#Just got obliterated by a wave of nostalgia

[demonfox38]

Completed - Vampire Survivors (Base + Ode to Castlevania DLC)

This game makes my brain scream at me.

Like, okay. I'm an average office worker. If I'm not in a meeting, I've got something from YouTube running in the background. Music playlists, video essays, whatever. So, in agreement, in disagreement, whatever—the terms "hauntology" and "dopamine addiction" are consistently in my short-term memory thanks to the video essay portions. The rot of culture by failure to let new ideas bloom, clinging to nostalgia and old symbols. Taxing and abusing neurotransmitters in search of instant happiness. Fun, happy things to ponder while I try to burn these hours of my life away.

Do I think either are threats? Well, unchecked nostalgia, definitely—especially when it's faux 1950s Americana influencing law to restrict the rights of others. Dopamine addiction is a bit more of a mixed bag. Like, you've got to create habits of maintenance, absolutely. Cooking, cleaning, exercise, grooming, so on. But, if you're clever, you can figure out how to use your reward system to help support these habits. Starving it or trying to obliterate it won't help, especially if it causes rebound issues. It's just…ya know. Gaining an appreciation for slower processes over instant gratification and deriving lessons from the struggles of life over bodily abuse and obliteration.

I bring these topics up because I got both "Vampire Survivors" and its "Ode to Castlevania" DLC for the cost of a goddamn cheeseburger. This pixel-exploding throwback of a game lasted me for over 100 hours. Drug dealers and fast-food restaurants would wither and die at such a nexus of cost and effectivity.

Some killjoy could do real numbers discussing hauntology and dopamine addition as the subjects apply to this game.

Should I have gotten into "Vampire Survivors" sooner? Possibly? The communal vibes I absorbed on it were nothing but praise. I don't know if I would have felt brave about trying a Rogue-like prior to playing "Baroque," but I do enjoy a good ol' fashioned bullet hell / shooter, from time to time. It might be lame that it literally took the announcement of a "Castlevania" DLC for me to give this game a try, but hey. This DLC did better about pulling me in than "Dead by Daylight" or "Dead Cells" did under similar circumstances.

What's "Vampire Survivors" about? When I figure that out, I'll get back to you. Most of the narrative I'm picking up is derived from a mix of stage names, enemy bestiary entries, and the surnames of the characters I unlock. Generally speaking, it's about Belpaese and Ladonna kin coming together to endure waves of monsters until the cold, clammy fingers of death come for them. And then, finding a way to break past their power. The powers behind them. The limitations of space and time. Research gone horribly wrong, time and time again. Creepy things hidden at the bottom of towers. Fallen civilizations. Corrupted religious sects. Milk-based magic. Ya know. Wholesome stuff!

In another world—with another particular video game company and their infamously litigious team of lawyers—"Vampire Survivors" may not have made it past its first year. It's not hard to see what game series may have inspired the creation of its lead whip-wielding fighter of the undead. Arca Ladonna may be even more egregious in the video game celebrity look-alike competition. (Don't even get me started on those Blue Venus creatures!) But, the aesthetic inspiration certainly doesn't stop at Konami properties! "Bayonetta", "Batman", "Okami", "Sonic the Hedgehog", "Mortal Kombat"—there's gonna be at least one situation you'll have where you end up snorting with laughter with how close to the copyright line this game rides.

Also, "Vampire Survivors" is the most Italian video game I've ever played. Like, yes, tee-hee on "La Borra" and "Testa di Mano" enemies. Nothing is as fucking authentically Italian as naming a character after Cristina D'Avena. Like, goddamn. How do you top that? Make a stage based on the set design for Dario Argento's "Suspiria" and "Inferno" films? Have playable knockoffs of "Lupin the Third" characters? How about an entire race of sentient ducks running parallel to human society? Call their main hero Duckabolik or something. Goddamn.

Although, there were those ducks in space…

So, I put an RPG's worth of hours into the game without getting much in the way of plot. Obviously, something else is keeping me around. How about that core gameplay loop? It starts simple enough. Move your dude up, down, left, and/or right as needed. Hit enemies with attacks. Pick up gems. Level up. Repeat until you die or you hit 30:00, at which point the game sends a Reaper after you to finish you off for good. Run the game again, continue grinding up weapons, unlock more people and levels, etcetera. So goes this song in a round.

You determine your own progress with this game through the Achievements screen. Look at what items remain, make your next goal, and finish off what you can in your next game. Progress will remove some tasks from this list, but it may add others as more opportunities unfold. Empty out your Achievements? Well, guess what? You'll get an extra round of tasks in a brand-new Secrets screen as well! Clearing that may not get you bonus trophies in Steam, but it may get you some additional levels and characters, too. Ditto the Adventures mode too, while you are at it!

Actually, the Adventures mode is pretty strange, if you don't have other DLC for this game. It's really only two stories? Weird. Seems underutilized. Kind of strange that Konami didn't pitch something for this mode, too…

If you're looking for a general overview of tasks to complete, this may help:

Get through the first five game maps, performing well enough to unlock their Hyper Mode options.

Trigger and kill the special boss in Moongolow.

Pick up the Yellow Sign and use that to start killing Reapers.

Kill the special boss that now spawns in Capella Magna.

Gather all base relics (including defeating the damned Sketamari.)

Harass the final boss for two more relics.

Fight the final boss.

It helps to experiment with different weapons and passive items. Leveling up different weapons unlock different characters, so that makes it an easy sell. Using the correct combination of passive items with weapons may also augment the weapon, giving it different (usually better) properties. Getting proficient with different characters may also unlock Arcana cards, which can grant your character with random bonuses while in a battle. Long story short—don't go stale, and neither will the game.

Also, "Castlevania" fans: go look at the names for those Arcana cards. Come back when you've face-palmed.

Most of the game's complexity comes from making your randomly-assigned resources count. The enemies are simplistic, just ambling towards you. The pressure comes more from managing distance from them and your own powers as the enemy's strength grows over time. (Honestly, the biggest difficulty spike may just come from not getting a Garlic weapon, of all things.) Sketamari is the most complicated creature I had to deal with, and that was more building a viable weapon stack in a short amount of time and preventing any interlopers from building it up than anything else. Everything else is…well. Dodge the shit and don't get touched. Video Game Rules 101.

While aesthetically simple, the game is a glory when it comes to CPU resource management. Lesser machines could not handle the glut of objects and particles being rendered on screen, particularly in later parts of a level. I suppose a creature doesn't need more than three frames of animation when a hundred or so of them are being rendered on screen at once. It's amazing this game is as stable as it is, for all of what it is doing. I've had it chug once, sure. Even had it lock up my computer, one time (although one of my poodles was a contributor to that mess.) But, man. Whatever is going on with managing the location, health, and appearance of all on-screen objects is nothing short of technomancy.

The music is also pretty solid, too. Loops well; doesn't get distracting. Honestly, it sometimes gets crushed by the sound effects, but you can adjust the audio and music tracks to balance it out. I appreciate the soundtrack not being above having a joke or too, as well. (Remember: this is an exceedingly Italian game.)

With this game, you need to pace yourself. If you get every run perfect, you'll be spending somewhere between 15-30 minutes in intense play. (Assume you'll be more on the longer end than shorter.) The circular motions you'll be making can be taxing on your thumbs. Make sure to get up, stretch, and rest your eyes and hands every hour. Your body will appreciate it.

Also, seriously. Take the game's flashing warning to heart. You can adjust some settings to ease up on what is being rendered, but the game is designed to burn like a comet. There's gonna be tons of debris shearing off it, and you do not want that scalding your eyeballs.

For those of you hopping in via House Dracula, the DLC "Ode to Castlevania" provides an additional map, as well as…well, the marketing says 40+ weapons and 20+ new characters, but let me tell you. That plus sign is hiding a lot. Like, 90+ pieces of music, 25 bosses, and several dozen new enemies. Damn.

Much like the base game, you're not gonna get much more in the way of plot. It's mostly pushing as far as you can in a single go, punishing bosses as you gather the strength to tackle them and unlocking your Belmont, Belnades, or buddy of choice. However, there is a fun little treat at the map's end regarding the English opening cutscene of "Castlevania: Symphony of the Night" and Death being a goddamn nightmare. Like, damn, dude. I know the breakup of a bromance that lasted a millennium was rough on you, but this is not the best way to react.

Because of the map's ungodly size and number of tasks to tackle, you'd be better off making good headway into the main game before tackling this. At the very least, it will help you to get that time limit lifted with an Endless mode unlock. (You can also eventually invert the castle, if you're into that.)

The loop here is more like:

Unlock Belmonts (generally, in order of timeline, with a few exceptions.)

Use Belmonts to unlock ally characters, beat bosses, and unlock parts of the map.

Push forward until you finally get Richter.

Use Richter to fight Death.

Max out your new wave of characters.

Fight new bosses.

Find the Pile of Secrets and Wood Carving Score.

Continue until all secrets are exhausted.

That should hold you out…Oh, I don't know. A good 50 hours or more?

I can't get over how deep this DLC digs into "Castlevania" characters and songs. Finally, in 2024—after getting booted from two other games!—we have a playable Hammer. And a playable Mina Hakuba. LMAO. I know people didn't have her on their bingo card, but damn. There are all kinds of playable characters here that I never expected to see, whether in terms of capabilities, story fates, or just coming out of the wrong division of Konami Computer Entertainment. I don't know who wanted a playable Vincent, but uh…there you go. Congrats to you.

I mean, what? Am I supposed to be a shithead and ask for the merchant from "Harmony of Dissonance" or someone from Wygol Village? Fucking 80 goddamn characters, and two are the final Sorrow cast members that I was missing. And fucking Quincy Morris of all goddamn people, now that the copyright for Stoker's "Dracula" has gone to hell. Screw it. I'm take the W and leaving on this one.

With the way Quincy looks in this game, doesn't he look a bit like the North American cover of "Castlevania Bloodlines"? It's making me question some things about that box art…

The DLC takes a fair amount of flexibility when it comes to cast powers. Like, you're not gonna get soul or power absorption with Shanoa or Soma, but you are going to get unique boosts for each cast member. Every Belmont gets a unique way to use their whip, so that's neat! A great way to prevent stagnation, for sure. And, hey. Don't like the default weapon your character starts with? You can switch that out eventually, too. Just gotta prove your competence. Meet some achievements. Do the "Vampire Survivors" grind.

Most of the "Castlevania" remixes are pretty solid as well. Just take a YouTube playlist already. Enjoy. (I was particularly tickled by "Wood Carving Partita" and "The Sinking Old Sanctuary," for what that is worth.)

Now, the songs aren't exactly paired with the characters you may expect. Like, Christopher Belmont gets "Beginning", which then throws "Trevor" into "Aquarius", throwing Sypha and Yoko off, and so on. If you get the Magic Banger relic, it's no big deal to correct. It's just funny how preconceptions can make cool music otherwise seem off.

There was one major part that actively pissed me off with this DLC, and it was unlocking Camilla. The flavor text on her unlock secret implies that a Belmont needs to kill her off (either Leon, Simon, or Sonia, whomever you consider the "first" Belmont to be.) The actual method of unlocking her is hitting her with a Nightmare spell. Like…okay? I'm hoping that'll be patched out later, but man. Wasting hours on that only to find out I was being misled was annoying.

I can't say the sweat needed to unlock Brauner was worth it as well. He isn't as immediately frustrating, but he takes way more time than seems necessary. Just go toss the Blood Astronomia and some compatible weapons on Dracula, get him up to the gallery, level him to a stable point, and park him for a couple of hours.

As shit tier as 2024 has been personally, I can't help but be comforted with the "Castlevania" game releases this year. The "Dominus Collection", the "Dead by Daylight" DLC, and the cherry on top, this. I shouldn't have needed such an incentive to play "Vampire Survivors," but I was more than happy to go hog-wild on this game and its DLC. God bless the development team for this game. They may have developed the digital version of a stimulant drug that makes my hands and brain scream, but I can only hope the best for them.

Good people put their fan translators in their credits, man. And poncle's staff…them's good people, that's what.

The base "Vampire Survivors" is currently available for $4.99 USD on Steam, although that price tends to frequently dip down a dollar for seasonal sales. "Ode to Castlevania" tacks on another $3.99 USD. There are additional levels of DLC and expansions past that point, if you want more. I'm not certain if you'll find more vampires to survive, necessarily, but at least you've got, like, actual vampires to survive now. Which, apparently, is a whole ass meme I didn't know about before!

What's the official count on that now, anyway? You don't fight Dracula, so I don't think you can count him. But, there's Walter, Joachim, Carmilla, Orlox, a Jiang Chi, Stella & Loretta…actually, do you count them? I mean, I know the Sanctuary spell works on them, so I'd say yes, but…Or, wait. Shit. Does "Vampire Survivors" mean the vampires you survive, or the vampires that are also surviving alongside you? Maybe I didn't think this through…

Man, counting vampires shouldn't be as hard as surviving them. Ah ah ah!

[adevilsfolly]

"Hie thee home" Chapter II

“It feels as if my insides are melting; what manner of madness is this?” “It is the burden of love; the retribution of sinful pleasures of the flesh.” “O’ Father, is there a way I may revoke such emotions? Can I forswear such a painful union?” “Such an accursed bond may never be broken. Your fates are now interwoven; for better or for worse.”

~Thursday the 1st, June, 2023     4:42 AM~ ====================================================

     “Come on, V,” Uriel sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "I won't tell anyone, just let me do it."

     The lithe man’s brow furrowed harshly, “I am alright.”

     “No-” Uriel’s arms crossed as he glared at V, “No, you’re not. You’re just getting slower--- just let me carry you.”

     “I am fine.”

     The ginger-haired man gave a large over-exaggerated groan before moving forwards again. With each step, V began to lag further and further behind. Another half hour or so passed and Uriel turned to talk to V but found he wasn’t beside him. A heavy sigh left his nose as he turned around to see V lagging behind by nearly 20 feet (6 meters). 

     “Alright, Duke of Limbs,” Uriel growled loudly and tromped over to the poet, “let’s fuckin’ go!” He seized V and yanked him up--supporting the skinny man's weight completely with his right arm.

     “What do you think you’re doing-!” V struggled a bit but was unable to break free from the devil.

     Uriel growled, “Quit struggling or you’ll be over my shoulder next, princess.” The devil continued forwards, his pace unchanging from earlier, “Now, where are we supposed to be going?”

     V grumbled a bit in anger before letting out a faint sigh, “Continue till you re-enter Red Grave then listen for music,” he begrudgingly rested the side of his head against Uriel’s shoulder, “I’m sure with your ears you’ll hear it just fine.”

     “Alright, then what?” 

     Uriel awaited a response but got nothing. When he looked down at the frail man, he saw that V was already fast asleep. He smiled as he whispered, an underlying feeling of melancholy tugged at his words as he somberly, “Stubborn as always,” a heavy blanket of wistful nostalgia coated his mind as he continued onwards, his grip tightening on the small man, and a small faint purring coming from deep within the devil’s chest.

     It didn’t take long for Uriel to reach the city ruins. As he looked around, he shook his head at the absolutely obliterated cityscape, "This place has definitely seen better days."

     He playfully kicked a rock and felt an instant wave of regret as he watched the baseball-sized pebble hit a nearby car and set off its alarm, “For fucks sake…”

     It didn’t take long for Uriel to start hearing movement around him. Admittedly, if he hadn’t been encumbered with a certain someone, he would’ve made the first move instead of waiting. However, he didn’t have much choice and, quite frankly, didn’t want to wake up V; enjoying the peaceful silence between them. The sounds came from several directions, a method demons use when hunting to distract their prey before a second one springs up from behind. Something Uriel was all too familiar with doing himself. 

     Casually, the ginger side-stepped and allowed a lunging Chaos demon to go past him. With as little as a forward motion of his wrist, Uriel snagged the demon’s tail and slammed it down into the ground, killing it. He then pivoted around on his heels and turned to face the small group of lesser demons. 

     With a sigh and annoyed roll of his eyes, the devil counted the demons; two more Chaos and two Baphomets.

     “Since I’m in a good mood,” he raised a brow as he drew his knife, extending both sides, “I’ll give you a chance to leave,” but he got no response, “Of course, why would you listen to me.”

     The two Chaos demons darted at Uriel. Quickly, he ducked underneath the first and, like a hot sharp knife through butter, he sliced the underbelly of the creature wide open. 

     Uriel stood up and shook off the gore, “In all my years, I’ve never lost to you lowly vermin,” he carefully removed a chunk of flesh from V’s hair, “and I don’t plan on it now.” 

     A wide wicked smile spread across his face. There was a short pause as the demons stared at Uriel, seemingly confused at the devil’s boastful nature. A shard of ice flew past the left side of Uriel’s face, slicing it. 

     He blinked slowly, dumbfounded at him not dodging the attack, and sighed with a small shake of his head, “That’s what I get for boasting.” 

     Uriel sprinted toward the two icy demons. All the while, he did his best to not wake the fragile man in his grasp. His speed was unexpected and caught the two demons off guard allowing him to slice the first Baphomet’s throat, quickly incinerating the icy flesh. Blood sprayed across Uriel’s, who gladly lapped up it off his face using his elongated tongue. Then turned his focus to V and began to wipe the blood from his face. 

     The second Baphomet attempted to use Uriel’s focus on V as an opening to shoot up another set of ice crystals from the ground. However, the ginger quickly jumped off to the side and the ice missed him; only to impale the final Chaos demon that had been attempting to sneak up behind Uriel. He ran at the demon as he moved his blade to his mouth, holding it by the handle using his teeth. Using his free hand, the sickly pale devil grabbed the final Baphomet’s neck, his nails digging deep into the soft flesh of the ice demon, and then slammed it into the concrete several times in pure frustration. Only stopping once it was nothing but a clump of sticky red mush. 

     The ginger’s breath was ragged as he closed his eyes, doing his best to keep himself in check; not wanting to cause any more damage to the city than what has already occurred. With a small huff, Uriel grabbed the knife out of his mouth and licked the blood from his hand. A small hum came from him as he ran the asymmetrical grind of each blade against his tongue, cleaning them, and then closed the knife. 

     Leisurely he tucked it into the edge of his unscathed sweatpants, “Pretty anti-climatic…” He sighed and continued onwards. 

     V was still asleep in the devil’s arms and, despite him being covered in demon's blood, V was no worse for wear. Uriel very gently used his sleeve to clean off V’s face further and found himself wanting to coddle the delicate man. Mindlessly, he placed a soft kiss on V’s forehead and began to purr softly at the oddly comforting feeling of having someone so close; especially someone of V's (or, rather, Vergil’s) caliber. 

     A small dreary smile tugged at Uriel’s features as he traversed the city, following the faint sound of music as instructed. It had only been a few years since he’d been in Red Grave but it feels like a lifetime ago. He remembers how lively the city was, the children running along the sidewalk, the street-side sellers trying to sell whatever they could, and the smell of the nearby bars’ grills that were always packed every Friday and Saturday. Red Grave felt like home to him for those few years and it had been the only place on Earth that he’d ever wanted to stay in. 

     Now? It reminded him of all those centuries ago when the armies of the Underworld were on the verge of conquering the human race; a war that Uriel refused to take part in. 

     “Damn,” he thought to himself, stopping in front of a decimated corner store, “They used to have really good chocolates. I hope that young woman…” he pursed his lips and furrowed his brow in thought, trying to remember her name, “Sasha? Sarah? Sammy..? Whatever-- I hope she made it out alright.”

     “Were you close?” A soft sultry voice rang through his ear.

     “Huh?” Uriel stared at V with parted lips, “I- uh, sorry I didn’t mean to wake you.”

     “It is alright,” V sleepily rubbed his head against Uriel, “So, who was she?”

     “Ah,” Uriel continued moving forwards, “No one important.”

     “Are you sure? It won’t upset me if you’d found companion--”

     “What?! No! We weren’t-- Gross,” Uriel laughed softly, “She and I were friends; although Dante was adamant that she,” he moved his jaw in thought, “wanted me.”

     V’s eyes focused on the necklace around Uriel’s neck, “I see… May I ask why you said gross?”

     “Verg--” Uriel clicked his tongue, “Sorry, V, I don’t find humans attractive.” The devil stopped and looked up the side of a tall building, “In fact,” instantly, the pair were atop the structure via teleportation, “I find humans repulsive.”

     Slowly, the ginger began to survey the city and hoped to find the source of the noise or, at least, gain some sort of idea of where to go.

     The lithe man laughed with a shake of his head, “You know that Vergil is half-human and that I am completely human, right?”

     Sad glazed-over mauve eyes met with V’s, “I know,” his voice was deflated once again.

     The poet pursed his lips, taking a short pause; unsure as to what was exactly going through the devil’s mind, “Then do you hate--”

     “You are different; your entire bloodline is different to me,” Uriel’s head snapped up, figuring out where the sound was coming from, “I had respect for Sparda, even if we didn’t see eye-to-eye.”

     V raised a brow and tighten his grasp on the devil, knowing that he was in for a bumpy ride, “You knew him?”

     The ghostly pale devil walked over to the side opposite where he was headed and laughed softly at V’s words. His grip tightened on his leather-clad passenger and he sprinted off to the other ledge, jumping off it. Unintentionally, he landed on top of a chained Behemoth’s back and killed it on impact. 

     As the devil ran through the city streets, avoiding all manner of demons, he answered V’s question, “Yes, I knew Sparda,” a small pained bittersweet smile pulled at his lips, “He was quite the spunky devil, even as a whelp.”

     A curious tilt adorned V’s brow as he spoke in disbelief, “As a whelp..? You knew him when he was younger?”

     Uriel laughed with a wide smile, “Of course I did. You didn’t know that?”

     The raven-haired man’s face was contorted into a confused glare.

     “V,” Uriel’s eyes met with his, “I am much older than your father; by at least a few thousand years.”

     “What?”

     The ginger’s pace slowed to a jog, nearing the destination, “Really?” he laughed, “You didn’t figure that out?”

     “No, I didn’t.” 

     Uriel’s smile dropped upon noticing V’s frown, “Oh come on, V, don’t be so angry. If you consider how I was made, I have no age,” he shrugged, “I'm not even alive if we want to be all technical.”

     “I suppose you are right,” V sighed and gave Uriel a soft smile, “Guess that makes me a reverse cougar of sorts?”

     “I could be a gigolo-- or just a creeper; which do you prefer?”

     They shared a laugh as Uriel’s speed dropped to a walk, meandering up to the loud white van with the words “Devil May Cry” plastered on the side with an LED sign.

     “This what we’re lookin’ for?”

     V turned his head outwards, “Yes,” he sat upwards, Uriel slowly dipping his legs down and offering support to the unsteady man, “Thank you and, please, do not mention anything about Vergil. I--”

     “You don’t have to explain,” Uriel stuck his hands in his pockets, leaning back casually, “I get it.”

     “Thank you, Uriel.” V turned away from the ginger, “Give me a moment, I will retrieve the others.”

     With that, V shuffled off and into the van’s door, leaving Uriel alone.

     In his boredom, the pale devil took out his knife and flicked the blades out, fiddling with it mindlessly. An odd heavy feeling pricked at his mind as he thought about what lies ahead or, rather, what reaction he will have to Vergil’s demon half. Would Uriel even be able to fight him? Or would it be too much for him to stomach? Would Vergil’s demon side, Urizen, recognize him? What will this “Urizen” even look like? 

     A wave of sullen mourning encompassed his mind. His brow furrowed harshly. Uriel had never properly acknowledged what happened that fated morning over two decades ago. The loss of a friend he’d long since yearned to have. How the eldest son of Sparda simply just up and left, never to return; abandoning a confused and distraught Uriel completely alone. As his mind divulged further into the sickening spiral, he’d begun to move the blade faster around in his fingers. 

     Perhaps Vergil had taken his fill of Uriel and squeezed enough knowledge from the accident devil that the eldest twin no longer needed him. Maybe Vergil had been playing him the whole time, that their entire companionship and bond was nothing more than just a tool. But then why wouldn’t Vergil take Uriel with him to use as a weapon as so many other of Uriel’s “masters” have? Why leave Uriel at the house, alone and without warning? Why sever the bond of the knife before leaving if he had planned on attacking Mundus? Vergil obviously didn’t care enough about Uriel that it was out of kindness. What was Vergil trying to gain out of toying with this lonely devil? 

     The devil’s brow twitched as he noticed how his hand felt weirdly hot and a dripping sensation made him stop his thoughts for a moment. When he looked down, he saw a large cut that ran up from his wrist all the way through his palm, and through his left hand’s ring finger--ending at the tip. He side-eyed his knife that was in the other hand and noticed that he had indeed cut himself on the lead-colored metal. A small huff of irritation came from him as he watched his skin pull itself back together and the irritation dissipate. 

     Then a loud click followed by a squeak caught his attention and he turned to look at the now-open van door. Quickly, he closed the blade and placed it back in its resting spot on his left side. Out of the doorway strode (a freshly cleaned off) V followed by two others; a young woman with brunette hair and an unarmed young man with platinum-silver hair.

     The lithe man leaned hard on his cane and gestured at Uriel with his free hand, “You'll have to forgive the extended departure; he was rather hard to find.”

     “Well now,” Uriel smirked and folded his arms, staring at the young man, “What do we have here?”

     Nero’s stare thinned as he removed his jacket, tossing it to the ground. 

     “V,” Uriel’s eyes were still trained on Nero as the ginger pulled the blade from his waistline, “Hold this for a minute.” He tossed his knife to V.

     V and Nico’s eyes widened in confusion as they stared at the two. Uriel and Nero were damn near butting foreheads--or rather, butting forehead to chest, due to Uriel’s short height--and were locked in an intense menacing stare. 

     Uriel’s lip twitched as he let out a low sustained growl and Nero did the same, as if to size one another up. In an instant, Nero backhanded Uriel, using his human arm, and sent the devil flying off into the distance. A sudden panic came over V and he went to move to mediate the hostile situation but was stopped by Shadow; who had not only summoned themselves but was wrapped around V’s legs, keeping the poet still. Nico noticed the cat’s sudden appearance and shrugged, lighting a cigarette; figuring that the cat had the right idea.

     A quick flash of auburn flew across the trio’s point of view and shoulder drove into Nero, sending the young man flying just as far--if not further--than he’d just done to said auburn flash. With a wide devilish grin, Uriel quickly hopped around, using the various debris as his landing points, and found the crater that Nero was laying face up in. 

     He squatted down, resting his forearms on his knees, “Huh, must’ve been the long hair that gave you power; since you’re already--!”

     Nero pushed up and tackled Uriel at the hips, wrestling with him for a moment before pinning the ginger, “Guess you’re gettin’ dumber in your old age.”

     Uriel smiled with a small ‘hmph’ and forced Nero over, now pinning the young man, “Sorry but it’s gonna take a lot more than that to make me submit.”

     “Oh yeah?”

     The two began to struggle again, however, Nero was unable to reverse the pin. Uriel had a smug look on his face despite the small worry in his mind that this was the first time he’d actually had to try and keep Nero down. After a moment, the two shared a soft laugh and let go of each other. Both of them sat down and were breathing heavily, a smile tugging at their lips. 

     “So,” Nero looked over at Uriel, “Since when are you that fast, huh?”

     “Eh?” Uriel tilted his head.

     “And since when do you have eyes like that? Or ears--- Why do you look so--”

     “Different?”

     Nero nodded.

     “Well,” Uriel’s eyes broke from his, “How shall I put it…” he pursed his lips in thought, “The person you knew before… Remind me; Xane, was the alias--correct?”

     He nodded once more.

     “Think of Xane as something akin to Trish’s “Gloria”; a ruse used to keep a lower profile. Mine was especially created because of Dante.”

     Nero frowned, “So then who are you?”

     Uriel smiled as he stood up and offered a hand to help Nero up, “Name’s Uriel.”

     With a grunt, Nero grabbed the devil’s hand and returned to his feet, “You aren’t human, are you?”

     “Damn, what gave it away?” There was a playful sarcasm in his voice.

     The silver-haired hunter punched Uriel’s shoulder, “What are you then? You don’t look like Dante or Trish…”

     “Actually,” the devil placed a hand on Nero’s shoulder, “I am exactly like Trish,” he moved his head to the side in thought, “Well, I mean, kind of..?”

     “What’s that supposed---”

     “Hey!” A loud southern voice cut Nero off. The two of them turned to see Nico and V walking toward them, “What the hell was that about, huh?”

     Uriel slowly panned to Nero, “Finally find a girlfriend?”

     Nero punched Uriel’s shoulder again, however, he hit much harder and even moved Uriel from the force, “Fuck off.” Nero smiled, “She’s Kyrie’s.”

     “Really? Huh, I didn’t think she swung that way,” Uriel shrugged, “Good for her-- So what that’s your sister-in-law then, right?”

     Nero gave a breathy laugh, “If they got married, yeah.”

     Uriel smiled, however, it seemed disingenuous. Before Nero could ask what was wrong, Nico spoke again.

     “You two tryin’ to get the attention of e’ery demon in town?”

     Nero laughed, “Sorry, just got carried away in the moment.”

     “Carried away in killin’ V’s lil’ pet project?”

     Uriel raised a brow, “V’s “pet project”?”

     Nero and Nico ignored Uriel’s comment as Nero answered her, “Hey, be nice. He’s more than V’s pet project, he’s also Dante’s pet.”

     “Now how the hell’s that make any sense if Dante don’t even know ‘em?”

     “Who said Dante doesn’t know him?”

     V finally spoke up, “Dante knows Uriel?”

     Nero nodded, surprised at V’s unawareness, “Yeah, Xa-- Uriel, worked as a hunter for a while.”

     Uriel folded his arms, “A while? Alright, hold on- First off, I am no one's pet or project; if you call me that one more time, I ain’t fuckin’ helping. Second off, I have been working at the Devil May Cry about as long as you’ve been alive, altar boy.”

     V shook his head, “You have?”

     Uriel smiled softly, “Yeah, I needed a place to go after I lost my house back in ‘99 and I’ve always had a knack for demon hunting.”

     Nico used her thumb and forefinger to squeeze out the cherry of her smoke, stepping on it to put it out, “So you’re a demon hunter then?”

     Uriel nodded, “Yes I am, Ms..?”

     She stuck out a hand, “Goldstein but you can call me Nico.”

     “Goldstein..?”

     “Yessir.”

     Uriel smiled, “That means you’re a gunsmith, right?”

     She nodded, confused at the ginger’s sudden excitement.

     “So then you do gun repairs-?”

     “Yes..?”

     Uriel pursed his lips, “Do you have experience with Devil Arms? Like Artemis or Pandora?”

     Nico raised a brow, her gaze flicking between people, “Stop beatin’ ‘round the bush; what’s the question, shorty?”

     “Sorry,” he cleared his throat, “I have a gun that is a Devil Arm which needs repairs, physical ones; something that I do not have the knowledge to do. Once this whole ordeal is over, I would love to either learn how to fix it or pay you to repair it.”

     “Sure thing; I can repair it now if you want,” she pulled out her pack of smokes, placing an unlit one in her mouth, “Not like I’m gonna join ya on the field…” She fumbled around for her lighter before flicking the silver zippo open.

     “You aren’t?” Uriel raised a brow, watching her struggle to get a spark. 

     “Nope, I ain’t a hunter,” her brow furrowed in irritation at her unworking lighter.

      She watched as the sickly-looking man snap his fingers and a small flame adorning the tip of his thumb, then he offered to light her smoke by pointing his thumb at her, “I would but I don’t have the energy to retrieve it at the moment, I am still rather exhausted.”

     “Ah sure thing,” she nodded and took him up on the offer, lighting her smoke, “Thanks,” she looked at him, unsure how to feel about working with this devil. 

     An awkward silence fell over the group and, after a few moments, V cleared his throat, “We should get moving while the day is young,” he began to meander back to the van.

     Nero nodded and laughed, slapping Uriel’s shoulder, “Race ya’!”

     “Oh, you’re so on!”

     As the two raced off, Nico caught up to V, “Hey, uh can I ask ya somethin’?”

     V nodded, “Sure.”

     “If he’s really one of them demons,” she removed the smoke from her mouth and shook her head, “Why’d he help hunt them?”

     With a small smirk, V let out a half-laugh huff, “I have never managed to get a clear answer as to why; however…”

     After a small pause, Nico raised a brow, “However, what?” She put the cigarette back in her mouth.

     The lithe man smiled, although an oddly pained feeling filled his voice, “Uriel used to read with me and when I’d ask his motives he’d always point to the same start of a poem; ‘Can I see anothers woe,/And not be in sorrow too?/Can I see anothers grief,/And not seek for kind relief. Can I see a falling tear./And not feel my sorrows share,/Can a father see his child,/Weep, nor be with sorrow fill'd.’.”

     “What’s that suppose’ to mean? He’s got a soft spot for humans?”

     “Perhaps. He has never stated much beyond having a strong distaste for humanity as a whole.”

     She pursed her lips, “Great that’s reassurin’.”

     “He means well,” he softly sighed, “His experiences with people have been far from amicable.”

     “ ‘least Nero seems to like ‘em.”

     “It would seem so, yes.”

================================================

Other parts on Tumblr: CHAPTER I

If you'd like to read more about my DMC headcanons Click Here.

If you'd like to read my other work (DMC *Male or G/N* oneshots) on Tumblr Click Here

[echxdna]

         I just found my copy of the sonic mega collection and now I’m sad.

[lunapaper]

Album Review: 'Screen Violence' - CHVRCHES

I’ve said it a lot over the years, but it bears repeating: I thought Love is Dead was awful. Most people did, in fact.

Working with super-producer Greg Kurstin, CHVRCHES’ 2018 album saw them go from sinister wordplay and cinematic soundscapes to repetitive hooks, vague platitudes and bland, Imagine Dragons-style EDM pop.

Needless to say, it didn’t go down well. In their attempt to appeal to mainstream audiences and Spotify algorithms, the Scottish trio had managed to disappoint critics and alienate longtime fans. Accusations of ‘selling out’ get thrown around all too often, but it really did feel like a betrayal of sorts.

And it only got worse from there, with the band collaborating with pop’s Kiss of Death, Marshmello, on the tepid ‘Here With Me’ (a decision they later came to regret).

Lauren Mayberry didn’t take kindly to the criticism, even accusing Stereogum’s Chris DeVille of supposedly using the record as a ‘symbol or scapegoat for something.’ What the frontwoman had a problem with is not entirely clear, though she seemed to chalk it up to politics, writing in a series of now-deleted tweets:

‘You can write a crappy album review and feel smart and what do I give a shit. But don’t minimise the ‘resistance’ as a comical joke/a stupid thing that you think is funny or smart because you are privileged enough to not actually have to think about it in real terms. It actually matters to people who live outside of you moment/life/world view, so shame on you. Maybe I live in my ‘inter personal comfort zone’ but at least I give a fucking shit. What can you say in exchange?’

DeVille’s take was, in my opinion, quite fair, even if he does admit that Love is Dead is ‘not a faceplant, but it’s definitely a stumble.’

Mayberry’s knee-jerk reaction, unfortunately, left a bitter taste in my mouth, impacting my already low opinion of Love is Dead. As I’ve also stated time and time again: What’s the point of responding to a negative review without looking petty as fuck? If you don’t want your art judge by the masses, then being an artist is probably not for you.

It’s also pretty rich of the band to try and make excuses for why everyone hated Love is Dead. No one made you produce a generic pop album. No one made you write and record a ‘tacky pop song’ with Marshmello. How could you not know that he’s a sleazy EDM bro, the rest of us did! Don’t take your shitty creative decisions out on everyone else – that's on you.

So, have CHVRCHES been able to rectify the damage on Album No.4? For the most part, yes.

Keeping production duties in-house this time around, Screen Violence combines the dystopian feel of their 2013 debut with the sleek gloss of later releases.

Written and produced through screens between LA and Glasgow in the early stages of the pandemic, the record explores the horrors that play out on screens via social media and how they translate into real-world feelings of fear, isolation and hopelessness.

On the ‘depressing but hopeful’ Asking for a Friend,’ Mayberry admits ‘'Cause I sunk some ships with selfish lips/And it all came back to me/I was terrified//I never told them why,’ riddled with self-loathing and regret. On ‘He Said She Said,’ she reckons with industry sexism and social contradictions, the track recalling the heady euphoria of the trio’s earlier singles.

‘Killing your idols is a chore/And it's such a fucking bore/'Cause I don't need them anymore,’ she asserts on the glistening ‘Good Girls,’ obliterating the pedestal that some male artists sit upon. Insecurity, however, gets the better of her on ‘Final Girl,’ wondering if she should just ‘quit, maybe go get married’ before she becomes yet another victim of the Hollywood machine.

Repetition is also employed a hell of a lot better than it was on Love is Dead. When Mayberry tells you she feels like she’s losing her mind on ‘He Said She Said, it’s like she’s in the grips of madness while trapped in a cybernetic void. Fear grips her by the throat on standout track ‘Violent Delights’ as she begs ‘I don't want to see it’ over and over again.

Screen Violence also lives up to its name music-wise, proving a lot darker and more foreboding than 2015’s Every Open Eye and even The Bones of What You Believe.

There’s jangling indie rock on ‘Violent Delights’ that give the track a foggy sense of nostalgia. On the menacing ‘Final Girl,’ they drive Mayberry’s sense of panic as she stares back in disbelief at a flickering screen, while the thumping New Wave angst of ‘Lullabies’ sees her vocals soar. Final track, ‘Better If You Don’t’ is almost straight-up grunge, evoking the feel of a rainy Glasgow morning.

And apparently ‘Nightmares’ was ‘too metal for German radio,’ suitably chilling as Mayberry asks: ‘What is it like to be the apple of your own eye?’ It could almost be mistaken for a Poppy track. Darkest, though, is ‘How Not to Drown’ with The Cure’s Robert Smith, their dissonant tones rising from the murky deep like a haunting spectre.

Screen Violence doesn't reinvent CHVRCHES, but it does help to reinvigorate them, even if the record feels a little samey at times. Some mediocre lyrics also manage to slip through the cracks, yet Mayberry’s commentary is overall cutting, brutal and sometimes tragic.

From trying to seem perfect on Love is Dead to realising things aren’t so fucking perfect after all, the trio discover that there’s ‘freedom in failure.’ Though they might never reach the dizzying heights of The Bones of What You Believe or even Every Open Eye again, CHVRCHES have found a groove that works for now just as the world finds itself in the grips of an ongoing nightmare.

Hopefully they’ll be able to sustain this momentum in the long run...

- Bianca B.

[madamescarlette]

Eden my darling !! 💖💖💖 how have you been ? How is life ?

Are you excited about the re-recordings ? Which one are you most excited about ?

I can’t wait to hear ‘Speak Now’ and ‘1989’ because of the emotional attachment and ‘reputation’ of course !

DEAREST OF ALL CELESTES! 💖💖💖💖💖💖 I am well, still rolling along gathering moss like all the rest of us. Lent & Spring are making me excited to live again which is always helpful!!!

I’m right with you- Speak Now is probably my most anticipated album, not just for the nostalgia I have surrounding it (my favorite album for the longest-running-period-of-time) but also just because it was so much HERS, her voice and creation absolutely, like the Lover before Lover could be made. I think there will be a particular kind of catharsis in hearing her sing something that she dreamed up all on her own, and have it be HERS, at long last. 

And 1989!!! is my second most excited-exhilarated-overjoyed album to revisit with fresh focus!!!! It does hurt me sometimes returning to 1989 because it was SUCH a beautiful period of my life when I thought it was the height of what her artistic pull could be, where I thought she could never speak to my heart or my experiences as closely, and now in hindsight we know it was such!!! a horribly lonely and exhausting time in her life, even though the music was beautiful and sparkly and good, everything else got to be Too Much. I think being able to come back to everything that 1989 was, the powerhouse, ocean wave that it is, with her being able to sing it with all the hindsight of the happiness and security of now is well, going to destroy me from the inside out. 

also-- the rerecord of King of My Heart is going to flat-out obliterate me. I may very well disintegrate and turn into confetti on that day. It will be incredible. 

Also just a short list of songs I’m the MOST excited to hear!!!:

Mary’s Song

Our Song

if she redoes Today Was a Fairytale or Sweeter than Fiction that’s it I’m gone FOREVER

Delicate....just imagine the sweetness of you must like me for me alllll over again

Story of Us with now-vocals!!!!

I need Untouchable re-recorded just to breathe normally again

I love The Way I Loved You maybe more than should be allowed and her singing it with the reality of what Cruel Summer was may very well bowl me over entirely

The Best Day 💖💖💖💖

Sparks Fly

Never Grow Up but with all the hope of the T who has a real home all over again now.....oh my heart

The Lucky One (no other song is like this one)

Begin Again (flashes back to her Paris trip one/two years ago with her Person)

I Almost Do so maybe we can all stop arguing about how beautifully raw it is

Clean (of course and always)

You Are In Love (again....with the hindsight I will be Ded)

This Love

Dress

Call It What You Want

New Year’s Day

all of them

[delennsatai]

DMC Gen Week: day 2

Paradise Regained

Summary: 15-year-old Vergil finally finds out who he really is--and that he has a twin brother out there somewhere. Features a flashback to his childhood with Dante.

Part of @dmcgenweek Day 2 Prompt: Hug/Competition

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20025409

Autumn leaves skittered past his feet like tumbleweeds and the jacket of his school uniform didn’t do much to keep out the chill of October’s relentless wind. The cold couldn’t stop him, though, not today. He’d been distracted all day, barely able to focus on classes over the anticipation buzzing in his mind. He felt wired, wide awake but far away. The nagging feeling that he’d forgotten the most important thing he’d ever known had plagued him for eight years, ever since he woke up to parents who solemnly told him he’d been in an accident and suffered near-total amnesia. “Vergil? You don’t remember us, do you? It’s all right. We’re just grateful you survived.” He knew there was more to it, though he couldn’t have articulated what made him so certain. He just…knew.

Fortunately, his parents rarely cared what he did after school as long as he got his homework done and remembered to eat something. So today was the day he’d learn the truth. An invisible string—maybe it was destiny, he thought—yanked him through the gate and down the street with an alacrity that was a far cry from his usual measured pace. Someone called his name as he passed, but he pretended not to hear them. The bullies left him alone now, after he’d finally lost his temper and nearly crushed their leader’s windpipe against a locker (no one believed the story afterward—"you mean creepy Vergil, the one who carries his laptop everywhere to avoid talking to people? you’re kidding, right?”) but that didn’t really fill him with confidence in his classmates’ goodwill. Someone always wanted what he had, wanted to show him they were better, wanted to put him in his place.

Maybe after today he’d know what his place was supposed to be.

It had taken over a year of dogged (mostly illegal) research, false leads, and sketchy late-night meetings that took him through all the bad parts of town, but he’d finally tracked down an address. He wasn’t even sure exactly what it meant. He just knew that once he dug deeply enough, there was no record of a boy named Vergil—or any child at all—being born to Mr. and Mrs. Sheffield, and the only clue he could find to his real heritage was an abandoned, condemned building on the outskirts of Limbo City.

Rounding a corner, he saw it: a long driveway leading through a tall, wrought-iron gate. Atop the gate, the word “PARADISE” beckoned. He scoffed, a brief chuckle of disbelief, but he couldn’t completely disdain it. It was too familiar, somehow.

He all but ran the last few yards before grasping the padlock holding the gate closed and yanking hard, smiling in satisfaction as it came apart in his hand. No one had ever been able to explain to him why he was so much stronger and faster than other boys his age, and after a few…incidents, he stopped demonstrating it in front of people. He hoped his parents would just forget, or assume it had gone away somehow. They never mentioned it again, anyway, and he gladly kept that particular silence.

He pushed the gate open and surveyed the estate with questing eyes. It was larger than where he lived now and surely used to be almost palatial in its grandeur. Now, it looked like a tornado had ripped through it while a fire raged across the ruined gardens and grounds. What the hell happened here?

The front door wasn’t locked. He opened it into a long corridor, letting the crisp wind in to blow dust up in little clouds at his feet. He paused when he reached the grand hall, with its sweeping double staircase and massive crystal chandelier. Well, he thought, if this really is where I used to live, my real family is absolutely loaded.

But where were they? What happened to them?

He pulled the little blue amulet that hung around his neck out from under his shirt and ran his fingers over it thoughtfully. His parents(?) claimed it had been a birthday gift from them years ago, but that never felt right. Looking at it made him feel alone. Lonely, even. But he wore it all the time, hoping it would one day remind him of whatever he’d forgotten that was so crucial.

The longer he walked through the mansion’s halls, hushed as death, the more he remembered it, like a hazy dream. He knew that through this door he’d find the kitchen, and he knew before he saw it that it would be almost drab by comparison to the rest of this place. Servants did the cooking. He almost thought he could hear their muted chatter for a moment, see their looks of faux disapproval as the two boys swiped cookies and ran off, giggling. “My cookie’s bigger!” “No it isn’t, mine is!” “Well, mine has more chocolate chips!”

Wait…two boys?

He had to see more. Some of the stairs were broken, but he made his way up to the second floor and followed his instincts to a tall, elegant room lined with bookshelves. The décor throughout the mansion was odd in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Macabre, maybe. It felt right, though, and this room gave him a gut-hollowing feeling of awe that threatened to drown him in its wave of nostalgia. A portrait hung in the center of one wall. The man in the painting looked like some kind of knight, with sword and shield; but his face was obscured, obliterated in an obviously deliberate attack on its canvas. Vergil felt like the knight was staring down at him from an impossibly huge height, one he could never hope to reach. The nameplate underneath said “Sparda.”

He felt a warmth pulsing at his chest. …the amulet? He lifted it, and sure enough, it was warm to the touch—and glowing with a faint blue light. This is it. Something’s about to happen. I’ve never been more ready.

***

“Giving up, Vergil?”

“N…no!” It wasn’t fair, he thought, forcing himself to keep going even though his arm ached, and Dante was clearly winning. Dante always won. Dante was stronger and he could practice for longer without getting tired. They were twins, they were supposed to be the same! He’d have to keep practicing until he was just as strong and tough.

“Okay, but I’m not going easy on you!” Dante laughed and Vergil was forced to back away from his brother’s endless advance. They crisscrossed the room, still clashing madly with their wooden swords. Vergil didn’t want to lose again. He wanted to prove to Father he was as good with swords as Dante was. Maybe he’d give the twins real swords, then.

“Ha!” Dante brought his weapon down with both hands. Vergil tried to parry it, but his strength gave out and Dante’s sword thumped him hard in the chest. He fell, eyes widening as the impact with the floor knocked the wind out of him.

“I win again!” Dante shouted, but he paused when he saw Vergil gasping for breath instead of getting up. “Hey, are you okay?”

Vergil felt warm tears start to well up in his eyes. He desperately tried to blink them back. He couldn’t cry in front of Dante! His brother reached down to help him up, but once on his feet he wobbled, hunched over trying to get his lungs working right again.

“Whoa…” Dante stared with a stupid, owlish look on his face. Vergil might have laughed if he could breathe without wheezing. But after a moment, the dark-haired boy dropped his wooden sword and came over to put an arm around his twin’s shoulders, helping him onto the bed and sitting with him. Vergil couldn’t help it, then; a rogue tear escaped, sliding down his face like a traitor.

“Don’t worry, Vergil, you’re gonna be fine,” Dante said, wrapping his arms around his brother the way their mother always did when they were hurt or upset, patting him awkwardly on the back before letting go. As Vergil’s breathing evened out, he added, “I guess I’m so good at swords it took your breath away!”

Vergil almost choked again as he suddenly burst into giggles, hastily wiping his face. “Nuh uh,” he said, “next time I’ll win.”

“Bet you a cookie you’re wrong.”

“You don’t even have a cookie.” Vergil slid down from the bed. “Race you to the kitchen!” He took off before Dante even had a chance to say anything, leaving his brother to shout “Hey!” and scramble to catch up.

***

Vergil gasped, feeling a strange pressure at his back as the memory faded, along with a clear but fleeting impression of a place with a green sky and a red tree, an impossibly warped cityscape. He struggled to quickly drop his backpack, and as it fell, a flash of white-blue light surrounded him. It was gone in a blink, but in its place, he found he was holding a long, slim katana sheathed in a plain black scabbard.

Dante…I have a twin brother. I remember him. And this…

With an air of reverence, he held the sheath in his left hand and slowly pulled the blade out with his right. It gleamed in the fading autumn light. He thought he could hear a voice whisper its name: “Yamato.” And, “This sword is yours, Vergil. It’s a part of you now.”

He slashed experimentally, feeling more than hearing a sonorous hum as the blade seemed to cut right through the air itself, sharper than the sharpest razor. He glanced around the room at bookshelf upon bookshelf of old-fashioned volumes with crumbling leather spines. The rest of the answers were here, he was sure of it. He’d have to explore the house, try to remember more…but first, he wanted to know about Sparda. My father, he mentally corrected himself. His real father. And a brother he’d lost, and a mother he couldn’t quite recall. His eyes roamed the shelves eagerly as he began his self-education in demonology and the legend of the nephilim.

Hours later, when the sun had set and he was reduced to reading by the light of his cell phone, his stomach reminded him with a surly grumble that he hadn’t eaten dinner and his parents…no, the Sheffields…were probably wondering where he was. He’d have to come back tomorrow. He carefully stashed the sword—Yamato—and a few books in his backpack, feeling like the whole world had opened up to him all at once in a rush of fresh air and possibilities.

Later, he’d remember the coppery stench of blood and the sound of Sparda calling his sons’ names in a desperate hiss; the hellish snarling of demons sniffing for Vergil up and down the house as he cowered in a closet holding his breath. He’d return to the lost city in his soul’s dreams and slay monsters until he felt power bubbling up from within him like a geyser. He’d teach himself how to find and open rifts into Limbo, and explore the demonic realm with a curiosity bordering on obsession. He’d endure nightmares he couldn’t explain to his foster family even when he woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, and eventually, he’d leave that house without a word and never go back.

But for now, all he could think about was returning to Paradise, and about how one day, he’d bring his twin brother there, too.

[soundsandnoises]

Slam Dunk Festival 2019: SOUTH, Hatfield Park (26/05/2019)

I was extremely anxious about this one. I was usually going to the one in Midlands, knew the site inside out. Knew how to get to the festival, where to stay, etc. Made it easier to focus on music. This year I worried about so many things, like if I bought right ticket to right Hatfield (can't count the amount of times I actually checked maps, infos and trains, still wasn't enough). I'm not a fan of big train stations and King's Cross ain't a small nor easy for first, second and third timers. It can be quite overwhelming, but what's the fun in it when it's simple, right? Then there was a question of – what gate leads to festival site. Or where to buy a coffee - that one was left unanswered, Sunday morning and relatively small train station (for a change) didn't help.

And then there was... waiting. Before the main gate opens, before the actual festival site opens... Longest three hours full of wondering, while people gathered in a constant flow in space between wristband exchange and gates, green grass was replaced by black blur of people.

But, but... As soon as it opened and I could start realizing my plan: get to the chosen stage, see the first artist, enjoy. I could relax. And that was the leit motiv of this day (maybe except the part where I felt like thirst in Sprite commercial during Busted intense and punk as fuck set when I was fighting for survival, but to be fair, even then I felt so alive and... happy).

I was in for a treat after all and it started perfectly with William Ryan Key opening on Marshall Stage. I would love to hear his material, but I understand his choice to play Yellowcard's songs. Fans surely appreciated the acoustic nostalgia floating through surprisingly sunny morning/midday. There was a bit of a technical hiccup at the beginning, but other than that things ran smoothly.

Milk Teeth took over on the adjacent Dickies Stage. Faster. Louder. Wake up Slam Dunk. Sunny day or not a mix of moody grunge and raw punk energy should do that to you. Make the crowd sit down just to make them ask “Why the fuck are we sitting down?!” seconds later. It's a rock show! But clearly Milk Teeth captivated the audience enough to pull pranks like this.

Hot Milk didn't have easy on The Club Key Stage, 'cause people started to gather for Busted and tent was packed, yet their Left side was in for a fun gig and soon enough young rockers won hearts over with their 'non compromise, everyone's invited attitude'. They were all in, mixing pop, punk and lacing it with electronic samples – nothing better to make you bounce, dance and have a good time.

Quite right warm up for Busted on the Right side of the The Key Club Stage. The tension, the anticipation was hanging thick and heavy over people's heads. The excitement exploded with joyous scream when boys appeared onstage. Boy, I didn't expect the madness. My body wasn't mine for most of the gig, pushed and shoved in random directions as the crowd waved under the tide of moshing, crowdsurfing and bouncing quite randomly. But it was strangely beautiful, the mad joy of people screaming out the lyrics. This was absolutely fabulous surprise act (clearly the cat was out of the bag on Saturday when it turned out that mysterious Y3K was in fact Busted). Slam Dunk did slam.

Then I've had a bit of a change of the scenery with As It Is on the main stage (Monster Energy Stage). I understand the appeal, 'cause it was truly engaging performance. Powerful speeches, truly humble spirit and very positive attitude (they even turned smashing an acoustic guitar into a good deed; after the hardcore version of the song, instead of acoustic one as they teased before guitar was obliterated, Patty [Walters, singer] explained that they'd donate the pieces for a charitable cause). Oh, and show worth a slot at the main stage – emotional, catchy, monumental at times, intimate.

Waterparks brought the green (backdrop, Awsten's hair, security outerwear) and crazy (emanating from both band and extremely devoted fans). Crazy in the best kind of way, the one you lose yourself in the music, the one that makes you happy, the one that courses through every inch of your body. Add funny banters and Awsten's cheeky charisma. The response from green clothed fans was overwhelming to say the least. Strong unison singing every word, mad screams and constant wave of crowdsurfers. What a show.

Simple Plan took over the refreshing and pop rock vibe taking the crowd to the beach and sunny holidays with their beach balls flying over the crowd and summer hits' tunes. Canadian rockers made people jump, yell shamelessly 'dick', sing along. Nostalgic mood mixed with excited screams, they wouldn't be themselves if they didn't joke around (basically rock and comedy show in a price of one). Their youthful approach was and is always something that moves mountains and brings fans to them.

Neck Deep didn't waste a second to establish their rule over the Monster Energy Stage after Simple Plan. Faster, louder, reach to the punk rock roots, start that mosh pit, oh but hold that thought here's Natalia Imbruglia's 'Torn' cover for you, let's feel like it's 90s again and if you don't know it, you lived under a rock. But basically keep the energy flowing, keep it up, keep in coming.

But rock music has so many names, so Hellogoodbye (back in Marshall Stage) was a interesting change of gear, leaning towards indie, electropop and all the weird and beautiful things between them. Oh, how I danced, danced like no one was watching, my face with stupidly wide grin from the sparkling, positive energy I was coated in. Audience was advised to drink pure distilled water, distilled from potatoes (wink, wink). Basically it was a party. Or maybe the party? Well, I was glad I stumbled upon it and stayed.

Touché Amore on Dickies Stage tore the air with growl which seemed to be an appropriate reaction for heavy rain that came down. But their music must have had some magic in it, 'cause soon clouds separated and sun started lurking through them. Or maybe they just had the sunshine with them all this time and brought some from L.A.. Heavy was the music, hardcore stage presence and singer's presence, front barrier seemed to be more appropriate place to scream words than small stage that frankly couldn't contain their energy.

I wasn't even close and I could hear Lights' powerful voice echoing through The Club Key Stage. Tiny figure with flame coloured hair was ruling the stage, voice clear, loud and soulful. Her music taking the best bits from rock, pop and electronic genres was a catchy blend to dance. Her vocals are phenomenal.

One of the band's I was really looking forward to see was Plain White T's (yes, yes, they played 'Hey There Delilah', 'course the did) and I loved every minute of their show [on Marshall Stage]. Indie pop/ indie rock with bits of samples was exactly what I needed, it was my kind of show no matter the time of the day. I could enjoy the music and not worry about being hit by half empty cup with beer (although it was funny to hear the story of crowd starting the biggest moshpit to 'Hey There Delilah', 'cause the band was on stage before Metallica, to be honest it's no the first time when I hear or experience the audience going absolutely bananas to the slowest song, so the story is even funnier), move to the beat. New staff had these nice, not too much electronic touch and was pulsing with energy. But of course the older goodies hit people's hearts harder.

I've managed to catch half of the set of IDKHow on The Key Club Stage Left I'm glad I did, 'cause boys sassiness must be legendary by now. The cheek, the charisma, the silliness acted out with serious faces, the instant bond with adoring crowd makes it all so special. Rhythm section and samples, bit of 80s synth tone, bit of 90s pop and sharp lyrics make their show something to talk about. Just like the acoustic set they played on the top of The Fearless Arms (bar), I'd assume sometime around their time in signing tent and because why not. Got to enjoy that one from the distance, the kind of surprise you could compare to sugar rush every kid gets when eating a candy floss.

From sweet tunes I switched to heavy metal brought by Bullet for My Valentine. Jägermeister Stage's tent was coming off the seams with gathered crowd, when it seemed it was loaded to its ends more people were getting in and immersing in roaring guitars and drums going faster and faster. Crowd gathered there was in for a wild ride.

NOFX headlining on Punk in Drublic Stage and bringing whole bunch of punk rock bands that they’re on tour with) were the living proof that punk's not dead and it's not going anywhere. Talking about snots, cum, walking on the thin line and reigniting the punk rock spirit with each song they were hosting a celebration, party mood was lit up. Punk and ska and a setting sun.

Big surprise, very good surprise was All Time Low's show to me (Monster Energy Stage). There were these jokes, on the borderline of pervert (oh, I've heard so many stories them boys were so inappropriate, but to be fair they never said they were playing songs for children), but the vibe - oh it was magnificent. It was great pop punk, pop rock show and people were literally invited, so it became a dance off onstage. The band was grateful for their fans, entertaining, connecting with their fans and gave fantastic show. Also, brand new song had its debut at Slam Dunk's stage – 'Getaway Green'. What a night.

[runaway-horses]

He’s so devoid of color (he don’t know what it means)

A/N: Good morning guys, gals, and non-binary pals! I am SICK and wrote 3500 words as a way to distract myself.

This fic was heavily inspired by this piece of art by the amazing @rilli-luci and the song Colors by Halsey.

Warnings: Roman angst, angst with a happy ending, this was written and edited while I had a 100 degree fever so 🤷🏼‍♀️

Pairing/s: Romantic LAMP

Word Count: 3.5k

Read on AO3

It wasn’t uncommon for the sides to lock themselves in their rooms for days at a time.

Logan, refusing to leave until he had a schedule worked out, until he had a plan, until it was correct. The other sides to unpredictable, too temperamental, never fitting in his schedules, coloring outside the lines, obliterating the boxes.

Patton, getting lost in nostalgia and wandering memories for so long they wondered if he’d ever find his way back to the present. Staying in his room to work out the waves of his feelings, hoping they weren’t so strong that he drowned in them.

Virgil, overwhelmed by fear and so stuck in the what ifs he couldn’t focus on the right now. Before he was a part of the family, back when he spent his days working overtime to keep Thomas safe, alone and scared and rejected, he lived in his room, emerging as rarely as possible and avoiding contact with the others.

Roman, who relished in the creative energy his room provided, would spend hours, days, weeks, wandering his worlds and creating ideas. But as much as he enjoyed having his head in the clouds, the fall back to reality left his body and ego purpled with bruises.

Their rooms were sanctuaries, but they could be self imposed prisons.

•••

In the slow process of acknowledging their feelings and agreeing to a relationship, their routines changed. Logan set aside an extra cup of coffee in the morning for Virgil. Patton cooked the eggs a little longer for Roman. Virgil made an effort to join the three for breakfast, even with his exhaustion practically dripping off him.

They also made an effort to not spend so much time in their rooms.

Logan tried to write his schedules in the Commons, (which worked better, somehow. Patton would bring him snacks and a cup of coffee in the afternoon, and Virgil was there to remind him of important dates and to leave room for existential crises, creative block, and Parks and Rec marathons.)

Virgil was learning to come to the others when he was feeling anxious or upset about something. (And even when he didn’t, the other Sides were learning his tells so they could help the anxious Side without him needing to ask.)

Even Patton was learning to speak up when he was feeling sad. (If they noticed that his smile seemed fake or his eyes seemed hollow, they would send Roman into his room to see if they could coax him out into the commons, where Logan and Virgil would be waiting with a warm mug of tea and open expressions.)

But old habits die hard.

Sometimes Virgil’s door was locked, Patton would turn them away, or Logan would snap. Sometimes the Sides just needed time to work things out on their own, and their boyfriends understood.

So when Virgil came down for breakfast one morning and Roman wasn’t at the table, he didn’t do anything more than raise an eyebrow at Patton before accepting the coffee from Logan gratefully. Patton smiled at him and ruffled his hair as he sat down.

“Pat,” Virgil grumbled, patting his hair back down. “Have you guys checked on Roman?”

Logan shook his head. “We thought it was likely that he had had a late night and was simply sleeping in. Patton was planning on checking in on him after breakfast.”

Patton’s nodded in affirmation even as he fixed Roman’s spot with a wistful gaze. Virgil frowned and glanced up the stairs, wondering what was keeping Roman.

•••

The rest of the day passed smoothly, although Roman didn’t answer the door when Patton went upstairs after breakfast.

“It is likely that he is off exploring,” Logan had said, adjusting his glasses. “I wouldn’t be too alarmed, Patton.”

And Virgil had been able to believe him. After all, it really wasn’t that uncommon for Roman to spend hours, days even, exploring his realms and gathering ideas. It wasn’t uncommon at all for one of them to spend a day in their room.

Thomas had had an evening out with his friends, and Virgil had been busy trying to warn Thomas about all the potential social blunders and dangers of going out, which had resulted in Thomas summoning him and Logan to try and work things out.

Virgil collapsed into bed that night, exhausted from worrying and his (civilized, if difficult) debate with Logan. Patton had knocked on his door with an invitation to watch TV with him, and Logan had been sitting on the couch with a book in his hand and a smile for Virgil when they came down, assuring him that they were ok.

•••

When Roman still hadn’t left his room the next day, Patton got concerned. He stood outside Roman’s door with a plate of breakfast and knocked softly.

“Kiddo? You ok in there?”

Silence.

“Alright, well if you’re ready to come out later, I have some food right here at your door.” He called out, wondering if Roman could hear him.

More silence.

Patton sighed and put the plate of food down before turning and trudging back down the stairs. His other two boyfriends were sitting quietly at the kitchen table, Logan holding Virgil’s hands and tapping methodically on them.

It was going to be a long day.

•••

The Mindscape was quiet without their resident Prince, and Logan could see that it was wearing on Virgil. He attempted to keep the anxious Side distracted as the day went on, (and he wouldn’t admit that it was as much a distraction for him as for Virgil.)

It was weighing on Patton too, Logan could tell. The two right brained Sides had a special connection that was an integral part of what made their relationship work.

Dinner passed in silence, and even though it was family movie night, they all made excuses and retired to their rooms early.

•••

On the third day, they decided it was too long. Just as they were heading up the stairs to Creativity’s room, Thomas summoned them.

The first thing Logan noticed when he rose up in his spot next to the stairs was how tired Thomas look. His hair was dirty and unkempt, and his clothes were rumpled as if he had slept in them.

Thomas sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Ok guys, what’s up? I’m not sleeping well and I feel...burned out.” He was also wearing a hoodie and standing slightly hunched, in a fashion similar to Virgil. Self conscious.

Logan then noticed that the spot next to the TV was empty.

“Thomas, I assume you also summoned Roman for this conversation?”

“Yes. Well, I tried to. He’s not responding.” He said with a frown.

Logan exchanges glances with Patton (who looked distressed,) and Virgil (who looked solemn.) They all appeared to have reached the same conclusion.

“Thomas, none of us have seen Roman for the past three days. We were on our way to his room to investigate when you summoned us.”

“Do you think he ducked out?” Thomas’s eyes were large with concern, and Logan caught the quick glance he threw at Virgil.

“No.” Logan said firmly, determined to not let this conversation spiral into something drastically emotional. “I do not know why he hasn’t left his room, but I am confident that he hasn’t ducked out. You would have no ego and no will to create, which would’ve impacted all of us.”

Thomas nodded and relaxed slightly. “Ok, if you say so, Logan. I believe you.”

“Excellent. If you do not require anything else, I think it would be best for us to go now.”

“Can I come with you?” Thomas asked quickly. “If something’s wrong with Princey, I’d like to know. I’d like to help.”

Logan glanced at the other two and nodded. “Of course, Thomas.”

And with that, all four sunk down in search of Roman.

•••

Roman’s room was quite large. The walls were painted white with a red accent wall, where he had a large bed pressed up against it. There were fairy lights strung up around the room, and an ornate door next to the bed that led into the Imagination.

It was loud room, one with high ceilings and an energy in the air that had possibility crackling across your skin like lightning.

But when the Sides and Thomas rose up in Roman’s room, it was silent.

The fairy lights hung dead from the ceiling, no joyful twinkling to draw your eyes to the sky. The walls were grey, all color gone and muted. There was no creative energy buzzing in the room, only a dampening sense of disappointment.

And there, curled in the corner of his bed, was Prince Roman.

A wave of emotions crashed over Logan, filling him with unease and panic.

He looked dead.

He wasn’t, of course. Logically, Logan knew this. This But every ounce of color had bled off of him, his red sash, his brown hair, his tan skin. He was gray from head to toe, blending in with his surroundings easily.

“Roman!” Came a choked voice from his left, and he saw Virgil looking paler than ever, a hand clasped tightly over his mouth. Thomas appeared to have stopped functioning, his mouth hanging slack and a blank look on his face.

At the sound of his name, Roman had opened his eyes, revealing that even his irises were gray.

Logan vision blurred with tears and his throat tightened painfully. Seeing one of his beloved in such a state was...more than distressing. But he was logic. And he knew that Patton was likely taking this harder than any of them. So he straightened up and turned to Thomas and Patton.

“Patton, dear.” Watery brown eyes looked at him, and the emotion in them was so deep Logan suspected he could drown in them. “Dearest, I think it would be best if you helped Thomas out of here. Could you do that?” He spoke softly, hoping to sooth the moral Side.

It took him a moment, but eventually Patton nodded and wiped at his eyes. “Come on Thomas, I got you. Let’s go outside for a minute huh?”

Confident that Patton had that situation under control, Logan approached the bed where Roman lay in the same position he had been in when they arrive.

“Roman?” His voice was as soft and gentle as he could make it as he kneeled next to the bed. He looked worse up close, none of his usual spark in his unnaturally gray eyes. He gently brushed Roman’s hair back off his forehead.

The Prince’s lips twitched into a smile. “Hey Specs.”

Logan had missed his voice.

“Hello love.” He stayed silent for a minute, simply running his fingers through Roman’s hair and gently detangling the knots he encountered. He heard Virgil approach from behind him and sit down next to Roman on the bed.

“Roman…what happened?” Virgil’s voice was quiet but still laced with concern and anxiety.

It was silent as Roman didn’t respond, but then his eyes welled with tears as he started to shake with sobs.

“Nothing-no ideas are coming to me! I-it’s not e-even that what I’m creating isn’t good, I’ve run out of ideas. I try to w-write and nothing flows, I can’t even sk-sketch without ruining it! It’s like I’ve never created before, nothing is working!”

He punctuated his statement by weakly hitting his pillow as he continued to shake. Logan and Virgil were both shocked into silence. They had never heard Roman, loud, bold Roman, chastise himself like this.

“What if I never create again? What if this is it? I’m letting down Thomas, I’m letting down the fans, I’m letting down all of you…” He trailed off in sniffles before whispering, “I’m such a disappointment.” That was enough to jerk Logan out of his shock.

“Roman, Roman. Love, you’re not letting anyone down. You’ve just hit a creative block is all.” Logan pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You are not, and will never be a disappointment.” Logan’s own heart was squeezing painfully, but he pushed it aside.

Later, he promised himself. They could talk about it later. There were more important things at hand.

•••

Roman was too weak to even stand up on his own, so Virgil helped Logan support him as they moved towards the bathroom. After gently sitting Roman down on the closed toilet, Logan put a hand on his knee and kissed his forehead.

“I’m going to go talk to Patton and Thomas. I’ll be back once you finish showering.”

As the door clicked shut after Logan, Roman dropped his gaze to the floor. Virgil sat in front of him and gently lifted his head with a finger under his chin. His gray eyes were unsettling, holding none of the warmth that Roman’s eyes usually did. None of the life.

Virgil smiled gently at him. “Are you ok with me undressing you so we can shower?”

Roman nodded and was still as Virgil undid the clasps at the back of his shirt, folding his shash and shirt on the sink. After he was in just his boxers, Virgil pulled off his own clothes and lifted him off the toilet.

“I got you Ro, don’t worry.”

•••

Roman’s entire body was sore. Every limb felt like it was made of lead, and it was just so hard to move.

He hadn’t even realized what was happening until it was too late, and even then he didn’t go to his boyfriends. Scared of how they’d react. Roman didn’t want his view of the perfect prince to be tarnished, so he’d locked himself in his room.

But when all three of them, plus Thomas, rose up in his room, there was no disgust. No anger or pity. Just love and concern.

And standing under the warm water, Virgil’s arms steady bands of warmth keeping him upright, he wished he had told them sooner. Wished he had gone to them when he started feeling his motivation drip off of him like sap, glue clogging his joints and movements as his creativity melted away.

Colors bleeding away, off his skin, off his walls, off his ideas. He wondered if he’d see color again. And then they arrived, tumbling into his room even though they didn’t need to, Logan with his deep blue filling the room with calm, Virgil’s electric purple lighting up his senses and permeating the air with the concern of a loved one. Patton’s light blue lighting up the room with love, filling the corners with light. And even Thomas, exuding warmth in a way that Roman’s room was severely lacking.

And Virgil was here, and Virgil was warm. And Logan had been nothing but comforting words and steady hands. Every pass of the washcloth over his skin washed off the motivation-sap and the joint-glue and the guilt of hiding himself.

He wanted to thank Virgil for this, for his quiet help and reassurance, but he was too tired to talk. It was ok though. The press of lips right behind his ear conveyed their meaning. It was an understood thing.

•••

When Virgil came down the stairs, his skin pink and hair wet, Patton sagged with relief, reaching out for his boyfriend. Virgil crawled into his lap and sighed, folding into him.

“He’s so weak, Pat.” Virgil croaked with tears pricking at his eyes. Patton put a hand on top of Virgil’s head and sighed. After barely a minute, Virgil sat back up. “I just came down so you guys would know we were done with the shower. I don’t want to leave him alone.” Patton nodded and stood up, wincing at the way his back popped.

Thomas stood up as well, wiping roughly at his face. Logan reached for Virgil’s hand, and they trudged up the stairs together.

•••

Re-entering Roman’s all gray room had the same effect that it did before, and everyone but Virgil shifted in unease. Roman was propped up against the headboard and his eyes were shut until he heard them enter.

Virgil wasted no time in crawling up the bed until he was resting against Roman’s side. Patton joined him, making sure to not lean too heavily on the Prince. Logan sat at the foot of the bed, reaching to place a hand on Roman’s leg. Thomas hovered awkwardly for a moment before mirroring Logan.

“How are you feeling sweetheart?” Patton asked, pulling one of Roman’s hands into his lap and clasping it between two of his.

“Tired,” Roman replied honestly. “But warm.” He smiled weakly at Patton and Patton squeezed his hand just a little bit tighter.

“Are you hungry? You haven’t eaten anything in days…”

Roman shook his head and Patton pursed his lips but acquiesced. The Sides didn’t really need to eat, they couldn’t die after all. But still, it was a comfort and eating did have an impact on them, emotionally.

“I jus’ wanna nap,” Roman said with a deep sigh.

“Ok Ro. You can nap, and we’ll stay right here. We’re not going anywhere.” Logan said with a reassuring squeeze of Roman’s leg. Roman nodded and slid down the bed, Patton and Virgil moving with him. Logan stayed where he was, keeping a watchful eye on Princey’s breathing.

Thomas cleared his throat and shot a glance at Logan.

“It looks like you guys got this under control. I’ll come check in in the morning?” Thomas’s expression was open and kind, and Logan was filled with love for him.

“That would be very good, Thomas.”

He nodded and stood slowly, trying not to rock the bed. He gave one last glance at Roman and smiled, before sinking out.

Logan slid up until he was next to Virgil and wrapped an arm around him.

And for the first time in days, Roman felt safe, warm, and was surrounded by his family.

•••

It took weeks to Roman back up to snuff, and the other sides had all worked together to create a neutral bedroom so they could all sleep together. When Virgil woke up one day and Roman’s eyes had returned to their usual brown, he almost started crying. When Patton saw them, he did cry.

Roman had been unwilling to attempt to create anything, even though Logan hypothesized that his color returning meant that his creative block was clearing up.

It...wasn’t actually that bad, shaking up their routine. All three of them loved to dote on Roman, dishing out as much affection as he gave them.

Thomas took a short break from videos, calling Joan to ask their help in editing footage they already had so as to keep any strain off Roman.

•••

Virgil came downstairs three weeks after they had found Roman to the sound of Patton’s humming and cooking. Logan handed him his coffee with a small smile, and Virgil gave him a sleepy one in return. He was about to ask Patton if he knew why Roman wasn’t down yet, when he heard the footsteps of the Creative Side coming down the stairs.

Roman appeared in his usual attire, bright red sash and clean white shirt, his hair styled in a way the others hadn’t seen in weeks. He also had a notebook in his hand.

“Good morning my loves,” He greeted, a beautiful smile on his lips, more genuine than it has been in a long time. Patton squealed and jumped on him before Virgil could protest, but Roman caught him easily and held him up by his legs as he peppered his face with kisses.

Patton giggled and gripped him tighter, wrapping his legs around his waist and pressing his face into his shoulder.

Logan and Virgil watched the display with amusement before Roman gently set Patton down and approached them, greeting them with a kiss.

“It’s wonderful to see you up and about, Roman.” Logan said as Roman slid into his seat.

“It’s wonderful to be up.” Roman set down his notebook and propped his head up on his hand. “Thank you all for what you did. I must admit, it wasn’t the response I was expecting.”

“Roman, there isn’t anything we wouldn’t do for you. We love you, and part of loving someone is taking care of them when they need it. I’m just sorry we didn’t get you sooner.” Patton said, taking Roman’s hand in his and squeezing.

Roman nodded back, his eyes looking misty, and dropped his gaze.

Patton kissed the top of his head before turning back to the stove. Roman took a deep breath and opened his notebook, starting to slowly sketch, his movements small and shy.

As the warmth from the mug seeped into his hands and the caffeine kick-started Virgil’s wake up process, he gazed around the kitchen at the people he loved, Patton humming to himself as he whisked eggs, Logan stirring his coffee as he read a book, and Roman lost in his headspace of creativity as he sketched, Virgil smiled.

It was going to be a wonderful day.

[ikonislife]

Noona.

-Jungkook x Female reader

-Angst.

-A/n: I’m in the process of purging my draft box so I’ll be posting up a lot of random scenarios the next month or so. Beside from Bobby’s birthday scenario (:

“Why don’t you just leave me the fuck alone, noona?” The way he bit out the honorific term, the one he had abandoned since the first breath of air he took in this world… It left you numb… You had thought you’d be hurt, devastated, heart obliterated and soul shredded, yet all you could feel was a wave of nothingness washing over your stiffening body. He shoved the hand you had been caressing peace back to his anger ravaged body with away without a care and you just. Feel. Numb. You hopped off his bed and stood there in silent, staring at him, rough hand carding frustratingly through the soft locks, anger and frustration taut on the handsome features. “I don’t need your useless advices right now.” He muttered darkly with a sharp glanced at your still frozen body. “What do you even know about me anyways. You’re too old to understand why it matter.” That was it, that was all you needed to know, and all you needed to confirm the suspicion you had about this relationship. You had your doubt, but the heart wants what it wants and damn you for trying so hard to fight it. He had always been so sweet, just a few years younger yet it felt like decades were between you both in the way he was always so carefree with life. While you, worry about your job then worry about your family. You worry from the second the sun hit your face like the rude bitch it is, reminding you that the night is ever so fleeting, that peace and comfort is never permanent. You worry too, till the very last second your consciousness allows you, sometimes even well into dreamland, you still worry. In comparison to your constant dark cloud and ominous aura, Jungkook’s was like the first breath of fresh air after a long 19 hours flight. He’s the embodiment the freshest bouquet of spring flower, and the coolest waves of summer’s beach. He’s the vibrancy of autumn’s leaves delightfully crunching under lovers’ steps, and the comforting warmth of hot chocolate amidst a snow storm. His smile was like bottled sunshine, voice like the personification of rain’s soothing rhythm. He’s everything you’re not and perhaps that was the exact problem with this relationship. So you said nothing, numb and empty, you turned away and walked out the door, leaving the boy to shed tear in silent. Even as your feet dragged your paralyzed body the whole distant of three houses down the street back home, you still didn’t cry. Which, honestly was very surprising for such a cry baby as yourself. Perhaps you had always knew this would be the end, expected it to a point where there was no pain, no devastation, no breaking of heart and shredding of soul… You were just numb. Days past and, well, you surmised this is what everyone would call miserable. Your scheduled remained the same, saved for the hour of lunch dined all on your own instead of with your easily excited boyfriend. Work then home, weekends were especially lively now that the hole left by Jungkook was filled with parties, clubs, and alcohol. You guessed that this is some fuck up attempt of your friends to ease you out of a heartbreak’s perdition, and you were extremely thankful. But you weren’t sure how much longer could your liver, stomach, and poor face could take of the belligerent version of yourself every week. You took the weekend off in hope to hold on to the last bit of normalcy in your life, and the last bit of your paycheck too. Yet weekend proven to be a hard thing to go through all alone because in the first hour alone, you’ve gone through all the post breakup girly home spa packages, gifts from your best friends. No more shows to binge, not when the previous 3 weeks of lonely night were spent staring at your computer screen. You stared at the pile of half eaten instant ramen bowl messily strewn across your kitchen counter and suddenly felt pathetic… Had your life gone to shit, gone to the point of no return that you couldn’t even take care of yourself after a breakup that honestly, you were still numb to. A painful sigh left your lips as you chucked on the thick, oversized blue turtleneck sweater that you had just realized was a remnant of your sweetheart. Far too lazy and far too empty still to care, you grabbed your keys and wallet before throwing on a pair of sneakers to brave to cold world outside for some take out, not that it was any better than a homemade meal but at least it was a start. You swung the front door open without care before finding yourself tumbling a few steps backward in shock… The first emotion you got striking through your hearts in weeks and it was shock, it was on the night that Jungkook was standing there, still so beautiful and… and everything that he was, he stood there at the threshold of your home with a frown on his lips. There was a moment of silent when neither of you had fully processed what just happened, a moment when Jungkook just stared, really just stared at you as he always had whenever he claimed to be admiring your beauty. Yet there was something painful, something so chaotic behind those usually starlit eyes. “Y/n… Baby…” He whispered gently, perhaps not even realizing himself that those words had been vocalized, hitting you in the chest like a freight train. Nostalgia, that was the second emotion you’ve managed in weeks. “What are you doing here?” You deadpanned, and in so many ways to Jungkook, that was so much worse than had you scream at him, throw a shoe at his face, or gouge his eyes out. Silent returned once more when his eyes trailed down to the wide shoulders of the sweater draping over your own, his lips momentarily curled up in a smile at the realization that it was his sweater you were wearing, yet it was gone just as fast as it had appeared. “I- I wanted to talk to you.” Gaze snapping back up toward your face as you crossed your arms defensively, Jungkook muttered pathetically, eyes averting your intense stare. “I don’t think there’s anything to talk about, Jungkook. You said all you needed to that day, and I understood it perfectly clear.” You didn’t know you possessed such a stone wall within your arsenal. You spoke calm and clear, without even a bit of waver to your voice when his named tumbled out of your lips. “N-No, that, none of that meant anything. I spoke out of anger and frustration and-“ Panic shuddered through his body like the chill of a cold night but you had cut him off before it could reach his toes. “It meant everything to me. And I understand why you said it, and honestly, I’m okay with it. I haven’t cry, it didn’t hurt. I just am the same person I was before you gave me all those wonderful months. I always knew this wasn’t going to last but your words, they always had such an effect on me.” You chuckled bitterly, watching as the light barely lit behind his eyes dimmed out even more. “I’m glad I got to know what it was like to be Jeon Jungkook’s girlfriend, and even as short lived as our relationship had been, I valued every second of it.” “I do too, I- there’s not even, I’m not even capable of expressing how amazing the time I had with you were, the way I feel for you.” He took a step forward only to halt himself short of probably a hug, those amazing hug he always wrapped you in every time you meet up. “And I’m glad you feel that. But it’s time to leave those wonderful moments in the past. Pack it in a box, put a nice bow on it, and hold it close to our hearts. It will always be endearing and magnificent but it is what it is, a thing of the past.” With the last word being whisked away by the frigid wind of winter, you gave him a parting smile, the smile of the past that you had so neatly put away on the shelf, one last time. You took one step forward then two, by the third you had passed up the boy still stunned by your calming words, standing there staring at the old red door he had grown to love as it closed on this chapter of his life. He stood there until a pang in his heart sent him stumbling backward, wide steps catching up to you as the desperate call of your name echoed through the night. He called and called but don’t dare touch you, following you toward your car like a lost puppy crying for love. You wished him one last goodnight before driving off into the night, leaving him on the side of the road, hot tears streaming down his sunken cheeks. For the first time in weeks, you cried. When you were sure Jungkook could no longer see the light of your car, you pulled over and just cried. You didn’t cry because his the words he had said but rather, you cried because you never wanted to see him cry. Your wish was always for Jungkook to have a smile on his lips so why did you even do this, why did you even hurt him to the point of tear. That was a question badgering at your own heart as you wailed his name, even if you knew he couldn’t hear. You wanted it, you wanted to hear him call you by name, to hear him call you baby, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to fall into his arms again because all you could hear, all that was ringing through your ears was “noona”.

[nightmaresindreamland]

Against his better judgement, he fell asleep again. He knew what the last dream had done to him, and he’d tried to avoid it, but he was too tired to stay awake.

Sleep was too intoxicating.

It’s just like it was before, in his dream. The darkness, the fact he was back to being a wizard again. But this time, he didn’t say anything as he’d tried to pierce through the black with his own lucid imagination.

He got what he wanted, sand blowing through into him like a storm and taking the darkness in their stride. He steeled himself against it and when he stopped being on the defense, he looked around cautiously.

Rolling hills of sand, a desert. Nothing but sand for miles, no cacti, nothing. 

“Hmmgh.”

He hummed, looking around the barren wasteland that felt.. Familiar. He couldn’t remember any time he was ever in a desert before, but.. It felt like he’d been here before.

Immediately, there’s a sense of dread. One which buried into his face and made him pale and sickly feeling. He needed to get out of this desert, there was something here with him.

He flew up into the sky, attempting to pierce through the clouds. However, as soon as he did, he was drowning in sand. He’d been transported back into the world below, into the desert’s yellow tide.

He coughed up sand, squabbling out. Nightmare knew he wouldn’t be able to escape to space, he’d have to just pick a direction and float. He wasn’t too happy about it, and he’d even tried to imagine away the desert, but nothing worked.

All he did was float.

He swayed in the air suddenly, losing his balance and tumbling down onto the sand. He struggled to get up, but he felt something push him deeper into the sand from the back of his head.

“Stop.”

A deep voice echoed, sending a shock-wave of immediate fear through him. He couldn’t place why, he’d never heard the voice before, and they didn’t even say anything particularly scary either.

He complied with the deep voice’s order.

“You look much better on the ground. You’re a sad excuse of a fear demon, everyone and anyone could beat you without much effort. Just give up, stay down, and die.”

Nightmare listened to the words and disdain for who spoke them welled up in him, as well as a few other things.

He tried getting up, but the person held him down still. He could still move his hands and he grabbed at their wrist and arm to try and remove them from ontop of him. The more he pulled, the more they pushed. Until, ultimately, they grew tired of his struggle and grabbed his floating arms with their free hand and crunched them like they were soda cans. They didn’t just crush the arms he had, they crushed the fingers too.

Nightmare wheezed and kept struggling, though.

“It would be so much easier for you if you just gave up. I will admit.. I do find your struggling under me very.. Amusing. Where’s that ego? Where’s all of your power now?”

The deep voice crooned, and his wheezes of strain grew more desperate as he tried to get out from under their pin.

“Do you really think you’re going to win here, eNeMeE? Do you really think you’re stronger than me?”

Nightmare’s struggle became even more furious, enflamed by that one particular sentence. 

“There is absolutely nothing you can do to me. There’s nothing that you can do that I cannot do better.” 

The other person grew more wily, chuckling darkly next.

“Stars, it’s.. Just so hilarious! It is! You think you can even try to fight me when you can’t even defend yourself from, what, literally anyone!?“

Nightmare squirmed and crawled, trying to force himself out from under his attacker in the most humiliating way possible. It seemed to be successful. Nightmare, with his broken hands he quickly healed, spun around to see who dared do this to him.

It was a towering figure, purely black, of a spike-dressed wizard. With a ripped cloak made of void, and a face nonexistant except the glowing thin like that was their mouth.

“Who..?” He croaked, backing off. The image wasn’t particularly scary, no, it was far from terrifying, but Nightmare was absolutely petrified.

“I am you.”

The figure reached out, brushing away the desert’s burning sun with a wave of their hand to plunge it into a darkened arena. The sand glowed with reds and yellows, lighting up underneath the two.

Nightmare was paralyzed for a moment, then he immediately started to flee. But this shadow wizard, barely seen now in the dark except that smile, reached to grab him like he were nothing but a very small icecream cone.

The hold crunched his throat and hands, but kept his face fine. Nightmare struggled, trying to grab at his cape to teleport. However, he was completely restricted; incapable. He kept squirming, though.

“There’s one thing you were good for. Entertainment. Your squirming, your futile struggling against me all for something I’m going to obliterate, it’s so nostalgic. I have to thank you for that. So, thank you being so second-rate that you’re giving me nostalgia of the days I killed the clueless and defenseless.“

The other’s hand lit in green electricity. Nightmare’s trying everything now, biting, scratching, squirming, trying to keep away from the electricity he knew would melt him. But it closed in and swarmed his body, lashing at his metal and causing him to melt. 

He screamed and wailed in agony.

“Scream all you want, eNeMeE,” The dark wizard smiled politely, “no one will ever come to help you.”

Kirby woke up wheezing and startled. He’d pulled blankets close to him for comfort before immediately mentally scolding himself for acting so disgustingly weak. It’s a good thing no one was around to see him act so pathetic.

“...”

It’s fine. He’ll just go get something to eat. He doesn’t know what that was, or who that was, but he didn’t want to have to think about it. 

Nobody needs to know about this.

[mr-snapshooters-drafts]

Dating in Your 30s With the Ghosts of Girlfriends Past

The beginning of every new romance is laden with the prospect of a different kind of “ghosting” – where the thoughts, memories, and spirits of our past partners haunt our present affairs.

Table for two? No, sir, four for the ghosts of our past.

As we sit across the bar, arms nudging, our feet entangle, and the warm feeling takes over. The ambience is perfect; we have eyes only for each other. A friends-turning-into-more-than-friends scenario, perhaps.

And then they play some song, that takes you back… back to the person before the one you’re sitting with. That feeling, that emotion, that memory triggered, one that is annoying by the very fact that it should even resurface after so long. And you slip back into the same melancholy mode, thinking of time passed and feelings that will never return.

You approximate a feeling of melancholy that the Portuguese call “saudade”, or the “presence of absence”. As this Huffington Post piece puts it, the almost untranslatable word is a “a longing for someone or something that you remember fondly but know you can never experience again. Saudade is not nostalgia where you reminisce about happy and sad emotions. You remember the happiness but feel the sadness knowing you can’t recapture the feeling.”

And then you pause and wonder, is the person you are sitting with doing the same too?

Are they also looking at the bar, remembering the moment with another person in another time, maybe even in the same bar? It makes you think whether we are both entirely with each other? Or somewhere are we still carrying along the ghosts of the past? Turning a date for two into a ménage à trois or perhaps even a ghostly foursome? And sometimes there is more than one ghost of the past. And you wonder just how many of them are on the dance floor, along with the two of you?

In a brilliant sequence in the Charlie Puth-Selena Gomez number “We Don’t Talk Anymore” past lovers are shown kissing present ones in adjacent frames. A clever visual trick obliterates the present partners, so it appears as if Puth and Gomez are kissing each other.

Perhaps, deep down somewhere, we are all still kissing our previous partners.

I don’t know what sucks more: Being the new guy (blissfully unaware or painfully aware of the fact) or being the person who just can’t take in a new partner whole. Because your emotional hard drive still has some inaccessible bad sectors from the past.

It’s a frightening prospect. If the ghosts of my past were to manifest as apparitions, they would probably float past my current muse to pass snide remarks. “So, he still checks himself out in the mirror huh LOL,” the ghost might ask. (And true to its past form, this ghost won’t even laugh… it might actually say LOL just to irritate the fuck out of me). And my partner might say, “OMG like totally and that stupid expression he makes!”

Sobering also is the realisation that in another corner of the world, you are the ghost for someone out there. My ghostly apparition probably floats about making sarcastic jibes like, “Thanks babe! Now I’m dead both on the inside and outside.” Not to mention the fear that today’s muse could well become tomorrow’s ghost as you go about accumulating so many of them even the Ghostbusters vault seems insufficient to hold them where they can do no harm.

So, a sense of fatigue, an inability to create pure, new experiences sort of creeps in. Somewhat like how it didn’t feel like a party back in college until you were spinning around on your back like an upturned turtle. But now anything more than a slightly tipsy feeling after two drinks feels like a bit too much.

Does that mean, we’re resigned to never once more experience the romantic equivalent of unabashed alcoholism? Well, unless your romantic liver is made of steel, maybe not.

But here’s the bright side. Just like your relationship with alcohol changes, so does your relationship with romance. From the heady days of brazen, emotionally intense waves of love to perhaps simply settling in for a quiet day with a person where it doesn’t feel like noise when they talk. To an acceptance that your combined ghosts will linger on for a while.

Yet, at some point they will get buried into the sands of time, as new memories take their place.

Some might recall that episode from the show How I Met Your Mother, where the baggage Ted has been carrying from the past continues to haunt his current relationship. But his acceptance of it at the end of the episode finally helps him move on.

Because not all the conversations of the ghosts are haunting ones. If they could talk to each other, perhaps they’d say things like “He’s an idiot but he has a nice heart.” Or, “Yes, he’s frustrating but I got to admit, it’s never been boring right?” Or even, “Just when you want to strangle him, he does something caring, doesn’t he… the asshole.”

For all the bitterness, if a medium ever put us in touch, I would probably say things like “Hey Ghost(s), thank you for all the wonderful times. For the way you boosted my self-esteem. How you convinced me that you also found me attractive for the way I look, and not despite it, as I have always believed. For the tenderness, for turning passion into intimacy, and a kiss into a conversation. For lifting this troubled electron to a higher orbit. I hope we when we meet years later, we will look at each other and smile like the final scene in La La Land where Mia and Sebastian communicate so much in one glance. It’s ok that we couldn’t make it with each other, but we still made it. I’m happy for you – and I hope you’re happy for me too.”

You wish all relationships, if they had to end, could end this way.

As for me, I find my hope in the TV series Scrubs, to Carla’s wedding vows when she turns to her future husband Turk and says. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but you’ve managed to erase them all. Because each and every one of them has led me to you.”

Reblogged from Arre

https://www.arre.co.in/love-and-sex/dating-in-your-30s-ex-girlfriends/

#ex #exgirlfriend #past #lalaland #himym #howimetyourmother #love #ghost #ghosting #life #arre #blog #drafts

[lifeaftermeteor]

Research and Development Division, Winner Enterprises L4-V05001 17 April 208 

Quatre closed his eyes and rubbed them with his fingertips.  With a frustrated sigh, he waved his hand over the holographic table before him.  The vehicle design he had been working evaporated, blue-tinted pixels fading like stardust.  He then glanced down at his watch, which only made him sigh again.  

The insomnia had come back with a vengeance since the announcement of a colony vote and although the R&D team welcomed a fellow experimenter among their ranks—even when said individual was the WEI CEO, something which they graciously did not hold against him—the late nights spent in the deep sub-levels of WEI’s science park property had all but obliterated his internal body clock. 

His usual approach to correcting such issues was to come down to R&D to work himself to sleep on some project or another for the Preventers.  But even that was not quite doing the trick tonight. 

Today, he corrected himself.  The colony would be starting its sunrise simulation within the next couple hours.  Shortly thereafter he would launch into a slew of meetings with industry partners and representatives on the Island Council to discuss the models he and others had run on the various courses of action the Middle Eastern States had presented for consideration. [1]  They were generous offers to be sure...but none of them were enough in Quatre’s opinion.   

They’re looking at the wrong indicators, he mused silently.  The stakes had been pegged to global economic stability, which was no doubt a necessary factor, but the real stakes were much higher.  The real stakes meant war.  Perhaps not immediately, but certainly soon.  The presidential election had given the ESUN breathing space from the protests and strikes that had marred Reuson’s predecessor’s term.  But it was an intermission, not an end.  Unless of course the colonies got their independence and recognition as sovereign states in their own right. 

Otherwise… 

As if to banish the dark thoughts from his mind, Quatre waved his hand over the table to bring it back to life.  Alone in the R&D division, he drilled down into the hidden and locked folders on the company server until he came to the one he was looking for.  The folder’s name was innocuous enough, but it held the cache of all his personal projects.  He pulled up the first file and leaned back in his chair, letting nostalgia and the sharp bite of fear wash over him. 

Wing Zero. 

He had found the original blueprints in Instructor H’s files but he had made some...modifications of his own.  The suit had been designed to be the devourer of worlds, and angel of death and destruction.  And in Heero’s hands it had saved the human race from itself not once, but twice, Quatre mused silently.   

Could such a thing become necessary again? 

No, he argued with himself.  No, the age of mobile suits is over.  So determined, he waved away the Gundam and brought for the Goliath.   

The project was a massive, one at which he had been scratching away piece by piece and deck by deck.  The expense required to resource just one of the things would prevent its production. 

A warship.  An interplanetary warship. 

A leviathan which would never see action...or so he hoped. 

Si vis pacem, para bellum. [2] 

Leaning forward over the table, Quatre got to work.

[1] Reminder: the Alliance of Middle Eastern States (with heavy financial reinforcement from the Winner family) are responsible for the L4 cluster in LAM!verse

[2] Si vis pacem, para bellum: If you want peace, prepare for war.  Quatre has a soft spot for the quote.  Readers may remember he had told Wufei he wanted the phrase on his travel documents.

[carylerxsecretsanta]

Carol of the Bells

for @wolviesgal​

Title: Carol of the Bells Author: thegoldenkittenking Rating: T+ Summary: Carol comes to a surprising realization during the holiday season. A/N: More angsty fluff, which is– apparently– my thing. This is AU after season 7 and Carol and Daryl are hanging out at the Kingdom. 

The realization hits Carol like a ton of bricks. Out of nowhere, knocking the breath out of her and leaving her dazed and confused.

They’re not even doing anything particularly romantic. Nothing that would trigger such a sudden and world-changing realization. He didn’t ask her to a moonlit stroll through the one ornamental garden the Kingdom has. Nor did he invite her to a candlelit dinner (although most of their dinners are candlelit now).

No, she realizes it sitting across from him stringing popcorn onto a string. A rotten floor in a house they were looting put them both out of commission for any real helpful work, but even with aching backs and bruises covering every inch of them, they can’t sit still. So they’re given light busy-work, which includes making popcorn garlands to cover the various real and fake trees the Kingdom has gathered.

The Kingdom takes Christmas very seriously and it’s absolutely bizarre to Carol. She hasn’t even thought of trying to celebrate since the world went to hell and it’s not like they knew what the calendar month it was. But the Kingdom does. And they certainly don’t half-ass their Christmas celebrations.

Daryl is huddled over his strand, applying the same diligent focus as he does to any task that is set before him. Carol looks up from her own half-strung garland, just to watch him. She loves to watch him get lost in his work. It’s one of the few times he’s completely unguarded. As she watches him work, she’s struck by the realization she is completely, desperately in love with him.

She stops working, she’s so shocked. Carol has always held him in high regard and with more than a little affection. He is her best and dearest friend. But love? Real, romantic love? She always thought she was beyond that. Any ideas she held of romance and true love were obliterated by Ed.

How does she even deal with this? Daryl has never shown her any indication he feels anything more than platonic affection. Or that he even wants anything more than her friendship. She can’t act on these feelings. They would ruin everything she holds dear. Carol would much rather pine than lose him completely. That is a fate worse than death.

“Ya okay?”

Daryl’s voice pulls her out of her reverie. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little sore.”

It’s true and little isn’t even half of it. Falling through the floor into the basement left her with broken, or at the very least bruised, ribs. Every breath sends a sharp pain through her entire right side. It’s a better answer than admitting what she’s just realized though.

“‘M sorry.” He hangs his head in shame.

“It’s not your fault. How were you supposed to know that the floor would give out?”

“Shoulda tested it or somethin’ Sounded real bad when I stepped on it.”

“I’ll recover. I’ve had worse.” Aching ribs and bruising with decent medical attention is a hundred times better than what she got from Ed.

Daryl sets down his garland and stretches with a wince. “Gettin’ hungry. Ya wanna grab somethin’?”

This is their nightly routine. Grab dinner and then hang out together. She loves it usually, loves spending time with him, but tonight, after her realization, she doesn’t think she can stand being that close with him. “I think I’m going to go lay down. My body’s putting all its energy into healing, I’m exhausted.”

“Oh… Okay. Uhhh, ya want me to grab ya anything?”

“No.” She watches his face fall and she tries to take the sting out of her rejection. “Thank you though. I appreciate it.”

She leaves him and her half-finished garland behind, making her way to her room.

***

She’s been avoiding Daryl for the last few days. Needs space from him to try and order her thoughts and feelings so she doesn’t betray herself. She couldn’t stand the sting of rejection. Especially his rejection.

So she throws herself headfirst into the Kingdom’s Christmas preparations, using it as an excuse to avoid spending time with Daryl. She can see the hurt in his eyes every time she makes an excuse, but her fear keeps her away. Can’t bear the thought of her silliness breaking their relationship.

She feels like she did back in Alexandria, when they first arrived. Hiding from Daryl because she couldn’t let him see how broken she was. How he’d read her in a second if she spent any time with him. Their separation strained them both emotionally and guilt churns her stomach. She doesn’t want to repeat those awful months. Not when she missed him terribly then and is beginning to miss him

Finally, after a long day of hanging up swag that ignites the ache of her recent injuries, she pulls herself together– she’s an adult goddammit and this is not something to be afraid of– and seeks him out. Tries to form an apology without revealing the real reasons why she’s been avoiding him.

She turns the corner into the main courtyard, and catches a glimpse of Daryl. Can’t help the wave of excitement and affection that rolls over her. She can feel a smile forming on her lips, until she sees what he’s doing.

And then her entire face crumbles.

He’s talking to one of the women from the Kingdom. And smiling and laughing with her. Daryl doesn’t do that with people, at least not people he’s uncomfortable around. And he’s very comfortable around her.

Her entire chest hurts.

Carol can’t even find it in herself to be mad. Sarah is wonderful and incredibly kind and sweet. The perfect type of person for Daryl. Carol shouldn’t feel like she’s lost something.

Daryl was never hers to begin with.

Carol takes a deep, steadying breath and shoves all of her emotions down deep. She’s happy for him. He deserves someone who can make him happy and laugh and isn’t carrying an abusive marriage and dead child’s worth of emotional baggage.

Someone better than her.

Even heartbroken she pushes forward, intent on trying to reconnect with Daryl. It isn’t like she hasn’t recovered from great disappointment before.

Pastes a half-convincing smile once she nears him. He may be seeing someone, but that doesn’t mean Carol isn’t going to give up on their friendship.

“You okay?”

Of course he sees right through her. “Just sore from hanging up all the swag. Don’t think I’m quite as recovered as I thought I was.”

Daryl’s brow furrows. “Gotta be careful. Don’t wantcha hurtin’ yerself.”

“I’m fine. I was wondering, do you want to eat together or…”

“Course I do.” Daryl wipes his hands on his pants. “Missed ya the last few nights.”

“I did to,” she admits.

God, did she miss him.

***

Christmas has arrived cold and clear and the entire Kingdom lost their collective mind. She hasn’t seen a group of people so excited for Christmas since she helped out in Sophia’s  second-grade classroom.

It’s a bittersweet day for Carol. She’s gotten caught up in the air of cheer and Christmas spirit that hangs around the Kingdom, but she can’t help but think of past Christmases. Ed was always on his best behavior and kept insults and general foulness to a minimum. Sophia was excited every year, hardly able to sleep the night before. It was her favorite holiday and Carol can’t separate it from her little girl. It will always be steeped in sadness and nostalgia for her.

Carol sits outside in one of the gazebos, spiced cider in hand. The last few jugs of cider from the apple harvest were hidden for today and Carol thinks it was worth it. There’s nothing more festive than a cup of spiced cider on a freezing day.

The only people not in the cafeteria properly celebrating are her and whoever is on guard duty. She can’t bring herself to participate but she doesn’t mind watching.

“There ya are.” Daryl huffs as he walks up the stairs into the gazebo. “Been lookin’ for ya.”

“I’ve been here.”

He gives her a lopsided smile and sits next to her, pulling a lumpy looking package out of his jacket.

He shoves the messily wrapped package towards. “Got this for ya,” he mutters to the ground.

She takes it out of his hands and holds it to her chest. “I didn’t get you anything,” she says, dismayed. They’ve never officially exchanged gifts before, never had a reason to.

“Don’t gotta. Ya’ve already given me” He pauses, searching for a word “… a lot,” he mumbles out looking not quite at her.

She unwraps it gently, trying not to tear it open in her excitement and curiosity. Can’t remember the last time she received a wrapped present from someone. Sophia, she thinks, who gave her her earrings just a few months before the Turn.

Inside the wrapping paper is a soft red wool sweater and light blue flannel pajama bottoms. It’s surprisingly… intimate.

“Why didn’t you give these to Sarah?” Carol asks, confused.

“Why?” Daryl asks, looking slightly bewildered.

“Aren’t you two… together?”

“What? No! I… uh… asked for her help with the bottoms. ‘Cause ya said all yers were gettin’ holes in ‘em and these were kinda too big. Can’t ask ya to fix yer own present, so I asked her for help.”

“Oh…” Hearing that they aren’t together fills her with a sort of giddy happiness, “Thank you. I love them.”

Daryl smiles and they sit in companionable silence until something catch’s Carol’s eye.

“Oh…” Daryl looks over at her and follows her gaze up where a bunch of mistletoe hangs jovially from the rafters.

“The fuck they’d find that?” Daryl asks.

Carol lets out a surprised laugh. “It’s a parasitic plant, isn’t it? Probably around in some tree somewhere.”

“Don’t half-ass this shit do they?”

“They take Christmas very seriously here.” Carol stops and can’t help but wonder if she’s going to go to far. “It’s considered bad luck if you don’t kiss.”

Daryl eyes her and then says, “Don’t wanna get bad luck. Not in this climate.”

He leans over as her heartbeat speeds up and her breath quickens. Daryl presses the softest kiss against her lips. It’s momentary and light as a feather, but, holy shit, it happened.

“Merry Christmas,” Carol half-whispers as she leans into his shoulder.

Daryl presses a kiss against the top of her head and rests his head against hers.

“Merry Christmas”

Thank you for reading! And Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you!

[junker-town]

Ranking every NFL’s schedule release video from the incredible to Jerry Jones doing ASMR

Don’t make me watch Jerry do ASMR again. Please.

The release of the NFL schedule has become one of the dumbest things in sports. Entire multi-hour TV specials are devoted to seeing who plays in prime time, and breaking down which teams have the most advantageous bye weeks.

But 2019 was special. It was different. Teams were allowed to have fun on Twitter, and that led to some of the best videos we’ve seen. Some teams took something so boring and mundane and made them magical, others ... not so much.

These were so good we can’t stop watching.

Los Angeles Chargers — Stock Footage reveal

Should we REALLY make our schedule release video with stock footage? yes yes yesyes yesyes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yesyes yes yes yes yesye yes yes yes yes yesyes pic.twitter.com/wAB8CdAfnB

— Los Angeles Chargers (@Chargers) April 18, 2019

Stock footage is mana from heaven, and the Chargers nailed it. The whole thing has this very Tim and Eric vibe to it, which I really appreciate — and it’s so janky it’s good. The Chargers used to be so horrible on Twitter, being mostly first-person accounts of PF Changs. Now they’ve discovered comedy.

Carolina Panthers — Classic video games

Wanna play a game? pic.twitter.com/mF5CeYnGUE

— Carolina Panthers (@Panthers) April 18, 2019

Hook this nostalgia directly to my veins. Mortal Kombat II is on point. I love the Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater goof. If you’re a child of the 70s, 80s or 90s this is a beautiful, wonderful thing and I love every second of it.

Atlanta Falcons — Game of Thones, with a jab

Football is coming. Full Schedule ➡️https://t.co/vNuHMKwxTs pic.twitter.com/Xb91bWV7dB

— Atlanta Falcons (@AtlantaFalcons) April 17, 2019

Several teams went with a Game of Thrones aesthetic (more on those later), but nobody did it better than the Falcons because of one core moment, which happens 40 seconds in.

Why yes, that is a Ram, obliterating a member of a marching band presumably playing “When the Saints go marching in,” and yes that is a referee running in and waving off the penalty as an ode to the NFC Championship game. It hits such a specific nerve that it’s beautiful.

Better than average.

Pittsburgh Steelers — Mr. Schedule’s Neighborhood

It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood. Let’s head to the Neighborhood of Make-Believe for our 2019 schedule… pic.twitter.com/blrW7zjwsW

— Pittsburgh Steelers (@steelers) April 18, 2019

I have a two-year-old. So by nature I’ve watched a lot of Mr. Rodgers over the past 24 months. I really appreciate this loving homage to the show, and Mr. Rodgers by extension — a Pittsburgh native. I can appreciate this.

Cleveland Browns — John Dorsey is so old.

EXCLUSIVE: The exact moment GM John Dorsey got our schedule pic.twitter.com/EC1tAvMs4E

— Cleveland Browns (@Browns) April 18, 2019

I appreciate the self depreciation of Browns’ GM John Dorsey to log onto his America Online account, printing it off on one of those printers that makes a horrific whining sound like the shriek of a banshee and pinning it to his wall.

Seattle Seahawks — Beat ‘em up

⬇️ Restart those consoles and charge those battery packs because the Biggest Games of 2019 are HERE. ⬇️ pic.twitter.com/VOJCJwcidv

— Seattle Seahawks (@Seahawks) April 18, 2019

I like that the bye week is a trip to Pizza Hut. Nice touch.

Jacksonville Jaguars — As seen on TV

Get your teal out because today your lives are about to change. It’s the 2019 Jaguars Schedule, presented by @McGowansHVAC! Full schedule: https://t.co/XpUXP46BKF pic.twitter.com/LW4Drq5tMX

— #DUUUVAL (@Jaguars) April 18, 2019

Maybe not the nostalgia I was looking for, but I can get down with this.

Detroit Lions — The Office

"My mind is going a mile an hour." - Michael Scott @theofficenbc ScheduleReveal2019.gif pic.twitter.com/pe70ebQfhe

— Detroit Lions (@Lions) April 18, 2019

I appreciate the effort in finding all these clips.

New York Giants — Tracey Morgan reveal

.@RealTracyMorgan drops Big Blue's Fall Lineup, coming this September! pic.twitter.com/e26umIL719

— New York Giants (@Giants) April 18, 2019

Automatically good.

New York Jets — NFL Blitz

Blow in the cartridge. Insert the Rumble Pak. Dial up Da Bomb. It's 2019 schedule release, NFL Blitz style! pic.twitter.com/JrHU8PiUeX

— #TakeFlight (@nyjets) April 18, 2019

A solid effort. Went on just a little too long for a single conceit.

These are fine.

Indianapolis Colts — Andrew Luck facts

Who needs a fancy schedule release video when you can have THIS? pic.twitter.com/47Bub45Big

— Indianapolis Colts (@Colts) April 18, 2019

Oakland Raiders — Antonio and Trent Brown react

"See y'all in a stadium near you." pic.twitter.com/ewUdr0pAXE

— Oakland Raiders (@Raiders) April 18, 2019

Houston Texans — Game of Thrones

Schedule is here.#GameofThrones pic.twitter.com/QV2yNNKyBQ

— Houston Texans (@HoustonTexans) April 18, 2019

Green Bay Packers — Packers Man

Game On: The 2019 #Packers schedule is here! : https://t.co/11LbDm9kMY#GoPackGo pic.twitter.com/0BDpkJKgZv

— Green Bay Packers (@packers) April 18, 2019

New England Patriots — Bad Lip Reading

Football is a very fun game. Schedule 2019: Bad #Patriots lip reading edition. pic.twitter.com/qVcil6ALLg

— New England Patriots (@Patriots) April 18, 2019

Baltimore Ravens — Mega Ravens

‼️THIS FOOTBALL SEASON ‼️ PREPARE FOR DOMINATION ‼️MEGA RAVENS FOOTBALL‼️ pic.twitter.com/6gKU0m9009

— Baltimore Ravens (@Ravens) April 18, 2019

Philadelphia Eagles — Famous Fans

Announcing the schedule proved tougher than we thought, so we enlisted the help of some of our friends.#FlyEaglesFly | #EaglesEverywhere pic.twitter.com/fQvlX0PdEd

— Philadelphia Eagles (@Eagles) April 18, 2019

Buffalo Bills — Tinder

Hey 2019 opponents… Sup? pic.twitter.com/JPpU3Wu4FH

— Buffalo Bills (@buffalobills) April 18, 2019

Tennessee Titans — Country music

Listen here, Tennessee! The Queen of Country and her friends are here to announce the #Titans 2019 schedule. pic.twitter.com/pufKIBq3Zp

— Tennessee Titans (@Titans) April 18, 2019

Kansas City Chiefs — Classic Moments

The 60th season. #ChiefsKingdom pic.twitter.com/C7rUBbmkRc

— Kansas City Chiefs (@Chiefs) April 18, 2019

Chicago Bears — 100 years in the making

100 years in the making... #Bears100 pic.twitter.com/83KYt2YLkn

— Chicago Bears (@ChicagoBears) April 18, 2019

Denver Broncos — Madden

Our 2019 schedule? It’s in the game. #NFLScheduleRelease pic.twitter.com/mMAcrENuMg

— Denver Broncos (@Broncos) April 18, 2019

Nope ... no thanks.

Dallas Cowboys — ASMR

See Jerry Jones and @AmariCooper9 help us release the 2019 #DallasCowboys schedule through ASMR. Tickets available at 9pm CT via @SeatGeek → https://t.co/ZAoOUYT7dj pic.twitter.com/9YWj8LDsKR

— Dallas Cowboys (@dallascowboys) April 18, 2019

There is absolutely nothing about Jerry Jones saying “Let’s Go Cowboys” in ASMR that I ever want to think about ever again.

Arizona Cardinals — First version

Coming soon to a 65,000-seat theater near you! : https://t.co/SUoxwxldMU pic.twitter.com/YIkht787bl

— Arizona Cardinals (@AZCardinals) April 18, 2019

People freaked out because Josh Rosen wasn’t featured at all in this and it was so bad the team had to issue a revision. Welp.

Minnesota Vikings — Poetry

Two Thousand Nineteen Vikings schedule is here Poetry stylehttps://t.co/m0jfJIfmem pic.twitter.com/VApm2oWkP4

— Minnesota Vikings (@Vikings) April 18, 2019

I love the idea. The execution just isn’t there. This could have been special, but alas.

New Orleans Saints — New Orleans Stuff

A New Orleans-influenced look at the Saints' 2019 schedule! (Via @SeatGeek) #GoSaints pic.twitter.com/7EuF8whGkG

— New Orleans Saints (@Saints) April 18, 2019

There is nothing memorable about this. Sorry Saints.

Tampa Bay Buccaneers — This

Schedule’s out, YOU IN?

— Tampa Bay Buccaneers (@Buccaneers) April 18, 2019

Nah.

Cincinnati Bengals — Mascot on a scooter

Who Dey zooms through the 2019 #Bengals Schedule pic.twitter.com/ihr033s4G3

— Cincinnati Bengals (@Bengals) April 18, 2019

THIS was the best y’all could come up with?

Miami Dolphins — Zzzzzzz

It's official, the 2019 regular season schedule is here! What games will you be attending this season? #FinsUp Single game tickets >> https://t.co/h1wPxNFS3a pic.twitter.com/IC7B0wW8cc

— Miami Dolphins (@MiamiDolphins) April 18, 2019

Los Angeles Rams — Players react

Playing the old squad, a homecoming + no cold games for the specialists‼️@weddlesbeard, @AaronDonald97 + @JHekker (we gave him permission to join the position players) take the call for the 2019 #LARams schedule! pic.twitter.com/n0dMuL09MR

— Los Angeles Rams (@RamsNFL) April 18, 2019

Except they didn’t really react. Just said “nice” a whole bunch.

[daylightarchives]

GUIDE TO ONEOHTRIX POINT NEVER

As a fringe guy who’s always been more interested in experimentation and provocation than gratification of any sort, Oneohtrix Point Never (the alias of writer-producer-performer extraordinaire Daniel Lopatin) enjoys that intimidating “weirdo critical darling” status where the everyone from Pitchfork to Fantano to the pretentious bohemians of the wider blogosphere seem to love him, but the average listener (me, at one point, included) has no idea how he fits into the larger conversation surrounding electronic music or if he’d sound good tucked between other “ambient” and “vaporwave” artists on a playlist (hint: he wouldn’t). The point of this piece isn’t simply to ramble on about how profoundly difficult Oneohtrix Point Never is, though; I’m writing instead to make the argument that despite that aforementioned inaccessibility as an artist, the music of OPN is worth attempting to seriously listen to if you have even a passing interest in music as an art form, challenging art, or just plain interesting ideas. 

To sum it up, Oneohtrix Point Never began as an ambient act fascinated with ideas like nostalgia and cultural memory, especially with relation to idealistic visions of the future as computers became widely used in the ‘90s (think ‘90s educational videos, nature documentaries, commercials, etc). After some widely successful releases in that genre, Lopatin expanded the OPN aesthetic, inventing vaporwave and releasing album after dizzying album of plunderphonics, early computer nostalgia trips, and, most recently, a cinematic epic encompassing dance music, grunge, and apparently, a lot of philosophy. An album by album guide to the artistic output of Lopatin as OPN follows… feel free to skip around if one thing seems more interesting than another: the OPN discography is about as varied as they come, and even if one album sounds like the most boring thing you could possibly listen to, I guarantee the literal inverse exists somewhere else - Lopatin’s musical canon really is that diverse. In depth reviews in the full post!

RIFTS (2009)

For those of us who weren’t in Brooklyn while Lopatin established himself as a local legend in ambient and noise scenes through a prolific run of cassette only releases from 2007-09, Rifts serves as a convenient collection of OPN’s three breakout albums from that period: Betrayed in the Octagon (2007), Zones Without People (2009), and Russian Mind (2009). As 2+ hours of incredibly dense music, I’d call Rifts probably one of OPN’s most intimidating releases, unless you really dig ambient music. However, for all of its uninviting qualities, Rifts can be an incredibly impressive listen, full of synth lines that echo into oblivion, invocations of an imagined future, and huge soundscapes that evoke the majesty of early ambient classics like Aphex Twin’s Selected Ambient Works Volume 2. That ambient-genre tag might seem to imply that Rifts’ 27 tracks are homogenous and basically formless, but it’s surprisingly easy to tell when one album ends and another begins: Betrayed in the Octagon is droning and melancholic, Zones Without People has a noticeable sci-fi bent with laser beam sound effects and serene field recordings, and Russian Mind sounds legitimately as though it was created by a computer (especially the icy and kind of funny title track). Rifts is admittedly not for the feint of heart, but can be great as a long and intense synth odyssey thats just as easy to actively engage with as it is to totally get lost in.

RETURNAL (2010)

As OPN’s major label debut and probably Lopatin’s first record with serious philosophical underpinnings, Returnal can be tough to talk about because for all of the conceptual heft behind the record, it can at times sound like it belongs somewhere in that Rifts comp. Returnal is the last Oneohtrix Point Never that I’d comfortably call ambient, and even then, Lopatin really pushes the limits of that signifier: opener Nil Admirari is a total industrial noise freakout and utterly horrifying. To hear Lopatin describe it, it’s a portrait of a distinctly modern kind of sensory overload: “the mom’s sucked into CNN, freaking out about Code Orange terrorist shit, while the kid is in the other room playing Halo 3, inside that weird Mars environment, killing some James Cameron–type predator;” strip away the 2010isms of that line and you’re left with a pretty poignant image that might hit close to home. From there, the album glides effortlessly into the ambient territory Lopatin has already pretty well mastered for seven serene drone tracks that, to quote Noel Gardner, don't invoke a vast space so much as the concept of vastness itself. Though I’m by no means an ambient expert, this record is pretty massive within that community, and, if anything I’ve described here interests you, you should definitely check Returnal out.

CHUCK PERSON’S ECCOJAMS VOL. 1 (2010)

A major stylistic break from OPN’s back catalog and something of a manifesto for the rest of his career, Chuck Person’s Eccojams Vol. 1 came into being innocuously enough as an anonymous youtube upload that Lopatin only retroactively took credit for (in the form of a remastered reissue) after it literally invented vaporwave. From this point forward in Lopatin’s career, the ambient soundscapes would be replaced by something distinctly more musical; namely, on this record and the next official Oneohtrix Point Never release, Replica, samples. The approach for Eccojams is deceptively simple: 15 tracks, and each one of them consists simply of one or sometimes two samples pulled from 80's easy listening hits or muzak slowed down to a narcotic tempo and pitch, then drenched in echo and effects. Per Loptain, the eccojam approach and idea was intended to be a way of reclaiming lost culture and bringing a DIY, memey edge to music long forgotten in the annals of commercial history. For all the heady philosophical stuff, the approach really took off, spawning a huge (now basically dead) movement of fellow artists making vaporwave, reinvigorating a probably ironic fascination for ‘90s culture online, and influencing artists like Clams Casino and Kanye West. To me, Eccojams really demonstrates just how thorough Lopatin’s understanding of internet culture and the philosophical underpinnings of nostalgia is - when was the last time you heard of someone intentionally and successfully inventing a meme, let alone someone this fringe? If you’ve ever used the word “aesthetic” ironically, you probably owe some of your sense of humor to this record and the space it’s carved out for itself at the strange intersection of music, philosophy, and internet culture.

REPLICA (2011)

Replica was also probably the closest thing to a mainstream moment Daniel Lopatin had ever had thus far in his career: coming off the heels of literally inventing a genre of music and touting yet another new musical approach, a much wider audience than before was now curious as to what Oneohtrix Point Never might come out with next. The album this newfound fanbase got was, characteristically, a crazy album even for OPN - even within its most accurate genre signifier, plunderphonics (sample based music that isn’t hip hop,) there really isn't anything even remotely similar. Built around a treasure trove of ‘80s commercials that Lopatin ordered by the boxful on VHS and dutifully sampled one-by-one, Replica is simultaneously really sprawling and kaleidoscopic but also very simple and minute. Songs like Andro and the title track are serene ambient pieces that are eventually swept up in these waves of massive synth lines and samples, and The Power of Persuasion and Sleep Dealer play almost like eccojams, endlessly looping, but with a renewed energy and intensity (Sleep Dealer, interestingly enough, is built entirely around a Wrigley’s gum commercial).  Elsewhere on the record, Lopatin triggers sample after manipulated sample in a dizzying way that eventually gives way to these blurred, beautiful pieces on tracks like Child Soldier (see if you can catch the M.I.A. sample,) the kinda hilarious grossout track Nassau, and Up. There really isn’t anything like this record in the OPN discography or anywhere else, and it also represents at least to me an interesting development on the idea of “vaporwave” as this act of cultural reappropration: if Eccojams saw Lopatin reimagining hits ingrained within the public memory, Replica sees him digging deeper into the American cultural psyche and attacking the history of our consumer culture even harder, playing mindless bits of sales-driven non entertainment on a loop and beckoning listeners to create their own meaning within that weird headspace. I think it’s a ton of fun.

R PLUS SEVEN (2013)

My personal favorite Oneohtrix Point Never record, R Plus Seven takes the idea of experimenting with culturally passé sounds a step further by occupying itself with some Rifts-era ideas - namely, early '90s tech fascination and the host of now considered “cheesy” sounds that came with it. Every single sound on R Plus Seven is totally clean, shiny, and metallic, seeming to exist in a totally sterile environment. Whereas the human voices found occasionally on past OPN records belonged to old samples and occasionally Lopatin himself, the voices here are all computer generated choir patches and individual voices. The songs of R Plus Seven seem almost engineered to sound of a piece with someone old cultural touchstone: Americans begins like a NatGeo nature doc before dissolving into a cacophony of wordless voices and bubbling synths, Problem Areas seems ready to soundtrack an educational video about math or computers, and every other track is peppered with pianos, horns, voices, and other instrumentation that sounds delightfully canned. The other major addition to the OPN sound on R Plus Seven is an increasing penchant for total stylistic left turns: motifs establish themselves and build only to be obliterated by an abrupt wall of noise followed by a totally new idea… Call it cheesy, but to me, the album almost evokes a computer recursively rewriting its own code, constantly stopping and starting and working in frenetic fits in between. Not once does any sort of human touch shine through on this album, but that doesn’t make the album dispassionate or desolate: it actually makes R Plus Seven easily the most fascinating OPN album to date, begging the listener to engage with it every time it evokes some cultural memory long delegated to being simply out of style. Lopatin is inviting is audience to engage with the basic building blocks of music and the culture that surrounds it on R Plus Seven, asking us why we value some sounds over others and displaying a total virtuosity in the realm of “computer music.” A must listen for anyone who wants to make music on a computer, or simply take a horrifying trip through a house of mirrors reflecting fascinating distortions of the culture they grew up in.

GARDEN OF DELETE (2015)

Easily the most visceral and rhythmic Oneohtrix Point Never record, and probably the closest Lopatin has ever come to a pure “pop” moment - take that as you will. Garden of Delete takes a total left turn away from cerebral, ambient experiments, and towards driving rhythms, extremely bright synths, heavy basslines, and vocals that seem simultaneously horrified and in awe of the state of the world as it exists; since it’s OPN, you can also expect a healthy dose of weird samples, extremely manipulated instrumental performances, and general fuckery with any of the cultural expectations a listener would bring to the table when approaching something resembling EDM. Songs like lead single Sticky Drama and closer No Good are the closest approximations of EDM that OPN has ever attempted, with throbbing, resonant bass hits and surprisingly melodic vocals giving away to total noise freakouts and, on Sticky Drama, samples from obscure vlogs on Youtube (yet another example of how OPN really effortlessly threads culture as everyone experiences it into something totally alien). Elsewhere, OPN brings a newfound intensity to tracks that, had they been wrote for earlier albums, would’ve simply been motifs: standout Freaky Eyes is a gothic epic that, after a few seconds of Kanye style chipmunk-soul, gives way to 8-bit video soundtrack bliss and horror movie soundtrack fodder, complete with digitized screaming. Elsewhere, Animals is an honest to god ballad with honest to god lyrics and a beautiful acoustic guitar part, and I Bite Through It is a fascinating exploration of syncopation and rhythm. With Garden of Delete, Oneohtrix Point Never shifted his conceptual focus onto the present and with that shift came a massive stylistic change towards frenetic, crazed intensity that I don’t think anyone could’ve predicted. Another interesting element of Garden of Delete is its sort of cinematic edge, evidence of Lopatin’s increasing prevalence as a film score composer and of his abilities to really build soundscapes around his music or tracks like Animals, SDFK, and Child of Rage. As a document of an omnivorous, Adderal-fueled flavor insanity that couldn't exist without the internet, Garden of Delete is further proof of Daniel Lopatin’s deep fascination and understanding of the world we live in, and of his unique ability to process it into music that’s equal parts unique, engaging, weird, and fun. Definitely not the best entry point to the OPN discography, but perhaps on of Lopatin’s best works.

If you like ambient music a lot, I’d probably recommend you start with Returnal. If you’re more interested in Lopatin’s late period craziness, I’d probably start with R Plus Seven or Replica and go from there. Hope this inspires anyone curious or intimidated by Oneohtrix Point Never’s huge discography to give his stuff a try - if you can’t already tell, I think it’s a worthwhile dive to take.

[fandomlife-giver]

His Maid, Transmitting

Summary: Master. You must do your best not to look into the past. I know it's call is sweet and it's lure addicting. To avoid it is to avoid a part of yourself that you feel you are missing. But you are fragile, yet. And dipping even one toe into the pool of nostalgia would mean drowning. You must see that.

Next time on Black Maid: "His Maid, Transmitting" You see, I am simply one hell of a maid.

Pairings: Sebastian x Demon!Reader

@wintersdoll

Warnings: Violence

Word Count: 3936

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“Ciel!”

Ciel’s eyes shot open and he found himself sitting in a chair placed in front of a bookcase of a massive library.

“You’re awake.”

He narrowed his eyes at the person who sat across from him. “I thought it was you. Angela Blanc.”

She smiled in amusement. “Did you enjoy the record of your past? Was it wrapped in soft velvet? Or perhaps sand paper on your ski-”

“Shut up! That man’s hand. It was his. My father’s hand.”

She only smiled, making him clench his teeth. “But why? Why did you kill my parents? What did you stand to gain?!”

“Killed? What a disturbing thing to say.” She closed her eyes. “I’m not the only one that harmed your parents. But you know that, don’t you?”

He stood up with wide eyes. “It was your maid. Y/N L/N. A surprise that she would kill her own master. Some devotion she’s shown.”

“Shut up! You don’t know anything-”

“No. It was you, wasn’t it? It was you who gave them their second death.”

Flashback…

He clenched his teeth and shut his eyes. “This is an order: Kill this man!!”

Once you landed on the ground, you threw one of the shards of glass straight into the forehead of the priest.

She laughed. “You were rather brilliant. In the face of such a distorted past, you somehow managed to remain sane.” She stood up from her seat as Ciel glared at her.

“How could you?”

She turned to him. “You are truly an unclean human.” She spread her wings and flew over to stand in front of him. “But, underneath all those impurities, there’s a glow that would be such a shame to extinguish.” She leaned down and grabbed his chin to make him look at her. “Well, Ciel?” She folded her wings over them and smiled. “Shall I alter your unclean past for you? Will that help you find peace at last?”

His eyes widened, but then he pushed her away. “Nice try. The only reason I’m impure is because of you!”

She smirked. “Do you really want to know why I chose your parents to cleanse?”

He froze. She smiled with a hint of evil behind it. “Very well. Let me show you.” She placed her hand over his face and his eyes rolled back, then there was darkness.

…

Sounds of feet tapping against the floor echoed down the hall as Will lead you all down towards the library.

He was frowning. “An angel. She would indeed have the ability to tamper with the cinematic record.”

You looked at him. “You mean they can change the past?”

He scoffed. “I don’t think even a Reaper could manage that. But still, an angel can give a false sense of peace. Someone who has experienced great trauma great enough to break his soul may wish for all memory of it to be obliterated. However, it will haunt him forever. No matter what.”

…

Ciel looked around, realizing he was in the garden in front of the manor. “What is this?”

His eyes widened when he was grabbed by something and crushed into a hug. “There you are, silly! I told you I’d find you! Hehe!”

He groaned. “Elizabeth?”

“Congratulations, My Lady. You found him.”

He went still and spun around at the voice. “Y/N!”

You smiled at him. “Young master, you can’t go running off lik-” You were cut off by him surprising you with a hug.

“Y/N, I need you. Right now.”

You rubbed his head. “Young master, it’s all right. Your parents were worried you got yourself in trouble.”

“Parents?”

You smiled again. “Y/N! Have you found him?”

You looked behind you. “Yes, master. He’s right here.”

Ciel pulled away from you in frozen shock when Vincent, Rachel, and Madam Red walked up, side by side. Vincent sighed. “Ciel, what have we told you about running off?”

Rachel waved a hand. “It’s alright, dear. Y/N found him.”

Madam Red chuckled. “He’s just a child, let him have his fun.”

Vincent lightly shook his head as Madam Red led Lizzie away.

Ciel was still frozen. “I don’t understand…”

“You don’t see the problem?” He jumped when Angela appeared with a frown on her face. “Let me give you a further look.”

Everything faded in white, and was replaced by flames. He stood in the door way of his father’s study as the room was engulfed in flames. “It was all your maid. Y/N L/N. Don’t you see? This could’ve been prevented in the first place if she would’ve behaved like a good little pet.”

He put a hand over his mouth as his sight was locked on the corpses of his parents that were sewn together and he dropped to the floor.

He cried, he let out his emotions as he bawled into the floor.

“Ciel, it’s alright.”

He looked up and froze. The flames were gone, along with the study. There was a field, white flower petals blowing, and Vincent and Rachel stood across from him.

Vincent smiled. “You don’t need to mourn us anymore. You can abandon your grief.”

Rachel smiled as well. “That’s right. Ciel, we hate to see you suffering needlessly like this.”

He stood up and stared at them. “You’re lying. Liar! My mother and father were killed!”

Rachel still smiled. “We were. But in that moment, we saw a bright light. A tranquil, peaceful glow wrapped in love. In death, your father and I were able to become one in body and spirit.”

Vincent put an arm on Rachel. “Yes, that’s right. And now that we are truly joined, now, we can embrace your body as well. And join you to us completely, son.”

Ciel’s body relaxed. Vincent outstretched his arm. “Come, Ciel.”

Rachel did the same. “Our son.”

They spoke in unison. “We love you so much.”

Slowly, Ciel stepped forward. “I love you too.”

…

You and Sebastian slammed the doors open as you all ran inside. Your teeth clenched at the sight of Ciel, in the arms of the angel, with his cinematic record displayed over his body.

Sebastian’s eyes widened. “Master!”

Angela smiled. “His past is being re-written. Cleansed. Soon, he’ll be as pure as the driven snow.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Angela”

She looked up at you. “Hatred is painful. No-one wants to harbor it in their hearts. But you know all about that, don’t you, Y/N?”

Sebastian looked at you in surprise. “A couple centuries ago, it was you in his place. A true shame you became like this. You would’ve been so beautifully pure.”

You frowned. “As pure as an angel, you mean.”

She looked down at Ciel. “Ciel is no different.”

“Master!” Sebastian charged forward.

“Don’t be hasty.” He stopped and looked at Will as he adjusted his glasses. “You can’t stop her now. If you do, the child will become something less than human.” He looked at you from the corner of his eye. “And we don’t need a repeat of that.”

She smiled again. “Yes. Pure as the driven snow.”

You glared at her. “Ciel. My young master…being purified.”

“Y/N, I need you. Right now.”

Your eyes widened. Ciel…

Grell sighed as he locked arms with Will and Sebastian. “Oh, dear. This isn’t turning out very well. Do we have a plan?”

They didn’t notice when your body fell to the floor. Only when they heard the sound, did they turn around. “N/N?”

…

Slowly, Ciel continued his steps toward Rachel and Vincent. Vincent was grinning, with the devil beneath it. “Yes, just a little closer, son.”

“Master”

Ciel froze and Vincent’s eyes narrowed. Ciel looked behind him and his eyes widened when he saw you standing behind him. “Y-Y/N?”

You walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder as you knelt down to him. “Ciel, this isn’t real. They are not your parents. Your parents are dead. And if you stay in this prison any longer, I fear you may be as well.”

He was still. “They’re not here…”

“Don’t listen to her, Ciel.” He looked back to Vincent. “She betrayed me, Ciel. She let me die. You bare no grudge against her. Come, my son.”

You stood when he resumed walking towards them. Vincent smirked. “Let go of such emotions. Unnecessary. Unclean.”

He froze again.

“What’s wrong, son?”

His teeth clenched. “No, no. I can’t…”

Rachel looked at him in fear. “Ciel, what are you saying?”

“I don’t care what you want…it cannot change my hatred.”

Rachel gasped and knelt down to grasp his shoulders. “Please, think about what you’re saying. We’re your parents, you need to trust-”

“No…I don’t!” He pushed her off and looked back at you. “Y/N”

“Yes, young master?”

“I want to make a contract.”

You smirked. “Are you certain?”

“Yes! I want to make a contract now!”

You smiled to yourself. “Certainly” You pulled off your left glove and your right glove. “What is your wish?”

He balled his fists. “Aid me in achieving my goal. Protect and serve me, no matter what. Come every time I call your name and stay beside me. Until the day Sebastian collects my soul. In return, I give you access to every soul of my pawns that fall.”

You smiled. “I accept. Where would you like your mark?”

“In the same place, we don’t have time for every-”

He screamed when your hand went over his right eye. A seal was burned onto your other hand as it also burned into his eye. After a few seconds, you pulled away and he gasped as he covered his eye.

“Master, what are my orders?”

Vincent and Rachel were watching in horror. “Ciel, why? Why can’t you just let it go?”

“I can’t!” His fists stayed by his sides. “Since that day, my hate is all I’ve had. If I let it go, I will fade away with it. I can’t!”

He glared at them. “I will not loose my hatred!”

They screamed as a blinding light erupted and they disappeared. “Y/N. I order you: Get me out of here now!” He ordered right before he, too, disappeared in the light.

You smirked. “Yes, my Lord.”

…

Sebastian stared at you as he held you close. “Y/N, what are you doing?”

Grell gasped and they looked as Ciel hovered in the air, with Angela growling. “Look! He’s rewinding the cinematic record all on his own!”

His reels of tape flew back inside him, and he dropped. Sebastian looked at you as your eyes snapped open and you jumped up, catching him mid-air and landing on your feet.

“Master!” Sebastian ran up beside you as Ciel’s eyes opened and he looked at you.

“Y/N. Good catch.”

Sebastian stared down at him and smiled. “Always surprising. You are forever exceeding my expectations. You have a worthy soul. Indeed, truly worthy, master.”

Angela looked at you and Ciel in distaste as you set him down on the floor. “Such a horribly unclean heart. Depraved, stagnant, trapped in the dark. I should never have shown you pity. So here and now, I shall purify you.”

Sebastian flicked his wrist and several knives slid through his fingers. You did the same, and forks slid down yours. You smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

“A crime in the library is our jurisdiction.” Will adjusted his glasses. “Let us join the fight. Now come with me, Grell.” He walked forward and stood beside you as Grell grinned.

“Oh, my!” He snipped his scissors and jumped beside Sebastian, then squirmed in excitement. “Ooh! We shall march into battle together, then! How-”

“Excuse me. Pardon me, coming through!" You all watched Undertaker as he casually rolled a cart of books in front of you. He walked up to one of the book cases and tapped his chin. "Let’s see…number 8. Number 8.”

Ciel looked at him in disbelief. “Undertaker?”

He looked back and waved at the group of people. “Hi!”

Grell furrowed his eyebrows. “You? What are you doing he-Ow!” He rubbed his head and glared at Will, who frowned at him.

“Mind your manners, you idiot.” He looked to Undertaker in awe. “He’s a legend. he past judgement on Robin hood and sent Marie Antoinette to hell. The Grim Reaper who makes even crying children willingly give up their souls.”

You smiled. “Unnie, you didn’t tell me you would be here. I thought you don’t come here anymore.”

He chuckled. “I thought it would be a nice surprise. Besides, I had to return a few books I borrowed.”

Ciel looked at you. “You knew what he was?”

“Of course, master. I met him when he was still Ad-”

“A-ah!” He pointed a finger at you. “You don’t just give that information to anyone, now.”

Grell looked between you two. “No! Not fair! He doesn’t look anything like the chap in the sequence just now!”

Sequence?

He ran over and spun Undertaker around. “How can this creepy old man be a legendary Grim Reaper?” He lifted his bangs and went still, before dreamily falling on Undertaker’s chest. “Take me…”

A blinding white light lit up the room. Everyone looked up at the familiar large opening of light and Angela, who flew towards it, but looked down at you with a smirk. “You seem busy, Y/N. I suppose I’ll start my cleansing in the Abbey, then.”

Your teeth clenched. “Running away, coward?”

“You shall see. I’ll show you what happens in a world ruled by impurity. I doubt you’ll like it.” She disappeared in the light.

You sneered and flung your forks at her, but they just bounced off when the light closed up.

Your eyes widened as Ciel looked around at the bookcases of the library, that were now empty. “What was that?”

Will narrowed his eyes. “An angelic seal.”

Grell frantically ran to the door and tried to open it, but it didn’t. He jumped up and placed his feet against the door, but it didn’t help. He looked back. “It won’t open!”

Will sighed. “Oh dear. Unfortunately, it looks as if we’ve been locked in.”

The sound of something falling made everyone look down. Will walked over and picked up the book the fell open. “Interesting. It looks like the cinematic record of somebody in that abbey.”

He hummed as words were being written. “An angel of massacre is descending in an abbey near Preston.”

Ciel looked at him. “What? An angel of massacre?”

“Let me see that.” Undertaker walked over and Will handed it to him. He looked at the writing and smiled. “Ah, yes. I see it now.”

He looked down when Ciel grabbed his sleeve. “Stop her now.”

Sebastian smiled. “Ah, master. How charitable. I thought your intent was to put an end to this cult, once and for all.”

Ciel frowned at him. “I don’t want to help them. But I don’t want her to have her way. That’s all.”

Grell put a hand on his hip. “And what are we supposed to do? We can’t even find a way out of here.”

Will adjusted his glasses. “No, not true. We have a way. There is a tool that us managers have access.”

You looked at Undertaker, who began smiling.

“This tool is the death bookmark.”

Ciel rose an eyebrow. “A bookmark?”

Undertaker giggled and held up said bookmark. “And it’s pink, isn’t that lovely?” He placed it between the pages. “If we use this to hold the story, we can make some editorial changes. The woman in this story happens to be Matilda Simmons. It says here that she is purified in the abbey by the angel Angela.”

Ciel looked at it. “But the sentence just ends there.”

Undertaker chuckled and put his inked quill on the page. “Oh, yes. But I just added here that Sebastian Michaelis appears behind her suddenly.”

In the blink of an eye, Sebastian was gone, making Grell jump. “Oh! Oh, no! Bassy!”

Undertaker grinned. “Well, now that he’s gone, we can-”

You narrowed your eyes. “Unnie”

“Oh, alright.” He staring writing in it again. “And Y/N L/N also appears to aid the black butler.”

…

You appeared beside the nun Sebastian had…massaged. She looked up at you with wide eyes. “O-oh, it’s you!”

You sighed with a frown.

“You think a demon can compare with the purity of a winged angel?”

You looked forward and caught eye of Angela, her back to you as Sebastian kneeled in front of her.

“A creature like you is chained to the earth. Forever.”

She gasped when a fork flew by into the wall and clawed her arm. “Really? Is that so?” She spun around and glared at you as you marched forward and slid more forks down your fingers. “Then I suppose that means you are forever chained to the heavens.”

You stabbed the knives in her abdomen, but she grabbed a handful of your shirt and pushed you into the wall. The force ripped the top of your shirt open, showing some very impure skin. She glared. “You can’t challenge me, Abigail. You lost that fight long ago.”

She looked behind her and yelled when a pruner snapped around her throat and rose her up to the wall. Will reached into his pocket and pulled out another pruner. “Let’s get to work.” He threw it to the side, which Grell caught as he appeared beside him.

He held it close and jumped in joy. “Oh! A brand new death scythe!” It shot forward and impaled her palm of her hand, pinning her in place. “Yes!”

Will frowned. “You will wash and return that when this is over.”

He sighed. “Oh, so cruel.”

Sebastian grabbed you by your waist and brought you down on the floor. “Are you all right?”

You smirked. “All right? Why, I’m never better.” You walked forward. “This is turning to be quite fun.” You slid down more forks and gazed up at her vulnerable state in amusement. “Do you know what? I think we should have ourselves a game of darts. Don’t you agree, Sebastian?”

He watched with a smirk as you flung several forks at her, which stuck in her sides. You pouted. “Dear, I missed.”

Sebastian slid knives down and smiled up at her. “Allow me, my kitten. Now, whatever shall I aim for next?” He flung them, and they stuck in her forearm.

Grell waved his arm. “Pick me, I want to play!”

Will frowned and glared at Sebastian. “A demon, all right.”

Angela winced in pain, then she smirked down at you. “You believe this is over? I will not parish by your hand, you abomination!” Your eyes narrowed and you went to fling utensils at her again, but then, she screamed. The scream was deafening and it rang out as she began to glow brightly and her eyes filled with white.

She screamed again, louder, loud enough to make the pillars and the walls crack. The men and women in the church stood as the building shook.

Sebastian looked around. “What’s this? Does she mean to die along with us?”

Grell gulped as he looked up. “Um, people, look at the ceiling.” It was beginning to crumble and fall apart.

You sneered at her, then looked back at the people still standing. “You are all free to leave now. It may be the best option at the moment.”

The nun nodded. “Yes, yes okay.” In a moment, almost everyone was running out of the church. As the pillars fell apart, a piece of it fell and hit the coffin containing the priest’s body.

Will looked to Grell. “It is our turn as well. We will retreat, Grell Sutcliffe.” Grell didn’t spare any second and took off running out of the church. Will sighed as he walked after him. “Seriously. Never mind the overtime, I want a day off.”

You and Sebastian walked behind him, but you stopped to gaze up at the stain glass window of Jesus Christ, then at Angela and your eyes narrowed. “This is not over.” Sebastian grabbed you and you both ran out right before a large boulder fell.

Angela smirked. “Until next time, Abigail.”

…

You and Sebastian stood behind Ciel as he gazed at the ruins of the church and the dead bodies of the men and women in the rubble. “Is it over?”

You looked at the broken window of Jesus Christ. No. It’ll never be over.

Ciel turned and looked at you. “I’m sorry. Our contract is meaningless if it doesn’t last more than a day.”

You tilted your head. He looked to Sebastian. “A promise is a promise.”

Sebastian walked forward and stopped to gaze down at him. Ciel shut his eyes. Sebastian stared at him, then knelt down. Ciel flinched, then opened his eyes in surprise when Sebastian only fixed his tie and stood up with a smile.

Ciel clenched his teeth and grabbed him by his collar. “Why, Sebastian? Why aren’t you taking my soul?!” He stepped back when Sebastian only continued to smile. He walked over to you and shook his head in disbelief. “She has to be dead. She has to be! Or is it someone else?”

“I’m sorry, master.” You were frowning. “I’m afraid we’ll be serving you a little while longer.”

He looked down and stepped away from you. “Then…for now, let’s go.”

Sebastian eyed you curiously and walked over to you. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Your eyes stayed glued to the broken window. “You heard the young master.” You looked up at him. “Let’s go.”

…

Ciel sighed and looked up at the person across from him. “I would like to thank you, Undertaker. Because you were there, I was one step closer to achieving my goal.”

He grinned. Will looked over at him. “Out of curiosity, why were you in the library? I was under the impression you had retired from active service.”

He turned and looked at Grell, who was walking over with tea in a beaker glass for him. “Well, this fellow here reminded me of something.” Grell fluttered his lashes as Undertaker took the beaker of tea. “There was some cinematic records I neglected to return.”

Ciel frowned. “You must be kidding.”

He rose a finger. “Certainly not. In fact, now that you mention it, two of the books I checked out were for an Earl Phantomhive and his lady wife.”

Ciel looked at him in surprise. “Two of the cinematic records that have never been touched by avenging angels.  Would you like to know what they said, my lord?”

You looked down at Ciel as he put his head down. “No. Now…” He reached over and picked up his top hat, then put it on. “Let’s go, Sebastian, Y/N.”

Sebastian bowed as you placed our hand over your stomach. “Yes, young master.” Ciel stood and you all walked out of the funeral parlor. You looked at everyone and bowed your head. Undertaker looked at you knowingly as you shut the door.

He grinned and put a finger to his lips. “That was interesting.”

…

Sebastian looked at Ciel as you all crossed the street. “Are you certain that was wise? I’m sorry, but if you read the books, you’d be certain who deserved your revenge.”

“It’s done.”

You smiled. “Feeling sentimental?”

“Not that.” He looked at the ground. It’s just…seeing them again, being near them once more…

He looked up. “You can only disgrace the dead so much.”

You kept your smile and glanced at your ring.

‘Yes, that’s my boy.’