling in love with her.

Touka could tell that Kaneki was starting to change with her by his side, as he would have more smiles and laughter now than when they first met, where he always had a solemn and lonely look on his face. Truthfully, she enjoyed his company as well, being someone who also craved closeness with another, since she lost her family at a young age. She started looking forward to heading home, where he would always wait for her patiently and shower her with kisses and hugs.

They'd chat a little, and he'd ask how was her day, to which she complained about the stupid customers she met and he would laugh each time because she made it so funny. Then, they would shower and cuddle on the bed before falling asleep in each other's arms.

Sometimes, he would disappear for a day or two, just to hunt for food and she was always so worried whenever he did. But each time, he would press a kiss to her forehead and promise that he'll be back. He kept his promises and gradually she didn't worry as much as before.

It was around 4 months into their relationship that they started getting intimate with one another. It started off with them casually kissing on their couch, to which Kaneki took the kisses further and pressed his lips against the sides of her neck. She let out a gasp, panting as she felt his hands go under her shirt and they separated to gaze into one another's eyes.

He would have stopped there if she didn't encourage him to take her to bed and soon, their clothes were strewn all over the floor and their naked bodies were pressed together. It was both of their first times and though it was painful and uncomfortable for them, they enjoyed every minute of it because being this close and intimate with someone was something that they have craved for their whole lives.

Kaneki cried the moment they were done with the act and Touka pulled him to her chest, running her fingers through his white hair to comfort him. His arms went around her and she held him until he fell asleep.

He never thought that he'd fall so deep in love with her but he did.

--

One night, Kaneki was worried because she was late in returning home from grocery shopping and decided to check in on her at the supermarket. On the way there, he heard a familiar evil laughter and quickly turned into an alleyway. He found the gang of ghouls from his ward who was chasing after him, led by Matsuo, surrounding Touka. His eyes dilated with horror when he saw her bleeding and brought out his kagune to slit the necks of the ghouls who had their backs to him.

Touka's eyes widened at the sight of her boyfriend.

Matsuo was alerted due to the screams and smirked at him. "Oh, so you were here? We were looking all over for you and decided to ask your girlfriend when we couldn't."

He growled, anger evident in his red eyes. "What did you do to her?!"

"Oh, nothing. Asked her where you were and she refused to answer. Gave her a little injury—"

Before Matsuo could finish his sentence, Ken's kagune had flown past him, made a small cut on his cheek and pulled Touka into his arms. He gritted his teeth as he stared down at her wounds and glared at Matsuo. "I'll kill you."

"Ken, I'm okay.."

He smiled down at her. "I'll protect you. Don't worry, it'll only take a while."

With them, he narrowed his eyes at Matsuo and the gang. He was fine with being hurt but no one, no one was allowed to hurt his girlfriend. Bringing out more tentacles, he was about to attack them when a group of guys' laughter could be heard and the gang quickly retreated, knowing that they could get in trouble if they were spotted. Fights among ghouls were fine in this ward, but if a civilian was hurt in the process, they would be arrested by investigators.

--

"Doctor, please help her! She was attacked by ghouls!" Kaneki exclaimed, pleading with the doctors to save her. Touka was looking really pale now, having lost too much blood and they immediately brought her in.

After a few hours, she has finally stabilized and he was allowed to visit her in her hospital room. She was given a few stitches and although she was in pain, she forced a smile when he settled down beside her bed. He had his head down, tears dripping down his cheeks. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault—"

"It's okay. I'm alright now. The doctor said I can be discharged in a week!"

He looked at her with teary eyes. "Those guys who attacked you were the ones who injured me when you found me that night. They're after me because I killed some of their comrades in the past. You shouldn't be involved in this. It's dangerous if we continue to date, I think we should break up—"

Touka squished his cheeks with her hands and frowned. "No, I won't break up with you. I promised, didn't I? That I would stay with you."

"B-but you might get hurt again in the future. What if they came after you again?"

"I'll have you here to protect me. I'll even take up self-defense classes if you want me to. So please don't say that you want to break up." Her own tears dripped down her cheeks and he moved to hug her.

He swore on his life that he'd protect her.

--

They resumed their normal lives once Touka was discharged. The doctor advised her to stay at home for at least 3 more weeks before returning to work. She was hesitant but Kaneki insisted that she did and promised that he'd help her if she needed him. Of course, she agreed under his pressure.

While he did help her with the house chores before, now that she was injured, he did everything by himself. She needed all the time in the world to rest and he would do anything to ensure that she did. He still felt that her getting hurt was his responsibility and fault, and watched her every minute of the day even after she returned to work to make sure she was safe.

One night in bed...

With his arms around her, Touka gazed at Ken's face and caressed his cheek. "Hey, where do you see yourself in 10 years?"

He pondered for a bit before smiling down at her. "I see myself married to you and us having children together."

She grinned. "What? Are you saying you're gonna propose to me one day?"

"Someday, I will. Then we will be together forever."

--

Soon after that, Kaneki started receiving challenge letters from Matsuo, asking him to meet at a certain place for a showdown but he wasn't stupid and threw all of the letters away. It continued on for around 2 weeks and then they stopped coming.

One night, just as he was on the way to pick up Touka from work, he received a message from her.

Good evening, this is Matsuo. Since you wouldn't meet me by yourself, I have asked your girlfriend for some help. If you want her alive, come to 123 Shinjuku Warehouse.

A photo of Touka tied up by ropes was attached in the message.

His blood boiled. He'll kill all of them.

After arriving at the place, he saw the gang surrounding his girlfriend who was bound to a chair by ropes and Matsuo smirked at him. "I see you came."

"Let her go. She has nothing to do with this. If you want a fight, I'll fight you."

"We can't have you running off with her once we release her, can we? Besides, it'll be nice to see your reaction once we start playing with her." Matsuo smirked, bringing out his kagune to point at her.

Before Ken could go to her rescue, he was held down to the floor by 5 ghouls and Matsuo laughed. "Let me go, you bastard! I'll kill you!" His eyes flashed with anger.

"If you want your girlfriend unhurt, then you better do as I say."

"I rather die than--" He gasped when Matsuo placed his kagune on Touka's neck and blood started to drip down.

"You WILL do as I say." The male repeated, eyes narrowing at Ken.

Touka shook her head at him, telling him not to listen but he bit his lower lip. He had already decided that he would protect her no matter what. "Fine. Let go of her! I'll do whatever you want me to do! Just don't hurt her!"

Matsuo smirked in victory. "So romantic. First, you'll kneel down and beg me for forgiveness for causing the deaths of my friends."

Despite knowing that he was doing this on purpose, he got on his knees and apologized. But Matsuo never planned to let Touka go and ordered his men to beat Kaneki until he was happy. Each time he tried to retaliate, Matsuo would position his kagune at Touka's neck and he had no choice but to continue to receive the beating.

Tears flowed down her cheeks as she watched them kick him and stab him with their kagunes. "Stop! Ken..he'll die!"

Satisfied from seeing Kaneki all beaten up with bruises and wounds, Matsuo released Touka and she quickly ran over to him. Though Kaneki knew he couldn't regenerate anymore, he still smiled when he saw her running towards him uninjured and slowly reached a hand out to her. In the blink of an eye, she was stabbed in the stomach from behind. His eyes widened as she fell to the ground, laying on her side. "Ken..."

Gritting his teeth as tears fell down, he roared, "Curse you, Matsuo! You promised you'd let her go!"

The male only laughed.

Lightning flashed in the sky, thunder following soon after and the rain came down hard on them. Ken used one arm to drag his bloodied and weak body against the ground towards his girlfriend and cupped her cheek when he was beside her. Staring down at the huge hole in her stomach and the pool of blood that surrounded her, he knew she wouldn't make it and couldn't stop his tears from falling. "I'm sorry,  I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..!"

Touka opened her watery eyes and shook her head. "It's not your fault, Ken. You did all you could to protect me. Thank you."

He could tell that he was losing her, from her pale face and shallow breathing and sobbed even more. Pulling her into his chest, he let his tears fall and kissed her head. Touka weakly wrapped her arms around him and whispered so softly that he almost couldn't hear her. "..I love you, Ken. Thank you for everything. If I could be reborn in another life, I would still choose to spend it with you."

"M-me too. I love you, Touka. I promise that we'll be together forever in our next lives. We'll meet again, get married and have children!"

Touka smiled up at him and slowly closed her eyes. She went limp in his arms and at that moment, he knew that he lost her. Hugging her so tightly, he wept in sorrow until the flame in his own life also died out.

The couple remained in each other's arms even as they left this world.

100 years later, they were reborn as humans and even retained their memories of one another. They found each other again, and this time, they stayed together forever.

Forever is a long time, but I wouldn't mind spending it by your side.

[raspberryparker]

someday | seven

college!au spidey x fem!reader

← previous | series masterlist | next → (coming soon)

word count: 4427

summary: finally some good fucking food spidey content. ned is a love guru. (not my gif)

warnings: see masterlist some vintage spidey-style crime stoppin’

read it on ao3

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━━━━━━━━

   It was far, far too cold out to be swinging through the bone-chilling air in nothing but a skin tight superhero suit and the boxers Peter had on underneath.

   If the snow that fell in faint flurries around him wasn’t bad enough, then the bite of the wind against his body as he zipped through the air was a bit overkill in his opinion. His fingers were going numb around the webbing he gripped in his fist and his thighs were doing that weird tingly thing that happens when they’ve been cold for too long. It felt like they were falling asleep but it also kind of hurt. It was far from pleasant. This was yet another instance in which he was eternally grateful for Mr. Stark putting that heater in his suit, because without it he was pretty sure he’d already have developed a bad case of hypothermia.

   Coming down from the arch of his last swing, he perched himself carefully on the top of a flagpole that came diagonally out from a building, his adhesive feet allowing him to grip the softball sized metal ball on the top of it with ease. Shaking his arms out and flexing his fingers, he eased the cramping of the muscles that often occurred after he’d been gripping a web for too long. As he sat there switching out his web cartridges, he watched as a child on the street below him caught one of the empty ones as it fell.

   He looked up at Peter with a pleased shriek of happiness, the boy’s giggle coming through his words as he shouted, “Hi, Spider-Man!”

   Peter grinned in the mask, holding up a hand and waving at the young boy below him. The boy’s mother crouched beside him, saying something in his ear and holding his hand as they both waved back.

   If anyone asked him, he would definitely have said that that was the best part of the whole ‘being a superhero’ thing; the happiness he brought people. The comfort that they could live in knowing he was keeping them safe. It was incomparable.

   Peter saluted the pair below them, before shooting a web at the building across from him and launching himself into the air once again. He could hear the boy’s laugh behind him as he swung away. He smiled to himself.

   “That was nice,” Karen said. “I’ve archived it with the rest.”

   “Awesome,” he grinned.

   A few months back, he’d decided to make use of the fact that Karen could record the things he saw, and asked her to save his favourite moments for when he was feeling upset. It definitely helped to cheer him up. Those few days when he was sick, he sat in bed with a box of pizza with his mask on (pulled up over his mouth though—he still needed to eat) and watching a few selected clips. His favourite was when a little girl had spotted him in Central Park, scurrying up to him while her mother tried to stop her, and presented Peter with a small flower she’d picked on the way over to him. He’d sat there on his bed, watching on his suit’s display as she grinned between missing teeth all over again, and he took the flower from her and thanked her. He hadn’t been expecting for her to throw herself into his arms and cling to him, her pigtails tickling his neck through the suit, but he laughed happily as he carried her back to her mother and handed her off. The woman apologized for disturbing him, but he waved it off, giving the little girl a high five before he swung off again.

   That little encounter had been all over Twitter for the next week. Sometimes he forgot just how many, uh… fans he had.

   But it was all worth it.

   He still had the flower pressed into one of his chemistry textbooks.

   It had been a pretty uneventful day so far, apart from the fact that it had started snowing again and he’d almost slipped off multiple rooftops. For someone with sticky limbs, he was really doing a bad job at using them. Well, as uneventful as it could be for Peter when he was doing his rounds.

   He’d stopped a couple robberies already, saved a man from being mugged, and even pulled a frightened cat out of where it’d gotten stuck on a fire escape. You know, normal Spidey things. But he was really hoping for something fun to come his way, something that would make being out on that incredibly cold day worth his suffering. He had no classes on that day, Y/N was busy in the library so they couldn’t meet up to study, Ned was either in a lab or busy working on his assignments, and MJ was working on her biggest painting yet that she was supposed to submit in place of her midterm exam… basically, everyone had a life. So Peter decided it would be a perfect moment to do his rounds.

   Except for the fact that the day had turned out to be incredibly boring. And cold. Very boring and cold.

   As he swung by a few buildings, the receivers on his suit were able to pick up voices coming from a secluded area behind them. As curious as ever, he pulled himself up and over the roof of the building, free falling down on the other side. He caught himself on the fire escape, careful not to alert the men below him of his presence. In the alley-like area where the back sides of three buildings faced each other, Peter peered down at the group of five men standing around a black sedan, another identical one parked a few feet away.

   If that didn’t scream ‘suspicious’, he didn’t know what would.

   The snow drifted down softly around them as they huddled near the trunk, the flakes still too small and thin to stick properly. They all wore thick, heavy jackets to protect themselves from the cold, a few even with black toques on their presumably bald heads. They were, essentially, the poster children for ‘dangerous thugs’. Karen took the liberty of running facial recognition on all of the men facing toward him.

   “They’re all convicted felons,” she informed him. A collection of file icons gathered in the top right corner of the display, names popping up next to the boxes around their faces as Karen pulled their records. “Would you like me to scan their persons?”

   “Please,” Peter muttered, still worried they might spot him.

   He watched as the outlines of handguns appeared in blue along their waistlines, almost every single one of the men there armed, bar one or two. Well. There was nothing better than the threat of getting shot.

   With his mind already made up to intercept whatever obviously illegal activity this gang of goons were up to, he latched a web onto the railing of the fire escape and gripped it with both hands and feet as he descended slowly behind them upside down. They still hadn’t noticed him (which was surprising because his suit colours tended to stand out; maybe they were just that dumb). Just as he was about to reach their level, still about six feet off the ground, one of the thugs opened the trunk of the car.

   “Vinny was supposed to be here ten minutes ago,” a gruff voice muttered in a thick, almost too stereotypical ‘New Yorker’ drawl. “If he doesn’t show up, I swear I’ll kill him. Does he know how risky it is to just be out here with all this shit? We’re like sitting ducks.”

   “I told him, Frankie. Three-thirty, I told him.”

   “Well, he’s late. And that makes us late, so you do the math, dipshit.”

   Peter almost laughed out loud.

   Inside the trunk (oh, this was just too good), were perfectly packaged bricks of white powder wrapped in plastic. Drug deals were his absolute favourite bust. There had to be at least fifty of those bricks, and whoever put them there clearly crammed as many of them into the boot of the car as they could. They looked like they were about to burst.

   Lowering himself until he was just about eye-level with the shortest one, still upside down, Peter cleared his throat.

   “You know,” he said, watching as the men whirled around in surprise. “When people say they’re dreaming of a ‘white Christmas’, I don’t think that’s exactly what they mean.”

   “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” one of them (Frankie, if his memory served him correctly) shouted. “Do something! Kill him!”

   Peter allowed himself to drop to the ground, landing in a crouch on the balls of his feet. As a particularly burly thug charged at him, he dodged the oncoming collision by moving to his right. The assailant whirled past him, and he pivoted on his feet and used one of the many gadgets embedded into his web shooters (thank you, Ned) to plaster the guy to the wall of the building behind him with a large net of webbing. Peter’s nerves began firing rapidly, the back of his neck tingling, alerting him of someone approaching from behind him. He jumped into the air, flipping over top of the second thug, before allowing him to meet the same fate as his buddy.

   “Don’t let him get in the air!” came a shout.

   He turned quickly, spotting the other three men with their pistols drawn and pointed directly at him. Peter, acting quickly, used both web shooters to latch onto two of the guns, disarming his opponents. He flung them over his head like a lasso, tossing the weapons to the other end of the alley.

   The offenders growled in frustration, and began barreling toward him.

   “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Peter said, the sarcastic tone prevalent in his voice. “Can’t we resolve this by using our words? You know, like normal, law abiding citizens?”

   Peter felt a tickle on his neck, his ear twitching in warning. He jerked his head to the left, watching as the bullet he narrowly dodged whizzed past his face before he even heard the shot go off.

   Turning to look at the only thug who still had a gun, the eyes of his mask went wide in mock surprise.

   “Oh. Right.”

   He caught one of the men running at him and threw him up into the air, shooting a web at him and pulling it down hard. He landed on top of the other one, knocking them both down like dominoes with resulting sharp groans. There was only one left, and he still had that gun.

   Peter dodged another bullet, and disarmed the man the same way he had done the others, but this time knocking the pistol against his nose for good measure. He caught the gun in the opposite hand, clicking the magazine out in one swift movement.

   “I’ve always hated guns,” he sighed, tossing both pieces in opposite directions. “There’s so many more elegant ways to go about things. Like this.”

   With a quick push, Peter turned and hit the man in the chin with his foot as he bicycle kicked him, flipping and landing in a crouch with his fingers to the floor.

   “Now I’m just showing off,” he laughed.

   He quickly went about webbing the disoriented assailants to various surfaces, laying a couple on the ground, and the other stuck to a wall. He clapped his hands together, admiring his handiwork, and turned to the car they’d all busied themselves with earlier.

   “Now then,” he said to himself. “What’s all this about?”

   He approached cautiously, fully knowing it might have been rigged, and used the scanner in his suit to determine the substance in the packages. Although, he didn’t really need to. Everyone and their dog knew that those were bricks of pure cocaine. But better safe than sorry, he always said.

   As the display in his suit confirmed his suspicions, one of the thugs that he’d left conscious started to yell.

   “You just fuckin’ wait, you spider asshole!” he shouted. “Once the boss finds out, you’re as good as dead! He’s gonna tear you to shre—”

   “Oh, shut up,” Peter groaned, extending an arm behind him and webbing the man’s mouth shut without even turning around.

   Circling around the car slowly, he peered into the windows. In the backseat, obscured by the tinted glass, were two metal crates. He scanned its contents, eyes widening in surprise when he saw them chock full of military grade weapons. He was more than confused now.

   Peter stepped over to the felon whose mouth he’d just webbed over, still squirming on the ground in his web cocoon like a caterpillar, and crouched down before him, resting on the balls of his feet.

   “Frankie, right?” he asked, recalling the conversation he’d had with the other earlier. “I’m gonna take this off now but you gotta be good for Spidey, okay?”

   The man did nothing more than grunt.

   Tilting his palm toward Frankie’s mouth, Peter used the solvent spray he kept for emergencies on the patch of white on his face, softening the webs until he was able to peel them back.

   Immediately, the thug went to spit in his face. Or mask, he supposed.

   “Hey now, what’d I say?” Peter asked, turning slightly so the projectile missed him. “That’s not very nice.”

   “Fuck you,” Frankie said through gritted teeth.

   Peter gripped Frankie’s chin between his fingers, tilting his face side to side and observing his features. He was rough and rugged, his five o’clock shadow scratching against Peter’s fingers through the suit, and his short dark hair was cropped military style. His dark eyes, hooded by equally dark, angry eyebrows, gleamed with malice and his teeth were bared fiercely, the off white colour smeared red with blood from his busted lip. He looked almost too much like a criminal. It was kind of funny.

   Peter smirked, one eye of his mask widening as he raised an eyebrow.

   “Maybe if you weren’t a criminal,” he said, releasing Frankie’s chin and letting his head hit the ground. “But I’m afraid we’re just too incompatible.”

   Frankie cursed loudly, his eyes shutting as his head smacked the pavement loudly.

   “You were using some pretty brave words, earlier,” Peter went on, tilting his head curiously as his eyes narrowed and he rested his elbows on his knees, hands balled into fists under his chin. “Who exactly do you work for, anyway? I’d like to know what I’m in for when your boss comes after me.”

   “Heh,” Frankie laughed mirthlessly. “I thought Spider-Man would be smarter than to mess with Nefaria’s guys.”

   Peter’s eyes widened, recognizing the familiar name of one of the Maggia crime families, though more importantly, the name of a man he’d fought before on multiple occasions.

   “As if I’m scared of The Count,” Peter scoffed. “I already told him to go back to Sesame Street. Many times. But you’ve piqued my interest now; I’ve heard the Maggia’s had a little trouble lately. Your pal Hammerhead’s all worked up over it. That why you guys moving your goodies?”

   Frankie leaned to the left, spitting out blood mixed with saliva on the ground next to him. Peter grimaced.

   “What’s it to you?” he asked, voiced grating. “Ain’t you trying to take us down, too? Thought you’d be on the same side as that freak.”

   “You wound me,” Peter said sarcastically, holding a hand to his chest. “Actually no, you don’t; pretty sure I’m doing all the wounding here. But you should know, killing’s not really my… thing. Especially not like that.”

   “Doesn’t matter anyway,” Frankie smiled. “Hammerhead’s comin’ after you as soon as he’s done with that freak show who’s been fuckin’ up our business. He’s got a special place on his mantel just for your head.”

   “I really hate it when the families work together,” Peter groaned, standing from his crouching position. “More trouble for me.”

   “I’ve alerted the nearest police precinct of our whereabouts,” Karen informed him. “Officers are en route.”

   “Good news, though,” Peter told Frankie, turning and walking away from him. “Your ride’s on its way. It’ll be the one with the flashing red and blue lights.”

   As he jumped from the ground, bracing himself against the outer wall of the building, he heard Frankie call after him, shouting from below.

   “You’re gonna regret goin’ after him!” he yelled. “He’s like nothin’ you’ve ever seen before!”

   Peter turned, trying to mask the concern in his voice as he replied.

   “Oh, I don’t doubt it.”

━━━━━━━━

   In Y/N’s opinion, there was nothing better than curling onto the small window seat in her dorm in her softest sweater, watching the snowfall and coat the park her room face in its sugary flakes as she read her favourite book and sipped some tea. Her copy of The Shining had been given to her by her mother twelve years prior, and she’d read it about a hundred times since then. The cover was bent in multiple places, the binding wearing thin from all the folding, but she thought it gave the novel character.

   It was already dark outside, but the snow reflected the orange glow of the city lights like nothing else, so she still had enough reading light provided she was right next to the window. That and the lights that lit up Washington Square Park only a couple blocks away gave washed her in a warm glow to counteract the chill of the snow.

   There was just one small thing wrong with that particular situation.

   “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

   Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, closing the book and pressing it to her forehead before she took a breath. She loved Ned—really, she did—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get annoyed at him for being very vocal about his opinions on the plot of whatever comic he was reading.

   “Ned,” she sighed. “Could you keep it down? I’m trying to read.”

   “Oh, shit, yeah sorry,” he muttered. She heard him adjust his position on her bed, probably wrap the blanket her grandmother had made for her before she went off to university that he loved so much (“It’s just so soft, Y/N,” he’d said. “Feels like I’m wrapped in a cloud. Or cuddling a sheep. I love sheep.”), and cleared his throat. “What’cha reading, anyways?”

   Turning to him, she came to terms with the fact that she probably wasn’t going to get any more reading done that evening and closed the book, setting it down next to her. She’d been right—Ned was wrapped from head to toe in the blue blanket. He held it tightly around his chin with one hand, and his open comic book in the other. She smiled fondly at him.

   “Guess.”

   “Oh, come on,” he groaned. “You know I’m bad at that.”

   “Okay, I’ll give you a hint,” she smiled. “I’ve already read it.”

   “That gives me absolutely nothing. Just tell me.”

   Y/N laughed. “I’m reading The Shining.”

   “Again?” he asked. Ned slipped the blanket off his head but still held it around his shoulders, revealing his ruined bed hair. Y/N had seen pictures of him in high school when it had been longer, but she felt the shorter style suited him more. It was still fluffy on the top, just shorter on the sides, and she liked mussing it up with her hands to mess with him. “What is this, like, the three millionth time?”

   “What? It’s my favourite for a reason.”

   “If you say so.”

   They sat in silence for a moment, Y/N taking the interruption as an opportunity to stretch her limbs out, her shoulders popping deliciously as her cramped up joints were given room to breathe. When she looked back at Ned, he was looking at her curiously, brows furrowed and with an expression that made him look like he was deep in thought.

   “Okay,” she said, raising her mug of tea to her lips. “What is it? Come on, spit it out.”

   “How do you feel about Peter asking you out?”

   Turns out she’d be the one who’d end up spitting.

   Her nasal cavity stung, eyes watering as the tea she was in the middle of taking a sip of traveled up the wrong canal and almost came out her nose. She coughed and sputtered furiously, trying to get the remnants of liquid out of places they were not supposed to be as she set her mug down on the windowsill.

   “What?”

   “You know, I almost couldn’t believe he actually got the guts to do it,” Ned went on, as if nothing had happened. He stood and stretched as well, absentmindedly picking up one of the stuffed bears Y/N kept on her bed and bending its ears between his fingers. “Peter’s like a child when it comes to girls. He still uses the word crush, can you believe that? He’s a literal baby.”

   “Ned, what are you talking about?” she asked, still trying to catch her breath. “Peter didn’t- he never… look, what gives you that idea?”

   “Ohhh,” he smirked. “Oh, I see.”

   Y/N furrowed her brows, not liking how cryptic Ned was being one bit. She watched as he opened her mini-fridge, identical to the one in every other dorm room, and took out an apple juice box.

   “Dude, I love you, but you’re fucking oblivious,” he laughed. “For an English major who’s supposed to be observant or whatever, anyway.”

   “Okay, I’m lost.” She laughed, but it sounded more like a noise of confusion, as she shook her head. “You still haven’t told me what you’re talking about.”

   “Thanksgiving.”

   “Okay… what about it?”

   Ned stuck the small straw into the juice box and took a sip, not break eye contact with Y/N as he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

   At this, her eyes widened.

   Oh. Oh, shit.

   “Ned, that wasn’t- listen he- he didn’t-”

   “Oh, but he did,” he said, taking a seat on the end of her bed and poking her softly with his sock clad foot. “When he told me he asked you to come, I was shocked. Don’t look at me like that, that’s not what I mean. I mean I was shocked that he’s the one that asked you. Believe me, I was planning on it, but Pete beat me to the punch.”

   “So why is that a big deal?”

   “I’ve known the kid since we were ten, and in all my years of putting up with his shit, I’ve never once seen him open up to someone or accept them as a friend as quickly as he did with you.” He furrowed his brows then, tilting his head. “Actually, nevermind that’s a lie. There was one other person, but… that’s not the point. My point is he totally likes you.”

   “Yeah,” Y/N said. “Likes me as a tutor. I’m helping him not get kicked out of school, of course he’d like me for that.”

   “Not only are you oblivious, but you’re dense, too. I thought you were smart.”

   “Thank you, I try.”

   Ned shook his head, getting up from her bed and tossing the now empty juice box into the little recycling bin next to her door. “Whatever, dude. You’re both hopeless.”

   Just as he was about to sit back down onto her bed and pick up where he left off in his comic, his phone chimed loudly in his back pocket. As he reached for it and read the notification, Y/N watch the progression of his facial expression as it went from happy, then confused, and finally rested on deep concern. He scrambled to put his shoes back on, hopping around on one foot and reaching for his backpack at the same time.

   “Uh,” Y/N asked. “What’s up?”

   “It’s Peter,” Ned replied, throwing his hoodie over a shoulder. “I gotta go.”

   Y/N almost physically felt the blood drain from her face as her skin took on a ghostly pallor at the news. What if he was in trouble? He could have gotten hurt again doing God knows what. Maybe Ned did know about what Peter liked to do after hours.

   “I-is he okay?”

   Ned must have heard the concern in her voice before he met her eyes, because he gave her a soft smile and a sigh.

   “Yeah, yeah I’m sure he’s fine,” he reassured her. “But he needs me, like, right now. I’m sorry to bail like this.”

   “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Just… text me, yeah? Let me know if anything’s wrong?”

   If she hadn’t been paying close attention to Ned as he stuck half his body out of her door, she would have missed the knowing smile that crossed his expression before he replied.

   “Of course. See ya later, Y/N.”

   And with that he was gone.

   Y/N turned to her tea, now going cold as it sat in the chill of the wind that seeped in through the window. She brought the mug to her lips, looking through the glass and watching the people on the street below her, but quickly set it back down as she found herself unable to stomach anything. She was lucky to have gotten a room with a view of the streets and the park rather than the alley that lay behind the building. But even the sugar frosted trees and the lights that made them sparkle like diamonds were not enough to brighten her mood.

   She felt her gut fall heavy with the familiar feeling of dread.

   It was a feeling that she was getting more and more accustomed to as the days went on. That night about three days prior, when she’d been waiting for Peter to return before he’d taken her to see the aforementioned lights, she’d spent the evening worrying about him. She didn’t think it was weird, something like being worried about a friend, but then again, she didn’t even know if he considered her a friend.

   Sure, they had a mutual friend. But that was about it.

   It wasn’t weird to worry about his safety when she barely knew him… right?

   Tucking her earbuds in, she turned back to the book she’d previously abandoned to try to take her mind off of things.

   And it definitely was not because she didn’t want even the slightest chance of missing Ned’s text when or if he decided to update her.

   Of course not. And she’d continue to tell herself that for the rest of the night.

━━━━━━━━

A/N: peter is a bisexual disaster (as am i, but anywho)... the plot thickens. also i love the comic villains a lot so expect a few surprise appearances from some nasty guys and gals wink wink

and please support my love for longer fluffy haired pete cuz you’re gonna get a lot of it. picture peter with longer, fluffier hair bc i definitely feel like he’d forget to cut it while in college bc may’s not there to remind him. i’m talking like edge of winter fluff, but it sticks up all over the place okay let me live i love messy curly hair.

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[swimintothesound]

Swim Into The Sound’s 20 Favorite Albums of 2017

Last Year 

2017 sucked. Politics have sucked. People have sucked. My diet has sucked. Everything is falling apart in slow motion. The entire year has felt like one prolonged exercise in frustration as we collectively fight back with about as much power as a punch thrown in a dream state.

I spent the first half of this year working a job that was fun, creatively fulfilling, paid well, and in my field. That ticks pretty much all of the “career boxes” one could ask for, so as turbulent as the gig was, I was disappointed when it came to an end over the summer. I’ve spent the back half of this year wrangling random freelance gigs, volunteering, looking for a job, and reveling in ambiguous employment.

It’s no coincidence that, after a six-month break, I began writing here regularly back in May because I truly had no other creative outlet at the time. I’d just like to say: thank God for this blog. Swim Into The Sound has proven to be an excellent way to expel my oft-overflowing creative juices, and writing here has provided me more solace, motivation, and guidance than I can ever put into words.

I’d also like to extend a personal and sincere thanks to you for reading. Whether this is your first time here or you’ve been subscribed for months, every reader means the world to me. On top of increased readership, I’ve also received some absolutely incredible responses to my writing this year. I’ve grabbed the attention of artists I love and podcasters that I look up to. I made the front page of /r/indieheads (my internet home), and people that I know in real life have discussed Swim Into The Sound write-ups with me. Most of the time I just write this stuff, edit it until I’m slightly less ashamed, then throw it out onto the internet. It’s forever-astonishing to me that anyone engages with these words, so thank you. It’s been a spectacular journey, and there are already many cool projects brewing for 2018. I can’t wait to see where things go from here.

To keep from drowning you in personal details, let’s just get straight to the main event. As bad as some parts of 2017 have been, it was actually an incredible year for music. Unlike the past, 2017 has felt like a year with no “clear” album of the year winner. There was no Blonde, Carrie & Lowell or To Pimp a Butterfly. No album that made a massive culture-wide impact, or even wormed its way into my list of all-time favorites yet. Instead, it’s been a year of many, many, many great albums, which in some ways is more exciting.

2017 has also been a year of upheaval. A year where women could rule, creeps could be called out, and our world was at risk of ending at any moment. It’s an exciting, hopeful, draining, and terrifying time to be alive. It has also been a year of unexpected surprises. I’ve found welcome homes in unexpected places, both online and in real life, and these communities have helped make me a stronger person.

2017 was also a year of discovery. I've been to more concerts in the past 12 months than I have the rest of my life combined. Thanks to a free 6-month TIDAL subscription, I’ve made more musical discoveries in 2017 than any year previously. From Hamilton to Swans, I’ve broadened my horizons more this year than ever before.

There are a lot of things to say about 2017, but if nothing else, it was the year that I learned about the power of weirdness. The strength that all of us have to stand up to the people in power. The creative potential that lies within all of us. I’ve found excitement in the new, and comfort in tradition. As always, this blog is a place to celebrate both old and new, but December specifically is a time to pause and reflect on the year that’s just passed. The things that inspire. The things that bring hope. The magnificent creations.

I’ve been celebrating 2017 for the entire month of December, and this post officially marks the end of “List Season” here on Swim Into The Sound. If you haven’t checked out our Diamond Platter Awards or Un-Awards, please feel free to peruse them for an even more complete picture of both the good and bad that 2017 has had to offer. But from here on out we find only the great. The impeccable. The cream of the crop. The best pieces from a year of many fantastic works.

So here’s to the weird. The new, the fresh, and the bold. Here’s to staying strong. Here are my 20 favorite albums of 2017.

20 | Slowdive - Slowdive

Slowdive’s self-titled album plays out like a fever dream. From its first notes, the record warmly envelops your entire body, consuming you like a long-lost childhood memory. As the album wears on, it transports the listener further, slowly shepherding them as they venture from their starting point on earth until they’re floating weightlessly in space surrounded only by far-off glittering lights and nostalgic memories from a life that’s not their own.

In keeping with the introduction’s theme of “discovery,” Slowdive is a group that I’d never listened to until this year. Needless to say, the fact that the band’s self-titled fourth album was their first in 22-years was lost on me. Despite the fact that I went into the album fresh and lacking context, the impact of Slowdive’s 2017 release was still severely felt.

There’s a sense of strange familiarity and nostalgia at play throughout Slowdive. Songs like “Star Roving” and “Sugar for the Pill” have an immediately-accessible grungy 90’s sound in which Sonic-Youth-esque vocals pair with reverb-ridden post-rock guitars and precise drumming. Using this word feels weird (especially for a record that isn’t even my favorite of the year), but Slowdive is perfect. It’s a flawless self-contained adventure that’s both accessible to newcomers and satiating to long-time fans. It’s the purest distillation of what dream pop is all about. It’s a monumental record of whirring soundscapes that shift like slowly-moving giants and crash against the listener like dense ocean waves. Slowdive is a masterful release from a band who’s not afraid to wait for greatness.

19 | SZA - CTRL

A “summer album” if I’ve ever heard one, SZA’s long-awaited debut LP is a bright, shimmering, and sunny record packed with songs of unrequited love punctuated by brief moments of carefree enjoyment. Songs jump from soaring infectious melodies to harrowing tales of normalcy at a moment’s notice, making for a manic listening experience that’s just as fun-loving as it is heartbreaking.

CTRL is an album about a normal girl by a normal girl. A collection of songs about the human experience from an honest and decidedly-female perspective. It’s like the R&B version of My Woman sprinkled with breakneck vocals, raw lyricism, and Blonde-esque instrumentation. Even when singing about well-trodden topics like late-night hookups, SZA manages to make everything feel refreshing and new. You get the sense that countless long hours and many late nights were spent crafting this album because the entire LP feels well-worn, well-loved, and well-thought out. CTRL is a single confidently-delivered package that glistens and beams in the sunlight of the listener’s heart.

18 | Jay Z - 4:44

It’s embarrassing to admit, but it’s confession time: until this year I’ve never listened to a Jay-Z project in full. I'd heard the hits, the guest verses, the collaborations, and I know he's got a trilogy of near-perfect hip-hop albums, but to be honest, I've just never been that into Mr. Carter’s approach to rapping. When I heard people raving about his thirteenth album, I decided that I had nothing to lose, so I took full advantage of my TIDAL subscription, set my reservations aside, and give it a shot.

Ever since Beyonce’s 2016 album I’ve been invested in the "Lemonade Narrative," and it turns out 4:44 followed that album up directly by providing listeners with some sense of conclusion and finality.

While I came for the People Magazine drama, I stayed for everything else. It turns out 4:44 is a stunning, honest, and compact album that features Jay-Z at his most reflective and adult-like state yet. I guess scandal, nearly losing your wife, then having twins is enough to change anyone for the better. On top of Jay's refreshing take on himself, we have an album that's centered around his old sample-based soul sound. Helmed entirely by No I.D., this led to a record that feels complete, consistent, and singularly-visionary throughout. While Jay-Z has been resting on his laurels artistically for some time, this album proves he still has a strong voice, important things to say, and an impactful message that's worth conveying in 2017. As he moves into the position of hip-hop's father figure, I'm now excited for the first time in my life to see what Mr. Carter has in store for us next.

17 | Father John Misty - Pure Comedy

It was unclear where Father John Misty would go after 2015’s breakthrough I Love You, Honeybear. Turns out the answer was everywhere. From tormenting Ryan Adams to duetting with Tim Heidecker, Tillman’s extra-musical antics are simply too innumerable to list in one single blurb. The good thing for fans was, as overwhelming as the avalanche of news updates sometimes felt, each headline managed to be entertaining and (more often than not) resulted in fresh music.

When it came time to release his third album under the Father John Misty persona, Josh Tillman turned his gaze outward. Shifting from the self-destructive personal tales of Honeybear, Pure Comedy finds Misty openly waging war against the universe and everyone in it. In the album’s slow-mounting opening track, a winding piano skitters around Tillman’s biting stanzas, ensuring that neither it nor the listener are trampled underfoot. As the lyrics outline the cosmic absurdity of existence, the piano pulls away, the vocals mount, and a gently-brushed drum begins to keep time just as Tillman belts out the album’s title. It feels like an announcement. An exercise. The catharsis of two albumless years and an election gone awry.

Featuring grand, swelling, and sometimes rambling songs, Pure Comedy blurs the lines between a post-apocalyptic near-future and present day. The album becomes a microscope through which humanity is observed, and everyone’s a smug asshole including our narrator.

The album’s definitive moment comes with its last two songs “So I'm Growing Old on Magic Mountain” and “In Twenty Years or So” which together make for an epic 17-minute meditative send-off. Both songs are massive, colorful, and awe-inspiring ballads that hit you with a crippling emotional gut punch before landing on what’s essentially a twist ending. Best experienced as the conclusion to the album’s 74-minute journey, Pure Comedy may take some time to sink in, but once it does, it will linger with you forever.

16 | (Sandy) Alex G - Rocket

Alexander Giannascoli is an enigma. A wonderfully-gifted singer, willfully-obtuse songwriter, and prodigy of melody, Alex G first rose to prominence through a series of increasingly-prolific Bandcamp releases culminating in DSU, his indie-wide breakthrough. Since then, he’s made a name for himself continuing to record artistically-acclaimed small-scale releases in between working with Frank Ocean, and more recently, he’s undergone a name change rebranding himself by adding “(Sandy)” to the front of his title.

Much like the man behind the music, Rocket is a mysterious and wandering album full of bright sounds and brilliant ideas. From jaunty country duets to auto-tuned croons, and even hardcore noise rock screams Giannascoli wields an astonishing amount of genres effectively throughout Rocket’s 41 minutes. Despite the fact that nearly every song takes a different musical approach, the entire record maintains a strong sense of self and wholeness throughout. Each additional sound and layer of weirdness adds merely one more brush stroke on to the bigger story that’s already been painted, resulting in a beautiful and one-of-a-kind work.

15 | Kendrick Lamar - DAMN.

Kendrick Lamar’s fourth LP is one of the most important records of 2017. A shared experience, a communal soundtrack, and a cultural anthem, DAMN. is a stadium-packing monument to the marginalized, underrepresented, and underserved. Despite an impressive prelude, intricate self-referential throughlines, and conceptual frameworks (both real and imagined), the Compton rapper’s 2017 release is fantastic but falls just short of his last two LPs.

Taking neither the cinematic route of Good Kid, M.A.A.D City, or the jazzy cultural takedown that was To Pimp A Butterfly, DAMN. lies somewhere in the middle as a primarily-autobiographical record that finds Lamar contextualizing his existence within a broader cultural landscape. Each song is a personal unmasking of the man behind the music, and the demons that live within him. Each word lets the listener a half-step deeper into Lamar’s psyche.

While DAMN. isn’t bad, I feel the need to defend my decision to place it towards the back of this list (in opposition to apparently every other publication this year). At a certain point, whatever album followed the magnum opus that is To Pimp a Butterfly was destined to be a disappointment, or at the very least feel like comparing apples to oranges. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been enjoying DAMN. all year (and listened to it more than almost every other album of 2017), but I can’t shake the feeling something is missing that kept it from being truly next-level.

Part of the reason I’d rank DAMN. below some of Lamar’s earlier albums is how piecemeal it feels. Songs stand alone (for better or worse) and rarely feel like part of a cohesive point that the artist is making. While this allows for some incredible variation and sonic experimentation, it also means DAMN. feels formless and aimless at times. The reason it gets #15 is that even a good-to-great Kendrick Lamar album is better than most other records any given year.

“HUMBLE.” is an unparalleled cultural anthem. “DNA.” is a blood-pumping, muscle-flexing, and stank-face-inducing track. “FEAR.” is a foreboding tale that recounts three pivotal ages in Kendrick’s life. Each of these songs have become standouts of 2017, and even some of Lamar’s best. A commentary on race, sexuality, and our nation, DAMN. is just a pit stop in the career of the greatest rapper alive.

14 | Idles - Brutalism

I’m a punk at heart. While I’m not as angry as I was back in high school, I often forget how deep those roots go and how influential that genre of music has been for me. Sometimes a record comes out that rekindles a long-lost love and can bring you back where you were at a specific moment in time, and for me that’s Brutalism. Hailing from Bristol, Idles are an English punk band that has been active for nearly half a decade at this point. After a string of EPs, Brutalism marks the group’s first official LP, and while it’s only the group’s debut, that five-year cooking time is evident in how fleshed out this record is. It feels like a career high, and it’s only our introduction to the band.

“Heel / Heal” kicks things off like a powder keg as the drum unrelentingly pounds forward with engine-like momentum. Soon singer Joe Talbot enters the mix and exasperatedly exclaims “I’m DONE” as the bass and guitar explode beneath him. Tracks like “Well Done” and “Date Night” perfectly capture the directionless anger that accompanies mid-20’s joblessness and sexual frustration, all captured in biting two-minute takes that bounce back and forth between the walls of the listener’s skull.

“Mother” is the album’s snarling high-point as the group weave a tale of matriarchal political betrayal. Hooking the listener with a twist chorus as a well-placed pause allows them to unveil a beautifully-poetic “Mother… Fucker.” It’s barebones, simplistic, straight-forward punk music that evokes the best parts of the Dead Kennedys, Black Flag, and The Sex Pistols, all presented in a surprisingly clean and well-produced 40-minute package.

13 | Tyler, The Creator - Flower Boy

There’s no doubt about it; Tyler, The Creator grew up before our eyes. The enigmatic figurehead of Odd Future made a name for himself at the dawn of the New Internet by leveraging a deft understanding of new media and shock value as fuel for the unparalleled rise of a group of 20-something Californian teenagers. Tyler’s solo career has wound from Horrorcore to Death Grips-esque industrial hip-hop, but on his latest LP, he eschews all that for a veneer up-front of transparency.

On the opening track “Forward” we witness Tyler as he wrestles with everything from waning popularity to racist cops to his own sexuality. It’s here that we begin to realize we’re in store for a more honest record. While the album still has some scattered bangers like “Who Dat Boy” and “I Ain’t Got Time!”, the remainder of the album is a jazzy and shockingly-reserved outing that allows Tyler to vulnerably open up more than we’ve ever seen before. “November” and “See You Again” both revel in nostalgia while “911 / Mr. Lonely” and “Where This Flower Blooms” offer hopeful rays of positivity that claw towards the possibility of a brighter future.

When Flower Boy leaked two weeks ahead of its scheduled release date, most of the discussion online surrounded “Garden Shed,” the album’s revealing centerpiece that, combined with a handful of references scattered throughout the record, seem to allude to Tyler coming out of the closet. While there have been several hints up to this point, Tyler addressing this topic so entirely feels like the coming of a new age. The hip-hop figure who made a name for himself eating cockroaches and embracing vulgar darkness is now crooning and singing about kissing white boys. It’s refreshing, shocking, and reassuring all at once. Undeniably his best work, the world now finds itself rapt as we wait for the newly-matured Tyler, The Creator to make his next move.

12 | Julien Baker - Turn Out The Lights

The most spiritual experience I’ve had with music this year (maybe ever) has been interacting with Julien Baker’s Sprained Ankle over the summer. I say ‘interacting with’ because it was much more than just listening. The album deeply affected me. It touched me. It was affirmation that everything was going to be okay and my feelings weren’t invalid. I spent a month or two going on long, multi-hour, half-drunk, wistfully-existential walks, the feelings of which I detailed in this write-up over the summer. What initially began as a lazy way to get my Fitbit steps in, quickly evolved into therapy. Something I needed to do to work out issues I was going through at that time. My first job had crumbled before my eyes, and I’d never felt more isolated and alone. When Baker announced her sophomore album was coming out by the end of the year, I found myself emotionally-drained, but hungry for more.

Turn Out the Lights begins with the arid creak of an old floorboard and a slowly-mounting piano line. That piano bleeds into “Appointments,” and soon Baker unveils herself as the force of nature that she is. The keys become eclipsed by a faintly-glimmering guitar as Baker regretfully explains that she’s spending the night at home. The song slowly mounts into an explosive cry of shaky self-assurance “Maybe it's all gonna turn out alright / Oh, I know that it's not / but I have to believe that it is.”

The remainder of the album’s songs follow a similar pattern, often focusing on one single instrument and Julien Baker’s incredible voice as she outlines tales of death, regret, and religion. It’s a heart-breaking album of stunning moments and impeccable songwriting that manage to articulately explain the dark, dull pain of a deep depression. I believe in God and Julien Baker.

11 | Smidley - Smidley

I first stumbled across Smidley in a half-hearted attempt research the bands who were opening for Tigers Jaw on tour this spring. After 33 minutes of listening to the group’s breezy self-titled record, I calmly collected myself, picked my jaw off the floor, and listened to the whole thing again.

Probably one of my biggest “surprises” this year, Smidley’s self-titled record is brought to us courtesy of Foxing’s frontman Conor Murphy and features a collection of ten refreshingly-unique pop-punk tracks. Often fueled by bile and anger, the songs on Smidley range from soccer mom takedowns to dead dogs, yet every song bears the same airy, happy, summery disposition, and I can’t think of any other artist that could deliver a chorus of “Fuck This” in such a pleasant tone.

While “Fuck This” may have been a personal chant of mine throughout 2017, the most striking moment of the album comes in its closing song. Preceded by a dark ballad of drool-inducing drug binges, “Under The Table” is a cresting pop-punk depiction of a relationship that finds Murphy singing the song’s chorus in a whispered voice. As he sings the song’s title, his words are punctuated by a towering drum strike and the track explodes to life as a set of double-tracked vocals pair with a bouncy bass and rigorous guitar. It’s a cathartic and throat-shredding closer that left me in awe, the ballsy ending note to an album that surprised me with brilliance from its first seconds.

10 | BROCKHAMPTON - SATURATION II

My first exposure to BROCKHAMPTON came when I sat down to listen to the first of three records the group released this year. Encouraged by a friend to check them out, I went into the Saturation Trilogy knowing nothing more than the fact that BROCKHAMPTON was an Odd Future-esque music collective that preferred to be labeled as a “boy band.”

The first thing I heard when I hit play on “HEAT” was 10 seconds of a garbled ambient hum. Suddenly a series of drum hits and a nastily-blown out bass forced their way onto the track accompanied by the first set of lyrics: “I got pipe dreams of crack rocks and stripper poles.” and every muscle in my body stiffened at once. After these introductory lines, the group’s members went on to trade bars about everything from race to self-medication over the song’s four and a half minutes before culminating in a brutish scream of “FUCK YOU.” I was hooked.

Gripped by the song’s lyrical and instrumental ferocity, I was hungry for more, but the next song sounded nothing like the first, and the third sounded nothing like either before it… yet they all worked. The first tape’s other highlights include the pop-culturally-dense “STAR” and “BUMP,” a track that jostles the listener from pop-punk-esque singing to gritty hip-hop bars. The boy band seemed to be intentionally trying to throw the listener off at every turn, packing as many ideas, sounds, voices, and topics into one project as humanly possible, and the crazy thing is that it worked.

At this point, it practically feels cliched to talk about BROCKHAMPTON's origin (a group of teens who met on a message board and all moved into a house to create music), but it feels necessary because it gives context to the group’s output. Having released three albums, a documentary, TV show, and tour all within 365 days is a feat. The fact that all each of these multimedia creations are of the same impeccable quality is what’s worth writing home about. BROCKHAMPTON are prolific young creators incarnate. Handling everything from production and art direction in-house, the group is DIY-ing their way to the top of the rap game through sheer brute force.

On Saturation II the group finds an even more refined sound. I went in cautious, wondering if they could even brush the same level of greatness as we saw on the first Saturation, yet the group managed to exceed even that. Early album cut “QUEER” represents a single-song encapsulation of what makes the group special, jumping from punchy “fuck you” hip-hop to infectious mid-verse chants to jarring crooned choruses, the song swings between multiple sounds and genres all in less than four minutes. On the opposite end of the spectrum, the penultimate “SUNNY” interpolates “Torn” by Natalie Imbruglia in a moment that sent me into a powerful spiral of nostalgia the first time I heard that iconic late-90’s guitar slide.

To put it simply, everything is better on Saturation II. The earworm-ready choruses are refined further, the verses are tighter, and the beats are even wilder. The whole album is more polished and cohesive with songs that can work on their own and exist within the context of the larger album. Flawless, unreal, and unlike anything else this year.

9 | Half Waif - form/a

Half Waif’s form/a EP is an introverted, lush, and secluded 19-minute collection of electronic songs single-mindedly concerned with emotions and moods. Sung solely from the perspective of frontwoman Nandi Rose Plunkett, this EP finds her reflecting on impactful and pivotal moments from her childhood using a cold Celtic electronic soundscape as her icy backdrop.

Throughout the EP Plunkett finds herself reckoning with what it means to be a woman in the world, and what decisions have led her to this exact moment in time. Her voice is haunting and calculated. Her keyboards swell just when she needs them to, and the drums kick in at just the right moments. It’s clear that Nandi has a strong command over every piece of the world that she’s exposing you to, a carefully-constructed recreation of her memories, tragedies, and thoughts forever documented lovingly on the 19 minutes of form/a.

It’s an album about missing out, getting lost in your own head, and vanishing into nothing. Opening and closing with a set of lyrics about emotions, she finally reveals the album’s meaning in “Cerulean” as she sings “My mood has no form / It sits on my chest heavy and warm / My mood is not an invited guest / It takes over my body and gives me no rest.” It’s a striking and introverted sentiment dripping with emotion and rawness, delivered over a cold and unfeeling electronic beat.

A seemingly common topic for Nandi, this idea of formless and untamable moods is something that feels surprisingly missing from music. Songs are so often about feelings and the actions that they inspire, but rarely ever the moods themselves. form/a is a beautiful and sprawling expedition of the self that feels familiar and foreign at once.

8 | Sorority Noise - You're Not as Alone As You Think

For a while Sorority Noise was just another half-silly, half-serious emo band that sang about girls, and sad feelings. While I thought I preferred the group’s earlier carefree approach to emo, 2017’s You’re Not As _____ As You Think takes the seriousness of 2015’s Joy, Departed to the next level musically, lyrically, and mentally.

In an interview with Stereogum, the group’s primary musical force Cameron Boucher detailed an experience that served as the record’s driving force. Following the suicide of a childhood friend, Cameron found himself back in his hometown:

“Sean had been passed away for about a year, but I didn’t remember that. And so I was like, I’m gonna drive by Sean’s house and just stop by and say hi. And then I drove to his house, and when I pulled up in front, I realized he wasn’t there. That’s what the chorus of [No Halo] is about, and the whole song in general… I think I literally just sat in my car and wrote 90% of the lyrics right there.”

We saw the immediate effects of Sean’s suicide on It Kindly Stopped for Me, an EP that was never meant to be released to the public but was put out in hopes that it would help others in the same way that it helped Cameron. In that same interview, Boucher revealed that he primarily writes songs from emotion, as a way to cope with reality, not really thinking about what they mean or needing to explain them down the road. What we see on You’re Not As _____ As You Think is someone who’s sat, meditated, and grown from the pain of this loss. It tackles drug abuse, depression, religion, and everything in between with some of the most raw, honest, and heartfelt lyrics that I’ve ever heard.

In late October the group released Alone a follow-up 7” that was meant to fill in the blank space in You’re Not As _____ As You Think. Containing two songs that add an additional layer of gravitas, and reflection to the full LP, these two releases combine into one singularly-impactful emotional gut punch that candidly addresses depression openly and honestly.

7 | The National - Sleep Well, Beast

On the cover of The National’s new album, we see a black and white photo of a happy home. Composed of five straight lines, the house is simple and picturesque as if it were drawn by a child. The sky is grey and muted like a fall morning at 3am. Inside of the house, we can make out a handful of figures. The house is missing a door. We’re not sure what’s happening, we’re not sure if they’re happy, but all we know is that we’re on the outside looking in.

The music contained behind this cover is suitably just as grey and simplistic. Jutting around drunkenly with jagged songs of sadness and regret, Sleep Well, Beast is The National’s great monument. I’ve been listening to the band casually for years now, but nothing has ever grabbed me the way that this record has. I listened through a few times thinking ‘this is good’ but then one fateful day, an old relationship sprang back into my life while “Carin at the Liquor Store” was playing and The National made cosmic sense to me at that moment. Suitably wistful, overwrought, and trapped in their own heads, this is music made for turbulence of the soul. Music for a world that doesn’t make sense, but you must exist in nonetheless.

On a late October episode of Comedy Bang Bang, the National found themselves playing acoustic renditions of Beast songs in between interviews with zany characters. Before playing “Guilty Party,” lead singer Matt Berninger explained that the record about “looking over the edge of ‘what if?’” It’s an album about hibernation. About emerging from depression and combating the dregs of the world with dogged consistency if nothing else.

Beautifully-composed with dashes of electronic elements and long, swaying melodies, every song contained here showcases a different strength of the band. It’s an album that makes you happy to have lived. Even if you’re encountering a constant stream of bullshit, slowly being beaten down and drained by the great torrent of life, Sleep Well Beast assures you it’s all worth it by letting you know there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. Hope for us all in the grey dawn.

6 | Phoebe Bridgers - Stranger in the Alps

Phoebe Bridgers’ soul is haunted. Throughout Stranger in the Alps, her guitar, voice, and thoughts drip with tangible darkness and unshakable regret. It’s a 44-minute soul-bearing expedition that will leave you physically and emotionally drained by the end.

Beginning with “Smoke Signals” a rolling, arid track that finds our hero dying vicariously through Lemmy and Bowie, the album twitches and swirls with life, reveling in the shifting blackness of the afterlife. Throughout the record we see flashes of a life well-lived: singing at funerals, unearnest hypnotherapist visits, and basking in the half-comfort of a shower beer. All of these tracks center around Bridgers’ confidently-delivered vocals, impeccable guitar work, and brilliant stretches of self-destructive storytelling.

One of the most haunting works comes at the album’s halfway point in the form of “Killer,” a measured piano-ballad track that finds Bridgers taking after indie folk Gods like Sufjan Stevens by comparing herself directly to a renowned serial killer. In the back half of the song she flashes forward to her own death as the piano flutters and a subtle hum of strings enter the mix. Stranger is one of the best debut albums I’ve heard in years, and as Bridgers embarks on a nationwide tour on the back of this record’s success, I absolutely can’t wait to see what she has for us next.

5 | The War on Drugs - A Deeper Understanding

Long-time fans will know that when I call something “background music” I mean it as a compliment. For months now, The War on Drugs A Deeper Understanding has been my go-to “background album” for nearly every situation and I believe it deserves props for that alone. When no other music presents itself to me, when I can’t think of anything else to listen to, when my queue is empty, this record is always there.

There’s something to be said for an album that’s calm and steady enough to lie in the background, yet musical enough to stand on its own. Some of my all-time favorite groups like Mogwai, Explosions in the Sky, and Russian Circles are all bands that I adore and lovingly refer to as background music. They’ve helped me read, write, and create. They’re the perfect soundtrack to life, and now A Deeper Understanding joins their ranks as a fantastic album of infinite subtleties, musical vastness, and ever-cresting sonic landscapes.

On top of this situational flexibility, A Deeper Understanding also manages to improve upon the band’s previous effort Lost in the Dream which is astounding. The highs are louder and more blistering, and the lows hit even harder. Every song is a journey, and each solo implores you to get out and explore the world. A romantic record that inspires with each breath it takes.

4 | Mount Eerie - A Crow Looked at Me

Phil Elverum has a message to declare: Death is real. Recorded after his wife’s passing in July of 2016, A Crow Looked at Me is the draining of grief. An exorcism of pain. A confessional, first-hand account of the soul-wringing agony that is inflicted in the wake of the death of a loved one. How you live. How your infant daughter lives. The crushing pain of mundanity and how everything you see is a memory. A past. A future. A plan that never got to unfold. It's not an album, it’s grief incarnate. It’s not fun to listen to, but it’s one of the most important releases of the year. The more you dig into the album, the more it hurts. Each line is a painful, poetic, being-shifting barb in which you empathize with Elverum unlike any other artist.

Recorded entirely on his wife’s instruments, the physical record has exact times demarcating how long each song was written from the time of her death. Some songs use a respirator for the beat and contain lyrics about how even the old garbage in the upstairs bathroom serves as a reminder that your loved one is gone. Every moment is beautiful, and every second hurts. It hangs heavy in your chest and will remain there for the rest of your life.

3 | Lorde - Melodrama

On the polar opposite of Crow, we have Lorde’s Melodrama a bright, joyful, and carefree album that, yes, is about a breakup, but handles that topic with as much happiness as a pop album possibly can.

Lorde’s first album in four years, Melodrama was one of 2017’s most highly anticipated releases. From aged poptimists to teen streamers and radio-ready moms, everyone was looking forward to the iconic New Zealanders return to music, and the most miraculous thing is that Lorde managed to please every one of these groups with the same album. Melodrama is musical enough to stand on its own against “high art,” poppy enough to be played on the radio, and has just enough flourishes to reward repeat listening.

To put it simply, Melodrama is the best of every possible world. A sophomore album that manages to please fans both old and new. A shining example of the heights that the pop genre can achieve, and the barriers it can break. It’s the continued and never-ending story of how one sixteen year old can rocket herself from a 2013 Song of the Summer to industry mainstay, segueing all that into the creation of one of the best releases of an entire genre. Melodrama is a pure, unbridled, and brilliant success on every level.

2 | Feist - Pleasure

Like most other denizens of 2007, my first exposure to Feist was through her fluke pop hit “1234.” As previously documented, I was slavishly devoted to late-2000’s-era pop music, so this song’s cultural impact was not lost on me. Like many other listeners, the song quickly faded from my consciousness and I wrote Feist off as a one-hit-wonder. After all, “1234” was essentially a Sesame Street song and, while catchy, wasn’t particularly deep. So I categorized her in the same vapid Adult Contemporary genre as Teddy Geiger and James Blunt: not offensive, but not something I’d ever seek out on my own. Aside from a one-off reference in a 2009 episode of The Office, I seemed to be right for the most part, at least she never broke her way back into my iTunes library.

When I saw people glowingly discussing Feist’s 2017 record I was intrigued, to say the least. Assuming it would merely be a pleasant and well-polished pop album full of slightly-Canadian tunes, I sought out the record and let it play through.

Expertly-deployed as the first song, “Pleasure” is an absolutely stunning introduction that immediately dismantled every one of my previously-held 1234-based notions. Boldly opening with 20-seconds of near-silence, “Pleasure” lulls the listener into a false sense of security with single row of, slightly-distorted guitar plucks and a reserved Leslie Feist on vocals. The melody slowly unwinds as Feist expertly pairs her voice with her guitar. Soon the music cuts down to almost nothing and Feist’s voice is reduced to a whisper as she moves closer to the mic croons the album’s title. Then, just as the listener is leaning in, straining to hear the song’s delicate melody, Feist cranks her guitar up to eleven as a simple snarl-inducing riff consumes the entire track. Towering over the rest of the mix, the distorted guitar strings swallow everything in their immediate proximity, blistering through the riff as the listener is shaken by the sudden change of tone. It’s a beautiful bait and switch, and merely the first example in an album that is brimming over the top with one-of-a-kind moments.

As an album, Pleasure finds itself oscillating between tender fragility and raw power. In a pre-album interview, Feist explained that the album is said to “explore emotional limits: loneliness, private ritual, secrets, shame, mounting pressures, disconnect, tenderness, rejection, care and the lack thereof.” and Pleasure manages to handle every one of these topics with extraordinary grace.

Sometimes the scope of the songs will pull out to reveal the larger context, but for most of this album, you're just listening to Feist and her guitar. The songwriting and melody are sharper than almost everything I’ve heard all year, and I emerged from my first listen ashamed. Mad at myself for writing her off as a one-hit wonder when the reality couldn’t have been further from the truth: Feist is an artistic force to be reckoned with.

Funnily enough, there are also moments that come across as very trapped in time like references to flip phones, a spoken word passage by Jarvis Cocker, and a completely left-field Mastodon sample. The beauty of Pleasure is that somehow none of these elements feel out of place or make the album feel trapped in 2007. Instead, they make the record all the more special. They serve as one-of-a-kind instants that would feel ingenious anywhere else. The musical equivalent of well-worn leather. A double-helix of unique and unpredictable beauty.

Pleasure is a barebones album that’s deeply-personal and loving, occasionally violent and explosive, and wholly beautiful. Tracks like “Lost Dreams” feel like controlled explosions: moments of eruptive vitriol, surrounded by pensive waves of rocking harmonies.  Songs like “Baby Be Simple” smolder and rumble onward, often carried forward only by Leslie’s voice. You find yourself so lost in these songs that when the guitar does enter the mix, it seems like an explosive burst, even though it’s just a single gingerly-strummed chord. It’s an exercise in reduction, reservedness, and deceiving looks. Fierce and unpolished, uncomplicated and bare, Pleasure is songwriting and guitar work in its purest form. One of my favorites of the year, and an absolute hidden treasure.

1 | Japanese Breakfast - Soft Sounds From Another Planet

If years could have mascots, 2017’s would be Michelle Zauner of Japanese Breakfast. Aside from listening to her throughout the year, seeing her live twice, and being my 4th most-played artist of 2017, she has become symbolic. A figure that represents my shifting personality, internal monologue and grappling with the reality of the world. I feel like she’s simultaneously speaking to me and for me. I’ve found a new voice through hers.

As much as I enjoyed every other album on this list, my “album of 2017” can’t be anything but Soft Sounds From Another Planet. There are sadder albums, deeper albums, dancier albums, and maybe even “better” albums that released this year, but Soft Sounds represents more than that. When I think about my life next week, or next year, or five years from now, I know that Japanese Breakfast will still be a part of it. Albums come and go. Phases, genres, and artists all rise and fall, but Soft Sounds is something that I can see venturing back to forever.

I know this because Michelle’s music has already been something that I’ve been able to return to all year. Her debut album Psychopomp was one of my best discoveries of 2016 and a record that drew me in from first listen. It’s not often that I order a vinyl record before I’ve even finished my first listen. Another distinction Zauner is honored with is being one of the first real “reviews” I’ve done for this website thanks to an early vinyl shipment. That said, between that review and my female-fronted profile of her in October, there’s not much more I feel like I can say about this record on a technical level.

Despite my hype, it’s not a record I expected to be my favorite until I sat down to really think about what has impacted me this year. I took a long break from Soft Sounds after listening to it endlessly for that review, and when I came back to it after multiple weeks, I was surprised to find that I knew every word. I’d memorized every melody, and internalized every beat. That’s something I can say about very few records, let alone one that I’ve only been listening to for five months.

Michelle posted her own year in review on Instagram, and even a cursory glance reveals an incredibly happy, humble, and wholesome person who deserves every ounce of success she has earned. To watch her shoot from “Underground Bandcamp Musician” to one of the biggest names in indie over the past year has been astounding to behold.

I remember hearing “Road Head” for the first time as she sampled her vocals and made a beat of them live on stage. I remember being transported by the 90’s bass-centered groove of “Diving Woman.” I remember watching her perform “Boyish” to a silent room as a disco ball twirled above the audience’s heads. I remember dancing to “Machinist” alongside Michelle as she jumped into the audience at our small Portland show. I remember finding solace in “Till Death” as the news seemed like a constant stream of cruel men winning things that they don’t deserve. I remember tearing up to the fan-like synth of “The Body Is a Blade” as childhood photos flashed on screen. I remember full-on crying to “This House” as Zauner recounted her life in scattered flashes following her mother’s death. This album is my 2017.

Michelle Zauner is the absolute best that humanity has to offer. A shining star of this world. A phenomenal voice, a gifted director, and a musical visionary. Her music makes me want to be a better person and improve myself just for the sake of attempting to one day achieve what she already has. Thank you for the music, and thank you for the voice Michelle, you are who I want to be.

[kashmiresims]

After Party

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BEST. NIGHT. EVER.

This was thought that flashed through Leona’s mind as another bottle free champagne was served to the table where she, Edric King and the rest of his entourage sat in Temptations, Pandora’s premiere night club. The free drinks were just the tip of the iceberg that had been a fun, eventful evening.

Leona killed it as a vocalist. As soon as she walked out on stage that evening and saw the large crowd, her nerves dissipated and she imagined they were cheering for her. Singing with such confidence, and also keeping up with Edric’s insane key changes like they had practiced earlier in the day—what seemed a lifetime ago now—made a noticeable positive difference in the music. Everyone she had talked to after the set said so at least. The roadies, the opening bands, and even the fans on their way out of the theater area. Well, she thought so at least, it was hard to tell with all screaming girls when Edric passed.

Luke, Edric’s manager, was especially happy for the improvement and had sung her praises nearly every chance he got which they could see grated on Edric's nerves a bit.

“This after party is wicked,” Edric said and poured himself another glass of champagne and looked to Caroline, “You gotta send Biacotti my thanks before we get back on the road.”

“Noted,” Caroline replied, “But it’s not much of an after party without dancing.”

She and the band’s guitarist then excused themselves to go dance to the beats being spun by a DJ in the next room.

“Speaking of which,” Luke turned to Leona, “I’d like to offer you a full-time position lending vocals to Edric’s live concerts and even feature you on his next album.”

Leona felt goosebumps erupt from her shoulders to her legs. This was the moment she had been waiting for. “A feature?” Edric raised one of his brows and leaned in closer as if he hadn’t heard correctly, “you mean her name will be on the cover?” That would be flipping fantastic and Leona didn’t like how Edric seemed so flabbergasted at such an idea. Putting her name anywhere wouldn’t diminish his popularity one bit but springboard her closer to her dream. “Shouldn’t you wait until she at least earns it?” “I think she has,” Luke said, tapping through his phone, seeming to be looking for something. “What are you talking about? She’s only performed one show…” Edric continued to gripe but Luke held up his phone to show them some stats. “Your next show in West Clayton was at only sixty percent total of ticket sales at the opening of your show tonight. As of forty-five minutes ago, it sold out. I can’t account for that up-tick in remaining sales as anything but your performance tonight with Miss Hillenburg’s vocal support. ” Luke flipped his phone back into his pocket and grinned at Edric as if his point was made. Leona was good for business. “My concert here sold out! And that was before having additional vocals in the show was even a consideration,” Edric crossed his arms. Leona frowned, not liking Edric’s tone or attitude he was taking. He seemed like a petulant child that wasn’t getting his way. “Yes, but it didn’t sell out so fast after your previous show. Maybe you shouldn’t worry about ticket sales and leave that aspect to your manager. We’ll talk more about this later. For now, I think we should take example from Caroline…” Luke scooted himself out of the booth and held his hand out for Leona to take, “May I?” Edric grabbed the champagne bottle and bent his head back to catch a stream of the alcohol straight from the opening and into his mouth. After a few gulps he set the bottle down and followed them toward the dance room of the club.

The DJ for the private after party pleased the crowd with fast techno beats that flowed into re-sampled hip hop tracks that Leona often sang in her bedroom as a teenager. She was purely enjoying herself, and felt a little sad that Alarie and Illyana couldn’t be there with her. However, it was short lived because as Luke danced with her, it wasn’t anything short of entertaining since the man had barely any rhythm. At one point, Edric instructed the bouncer to let in any of the people waiting outside into the club. This significantly increased the body count on the dance floor and sent the room into even a hotter temperature. Leona felt a sheen of perspiration on her face and excused herself from dancing. She climbed a spiral staircase straight to the top floor where there was a convenient bar—she was parched. “Wine. Zinfandel,” she leaned against the bar and ordered, noting her feet were starting to feel sore and the high heels didn't help that one bit. “Want me to open a tab?” “Put it on Edric King’s,” Leona said, not caring. He could afford it and she wasn’t that pleased with him at the moment for his insulting behavior. “Add a Heineken and put both on Antony Biacotti’s tab,” Leona heard Caroline say from behind her. She turned and sure enough Edric’s PA was there. Had Caroline followed her? Was she like Edric’s spy too?

The bartender uncapped Caroline’s beer and handed it over before pouring the wine into a flute and sliding it toward Leona. “So, it got a little too hot down there for you too?” Caroline asked and took a drink. “Yeah, I thought this was supposed to be a private after party?” Leona asked and emphasized the word. Caroline laughed, her voice was starting to sound raspy from shouting over the music downstairs to communicate. “It was but Mr. King is a very social person, the more the merrier is his style.” “Unless he has to share the spotlight, right?” Leona grumbled and leaned her seat against the bar, taking a generous sip of her wine. “Mr. King can be a decent guy when he wants to. He just is averse to change. Trust me, when Heis got a new guitar, Mr. King hassled him a week before accepting it was a better instrument. He’ll come around and see having you on his team will benefit him in the long run. Luke was right to offer you the job.” Leona felt oddly touched at hearing those words from Caroline. Caroline seemed like she knew a lot about Edric and it made Leona wonder how long Caroline had been his personal assistant. They moseyed back down the spiral stairs to the landing on the second story that overlooked the dance floor.

“So how long have you known Edric?” Leona wondered. “I got this gig about two years ago when he was an opening act for bigger pop groups. The record label that assigned Luke as Mr. King’s manager also assigned me to be his PA so that’s how long I’ve been getting him coffee, telling him he’s pretty and making him sign paperwork,” she laughed and peered over the balcony.

They saw Edric giving all his attention to a sultry beauty in barely any clothes. They were dancing very close and it had attracted a group of women that seemed to surround the pair like vultures, waiting for a turn to catch his attention. Leona raised a brow and made a face; there was no doubt he was an attractive man but she was so put off with his attitude that it cancelled out any type of swooning she would have done otherwise. Leona wondered more about the record label, and then wondered if the benefactor for this party was relate din any way to it. If so, she would need to commit to finding this man and meeting with him at some point if he was so important. “Caroline?” “Hmm?” “Who is Antony Biacotti?” Caroline turned to Leona with a look of surprise, “You’ve never heard of Kashmire’s King Midas?” Leona shook her head and her intrigue shot through the roof. But before Caroline could explain they were interrupted.

“So this is where you’ve two wandered off to,” Luke said from behind them and they whirled around in surprise. The music had been so loud they didn’t hear him sneak up on them. “Mr. Ziegler, what do you need?” Caroline asked. “That paperwork I had you write up this afternoon, can you please fetch it for me?” Luke said and Caroline rolled her eyes. “With all due respect, Mr. Zeigler, shouldn’t that business wait until morning when we’re all a bit soberer?” Luke narrowed his eyes, “We’re on the road at nine a.m. tomorrow and I don’t want to make Miss Hillenburg wait any longer than she has to.” His vague comment was clear to Leona: he wanted her to sign a contract tonight for that full-time position. Even though Leona had drunk two glasses of champagne and was currently sipping white wine, she didn’t consider herself too buzzed to do business. Caroline gave in to retrieving the paperwork and left them without any other protest. Her reluctance made Leona really wonder if Caroline thought bringing her onto the team was a good idea or if she was just saying that before to appear nice. It seemed like the only person who really wanted her around was the manager, but she already trusted Luke Ziegler above anyone else as his goals seemed to align with her own. “Let’s move somewhere quieter,” Luke suggested and they went back upstairs, where Leona topped off her wine glass from the same bartender, and then they emerged out on the rooftop terrace. The desert air was dry and chilly. Leona shivered a bit in her red, sequined, dress that the concert stylist had picked out of her. “Shouldn’t I contact my agent before I sign anything?” Leona asked. “I’ve spoken to Ms. Drake, and the compensation package outlined in the contract is to her satisfaction,” Luke explained. “What about my satisfaction,” Leona crossed her arms, “Will the numbers be right this time?” “That was a clerical error that was corrected, and I’ve personally triple checked the figures for this one. You shouldn’t be disappointed.” Leona had less doubt when Luke gave her the assurance that the record label wasn’t screwing her over. That was the moment Caroline joined them and handed Luke her clipboard. Attached was a much thicker stack of papers than the paperwork Leona had signed that afternoon after Caroline gave her the form with the corrected pay figure for the show she sang that very evening. Luke handed it to her and she set her drink down on a low table and lowered herself onto an outdoor chair to look over it. Ugh! She didn’t want to read through all of it. If Luke already worked it out with Naomi then Leona didn’t see why she had to go through it all over again. Naomi was paid to watch out for her best interests. Leona flipped through the pages and found the figure she was looking for. She gave a low whistle. That was more than she had expected but she wasn’t about to say that. She also found the contract’s duration and saw it was for four years. This was exactly what she had wanted. She didn’t need college anymore as a fallback plan. If she signed now she wouldn’t have to worry about school, or tests, or joining that stupid robotics program and running numbers for them in order to secure a passing grade. She was on her way to doing what she loved. She set the contract back onto the clipboard and held out her hand, “Pen.” Luke was ready with one and handed it over. A chilly burst of night wind blew cross them as she signed her name to the paper that would change her life moving forward.

Luke informed her that she could join them in West Clayton at her earliest convenience for the concert in two days, or even join them on the tour bus in the morning if she wanted. She knew she had to talk to Illyana and Alarie before she made a decision on whether or not she would do that. After the deal was done, they all went back downstairs to dance and spent the rest of time dancing. Edric was too far gone by the early morning hours to give a care whether or not Leona had officially become his vocalist. She caught sight of him making out with a few different women throughout the night, and her opinion of him lowered already more than it had over the evening. Eventually, the after party wound down and the club closed. Leona was feeling high on success and buzzed from all the free drinks as she hailed a cab to get back to the hotel. As she entered the backseat, the door on the opposite side opened up and Edric shoved his way in, nearly tripping over himself. “Excuse you,” Leona snapped. Edric rolled on his shoulder against the seat and grabbed his seatbelt while trying to buckle himself in, “You’re already riding on the coattails of my fame, why not ride in my cab too?” She pushed into the seat behind the driver, next to him and glared, “Is that what you think this is?” “I know it,” Edric didn’t sound angry but he had a smartass grin on his painfully handsome face as he accused her. “Where to?” The driver interrupted. “Pandora’s Box Hotel and Casino,” Leona snapped in frustration. Edric was still having trouble buckling his seatbelt with his drunken coordination so Leona grabbed it for him and snapped it in. She had a lot of angry words but she refrained from screaming at him. He made her so mad. She was in for a long four years if this was how he regarded her. She had earned her place singing with him, and he would reap the benefits of her talents so she wasn’t ‘riding his coattails’ at all! They didn’t say another word to each other on the back. She supposed Edric was staying at the hotel too because he didn’t give any additional locations to the driver and besides, there was only one fancy hotel in the area. The other lodging options were shady, nearly broken-down motels—nothing suitable of such a pop star as Edric King. There was even more awkward silence as Leona and Edric exited the cab at their destination, walked through hotel lobby and casino floor which were sparse at the early hour of any people besides themselves, and the worst was they had to ride the elevator together. She ignored him, offended by him, but she doubted he would apologize—he didn’t seem the type to ever apologize to anyone. She decided it best to find her hotel key to prepare and leave as fast as possible before the elevator stopped on her floor. She rustled through her purse, moving aside make up, receipts, and other bric-a-brac that her purse was home to. Yet, she couldn’t find that damn key card. She knew she had put it in there when she left for lunch at the Oasis. How the heck had it gotten lost? She softly cursed in her breath which got Edric’s attention. “What’s the matter?” “I can’t find my key,” Leona sighed, continuing to vigorously dig through the contents of her purse. She took out her wallet and looked through the cards in there but it wasn’t among them. She hated to have to wake Alarie or Illyana but it looked like she would need them to let her into the room. She found her phone at least, but when she pressed the button to unlock it, the screen remained black. “What the Hell?” She grumbled, pressing it again with the same result and then realized that it had run out of battery as she hadn’t charged it since the night before. The elevator stopped and the doors opened. She couldn’t get off the elevator fast enough, and she didn’t elect to even bid Edric farewell before she was at the door of the hotel suite, knocking and pulling at the door handle, calling for Alarie and Illyana to let her in, but no one answered.

“You’re gonna get security called on you if you keep up that racket,” Edric popped his head out and held his arm in front of the doors to keep them from closing again. “My phone is dead, and I don’t have my key so the only way I’m going to get into my room is if my friends let me in,” Leona hissed, finally facing him for the first time since they first got into the cab. “Or you could just come crash in my room and let them sleep,” Edric offered with a yawn, gesturing her forward back into the elevator. “There’s no way I am sharing a room with you!” Leona glared at him. “I guess you’ll just have to sleep in the hallway then. Goodnight,” Edric removed his arm and the elevator doors began to close. That didn’t sound ideal either, “Wait!” He quickly held his arm out again and gave her a smug smile as she rejoined him. “Why don’t you sleep on the tour bus?” “It’s not the sleeper kind. It’s just for riding. The record label puts us up in hotels in the concert cities,” he answered, seeming bored and tired or both. “So, your room as two beds?” “Nah just one,” he replied and she shot daggers at him. If he was even remotely considering them sharing the bed then he was in for a rude awakening. He seemed to be finding her predicament hilarious though what with his stupid drunken smile was still pasted on his face. His room was on the top floor. She followed him to the door where he inserted his key and they entered a nice room. A bunch of his clothes were on the floor and he had more luggage than Leona even. She noticed quite a bit of alcohol bottles on the nightstand and table as well. She wondered if he had a drinking problem. There was the problem of just the one bed still. She looked to him with a frown before sitting down on it and stating, “I’m not sleeping with you.” “Give me some credit, I’m a professional. I’m not gonna make any moves on someone I work with,” he said to her utter relief, and backed against the room’s sofa, before falling back onto it. “I’ll just sleep here. No big deal.”

She frowned, he was acting like nothing but a total ass earlier but now he was being tolerable? What was his deal? He grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels from the table in front of the tv and drank it straight. If he was looking for a night cap he was overdoing it. Leona unclasped the straps of her high heel shoes and sighed with the comfort at her feet finding freedom. She’d gotten better at wearing them over the years but still relished the feeling of taking them off after wearing them for a long time. She rubbed her aching toes before shuffling under the bed covers. It wasn’t until she put her head on the pillow that she noticed how exhausted she was. This was much better than sleeping in the hallway. She was in Edric King’s hotel bed. Some girls would kill for that kind of opportunity but she had her sights set on something greater and more worthwhile. “G'night,” she heard him mumble as he shifted his weight on the sofa. He really didn’t have to offer her this small luxury, especially considering how he didn’t even seem to like her that much. Caroline was right, he could be decent when he wanted to. “Night,” Leona replied and flipped off the light, leaving them blanketed in darkness. After a moment she added, “and thank you.” But Edric was already passed out. 

[stimtoybox]

Image Descriptions

I’ve got two asks by anons on the same theme, so I’ll combine them into one post to save a few spoons:

Hi! I was wondering if you had a guide for writing image descriptions? Something outlining how much detailed is needed and what should and should no be included, any tips really. Thanks! 

hi! i had a couple of questions about image descriptions; do you have/have a link to a guide on how to write them properly (eg. amount of detail, how to write multiple image descriptions on one post and still be clear etc)? and if we dont have the spoons for a full description, would a simple/basic desc (eg: "a jar of blue orbeez on a wooden desk" w/ no more detail) help by giving the mods a starting point to edit from rather than writing from scratch or would it be a hindrance? 

This is actually a hard question for me to answer, because it asks me to do something I do without thinking - convert non-word information into words. In all honesty, my first response was well, just describe it which is so not helpful to anyone. For me, this is like asking someone to explain how they fall asleep - it’s an automatic process that doesn’t involve a lot of conscious decision-making.

So I let both asks lie fallow for a few days until I got past the not helpful first response and figured out what it is I actually do when I describe.

I’ll also observe that while I do need image descriptions myself (for GIFs and videos) I am not the primary target for them, so there might be needs I have forgotten or overlooked. I’m in the position of needing descriptions but still having full access to reading the text, so there’s probably a lot of issues folks who use screen readers face that I haven’t included. Please correct me if so.

First: any description is better than no description.

If you only have spoons for one line, do it and call it done, seriously. Yes, a more detailed description is preferable, but when you look at the vast amount of undescribed posts on Tumblr alone, if even a brief descriptive line makes those posts more accessible, we’re better off. We need to make Tumblr a more accessible place for everyone, so every little bit makes a difference.

(Speaking for my needs here at @stimtoybox, I can always add a description line if there’s something I think needed that the OP has left out, and I have done this in the past. That’s still less work than my having to do it myself, and I’m pretty sure the other mods will agree. Anything that means less work for us means more posts for everyone else. Right now, I have the posts to go up to posting five or six times a day easily, but we can’t format them fast enough to do so.)

I’ve tucked everything else behind a read-more cut. This is a long post and is probably best read when one has time and spoons on hand:

Second: you do not and should not describe every tiny detail in an image.

Look at an image long enough and you’ll see a chapter’s worth of detail you can describe, but nobody wants to read through or listen to a whole chapter just to know what’s in the image. To be blunt, nobody cares about the fine grain detail of the table on which your stress ball is sitting. They’re more interested in the pattern on the stress ball.

We need to describe in more detail the relevant information and in less detail the incidental information. This is all the more important for describers with limited spoons, like most of us, but it’s also important for folks who need the descriptions but don’t have the spoons to read a paragraph for one relevant sentence.

To figure out what’s description-worthy, as in what the majority of your description should focus on, you might want to ask yourself these questions:

- Who is the image for?

- What is the image about?

Take any photo on this blog as an example: this photo is for stimmers, about a given stim toy, and its purpose is to show people what this toy looks like and, often, how it might be used. That tells you immediately what your focus is. Often, it’s the central object in the image, as we have a long history of indicating importance by putting something in the centre of a composition. However, it could also be several stim toys or people; chances are high that any single image is actually about a few different things at once.

Next, we move on to details we think people are going to want to know:

- What do the subjects of the image look like?

This can be broken down into a few different categories:

- Colour: what colour or colours is the subject?

- Shape: is it rounded? Angular? Cube, rectangular, circular? How many different shapes comprise it?

- Texture: is it soft? Hard? Fuzzy? Prickling? Protruding?

- Size: how much bigger, longer or wider is the subject compared to any other items in the photograph?

(Stim toy review shots often have the toy beside a coin or credit-card-sized card for scale, so describe the difference between that item and the toy.)

- Text: is there any text in the image, particularly on labels, signs or packaging? Include this, especially if it conveys meaningful information!

- Material: plastic? Wool? Wood? Metal? How many different materials comprise it? How is it put together?

- Expression: does it look happy? Sad? Indifferent?

Less relevant for stim toys, more relevant for animals/people. I don’t just mean facial expression here, but body language as well. The difference between a dog growling and a dog lying on its side sunbaking is something people will want to know.

Next,

- Is there anything in the background that impacts the subject?

For stim toys, this often isn’t the case. You can write a short line referencing the background or, if you need to save spoons, exclude it. This is where you don’t need to go full-on detail, because it isn’t necessary to the information the image is trying to impart. A reference is good, as it goes some way to giving the reader the whole visual experience, but this shouldn’t be the focus of your description if it has nothing or little to do with the subject. Contrarily, for a landscape shot of mountains, the background is as much the subject if not the subject, so it should be described with more detail.

- Is there anything in your description irrelevant to the subject?

For example, glare, flash, an out-of-focus shot, two sentences describing the wood grain of the table on which the Tangle is sitting. If your description is already tending to the long (more than a paragraph), these are the sorts of things that are first to be cut because they don’t aid in conveying meaning. If you do include these things in your description, keep them to brief mentions: they should not be the focus.

- Is my description too long to be readable?

The general rule is this: the longer the description, the more incidental/extraneous detail you need to cut (and the more formatting it will need, see below). The more photos in one post, like a long photoset, the more you need to cut detail that isn’t absolutely relevant, since nobody is going to read or listen to ten paragraphs of description about said photoset.

This is why I dislike information posts here on Tumblr that contain upwards of say ten images: they’re difficult to describe properly without creating an essay-length description that even folks who need that description won’t bother accessing. Conversely, the amount of information needed to be cut to make the description readable means the folks who need those descriptions just aren’t getting enough information. The very format of these posts makes them impossible to make fully accessible.

(It’s different on other websites, especially for things like tutorials and essays, where you can put the description as alt text and it’s broken up by the body text itself. When you’re forced to put image descriptions as one separate section of text, as here on Tumblr, it is a problem.)

If you want your post to convey information and be accessible to the majority of people, consider the amount of images in your post. This post is an example of why a large amount of images render the post, when described, absolutely inaccessible. You’re better off to make a few smaller posts, that can be described with readable/listenable descriptions, than one massive post, even if you tuck the descriptions under a read more.

Lastly,

- What is the image trying to convey to its audience?

This is less relevant for stim toys, more relevant for photos of animals/people, comics, anything where the image is doing more than conveying factual information. When an image is telling a story, check if the factual descriptions do communicate that story. Your description should be doing, as much as possible, the job of the image, which means conveying information or telling a story.

When describing, keep asking yourself: if I couldn’t see this image, what would I want to know? A description that answers that question without becoming an essay is a good description.

Third: formatting is important.

Paragraphing: in most cases, anything more than ten lines a paragraph will result in nobody reading it. Humans have short attention spans, even more so for non-fiction/non-creative/informative writing, like web writing. Not to mention that many disabilities make processing slabs of text difficult if not impossible. If your description runs longer than ten lines, break it up somewhere. Also, if you need to break up your paragraph, that’s a good sign that your description might be long enough to go under a read more cut.

Make sure you’ve got a line space between each paragraph. Anyone who reads your description (me, for example, if you’ve described a GIF) is used to the standard online formatting of a line space between paragraphs, and just starting a new line throws off the brain’s ability to realise you’ve paragraphed. It will still look like an unreadable block of text, and I can promise you that I won’t read it (can’t read it, in fact). Which is a waste of your time, sadly, since you mean the best, but that’s how much formatting does matter.

(Tumblr mostly adds line spaces between paragraphs automatically for you if you’re typing in rich text mode; you’ll need to add the HTML for paragraphs if you’re in HTML mode. Just add <p> to the start and </p> to the end of each paragraph.)

Indicating: use some indication (usually the words “image description” and brackets) that the description is not the body text, as that signals to sighted readers that they can skip past it. I use squared brackets [] because they’re not in common use in prose/non-mathematical text. I dislike the use of rounded brackets () because they’re in common use, so my brain thinks the description is body text. I realise it a few seconds later, but if we can tell the brain immediately that the text is optional, it’s easier on the reader, especially if they have limited spoons for text processing.

This one is subtle editing; I know most people don’t think about how much text formatting guides and alerts the reader, but there’s a reason we stick to some norms in English. The brain gets very used to certain styles and punctuation conveying meaning, and folks with developmental disorders in particular might find it hard to understand meaning without these cues or have to work harder to get that meaning. Speaking from personal experience!

Numbering: in most cases for multi-image posts, you’ll need to mentally assign a number to the post (left to right, top to bottom) and describe those pictures in order. This is for folks who can see images but need the text to help with processing; if they’re not in order, it’s ridiculously confusing. Start each description with the number of that photo and break each description up into a new paragraph. Here’s an example on my sensory room post.

The exception for this is when there’s only a few images or those images aren’t very different from each other. Then, to save spoons (as I have few myself) I’ll describe the subject of the image and then how it differs in each photo, often in a single paragraph. Here’s an example on a slime post. I admit that this is a less-clear way of describing, but it saves a few spoons!

I’m sure there’s something I’ve forgotten, anons, but this has taken me quite a few spoons. If there’s something confusing or there’s a question I haven’t properly answered, ask and I’ll do my best to answer/answer properly.

Likewise, if folks who use screen readers want to add corrections or changes, please do so!

- Mod K.A.

[jovialevent]

Wedding tips Jovial events follow if you’re a fan of modernity

Wedding tips Jovial events

follow if you’re a fan of modernity

We Jovial events, the top wedding planner in UAE do strive to search out for new and one of a kind purposes imperative to solidify into our clients wedding limit and social event. So if you’re planning a wedding in UAE with a modern touch your advantage would be boosted if you couple hands with Jovial Events as for 2019 wedding models, ladies and grooms will discover updates to a beginning at currently acclaimed plans and imaginative contemplation that haven’t been seen before at weddings. Sculptural characteristic creations are the new focal core interests. Regular establishments changed into the hot new purpose of combination graph in 2018, and we’ll see a continuation of this remarkable wedding thought in 2019. So here are some of the tips we are looking to follow as we

Why not Sunday weddings?

We do suggest our clients to add diverse occasions to their wedding week’s end including welcome, various and post-wedding early snacks for a huge long time, in any case as opposed to satisfaction the week’s end at the easygoing gala. Couples could empower family and companions all through the entire week’s end celebrate, with a full organization and wedding, towards the week’s end.

Choose purple over pink

While considering 2019 wedding outlines, we do plan to suggest our clients a farewell to pale pinks and hi to shades of purple. Become flushed has had its shot in the wedding scene for quite a while. Lavender and shades of purples are starting to supplant magnificent redden tones. We besides sees that purple can be fantastic versatile shading as we can make it light and swirling or strong and stunning.

Choosing flowers? – Why don’t you skip quantity to quality?

Greenery can been renowned in trims and doorways, yet now our women clients wish to include an abundance of greenery in their marriage packs. Feminine cravings are more captivated by bewildering blooms than a wealth of blossoms.

Rust is the new hot metallic

Metallics have progressed from shiny silver’s and gold’s to matte copper and metal, and now they’re progressing to rust. While using rust in your wedding palette, fuse a more magnificent shading to ensure that it doesn’t look too much dull.

Women are picking normal and awesome perfection looks

Marriage awesomeness will be extraordinary in 2019. Women will get a handle on a trademark look that highlights their most adored segment with solid features. Think wine-toned lips with full lashes or a metallic eye shadow with a super-sensitive pink. And hair styles, half-up-clears that packaging the face with two or three bolts and are carefully gathered in the back of the head, will be the go-to scan for women

 Plants and herbs as propelling tables

Rather than conventional blooms that couples are so far be needed to intertwine greenery in their social event expound organize, we are encouraging them to picking a decision that is other than foliage. Greenery as plants and herbs in present day vessels will upgrade gathering tables in 2019. Diminish innovative and wood boxes are a piece of the pushed style holders also could be utilized.

Pick revived materials with stacks of surfaces

It’s not simply plants, herbs and stylish and wooden vessels that will update the look of wedding gathering tables. For wedding plans in 2019, we predict materials are going past basic white. “Rather than a strong shading tablecloth and napkin, rental affiliations have a substitute confirmation of finished materials to examine. Trimmed in trim, frayed edges and animated with contacts and strips are a touch of the particular improvements to give materials an update.

Domain themed favors are an unquestionable need

Agreeable favors have been transcendent for a broad time apportioning 2019 wedding plans it’s not simply the love winged creatures’ most treasured sustenance they’ll be serving, at any rate something that is basic too. We are picking favors that are rotated around where the couple is from, either where they beginning at now live or the spots where they grew up.

[everettwilkinson]

ABOUT that tax bill delay — POLITICO/MORNING CONSULT poll: voters like tax reform, but they’re cool to corporate cut — TRUMP says he’ll tighten vetting after NYC attack — BETSY DEVOS profile — B’DAY: David Bossie

Happy Wednesday morning, and welcome to November.

TAX ROLLOUT: TOP RATE STAYS AT 39.6, ROLLOUT DELAYED — WSJ’S RICH RUBIN, SIOBHAN HUGHES and KRISTINA PETERSON: “The House Republican tax plan will preserve a top individual tax rate of 39.6%, according to people familiar with the matter, though party leaders are delaying its release by a day to iron out unresolved issues.

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“The plan for the top rate marks a retreat for Republicans on a question that has spurred intense debate in Washington: How will a tax overhaul treat the most affluent Americans? Republicans last year had been discussing a top rate of 33%, and then moved to 35% earlier this year. But they left themselves open to the possibility of keeping it unchanged or lowering it by some smaller amount.” http://on.wsj.com/2z3p02P

— RACHAEL BADE, BERNIE BECKER, BRIAN FALER and AARON LORENZO: “Ryan told conservative group leaders Thursday that the [top] income threshold for the top rate would likely be higher than it currently is, likely between $750,000 and $1 million. He said the estate tax would likewise be repealed but may have to be phased out to save money in the short term.

“But it’s the unresolved issues that caused Ways and Means members the most heartburn this week — and ultimately led to the delay. Those include: how to win over GOP lawmakers from high-tax states that are balking over curbing the state and local tax deduction, which their constituents rely on. There are also question about how to ensure that wealthy individuals don’t take advantage of the lower 25 percent small business or ‘pass-through’ rate. Many of the unresolved items are hot-button issues, including what to do with 401(k) retirement plans.” http://politi.co/2zn8fAl

— MORE DETAILS FROM NANCY COOK: “Ryan was fuzzy with them on where the one-time repatriation tax would fall. The estate tax is definitely going away but might have to be phased out. It would definitely be gone by year three. …

“The delay on the timing of the House GOP tax bill also forced the White House to re-jigger its roll-out plans. President Trump had tentatively planned to host some Republican members of the House Ways & Means Committee to the Oval Office for a photo-op and statements, following the unveil of the House bill, according to a congressional source familiar with the planning — but that too got disrupted.”

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ABOUT THE DELAY … The idea that this bill rollout would slip to Thursday truly isn’t a surprise to people in Washington. We put in Playbook Tuesday that President Trump was going to do a tax event “if House Republicans are able to get their tax bill out.”

TWO WAYS TO THINK ABOUT THIS — … Republicans want you to think this delay isn’t a big deal. And, in many ways, it’s not. Massive bills — and this one will be 1,000-plus pages — are hard and they take time. That’s why it was nonsensical that the White House wanted this done before the end of the year. (Although clearing this before year end would allow another run at health care in early 2018.) And, from a practical standpoint, this isn’t a big setback. The rollout is delayed by one single day.

— BUT, BUT, BUT … Tax reform isn’t a walk in the park. This is only going to get harder. Remember: we haven’t seen a single detail yet. Not one. The delay helps highlight that this is a long, arduous and tricky process.

REMINDER — Up on Capitol Hill and among Republican political operatives, the success of tax reform is seen as existential, and binary. Finish it and get it into law, and keep the House. Fail, and the House could be gone. IT’S SO IMPORTANT — AMERICAN ACTION NETWORK, the top House GOP outside group, is likely to spend between $20 million and $25 million to support the package. They’ve already spent close to $15 million.

BEHIND THE SCENES — TRUMP sat down with nearly a dozen trade association heads to talk about tax reform Tuesday. He asked how many of them had been working on tax policy when Congress and President Ronald Reagan rewrote the code in the 1980s. THE ANSWER: Just 2. TOM DONOHUE of the U.S. Chamber of Commerce and DIRK VAN DONGEN of the National Association of Wholesaler-Distributors. SPOTTED: Robert Cresanti of IFA, Matt Shay of NRF, Karen Kerrigan of the Small Business & Entrepreneurship Council and Rob Nichols of ABA, among others. MISSING: JERRY HOWARD, head of the National Association of Homebuilders, who has come out against the tax package.

YOU’RE INVITED! DEPT. OF GOOD TIMING — JAKE and ANNA will sit down FRIDAY with HOUSE WAYS AND MEANS CHAIRMAN KEVIN BRADY — Kevin Brady is the House’s top tax writer, putting him in the middle of Republicans’ biggest and most important legislative push. He will explain the tax bill to us — and to Washington — in a Playbook Interview. LOCATION: The Newseum (555 Pennsylvania Avenue, NW). TIME: Doors open at 11:30 a.m., and the event starts at noon. RSVP http://bit.ly/politicobrady EMAIL US if you have questions for the chairman. Our coordinates are at the top of the newsletter.

— @ChadPergram at 10:43 p.m.: “McConnell, Ryan, WH Cos Kelly, Nat’l Sec Adviser McMaster & DefSec Mattis all had dinner tonight”.

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NEW POLITICO/MORNING CONSULT POLL — “Poll: Voters like tax reform overall but cool to corporate cut,” by Toby Eckert: “Overall public support for the tax plan outlined in September by President Donald Trump and GOP Hill leaders remains steady, but opposition to a corporate rate cut has edged up, according to a new POLITICO/Morning Consult poll. Forty-eight percent of registered voters who responded to the poll said they “strongly support” or “somewhat support” the overall proposal based on what they knew about it, compared to 37 percent who opposed it. Those numbers are unchanged from a similar poll earlier this month, conducted shortly after the White House and congressional Republicans released their tax overhaul framework.

“The proposal’s popularity was driven by overwhelming Republican support, with 83 percent of GOP voters supporting it, compared to 24 percent of Democrats and 39 percent of independents. But a key part of the plan, lowering the corporate tax rate to 20 percent from 35 percent, remains one of its least popular aspects. A plurality of respondents — 41 percent — said it shouldn’t be part of tax legislation, compared to 39 percent who said it should.” http://politi.co/2xIsHXV

THE LATEST ON THE TERROR ATTACK IN NYC — “NYC truck attack: Investigators scour driver’s background,” by AP’s Colleen Long and Matt Sedensky: “Investigators worked through the night to determine what led a truck driver to plow down people on a riverfront bike path near the World Trade Center, brandishing air guns and yelling ‘God is great’ in Arabic as his deadly route of terror ended with a crash, authorities said.

“Eight people were killed and 11 seriously injured in a Halloween afternoon attack that the mayor called ‘a particularly cowardly act of terror.’ The driver — identified by officials as an immigrant from Uzbekistan — was in critical condition but expected to survive after a police officer shot him in the abdomen.” http://bit.ly/2ikTIdz

— NYT: “The rampage ended when the motorist — whom the police identified as Sayfullo Saipov, 29 — smashed into a school bus, jumped out of his truck and ran up and down the highway waving a pellet gun and paintball gun and shouting ‘Allahu akbar,’ Arabic for ‘God is great,’ before he was shot in the abdomen by the officer. He remained in critical condition on Tuesday evening.” http://nyti.ms/2huDEq2

— “A Mangled School Bus, Bodies Everywhere; ‘It Was Surreal’,” by NYT’s Jose DelReal and Corey Kilgannon: http://nyti.ms/2zaaUfJ

–“Terror suspect was a ‘very friendly’ Uzbek immigrant who drove for Uber,” by N.Y. Post’s Gabrielle Fonrouge: “Kobiljon Matkarov, 37, met suspected terrorist Sayfullo Saipov in Florida about five years ago shortly after Saipov came from Uzbekistan– the two connected over their mutual heritage. ‘He is very good guy, he is very friendly… he is like little brother… he look at me like big brother,’ Matkarov said by phone Tuesday from his home in Miamisburg, Ohio. Matkarov said he’d been working for Uber and living in New Jersey as recently as this summer.” http://nyp.st/2iQXrU4

–N.Y. POST cover, “TERROR RETURNS TO NYC” http://nyp.st/2gZUCQ0 … N.Y. Daily News cover, “BIKE PATH BLOODBATH” http://nydn.us/2iQ4MTT

— TRUMP’S REACTION — @realDonaldTrump at 5:30 p.m.: “In NYC, looks like another attack by a very sick and deranged person. Law enforcement is following this closely. NOT IN THE U.S.A.!” … at 6:31 p.m.: “We must not allow ISIS to return, or enter, our country after defeating them in the Middle East and elsewhere. Enough!” … at 6:57 p.m.: “My thoughts, condolences and prayers to the victims and families of the New York City terrorist attack. God and your country are with you!” … at 9:26 p.m.: “I have just ordered Homeland Security to step up our already Extreme Vetting Program. Being politically correct is fine, but not for this!”

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AP’S ZEKE MILLER: “The real John Kelly slowly revealing himself at White House”: “In his three months on the job, John Kelly has been credited with bringing order to a chaotic West Wing, but don’t call him a moderate. President Donald Trump’s chief of staff was the enforcer of Trump’s controversial immigration policies, has frequently criticized the president’s enemies, and this week echoed his boss’ defense of Confederate monuments. It all suggests that ‘The Chief,’ as he is known among aides, may have instilled order, but he is more ideologically aligned with Trump than many believed.

“Much has been made of the imagery of Kelly silently lurking on the sidelines of presidential addresses, seeming to cringe when Trump gets out of line. But it may be wishful thinking by Trump’s critics to believe that he’s tugging the president in another direction. White House officials and Kelly allies say he is not so much partisan as he is ideological, holding hawkish views on issues like immigration and national security.” http://bit.ly/2zX8QoE

WHERE TRUMP’S HEAD IS — “Trump rejecting Bannon’s hard line against Mueller — for now,” by CNN’s Jeff Zeleny, Gloria Borger and Kevin Liptak: “President Donald Trump has decided — for now — to stick with his strategy of cooperation with special counsel Robert Mueller, a day after the Russia investigation ensnared three of his campaign aides. That’s despite being urged to take a harder line by his former chief strategist, Steve Bannon. Bannon spoke with Trump following Monday’s announcements from the special counsel, and advocated taking a harsher approach to Mueller …

“While Trump encouraged Bannon to lead the public charge against Mueller, the President made clear to aides Tuesday that he’s not adopting Bannon’s advice. As the President stews about the recent developments in the Russia investigation, he’s receiving conflicting arguments about how to proceed. His current legal team and strategy has the support of White House chief of staff John Kelly and — perhaps most importantly — members of the President’s family.” http://cnn.it/2yiQsKJ

MUELLER WATCH — “Papadopoulos Claimed Trump Campaign Approved Russia Meeting,” by Bloomberg’s Greg Farrell, David Voreacos and Henry Meyer: “Former Trump adviser George Papadopoulos made a significant claim in an email: Top Trump campaign officials agreed to a pre-election meeting with representatives of Russian President Vladimir Putin. The message, if true, would bolster claims that Trump’s campaign attempted to collude with Russian interests. But it’s unclear whether Papadopoulos, who pleaded guilty to lying to the Federal Bureau of Investigation, was merely boasting when he sent the July 14, 2016, email to a Kremlin-linked contact. There’s also no indication such a meeting ever occurred.” https://bloom.bg/2z8v8GO

— “Andrew Weissmann, Mueller’s Legal Pit Bull,” by NYT’s Matt Flegenheimer: “It is not clear if President Trump and his charges fear Mr. Weissmann as they gird for the slog ahead. It is quite clear, former colleagues and opponents say, that they should. ‘I’m no fan of Donald Trump,’ said Dan Cogdell, a Houston defense lawyer who tangled with Mr. Weissmann when Mr. Weissmann helped lead the federal task force investigating Enron in the early 2000s. ‘Frankly, I can’t think of two people who deserve each other more than Andrew Weissmann and Donald Trump.’” http://nyti.ms/2gTk7Ps

THE NEXT TURN OF THE SCREW — “Mueller schedules interview with Hope Hicks,” by Annie Karni and Josh Dawsey: “President Donald Trump’s longtime aide and current communications director, Hope Hicks, is scheduled to speak with special counsel Robert Mueller’s team in mid-November, following the president’s trip to Asia, multiple people familiar with the schedule told POLITICO. Mueller’s team is also expected to interview three or four other current White House officials as early as this week …

“Mueller’s team already has interviewed former aides, including Trump’s first chief of staff Reince Priebus and former press secretary Sean Spicer. But the latest round of interviews appears to mark a new phase of the investigation — hauling in current administration officials for daylong depositions.” http://politi.co/2z2H9OA

GETTING POTUS READY FOR ASIA — “Trump advisers try to focus the president’s attention on Asia trip,” by Andrew Restuccia, Nahal Toosi, and Josh Dawsey: “President Donald Trump has been holed up in a series of rapid-fire briefing sessions on his upcoming 12-day, five-country tour through Asia — an effort the White House hopes will help avoid the kind of diplomatic snafus that have dogged his presidency. … Trump’s top advisers — including national security adviser H.R. McMaster, Secretary of State Rex Tillerson and U.S. Trade Representative Robert Lighthizer — have met with the president in recent days to go over details of the trip, including in an hourlong briefing Friday in the Oval Office, according to administration officials.

“Top aides have sought to keep the briefings short to avoid overloading the president with details but have scheduled dozens of them to plan public remarks and outline what he should say about North Korea on defense and China on trade.” http://politi.co/2z87B92

FOR YOUR RADAR — “Exclusive: U.S. pursues direct diplomacy with North Korea despite Trump rejection,” by Reuters’ Arshad Mohammed and Matt Spetalnick: “The United States is quietly pursuing direct diplomacy with North Korea, a senior State Department official said on Tuesday, despite U.S. President Donald Trump’s public assertion that such talks are a waste of time. Using the so-called ‘New York channel,’ Joseph Yun, U.S. negotiator with North Korea, has been in contact with diplomats at Pyongyang’s United Nations mission, the official said, at a time when an exchange of bellicose insults between Trump and North Korean leader Kim Jong Un has fueled fears of military conflict.” http://reut.rs/2lBgBOS

TRUMP’S WEDNESDAY — Trump is holding a cabinet meeting. This afternoon he will sign the National Veterans and Military Families Month Proclamation. He is having lunch with VP Mike Pence, Secretary of State Rex Tillerson and Defense Secretary James Mattis. He will also meet with RNC Chair Ronna Romney McDaniel. He will also sign a bill “Disapproving of the Consumer Financial Bureau’s Arbitration Agreements Rule.”

SPORTS BLINK — TONIGHT: World Series, Game 7, Astros vs. Dodgers, 8:20 p.m. at Dodgers Park in Los Angeles

PHOTO DU JOUR: Authorities stand near a damaged Home Depot truck after a motorist drove onto a bike path near the World Trade Center memorial, striking and killing several people. Officials called the incident an act of terror. | Craig Ruttle/AP Photo

BETSY DEVOS PROFILE — TIM ALBERTA in the Nov./Dec. issue of POLITICO Magazine, “The Education of Betsy DeVos: President Donald Trump’s most controversial, ideological Cabinet pick is discovering the limits of her power”: “It is strange, if a bit unsettling, to see U.S. Marshals constantly hovering near the U.S. secretary of education, a 59-year-old evangelical Christian grandmother whose hobbies are bike riding, yoga and visiting grade schools. But as Betsy DeVos approached Kansas City Academy on a sunny Friday morning in mid-September, it was clear why she wants them there.

“It was the final day of her ‘Rethink School’ tour, the familiar fly-around trip taken by a Cabinet secretary to capture some local news coverage and emphasize priorities—in DeVos’ case, to highlight unique and innovative learning environments across the country. But at this particular stop, tension filled the air. Several hundred protesters gathered outside—vastly outnumbering the 76 students, grades 6 through 12, who attend the school—while a procession of speakers denounced DeVos as a destroyer of public education and an enabler of campus rape.” http://politi.co/2h0r0lx

K STREET FILES — “Podesta’s downfall sends shock waves through K Street: The departure of the Democratic super-lobbyist, and indictment of Paul Manafort, has other firms working to make sure they’re not next,” by Theo Meyer: http://politi.co/2ijCXzp

ROBERT DRAPER on the cover of the N.Y. Times Magazine, “A Post-Obama Democratic Party in Search of Itself: Barack Obama left office as one of the most popular departing presidents in American history. He also left behind a Democratic Party struggling to find an identity and a future without him — and to reconnect with voters in time for the 2018 elections”: “Most if not all Democrats are more than happy to watch Bannon’s kamikaze antics wreak havoc on the opposition. Still, some in the party rue the lack of pugnacity on their own side. ‘There are two types of Democrats,’ David Krone, Harry Reid’s former chief of staff, told me one afternoon this summer in the Midtown Manhattan office where he now works as a consultant for an investment firm. ‘There are killers, and there are whiners. Unfortunately, we have too many of the latter and not enough of the former.’” http://nyti.ms/2ijwuUZ … The cover http://politi.co/2ht2mqH

THE HARASSMENT FILES — “NPR’s top editor placed on leave after accusations of sexual harassment,” by WaPo’s Paul Farhi: “NPR is investigating allegations by two women who said the head of its news department made unwanted physical contact with them while he was employed by another news organization nearly two decades ago. The women, both journalists at the time of the alleged incidents, made the accusations in recent weeks against Michael Oreskes, senior vice president of news and editorial director at the Washington-based public broadcasting organization. In response to the allegations, NPR said Tuesday that it has placed Oreskes on indefinite leave.

“In separate complaints, the women said Oreskes — at the time, the Washington bureau chief of the New York Times — abruptly kissed them while they were speaking with him about working at the newspaper. Both of them told similar stories: After meeting Oreskes and discussing their job prospects, they said he unexpectedly kissed them on the lips and stuck his tongue in their mouths.” http://wapo.st/2hs1YJ6

JOHN HEILEMANN SPEAKS OUT – “Mark Halperin’s ‘Game Change’ Partner Says He Was Unaware,” by NYT’s Michael M. Grynbaum: “‘I had never heard of, been exposed to or had any inkling of the notion that he had engaged in any behavior that could be described in even the broadest sense of being sexual harassment or sexual assault,’ Mr. Heilemann said, in his first public remarks since the claims against Mr. Halperin surfaced. He added, ‘I was flabbergasted and shocked.’ … It remains unclear what will become of Mr. Halperin’s contributions to the scuttled third installment in the ‘Game Change’ series.

“The pair had conducted roughly 300 interviews for the book in recent months, Mr. Heilemann said. ‘We’ve done reporting that touches on important things both for history and for the current national dialogue,’ he said. … ‘Mark was my friend,’ Mr. Heilemann said. ‘I cared about him then, and I care about him now. It’s also the case that Mark wasn’t in the circle of my closest friends.’ … Showtime said that the network remained on good terms with Mr. Heilemann and that it was examining whether ‘The Circus’ will go on without Mr. Halperin.” http://nyti.ms/2gPQaQ5

MEDIAWATCH — “‘I want to quit’: Fox News employees say their network’s Russia coverage was ‘an embarrassment,’” by CNN’s Oliver Darcy: “‘I’m watching now and screaming,’ one Fox News personality said in a text message to CNN as the person watched their network’s coverage. ‘I want to quit.’ ‘It is another blow to journalists at Fox who come in every day wanting to cover the news in a fair and objective way,’ one senior Fox News employee told CNN of their outlet’s coverage, adding that there were ‘many eye rolls” in the newsroom over how the news was covered. The person said, ‘Fox feels like an extension of the Trump White House.’” http://cnnmon.ie/2za3IjV

— MAJOR GARRETT is publishing a new book called “Mr. Trump’s Wild Ride: The Thrills, Chills, Screams, and Occasional Blackouts of the First Year with America’s 45th President,” which is expected to come out in fall of 2018. The publisher is All Points Books, the political and current affairs imprint of St. Martin’s Press.

SPOTTED: Frank Luntz in the second row behind home plate at World Series Game 6 yesterday – (Rep. Kevin McCarthy tweeted a pic of Frank on TV) http://bit.ly/2ijkMtK … at a bipartisan Senate “Halloween dog costume celebration” yesterday on the Hill, hosted by Sen. Thom Tillis (R-N.C.): Sens. Steve Daines (R-Mont.), Deb Fischer (R-Neb.) and Mike Rounds (R-S.D.) along with 100 dogs and at least 200 people – pic of Tillis and a dog http://politi.co/2z50g8c

OUT AND ABOUT — Among the trick or treaters at Robert and Elena Allbritton’s house last night, which had a doughnut truck in the driveway (Mama’s Doughnut Bites): Ivanka and her kids, Mark and Sally Ein, and CBS’ Nancy Cordes – pics http://bit.ly/2h2pLCm … http://bit.ly/2ijF7il … http://bit.ly/2zWoQY1 … http://bit.ly/2z1ROqf

— SPOTTED at the Adrienne Arsht Day of the Dead party last night at her Massachusetts Heights mansion: Sens. Chris Coons (D-Del.) and Catherine Cortez Masto (D-Nev.), Commerce Secretary Wilbur Ross and Hilary Ross, Kellyanne Conway, Rep. Ed Royce (R-Calif.) and Marie Royce, Kevin Sullivan and Mary Jordan, Education Secretary Betsy DeVos (wearing full skeleton face paint) and Dick DeVos, Ret. Gen. Jim Jones and Diane Jones, Amb. Stuart Bernstein, Stuart and Gwen Holliday …

… Mexican Amb. Geronimo Gutierrez, Amb. Capricia and Rob Marshall, Kathleen Biden, Boyden Gray, Brazilian Amb. Sergio Silva Do Amaral, Susan Blumenthal, Israeli Amb. Ron Dermer, Patrick Steel and Lee Satterfield, Monaco Amb. Maguy Doyle, Kathleen Stevens, Lucky Roosevelt, Jordanian Amb. Dina Kawar, Tom and Anne LeBlanc, Michelle Kosinski, Michael LaRosa, Katherine Bradley, Robert Pullen, and Paige Ennis.

TRANSITIONS — WILL JOHNSON has joined DailyKos as senior vice president for advertising strategy. He will lead the creation of a new unit focused on digital advertising sales. He is an alum of Talking Points Memo, NGP VAN, Bully Pulpit Interactive and Change. … Melika Willoughby starts today as comms director for Rep. Jim Jordan (R-Ohio). She is a Hillsdale alumna who served as communications director for Kansas Gov. Sam Brownback.

— John Thornton and former Singapore Amb. to the U.S. Chan Heng Chee have been named new co-chairs of the Asia Society. Caroline Kennedy and Prince Turki Al Faisal Al Saud have been named to the board. The organization is starting a $135 million capital campaign.

BIRTHDAYS OF THE DAY: David Bossie, president of Citizens United and former Trump deputy campaign manager. How he’s celebrating: “Enjoying dinner with my wife and four children at our favorite place GrillMarx, a small restaurant in Olney, Maryland.” Read his Playbook Plus Q&A: http://politi.co/2lzIbvI … WaPo non fiction book critic Carlos Lozada. How he got his start in journalism: “I started off as an associate editor at Foreign Policy magazine, beginning in late 1999. I was working at the Federal Reserve but wanted to try something new, and I’ll always be grateful to Moises Naim and James Gibney for hiring me. I had no business getting that job, but it sent me on my way.” Q&A: http://politi.co/2A4g2Qx

BIRTHDAYS: Charles Koch is 82 … Rep. Darrell Issa (R-Calif.) is 64 … Katie (Walsh) Shields (hubby tip: Mike) … Apple CEO Tim Cook is 57 … Vanessa Morrone (hat tip: Sean Spicer) … Lee Fang, investigative journalist at The Intercept … Francesco Guerrera, head of EMEA at Dow Jones Media Group and publisher of Financial News … Politico’s Jason Shervinski and Cristina Brownell … GPG’s Alex Byers … Brian Mahoney … Rep. Bruce Poliquin (R-Maine) is 64 … John Oxtoby, VP of strategy and corporate development at Ariel Investments and Obama alum (h/t Andrew Bates) … Michael Byerly … Ram Sivalingam … Jamie Sterne, founder of hedge fund Skye Global Management … Eric Liu … Megan Wilson, lobbying reporter for The Hill (h/t Neil Grace) … Les Novitsky … Jay Villegas, bartender extraordinaire at Tosca (h/ts Maggie and Jon) …

… Liz Dougherty, general counsel and corporate secretary at Business Roundtable … Larry Flynt is 75. He’s celebrating with friends and family (h/t Nadia Szold) … Clare Steinberg, associate at Gibson, Dunn … Tyler Hernandez … Fergus M. Bordewich, historian and author of “The First Congress” (h/t Jean) … Chloe Mullins Taylor of Hawk Partners and alum of Greenberg, Quinlan, Rosner … Ali Ahmad … Pearson Cummings, SVP for tech policy and public affairs at Edelman … Peter Urban … Jordan Mason … Greg Werkheiser … Bill Deere … Peter Newell … Leslie Pollner … Gabe Cramer is 23 (h/t Jewish Insider) … Doug Stevens … Jordan Mason … John Stipicevic … former Rep. John Spratt (D-S.C.) is 75 … Anthony DeAngelo, media relations manager at APCO Worldwide … Anthony Fragale … Sue Mahsem … Bo Harmon … John Seeley … Mitchell Wohlberg … country singer Richard Samet “Kinky” Friedman is 73 … CNN’s Marshall Cohen … Senate Chaplain Barry Black is 69 … Siri Uotila (h/t Teresa Vilmain)

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