#I mean imagine the shittiest person you know. Now imagine them in a saw trap style mortal peril.

[hajihiko]

I think probably. Mortal peril really makes you realize how much you can love people you don't even like.

[bastetwastaken]

I regret to inform you all that I am writing yet another self indulgent (monarchshipping) AU which no one asked for <3

.....

He threw back the rest of his drink, scrunching his nose at the burn in his throat and shaking his head. He’d never understand why Jou insisted on buying them these things. They tasted awful and weren’t that cheap either.

“Cheer up Yami.” Jou shouted over the music, a sharp elbow dug into his side and he sighed. “So they decided to let you go. Fuck ‘em. It’s their loss.”

“They let us go.” He said. Jou waved off his words.

He shrugged and pushed the empty glass away from him, slumping down against the bar and wishing he’d just disappear.

This year continued to be the shittiest year of his life. Really, he shouldn’t have been surprised that the record label dropped him. He knew his reputation was suffering, that people just didn’t care about him as much anymore.

Really, he didn’t blame them. He still had fans, of course, people who had stuck with him through the dry spells before but now…well, he hadn’t released any new music for fifteen months.

He hadn’t even written anything in as long either. He was damn lucky his friends had stayed with him this long, seemingly willing to go down with the ship.

He opened his mouth to say something else but before the words left his lips he was suddenly shoved forcefully against the bar in front of him, the edge dug painfully into his stomach.

With an irritated sigh, he turned to the person who had just barreled into his back, ready to give them a piece of his mind with an insult ready on his lips…but that died when his eyes met the panicked ones of the man behind him.

“Fuck, I’m so so sorry!” The man said loudly, hands held up in front of him. “I didn’t mean to- I just-” The man shook his head. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

This guy looked way too sincere for him to be mad at him.

“It’s fine.” He said, waving away the man's panicked apologies.

“No, no.” The man insisted. “I really am so sorry. I just…tripped.” The man looked over his shoulder quickly before turning back to him. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve had worse.” He shrugged, finally properly taking in the man who had almost knocked him over and thinking that maybe he wouldn’t mind someone like him getting a little closer to him.

“Right.” The man said, chewing a pierced lip as he looked back at him. He thought he saw a spark of recognition in the man's eyes, but that could just be wishful thinking. “Um, well let me buy you a drink? I probably just made you spill whatever you had.”

“Oh no, I’m fine.” He said. “I didn’t have one…” The man nodded in understanding and he stepped forward, smiling kindly. “But I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to buy me one anyway...join me for a while?”

The man smiled at him and stepped toward the bar next to him. He saw Jou walk away out of the corner of his eye but that was fine, he’d find him later.

“So, what are you having?” The man asked, dark coloured eyes swept down his body and that brought a smile to his face.

“Whatever you are.” He said, leaning against the bar next to this handsome stranger. “I don’t come here too often so I don’t know what’s good.”

The man laughed and shook his head, “No, I can’t imagine you do.”

Yami was about to ask what he meant by those words, but someone pushing against his back drew his attention. He sighed and leaned a little closer to the man next to him as a woman forced her way up to the bar.

“And this is why.” He said, an irritated sigh left his lips and he tried to move to give the woman more room but she seemed insistent on being right in his space and he hated it.

“Go sit down.” The man said kindly, a hand rested against his arm and pushed him gently away from the bar. “I’ll find you.”

He smiled and considered arguing, it was a bad habit to leave someone you didn’t know alone with your drink after all… but the elbow in his back was really starting to annoy him and he really didn’t care for feeling so trapped between people in crowds so he nodded and turned away, making his way quickly to a free table against one of the dark painted walls.

[harrytpotter]

RIGHT PLACE, WRONG TIME — Part V

Plot: Y/N finds herself trapped in a time in which she doesn’t belong only to learn that maybe that was her place all along.

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mild cursing.

A/N: First, sorry for the delay in posting this! I had some personal things going on and didn’t have the time to stop and write. Also, this chapter is a little shorter than usual because it’s mostly a filling-in one! Thanks everyone for your thoughts about this imagine so far, hope you guys enjoy this chapter! ;)

Once you arrived for transfiguration, the class had already started. As you entered the room, McGonagall glared severely at you. You mutter a quiet apology as you start walking to your usual sit next to Lily. However, before you could approach the redhead, a paper ball hits you in the head. Turning on your heels with a fulminant look on your face, you’re met by Amos’ amused smile. As you frown confused, he pointed to the seat next to him.

“Did you really have to hit me in the head with a paper ball?” You roll your eyes at him, whispering as you sat down.

“Well, I figured that it’s only fair that we spend more time together since we’ve been seeing each other,” he grinned playfully, mimicking double quotes with his fingers.

“You’re such a delight, Diggory,” you roll your eyes at him again, this time with a grin on your face.

You diverge your attention from him when your eyes land on Lily, who looked at you quite seriously. She didn’t say anything but you could hear her ‘what the hell?!’ loud and clear inside your head. Lily then motioned in James’ direction. Once you looked at him, you felt your stomach sink. He was staring at you and Amos with a sad expression, the hurt so clear in his eyes. You lower your head, awfully aware of the disappointed glances you were getting from all of your best friends, who rightfully stood by James’ side.

“Why don’t you just tell him the truth?” Amos says after studying your face for a while.

“Amos, please, we’ve been over this already,” you bury your face into your hands.

“Have we? Seriously, Y/N, I think you’re making a terrible mistake here. You fancy each other, besides it’s clearly bloody killing you to see him hurt like that,” he frowns worriedly.

“Why are you so worried about my wellbeing or James’ for that matter? It’s not like you and I have been friends forever,” you say a little harshly, trying to change the subject. “Sorry, I’m just... so bloody frustrated.”

“That’s okay, really. But to answer your question, I’m a sucker myself for a good love story,” he grins teasingly, lifting his brows and earning a laugh from you. “And as odd as it may sound, I do care about you, L/N. You’re just... extremely likable.”

“I’m sorry, are we disturbing the two of you?” McGonagall’s voice startled you and Amos. She had a brow lifted and her nostrils were dangerously inflated.

“Oh, please! You could never bother us, Minnie!” You joke as you realize all eyes were on you and Diggory, so you had to pretend everything was fine. “You do teach the best subject in the school’s curriculum after all.”

“Then I suggest you two quit chatting and start paying attention to my class,” she shoots back. Her lips were pressed in a thin line but you could swear you saw a shadow of a smile creep in there for a split second.

“I’m afraid Miss L/N won’t be paying much attention to your class today, Professor McGonagall,” Dumbledore’s voice waved from the doorstep. He had a serene and kind smile on his face. “Can I borrow her for a second?”

“Thank Godric!” You mutter to yourself, a sudden relief washing you. You were finally going to get back home, to your easy, romantically boring and happy life alongside with Harry, Ron and Hermione. Weren’t you?

McGonagall sighed heavily and shrugged before motioning for you to go. You quickly got your stuff together and followed the Headmaster to his office.

***

“So, can I go home already?” You ask barely waiting until you crossed the doors, your heart beating faster and full of hope.

“Not yet, I’m afraid,” Dumbledore offers you a sympathetic smile, sitting on his chair and pointing the one in front of him for you.

“But, sir, I’ve been here for weeks already,” you furrowed your brows in despair, occupying the offered seat.

“Time-turners are very temperamental and complex devices, Miss L/N. It can take some time before it gets fully functioning again; I told you that,” he interlaced his hands, lowering his head a little so he could look straight into your eyes.

“Pardon me, sir, I don’t want to sound rude, but... If you didn’t summon me here to bring me home, then why am I here at all?” You ask curiously.

Dumbledore just smiled at you whilst taking a few seconds to think. “I thought you could use the talking.”

You open your mouth but shut it immediately as you see him lifting a brow at you. You lower your eyes, thinking of what to say. You knew Dumbledore wanted to know why you had this rush to leave — given the dozen owls you sent him along the week — when you had a lot of close friends in this current timeline who you’d definitely miss and would definitely miss you as well. But how were you supposed to open up to him? How were you supposed to just open your mouth and say ‘yeah, you see, I fell in love with my best friend’s dad and ‘m actually besties with his mom as well, ha! Talk about double betrayal!”

“How is Mr. Potter? — James, I mean,” he asks bluntly, adding the latter after he noticed you were about to deflect the real question by mentioning Harry.

“He’s... alright, I guess,” you shrug, trying to look unimpressed.

“Is he? I don’t think that anyone who doesn’t have their best friend by their side can be classified as alright,” he smiled, his glare intense from behind his half-moon spectacles.

“Godric, you really do know everything that happens inside these walls, don’t ya?” You look at him in awe, genuinely impressed. “Sorry, sir, I mean no disrespect,” you add suddenly, earning an amused laugh from him.

“I like to keep myself up to date, yes. But in all seriousness Miss L/N, why do you think you’re here? Why do you think you came back to this specific time in history?”

“I... I wish I could know,” you whisper.

“What is the most powerful magic in the world?”

“Yours?!” You shrug, unsure if he meant what you thought.

Dumbledore laughs, grateful for your compliment. “Though I appreciate the compliment, the most powerful magic in the world is love, Y/N.”

You stare at him, sadness taking over your face as you were lost for words once again.

“Allow yourself to remember, Miss L/N,” Dumbledore smiled warmly at you.

***

Dumbledore’s words were floating on your mind as you walked aimlessly through the castle. He was known to be quite mysterious and it didn’t surprise you that he left you with an apparently senseless puzzle in hands instead of telling you exactly what you needed to do. Well, if he did, it wouldn’t be him. At first you had thought that you had to bring Lily and James together, due to the whole love-is-the-most-powerful-magic thing. But then he had told you to allow yourself to remember. Remember what, exactly?!

“Oh, fuck it!” You huffed in frustration, running both of your hands through your hair and sliding down the wall until you were sit on the floor. You shut your eyes and kept them that way in hope that once you opened them again, you’d wake up from this horrific nightmare.

You heard someone sitting beside you, but you still didn’t dare to open your eyes. It was probably Remus, Sirius or Lily, worried about you and ready to give you a lecture about the poor choices you had made in the last 24 hours. When the person slid their arm over your shoulder, you felt at ease. Your body could recognize his touch without flinching.

“You alright, love?” James asked you when you rested your head on his shoulder.

“No. Are you?” You finally opened your eyes and studied his face. His jaw was clenched and he was staring at the wall in front of him. No jokes, no warm smile. His eyes didn’t have the usual spark of eagerness. His nearly arrogant confident vibe was gone. He almost didn’t look like himself. You sighed heavily.

“Not really,” he rested his head on top of yours, reaching for your hand.

“I’m sorry. I really am,” you said sincerely, interlocking your fingers in his.

“I miss you. I just... i can’t lose you, okay? Not now, not ever,” he sighs.

“Me too. Not having you in my life every single day is the shittiest thing that could ever happen to me, Potter,” you hug him. James finally laughs and plants a kiss on top of your head.

“Same here, sweetheart. I don’t think I can be myself if I don’t have you around. You’re... part of who I am,” he smirks softly.

You rested your forehead in the crook of his neck, your thoughts fuzzy, wishing you could just kiss him right now and allow yourself to be truly happy for the first time in your life. But being the loyal friend you were, of course you suppressed this impetus you felt whenever he was around once again.

“Come on, let’s head back to the common room and let everyone breathe a sigh of relief that we’re on speaking terms again!” He joked after a while, getting on his feet and helping you to do the same.

As you made your way into the castle, James took your hand in his. You debated with yourself wether or not you should take it away, but it felt so right that you just shook the thought. Before he could say the password as you reached the Fat Lady portrait that guarded the entrance to the Gryffindor tower, you squeezed James’ hand. “Jamie...”

“Yeah?” He gave you a smile when he turned around to face you. The same smile that always turned your legs into melted jelly and caused your heart to beat like a drum.

“Promise me we’ll never loose each other again,” you say, hugging him and smashing your eyes shut.

“I couldn’t let you go if I tried,” he hugged you as tightly as he could. “You’re too bloody important to me.”

“Are we okay?”

“Always.”

The two of you just stood there in each other’s arms, enjoying the moment as much as you could before reality came smashing into your faces. And it didn’t take long to do so.

“Alright lovebirds, are you planning on moving any time soon or you’ll just stand there blocking the entrance forever?” A bored sixth year asked.

Blushing, both you and James let go of each other and muttered an apology, whilst the fellow Gryffindor rolled her eyes with an amused smirk.

“Just get together already, it’s getting quite embarrassing to see you painfully longing for each other year after year,” she shrugs before disappearing into the hole, leaving you and James with a dumbfounded look behind.

“Quite the crowd we have, huh love?” James asks with a laugh after seeing your pink-toned face.

“I think we just became more fascinating and eagerly awaited than the quidditch matches,” you frown playfully, bitting your lower lip whilst trying to shrug off the burning feeling in your cheeks.

James stared at you with a side smirk, his eyes lowering from yours until landing on your lips. The lips that he wanted to kiss every second of every day. The lips he wished belonged to him, but bitterly remembered it was now Diggory’s.

“What’s wrong?” You squeeze his shoulder as you noticed his smile fading and his face falling.

“Nothing, love. Let’s get inside,” he forces a smile before he too disappeared into the portrait hole. You stood there for a while, partially happy that you got your friendship with James mended, but also scared that it was only going to break your heart even more, and his own in the process.

“Are you coming in dear?” You hear the Fat Lady voice from beside you.

“Yeah! I’m just... sorry,” you shake your heard confusedly before crossing the frame yourself.

———————————————

Taglist: @treestarrrrrrrr @fanfic-enthusiast-collector @jgtfvhsg @jullianerey @silver-winter-wolf

[nomorelonelydays]

Kiss (like my heart is chasing me down)

-

(1/3) | (2/3) | 3/3 - a love that falls as fast as a body from the balcony

-

Geno makes it to his house in under fifteen minutes. 

Sidney’s out the door the moment he gets the ‘am here’ text, before Geno even has a chance to ring the doorbell.

Geno doesn’t bother to try to punch in the gate codes that Sidney knows he knows to pull into the driveway. He’s done the world’s shittiest park job by the street in his stupid, flashy sports car, flinging the door wide open when sees Sidney heading towards him.

He meets Geno halfway, because it’s what they’ve always done. 

On or off the ice, when Geno’s headed towards him for a celly or when Sidney has to drag him home when Geno’s drunkenly nursing a heartbreak and refuses to say anything in English. This is no different.  

“You hung up on me,” Sidney says. He holds up his phone, because he doesn’t know what to do with himself or Geno either, what with him showing up like some self-declared Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pittsburgh.

“Was already on my way.” Geno takes another step forward. He looks like he’s thinking a thousand words at once, and Sidney can almost hear those thoughts swirling around like storm clouds above them. “Sidney, I mean what I say.”

“Why didn’t you say it to me earlier?” 

An injured look crosses Geno’s face. “Because Matt--”

“No, I mean--Even before Matt. You said for years. You--why didn’t you say something? Why did you wait until now?”

“I--Sid, I never see you date anyone before.”

“Would you have said anything if Matt never happened?” His stomach falls in realization. Of course this was it--it’s some kind of misguided jealousy. “Would you have wanted me if nobody else did?”

Geno sucks in a short breath. “What you talking about? Everyone love you, what you mean, nobody--”

“You said it. You did.” It’s such a stupid thing, what Geno said before. He knows it’s a joke, but there’s something raw and tender that Geno had prodded at on that day, right on the shameful spot Sidney always tries to hide away. “You said I was waiting to get old. Alone. No, you said, ‘already like that.’ You don’t love me. You’re just saying that because--” He ducks his head when his eyes start feeling hot despite himself. “I don’t know. You feel bad or something.”

“Sid.” He doesn’t look at Geno, can’t bear to, but he wonders if Geno’s expression is as stricken as his voice. “Sid, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean--” 

“You’re right. It’s whatever. I am getting older, it’s gonna happen eventually. And I don’t have anyone. Happy?”

“No--no, of course not happy, how you think that? Matt stupid to leave.” Geno bristles; he steps closer to Sidney, like he wants to lift Sidney’s chin up towards him, but Sidney shies away. “So stupid, leave best thing he ever get--”

Sidney sighs. “G, Matt’s not real.”

“Not r--” Geno stutters to a pause. “What?”

“I lied.” 

He hates how his cheeks must be burning a bright red, and he can’t help it when his eyes start to well in embarrassment--he hasn’t seen Geno outside of the rink for weeks, and now that Geno’s right in front of him so he can just admit he’s had an imaginary boyfriend (how utterly ridiculous, now that he thinks about it), he feels almost like a rabbit caught in a trap. 

Instead, he keeps talking instead until his words start congealing into a jumbled mess. “I made him up when you said--Geno, you really fucking made me feel like shit. And I know it’s stupid, but I didn’t want to hear you say what I already knew anymore--not from you. I couldn’t, I won’t--”

He reaches up to wipe at his eyes with his sleeve, thankful that it’s probably dark enough outside that the neighbors probably can’t see what’s going on.

“Sid,” Geno whispers, stunned. He reaches out for Sidney, holding his wrists gingerly like Sidney might shatter. Sidney’s just, quite frankly, too tired and too sad and too lonely to push him away.  “Don’t have to make up. Team say stupid shit like that, nobody mean. Everyone know you best, so who care if I say--”

“I loved you,” Sidney blurts out, like he’s ripping off a bandaid. The words feel like a lone pebble dropping into a pond, and the world--and Geno--stays still for that split moment. “I’ve loved you since I saw you skate. You know this. The team knows this. My fucking parents know. And-- I know it wouldn’t ever happen, I’m not that dumb, I wouldn’t ever let it screw with the team--or hockey or-- But I guess some part of me still wanted so bad for you to look at me the way I look at you. And if you never said anything, it’s like I can still pretend that you might--maybe one day, you’d want--”

He closes his eyes. 

Sid stay home all day, waiting get old.

He’d panicked, because it did feel like he was waiting, counting down the moments he has left in the NHL. Waiting for someone to share his life with. Waiting for Geno to leave him. He doesn’t want to come home to an empty house, an empty heart, empty everything.

His throat clams up. His entire heart is bared and bleeding on the pavement outside his house for Geno to see, just like in a slow motion nightmare. He had imagined this, of finally confessing to Geno so he can let it all go, because it’s how it’s supposed to work. And yet somehow, he still feels like he’s holding pieces of himself out towards Geno like a final, desperate plea. 

When Geno finally finds his voice, it comes out pained. “You think I don’t love you back, so I make fun?”

“I know you don’t love me back.”

“Sid, I say already, I love you. Say as many time I need to. Love you for years.” Geno moves his hands so they clasp with Sidney’s, and he holds it to his own chest. “Best hockey player in the world, kindest person I ever know, you think I just walk up to someone like that and ask on date? You think I’m so brave like that?”

“You do it all the time,” Sidney says, remembering the women Geno would smile at from across a bar, and how easily he’d get a dance, or a number, from seemingly anyone he wanted. “I’ve seen you.”

“They not you,” Geno says. He lifts Sidney’s knuckles to his mouth, his lips soft and a little chapped across Sidney’s skin. “I say for real. I have shit timing try to wait for best time to ask you out. But I would have asked out one day, Matt or no Matt. Next time I won’t make you wait.” He leans his forehead against Sidney’s. “You say loved before. Do you still love me? Now?”

“I never stopped,” Sidney tells him, because it’s the truth.  

“Good,” Geno says, and kisses his forehead. “Me too.”

The neighborhood is quiet when they walk back to the house together. Sidney’s hand slips into Geno’s, easy as anything.

He holds on.

-

“What? Sidney’s bringing his boyfriend here?” Tanger skates up to Jake, leaning in close and lowering his voice. “He’s bringing Matt to family skate?”

Jake shrugs. “I guess. But I haven’t heard Sidney talk about him lately--oh, he’s here now.”

“Sid, G.” Tanger nods at the two of them before turning to Sidney. “Jake says you brought your boyfriend.”

“I did,” Sidney says, smiling up at Geno like they’re sharing a secret.

“Hi,” Geno says, reaching out as if for a handshake and smiling like a complete ass. “I’m boyfriend.”

[theworstbob]

the thing journal, 6.11.2017 - 6.17.2017

capsule reviews of the pop culture i took in last week. this week: venice, witness, 1989, gilded, punch-drunk love, sucker, bloody bloody andrew jackson, gone now, boomiverse, melodrama, before sunrise, pinata, whiplash

1) Venice, by Anderson .Paak: Paak might be really close to Greatest Living Songwriter status. Like, Malibu and Yes Lawd! are both undeniable classics, but this is ALSO so solid, solid enough that I feel like, if we get someone in the room with Paak to say, "Hey, dude, maybe don't put a bad butt pun in this one?" Paak could be running the world. Every second of this album is wonderful. Like, .Paak makes songs that make an indoor kid like me wish he was at the beach, that's like the only thing I can say about this album. .Paak' great. I don't have enough words to describe what makes him great.

2) Witness, by Benjamin Booker: ...So, this is the last thing I'm writing? And this was a nice, bluesy rock album that made a Sunday morning slightly doper. I liked it, it was nice, listen to it if you like nice rock albums.

3) 1989, by Tay Tay: I sure do have a lot to say about this album that wasn't said two and a half years ago! I liked it. The first five songs are as good as any five songs on any album that's ever been, and then the rest of this album... Exists? Like there's no way I'm going to call an album with "Shake it Off" and "Bad Blood" on it a classic, and after hearing Lana del Rey songs I can't get behind the Lana del Rey impression that is "Wildest Dreams," like it was already an enh song but knowing it was ripping off an enh thing gives it a firm "no," but any album with "Style" and "Blank Space" and "Style" deserves plaudits, and the album does pick up with the last two tracks, which are up there with the first five tracks as the best stuff Tay Tay has ever done. End of the day, though, To Pimp a Butterfly still should have won Album of the Year, and if at the end of 2014 Catch-Up 1989 is still in the top ten for 2014 (#9 as I write this), I'd be stunned.

4) Gilded, by Jade Jackson: This? was somehow recommended to me by Amazon because I enjoy the music of Paramore. I cannot claim to have heard the Paramore in this. I heard a pretty decent if slow-moving country album! That was a fun surprise! One of my favorite things about country music in 2017 is how, like, we typically associate rebellion with punk and rap, y'know? Loud music that moves fast and is always shouting. And rebellion in country is sitting with just an acoustic guitar and singing sad songs about small towns. Like, a lot of country music is about what a small town home town dirt road party it is to be in the sticks, so the outlaws have to slow it down and reflect on whether they're truly happy where they are. So like, this album has incredibly little in common with Paramore from a music standpoint, but they share an attitude which has to manifest itself differently because of their respective genres. Basically, I'm incredibly down with this album.

5) Punch-Drunk Love, dir. Paul Thomas Anderson: hey. hey guys. did you guys know about this paul thomas anderson dude. he's pretty great. like, everything about that scene where he asks the woman out, the warehouse collapsing, the calls from the phone sex scammer, his sister haranguing him, the woman not knowing how to respond to this, him clearly not knowing how to handle the situation, the pudding the so much pudding, the score building as everything falls apart, it's so fucking good. i remember, when i was 12, this movie had like two whole shelves at hollywood video, and when my dad and my family were looking at this movie, we were like "we love little nicky! but this might be more serious? and poor innocent caralin," and i just, i wonder what a younger me would have thought about this film. i wonder how i would have reacted to this, if we actually had pulled the trigger on punch-drunk love before i was anywhere near ready to handle it.

6) Sucker, by Charli XCX: hahaha i need to do theme weeks or something like i'm supposed to think about a paul thomas anderson joint and then try to come up with a decent opinion about a fine, just a tich below great pop album. i should've eased myself into this, it should've gone punch drunk love, the kimbra album i added to provide the bridge from film master class to pop, and THEN charli xcx. i mean, i enjoyed this a lot, i had a solid, solid bus ride, but like i just need to structure the sequencing of thing journal better. like, maybe don't put the slap-hitting second baseman after the cleanup hitter, but the jason kubel type in the fifth spot, the chunky dude who kinda sucks at baseball but hits dingers more often than not. gotta think about my lineup, guys!

7) Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson, wr. Michael Friedman: Well, this was good stupid fun. I think "Ten Little Indians" is a standout track, so clear a standout that it honestly belongs in a better work. It's a distillation of Native American history that doesn't seem to have any place in a musical recasting one of the shittiest presidents as a vain, morose emokid rock star, but then again, I listen to soundtracks and don't watch the shows, so fuck do I know about context. So, yeah, I dug "Ten Little Indians," and then everything else was fine and silly and took itself just unseriously that it never felt like American Psycho. Theatre in general isn't a good home for irony, but at least here, the sarcasm wasn't subtle, it was waving a giant flag the whole time saying "THIS IS DEF JOKES."

8) Gone Now, by Bleachers 9) Melodrama, by Lorde See, if I were a decent listener, I might have tried following up Gone Now with Melodrama. These reviews aren't being indexed in chronological order; I listened to Boomiverse before I gave Melodrama a spin, and looking back, I should've saved Gone Now for Friday to do a Jack Antonoff Power Block. I wonder if my opinion on these albums is colored by the interview I read where Jack Antonoff says he originally imagines all his songs for female voices, he writes his songs for women, then pitches them an octace down should they become Bleachers songs. And I found both Strange Desire and Gone Now to not really resonate with me, neither album really hitting me in the way an entity such as Bleachers should hit me. Bleachers is fun, '80s-inspired pop music -- I love that! But there's this weird disconnect I feel between the voice and the music, and I can't tell if that's a conclusion I arrived at on my own or if it was informed by that article, because while I didn't like Gone Now, I really loved Melodrama. Lorde and Antonoff work perfectly together, her voice gives life to a lot of things I heard but wasn't enthralled by on Gone Now, and they had a vision for this album -- songs have part twos! There's a reprise! ("Liability" is DOPE in the context of this album, y'all) -- which they executed sublimely. It's a complete, cohesive album that feels so much bigger than 11 songs, so full of weird ideas, and while I'm not sure how the mainstream is gonna react, I thought this was dope as hell, "dope as hell" being the highest praise my limited vocabulary has to offer.

10) Boomiverse, by Big Boi: One benefit of being just a dude on tumblr chronicling his experiences is that I didn't have to listen to and write a thinkpiece about a 70-minute Lil Yachty album. I only have to experience Lil Yachty through his features on other people's songs, do not have to contend with the totality of his vision. But, it is disappointing that professional music people DO have to write extended thinkpieces about Lil Yachty, when those words and thoughts and energies would have been far better spent on this album. This album is just good. There's no frills, minimal use of the obligatory Atlanta trap beat, clever rhymes, only occasional misogyny, and maybe the most jubilant rap track of 2017, "All Night." I honestly can't remember the last time I heard a hip-hop joint as joyous as "All Night." So much of my favorite hip-hop of the last few years hasn't been happy, and not even the justifiable "shit's fucked up" unhappy, the "sadness is the only valiid emotion" unhappy, and "All Night" is a statement that darkness is nothing without light.

11) Before Sunrise, dir. Richard Linklater: "Hey! I've been up since 1 AM, and it is presently 4:30! I'm going to put on this quet movie about a quiet night in Vienna so I can watch Before Sunrise before sunrise, LOL!" Yeah so I fell asleep during this one, team. Not long enough to feel like I missed a lot, not long enough for this film to lose its impact, but enough to feel like I failed this film. What I was able to see was great. It was like someone shot a podcast in Vienna, and that sounds like an insult, but I'm into movies that are just two people talking to each other, and I'd be into a podcast where two strangers try to fall in love in two hours, two people bullshitting about love and relationships and the future while wondering if they could be happy with the other person outside of the podcast. It didn't feel at all tempered knowing there's a sequel in the queue. Like, knowing these two people see each other again is disappointing, only in the sense that I don't get to live with the ending for 10 years before learning about the sequel, but at the same time, the characters don't know they're going to see each other again, and that last goodbye at the train is so heart-wrenching, the way she disappears behind the wall and the guy just follows her, trying to stay as close to her as possible.

12) Pinata, by Freddie Gibbs & Madlib: I will let nature review this album for me: I live in a garden level apartment, and outside my bedroom window, where I stationed my new computer, there's a bucket beneath the gutter in which water rests. Squirrels will occasionally come through, take a sip, and bounce. But as I was listening to this album, I saw that the squirrel was lingering outside my window. I assumed it was responding well to the vibrations created by Freddie Gibbs' pleasant, deep-voiced flow and the low-key production, and that it was enjoying the things it was feeling. This is music squirrels can enjoy, man, what more do you want. And then a Danny Brown feature came on, and that squirrel RAN, man. Like, I get it? I wouldn't expect a squirrel to respond well to Danny Brown, but I still feel that squirrel is missing out.

13) Whiplash, dir. Damien Chazelle: When I listen to music, I've found I connect to the drumming more than anything but the lyrics. Part of the reason I still listen to pop/punk is because literally every single pop/punk drummer is amazing, drumming so so fast every time. I also watch sports and speedrun streams, and one of the things that fascinates me is the maniacal drive to be great, this obsessive need to push yourself to some limit most would find unnecessary. So of COURSE I'm into a film which would marry the two, and which had the performance of a lifetime from JK Simmons, JK Simmons deserving all the plaudits he got for playing Malcom Tucker's long-lost American twin. I think Miles Teller was cat perfectly for the scenes where he's with JK Simmons, an arrogant nothing-boy who can convey talent and cluelessness, but Miles Teller is such a zero that the scenes with his family and girlfriend, where we're supposed to say "no nice boy don't isolate yourself from your loved ones to drum so good," just felt like "god shut the fuck up you whiny jerk." The film also didn't really address a couple of questions I thought might be relevant to the JK Simmons character. Does music still retain its meaning if you obsess over it to the extent that Fletcher does, do people still respond to his performances on an emotional level, or do they appreciate it on a purely technical level? There's that dinner scene, where someone in Miles Teller's family asks, "How can you have a music competition? Isn't it subjective?" and Miles Teller says, "No," but it never explores the idea of what chasing the parts of music which can be judged objective does to the music. The other question is, what right does Fletcher have to the next Charlie Parker? How does this white dude think he can own jazz? But I've spent more words finding what's problematic about the film than I did on what I liked, which is usually the sign of a great film, one I wanted to spend a lot of words thinking about.