#CURRENTLY PUNCHING DRYWALL

[vasyandii]

GOTT IM HIMMEL I LOVE YOUR ART SM

святотатство (sacrilege) - Krueger/Nikto

A collab with @chacha-tortuga, who made the (incredible) base sketch and helped immensely with the colours, shading, and making the png for Nikto's back tattoo.

This is a redraw of Jean Delville's 1914 "Justice" piece, which I think perfectly encompasses krueger/nikto's dynamic as I envision it.

The cloth looks out of place because I added it for tumblr. Full version on my side twitter (x) - do not follow me there if you are a minor please.

[crabs-but-better]

lmao had a dean winchester moment

[fluentmoviequoter]

A Room Away

Requested Here!

Edit: Part 2 Here

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: Tired of Tim's bad moods, Angela gets him a new roommate: you. As Tim gets to know you and learns about your past, you slowly become more than his roommate.

Warnings: mentions of past domestic abuse (reader and Tim), reader has chronic migraines from past head trauma, nightmares, reader has a panic attack, angst, fluff, Nyla and Angela. (roommates to lovers)

Word Count: 4.2k+ words

A/N: Parts of this are so self-indulgent. The migraine depictions are based on my migraines, but I think they're some of the most common symptoms. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think! (I'm still trying to get Tim's character down, so apologies if he's OOC.)🤍

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

Tim sits in the back of the room for roll call, his arms crossed tightly across his chest as unimpressed sighs escape him. Angela is getting tired of his seemingly perpetual bad mood. Clearly, he’s lonely, but he will never admit it. And that loneliness makes him mopey and broody (Angela’s official motto for Tim Bradford) until he has enough and snaps at someone.

Sitting at her desk, Angela watches Tim yell at a boot. He’s always harsh with them, trying to prepare them for anything, but now he’s using them as punching bags for his forbidden feelings. 

“What’s his problem? He’s grumpier than usual,” Nyla says as she joins Angela.

“He’s lonely,” Angela answers. “Won’t admit it or do anything about it.”

“That man needs a girlfriend,” Nyla muses.

Angela sits up straighter and smiles. “You’re a genius, Harper.”

“I know.”

Angela opens a website on her computer, and Nyla pulls up a seat to watch her intervention into Tim’s personal life.

“You’re going to rent out his spare room without telling him? This’ll be fun to watch,” Nyla says, laughing.

“He has way too much room for just one guy. Getting him a roommate and a girlfriend will surely help with.. that,” she finishes, gesturing toward Tim.

“A roommate and a girlfriend, or a roommate who becomes a girlfriend?”

“Either should work.”

“That’s your number.”

Angela nods, putting her contact information on the listing. “Tim would shut it down after the first call, so I’ll interview them, run background checks, whatever, and find the perfect one.”

“Well, Mrs. Right is always found on Craigslist,” Nyla jokes.

“This isn’t Craigslist.”

“Semantics.”

Angela posts the listing, and she and Nyla hope getting Tim a roommate will help nudge him out of his bad mood. He needs someone to talk to and bond with, but he’ll never come to that conclusion on his own. Which is why Angela considers herself to be such a good friend.

✯✯✯✯✯

Los Angeles is a big city, which is part of why you chose it without another thought. Full of opportunities and a chance of fading into the background, it’s the complete opposite of your home, which overflows with memories. The patched drywall you were pushed into, the stained tile where you thought everything was going to end, and the china cabinet with the shattered glass are left behind and traded in for a minimum wage job, a used car, and a lot of panic that you won’t be able to find somewhere to live.

You’ll need a roommate until you can save enough money for your own place. However, finding a decent place with a decent roommate is nearly impossible in your price range. Browsing online listings, you see one that could be promising. The information at the bottom says there is an interview process, which catches your attention. Sending a text to Angela Lopez, you cross your fingers for good luck before walking into work.

By the end of your shift, Angela has replied and asked you to meet somewhere nearby. You want to go home, a dull headache building at the base of your skull impairing your mood. But you also really want a better place to call home than the pay-by-the-month motel you’re currently living in.

Angela gives you a firm handshake as she introduces herself as an LAPD detective. She asks questions about your life, job, hobbies, and finally, why you moved to Los Angeles.

“I just needed a change of pace; was ready to leave my old life behind, find something bigger and better,” you answer, a simplified version of the truth.

Trying not to show it, Angela immediately takes a liking to you. Each of your answers solidifies her gut instinct that you’re a good fit for Tim. You ask why her name was on this listing if it’s not her house, and she follows your lead and gives you the truth, but not all of it.

“Tim, the owner of the house, is a coworker and friend, and I’m just trying to help him out while he’s busy with work,” she explains.

As you leave the meeting, Angela gives you her personal number, as well as someone named Nyla Harper’s number, “just in case you need anything.”

She texts you a time and address, telling you to meet her at your new place the following afternoon. You thank her repeatedly before driving to the trashy motel one last time.

✯✯✯✯✯

Parking outside the house, you fall in love with the neighborhood and the cute architecture of the home. Angela meets you in the driveway, seeming more nervous than excited. You realize she may not have been totally honest with you as you follow her to the door.

An incredibly handsome man opens the door, sighing when he sees Angela. He lets both of you in, seeming to trust Angela completely.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim knows he will regret opening the door, but the woman with Angela is beautiful, and deep down, a small part of him wants to know who she is and why she’s on his doorstep.

“This is your new roommate,” Angela announces, giving Tim your name.

“You didn’t,” Tim responds. “Please tell me you didn’t rent out my spare room without asking me, Lopez.”

“I won’t tell you that, then.”

Standing quietly to the side, you anxiously watch their argument.

“Um, sorry,” you begin, interrupting them. “But I can go, and find a new place, since this is clearly not what you signed up for.”

You move toward the door before stopping when Angela demands, “Don’t go anywhere.”

She gives Tim a stern look before cocking her head to the side. He sighs like he has accepted his fate, a tragedy based on his reaction. Gesturing for you to follow him, he gives you a quick tour before showing you to your new room and bathroom.

“I’m not home a ton, but when I am, I’m usually watching a game or just hanging out, so,” he tells you before trailing off.

You nod before promising, “You won’t even know I’m here.”

Tim wants to believe you, but he also thinks you’re pretty and kind enough that he wouldn’t mind seeing you occasionally.

✯✯✯✯✯

You cross paths with Tim a few times in the first two days of living with him. He’s struck by your beauty each time but recognizes that you don’t open up willingly, so he never presses you to talk. Content to be ships passing in the night, Tim gives you a nod before continuing out the door.

It’s your third night in the house that Tim learns your reserved qualities may not be as simple as a personality trait. Waking when he hears a strange noise, Tim listens in the darkness before deciding it’s your footsteps he hears. Based on the sound, you're pacing, so Tim gets out of bed and walks to the kitchen. He walks right past you, and you give him an apologetic smile before slowing down. Tim makes you a mug of calming tea, sliding it across the kitchen island before sitting beside you as you drink it. Suspecting you had a nightmare or some similarly disturbing experience, Tim reminds you where you are and that everything is okay in his own way.

Over the next week, you wake him up a few more times, thrashing in your bed or exiting your room once you wake. He nudges each time, offering to let you talk about it, but you never do. You always apologize for waking him, thank him for keeping you company and making you tea before you disappear back into yourself and into your room.

✯✯✯✯✯

You’ve lost count of the days and nights spent in Tim’s house, your sense of time thrown off by the continued plague of nightmares and the monotony of your days. As you wake up after a surprisingly dreamless sleep, you immediately turn your face back into the pillow. Your heartbeat pounds in your head, and everything seems brighter and louder. The migraines have been nearly as consistent as the nightmares since before you left for Los Angeles. 

Tim knocks on your door, and you groan as the sound echoes in your brain. He cracks the door, concerned that you aren’t up yet.

“Are you okay?” he asks, seeing your current state.

“Migraine,” you answer. “I called in sick.”

He closes the door to block the light from outside and lowers his voice to ask, “Do you need anything before I leave?”

“I’m okay. Thanks.”

“Well, call me if you do, or if anything changes, okay?”

“I will. Thank you, Tim. Have a good day.”

Tim nods, even though you can’t see him, before backing out of your room and exiting the house as quietly as possible. He keeps his ringer on, looking at his phone every few minutes as his concern for you remains at the forefront of his mind.

Angela and Nyla notice his usual grumpy disposition seems to have been replaced with concern for something, or someone. After he checks his phone for the fifth consecutive time, Angela decides to pry.

“How’s the beautiful roomie? Still just a roommate?” she asks.

“She’s not feeling well,” Tim answers.

Angela waits for an elaboration, but Tim doesn’t offer one. She looks at Nyla, who gives a knowing look. It’s obvious that Tim is softening toward you, but you haven’t made enough of an impact that he’s less grumpy or snappy. As the day continues, his usual personality returns, convinced that you must be okay, or you would have called.

The next day, after learning that you are, in fact, feeling better, Tim is back to his pre-roommate levels of anger and high strung-ness. To worsen his mood, you wake him up with a nightmare but refuse to let him in, not even acknowledging his kind questioning as to how you are. He’s worried about you because you welcomed his presence before, but he is also angry that you changed so quickly, and now you don’t trust him. Everything is piling on, and Tim isn’t sure how much more he can carry.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Just tell me something,” Angela presses.

“Stay out of it, Lopez!” Tim yells, his emotions reaching a boiling point. “I didn’t even want a puppy- a roommate! If you like her so much, why don’t you take her in?”

Angela waits for his shoulders to drop slightly before asking, “Timothy… is this because you don’t like her, or because you do?”

Tim’s jaw clenches, and his nostrils flare as he turns away, offering to go on patrol while Nolan and Celina go to the shooting range. Everyone seems to think they know Tim better than they do; Angela is pushing him toward you while you’re distancing yourself, and the push and pull is tiring.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim waits in his truck in the driveway for a few minutes before walking in. When he walks in, you’re standing in the kitchen. He hasn’t actually seen you since the day of your last migraine when you stopped trusting him, and your sudden willingness to be in the same area confuses him. Anger and confusion rarely mix well; with Tim, it’s a fatal combination.

You notice his tension and knitted brows, chewing your bottom lip before asking, “Are you okay?”

Stumbling to his tipping point for the second time in the day, Tim takes all his anger and confusion over his feelings out on you.

“What do you think? You can’t decide if I’m worth trusting with something as small as a nightmare, and Angela thinks that I’m practically neglecting you,” he begins.

You swallow harshly as his voice rises, stumbling backward when he starts moving his arms. 

“Especially considering I didn’t even want you here!”

Flinching, you snap your eyes closed and catch yourself on the corner of the wall. Tim freezes as he watches you. Everything begins snapping into place in his mind: your nightmares and the distance added to your reaction to him yelling and moving his hand are all signs he should have noticed sooner.

Your chest is heaving as you take short breaths, and when you finally open your eyes, you look terrified. Tim steps back, keeping his hands where you can see them. You focus on him as you slide down the wall, cradling your head in your hands as you fight off bad memories and a growing headache.

Tim watches you before sitting on the floor, keeping his distance. He waits for you to calm down, willing to let you decide whether or not you want to talk to him. You finally look back up at him, but he doesn’t move.

“I- I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Can I come closer?” Tim asks.

You nod, and Tim slides across the floor, not wanting to stand up and look any more imposing than necessary. His knee presses gently against your thigh, and when you don’t move, he gives you a small smile – the first you’ve ever seen.

“I’ll leave in the morning,” you say, fiddling with your fingers.

“Please don’t,” Tim replies, shaking his head. “I’m really sorry. I wasn’t mad at you, just angry with a long day. But that’s no reason to yell at you or act like that. You confused me, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. That’s on me.”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat.

“Don’t. When I was younger, my dad took his anger out on me sometimes. I’m sure I deserved it once or twice, but I also know better than to treat people like an emotional outlet. If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

You nod before saying, “My ex.”

Tim feels a protective surge at the idea of anyone hurting you, let alone doing it enough times that yelling pushes you to the point of a panic attack.

After comforting you with proximity and kind words, Tim offers to walk you to bed. Your hand brushes his as he opens your door, and you smile as you thank him for everything. It’s a minor change in your relationship but an important one.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim leaves before you wake up the following morning, determined to find out as much as he can about you and your past. He’s not necessarily being nosy, but he wants to know if there’s anything specific that could help or hurt you.

“What do you know?” he demands as he storms up to Angela’s desk.

“About what?” she replies, raising her brows.

“What do you mean ‘about what’? Her!”

Nyla leans back in her chair, glad to watch the unfolding drama.

“Tim, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Angela explains.

“Why’d she move to LA?”

“Are you seriously trying to find something wrong with her? That’s low.”

Tim moves around her desk, dropping his voice to answer, “I’m trying to figure out who thought it was okay to put their hands on her. Because she won’t let me in.”

Angela begins connecting the dots you left untouched. You ran from the person controlling your life, not your actual life. She knew that you were omitting something during your initial meeting, but she didn’t expect it to be so big.

“Have you been open with her?” Angela asks finally. “Because that’s a two-way street. I’ll talk to her if you want me to, but she trusts you, Tim.”

“How do you know that?”

Nyla’s eyes bounce back and forth like she’s watching a tennis game. She sighs before deciding to interject. “She told her! Sent her a text one night!” she calls out, smiling and waving when Angela and Tim look at her.

Tim nods, giving Angela the closest she’ll get to an apologetic look before leaving.

✯✯✯✯✯

Returning home, Tim is surprised to find you on the couch, in your work clothes, with your face pressed into a pillow. You wave your fingers without moving to acknowledge him, and he remains silent as he walks to the kitchen.

“You don’t have to be silent, it’s your house,” you mumble. “I’ll figure out a way to get to the bedroom.”

“You’re fine here,” Tim answers, setting a glass of water beside you. “Another migraine?”

“Skull fractured from getting my head pushed through a window a few months ago,” you explain with a sigh. “The migraines have gotten worse since then.”

Tim lays a hand on your shoulder, giving you plenty of time to tell him not to touch you. You don’t, relaxing under his touch instead. Tim takes a seat beside you, hoping to comfort you once more.

“Your ex?” Tim asks. 

You hum a yes, and Tim’s jaw tightens, even as he comforts you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Walking into the police station, Tim’s wallet is tucked safely in your bag. Approaching the front desk, you say your name and are wordlessly handed a visitor’s badge before someone gives you directions. You don’t have time to argue, shrugging as you attempt to remember where to turn. Angela sees you before you see her, rushing to your side and looping her arm with yours.

“What are you doing here?” she asks happily.

“Uh, Tim forgot his wallet. I was just going to drop it off, but they sent me back here,” you answer.

Tim says your name, coming around a corner, and Angela pushes you toward him, joining Nyla as they watch your interaction.

“You know she was trying to get you a girlfriend and not just a roommate, right?”

Tim nods a thanks as he accepts his wallet, glancing over at your audience. “I’m half-tempted to make them think I kicked you out.”

You smile brightly, and Tim licks his lips to keep his smile from mirroring yours. His eyes tell you more than enough, and you’re happy to see him, too.

“Do it,” you whisper. “Just let me know when so I can play my part. Angela told me to call her if you were ever mean to me.”

“Have you?”

You don’t answer, opting to wink at him before stepping back. Waving at Angela and Nyla, you leave the station as they rush to Tim’s side. As they ask overlapping questions and talk about how cute you and Tim look standing together, Tim ignores them before walking away.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim is pulled from his sleep by your panicked yell. He leaves his bed and barges into your room with no thought. His heart rate slows when he sees your teary face and tangled sheets.

“Sorry,” you mutter as you wipe your tears. “I just don’t know how to make them stop.”

Tim sits beside you, opening an arm toward you. It’s a bold move, especially for him, but you take his offer and curl into his side.

“Are- did you mean it when you said I could talk about it?” you ask.

Tim nods, and you tell him more, but not everything. You remind yourself that he’s your roommate and maybe, just maybe, he's your friend, but he’s not here to listen to all of your baggage.

“The last thing he said before I left was, ‘there is nowhere you can go that my love won’t lead me to find you.’”

“You know that wasn’t love,” Tim replies, waiting for your nod before continuing. “And I’ve got your back, Angela and Nyla are right here, and we won’t let anything happen to you. No matter what.”

Drifting back to sleep in his warm, safe embrace, you finally learn what it’s like not to be scared.

When you wake alone, neither you nor Tim acknowledge what happened. You’re okay with slow changes, as long as there are changes.

“Tim,” you say, interrupting him on his way out. “Thank you. For last night.”

“I’m only ever a call away,” he reminds you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your head starts aching around noon, quickly worsening into a full-blown migraine. When you’re ready to go home, it’s bad enough that you can’t drive. Sitting in your car and resting your head against the steering wheel, you want to call Tim but can’t find the strength to move.

Tim, meanwhile, returns home and begins wondering where you are. He calls, and you don’t answer, so he lets his worry control him as he gets back in his truck and drives your usual route. Tim hopes to pass you or find you waiting as someone changes your tire. When he gets to the parking lot of your job and sees you slumped in your car, he has to fight not to panic.

Rushing to the door, he’s both grateful and concerned that it’s unlocked. He kneels beside you, saying your name before bending to see you. Your eyes are tightly closed, but tears are still leaking out. 

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says.

You whimper as he picks you up, clinging to him until he lays you down in the backseat of his truck, buckling you in as well as possible.

“Hospital can’t help,” you mumble.

Tim wants to argue, but remembers what you said about the skull fracture. You’ve already been to the doctor, so maybe getting you home and comfortable will be enough.

After a nap partially influenced by unbearable pain, you wake to see Tim sitting by your bed.

“Why are you so nice to me? You didn’t even want a roommate,” you mutter sleepily.

Tim smiles, making you think you’re hallucinating. “Yet I got something better.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You don’t quite make it to work the next day. Walking into the station, you’re surprised when Nyla greets you first.

“I’m assuming it’s a joke,” she says.

You furrow your brows in confusion before you see Tim leaning on a desk with his arms crossed while Angela yells at him.

“Unless he really kicked you out,” Nyla adds.

You nod, walking towards Angela and Tim.

“No, you don’t get to blame me! I got you a roommate, a friend, a beautiful woman who could have been more than a friend, and you’re mad at me?” Angela exclaims.

Tim locks eyes with you, not changing his expression as he gauges whether or not her yelling is upsetting you.

“Can I talk to you?” you ask Tim.

Angela steps back, hoping to hear Tim apologize, but he stands up and gestures for you to follow him without speaking. Worried that you’re sick again, Tim waits silently.

“I’m okay,” you promise. “I just wanted to see you.”

Not believing something so simple, Tim shakes his head. “Tell me what happened.”

“I saw a guy who looked like him while I was driving to work. He was yelling at a girl outside of a diner, and it made me nervous.” You keep your eyes on the floor, but Tim gently raises your head.

“You’re not alone, and I know that things still seem uncertain, and probably will for a long time, but you don’t have to be afraid of anything while I’m here.”

“Then why’d you kick me out?” you tease with a pout.

Tim shakes his head, telling you to go before following you out. You wipe an imaginary tear before waving at Angela.

“No, you’re not leaving,” she says, grabbing your shoulders and steering you toward her desk.

Nyla smiles at Tim, and he sighs before following.

“Tell me exactly what happened between you two,” Angela commands.

You look past her before tensing, and Tim immediately catches on. He follows your line of vision and sees Nolan and Celina booking someone. You shrink in on yourself, and Tim moves to block your view.

“Get her out of here,” he tells Angela.

Angela doesn’t wait before obeying, ushering you into the bullpen and out of sight.

“What’s the charge?” Tim asks Celina.

“Assault. Beat up a woman outside a diner,” she answers.

Tim’s jaw tightens at the knowledge that this man made you nervous this morning, reminding you of your ex. He hates abuse in every situation, but when you’re involved, his protectiveness and anger differ. Tim leaves before saying or doing something he’ll regret.

When he finds you in the bullpen, he takes one look at you before hugging you. It’s quick, but Angela and Nyla look at each other in shock.

“So, you’re good?” Nyla asks.

“We were never bad,” you reply. “Just wanted to get back at Angela for trying to set us up.”

“It worked?” Angela inquires excitedly.

“Not yet.”

“Not yet?” Tim repeats, looking over at you. He shrugs as he concedes, “Okay.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When Tim gets home, he drops his stuff by the door, raising his arms in question as he looks at you. “Not yet? What is that supposed to mean?”

“You haven’t made a move. How do I know you’re not just protective and caring under that handsome, gruff exterior?” you ask with a shrug.

Tim shakes his head, cupping the back of your head gently as he kisses you. You raise your hands over his chest to hold his jaw, pushing yourself closer as you reciprocate his every move.

“Because I don’t protect just anyone like this,” he says against your lips.

You kiss him again before asking, “Does this mean you can reduce my rent?”

Tim rolls his eyes, tucking you against his side where you’re safe from everything and everyone. 

[xenosagaepisodeone]

I think for feminism to have any chance of having some kind of mainstream presence again there needs to be a greater emphasis on extractive labor. standpoint epistemology and the death of context seem to be a consistent blockade in discussions about the extent or the depth of systematized oppression; allowing misogyny to be reframed as purely a mental health issue, or individualized as a mere lack of men having good role models illustrates how little regard people have for women's rights as also being a labor issue. the positionality of women as a class (and the further peripheralization that occurs because of racism, homophobia and transphobia), the expectations placed upon them by virtue of gender as well as the unpersoning and violence that is implicitly justified by virtue of this positionality is a lot harder to deflect or derail in conversation than the discussions we currently have about vague feelings of gender roles and guilt. It's harder for people to stretch the generally agreeable "patriarchy harms men too" sentiment into "men and women are equally harmed by patriarchy" when confronted with the material gains that men have acquired historically as a result of the control and subjugation of women. It also serves as stronger basis when confronting right wing women when they advocate for the banning of abortion or the expansion of "parental rights". If I hear someone insist that women are unilaterally chivalrously protected by society and are assumed to be pure maidens who can do no wrong I'm going to scare the mice in my home by punching drywall. It won't even cause a dent in the wall but the mice will be startled. Do you want to be responsible for that.

[vasyandii]

AUGHHSHDUDBDHD MOJE KOCHANIE 

because sanguine squat deserves a much better preview than just the boring text it has right now

(additional version w/o the silly mask)

[xoxobuckybarnes]

July 2024 Reading List

Complete

Donut Forget Our Love (Rated: T, Words: 1K) by dontcallmebree / @dontcallmebree

Summary: Steve Rogers is snoring into his neck. Again. It’s the third time they’ve fallen into bed in the past month alone, and Bucky’s accepted that he’s got a problem. There’s a reason they broke up. Not that Bucky’s been able to remember why lately, with every happy hour that’s gone a little too happy, Steve inching his way across the room and Bucky unable to resist. Tonight, Bucky wishes he had. Bucky gets a little reminder of what his heart has always wanted: a decent bed, bite-sized donuts, and loving Steve Rogers.

I Am Ash From Your Fire (Rated: E, Words: 177K) by lavenderpanic / @lavenderpanic

Summary: Whether they’re making love or Brock’s punching holes in drywall, he just cares so damn much about Bucky. Bucky doesn’t understand why. He’s terrified someday that Brock will grow indifferent, that’s why he feels a rush of relief every time Brock calls him a stupid fucking bitch or slaps him around for screwing something up. He still cares, that’s all Bucky can ever think.

comic books and coffee cups (Rated: T, Words: 4K) by sparkagrace / @sparkagrace

Summary: Based on the prompt: Bucky Barnes is a comic book writer with a very specific idea for a new story, but he hasn't yet found an artist who will work with him on this project. Enter Steve Rogers.

Under His Protection (Rated: E, Words: 21K) by MelanieKS

Summary: There is a nefarious plot brewing in the White House against the president. After an attempt on his life, President Barnes’ detail can’t be trusted and he’s not sure who he can turn to other than his friend Natasha Romanov. Five years retired, Steve Rogers is asked to pick up his shield one last time to protect the president while S.H.I.E.L.D. works on finding the mastermind behind the plot. It’s unconventional, but the safest, while Steve and the president hide away in a secluded cabin in the middle of the mountains of New York. Attraction sparks. Tension rises. Steve vows to keep his distance and remain professional but his attraction grows by the minute, until he can’t deny it any longer.

Podfic

Podfic: Stay and the night would be enough (Rated: T) by ForeverShippingJohnlock

Summary: Written by perfect_plan. Original summary: Things haven't been going well for Steve; he lost his apartment and his job as well as still trying to cope with the death of his mother. Crashing on his friend's couch soon leads to something more for him and Clint's roommate, who shares more with Steve than they both would have expected.

dance with a ghost (Rated: T) by lightupstars

Summary: “Captain America is haunting me,” Bucky says over a bowl of ramen. His pronouncement is met with a round of silence. “Captain America,” Natasha says. “As in--” “The first Avenger,” Bucky confirms. “Supersoldier and hero of World War II. The fabric of the American conscience.” “But he’s--dead,” Sam says. His look of perplexed concern, ever perplexed and ever concerned, only increases. “You’re aware of that, right?” “I know,” Bucky says. “That’s why I said he’s haunting me.”

WIP

War & Peace and the Redemption of Bucky Barnes (Rated: E, Current Words: 44K) by ThePirateStorm / @fsbc-librarian

Summary: Bucky Barnes is running from his problems. He’s housesitting for his best friend while she’s on her honeymoon - the almost a year prior that he’s been staying in her house doesn’t count - when he’s woken in the middle of the night by an angel and a demon. Okay, maybe they’re not a literal angel and demon, but Steve Rogers *looks* like an angel, and his daughter Charli certainly *acts* like a demon. The father/daughter duo are running from their own problems, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t crash headlong into one another’s lives. Throw in a cursed book for good measure, and it’s about to get a whole lot more interesting.

Gold Must Be Tried By Fire (Rated: M, Current Words: 18K) by lavenderpanic / @lavenderpanic

Summary: The pamphlets about escaping abuse always glossed over this part, and Bucky finally understands why. Nobody would fucking leave if they knew how hard recovery would be. In the midst of a trial that questions every hard-won truth out of Bucky's mouth, can he possibly allow himself to heal- physically and mentally? **Sequel to I Am Ash From Your Fire**

Rereads

Heart of Mine (Rated: E, Words: 133K) by deadto27 / @deadto27

Summary: It's been three years since Bucky pulled Steve from the river. Three years where Bucky has tried to get back to the person he was, to be better, to be recovered. Three years where his motivation for getting well has been Steve Rogers. To get to see him again. But when he finally does, he gets more than he expected. Because he never expected that he’d find Steve with a child. And he really never expected that he’d find Steve with his child. ----- “HYDRA…they were using DNA to try to repeat it,” Steve continues softly. “Your DNA,” he adds, meeting Bucky’s eyes, a solemn look on his face as Bucky suddenly catches on to what Steve’s getting at. His eyes widen in shock as Steve increases his grip just slightly on his knee. “The baby…she’s, well…” Steve seems to struggle for words as Bucky’s heart starts beating faster than ever. “She’s yours.”

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chap 2: Exodus

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

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Mikey growls loudly at the creatures as they come close. His marks start to flicker, as if they want to glow bright with his ninpo but can't anymore. Some part of Raph wonders what that means... but currently, he's terrified of what Mikey is going to do.

He's never heard him growl like that.

It's deep and guttural, much lower than Mikey has ever made his voice go.

Mikey suddenly lunges, running on all fours at the army of mutated monsters coming at them.

One creature that looks like it may have once been part wolf tries to swipe at him, but Mikey dodges it and swings his tail at him instead, sweeping out the hind legs and causing it to trip. Mikey's tail suddenly becomes sentient, grabs the hound and swings it like a club, knocking back several mutated animals before tossing the wolf like the world's furriest bowling ball. It slams into a row of oncoming beasts, slowing them down.

Raph can't let Mikey do this alone.

That's not what brothers do.

Not again.

He punches his fists together, creating two large hologram arms, and charges to join the fray.

Mikey is becoming wilder and wilder by the second, his grimace turning into a nasty snarl with sharp fangs beginning to jutt out. His eyes begin getting wider, the red irises glowing brighter and brighter. There are strange spines starting to creep out of his shell, the scales on his arms becoming sharp scutes like armor. Even his whipping tail -- which was much shorter before this crazy thing -- is starting to grow spines on it, the end practically looking like a mace or medieval weapon.

Raph is starting to get scared of his baby brother.

"Mikey! Mikey, you okay?" he asks, as he pushes several mutated raccoons and beavers aside.

Mikey doesn't respond beyond a gravelly low growl as he grabs a mutant badger by the tail and flings it into a wall.

How many animals are there?!

The hall is starting to fill up!

"Mike, we gotta get outta here! I can't hold these guys off for much longer!" he grunts, creating a few extra hologram arms to help ward off the rest. "Plus, I don't wanna hurt em!"

Mikey doesn't seem to hear him as he roars at the hoard. A few creatures start to back away in fright, before what looks like a mix between a boar and a porcupine starts running at them.

"That's our cue!" Raph shouts, grabbing Mikey. The spines and spikes protruding from his shell stab his palms and scrape his arms...

Mikey whirls around and bites Raph hard on the hand.

He yelps as he drops him. There's a mark on his hand, a deep indent. A small puncture wound begins to turn bright red. A tiny flow of blood begins to form just above his thumb.

Raph stares at Mikey.

Mikey glares back, the glow in his eyes bright as the blood on his hand.

"...Mikey...?"

His voice is a whisper. He can't stop shaking.

A moment passes and the glow in Mikey's eyes begins to dissipate, the spikes and spines slowly creeping back into his shell and skin. His tail smoothes out and starts to curl around his feet. His demeanour shifts, from one of a feral animal to a scared kid slowly coming out of a tantrum. He looks at Raph in fear as he realizes what he did. He whimpers, backing away slowly...

"Wait, it's okay! Really, I'm not mad, I --"

The mutant boar reaches them, slamming head-first into Mikey and throwing him into a wall. Mikey grunts with pain, a large crater forming in the drywall where he landed. He gets up quickly, his eyes immediately shifting back to red as he goes to retaliate.

Raphael watches in shock and horror as Mikey grabs the boar by the tusks and rips them out from his jaw. The pig squeals in agony and charges again, two smaller tusks quickly starting to grow back almost instantly.

"MIKEY!!"

"R--aph! Ra-- Come in, do y-- read me--?"

"Leo?!"

Raph looks down at his communicator. He totally forgot about it for a second... Leo and Donnie had been searching the other floors of the facility looking for Mikey, too! He should have let them know he'd found him --

"RAPH! I repeat, Raph, can you hear me?!"

"Yeah!" he shouts back over the screaming behind him. "I read you, Leo!"

"What the heck is all that noise?!"

"Long story short, I found Mikey. We need an escape, like, NOW."

"Donnie's on it," comes a second voice on the comms. "What floor are you on?"

"Five," he responds quickly, ducking from another mutant's attack. "I think we've been made. There were cages filled with animals and they all got released at once!"

"I'm coming now!" Donnie shouts. Raph can hear his hovershell whirr in the background, wind start whipping past the mic as he speeds towards them.

"Leo, where are you?"

"I just came from the basement. You guys will never believe what I found --"

"You can tell us on the way home, but we have to go NOW!!"

For a moment, Raph forgets that he isn't the leader anymore. For a moment, he's in charge and it's all on him to get them out. He's in control of everything and doesn't have to wait on Leo to make a self-sacrificing decision to solve everything like he tends to do.

"Okay, boss man. I'll meet you all outside in the turtle tank."

Raph sighs with relief.

"Got it. Donnie, ETA?"

"Right behind you -- oh what in the name of unholy science is that?!"

Raph turns around to see Donnie slowly coming to a halt, hovering over Mikey. The box turtle has defeated the boar at this point, slamming it hard into a wall until the boar slumped with a groan onto the floor.

"Is... is that Mikey --"

"Donnie, just find us an exit!" Raph shouts as he grabs Mikey, who doesn’t bite him again but struggles against his hold until he sees who's holding him.

"R-right... right... Uh, take a left, that window leads directly to the alley where Leo is waiting..."

The intercom buzzes again.

"What did Donnie say? What's going on with Mikey?!" Leo asks, his voice in a panic.

"Get the tank started, we're coming to you."

"But what about Mikey?!"

"He's here with us."

"Why doesn't he respond--"

Raph crashes through the window before he can answer, landing with a thud against the top of the tank. Mikey howls loudly, whining in fear and scratching at Raph's arms to let him go. He sees Donnie for the first time and makes a feeble chirp.

Donnie stares wide-eyed at him, mouth open and hands trembling.

Raph scrambles into the tank, holding Mikey tightly. Donnie follows after him, silently staring at his baby brother.

"There you guys are!" Leo yells, a wave of relief rushing over him. "I was starting to get really --"

He sees him.

"What... what happened to..."

"Just drive," Raph orders, holding Mikey close. "Just get us out of here."

Leo nods slowly, turning to Donnie. He receives the silent command and navigates the tank, speeding away.

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[dustedmagazine]

Butthole Surfers — Rembrandt Pussyhorse (Matador)

Photo by Jerry Milton

Given the amount of ink spilled and pixels configured concerning the music and cultural phenomena associated with the Butthole Surfers, it seems a daunting task to find anything new to say about the band — even about a record as excellent as Rembrandt Pussyhorse, first released 38 years ago (say what) on Touch and Go and presently being given the vinyl reissue treatment by Matador. But two things obviate the perceived difficulty registered just above: somehow, someway, Rembrandt Pussyhorse sounds like it could have come out yesterday on some currently über-hip, punk-adjacent underground label (say, Feel It Records from Cincinnati, or London’s La Vida Es un Mus); and for certain, it feels a very particular, vividly upsetting sort of way to listen to these demented, raging and inspired songs in March of 2024, as we struggle and lurch our way toward spring.

For example: Give “Strangers Die Everyday” a spin and try not to think about Gaza. That shouldn’t be a compelling match, of past music with present, all-too-real event. The song features a nigh-histrionic, Bela-Lugosi-as-the-Count organ, plastic fangs chewing on cheap, drywall scenery. Gibby Haynes does some of his bullhorn-mediated vocal antics, and sounds of bad plumbing bubble up into the mix. It’s the Butts in nightmare mode, which was always a vertiginous blend of ruthless ugliness and brain-rattled hilarity, and there is nothing funny about Gaza. Nothing at all. But keep listening. “Strangers Die Everyday” ends up expressing a deranged pathos. The organ is hammy, but the melody is mournful. The glurping, glooping bubbling evokes looking down a mostly stopped-up drain, which is always a bum-out experience, woven into the textures of the “Everyday” world nodded to in the song’s title. It situates the sadness and disgust in a feeling tone. But just exactly where is your everyday world? If you can tune in and make an additional metaphorical leap (to all the drains in Gaza, and in Myanmar, and in Ethiopia, and elsewhere, all of them backed up and drowned by unstanched cataracts of blood, from the bodies of all of those strangers), you will feel a particular sort of weight in your gut.

The Butts’ best stuff always worked the spaces in which earnestness, nausea and a decidedly bonkers mirthfulness overlap. Perhaps “collide” is a better word for the music’s resulting dynamic. In their early recordings, you can hear them bashing and stumbling their way toward ever-more-effective smash-ups of sharply opposing affects: the delirious one-two punch of “Suicide” and “The Revenge of Anus Presley” from Butthole Surfers (1983); the ebullient, anxious, headlong hallucination that is “Dum Dum” from …Another Man’s Sac (1984). The best performance of that sort of collision on Rembrandt Pussyhorse is “Perry,” which initially registers as a hyperbolic parody of the theme music to Perry Mason. Natch, let the laffs commence. The organ is back, but this time it’s in full Phantom-of-the-Opera mode, rollicking and tempestuous, Lon Chaney grinning horribly. Haynes delivers the laffs, howling and whooping himself breathless.

Keep listening. “Perry” takes its turn toward something more than parodic goofiness when Haynes provides a series of anaphoric itineraries: “It’s about coming of age / It’s about learning how to do it / It’s about learning how to experience things the way they ought to be experienced….” And so on. It’s a reckless thing, following Haynes into that improvisatory philosophical space: How, precisely, should things be experienced? What would a Butthole Surfer say? “It’s talking about being the slave boy / It’s talking about giving head when you’re 6 years old / It’s talking about enjoying these things….” You can just about see Raymond Burr blanch, even in black and white — and sure, it’s the Butts being the Butts, invoking a series of transgressive, taboo images, perhaps only for the charge of the transgression itself.

But there are other ways to hear the transgression. We might take the reference to Perry Mason a little more seriously. In the summer of 1986, just months after Rembrandt Pussyhorse was released, the Meese Commission on Pornography published its final report, a Puritanical screed that sought to throw the full moral weight of the Justice Department (yeah, yeah, I know) behind a juridical condemnation and potential outlawing of sex work, porn consumption and kink. The most liberal — in the hard sense of that word — readings of the Report’s recommendations would likely sanction tossing a band called the Butthole Surfers and songs like “Perry” (and “Lady Sniff,” “The Shah Sleeps in Lee Harvey’s Grave,” “Moving to Florida,” and later just about every song on Locust Abortion Technician and Hairway to Steven…) onto the pile with all the copies of Hustler and Torso and the endless numbers of VCAvideocassettes — not to mention the models and actors themselves, and all the folks who watched them and looked at them and felt pleasure.

It's not a hard history to uncover when you listen closely. Reagan’s reinvigoration of the American Right in part drew upon Jerry Falwell’s political turn, and the idea that evangelicals could have real power if they participated in the electorate, rather than regarding it as the fallen domain of a lesser law. In 2024, the Republican Party takes that evangelical vote for granted, and its full complicity with the array of MAGA-affiliated constituencies has created a new set of political alliances, issuing in events like January 6 and the Q Shaman leading a prayer service in the evacuated Senate chamber. Not sure even Haynes could conjure that image. Return to the record. The echoes of Raymond Burr’s voice, in full closing-statement declamation, reverberate out from “Perry” to the Butts’ magisterial cover of “American Woman”: “All right, you little creep, come out of there! We know your name!” We’ve got you surrounded! Where’s Mike Pence?

No one would argue that the Butts possessed anything like socio-political prescience when they recorded Rembrandt Pussyhorse. They were too busy experiencing things the way they had to experience them, to make the music that they had to make. And some of us enjoyed it. Still do. That may be reason enough to return to the record — or to reissue it. But the band somehow tapped into some very serious energies circulating in the mid-1980s: the Reagan Administration’s bloody-minded Christian nationalism (read some of his speeches, you’ll hear it); the Israeli Labor Party’s “Iron Fist” policy of 1985 and the accompanying intensification of settler activity, all of which would soon lead to the First Intifada. And here we are: Gaza on fire and self-identified Christian Nationalists like MTG and Tommy Tuberville setting policy. Here we are, in the “Whirling Hall of Knives” Haynes and Paul Leary and the rest of the band set in motion in 1986. Even today, especially today, it cuts deep. It draws blood. Strangers die everyday.

Jonathan Shaw

[asciidot]

anymore angel vox? :3 how does he interact with other characters! /nf!

i am currently in Sketch Hell as i would describe it so ill be reblogging later when i can Draw but. Ramble under the cut

Firstoff i made the design because of a handful of fics which i read and stupidly forgot to save . Namely the one where he died for alastor, angelic interference, and the one where they made a fuckup on the books. (Ill get back when i find their names) . I just wanted to make the design for the sake of it and try to make his looks fit heaven and also my interpretation of vox, so hes intended to look almost like a character youd see on an old tv show but a bit more suave. I also wanted a space age head because i mean thats The Period of innovation and while there were certainly similar designs while he was alive its more symbolic of progress than actual progress. Then my brain started doing its thing and when i start thinking about anything for more than five seconds i get a bunch of pins and red string and become a full blown theorist who needs to connect everything to worldbuilding or ill die

so. I started a fic and if you find it you find it :]

ANYWAY! CLAPS MY HANDS

my angel vox.

Point the first! this isnt a vox goes straight to heaven, its canon divergence. Vox dies, goes to hell, and at the peak of his messy hell career he dies again and goes to heaven. Vox is not redeemed.

2. Vox is powerless. Heaven equalises people. It has rules, a lot of rules, and these are sown straight into their reality which cant be broken. He does however have free will and a silver tongue.

3. I think vox and sera would get along surprisingly well when it came to it. Sera is a 'tough love' sort of character, and does believe shes doing good in spite of it all, and is willing to do lesser evils. Vox cares about nothing but numbers and outcomes. This means that if they share a goal a lot of their approaches would also be shared, and i think theyd be fond of that.

4. Vox despises heaven. Just the fundamental concept of it. He does enjoy a struggle and he does enjoy pain, thats the point of being alive to him. Or well. dead. Its an uphill battle but its his uphill battle to fight. Also he just needs something to keep him occupied at all given times or he might just snap #adhd

4a. He also hates the residents, mostly because of very well earned trust issues how its not fun to talk to any of them. They just say whatever theyre thinking, no song and dance, no fine print, and vox loves fine print and searching for hidden meanings.

5. Emily is nice and almost tolerable but he would absolutely throw her off a bridge if it benefited him without second thought. He hates how much of a bleeding heart she is, but that seems to be a trait of everyone up there

6. Vox's relationship with himself is a complex mess. It always has been and heaven made it worse. Not only did it revert his body to how it was when he first fell but Angel Edition, hes barely mechanical anymore- and while being a good part machine was all part of hells punishment at the start for various psyche reasons (as well as how inconvenient it was) he had grown to worship and love his inorganic nature, and how much better it was than his faulty body . I have headcanons about that but that falls under spoiler territory for Said Fic. But heaven handing him back his flesh and blood is a massive massive violation of his boundaries and the moment he stops and actually starts thinking about what the hell has happened hes gonna break

7. The vees think vox is dead dead. Angel!vox would... have a strained relationship if he were to meet like that. On one hand, hes vox! Their vox! But like this he can't be his usual overlord self and while he trusts them enough to view them as friends, he wouldn't be able to face them as partners like this; business or otherwise. Hes horribly powerless and they need him on his A game.

8. Alastor (angel!vox punches the ground and eats drywall)

[pansy-picnics]

Missing Lance hours

god same. literally all day every day i am thinking about lance. i’m so tired of him being the “hard one to draw” just because he’s a large bald black man and so he always either is absent from fanart or just gets completely butchered. like i know from experience IF U CAN FIGURE OUT HOW TO DRAW EUGENE U CAN FIGURE OUT HOW TO DRAW LANCE. ITS LITERALLY NOT THAT HARD TO LOOK UP THAT DESCRIPTION AND FIND A BUNCH OF REFERENCES!!!! U JUST NEED TO ACTUALLY PUT IN THE EFFORT TO TRY!!!!

OK. whatever. sorry. i’m getting worked up again. i need to say though i don’t think anyone gives him enough credit for THIS fucking scene

BECAUSE LIKE OH MY GOD??? EVERYONE WAS JUST BRUTE FORCING THIS FIGHT THEY WOULD’VE LOST SO HARD IF LANCE WASN’T THE ONE TO IMMEDIATELY REALIZE THAT DESTROYING THE STATUES WOULD STOP THE GHOSTS FROM SUMMONING….not even edmund and like HE FUCKING LIVES HERE???? like my dude this is literally YOUR house get your weird ass uncle under control already. goddamn.

PEOPLE ARE SOOO QUICK TO CALL LANCE STUPID AND IMPULSIVE JUST BC HE LIKES TO BE A LITTLE SILLY AND GOOFY WHEN HIS GUARD IS DOWN. but especially when you remember that lance is a very cautious and anxious dude and yet this scene makes it so clear that he’s an absolute POWERHOUSE under pressure and i’m SO MAD THAT WE DIDN’T GET TO SEE MORE OF THAT!!!!!!

look at this face girl. this is NOT the face of someone who’s acting absentmindedly on his first impulse. he KNEW what he was doing he had an idea and he was RIGHT and he SLAYED he’s INSANEEEEE.

whenever i think about lance strongbow i am instantly filled with the rage of a thousand suns. i’m currently punching holes in drywall. kill me.

[michaellikesdilfs]

I hate Derek Goffard

He makes me insufferably upset. OH MY FUCKING GOD. DEREK PLEASE DIE. i hope theres a date given for when derek died or will die so i can make it a reminder on my phone. everyday once a year i will see it and do anything but pay respects to the man. where the fuck is Derek if hes still alive im going to so deeply wish he wasnt. HES SUCH A PATHETIC MANWHORE UGHHH he better have some fucked up backstory to explain this if hes just some rich shithead whos a fan of creepypasta/torture p*rn fanfics/the hunger games and wanted the irl version just to be edgy ill go ham.

I want to set his motorcycle on fire with him on it so bad. ill punch derek and his sad frail ‘alpha male’ twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist and he will disintegrate until all thats left is one final motorcycle he kept on him at all times and I’ll eat it in front of his corpse. I'm going to pulverize him into dust and then snort him. 

im not breathing im hyperventilating at this point. 

STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING DEREK GOD DAMN FOOL MOTERCYCLE HUMPING SAND EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT AVATAR OF THE WHORE BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN COWBOY MOTHERFUCKING DEREK STOP DEREK I HATE HIM SO MUCH WHY DOES HE HAVE SO MANY FUCKED UP HOBBIES WHY DID HE DECIDE TO FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT. THIS BASTARD MAN HAS SUCH A VISCERAL AFFECT ON ME EVEN IF NOT IN THE ROOM. GET AWAY FROM ME 

if i wanted to get into heaven and god said Derek waiting inside i would piss on gods feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back down

This man has never showered I just know he has penis cheese. He is such a spoiled blond boy I hate him I hate him I hate him he seems like the type to leave all those ‘fragile men reviews’ on the Barbie movie GOD I HATE THAT MANSPLAINING BASTARD.  I’m currently curled up in a ball sobbing why does he look like taht stop it Someone make it stop there’s blood everywhere I hate Derek he’s probably the type to think periods are liberal propaganda I hate him I hate him I’m going feral why am I shaking why. IF I GET ONE “didn’t ask” COMMENT IM GOING TO CONSUME MY LIMBS. IM CURRENTLY CHEWING ON MY DRYWALL OUT OF PURE RAGE I just know he watches mlp and has a crush on twilight sparkle and Kins rainbow dash

“I Kin Rainbow dash and Applejack bc I’m awesome and I’m kind and I’m brave and I’m Loyal and… 🤓🤓” -Derek

(this is all a joke btw it’s ok if u like Derek I just have this BURNING hatred for this fictional character. This is mainly a parody post of the JURGEN LITNER rant LMAOO)

[the-arcade-doctor]

Jota is like you distilled early Monster Energy marketising into a person, while Jotette is like what would happen if you distilled current Monster Energy marketing into the same person.

I also happen to headcanon that Jota constantly punches drywall on instinct.

LMAO I MEAN YEAH,, JOTA would punch drywall (and people) on instinct

[suffarustuffaru]

hi so im currently coping with my finals by making more playlists to listen to. please take my offerings. yes. its more subaru playlists. the other two i made simply wasnt enough to hold the weight of my brainrot 👍

yes so actually ive spent like the past few years having like private pridebaru and greedbaru playlists to myself so i decided to finally refine them and add them to spotify yep <3 notes under cut.

yeah so in general i tried to have a balance of songs about subaru being Unwell and Not Having A Good Time and songs about subaru being A Horrible Person for the ultimate listening experience👍also if youre not a japanese speaker i once again recommend looking at the lyrics for the japanese songs because theyre very good lyrics ok.

so about greedbaru playlist!!! this is based on the greed if ln by the way yes so the playlist is roughly in order of the events going on there.

"inevitabilis" to "guns for hire": subaru accepts the contract with echidna. also yes i used "a sadness runs through him" again it is like. the quintessential ifbaru song for some of the ifs yes. looked in the wrong place for redemption and all that.

"circles" to "leech boy": greed if's arc 4 happens and everyone is Miserable now <3 "our word" is subaru learning to Gaslight and Gatekeep from echidna. "hole-dwelling" by kikuo marks um. that one scene in the greed if ln where subaru kills dream echidna and then has a mental breakdown over that. yes. "evil angel" is subaru capturing meili. you can probably read the "angel" in the song being either echidna, subaru, or elsa.

"are you satisfied?" and "literary nonsense": arc 4 is over yay!!! surely everything will be fine......

"bitter choco decoration" (by syudou) to "no body, no crime": nvm nothing is fine. this is the arc where clind tries to destroy subaru but subaru. Retaliates. so to speak. "sunset lover" is just referencing subaru's save scumming... "this kingdom is mine" is subaru figuring out the culprit killing him is clind.

"your obedient servant" and "someone gets hurt (reprise)": ottosuba divorce. otto leaves subaru.

"everything stays" to the end of the playlist: subaru establishes the official greed if emilia camp by manipulating felt into leaving + reinhard into joining the faction yay!!! "anger" and "drywall" is in reference to subaru punching a wall remembering otto. and its also referencing greed if subaru having "good" days and "bad" days.

this playlist is a loop if you compare the last two songs with the first two songs.

pride playlist!!! its shorter but still a banger. in my honest and nonbiased opinion. also genuinely i listened to a lot of these while writing pride if fanfic like two years ago so thats also why theyre here HAH.

"once upon a dream" to "open up your eyes": subaru has his whole 88 first arc loops of hell where he keeps trying to brute force killing elsa 👍also i thought itd be horribly funny to put a spin on my mainbaru playlist by putting in "never ever getting rid of me" and "magia" in there alsdjfljsdf

"oh ana" and "hellfire": subaru "meets" reinhard.

"stalker's tango" to "partners in crime": subaru does more pride if things 👍joins the witch cult, makes plans, teams with elsa, etc etc.

"a story told" and "hey there delilah": subaru manipulates ferris. :(( you could probably also see the "delilah" as reinhard or emilia too.

also i use "theyre only human" again - in the greed if playlist its to reference echidna and subaru talking with each other in the dream world / through the crystal. and also because subaru is very Detached from everyone around him. thats also why its in the pride if playlist!! and "a story told" is in both playlists because. well subarus a little mansplain manipulate manwhore.

"death ballet 2nd" to the end of the playlist: yeah subaru burns down the whole country and wins at all his goals. everyone gets fucked :<<

[tremendouskoalachild]

Tag meme

tag 9 people you want to get to know better

hey @carmarthenfan, @system-of-cells-interlinked, thanks for tagging me and sorry for being so slow in responding i'm making you guys share. i really do appreciate it 🥰🥰

three ships: probably Luke Skywalker/Mara Jade, Ben Skywalker/Vestara Khai, and the mess that is Church/Tex from Red vs Blue

first ship: uhhh I’m gonna say Rumo/Rala from Rumo And His Miraculous Adventures

last song: They’re Taking The Hobbits To Isengard 😌

last movie: this made me realize I haven’t seen a movie this year yet… last one I saw was Glass Onion back when I was paying for netflix. last time I was in the cinema was the second avatar movie and the last time I had a good time in the cinema was a double feature showing of Nightmare Before Christmas and Tokyo Godfathers. that slapped

currently reading: hilariously I am also reading Roadside Picnic (it’s my dad’s favorite book and we were reminded of it while playing the boardgame Zona, which seems to be an (unauthorised) adaptation of its world). thing is, I started reading it on the train/public transport and now that I’ve been home for weeks the environment just isn’t right somehow. so it’s on hold till I go back to college lmao

currently watching: The Last of Us (fucking amazing), Poker Face (really fun so far), and RWBY (RWBY)

currently craving: literally any chewable food. being on a liquid diet makes me want to punch drywall pasta ❤

tagging @strangeeesnowman, @bluntblade, @kaleidoscope1967eyes, @bloodgulchbluess, @easterndreamer, @my-last-brain-cell-is-socrates, @gicolette, @bluemilkandchocolate. no pressure!

[kamiversee]

Kami, to say that you left me in ruins with this chapter is an understatement 🥹

i hate and love how Choso is so patient and willing to hear the reader out despite everything. i know we have reader-bias because we can see the grand scheme of it all but Choso’s just getting handed misfortune after misfortune and he doesn’t know why (yet?) UGH. CHOSO YOU ARE TOO GOOD FOR US. IDC IF YOU GET JEALOUS EVEN THOUGH I HATE PDA, YOU’RE TOO SWEET.

poor Choso, poor Yuji, what that whole family went through is fucking horrible. i can’t imagine a way Sukuna could possibly redeem himself from that, regardless of how he acted with us in previous chapters 😭😭

my brain is really small, would you mind just clarifying the current ages of all the characters? i just wanna get a perspective on the time frame of everything ^^ not that it really changes anything, but i wanted to see how long ago Choso saw Sukuna hit his own ex.

also, the fact that he came home all bruised and cut up? should we expect to get clarification on that in a later chapter or is that just to back up the fact that he’s a generally violent person and gets into problems often?

what is Sukuna’s motivation to keep Yuji in his custody? is it because of the previous notion that Sukuna likes to treat his brothers like servants and punching bags?

that brief moment where they reflected on the moment they first met hurt 🥲 the list was just getting started atp and i remember how the reader was like “let’s just hope he doesn’t catch feelings” UGHHHHH MY HEARTTTTT

when the reader was like “i’m no better than-“ i was like ???? NO BETTER THAN WHO???? WHOOOOOOO????? seriously though, who would the reader compare herself to in that situation? the only person i could see comparable in this situation would be Gojo, but maybe i’m seriously overthinking it 😭

Choso being so adamant that his feelings won’t change no matter what the reader says makes me so sad. that first question got me for a second bc i was like “oh that’s only Naoya, Sukuna, and Nanami” but then i remembered “oh fuck she was still hooking up with Geto before they got serious… and that night with Gojo after her and Choso took their first break…” FUCK. GIRL, YOU MIGHT AS WELL AND TELL HIM THE WHOLE TRUTH!!!!

i think he’d be pretty okay knowing the number so long as the reader clarifies that during their time together, the reader was solely hooking up with him. plus it’s a good setup to explain the blackmailing 😭😭 WHY IS SHE SO AFRAID TO ADMIT SHE WAS BLACKMAILED?? i understand that she does have a lot of sympathy for Gojo and her feelings are still confused after all their time spent together and the trauma that Gojo supported her through (even though he’s the cause of it all anyways 😒) but this is seriously a free pass for her to come clean. i stg if Choso asks some sort of question asking her why she hooked up with all these guys and the reader completely avoids mentioning that she was blackmailed then i’m going to smash my head through some drywall.

Kami. i know you can’t give us full details, but should we expect things to get way worse after this? as in should i buy tissue’s preemptively?

-☃️

Okay I tried to get all the non yap sessions answered first, I have like 7 yappers to go through so LETS BEGIN !!

1. It seems I always leave you in ruins my love😹 I’ll make it up in the end, trust me

2. Choso is so previous and he truly deserves the world but, in his eyes, the reader is his world and he won’t see it any different :)

3. The whole family story is sad and I’m waiting for someone to spot my foreshadowing in that chapter😹 Especially since you mentioned Sukuna redeeming himself

4. I really need to put all the ages out there but here;

The reader is 22.

Gojo is 22.

Sukuna is 23.

Suguru is 21.

Nanami is 22.

Choso is 21.

Naoya is 22.

Toji is 30.

—

These are slightly based on the age differences in the anime but then again, it’s just a ff and uh yeah!😸

5. 🌚 No idea what those bruises symbolize tbh! ^.^

6. I think another anon asked about Yuji & Sukuna & they made a very good assumption on it (unless tht was ur other yap sesh, idk I’ll figure it out) so I’ll answer this more there :)

7. Funny how she hoped Choso wouldn’t catch feelings but she did just the same ;)

8. The reader was a bit emotional so she could’ve said Gojo or maybe even Sukuna because she feels that her worth has depreciated a lot due to what she’s been through.

Of course, she’s not abusive but she simply thought of how Sukuna lied to Choso after a promise and deep down, she knows she lied to Choso not that long ago when she implies she didn’t know he and Sukuna were brothers 🕺

9. Few things, so I’m excited to write Choso’s reactions, if she tells him🙏

And uh, I think she’s afraid to talk about Gojo because there’s sm she has to explain. From how after Choso left, she slept with some random (Naoya) as if to be an attempt to get over him & then slept with Gojo the following morning. Not to mention, she’s been pretty intimate with Gojo since then and overall, everything surrounding the blackmail she’s always hated the idea of telling anyone, even Shoko.

10. Better or worse? 🌚

Idk, you might want tissues & u might not!!

[sinceileftyoublog]

St. Lenox Interview: Good Waterpark Design

Photo by Aaron Cansler

BY JORDAN MAINZER

You may think you have very little in common with a PhD holder and lawyer who also happens to be a brilliant singer-songwriter. But Andrew Choi, who records as St. Lenox, continues to cull from his experiences, whether they've happened to him or others, to tell tales that transcend background, let alone educational level or salary. His studio albums have followed the same format: ten songs centering around a theme, often presented as a gift to others, sometimes as a gift to himself. They've covered Choi's own experiences with life and love, his father's immigration to the United States, and our collective existence during periods of political upheaval. And though his latest, Ten Modern American Work Songs, out today via Don Giovanni and Anyway, technically strays from the pattern (it has an introductory track for a total of 11), it sports everything you love about a St. Lenox record, from Choi's powerhouse vocals and diaristic lyrics to underratedly complex arrangements of chintzy chamber pop and hearty indie rock.

Written as a (facetiously non-financial) 10-year reunion contribution to the NYU Law Class of 2014, Ten Modern American Work Songs is notably filled with regret, the songs' protagonists often struggling to reconcile their current status symbols with the familial warmth they've left behind. But it also imbues a universal hope, for things as tangible as fairer wages and better work-life balance and as abstract as gaining or maintaining happiness. "Victory!" shouts Choi on "Courtesan", the album's first proper song after its introductory vignette. "After seven years of agony, I get to be a courtesan this year." Atop a swirling synth arpeggio and steady, marching drums, the anthemic chorus is both a shout of moral panic and a weight lifted off of the protagonist's shoulders: He can finally make some money. The tone is sarcastic on "Lust for Life", rife with organ, harmonic synths, and toy-like mallet percussion; though the protagonist is happy that he's going to be part of unionization efforts, he recognizes the fact that his job is thankless, that "Everyone comes running back to us when the hour is dire or they are near death."

A lesser songwriter would make songs about labor sung from the perspective of someone making good money, even if they are paying off debt, sound cynical, especially given increasing wealth inequality. Though Choi is careful to separate his voice from that of the protagonists, it's clear his lived experience contributes to the album's realness. It's why a song like "Rudy" works, about a classmate who prioritized family life over the corporate ladder; the protagonist calls himself, in contrast, a "big city, fast-talking asshole" and a "weeknight twilight pissant." You know, at the same time, that there's part of Rudy who wishes he, too, was a "weekend corporation peon." On album closer "On Fulfillment", the narrator commiserates with a fellow lawyer at the wedding of a mutual friend. Equal to their sense of, "What could have been?" is a hilarious recognition of their own economic privilege." "Jet-setting off to Venice or at the high-society gala," Choi sings, "It seems they always waste these things on us mere middle-aged attorneys."

My favorite songs on Ten Modern American Work Songs, or at least the ones that best showcase Choi as not just a songwriter or lyricist but scene-builder, are those that take place in seemingly mundane locations. Sure, you might find touching and relatable, lines about the protagonist's dad teaching him how to drywall and lay tile, and him nevertheless abandoning a house in Columbus for the least bang for his buck in NYC. But a song like "New York Speaks Softly at Night", with its layered organ and keys, provides even more gut punches, the narrator taking the subway, looking at people around himself and perceiving their lives, even a "wet orange cat in the pouring rain." "It looked at me like I could be its midnight savior / Hard luck Garfield got the Mondays yet again," Choi sings, the most MJ Lenderman line on a non-MJ Lenderman record this year. “Quasi-Nichomachean Ethics (Drunk Uncle Advice)” sees someone giving advice to his 21-year-old nephew, a mix of words earnest, empathetic, pragmatic, and snarky. "Don't underestimate the tendency of humans to keep on disappointing you at every waking opportunity," Choi sings. If at first, it sounds harsh, the more you listen to it, you wish someone would have told you the same thing when you were young. And "Kalahari" takes place at a waterpark in Sandusky, OH, the narrator beholden to the exact speed of the lazy river, the perfect place for existential pondering. "Forget vacationing down in Mexico, where all the ex-pats hate the tourists like you," Choi sings, peeling back layers of American obnoxiousness while expressing a genuine love for a "not real authentic" park.

As if the density of Ten Modern American Work Songs, the album, wasn't enough, St. Lenox has also released videos for all of the album's singles, titled differently than the songs themselves. He and his husband Elon star in each of them, but as with the album, he refers to the characters in the video as distinct from himself. In the video for "Rudy", titled "How to Get a Table at Tatiana", the main character's unable to get a reservation at the acclaimed NYC Afro-Caribbean restaurant of the same name, so he works on his own cooking skills instead. In the video for “Quasi-Nichomachean Ethics (Drunk Uncle Advice)", titled “Introduction to Modern Philosophy”, the narrator tells us about the death of a mentor of his before he has to give his nephew advice, Choi inverting the plot of the song. The video for "Your Local Neighborhood Bar", titled "Open Mic: The Egalitarian Institution", is the protagonist's tribute to past post-work performances, where everyone was on the same playing field. The video for "Lust for Life", titled, "What Do We Do with the Roses in our Garden", sees the protagonist and his husband weighing their new life in suburbia, having recently purchased a home, decorating it with their items and taking care of what existed there before them. The one first person exception is the video for "Courtesan"; entitled "The JD Vance Couch", it's the true story of how the couch that Choi and his husband are sitting on in the video, as they wave at their infant daughter, was given to him by a law school classmate who was roommates with the Republican nominee for Vice President. Potential jokes aside, in the video, Choi laments Vance's idea that leaders must have direct stakes in the future (their own children), considering that Vance may have been in an ethics class, taught by Choi himself, at The Ohio State University.

Though it may be challenging for the average listener to connect all the dots, thankfully, Choi was willing to answer some questions over email about the world of Ten Modern American Work Songs. Below, read his responses, edited for length and clarity.

Since I Left You: In your track-by-track breakdown of the album, you refer to the song's narrators as "the protagonist," who often lead a life similar to yours. How autobiographical is the album?

Andrew Choi: Fairly autobiographical, but from time to time, songs evolve on their own. Sometimes, the stories of people that I know make their way in, or sometimes, I'll change a few details for the sake of anonymity. "Rudy", for instance, isn't exactly my story. There are some details of my life that are in there--I did forget my mom's birthday one year, and I felt awful about it. But I don't have a friend in Missouri named Rudy. (I do have a friend named Rudy, but the song isn't about him, it's just that the name works for the song). In "Rudy", the protagonist has mixed feelings of contempt and envy for an acquaintance who has prioritized things in life somewhat differently, and I think that is definitely something I can identify with.

In "On Fulfillment", it's based initially on a real event, of law school classmates meeting up many years later at the wedding of another classmate, and some of the song is about me, but some of it is stories I hear from other people. Most of the rest of the record is more completely autobiographical, but I'm sure there's some artistic license taken throughout.

I refer to the song's narrators as "the protagonist" partly as a defense mechanism, because a lot of American listeners will see me as an Asian-American musician and have an instinct to view this as music about "other" people. But these are stories about work life that I think of as more broadly applying to young Gen-X and elder Millennials, about education and social mobility, that I know my friends talk about a lot. People have a very strong tendency to identify with people who look like them, and it affects their ability to interpret what they're seeing or hearing, whose side they take in an argument, or how they relate to one another. So I provide that as, perhaps, guidance or emphasis on the way to approach the record as a listener--that they see the narrator as the protagonist, because in America, you have to kind of correct or guide those tendencies up front. As someone who gets "othered" constantly in the music industry, in person and in print, its a constant struggle to adjust that tendency and have especially white Americans think, "I can identify with him."

SILY: At times, it seems like the songs on this album have a difference in tone between their sound and subject, or even between themselves and their respective music videos. Was achieving a certain level of contrast important to you?

AC: Regarding the music videos, I think if you spell out what the subject matters of the song and the videos are, you'll find that they talk about the same things, though I admit that processing the music videos takes some time to work through, because I have multiple narratives happening simultaneously. Perhaps the video will provide a different take on an idea from the song, but even, then it is advancing the subject matter in a way that makes the pairing meaningful.

For instance, in "Rudy", the protagonist is living a more ambitious life and has regrets over whether he should be doing some of the more domestic things that his friend is doing. In the music video, the protagonist has moved out of the city and now lives in New Jersey, where he complains about not being able to do some of the high social status things he could have done if he still lived in the city. These are different but related perspectives on ambition and social status or FOMO; the protagonists have FOMO but desire (almost) the exact opposite of what the other does. And looking at the issue from multiple perspectives is meaningful.

In "Quasi-Nichomachean Ethics" the protagonist is giving advice to his nephew, much of which is somewhat half-assed and not very philosophical. The protagonist in the video is the same protagonist, but talks in a more philosophical way about advice itself, reflecting on the philosophical tradition of passing along wisdom, and (perhaps) arguing about how relevant the practice of philosophy is to life in general. The subject matter of the music and video are pretty complementary, because they both talk about advice but from different perspectives. And while I'm inclined to think the song gives less important advice because it's less "philosophical," I also think its the advice I would tend to give a young person, because it's very practical.

I don't think contrast is important in and of itself. Between the music and subject matter of the songs, I use the music mainly to set the emotional perspective of the protagonist, as context for interpreting what's happening in the lyrics. If the music seems contradictory, it may reflect a more nuanced attitude of the protagonist. I could have written "Courtesan" with music that provided a more sneering and cynical take on law school, but I didn't because I want the listener to look at it from the protagonist's eyes. It should sound more hopeful, because that is how the protagonist feels. Despite future uncertainty, he's gained social mobility and his experience is a mixture of hope, excitement and a bit of fear. I would say in general, if the music sounds unexpected, it's providing a direct emotional cue to interpreting how the protagonist views the subject matter, maybe 100% of the time, in my songs.

SILY: Why did you decide to (technically) break the 10-song pattern of your albums with a prologue track 0?

AC: The track 0 was originally going to be a longer song, but the first pass, I think, presented the idea completely on its own and, I think, set the stage for the record, so I didn't need to write a full 3 passes. Sure, in some sense, it's a song. But for me, the songs that I put down will generally have a more complete narrative structure. Track 0 doesn't (in my opinion) have that. It more sets the tone for ingesting the rest of the record, because it prompts the listener to think generally about the value of work. If anything, it's like that ditty before Joan Osborne's "One of Us": not a full song in and of itself, but it provides an emotional context for the full song, whereas my ditty provides as a context for the record as a whole. (Also for modern practical purposes, I would want to present "Courtesan" on its own without including "Eulogy", so combining them into a single track wouldn't work out very well.)

SILY: I love how "Kalahari" toys with ideas of authenticity when it comes to tourism, often in a tongue-in-cheek way. As someone who has spent years in both the Midwest and the East Coast, do you ever feel uniquely positioned to comment on how we perceive parts of the country different from ours, even if you're still poking fun at yourself when commenting?

AC: I think, maybe, it makes me twice as frustrated to see things get lost in translation both directions? A few months ago, I visited this restaurant in my home town in Iowa, which is where I went with friends for our high school senior prom. It was known in high school as the best restaurant in town, and served elegant French food, including escargot, which we tried for the first time as young naïve high schoolers. Many years later, the restaurant had reverted to something like a mixture of a TGIFridays and a pan-European cafeteria, which was a very jarring, memory-destroying experience. I actually looked the restaurant up the other day, and saw that many years before I had even gone there in high school, it was written up in the New York Times as a restaurant with a hopeful chef trying to bring old school French cuisine (like you might find in New York City) to the Midwest. It's such a depressing story, and yet, I was able to get dinner there for myself, my husband, and my parents all for less than $100. Anyway, I don't think you're going to get that perspective without living in the Midwest and living on the coast for some time, but it puts you in a funk just having that perspective. So, I guess the answer is, "Yes?"

SILY: Do you often find places like waterparks--that can be rife with loads of loud people and music--conducive to self-reflection?

AC: It depends what you're looking at. Have you ever been to the lazy river? "Kalahari" was intended to connect to aspects of the lazy river. The electronica element is the bubbles floating up to the surface, and the slow metronome tempo, the constant speed of the lazy river. It's where all the parents and depressed adults go to avoid the high energy of the rides. In the lyrics, I situated the protagonist there at the beginning (and end) of the song. You're sitting in the lazy river, with the water pushing you along in a dream state, and you watch people from every stage of human life pass by you by. It's very existential. That's not even me being artistic or especially insightful, that's just good waterpark design.

SILY: "New York Speaks Softly At Night" describes someone recalling the various people and things they saw while riding the subway. As a writer, do you find shared spaces, like public transportation or airports, inspirational?

AC: I think shared public spaces are places where you are forced to be in acquaintance with people and stories that you might not otherwise choose yourself. I'm not saying that public transportation doesn't have predictable patterns, but I think, these days, it's a nice counterpoint to social media, where people either manicure their interactions or have their interactions manicured by the algorithm to the point that they lose perspective. But in this song, I was just pointing out maybe an unexpected positive aspect of working late at night, is that it puts you in touch with different characters and stories you might not expect.

SILY: Is your violin on "Quasi-Nichomachean Ethics (Drunk Uncle Advice)" meant to sound overbearing, or at least in-your-face, like a reflection of the narrator giving advice?

AC: It is a reflection of the narrator, in the sense of being a kind of drunken happy revelry? I think it may sound overbearing, but I think in modern times, that's partly because we interpret stringed instruments as passive, chord-blocking orchestral filler. If you're a concert violinist, you will know that the violin in particular is one of the instruments that best mimics the human voice. It's a soloist instrument and deserves to be utilized in solos in the way that rock bands use the guitar, only it does a better job of mimicking the human voice than the guitar for a variety of physical and technical reasons. It's heavily under-utilized, because pop music writers keep relegating it to chord filler or mood-setting background music. I think, in many cases, it's not even mic'd in such a way that captures its full expressive range. And I don't say this as someone who was merely "classically trained." I won national and international competitions for the violin as a soloist, back in the day. Pop and rock musicians don't understand the virtuosic potential of stringed instruments. At all.

SILY: Are you at all involved in any music industry labor efforts like United Musicians and Allied Workers?

AC: I'm not involved with the UMAW, though I'm broadly friendly to what I see as many of their goals. There are unions like the American Federation of Musicians whose goals I also broadly support.

What I do spend a fair bit of my free time on is trying to remedy what I see as socioeconomic inequality in the music industry. Many independent musicians don't have a grasp of the financial and institutional barriers to success as indie musicians, and they don't understand the extent to which "successful" indie bands are financed by large amounts of family money. My musician friends who are, for the most part, middle-class at best, simply don't have that kind of money, and if we were ever to put the screws to every band that gets a writeup or review in any major outlet and see how things were financed, you would end up with a population that looks a lot more like Princeton University or NYU Law School. Musicians who have less means need to be educated on that, so that they can plan accordingly. And look, I definitely support musicians trying to do things like increase streaming royalty rates (which the UMAW champions). But a musician friend that has a stellar but overlooked record is not going to get much from doubling the streaming royalties on his 500 streams last year. He would have gotten more from understanding ahead of time how to best allocate his limited savings on his record release, given inequalities in the system.

SILY: Are you planning on performing these songs live?

AC: If I can find a place that works for me. We moved to New Jersey somewhat recently, and its hard to book a show after you've moved, because nobody knows who you are, and who would you even invite? I have a kid now, too, so do I even have the time for that? I go to open-mic fairly regularly. In fact, I workshopped most of the songs on this record at an open-mic in Hoboken called Finnegan's Pub, and an open-mic in Cliffside Park, called Brass Rail Pub 2. I think music listeners should go to things like open mic more often. If rumors are correct, people actually used to do that more often in, like, the 1960s. You get to see the writing process up close and personal and see how a song develops over time. I have friends in comedy that invite me out to perform, so I'm sure I'll hit up some variety shows in the future.

SILY: Is there anything you've been listening to, watching, or reading lately that's caught your attention?

AC: I occasionally participate in Paul F. Tompkins' Varietopia, and if it comes to your town, I suggest you visit. It's just a really interesting mix of music and comedy--you never know who is going to perform, which is really the best way to ingest music and comedy. I ran into a comedian there, Hannah Pilkes, who was just so hilarious and intense with her characters, and I'm excited to see more.

I ran into a comedian, Dave Hill, through Cabinet of Wonders, put on by Wesley Stace, a few years ago, and then later at a radio show Come To Papa, put on by Tom Papa, and he has such a new sense of humor, and is a genuine guy himself. I am trying to get out of the house and catch his show "Caveman in a Spaceship" in the near future.

Joe Peppercorn (who is featured in the song "Your Local Neighborhood Bar") from Columbus has been putting out some really interesting records. Not a lot of people are that skilled at both songwriting and production/orchestration. He's a complete package in that sense, which you'll get a sense of by listening to his latest, Darkening Stars.

Mary Lynn, also out of Columbus, released a record a few years ago, Where I Wanna Be, which I was just very impressed by. It's a peak example of a record that I thought deserved much more exposure, but did not receive it, because of those financial/institutional barriers I mentioned.

Niall Connolly's last two records, The Patience of Trees and Dream Your Way Out of This One, are great. He has been organizing a great singer-songwriter community in NYC called Big City Folk for a long time and has been instrumental in keeping a sense of community alive amongst songwriters in the city.

I happened to hear a record last year, Ryan Wong's The New Country Sounds of Ryan Wong, which I found to be striking and fresh. He's just someone really mixing up country music in a way that doesn't feel forced or overthought.

Micah Schnabel has such a big body of work, I wouldn't know where one would start, but I found his latest, The Clown Watches The Clock, to be thought-provoking and topical, in a meaningful way.