#I'm usually kind of shit at making bread but I want to TRY

[cozza-frenzy]

Really can't wait to get over this damn cold... I want to BAKE, damn it. I've got a pantry full of amazing ingredients and absolutely no energy to touch any of it. Been an absolutely miserable week. No amount of sleep makes us feel rested. Laying in bed on our front most of the day is giving us acne breakouts on our face and chest. And nobody's been able to front except me for days, because not being able to breathe properly is something that front-triggers me. Hopefully we'll get better soon...

[zepskies]

HEADCANON: Man Flu

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader || Beau Arlen x Reader || Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader || Boaz Priestly x Reader

HC: When Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Boaz Priestly get sick, how would they act when you (try to) take care of them?

AN: After reading I Got You by @bettystonewell (Dean x Reader) and The Best Kind of Medicine by @lamentationsofalonelypotato (Soldier Boy x Reader), I realized that I've never actually written a sick-fic before. Here it is in headcanon form, since you guys seem to like these! lol 💜

Also adding Priestly to this lineup for the first time because some of you have been requesting more of him recently. 😉

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, hurt/comfort, sick-fic, some needy affection-starved men who don't want to admit they're needy, lots of fluff.~

Dean Winchester

He's not sick. Because he doesn't get sick.

Dean claims he has the constitution of a horse, but you still take the beer out of his hand before he can take a sip at 10:00 a.m.

He's too busy interrupting himself, namely by coughing half a lung, wheezing, blinking teary eyes -- the whole phlegmy nine yards.

Sam shakes his head, casting you a look that frankly says, Good luck.

He knows his brother is stubborn as hell, and one of the things Dean dislikes most is being fussed over for "no reason." Being seen as weak. Not being able to just shrug his shoulders and shake it off.

To be fair, Dean tries. Except this time it's accompanied by a body shiver and a reluctant sniffle. His pallid face is drawn, and his usually strong and solid frame looks unsteady as he leans a hand on the War Room table.

"Okay, come on, Rambo. Let's get you back into bed," you say, guiding your boyfriend back to the room you share with him.

"I'm find," he insists, even as he begrudgingly accepts the gentle pressure of your hand on his back and shoulder, pushing him down to the bed.

"Sure you are, baby," you say with a smirk. "You're in the primb of libe."

Dean shoots you a narrowed look. Damn you for forcing him to binge-watch all those episodes of Friends late at night when you both can't sleep.

Right now he's Monica, trying to convince you he's in tip-top shape, while you're Chandler, just trying to get him to use tissues instead of his flannel sleeve to wipe his runny nose.

After taking his boots off, you get him to change out of his jeans and back into his sweatpants. Then you manage to get him to lay down under the covers with the promise of coming back with medicine and soup.

"I don't want soup, damn it," he grumbles. You just roll your eyes and rub his arm.

"Just rest. I'll be back with the Vicks."

As you might expect, Dean is not an easy patient.

He refuses to drink tea, but he does down the pills you bring for him, with a measured toss of his head that still makes his head swim. He groans.

He swallows a couple of cautious spoonfuls of the soup, pausing when he realizes that its warmth actually feels good down his sore and scratchy throat. It tastes pretty good too, especially with the warm, buttered slices of bread on the side.

"You made this?" he asks.

"Mhmm," you nod, smiling. If nothing else, good food will pacify this man. "Chicken and wild rice, made especially for you."

"Hmm. S' good," he nods in reply. He manages to finish the bowl.

He has to admit, if just to himself, that he does feel like shit.

He won't admit that the way you're rubbing his back, the gentle pressure of your nails between his shoulders and down his spine relaxes him, makes him feel better.

He knows that you care about him. That you love him. But this is one of those moments where it hits him, just how much.

It's a little overwhelming. A heavy swell of pressure fills his chest, so he tries not to let himself think about it for very long.

(He fails.)

After he's done eating, you take the plates away and help him back into bed. You linger there, slipping your fingers through his soft brown hair and pressing a kiss to his clammy forehead.

"I really need you to rest, okay," you say quietly. "If you need anything, just text me or Sam. Don't get out of bed."

Dean grasps your hand before you can move away from him. Since you're probably going to wash your hands anyway, he lays a kiss on the back of your hand.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

Beau Arlen

Sheriff Beau Arlen is the type to run himself into the ground because he's so damn into his work.

He wants to do well in his station of responsibility, and he feels like he has to make up for his performance during the summer madness of Buck Barnes and Avery...and everything in between.

You just have to make Beau realize that he needs to slow down, before he well and truly burns himself out.

You put your foot down one morning.

He tries to get out of bed but has to pause, his head swimming. He takes a couple of steadying breaths while sitting on the edge of the bed.

You notice with a frown. "Hey, you okay?"

"Fine. Just fine," he answers a little too breathlessly. He raises a hand to his head. His throat is sticky and coarse. He wrinkles his nose when he also feels a sneeze coming on.

"Just need a...a...mugh-ah-ha-hugh."

His coughing sneeze makes you grimace. You didn't even know someone could sneeze and cough at the same time.

"Aw, babe. You're sick," you say as you move over to him, resting a hand on his back. He shakes his head and groans.

"Nah, can't be sick. Gotta lot of work to do today," he says. His voice is like gravel blended with broken glass. It would actually be sexy, if for the distinctly un-sexy way he tries to clear the great wad of phlegm from his throat.

He tries to rock himself onto his feet, but there he sways on the landing. You hurry out of bed to grab his arm and steady him.

"Oh no, you don't. Back into bed," you say.

"Aw, sweetheart. I'll be fine--"

"No. Lay down. You're not going in today," you say more firmly, all while you tuck the man back into bed with the blankets covering him.

"All right, all right. No need to be so pushy," he can't help but tease.

It earns a small smirk on your face. It seems like his man flu hasn't yet deprived him of his sense of humor.

"I thought you liked that though," you reply. You sit on the edge of the bed and rub his chest. He groans in defeat.

"Can't believe this," he grumbles. "Today of all days--"

"There's always going to be another case. This is your body telling you that you need to slow down," you tell him. "So how about this. I'm gonna call in one of my sick days, and we'll bunker in together."

You stroke his bearded cheek. He quirks a smile, grabbing your hand and squeezing warmly.

"How long until I'm allowed out, warden?" he asks.

"Until you can stand without keeling over," you dryly reply. A smile tugs at your lips. "Remind me to stop by CVS to grab you a Life Alert."

"All right, har har haugh--" His sarcasm ends on a very real, wheezing cough. Your amused smile drops. You relent from your teasing and stroke his chest once more.

"Okay, just rest. Let me get you some actual medicine and I'll be right back."

He stops you by grabbing your wrist. "Hey, uh...can I have some chicken noodle soup later?"

"Of course, baby. I'll swing by the store now and get some stuff for you."

"And some saltines?"

"Saltine crackers on the side. Got it."

You're about to head to the bathroom to brush your teeth before you start getting ready to go to the store, but once again, Beau's needy hand stops you.

"Before you go, some tea with honey and lemon would be good. Just something for my throat," he croaks.

You smile and nod. "Yeah, for sure. That'll be better for you than coffee."

"Oh, and can you gimme that quilt over there?" he asks, pointing to your favorite knitted blanket at the edge of the bed. You graciously lay it over his form and drop a kiss onto his forehead.

"And some cough drops. Thank you, darlin'," Beau adds.

Your lips begin to press together, but you nod and continue getting dressed.

You can already tell this man is going to settle into you taking care of him just fine.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Neither of you thought it was possible, considering his super genes that allowed him to eat and booze and drug harder than Andre the Giant and Keith Richards put together.

But one day, your over six-foot super soldier goes down hard. The warning signs came the night before, when you could hardly sleep with the way he was snoring like a grizzly bear.

In the morning, he wakes bleary-eyed with a runny nose and a coughing fit hard enough to shake the bed.

"Fuck," he groans, dragging a hand over his face before he turns onto his back. "This's gotta be some kind of bullshit hangover."

You move over to him in bed and feel the intense warmth of his clammy forehead. Your brows draw together in concern.

"No, I think you're sick."

"Not possible," he grumbles. "I haven't been sick since..."

Well, since he was a kid, probably. He won't admit it, but he's surprised he still has that memory lodged in the back of his mind.

It comes to the forefront now: your hand on his cheek unknowingly mimics his mother's gentle touch, her soft, kind voice.

"Aw, my sweet boy. Let's get you feeling better."

He can almost recall the floral scent of her perfume, echoes of it in the shampoo you use.

Ben claims he's fine, that he doesn't need your help or want the medicine and tea you bring for him. (He tries the tea, grimaces, and spits it out when you're not looking.)

He's a sourpatch grumbly patient who only begrudgingly stays put in bed when you ask him to. He doesn't mind lying around and watching movies all day, not to mention episode after episode of Below Deck. It reminds him that he wants to get back into boating.

"Hey, sweetheart," he calls to you from the bedroom, his voice croaking all the while. "I'm getting you a yacht for Valentine's Day. You want it all white, or throw in a bit of gold? Actually, check out this one with the navy trim."

You roll your eyes to yourself when you step back into the room. You're carrying a tray with a large bowl of soup and a fifth of whiskey. He claims the latter will help soothe his throat, and you don't have the heart to argue with him when he's clearly feeling so shitty.

"You mean you're getting you a yacht," you reply wryly. "We live in the city. Where the hell would we put a boat?"

"In a yacht club, where it belongs," Ben retorts. He hooks an arm around your waist and peruses what you've brought him on the tray. He doesn't look all that interested.

"Look, I know you're not exactly a soupy kinda guy, but this'll make you feel better," you say.

"Why can't you put some fucking steak in it or something?" he grouses. He tries and fails to hide another wet cough.

"Why can't you just eat what I lovingly made, just for you," you snipped back.

He rolls his eyes at your attitude, but he pipes down. In that silence, he's conceding that you have a point. There was a time were all he had to do was glance in someone's direction, and there'd be some fucking moron to fulfill his every whim.

Now, you're probably the only one in the world that would actually do what you're doing...

Cooking for him, putting your heart into it, for the simple reason that you do care.

Ben takes the bowl of soup from your hands. Raising a brow, you offer him the spoon as well.

He eats without further complaint.

You smile and reward him with a sweet kiss on his forehead, brushing his hair back as you do so.

"See? That's not so hard, huh?" you can't help but needle him. "It's okay, baby. I'll take care of you."

He eyes you dryly, but he won't admit that there's a different kind of warmth coiling in his chest.

Boaz Priestly

"Uuuughhh, babe," he groans. "I feel like death on toast."

You're standing beside the bed with a smile playing on your lips. You brush back his for once un-gelled hair back from his face. It's weird to see it all limp and lifeless, slightly damp with sweat.

"Unironically, I should make you some toast," you reply. "What kind of medicine do we have?"

Priestly unearths his head from under his pillow to look up at you with miserable red-rimmed eyes and a sniffling, stuffy nose. "Can we count the tequila in the mini bar?"

"Maybe later," you laugh. "How are we on groceries?"

Priestly struggles to think. He takes your hand and rubs it back and forth across his chest. Maybe your sweet, loving touch has the power to clear away his congestion without him needing Vicks. Too minty.

"We have that pastrami I brought back from the shop," he says.

"That's six days old already," you shake your head.

"Aw, that's still good," he argues. "But uh, other than that, I think I have half a cheeseburger left from last night."

Last night's date at TGI Friday's, he means.

You heave a sigh. "Okay, clearly I'm going to the store. You just stay in bed and rest. Drink your tea."

He grimaces like a child. "I don't like tea."

"I know you don't like tea, but you need to drink it. It's good for your throat and your immune system."

He groans and flops back over onto his stomach. You bite your lip against a smile. He's such a whiny baby when he's sick.

Talk about Man Flu.

"Come on, be a good boy for me," you say, smacking him lightly on the ass. "Soon enough you'll feel better."

A smile creeps across his face where it's pressed against his pillow.

"Know what would really make me feel better?" he hedges. He tries to guide you down to him by tugging on your hand, but you resist him.

"Oh, no. You're not gonna get your germs all over me," you say.

"Hey, what happened to in sickness and in health?" he croaks. Even while under the weather, he's still plenty strong enough to grapple with you. He manages to yank you down. Laughing, you stumble into a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Huh, I don't remember exchanging any vows. You see a ring on this finger?" you tease, flashing your bare hand in his face to try and distract him and weasle out of his grip. "I can jump this ship anytime I want."

Priestly pouts. His arm hooks tighter around your waist. "Huh, guess you got me there..."

He turns his head and coughs roughly into his arm. Your amusement fades into concern and sympathy. You lay a hand over his chest while he struggles.

Once again, he clasps his free hand over yours. He glances up a bit hesitantly into your eyes.

"Well, maybe it's time there should be something on this finger," he murmurs.

You blink your eyes wider. Your head tilts, wondering if you just heard him right. Is this delirium fever talking, or is he serious?

"O-Oh yeah?" you ask.

Priestly tries to gauge your reaction. Seeing your face break out into a cute, shy smile raises the corners of his lips. Hope blooms in his chest, right beneath your hand.

"Yeah," he says, trying to clear his cracking throat. "I mean, if you're okay with that. If it's not too soon--"

You slip your fingers over his plush, chapped lips, and your smile brightens.

"When you're feeling better, you can ask me that question properly."

AN: 😆 I hope you liked the first ever addition of Priestly!! It was so fun to try and write him again (it's been a while lol). Feel free to imagine this vignette in the same storyverse as The Miracle Man and Code Red.

But I also hope you enjoyed the "Big 3," as I call them, even though Russell is starting to give Beau a run for his money on one of those slots. 😂 Let me know which guy you had the most fun reading on this one! 💜

And if you want even more fluff before Valentine's Day, check out my friend @waynes-multiverse who just posted her set of V-Day headcanons with Dean, Soldier Boy, Beau, and Russell: Headcanon: Valentine's Day 💕

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

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[willowser]

haiii willow!! i was reading through your work (as i usually do when I’m on here) but i wanna know your thoughts on whether young, early 20s bkg - who currently has a thing for reader - would he feel this impending urge of sexual attraction?? i feel like at that point of time he wouldn’t be having much sex, if any at all but ofc reader is beautiful and sweet and gorgeous!! do u think he’d ever have moments where he’s ogling or he’s just back in his bedroom and all he can think are perverted thoughts and he’s like, “fuck.”

i will continue stalking ur page and reblogging so that’s all! love u🩷🩷🩷👼

oh i am smooching you smooching i say, bc i love this scenario it is my freaking bread and butter 😌✨️🩷

i think he definitely would !! not a total clueless virgin, but he's not really feeling it with anyone, and maybe hasn't for a while—if ever. and maybe he's just like, eh i've got more important things going on rn than who i'm having dinner with i hardly have time to have it with myself 🥺

bc i imagine early 20s bakugou very specifically, especially after what's going on in the manga, so i can completely see him being so sidetracked and not even interested in romance—and then you come along 🥺 and i think it would take him a while to get there, honestly, like. he's got you in the back of his mind for a whole year, even. doing his best not to think about it, but every now and then when things are quiet, his mind is wandering until he's thinking about how you wish him a stupid good morning ! every day and always make small talk with him about all kinds of random shit 😒🥺 he resists the idea that you give him butterflies and tries to tell himself you make him sick LOL

but then—something happens. something small, i think, that is such a non-event but it launches you to the forefront of everything, all at once. maybe you say something funny that makes him do his little evil smile or ask him a question and really listen to what he's saying with big beautiful eyes or you wave at him as you pass each other in the hall and kirishima is with him and then turns to him, grinning so fucking wide, and he's like "bro....why're they smiling at you like that ?? 😏😏😏" and that has bakugou thinking to himself.....oh shit........are they smiling at me like that ??? and then he's so totally gutted by the fact that—he wants you. oh man, he wants you so bad. and i've said this before but i think because he tries to fight that feeling for so long, once he finally accepts it, he's like full speed ahead. he opens that door and it's like the floodgates, the dam has broken, he's neck deep the minute he stepped over.

and i really think bakugou's attraction to someone—like his deep, genuine, heart-achy kind of attraction to someone—is based on who you are, and so the more time he spends with you and the more he thinks about you and the more he gets to know you, it just builds and builds and builds LOL and then that sexual attraction comes bull-dozing in, i think. and i love to talk about this but he thinks he's so not a meat-head that thinks with his dick but he definitely catches himself checking you out and is SO MAD LMAOOO

he's also such a—make a plan, make it happen kind of person, so once he decides he can't stand doing nothing, he's trying to figure out how to make you his. and in trying to plan that out, he's going through scenario after scenario, thinking about what differently he could do when he sees you and how you'll respond, imagining it late at night, dreaming about what you'd say and what you'd do.....what that would lead to, eventually AND HE FEELS LIKE SUCH A PERV LMAOOO he's such a dork

god i literally could go on and on about this forever you don't understand akdhfjskkq this is one of my favorite scenarios for him it's just my default thinking state this point LOL hiiiii friend !!! tysm for asking !!! 😌🩷✨️

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for reporting my neighbor to the police and getting him evicted for trying to poison my chickens?

I know that question sounds insane but bare with me. I (F30) live next to my landlord (F60s?) and my neighbor (M30s). I have 3 hens that I keep as pets and for fresh eggs.

I have my landlords written permission and follow all city ordinances (so no roosters, no more than 6 hens, built the coop away from houses, have a permit from the city, etc.)

They are in my yard in a fenced in run with a coop. I made sure to get a breed that's very quiet and docile so as not to bother neighbors, but whenever new people move in, I still go introduce myself, let them know I have hens, and then ask them if they want fresh eggs.

When I asked my new neighbor, he looked disgusted and said "I don't want shit from dirty ass barn animals"

Uh, okay. I told him that I was sorry for bothering him and to have a good day. He said "Whatever" and then closed the door.

A week later, I get a knock on my front door and open it. It's someone who works for animal control telling me that they've received a noise complaint.

At first I thought it was for my dog, who's a chihuahua mix, because he was barking VERY loudly at a squirrel the other day. Nope, it was the chickens. The guy said that someone reported roosters crowing.

I do not have roosters. My chickens are 2 years old so I'm 100% sure that they're hens and not roosters.

I invite him in, take him into the yard, and show him the chickens. I show him where their coop is, show him that I keep all of their food in secure containers to prevent mice and rats, I show him my license number, etc. At this point he's confused, because my chickens are very quiet and I clearly have no roosters.

Every time I saw the neighbor, he was usually hanging out with friends, and as soon as he noticed me he would immediately start complaining about my chickens. Talking about how barn animals are nasty, chickens are loud and stinky and gross, how they're only good for eating, etc. Basically the usual "You have prey animals as pets so I'm going to joke about killing and eating them".

I ignored him, and whenever I did see him I would smile and say hello, ask how he's doing, etc. which he ignored.

One morning I came out into my yard to let the hens out for the day, and saw something in their run. At first I thought it was some kind of weird, fucked up mushroom, but I looked closer and realized it was a piece of bread that was a bluish green color.

I looked up, because my chickens run is fenced in and covered in aviary netting, and realized that there was a huge cut in the netting. I went back inside, grabbed a plastic ziploc bag and gloves, put the bread in it, and then got a shovel to dig out the dirt that the bread was sitting on just in case.

I wasn't sure where to go, so I took it to my vet and showed one of the vet techs. He looked concerned, asked if any pets ate it, and then took it back to show one of the vets.

He came back out and told me that it looked like it had been covered in rat poison, and I told him that the aviary netting was cut, and this was in my yard. He told me to go to the police and make a report because it was 100% someone intentionally trying to poison my chickens/dog.

Before doing that, I went home, and checked my cameras. I have them up in the corner of the birds run facing their coop, so that if anything ever happened to them (we have lots of raccoons) I would be able to see.

I saw my neighbor climb up (I'm assuming on a step ladder), use a knife to cut the netting, and throw the bread into the yard. I took the video and piece of bread to the police, and filed a report.

I told them yes, I know, it's just chickens, but they're my pets and I also have a dog that could have eaten it (he goes into the coops with me). I love my chickens, all of them have names and I take them to a vet if they ever get sick, so to me they're more than livestock.

Cops are useless and I figured they wouldn't do anything, so I also told my landlord about it. I showed her a copy of the video that I saved, and she was horrified and told me she would take care of it immediately.

I'm not sure if the cops ever did their jobs, but he was gone a week later. My landlord apologized profusely for the trouble and I said it was fine, she had no way of knowing.

I thought I was justified in what I did, since I literally caught this guy on camera throwing poison into my yard for my pets to eat (and then slowly die of internal bleeding).

But I mentioned it to an IRL friend (F28) through text (she's out of town) and she was FURIOUS. She asked me wtf I was doing, ACAB, etc. and basically said "Isn't your neighbor black? How would you have felt if the cops showed up and shot him over some stupid birds?"

I told her that I went to the cops because my vet told me to, and just because he's black doesn't give him an excuse to poison peoples animals for no fucking reason.

I also reminded her that the cops in our town are useless and since no animals were actually poisoned, they probably wouldn't even get off their asses to go talk to him.

For context: One time someone got HIT BY A CAR 10 minutes away from the police station. It took them 20 minutes to get there.

She told me I was a racist bootlicker and a cracker... She's white and I'm mixed race (my dad is Colombian) so like... lol. lmao even.

[cryingpariah]

Loki the accursed princes hates all of Elbaf and all of Elbaf hates him in return.

Well... almost everyone. And I'm not just talking about Mosa.

He hasn't laid eyes on anything in six years, but he can pick up on haki traces with the precision of a bloodhound. This presence doesn't feel like a giant. He's also not sensing any malicious intent. That's her mistake then.

"Old lady! You've chosen a bad place to totter around in your senility. I may not be able to kill you myself, but you won't survive the beasts who roam the Underworld"

"Do you mean your animal friends who I saw on my way over? It's kind of you to worry, but I gave them some bread and corn earlier and they seemed quite content with that."

How DARE she call him kind?! And how could she have possibly tamed his friends so easily?

"You must think yourself very clever. Clearly you're a stranger to this island, else you would not be so flippant when addressing me"

"I know who you are, your highness. But you are right about me being new to this country. As such, I wanted to offer you this"

He can hear her place something on a nearby rock. That smell... no, it couldn't. How the hell could she possibly know...?!

"Am I right to assume you're still fond of herring and pumpkin pie? Honestly, trying to get that out of the other giants was like pulling walrus teeth"

"So is that your game, then? You play the part of a charitable holy mother and present me treats laced with poison?" He grins his usual shark grin "How diabolical! That's something I should have thought up in my youth when pranking those gullible giants!"

"Dear, I respect my cooking far too much to ever spoil it with something as ridiculous as poison. I just figured that it's been too long since you've had a proper meal. Scavenged meat and fruits are all well and good, but variety does a body better in the long run."

His smile wanes.

"If you think it's that simple to win over a god, you are sorely mistaken. Don't think your alms will spare you once I break free! At best, you will not be the first crushed under my boot as I rain down hell upon this world!"

"Well," she says in a tone of voice somewhere between self-satisfied and blunt "At least we're making some progress. I won't tell you to finish your meal right away, but you should probably tuck in before the birds get to it. See you tomorrow, Prince Loki. I'll see if I can bring you some quilts for your legs"

"Tomorrow? You presume to treat venturing into the Underworld like a walk in the park?? You treat a god like he's nothing more than a squirrel to feed peanuts to???? Hey! I'm talking to you, you old bat!"

Soon all he's left with is the howling wind and his own furious thoughts.

Who did that.... human (?) think she was?

Although...

The pie did smell quite good.

(Urpi not believing the rhetoric about Loki being wicked from birth because she's already seen that shit before with the World Government and becomes his secret grandma)

As that old lady promised, she was back the next day with quilts. He had sternly instructed his beasts to tear her limb from limb and yet she returned very unharmed. How…intriguing.

“Hello again Dear Prince.”

“I am no one’s dear ANYTHING! I can't tell if you’re just a stubborn old fool or have a death wish! Returning after you were cast out by royalty!”

The impertinent woman didn’t respond, just simply began placing soft fur after soft fur upon him.

“Tell me, how did you get past my beasts this time? They were to destroy you.”

“Is that what they were doing? I don’t feel very destroyed right now Your Highness.”

Loki grits his teeth. Who did this lady think she is? She shouldn’t be able to walk so brazenly into the Underworld, she shouldn’t be able to converse with him so easily and she ESPECIALLY shouldn’t be so good at cooking!!

“Did you enjoy the meal from yesterday?”

“HAH! Your paltry offering barely made the cut to be eaten by a beggar! You’re quite full of yourself indeed if you think it would satisfy me!”

“The plates you licked clean seem to state otherwise, dear prince.”

When was the last time someone said something like that to him? He couldn’t remember the last time someone had managed to make him flush with embarrassment. In all honesty he couldn’t remember the first.

“But if that’s truly how you feel, I shall give today's portion to someone else.”

“Well let’s not be too hasty..”

He could feel her lips turn up higher. “Are you certain? We wouldn’t want my beggar quality food to hurt your royal stomach.”

Loki sighed, long and bemoaning. “I was just teasing old woman! The food was excellent.”

This..Whatever she was stopped and placed what he would later come to find out was more herring, fresh baked bread, vegetables and pumpkin pie.

“What did you intend to gain from these acts? I will not grant my favour upon you.”

“I do not ask for any favour.”

“You will be cast out from the other foolish giants.”

“I cannot control how they feel or act.”

“You…Is this just old mortal sentimentality? Is that what this is?”

“Partly yes you are right. It wouldn’t sit right with my soul to leave the young to their own devices.”

“I am centuries older than you but you are wise to see my form knows no age.”

She chuckled. He..got this mysterious someone to laugh? How…unexpected.

“In any case Prince Loki my reasoning is of no concern. Let’s just say..I don’t believe this unless I see it for myself.”

She walked off for real this time, flippantly calling over her shoulder that she’d return soon. Loki decided in that moment that he’d let this woman dote on him, it was how he should be treated to begin with after all! Plus she was full of her own secrets and he had been sorely lacking in entertainment recently…

[gcldfanged]

NAME?: King_Kkeungi, Kkeungi, or Soda- If you've been around for the past 700 years...

PRONOUNS?: He/Him mainly, still trying to get used to They/Them over time. I identify as AFAB Transmasculine, but also very GNC.

MOST ACTIVE MUSES?: Jae (you are here!), also a shitload of others because I am literally insane.

EXPERIENCE/HOW MANY YEARS? Uhh, like back when AOL was still fucking dial-up. Shove that into your calculator, proceed to jaw-drop, and demand 'why would anyone put themselves through that, though'.

FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT?: In order of what I write the most: Angst, Smut, Fluff.

Angst is my bread and butter- We do love the bitter hardships, because a lot of personal growth and the potential for self-reflection.

Smut is usually me having no fucking clue what I'm doing, other than trying NOT to sound totally BORING for my poor writing partner.

Fluff is something that I normally get bored by, but I'm starting to appreciate more moments of Fluff and Domestic/Slice of Life content thanks to Oni?

I think the reason why the 'Second Chances' AU hits so differently is because our muses both didn't really experience a 'normal' upbringing nor childhood, so they're super motivated to allow this poor clone to just BE A CHILD and ENJOY LIFE and DEVELOP HIS OWN PERSONALITY. So, all of these seemingly minor and 'every day' occurrences and family-centered events aren't even things that Sephiroth and Jae-hyo have experienced in the past, like ever. And it's so far from perfect- They have no idea what they're doing, they both are better at killing people and being walking weapons than being like, emotionally attuned to a fearful child in a completely foreign environment. They're learning a ton of practical things, but they're also learning more about each other as individuals on an emotional level, which is really important development for them.

Anyway- Any of these three thread types can work for me, but obviously I am super into plotting and long-term exploration of our inter-muse dynamics!

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES?: It honestly depends on how my muse responds to my partner's replies- But I tend to go overboard and focus way too much on introspection that my poor mutuals can't even respond to in-character... so I'm trying to work on that!

PET PEEVES?:

Being a jerk about tagging- It takes like 2 seconds? Even if I DON'T think my mutuals might be triggered, I still tag heavy subjects out of common courtesy. I don't need some random internet troll telling me I'm a 'widdle babey who can't handle real fucking life!11' just because they hate mentally ill people and are lazy. I have survived so much 'real life' shit that they would struggle handling like an adult?

Rules pages that are rude and worded super aggressively. Chill out. We've all had bad experiences, I don't turn around and decide to be a literal asshole to complete strangers who are simply interested in my writing.

Vagueing and Passive-Aggressive behavior. You don't like smut? Blacklist the tag for people's NSFW content. Making a post in public and outright shaming people who are supposed to be your friends just because you personally aren't comfortable with sexual topics is way out of line. Also, we've all been browbeaten into ONLY posting smut on Sunday for ya'll, what more do you want to enforce on other people's blogs?

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE?: All of my muses have some facet of their personalities that I generally base off of my personal experiences, but also I try to build each muse up with a strong sense of realism and do a ton of scholarly research in areas that I feel I am NOT well versed in.

Jae is probably the most... emotionally personal muse I have simply because I am actively exploring very serious and heavy themes with him that I myself have survived/been a victim of, in the past. It's a safe way for me to kind of explore said events in a more objective and rational fashion, rather than rehashing specific memories that can be extremely upsetting and makes trying to be kinder to myself incredibly difficult.

He is not a self-insert, though (not that I personally see anything wrong with self-inserts in fics or 'fan-geared content', but I also do not think it's a good nor healthy idea to roleplay yourself in an RPC). He's a character that was first birthed out of spite towards someone on my dashboard (via my Genesis blog) who was complaining about 'overpowered OCs' and claiming that there are 'too many SOLDIER OCs' and that the 'few Turk OCs are all lame yakuza wannabees and they suck'. Like, what fucking game did you play, fool? I swear to God, being exposed to all these cold-ass, rancid fucking takes from the general fandom side of the community has really soured my experience in the RPC as a whole.

TIME TO WRITE?: Morning is usually better for me, right after my medication kicks in. But it's also dependent on who I am talking to and how excited we both are for the threads/plotting.

TAGGED BY: @stupidiinspades/ @endlcssdreamiing / @endlcssdesiire TAGGING: @nightiingaled, @sadistpet, @inspiirefear, @wayan9an, @bukkuobujiendo, @serandipity, @agloryofuniicorns, @ilbound, @tredispade, @annjiru

[tobiasdrake]

I expected to be dead by now and that locked door is starting to make me curious. So I guess I'll just go jump on a timedrop.

Using made-up words for an openphrase is a pretty good idea, but I've been told it's best to include numbers and symbols too. Have you considered "stostorage roomoom five ampersand"?

See, that's why you should always change your openphrase away from the default. Now malefactors of unclear intent have complete access to this person's shed. I could be stealing their personal information to sell to the shoshop keepeeper right now and they'd have no idea.

But I'm not that wicked, so I'll just take whatever this is instead.

Length implies value. This seems more than valuable enough to burgle. I will take this and be on my way.

Let's see, what else do I want to do in town? Oh, right. The flower.

First time, I panicked, flung it at Mira for being a great team leader, and fled for my life.

Second time, I tried to use it to bury the hatchet with Bonnie and only succeeded in weirding them out and making things awkward.

This time. This time, I have a plan. I'm going to pry Isa's secret love confession out of him. Right in front of the Favor Tree. Where my Lemonfriend is stalking me. Hm.

...

CAUTION TO THE WIND!

Oh my god he's so goddamn precious

Yeah. I didn't spoil my appetite with pain du chocolat this time so I was ravenous and prepared!

Then I got up to refill my drink and suddenly I hear a sickening CRRRKKK and then the goddamn bread was broken in half. How!? How do you people always know that I'm watching for that!? Which one of you is temporally screwing with me!?

I feel like I'm losing my mind. This is literally worse than dying. I will find you, Breadripper.

But I gave you a pretty flower and everything. Come on, man. Find your nerve!

*sigh* I'm going back to sleep. Enjoy your face pillow.

Good night, Isa.

That feels like it's going to be important to remember for later. Typically, if trying to read it causes physical pain, it's probably some sort of horrifying eldritch text from beyond time and space. Which usually means it's definitely worth the effort to figure out how to read it! It might hold the secret to unlimited happiness.

It means a person of slim characterization and very limited expressiveness, designed to allow the audience to easily project themselves.

Our reality's principle form of violence is playing Rock-Paper-Scissors. What are you even supposed to do with a spear?

...I mean. I guess I have this knife I use to form Scissors. Mira's got a rapier for the same purpose. Isa gets Rock out of his punching gloves while Madame Odile's Tome makes Paper.

Not sure how Mirabelle's doing Paper attacks with a sword, though. That's kind of weird. Mira, where are you getting the Paper from? Do you have a motivational brochure for the Change religion as a sidearm?

Oh my god she uses a rapier.

Mira's weapon is a blade made from thin folded steel. That's where the Paper comes from. That's genius. Mira, you're a goddamn genius.

Okay. I get it now. I understand how weaponcraft in our world of Jankenpon Combat works. So yes, this spear would be a Scissors weapon. But since it's a spear, you could also use it as a bo staff. Would it then qualify as Scissors/Rock?

Hmm....

I appreciate your pragmatism. Contextually speaking, in times of crisis, it's not stealing. It's requisitioning.

Now let's requisition whatever isn't nailed down.

Oh shit, that's the traditional Rider-Waite Eight of Pentacles.

The Pentacles sign typically pertains to commerce, labor, and material affairs. This particular card usually symbolizes slow and steady skill progression at a menial craft. The man depicted is practicing his trade, carrying out the repetitive but necessary task of crafting his wares - and in so doing, developing his skill and becoming more capable in the production of his craft.

It's not hard to see the relationship between this card and the timey-wimey mission we're on right now.

There it is. We've found the key with diagnosed and well understood gender dysphoria.

Just because the egg has cracked, that doesn't mean this key is necessarily comfortable with announcing itself yet. Cracking the egg and coming out are very different experiences. If the key doesn't feel safe or ready to do the latter then it's fine for it to remain in the drawer for however long it needs.

...

Or it would be fine except we need to unlock a door. So. Uh. We'll just ignore that for the purposes of the metaphor.

Do not force people out of their closet even if the world is in danger.

[colorfullyminded]

Here's your excuse to rant about pinescone

Okay-- Okay, this is so ahhh. It's silly but listen!

I was playing Horrified with my family, and I love board games-- so i can totally imagine Dipper and Wirt being into board games-- and Dipper is always pulling out this gameTrying to be all charming and cute and like "Wirttttt- let's play this one" And Wirt usually doesn't mind, but just Dipper being so into this game even though he's probably actually met some of these in real life monsters himself. Though sometimes Wirt fights him on which game to play-- and it's not like in a "No, I'm tired of playing this game Dipper, I wanna play something else" The reason he fights Dipper over this game is because he wants to play this version (the original version)

Because horror movie monsters and book related monsters are Wirt's bread and butter so these two are arguing over which version to play until the next game comes out

And both of them just kind of look at each other like >.> <.< It's the best of both worlds! ....though they do still argue over which version to play sometimes, though if they can't compromise-- Greek Monsters usually is the happy medium and it's a coop game so they're working together and trying different strats, and when they win they get all dorky, and sappy, and mushy (Board games surpisingly bring out a lot of passion)

Anyway, I needed to ramble a little because I have all three games XD

And it's very fun, and this feels so much like Dipper and Wirt's cup of tea and I love the concept of them playing board games together cause you know they do DDMD. Lately, when I've been playing games, I start imagining how Dipper or Wirt would exist in the world-- or what character would they play as-- what weapons/style/class would they pick. Im playing Elden Ring right now with the though of making two separate files that would be based on Wirt and Dipper. Like I just love these two nerds playing games together-- board games or video games. They each have their own favorite genres that the other doesn't like-- but they also do have a lot of similar taste; and sometimes they'll play something their partner really likes because they love their boyfriend and want to make each other happy! They love each other so much! I'm so fucking feral for this goddamn crossover ship--why?! XD

((...That doesn't mean they can't be little shits though.

Lol, imagining Dipper not putting out for Wirt after because they didn't play the one Horrified he wanted to instead, like the little petty bitch he is Wirt: But we won, we always celebrate after a win Dipper: Yeah I know-- I just--- I don't know. I would have felt more excited if we had been stopping Bigfoot-- Wirt is, of course, not going to let his brat get away with this. ))

Anyway, I just-- valentine's day made me want to write more ideas of them playing games together, but I don't know how fun it would be to write characters playing this board/video game in a fic. So to the headcanon pile they go. If I could draw, it probably be easier to draw little sketches of them in the world of the game/their character designs. There are so many dumb little things I think about on a daily with these two.

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

Not a hot take but i am curious on your further thoughts about the business side of things. Idk that post you reblogged yesterday about paul calling john to provide indemnity only to be cussed out and told to fuck off when john had already been on the record asking for indemnity. It really felt like Paul could never win, sort of damned if you do, damned if you don’t. And sure, one could say oh well, but he really did care about John and what John thought of him. I really think it tore him up not being able to patch these things up with him. And I think the saddest part is we know from Paul’s pov that this did tear him up, these arguments always left him feeeling hurt, but we’ll never really know, and more importantly, paul will never truly know how John felt about him. I mean yes, he was told by yoko after the fact, but not having the actual person tell you, I’m sure it haunted him for some time. And just in terms of the way he died, I’m sure all the guilt rose up and Paul went straight to all the times John accused him of things. what john thought about Paul really affected him, because he cared so much about what he thought. he and Linda has said as much before.

:/ Yeah.

I find it hard to talk too in depth about the business side of it because I really don't feel I understand it enough to have a clarity on what exactly John's thought process was. I'm wondering if maybe Paul was wrong to still try to go through John though, when my understanding is Yoko was managing John's money. I see why Paul would prefer talking to John, but perhaps that was an extra source of misscommunications?

That's not to say I don't think John lost his shit in a way that was inherently not fair to Paul, but IDK, the quote also doesn't make it clear to me what exactly the source of the conflict was. Probably John's propensity to paranoia didn't help, because Paul may have misunderstood something which John then took as Paul trying to trick him. The whole Klein thing might have left John feeling cheated, like maybe in hindsight he was (probably not really justifiably) resentful towards Paul for not making John understand what the issue with Klein was.

But yes, the most striking thing about that description is Paul saying he was shaking for an hour after the call… He really did still care so much and I feel so terrible for him that he had to lose John before they could fully reconcile again.

He's also often talked about how their calls were good as long as they didn't venture into business talk and he usually frames this in a positive way – and to be clear, I really do not want to deny Paul the joy of his bread and babies calls, I think those are actually generally underrated by the fandom cause they're kind of boring… but cooking and child reering is exactly the type of things people in John and Paul's stage of life enjoy talking about? Like it's really not cold or weird, it's just life – but that also must have been.... really unstable-feeling? If there was this dangerous topic always hanging over them like a damocles sword.

:(

[dollsonmain]

So, yesterday (long rambly)

it was about 14F when it was time to go to work and school was on another snow day so I didn't need to make sure Son got up (if That Guy would get him a phone I could just text him to be sure he's awake and then I could get to the store earlier in the morning), and I had the key since I was opening on my own this past week up to Friday, so That Guy drove me to work on his way in.

That meant I got there at 4:30 which is an hour early. I putzed around for about a half-hour doing various work, making what few sandwiches I could, open the store at 5, go back to sandwiches and about 15 minutes later hear the door open. Whomever opened the door just kind of stopped right inside.

I didn't think much of it because that happens, especially when it's really cold. People get in and just stop when the warm air hits.

After a little bit Manager wanders around the side of the sandwich case, looks at me, and sleepily goes "Why are you heeereeeeee????" while rubbing her eyes. I just kind of laughed and explained why I was there so early. It must have been alarming to arrive to the store being open when she expected to be the first one in. I didn't really think about that.

Then she started trying to get caught up on stuff she'd missed during the week.

It was very mild and low-problem all week. Both the two afternoon/evening employees (why do they get to work together and I have to work alone which means I have to rush to the bathroom when I get a gap in customers then get reprimanded if they end up standing at the counter for a bit until I get back?) and I were very, very bored all week.

Deliveries and sales reps were delayed by the road conditions, very few customers came in Mon - Wed until the roads started clearing up a bit Wed afternoon, deliveries came in all at once when things did clear up a bit but were lighter than usual because it's been slow so less was ordered, we had checks to pay people with which reduces issues by a lot, etc.

It was SO slow Mon - Wed and I was getting there before opening because That Guy was driving me and wanted to leave early so he could go very, very slow on the ice that I was able to do some rearranging of storage areas. I didn't get to the freezer and that sucks, but it's not like I could have gotten rid of stuff out of there, and it's so frosted over that there's a lot of space lost. I did rearrange the deli stuff in the cooler so I could actually see what we have and what we need in there, though I doubt it'll stay arranged.

It's a logical but unlabeled arrangement where I put all the expired stuff on the top shelf (it's overflowing...), bread is stacked neatly by type and purged for expired items, cheese is kind of jumbled but all in the same place, stuff that's not supposed to be in there because it's supposed to be frozen but there's no room in the freezer because it's full of random shit and ice walls was in the same place but turned out some of it had gone moldy so I had to move it to the top shelf, meats that need sliced in-house all together [but also some expired so I got rid of it but I bet you I'll come in Monday and the expired turkey will have been sliced and put in the deli fridge because that keeps happening to expired stuff I get rid of...].

There's a lot of random other stuff in there, too, like some chocolate chip something or another that says "keep frozen" and strawberry pastry of some sort that's been in there for MONTHS so probably way expired and...

Still want her to let me loose to set up a good inventory.

Either way, if I sit and think about that I'll get in a thought-spiral of trying to figure it out with heavy frustration that I can't actually fix the problem.

I already mentioned she tried to blame me for us not having bread, lunch meat, or sandwich goop and her forgetting about changing gas prices in the early morning to a "sale" price from 5 to 8 am, but I'm not fussed about it because that's not my job, it's hers. My job is "cashier".

At the same time some of our inventory and storage issues could be helped by teaching me the paperwork process for purging expired goods. Like, there's a whole box in the cooler on that top shelf filled with sandwiches that expired over the past week PLUS the ones from the week before because she didn't deal with them. That's usually the case. They stay in the top of a mini-fridge (not exactly this one and there are no pans installed but very similar, I think this is a newer model)

and I'm also supposed to keep things in there like expired lunchables and little packets of cheese when they go bad so it gets very full and that's frustrating.

There shouldn't BE a shelf of expired stuff in the cooler, but in addition to that shelf there are milk crates of random expired and damaged stuff that can't be sold that have been in there since I started working there in August, and more expired boxes of random things on the shelves where the deli stuff goes, and bins and bins of expired candy and food that I pulled from the other shelves just sitting around, taking up floor space.

Eughghg I was trying to NOT let myself get started but I did it anyway...

Anyway, post over, last week was hectic and physically exhausting. My shoulder is popping in and out after all of the shoveling, mopping, and carrying of very heavy bins all week and I'm just

I'm so tired, I wish I was still asleep. Woke up at 2am for some reason.

[popawritter12]

Yantober: Third Day

-

"If the only way you will love is by making you crazy, then i'm gonna do it, darling"

There are traces of spit in the kitchen.

I never knew how to explain to my friends, or rather how to make people understand that I have never left spit in my house or in anyone's house, and I even doubted rats were capable of leaving such levels of that shit on the table, on the furniture, on the kitchen, or anywhere in the house. It was extremely stressful to explain to people that I found it inhumane to live in such depraved conditions.

It seemed so disgusting to me that more than once I hesitated to buy a gun, a camera, something to help me and my anger always increased when I stepped on it or touched it by accident.

It was so disgusting that I did not last even a month living with those levels of unknown saliva in my house. I thought about moving out of the house, and a few weeks later, I did it. For the first time in three years this person ---or whoever it is--- had managed to do what I never thought was possible; Took me out of my comfort zone, took me out of MY house to sent me to any place in the world, and for the sole reason that there was always spit in the kitchen, and I find so annoying to always find that horrible liquid in my food, in my forgotten breads or in my juice jugs ---and without going any further my bottle of water---, or even the tiny remains that I left on the table during the nights that I snacked on something or simply forgot to put it away properly.

But even in the new house, a few hours after arriving, where I realized that I had even more space than I ever had in my old apartment, or in my life in general, I always find the same traces of dirty and smelly spit on my bread; traces of slime on my table; traces of spit on my clothes; traces of spit on my furniture; any place that is part of my house in general since more than once I have had the misfortune of finding that viscous liquid.

I usually wouldn't complain if it were small remains, if it were a little more tiny, even if I could identify the causer of this the rats or any other rodent that decided to invade my home. But it bothers me even more to know that it was a person, or that it was some stranger who is obsessed with breaking into my house, eating my food and leaving as if nothing mattered, as if this were his house and not mine, not that of a poor man who only wants to stay on his feet in such a disastrous economy.

I started putting out rat traps, I also used that glue trap that my mom used to cockroaches invasor or I even bought different sprays to keep them at bay, but after a while the traps kept staying in the same place, unused; as if they were a modest decoration, just any one. And more than once I found them organized in different places; As if that person or strange entity was mocking all the effort I had made, all the money I spent to try to cope with this complicated situation, each and every one of my efforts.

I knew at that moment that I was doomed, doomed to live in this miserable house always full of other people's drool, doomed to have some kind of monster stalking me or a very mentally ill human who only wants to delight in my suffering, that is because anyone who knows me would know how difficult it is for me to deal with the issue of wasted food, or even worse; dirty places.

I was ---without a doubt--- an idiot who did not know how to organize or put things away after using or buying them, but I have never committed such a sin of not putting the ingredients away properly inside each bag ---although the only exception to this is nighttime meals---. No! My mother didn't raise me with so much effort to teach me the minimum basic notion about life, so that this stranger comes along and wants to change everything, leaving his disgusting drool behind.

And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, one day I woke up with that viscous liquid on my neck; it wasn't a droplet, or a mark that was dry, but it was accompanied by an unevenness in my skin; I was bitten, and the same traces of saliva were enough proof to know that, indeed, this person or entity seems to know perfectly well what they are doing to me.

I can't stop shaking; I drag my fingers along the already wounded skin, with a certain burning sensation escaping from my neck with each caress from my fingers, whose trace seems to always start and stop in the same place. I still don't understand what to do.

I feel my own words stuck deep in my throat, drowned, tied by the thread of fear, which so possesses my body, and which leaves so much horror on my skin.

But soon I had to go back to work, and the questions were accompanied by a mischievous look, passive jokes that caused a laugh or two among my colleagues, and a feeling of loneliness that embitters my heart.

I press each key of the keyboard with the same ease that it feels, but I can feel my mind going on.

Immersed in this field of terror, full of desolation, and with subtle clues that I refuse to even see or feel under my bare feet. The caresses of the grass have the opposite effect on my mind, and at the same time that I could feel dead in life, my head leaned subtly forward, trying to find a space to continue writing, to finish the report of the day.

And I fall, I fall against the keyboard, I fall into my imagination again. The light was conspicuous by its absence, and the darkness ruins my notion of time. Seconds passed into minutes, and minutes into hours, but I still saw everything completely dark, leaving in front of me only an almost permanent blindness. But my body, even if I am sunk in an imagination corrupted by the constant nightmare of the beast lurking behind the walls, is awake. It was contradictory, but I could understand that thanks to my constant alert to an unwanted attack from that stranger, my own body decided to stay awake, even if my mind was rested.

But it was useless to understand why I could feel everything around me; even if it was the gentle touches on my head from a companion or the feeling of wood against my legs, there was only one feeling that reminded me why this life was hell.

A hot air landed on my light blue shirt, being so heavy that my own body hair stood on end, and at the same time the feeling of my skin and clothes receiving that wind that moved my little beauty and garment was so constant that only that was going to be able to wake me up. Although that would be in a normal situation, and this was not a normal situation.

Soon the hot wind became even heavier, increasing its temperature level in a matter of seconds, going from what resembled a slow and soft inhalation and exhalation to heavy sighs, accompanied by a noise similar to that made by a canine when it's keeping its mouth open. And I felt it; first it was a small drop, then another, followed by a journey of both along the contour of my shirt, generating traces of drops on my clothes. And soon, his breathing felt heavier, closer, and his saliva fell more frequently, now leaving traces indefinitely visible to anyone's eyes.

And they lips collided with my neck, I knew it by the tiny 《muak》 that was deposited on my skin, right on the occipital triangle, and soon it was another, now on the collarbone, and another, and another, and another.

I painstakingly tried to move my body, but the space around my own muscle mass seemed oppressed, forced to stay in the same place, and its mobility was practically impossible. I wouldn't even have the strength to sob, since even the surface of my face was paralyzed.

Everything stopped, their breathing, which seemed more irregular with each unwanted contact, now moved away from me, slowly and surely. I celebrated internally, thinking that, at least for today, I had been saved from this kind of entity trying to somehow taste my skin, as if I were its victim, its prey.

And then, they bit me.

It was sudden, it was painful, and it was a long period of time in which they decided to cling to my skin. They teeth, selectively, clenched and released for several seconds, but without ever letting go of my skin. My own screams, now locked deep in my chest, do not express the discomfort I feel as my muscles were compressed in the same way, and the feeling of mental ambiguity seemed to be stronger, my body had accepted this horrendous fate; to suffer the strong and marked bites of an entity whose name I do not even know.

And I woke up.

A girl had woken me up, and seeing my eyes half open, a nervous grimace formed on her cheekbones, and as she moved her blond hair with the help of her fingers, a small whisper escaped from her lips.

---We have to go, unless you want to make overtime again.

It was a barely audible whisper, and I soon realized that I had indeed fallen asleep at work.

She left, and I was left in that office, still shaking; my legs could barely stand on their own, and my arms tried to find balance with the help of the furniture.

It is not until I notice a previously unknown level of moisture on my neck that I can touch that viscous liquid between my fingers again.

Characters that could be used in this story:

League Of Legends:

-Fiddlesticks.

-Nocturne(?

-Evelynn.

I honestly don't know anymore more, bc this looks like a medium- horror story(??? maybe I was reading too much Lovecraft.

[thornofthelily]

I wanted some writing practice and to break myself out of my rut, so I tried writing an audio RP using one of my old OCs! I doubt anyone will see this random script but if you want to use it, ask first. This is an old dear OC of mine and I'm not sure I'd continue writing his story like this or want to have someone else read him out, but it is a fun exercise. Info and script below the cut!

[M4A / M4M / M4F ] Chatting with a brooding stranger at a bar [Alcohol] [Mysterious past] [More mysterious job] [Tattooed speaker] [Melancholic meetcute]

[Distant thumping music, loud chattering voices. One distinct voice calls out clearly through the din]

Bartender? One beer, please. [Beat] Huh? [Exasperated] I don't know what kind. Just, whatever the cheapest one is. [Beat] Actually, wait, no, scratch that. Get me whichever one doesn't taste like shit. The least shit beer, please. [Barstool scraping, settling down] 

[Quietly, to himself] I mean, they all taste like shit, why bother… [finally, to listener] Oh, hey there. [Beat] What? I mean, yeah it's probably expensive, but it's not like I'm gonna drink that much. I doubt I'll even finish the first bottle. I don't really like beer. Or bars. Or alcohol, really. 

[Beat]

[Soft chuckle] Yeah, pretty bad place for me to be then, I know. It wasn't exactly my choice, but I'm supposed to [massive sarcasm] "have fun", so that's what I'm gonna do. Or at least pretend to do. Mostly for appearances.

[Bottle clicks on the table] Ah, right from the bottle, huh? Cool. [Takes a sip, swallows.] Bleugh. Yeah, no, this one's shit too. Why is all beer so shitty? Tastes like someone blended up old stale bread with some ditch water and artificial flavor then foamed it up for maximum mouth feel horror. [Sound of bottle sliding across the bar] I'll pass. But hey, at least I can say I tried. Went to the bar, had an expensive beer, hated it. Maybe I won't get asked to do this again. 

[Beat] Nah, I'm here alone. [Beat] Friends? I don't - well, I was going to say I don't have friends, which would sound pretty fucking pathetic. How about we say I'm not here with friends right now. [Beat] Actually, no. I'm here because my boss told me to. 

See, I just got this new job. I had my first day a few weeks ago, things were going fine, but Boss said I need to chill out. I'm too uptight, can't relax, I'm not "being a team player." Says I need to go out and mingle, have a few drinks, talk to some people. [Beat. Snorts in contempt] No, she isn't cool. Trust me. She's one of the most terrifying women I think I've ever met. I bet she has someone watching me right now just to see if I did what she asked. 

Seriously. I wouldn't put it past her. It always seems like she knows what I'm going to say before I say it, but she's asking me just to test me, see if I'll fuck up or try to lie. So I'm making the bare minimum effort to do what she asked. I'm sure if I just tried to lie she'd figure me out and… do something about it. Give me a hard time at work or something. 

[Beat]

I can't… ugh, I probably shouldn't tell you what I do. I might have said too much already. [Beat] No, no, it's… it's not like that. What, do I look like some kind of government black ops guy? [Beat] The neck tattoo…? Yeah, what about it? [Beat. Soft chuckle] What, so having a neck tattoo suddenly makes me look like a scary guy? Nah. Trust me, I'm a softie. This is the only tattoo I have. These thorns I have around my neck might look intense, but they're actually rose thorns. 

[Beat]

Where's the rose… heh. Well, it's somewhere I don't usually show people, let's say that. Ah, and no, I will not tell you where. Let a guy have his privacy. 

[Beat]

… what is that you're drinking? Looks cute. Gotta be better than that beer. Mind if I try a sip…?

[Beat. Glass tinkling, small sip. Contemplative hum]

…mmm. Not bad. Too sweet for my liking, but at least I can't taste the alcohol. Maybe I'll have one of those next time. 

[Beat]

[Amused, a little sardonic]… yeah, yeah, next time. Fine, maybe I will head out a little more often. And maybe it's not so terrible, being out in a place like this. Sure, it's too loud and the beer sucks and I can't even smoke in here, but maybe I can try one of these and find more cool people to talk to. [Soft chuckle] Yes, I do mean you. You seem cool. Thanks for the drink, by the way. What was it called again? [Beat] Right. I'll remember that.  

[Beat]

Really? That much? What, is that your way of telling me I need to pay you back for the sip I took? [Soft chuckle] I'm joking. I mean, I would if you asked, even if it is expensive. I kind of like that, actually. Keeps you from drinking too much. Unless you have deep enough pockets not to care, which I don't. 

[Beat] Yeah, why do you think I took the job with that scary woman? Because I have money to burn? No, I'm not… well. Again, I was going to say I'm not desperate, but I guess I kinda was, when I ended up on her doorstep. Now I'm doing stuff I'd rather not be doing, but at least the pay is good and it's not technically illegal. [Beat] Yes, technically. And again, no, I'm not going to tell you what it is. I don't wanna ruin whatever good will keeps you talking to me. It's not illegal and it doesn't hurt anyone, and it will make me good money. It's just… not what I imagined I'd be doing, I guess. 

[Beat]

… I don't know what I'd be doing instead, actually. I've been in survival mode so long, I never considered what I really want. I feel like this is the first breath I've been able to take in years. Even if I'm not totally happy with where I'm at, it's better than where I've been, which is saying something. [Pause] Maybe she was right. Maybe I did need some time out to chill. Maybe I'm not being tested and she was genuinely worried I was burning out already. 

[Laughs] Yeah, no I don't think so. [Beat] It's not that she's mean, she's just fucking intense. I don't think she has ever relaxed a day in her life, so I don't expect she actually wants me too, either. This whole thing, it's probably just something she considers part of my job. So I guess it's fine. [Beat] Yeah, it is. I'm fine with it. If this is all she asks of me, I'm fine with it. 

[Beat]

But I'm not finishing that beer. If she wants me to like beer, she can get over it. You can have it, if you want. [Money, coins and paper, rattle on the table] I've done my job for the night. Thanks for making it a little less miserable. 

[Beat]

… call me Briar. [Beat] No, it's not my real name. [Beat] If you want to think it's a code name, I won't stop you, but that's the name I'm going by now. I'm sure that'll make her happy to know I'm using it. [Beat] Yeah, no, not getting into that, either. 

[Beat] … I have a business card that has my number on it, but I don't think we're there yet. Maybe if you hang around the bar sometimes, I'll catch you next time I'm… "working." [Beat] Yeah. I hope I see you around too. Have a good night. Enjoy your drinks.

[butchdykenormallen]

okay. trying again with hunger games au.

I think 1 small change I'll make is that I dont wanna age everyone down so I'm just gonna say that the hunger games is for adults too lol.

grian lives in district 11 with his slightly younger brother, Jimmy, and his twin sister, Pearl. (I cant decide if they're fraternal twins or identical and Grian is trans)

his parents illegally hunted to keep them all fed and they taught grian and pearl to hunt too. grian now hunts with the family friend Joel, who also hunts for his small family of his own. they've had to hunt more often as of late (around the time of the reaping(the thing of picking the tributes)) because joel has recently gotten married (lizzie cameo!!)

grian himself doesnt find himself very interested in romance (hes very aromantic coded, he only had a small crush on scar when they were kids and he just has other things to focus on, much like katniss) and he doesnt really get it but hes fine with staying out in the woods later with joel if they need more food if he needs it. joel usually gives him the pelts of extra game to sell at the market so it's a good deal. joel, him, and jimmy are kind of a little friend group in the district (bad boys bad boys)

scar is a baker who the bad boys work with on occasion, mostly getting him stuff because he isn't really allowed out of the house much (its parent stuff, they wont let him move out or leave even tho hes an adult but like he just lives with it bcuz the economy n stuff is so bad that if he left to build his own life hed prolly end up on the streets for a long time)

they mostly go to the black market for him for getting like sugar and they help get baking stuff for him in return for lots of bread. this started back when he and grian were young and scar had to throw out burnt bread and his ma hit him and grian found it like a lil feral animal and paid scar back with a dead rabbit (this is based off a scene in the hunger games but tweaked a bit) and they've been trading ever since. grian wouldnt say they were friends but scar is a sweetheart. hes surprised someone could be kind in the world they live in.

anyways jimmy gets chosen as tribute, grian volunteers to replace him, and then scar is chosen. nobody volunteers for him, which breaks both of their hearts a bit.

their mentor is Martyn and their stylist is a man who goes by the name S. Major who grian swears hes met before

training montage, dressup montage, very gay denial scarian montage, and bam. the games start.

I'm not 100% on who the participants in the game will be because I wanna keep a lot of players alive to be other characters, but also I think grian should 100% group with the southlanders. but that means theyd die and. I dont wanna do that. maybe mumbo could die? maybe hes like rue. but... augh... but martyn is like the mentor so he isnt IN the games...

AUGH

this is always what gets me.

okay so blah blah blah, shit happens, scar loses one of his legs and gets all bloodthirsty about it, they almost commit a double suicide, and the game ends.

I think bigb will be kinda like plutarch? idk. I think characters wont fit super properly into the roles (like I kinda want secret soulmate crumbs but also if you think of them as Katniss and plutarch its weirrdd yk???)

and I actually have to go. so signing off. sorry I didn't finish once more.

once again savign this in my pocket for later touare so coool and i love you. i love when you infodump at me you are awesme

[thetinylittlespider]

Tearing Up: Season 1

Chapter 9: Curiosity at rescue

CW: Mature language, dehumanization.

A.N: Finally we got into the good part! Not gonna give details ofc, but the worst has finally passed. UwU

For now...

The night at the city was something that I've never looked forward to. But during the rain, the whole idea of walking aimlessly was a bit more attractive. People usually stayed at home, and the authorities let their guard down since there was no people to threat or scare. A perfect time to focus on myself without worrying about anything.

That...would've been the case this night...If it were not for what I found. Something that made me stop like if my feet were stuck to the concrete of the ground. It laid there, motionless, but still breathing...

ーWhat th-...What are you?ー I was completely frozen...Never in my life have I ever seen something so...Small.

"Way to end the end the night, Emma..."

I've heard about fairies before, they went extinct a few years ago, when the hunt for magic by the government got increased. But the more I looked into the creature, the less it looked like a fairy, it had no wings.

I crouched to get a better look of it, it was wearing a full bodysuit, it was orange like those of a prisoner. But how is it possible that a prisoner can be stored this small? I have no idea. The body of the creature was mostly covered in mud, and its hair was a mess. Along with some traces of...Blood? Of his own perhaps?

Before doing anything else, I reach my hand to the little figure on the pavement, and poked him with my index finger, just to pull my entire hand away in a second...I just wanted to test if it was dangerous, if it attacked me in response. But it only gasped for air once more as the water level increased thanks to the rain. It was too tired to even move anymore...Poor thing.

I scooped it up from that little puddle, carrying it carefully between my hands. Where its cold body remained unresponsive, but the tiny movements on its chest was enough to confirm it still had a pulse. Gosh...I didn't knew what was this, or how such a thing found itself on such state, how did it managed to come all this way here? Why come out?

Questions with no answer, if I called the authorities, it was likely that they would start experiments or outright kill the creature...I knew. Maybe the best idea...for the moment, would ve taking it home, see if it recovers. Yeah...That sounds way better...

3 hours later...

I placed the creature over the nighstand in my bedroom, I was not sure of what kind of food this thing liked...so a piece of bread and a cap of water would have to do the trick...if it wakes up that is. For the moment, cleaning the body a little bit was the best I could do, at least I got rid of the mud covering half of its face...Heh, with a better look, the tiny creature was actually cute, like a little sleeping beauty. Unfortunately, this state was probably produced by everything but something nice.

Shit...What if it panics? Should I place something on top of it? A cup? Maybe use tape on the torso? I didn't thought about this well...Damn.

And before I could manage to find a way, or an object to prevent any rash attempts to escape, the tiny figure opened its eyes, I could see the little head of the creature moving, looking around, scanning the entire room with confusion and then, eyes widening...Not making a move...

ーH-Hey!ー I said while lifting a hand in a friendly manner...it remains in silence. ーJust...don't move, I'm not sure if you are hurt or...ー It darted out of the nighstand...it just rushed towards an edge and jumped off. Was I actually that frightening!?

Regardless of that I couldn't let that thing get away and get hurt! Not that it was actually a way out, both my door and windows were closed, so I just had to catch it before an accident happens...

ーAre you trying to get yourself killed!?ー I said almost jumping towards the side of the nighstand...hands ready to safe the creature from falling...but it never touched my palms...it was sticking to the side of the nightstand...his back and palms firmly touching the wood. Scared...Chest moving fast due to quick breathing, and watery eyes holding back tears of despair...

"Please...D-Dont hurt me, I'll go back to the cage j-just don't shoot me!."

I was out of words...it could actually talk...and, begged for mercy? Cage? Shooting!?

Just what did I just found out there? Or...now that it seems to have a brain...Who?

ーI'm not going to hurt you...You fainted on the street, and I tried to take care of you.ー I said softly, slowly getting closer, trying to position myself in a way that could be easy to catch him now that he stayed stick to the nightstand. How could he do it? Another question for when the moment calls for calm.

He seemed nervous, he locked his eyes on me, desperate, confused, his face alone told me that for him it was strange that someone could show some type of nice gesture, such as helping. If he was not human, then what were his views on humanity? Who were trying to hurt him? Or..."cage"...he got imprisoned, at least once.

ーC-care?ー He said for a second, before moving a hand and pressing on his stomach...His face shifted to that one of slight annoyance. Was he...ーH-Hungry...ー

Yeah...Exactly what I expected.

ーI have some bread...on the top of the nightstand, water too...Ehm, so, you might wanna go up...Could you let me just...ー He gave me a confused look again, but this time after I mentioned the bread...He even tilted his head a little bit, as he didn't knew what it was. Of course another thing I should've expected...

When he started crawling on the wood structure, he kept facing me, like if I was ready to try something against him... but it fascinated me the ease in which he moved...Did he had some sort of sticky body? I doubted it, or else I would've felt it when I brought him home. He also didn't seem to have claws...He seemed pretty much human in my eyes, just...a little, tiny human.

My excitement to ask what he was exactly came to a stop as soon as he grunted, apparently the hunger was getting to him, he lost his grip and slipped the wooden structure. We both released a little yelp at the moment, my heart almost fearing a fall like that could hurt him...So I placed my open palm below him, quickly preventing him from spending more time on a free fall.

ーWoah! A-are you okay there buddy?ー Besides a fast and intense breathing, along with a shaky body that laid its back on the palm of my hand...He didn't seemed to be hurt in any way by the fall, and for that I gave a sigh of relief. At least he didn't try and jump off again.

It was weird...when I carried him for the first time he was motionless, unconscious...Now, he was breathing, shaking...Placing his little hands on my palms, and I could sense every single and minuscule movement on them...It gave me little tickles, but this was the worst time to overreact to those things...last thing I wanted to do was scare him more.

Slowly, I stood up, and I gently rested the hand were I carried him over the top of the nightstand again. Waiting for him to move towards the food. But his little body remained on my palm.

ーIs that...Bread?ー He asked curious, pointing a the piece of bread that I left for him and looking up to me, I just gave him a smile and a nod to answer...And that was enough confirmation for him to run towards the food, smell it like a wild animal...and then give it a bite, that turned into multiple. He did look like he was starving for a while.

It took him a few minutes to eat the whole piece of bread, little bites that began as quick and chaotic as those of a piranha now got order, became slower, and he seemed more composed by the time. I did also managed to see some sharp teeth while he had some bites...Those were fangs, similar to those of a vampire...

ーThank you...Sorry I was...Jumpy earlier. I just...It's been a rough month.ー He said while taking in a deep breath, he seemed far more agile with his words too. And to be completely honest, it was better than having him talk like a scared caveman. But ... WOOW ... I did not expect THIS. ーYou are human...aren't you?ー The question seemed a bit obvious, but it wouldn't hurt to answer...And it was also a great chance to present myself! Get to know him and what he was!

ーYeah! I'm a human! My name is Emma Blackwood! I would love to know what ar-I mean, I would love to get to know you!ー I can't believe I almost fucked that up, I picked him up out of curiosity, anomalies are not usual anymore...And our "glorious leader" wants to erase any chance of other anomalous entities existing in his perfect kingdom of concrete and metal. I wasn't about to lose my chance to meet something so fascinating, hand him to the government and let him die! But I also had to remember this thing...this person, was aware of the situations around him...at least for the most part. I could not treat him like an object or a mindless entity.

ーHuh...That's...Interesting.ー That was all? No introduction? Rude! And he just...did he just placed his face on the water cap!? Okay...fair, he is probably thirsty. And for the looks of his messy hair, and the state I found him...Plus the mention of cages, he might have been imprisoned, his clothing also said so. Maybe manners were the last of his concerns.

But I refused to stay there in hopes that he remembers how to introduce himself, I might have to force him a little bit, right? We can call it a "guidance" into regular interactions, and for the looks of it, he needs it.

ーAnd you are?ー I asked with an inviting tone, I had to force the conversation on him...

ーMe?ー Don't point at yourself, of course I mean you! You are the only besides me in the room!

I give him another confirmation nod. He remains quiet for a second as a few tiny drops of water fall from his face.

ーI am number 9.ー Short...Soft spoken. Hurt. Why he had a number instead of a name? ーIs that your name? 9?ー

He looked at me, eyes wide open, shaking again, this time playing with hiw own hands...nervous, for what he may have taken as disappointment.

ーC-Complete designation is KU-M9...ー That was worst...was that a code? If he was an anomaly, and he was captured...why did he required a uniform? Why they didn't kill him? Fuck, more questions.

ーOkay, let's go for something easier...What are you? You are clearly not human...Are you related to fairies?ー Those creatures went exist after being hunted down a few years ago, I would not be surprised if a few handful of them remained alive...

ーNo...sorry...I am no fairy. I-I actually don't know what I amー That sends the fairy theory out of the window...But not even himself knew what he was. If he knew the same as me regarding his nature, we had a problem. ーCould you tell me what happened to you? What were you doing on the streets alone?ー

At least this could lead to somewhere...So far, I had a creature who could climb surfaces like a bug, with no idea of what he was or how did he functioned...And with enough evidence to be looked out for by government authorities.

But...Again, he didn't seem dangerous, he was more scared of me when he woke up than I would ever be of his true nature...Whatever it was. And if humans were the cause of his troubles, I could get why he acted so defensive, his first instinct was escaping, not fighting.

He took seat in the middle of the nightstand, as I just wanted to be close to hear his answer...I kneeled to get a close look at him, but as soon as my body got closer, he flinch...He had let me close before, but now he was scared again? Maybe it has to do with the explanation...I had to respect his space for now...understand what was going on in his head.

ーSorry...Sorry, I won't get closer...Please, do tell me what happened.ー

[to be continued...]

[schismusic]

THE DISCOGRAPHY PRINCIPLE, Episode 1: Autechre - or, Into Battle with the Art of Noise

The discography principle may be defined as an objective way to determine whether or not you're worthy of calling a band or artist "your favorite" or "one of your favorites". A possible enunciation of it goes as follows:

"Let u ≝ some asshole, B ≝ {b|b is a band}, n ≝ #({x|x is a record by b}); let p = #({y|y is a record by b in u's possession}) = p1 + p2 wherein p1 ≝ number of physical records by b you own in any format and p2 ≝ number of records by b you have downloaded. If p ≥ n ∨ p2 = n (for n → +∞), then ∃b∈B such that b is one of u's favorite bands."

When u = me, this subset of B (which we might call Bf) is comprised of six bands, off the top of my head: Autechre, Godflesh, Shellac, Kraftwerk, Fugazi and Coil, listed in no particular order.

If you want to read the prologue to this series, go here. Otherwise, let's get going.

The concept of usefulness in the context of art criticism is very slippery and, one could argue, absolutely toxic and painful to the development of artistic expressions of all kinds. I have, in the past, been one of the leading proponents of it, but you have to understand: I routinely dealt with people who would add Arctic Monkeys and late-era Caparezza to their end-of-year lists. Drastic measures were in order, I'm sure you guys get it. In virtually all other instances, defining a record "useless" falls into one of the earliest trappings of retrograde art criticism, which is the supposed non-functionality of bad art, or more punctually the quality of non-functionality as inherently bad - wherein I am rather ready to assure you all that most of my favourite records of the past six or seven years fall into the category of absolutely unapproachable crocks of shit OR are records absolutely no one felt the need for except me (and even then, sometimes I didn't even know I'd love them, see Yellow Eyes' recent neofolk foray Master's Murmur).

A similar argument could be made for the concept of incomprehensibility. There are records that are just cryptic for the hell of it - and it would be unfair to label power electronics as such, in that power electronics is usually very direct with what it is about and how it takes it across, but early Brandt Brauer Frick records might very easily fit the bill: who, really, feels the need for live-played techno with classically trained interpreters except for people who like to groove but also have to pretend they know their shit about music and don't want any of that fake computer shit? Or even, why would anyone legitimately give a shit about a Stephen O'Malley record without guitars? - but Autechre I think are simply a different beast. Wherein the vulgata concerning their production essentially revolves around the idea that their first three are the best, then it's all noises and "self-serving experimentation", whatever the fuck that means, and for as many autism jokes people like to make about their music because they simply don't want to even try to give their music a fair chance to stand on its own and just pretend like "wow these guys sure are making computer farts haha", one of the best conversations about music I've had in a while revolves around something that binds Autechre and another dearly-beloved of all obnoxious music people, and later also featured in this series: Coil. And I'm not talking about the (very openly stated) relationship of most-likely-mutual influence between the two groups, but it does stem from that, or more specifically from the aborted collaborative record they toyed with in the early 2000s. This aforementioned collaborative record (which, in the early 2000s, would have probably sold like pre-sliced and pre-Nutella-coated bread to the admittedly very specific audiences the two projects had, regardless of its actual outcome) was shelved, and I quote verbatim, for "not being good enough", which is simply something that you do not do in electronic music unless you are really, really good at what you do - the best at what you do, even. Which would explain why no one ever shuts the fuck up in that particular world and everyone has like a full record and three splits/EPs out every year.

Autechre is something you have to want to waste a lot of time (and money, if you're an obsessive like me) into. There's a number of very cute cheat codes to getting Autechre but the gist of it is that just about nobody I know actually followed the advice literally everyone hands out - i.e. to start with Incunabula. I know I absolutely didn't. The first Autechre record I listened to was Confield, which I later purchased at a certain particularly well-known record shop in my city: my first thought was I really didn't know what to make of it. In retrospect, it's no surprise: literally any other Autechre record would have been better. There are more accessible ones and more inaccessible ones, but either of these options probably would have given me a different shock that would probably have hit me harder. Had I picked up a record like Amber, or Tri Repetae, I probably would have been like "damn this is very '90s but at the same time it still sounds very futuristic in terms of approach and arrangement choices, there's like a billion albums-of-the-month on Pitchfork that sound exactly like any one of these tracks but stretched to forty minutes to one hour" and maybe give it another listen, and then two, and then before I know it Rsdio becomes my most played track of the year (unfortunately, as you might have guessed, this isn't autobiographical, but that's because I ultimately got Tri Repetae on vinyl and mostly play it from there - it's "incomplete without surface noise", after all). If I had picked elseq, or - God forbid - the NTS Sessions, which at that point had been out for like a year or something, you know for a fact I would have tried to get absolutely fucked up by listening to the full four-hour thing while doing something really stupid, like taking a walk around in a blizzard or while in sleep deprivation or while studying linear algebra hoping that my brain would increase in mass all of a sudden. I would not have gotten it, obviously, because I was and to a massive extent still am an idiot who got lucky. Anyway, the point is that Confield felt and in part still feels to me like it's unexpressed potential, but not in the way a record like Radioactivity by Kraftwerk is: Confield looks at you, the listener, and goes "there's a whole other world where we already are. Too bad you can't see any of this shit, because we most definitely do!". Its second half gets noticeably more focused if you listen to the whole thing in sequence, though.

My second attempt was with Oversteps, bought on the same day as Confield, and again - at that point I was already kind of expecting Autechre to just fucking smoke me right then and there. Of course it did not happen, because Oversteps is a fundamentally easier record to approach than Confield is - and in buying it, I also missed the chance to buy Exai, which promptly disappeared from the record shop the very second I managed to go back there, and which would have probably gotten me in a whole ass elseq loop, but let's not dwell on the past, what the fuck did I know then? It's not like anyone has the idea to start with a two-hour-and-a-half impenetrable wall of glitching after all. Whatever. Oversteps is pretty cool though, because it gave me a pretty neat access into a number of other Autechre factory-seals like their stark sense of melody and a style of compositionl development recalling more the idea of a place than it would an actual track (and not even in the Ambient 4: On Land way, where it's "music that describes environments" inspired by the anything-goes bombastic mnemonic approach of Federico Fellini's Amarcord, but rather in its own way of "music that is the environment it describes": spatially organized arrangements, something meant for you to explore, and as such something that you need to spend time in, perhaps repeatedly). Obviously articulating this train of thought was absolutely out of the question and I therefore kept saying "damn, I need to get to this record and listen to it in full", which I later found out doesn't fly more often than not. Autechre is something you want to get back to and waste a shit ton of time on, every track approached like a little world or some sort of escape room even, where all the clues are there and everything you need to do is look (listen) more intently than you did before. I like to think of Autechre as a challenge and I'm assuming that Sean Booth and Rob Brown kinda see it like that too, but not as a challenge to the listener as much as they do it to challenge themselves.

There are absolutely going to be Autechre records you like more than others, some are not gonna speak to you at all, some might be more approachable or just more stylistically in line with what you do (and the best part is that you're gonna find it changes from person to person), but the best part is that there is never an Autechre record that feels thrown out for a quick buck or rushed or forced to develop old ideas and intuitions - for better or for worse, that is. At the same time there definitely is a form of continuity that makes it especially rewarding to listen to Autechre sequentially, the way some people like to watch and rank a director's filmography.

After the pandemic ended, and as people were beginning to go out again albeit maybe wearing masks and gloves, I dropped out of Mathematics and started watching a ton of movies. I fell in love with Nicolas Winding Refn, a director that makes it really easy to put on a movie and let it slide over your skin bathing you in thrills and aesthetics, but is pretentious enough to make that stuff at least try to have something to say (some people argue that it's detrimental to Refn's work, and to an extent I agree; I, for one, simply can't help but appreciate a man who very gleefully declares that the female experience is a mystery to him and at the same time that there's a sixteen-year-old girl within him and that he plays dolls with his daughters and that he never had a girlfriend until he met his current wife Lia Corfixen. The Neon Demon feels like it'd be just one step away from being a male-gaze-glorifying flick if it wasn't for its inherent absurdity and absolute lack of understanding of human relationships that makes it that bit less relatable and more forcefully estranging). Anyway as I was fixating on Refn's movies and downloaded all of them to watch and rewatch them, I also found myself back onto Autechre and decided to take a step back. This time I picked Amber - Incunabula being described as their masterpiece still sort of intimidated me. In retrospect, if I had heard Incunabula without a clear picture of what Autechre would evolve into, I'd have had a hearty laugh and thought something like "man, this aged horribly". Amber has a bit of an edge to it, despite what Booth & Brown say about it, and the elements left over from Incunabula are turned into a less rigid, more impalpable version of themselves that isn't afraid to, for instance, remove all drums and toy with the listener's sense of rhythm in a way something like Kalpol Introl never really did (see: Nine) or face a horrifying creeping darkness that Incunabula's more clearly urban/cyberpunk sensitivities more swiftly dealt with, for instance on tracks like Teartear.

Not one to be easily discouraged (at least when I feel like it), at the first opportunity I decided to buy a record I didn't already know: the choice fell on Tri Repetae, in that it was the next step in the Autechre canon (EPs notwithstanding) and I knew it'd be a step closer to Confield. I wanted to see what the story went like, on its own terms, because the key to this whole ordeal was that I needed to let the record do the talking before I had an opinion on it. And Tri Repetae really did talk to me, because it was exactly what I expected: it had the more discernible elements of early Autechre but also, again, an edge. It's that edge for me: that's the point of interest I end up into, the sort of liminal in-fieri elements that all Autechre releases imply to an extent, and the fact that something as fundamentally ungraspable as C/Pach or Rsdio feeling like it got back home after a whole sleepless night out walking in the cold could coexist with a veritable banger like Eutow (still the one track from Tri Repetae that elicits the most powerful emotional/elated reactions from me) simply blew my mind. Dancing to Eutow in my room and immediately finding myself bobbing my head to, of course, C/Pach and then Gnit led to the next realization in a long series: after everything that's been said about them, the being a four-dimensional object, the being famously impenetrable to all but the most dedicated nerds, the truth about Autechre is that they are a band about rhythm.

I don't exactly expect anyone to be surprised by this, really, but the conscious realization that what I had read on Wikipedia in passing (that Sean and Rob actually met up in the '80s while in the tagging/hip-hop/electro scene in London) actually had bearing on the duo's production was the key to unlocking the rest of their music. Every single thing Autechre have ever done has a form of pulse in it and it takes movement for it to be fully tapped into. Some hacks have recommended listening to Autechre on headphones (deep cuts on YouTube, I see you!) but as for me, I recommend speakers, possibly big, possibly hi-fi, possibly equalized for techno/dance music, and I recommend listening to them with a lot of free space around you. The inherent exploration of space that dancing entails very easily translates into an exploration of the underlying structures in Autechre's (whatchamacallit) songwriting, and from there the rest follows. Even Incunabula, which I finally tackled in summer 2023 and appreciated for what it is: provided you can deal with outdated sound palettes, an excellent record that stands as a true high mark in the exploration of analog instrumentation possibilities, a true forward-looking and forward-pushing debut outing on whose shoulders all future Autechre releases stand, even the most radical.

But Autechre could never stand still and simply replicate Incunabula all over n billion times; that's simply not the cloth they're cut from, and if that was the case I'd be very hard-pressed to think they'd feel as relevant as they do with every subsequent release. That they could drop, in sequence, Exai, the whole five records of elseq and the NTS Sessions boxset and still elicit the electrified reactions they did, both positive and negative.

One of the first serious conversations about music that I had with my old band's bassist was about electronic music, which was actually somewhat foundational to my appreciation of this particular art form (I was a die-hard Daft Punk/Justice guy, Waters of Nazareth and Genesis were to me what Metallica or System of a Down to a number of other people I know: a show of force that made me conscious of the physical impact of sound on a human's body, not just pleasant vibrations to the ears). She told me - and I'm willing to bet that was an old idea that she has since discarded - that she really didn't feel like electronic music was alive, and with music being "life" to her that was a true oxymoron that rendered her incapable of objectively judging electronica. At the time I would have never showed her Autechre, if anything because I did not know them if not by name, but my current understanding of them makes them the most serious counterargument to that affirmation. Autechre's music doesn't try to measure up to the feel of live band jamming because it doesn't need to, despite it often being (according to Booth and Brown) the result of lengthy, additive improvisations that the duo trade back and forth. It simply takes a step sideways, making all analysis on those terms essentially unserviceable and useless. And if it wasn't as massively pretentious as it is, this shit simply wouldn't fly: any tension to a conventionally-imaginable sense of humanity would make it clear that the duo aren't into it really, and ironically it ends up feeling less believable; it starts breathing weird, it turns into a captatio benevolentiae to the listener. And Autechre is meant to challenge us, or rather it's meant to challenge me, and Sean Booth and Rob Brown.

Ironically enough, Autechre's records feel more and more rewarding the more you get familiar with them, and therefore it turns into its own peculiar brand of process music, so to speak. And it's a hell of a process, granted, but it definitely has something to say to you as a listener, if you're willing to give it a shot. Autechre's music is incomprehensible and useless, if you don't know what to make of it, but the only way to know what to make of it is engage in it and make up your own mind about it.

[fierceawakening]

I don't know think I'd describe my position as being anti-natalist (for one thing, I'm in favor of arguably pro-natalist policies like the child tax credit payments that got discontinued), but I also think it's a good thing if the human population trends downward rather than upward, assuming we want anything else to be able to live here besides us and our domesticated species. (And not only for climate change reasons - human agriculture eats up a lot of critical habitat, for example.)

Yeah. It takes resources to have humans.

The humans deserve to have those resources! But the humans were originally "supposed" to just be another kind of monkey. The whole "shit, they're smart enough to AGRICULTURE now" thing happened too fast for ecosystems to adapt fully/well. (Some adaptation is happening! But think about the whole "we feed ducks bread" thing. Not... very ideal.)

Which doesn't make it evil that we developed agriculture, but does mean that we're shitty at living within our means in the way it usually eventually balances out in nature. It seems worth it to me that we be encouraged to try to think of ourselves as an imbalancing factor, and how we should fix that.

Priority one is ABSOLUTELY no more dead dinosaur, and ABSOLUTELY the super-rich people need the dead dinosaur taken away from them first.

But it kind of... bugs me? I don't know? That people cling to this idea that they're going to get rid of the super-rich and everything else is going to magically fall into place, as if it isn't a long-standing feature of a LOT of very powerful human cultures to blindly consume resources and to see doing this as a sign of status and power.

Getting rid of a handful of people, EVEN IF WE GRANT IT'S MORE REALISTIC THAN I THINK IT IS (I think we're most likely to have success if we tax them heavily, but am not sure this will rid us of them or their excess entirely), very rarely solves systemic problems.

It is a good START. But it is a START.