#Non-Breaths second verse is essential actually. It's bad they just did the first verse and chorus.

[doushiteworld]

Wonderlands x Showtime I love you so much.

Hi! The cover is good I think, yeah they retuned Miku and pitched it down but like, we knew that was going to happen and you know what? They made it work, retuned Miku doesn't sound absolutley out-of-place like she did in Nightcord's Non-Breath! And the pitch-down didn't make the song sound bad like it did with the Saki + Tsukasa cover of Cosmospice!

They kept up with the energy of the original song, especially Emu, Emu fits PinocchioP's energy so well, also the 3D MV,,,is good! It's really good! I'm really happy it's good! I try to give a pass to MV's that don't think are that great because because it's hard. I could criticise Nightcord's MV for being bad and boring but like. They were never gonna live up to the absolutely gorgeous intricate fast original 2D MV. It would be an unfair criticism to make. But I am happy the MV for this cover is good

They should have WxS cover most of the PinocchioP songs they want they're like. Good. At them.

[popculty]

52 Films by Women: 2020 Edition

Another annual challenge complete!

Last year, I focused on diversifying my list. This year I kept that intention but focused on watching more non-American films and films from the 20th century. Specifically, I sought out Agnès Varda’s entire filmography, after her death in 2019. (I was not disappointed - What a filmmaking legend we lost.) 

I also kept a film log for the first time and have included some of my thoughts on several films from that log. I made a point of including reviews both positive and negative, because I think it’s important to acknowledge the variability and breadth of the canon, so as not to put every film directed by a woman on a pedestal. (Although movies directed by women must clear a much higher bar to be greenlit, meaning generally higher quality...But that’s an essay for another day :)

* = directed by a woman of color

bold = fave

1. The Rhythm Section (2020) dir. Reed Morano - Not as good as it could have been, given Morano’s proven skill behind the camera, but also not nearly as bad as the critics made it out to be. And unbelievably refreshing to see a female revenge story not driven by sexual assault or the loss of a husband/child.

2. Cléo de 5 à 7 (1962) dir. Agnès Varda - If you ever wanted to take a real-time tour of Paris circa 1960, this is the film for you.

3. Little Women (2019) dir. Greta Gerwig - Still my favorite Little Women adaptation. I will re-watch it every year and cry.

4. Varda by Agnès (2019) dir. Agnès Varda & Didier Rouget

5. Booksmart (2019) dir. Olivia Wilde - An instant classic high school comedy romp that subverts all the gross tropes of its 1980s predecessors.

6. Girls of the Sun (2018) dir. Eva Husson

7. Blue My Mind (2017) dir. Lisa Brühlmann

8. Portrait of a Lady On Fire (2019) dir. Céline Sciamma - Believe the hype. This film is a master thesis on the female gaze, and also just really effing gorgeous.

9. Belle Epine (2010) dir. Rebecca Zlotowski

10. Vamps (2012) dir. Amy Heckerling - With Krysten Ritter and Alicia Silverstone as modern-day vampires, I was so ready for this movie. But it feels like a bad stage play or a sit-com that’s missing a laugh-track. Bummer.

11. *Birds of Prey (2020) dir. Cathy Yan - Where has this movie been all our lives?? Skip the next onslaught of Snyder-verse grim-darkery and give me two more of these STAT! 

12. She’s Missing (2019) dir. Alexandra McGuinness

13. The Mustang (2019) dir. Laure de Clermont-Tonnere - Trigger warning for the “protagonist” repeatedly punching a horse in the chest. I noped right out of there.

14. Monster (2003) dir. Patty Jenkins – I first watched this movie when I was probably too young and haven’t revisited it since. The rape scene traumatized me as a kid, but as an adult I appreciate how that trauma is not the center of the movie, or even of Aileen’s life. Everyone still talks about how Charlize “went ugly” for this role, but the biggest transformation here isn’t aesthetic, it’s physical – the way Theron replicates Wuernos’ mannerisms, way of speaking, and physicality. That’s why she won the Oscar. I also love that Jenkins calls the film “Monster” (which everyone labels Aileen), but then actually uses it to tell the story of how she fell in love with a woman when she was at her lowest, and that saved her. That’s kind of beautiful, and I’m glad I re-watched it so that I could see the story in that light, instead of the general memory I had of it being a good, feel-bad movie. It’s so much more than that.

15. Water Lilies (2007) dir. Céline Sciamma – Sciamma’s screenwriting and directorial debut, the first in her trilogy on youth, is as painfully beautiful as its sequels (Tomboy and Girlhood). It’s also one of the rare films that explores the overlap of queerness and girl friendships.

16. The Trouble with Angels (1966) dir. Ida Lupino – Movies about shenanigan-based female friendships are such rare delights. Rosalind Russel is divine as Mother Superior, and Hayley Mills as “scathingly brilliant” as the pranks she plays on her. Ida Lupino’s skill as an editor only enhances her directing, providing some truly iconic visual gags to complement dialogue snappy enough for Gilmore Girls. 

17. Vagabond (1985) dir. Agnès Varda – Shot with a haunting realism, this film has no qualms about its heroine’s inevitable, unceremonious death, which it opens with, matter-of-factly, before retracing her final (literal) steps to the road-side ditch she ends up in. (I’m partly convinced said heroine was the inspiration for Sarah Manning in Orphan Black.)

18. One Sings, The Other Doesn’t (1977) dir. Agnès Varda – Probably my favorite classic Varda, this film feels incredibly personal. It’s essentially a love story about two best friends with very different lives. For an indie made in the ‘70s, the diversity, scope, and themes of the film are impressive. Even if the second half a drags a bit, the first half is absolute perfection, engaging the viewer immediately, and clipping along, sprinkling in some great original songs that were way progressive for their time (about abortion, female bodily autonomy, etc) and could still be considered “bangers” today.

19. Emma (2020) dir. Autumn de Wilde

20. Black Panthers (1969) dir. Agnès Varda

21. Into the Forest (2016) dir. Patricia Rozema - When the world was ending (i.e. the pandemic hit) this was the first movie I turned to - a quiet, meditative story of two sisters (Elliot Page and Evan Rachel Wood) surviving off the land after a sudden global blackout. Four years later, it’s still one of my favorite book-to-screen adaptations. I fondly remember speaking with director Patricia Rozema at the 2016 Chicago Critics Film Festival after a screening, her love for the source material and desire to “get it right” so apparent. I assured her then, and reaffirm now, that she really did.

22. City of Trees (2019) dir. Alexandra Swarens

23. Never Rarely Sometimes Always (2020) dir. Eliza Hittmann - To call this a harrowing and deeply personal journey of a sixteen-year-old who must cross state lines to get an abortion would be accurate, but incomplete. It is a story so much bigger than that, about the myriad ways women’s bodies and boundaries are constantly violated.

24. Paradise Hills (2019) dir. Alice Waddington

25. *Eve’s Bayou (1996) dir. Kasi Lemmons – I’ve been meaning to watch Kasi Lemmons’ directorial debut for many years now, and I’m so glad I finally have, because it fully deserves its icon status, beyond being one of the first major films directed by a black woman. Baby Jurnee Smollett's talent was immediately recognizable, and she has reminded us of it in Birds of Prey and Lovecraft Country this year. If merit was genuinely a factor for Oscar contenders, she would have taken home gold at eleven years old. Beasts of the Southern Wild has been one of my all-time favorites, but now I realize that most of my appreciation for that movie actually goes to Lemmons for blazing the trail with her story of a young black girl from the bayou first. It’s also a surprisingly dark story about memory and abuse and familial relationships that cross lines - really gutsy and surprising themes, especially for the ‘90s.

26. Blow the Man Down (2019) dir. Bridget Savage Cole & Danielle Krudy - Come and get your sea shanty fix!

27. Touchy Feely (2013) dir. Lynn Shelton - R.I.P. :(

28. Hannah Gadsby: Douglas (2020) dir. Madeleine Parry - If you thought Gadsby couldn’t follow up 2018′s sensational Nanette with a comedy special just as sharp and hilarious, you would have been sorely mistaken.

29. Girlhood (2013) dir. Céline Sciamma

30. Breathe (2014) dir. Mélanie Laurent

31. *A Dry White Season (1989) dir. Euzhan Palcy

32. Laggies (2014) dir. Lynn Shelton

33. *The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince-Bythewood – Everything I’ve ever wanted in an action movie: Immortal gays, Charlize Theron wielding a labrys (battle axe), kinetic fight choreography I haven’t seen since the last Bond movie…Watched it twice, then devoured the comics it was adapted from, and I gotta say: in the hands of black women, it eclipses the source material. Cannot wait for the just-announced sequel.

34. Morvern Callar (2002) dir. Lynn Ramsay

35. Shirley (2020) dir. Josephine Decker

36. *Radioactive (2019) dir. Marjane Satrapi – The story is obviously well worth telling and the narrative structure – weaving in the future consequences of Curie’s discoveries – is clever, but a bit awkwardly executed and overly manipulative. There are glimpses of real brilliance throughout, but it feels as if the director’s vision was not fully realized, to my great disappointment. Nonetheless, I appreciated seeing Marie Curie's story being told by a female director and embodied by the always wonderful Rosamund Pike.

37. *The Half of It (2020) dir. Alice Wu - I feel like a real scrooge for saying this, but this movie did nothing for me. Nothing about it felt fresh, authentic or relatable. A real disappointment from the filmmaker behind the wlw classic Saving Face.

38. Mouthpiece (2018) dir. Patricia Rozema - I am absolutely floored. One of those films that makes you fall in love with the art form all over again. Patricia Rozema continues to prove herself one of the most creatively ambitious and insightful directors of our time, with this melancholic meditation on maternal grief and a woman’s duality.

39. Summerland (2020) dir. Jessica Swale - The rare period wlw love story that is not a) all-white or b) tragedy porn. Just lovely.

40. *The Last Thing He Wanted (2020) dir. Dee Rees – As rumored, a mess. Even by the end, I still couldn’t tell you who any of the characters are. Dee, we know you’re so much better than this! (see: Mudbound, Pariah)

41. *Cuties (2020) dir. Maïmouna Doucouré – I watched this film to 1) support a black woman director who has been getting death threats for her work and 2) see what all the fuss is about. While I do think there were possibly some directorial choices that could have saved quite a bit of the pearl-clutching, overall, I didn’t find it overly-exploitative or gross, as many (who obviously haven’t actually watched the film) have labeled it. It certainly does give me pause, though, and makes me wonder whether children can ever be put in front of a camera without it exploiting or causing harm to them in some way. It also makes one consider the blurry line between being a critique versus being an example. File this one under complicated, for sure.

42. A Call to Spy (2019) Lydia Dean Pilcher – An incredible true story of female spies during WWII that perfectly satisfied my itch for British period drama/spy thriller and taught me so much herstory I didn’t know.

43. Kajillionaire (2020) dir. Miranda July - I was lucky enough to attend the (virtual) premiere of this film, followed by an insightful cast/director Q&A, which only made me appreciate it more. July's offbeat dark comedy about a family of con artists is queerer and more heartfelt than it has any right to be, and a needed reprieve in a year of almost entirely white wlw stories. The family's shenanigans are the hook, but it's the budding relationship between Old Dolio (an almost unrecognizable Evan Rachel Wood) and aspiring grifter Melanie (the luminous Gina Rodriguez) that is the heart of the story.

44. Misbehaviour (2020) dir. Philippa Lowthorpe – Again, teaching me herstory I didn’t know, about how the Women’s Liberation Movement stormed the 1970 Miss World Pageant. Keira Knightley and Gugu Mbatha-Raw’s characters have a conversation in a bathroom at the end of the film that perfectly eviscerates well-meaning yet ignorant white feminism, without ever pitting women against each other - a feat I didn’t think was possible. I also didn’t think it was possible to critique the male gaze without showing it (*ahem Cuties, Bombshell, etc*), but this again, invents a way to do it. Bless women directors.

45. *All In: The Fight for Democracy (2020) dir. Liz Garbus and Lisa Cortes – 2020’s 13th. Thank god for Stacey Abrams, that is all.

46. *The 40-Year-Old Version (2020) dir. Radha Blank – This scene right here? I felt that in my soul. This whole film is so good and funny and heartfelt and relatable to any artist trying to walk that tightrope of “making it” while not selling their soul to make it. My only initial semi-note was that it’s a little long, but after hearing Radha Blank talk about how she fought for the two-hour run-time as a way of reclaiming space for older black women, I take it back. She’s right: Let black women take up space. Let her movie be as long as she wants it to be. GOOD FOR HER.

47. Happiest Season (2020) dir. Clea Duvall - Hoooo boy. What was marketed as the first lesbian Christmas rom-com is actually a horror movie for anyone who’s ever had to come out. Throw in casual racism and a toxic relationship treated as otp, and it’s YIKES on so many levels. Aubrey Plaza, Dan Levy, and an autistic-coded Jane are the only (underused) highlights.

48. *Monkey Beach (2020) dir. Loretta Todd

49. *Little Chief (2020) dir. Erica Tremblay – A short film part of the 2020 Red Nation Film Festival, it’s a perfect eleven minutes that I wish had gone on longer, if only to bask in Lily Gladstone in a leading role.

50. First Cow (2019) dir. Kelly Reichardt – I know Kelly Reichardt’s style, so I’ll admit-- even as I was preparing for an excellent film, I was also reaching for my phone, planning on only half paying attention during all the inevitable 30-second shots of grass blowing in the wind. (And yes, there are plenty of those.) But twenty minutes in, my phone was set aside and forgotten, as I am getting sucked into this beautiful story about two frontiersman trying to live their best domestic life.There is only one word to describe this film and that is: PURE. I’ve never seen such a tender platonic relationship between men on screen before, and it’s not lost on me that it took a woman to show us that tenderness. Reichardt gives us two men brought together by fate, and kept together by a shared dream and the simple pleasure of not being alone in such a hard world; two men who spend their days cooking, trapping, baking, and dreaming of a better life; two men who don’t say much, but feel everything for each other. The world would be a much better place if men showed us this kind of vulnerability and friendship toward each other. Oh, and it’s also a brutal take-down of capitalism and the myth of the American Dream!

51. Wonder Woman 1984 (2020) dir. Patty Jenkins - My most-anticipated film for the past two years was...well, a mixed bag, to say the least. Too many thoughts on it for a blog post, so stay tuned for the upcoming podcast ep where we go all in ;)

52. *Selah and the Spades (2019) dir. Tayarisha Poe

I hope this gives you some ideas to kick off your new year with a resolution to support more female directors!

What were your favorite women-directed movies of last year? Let me know in the tags, comments, or asks!

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

whumptober day 3: manhandled/forced to knees/held at gunpoint

back to the batfam! this is more lighthearted to make up for how dark the last two stories were.

summary: dick runs into jason while on a mission in less-than-ideal circumstances. fortunately, dick has a plan.

warnings: plenty of swearing, non-explicit references to torture, and uh... that’s it? this is set in comics verse, but again a nebulous timeline because comics make my head hurt. also, i’ve never written comics!jason before, so do let me know if you think his voice sounds off.

manhandled/forced to knees/held at gunpoint

Everybody that knows Dick has always admired him for being the ‘man with the plan’ though if anybody really thought to ask--and he wishes they would ask, he wouldn’t mind imparting some hard-earned wisdom--he would say that’s very nice, but also bullshit. You can’t plan for everything; there are too many variables to anticipate, and you don’t want to lock yourself into something that makes you predictable. If Dick appears that way at all, it’s one part thinking-on-the-fly, one part training, one part experience, and three parts blind confidence. The key is being flexible, literally and figuratively.

Of course, it’s a bit harder when you’ve got your hands tied behind your back and someone’s trying to drown you in a tub of ice-cold water, but that’s just how the job goes. Dick’s had worse.

Just as he’s on the verge of passing out, he’s grabbed by his hair and pulled out. He struggles to keep his wobbly legs under him as the asshole who had just held his head underwater leers at him. “You know what that was for, Nightwing?” he asks. “Nothing. You have nothing to offer us other than dying in the slowest, most pathetic way possible.”

Dick huffs a laugh. “Well, if that’s all…”

He gets a punch to the ribs for that and loses all his breath for the second time in the last ten minutes. It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t already have what he suspected were cracked ribs from the beating earlier that evening, and, coupled with the water torture, if his lungs weren’t already burning with every breath. He heaves and coughs, grateful for the first time for the icy water dripping from his hair, as it meant his captors couldn’t see the tears leaking down his face from the strain of merely trying to breathe normally.

“Well, if this isn’t a familiar sight.”

Dick’s grabbed by his hair again--and fuck if Dick doesn’t find that the most annoying thing about this whole fiasco--and dragged into a corridor. He makes a half-hearted attempt at escaping but receives a hard shove for his trouble, and his kneecaps crack loudly against the cement floor as he falls. He lifts his head, blinking away the spots in his vision, to see Red Hood walk languidly towards him.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Jason says. “The water torture looked like it was a lot of fun.”

“He’s all yours now,” the man behind him says, kicking Dick in the small of his back. Dick grunts, but doesn’t fall over. “Figured you’d know the best way to make him hurt,” his voice drops slyly, “given how you used to fight with him, before. Practically bosom buddies, I heard.”

Dick’s mouth twists in distaste and he scoffs before he can really help himself. He receives a smack to the head for that.

Jason shrugs. “I can make him scream, yeah,” he says. “But you know how it is: you torture a Bat long enough, you attract the rest of them. And then it just isn’t any fun anymore.”

“Yeah!” one of the other men pipes up. “There’s always another one of them. And they always find you.”

“They’ve got cameras and bugs comin’ out their asses!”

“Downright fuckin’ illegal--”

“So you’ve just gotta remember,” Jason interrupts loudly, “that they’re just human scum, like the rest of us. The sooner you put a bullet between their eyes and get on with your jobs, the better.” With that, he removes a gun from his holster and points it straight at Dick’s head.

Dick tenses, breaths wheezing between his gritted teeth. The cool, calm purpose in Jason’s movements is unnerving, even more so than any of his Pit-mad rages and previous attempts at fratricide. 

“He has a point,” one of the other men says slowly.

Jason smirks and clicks back the safety on his gun.

Dick’s about 60% sure he can avoid a fatal shot if he times his move exactly right, but surely Jason would be keeping that in mind? So maybe it’s a 30% chance--

“Wait,” says the man behind Dick, who seems to be the leader of the operation, “that’s too easy. I see your point, but Nightwing has ruined way too many operations of ours to go out just like that.” For fuck’s sake, there’s the hand in his hair again. He’s going to get a crew cut after this. “He still needs to suffer. I say we leave him here to slowly rot--he’s half dead right now, anyway.”

Jason narrows his eyes, his gun never wavering. “No, you don’t know these assholes like I do, you leave any of them alive you’ll--”

“I said we leave him here,” the leader growls, clearly smarting over Jason essentially taking over the operation and, you know, making points with his men. “We’ve taken everything off him, anyway. Let the other Bats find his frozen body--it’ll be a message.”

Jason rolls his eyes, but it’s an uncomfortably long moment before he finally clicks the safety back on and puts it back in his holster. “Whatever, man. Your funeral.”

They end up tying Dick’s handcuffed wrists to a hook on the wall, pulling his arms painfully behind him. His ankles are tied together as well, a heavy chain wrapped around them for good measure. Jason in particularly appears to take great pleasure in lashing the ties around Dick’s wrists as tightly as possible, the material biting bloody groves into Dick’s skin. For a brief moment, their palms touch. Dick looks away, unwilling to meet Jason’s eyes.

They leave him alone in the cold and damp, wheezing from the chill, the damage to his chest, the strain of his position, and what Dick’s pretty sure is a budding infection. When he hears the sounds of their boats leaving the harbour, he slumps his head back against the wall, presses the emergency beacon that Jason had pressed into his hand, and waits.

-

A week later, Dick’s resting in his room at the Wayne Tower penthouse, trying his best to sleep despite the tightness in his chest. He eyes the portable oxygen tank next to his bed; he isn’t the biggest fan of using it, but hey, apparently recovering from double pneumonia means doing a lot of things he isn’t terribly fond of, who would’ve thought?

Just then, his window creaks open and a hooded figure crawls in.

“You,” Jason says, straightening to his full, considerable height, “are an idiot.”

“Hi to you too, Jay.” Dick says cheerily.

“When you said you were going to sabotage their operation from the outside while I did it from the inside, I didn’t think it would mean get yourself captured and killed!” Jason throws his arms up, starting to pace. “And I’m standing there thinking, oh shit I might have to actually try and blow this motherfucker’s brains out because you have no sense of self-preservation!”

Dick coughs, then points out, “You didn’t have to. By the way, the fact that you had to be talked out of shooting me by Villain-of-the-week number 10? Kind of hurts.”

Jason deflates. “I knew they’d never let me kill you outright. They’re from Gotham, which means they’re more sadists than professional criminals.”

“Hurray for Gotham, I guess.”

Jason shakes his head. “Did you have any plan back there?”

“Of course,” Dick says, now serious. “You,”

Jason stares at him for a long, long moment before slumping into a chair by Dick’s bedside with a huge sigh. He loops the nasal cannula around Dick’s head and turns the oxygen tank on; the tightness in Dick’s chest slowly fades. “You know,” Jason says, “I think I might be ready for us to go back to being sworn enemies again. This shit is too stressful.”

Dick closes his eyes and smiles.

[samwrights]

Bricks - Punk!AU [Terushima]

Here is the first chapter of Terushima’s route in Elixir! If you haven’t read the prologue, I’ll leave a link here as well as at the bottom of the chapter’s navigation. Artwork is not mine so if we find the artist, can someone please let me know so I can properly credit them?

Ya know, this is probably least popular post/series on here but I’m in it and I write what I want 🤙🏻

Lyrics are italicized and sang entirely in your voice.

WARNINGS: this kinda fluffy chapter involves cheating, vulgar language, indirect use of marijuana, and cocaine use. There is a brief mention of you getting drugged a party and mild sexual themes as well, but nothing super heavy. Just making out. Please please please do not read if any of these themes make you uncomfortable.

Word count: ~4K

Song used: Brick by Boring Brick - Paramore

A complementary playlist can be found  »  here

“Can we run Brick By Boring Brick one more time? My vocals were kinda meh.” Was your response to Kuroo’s question. The rest of your bandmates look to you in surprise, which you feared that they might since there was nearly no flaws in the song at all. After all, it was a pretty straightforward song with simple beat and melody. “I-I think my notes were just a little flat and my timing’s off, that cool with you guys?” Both of the guitarists looked to each other before turning to face the drummer, who gave a reassuring grin to you.

“If that’s what you wanna work on, baby, then we’ll do it.” You had half a mind to reprimand Terushima about using pet names with you while his girlfriend was present. Not that it necessarily should have raised anybody’s suspicions—more often than not, Teru called everybody by some form of a nickname, whether it be out of affection or because he didn’t know a person’s name was entirely dependent on the situation. In truth, you loved the lyrics to this song more than anything, even more so that the same man you wanted to reprimand was the one who helped inspire you to write it.

It started off with easy power chords and a steady drum beat, until Makki took his place as the steadfast rhythm. The intro takes a few bars of space before you begin your first verse nearly twenty-five seconds in.

She lives in a fairytale

There were many reasons that this song was special to you. For starters, it was one of the few pieces that Elixir had in their repertoire that emphasized and valued the distinct differences between yours and Makki’s vocals. Naturally, you tended to have a higher yet shorter range, whereas Makki was capable of complimenting you in more ways than one.

Another was that, since this was a second song in the set after a taxing song like Besitos, Brick By Boring Brick was much more tame, yet still held an easy feel to it that the audience could weave and bob along at a leisurely pace. It was a crowd pleaser while simultaneously having bits and pieces in which the crowd could engage by clapping along with the beat, which always gave you an additional burst of energy.

Finally, this song truly highlighted the things that Terushima did for the band. This blondie was in charge of setting that pace to fire up the crowd; he was in charge in holding the steady rhythm to keep the four of you in time.

He was the reason you wrote the song.

Not that anyone else in the band knew that the words comprised in the verses were strings of feelings you’d had towards the man in a non-obvious way.

She’s ripping off wings of butterflies.

You smiled as you drawled the line out, staring at the three girlfriends sitting on a couch together not ten feet from you. They were staring back at you as well, not that you could be bothered in the moment. Right now, your focus was on making sure you were hitting the high notes in the right key when you entered the chorus. Considering you wrote the song, it shouldn’t have been hard for you to hit. Then again, you’d been smoking nearly a pack a day for seven years—there were bound to be raspy inconsistencies. After the first chorus, you were granted a moment’s reprieve as Makki scatted a simple line, his soprano contrasting your tenor in all the right ways. And while you loved hearing your bassist sing, you were entranced in the way Teru focused on emphasizing the drum beat, considering you and Kuroo were essentially mute for the brief moment.

Terushima hated the second verse of the song with every fiber of his being, but he loved seeing how joyous you looked when you sang it. He hates it because he knows why you wrote it and he hates because he knows you feel the same way he does.

The first time he cheated on his girlfriend was with you. Or rather, you were the only person he cheated on her with, and the first time it had happened, you were so overrun with guilt that you laid naked in his bed, curled into a ball and sobbed. Yet the two of you couldn’t stop, refused to stop, no matter how much guilt flooded your bodies.

More importantly, he hated the song implied that he was some sort of prince when he lacked the grace of one and the implication that he saved you. He did no such thing—if anything, he destroyed you.

But it was a trick and the clock struck twelve

How Terushima was able to focus on drumming when every time he heard his song, all he could think of were the secret trysts between the two of you, was beyond him. But hearing that line constantly reminded him that your relationship was illusion made of paper thin glass that could be shattered in an instant. Hence the line,

Build your home brick by boring brick or the wolf’s gonna blow it down.

Yūji was thankful that Elixir was home for you because it was home for him too. The bricks that built your guys’ foundation was the many years of friendship and memories together. A lot of them were firsts—the first time you all met; the first time you all hung out outside of work; the first time you all drank together despite being underage; the first time Yūji offered to smoke everyone up and the way you hesitated, never having smoked weed before. He distinctly remembers having to work a bong for you because you couldn’t grasp the concept of the mechanics.

Terushima remembers the first and only time you got drugged at a party in college and he how he had never felt the fear swelling in his body so bad. The same night the four of you vowed that you were done with the party life and how the only people you trusted was the four people holding instruments right now. Sometimes he would use these type of thoughts to ease yours and his guilt for his infidelity when, in reality, Terushima really just didn’t know how to tell her he didn’t want to be with her. Minami meant well, that much he knew. She wanted to see him succeed in life, as opposed to the way he was wasting away in his mom’s basement while playing in a band with his high school best friends. According to her, Terushima was destined for something greater than the way his life was going, but he also was too pathetic to do anything about it. She’d told him once he would never go anywhere if he didn’t try to push himself.

You built up a world of magic, because your real life is tragic.

The only way that Terushima felt that he was destined for something greater was when he was with you buried and twisted up in the sheets of your apartment. Naked or not, there was no better feeling for him than when he got to lay beside you, reassuring you that he was going to leave Minami one day. But you weren’t stupid, and you swore that it was better for the group if you two remained incognito. Your delusions convinced you that Kuroo and Makki would be more upset to know that the two of you were fucking behind each other’s back, as opposed to respecting the “homeostasis of the group”, as Kuroo called it. Deep down, you knew and Teru knew that the others would be so happy to finally see you both stop embarrassingly trying to bottle your feelings because man you guys flooded rooms with sexual tension.

If it’s not real, you can’t hold it in your hand.

Yūji Terushima loved many things about you. He loved your passion for life, the vivacious nature you brought to everything you did, how you made dirty words sound like praise and compliments and not just when you sang. However, he could live without you singing songs that had constant digs at him and you and your guys’ shitty situation, but even then, he could listen to you forever. Even if there were times he could see the veins in your neck begin to protrude in efforts to try to raise your pitch, Teru swore you were an angel. Even if you would lean your head on Makki while the two of you closed out the song in harmony, he knew the feelings you had for Makki were different than what you felt for him. You were special to him and he was special to you.

“Satisfied, princess?” The drummer asks you, not even remotely out of breath after the track. You gave a roll of your eyes before grabbing another beer from the mini-fridge just to the side of the stairs, making sure to hand one to each of your mates. By the second turn around, you noticed that the couch was now vacant and Terushima was excusing himself, plucking the tall can from your hands. “Just gonna walk ‘em out real quick, be right back.” It takes everything in him in that moment not to reach over and peck your lips, like he’s not saying his goodbye to his actual girlfriend for the evening.

“So, did that sound better or—“ while your question was technically finished, the remaining bandmates stared at you knowingly. You were thankful all the girlfriends left. “What?”

“Don’t think we didn’t see that.” Kuroo muses. Everyone in the band knew, to some degree, that you liked Terushima. It was so painstakingly obvious, yet you chose to live in denial that you would ever have him. Even though the mutual pining between the two of you had gone on for years, you were adamant on remaining neutral and keeping the friend group together until Terushima had finally given up on you.

Well, he did give up on you, until the first time he had laid victim to the verbal assault, for lack of better term, to Minami’s insults. She knew how to play him better than he did his drums, knew that to keep him hooked she just had to sit there and stroke his fragile ego and tell him he was the most amazing person in the world. That Terushima was worthy of all the love and praise she showered him in, before she would follow it with knocking him back down to size. The first time he heard it three months ago, he had spiraled so hard that nobody was even in contact with him for a week. Every day for seven days, Terushima was so far gone, blowing through his monthly supply of weed and tapping into his emergency stash of edibles. So far gone with nothing to numb him except for dabbling with blow, hoping the high of cocaine would soothe his need for constant reaffirmation.

Spoiler alert—it didn’t.

“You saw nothing.” You bit back, glaring at the two men before you before taking a gracious glug of your ale to quell your embarrassment.

“We aren’t stupid, babe.” Makki chimes, setting down his guitar and leaning on his amp to stare at you. “Why are you guys even putting yourselves through this? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Let me humor you, Makki,” your voice is dry, and contrarily humorless as you sit on top of a spare stool that Kuroo kept nearby for when he had to switch to acoustic guitar. “Say we date and everything’s all happy and shit, hooray! But then it’s like we leave you guys behind. I would never forgive myself for that.”

“[name], we would never let you leave us behind.” Kuroo blanches in rebuttal.

“Okay, but what if we have to end things and it gets messy? You’ve seen how I can get.” The latter leaves your lips bitterly, knowing full well that when you were mad, there was no object off limits to you and they would inevitably be broken and thrown. “It’s just not worth throwing away our ten plus years of friendship.”

“I’m not worth it, huh?” Teru announces as he walks back down the basement stairs, face sullen as he heard every word of the conversation. Seeing his own grave expression cracks your heart like concrete in an earthquake.

“T-Teru, no...”

“Everyone get the fuck out.” Sensing the volatility of the situation, Hanamaki and Kuroo remove their instruments cautiously, fearing that the slightest upset would unleash the kraken of Terushima’s bitter rage. Gathering their belongings, the two men began to trickle out, stopping when they realized you’d yet to move. They glanced at each other in worry, unsure of whether or not they needed to drag you out of the basement or stay to back you up for an inevitable argument. Their decision was made for them when Terushima repeated, “get the fuck out!”

“No.” Sometimes, everyone hated how stubborn you were, especially Kuroo and Makki. Everyone hated how stubborn you both were.

“[name], please try to get this shit together. We have a show tomorrow for fuck’s sake.” The raven haired guitarist mumbled in defeat before thudding up the steps with Makki in tow, leaving you in the basement and Terushima halfway down the steps.

“I meant you too.” The blonde bites out, contradicting his movements as he descended down the stairs further. You don’t move, watching him cautiously as he pulls off a small panel of the wooden walls of the basement. “I mean it, [name],” all humor and sunshine has dried from his vocal chords as he says your name, something he does not do enough of. “Go. I-I can’t look at you right now.” Still, you remain, watching in wonder as begins cutting up a small rock on a silver tray near his drum kit, pulling out a bill and rolling it tightly.

“I thought you quit.” You say quietly, unsure of whether or not you should approach him.

“How can I?” Terushima’s voice is bitter and sharp, his statement accentuated with the sound of him snorting the line he had out on the tray. You could tell from his movements alone that he needed to adjust his nose ring after doing so. “Takes me to the only place where everything’s okay.”

“How is any of this okay, Yūji?”

“Don’t fucking call me that!” The blonde snaps, whipping his body around with a feral look in his eye. Out of context, it would have been stupid to say that considering all you said was his name. But you knew what it did to him to hear you say it, to not call him by his last name as you have for ten plus years; for you to not call him by the nickname that only you used. “You lost the right when you said I wasn’t worth it.”

“Yūji, I didn’t say that.” By now, your voice is pleading, begging for him to hear you out. As he stomps towards you, you expect him to grab you, either out of anger or love didn’t matter, you welcomed both. But instead he breezes right by you to sit on the couch where Minami once sat and buried his face in his hands. Hesitantly, you sat beside him, his silent cries coaxing you to approach. Terushima was shaking, the clothes on his back trembling as he mutely wracked sobs. “All I said is that I’m fucking terrified of throwing away everything we built for the last ten years.”

“Why can’t we just keep building?”

“Teru, you made that choice and I don’t blame you for it.” You shifted slightly beside him to face him despite his face still being covered. He meant it when he said he couldn’t look at you right now—he couldn’t stand to stare at you knowing he wouldn’t find judgment or anger like when he faced Minami. Every time he looked at you, he saw nothing but love and trust and he couldn’t help but be overrun with guilt over making the stupid decision to date Minami in the first place. “I made that choice, too.”

“I thought having her around would help me get over you.” A small, sympathetic hum vibrated between your tightly pursed lips. “I’m still hoping she does.” You know there’s truth to his words—there is. But even with that portion of honesty didn’t change the fact that he routinely cheated on his girlfriend with you and you can’t help but wonder how all of this happened in the first place and why you kept going along with it. There was no use in wondering, not when you had all the answers. Not when you knew the first time it had happened, he was so overrun with insecurities than Minami created and that you loved him so much that you couldn’t stand to see him talk about how much he hated himself. If infidelity was what was needed for him to see himself the way you see him, then so be it.

You needed him to see himself as the light that brought and kept the four of you together—kept you together. As the person that protected you at university after someone drugged your drink when nobody was looking. As the person who valued your safety more than he loved his freedom and proved it by getting everyone to put their party phase to rest. As the beautiful man that he was, even with scars that littered his face from old, retired piercings he had taken out because he thought they made him look stupid. You missed his lip rings.

You loved him so much that you couldn’t risk a sour relationship ruining your friendship with him forever. “Yūji, you know that I return your feelings...” With extreme carefulness, you pry Terushima’s hands away from his face and cradle them in your own. “You also know what I’m afraid of.”

“You can’t keep hiding behind that fucking excuse.” He snarls, his blown out pupils finally turning to face you. The harrowing of his eyes was daunting, taunting you with guilt that you were some how responsible for his dependency on cocaine. “Our friendship was ruined a long time ago.”

“You can’t keep a back up plan,” you countered, “either we face this together or we call it off.” As the words left your mouth, tears began to quietly roll down your cheeks, speaking your ultimatum into existence. You’d had enough. No more seeing your sunshine bury who he used to be under bumps; no more covering up his stupid amateur basement tattoos with hoodies and jeans because Minami didn’t like them; no more pretending that he was over you just to crawl into your lap after a bad high and kiss you. You couldn’t take it anymore, but neither could he.

With urgency and fire, Terushima’s trembling hands cup your cheeks, holding you in place like you would disappear if he hadn’t. Surely, had your lips not softened the blow, your teeth would have clacked with his from sheer force. Needing no further assurances, your eyes squeezed shut, basking in the warmth that radiated off of him. The stud in his tongue ran along your lower lip, asking for permission he knew he didn’t need before the muscle and metal traced along every surface in your mouth. Your fingers twisted and tangled at the base of his grown out undercut, trying to pull him impossibly close to you, trying to fuse his body with yours. “We face this together.” The blonde pants out, only taking a moment to recollect his oxygen before he’s on you once again. Clumsy, tattooed hands are tugging at the hem of your shirt while yours are unceremoniously clawing at his zip up hoodie to get it off of him. When both of you are faced with the need to pull cloth off of your torso, your hands press delicately to his inked chest, stopping him from professing.

“I love you.” You remind him softly, wondering how many times someone else had been underneath him, saying the same thing. Terushima doesn’t say anything in reply, instead latching his lips on the thin, sensitive skin on your neck. “Yūji, listen to me for a second.”

“No.” There was a fearful twinge to his voice that he could no longer mask. Fear that if the two of you stopped what you were doing, it would never happen again; fear that this wasn’t happening and he was too high and that he was imagining it all. It happened to him enough times. Knowing that he liked to be treated rough, your fingers thread through his matted locks once again, though this stop not out of pleasure.

“Listen to me,” you repeated, now scooting up a bit to rest on your elbows to keep you suspended. “I love you. And no matter what happens, I will always love you.”

His voice trembles, along with every bone in his body, as Terushima responds. “Please, you’re making this sound like this is the last time...” It broke your heart in more ways than one. Because, in a sense, it would be the last time. Only if the two of you couldn’t dive in together, only if he couldn’t end the relationship that was slowly tearing him apart from the inside out. “I promise, it’s you and me.” He’s far from calm, but he stills has your fingers trace down his sweaty brow, following down to the single dermal stud below his eye before dancing along his nose hoop. Knowing your path, Teru sticks his tongue out, allowing the tips of your fingers to trace the barbell that typically rested in his mouth. It’s an oddly intimate act, one that was only ever done by you, but it’s an act he loves nonetheless because it’s done by you. But while you love touching him, you know what he needs more than anything.

He needs to hear it.

“I’ve always loved the way you looked.” Your words of praise start off slow and your fingers gingerly graze over where the studs in his lips once resided. “I waited those two extra years for because I didn’t wanna move on to a new chapter in my life without you.” Terushima groans at the admission, unsure if he wanted to cry or kiss you in response. “It breaks my heart to see Minami treat you like you’re less than you are, because you are my sunshine. You bring light into everything you do and I can’t help but wonder if it’s my fault that she’s in the picture at all.”

Cry, he decides finally, because your words hurt him in the most sensual way.

“It’s my fault. I ran away, thinking if I just fucked someone else I would get over you.” Shit, now he’s blaming himself and the two of you are back at square one.

“No, Teru. It’s my fault for being chickenshit.” He doesn’t wanna hear it anymore, he decides, bringing his bruised and swollen lips back to yours. It doesn’t matter who’s fault it was or is, all that matters is that you stick true to your word. That after Minami’s out of the picture, the two of you hang on to each other tightly and dive headfirst into this new territory. “I love you so much and I’m so fucking sorry for ever holding back.”

“So don’t hold back anymore.”

[ Elixir « Bricks » Love Bites ]

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[grimelords]

My November playlist is finished and I've done something slightly different by actually ordering the songs into a cohesive playlist rather than leaving them in the order I added them. Listen in for everyone's favourite genre, acoustic guitar instrumentals, followed by old fashioned cowboy country, comedy and ridiculous songs, 80s and modern dance, out-there piano instrumentals, rocks and rolls, oddball rap, christian rock buried where nobody will find it, noise rock of all flavours and Mirror Reaper in full. I guarantee there'll be at least something in four hours of music that you'll like. listen here!

Deixa - Toquinho: I love how much happens in this song even before it even kicks off at about a minute in. It cycles through so many different feelings before it really powers up and the drums come on. The rhythm from then on is just mesmerizing, it's just so busy and never dwells on any section for too long, the interplay between the melody, bassline and chord rhythm is amazing. And then at about 2:20 it powers up again! Bossa Nova Strong. Also I'm feeling very disrespected because I just did some research on this song only to find out it was sampled by Nujabes on one of his bad anime youtube hip hop songs.

Just A Closer Walk With Thee - Marisa Anderson: Traditional And Public Domain Songs is Marisa Anderson's weakest album, which is a shame because I love Traditional and Public Domain songs. Her playing is on point as always, but the tremolo and distortion she's using overwhelms the recording more often than not. This song is the best on the album purely because she's playing so quietly that it only shows up when she gets loud so it works perfectly near the end as it crescendos.

The Three Deaths Of Red Spectre - Gwenifer Raymond: Gwenifer Raymond has a new 'non-holiday specific single for a cold climate' in her words and I absolutely love it. The sheer velocity of the middle section is flooring, before it breaks apart totally and reforms into a sort of shanty before metamorphosing again into a heightening mania. I love the constantly shifting structure of this, it barely stops to give you room to breathe all the way through before the very end where it almost feels like it's going to collapse entirely.

Mister Sandman - Chet Atkins: Happy to report that I've had Mr Sandman stuck in my head for three weeks now and still don't really know the words because of tumblr posts. It alternates between 'mr email / e me a mail / make the attachment a pic of a snail' and 'mr sandman / sand me a man / make him the cutest man car door hook hand'.

Do I Ever Cross Your Mind - Chet Atkins & Dolly Parton: I've never gone much on Chet Atkins but my girlfriend showed my this song and it has completely reversed my opinion and it's mostly due to Dolly Parton. She is just so lovely on this it makes me tear up - the song itself is so nice and the playing is perfect but her personality just shines through so brightly it's an absolute delight.

There's A Man Going Around Taking Names - Lead Belly: I've been doing research to try to find out what this song is referring to, or its origin but I cannot find anything concrete. A few people are saying it inspired Johnny Cash for The Man Comes Around, which is plausible and adds a mystic bent to it. It seems incomplete, like it's missing the turn at the end that reveals who exactly he is or what's happening so the whole song just ends up feeling very mysterious and ominous.

When Mussolini Laid His Pistol Down - Merle Travis: This song is from 1943, which is sort of amazing because that means it's not a song about history particularly but rather current events. A great paragraph from wikipedia: "On 24 June Mussolini gave his last important speech as prime minister. It went down in history as the "boot topping" speech, with the Duce promising that the only part of Italy that the Anglo-Americans would be able to occupy (but forever and horizontally, i.e. as corpses) was the shore-line (for which he used a wrong word to define it). For many Italians, that confused and incoherent speech was the final proof that something was wrong with Mussolini." Mussolini, truly history's greatest moron.

The Master's Call - Marty Robbins: As a result of Red Dead 2 and my own natural instincts, I've been having a bigger than usual moment with cowboy music this month which of course includes Marty Robbins' Gunfighter Ballads And Trail Songs. In my mind this song is both the true ending and end credits music of Red Dead 2. Arthur sees the face of Christ in a lightning bolt and abandons his life of crime and sin, pleading with the lord to forgive him and then God kills a hundred cows with another lightning bolt just to make damn sure Arthur knows He's serious.

Saga Of The Ponderosa - Lorne Green: I was hanging out with my old housemate a few weeks ago and it turns out we were both having concurrent Marty Robbins cowboy music phases which was great news because then he turned me onto this album by Lorne Green who was on Bonanza and apparently took it upon himself to expand the Bonanaza Cinematic Universe in the 60s with a few albums. This song is apparently an origin story of Bonanza which I have never seen. It's extremely good, very powerful music. Great story of this godlike man striding across the country and overriding his wife's decision by naming his son HOSS.

Hard Sun - Eddie Vedder: I think it's interesting in A Star Is Born that Jackson Maine doesn't seem to be a real life equivalent of any actual musician. He's not obviously an archetype of any real person and so it's hard to place how exactly famous he is in the world of the movie. He's washed up enough to be playing pharmaceutical conferences but still has enough industry respect to be playing a tribute at the Grammys. The closest I could think of was Eddie Vedder oddly enough, and this song from the Into The Wild soundtrack really does sound like a Jackson Maine original.

For Chan - Tim Heideker: I'm having a real thing with comedy music recently and I can't tell if it means I've got a brain parasite or comedy music is good to me now. I think what I like about this song is the bluntness. There's no two ways about these people, and after years of hearing about the alt right as mysterious political genius computer brains it's a nice break to just hear them called greasy fat basement guys like we used to.

That's Right I'm Five - Don't Stop Or We'll Die: More good comedy music! They played this song on Comedy Bang Bang without announcing what it was called first, so the chorus really surprised me and made me laugh a lot. "They're selling the stocks so buy them, launch the torpedoes, tell my wife I love her, and send my son to college, bury me in the desert in my osh kosh b'gosh - that's right I'm five!" might be my favourite lyric of the year.

Future Brain - Den Harrow: Den Harrow is very good. He's like a beautiful moron American man that some italian scientists built in a lab in order to conquer America from the inside. Here are some good highlights from his wiki article: "The name Den Harrow was conceived by producers Roberto Turatti and Miki Chieregato, who based it on the Italian word denaro(money)." "After years of fame and popularity, it was revealed by frontman Stefano Zandri and his producers that Zandri did not actually sing the Den Harrow songs; he was essentially a character who lip-synched to vocals recorded by a number of other singers. Furthermore, since they did not consider Zandri's name and origin to be "trendy" enough, the producers R. Turatti and M. Chieregato concealed Zandri's Italian origin, marketing him as having been born Manuel Stefano Carry in Boston. This was done so Polydor Records could market him more easily in the English-speaking world, where Italian-produced music was, at the time, viewed with skepticism"

Love A Girl Right - Little Mix: Check out this rewrite of the Thong Song they did for the new Little Mix album. It's beyond belief. My girlfriend loves Little Mix and she's right to because they're the only girl/boy band that actually takes advantage of the form and does harmonies instead of just having them all sing in turn or all at once. They've got good vocal arrangements but they have the worst fucking songwriters working for them. Songwriters that pitch 'what if the Thong Song had a crunchy nu-metal guitar in it'.

This City Made Us - The Protomen: It's interesting to hear a band change styles - most other Protomen songs are a sort of Springsteen pastiche but this one from their newer single is more like Iron Maiden or Thin Lizzy. Approaching the 80s from a different angle. It's impressive to switch so radically and still have enough of a unifying sound that it feels like the same band. 80s throwback rock is a generally pallid genre populated by freaks who can't move on but Protomen put so much heart into it it's hard to write them off.

Teardrops - Womack & Womack: I love this song because it has two choruses. The drums stay the same throughout, the chords stay the same through the verse and chorus and only change for the second chorus/bridge part ("the music don't feel like it did when I felt it with you"), which just gives the whole song this feeling of beautiful endlessness. It goes and goes and goes and you're always already living in the best part of the song.

Boys Will Be Boys - The Duncan Sisters: Very very good piece of disco with a very nice piece of country picking guitar near the start for some reason. I quit like that the chorus of 'boys, oh boys, will be boys - they can really hurt you!' goes from a lighthearted thing about relationships until the bridge near the end where it sounds more like a dire warning. She's staring straight into your eyes and saying 'they can hurt you. boys can hurt you. they can really hurt you.' while motioning toward the exit with her eyes. 

Ayaya - Bicep: I've been trying to train my ear a bit better so I got a piano app on my phone and I just try to pick out the melodies of songs now when I'm bored. It turns out this is a very satisfying song to play. The melody is very simple, but the constant build and the couple of other melodies that come in around it make you feel like a super genius for just playing the same thing over and over.

The Call - David Mayer: I completely forget how I came across this song but I'm in love with the vocals on it. The effect reminds me of the one on Problem With The Sun by Nicolas Jaar, sort of pitched down and layered over itself. Outside of the vocals it's a pretty straightforward euro house chunk but damn sometimes a song just has a really good sound in it that you can't deny.

Problem With The Sun - Nicolas Jaar: My girlfriend's brother was telling me he was riding his bike the other day and had some kind of mental break where he was riding north in the afternoon but the sun was on his right, in the east - and for some reason his first instinct wasn't that he was wrong or disoriented, it was that there was a problem with the sun and it was in the wrong place. That boy ain't right but this song is good. I love that Nicolas Jaar uses this weird down pitched voice on a few songs and I really wish he'd bring it back, it sounds great and also funny to me.

Ensaslayi - Cecil Taylor: I don't have the brain power to comprehend any of Cecil Taylor's ensemble work that I've heard, free jazz in a band setting is simply too much for me it turns out -but I've really been getting a lot out of this solo album of his called Fly! Fly! Fly! Fly! Fly!. This song in particular is one of the longer ones on the album, where another is only 53 seconds long and a few last around ten minutes. This is a nice midpoint, where he gives himself so much room to get lost in different directions without losing the thread entirely. I said it last time I was talking about him but I've really never heard anyone play piano like this and I absolutely love it. A lot of reviewers describe it as him playing the piano like it's a drumkit, which I think is accurate to a degree - but I think looking back from here this music makes a lot more sense within the context of black midi and things like that. The extreme edges of what a piano can theoretically do, but with a decisive and beautiful human edge and human brain that's responsible for and making sense of the chaos.

The Homeless Wanderer - Emahoy Tsegué-Maryam Guèbrou: I found out about this album cause Benjamin Booker was posting about her on his instagram story and it's just incredible. The TL;DR of her story is she's an Ethiopian nun that studied music in Switzerland and Cairo and wrote this beautiful piano music based on traditional Ethiopian pentatonic music. I love the rhythm of it, every note in the right hand get swirled around and around before it's settled on while the left hand moves so smoothly and delicately. Unfortunately-ish she's obviously in that genre of Searching For Sugarman secret blog music evidenced by her spotify similar artists being Karen Dalton, Alice Coltrane and Connie Converse. That's not a bad thing exactly, at least people are hearing about her, but her music is unique and amazing enough on its own without needing much mythologizing.

Carnival Of The Animals: No 12 - Fossils - Camille Saint-Saëns: My girlfriend was showing me Saint-Saëns' The Swan and then we were going through the whole rest of the Carnival Of The Animals and I'm happy to report that he not only did he do one for fossils but also centered it around the idea of a bone xylophone. I'm going to write an article for Vulture tracing the origin of the cartoon bone xylophone and my thesis is it starts here.

Perth - Bon Iver: Just thinking about how good Bon Iver is. I love how massive this song can feel, the drums combined with the big brass. It's small and soft on the grand scale, but on an album that gets as quiet and soft as songs like Holocene this song blows up like an atom bomb.

Yet Again - Grizzly Bear: This really is one of the best songs of all time I've decided. It feels like I get into a thing of listening to it on repeat almost every month now. I don't know what it is exactly - I guess it's every part of it. The lyrics are impenetrable (check) the riff is simple and powerful (check) the drums are doing a lot and keeping it simple at the same time. The the way the harmony vocals all intertwine in the prechorus part is amazing. The way the whole song blows up into a big radio static solo at the end. Every part of this song is great, I just love it.

Fuckin N' Rollin - Phantastic Ferniture: I found out that Julia Jacklin has a side project with a very shit name and they make very good music. I love when people have a whole other band for another side of their self. This is just Julia Jacklin if the lyrics were just first draft whatevers instead of incredibly poignant and beautiful and the music was just rockin and rollin with your friends. It's great!

Soft - Kings Of Leon: Number one best song ever about havin a bad dick!! I'd love to hang out lady but my dick! I'm passed out in your garden, I'm in I can't get off I'm so soft! I'd pop myself in you body, I'd come into your party but I'm soft!

Soft Serve - Soul Coughing: I played this while I was driving with my girlfriend and she said 'what the fuck is this' and she's right, as usual. It's Soul Coughing baby! The 90s 'slacker jazz' band! They sound dated as fuck, a real product of their time but I think they've still got a lot to offer. I had the chorus of this stuck in my head for a couple days which made me listen to this album more than usual when I mostly prefer their first one Ruby Vroom. Irresistible Bliss might have the worst album cover of all time though, so it's got that going for it. Google it.

Ya Mama - Wuf Ticket: There wiki article for this band says they had two songs in 1982 and that was it. Then it has a section titled Greaseman and then the article ends. Here's the Greaseman section in its entirety: "Wuf Ticket's “Ya Mama” achieved its greatest notoriety, and airplay, as a music bed for bits by shock jock The Greaseman on WWDC-FM in Washington, D.C. and later his nationally syndicated radio show where Greaseman would argue with a surly service industry worker." Anyway this is more of that very good early hip hop shit where everyone assumed songs should go for 8 minutes. It's just extremely weak sauce Ya Mama jokes for a very long time before they change tack completely and start talking about how Every Woman Is An Angel And Without Mothers We Would Never Have Been Born So Think About That Next Time.

Gon Be Okay - Lil B: I had the part of this song where he sings 'things are never gonna be the same again' along with the piano in my head the other day and spent fully an hour googling to try to find what song it was from before giving up. I woke up the next morning and suddenly remembered it was this song but was very shocked to find out that he actually never sings that line along with the piano melody, he says it once at the start and that's it. What's going on with my brain. Anyway in my searching I found out that the piano is sampled from the Spirited Away soundtrack so once more in my life I've been led to ruin by anime.

2 Minute Drills - Allblack & Kenny Beats: This whole EP is great. More sports themed rap please. Allblack is ferocious and Kenny's production throughout is great, the perfect mix of simple straighforward beats that still have a lot of space and energy in them, plus 'Woah Kenny!' has my award for Best New Producer Watermark.

Don't Gas Me - Dizzee Rascal: I don't know how he keeps doing it but somehow Dizzee Rascal continues to make extremely fun bangers without ever slowing down. The best line in this is when he says "no I don't drink Appletiser" (the sparkling apple juice) which is an extremely weird flex if there ever was one.

Acid King - Malibu Ken: It feels insane that a Tobacco and Aesop Rock collab sounds as good as this. I love that there's no drums the entire time he's rapping and I completely love the Mort Garson vibes in the instrumental which turns out to be a perfect soundtrack to the Ricky Kasso satan worship LSD murder story that Aesop's telling. Also in reading about Kasso I just discovered the very good stoner doom band also named Acid King, so expect to see them in next month's list.

Pirate Blues - As Cities Burn: As Cities Burn have reformed and put out a new single so I've been thinking about them a bit. On paper they don't sound good, over three albums they morphed from a christian metalcore band to a christian alt-rock band, and while they never reinvented the wheel I think they're a remarkable band who took a lot of risks in their own way and made a lot of rock solid music. They've got a lot of great songs but I think this is my favourite from their third album when it finally felt like they'd settled into a steady alt rock sound informed by their much heavier past.

This Is It, This Is It - As Cities Burn: The thing I like about As Cities Burn is that as much as they're a christian band (yuck) they're more of a band of guys who are christians (slightly less yuck) and the difference is huge. Rather than evangelising or preaching, their songs are about their own personal struggles with their faith (still slightly yuck). I like this song especially because the lyric feels close to gospel, 'we're all singing for our sins, unless grace be the wind' but with the added twist of being furious that you're trapped by the sin of your physical body.

Timothy - As Cities Burn: I think this song is just incredible. The lyrics are so strong and direct and heartbreaking, the vocal performance especially is amazing and it may be the only time in history that a 6 minute guitar solo has seemed good and necessary.

Face Tat - Zach Hill: There's an incredible video of the recording of this song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hGi9SOFX5rc that really looks exactly how it sounds and has a very similar energy to that video of 80 guys singing the halo theme in the boys bathroom. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wRG9KwvbVhk . This is what it sounds like when the boys are left alone. The biggest draw to Zach Hill's drumming is the intense primordial immediacy of it. He is just pounding away like a possessed animal and it's really on show here, especially combined with the occasional punctuating shout. Carson McWhirter's guitar is incredible too, the tone he's got where it sounds like three at once playing these incredible twisting riffs that turn on a dime. I think what I like most about this song is just how in sync they are - for such a chaotic, noisy song it sounds so rehearsed, somehow every single note is perfectly in time in the storm.

Betty's Worry Or The Slab - Hunters And Collectors: This is maybe the sweatiest song I've ever heard. It's a disgusting song about being incredibly sweaty and horny and I love the weird squeaky noise he makes after he says 'say it! say it!'. The bass sound in this is so fantastically meaty too, and combined with the brass at the end it's just great.

Worms Of The Senses / Faculties Of The Skull (live) - Refused: I cannot believe just how absolutely ferocious live Refused is. Insanely powerful without ever missing a beat in a song like this that requires incredible timing throughout. For some reason I've always thought Refused were an only ok live band after watching Refused Are Fucking Dead because all I remember of it is a clip where the guitarist accidentally hits the singer in the face with his headstock and they have to stop the show.

Mirror Reaper - Bell Witch: I got to see Bell Witch live a couple of weeks ago and it's one of the best shows I've ever seen. I can't really describe it other than it feels like the closest thing to a legitimate summoning ritual that I've ever seen. An invocation and an expelling of raw power and emotion between two people, it was really something. Also the best part was about two minutes in when they were really setting the scene with the sort of ambient beginning of Mirror Reaper and the whole crowd was dead silent and entranced as they built this mystic atmosphere and set the vibe a guy behind me said loudly to his friend 'hm pretty good so far!'

What's You Gonna Do When The World's On Fire - Lead Belly & Anne Graham: This is in my opinion the best genre of gospel song where they they just roast you for not being saved yet.​ 

listen here

[artificialqueens]

blouses (pt 1) (rajila) - evan

“I said I was a blouse, bitch, a blouse. A blouse is a feminine top. It’s silky, it’s smooth, it’s got a really beautiful blushy color to it, but it fucks you the hell—it’s a blouse, you know what I mean? It’s a blouse!” (x)

“And Manila, we’re both… I think she’s a blouse too. She might be an off-the-shoulder blouse.” (x)

In which two tops don’t make a bottom. Raja and Manila non-au smut. 5.2k words. Part one of two, with eventual Ravjila ;)

Find me on my blog or ao3, both @formercongressman! I’d love to hear your feedback. xoxo evan

An accidental kiss backstage. That was how this whole fiasco started.

They were performing back-to-back at a club in San Francisco. Raja had just finished her last number, giving one last twirl in the long luscious dress she had made before blowing a kiss to the audience and ducking behind the curtain. She quickly found Manila in the darkness.

“You were absolutely amazing,” Manila told her, leaning in to kiss her cheek. However, Raja turned unexpectedly, and their lips met. Manila opened her eyes, doubly surprised as she felt Raja’s mouth soften against hers in an honest-to-god kiss. Something, and she wasn’t quite sure what, clicked in her gut. Oh.

“Next up, everybody give it up for miss Manila Luzon!”

They broke apart as Manila heard the host read her name. Her music started playing and she felt like she couldn’t quite catch her breath. Raja smiled at her, almost as if nothing had happened. “Well? Get out there!” she laughed, pushing Manila towards the stage.

She walked out, put on a brilliant smile, but inside her head was racing. She started lip syncing, mostly running on autopilot. What was that? She tried to push past it, but the memory of Raja’s lips warm and willing against her own still lingered. Part of her wanted to walk back off stage, back Raja into an unlit corner and lick her way into that mouth, wrap her fingers tightly in that long hair, and—

Her mind suddenly caught up with her body and she realized her mouth wasn’t moving. She was at the top of the second verse of the song, but couldn’t for the life of her remember the words. God damn it. She faked it as best she could as she tried to listen to the track over the booming bass and the shouting from the audience. She quickly hopped back on the words once they came to her, but she knew people had noticed. There would be a video online tomorrow. She threw a smile back on her face, but she knew it didn’t reach her eyes.

The song ended and she waved at the audience before quickly ducking off stage. Raja had disappeared and her skin was crawling, though she wasn’t sure if that was from the post-performance rush, the embarrassment of fucking up the words, or from being just a little turned on. Embarrassment. Frustration. She told herself to focus on that as she marched back towards the dressing rooms, intent on giving Raja a piece of her mind.

Their shared dressing room was less of a room and more of a converted supply closet where someone had set up a card table and a full length mirror as overflow space from the regular dressing room. Manila walked in to find Raja leaning over the mirror, long hair pushed to one side as she removed her 301s.

“You were great out there,” Raja said, her eyes flashing briefly to Manila in the mirror, though she remained focused on her lash.

“You think? Did you see the part where I completely blanked on the words?” Manila shut the door and crossed her arms.

“Yes I did.”

“And you thought that was great?”

Raja smiled. “I thought it was cute.”

Manila sighed and settled into a folding chair, not flattered. “I looked unprepared. You picked a really weird time to try to tank my career, bitch.”

Raja turned around and raised an eyebrow, her small smile still hinting at the corner of her mouth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You kissed me out of nowhere!”

“I’m pretty sure you kissed me.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

“Was it really that bad? That it threw off your whole performance?” Raja turned back to the mirror to wipe away some makeup.

Manila was silent, looking down and picking off her nails. She knew Raja was joking, but she couldn’t tell why something still felt off. She could sense the ghost of the kiss on her lips again, and a kind of sudden and all-consuming enchantment that tugged at her insides, that she had never felt for Raja before. They had kissed once at a show right after season 3, a drunk and sloppy moment she now struggled to dig up fully from her memory. That had been what, more than five years ago? They had never been more than friends after that, though Manila found Raja to be one of the most talented, brilliant, and beautiful friends she had ever made.

Of course, Manila knew Raja was attractive. Sutan was attractive. That was just a rudimentary, essential fact of science and art. But mixing business and pleasure in this case just felt off the table. After knowing her for so long, Manila thought she was maybe immune to whatever psychosexual witchcraft Raja did every time she performed.

Well, maybe not.

“I think it’s the opposite, actually.” She stood up and walked towards the mirror, mustering the extra courage she needed to speak. The kiss, small as it was, kept playing in her mind over and over, and all she could think about was more.

Raja froze before slowly wiping away the last bit of eyeshadow on her face. She turned around, propping herself against the card table, her face worryingly blank. “What do you mean?” she asked.

What was Manila supposed to say? ‘I’m not sure why but I really want to fuck you’ seemed a bit heavy handed, so instead she listened to the whirring energy rolling around in her chest. It pushed her towards Raja as she cupped her jaw and pulled her back into a kiss.

Manila immediately felt Raja smile against her mouth. This coy bitch, Manila thought to herself. As oblivious as Raja might act, she knew exactly what was going on.

Raja kissed her back with the kind of certainty that made Manila wonder if maybe this had been part of her plan all along. She felt Raja’s hands grip tightly on her waist and pull her closer. It was then she realized that they were both in varyingly deconstructed stages of half-drag, but that wasn’t her primary concern at the moment. Raja’s tongue crept into her mouth, predictably confident yet surprisingly sweet as she ran her thumb along Manila’s jaw.

The thing that hit Manila hardest, though, was that even though she and Raja had never been this intimate before, it didn’t feel like kissing a stranger. Of course Raja’s tongue was precise and insistent, of course her touch was like water, of course she seemed to be drawing Manila into her with some kind of magic. That was just… Raja.

Raja’s hand was on her thigh, and she didn’t realize it was slowly creeping further up until her fingers hooked under the edge of Manila’s short dress.

“I need to…” Manila pulled back, now painfully aware of her tuck and her pads and her smearing makeup. What was a tactful way to say that she wanted to touch every inch of Raja’s skin but not in this broom closet? “I need to wash this off of my face.”

There was a pause. Raja stood and righted herself, twisting her disheveled hair back into place. Manila could hear her catching her breath. After a moment reassessing where they were, Raja finally spoke. “My hotel isn’t far from here. Couple of blocks, we could walk. If you wanted to shower.”

Raja’s eyes said so much more and Manila felt weak. She felt hungry. The distance between them now was acutely unbearable. Raja was wearing a long, sheer cape, and Manila caught herself thinking about crawling inside it with her.

“Yeah?” she asked instead, noting her own ragged breath. “Just to shower?”

“If that’s all you want.”

Manila stepped towards her, slowly tracing a single finger from Raja’s cheek down her neck, over her collarbone, and across her chest. The air was thick with so much unsaid and the heat radiating off of Raja’s skin.  

“That’s not all I want.”

Raja smiled broadly, confidence brimming at the edges of her eyes. “I know. Let’s go.”

–

There was no such thing as a casual walk to a hotel to fuck your friend. Sutan knew this from experience. No matter who it was, he could always feel the anticipation that would hang tangibly in the air between them. He loved that tension, though, that almost-but-not-quite, and he let it carry him down the street to the hotel.

He wasn’t quite sure what had come over Karl, but he liked it. Maybe a lot. That first kiss tonight had been nothing more than a peck, but he was amazed by how little it had taken to send Karl into this state. If he had known that earlier, he would have “accidentally” kissed him long ago. There had never been that mutual alignment of desire with him like there had been with Raven or Detox or Morgan, so he figured that Karl wasn’t into him like that. But he had thought about it, wanted it, even. And now Karl was dripping with chaotic energy and Sutan was always, always willing to fall into bed with a friend.

Sutan worried briefly when Karl tensed as Sutan draped a protective arm around his shoulder as they got to the hotel, wondering if perhaps he was second guessing himself. However, his fears dissolved as soon as the elevator doors shut and Karl pressed him into a corner and kissed him again, mouth hot and assertive, as the floor numbers climbed. He felt for a moment that this might be a dream, and leaned into it, kissing him back.

As soon as the elevator slowed to a halt on his floor and they pulled apart, Sutan felt a smile creeping across his face. He covered it but failed to suppress his laughter.

“What?” Karl asked, cracking a smile of his own.

I just can’t believe this is finally happening.

“Nothing. It’s this one.” Sutan pointed across the hall and swiped them in with the hotel keycard.

He had barely had time to toss his luggage into the room before the gig, and it was the first time he was getting a good look at the room. It was standard but roomy, with a substantial bed and, he realized as he flicked the lights on, a beautiful view of the alley.

“Do you mind if I just…” Karl motioned towards the bathroom.

“Go ahead,” Sutan said. He relaxed into the bed and listened to the water come on.

For a moment he thought about joining Karl in the shower, as both a chance to freshen up himself and maybe eat Karl’s ass, but shower sex was always better in theory than in practice. Instead he grabbed a robe out of the closet, stripped off his post show garb, and slipped into it. Intrigue. Mystique. Comfort.

“I forgot to grab clothes, can I borrow some of yours?” Karl called from the bathroom. He poked his head out of the door in a cloud of steam, all of Manila washed off his face and his black hair wet and hanging over his eyes. “Oh my god, of course you travel with a robe.”

“It’s the hotel’s. There’s another one. Want it?” Sutan got up, wrestled the other robe from its hanger, and thrust it towards the bathroom door. Karl had narrowed it to just a sliver open, but Sutan could see a long line of his skin, stretching from his ass to his collarbone.

Of course he had seen Karl naked before, but only to then throw on pads and tights. He had never seen his body and wanted it like this, though, and he felt a tightness stir below his stomach. He would be putting on a hotel robe just to take it off, and certainly it would just be more efficient to push right into the bathroom and take him right there—

“Thank you,” Karl said as he took the robe, his small smile just briefly visible through the crack in the door before he pulled it shut again.

Sutan laid back on the bed, trying to keep his mind from running away from him. Easier said than done. He thought about that sliver of skin and how much skin surrounded it, and all the places his mouth could go.

When Karl walked out of the bathroom, he perched on the end of the bed, still too far for Sutan to touch. Though it had been for just a moment, Sutan caught a quick glimpse of the outline of Karl’s erection, which the robe was doing no favors to hide.

“What are you thinking about?” Karl asked.

“You, mostly.” Sutan propped himself up on his elbows.

Karl turned and climbed on the bed. “What about me?” He threw a leg over Sutan’s knees, effectively straddling him, and settling into his lap. Sutan was very aware of his own erection now, and he wondered if Karl was too.

“Just this.” Sutan eased up and brought his hands softly to Karl’s back, reveling for a moment in how well they seemed to fit, and then ever so slowly guiding him down to his lips.

This kiss was tentative, soft, and wholly overwhelming. It was nothing like the rushed, quasi-frantic kisses that had led to this point. They kissed like they had time. The newness, the freshness, the incredulity of it all coagulated in his chest, thickening with every slip of Karl’s tongue against his.

Karl smelled like lemon verbena hotel shampoo and, well, Karl. Something familiar.

They broke as tenuously as they had come together. Their mouths hovered a centimeter apart, and Sutan breathed in that air thick with need and willingness and tension, a voice calling out for more, a thin sheet of ice ready to crack

“You don’t have to be gentle,” Sutan whispered, and in that moment the earth could have split in two below them and he wouldn’t have noticed. Karl pushed him firmly back into the pillows and he was falling, falling, falling.

Karl kissed him with a kind of voracity he hadn’t thought to expect. He bit Sutan’s lower lip, then his jaw and down to his neck, definitely strong enough to leave marks. Sutan surged up to match him. It felt like trying to steer a tornado, but he knew he could do that and more. He fixed a strong hand on the back of Karl’s neck, holding him in place and dragging his tongue against the back of Karl’s teeth. He felt Karl’s back arch as he tried and failed to suppress a moan. Exactly.

Karl worked open Sutan’s robe, tracing hands over his body, and Sutan shuddered at how good it felt to be touched by him like this, to have Karl’s hands in places he had never felt them before. He pulled off Karl’s robe as well, breaking away momentarily to marvel at his skin, the places where it creased, and suddenly Sutan couldn’t be touching enough of him at once.

He pulled Karl’s body tightly against his, feeling him hot and firm and right there. Sutan rolled his hips up and they both let out a breathy oh at the feeling of skin against skin, and Sutan nearly pitched forward at the much-needed contact against his cock.

Sutan seized control of the moment, flipping them so that he was pinning Karl down, pressing his wrists into the mattress.

“Please, I need to touch you,” Karl practically whined, straining against Sutan’s grip.

“I want to look at you. Don’t move.”

Karl sighed but stayed put. Sutan drew his fingers down Karl’s body, softly tracing the lines he had seen glimpses of earlier. He was so compact, yet lithe, and he savored the way Karl seemed to lean his body into Sutan’s touch. His hands settled on Karl’s ass, and he could only think about how hard he had tried not to fantasize about doing exactly this for so long. Even better, Karl’s whole body jerked when Sutan finally wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking him slowly, in time with Karl’s little breathy sounds.

“Please, Sutan, you look so beautiful and it’s actual torture not to let me touch you.”

“You’re lucky that flattery works on me,” Sutan smiled as he relented, softening back down onto Karl’s body, meeting his mouth again. He felt Karl’s hands on his back, nails surprisingly sharp as his fingers dug into Sutan’s skin. He hoped that left a mark as well. He picked up the pace, pumping Karl faster. He bit Sutan’s lip so hard when he circled his thumb to gather the wetness forming on the head of his cock that Sutan almost cried out himself.

“Let me try something,” Karl managed, and surprised Sutan when he pushed his hand out of the way. Karl repositioned himself so that their cocks were side by side, and encircled them both with his hand.

Sutan was immediately hit with a rush of the newness of Karl’s grip. He had been so focused on Karl that he had almost forgotten about himself. Karl rolled his hips as he stroked them both, and that was the sensation he had been craving.

Sutan buried his head in Karl’s shoulder, now unable to hold back noises he knew were obscene. The drag of their cocks together was unbelievable, the pace of Karl’s hand was only quickening.

“So beautiful,” Karl whispered in his ear.

He felt a tension welling in his hips, threatening to release, and he knew he needed to be deep inside Karl now.

“I’m – fuck – I’m not gonna last much longer if you keep this up,” Sutan managed to choke out.

Karl pulled back with a smile, obviously proud of himself. He pulled back his hand, leaving Sutan on the edge. “Do you have condoms? Lube?”

Sutan tried to catch his breath and pointed across the room. “That suitcase, outer pocket.”

As Karl went to retrieve them, Sutan lay back and caught his breath, letting the electricity he felt dazzling on his skin settle in. This is what it felt like, planets coming into alignment at just the right time, possibility and promise opening up.

He thought about Karl rolling the condom onto him with his mouth, of getting to work him open slowly, Karl lowering himself onto Sutan’s cock and riding him while Sutan rolled his hips slowly, too slowly, before flipping him over and fucking him into the mattress. He got so swept away in this, in fact, that he didn’t realize until Karl was hovering over him again that Karl was rolling the condom onto himself.

“Woah, wait, hold up.” Sutan sat up, forming an uncomfortable gulf of space between their bodies. “Karl, are you trying to fuck me?”

Karl’s jaw dropped as he looked between them. “Bitch, what did you think was going on here?”

“I mean, obviously we’re having sex but… I don’t bottom.” Surely he and Karl had talked about this at some point, right? Sutan had been saying he was a blouse, a feminine top, for a while now; in fact he said it often because he thought it was clever as hell.

“I thought you did sometimes.”

“No. I mean, it’s been…” Sutan didn’t want to say more than a decade out loud. “I haven’t since before Drag Race.”

“Oh. Well.” Karl looked uncomfortable, and he pulled the half-applied condom off self-consciously.

Sutan tried to look at him hopefully, though it felt like something was slipping away. “But I’d still really like to—"

“I don’t bottom either.” Karl cut him off abruptly. “I know I might not seem like it right now, because… well, god, Sutan, you make me nervous and when you touch me I feel like I’m going to explode and I just want to make you feel good, but… I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Do you want to stop?” The pit had dropped out of his stomach and he scrambled to find what had gone wrong. He had been too coy. He had led him in to thinking this would go differently. Fuck. “Or do you want to try it?”

“Well, I mean…” Karl hesitated, clearly conflicted. “Yeah, I mean, I guess, sure. You can fuck me.” Karl forced a smile but there was none of the same light in his eyes.

“No, no. If it makes you uncomfortable, no.” Normally, Sutan would have tried a bit harder to encourage someone to try something different, to make someone want it, like he had that first time with David. But this was Karl, and Karl was different. “Come up here.”

He felt Karl relax as he settled in next to him, tucking his head against Sutan’s shoulder. He slipped his arm around his friend’s waist.

“I’m sorry,” Karl whispered. “Was this a bad idea?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Sutan was being honest.

“If I made exceptions, I would make one for you.” Karl’s voice was soft. “For what it’s worth.”

“Same here.”

They lingered in the silence for a moment, Karl tracing absent patterns on to Sutan’s chest.

“I still want you,” Karl said finally.

Sutan kissed him in response, slow and solemn. That electricity on his skin still tingled. He wanted Karl too, badly, any way he could have him.

“I might have a compromise. For right now. If it’s okay.” Sutan kissed his way down Karl’s body, reveling in the drag of his lips against Karl’s skin, biting lightly on his hipbones before turning to his still half-hard cock. Karl moaned as Sutan ghosted his mouth over Karl’s length, his tongue just barely grazing it experimentally.

“Yes, please,” Karl breathed, his hips fighting against the tight grip of Sutan’s hands. “I want that, I need that.”

He took Karl fully in his mouth, smiling around him as Karl gasped and pushed further into his mouth. He sucked slowly, working his hand and mouth together, finding so much pleasure in the way Karl jerked and shuddered beneath him. And god, it felt right to have Karl squirming underneath him, but he was taking things a different direction. Sutan pulled back from Karl, leaving him frustrated and needy.

“I want you to fuck my face.” The corner of Sutan’s mouth crept up in a smile as Karl’s hips cut forward at his words alone.

Karl looked stunned but delighted, more than ready to run with it. “You’re sure?”

Sutan guided Karl’s hand to his hair, lacing Karl’s fingers in a tight fist. He nodded yes, his mouth full of Karl’s once-again hard cock.

Karl experimentally pushed on Sutan’s head, bobbing him up and down. He wrapped his hand tighter in Sutan’s hair, and Sutan hummed appreciatively. Karl pulled him in deeper, and then deeper still. It was a beautiful day to not have much of a gag reflex, Sutan thought, as he felt Karl’s cock graze the back of his throat.

Karl began moving his hips and Sutan relaxed his throat, letting the quickening rhythm of Karl’s thrusts grow. He looked up at Karl and god his face was so expressive but he had never seen it contorted in pleasure like this before. Sutan could almost read his mind, or thought he could. He moaned through the times he couldn’t quite breathe, which only pushed Karl on further.

Normally Sutan didn’t get off on the whole dynamic of being used. But that was not quite what this felt like. It was the thought of telling Karl what to do, guiding his hand to his hair, showing him just how hard to pull… that was control in its own right. That thought lodged in his chest and throbbed with every movement of Karl’s hips.

Karl pulled back briefly and Sutan was able to pull in a full breath. “Sutan, I think I’m gonna—"

“Cum down my throat,” Sutan commanded, noting that his own voice had gotten raspy.

“You’re serious?” Karl’s eyes already blown wide only got wider.

Sutan just smiled as he took Karl back into his mouth, sinking as far down as he could. Karl nearly growled as he started thrusting almost frantically, and Sutan let himself be pulled along at Karl’s will.

“Fuck, fuck,” Karl keened and then he was coming, slamming hard into Sutan’s mouth once more, pulling painfully hard on his hair. He felt Karl spill inside of him, his cum seeping down his throat and spreading white hot through his whole body. Sutan could have sworn the lights flickered in the room as a rush enveloped him.

“Oh my god,” Karl breathed, releasing Sutan as he collapsed onto the bed, chest heaving. “That was…. Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Sutan took a much-needed deep breath. He wiped a spot of cum off the corner of his mouth with his thumb and licked it clean, savoring the salty and heavy and uniquely Karl taste on his tongue. “Are you okay?”

“I think so. Probably.”

Sutan chuckled, proud of how absolutely wrecked he had left Karl.

“Do you… want the same thing?” Karl asked after a few more heavy breaths.

“Maybe, but I kind of like watching you do all the work.”

Karl rolled his eyes, smiling.

“What? I like it! You’re an enthusiastic lover.”

“Lover.” Karl shook his head as he repeated Sutan’s words. A breathless shudder crawled up his chest. “You’re doing something to me,” Karl whispered. He leaned over Sutan and kissed him gently, graciously, and then fiercely.

When Karl pulled Sutan’s cock into his mouth, Sutan felt the whole room slip away. There was nothing more than their bodies sliding together, the tight, wet heat of Karl’s mouth, his nails clawing just above Sutan’s ass. The surge of pleasure almost forced his eyes shut, but he struggled to keep them open, to keep them locked on Karl.

“God, you look so good like this,” Sutan growled, tracing his hand over Karl’s hollowed cheeks. His eyes were bright, and Sutan wondered if Karl was getting off on this the same way he had when he was in Karl’s position.  

He rolled his hips, pushing deeper into Karl’s mouth, feeling his throat tighten around him.

“You’re being so good for me, babe, so good,” he murmured encouragingly,

“I’m gonna—oh—” Sutan barely managed to get the words out. Karl pulled him out of his mouth and worked him at a blistering pace, exactly what Sutan needed. The world behind Sutan’s eyes flashed deep red, black and white, and silvery lavender as his orgasm hit him hard. He watched as Karl guided his cock so the cum splashed across Karl’s face, dripping into his slightly parted lips and pooling on his chest.

Sutan ran his palm flat over Karl’s chest, smearing the cum across his chest in a long, sheer arc.

“You’re disgusting,” Karl teased.

Sutan smiled as the room started to come back to him. The bed, the walls, his best friend. “Let me clean you off,” he offered, trying to stand on shaky legs.

Karl made a small disapproving noise, grabbing Sutan’s wrist. “I’m taking another shower and you’re coming with me.” He smiled and Sutan let himself be led to the bathroom, still partially on a different, post-orgasm plane.

Sutan had cum on a lot of faces in his life. Many of those faces weren’t necessarily attached to names, and many of them walked out of his hotel room door after wiping themselves off on a pillowcase. He couldn’t remember a single time when it had resulted in him rubbing slow, soapy circles across another man’s chest, both of them laughing at the wonderful absurdity of their situation. Karl’s kisses on the back of his shoulder mixed with the warm drizzle of the shower and Sutan was so swept away in serenity that for a brief flash of time he couldn’t imagine things any other way.

Sutan crawled back into the bed, wet hair wrapped in a towel, burying himself in the comfort of the many pillows.

“It’s three in the morning,” Karl remarked as he looked at his phone.

“Mmm, bedtime,” Sutan murmured.

Karl shifted uncomfortably in the corner of Sutan’s vision. “Um, can I borrow some real clothes this time? To walk to my hotel?”

Sutan sat up, suddenly alert. “You’re leaving?”

Karl didn’t meet his eyes. “I mean, I figured you’d want—"

“Come here.” Sutan reached out towards Karl, willing him to come to bed. Karl crawled in next to him with a small smirk, and they were skin-to-skin again.

Karl nuzzled in under Sutan’s arm and Sutan pulled him closer, and he was hit with a sudden wash of familiarity. They had laid together like this many times before, sometimes in the back of an Uber when the sun was coming up after a night out, or when they were stoned on Sutan’s couch as they dreamed up new costume ideas. The gentle kiss that Karl now pressed to his throat didn’t feel so uncharacteristic.

“I’m sorry I tried to put my dick in you.” Karl’s sleepy voice was soft in his ear.

“I’m sorry I thought you were a bottom,” Sutan chuckled. He thought of Karl’s frantic energy, his tight grip on his hair, his confident hand around both of their cocks. “I get it now.”

A million more thoughts ran through Sutan’s mind. What could he say to show him that he wanted more without sounding like he was assuming there would be a next time? He really wanted a next time. He hadn’t had enough, and wasn’t quite sure what would be enough, but he wanted to chase after that concept if Karl would let him.  

“I’m trying to think,” Karl started, “of a way that it would be possible for both of us to, like… Well, for both of us to top at the same time. Is that mathematically possible?”

Sutan tried to think, coming up mostly blank. Maybe they could try sixty-nining, see if they could get each other off at the same time. That had been fun with David, but he loved watching Karl’s face so much and there had to be some other way.

And just like that it came to him. Of course. It was a devious idea, definitely on the outskirts of the conceivable, but their whole situation was just outlandish enough to require an equally outlandish solution.

“Okay. I have an idea and it’s crazy.”

“Oh yeah?”

Sutan paused, turning over in his mind the best way to go about this. “What are your thoughts on threeways?”

“Generally positive?”

“Well, imagine…” Sutan himself tried not to imagine too vividly, “Imagine somebody in between us. Somebody for both of us.” He couldn’t help but shudder at the thought of feeling Karl fuck somebody else and tried to suppress it.

A smile crept up into Karl’s eyes. “That’s brilliant. Yes, oh my god, I want that.” He kissed Sutan’s temple and nuzzled closer. “Honestly, I thought you would say something crazier.“

“That’s not everything.”

“Oh?”

“Because there’s a question of who, right? Whatever’s going on here is already weird enough, and if this is going to happen we have to be careful.”

“We could hold auditions,” Karl suggested.

Sutan partially hoped Karl would just guess so he wouldn’t have to say it. “There’s somebody who I am also… engaged with… who owes me a favor.”

Karl hesitated. “Who?”

Sutan bit his lip and went for it.

“How do you feel about Raven?”

[goldenchildkatsuki]

‘POISON ME DADDY’

a kacchako drabble, but also not really

Summary:  Uraraka, an aspiring musical enthusiast, runs away from home to chase her dreams and audition for one of the biggest musicals in the country. As she takes one of the first buses to out of town she meets Bakugou, a drummer who has recently left his band and is on his way to somewhere.

Writers note: I'm back from vacation! Though it was really nice meeting two of my best internet friends I did miss writing every day. Whilst I was in Paris, my favorite band The 1975, decided to drop a new song called: Love It If We Made It. Amazing song, I would recommend you to listen to it, especially when reading this fic.

Anyways when I heard this I immediately felt something and I knew I had to write something that suited the vibe it gave me. Very self-insert I know. But it's been a while since I wrote anything I really wanted to write. So yeah, I've gone and did it and I decided to title this work to a line from my favorite verse from the song:

“And poison me daddy I got the Jones right through my bones Write it on a piece of stone A beach of drowning 3 year olds Rest in peace Lil Peep The poetry is in the streets Jesus save us! Modernity has failed us”

(see the end for notes)

Word count: 6.848

AO3 link: (x)

Uraraka couldn't believe she was hungry already. She had hoped getting a ticket for so early in the morning would stall her stomach demanding for food so early on in the trip. But alas, her stomach had started twisting in knots and let out noises of frustration just after checking-in.

She couldn't exactly blame her stomach for asking for food only six hours into the day. At this hour Uraraka would usually be woken up by the smell of a widespread breakfast being cooked by her father. In the early morning, he would prepare himself a bulky breakfast before heading off to a long day of work and leaving most of it for his wife and daughter to enjoy as soon as they woke up. It was hard to stay in bed when the smell of the well-known ‘Uraraka Omelette' seeped through her door and she would find herself at the kitchen table with her dad, trying to fight off sleep as they enjoyed their food together.  

But today her breakfast was a granola bar she found at the bottom of her travel bag. Something she most likely shouldn't eat, since she had no indication of how long it had been laying there. Being extremely hungry was undoubtedly better than throwing up the small content of her stomach that would consist of a granola bar gone bad.

Near the check-in was a shop, a small market or some sorts. Uraraka had peeked inside and saw that besides the usual travel necessities, crisps and sweets they also had something that actually could serve as breakfast. She watched freshly baked chocolate rolls being handed over the counter like it was the new big thing. The scent flew out of the shop into the open and was starting to dominate the brisk morning air. It had her watering at the mouth and smacking her lips.

The longer she stood staring the more upset her stomach got. Uraraka put a hand over it, rubbing it in small circles in an attempt to calm it down. As someone walked right past her nose with yet another chocolate roll, she clenched her fist.

It would be really nice to get one. But that would mean she would have to look for a different hostel, essentially downgrading. And that would practically mean sleeping in a box on the street. With a huff, she turned around on her heels and walked away from the shop. Who knew she would already be angry with herself? Already beating herself up over the decision to leave home as soon as she just had enough money. Had she focused more on money instead of practicing she wouldn't even have to think twice about buying a stupid pastry.

In the end, it wasn't worth digging nails in the skin over. Uraraka could have seen this coming from the moment she decided on the date. But she had to leave the place. Staying there for more than a second would have made her feel sicker than this empty stomach of hers. She hated it so much. How her home made her feel empty as a shell. It made her feel so unhappy to the point she was willing to do the thing she feared the most; being on her own.

Uraraka didn't tell her mother, she didn't tell her father. She didn't tell a single soul. Without a single goodbye, she walked herself to a bus stop out of town and bought a bus ticket. With a boarding pass and a bag with a couple of clothes and other necessities in her hand, she stood among a few tourists. Close as she could be, she stood next to them, trying to avoid the mischievous looks from the homeless that had been circling the area.

She tried to tell herself to not be scared. She had no right to be scared. This is what she wanted. This is what she actively decided to do. And who was she to judge those people anyway? She had been raised better. Not every stranger roaming around the street was out to get you. Though they kept making eye contact with her and winking, flashing their dangling yellow teeth at her, it didn't have to mean anything.

She didn't have to zip up her coat or hide behind one of the largest men among the group of tourists. Uraraka didn't have to, but she still did.

Uraraka practically cradled against the man's back as a homeless man made his way onto the sidewalk, trying to whistle at her. The broken notes of a wolf whistle she tried to block out by squeezing one eye shut. If she didn't move, if she didn't show how shaky her breath was then maybe the homeless man would back down. Or maybe if she pushed into the tourist's back, he would say something about it, which seemed more likely.

At first.

Like a kid, huddling to their parent when meeting a stranger she stayed close to the man but he didn't say a thing. A few times he turned around and he did not have the friendliest of faces on. If he wasn't going to speak up, was anyone going to? Was no one seeing this? Was no one worried for the obvious youngest woman in the group?

She had no right to be scared. This is what she wanted. Yes. But Uraraka would've appreciated a little bit of empathy, an ounce of concern.

If someone would just speak up, she would have some faith for the rest of the journey. That she wasn't only going to encounter people that gave less than two shits about her. That she would be fine. The chances of her getting hurt were smaller than she thought because there would always be at least someone…

Right?

The whistling came closer and closer and right before she tugged at the strap of the man's shoulder bag a bus pulled up to the stop. The girl jolted and immediately she made her way to the bus. Almost standing on the parking spot Uraraka waited for the bus the park. The other travelers started gathering behind her. At last, she could let go of her breath as she saw the homeless scatter away from the enormous vehicle.

Uraraka shuffled away from the big, bright headlights and trickled in front of the door, waiting for it to open. A loud puff of air escaped the bus and it leveled with the sidewalk. The bus driver opened the door and without saying a word he opened the luggage room. Confused the non-native speakers walked towards the room and waited for someone to help them with the luggage. The bus driver just stood in front of his door and yawned at the people, with no indication whatsoever to help anyone with their bag.

She watched along with him, how the people slowly started understanding what was going on. Grumbling and spouting unknown curses under their breath whilst they shove their luggage under the bus.

"This doesn't really need to be under there, can I just get in?" Uraraka asked the bus driver.

His eyes shifted from her to the bag, slowly he closed them and nodded. The girl let out a relieved sigh and handed the boarding pass to him before heading in.

It was more crowded than she expected it to be. Almost every seat at the front of the bus was filled. Sleepy heads leaning against curtains or shoulders. Open mouths and light snores.

Scared to wake anyone up Uraraka shuffled past the first couple of rows. The travelers were either traveling with someone or didn't want to and made it clear by putting all their belongings on the seat next to them.

Surely, the company couldn't have made a mistake? Sold tickets for seats that didn't exist?

As Uraraka started approaching the back of the bus she got nervous. But then in the faint yellow lighting, she spotted two seats. She picked up the pace, as people were starting to walk up behind her and would without a doubt push past her if she wasted their time. Careful to not get her bag caught she rushed up to the seats and saw that it was

A seat.

The window seat she was hoping to get was occupied by a guy slouched over in his seat. With his arms crossed and his head hanging forward he lightly snored. Uraraka tried to make herself light as feathers when placing herself next to him. She put her bag between her feet and took off her coat. Every now and then she would check on the guy, and every time she checked he would still be in a deep slumber. After making herself a little more comfortable Uraraka couldn't help but snicker a little at the passenger next to her.

Wearing an oversized denim jacket, over a hoodie that he propped up and tied tightly around his neck. His butt so close to the edge of his seat it made her a little nervous, neck in a worrying position. The boy looked rough. The shadows that cast on his face didn't reveal much, but you could just tell he had one hell of a night behind him.

Uraraka pushed herself closer to the middle armrest as the tourist passed her with their arms full of bags. She could feel the rhythm of the boy's breath against her arm. It was so slow. What had he been through before he got on this bus? It must be a hell of a journey because if you didn't pay proper attention to him, you would think he was dead.

When everyone was seated a loud sound of static filled the room, followed by white noise. Around the bus, heads started lifting up and turning around. After a moment of radio silence, the voice of the bus driver sounded through the intercom. Louder than anyone anticipated, louder than favored at this hour.

It woke the boy next to her up it was that roaring. He shot up cursing and grabbed onto the window curtain and his seat, lifting himself back up his chair. With the back of his hand, he wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth and then slid it over his squinting eye. After he calmed himself down, he looked over to his right and looked her right in the eye.

"That seat is taken." He mumbled in a low voice.

Uraraka frowned. "Excuse me?"

"It's taken." He repeated.

The heart rate of Uraraka sped up and she looked around the bus that was full and already on the move.

"I-is there someone on the t-toilet that's supposed to be sitting here?" She asks as she peers at where the toilet is located.

The guy rubs his other with his thumbs and groans. "Lift your ass."

"Erm?"

"Just stand up!" he raised his voice at her.

With a throat thick with saliva she couldn't bring it to defend herself against the sudden rude manner of the passenger. With no real aim, she moved. Did what she was told and lifted herself off the seat. As she tried to swallow down the thickness in her throat, she grabbed her coat from the seat. She wanted to move away to the back of the bus, see if she could squeeze herself in between people but Uraraka was held back by a tug at the sleeve of her coat.

"Where the fuck are my drumsticks?"

"Your what?"

The guy stared at the empty seat and then back at her. When he saw that she really didn't have a clue what he was talking about he ran his hands over his head. Pulling down the hood he revealed his sand blond, spiky hairdo that managed to stay contained inside of there.

"Fuck! I knew I couldn't trust anyone in this fucking bus. Those were expensive sticks as well. I just got those motherfuckers. I swear to God I will-"

The blond guy went on a tangent, completely ignoring Uraraka who awkwardly stood the hallway, and the people in the bus, who were all trying to get some sleep. Not sure what to do, Uraraka crouched next to her chair and placed her hands on the floor.

"-shake every bastard around until I get back what's mine. They could kick me off the fucking bus if they wanted to, I don't care. No one messes with-!"

"Your sticks?"

Uraraka took her head from beneath the seat in front of them and stuck a pair of drumsticks in the air. She made her way out of the tiny space and sat back down next to him.

"They must've slid off the seat when the bus made a sharp turn or something."

The boy who had fallen silent the moment he saw the wooden sticks, looked at her with wide eyes. Like a child that had been surprised with something he long wished for he looked at the pair. Uraraka stretched her hand out further towards him and gestured for him to take them. His lit up face, slowly turned sour as he also started realizing that was more commotion than needed. He yanked the drumsticks from her hand and sank back in his seat.

"You shouldn't leave you sticks on an empty seat in a crowded bus like that next time."

"And you should ask if a seat is taken instead of just sitting down." He said whilst putting his sticks in the pouch of his hoodie.

Uraraka perked up in offense and turned to him. "Hey! You were sleeping, so was I just suppo-!"

Before she could finish her sentence she was abruptly interrupted by a loud shush coming from the split in between the seats in front of them. Angry eyes went back and forth between the teens. Whilst the boy rolled his eyes at the bothered traveler, Uraraka held on to her jacket and hid her face in the fur attached to the hood.

Both of them didn't say a word for a while, the guy had even turned himself away from her and leaned against the window. Uraraka could've done the same, turned towards the aisle and listened to music for four hours straight, but he bugged her. Words that were no longer relevant wanted to come out and waited in the starting blocks of the tip of her tongue. Strongly she bit down, trying to hold back the thought. But before she knew it she was already lifting her lips from each other. Sliding her feet and pointing them to the left, turning her head and taking in a deep breath.

"You should take better care of your instruments." She whispered.

The guy lifted his chin from the palm of his hand and snorted.

"Oh please, what the fuck do you know about taking care of instruments?"

Uraraka laid a hand on her throat. "I'm doing it right now." She continued to whisper.

The blond that had stuck himself to the wall slowly came off of it and gave her a once-over with his eyebrows raised. He snorted again.

"Wouldn't take you for a singer." He said cockily.

She's not exactly surprised that the boy told her that. As harsh as it was, it wasn't the first timer Uraraka has heard that. Not many people knew she could sing. The few that did were very encouraging of her talent. Told her her voice was one of the best they had ever heard, that they could listen to her forever, that anyone would be lucky to have her voice. But as soon as Uraraka started to talk about auditioning for musicals and getting into art schools, their compliments would revert. The people around her would tell her that it was a stretch, that you needed more than a ‘nice voice' to make it in that branch, that she shouldn't even bother getting in that branch anyway since the income wasn't the best. Genuinely hurtful things they would tell her and they would mask it with laughter and a deceiving sweet tone of voice.

Even her parents, the only two people on this entire bright, blue planet she hoped would understand her passion, dismissed what she had dreamed of since she hit her first clear note. Obsessed with the idea of a stable income, they were less than happy when they found out Uraraka was auditioning for plays instead of looking at college's like she told them.

‘You can't make money with a stupid hobby!'

Her dad told her in a heated argument, right in front of the theatre he had caught her leaving.

‘The only way you can do that is investing a lot of money in it, which we don't have!'

‘We don't have money to buy you new clothes and get your hair done for every audition. We don't have the money to get you singing classes and piano lessons. And we definitely don't have the money to keep you in those prestige schools!'

‘So please do your us a favor and let it go.'

He continued to rage on.

Her dad wasn't angry, he was hurt.

It was like she betrayed him.

And though she understood his concern.

It was more upsetting to hear that he doubted her than hearing that she hurt him.

To think that her dad, who was the reason she started singing in the first place, believed she didn't have enough skill and drive to get to the point where she could do what she loved and earn a decent living of it.

It broke her heart.

After that mess of an afternoon, everything Uraraka did other than sing and dance was a waste of time, an attempt to hold her back. The people that loved to hear her sing but doubted her, her parents that kept a close eye on her and everything related to school. They didn't help her. They didn't help her focus on one of the biggest auditions of her life.

Uraraka wanted to raise her voice. She wanted to go into the audition, with all she had to offer, even if it was little and belt her god damn heart out. To think that she considered slowly ‘letting it go' and staying silent. Those were the most unbearable days of her life.

It was so boring, so quiet, so empty.

So now she was here, on a bus to her audition, talking to whoever that guy may be, about the usual.

"Didn't take your for a drummer." She replied.

"What?" The boy said whilst poking one of his sticks out his pocket.

"I don't know why I said that you put me on the spot and this is the only comeback I could come up with. Even though I heard this many times I still can't come up with a good-" She spoke fast.

"Wow, that was pretty fucking horrible." He chuckled at her and continued to look at her.

As if he was still trying to see the singer in her. It was kind of embarrassing that he was looking at her that long. Was it really that hard to make out? What would he even be looking for? Not wanting to make herself seem little to someone who she suddenly felt the need to prove herself so she didn't turn away. Even when Uraraka felt the warmth rushing to her cheeks, she tried to remain calm.  

Suddenly he locked eyes with her and stared right into her. What an intimidating eye he had. He really was scoping her out, wasn't he?

After apparently have seen enough of her, the boy leaned back in his chair and took out the sticks from his pouch.

"Bakugou." He simply introduced himself.

She nodded. "Uraraka."

"I do take you for a drummer actually…Not just because of the sticks! You have that whole punk rock look going on." Uraraka said in an attempt to spark more conversation.

Bakugou looked down at himself and pulled at the buttons pinned to the chest of his denim jacket.

"You look like you should be in a band."

Bakugou sputtered and scowled. "Well, you're off there. Way fucking off. I actually just got fucking booted from a band."

He spun a stick around his fingers and glared to the floor.

That's the last thing Uraraka expected to hear, it did pique her interest though. However, the drummer didn't elaborate on his last sentence. Even when looking at him directly he didn't bother to continue. The longer the silence stretched the more interesting the boy became.

Then Uraraka thought of something. It was not the nicest of things to say. But whoever says A, has to say B.

"Well, it's just a band after all, not something you can really base a career on, so it's not that big of a deal right?" Uraraka divulged.

She tucked the curly baby hair strands behind her ears and stuck her nose in the air in the opposite direction. In the corner of her eye, she could see Bakugou straightening up in his chair.

"Just a band? Just a fucking band? Some musician you are, out of everyone you should know that it's not just…Tch."

Uraraka turned to him and let out a small hum as a response.

"And fuck off with your ‘career bullshit'. Fuck everyone that tells me I can't make it anywhere with my music. No one has any idea what I'm fucking capable of. I'll destroy everyone with my sound. I'll take over the world with these two wooden fuckers alone. Just watch, in a year, you'll see me on billboards and the only thing you'll hear blasting through the car radio is me. You'll be a speechless moron in a year. Just shut up and watch me."

The way he said that it wasn't a threat, but more like a promise. Though he sounded menacing, almost terrifying even, his passion shone through his words more than his anger did. Bakugou said all the things she never dared to voice. He said it with so much pride and confidence she was almost jealous of his attitude. She couldn't imagine how many times he had heard that particular sentence from people. The way he got riled up made her imagine he had heard it more than enough times. Which makes him even more admirable, that he still could essentially give her a big middle finger and speak so passionately about his talent and continue to work on it.

Now, she felt bad for trying to trick him into talking.

Uraraka cracked a soft smile. "That wasn't very nice of me, was it? I was only teasing you, Bakugou. Believe me, I could never say that to another musician. It's the most horrible thing to hear after all."

Bakugou's face slowly softened and he ceased the spinning of the drumstick. She could tell he wasn't fully buying it yet.

"Why do you think I'm on this bus?" She asked.

"Aren't you just a runaway?" he scowled.

"No, well, yes, technically. But I reckon I'm doing the same thing as you."

"So you're saying ‘fuck it' and went off on your own to become a legend."

Uraraka laughed. "I guess you could say that. It sounds a lot cooler than if I said I ran away from home so I could audition for a part in a major musical."

Bakugou shrugged. "Tomato, Tomatoe."

With his sticks, he lightly tapped on the small windowsill. He drummed a soothing rhythm, that wasn't too loud to get shushed at for.

"But musical, huh?" He unexpectedly continued the conversation.

Her heart skipped a beat. The same way it always did when someone showed interest in her passion. She had to refrain herself for not speaking too loudly and rambling until the words were barely understandable. Uraraka kept her breath steady and simply nodded at Bakugou.

He didn't seem like he would be into that plays and that sort of thing at all. They actually looked like opposites of a scale. But still, he gestured for her to continue speaking. Whilst keeping somewhat herself in check she told him everything she had refrained herself from gushing about for so long. Uraraka talked about the musical she was going to audition for, how long she had been preparing herself for that, how hard she tried to perfect her modern dance moves by herself, how many hours she thought she spent behind the piano in school. She could hear herself going from a whisper to a low voice when she started talking about the teachers of the famous art school that would be at the audition, how happy she would be if they recognized her talent and wanted to take her in. How she could finally silence her friends and parents. How amazing it would be if she could make them proud.

During her story, Bakugou kept nodding along and drumming the same rhythm on the windowsill.  Every now and then he would let out a huff of air through his nose or click his tongue against his teeth. He waited until Uraraka got everything out before speaking up.

"So you actually were just teasing me." He said.

"You only starting believing me just then?!"

"Of course. Still trying to figure out why you said that though."

"Because I wanted to know why you got booted from your band!" Uraraka raised her voice at him as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

Bakugou sighed. "Again, you should've just fucking asked."

Uraraka wanted to say something back at him, about how he, yet again, didn't exactly look like he was in the mood to be answering any questions. But she stopped herself, as he seemed to be in deep thought, scowling to himself. As if he was in a debate if he should even tell her or not.

"Do you want to tell me why you were kicked out from the band or not?" Uraraka asked straight up, to somewhat help his inner confliction.

"Well, now I have no choice but to say it. Since I already said I would if you just asked."

"Not exactly but…"

Bakugou ran both hands through his hair and then folded his arms.

"Booted, kicked. Both weren't really the fucking case. They threatened to kick me out and then I just left. I have been with those guys for what? Three fucking years? And I bet those guys didn't think I would actually leave. But how could I not? I don't want to be working with idiots that don't plan on doing bigger and better things. When it finally looked like we were going somewhere, they said it was ‘as big as it's going to get'. No fucking way I'm sticking with that."

Uraraka should've seen something like that coming.

"Why did they threaten to kick you out?" She asked.

"Because I was ‘asking too much of them'. I wanted more rehearsals, bigger venues, more recording. And those weaklings didn't seem up for it."

She also would've left if that was the case. Imagine, spending three years with people you thought you were on the same level with only to find out that wasn't the case at all. Though, she could imagine it was hard for him. After three years she imagined they became pretty good friends.

And though Bakugou didn't refer to his bandmates as that, it became pretty clear he shared a special bond with them. He was quick to show her videos they had put on their YouTube channel, showing her small they started and how big the venues were they played at now. He boasted about how much more they could achieve, how they could do so much better.

Uraraka was obviously a musical star at heart but she couldn't say this wasn't something she also wanted. The single earphone Bakugou had handed her she pressed right into her ear and leaned closer to the phone screen. So many people shouting and dancing. So much heart and soul going into performing the songs, that did sound more catchy and pop-y than she thought it would. Their songs were one hundred, no, one thousand percent something that could hold their own in charts. Anyone could sing along to them, but they weren't too generic. Even if the genre wasn't for everyone, you couldn't really hate it.

Bakugou knew that too. That's why he didn't want to give up and keep expanding. Enthusiastically he showed videos of his favorite performances. Pointing out how the lead singer couldn't even see straight during that one performance because she caught the flu but still rocked it. Trying to contain his laugh when looking at the stunned face of the bassist when seeing the large crowd at their first performance.

Quickly Uraraka learned what kind of band they were. What kind of people were in it. A diverse group, she must say, but a rather fun one.

Their personalities especially sparked when Bakugou showed her the older videos on their channel. She could tell that now the drummer was feeling more nostalgic than irritable. Genuinely cracking up at the older days where the band still did covers of songs.

"Look at fucking Kaminari here, you know he could barely play a single note at this point?" Bakugou pointed at the screen.

"Jirou looks so shy here! She's really changed!" Uraraka ogled and bent over the armrest cackling.

Bakugou wiggled his shoulder and she perked up. She only just realized that she had been invading the drummer's space as if it was nothing. Huddled up to him as if wasn't a stranger at all. Uraraka tried to hide her flushed face by pretending to raise one of her tube socks.

Under her seat, she counted from ten back to zero before raising her head again.

When she reached zero, she would regain her cool.

…4…3…2…1…0

She looked up and saw that Bakugou had lifted up the middle armrest between them.  He held the one earphone between his fingers and drew his brows together

"What?"

"Nothing…Just…Socks you know?" The girl couldn't help but stumble over her words.

Avoiding his eyes, she took the earphone from him and focused on the screen. He scooted over to her, well over the barrier that was once between them and started another video.

This one had them cracking up so much, they even got shushed by the people sitting next to them. Bakugou would subtly flip them off and Uraraka would press her hands over her mouth, trying not to make a single sound.

"Tokoyami looks so distraught, I can't stop!"

"Jirou had so much patience trying to teach Kaminari an instrument. Look at how fucking done I looked with them. Yaoyoruzou too, I never heard her sigh this much in my life! She had the roughest time teaching Kaminari how to play the piano though."

He cackled, removed his jacket and raised the sleeves of his hoodie. As he made himself comfortable again something came to Uraraka attention. She took his wrist and turned it to reveal the inside of his arm.

"Er…"

Bakugou had a tattoo at the inside of his arm that said ‘Poison me daddy' in rather big letters.

He looked up at her and groaned.

"Before you say a fucking word. Watch this."

The guy clicked on another video that was titled with the same words as the tattoo had. Apparently, it was some kind of challenge video. Where three members of the band picked out a piece of paper out of a hat, each piece of paper contained a random word and with the words that were picked the band had to make a song from scratch.

After they showed the process of making the song, the final product started playing and Uraraka recognized it. Uraraka looked at the number of views the video had and saw that it had gone viral. She had heard the lyrics being sung around her many times and had even listened to the song herself on repeat for a couple of days. It was quite a comical song, but somehow still so good it could be played at a radio station.

Remembering the lyrics she quietly sang along with them, with the brightest smile on her face she swayed from left to right. She felt the drummer looking down on the crown of her head. For the first time, he didn't commentate over the video. He just stayed silent, not minding her bumping into his shoulder. Bakugou fully paid attention to the sound of her voice.

When the video ended he remained speechless, only when Uraraka moved from beneath him to look at him, he started speaking. But not properly. He got tongue-tied and restless, fumbling with his phone and the cord of the earphone.

As she scanned him, trying to figure out what was going on with him, she noticed the top of his ears. They were flaming red.

Was he actually flustered because he heard her sing for the first time?

Before she could dwell too much about and become an awkward mess like him she continued to talk about the topic they were on.

"So…The tattoo?"

Bakugou immediately took the chance to move on from the horrible state he had put himself in and started explaining.

"We were at our first sold-out show. Naturally, I was fucking excited. In the heat of the moment, my stupid ass said: ‘The first thing I can hear a fan above the crowd shout I will get tattoo'ed on my body.' And I should've known it would be fucking ‘poison me, daddy'. How embarrassing it is, I'm no man to go back on my word, so I did it."

Uraraka stared at his arm and read the line over and over, remembered the melody of the song whilst she read it and looked Bakugou in the eye.

"It's not really embarrassing. It's bound to a good memory. So I think it's quite cool, really."

Now his whole ears had turned red.

"Shut up! Enough about this! You still haven't seen the best shows yet!"

Before she knew it, he had thrown an arm around her and pulled her into his chest. She felt his warm neck, resting against the back of her head and the hot puffs of air blowing on the top of her head.

At first, Uraraka was scared to move. She was tense and tried to make herself somewhat levitate above his body. But Bakugou kept pressing their bodies closer together. He played the next video in the playlist and adjusted himself to the curves of her body.

He really didn't mind having her close to him.

Uraraka's fingers curled around the fabric of his clothes and pressed her ear closer to his chest.

It was going a million miles a minute.

He had such a strong and loud heartbeat, but it was as calming as the rhythm he drummed at the start of the journey.

She couldn't help but focus on the sign of his life than the music that went into the other ear.

The drumming sound of his heart was frankly better than any song he played.

It might be one of her favorite songs.

Uraraka wanted to keep listening to it. But the way he had started to comb her hair behind her ear and scratch her head at the same time, it made it hard to stay awake. Her grip loosened and the heartbeat started fading.

She heard the closing of the curtains, just before she could feel herself doze off.

"Hey." Bakugou poked her cheek with a finger.

"Hm?"

"Do you want to start a band?"

"Hm."

"Awesome."

EPILOGUE

When Uraraka opened her eyes again, it felt like only a single second went by. But when she tried to lift her head she felt the full weight of Bakugou on her. He had fallen asleep too. Now she was careful to move. Practically laid still and looked around her.

Bakugou's phone was on the ground, the fingers of her left hand were loosely intertwined with his. His rough and blistered fingers felt strange against her soft ones. Curiously she shifted her hand closer into his and her stomach felt light upon feeling more of his touch.

The sudden white noise of the intercom made the drummer shoot up again. His grip immediately tightened around Uraraka, which made her stomach even lighter.

"We're taking a 15-minute break before going onto the highway again. Please be back in time."

Static ended the short and brief message and everyone started rising from their seats. Uraraka turned to Bakugou and watched him stretch underneath her body and rub the remaining sleep out of his eyes.

"Want to get some air?" Uraraka asked.

"Sure."

She moved off him, grabbed her coat and her toiletry bag and walked to the nearest exit of the bus. Bakugou was right behind her and mumbling complaints about the bright sky. Once grounded on the gas station's parking lot, she took out her phone. She had avoided touching it since the start of the journey, scared of how blown up it could be.

"I'm going to go take a leak." Bakugou quickly said and he ran in the bathroom's direction.

He watched him disappear into the bathroom before unlocking her phone.

There were a lot more miscalls and texts than she expected. She went through the dozen messages left on her phone and it made her stomach turn from peacefully light to stone heavy. Her dad was pissed, even more, angry than the day he caught her leaving the theatre.

She felt all of that emotion, in the several texts that said the same thing.

"You better be okay, Ochako."

Uraraka swallowed and hovered her thumb above the keys. Tears were starting to swell up in her eyes and she had looked to at the sky. In the corner of her eyes, she noticed someone waving at her. She tried to blink her tears away and looked over to see Bakugou waving her over.

Uraraka put the phone in the pocket of her coat and ran towards the guy who held the door to the toilet open. A little sketched out Uraraka looked around if anyone saw them.

"Come."

He pulled her into the bathroom that was definitely not meant to fit more than one person. Her lower back was pressed against the sink and her arms were mushed against Bakugou's chest. He loomed over her and looked over her head.

"So do you still want to start a band?" He asked sternly.

Uraraka could vaguely remember him asking her that but she hadn't changed her answer.

"Yes."

"Good."

He took her hand that held on to her toiletry bag and zipped it open. Casually he took out one of her lipsticks and held it in front of her face.

"See, if we want to get ourselves out there, we have to make ourselves known. So let's start out by writing the name of our band on a dirty gas station bathroom mirror. You know that's how all legendary bands got known?"

"Really?"

"No, I'm fucking with you, but I did this with my previous band and it worked so, fuck it right?"

Bakugou opened the tube of lipstick and leaned over, making her bend backward over the sink completely.

"But we don't even have a name yet."

"Of course we do, I thought of one when you passed out."

When he was finished he took a few small steps back so Uraraka could turn around. With big red letter he wrote the words;

‘Runaway Rioters'

On the mirror.

"I like it. I like it a lot."

He wrote it down a few more times, not just on the mirror, but also on the walls and on the door. Until the lipstick was smooshed and unusable. Then he opened the door and threw his arm around her.

"Don't even you dare sulk about that damn lipstick because you know I'll get you a new one." He said as they walked out of the bathroom.

"I can get you like fifty when we become famous. You'll fucking nail your audition and I will keep being awesome and then we'll become legends together, got it?"

Damn. The guy was cool. Though this dream of his seemed very child-like, she was willing to go along with him. He was the only one that believed she could become something, a legend of all things. It would be stupid if she didn't pour a least a little bit of faith into him, stranger or not, he was pouring at least some of his faith into her.

She leaned her head against Bakugou's chest and unlocked her phone. She created a new message to her dad.

‘I'm sorry for leaving without telling you. But I can assure you that I am okay.'

Uraraka glanced at Bakugou.

‘More than okay. You'll see me soon. Lots of love.'

Writers note: I've got more ideas for self-insert fics brewing in my head. So stay tuned!

[ao3bronte]

Smutember: First Time

Masquerade on Ao3

19: First Time

Part 1

February 12th, 2017

They're sitting on their favourite ledge on the uppermost tier of la Tour Eiffel, gorging on hamburgers and frites and Coca-Cola when she finally (finally) broaches the subject.

"Has it started yet? For you?"

He’s already predicted the reason for her silence tonight and it's with that seemingly intrinsic ability of his that Chat doesn't choke, "If by it you mean it, then yeah, it has."

They don't speak for a while, a quiet understanding stretching out between them. After the spring 2016 fiasco, they'd talked about it in a conversation that had somehow turned into a pact where they'd try and find a solution to deal with it together as opposed to suffering alone. The essential point had been thus: the lines of communication had to stay open for their partnership to work and that was something both of them could agree on.

"I talked about it with Tikki," she says around a mouthful of frites, "She gave me some suggestions."

Chat gulps down half of his cola and keeps his eyes trained along the horizon, "Yeah?"

"I'm...uh," she takes a huge bite of her hamburger and tries to find it within herself to keep going, "On the pill now."

Chat stares pointedly at a blinking cell tower in the distance and tries to keep himself from blushing, "Will that help?"

"Tikki seems to think so. She thinks it might help...dampen the affect."

"But it'll still be there."

"Yeah."

She licks some rogue ketchup off her wrist and fiddles with her carton of frites, "What did Plagg say?"

"Besides make fun of me?" Chat snorts and Marinette can't help but chuckle along with him, well versed in Plagg's scathing sarcasm from all the stories he'd shared, "Probably the same thing Tikki told you."

"The ‘you should probably just have sex and get over it’ talk?"

"More or less."

Marinette sighs, "Well, they do have a point."

This time Chat does choke on his hamburger, "What?!"

"How old are you again?"

"Seventeen," he wheezes, not entirely sure where this is going.

"So am I and it's not like it's unheard of for seventeen year old’s to have sex."

"Yeah, but—"

"And if we're smart about it, then we can hit two birds with one stone without dragging civilians into this."

"Ladybug—"

"So I know this probably seems totally out of the blue but I’ve been thinking about it and I think being friends with benefits could work out for us."

“What?!”

“Well? What do you think?”

“You…want to have sex…with me?”

Marinette looks at him like he’s being an idiot, which he probably is, “That’s what I just said.”

“But…what?”

Marinette shakes her head and wonders if she’s broken him, “Do I need to spell it out for you?”

Chat gapes at her and nods, a piece of lettuce falling out of his mouth. She rolls her eyes and dips another frite into the mayonnaise between them.

“I’m in heat and it makes you go crazy because we have a Miraculous fused to our bodies and it’s affecting us on a physiological level. The first year was fine, the second year was awful and I have no intention of sitting around again doing nothing for a whole month when it feels like I’m dying and exploding at the same time. So, I made a plan and this is it. We’re going to be friends with benefits. We have sex together when the itch starts to get in the way of our daily lives and we go on being friends and partners. Nothing changes in our relationship except this. You know, you scratch my back and I scratch yours.”

Chat blinks slowly. He blinks again.

He blinks one more time.

“…okay.”

“Is that an ‘okay, I’m fine with this’ or an ‘okay, I still don’t understand’?”

Chat opens his mouth and closes it again, glazed eyes as wide as saucers. It takes him another few seconds to gather his thoughts before he can actually try and form a sentence, “I…wha…ahhh…”

“Come on Chat,” she stares at him expectantly, urging him with a twirl of her wrist, “Spit it out.”

“That’s good,” he finally sputters, “Yeah. That’s good.”

“So you’re on board? When it gets bad for you, you’ll let me know?”

His world is beginning to spin rapidly, “Um, yeah.”

“And I’ll do the same,” she replies evenly, oblivious to the way he shirks from the ledge and tries not to fall backwards, “It probably won’t be for a while yet anyway, but I wanted to get a game plan together. I always like to have a plan.”

“Yep.”

“Chat, are you okay?”

“Yep.”

“Are you sure?”

“Nope.”

Chat surrenders to gravity and tries not to hyperventilate, ignoring the way the very woman responsible for ripping the carpet out from under his feet peers over him, only slightly concerned, “Chat?”

“I need a minute.”

Marinette just rolls her eyes, “You’re being so dramatic right now.”

“You literally just told me that you wanted to have sex with me.”

“Yes, I’m well aware.”

He exhales slowly and tries to tune out the sound of blood rushing in in ears, “Am I dreaming?”

“Would you like me to punch you to find out?”

“No thank you,” he breathes, the reality of the situation beginning to dawn on him, “Holy shit.”

“Hm?”

“You want to have sex with me.”

Marinette facepalms, “We don’t have a choice. Besides, this is for purely necessary reasons.”

“You want to have sex with me.”

“I mean, can you imagine trying to explain this to a civilian?” she lifts her fingers into guillemets, “Every Spring I suddenly go crazy and want to have sex 24/7. Oh, and by the way, I‘m Ladybug,” she shakes her head, “Yeah, not my idea of a fun time.”

“You want to have sex with me.”

If she rolls her eyes one more time, she swears they’ll get stuck there, “Seriously Chat? Are you even listening to me?”

He turns his head from where he’s been staring at the stars and makes eye contact with her, gaping like a fish, “Oh my god.”

“I’ll take that as a no,” she shakes her head and sips her drink, “Well, when you’re done having your existential crisis, I’ll be here.”

The dismissal in her voice shakes him out of his trance and he pulls himself onto his elbow, “Sorry, this is like…probably the weirdest moment of my life.”

She raises a brow, “Trust me, I never thought I’d be saying this either.”

“Ladybug, asking me for sex,” he can’t help the slightly unhinged giggle that escapes his lips, “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Moi non plus, but here we are,” she plucks the pickle from her burger and pops it into her mouth, “Any questions before we proceed?”

“Yes actually,” he pulls himself back into a sitting position, “Where exactly is this going to happen? It’s not like there are tons of strategically placed beds sitting around the rooftops of Paris.”

Marinette levels him with a look, “Obviously. I still haven’t figured that part out yet but it’s not like it’s going to get bad right away. We have time.”

“Okay,” he trails off, “What about this?” He gestures between the two of them before flicking a claw against the bell at his neck, “These don’t exactly have zippers.”

“I’ve come up with a solution for that one,” she replies confidently, “Masks. You can pick them up at any store these days, I’ve already bought one from Carrefour. We can just keep it on us all of the time and when we need to, we close our eyes, detransform and put the mask on.”

“Alright,” Chat swallows, his next question decidedly awkward, “What about…condoms and stuff?”

Marinette shrugs, “I have an allergy to latex, and before you say it’s weird, it’s actually pretty common. That, and I’m already on the pill so I’m not worried, not unless you’ve been sleeping around or something.”

“No,” he feels the heat immediately flood his cheeks, embarrassed and uncomfortable at the turn of subject. Not that there was a lack of interest mind you; his father had introduced him to a number of beautiful and wealthy models and celebrities over the past year who he would have paired up nicely with, not that he’d had any interest. He only had eyes for one girl.

“Well, me neither,” she forces herself to make eye contact. She’s got to be the adult here and talk frankly about these things. She’s Ladybug, confident and mature. She can do anything, “So there we are. Any more questions?”

Chat ponders for a second, still fighting with the blush that’s spreading all the way up to his ears, “No, I don’t think so. Sounds like you have everything covered.”

“I’ve been planning this for a while,” she admits, waving a frite at him, “It’s high time we start acting like adults and do something about these things on our own.”

“Adults?” he chastises, “You’re the one who made me chase a laser the other day.”

“I didn’t make you do anything,” she giggles, completely unashamed, “You chased it all by yourself.”

“I wouldn’t have chased it if you hadn’t brought it in the first place.”

“I just happened to have it on me at the time.”

“You just enjoy making me look ridiculous.”

“I don’t have to do anything to do that. You do well all on your own.”

“Remind me why I’m your partner again?”

“Beats me,” she laughs and he shakes his head, sipping his cola. The whole night had taken a surreal turn and although she seemed to have everything all sorted, he still has some misgivings, mainly with the whole friends with benefits bit. He knows that Ladybug thinks she’s being pragmatic about this, but he can’t help but wonder how she’d forgotten the other crucial side of this. Like, for example, how obviously head over heels in love with her he’s been since the day they first saved Paris? How on earth is he supposed to keep it together and not ruin their friendship?

After all, life wasn’t like it was in the movies. She wasn’t just going to decide to fall in love with him.

…Right?

[imaginemae]

Confident (Deluxe) Countdown

Demi Lovato is coming out with her sixth studio album, and I already have it pre-ordered. While I am waiting for the midnight release I thought ‘why not share my least favorite to favorite list from her last album?’ Feel free to share your list, I’m interested in seeing what everyone else loved.

OPINION ALERT

These are my choices, obviously, they can be debated. 

13. “Stars”

I will admit it, this is the only song I wasn’t in love with (I can see why it’s a deluxe track). Her vocals just don't mesh well with the back-track. Each verse, pre-chorus, and the bridge feel like different entities. It’s listenable, but it’s also just meh.

Best Lyric? “We really don’t need the light, ‘cause we’re stars”

From this point on we are in potential favorite song territory. #DemiLovatoIsMyFavoriteArtist

12. “Cool For the Summer”

This breathy, airy, vocal trick Lovato has going on in this song is so enticing, like woah. However, it ranks at the bottom of the list for a few reasons - the first being it has that ‘radio clickbait’ feel to it (singles usually aren’t the best of any album, I think they serve as an introduction to the actual substance, but I digress). Secondly, I don’t personally relate to it that much. Don’t get me wrong, I love to sing the bop, but it doesn’t resonate within my heart, or do anything crazy to my emotions.

Best Lyric? “Don’t be scared ‘cause I’m your body type”

11. “Wildfire”

This song took a few listens for me to not put it at number 13. At first, it felt like one of the weaker songs Lovato has put out. I WAS WRONG. This is one of those songs where I had to sing along to it to truly appreciate the vocals. I love how reminiscent of “Wildest Dreams” by Taylor Swift and/or “Without You” by Elizabeth Grant Lovato’s vocals are.

Best Lyric? “We were going way too fast/Chasing down the hourglass/Running from my past/Headed out with no direction”

Here we enter the top ten.

10. “Confident”

I’ve heard this song too many times, and not in a good way. It’s on the radio, it’s in movie trailers, it’s on television advertisements, it’s everywhere! I know it’s a great song, but my brain is officially fried. However, flawless vocals, and sassy attitude to put this song in the top ten.

Best Lyric? “So you say I’m complicated?/But you’ve had me underrated”

9. “Stone Cold”

Such a beautiful song. Lovato sings it even better live. The lyrics thrive especially with Lovato’s powerful belting, and I don’t know any artist who couldn’ve done it better. So why is it so low on my list? Well, powerful song or not, it doesn’t bring me to tears like some other powerful songs on this album do #foreshadowing.

Best Lyric? “Don’t wanna be stone cold, stone/I wish I could mean this, but here’s my goodbye/Oh, I’m happy for you”

8. “Kingdom Come” (feat. Iggy Azalea)

Azalea’s part gets a lot of hate, but UNPOPULAR OPINION ALERT, I actually like it. The flirty tone of Lovato’s voice every time she states “cross my heart” really sets the sassy and confident tone for this song. The breakdown gives me slight Melanie Martinez vibes, and it’s a welcome addition. This song also feels like a companion to “Wildfire”, but I find it is definitely more successful in its delivery.

Best Lyric? “Cross my heart that I'd die for ya/Cross my heart that I'll always keep ya/Cross my heart like a bittersweet tattoo/And we go” 

(Yes I noticed that subtle allusion to “Cool For the Summer”.)

7. “Lionheart”

The day before this album came out, little snippets of each song were available to sample on iTunes, and ALL DAY I played the little snippets of this album until my pre-order was released. Every time this song’s snippet played, it would bring tears to my eyes. In fact, when I saw Lovato sing it in concert (#FutureNowTour) it brought tears to my eyes. It’s such an uplifting song. The only reason this song is not higher on the list is because the next six songs have resonated with my personal life a little bit more than this one has. That doesn’t change the fact that this is one of Lovato’s best songs.

Best Lyric? “And we walk together into the light/And my love will be your armor tonight/We are lionhearts/And we stand together, facing a war/And our love is gonna conquer it all”

6. “Waitin’ For You” (feat. Sirah)

The lyrics on this track are fucking fantastic. Give every writer a million dollars because WOW. This little anthem has a confrontational roughness about it and I love it! Sirah’s part is also really well done. “You got my name in your mouth/Forgive me when I knock it out/I love it when you talk about me just 'cause you don't know yourself” - Jesus, who pissed you off that much?!? I caught myself wondering who they were ready to tear apart a few times in the song because the savagery was more than evident.

Best Lyric? “You made shit personal/Talkin' 'bout my bad habits/Man, fuck my bad habits/Don't act like you got none”

Here is where we reach the top 5. (Obviously)

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/15903404912936390/

5. “Yes”

Back when we all thought Ms. Demetria Devonne Lovato was going to become Mrs. Demetria Devonne Valderrama, this was the #dilmer anthem. Regardless, this is still one of my favorites of the album. There’s something so nostalgic about Lovato’s vocals in combination with the lyrics. The soft honesty is so striking, and I can definitely see me playing this at my non-existent wedding LOLZ.

Best Lyric? “I'll do what I have to/Yes, yes”

(#WhenYouCantPutTheWholeSongLOLZ)

4. “For You”

The lyrics are so relatable. I honestly thought this was going to become a single, but sadly that was not the case. The melancholy, yet powerful tone of the song is the most attractive thing about this track.

Best Lyric? “Reasons why you ran/Don’t make you a good man/Yes, I understand/Reasons for my hope/All make me a big joke/I already know”

TOP 3! YAY!

3. “Mr. Hughes”

This song might as well be re-titled “Sorry Not Sorry Part One” LOLZ. The arrangement of this track is why it’s one of the best Lovato songs. This song is essentially the ‘look at me now’ reflection song that I’m surprised Lovato released. There’s something so refreshing about Lovato’s vocals in this song, I just love it to death.

Best Lyric? “He's Mr. Hughes/And he's got the blues/’Cause his high school dreams they never went to far/'Cause he missed his chance to be with a star”

2. “Old Ways”

I have such a personal attachment to this track. It’s one of those songs that makes you look at who you used to be, and say ‘I’m never going back to that’. (Well, that is if your old-self was as bad as my old-self was, or worse.) Listening to this song literally helps me breathe better and reminds me why I love Demi Lovato so much.

Best Lyric? “No more watchin’ the world from my doorstep passing me by/Black into gold/Who knew it’d be so bright without the blindfold?/Not goin’ back to my old ways”

1. “Father”

Jesus, the vocals. Remember when I said that I spent a whole day listening to excerpts of Confident before it was officially released, and “Lionheart” made me tear up everytime I heard it? Well, every time I heard the snippet for “Father”, I cried. I’ve got someone in mind (who is not my Father and who is not dead), who I know relate this song to. Lovato’s vocals are so raw, and the last time I felt so much emotion in a song by her was in “Warrior”. “Praying” by Kesha also reminded me of this song. The choir in the background just puts emphasis on every heartbreaking note. This song, along with “Old Ways” and “Lionheart”, definitely should’ve earned Lovato a Grammy. While the song is heartbreaking, there is also something uplifting about this track that suggests a new beginning.

Best Lyric? “You did your best or did you?/Sometimes I think I hate you/I guess that made me who I am/I hope that Heaven’s giving you a second chance”

[seungcheolrk]

● SPHERE JUNE EVALUATION: CONCEPT SWAP !

I FEEL YOU — WONDER GIRLS H.A.M ( JINWOOK, JONGHYUN & YIXING )

had he learnt nothing from january’s evaluation? 

truthfully, being given h.a.m’s band concept should be a gift from heaven. after all, seungcheol’s a musician at heart — a lover of instrumentals and a strong player of three instruments himself (as always, we don’t talk about the harmonica) — so being given a chance to tap into that and showcase it should really be ideal and it is. it’s comfortable and it means he shouldn’t let down his teammates more than he can handle. but at the same time, it’s still the same thing he does every evaluation. 

he wants to do music, and he’s grateful to be avoiding repeats of the two hellish months they spent filming samsung commercials, but again— how am I supposed to convince others— convince myself that I deserve to be at sphere, if all I’m doing every month is reminding them that I can play instruments and make sounds come out of my mouth? he thinks it’s clever — how each evaluation is so different yet eventually similar enough that seungcheol can only tell them apart if he thinks long and hard. 

this month, however, he really can’t afford to complain. other people are relying on him this time, he can’t be a failure. he can be painfully average, but he absolutely cannot let them down. this is the most socialising he’s ever done here at sphere and he doesn’t want to ruin that. he doesn’t want to risk the friendships he’s finally starting to build, and if that means spending another month showing the same side of himself to the panelists then so be it. at least it’s a good side.

and the sphere boys! we’re back!

preparations start with adapting his guitar and keyboard skills to the hybrid of the two. he’d ordered one from the family store as soon as he knew it’d be one of his challenges for the month, playing it well into the night, filled with excitement and then later regret because he could barely keep his eyes open in practice the next day. truthfully, he’d enjoyed it far more than the harmonica. maybe it’s because even though it’s a new instrument, it’s still incredibly familiar, but he’d taken to it almost instantly. he almost wants to continue it after the month’s over, but time isn’t exactly of the essence and it’s not like idols often use these kind of skills. he’d be better off working at his dancing if he really wants to debut before he turns thirty, but maybe he’ll pick it up every so often so he doesn’t lose his touch. (what touch? he’s only been at it a couple weeks and he can only play one song, but he ignores that fact.) 

really, he’d have been better off working at his dancing earlier than this, and so much is obvious when he first tries to learn ‘I feel you’s very basic choreography and can barely keep time without worrying about playing the keytar and rapping alongside it, too. it hadn’t taken long for him to swallow his fears and ask a couple royal girls to help him out, and it’d paid off. maybe not so obviously at first, tripping over his feet, and maybe not so obviously later either when he tried it whilst actually pressing the keys on his instrument, but by the time he’s sitting in the theatre waiting to perform, he thinks he’s not half bad. maybe 45%? 

of course, he can’t let those girls down either — not after they gave up their time preparing for their own performances to help him.

(he’s more stressed about this than he seems.)

woo, woo,  woo woo baby.

cables litter the stage and seungcheol does his best to stand a safe distance away from both the microphone stand and the cables in question to ensure that if he is to mess up the dance, it’s bad timing and not crashing to the floor with an almighty bang. the backing instrumental does well to count them in, and seungcheol confidently starts the song despite the nerves shaking his fingers as he pushes the keys. the dance starts immediately once they’re into the beat, and he does his best to follow what he’d practiced — matching each step with a particular note and letting his fingers guide the rest of his body to move at the right times, instead of allowing himself to get distracted watching the other boys and trying to match them. group practice had been essential and incredibly helpful to him for reaching a standard he’s happy with, but his own solo practice had been much more effective for rounding off the rough edges of his dancing once he’d memorised the steps. after all, he’d have no one else to look at or follow. he had to trust himself to do it right, and so he had to adapt to survive, managing the dance by himself.

(that being said, sneak glances at the boys beside him aren’t completely non-existent, but certainly not as frequent as they would have been otherwise.) 

I feel you.

once the chorus rolls around, seungcheol’s getting into the groove of things. he’s only missed the beat once, but with failing so much during practice, he’s gotten good (possibly better than he is at the dance itself) at hiding his mistakes. luckily, he had found his footing once more thanks to the melody change, and he breathes in sharply where the microphone can’t catch it before his next line. 

he does his best not to make eye contact with anyone but the coaches, despite knowing it’s not the most professional decision. the sphere coaches at least, always seem to have the emotionless, face-of-stone look covered, and seungcheol would rather see nothing in an expression than disappointment. he peers down at his instrument more often than he should, too, but at least he’s not looking at his feet. he thinks he’d certainly fall over if he spent more than a couple seconds staring at his footsteps. 

baby.

his repeated backup vocals had been wonderfully manageable so far; it’s the upcoming rap that worries him. having toned down the dance a little to allow for them to stay in one place and avoid getting tangled up in one another, it shouldn’t be that hard to manage all three at once. h.a.m certainly did it with ease, but he isn’t h.a.m and he isn’t a dancer and he certainly wasn’t a keytar player until three weeks ago either, so what reason does he have to be confident? none, but that doesn’t mean anything because he still has to get through it. seungcheol does a lot of complaining, but he knows it doesn’t change anything, and truthfully, this month, whilst it’s going to be difficult to get through the next verse, at least it’ll feel worth it. he’ll feel proud of himself, both for all the hours he’s put in and for his partners who won’t have to suffer from his mistakes. he’s enjoyed learning the keytar, he’s enjoyed learning the song, but the fact that it all comes down to sixteen seconds is incredibly daunting. sixteen seconds. 

alas, nobody’s perfect.

눈 감아도 들려 달콤한 숨결 느껴 그만 날 보고 ��� 꺼 니 시선이 더 날 붉혀

손발 끝 간질거려와 달아오르는 체온 숨 가빠와 더 이상은 참을 수가 없어 나 이제 please baby be mine.

he fumbles through it, truthfully. his rap is on point, that much is expected when it’s the only thing he’s really been rapping for the last couple weeks, but his performance itself is clumsy. he focuses so much on the placement of his fingers on the keys as he moves that he misses a step, and then he focuses so much on correcting his misstep that he’s late to play a chord. the backing track and the volume of his rapping saves him mostly, and for a couple weeks of practice and two left feet, he’s not bad, but he’s certainly not good either. 

still, he’s not (that) disappointed. it could’ve been worse. he has no time to dwell on it, though, since his second challenge of the performance is already fast approaching. 

I feel you.

the keytar solo at the end is significantly easier than the rap verse. he doesn’t have to pull off any dance moves, and if he angles it just right, it’s almost like playing a wonky keyboard, anyway; it’ll be his chance to redeem his small slip ups before now. until then, he evens out his breathing to stay calm. the end is so close, and whilst he’s going to miss practicing with the other boys like they had been, he isn’t going to miss the pressure he felt to be flawless lest he disappoint them. he knows deep down, they wouldn’t mind if he made a few mistakes here and there, but seungcheol minds. they deserve the very best and that certainly isn’t him. 

he’s trying his best, though, and that counts for something, at least. 

baby.

his leg bent exactly at said angle to comfortably position his wrist beside the keys, he flies through the keytar solo as still as a statue. his dancing on the whole hadn’t been anything to brag about, his movements quite stiff and clearly amateur, but he thinks considering he’s always claimed he has the rhythm of a fish out of water, they wouldn’t be expecting much anyway. his effort clearly shows and that’s what should be important, even if it doesn’t often feel that way. (it’s those expressionless faces...)

the song ends abruptly at the end of his solo, and turning his mouth further away from the mic, he sighs heavily in relief. another month over. how long had he been here now? eight months? he supposes time flies when you’re having fun isn’t always true, but in the case of the last three and a half minutes, despite the rapid, scared beating of his heart, it is.