#and every once in a while you hear some distorted piece of a song

[angsty-prompt-hole]

Me, describing Haven’s inner mindscape: Oh this baby can fit so much strange, weird seemingly meaningless shit

[redbullsupernova]

WILLOW’s ceremonial contrafact (empathogen deluxe) feels like the kind of album that doesn’t so much begin as it erupts into being, like a seed that grew roots and leaves all at once, spilling over the boundaries of what you thought an album could be. It’s alive in a way that most music tries to be but often isn’t—pulling you in not because it’s polished or perfect, but because it knows how to make you feel every emotion at the same time.

The album is a kaleidoscope of sounds—jazz and funk, pop and Indian raga, Native American throat singing and Gregorian chant—and somehow it doesn’t feel like a collection of mismatched pieces. It feels like a language only WILLOW knows how to speak. The bass lines are funky and alive, the synths drift in like waves of smoke, and the drums don’t just keep time; they disrupt it, break it open, then stitch it back together in some strange new rhythm. It’s music that moves and breathes, that changes shape depending on where you’re standing when you hear it.

Like all great albums, ceremonial contrafact (empathogen deluxe) doesn’t ask for your time—it takes it. You tell yourself it’ll be just one track, maybe two, but before you know it, you’re in deep, the kind of deep where you forget what you were supposed to be doing because the music is doing something to you. For me, that track, the one that keeps pulling me into the loop, has been “False Self.”

The bass line in False Self comes in like it’s trying to tell you something, like it’s got a secret it can’t quite bring itself to say out loud. It doesn’t just anchor the track; it pulses through it, steady but restless, syncopated in a way that feels like a heart out of rhythm. And maybe that’s the point—a song about the things you carry that don’t sit right, the heaviness of trying to be everything to everyone while wondering what’s left for yourself.

The drums are their own kind of conversation. They skip and stutter, not like they’re broken but like they’re breaking—falling apart in some places, holding steady in others. They aren’t just keeping time; they’re negotiating with it. And over this shifting foundation, there’s the guitar, hanging back like a quiet witness, its notes bending and echoing into the distance, as if afraid of what might happen if it stepped forward. The synths rise and fall like breaths, heavy with a kind of tension that never quite releases. This is music that understands the weight of silence, the way it shapes the space around what’s been left unsaid.

And then there’s WILLOW, right in the middle of it all, her voice sharp enough to cut through the layers but raw enough to feel like it’s cutting her, too. She sings like someone trying to exorcise something, her delivery swinging between a whisper and a wail, between vulnerability and fury. Her harmonies don’t soften the blow—they amplify it, like a choir of her own selves, each one singing a different truth. And when her voice distorts, when it cracks under the weight of the production, it doesn’t feel like a flaw; it feels like the most honest thing in the world.

What I love about this album is that it doesn’t try to smooth over its rough edges. It embraces them, leans into them, because that’s where the truth is. WILLOW’s voice cracks and distorts at times, but it feels deliberate, like she’s showing you what it looks like to push yourself past the breaking point and still keep going. Her lyrics wrestle with the tension between authenticity and performance, between the self you are and the self the world demands you to be. “My false self must die” she sings, and it’s not a plea. It’s a declaration, bold and unflinching.

This isn’t an album that tries to resolve anything for you. It’s not about answers; it’s about the questions that linger after the lights come up, the messiness of trying to exist in a world that wants you to be everything all the time. The production reflects this tension—quiet moments that feel like a held breath, crashing into dense, overwhelming walls of sound that don’t let you look away. The music is both intimate and vast, as if WILLOW has figured out how to make you feel like you’re alone in a room with her while simultaneously standing on the edge of a universe too big to understand.

By the time it’s over, you’re not left with the sense that you’ve finished something. You’re left with the sense that you’ve begun something, that the album has opened a door and asked you to step through it without knowing what’s on the other side. That’s the brilliance of ceremonial contrafact. It doesn’t try to tie itself up in a neat little bow. It lets itself be wild, unruly, unfinished in the most beautiful way. It reminds you that art isn’t about resolution—it’s about creating a space where all the contradictions can exist, where the chaos feels like home. WILLOW has built that space here, and it’s one I want to keep coming back to, again and again.

Layered into the experience of listening to all 39 minutes of this album is the sound of a young artist in motion. You hear her searching, yearning, learning, and growing. You hear her fighting against everything that tells her to stop, failing in the way we all do when we’re trying to become, burning with the kind of intensity that leaves nothing untouched, and then starting over again, because what else is there to do? It’s messy and relentless and beautiful, a magnificent journey that feels like it was never meant to be polished—it was meant to be felt. And we’re lucky. Lucky that WILLOW decided not to hold any of it back, lucky that she allowed us to go on this ride with her, through all its highs and lows, through its moments of doubt and its bursts of clarity. This is an album that doesn’t just move—it moves you. It’s not just hers anymore. It’s ours now, too.

[teathattast]

Tea's Music Reviews #007

Artist: Youngboy Never Broke Again

Album: I Rest My Case (2023) [link]

Where do I even start? Youngboy Never Broke Again has solidified his spot as one of the most popular rappers of the modern age. With a loaded 8 albums released in 2022 alone, it's not hard to see why he's at the top of the game right now.

After his long awaited departure from Birdman's Cash Money Records, Youngboy has been hard at work under Atlantic Records utilizing his controversial $2 million deal to his advantage.

While known for his violent lyrics and aggressive attitude, Youngboy's recent Stop the Violence movement and track record for squashing beef with other rappers has successfully made him hard to hate.

I, personally, had never listened to Youngboy much. It wasn't until his collaboration album 3680 with Quando Rando coupled with his frequent viral moments painting him in good graces that I sat down to give his music a listen. 3680 is a solid nearly no skip album for me that I've replayed a handful of times. However, Quando dominating the LP left me curious of Youngboy's discography, but with his expansive catalogue I simply couldn't choose.

Some liken Youngboy to One Piece, Bleach and Naruto considering how much music he's released over the years. To be fair, I had a hard time picking an album due to how often he changes his sound.

That all changed the moment I heard "Black" trending on Twitter due to the fact that Youngboy, currently on house arrest, invited fans to a music video shoot turned snowball fight at his house in Utah. Once I put I Rest My Case on it was game over.

The Carti-esque Whole Lotta Red vocals accompanied by the Trippie Redd Trip At Night instrumentals combined with NBA Youngboy's energetic delivery had me hooked. I sat through the entire album in one listen. Even with some of the more melodic, slow songs, the track list is cohesive with his life telling lyrical themes.

Imagine the best qualities of pre-2020 Lil Uzi Vert, post-2020 Playboi Carti and Trippie Redd. I Rest My Case sounds like how it feels to pop a molly at a music festival with all your favorite artists.

The mixing is bass heavy, but it doesn't leave any space for emptiness when the bass cuts. Present vocals, major scaled bubbly rave synths and intricate drum panning transports you to another dimension. With so much bass, you would expect the vocals to sound thin or get lost.

No! Every piece of the puzzle fits perfectly without the usual distorted sound you would expect to hear on a project like this. Fantastically done. Avant garde with a modern twist. Phenomenal melody choice. Addictive synth plucks that melt together between songs leaves me wanting more and with a whopping 19 songs, this album does not disappoint. Easily my favorite Youngboy project to date.

Notable songs: Black, Louie V, Swag On Point, B**** Yeah, Red, Rage, Just Like Me, Ride Me, Mini Me

Overall rating: 10/10

[existentialmagazine]

Review: Wotts newest indie-pop single ‘Wilson’ is set to be the anthem of the summer, embracing warm instruments and catchy lyrics

Coming off the back of recent hits ‘there’ and 'Laundry’, the dreamy electronic duo Wotts return with another smashing single titled ‘Wilson’. Connecting to listeners of artists like Tame Impala and Brothertiger, this two-piece reflect on a warm sound that many know and love, while maintaining something so very original about how they do it. It’s hard to put into words, but once you listen to Wotts, you’ll know exactly what it is that sets them apart.

‘Wilson’ is of course no different, falling somewhere between indie-pop, synth, electronic and dream/bedroom in its patchwork of entwining stylistic choices, embracing you with a blanket of noise that’s going to make you feel right at home. Through bright drawn-out synth keys, a vibrant leading electric guitar riff and contrasting unintelligible harsh spoken voices, ‘Wilson’ opens up with an immediate balance between vibrant colour and deeper meaning, battling between a sunny front and the complexities buried beneath. Off the back of these angsty backing voices is where we find the verses introduction, cutting off this background chatter with reverb and electronically-soaked lines, a staple for every one of Wotts releases that seems to keep the lighthearted facade of the sound bubbling while their lyricism reveals all. Steady tumbling beats, bright electronic pops and backing vocal echoes also keep up the song’s dreamscape as it presses forwards, a contagiously feel-good concoction of sound.

Things only continue to bend as we press forwards, with distorted synth-y sounds, layers of fusing sounds, growing backing vocal echoes and of course, one final instrumental eruption. Leaning a direction we don’t often see from Wotts, gnarly electric guitar strings dominantly lead alongside a quickly pounding riff and intensely pounding drums, delivering a raw and rocky performative conclusion filled with completely unfiltered emotion. With so much neatly tucked inside its three and a half minute runtime, ‘Wilson’ doesn’t fail to deliver.

The narrative is just as enthralling too, with Wott’s more unclear, dreamy vocals making it a little bit more of a puzzle piece to fully pin together. One of the first lines we hear sets the scene, painting a visual of a bustling day-today scene as they sing ‘running all morning, running til evening, always got something pulling on my shin.’ Caught up in life’s never-ending expectations, work, relationships and all the balancing we have to do to keep the cogs turning, this instant focus on reality makes it hard for anyone not to relate. Continuing into the chorus, they emphasise ‘think of you when I get low’, finding a crush or budding relationship that can take them away from life’s constant burdens, and in some ways perhaps leaning on it a little too hard. This romantic lean is drilled in further as they admit ‘she got me feeling ‘cause I know we got something’ , a sense of uncertainty in their label and relationship, but still seeking solace in it regardless. This anxiety does soak itself into the soundscape at times though, maintaining a balance between the catchy nature of the song and the more thoughtful reflections that can shine through when we rely on someone a little too much.

While you might often know what to expect from the top charting hits, Wotts have made sure that their sound is anything but cookie-cutter, melting the mould for one hell of a stand-out single in ‘Wilson’ . Keep listening to it for yourself here, you’ll soon know exactly why this pair are set to go far.

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Michel Elzo

// This coverage was supported and created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator.

[radi0activesmile]

A small amount of relief eased through his system once Angel had some hydration in his system and something warm to soothe his throat-- that’s a bit better... and getting back onto the subject of music seemed to calm the spider’s nerves considerably. It isn’t ideal; nothing about Angel’s current state is ideal, but it’s a considerable improvement from where they were just a few hours ago. 

The deer looks down as Angel settles on a collection of lyrics. He then tilts his head just the slightest bit when Angel seems to lean closer rather than sit up. It doesn’t take long at all for him to understand why: This song is slow and somber. It isn’t meant to be upbeat and powerful like those other two. This one--

Within seconds, Alastor was fighting the impulse to distort the room around him-- as well as his own body. His smile tightens, but he keeps his jaw clenched too tightly for his teeth to grow larger. The anguish in Angel’s voice is immediately evident, and it’s so very, painfully clear who this song is about. 

With every drama a piece of me dies. 

Alastor can’t help but think back to the night he found Angel trying to sneak back into the hotel after curfew; the night he had been covered in cuts that were still full of embedded glass. That night, Alastor saw something in Angel’s eyes that made his own blood run cold: The look of someone whose soul had begun to die. 

I think that he likes to see the pain in my eyes. 

Alastor’s eyes cast a gentle glow as he presses his lips to the top of Angel’s head. That’s all he’ll allow: A soft glow. He won’t let them turn black nor flip to their radio-dial setting. He’s remarkably calm for someone hearing how clear it is that Valentino enjoys killing Angel slowly. He likes looking into those eyes and seeing the will to go on fading more and more.

This song has only just begun, and already Alastor is fighting back more bloodlust than he's had in decades. He could kill Valentino right now. He truly believes he could drop into his shadow, appear within the man's territory, and obliterate it and everyone in it before the moth's little stooges could show up to help fight him off. In this moment, he's entirely certain it's possible. Yet he remains still and quiet, his movements little more than gently nuzzling against his partner while Angel sings. Despite what anyone would think, the deer is actually quite grateful a song like this exists. Songs like this need to exist. This was clearly an outlet in a time when Angel had none. He could spill his misery on these pages when expressing them verbally would have gotten him killed.

It's still beautiful. It's passionate and raw in a way that would make anyone listening feel a chill to their very bones. For what it is, for what it was meant to do, it's perfect.

... And it affirms what Alastor had feared those months ago: Everything Angel was forced to go through, everything Valentino did to him-- both for prophet and for the thrill of it, was killing him. Mentally, emotionally, physically, Angel had been dying that night.

Alastor holds Angel a bit closer to him when the spider breathes out and moves to hide against the deer's neck. This is hard for him. It must be so much harder for Angel to say than it is for Alastor to hear. Perhaps it's therapeutic as well-- the way one might find screaming into a pillow until their throat is raw or punching a wall until their knuckles are bleeding: Painful yet somehow comforting.

So, rather than interupt him, rather than stop him from going through with the rest, Alastor merely lowers his head to kiss his partner's shoulder. It's not much, merely a gentle show of support, of understanding, a way to say I'm here without saying a word.

Need someone to save me. I'd really appreciate if you'd intervene.

And he will.

Don't you worry, love, you have my vow.

He then lifts his head, gently pressing his forehead against Angel's own as the other moves on to the second bridge. With each line, Angel's voice becomes more intense, more desperate. He was quiet at first, desolate, but now... there's an undeniable tone of fear and absolute, utter anguish.

As he moved into the second chorus, Alastor gently slides one of his hands over Angel's own, offering a very light squeeze. Once again, it isn't much, just a soft, simple touch to communicate that he's here. He's listening. He hears him. He hears the pleading in Angel's tone and he understands. This is far more than a song; this is real. What he's asking for in these lyrics, what he wants, what he needs, this is all very, very real.

The last repeat of that chorus fades, and Alastor watches as Angel's body slumps back down so that he can rest his head on the radio's shoulder. His ears perk forward attentively and he gently kisses Angel's forehead as the spider speaks. "I don't blame you one bit~" He replies softly.

When Angel opens his eyes to meet Alastor's gaze, whatever hostility-- whatever homicidal, blood thirsty rage that The Radio Demon felt was... absolutely nowhere to be seen. Rather, he's meeting the spider's eyes with a gaze of sheer, undeniable adoration. He does understand-- he understands all too well that someone can be pushed to a place where oblivion seems like the only way of escape. He's no desire to make Angel feel shame or guilt for such a thing, and he refuses to give his partner any reason to think anything has done today has done anything but make Alastor love him that much more.

... And he's fairly confident he's practiced that line enough to say it correctly, so with one more soft kiss to Angel's forehead, Alastor gently releases his light grip on Angel's hand and slowly reaches up to stroke his partner's cheek.

"Ti amo più di qualsiasi cosa."

Angel cuddled in a little closer as Alastor draped the blanket over him. He appreciated the thought behind it. He picked his head up when Alastor mentioned drinking something. That did sound like it might be a good idea, and since Alastor had solved the problem of having to move...

He picked up the glass and took a sip of it. It was warm and he could taste the bit of lemon in it. But it seemed to be nothing more than that. He drained the glass quickly, though he just held onto the glass and leaned into Alastor a bit.

"I got some other stuff I don't do at tha club," he offerred. Alastor had mentioned Angel singing to him again. So now that he had had something to drink, he carefully leaned over and set the glass down before taking up the notebook again.

He flipped through it, glancing at the lyrics to various songs and judging how complete they were. He finally stopped on one that wasn't terribly old, but it was old enough to be complete. It wasn't nearly as upbeat as the others he had sung, but given Alastor's comments about his music coming from a place of authenticity, he felt it might be okay.

This time, he didn't sit up much at all. He stayed leaning into Alastor, although he didn't look at the smaller demon. His voice was soft this time and lacked the ferocity the other songs had had. "Don't think I can take it. With every drama a piece'a me dies. Like some kind'a sadist I think that he likes ta see tha pain in my eyes. He knows that I'm lovesick. He kissed me an' promised me I'd be alright. We both know it's bullshit. The longer I'm wit' him, the less I'm alive."

His primary eyes slipped closed as he moved into the first bridge. "Doctor's on tha otha' line 'cause he's not comin' home tanight an' I just took my very last pill. Need somethin' ta numb tha pain, demons knockin' on my brain, I think they're comin' in fa' tha kill."

As he moved on to the chorus, he managed to both sit a little straighter, but also press himself a little closer against Alastor. "Nine one one, I need someone. My baby plays me like a game, I'm not havin' fun. Nine one one, tell him he's why my heart is always achin' an' I gotta be done. 'Cause I~ I~ I~ gotta lose my guy or I~ I~ I'm gonna lose my mind."

He took a deep breath in and out again, turning his head to hide his face against Alastor's hair for a moment. And then he was back into the second verse. "You must think dat I'm crazy. Well he does too, so I guess that makes three. Need someone ta save me. I'd really appreciate if you'd intervene."

He leaned his head against Alastor's and kept it there as he moved into the second bridge. "Doctor's on tha otha' line 'cause he's not comin' home tanight. Can't seem ta find my bottle'a pills. Swear ta god I'm not insane. Tha voices only say his name when I'm startin' ta think that dey're him."

And then he was back into the chorus. He had taken on an even more pleading tone now. "Nine one one, I need someone. My baby plays me like a game, I'm not havin' fun. Nine one one, tell him he's why my heart is always achin' an' I gotta be done. 'Cause I~ I~ I~ gotta lose my guy or I~ I~ I'm gonna lose my mind."

That chorus repeated once more before Angel settled back down to rest his head on Al's shoulder. Very softly, his primary eyes still closed, Angel explained, "I, uh, ain't eva' let Val hear dat one. He'd be pissed."

He was still trembling, still huddled as close against Alastor as he could manage. The chills were still going strong. He was doing his best, though, to simply ignore the symptoms of withdrawal. He wasn't completely successful, but he very distinctly did not want to talk about it.

Finally, he opened his eyes, watching the deer quietly without lifting his head. He did hope Alastor would understand. This song was older than his residence at the hotel. It was from a point when walking out into the fray on E-Day was starting to sound like a good idea. He'd been getting desperate. Putting up with Val's demands all the time had had him at his wits end. It was around that time that he'd confirmed yet again that overdosing didn't stick in Hell.

[scouring-the-depths]

Transitory Collection Vol II - AK'CHAMEL, The Ibex Entrails String Band

A1 - Seven Cigars

The opening track to Transitory Collection II is discordant and grating, accompanied by a heavy crashing bass drum. It almost sounds like every string on every instrument is fighting against its bow until with no warning, they are interrupted by heavily muffled screaming - incomprehensible due to its distortion and relatively low volume in the mix. once the vocalist has suitably emptied his lungs, the strings resume only to be shouted over once again. The song continues in this manner until the 3:15 mark, where it starts its outro, a mildly paced descent into controlled chaos. While it probably wouldn't be for everyone, I can honestly say that it's an enjoyable experience to listen to. If you know the Don't Starve soundtrack, I'd compare this track to that.

A2 - Their Limbs Were Sinuous And Snake-like

This song is 9 and a half minutes! I'm not doing a full play-by-play of how it unfolds because this section was written at 5am and i need sleep! what I will say is that this track starts off with a bouncy feel, and like its predecessor gradually over its duration has clips of vocalizations or other instruments layered on top. these include but are not limited to: something akin to a zurna, male and female vocals, either being pitched to incomprehensibility or not containing words in the first place. the resulting song comes to feel something like a brief and social respite from an oppressively sunny day. At around 5 minutes 50 seconds the beat changes and some (presumably) reed instruments and a tambourine come in to round things out into a close. This track is a solid 2nd installment to the album and establishes an interesting formula for The Ibex Entrails String Band.

B1 - One Must Lay Upon the Alter and Breathe in the Lust of the Jaguar

Keeping within the theme of a mild chaos, the first B side of the tape opens up with a soothing string line followed closely behind by horns and a similar beating kick to the first track of the album, itself accompanied by melodic percussion. at around the first-minute mark, we get some more of the vocalizations that have become familiar to us in our jaunt around this album's soundscape. after we get our first introduction to the voices of the track we're treated to the addition of a flute and triangle before the track subsides back to its vocals, which once again fade into the background, bringing way to new instruments and sounds - this time warbling and wobbling samples of what I presume to be the same flutes and horns we heard in the earlier 3 minutes of the track. just before the 4-minute mark, things are changed up again just slightly, moving into a more rhythmic feel with what seems to be a higher emphasis on instrumental unison and time signature adherence. This is quickly broken back into by the string and horn section we're now accustomed to, after which point we get a longer clip of the same vocals we've been hearing over the duration of this piece, now growing a bit distorted themselves. at 6 minutes in our focus switches to ethereal warbling woodwinds once again, this time to help close out the track. after our last visit by the woodwinds, we get one last taste of the horns before they wane out alongside every other instrument until all that's left are plucked and strummed strings. While this track is also long, sitting at 8:08, it carried itself in such a way that made it feel considerably shorter than the previous installment. While perceived length isn't directly good or bad in my opinion, I feel it's worth mentioning for those with short attention spans like myself. Another interesting sound, and one I'll likely return to

B2- Nightfires

the first second of this track opens you up to a field in which critters of the night sing, accompanied by a vinyl crackle. the first instrument heard is a deep and rich plucked string, soon layered on by groaning vocalizations, scraping sounds, and a general feeling of unease. The vocals give way to some kind of flute, almost trying to placate us against what we just heard, to no avail though, as the vocalizations remain in the background. at 2:30 we're introduced to another string instrument, meandering its way into the territory of another strange flute. at this point, we hear some verifiable speech. I won't claim to know what language it is nor will I try and decide what's being said. at around 5 minutes, after some harsh whispers, we get an almost droning woodwind to start closing out the track. for the final time of this track and this album, vocalizations return for just a moment, before a cessation similar to the last track occurs, closing the curtains on this tape.

This is an album entirely unique to anything I've heard previously, and knowing nothing about the artists, it has me excited to explore what their other works, such as The Totemist, and Transitory Tapes vol I, have to offer. In the end, while this certainly isn't your everyday background music, it has a certain resonance with me (if only because of the relative outlandishness compared to contemporary music), and I hope you find it to your liking.

My final score for this album is a solid 7/10. there's absolutely nothing truly wrong with it to take points away, but given the general strangeness of it, I feel like this is a more accurate representation of how to expect to receive the album, which is made up of some of the most well placed but strangest uses of vocals I've heard to date.

You can find this album on Bandcamp via https://akchamel.bandcamp.com/ They have links to their other sites as well, but unfortunately, they only have one of their albums on Spotify (that being said I have not checked their youtube as of writing this, but here's the link https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kD1Y3lxxsWo )

[anime-grimmy-art]

Told you guys I’d ramble in due time.

I absolutely adore Bravely Default 2. It came at a really bad time cos I can’t waste 70 hours on a jrpg, but well, it’s too late to be concerned about that now. And as is tradition with me obsessing over a new game / show / whatever, you’ll basically find a fullblown review disguised as ramblings right under the cut. Be aware that I’m gonna talk about EVERYTHING, so spoilers are a given. Some maybe even for the previous Bravely Default games.

Also, if you wanna talk about this game in any capacity, hit me up, I’m DESPERATE to talk more about it.

Just for reference on how long this is gonna be, I made a voice recording while driving to remember all the points I wanna make, and that recording is almost 2 hours long. I did cut it down but still, this is gonna be a lot.

I’ll start off with the things that actually bugged me about the game, since there are only 3 things that really bothered me. First of, I really don’t like that you can name Seth. He has too much personality to be a self insert and player integration is not that big of a part in the game that this decision can be justified. It wouldn’t bother me that much if it didn’t leave a bad mark on the ending. First of all, we were robbed of Gloria desperately shouting for Seth, which makes the impact work less, and it’s just so prevalent that the name can’t be said because you have all the normal sound design going. If they’d just let the credits still play I wouldn’t have batted an eye, but because every other sound comes in it’s so obvious they’re just silently shouting in this scene, which makes it look silly. Like I said, this decision is more a detriment than an addition, and it’s a shame it casts a shadow on an otherwise heartfelt ending.

Speaking about lost potential, the other thing that really bothers me is the lost potential in certain plot points and character conclusions. I mainly mean Adam and Edna here. Both of them have been built up to be these formidable foes but they just, die. If it was just Adam I’d be fine with it, since you expect Edna to backstab him and be the actual big bad of the story, but I cannot fathom why they dropped Edna this HARD. If not Edna herself, I don’t understand why we don’t get more of a reaction from the Fairies and especially Adelle. I mean, Edna was her sole reason she left for her journey in the first place, then Edna dies and that’s it? No part where she grieves for a second? No concern from the others about Adelle? Mind you, I haven’t finished all the Sidequests, so maybe there actually is one in which this is addressed, but I think even just a Party Chat after Bad End 1 would have been sufficient to show how Adelle suddenly feels about the loss of Edna. It would have made Bad End 2 / The Secret Ending even more impactful, because, yeah, of course, you kinda know Adelle isn’t going to turn her back on fairy kind, but one of the reasons she doesn’t leave is because if Enda didn’t get a happy ending, then she shouldn’t either. It would have been amazing foreshadowing if she showed this sentiment before this scene happened. Other than that, it’s a shame that we know so little about Edna, or rather, how she became “bad”. I get she’s supposed to be corrupted by the Night’s Nexus, but how did it even come to this? It can’t have been a gradual thing, after all, Adelle says Edna was always good natured and then just disappeared one day. Really would have loved seeing more of that plot point.

Ok, last gripe I have, some choices in the soundtrack and sound design. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love the OST, and I will get to that, but damn, whatever Revo used for the lead instrument in Wiswald hurts my ears. It’s a really good track, but I always have to turn down my volume because these high pitched sounds physically hurt. And for sound design. Dude, the Night’s Nexus is the least threatening, nightmare fueled abomination that ever existed. I get that its growl is kinda supposed to be layered with Edna’s or sth, but it, it just sounds silly. If they went the route of just swinging between different voices or began distorting it from phase to phase, it would have been fine. But the choice they made really made an otherwise creepy design just absolutely silly.

Ok, enough jammering, on to the good stuff. Like I said, there’s going to be a lot, so I’ll try to be brief in each aspect.

Gameplay

I honestly like the new battle mechanics more than the old ones. This individual, turn based system feels way more dynamic and it’s easier to strategies in battles. Because nothing made me more angry than setting up for a heal and the enemy suddenly being faster than me and killing my healer. Now it’s easier to plan ahead a bit.

I also found myself experimenting more with the jobs. Not sure what it really is, but none of the party members leaning more towards certain types of jobs and the job leveling being way faster probably helped.

And I know some people get up in arms because the boss sometimes can be a real pain in the ass (looking at you pope dude), I still found it very interesting getting around counters or even using these counters as a benefit. As an example, I made Adelle my main physical fighter and gave her lots of counter abilities to help her profit from being countered by enemies themselves. Now, she can attack enemies, get countered, automatically evade that counter and earn a BP at the same time. Made a lot of boss fights way easier and fun to exploit.

Music

Ok, I will try my best to be really, really brief, because in my recording this part takes up almost 40 minutes. Anyways, Revo might have just become one of my absolute favorite composers ever. I don’t know what kind of magic he used, but I initially wasn’t that impressed with the OST, but every time I listened to it, I just fell in love harder and harder. Before getting into specifics, I wanna highlight the two things that made me love this OST overall. First of all, this soundtrack almost seems like a refinement of BD’s. While losing some of that fairytale vibe, it sounds even more fantasy now. And in contrast to the original, this almost sounds more balanced? Like, BD’s OST felt high energy throughout, BD2’s on the other hand manages to find a good balance between high and low energy pieces. Like, the character themes or battle themes are absolute hype, but the overworld themes are a lot calmer and easier to listen to while exploring. Second big point that makes this soundtrack amazing is that Revo is an absolute god at using emotional progression/storytelling and leitmotifs in his songs. And heck, do I love myself my leitmotifs. You’ve got some obvious ones, like the final battle theme in which all the character themes and other leitmotifs are integrated. Then you got some maybe more subtle once, just like how the overworld themes are just the main theme, just a lot calmer and using the lead instruments of the towns of the areas.

But my absolute favourites gotta be the character themes and the main theme. I love how fitting the themes for the characters are and in general, each of them is such a bop. At first I prefered Elvis’, because I sure am a sucker for jazzy vibes, but over time Adelle’s became my fav. It’s just something about the trumpets, and how the theme almost sounds a bit melancholic and bittersweet, that drew me in. And considering her story, mostly her bad end, that the bittersweet tone really fits.

Then there’s the main theme. Just like BD’s it shouts “triumphant anthem” and it definitely gives you a very familiar vibe, but I’d argue it has even better emotional progression. Heck, the first time I heard the music start up in the reveal trailer, I didn’t have to look at the screen to know this is gonna be a BD game. Also, the credit song version had me weeping at the true end. I’m someone who’s very easily affected by music (if me shouting about soundtracks on this blog wasn’t proof enough) and just hearing that ending song, getting the after credits scene, just for the second credits to start as a freaking duet. Dude, at that point I just started sobbing, I’m not gonna lie. Just this little part showed how much Revo knows how to put emotion in a song and also write it in such a way that he can elicit strong, emotional reactions from you too. 

Story

People have been complaining how the story is too boring and kinda disappointing in comparison to the last one, but I just think the games tried to accomplish different things here. Since the BD series is a celebration of old, classic jrpgs, “cliche” storytelling is a given. Though, BD did throw a lot of meta stuff in there too. BD2 in contrast just feels like a direct execution of that initial idea. It feels familiar, it feels comfy and it feels safe. Except for the little things with the endings and then overwriting the Nexus’ “save file”, BD2 doesn’t really get that meta, which is totally fine. It doesn’t try to reinvent or innovate anything, it just wants to be a fantasy story, that might be cliche, but still fun and enjoyable in its own right.

I’d also argue that the pacing is a lot better than the old game, because with BD I sometimes found myself skipping through scenes to get on with the story. Not that this game didn’t have me rushing through stuff as well, but I found it kept my intrigue way better than the original.

Characters

Next to the music, this is the part that I absolutely love the most. While, yes, they did lose a lot of potential with some characters, mostly with the villains, the main cast is just so much fun. I love these 4 dorks so, so much.

I honestly can’t stand how much people compare them to the original cast. Yes, ofc, I’ve been doing my fair share of comparisons too, but calling these four a more boring version of BD’s party physically hurts me. Because except for some initial impressions, the Heroes of Light are completely different from our beloved Warriors of Light.

While yes, Seth and Gloria give off strong Tiz and Agnes vibes at first, they both grow into such different characters that they’re not really comparable. I think this shows with Adelle and Elvis even more. I do understand how people could compare Adelle and Edea, since they’re both the feisty girl type, but I can’t understand how people can see Ringabel and Elvis as the same character type. While those two are the “suave” party members, they act so differently from another. And that’s honestly apparent the first time you meet them. 

Anyways, I love these 4 so much.

We technically don’t know a lot about Seth at all, but they manage to pull so much out of just the fact that he’s a sailor, that it makes him really endearing, really fast.

I was kinda disinterested with Gloria at first, because again, the initial impression was Agnés2.0, but she grew on me a lot. Gloria is way more hard headed and honestly sassy in comparison to Agnés and I absolutely adore it.

Elvis. Elvis, my man. I love this fantasy scottosh wizard so, so much. He’s such a ridiculous character but so endearing at the same time. You got all this dorkiness, with him setting himself on fire as a student, him doing god knows what for a good drink or just laughing danger and prejudice in the face. But then you got his super empathetic and caring side. Mind you, most of his wise moments come from quoting Lady Emma, but still, as much as he’s hopeless with certain social situations, he’s actually still really good at reading the room and playing things smart. He’s a smart and powerful idiot, which makes him a danger to everyone and himself, and I love him for it. (I also can’t believe they called him Lesley I MEAN COME ON)

And then there’s Adelle. I liked her from the start, but I didn’t think she would stick out to me. I think now she’s my favourite character. Not even talking about all the stuff that happens in chapter 3 and onward, because these story threads are awesome in their own right, but there’s just something about her personality that’s interesting and appealing to me. Like I said, I’m not surprised people compare her to Edea, I did too at first, but while Edea walks very close to the line of a Tsundere, I was really surprised that Adelle is, well, not a Tsundere at all. Yeah, of course she’s putting Elvis down a lot, but that stems more from her preventing his ego from going to his head than her being all embarrassed. No, Adelle is actually really well adjusted when it comes to communication. While it’s hilarious that she and Elvis met with her chucking her shoes at him, the two just got along well right from the start. Adelle in general has this really open and helpful personality, but also doesn’t shy away from putting her foot down, even if that sometimes comes out as an embarrassed sputter. She’s also the mother hen of the group. She looks out for the other three and gets concerned about them real fast. 

I dunno, Adelle just really grew on me over the course of this game, and then her kinda being paired with Elvis too, as partners and as partners, makes me like her even more. Because as much as I like their personalities individually, I like their character dynamic even more. I honestly love the relationships between all four of them a lot. You really feel them grow closer as friends and all the little character sidequests just always made me really happy.

Conclusion

You might not believe me, but I really held back there. This could probably have been 3 times its length. As much as I love this game, it’s of course not perfect. It struggles and flails in some parts a lot and it certainly has some aspects that might turn people off. But for me, it was just a very familiar and comfy game that didn’t necessarily deliver anything new, but that told its story in such a way that it still got me excited to keep going. The soundtrack is absolutely amazing and the conclusion of the story actually got me to cry. While not groundbreaking, this game is highly enjoyable and leaves you absolutely satisfied at the end.

Also, I would like to iterate that I am desperate to get more content about this game, so if you wanna chat about it, hit me up.

Anyways, anyone else felt like having a fever dream when everybody in chapter 2 started talking fantasy scottish? Cos I sure did.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

My friend is a big fan of you as well and asked me to request this:

A Janus fic based on the song Monster by Dev https://youtu.be/5iA_oFDNt9E

I think the song could fit him quite well, maybe with the others being like “out of all of us, h i m???”

-🦑

Songfic?? With Janus angst?? My time has come *ascends*

CW: Unsympathetic Light Sides (they're not assholes but they're basically unsupportive, concerned for Reader, and hateful/distrustful of Janus)

...........

Call the doctor, call the doctor Must be something wrong with me He's a monster, why do I want ya Please tell me, please tell me

"What?!! [Y/n] this..this cannot possibly be true!"

"Roman-"

"You could've had any one of the fine gentlemen here...but more importantly me.."

"Roman, just calm-"

"And yet you chose him?! That wretched slimy snake?!" The princely Side pointed rudely at Janus, who was just sitting on the couch beside you. He frowned as he fiddled with the chain of his capelet, finding more interest in that than the uncomfortable conversation currently taking place.

This wasn't even the direction you nor him expected it to take. It was already going south..straight towards hell.

All because Remus couldn't keep his mouth shut and blurted out the revelation that you and Janus were dating.

Ironically, he was the one who confessed to you first--something that you're certain no Side would ever believe.

"There's got to be something wrong with your head." Roman shook his head in dismay, before approaching you. "Come now. We'll find you a true Prince Charming! One that's not a vile fibber like-"

Suddenly you sprang up, moving away from him. "You don't get to choose who I fall in love with. Remus.." You glared at the dark half of creativity. "I'm gonna kick your ass if you don't leave right now."

"Do ya promise~?" He giggled, refusing to acknowledge the seriousness of the situation. "You know I'm into that."

"Let it go, [y/n]." Janus tried to assure you. "They're both bumbling fools."

"A fool?!" Roman gasped. "The only fool here is YOU!! Trying to tempt them with your false promises of love and affection! What do you know about romance?!"

"Apparently more than you." You interrupted, standing by your lover in a defensive manner. "I know this isn't exactly how I planned to tell you but god just calm down for a minute."

You definitely didn't anticipate this kind of freakout from him. You thought he'd be asking about the how's and when's of falling in love, as one would expect from the "romantic expert" of the Sides.

You had a plan to tell all of them individually, but..starting with the guy who was deceived most and openly mocked his name probably wasn't a good idea.

Eventually the two halves of creativity left you both alone. And only then did you sit back down next to the now-dejected Janus, holding his hand. "Sorry you had to hear all that."

"Oh don't worry, it'sss new to me." He muttered, squeezing your hand in turn. "I'm sure Roman will have a tough time realizing he's definitely the most handsome one around here." The smirk he gave made you chuckle.

"Yeah, well..he'll get over it. We got off on the wrong foot with him, but I'm sure the others will be more accepting."

He's a monster He's a monster That boy, he's a motherfucking monster But I love him, yeah I love him Ooh ah, ooh ah ah

"Seriously? That guy?"

"Just hear me out, Virgil-"

"Oh I've heard plenty. I'm just warning you that it's a bad idea." Virgil huffed as he put his phone down. "He's a monster who's gonna use you for some selfish gain. You've seen it. He only cares about himself and hurts people to keep it that way."

"I know you've known him longest but...I'm pretty sure at this point he's moved past all of that." You pointed out. "Honestly, the only one being hurt here is him. First Roman, and now you?"

Despite your arguments, he just didn't seem convinced. "I'm not doing this to give you anxiety...I can only do that to Thomas. And I'm not gonna say "breakup with him right now". I'm just telling you that he's not what he seems."

"I appreciate your worries, but I love him and that's that." You insisted, crossing your arms over your chest as you stood defiant. Obviously it was in his nature to tell you to stay cautious, and he'd probably say the same if you were dating anyone else.

But calling Janus a monster seemed awfully harsh. You haven't even heard him call Remus that, which was odd.

'Seriously why is he being such a prick?'

"..whatever you say." Virgil shrugged before sinking out, leaving you alone by the staircase.

"I wouldn't worry. His opinion of me has never changed."

You realized Janus was eavesdropping and turned to face him, sighing. "Jan, are you doing something that's making them be so... brutally honest? This just seems unusual for them."

"Not that I'm aware of." He had briefly removed his glove, indicating he was tell you the truth.

"Hm..then again, Roman and Virgil are sorta the least-rational ones. One's jealous that he doesn't have a date and the other overthinks a lot."

"Wonderful observations, my dear."

"Patton and Logan are more down-to-earth and clear-headed so they might have more understanding."

"I'm sure they will." Janus' tone didn't match the optimistic words he uttered as he slipped the glove back on. "Oh and..I'll try not eavesdrop anymore."

Little did you know, that would be two lies.

Most people are scared When they look him in the eyes, all they see is fear (but) Let me make this clear I want him near

"How can you look into his eyes and..and.."

"Go on."

"And not be scared?! I know I would be, kiddo."

"...Patton, is that seriously your only argument? That he looks creepy?"

"No, no! I just..." For a moment the fatherly Side paused, before he sighed and patted your shoulder. "Listen, I do think you're being a good influence on that wriggly snake but...I only worry he's being a bad influence on you. Every time he's near you I-"

"It sounds like your only argument is "he's a creepy crawly snake so I shouldn't trust or love him". Is that all?"

"It's...a bit more complicated than-"

"It's a yes or no, Pat."

"...I'm trying to look at the bigger picture and, sure there's some good in him but..I worry he's gonna hurt you in the end, that's all. Like he hurt us several times by impersonating us." He tried to reason, but you just brushed his hand off your shoulder in disbelief.

"Wow, I didn't think you'd be one to judge books by their covers." You frowned slightly. "Well let me make this clear: I want him near me. I feel safe around him. I love him, outward appearances and all. So if you can't accept the way I see him then...we're done here."

With no more defenses, Patton sank out as you left the room. But in the hallway you spotted a familiar capelet vanish around the corner, and you found Janus, who manifested a brown eye contact over his snake eye. His scales almost vanished under his skin, but you called out to him before they could disappear entirely.

"Janus? I thought you weren't going to-"

"I..n-never expected Patton of all people to say that.." He held the side of his face shakily, keeping his head lowered so you didn't see the gradually forming tears. Only now he was starting to feel the impact of everyone's words. "If..it's my looks then...I can surely make adjusssstments.."

"No, sweetheart. You don't have to change your looks or be anyone else for me." You cupped a hand over the one that still covered the scales. "C'mon. You can't seriously believe Patton's dumb reasoning, right?"

"........."

All you got was a silent nod.

Most people can't sleep Feeling he's out, on the streets (but) He is my creep He is my creep

"While I see your relationship to Janus is beneficial-"

"Actually, nevermind. You're just gonna tell me the same shit everyone else did."

"...now [y/n], remember what we've discussed on cognitive distortions-"

"Jumping to conclusions? Overgeneralizing? I know. But I have valid reasons for those. You all think Janus is gonna hurt me because he's some "freaky selfish snake". But he's not, alright? He's been more truthful with me lately and I'm sick of the others not believing anything we say. So please, Logan..can you take my side for once?"

Logan was surprised by your outburst. He didn't even know you've talked to the others about Janus and assumed he'd respond in a similar fashion.

But he adjusted his glasses and looked at his notebook, all traces of emotion vanishing. "Logic can't take sides. If you would just listen..I've observed that your interactions with him have been generally positive, and that's helped Thomas-"

"There you go again..why does everything always gotta lead back to Thomas? Can't you just recognize Janus as his own person without assuming I'm only dating him to help-?"

"Because he can't be distracted from his core function!!"

You jumped a bit as he slammed down the notebook, scowling at you with a slight orange tinge behind his glasses. Though it was quick to disappear as he sighed. "He can never be his own person. You two will never have a truly normal relationship. I only advise that you keep that in the back of your mind."

And just like that, he left.

Every discussion you've had with a "Light" Side only left the bitter taste of frustration in your mouth...

Now what should you-?

You were startled again as you heard a nearby door slam shut, before realizing who overheard this conversation.

"Shit."

Is he human, does it matter I know he's what I'm after I can reel him, from disaster I know

"So..th-that's how they all see me, huh? A monster..n-not even a person."

"Jan.." Joining your boyfriend on the king-sized mattress, decorated in black and gold much like himself, you could finally see those walls he built up now crumbling to pieces.

One way or another, he heard what every Side had to say about him. And it was more than enough for him to realize they not only shun him for simply existing..

But they refuse to accept the idea that he's worthy of love, too. He can take the name-calling and insults in the videos, but this is what truly broke him.

He just scratched at his scales, his human eye already red and raw from crying as he wondered why you went through all of this just for him.

Any sane person would listen to the others and just breakup with him. He wasn't worth the effort.

You clearly deserved better.

You deserved someone who's more handsome, chill, kindhearted, or sensible-

"I know you can't truly be human but..does it matter?"

"...does it?" He sniffled, leaning into your touch more as you ran a hand through his hair. "Because apparently not. I know I'm not a perfect, flawless individual..I-I don't expect any of us to be. But if only I-I never-"

"Jan..you can't focus on what you can't change. I know you feel guilty, and if the others can't see that...it's their own fault. I won't stop fighting for us and for your happiness. I love you, okay?" Turning to him fully, you cupped both sides of his face and looked into his eyes.

"And in case you think I'm lying, I'll say it again: I. Love. You. None of their words will change that."

Hearing you become so determined to love him despite all odds made him sob again, this time from relief, as you put your arms around him.

Nobody's ever taken his side on anything...and certainly never defended him the way you did.

You felt several extra arms manifest to hug you back, and you smiled, closing your eyes.

Maybe in time the others will understand. But while it's true he looked like a monster and had his deceitful ways..

You knew what you were after.

And so did he.

Call the doctor, call the doctor Must be something wrong with me He's a monster, why do I want ya Please tell me, please tell me

[ghostdrew22]

Déjà  vu? || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No Pairing: Draco Malfoy x ex!fem!reader Warnings: Idk if this is angsty or not because I initially thought it was but it feels a bit like soft sadness to me? Summary: Y/N getting deja vu as you watch Draco with his new girlfriend (H/N - her name)

WORDS : 1950

Lyrics from “Deja Vu” by Olivia Rodrigo (but I got lazy and only used certain parts)

~~~

Car rides to Malibu Strawberry ice cream, one spoon for two And tradin' jackets Laughin’ 'bout how small it looks on you (Ha-ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-ha)

“Draco stop!” A voice exclaims before being followed by laughter. You know that you shouldn’t turn around, that it’ll hurt too much, but it’s been said many times that curiosity killed the cat.

He’s holding the very same ice cream order, strawberry and pistachio, and sporting that familiar warm smile that used to comfort you when you got a brain freeze from the ice cream. It had been your idea, ice cream in November, and he’d hated it at first but grew to love it just because it made you happy. That very same order that you’d made him try, strawberry and pistachio, but not for the two of you this time.

It’s difficult to know what you were expecting, something new? Different? A part of you had always known, even while you were the one in H/N’s position, that your moments with Draco would soon be documented and used for a modern remake. If your relationship had been a book, theirs is the movie adaption. If your relationship had been a song, theirs is a cover band’s rendition. Maybe, deep down, you were expecting just this- to see him treating her the same way that he’d treated you.

Those pale hands, that used to fit so comfortably in the expanse of your own, are now tucked safely in-between hers. Oceans of blue that used to run over your shivering figure every November when you made this exact Hogsmeade trip, are now tracing the lines of her face and committing them to memory. Lips, cold and slightly chapped, that were once coaxing laughter from your lungs with horrible puns and crude observations, are now completely and utterly consumed with the sole objective of entertaining her the very same way that they entertained you.

It’s a bitter sight, one would think, but you can’t bring yourself to be jealous. It’s an odd sort of feeling, deja vu, to know that once this moment belonged to you, and now you have to watch it play out in front of you. You know what’s going to happen, down to the footprints that’ll stain the path back to Hogwarts, but this time it’s not you. This time, even though you know what’s going to happen next, it’s not your laughter that’ll be filling the silence as he walks back to school.

Watching reruns of Glee Bein’ annoying, singin’ in harmony I bet she’s bragging to all her friends, saying you’re so unique, hmm

“Draco’s obsessed with this muggle show called Glee. He makes me sing along with him every time we watch it.” She says with a small laugh and a shy smile.

Why, in God’s name, did you decide to study in the library today? Sitting on the other side of the bookshelf behind you, with Millicent Bulstrode, is H/N.

“That’s horrendous.” Millicent replies with a laugh. Maybe if you’d tried harder to be friends with her then she would’ve told H/N that Draco used to do that with you too, that you’re the one who introduced him to muggle tv shows in the first place.

“It’s cute, he’s so… different.”

You swallow hard and try to pour your focus back into your books. That tone, sweet and infatuated, was the tone you used only months before when you spoke about him too. Once again you’re on the other side of the looking glass, staring back at a distorted reflection of yourself. It had been you bragging, drowning quite innocently in your adoration for him and feeling the need to sing your praises out to the world.

Way back when, you were the one forcing him to learn the lyrics to all of your favourite songs. The two of you would lose track of time singing along with the actors and complaining about the unnecessary drama, it was this little world that the two of you created. But now that world, that you built on love and trust, can no longer afford to accommodate you both. Now it’s his world with her.

Without even realising it you start to wonder how it must be when he’s with her. Does she sing off-key too? Does he pepper her with kisses after and make fun of her singing? Do they binge watch episodes or only do one at a time? Does his laugh still drown out the talking whenever something ridiculous happens? Is his favourite character still Sue?

How many pieces of your time together did he take from the puzzle, to form a new one with her?

So when you gonna tell her that we did that, too? She thinks it's special, but it's all reused That was our place, I found it first I made the jokes you tell to her when she's with you

“This alcove is where I come when I want to be alone, no one really comes here.”

No one but me, you think to yourself as you stop in the hallway and overhear Draco whispering to her. Of course he took her to your alcove, why wouldn’t he?

A part of you wishes that he’d tell her that it was you who found this spot, that it was you who’d trudged along the castle one night in a desperate search for some peace and quiet. You want her to know that this was your safe space, that you were the one who invited him there and allowed him to relish in the safety that it provided. It was you who laced your fingers together with his own and dragged him behind you until you’d landed in the spot, you who had to listen to his complaints about how small and cramped it was until he finally got comfortable and fell in love with it. You were the one he used to wrap his arms around and make promises to in the silence of the night, when nothing beside the two of you existed in that alcove.

It’s all blurring together, then and now are nothing but two sides of the same rusted coin. How can you possibly distinguish between your memories and reality when the boundaries keep crossing?

You almost want to laugh at how identical your relationship was to the one they have now. Jokes that you came up with in the sludge of sleepiness, when the two of you used to hide out here on nights when you both felt sad, are now being repeated into the very same air that you breathed only months ago. Promises that you’d both agreed to back then, are being remade in the safety of the night that now belongs to them.

“I love you.”

And

“Forever.”

Are being whispered between the two of them, assurances and pacts to be together till the end of time.

But now you wonder, how long is forever?

Do you get déjà vu when she’s with you? Do you get déjà  vu? (Ah), hmm Do you get déjà vu, huh?

The smell of toast and freshly scrambled eggs wafts through the Great Hall and you struggle to resist the urge to moan out in excitement. Breakfast is your favourite meal and, really, the only meal that’s worth anything. As you plop down in your seat and start to pack your plate in your food you fail to notice, in your sheer joy, that Draco’s sitting across from you with H/N by his side.

It’s not until you’re done piling up your favourites, like an Olympic gold medalist in training, that you notice the couple sat across from you. You observe discreetly as Draco outstretches his hand all over the table to get whatever she wants to eat, and you have to struggle to focus as a wave of déjà vu washes over you.

When had you stopped being the one he arranged plates for? When had he started saving a spot beside him for her, and not you? Literally you know that the answer is roughly around 3 or 4 months ago when the two of you had broken up, but he’d stopped being yours a long time before then and you’d both known it. Little moments of love, that had been the basis of your relationship, had fizzled out into distant memories way before you’d both decided to call it quits.

“Butter or jam, Y/N?”

You’re about to answer, on instinct really, when you realise that he’s not even speaking to you.

But he said your name. Didn’t he?

Do you call her, almost say my name? ‘Cause let’s be honest, we kinda do sound the same Another actress I hate to think that I was just your type

“It was mortifying!” You exclaim as you recount the events of earlier to your best friend.

“How bad could it have possibly been?” She asks with a laugh as she settles into your bed comfortably.

“He looked her dead in the eyes, and called her ‘Y/N’, and to make it one hundred times worse, I was sitting across from them when he did it so they both immediately turned to look at me!” You cry out in embarrassment as you drop your face in a pillow. “I’ve never prayed so hard for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.” You mumble against the fabric and you hear her laugh again.

“Why are you so embarrassed? It wasn’t your mistake.”

“It’s not about that, it’s about how easy it would’ve been for us to return to our roles as boyfriend and girlfriend. I almost answered him!” You sigh. “It’s been what? 3? 4 months? And my mouth still acts on muscle memory. We’re so familiar to each other that we still act on instinct.”

“Are you sure it’s not just because your names sound so similar?” She raises her eyebrows at you and you scoff. “Really? Y/N and H/N sound nothing alike?”

“Nope, not at all.”

“Okay, if you say so.” She shrugs, “But deep down I think all three of you know that there’s more similarities present than you’d like to account for.”

You huff in response and cross your arms. Is she right? Does Draco have a type?

Even worse, are you just Draco’s type? Nothing more and nothing less than just another girl who ticks all of his favourite boxes?

I know you get déjà  vu I know you get déjà  vu I know you get déjà vu

It’s on one morning, on one of your good mornings, that it happens.

Months of watching the two of them recreate the love that you’d had with him, suffering in silence and scolding yourself for thinking such awful things about them, finally come to a halt when you receive the acknowledgment that you’ve been so desperately craving.

She walks onto platform 9 and 3/4 in a dress, a purple dress that looks eerily similar to the one you’d worn two years before on this exact platform. She’s smiling brightly, excited for the new school year, and Draco’s waiting for her by the door with a smile that’s just as bright. When his eyes catch her own and she slips her hand into his, he stumbles backward in shock slightly. He immediately looks away from her and searches the crowd, scanning over people climbing into the train and saying goodbye to their families, in a desperate attempt to find you.

It’s too much for him, to see her standing before him and looking like a replica of you, and he needs some sort confirmation to know that he’s not imagining this similarity. The dress wraps around her waist the same way that yours had wrapped around your own waist, and it compliments her skin in a way that’s hauntingly memorable. He knows that he’s seen all of this before, and he knows that it wasn’t with her.

You’re standing a few paces away from the door, watching the scene unfold, and when his ocean blues finally meet yours, you know.

He smiles at you, the first time he’s done so since you broke up, and mouthes exactly what the two of you need to hear.

“Déjà vu.”

And then it’s over- the moment, the agony, the months of confusion- it’s all packed up into a neat box and stored away. He turns with her and they walk into the train together, happily.

You remember this, being the one in her position and walking by his side. You remember the feeling of utter joy that had consumed you, it’s all the same really.

But maybe this time when he promises forever, he’ll mean it.

~~~

This was meant to be way angstier but I got lazy and ended up just wanting to write it out before I ran out of love for the idea.

Anyway, I kind of like it...

love you all,

jean <3

[winchesterxxi]

Tolerate It (Din Djarin x Reader)

Rating: PG-13 my dudes. 

Type: Angst and some undercooked tasteless fluff cuz I’m a mess and extremely rusty.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Unrequited love, because that’s all we have these days and that shit hurts.

A/N: Based on Taylor Swift’s “Tolerate it” because I deadass listened to that song for the first time and could just picture this scenario ALSO I’m extremely rusty. As in, I haven’t written jackshit like this in over a year. Pardon this crap, but i was really emotional and in need to project onto a newly released song.

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸

I sit and watch you reading with your head low

The three of you were sitting in the cockpit. The Mandalorian resting his head against the leather of the pilot chair as you sat behind him, The Child in your arms, entertaining itself by tugging and twirling some of your hair strands as you smile down at him and wiggle the occasional finger against his side making him laugh.

This adorable green creature didn’t even phantom about your existence 4 months ago and now you would kill and get killed for it. And admittedly, the same goes for the man resting with his back to you.

I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed

I sit and watch you.

You were a servant at the tavern where he was set to meet the Client and hand over the child, which was all part of a bigger plan, you later found out. Just like him and his team,  you got trapped when the stormtroopers and deathtroopers surrounded the building and opened fire, killing the Client and sending a bullet flying dangerously close to your head. When Mando, as you called him,  found a vent into the sewers he made sure that you were not left behind.

And that started it for you. He directed no more than 10 words in your direction between entering the location and offering an escape once it was crumbling down, but he was willing to save your life. Once out of danger, the questions started: “who are you”, “what’s your name”, and “don’t you have a place to go”. You told him then, the answers to all of those questions. And you also explained how, given that you were a servant you didn’t actually have a place to go back to. 

So he did a logical thing. Or at least, then and there, it was a purely logical thing. A pro-quo, if you will. He offered you a place to stay,  in return of you working as some sort of a makeshift assistant of his own; someone to look after The Child when he couldn’t and proceed basic maintenance to the Razor Crest when needed.

And you accepted. You know, the logical thing.  Or at least , then and there, it was a purely logical thing.

Though small, you had your own bed in the lower part of the ship giving you some privacy, occasionally disrupted by The Child that insisted on being cuddle against you in order to fall asleep or when there was an emergency that required your help, but, even then, Din wouldn’t just barge in; He’d always knock and make sure you were okay with him opening the door.

You told yourself that he was just being respectful - giving you the privacy that he hoped you’d retribute, which you always did. When it came to such things, you’d tip toe around him, not asking too many questions and only talking when spoken to or when you wanted to break an incredibly heavy silence. You respected The Way.

I notice everything you do or don't do

Eventually, you started to pick up through his body language traits and quirks of his personality that you couldn’t capture through the enclosed and hidden facial expressions: how he’d always lay The Child against his left arm while on a hunt as to work the weapons with his other hand, how he’s close his fists whenever he realized that he was about to shoot someone; or how after encasing any creature in carbonite, he’d always look over at his capture for a few moments in silence, before rolling his shoulders back and walk away, without uttering a word.

And those little things started to change with time. Changing, as in, new instincts and unconscious movements came to be concerning you: small things, like he’d never walk you in front of him, so as to be on the lookout to any danger or making sure to deviate any conversation that a badly-internationalized creature might want to direct at you.

Eventually, it became bigger. Or at least you thought. He’d make sure that you were covered whenever you fell asleep anywhere that wasn’t your bed; he started to crack jokes with you and have the occasional fight over whose time it was to bathe the kid, like an old married couple.

You're so much older and wiser, and I I wait by the door like I'm just a kid

I greet you with a battle hero's welcome

Lay the table with the fancy shit And watch you tolerate it

One day he’d be like that, and the next, he’d come back after a hunt in which it was too dangerous for you to go, and you’d been waiting all day (when it wasn’t a whole week) for him to come back, not injured and very much alive, and he almost wouldn’t acknowledge you, going straight into the fresher and locking himself in there.

Every time you’d be at the ready with cloths in your hand, prepared to clean any blood splatter or to wrap any open wound. But he’d dismiss you and lock himself away, somewhere in the ship.  

If you didn’t know what mixed signals were before, you sure as hell knew now.

I take your indiscretions all in good fun I sit and listеn, I polish plates until they gleam and glistеn

One day, you had enough.

It was dark night already, and Mando made a lousy entrance through the main portal, struggling to push ahead of him a man much larger than him, draped in canvas coverings.

“Just walk.” Mando grunted, at the same time as he pushed against the man’s back. You were just sitting there, as always, first aid at the ready by your side, watching the scene unfold, unbothered. That is, until you caught the man’s eye.

While you were out building other worlds, where was I?

“Last time I heard you were a lone rider.” He wickedly grins at you. “But maybe that was all talk and you were just keeping this all to yourself.”

You slowly sit upright as your body tenses up. Mando doesn’t utter a word.

“Who’s that pretty thing anyways?”

“No one. Keep walking.” He grunts, pushing the man once more and away from you.

No one. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have been so bothered by that description because, truth be told, he was probably trying not to get you involved in any unnecessary interactions with that disgusting being. But it’s as if those words were the final straw you needed to snap out of this passiveness you’ve held on to for the past few months.

“You know virtually everything there is to know about me, my life, and my planet. You gave me shelter and I owe my life to you. But I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s The Way.”

“Oh would you shut the fuck up with that, already?”

“You don’t talk to me like that.”

“Does The Way say that you have to be an asshole 90% of the time. Shutting out the world around you whenever you just don’t feel like dealing with them. I never even got a single thank you for rewiring the central system which prevented us from freezing to death.”

“You won’t even acknowledge me every time you come back from a hunt and you just told that guy that I was no one. Those were the exact words you used.”

“I ditched the very peaceful and stable life that I had because I wanted to help you. I have done nothing but be loyal to you for the past few months, doing everything you ask me to, yet here I am begging for footnotes in the story of your life.” 

You are too close to him, almost pressed against his chest. He steps past you, brushing against your shoulder, leaning over the cockpit’s panel, his hands supporting him. He answers, with his back facing you, like he always seems to do these days.

“If it was so peaceful, maybe you should go back to it, because obviously you weren’t cut for this life.”

“What, I wasn’t cut for The Way?” you walk in his direction, blood boiling and fists curled by your side.

“Exactly.”

“Fine, maybe I’ll go.” And in that moment you could almost swear his face dropped, even if you couldn’t see it. Taking advantage of the moment you step in his direction, tilting your head up, summoning all your strength “But first tell me it’s all in my head.”

“What?” he is caught off guard, turning to face you.

“Tell me that you haven’t stared more than a couple of times. That your heart didn’t drop to the bottom of your stomach when I almost drowned in the Mamacore cage. Tell me that you don’t need my help and that I mean nothing to you.  Tell me that I am taking up too much of your space or time.”

“You can’t know if I stare at you.” Really? That’s the one thing he chose to answer?

“That I can.” you straighten your back, trying to look taller.

“How would you know?” comes the distorted voice through the helmet speakers.

“The same way that you don’t need to have eyes in the back of your head to know when someone is coming at you with a sword or pointing a gun at your head.”

He is silent but you can hear his breathing through the helmet - how it’s slightly accelerated.

“Din.”

“What was that?” you furrow your eyebrows, thinking that he only uttered a random sound.

“Din Djarin. That’s my name.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. He finally told you. It took almost a whole bloody year but he told you. He trusts you that much.

“Din and in D-i-n or Dean as in D-e-a-n?” you genuinely ask, walking over to the control table leaning your lower back against it. Din mimics your action, turning around and leaning himself against it, next to you.

“I just revealed to you a piece of information that I have never told anyone and you’re worried about the spelling.” he scoffs crossing his arms.

“I’d like to know what name will be written on my death certificate if I ever get killed because of you.”

He laughs. He actually laughs. Suddenly the heavy and tense atmosphere that was being held between the both of you dissipates as you both relax.

“You have quite the sense of humor.”

“And it only took you 7 months to find that out AND tell me your name.”

Then, silence again. But this time it isn’t uncomfortable. Not like the one there normally is. It’s as if you’ve quite literally cleaned the air. It is now comfortable to just be in his presence, nothing else. Not like it wasn’t before, don’t get me wrong, but you always needed something else, something more. But now? You were content.

“Sorry about what I said earlier, the you’re no one part.”

You smile up at him “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not, you said it yourself, I was an asshole.”

“No I shouldn’t have --” he cuts you off.

“You should. You are right. I just...” “The real reason why I dismiss you so much is because I am scared.” Now that catches you off guard.

“Scared of what? Of me? Because trust me you have fought with creatures much more --”

“No, I am scared that if I let you in, I’ll end up going the wrong way. I’m scared that if I let myself look at you when I want to or if I let myself give in to how much I want to come back to you at the end of every day that I’ll end up destroying all this discipline that I’ve insisted on myself all these years.”

Wow. You have to steady yourself with your hands with this information that just hit you right in the chest.  “If I let myself give in to how much I want to come back to you at the end of every day” those words echo in your head and make your heart beat faster. Does he really feel that way about you?

But you decide with your better judgment not to push that particular point as the simple fact of him revealing the tiniest bit of his true feeling has already pushed him much farther than what he was willing to.

“I never asked you to take off your helmet.”

And little do you know that maybe you two are more similar than what meets the eye as now it’s his time to think Really? That’s the one thing she chose to answer?

“I know. And you’re the first person to not ask me that.” he says.

“Because I respect you. And I know how much it means to you, to keep your principles.”

“Is that all it is? Respect?” his heart is beating so fast and his body heat as come way up that the canvas and beskar around his body suddenly feel too itchy and warm.

You decide against your better judgment and toy with the idea.

“Why, did you expect anything else?” 

“What- no no I didn’t ---” he stumbles over his own words, trying to still seem like the bigger person, but you cut him off.

“Din.”

“Hunh?” his helmet snaps in your direction and, maybe you are seeing things, but you can almost swear that you can see a pair of worried eyes through the black visor.

“I like you too.” and just like that the galaxy stopped. He almost forgot how to breathe weren’t it for your own alternated breathing that reminded him to allow that mechanism to happen again in himself. “And I’m willing to wait for whatever it is that you need to feel to be comfortable enough around me, and to let me in.”

There’s a sweet silence as you rest your warm hand on top of his leather-gloved one, your warmth passing through the fabric and he looks down at it in awe, his heart swelling like never before. 

Suddenly you feel yourself being pushed in Dean’s direction from the opposite side from where he is leaning against the control board. You try to subtly resist it but the force gets too strong at once and you are plunged to his front. Thankfully he is quick enough to catch you and press you flush against his chest.

Both of your breathings are extremely accelerated and your heart is pumping in your your ears with the sudden movement. You can feel his gloved hands on the lower of your back. Then, you both slowly look to the side, to the sound of a coo only to find the kid, on the ground in front of you both, little hand outstretched.

“That little shit.” exhales Din.

You get your hand up and swiftly smack the back of his helmet.

“A little respect, that’s your son.”

TAGS

@tillytheslytherin​

[lovejustforaday]

Sonic Youth Albums Ranked (Part 3)

6. Sister (1987)

Main Genres: Noise Rock, Alternative Rock, Post-Punk

A decent sampling of: Experimental Rock

This is the first LP in the Sonic Youth discography accessible enough to be labelled a true ‘Alternative Rock’ record. It’s still rough around the edges, but Sister is full of catchy hooks and thrilling guitar sounds. I feel like this record and Daydream Nation probably went on to spawn at least 200 new alternative rock bands by the time the 90s came around (not that I was there to see it or anything, just speculation).

Sister deserves a lot of credit for solidifying on tracks like “Catholic Block” and “Stereo Sanctity” what would become the dominant formula for the band’s sound throughout most of the rest of their discography. I think that's part of the reason why this is Sonic Youth’s second most acclaimed and beloved record. Perhaps some fans would even be downright offended that I only put this at #6 on the list, but trust me when I say that this is only because the band has made so many fantastic records. In fact, for most bands, this would easily be their greatest record.

I can still remember the first time I heard the opening to “Schizophrenia”, I had never heard anything quite like it. The guitars sound upbeat yet worn out and dejected, making me feel isolated and almost spiritually weak when I listen to this track, yet somehow also comforted. The song is partially inspired by Kim’s older brother who has schizophrenia, though the roles are reversed in this song with a brother whose sister is schizophrenic. It’s a deeply fascinating and memorable piece, and I can see why many fans consider this to be a top five Sonic Youth track.

Most of the rest of Sister is very scratchy and punkish with some very tight guitar work, like “Catholic Block” which boasts one of my favourite melodic riffs in the Sonic Youth canon. There’s also “Hot Wire My Heart”, another major highlight and a cover of the obscure British punk band Crime, where Sonic Youth takes their song and upgrades the guitars and drums while also adding a bold wall of feedback at the end.

Then there’s “Pacific Coast Highway”, a completely sickening song and one of Kim’s very finest moments as a lyricist and vocalist. This haunting noise rock jumble tells the story of either a unhinged stranger, or perhaps a resentful ex-lover, who is obsessively catcalling the listener from their car, with the not-so-subtle implication that you’re all by yourself somewhere and that this person intends to harm you. I have no idea if this was written about a personal experience, but I do know from listening to their voices that this is something many women have either gone through or live in perpetual fear of. Seriously fucked up stuff, but also one of Sonic Youth’s very best tracks.

"Cotton Crown” is an odd one out in the Sonic Youth discography; an uncharacteristically sincere but still off-kilter love song that Kim and Thurston sing as a duet. Their voices are a bit out of tune with each other, but i think that honestly fits the Sonic Youth aesthetic and it’s sweet in its own quirky way, although very bittersweet decades later with hindsight about the fate of their relationship. Sort of a noise rock lullaby almost, maybe even with hints of early shoegaze.

Sister does a really good job of taking the seemingly juxtaposing ideas of the ‘fun’ and the ‘grotesque’ and fuses them together. This album is both largely exciting and still somehow alienating and depressive. It’s textbook Sonic Youth, really. I will say that the best tracks are clustered together with a noticeably weaker middle portion, but really this is still a consistently great record throughout. Altogether, Sister is one of the many entries in the band’s discography from 1986 through 1990 where Sonic Youth could basically do no wrong. A classic record.

9/10

highlights: “Pacific Coast Highway”, “Schizophrenia”, ‘Catholic Block”, “Cotton Crown”, “Hot Wire My Heart”, “Beauty Lies in the Eye”

5. A Thousand Leaves (1998)

Main Genres: Noise Rock, Experimental Rock

A decent sampling of: Alternative Rock, Post-Rock, Neo-Psychedelia

I’m just gonna say this now: A Thousand Leaves is by far Sonic Youth’s most underrated record. It’s also the last truly amazing record that the band ever put out. Maybe it’s just the bizarre choice of an album cover that turns people off of this LP. Really, what the hell were they going for here with the minimalist hamster vibes? The beautiful title really suggests something a lot more visually stunning.

In all seriousness though, I feel like nobody talks about this one because it’s overshadowed by its predecessor Washing Machine, but if there’s one area that this record exceeds above all other Sonic Youth LPs, it’s that it perfectly captures that mellow feeling that the later Sonic Youth albums were inclined towards. Not a lot of Sonic Youth records put me at ease like this one does.

Likewise, this is maybe the most ‘feel-good’ record in their discography along with Murray Street. But where Muray Street is something you could put on in the background and enjoy pretty modestly, A Thousand Leaves is a largely experimental, out-of-body experience that pulls you into its surreal, flowery, evergreen world.

“Contre Le Sexism” is a perfect opener for this kind of record; this quiet daze of a waking dream is both dainty and delirious, alluding to Alice in Wonderland with Kim’s vocals never before sounding so gentle and bright. I swear I start to hear a door creak at the end. Maybe that’s the sound of stepping out into the rest of A Thousand Leaves.

What follows immediately after is “Sunday” which is actually one of the band’s poppiest moments, making it somewhat of an outlier on this highly avant-garde and immersive record. But the warm spring vibes of the melody fits right in. The wall of sound introduced during the bridge is a soft mesmerizing bliss more akin to a band like My Bloody Valentine, if not for the tiny distant screeches of atonality whirling around here and there. As a big fan of both bands, I’m all for this kind of sound.

“Wildflower Soul” is easily one of the best things Sonic Youth has ever written. Endless amounts of creativity are poured into this nine minute noise rock acrobatics performance along with a lyrical ode to love, nature, and childhood. The vibes of this one are really quite jaw-dropping given the fact that these are the same guys who wrote “Schizophrenia” and “Death Valley ‘69″. There’s such unison and harmony in the band’s performance here as they switch between different bpm and even time signatures, and the usage of the heavy phaser effect towards the end sounds nothing short of godlike. "Wildflower Soul” almost feels like an entire album experience in one song, and I’m beyond impressed every time I listen to it.

This makes for a hard act to follow, but A Thousand Leaves still has plenty of other highlights. “French Tickler” is a strange and satisfying track that switches back and forth between a playful melody and churning, stretchy distortion. “Karen Koltrane” is a murky but textured portrait of Lee Renaldo’s ex-girlfriend, who got addicted to hallucinogens and became heavily withdrawn from the rest of the world. “Snare, Girl” is a soothing spell where Thurston sounds like he’s trying to coax the listener into a never-ending slumber.

My only real complaint here is “Hits of Sunshine (For Allen Ginsberg)”, a lackadaisical jam session that sounds cool enough, but really overstays its welcome given the lack of development it achieves over its eleven minute run time. It’s a nice piece to vibe to, but it very noticeably disrupts the album’s flow. Take this one track away entirely, or even just edit it down severely, and this would probably be a 10/10 record for me.

Still, wow what a cool album. A Thousand Leaves is a great example of why I respect this band so much. Even this late into their career, Sonic Youth were willing to try so many new bizarre things while also building judiciously upon the foundations of their past work with great attention to detail. I wouldn’t recommend most people start with this one, it’s definitely a bit more challenging especially if you haven’t listened to some other really weird experimental rock records. But once you’re in the right headspace for it, it’s easy to get almost completely lost in A Thousand Leaves.

9/10

highlights: “Wildflower Soul”, “Sunday”, “French Tickler”, “Karen Koltrane”, “Snare, Girl”, “Contre Le Sexism”, “Heather Angel”

4. Goo (1990)

Main Genres: Noise Rock, Alternative Rock

A decent sampling of: Experimental Rock, Post-Punk

Goo was my very first Sonic Youth album, and I can definitely still feel some of the old teenage angst that I had at the time whenever I listen to this one. What probably adds to that feeling is the fact that this along with Daydream Nation is one of the two albums in the band’s discography that I’d say possesses a great deal of immediacy. Albums like Sister and A Thousand Leaves are a bit more subtle and they take a while to be fully digested. But this one, this one hit me like a brick wall.

Between “Tunic (Song For Karen)”, “Kool Thing”, and “Cinderella’s Big Score”, Goo is above all others the Sonic Youth record where Kim Gordon is really the star of the band, featuring not one but three of her most captivating songs. Likewise, I would also say that this is Sonic Youth’s most overtly feminist and socially conscious record.

I don’t know if anybody else feels this way, but to me the opener “Dirty Boots” really does sound like “Teen Age Riot” part 2. That’s not a bad thing of course, Sonic Youth making more songs like “Teen Age Riot” could never be a bad thing, and “Dirty Boots” is definitely one of the highlights of Goo with its massive build up of kinetic energy. That being said, I do have to say that I don’t think any song could do this particular kind of album opener better than “Teen Age Riot” already does it, but I still really do enjoy “Dirty Boots”.

“Tunic (Song For Karen)” is one of Sonic Youth’s most poetic and poignant songs. Kim’s sing-talking voice is even more solemn than usual as she takes on a surreal retelling of the final days of drummer/pop star pioneer Karen Carpenter from her perspective, highlighting the severity of her loneliness and the criminal negligence of many of the people around her who let her succumb to her eating disorder. Set to a backdrop of stark and droning alternative rock, I would say that this is possibly the band’s most depressing moment and certainly one of the biggest statements that they ever made.

A lot of the rest of Goo is actually pretty fun though. “Kool Thing” features Chuck D on guest vocals, and its a funny sarcastic take down of the subjugation of women’s voices in supposedly liberated spaces like the world of rock and hip hop, inspired by the time Kim interviewed L.L. Cool J and attempted to have a political conversation. The song mocks L.L.’s attitude towards women while also poking fun at Kim’s own self-perceived elitism. There’s also “Mote”, a sensational head rush that dissolves into noise rock weird-isms, sorta recreating the feeling of going from buzzed to totally black out.

“Mildred Pierce” is almost a practical joke but I kind of love the hell out of it anyway. A short track with lyrics consisting only of the song’s title, it starts with the band getting into a nice little riff before (without warning) bursting into a hardcore punk cacophony as Thurston screams the name over and over into the listener’s ears. Made me jump the first time I heard it.

And then there’s “Cinderella’s Big Score”. If “Schizophrenia” vaguely hinted at Kim’s estranged relationship with her older brother, then “Cinderella’s Big Score” confronts it dead on. Featuring some of the band’s most totally insane and disfigured guitar work ever, this song sounds harsh and militant, like the dawn of a nuclear cataclysm. It’s very hard to believe that Kim is 37 years old here; she reverts to sounding exactly like a hurt teenage little sister, rebelling against her childhood trauma and lashing out at her brother’s past bullying and now his cold indifference towards her.

The song grapples with some very painful emotions, but the experience is raw and cathartic. “Cinderella’s Big Score” is definitely somewhere in Sonic Youth’s top 10 tracks for me; it just doesn’t get any realer than this. Honestly, the record could’ve ended here. I like “Titanium Expose” enough as a closer, but this would’ve made a really powerful and lasting impression to end the album.

Despite that, Goo is an excellent Sonic Youth record that demonstrates just how much the band had mastered their craft after a decade of making all sorts of noises. Obviously I’m biased since it was my own first Sonic Youth record, but I really do feel like this is the very best place to start with the band. Goo is one of their more melodic and accessible offerings, but it’s also one of their most provocative records and it really captures the essence of Sonic Youth’s identity.

9/10

highlights: “Cinderella’s Big Score”, “Tunic (Song For Karen)”, “Mote”, “Kool Thing”, “Dirty Boots”, ‘Mildred Pierce”

3. EVOL (1986)

Main Genres: Noise Rock, Experimental Rock, Post-Punk

A decent sampling of: No Wave, Alternative Rock

If Bad Moon Rising was bleak and desolate, than EVOL is disturbed, uncanny, and deeply paranoid. Sonic Youth’s third record evokes the feeling of being all alone at midnight on a sketchy highway, complete with mental images of flickering street lights and looming shadowy figures. I mentioned earlier that I have to be in the right mood to enjoy Bad Moon Rising, but this record puts me in the right mood almost instantly whenever I put it on.

EVOL isn’t exactly a no wave album like their first two records. The highly experimental influence is still there, but the arrangements are starting to sound fuller and more intentional.

You could say that this LP marks somewhat of a transitional phase between Sonic Youth the no wave band and Sonic Youth the alternative rock band, and in many respects it has the best of both worlds. There’s a few catchy darker alternative rock songs here and there, sandwiched between tracks that could best be described as ‘mad scientist’ music, which altogether creates a varied and unique album experience.

“Tom Violence“ immediately establishes the tone of EVOL with crooked, scraping flashes of post-punk guitars. This track reminds me of heads hung low, bodies slouched uncomfortably, and the feeling of being completely wide awake at 2:00 am. There’s something very unfriendly that lurks beneath the dissonance of these sounds.

If “Tom Violence” is uneasy, then “Shadow of A Doubt” is an auditory nightmare, managing to capture something akin to the fear of being watched by an unknown stranger hiding in the shadows. Notes are gently plucked like icy cold fingers slowly crawling up the listener’s back while Kim whispers about murder plots and oneirophrenia. The “just a dream” lyrical motif is first uttered reassuringly, but eventually turns into a desperate plea as Kim begins to shout frantically and the music intensifies.

The album dials down the spook factor a few notches with “Starpower” and “In The Kingdom #19″. The former is an early example of Sonic Youth’s ability to combine melodic hooks with meandering chaos that would become refined on the next few LPs, while the latter features Lee’s first solo vocals (and one of his best performances) reciting a lucid, jet black vision of a car accident. Thurston threw firecrackers into the recording studio when they did Lee’s vocals on this track and you can hear it in the recording, and just like “Mildred Pierce” it really caught me off guard the first time I heard it.

“Secret Girl” is the scariest fucking thing in the whole Sonic Youth discography, and also just one of the scariest songs I’ve ever heard. It starts with a deep shuddering thud that sounds like it’s getting closer and closer. Then out of nowhere, a cassette-recording of an old detuned piano starts to play a simple, unnerving refrain while Kim offers a cryptic and uncomfortably suggestive spoken word piece. It feels like a scene that might play out in a horror film, where a television screen comes on by itself and the person on the screen begins to talk directly to the viewer.

Finally, there’s “Expressway To Yr Skull” (alternatively titled “Madonna, Sean, and Me”), which would be my #1 Sonic Youth album closer if not for the #1 album on this list. That being said, this song is still one of the biggest highlights of the band’s career. "Expressway To Yr Skull” starts off restless and spectacular, leading up to an utterly earth-shaking climax, and then it’s as if the song promptly dies, only to become a lingering undead entity that pulls you down with it. I still can’t get over how the ending really manages to sound like it’s dragging you down further and further into its barren depths.

To add to that, there’s actually a locked groove on the original vinyl release of this LP that plays the last little bit of “Expressway To Yr Skull”, meaning that if you let the needle sit there, it will forever loop that last little bit of droning at the end of the track. I really appreciate this little detail; it’s as if the pervasive darkness of EVOL is so encompassing that it could turn into a deep midnight that never ends.

EVOL is honestly so close to being a 10 for me, but just like Sister I find that it is decently weaker towards the middle. Still, I’m absolutely enamored with the atmosphere on this album. No gothic rock record has ever managed to sound so deeply unsettling to my ears like this little experimental record does. You really just have to experience this one for yourself. Honestly, don’t be surprised if in a year or two I’ve changed my mind and bumped this one to a 10.

9/10

highlights: “Expressway To Yr Skull”, “Shadow Of A Doubt”, “Tom Violence”, “Secret Girl”, “In The Kingdom #19″, “Starpower”

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Not by the Moon | 04

Genre: Smut, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Drama, Tragedy, Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: Bookshop keeper!/Werewolf!JB x Reader

Warnings: A sprinkle of jealous werewolf!Jaebeom and poor yet adorable attempts at coming across as human.

Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.

Unchanging.

None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.

And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.

That is when Time truly started ticking.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Y/N’s POV.

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Masterlist

There are a lot of extraordinary people in the world, but you often don’t find them remarkable until you happen to stumble upon  and talk to them. The wolfish man holding tightly onto my hand, his arm draped across my shoulders, as we swagger over the pavement to his home above Paper Souls is such a curious person.

The good hour he dozed off hasn’t helped his sickly state. Even though he was nestled comfortably against me, occasionally a pained delirious whine fell from his panting lips as his features turned into a grimace. Upon waking, Jaebeom tried to dismiss his symptoms as nothing to worry about, but I insisted on getting him home as soon as possible.

“I’m sorry I ruined our outing,” he murmurs, voice strained. As we ascend the stairs to his apartment, he keeps his head bent low to focus on his steps.

Step by step. One foot before the other. There you go.

“It’s not your fault you got sick,” I reply, keeping a close eye on his movements to offer additional support if needed.

He turns his head to me, a few long black locks partially concealing the sweat on his brow. For a moment, it seems as if he wants to protest yet decides against it. Henceforth, what I get in reply is a hum resigning in the notion it’s indeed not his fault.

Is your condition causing this?

The question burns hot on the tongue, but I swallow it down. Hopefully, we’ll get to talk about it properly sometime in the future. 

The day we know each other.

We make it to the top, albeit not effortlessly since I have to steady him when he almost trips on the last step. Panic and instinct rush through me when Jaebeom threatens to topple over, so I act quickly and shoulder more of his weight after clumsily steadying us both on the narrow staircase. 

“Are you going to be alright?” I ask, out of breath. The adrenaline of the potential danger has spent whatever energy I had, the muscles in my limbs melted.

“I will be,” he weakly answers. 

I gently let his arm glide from my shoulders, the removal of the weight simultaneously a relief and a missed presence. The attempt at letting him stand on his own feet is successful, although his hand shakes as he unlocks the front door.

The feverish fingers glide from the doorknob to entwine with mine once more before his tongue runs over my lips again. Despite this being the third time it happens, it still doesn’t fail to bewilder me nor bring a boyish smirk to his face when I look at him, speechless.

“Thanks. Today nice. I-,” he starts up and averts his gaze to the side, a rosy flush on his cheeks, “I mean, today was nice.”

I put my hand on the side of his face, gently compelling him to look at me. A cheeky idea rises in my mind, tempting me to go against my very nature.

Which I do.

Standing on the tips of my toes, I close my eyes and give him a peck on the cheek. The action surprises us both because he looks utterly gobsmacked when I have gathered very piece and sliver of the courage needed to look up at him.

However, before I can utter a word, a hesitating hand reaches out to carefully brush against my cheek, the touch as light as the fall of a feather on porcelain. The gentleness of the contact forms a funny contrast to the roughness when he firmly presses his lips on mine the second after.

Musk mingled with the musty perfume of books, warmth of spices and bitter coffee with a hint of fresh cologne fills my nose and overtakes the senses. My brain short-circuits, filled with a strange primal instinct no one has ever awakened before. Notwithstanding, something in the way our bodies harmonize in the small yet passionate contact triggers it, leaving me wanting more.

Skin on skin.

Just us.

But it’s too early and we barely know each other. This isn’t right. Not now, at least.

Hence is why I pull away, taking a step back with the imprint of his moustache ticklish on my lips. 

A whimper like an abandoned puppy erupts from his throat as he chases after my mouth. Nevertheless, when I take a step back to avoid further contact, he gives up and lowers his head. However, as rapidly as disappointment had overtaken him, he rights himself and clears his throat. When he speaks up, the words come out in a mumbled mess. “I- I’m sorry. That was too direct.”

“No, it’s fine,” I reassure him, vaguely gesturing with one hand while I rub the back of my neck with the other. “I- I liked it, but let’s not- Do you... really see me that way?”

“In what way?” he asks, blinking as he gives me a blank look. But, the meaning dawns on him after a moment in which I badly try to articulate what I mean. 

He grabs my right wrist, the one he bit, and holds it up for me to see. The broken skin has already healed a bit, but it’s still sensitive and throbbing, especially now that JB puts pressure on it. “I didn’t do this out of some de- del- confused?”

“Delirious?” I help him, wondering what point he is about to try and convince me of. 

“Delirious! I didn’t do this out of a delirious frenzy. This means something to me. Something important. To me, this is us.” JB takes in a deep breath to steady himself, his voice strained as he seems to hold something in. “What I want for us. And I want others to know this because you’re my territory.”

“I’m just a friend.”

And scared of losing you to Love.

“You are, but you’re also more to me. I know you said you want to take things slow and I agree with that.’’ His expression softens, dark eyes filled with tender affection. ‘’However, I want you to know how I really feel about you.”

“I don’t want to risk our friendship.”

“Me too. Yet,” he closes the distance and cups my face, his thumbs lovingly brushing my cheeks, “you deserve to know my intentions. Know I want to take the risk when you’re ready to do so too.”

“Thank you.” I run my hands over his arms, his body heat warming my palms through the fabric of the sleeves. It’s a pleasant thought, knowing he is there to catch me should my knees give out. Which is likely to happen as the leftover tension from our trip upstairs fades and affection fills the heart. 

“For what?”

“Waiting.”

Until I figure out when it’s the right time.

He nips at the tip of my nose, his tongue cheeky in its feather light touch. “I always will. Do you have any plans tomorrow?”

“I’m going out for tea with a friend.” The delight in his expression sours as it did in the park, the confident playfulness replaced by a vicious brooding. The autumn chill cools my face, the warmth and safety of his hands fallen away. 

Turned to stone by the suppressed vehemence, I stumble over my words as I swiftly explain myself. “She is an old friend I met at university. We go out for tea or coffee often, especially before I have to go on a trip.”

“Ah, I see.” He hangs his head in remorse, but perks up immediately as if remembering something. “I got you something. Wait here.”

He rushes inside, coming back soon after with two books in his hands which he holds out to me. A collection of Keats’s poems and Songs of Innocence and Experience by William Blake.

The books I read when we met.

“For you,” JB happily announces, the bright proud ring in his voice distorting it to sound like a bark. “So you have something to read when you’re away.”

 “Thank you so much. That’s so sweet of you.” I accept the gift, showing my gratitude in the brush over his fingers as I take the books from his hands. “I should get you something in return.”

“Just send me a reminder to take my medication every day.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “That’s all I want.”

I nod. “I can do that.”

“And a text you arrived home safely.”

“Of course.”

“And let me pick you up from the airport when you come back.”

“My, do you have any other demands?”

Lips pursed as if seriously considering the rhetorical remark, Jaebeom tilts his head to the side. “Well, eating together again would be nice. Maybe we can go around town and try out various cafés and go bookshop hopping? I could also cook for you at least once a week, though I’ll have to ask Jinyoung to teach me.”

Oh my God, he really is serious.

Before he continues adding to the evidently growing list, I cut him off. “Okay, okay, I hear you. One thing at a time, alright?”

“Right,” he chuckles, “one thing at a time.”

“I’m gonna go.” With a heavy heart full of reluctance, I initiate our goodbyes. “Go to bed and get some rest before your fever worsens. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Can I have one more kiss?”

“Of course.”

I stand on the tip of my toes and tenderly press my lips against his. “Goodnight, Jaebeom.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

I ascend the stairs, but do not head home immediately. Instead, I remain where I stand and turn around to wave at the wolfish man gazing down at me.

One more moment with him.

Before I set off on the homebound journey in the next.

Above, the moon is waning.

Yesterday evening, Morgan sent pictures of the place she has chosen for our next tea adventure, lyrical about the interior. Since the moment we met, in our first year of studying journalism at the local university, we have been visiting coffee shops and tea rooms around the country and occasionally written an article about them for the university’s blog. Our adventures always begin the same, never having changed in the six years we have known each other.

A picture.

And a rant about aesthetics, reviews, and the potential of having discovered a hidden gem.

The latter might be the case of Moon Bunny Coffee and Tea, a tea room inspired by the French countryside. The far wall is made of bare brick, which forms a strangely yet nice contrast to the white wooden furniture and neatly set tables. From the speakers in the corners of the establishment, instrumental pieces and French songs alternate each other to enhance the atmosphere that makes one feel as if they are truly in France. And if the interior does nothing for the imagination, the pastries and beverage names noted in French on the menu will do the trick. 

It’s only recently opened and is run by a young couple. Élise, the owner, has opened this establishment after working in various patisseries in Paris during her teenage years. However, she has now settled here with who I actually presume rather than know is her partner. According to the context Morgan sent, the tall guy with pale blond hair, oval narrow face and a leather necklace with a strange bauble - that seems to change colour - hanging from it is called Mark. The level of familiarity between the two as they work makes it easy to assume there is more than friendship, hence the suspected relation between the two.

“So, have you seen him again?” Morgan takes a sip of her cinnamon and apple tea, a smirk on her cherry red lips.

I told her about Jaebeom and the strange first encounter with him. Regardless of the weird amiability that grew between us as the hours passed in each other’s company, I could not help but remain wary. After all, the bookseller has a particular reputation thanks to the rumours created by the local gossip mill. In hindsight, it’s idiotic I used those groundless stories in my analysis or, rather, overanalysis of the kindness he showed me. Yet, I did, though they sound as absurd as they did before now that I know him better.

Notwithstanding, whereas I was losing my sanity anxious bit by anxious bit as I told her about it over the phone, Morgan’s enthusiasm grew at the same rate. Each argument in favour of the concern about my strangeness or far-fetched theory he was merely polite, she countered with a more realistic view on the situation. In the end, it’s also her input which led to me dropping by Paper Souls on the way to work and back on a daily basis.

And I’m glad she’s part of the reason I did because I might otherwise have given up after the third day of seeing the bookshelves cast in shadows. 

“I have,” I admit, unable to suppress a smile at the memory of our outing to the park.

And what came after.

The memory of the chafing of his moustache triggers a phantom of the loving warmth of his lips on mine. Cheeks heat up, remembering the roughness of his sturdy hands. A sharp sting followed by a throbbing treks through my wrist again, the half-healed wound suffering from a pleasant phantom pain.  

“Judging by that grin of yours, you’re not telling me everything.” Morgan cuts her scone in half and smears some of the homemade strawberry jam it comes with on one half, followed by a dollop of clotted cream. 

I nibble on the rice cake filled with red bean paste. Maybe it’s not a perfect partner to the tea I chose although it makes for a delicious combination regardless. The taste of red beans is an acquired one, but the subtle sweetness evens out the bitterness of the beverage. “We went on somewhat of a date.”

“Somewhat?”

“It kind of just happened.” The whiskey tea I ordered is stronger than I thought, howbeit not in an unpleasant way. Like the real drink, it goes down smoothly and warms the body from within. “He offered to go out for lunch in the park and I agreed. It was nice. Really nice.”

Especially his body heat, the safety of his presence. How protected I felt despite not knowing him all that well.

“And?”

“And?” I repeat like a parrot. I know what she’s unconsciously aiming at, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll tell her outright. It’s always fun to tease the raven-haired woman a little. 

“Details, lass!” 

“We kissed,” I say, the confession hardly louder than a whisper. ‘’And I was the one to initiate it.’’

“How scandalous.” In fake shock, she clasps her hand over her mouth. “You’re a bold one, Y/N.”

“Oh, stop it.” I take a sip of tea and point at the other half of her scone. “Clotted cream with jam instead of the other way around now?”

As a fierce defender of both sides of the old discussion, Morgan indeed now smears the fluffy white cream on the other half first before she tops it off with the jam. “You really like him, don’t you?”

“I do, but I’m not sure if there’s a future for us.” I lean back, cross my arms and look out the window. 

A little distance away, there’s a metal bench and somehow an image of myself sits on it, alone. No wonder she looks glum because she is the me of the future, a woman who’s heart was devoted to the type of love that is, like humans, a plaything of Time.  

She tilts her head to the side, brow furrowed. “How do you mean?”

“It’s not my place to say this, but,’’ I turn back to her, absent-mindedly rubbing the mark on my wrist, ‘’he told me he has this condition that’s kinda like dementia, but he gave off the impression it’s also not. I don’t know what’s going on, only that there’s a deadline. A cruel one, and while I know avoiding it is futile, I’m not ready to face it nor will I ever be.”

The confusion on her face lightens to understanding concern. However, despite her features softening, there remains a hint of brooding in her attitude. “I see. It’s like that,” she murmurs cryptically as she takes a bite of her scone, more to herself than as a reply to me. “The story is repeating itself.”

“Morgan,” the mention of her name makes the raven-haired woman snap out of her reverie, “what do you mean?”

Instead of providing a proper answer, she dismisses the questions with a vague gesture. “Just the murmurs of an old soul.”

There is inherent beauty in the medieval cities of Europe that leaves one in awe wherever they go. Furthermore, the shops specialized in local goods and hidden gems add to the flair of narrow streets enclosed by tall buildings that breathe history. Nevertheless, regardless of the ancient beauty, there is nothing which can compete with a warm bed at the end of a day full of running from one end of the town to the other in search of the best chocolatiers.

Well, there is one thing.

As I’m putting on my pyjamas, my phone gives off a light buzz, indicating a new message. 

Jaebeom: Can we video call? I miss your face. 

You... You miss seeing me?

In spite of the unease of not having makeup on, I oblige and call him first. It has not even gone over once before messy black locks show up on screen. However, before he can have a good look at me, I quickly slink beneath the blanket.

“What’re you doing?” He, too, is in bed howbeit without any insecurity whatsoever. In fact, he is more than comfortable wearing not even a top regardless of the chilly weather, leaving defined collarbones and defined chest muscles on display. 

“I’m not wearing makeup, so I look horrible.”

And you showing up like this doesn’t help either.

Because the bare skin, little as it is, unleashes a storm of butterflies in the stomach. The temperature in the room rises or maybe it is simply my body reacting to the aching to run my fingertips over his definitions, the features that unintentionally unleash an absurd frenzy holding the middle between unashamed love and lust. The cheeks heat up as the need for the thick comforter decreases yet the growing discomfort is not enough to come out of hiding. 

“I’m sure you don’t.” Either intentionally or not, he puts on irresistible puppy eyes. The well-meant tenderness in his voice also stirs something in me, charmed by the kindness. “Please don’t hide. I want to see you.”

Although reluctant, I lower the sheets. 

Only to want to pull them over my head at his words and the stupidly bright smile accompanying them. “You’re even prettier like this.”

“Shut up, you weird wolf,” I grumble, jaw clenched as I strain myself not to hide again. To distract us both, I change the topic. “Did you take your meds?”

“I did! And I mean it. No, no, no! Get out from under there. Y/N, come on. I’m not lying. You are pretty. And caring and nice and-’’

“You’re handsome.” I glare at him, peeking just over the edge of the sheet. Unfortunately, my revenge isn’t successful since it merely yields a low chuckle.

Though it seems the victory is still mine because he bites on his bottom lip and softens his voice further to a timid whisper. “Even with my new look?” 

He shows off the mess of his shorter black locks, which are shaved on the side and longer on top. It’s a shame to see the long hair go because I personally think it suits him better, but he pulls the cooler style off too.

“Even more so because of it.” Although they’re essentially minor changes, it casts Jaebeom in a whole other light. He’s still a wolfish man, and I doubt I’ll ever see him as something else, but the new look gives him a more human allure. As if he’s tuned in better to life in the city instead of wandering the rough landscape in his mind. 

“I’ll tell Jinyoung he did a good job, then.” He gets up on his elbow, a view of the upper part of his chest filling the small screen. The veins in his hand form mellow ridges on the back of it, highlighting a few patches where the skin has scraped off, as he fluffs his pillow before lying down again and snuggling into it to get comfortable. “How’s Bruges?”

“It’s a really pretty city. I think you’d like it.” A wistful smile forms on my lips, in part dazed by the entrancing sight a moment ago. “I wish you were here. Wish we could get lost forever... together! I mean, get lost together. Here. In the city.”

“Are you getting sleepy?” His features soften into a dreamy expression though a cheeky spark illuminates the night sky in his eyes. 

“No,” I fiercely protest. That is, until an involuntary yawn escapes me, which makes it impossible to hide the fatigue of running about town the entire day anymore. “Maybe.”

“Go to sleep, Y/N.”

“Don’t want to. We’ve only been talking for a few minutes.” I conceal another yawn by pulling up the comforter.

“You likely have another busy day ahead. So go hit the hay and I’ll talk to you in my dream.”

“Who says I won’t do the same?’’ I remark smugly, proud of the comment that pops up and is too tempting not to make. ‘’Wouldn’t that make it our dream?”

“We’ll talk in our dream,” he corrects himself, a content hum following the correction. Notwithstanding, the delight darkens into a stern seriousness as he tries to look over my shoulder to scan the room, to inspect every nook and cranny instead of what’s on display in the background. “By the way, what’s your colleague doing? Are you alone?”

I roll my eyes and sigh. “He has his own room because he tends to want more of the local taste, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t.” A deeply puzzled expression forms on his face, clearing the spine-chilling suspicion. “Is that code for something?”

“An affair, JB. My colleague more often than not enjoys a one-night stand, if not more, with local girls. It depends on how long we’re away.”

“Have you ever done that?” It has to be the exhaustion, but the question strangely sounds like a whine.  

“Never. In fact, you...” I bite my lip as my stomach ties itself into a nauseating knot, chest constricted with bleak worry about what he will say about the confession balancing precariously on the tip of the tongue. However, I swallow hard and continue the unfinished sentence. “You’re the first guy I’ve dated.”

“We’re dating?”

“Are we?” His question makes me wonder if we actually are, if I didn’t jump to a fantastical conclusion. Then again, we kissed, went out together, and drank coffee in his shop. Nevertheless, also judging by the curiosity in his response, I doubt it’s right for me to assume it’s true. “Well, maybe we aren’t. After all, we’ve only been to the park, so I suppose-’’

I’m wrong, because we barely know each other and yet. Yet, I kissed him. And he kissed me back. Is that anything to go by, a valid reason?

“We’re dating!” The sudden outburst catches me as much off-guard as the enthusiastic addition or, rather, plan for when I return. “I’ll cook for you after bringing you home. Afterwards, we can just sit on the couch and read. You can also nap on me to cure your jet lag. Does that count as a date?”

“I don’t know if it does according to the official terms, but,” the fatigue ebbs away, replaced by the giddiness of going home as soon as possible, “it does to me.”

“Two dates,” he murmurs thoughtfully, nodding as if confirming an unspoken notion. “We’re dating.”

Weirdo.

I watch him analyze the situation, overcome with affection. When he bites down on his index finger to suppress a broad grin, I almost have to do the same. 

“I wish I was there with you,” Jaebeom eventually notes to break the twilight hush, at last content on where we stand. The yearning of the wish is tangible in my bones because I feel the same way, though I try not to show it. “I should’ve given you a shirt or something, but I wasn’t sure if it would be good. That’s not the word. Ap... ap... appropropiate? Appropriate. If it would be that.”

“I do have the books you gave me, so I do have a piece of you here.”

But I do miss your scent. Wait, that’s weird to say. I shouldn’t say that.

Though it’s indeed strange and I don’t tell him, it isn’t a lie. Jaebeom does smell nice, like a wild forest in which the air is scented by a cologne that barely conceals its secret. The ferocious guardian in the shadows. 

 “Still, I wish I had given you something that marks you as mine.” Gaze downcast, the big wolf man pouts at the thought, sulking. 

“You have.” I hold up my wrist, the place where he bit me now nothing but a red blotch.

“It’s almost gone. I should renew that once you’re back. A shirt and bite. That should show other males we’re together,” he muses, the disappointment gone in an instant as his focus changes.

“Totally not possessive, are we?”

“I’m not,” he grumbles. “Just marking my territory.”

“JB, you are.”

“Does it bother you, make you upset?”

“Yes and no.” I take in a shaky breath, distracted by the thought of the implications I want him to be. After all, something about the feral allure melts any resistance and lets me slip into a headspace I didn’t know I had. 

Somewhere, deeply hidden in the brain, there’s a different woman, a different ego. A part of me which wants and needs him. That doesn’t mind being his possession.

His mate. 

“Don’t get me wrong-’’

“How can I get you good?”

The unintentional play on words uttered by urgent yet confused puppy eyes distracts me from the splendid explanation I wanted to give him.

How... How does he do it? Does he even know what he’s doing? Never mind.

“Don’t misunderstand me,” I begin anew, “I appreciate your concern for me and I really do feel safe with you. But you bit me. In public too! I get it’s your way of telling me you like me and maybe I don’t actually mind the mark you left behind so much-’’

“So it’s not the biting?” A boyish smirk plays on his lips. Had he had an actual tail, it would have been swishing heavily with a dangerous cheer. “I can do it again?”

“No.”

Maybe someday I’ll let you. But not anytime soon.

“But you said you didn’t mind my mark. If that isn’t a problem, why can’t I refresh it?”

“Jaebeom, please, let me finish talking.”

“Sorry.”

“Thank you.” I take in a deep breath. “Now, normal human couples don’t bite each other to let others and one another know they belong together. So let’s try to find other ways to do just that. Commonly, the girl wears the guy’s shirt. I think that’s a good starting point for us.”

“What are other ‘ways’?” he asks, evidently not too keen on the idea.

I tilt my head, trying to come up with the most frequent ways in which people casually express being taken without immediately suggesting obvious physical marks. “Necklaces, bracelets and rings are common couple items. Some even go as far as getting matching tattoos.”

“I like the sound of that, a tattoo. Permanent. Permanent human mark.”

“Let me think about that one, okay?”

“Okay.” He nods in agreement. “But, if I understand you correctly, I can give you a shirt.”

“You can.”

“And you’ll wear it because it has my scent on it.”

“That’s kind of the idea behind it,” I confirm, glad he understands the underlying meaning despite not explaining it.

He looks down at his chest only to discover he’s not wearing anything. The glance over his shoulder falls on a black shirt somewhere behind him. He turns away, grabs the piece of clothing and holds it tightly against his body when he turns back to me. “Sounds good to me.”

I guess I’ll be given a ‘welcome home’ present.

[sserpente]

Pastel Blue (Chapter 6)

A/N: I hate how I have barely had any time to write lately! In all honesty, moving to a different country is quite  the challenge! 😂 I hope you enjoy the new chapter, I can’t wait to dive back into writing excessively, haha! ♥

Jess breathed out, watching how the warm air turned into fog. It was way too chilly down here. She had asked Mobius to install some radiators months ago but he wouldn’t listen. Loki on the other hand seemed to have no problem with the cold at all. He strutted next to her like he owned the place, with his head held high and a dark expression on his face.

M had a point. Despite the collar, it was a risk bringing Loki to a party of all things. But then again… she would be sure to laugh if he jumbled up the celebrations. Dave deserved it, kind of. Frankly, he could be a dick sometimes.

Loki smirked to himself. Her dress was green, with thin shoulder straps and a heart-shaped neckline. He offered her his arm when they stepped into the cafeteria, bathing in the mistrustful looks the whole of TVA eyed them with.

Mobius was stood at the buffet table, holding a glass filled with vodka and a green olive swimming in it in one hand while the other was buried in his pocket. The tawdry music, the chatting and the constant clattering of plates and cutlery made it nearly impossible for him to make out what the senior manager was saying now.

Warily, Loki glared him down. He was either oblivious to his excellent hearing, stupid enough to discuss such clandestine matters in the hallway or… or he meant for him to eavesdrop. Loki held on to the thought. He trusted him to feed him pathetic bits and pieces of information to keep him on his toes, to throw him small bones like a starved dog.

What if he was cleverer than he assumed he was? If he had incited Jess to spend time with him, make him believe she was on his side when she secretly ran off every day to tell Mobius about his behaviour like a child in day-care? If he used her to keep him on a leash in this godforsaken place? Loki gnashed his teeth.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” He mocked when he spotted him. The Trickster narrowed his eyes at him. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Jess rolling hers. Either way, he would not allow them to manipulate him and instead turn the tables. He was the master of mischief, after all.

“Enjoy yourself while you still can, Loki.” Dave added. “There’s a high chance you’ll kick the bucket next week.”

Jess rolled her eyes once more—or perhaps she was still rolling them, Loki was unsure. His eyes darted over to Mobius again, noticing with both dismay and an odd feeling of satisfaction making itself comfortable in his guts how the senior manager studied their interlinked arms.

A thin smile formed on his lips. Oh yes. Whatever your play is, I will turn it against you and I will burn this entire place to the ground until all you have left is a pile of ash and Jess—lovely and delicate Jess—will help me do so whether she is willing or not.

“Suck it up, Dave.” Jess barked. “Do you drink coke?” She continued sweetly then, directed at Loki.

“I beg your pardon?” He leaned forward slightly—close enough for her nostrils to be filled with his scent like she was some goddamn predator sensing its prey. If anything, Loki would be the predator in this scenario. She was but a lamb compared to him—a lamb who could kick his shin but a lamb nonetheless.

“Coke. Black fizzy drink, very sweet, spiked with Whiskey—not normally but definitely tonight.” She cleared her throat and winked at him and, much to his own surprise, his heart skipped a beat upon the flirty gesture. Perhaps this was the very reason he let her grab his arm and drag him away from both Mobius and Dave to plunder the bar.

“Don’t let her get drunk!” He heard Mobius call after him. Loki frowned.

Whoever was playing bartender tonight and doing a terribly slow job with that, Jess paid them no attention. Unceremoniously, she leaned over the counter, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of Whiskey. Granted, Loki knew nothing of Midgardian drinks and how there were properly mixed, he had a feeling, however, that more than half of the glass filled with Whiskey was not the proper way to mix a delightful alcoholic refreshment.

At least, so he had to admit, the view was a rather delectable one, with her backside wiggling around right before his eyes. He suppressed a dark chuckle.

Once she had tapped the faucet pouring a dark brown liquid to mix with the Whiskey and handed him one, she grinned, heaving herself up onto the counter completely and resting her feet on the barstool.

“Skål!” She announced, winking once more. Loki took a sip to conceal how thickly he had to swallow. As expected, the coke-Whiskey-mixture tasted horrible. His face distorted, making Jess laugh.

“There’s no Asgardian ale in this place, I’m afraid. Do you dance? You’re the God of Mischief, you must be dancing.”

Loki raised his eyebrows in response. “Is that all you will do at this so-called party? Drink and dance and then drink some more?”

Jess shrugged. “Never let anyone tell you that alcohol is not the solution. I’ve had some amazing nights forgetting my own name. So?” She downed her drink, slamming the empty glass on the counter so forcefully he feared it would break under the impact. “Do you dance?”

The music, whatever it was, was too slow for Jess’ taste. She’d much rather listen to some techno hits, and some Hip Hop and Dubstep hits to move her body to. It almost felt a little like space. A place to lose herself in, utterly and wholly, a place making her stronger rather than taking her energy away from her.

But Dave had always had a very uninspiring music taste and, given it was his anniversary, the music was unlikely to change anytime soon. Loki’s lips parted when she took his glass from his hand and downed it too. Neither of them expected the jolt of electricity rippling through them when she took his hand and entangled her fingers with his to pull him towards the middle of the cafeteria where Minutemen of all departments, scientists and even some of the security were moving to the music.

“That’s an interesting development after all, don’t you think?” Loki heard Dave say. Jess swirled them both around, her blue eyes closed in an attempt to dream herself into a reality where she could go out with her friends and lose her mind in a dimly lit nightclub surrounded and desired by both men and women alike. She would drink until she had forgotten about her parents and until she had lost her grasp on reality to enter space and be free and independent. Jess did not allow herself to dream often these days, for when she did… the urge to escape this place once more and turn her back on Mobius rose to an extent it brought her physical pain to resist.

“Well, he is charismatic. That doesn’t mean anything, does it? Jess has a weakness for bad boys and Loki is pretty much the definition of that.”

“Please. Thor’s little brother, how strong could he possibly be without his beloved sceptre?” Dave snorted.

“I wouldn’t underestimate him, especially not this variant. I wouldn’t have brought him here if I didn’t think he’d be of use. He’s smart. He doesn’t trust us.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mobius shrug. “We have a good reason not to trust him either. Not yet, at least. I’ve studied his entire life, remember?”

“You are not seriously thinking about removing that collar at some point, are you?”

Loki growled, lest he could not decide whether it was because of how good his palm felt against the small of Jess’ back or the way Dave and Mobius kept talking about him behind his back.

“Now I thought you said he couldn’t possibly be that strong without the sceptre?” Dave replied nothing to that. He did not need to. Mobius had made it clear enough that he was the figure of authority here. There was no way, however, he was going to be able to concentrate on this devilish bureaucrat and his ridiculous attempts to manipulate him as long as Jess’ body was rubbing against his in the most wicked ways. This woman, human or not, knew exactly what she was doing, regardless of the alcohol already clouding her system.

He smirked when another song ended and there was a moment of silence in his heart upon the lack of a loud bass reverberating in his chest. Jess opened her eyes in an almost luscious manner and took his hand once more to pour herself another drink.

He liked the way she took charge. Apart from Sif, she was so unlike all the Asgardian women he had known during his time in the realm he grew up in. Jess was neither offering him her devotion nor was she withholding her affection. His heart jumped upon remembering how she had hugged him in the bathroom. Peculiar.

While she emptied another repulsive coke-and-whiskey-mixture, his eyes caught another buffet table positioned at the other end of the room—one he had not seen upon first entering this absurd get-together.

“What is this?” Jess spun around.

“What is what?”

“This.” He pointed at the table. The cooks had outdone themselves with the number of bowls full of fruit neatly chopped up—the highlight, however, was the massive chocolate fountain bubbling away peacefully and luring every passer-by into tasting it.

“Have you never seen a chocolate fountain before?”

Loki frowned, making Jess chuckle. Heavens, if he keeps doing that, his face might stay like that, she thought.

“Come on, I’ll show you.” Once within reach of the buffet table, she treated herself to a strawberry that she stabbed with one of the provided plastic toothpicks and coated it with chocolate. She grinned when Loki’s smirk returned and copied her with the sole difference of picking a grape instead.

“How does this thing operate?”

“Well, I’m not an engineer but as far as I’m concerned, you pour molten chocolate into the fountain, which is electric, and the pump inside will make sure to keep it flowing. Apparently, Asgard is not as advanced as I thought it was. Chocolate fountains are extremely important for one’s emotional wellbeing, you know.” Jess downed the Whiskey glass she had taken with her. “And so is alcohol. Are you gonna stay here all evening now?”

“I just might.” Loki winked.

“Suit yourself.” She announced, holding up her empty glass. “I’m getting another drink.”

The God of Mischief rolled his eyes and snatched her upper arm, holding it tightly enough for to gasp—and not in a terrified or intimidated way, so he noticed. But either way, he was not going to let her poison herself.

“You’ve had enough, don’t you think?” He snarled, snatching the glass from her.

“Excuse me? Give that back.”

“No. I said you’ve had enough.”

“I’m supposed to supervise you, not the other way around! Now give that back.”

Loki scoffed. “You’ll do a marvellous job with that, all drunk and out of your mind.”

Heavens, not again. Jess gasped for air—a desperate sound swallowed by the loud music and the bass vibrating in her chest. Loki caught it nonetheless. There it was, this figurative magnet, this invisible rope tying him to her like a bloody lap dog.

It was genuine concern purling in his stomach, he did know this much. Regardless of Mobius’ half-hearted request, Loki certainly did not want Jess to get drunk and damage her liver beyond repair. Mortals were fragile as was and yet here they were, stuffing themselves with ridiculous amounts of sugar and fat, spending all day watching silly TV shows and pouring alcohol down their throats like it was water from Mimir’s fountain itself.

“I dare you…” He murmured, his composure on the edge of a steep cliff threatening to overwhelm him, rip all control from him. Jess leaned back some more, a feeble attempt to escape his advances that she did not wish to refuse altogether. “I dare you.” He repeated, jumping in at the deep end if anything to quench the curiosity and feel what his body and, for Heaven’s sake, even his mind had been longing for. What had he to lose? “Kiss me. I know you have been thinking about it.”

He pulled her close again and this time, he was certain to have heard a whimper. Loki’s cock stirred, even more so when she turned her head away and his nose brushed against her cheek.

“Is it Mobius?” He purred. Jess struggled to form a proper sentence in response or even breathe evenly. Eventually, she nodded. “I believe… I believe we have both had enough of this party, have we not?”

Jess bit her lower lip and glanced behind herself. M was engrossed in a conversation with Ravonna Renslayer, the badass time judge she never interacted with much. Well… she certainly was none of her concern now.

“Quick,” she breathed out, “before they notice us leaving.”

 ~*~

You are a grown woman. Loki is a handsome man. It’s obvious the chemistry between you is right. You’re sexually attracted to him and he just confirmed that the feeling is mutual. This is not your first one-night stand. It might not be your last. God, I hope it’s not my last. That man is literally not from this world.

“What are you doing?” Jess snapped herself out of her thoughts when Loki stopped in front of one of the control rooms. The walls were made entirely of glass, revealing a bored security officer staring at about a dozen computer screens in utter darkness. “He’ll see us!”

Loki narrowed his eyes and huffed when he found what he was looking for—the camera monitoring Jess’ unit. Ah… this was indeed perfect. Just like he had suspected. He could see the sofa and the unmade sheets on top of it, and the coffee table with countless peanut bags on it. But even without his powers, nobody would see him sneak along the wall and into Jess’ bedroom.

“Loki?”

“There is a dead angle in your unit.”

“So?” He winked again, making her lower regions clench. When he simply kept on walking, she rushed after him like a cat knowing it was about to be fed.

~*~

A/N: Muhahaha. In case anyone is interested what song Loki and Jess danced to, you can find it right here!

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 5

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Revenge is sweet but a well-timed dick joke is sweeter. xoxo gossip girl. Please supervise one Bucky Barnes on the internet. Questionable music taste. Detention is the price we pay for justice. Bruce Banner is too precious for this world, too pure.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit​ @littlegasps​ @pilloclock​ @shereadsinquiet​ @downeyreads​ @hermione-grangers-wife​ @individualistfem​

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! 🎶🎵I love you biiitch ain't ever gonna stop loving you biiitch 🎵🎶

"Initiate phase one," I added a growly undertone to my whisper, holding my phone inconspicuously, as if I was making a simple phone call. There was no answer but I didn't expect one: I was testing the voice recorder app that I had downloaded for the sole purpose of documenting and relaying the inevitable fall of one Flash Thompson. 

Making my way through the crowd of students during the busiest time of the day, I made the most intrigued and outraged facial expression I possibly could. Spying my targets, I leaned against a nearby wall, putting a hand over my mouth in fake outrage, keeping my eyes wide and trained on the opposite wall. Just as I had predicted, the two sophomore girls started giving me side-eye by minute two of my staring and finally approached me as I contemplated the wall for whole five minutes.

"I'm sorry, are you okay?" The brunette asked, her blonde friend hanging a step back.

"Yeah, totally," I mumbled. "I'm, like, shook beyond imagination, but nothing, like, bad."

The girls traded a curious look, seemingly coming to some sort of conclusion. The greedy gleam in their eyes had me internally cheering. "What happened?" The blonde one asked, coming closer.

"I'm not sure if I should tell that to anyone," I stammered, watching them bodily move forward. "Well, okay, I can't keep quiet. But you must never, ever speak of it or I'll get expelled or something," I said nervously. They both nodded so rapidly it reminded me of Funko Pop figurines. "You know the senior guy, Flash? Brown hair, kinda hot?" Again, they both nodded, conspicuously grinning. "I think I just saw him in the closed girls bathroom on the third floor with, like, some brunette from Ms. Johnson's History class," They both gasped. Predictable. "But that's not the worst! They were like, y'know," I made an obscene gesture with my hand and they instantly covered their own mouths with their palms in shock. "And the chick was like 'is it in yet?' and he was like 'yah' and I just closed the door and ran, oh my god I hope they didn't hear me," I squealed at the end, playing the part of a mortified teenager.

All three of us giggled uncomfortably for a moment. The blonde girl stared at me suspiciously. "And what were you doing there?"

I faked a nervous stammer, looking around briefly and showing them my lighter for a moment. They both gasped and nodded in recognition. "Don't tell anybody or my mom is going to have kittens," I pleaded. Both of them nodded solemnly, noticing their own group of friends approach. I used the brief moment to get lost in the river of pupils and by the time they turned around to introduce me, I was already at the opposite part of the hallway.

For the time being, everything seemed peaceful. There were a few giggles and side-eyes directed towards Flash Thompson but nothing out of the ordinary. He was disliked by most of the student population even if nobody dared to admit it outright. I took care to walk around without my earbuds for the day and pulled out my phone to record the most interesting conversations around me whenever I caught the tell tale signs of a gossip mill beginning to run its course around the school.

"Oh my god, I heard about this girl that was caught fucking Flash in the girls bathroom and she literally said 'is it in yet', can you imagine the shock, jeez!"

"Some chick literally just rejected Flash because his dick was too small."

"Rebecca from AP chemistry told me someone saw Flash's micropenis. Poor guy!"

"I wonder if his girlfriend dumped him because he can't do shit, I mean, he doesn't look like the type to eat the kitty."

Those were just the highlights of the Friday afternoon. Come the weekend and the news of Flash's unfortunate condition will make the rounds through every single group chat that the school has and by the time Monday rolls around, nobody will have a clue who started the rumour in the first place. I had to carefully select the girls who were to distribute the rumour and I was happy with the outcome: Marissa and Layla with their squad of chatty, bored rich girls were the perfect choice. I thought they would jump at any opportunity to cause drama and I was right.

It was sufficient to say I was bristling with pride as I cut and compiled the audio track from today's school day before sending it to the group chat.

Clint, Peter and Natasha appeared online as soon as the message delivered and I was delighted at their response. Romanoff's kind words, specifically, made me all warm and mushy inside. I didn't resist the feeling, basked in it even as I did a happy dance around my room. Peter's nonsensical string of emojis was another point of laughter for me. 

It wasn't exactly the smartest way to go about killing Thompson's reputation... Alas, simplicity is the way to success when it comes to large crowds of teenagers. That tiny little vindictive part of me was very much looking forward to the weekend and the results of the inevitable distortion of the rumour I had started. Who knew, maybe by Monday Flash Thompson would not only have a micropenis but horns and hooves as well.

Near bedtime, I had all the avengers send me their regards and thumbs up. I answered the flurry of texts as quickly as I could but there was no point in keeping up with ten or so people constantly streaming their questions, opinions and comments. 

I settled on a single easiest response: pulling my dad's old uni sweatshirt over my tiny lacy pajamas to preserve some modesty, I settled in front of my mirror, turning on my Bluetooth speaker to play "Boss Ass Bitch". In true gen-z fashion, I put on my best resting witch face and solemnly lip-synced to the song's eponymous chorus. My eyeliner was sharp enough to cut paper and my prismatic highlighter glittered enigmatically in the cold light of my blue lava lamp.

The response was, once again, delightful and I genuinely belly-laughed at the adults' attempts to meme after Peter. His blushy face emoji started a whole nother conversation that I didn't participate in but watched from the sidelines with glee, snorting every time his friends and mentors gently teased him about the very obvious crush he harboured on me. 

Seeing Peter starting to go absolutely nuts, I interjected with an offer (more like a dare) of a lip sync battle. He jumped on the bandwagon, immediately going offline to undoubtedly film an epic video of what I thought would be dorky-dancing to some hipster song. I was pleasantly surprised when it turned out to be a pre-recorded tik tok video of him and Ned fighting with lightsabers while mouthing the words to Fergalicious that played over the Imperial March.

Weirdos. I still followed him on the app, though, it was pretty funny.

Bucky interjected with a very well executed rendition of "Bring Me to Life": he was wearing his full Winter Soldier get-up, complete with an AK-47, dramatically serenading Steve who looked seventeen shades of done with his partner's antics. Wanda's following twenty second voice message consisted of nothing but pure hysterical laughter, summing up everyone's reaction to the video. Bucky was going to go viral one of these days...

Obviously, I had good competition and nobody else seemed to want to participate so I rearranged my surroundings a little bit and stood up at my full height and swapped the old sweatshirt for a cute crop-top hoodie. My thigh-highs were on display and with my make-up, I looked like a proper internet e-girl. I leaned against the mirror as I mouthed along to the song with my best interpretation of the famous Lucifer smirk, seasoned with a tiny bit of angelic innocence: "Doctor, doctor, give me the news, I got a bad case of loving you..."

Needless to say, I won the competition. Eventually Wanda joined in, looking menacing and ominous with her dark clothes and Natasha's red hair flashing somewhere in the background; even Tony did a round (AC/DC as his soundtrack of course) with one of his Iron Man suits but nothing beat my stunt and the reaction that it caused.

I had accidentally called out Bruce with the choice of my song and his teammates gave both of us a lot of cheeky comments about it. We relented and flirted with each other a bit as the conversation flowed into more mundane discussion; I said my good nights somewhere between Tony's bitching about the hobbies of my generation and my nightly skincare routine. The little green heart that I'd become accustomed to over the past few weeks greeted me just as I was about to lock my phone.

Bruce was really too precious for this world. My crush on him was different than the one on Tony, it mellowed out in comparison. I wanted him to hold me, to stroke my hair, to call me his darling and wrap me up in one of those dorky button-ups that he insisted on wearing in spite of Tony's unwanted, however very valid, fashion advice.

For all that's worth, the scientist probably knew or at least suspected and had the good grace to play along just enough to satisfy my deep need for attention... Without crossing any actual lines. It was frustrating, it was disappointing but I had virtually nothing to complain about. Besides, I didn't want to lose the quirky friendship that we had. Banner was, probably, the least judgemental person I knew and I wasn't about to trade that for an awkwardly stolen kiss.

Monday and Tuesday passed in a flurry of giggling and snorting every time Flash walked by. His girlfriend broke up with him, very publicly, accusing him of cheating and he didn't even deny it - just insulted her and stormed off, leaving even his friends looking lost and clueless. I started dragging Peter and his two pet nerds along with me just about everywhere I went in case Thompson decided to do something stupid again. If judging only by the looks he was throwing our little company, he was on his way to figuring out who began nibbling at his reputation.

The week was coming to an end and the rumour began dying off, slowly. That just didn't sit with me, I wanted the fucker gone. Due to the obvious time constraints, I approached MJ regarding Peter - after a brief argument, we came to an agreement regarding Peter's safety should I need to leave him alone in the hallways or at lunch. 

I needed to do this alone so if I got caught, I won't drag them down with me. Granted, I would probably get something like a suspension and the school will attempt to call my mother (she never picks up) but that's about it. That's where her reputation comes in handy-people consciously avoid dealing with her, she can be that unbearable.

But first, I needed to get a teacher that's on my side. After carefully considering the candidates, I settled on my Social Studies professor - he taught the college-level classes and was overall a very chill, nice dude. And he disliked bullies with a flaming passion. So it didn't take me long to work him into a righteous fury - just a quick chat over a cup of tea in his homeroom and a few pictures of Peter's bruised face, complete with my own pleading puppy eyes. We agreed Mr Davies would "accidentally" leave the teacher's lounge unlocked during third period and I would sneak in. The plan wasn't foolproof but if it worked, not only Flash, but also his whole misogynistic, bigoted family would go down.

As I was leaving, Mr Davies looked up at me with a bright smile: "Give them Hell, alright?" And I suddenly noticed he was, in fact, very attractive. The smile brought out the fine wrinkles around his mouth, the crow's feet around his eyes - he smiled a lot. Silver strands mixed in with the wooden brown of his hair.

I let my eyes slide over him briefly before baring my teeth in return. "I owe you one," I don't know what possessed me to say that. My mouth really had a mind of its own sometimes. The room suddenly became hot.

"Sure," He replied, totally oblivious.

On Friday, I made myself a small nest in the empty classroom opposite the teacher's lounge and sat waiting for the signal from Mr Davies - he'd tap on the door once and I'd quietly go inside the teacher's lounge, retrieve Thompson's file and make my way back to the empty classroom to grab my backpack and carry the file to my locker for further examination. 

The first part went successfully and I managed to snag Thompson's file. It was heavy and hefty, all the evidence of his rowdiness compiled into one flimsy plastic folder. There were A LOT of pink slips and I rejoiced internally: at least there was a paper trail of his exploits. The principal didn't do anything about it which was... If not against the rules then at least frowned upon; the plan was to take copies and anonymously submit them to the school board prompting at least an investigation into the blatant disregard for Flash's immoral and illegal behaviour.

On my way back I stumbled upon the principal herself which got me not only a stern talking to, but a whole detention for skipping class. Whatever, I was too elated from potentially ruining the life of a dumb fuck who ruined my friend's face.

Surprise came in the face of Mr Davies, who, having heard the commotion in the hallway, stepped out of his class and saw me being lectured by the principal. 

"I'll take her for the detention," I heard the familiar voice behind me. The principal nodded solemnly and I had no choice but to sigh in resignation. "Three thirty, be here," He nodded to me, walking back, looking way too smug for his own good. So I wasn't the only one excited about the successful completion of stage two of my nefarious plan. Cue evil laughter.

[existentialmagazine]

Review: maisyn’s newest indie-folk adventure ‘nevermind’ embraces the intricacies and intensities of acoustic sound

With every new song, the indie-pop, singer-songwriter Maisyn keeps proving she’s one of a kind, making leaps and bounds between the tender hearted ‘Naked’ and the dreamy indie ‘Night Talks’. Everything she shares dares to be a little different, dances to a new tune, but always feels very much staple of her. That’s why her newest offering ‘nevermind’ fits perfectly into this familiar but genre-blending assortment of songs, offering yet another shift in sound to what we’ve heard before as indie-folk washes over you from pressing play, but still warmly slotting right in the discography Maisyn has carefully crafted.

Unfolding with finger-picked acoustic guitar, there’s an inherent sort of tenderness to the sound, opening its heart instantly but not wishing to be slow or saddened. Instead, ‘nevermind’ steadily hops along with a soft, playful momentum to it, every string loose and quickly plucked. Soon, easy-going thudding beats and backing strings join into the concoction too, progressively building with the slow introductions of scattered instrumental pieces, rising and falling all at once to take you along a journey just as much through sound as lyricism.

From the second verse onwards, ‘nevermind’ finds a strength and confidence from below, building with heavier hitting drums and rising into a chorus much more euphoric than ever before. This intensity weaves its way through every instrument with vigorously strummed acoustic guitar, harsher riff plucks and booming drums, all emphatic and bold before their presence becomes a little too much, finding their ferocity to become the product of unnatural distortions that fall apart for the bridge’s interlude. There’s something so grounding about the way Maisyn uses sound, something that feels earthy and unique, taking delicate instruments and showcasing them in ways and intricacies with so much depth to be heard.

Her lyrical admissions are of course, just as integral to the experience. Narrating you through a slow burn breakup with your on and off again flame, touching on the niches of this relationship with the tender acoustic beginnings and growing empowered eruptions of sound, acknowledging that often losing someone like this can be a greater pain than some full-fledged relationships. The lines are poetic and heartfelt, setting the scene from the beginning’s ‘here we are, over the moon again’ , immediately acknowledging the cyclical nature of things to once again be returning to the start of something as though it could ever turn out any differently. Later confessing she’s ‘lovesick, oh there has to be something there’ , Maisyn throws herself fully into this powerful retelling of something clearly emotionally resonant, desperately hoping to find love in something that perhaps is nothing more than a flickering spark destined to burn out. The bridge is perhaps one of the few moments that isn’t blinded by hope though, knowing that their ‘cyclical resistance to change’ will keep them tossing and turning before once again meeting the same old fates. Even the chorus hook says it in a way, singing ‘when you’re mine… nevermind’, knowing full-well that this is nothing but a fantasy.

While we often see breakup anthems and loved-up confessions, ‘nevermind’ really stands out as something else, bottling up everything that comes with falling in love, feeling heartbroken and not being able to let go. Keep listening here, it’ll surely strike a chord with anyone that hears it.

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Unknown

// This coverage was supported and created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator.

[bjy-on-ao3]

Fic Friday: Hungry Like The Wolf

As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

Bit of a suspension of belief involved in the setup here. I don’t really have a viable reason WHY this would be happening here, but it felt like the best place for this particular concept, so bear with me. Title is after the Duran, Duran song, because the lyrics seemed fitting on the surface, and the name ends being kind of punny.

(Also a thank you to Petaldances for basically beta'ing this for me and catching all my weird little mistakes.)

Summary Reader gets caught up in a passionate and primal game with a certain detective turned Phantom Thief.

Tags/Warnings

Biting, Creampie, Metaverse, Metaverse S*x, Outdoor S*x, Persona 5 Strikers Spoilers, Predator/Prey, Reader-Insert, Rough S*x, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal S*x

Hungry Like The Wolf (F! Reader/Zenkichi Hasegawa)

You couldn’t count how long it had been since you started running. Had it been a minute? Five? Fifteen? You weren’t sure. Time was the last thing on your mind as you bolted down the empty streets. All that was on your mind was to run as far and fast as you could. All you had to go on was the burning in your legs and chest and the swiftly passing city blocks.

You stopped, spinning in place so quickly it nearly made you dizzy, and you stumbled, catching yourself before you toppled over.  Your eyes darted about wildly, heart pounding in your chest and your breath coming in out in short, panting puffs. Even if you didn’t know how long you had run for, you had to have at least gained a good deal of headway, right? There was no sign of anyone or anything around you, save for the eerie atmosphere of the metaverse itself. No people, no shadows, no nothing, simply you and the silence of a false city. Though still you felt unsettled, ever sense wired and on alert, waiting for when the silence would shatter into a million fragile pieces.

It was the sound of boot heels scuffing the pavement that broke the silence and set you off again, bolting off down the route you thought best with a quick glance. Yet the sound of boots didn’t die away, as it had when you had first ran, no matter how hard you pushed yourself. No, it echoed in your ears, growing louder and clearer even, and you willed yourself to run faster, lest the game come to an abrupt end. But even with the added talents that came with the strange world of cognition, you could only run so fast and so far before you were caught. Your last choice was to hide, even if it there was no true escape. The thought of capture made your heart drum a somehow heavier rhythm, and wracked your body with pins and needles of adrenaline.

Even if hiding was likely to be a fruitless effort in the end, you had to try. You couldn’t give up without exhausting every avenue available to you and using every bit of your wits. You had no other choice either, not when the sound of your tail was so hot in pursuit, and steadily gaining no matter how much ground you covered. At this rate, it would be only a couple minutes, if you were lucky, before your pursuer caught up with you.

You veered sharply, ducking and weaving past cars and light posts and distorted obstacles otherwise out of place in a typical cityscape. With one final burst of speed, you sprinted through a narrow alley and past the corners of several buildings. Finally, you spied a small alcove amongst one of the building exteriors, and hurriedly tucked yourself into it and the shadows it provided. You flattened yourself back against the bricks, trying to blend in with the darkness. You covered your mouth and nose with one gloved hand to suppress the ragged breaths spilling from your lips, and cast your gaze warily out on the cognitive city.

For an instant, all was still, though the sounds that alerted you to your pursuer’s presence were evident nearby even then. Your breath stalled in your throat as you watched him come into sight, slowing from a run to a cautious walk. Clad from head to toe in black leather and silver trim and metal, he cut an imposing figure. Your eyes lingered over the various weapons strapped and holstered on his person, adding a greater air of menace, before turning your attention to his masked face. Even with the mask, you could tell he was watching keenly, searching for even the tiniest sign of where you had gone. You thought your heart might erupt from your chest when he looked straight at you, or rather straight at your hiding place. You didn’t dare make a sound, didn’t dare breathe, didn’t dare even blink, lest he find you somehow.

But he looked away, and you could breathe again, still trying to stifle it against your palm. You couldn’t make yourself move a muscle yet, though. Not until he broke into a jog again, and then a sprint, heading down the block. You waited in your hiding spot a while longer, wanting to be positive he was far gone enough that you could no longer hear him anywhere nearby. Finally, you withdrew from your cover, eyes wide as if if it would help you peer more easily through the dusky light. Your heart raged in your chest, unwilling to calm down, and your mouth was dry, your body hot and tingly and jittery all over.

You swept the area once, twice, three times, and nothing met your eyes. Nor did anything alert your ears. A light fog was settling over the area, making it hard to see very far away. Though the same fog would likely impair his sight, too. Staying on edge, you went about getting your bearings to head back to your rendezvous point. Your thought processes were abruptly interrupted, however, by the sudden gnawing sense you weren’t alone anymore. The hair on the back of your neck and arms stood on end, and you whirled in place once more, coming face-to-face, or mask-to-mask, rather, with the man clad in archaic black leather and metal.

Instinctively, you tried to make a break for it. But he seemed to have been expecting that, and before you could dart away again, resuming the chase, his arms lashed out. He caught you half-turned, looping his arms around your midsection and pulling you fast against you. You squirmed and struggled for a moment against the tight embrace, gloved fingers digging roughly but uselessly into the leather of his clothes and failing to accomplish much. His strength suppressed yours, and his hold was a vice you couldn’t pry apart. All your effort gained you was knocking off the wide-brimmed hat topping his head. You stopped, deciding to save your energy, eyeing the man with full attention.

“You know, you’re a lot faster than you look.” His voice was smooth and level, as if he hadn’t been pelting after you in hot pursuit for god knows how long. “But being fast isn’t enough,” he informed you, releasing part of his hold to reach up and pull down the sharply angled mask hiding his face. Mischief and satisfaction gleamed in the dark eyes behind it.

The cocky tone in his voice reinvigorated your will to escape, out of sheer stubbornness or a second wind, you weren’t sure. You punished against his grasp again suddenly, weakened now that he held onto you with only one arm. His mask slipped through his fingers and tumbled to the ground when you tried to take advantage of the perceived moment of overconfidence. But his hand snapped out in a flash, and the arm still wrapped around you squeezed tighter. His fingers curled back to grasp the base of your skull, catching in your hair. Between the strengthened coil of his arm and the new grip above your neck, your chances of breaking free became even more abysmal in an instant.

“It’d be enough for someone who doesn’t know me, Wolf,” you argued. Your words sounded irritable and casual, though the thundering pulse in your ears threatened to block out your voice.

“Shame for you I do then, huh?” Wolf - or Zenkichi, as you knew outside the confines of the metaverse - sounded very pleased with himself.

Between the smooth sound of his voice and how close you were caught against him, the tingling feeling of adrenaline that had rolled through you before during the chase had morphed into something stronger, though just as primal. Ravenous and hot, it let you tense and burning up, waiting to see what would happen next.

He didn’t give you time to retort to his quip, spinning around with you still held tight in his grasp. He leapt forward, and the world lurched and shifted, until you felt the familiar scrape and snag of rugged stone catching your clothes. You were breathless as Zenkichi leaned in, releasing you from his embrace in favor of caging you in against the building wall with his body. A sidelong glance revealed you were back in the alcove you had hidden in before. Looking to Zenkichi, wearing a grin that was equal parts knowing and cheeky, told you he had been well aware of your hiding spot. He had known where you were as soon as he looked straight toward you.Failing to notice you had been only a pretense to lure you into letting down your guard. You had walked right into his hands.

But there was little time to dwell on your mistakes; the hunt had come to a close, and it was time for the hunter to indulge in his prey. Zenkichi reminded you of that clearly as he bent down with his fingers remaining snared in your hair, using his grip to coax your head back. He left a trail of fervent kisses and sharp nips along your throat, left bare by your outfit. Beaten in your game, you gave in, leaning back against the brick, letting him pin your body there. And arching into the fiery touch of his lips. He said nothing, but as his lips skated over your pulse, hammering in your throat, you felt his lips quirk. A satisfied smile that was forgotten about as quickly as it had come as he continued to ravage your neck.

It wasn’t long before the assault on your skin turned you into a mewling mess pushed against the stone, plaint and hot under his lips. There was a fervor fueling the press of his lips, the stroke of his tongue, the pinch of his teeth. The same fervor burning in you as well, roaring through you and boiling your blood. The unyielding buckles of his several belts were hard and unpleasant, pressing into you so forcefully, but another hardness stood out as well, one far more pleasant and enticing.

Your hips twitched reflexively against his when a well-placed bit made you moan openly into the empty air. A hiss slipped through Zenkichi’s lips, and his actions paused for an instant, before renewing with a vigor. The new effort made you cry out all over again. But he was only satisfied with the small tastes of kisses and bites for so long. He was hungry for so much more, and you were all too pleased to surrender and let him devour you.

The world whirled again, and your eyes shot wide with surprise for a second, before Zenkichi’s hand between your shoulders pressed you forward, back against the wall, pinning you place once more. Your cheek and chest met the stone, your mask shielding you from some of the scrape of the bricks, and you stilled again. A shudder of anticipation rolled through you at the slow creep of his hand lower, and lower, tracing over the curve of your back and the swell of your ass. The wandering hand moved back up, joining its twin and curling beneath the waist of your pants, and tugging them down swiftly.

Your own hands, now lying flat against the bricks, dug at the rough service when his hands inched back up, one stopping to roughly knead a handful of your ass, while the other cupped your center through damp panties. Two leather-clad fingers hooked beneath the fabric, pushing it aside before disappearing past it and between your lips, searching. They found their quarry smoothly enough, sinking into your hole to the knuckles, before pumping in and out. A whine a murmured ‘ fuck ’ burst from you, and you clung to the wall tighter, desperate for something the latch onto, even if the abrasive surface made your fingertips sting.

The finger-fucking didn’t last very long though, enough to make you needy and tense, and when he withdrew his fingers from your slick cunt you managed to turn your gaze back and peek at him. You swallowed hard and your pussy throbbed when th sight of him putting two fingers to his lips met your eyes, the material glistening with your wetness. He cleaned each finger quickly, at the same time seeming to relish the taste of you on the leather.

His glance met yours, pupils dilated so wide you could barely made out the color beyond them, hunger and ardor boring into you. It was a wild and intense expression, borne from the cocktail of lust and adrenaline the lust had filled you bow with; one you hadn’t seen before on Zekichi’s face. But it wasn’t frightful, save for perhaps how much it ignited your own desire. Unabled to hold his gaze any longer, you turned back to eye the bricks, another shiver wracking you.

The crunch of leather and the clink of metal behind you made you even more taut with excitement, and you squeezed your thighs together to quiet the demanding ache between them as you waited. The mood was running too hot - searing you both - for you to need to wait very long, though. Even that brief wait felt like far too much, far too long long in your heated mind and surely in his.

You nearly groaned in relief as the thick head of his cock pushed through your soaked lips, and you weren’t sure how you resisted the urge to slam your hips back and impale yourself on his length. Greedy hands latched onto your hips, fingertips digging hard into your skin with each new inch that entered you. A sharp inhale and a heady, feral groan drew your attention, but you didn’t dare capture that primal gaze again, not when you were already so on edge. You might explode from the sheer desire coursing through you if you chanced it.

Hallways inside, Zenkichi threw any shred of remaining patience to the wind, rolling his hips forward and sheathing himself the rest of the way inside, jostling you against the wall. You ignored the jolt and the burn in your fingertips, clinging to the bricks as if they were your lifeline. The only thing on your mind was the length of him buried hard and deep inside, the fullness complemented by a hot ache. He leaned forward, his body pushing more flush against yours, pressing his lips back to your neck.

Words ghosts over your skin, muffled, and when they reached you, they were gravelly and breathless, but shaky. “Didn’t think you’d be so into this.” The words were quiet, almost as if he were speaking to himself rather than you. “Fuck, didn’t think I’d be so into this.” The rest came as an afterthought, punctuated by a growling moan.

You couldn’t bring yourself to refute his words, even silently, nor did you want to. Your moans half-stifled by the bricks were enough on their own, not even considering your inability to think about much else other than his dick driving in and out of you.

His hips rocked harder, faster, and his breath grew heavier, broken when he pressed more sloppy bites and kisses to your skin. Some were careless enough that might have caused you to wince, had you been in a less aroused state of mind. As it was, each new sensation, whether painful or enjoyable, blended together into a swirling ball of desire and heat that made you more lost with each one. The desperate rut of him against you, the tight grip on your hips sure to leave a few finger-shaped marks, and the smothering heat of his body, contrasting with the cool, rough stone in places where your bare skin touched it. It was all pushing you faster and faster towards the peak and threatening to shove you over.

Beyond the pair of you, the world stayed silent and still, shattered by the myriad of shamelessly obscene sounds pouring from your mouth and Zenkichi’s. The rustle of leather joined the sound of skin slapping together rhythmically and the gasp of panting breath. He was saying something in your ear, something you couldn’t quite make out, unsure whether it was a curse or praise or complete gibberish. You cried out his name, or rather, the name you were supposed to call him then, ‘ Wolf’. The word rolled so easily off your tongue, again and again, like some strange prayer.

Everything was adding up, your breathing shorter and more ragged, and you couldn’t keep yourself from grinding back into every hard thrust. A sharp, unexpected slap on your ass made you hiss between your teeth, but otherwise just encouraged you to buck back into him with more enthusiasm. Your belly and the muscles in your thighs felt so achingly tense, and your legs quivered beneath you. You found yourself fleetingly thankful the weight of his body held you to the wall. The thought was swept away though as the sensations peaked, and you weren’t sure if you could it much longer.

In a single, smooth motion, Zenkichi wrapped one arm around your waist, his fingertips skimming over your skin until the gloved digits found your clit, rubbing quick, tight circles. It was the final puzzle piece you needed to come undone, nearly screaming your satisfaction to the empty block. Zenkichi cursed into your shoulder, your cunt intent on enticing him to spill himself inside of you and join you in ecstasy. By the pitch of his hot breath, and the several following crass words, he was having a hard time resisting it.

His fingers stroked you through your orgasm, the waves of bliss ebbing into oversensitive pulses that made you squirm and try not to thrash your head against the stone, whimpering. His hands stiffened and stilled with his hips as he finished, a few last thrusts pumping you so full of cum that when he stopped moving, a warmth trickled down one of your inner thighs.

You whined when he moved to pull back, unsure if you were protesting his withdrawal or how it made you shudder with lingering oversensitivty. Zenkichi rested a hand on your shoulder after pulling out, and you felt his breath washing over your skin, making goosebumps rise on it all over again. You were loathe to move and shattered the serene, exhausted moment, and the pleasant haze that accompanied it. But there was a time to bask and relax, and you could do that later, once you had taken your leave from the metaverse.

Zenkichi stepped back, and you heard him redoing his belts and adjusting and smoothing his own outfit. You turned to face him, slowly, leaning against the wall and holding onto the bricks to ensure you stayed on your feet. You realized your mask was crooked, half on, half off of your face, surely thanks to the position you had been in.

When he looked up from tucking himself away and sorting out his clothes, Zenkichi’s face twisted into an expression of concern, a hint of guilt tinging the look. You matched the expression with one of confusion, unsure what was its cause. “What’s that look for? What’s wrong?” you asked worriedly, though it came out tired and soft. You glanced all around you, unable to discern what had made him so concerned.

“Shit, can’t you feel it. Your cheek.. and your hands.” he began, and you lifted one hand, palm up to see what was trying to get across.

Looking at your palm, you realized what had caused his distress. The stone had taken more of a toll on your hands than you had noticed in the moment. You winced, out of reflex rather than real pain, the high of your orgasm still faintly lingering and dulling your own concerns. They were going to hurt tomorrow though, you were sure of that. Reaching up to your face gingerly, you found it was similarly scraped and scuffed, though only on the side your mask had been askew.

“Ah, it’s fine, it’ll heal.. and it was totally worth it,” you dismissed, trying to dissuade the guilt mixed with the concern.

“Are you sure I didn-”

“I promise, I’m alright,” you interrupted him before he could fuss any more. You had wanted your little game as much as him, maybe more, and you weren’t going to let either of you regret it over a few scrapes and bruises.

“We should get out here though,” you noted, at least fixing your own clothes. “That was fun, but we probably shouldn’t stick around.”