#and hes an artist. the most fucked up combination. to him any way i stray away from fascism is just temporary for funsies

[thickest-antivirus-programs]

I know im not the victim here but i learned about how capitalism sucks and child slavery still exists through tumblr and really lost faith in humanity... its weird cause i cant go back to who i was as a child and teenager because all my dreams were fuelled by a very inacurate view of the world (i guess thats what growing up is but i thought there would be more similarities) and on one hand its good i dont wanna go back, on the other i have to go against alot of things i promised myself..

[string-bean-requiem]

New addition - Vampire!Tattoo Artist!Risotto x Human!Reader

Summary - Ris finds a kitten and brings it home to you

Note - Reader uses She/Her pronouns & is a woman. Modern AU

Genre - Fluff

Animals never really took too much of a liking towards Risotto Nero, who may or may not be disheartened by this very fact, but nevertheless, understands exactly why.

He was mother nature’s very own monstrous concoction of a top class predator. Hunting any and all species with warm, crimson blood flowing within their bodies — the very substance that keeps him alive and functioning — with speed faster than a cheetah in its prime, strength greater than any nation’s army combined, along with nails and teeth that could slice through almost anything thrice more precise than any polished blade ever could.

So while he understood well and why animals were deadly afraid of him, disappointment couldn’t resist its way towards his un-beating heart when yet another dog has scampered away from him, all because he simply glanced its way.

Although, disappointment may to be too light of an adjective to describe the depth of emotions he feels towards the rejection of his favourite companions, as the same species had used to be the ones Risotto would seek comfort in when he was exhausted from his own (or what used to be his own) kind’s reactions towards his... ‘vibe’, as the current time’s society would say. Not that he was surprised with that one though. Even during his time as a human, he was well feared by many other humans. If not for his stature and demeanour, then surely for his occupation as a seasoned assassin.

Even though not much has changed when he does come in contact with most humans these days, especially more-so now that he has sleeves of tattoos complimenting the obsidian of his sclera and the glaring crimson in his iris, there was at least a sanctuary, a safe haven in specific types of people all throughout time: those who do not care, and those who are accepting.

Both of which have never cowered away from him, both of which some makes up Risotto’s close knit circle of people he actively cares about, and both of which can be found in his lover... his partner... his better half — you.

You, who despite your species’ natural evolution in (rightfully) fearing vampires, looked at him and felt nothing of the sort and instead, saw him as Risotto Nero. You saw him as the man he was and is, saw past his predator nature, and proceeded to peel back his guarded layers one by one, each with a softer touch than the last, and always left him craving and breathless, but never regretful.

Sometimes, Risotto even thinks being a blood-sucker isn’t so bad. That all those years spent confused, afraid, and lonely was quite alright. With every memory fracture blurring together into a kaleidoscope of nebulous haze, seeming like a distant past, unfamiliar even, and slowly, he feels it slipping past his fingers with each day he spends with your lovely being. Perhaps, he even feels lucky for having this... predicament of a nature being forced upon him lifetimes ago, seeing as how this exact curse was the reason why he had been able to live long enough to have met you. Ever so often though, he has to pinch himself in an attempt to try to soothe himself from wondering if this was all just a very nice dream (or a very sick and convoluted prank on him) because he feels as if it’s too good to be true... but he knows better than that. The swell of his dead heart just by thinking about the welcome back kiss you always pepper onto his lips when he reaches home reminds him just of that.

However, before Risotto could lose himself further into his reminiscing, a weak, shaky mewl echoes softly from the alleyway to his right. It even surprises him to a point of stillness because it sounded so much like a cry for help — for him, the predator of all beings.

But it couldn’t be, it didn’t make sense for it to be, and he almost starts his journey back home again, until the same frail vocals call out for him once more.

Risotto’s head turns towards the direction of the sound and he’s met with the sight of a sketchy pathway. Not that he had anything to worry about though, he drank blood for a living after all.

As another cry sounds off, Risotto approaches forward with tentative steps, not wanting to scare off the very obviously weak animal whilst trying to show that he meant no harm or malice. It seemed to work, oddly enough, when a tuft of obsidian fur pokes out of the confines of its shabby cardboard box, revealing its bright golden eyes to stare at Risotto’s own crimson pair.

An odd tension enveloped the two beings, and a beat passes before Risotto takes the leap to pet the kitten’s head — and he’s so glad that he did.

How long has it been since an animal has nuzzled its little head into his expectant palm? How many years has it been since the last animal had deemed him safe enough to lick at his hand? How much time has passed since soft little paws have been padded at his hand as if to say “Pet me more!”?

Long enough.

So much so that it has him perplexed that a weak little kitten is not wetting itself in fear of his presence so far. Questions and guesses as to why whirls in his head, yet he couldn’t help but find himself almost giddy at the turn of events... at this brave little Bombay.

Risotto’s excitement is cutoff short when he notices its shivering body, which is quite unsurprising, as the little fellow was showing signs of being on the edge of malnourishment, and his heart squeezes a little at that.

With careful and steady movements, showing that once again he meant no harm, he shrugs off his coat, hoping it’ll be of use to keep the animal warm, and with the utmost care and gentleness he could muster, wraps it up and tucks its back into its makeshift shelter. Risotto makes sure the kitten’s safe and comfortable before ultimately deciding to bring it home with him, to you, while wondering along the journey if you would want to keep it as much as he does.

God, he hopes you do, but he knows cats can be picky with who they want to show affections to, who they want to accept as their caretaker, and he thinks he would be disheartened greatly if the animal in his hold did not take a liking to you. It would be such a cruel fucking joke if the one animal who didn’t shun or cower at him liked him, but not you, especially since he knows you’ve been wanting a cat for a long time, having unintentionally overheard this desire of yours with your friend a while back when they came to visit you. And it would be so cruel when he finally finds one that won’t claw at his eyes 24/7 that it may end up trying to claw your eyes instead.

You better like her. I won’t know what to do if you don’t...

With each step bringing Risotto closer to your shared home, he grows a little more tense at the prospect of introducing the stray to you, how it’ll react, how it’ll go down... and before he knows it, he’s already through the front door and calling out your name to signal his arrival home.

“Welcome home, Ris. How was work today?”, your voice echoes a little in the cozy space. The domesticity of your tone etches into his memories and he files away into a secure space in his heart, feeling his worries calming by the second.

He could never get tired of this — of you, in the home you’ve both built together, where happiness and content are seeped into every crevice with a warm smile and soft eyes and even softer hearts.

A moment passes as he commits this scene into his heart, like he had done so with every other point in time that he has shared with you, and he realises he’s gone off track a little when your curious eyes continues to peer at him, his sudden stillness, and the cardboard box in his arm.

“It was a slow day at the parlour...”, Risotto quickly mumbles. His lips soft and warm against your smiling ones, lingering for a beat longer than usual, wanting to bask in your familiarity to ease the nerves beginning to flutter again. “...but a couple of interesting things happened.”.

Risotto pulls away and immediately misses your warmth. Twinges of strained excitement begin to dig deeper into the depths of his abdomen, and he can’t help but hope once again that the little fur ball would take a liking to you because fuck does he wants to raise it with you so damn much.

“Oh?”, your eyebrow raises inquisitively, “Does it have anything to do with that box in your hand?”.

Risotto all but nods in accordance and settles the cardboard box onto the coffee table. Your curiosity peaking as you glance between the shabby box and his gaze.

“I overheard you wanting a cat once. And I know it’s hard to have a pet around with my... disposition, but...”, he trails off when he reaches towards the box to dig out the star of today’s show, still bundled in his heavy coat.

“No way...”.

Your eyes widen, eyebrows shot upwards and your grin spreads itself wide across your lips when a tiny head of fur ruffles itself out of its makeshift bed.

Slits of honied gold peered at you from its position, wary and cautious of its own safety with every step you take forward. Risotto own breath subconsciously bates as your hand inches towards the Bombay’s head apprehensively. You’ve already surmised that this little kitten is more than fine with your vampiric lover, seeing as how it seems to make itself completely at home in his coat and in his hold, so the only hurdle left to complete your new family was for the same kitten to take a liking to you as well, and the pressure was gnawing its way at your nerves. The both of you were well aware that cats were picky with who they liked, and if this one cat didn’t like you... you wouldn’t know how to handle that and it’s consequences.

You honestly didn’t want to even think about the consequences... and it seemed like you didn’t have to.

It immediately took a liking to you, nuzzling it’s head into your hand before licking at your digits the same way it did with Risotto earlier today.

It likes you, and most of the tension unravels it’s hold on his muscles. The hardest hurdle was over, leaped in perfect form and done with, and Risotto sighs in relief before he asks, “Do you want to keep it?”.

The chances of you rejecting this proposal was practically nonexistent, seeing as how your eyes are practically glimmering at the kitten pawing at your fingers, but he was a gentleman and he wanted your verbal confirmation to expanding your family together. You, of course, agreed without a beat of hesitation, all while cooing and petting the mewling Bombay in his arms.

God, he could live in this moment forever.

A vivid smile takes over Risotto’s features as he steals your attention for a bit, his fingers tipping your chin upwards quick enough for you to catch his dimples making their coveted appearance, and you have to take a moment to re-collect your swooning self. He always did look the most lovely when he was unabashedly happy, something you pride yourself on being able to bring out of him. But before he could swoop in for another kiss, your brain kickstarted and suddenly you remembered.

“Wait you said ‘a couple of interesting things happened’... what’s the other thing?”.

“Oh. A pair of drunkards walked in during the afternoon and demanded to get matching tattoos of each other’s irises on their nipples. I refused, of course.”

“...what?”, your eyes widened in disbelief.

You wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the incident, and the fact that Risotto had delivered it as deadpan as ever, which is totally up your alley in terms of humour, but you couldn’t even find it in yourself to give him a chuckle. Instead, all you felt was concern and disbelief bubbling at the blatant entitlement and stupidity the drunkards had displayed to your beloved.

“Are you feeling okay? Did they hurt you?”, you voiced. Your tone soft, but not without your signature protective edge reserved for your loved ones, and you find one of your hands leaving the kitten to reach out to cup Risotto’s warming cheek.

He understands how you must be feeling, knowing that beneath your nonchalant personality reveals a more protective side, and he loves that about you. He loves that no matter how extreme or how insignificant the matter is, you’d always show him that you’ll care for and about his wellbeing, going as far as even fighting for him and his honour, even if he’s the one who’s a powerful supernatural being.

He loves it, he loves you, and he loves how you’re so consistent in your love for him, and in this moment, he feels it once again and melts into your palm.

“Yes, and yes.”, Risotto’s voice is just a touch tender as he drowns in the love pouring from your eyes. “No need to worry about me, biddùzza. I’m a vampire. I could drain them dry before they can even blink.”, he reassures.

Your posture relaxes and you can’t help but huff out a chuckle at his words, being able to finally find his apathy and the situation a little funny in its own way. But that doesn’t mean he still should just keep up that attitude forever. Always easier to be safe than sorry. Powerful supernatural hunter or not.

“You know I can’t help it. You’re too soft, Ris.”, you want to take on a scolding tone, but how could you when he looks at you like that? Like you’ve hand-crafted every single good and beautiful thing in this world with graceful weaves and gentle touches... like you’re the sole reason the moon glows every night its own nebulous light, surrounded by clouds of stars and quiet skies... How could you when he looks at you like you’ve bloomed spring to his world drowning storms?

A sigh holds itself back in your throat, opting instead to lean in and peck his lips, pillowy with just a touch of coldness that you’ve grown to be fond of, before returning your attention back to the eager little kitten in his arms again, and Risotto commits the sweetness of your smile and the fondness in your eyes for the purring animal to his already expansive memory.

“That’s reserved only for you...”, he murmurs.

A millennia ago, if someone were to tell Risotto that he’d be happily committed to his human partner, voice fond and gaze overflowing with adoration as he listens to them worry over his well-being and comfort whilst they pet a purring little kitten in his hands, he’d have ripped their head off for spouting something so absurd... for taunting him with something seemingly so unobtainable.

But here he is, lips meeting yours again in a loving kiss, with warm blissful domesticity encapsulating your shared home as the new addition to your little family nuzzles itself into his palm.

...and now you too.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Daisies

Sam Winchester x Harry Styles

Word Count: ~1330

Warnings: All the fluff. Recreational drug use. Dean snark.

A/N: Rockstar AU, continued. You don’t really need to read Handshake to enjoy this, but it’s basically a follow-up. Pure silly fun. I blame it on @fookinghelljensensthighs​. 

Dean claps and whistles as Greta Van Fleet file offstage with one last wave. He doesn’t want the set to stop; it’s been a long time since he’s been able to hang out in the pit at a show with any sort of anonymity. 

He could’ve been watching from sidestage, up in the artists-only bleachers, but where’s the fun in that? 

Dean’s gotta hand it to the kid, the “disguises” he’d suggested are surprisingly effective. Dean feels utterly ridiculous with a bandanna over his mouth, like some sort of fuckin’ Old West bandit, but it did help with the dust all day, and between that and a low-angled hat, he hasn’t gotten more than a few double-takes. Harry, in his blue wig, massive sunglasses, and long skirt, didn’t draw so much as a second glance when they were walking around yesterday. Trust the former boy band member to know how to get around unnoticed. 

Speaking of, better get back to them before they decide to go on an adventure, or (worse) before the kid manages to talk Sammy into another fuckin’ genius idea like the Silly String Incident of 4am yesterday. It’s almost sunset; he’s pretty sure Harry turns into a pumpkin when you get him wet after dark. Something like that, anyway. 

About four months ago, this ostentatiously pretty dude showed up on the doorstep of the Winchesters’ Nashville house, toting a fucking Gucci overnight bag, and he just… stayed. It’s become normal to come downstairs for coffee and find an international pop star helping himself to Dean’s favorite cereal, absent-mindedly singing Prince songs while decked out in a silk kimono and a leather collar. Dean’s life is weird. 

Sammy’s been smiling a whole lot lately, though… the real, big, brilliant smiles that Dean didn’t see enough of, for a while. 

They had a few rough years, getting the band started; they’ve had their ups and downs, and sometimes Dean feels guilty for dragging Sam all around the country in a van when this music thing wasn’t really his dream to begin with. Then Dad died, and Dean might’ve been drinking too much, and Cas almost quit when they were recording the first album, and it was touch and go there, for a while. It felt like Sam grew up too fast. He grew up before he was ready, always trying to be the responsible one, the peacekeeper, always working so hard to live up to what he thought Dean expected of him. 

Anyway. Anything that makes Sam smile like that is fine in Dean’s book.

He makes his way past the VIP checkpoint and into artist camping, and he spots Harry and Sam from a distance. They’re right where he left them, thank fuck, sprawled out on a blanket under some trees in a relatively private clearing near the parked tour bus. 

Sam’s sprawled, at least. He’s lying back with his head on Harry’s lap, and… oh dear god he’s wearing a flower crown. Dean stops dead in his tracks, blinks, and rubs his eyes, as if that might change what he’s seeing. No such luck. 

It’s not some fuckin’ Coachella fake flower bullshit, either. Sam’s got an honest-to-fuck daisy chain around his head, and as Dean gets closer, he realizes Harry’s currently braiding more flowers into Sam’s hair. There’s a fuckin’ piece of grass in there, too. A florist just moved in and set up shop on his head.

“Hey, Timberlake,” Dean barks, trying to make his voice come out stern instead of soft and embarrassingly fond. 

Harry looks up as Dean approaches and declares lazily, “If it isn’t my favorite Dean-Bean.” 

“Did you pop down to Rivendell while I was out? Who’s the elf queen?” Dean snarks, and Sam finally tilts his head to look at Dean and give him a floppy-armed sort of wave and a goofy grin. 

“Dean! You’re back!” he says, with way more excitement than Dean thinks his ninety-minute absence really warranted. “Check out this sunset!” 

Dean glances up, to where the sky is just beginning to turn vaguely peach-ish, and looks back down at Sam, who’s now holding his own hands up in front of his face and examining them with a seriously enraptured stare. 

Harry, meanwhile, is looking up at Dean with the world’s most innocent, dimpled, picture-perfect, squeaky-clean, teen-mag grin, the grin that means he’d probably be in a lot of trouble right now if he wasn’t Harry fuckin’ Styles. Dean raises an eyebrow. The kid bats his goddamn eyelashes, like butter wouldn’t melt in his goddamn mouth. 

“I wasn’t even gone for two fuckin’ hours,” Dean grumbles. He sits down on the blanket next to them and looks down resignedly at his brother’s spaced-out grin. “What’d you do to him? Mushrooms again?” 

“What do I look like, some sort of drug pusher?” Harry says mournfully, managing to look wounded for exactly two seconds. 

Dean rolls his eyes. “No, you look like a stray teenybopper wearing his grandma’s clothes.” 

The impish smile returns with a vengeance. “Just a bit of LSD. D’you want some?” 

Dean sighs and looks down at his little brother. “How ya doin’, Sammy?” 

“Pretty fucking fantastic, actually,” Sam says, and then dissolves into laughter for no apparent reason, rubbing his cheek against Harry’s thigh (the paisley velvet pants he’s wearing do look pretty soft, to be fair) like some overgrown cat. 

Harry’s already pulling a bit of tinfoil out of the pocket of his cardigan and unfolding it. 

“I dunno, he’s never done this before, what if…” Dean hedges. 

Sam flails upright, refolding his long limbs to sit cross-legged, and reaches out to grab one of Dean’s hands with both of his. 

“Dean,” he says, painfully earnest, eyes huge and pleading. “Please do this with me? I’m having so much fun, and I want you to have so much fun. With me. Us. Fun. You know? I just want you to see how amazing these trees are right now!” 

“If you think those trees are cool, just you wait til we find some music,” Harry says, leaning in conspiratorially, draping himself over Sam’s back and clinging like a drunken octopus, as he tends to do. “Don’t worry, Dean-Bean, I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” 

The combined power of their dimples could probably melt steel beams, and that’s before you take into account the puppy-eyes. Dean just rolls his eyes and opens his mouth, and Harry cackles with slightly alarming glee as he places a tiny square of cardstock on the tip of Dean’s tongue. 

“Down the rabbit hole, I guess,” Dean says, smiling in spite of himself at the childish joy on Sam’s face. 

“Right,” Harry says decisively. “Time to gear up and find some fun.” He scrambles to his feet, pulling Sam up after him, and Dean follows. 

They only make it a couple steps before Sam side-swipes him into a gigantic bear hug. Dean returns it bemusedly at first, but after a second he relaxes into it, giving Sam a squeeze. 

“I love you, Dean,” Sam mumbles, and he’s doing that sincere thing again when he pulls back, his expression open and honest in a way that Dean knows shouldn’t make him quite so uncomfortable. 

“You’re on drugs and there’s a fuckin’ shrubbery in your hair, it’s real hard to take you seriously right now,” Dean grumbles, trying to ignore the lump in his throat. “But… I love you too.” 

Sam laughs and slings an arm around Harry’s shoulders, and the two of them start quoting the Knights of Ni at each other as they walk unsteadily down the path. Dean doesn’t mind that they’re a few steps ahead of him. It gives him a second to wipe his eyes. 

It’s still new, this version of Sammy, the one who hugs Dean for no reason and says “I love you” without thinking twice. He’s just been happier, these last four months. 

Dean thinks he could get used to seeing his brother smile like that. 

.

.

More in this ‘verse over HERE! 

.

[itsme-autumn]

Artists Make The Best Lovers

Author: @itsme-autumn​ Pairing: William “Ironhead” Miller x Reader Warnings: swearing, smut Prompt: using Will as your nude model

“Will, I have to, it’s for my class.” You huff. He’s overreacting. 

“I don’t like it.”

You lay your head on the kitchen table, exasperated. “And What? You think I’m excited to stare at some random’s guy junk for a few hours? It is what it is. It’s art. It’s completely professional.”

Will’s jaw ticks. "You have no say in who? They just pair you with some perv?”

You perk your head up as an idea pops into your head. Will probably won’t like it much better. “No, actually. I can pick my model if I want. If I’m...” You look him up and down and bite your bottom lip. “...inspired.”

Will looks at you confused for about three seconds and then deadpans.

“No.”

“Come onnnn.” You wiggle your eyebrows.

“No way, Y/N.”

You sigh. “Okay. I guess I’ll give Enrico a call, I should ask him exactly how much charcoal I’ll need to bring...”

You go to grab your phone but Will snatches it before you can. You see his upper lip bulge out as his tongue moves across his teeth. He’s glaring at you while you try to keep your poker face.

You wait a beat then shoot him a winning grin. “It’ll be fine, babe. Maybe even fun!” You get up and go to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Up to you how you want to prepare your...area...but this will be seen by my entire class and potentially the other art classes, so you might want to trim a bit.”

You have to run to dodge Will’s hands from trying to grab you, barely making your escape out of the room.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Will has faced terrorists and open fire. Roadside bombs and plane crashes. He’s been shot. Almost died on more than one occasion and has had to survive in the wilderness for days on end.

And he’s never felt more uncomfortable than he is right now. Lying on his own couch. Naked.

Or he’s about to be naked anyway. Is it too late to call Enrico?

You’re busying yourself getting your supplies together. Setting out your charcoal, blenders, erasers. You adjust the lighting again for the third time. 

You’re more nervous than you thought you’d be. 

When you feel like there isn’t possibly anything else you need to do, you clear your throat, unsure how to get things started. “Okay..a-are you ready?”

Will slowly stands up and nods, hooking his fingers into his boxer briefs. You blush, and then blush harder at the fact that you’re blushing. What is wrong with me? It’s nothing I haven’t seen before! Get it together, Y/N.

For some reason, seeing him this way is effecting you differently. Maybe because it’s in a non-sexual setting–purely observational. And anyone with eyes can observe how handsome Will is. Every part of him. It’s unnerving. 

“Y/N?”

You realize that Will’s been talking to you, but you’ve been–understandably–distracted. “Hmm?”

Will smirks. “So...how do you want me?”

“Oh. Uh..just standing there, but tilt your head to the left a little and shift your right foot....” You can tell you’ve lost him by the way he’s looking at you. Laughing, you walk up to him to position him the way you need. 

You slowly trail your fingers down his arm–feeling his muscles, his fine hair, his veins–before placing it where you want. You do the same with the other arm. You kneel down in front of him, taking both hands around one knee and bending it just slightly to the side, then running your hands down his toned calf until you reach his foot and turn it. Since the other leg is fine where it is, you stand back up, sneaking in a quick kiss on his stomach on your way. You notice Will’s breathing has increased, but he hasn’t moved an inch from where you’ve placed him. You take his face in your hands and tilt it slightly, your fingers brushing through his beard. You reach up and fix a stray hair.

When you put your arms back down to your sides, the room is heavy with silence. 

Your nerves makes sense now. You’re not just nervous, you’re...intimidated. Here Will is in front of you. In all his glory.

His sweet, fine as hell, glory.

Your Will.

“You are so...beautiful, Will.” You breath out.

Will’s lips pull up slightly. “In general? Or are you referencing my dick specifically?”

You narrow your eyes, annoyed that he ruined the mood, is so pleased with himself, and that that was really funny. You reach forward and flick him just above his–apparently–most beautiful feature. He flinches so hard he almost falls over

“Jesus Christ, Y/N–”

“Stay still, babe.” You say sweetly as you return to your stool and begin your sketch. 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

It requires a lot of charcoal to draw Will.

You find yourself learning new features, finding new scars, memorizing every line of muscle. You’ve gotten lost in him.

Will has gotten lost in you as well. He’s never seen you more focused, so immersed in something. You have charcoal smudges on your face and your hair fell out of its properly placed bun ages ago. Will can’t think of a time when you were more beautiful than you are right now. 

You put the nub of charcoal down and slide your stool back, taking a look at your work. “Okay. Done.” You let out a deep breath.

Will turns his neck, rolling it around to stretch. He walks over to you, peering around the easel. “Can I?” You hesitate, but nod. He looks at the sketch thoughtfully. 

Will’s eyebrows go up slightly. “Babe.” 

“...yeah?” 

Oh no. Does he hate it? Did I smudge the penis and now it looks weird?

"You’re amazing, you know that?” His voice is low and soft, you feel as if you’ve been caressed with the sweet sound alone.

Will pulls you in for a kiss. It’s lazy and slow, as if he has all the time in the world. His hands move down your body, tracing fingertips down your arms, then back up again until he just ghosts over your breasts. You feel his erection on your thigh. You take in your hand, softly pumping it a few times before Will breaks the kiss.

“Your lack of clothing at this point really isn’t fair, love.” Will growls out. He slips your shirt over your head, then bends down, kissing your stomach before peeling your leggings off as well. Will picks you up by your thighs and presses you into the wall behind you. You put your hands around his neck, pulling his lips to yours, smearing charcoal on his skin. His fingers graze beneath the elastic of your panties, pulling them to the side. 

The sounds of your ragged breaths echo in Will’s ear. Your soft moans hot against his skin, your lips graze against his shoulder, your desperate whimpers–they’re enough send him over the edge, his hands gently caress your inner thigh. “You are so fucking beautiful, Y/N.” 

His deep voice and hot breath tingling against your ear, the combination making you tremble while creating an undeniable ache you knew you couldn’t contain any longer. 

“Please, Will...” You plead breathlessly, pulling him impossibly closer to you.

A little whimper escapes as you feel Will move his hips, slowly easing his cock into you. Your body, needy and aching, slowly starts to grind against him urging him into you further. Completely taken in the moment you briefly open your eyes gazing down into Will’s. 

You stay lost in each other, moaning in pleasure as he drives into you, your body melting against Will’s. The concept of time leaves you, just about all concepts and thoughts leave you except for Will.

Will around you.

Will in front of you.

Will inside of you.

You’re never intimidated when you’re together like this. The two of you fit together like the cliche puzzle pieces from romance novels and love songs. 

His teeth are just grazing your neck as he pumps in and out of you, increasing his pace, anchoring you to the wall. You and him are all pants and little moans as you go higher and higher together. A tear escapes down your cheek, not from sadness but from the pure and raw emotion that you are giving each other.

Will sees the tear and wipes it away with his thumb, his eyes questioning if you’re okay. You answer by pulling him in for a searing kiss. He moves his thumb between you, pressing it to your clit. You cry out into his mouth and he presses harder and starts moving it side to side in the way that gets you every time.

Will’s movements become more erratic. “You close, baby?” He strains out.

You’re so close that you’re having trouble forming words. You just whimper and move your hips against Will’s cock inside of you and thumb against you, welcoming your climax.

When it hits, you cling to Will, the pleasure almost too much to bare. Will’s release follows close behind and you feel his warmth start to coat your inner thighs. You both stay still for a few minutes, needing to hold on to come down for your respective highs. 

When Will finally sets you on the ground, your legs are weak in the best way. You hear Will chuckle behind you. Turning to ask what’s so funny, you see a large group of charcoal smudges where your back was just pressed. 

“Do you think charcoal comes off of walls?” But Will’s face says that he doesn’t give a shit if it does or doesn’t.

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Y/N: This smut wasn’t kind of hard to write for some reason?? I don’t know if I got the tone right that I was going for. Let me know what you think! 

Will Tag List: @calirindo​ @leapingoveroblivion​ @curly-minnie​ @melissataggart87​ @mrsjaxtellerfan​ @kitkat-589​ @soldierfirstclasszeldafair​ @captainfreecandyvan​ @lokilvrr​ @posiemax​

[scandeniall]

mirrors for friends ch//1

Pairing: TBD x reader (repost bc its not showing up in tags and ive had ppl check too sigh)

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Summary: Youre in a band, Mirrors For Friends with your college best friends Kuroo, Iwaizumi, and Atsumu. They're chaotic, your chaotic but you guys are on your way to the top together. Check a/n at end.

warnings: This IS multichapter. recreational marijuana mention. Everyone is over 21, tags will be added as needed but they're adults what do you expect.

wc: 1253

Inspiring playlists (updated as i find stuff) Apple music | Spotify

Ch. 1 // Mirrors For Friends: The Intro

The air was a mixture of sounds. Instruments being prepped, jokes being thrown, random conversations and the occasional song that played in the background. Just another day in Mirrors For Friends, well for everyone except for you. Earplugs in and an eye mask on, you’d been laying on the dingy couch since you arrived at the bar hours prior. Of course you just had to get a migraine on a day where your band had a show. It was about two hours to showtime, and you were just as good as dead. For once, you were thankful that you had your bassist, Atsumu to cover at least some of your vocals.

Atsumu, Miya. The youngest member remains a complete pain in your ass, but you couldn't see your life without him in it. He was the life of the party, and had been your party buddy during your early 20s. The one always down for a good adventure. You could always rely on him to tell you the honest truth, although it had taken a while to get past his overly blunt nature. Once you did, you saw the resident “pretty boy” for the dork that he was. The one who gets pouts whenever the conversation is moving too fast and he can’t think of a retort fast enough. The one who absolutely melted at the sight of food and would even share some of his brother’s famous onigiri with you. When he's not plucking bass strings he works as an assistant volleyball coach for the local high school. Your love for your band mate had eventually replaced your first meeting with the basest. A meeting than ended in you wanting nothing more than to wipe his stupid smirk off with your fist. You had just started your second year of university, completely minding your business until a stray volleyball made its way to the back of your head. Before anyone could even apologize, you’d manage to throw a few curses at the group of rowdy boys. Your future band mate had come over to apologize but ended it with “maybe you should've been paying more attention.”  After flicking him off you never thought you’d see him again, until you were formally introduced by none other than your drummer.

Hajime, Iwaizumi. The drummer of Mirrors For Friends. The oldest member of your quartet. There was only one year between you and him, but two years between him and Atsumu. Iwa, is the backbone of the band. The most responsible one, having taken care of a drunk you more times than you’d like to admit. If your feet were ever hurting, he’d be the one to give you a piggy back. He definitely looked the most bad ass of you all, with two sleeves of tattoos. Despite that he has a soft spot for the band. He's the most responsible of the band, but you learned that despite that nature, he knew how to have fun. He’d definitely supplied an underage you with alcohol before. When he’s not playing with the band, he's a tattoo artist, and has tattoo’d every member of the band multiple times. In fact, he was the only person you trusted to tattoo you. You’d met him midway through your first year of university, when he was an apprentice. Despite being 19, he’d already had a full sleeve and a shiny eyebrow piercing. In his attempts to calm you down, you learned that he was only a year above you. He was definitely more calming than the jerk that had dragged you to the tattoo shop in the first place. That person being your guitarist.

Tetsurou Kuroo, the guitarist of Mirrors For Friends. He was one of the first people you’d met in university where he ended up being your across neighbor. You’d had your door open in an attempt to get some air circulation in the stuffy dorm, when he noticed your guitar. Full of stickers, it looked used and he was curious. After, finding out the two of you had a common interest in music, the two of you became best friends. He’d ended up being the brother you never asked for. His teasing is similar to Atsumu, however he knew how to keep up. You two became nearly inseparable. He was the member you tended to confide in first, because it was just natural. The one always down to just vibe. You remember the many nights spent in private study rooms, just writing and talking music together. You quickly found out that his writing skills were incredible, not only that but he had the best ear for composing of any of your band mates. Some of your favorite pieces came from writing sessions with just the two of you. When he isn’t antagonizing your band, he works as a TA for a science class at your university. He decided about a year ago to go back to school for a higher degree in biochemistry.

Then there was you. Lead singer, keyboardist, and occasional guitar player when you felt like it. At 26, you’d been in the band since you were 20, and you wouldn’t change it for the world. You loved writing, you loved performing and you loved your boys. Even now when you could feel napkins that you had no doubt were greasy pizza stained ones being thrown at you. It took for the fifth one to hit your forehead to finally sit up, removing both your earplugs and eye mask. Groaning at the combination of fluorescent lighting and noise you shot death glares at your band mates. Who were all miraculously just standing next to one another, pretending to have just been doing nothing but talking. “Would you three do me a favor, and drive off a fucking cliff.”

“I told them to stop,” is what Iwaizumi said, but the smirk on his face said he played a role just like your other idiots.”

“Dude you threw the last one!” Kuroo chimed in.

“Yeah well Atsumu started it”

“What the fuck Iwa- selling me out”

If it weren't for the pounding behind your eyes you might’ve been amused and the usual bickering between the boys. Afterall, it was never serious. If only you could enjoy it.

“Would the 3 overgrown toddlers shut up.” Burying your face into your hand’s you felt the couch dip beside you in the now empty space, and another voice picked up from across the room.

“Yo- what's with the attitude today,” your bassist questioned. He had settled himself on a smaller couch, eyes narrowed on your miserable form. Once he heard the mention of a migraine, his gaze softened. “Tsumu, I’m gonna need to to sing a little more today alright. '' The younger boy nodded, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. He mentioned something about going to look for a pen and paper, so you two could outline a plan and to make sure you had a stool for tonight.

“You wanna go smoke? It should help a little,” the body next to you moved and you looked up to see Kuroo, offering a hand.. “It’s a spot in the shade out back, c’mon.” You took the hand and before you could head out your last bandmade stopped you.

“I have enough time to go pick up some Advil and maybe some caffeine. Don’t smoke too much, you know how strong Kuroo’s shit is. We still have a show tonight.”

“Don’t worry daddy Iwa, I’ve got our beloved lead singer. We’ll be fine.”

-----

a/n: alright so i’ve been inspired by samwrites Elixir (which YES 100000/10 recommends) AND sam has had an anon talking band au’s lately AND i saw a msby band au edit on twitter so i cracked out my keyboard.

ok but seriously, idk which guy im gonna end up doing so for now itll just be band dynamics, and then whoever sparks my interest or whoever is voted on after a few parts will win. I did a randomizer, got a winner and started but then started feeling the other possibilities. Anyways whoever is not the chosen ones its just friendship, no love triangles and shit. But whoever wins, just know I have a potential plot for ALL ((((im just too un-dedicated and busy with summer college courses to actually fully commit to all of them)))

lastly, this is me again experimenting w/ diff ways of writing so bare with me AND if anyone cares i could make a taglist.

[loudestsounds]

Top 50 Records of 2020

50- Melee by Dogleg

           You like some punk in your cereal? It’s a part of a healthy breakfast. Melee has something truly special here. It’s high octane when it needs to be while still maintaining precision and focus in the instrumentation and recording. Ultimately what’s compelling about the record is how frustrated everything sounds while still managing to maintain melody. It’s the sound of breaking shit to rhythm!

49- Grae by Moses Sumney

           A stunning and rich concoction of songs that leaves you bewildered. Moses Sumney has made something deeply personal while still inviting you inside. While the second half (which was released a few months apart from the first) tends to make the entire album feel a touch long-winded, the effort is well-executed and often breathtaking.

48- Fail to Be by Yashira

           This one snuck in at the last minute. A totally earth-shattering metal record that is determined to damage your dome permanently. There’s certainly a heavy dose of Converge influence all over the record, but Yashira manages to separate themselves from the pack with excellent song writing and unique choices. Production wise this record might be par for the course, but there are some nice little touches on tracks like The Weight and Amnesia that create wonderful depth.

47- Man on the Moon III by Kid Cudi

           I went into this thing with on giant sigh but left questioning whether I had accidentally pressed play on another album. Kid Cudi manages to pull something off! Cudi somehow takes inspiration from the genre that took inspiration from his own catalogue of music circa 2005. This is a terrific record to zone out to and let play out. Will this record rival some of the big stack bullies of hip hop? No. Cudi was never about that. He’s always been about mood and this is one moody son of a-! There are some clear skippable tracks (see: Elsie’s baby boy) but he also lands some excellent grooves on Solo Dolo, Pt. III, Lovin’ Me and Tequila Shots. While the record does suffer from overstaying its welcome with an 18 song track list—it manages not to take you out of the experience.

46- Whole New Mess by Angel Olsen

           WNM was poorly marketed as a distinct album, despite being essentially stripped back versions of 2019′s All Mirrors. Audiences were met with disappointment at having only two fresh songs to sample. The reality is it doesn’t fucking matter. Angel Olsen has done no wrong for her entire career. These songs can breathe in a ‘whole new’ way on this record and allow the listener greater insight while simultaneously haunting the walls of the record. Lark and Tonight (Without You) take on an entirely different life, and New Love Cassette feels like a different song entirely. Even Olsen’s scraps feel like fully realized ideas. Still—the title track steals the show, as we hear Olsen at her most desperate. Usually overwhelming the listener with her poise and sharp wit, Olsen promises that she’ll really do the change. She doesn’t have to change a thing.

45- Eastern Flowers by SVEN WUNDERS

           This one caught me off guard in the summer and I had it playing in the background of everything I was doing. Cleaning. Studying. Working. Eastern Flowers is middle eastern music made by Nordic people and I stopped trying to figure out how that happened a while ago. There is a lovely energy here, one that fuses traditional middle eastern melodies with funk embellishments. Eastern Flowers is just a really fun time.

44- The Archer by Alexandra Savior

           I had skipped Savior’s first record entirely before diving into the sophomore album. Going back, it’s clear that she has developed a great deal in the meantime. Despite Alex Turner producing the last one, the song writing takes the haunting details to whole new heights. Savior seems more confident in her voice, and also more willing to play with it in production (the ghostly tone on her voice in Soft Currents a testament). Savior separates herself from artists with a similar voice or who rest beside her within her genre, in how long she is willing to simmer within a song. These aren’t typical arrangements and it’s exciting to hear Savior throw you for a loop on songs like Howl and But You. We’re all excited for what lies next.

43- Push by Heads.

           Angry. Aggressive. Anxious. Push is a record that feels like the moments that build up before a massive protest. You are constantly pushed to the edge as the listener. There is a sinister element to the vocals that is deeply unsettling. Most songs slowly build with the promise of something bigger, instead reaching success simply by maintaining tension. Then there are songs like Weather Beaten and Nobody Moves & Everybody Talks that change the narrative, exploding into a punishing breakdown. Heads. Have something truly electric and angry on their hands here, and we’ll go along for the ride.

42- Indistinct Conversations by Land of Talk

           Many stripped-back and bare tracks on this one from Montreal’s own Land of Talk. It hits you about halfway through that the album is obsessed with loving one’s own history. Even when things have failed to work out, many songs suggest that we can only look back fondly. Opener Diaphonous warns I was caught up in the wrong stuff/ but I have to laugh. There are moments of greatness on this record, like the rushing movement of Look to You and the twangy riff of Footnotes—yet the marvel is in the consistent beauty, never wavering.

41- Are You Gone by Sarah Harmer

           A really soothing yet fun indie rock record that satisfies my craving for the music I loved as a teenager. There are some lovely arrangements and melodies from Harmer on this one, and while the mood is a touch sad, you’re happy you got to share in the emotion of it all. The album oscillates between more intimate moments and full-band jams, which create a nice balance—as if you’re moving in and out with the tide.

40- Circles by Mac Miller

           I was never the biggest Mac Miller fan. I wasn’t all that familiar with his catalogue before Swimming, and I perhaps made a point of listening to this posthumous release simply because he passed tragically. Still, the songs seem touched by his state, haunting the listener in combination with what we know ultimately happened to Mac. It’s a real shame it had to end like this, but if there was ever a gorgeous, captivating, and mature release to come at the end of a successful career cut short, Circles was it. 

39- Down to the Lowest Terms: The Soul Sessions by Steve Arrington

           Steve Arrington is back from his cryogenic freeze with a sick friggin’ soul album! These are fun, joyous and lived in gospel/soul tracks that play well in almost any setting. Play this bad boy with your friends, family and even around the office. Nobody will be disappointed. There are also some beautiful production touches that make this a great listen on headphones. Steve wants to tell you all about how funk is the way—and I think I believe him.

38- Atonement by exhalants.

           A fun ripper that makes you want to run up your walls and slam your fists on the floor. Atonement is not active listening per se, at least not in comparison to records released by their cohort, but it certainly puts you in a space that the band creates, dictates and commands. This is a band that has borrowed from others in the genre, but made that rare hardcore record that has just the right amount of hooks while maintaining space to catch ones breath.

37- Petals for Armor by Hayley Williams

           PFA had that multiple EP release thing that a few artists did this year (see: Dirty Projectors). Ultimately the entire project suffered from a touch of bloat—but the incredible songs were spread out enough on this album, that it had to make my list. There are incredible production choices on this record, and it clearly was a labour of love for Williams. The songs are a bit rigid in the vein of Annie Clark, but Williams has a freedom to her vocals that liberates them. I think a more refined 10 track album may have cracked my top 20. Songs like Taken and My Friend don’t seem to have a real purpose on the record other than just being half-baked mood tracks, but they don’t tarnish the effect that songs like Simmer, Over Yet or Sugar on the Rim have on the listener.

36- Farewell to All we Know by Matt Elliott

           Farewell is a collection of the creepiest, saddest and most beautiful songs you’ve ever heard. I don’t usually stray down this path but this is an album that works so well when reading or writing. There is some beautiful poetry on the darkness of the world and the last hopes for mankind. What sets the record apart lays in the details. The haunting echoes of the city streets. The whisper of ghosts that drag behind Elliott’s guitar. The record establishes incredible mood, inviting you in for a glass of despair.

35- Polysomn by Kairon; IRSE!

           My head hurts just trying to write about this record. It’s weird, heavy, melodic. The vocals feel unique to the genre while used sparingly. There is a lot of interesting synth play on this record that might invite listeners outside of the genre—but that also add depth and feeling to songs that otherwise might feel like trudges through metal music mud. Polysomn is filled with exciting, dynamic elements that are a good entrance into “weird, heavy music” for you listeners out there. I won’t pretend to know how this band does what it does any longer. Just enjoy.

34- Impossible Weight by Deep Sea Diver

           Frankly, the record is difficult to talk about without making it seem like it sounds like basically all of its contemporaries. In fairness, Deep Sea Diver shares a lot of commonality with the likes of Weyes Blood, Broken Social Scene, Sharon Van Etten (who even features on the title track). That said, everything sounds great on this record. The songs are tight, the melodies hang effortlessly and the vibes are…vibes. There are a ton of interesting choices, from the weird arrangements on Hurricane, reminiscent of Wolf Parade- to the videogame synths on Lightning Bolts. It never gets tired or boring—it just stands as an excellent indie pop/rock record that you can play at your board game night.

33- When I Die, Will I Get Better? by SVALBARD

           Equal parts mathy, metal, prog, emo and god knows what. This album has an intense feel to it that will have you uplifted as you thrash around your apartment. The momentum of these songs truly amazes, as we’re taken for an absolutely blistering ride on almost every track. Nonetheless, the songs find a way to breathe, unlike most of their contemporaries that leave you exhausted by the twenty minute mark. SVALBARD also has an ear for melody that fights typical metal fatigue. I won’t get tired of listening to this one.

32- Silver Tongue by TORRES

           After the bizarre, cryptic disappointment of Three Futures, it didn’t seem clear where TORRES would head. On Silver Tongue she appears to continue a confident journey in her own direction, but with a bit more focus and lot more precision. Where Three Futures was too disorienting to follow and often too indulgent for the listener to feel at all involved, Silver Tongue extends an olive branch—grab hold and you’ll be taken on a strange, glitchy and melodic journey into psychedelic pop rock. While the songs lack warmth, that seems to be the point entirely. There’s a magic in the cold and dreary walls that TORRES builds on the record that impresses with every subsequent listen.

31- The Baby by Samia

           A tremendous indie-rock record with some of the most excitement build-ups and hooks of anything released in 2020. Samia sings about some of the bleak realities of sexual frivolity in one’s twenties, while still somehow gloating about her vinegar and kale diets (all tongue in cheek). There are clear standout tracks (Big Wheel, Fit n Full, Minnesota) – but where Samia shines, and where she separates herself from her cohort of indie rock darlings (see: Soccer Mommy, Snail Mail, Clairo) is how well her slower ballads, such as Does not Heal, land. She is a superior song writer in many respects and has everything ahead of her.

30- Live Forever by Bartees Strange

           A very surreal, genre bending record from newcomer Bartees Strange. Live Forever sounds like totally different music depending on which track you’re on. You have some Death Cab. You have some Bon Iver. You have some Joey Badass? It’s a strange journey through an eclectic, cluttered and heavily talented musical mind.

29- The Ascension by Sufjan Stevens

           While the record as a whole underwhelmed me, Sufjan is still Sufjan. If this record was made by any other artist I’d be telling everyone about it. Many of the sounds felt a bit too familiar, which put me off just a touch. There are still unbelievable moments on this record: the layers on Make Me an Offer/ the dance-pop qualities of Video Game/ the swelling choir section of Tell Me You Love Me/ the build up of tension in The Ascension. There are the more confounding moments: Death Star as a song and not as parody/ Sugar as a slapstick suggestion of romance. Frankly I’m not all that blown away by the lead single, and nearly 13 minute odyssey, America—but I can understand how it operates as a statement of frustration and raw emotion. Nonetheless, Sufjan continues to occupy a space that, while at times mystifying, still leaves you entranced by the mystique of it all. We always leave wanting more, even if we’ve had a bit too much.

28- Set My Heart on Fire Immediately by Perfume Genius

           A gorgeous and lush assembly of songs that feel very personal to PG. The songs are grand, yet surprisingly intimate. One frustration with the songs that I’m still struggling to come to terms with, is that they seem very distant from the listener. We’re not invited into the experiences that the songs discuss—they seem isolated and tethered to the artist. That was likely a conscious decision and suits the subject matter well. Still, for all the warmth and atmosphere—you wish you could go along for the ride. Perfume Genius seems content on operating on their own planet—as we listen through frequency.

27- Future Nostalgia by Dua Lipa

           This was certainly the year of Dua. She seems to have realized her final form and it’s truly a great thing to witness and listen to. Future Nostalgia plays out as an exceptional throwback pop record in a pop era dominated by future/hyper industrial production. These songs are poppy and unashamed to be exactly what they are. With the exception of the clumsy songs that bookend the record (the title track is a lacklustre open & Boys Will Be Boys attempts to tie in a loose, feminist concept to the record)—the album as a whole is jam packed with immense hooks. Let’s hope Dua hasn’t peaked because there is so much to love and groove to on this record.

26- KG by King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard

           Another instalment of the King Gizzard microtonal series. Unlike Flying Microtonal Banana, KG tends to hit harder and land smoother. There is a ton of groove on this bad boy that gets you comfortably settled, until the boys shake it up with some eclectic, middle east inspired arrangement. The beauty of KG is how you are never allowed to settle into something for too long. You’re almost always moving on to another segment, idea and branch of music that makes you feel...weird. Thanks guys!

25- Quelle by BRIQUEVILLE

           A haunting, drone fuelled romp in the spooky room. Quelle almost puts you to sleep until it urgently shakes you awake with a thunderous riff. It’s clear that every moment of the record is laboured over, every decision painstakingly made. There are moments taken straight out of your favorite horror film, yet the album manages to pull you in closer instead of pushing you away. Bold choices pay off for BRIQUEVILLE on this one, as we enter their world, and almost don’t manage to make it out.

24- Lianne La Havas S/T

           LLH self titles a record that sees her reaching back to a more stripped down, jam-based sound. There are some absolute bleeders on here that see her voice reaching registers she hasn’t covered on previous releases. The live-band recording works in her favor, as the instrumentation is loose enough to create a mood but still manages to quickly snap back to tight and precise progressions. Anchored by a well-executed Radiohead cover (Weird Fishes) the record has a strong b-side to match its grand opening half. The hypnotic qualities of many of the tracks are an especially fun element to the release as the jams tend to work you up wherever you are. La Havas has something very special on her hands with this record, and it’s one I will continue to share for years to come.

23- Omens by Elder

           A softer and, dare I say, poppier release from stoner rock fiends Elder was a welcome addition to music in 2020. There are many long form jams on this record that open themselves up to synths—and while it seems they haven’t totally mastered how to integrate more electronic segments into their riffage, the moods are still tight as hell. Give it a spin with some decent headphones and you won’t be disappointed.

22- Miss Anthropocene by Grimes

           You can try as hard as you’d like to root against Grimes but her music speaks for itself. I looked for ways to tell myself that she had finally waned or has become less inspired—but it’s just not true—she is finely tuned to whatever wavelength is firing on her alien planet. On MA the songs have more space to breathe, often meandering within themselves for over six minutes, until she hits you with a straightforward pop rock track that is so well produced and contains such a great vocal performance, that you simply cannot deny that we have yet another excellent release. It’s freaky, it’s haunting, it’s weird, and at times it’s even pleasurably comic. Grimes is doing it all and she is doing it on exactly her terms. We should expect nothing less.

21- Rough and Rowdy Ways by Bob Dylan

           I won’t pretend to be an expert on Bob Dylan’s catalogue. Nor will I pretend that I know what makes Bob Dylan good or bad. All I know is that Rough and Rowdy ways has great songs that back beautiful poetry. It’s consistently captivating and often, terribly sad. The final track, Murder Most Foul, may be one of the most potent, historical epics ever put to music. All in all, Bob Dylan has something deeply interesting to add to our weird, chaotic, and just plain shitty times.

20- Superstar by Caroline Rose

           The last show I went to was the album release of this record and it absolutely killed. Playing the record front to back, Caroline Rose will always be the pre-pandemic gig that symbolized the lightning before the thunder. Superstar is an excellent concept album about a fictionalized Caroline travelling across country with hopes of become…well… a superstar. Along the way she tosses and turns in a relationship, eviscerates doubt and self-loathing by replacing it with boisterous egotism, and manages to find herself at a finish line exhausted, and yet surprisingly having still learned something. The tracks on this record blend seamlessly into one another as Rose manages to coalesce the synth-rock madness we are used to with tighter song writing and more lyrical purpose. Caroline Rose may have just ended up what she wanted to be along.

19- The New Abnormal by The Strokes

           Everybody talks about a timeless quality that The Strokes early records have and it seems every record they have made since their first two have been made with the purpose of dispelling that very notion. The fact of the matter is, that timeless quality is what has endeared them to fans for two decades. The New Abnormal recaptures their earlier spirit. Sure, there are indulgent nods to the 80s that they seem obsessed with (sometimes to a fault)—with songs like Brooklyn Bridge to Chorus and Eternal Summer. Those songs likely work better in front of a crowd, and tend to actually crowd the record itself. Yet, there is no denying that there are excellent STROKES SONGS on this record that make you feel the way you felt listening to their first two records. The Adults are Talking is an immediate entrance into what made you love them to begin with, and Selfless follows as one of their prettiest ‘ballads’. Not the Same Anymore and Ode to the Mets close the record on an extremely high note, harkening back to the warmth of Room on Fire, with more mature and independent song structures. The true testament to the band’s growth is with their first single At the Door—which is an epic that ebbs and flows through wild croons and jagged synths, asking you to sit down and believe in the song itself. It’s as if The Strokes have been asking us to simply trust them all along.

18- UNLOCKED by Denzel Curry and Kenny Beats

           This is exactly it. Two masters collaborating in what might be their respective primes. It’s so packed, saturated, concentrated, condensed it almost seems like if it were any longer it would make our heads explode. They found the hip hop secret and managed to unlock it for us. While this may qualify as an EP it is an album’s worth of brilliance. It slaps from beginning to end with Kenny Beats saving his best instrumentals that masquerade as demos. Don’t get me wrong—these are brilliant templates for Denzel to cruise along to. Except Denzel does nothing close to cruising, he sets the road on goddamn fire. While Denzel is namedropping Rosa Parks and Don Corleone while recommending his haters go on a diet, he is playful in the same way Joe Pesci was playful in Goodfellas. With every subsequent verse Denzel is requiring that you answer the question: i’m funny how? You are certainly no clown! We swear!

17- NO DREAM by Jeff Rosenstock

           NO DREAM friggin’ rules dude! It took a bunch of listens for me to get the hang of it. I especially felt resistant to the opening track and how the record begins by pummelling you with punk chords—but that’s where Rosenstock is, so you just have to take it. NO DREAM is about giving up on settling for less. Rosenstock yells about hometown washouts, he yells about road trips, he yells about dopes who don’t believe in climate change. But you really feel something once Rosenstock starts to regret some of those lost loves. Maybe he could have behaved. Maybe he reacted too quickly. Maybe he made choices he never thought he’d make. Haven’t we all thought that? NO DREAM is a masterful punk rock record that maintains goofy, crazy, hilarious and fun traits that all good punk records need while providing us with heart that Rosenstock has never shown us before.

16- We Will Always Love You by The Avalanches

           Well, they did it again and snuck in there at the final hour. The Avalanches’ third record is a groovy, cold weather house record, bookended by some sort of intergalactic nonsense. Ultimately, the nothingness means everything, as there is an incredible amount of feeling that rests in the pieced together samples. Features from MGMT, Kurt Vile, Leon Bridges, Denzel Curry and even Rivers Cuomo only add to the madness. While the run-time is a bit long, the songs are quick enough to carry you through swiftly on your back. The Avalanches have once again offered us hypnotic, dream-like listening, perhaps when we needed it most.

15- Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers

           Bridgers has this very special quality about her song writing, where it feels like she’s pulling you close to tell you something and then whispers into your ear a secret that you knew all along. She then pats you on the shoulder, nods her head, and says good luck- all with a smirk.  Bridgers has secrets we don’t have, and that’s what makes her music equal parts haunting and gorgeous. The melodies on Punisher remain in your head for months and while they are deadly serious they also reassure you with a “hey, you know this is just a song, right?”. Songs like Chinese Satellite offer more complex arrangements that are made full (but not heavy!) with string section embellishments. Halloween is the small town folk song about a place you just had to be there to understand. Graceland Too offers a nice release from the shadows that loom all over the record, although it’s never in too much sunlight to become a distraction. The entire album flows effortlessly, and before you know it you’ve reached the breathy scream and laughter at the end of epic closer I Know The End. Life is a game that Phoebe Bridgers is watching us all take bets on. She’ll remind us how it all played out later.

14- Find the Sun by Deradoorian

           These songs are odd, cyclical, hypnotic. The vocals are static and often emotionless. Find the Sun is a masterpiece taken directly from 1972—but thank god it was here to lull us into paralysis in 2020. None of the songs are direct injections, instead they are slow-release capsules that require you to take your time. Opener Red Den has a standard song structure (an anomaly), but still has a haunting, looping chorus that is interpolated with a second chorus that rests three levels lower. Perhaps the most direct track is almost impossible to describe. These songs are riddles or rubix cubes or those goddamn magic eye paintings that you have to look at for three hours to make out a boat (I see you, Mallrats). Deradoorian crafts an album that, despite requiring a certain degree of passive effort (huh?), still goes down smooth. Although clearly inspired by CAN, there is nothing frustrating here that forces you to concede that “maybe art doesn’t need to be understood, man”. This is a gorgeously pieced together album of psych/folk/rock that has earned its place on the mantle.

13- What’s Your Pleasure by Jessie Ware

           A dangerously good pop record that throws you back to the 80s with disco inspired flourishes. Some parts Robyn, some parts Madonna. Jessie Ware has a sound that grows past merely reproducing the music that has inspired her. There are curious and inventive details in songs (like the chorus in Ooh La La or the harmonized layers in the verses of The Kill). The songs take you to groovy heights with their detail, but the record also has some straightforward, power thru dance tracks like Read My Lips that anchor it, never letting you forget that this was meant to be danced to with others. What’s Your Pleasure is a beautifully woven pop masterpiece that never lets you go.

12- Down in the Weeds, Where the World Once Was by Bright Eyes

           Bright eyes is back. This record is an exciting return for the band, one that captures the misery and mysticism that surrounds our age of impending doom. Got to keep on going like it ain’t the end/ got to change like your life is depending on it-- is the first verse we hear from Conor and he never truly lets go of the sentiment. All the tracks are haunted by his past, the bleak world we live in, and the thought of trying to work out a way to make it through the days that feel like years. Down in the Weeds comes out after nine years away from the band, time Conor spent getting married and divorced, and sadly also losing his brother. These happenings find themselves scattered all over the record, as Conor is hesitant to reference them directly, but instead allows them to haunt tracks like ghosts. The instrumentation from Mogis and Walcott is fuller than other Bright Eyes records, the sounds more diverse. If someone asked what Bright Eyes sounds like one could legitimately offer this record as evidence—it is a distillation of many sounds across their entire catalogue. Ultimately what Down in the Weeds does best is remind us that the will to continue through the world is what makes us distinctly human, but also what makes us closer to something greater, something beyond everything. She doesn’t know what a comet does/ you’re approaching as you disappear-- is what we hear on the closing track Comet Song. Bright Eyes brings us closer to a truth we always knew would be just out of reach.

11- Death by Coastlands

           Aptly named, Death is a record about endings. Heart wrenching, devastating, finite and yet oddly satisfying endings. There are very sparing vocals on the record, but the instrumentation offers more feeling than any hardcore record this year. The pacing of songs like Dead Friends, the haunting choir that looms over Marrow, or the breaking of tensions that erupts out of Red Smoke Flare. This record doesn’t need words to evoke feelings of peril, urgency and grief.

10- Songs by Adrianne Lenker

           On not a lot, just forever, Adriane Lenker sings and I want to be your wife/so I hold you to my knife. This line arrives as plea instead of a threat—on an album filled with songs where Lenker reckons with her desperation. She pleas with the past for lost time returned, she pleas with her lovers for mistake forgiven, she pleas with herself for the possibility of change. When added to her catalogue with Big Thief, Songs proves that Adrianne Lenker may be the supreme song writer of our generation. On Anything she describes staring down the barrel of a hot sun as if the imagery were a familiar expression. Lenker tosses poetry at us like she might throw a frisbee. Even if we were positioned well enough to catch it, we could never throw it back, we are lucky to have it all.

09- Host by Cults

           Host didn’t feel like much on my first listen. But it kept burrowing endlessly into my brain. Now I’m waking up in the middle of the night singing the melodies on my way to go pee (No Risk! No Believing! Or Leading...). They nailed all of it. The song writing is crisp. The production is electric and soothing. They lull you to a peaceful calm with lullaby sounding tracks like No Risk. When things are just about to get repetitive they shake you out of your dream state (see: Like I Do). Every track on the record is a standout, but it can only truly be appreciated as one complete, masterful piece of music.

08- how I’m feeling now by Charli XCX

           Sure—it’s a bit of a pandemic time capsule. But holy shit. Charli made this absolute batshit hyperpop record in a month during lockdown. It is truly an unrelenting pinnacle of future pop that will hold up long past this absolute shit show of an era has passed. Charli has this way of making an unsettling listening experience that is also absurdly danceable. There are moments of insane pleasure, unhinged anxiety and bombastic ecstasy. From the promise of once again being together in forever to the claustrophobic realities of quarantine in enemy she covers the entire experience.  These songs really stand alone as brilliant testaments to Charli’s prowess. There is no stopping her as an artist at this point. Oh, and she also did us a tremendous solid by making a danceable record about how we miss dancing together. God bless you Charli, baby.

07- Ohms by Deftones

           This year needed this record. Something loud and clear as hard rock punishment. Deftones have what I believe to be their best record. Their sound has never been more crisp, focused or melodic. There are definitely new areas that Deftones explore on this record. From Spell of Mathematics to the title track—there’s a sharp attitude that plunges into their already excellent formula. The little details and flourishes of synth in songs like Genesis and Pompeji make all the difference (the latter’s transition into This Link Is Dead a clear standout)—allowing the record to breath and the listener to feel overwhelmed with, might I say, the world they have created. The album is full of beautiful moments of focus that keep the tension the band has built and cultivated for over a decade.

06- Fetch the Bolt Cutters by Fiona Apple

           Fetch the Bolt Cutters is a record that maybe wasn’t for me at all. I firmly believe that women understand more of this record than I ever could. There’s so much brilliance in the pots and pans percussion that accompanies most tracks. There’s an energy that studio drums could never bring. And well, the songwriting speaks for itself. It’s an undeniable culmination of all of her influences. Fiona Apple is a songwriter that simply doesn’t exist anymore (some of her cohort has actually, sadly, died).

The most valuable lesson Fiona teaches us is that there is no perfect way to get over anything. But we are meant to wrestle with endings. Maybe we are all meant to move on. Making friends, sneering at enemies. Like beasts in the wild. Life might be one big game of axis and allies. Like Fiona walking on her way to school, we “grind our teeth to a rhythm invisible”. This record proves that we should each bring our mouthguard.

05- Every Bad by Porridge Radio

           Every Bad is the room that your loneliness goes inside of to scream. Porridge Radio has an absolute masterpiece on their hands. Absolutely punishing lines that carve away your own anxiety with excellent songs that switch things around constantly. There isn’t a single stale song on the record and yet they work so cohesively. Every Bad is constantly asking us to self-examine, to dig a little deeper. What is going on with me? Is the first lyric you hear on the record. I’m coming home is the last. The record spans the cycle of existential dread guiding you through difficult choices and it could not have come at a better time.

04- St. Cloud by Waxahatchee

           I think I like Americana music. I probably knew that when I couldn’t resist the sing-along qualities of Killers records like Sam’s Town or Battle Born—but Crutchfield’s 2020 record has solidified for me. The writing here is too good to be true. Equal parts poetry and melody, her voice has this raw quality that really carries home when she plays up the southern twangs and drawls. The album feels obsessed with new beginnings after brutal endings. Hometowns on fire and the power of choosing to move on. The lyrics still feel haunted by the weight of memory (St. Cloud), and the anxiety surrounding what might come next (Ruby Falls), but the fresh approach to song writing has Waxahatchee sounding the best they ever have.

03- RTJ 4 by Run the Jewels

           They did it again. Not much to say here. It never gets old and it never feels stale. The records still feel like their own distinct hip-hop manifestos. The boys seems just as angry as they always did. The album arrived in the midst of a revolutionary cloud that hung over the world. The album is proof that we should expect it to remain overcast. The production on this thing is just as sleek, with El-P switching things up in bold ways on tracks like Goonies vs. ET. Some of the older tricks are used again, we have our comedown track with Pulling the Pin, we have our rock sample track with The Ground Below, we have our standout single with Ooh La La. The predictability of these songs may sound as if the album is formulaic but that’s beside the point. The fist will still knock your ass down, even if you knew it was coming. A truly loving element to the record is the bond that Killer Mike and El-P foster with each other through their alter-ego characters Yankee and The Brave- you can’t help but bask in their romance. The opening track is a blunt reminder that, in case you forgot, these guys are still here for another eleven rounds. The closing track solidifies the truth that they aren’t going anywhere, not anytime soon. And nor should they. We need Run the Jewels more than ever.

02- Captured Spirits by Mammal Hands

           Mammal Hands came out of nowhere and blew my goddamn mind. I have no deep connection with Jazz as a genre, but by god did this record force me to go digging. It’s the type of accessible, energy driven music that makes you cozy and comfortable until it rips your goddamn ears off with sax solos and manic piano arrangements. While the latter half of the record doesn’t manage to match quite the same energy as first half standouts like Late Bloomer or Riddle—the beauty of the record is in its assured sense of pace. We’ll get to the good part, but on their time. Mammal Hands know what they’re doing.

01- Women in Music Pt. III by HAIM

HAIM have found, executed, and perfected their sound all in one album. WIMPIII is a masterwork that shockingly happened all at once. Where previous albums Days Are Gone and Something To Tell You may have excited with the promise of what could come next, this record stuns you with what is happening right before your eyes. The confidence that the sisters share on the album’s cover shines through on all the tracks. They know who they are and they know how they sound. I Know Alone is a perfect example of refined song writing, with subtle production touches (especially in the percussion) that add something extraordinarily dynamic. Up From A Dream and Gasoline are the pure rockers that you knew the band was capable of, but that they never before capitalized on. There are softer, more romantic folk tracks like The Steps and Leaning on You that might make your parents cry. Spanning a wide range of topics (depression, lost loves, home, isolation) the album fit so perfectly with our insane year—but the sound, summery and sheen, will manage to stand the test of time. There was initial frustration with the choice not to include singles Now I’m In It, Hallelujah & Summer Girl within the formal track list (because on any record they are the strongest songs!)—but with further consideration, their inclusion as bonus tracks make perfect sense. HAIM has crafted 13 gorgeous, smart and powerful songs that stand alone, together. Those bonus tracks just act as a mind-blowing encore. Women in Music Pt. III is the most dynamic, focused and well-written record of 2020. We dare not ask for better.

[inexchangeforyoursoul]

Hello, hello, here’s my piece for the Halloween minibang organized in courtesy of the Chicken Tendies and Bacon Bits DabiHawks server~ and have the link to a more sensible reading experience (as t gets rid of formatting, too, and I’m lazy to put it all back in, at least for now): ao3

I was paired up with pineapple hair boy (dunno his url still rip) and our promt was haunted maze! \o/ I kinda included the other two we were gunning for, devil deal and ghost stories, so... multitasking, yo. Also put in my suggested fog, because as time passed, I realized how good it was even though I just put something into the box lmao

I’ll link pineapple’s accompanying piece as soon as they’re done with it, right here, in this line!! AND HERE IT IS!!!  👀

(Some of you may note... that I was supposed to be the artist. Well, it’s a long story, and likely on me tbh; I spent p much the entire week working on my piece, but I also started writing this one, and suggested doubling down on content, but unfortunately timetables are evil, and pineapple got mobbed enough as to likely run out of time if he also wanted to finish writing, so, um... yeah. This is not to say that we won’t do our original project, though, so stay tuned for the bonus round, hopefully soon! \[T]/)

(... also, I may or may not be considering to make this a full story, so there’s that)

Keigo trips for what feels like the millionth time on this way through the undergrowth- by day, the manor labyrinth is fairly easy to navigate, the kids frequenting it has kept it threadable. Nobody has legitimately tended to it for years, though. Or rather a decade, actually, it’s been a while he was here. Honestly, who cares, because--- oh, for fuck’s sake, more rose or blackberry or whatever vines to untangle his legs from. Great. Just… great.

He squints at his watch; still on time. Catching his breath after getting free surprisingly fast this time around, he takes a look at his surroundings. Not that he sees much, bear you. It’s near midnight and pitch dark. To top it off, the thick-ass fog often present, source: right damn here, has also crept into town. In fact, this is the worst it has gotten this year yet. There’s also barely anything he can hear from the dying-off autumn festival two streets and half an estate over.

It’s only him, his phone's flashlight, and the camera around his neck that also keeps getting caught in shit. That, and his own breathing that's getting his lungs numb from all the cool, wet air they are being exposed to.

Fooling around for so long has made him feel… antsy. Just a bit. The fact that his goal, that is to say the family crypt of the moneybags who used to live here is so close doesn’t help, either.

The entire plot is the stuff of local legends. The mansion is-was infamous for its… flammability, so to speak. Every few years, at least one room got totalled. Some believed that the last master had been a pyromaniac, up till the umpteenth house fire snuffed his line, and himself at the age of 60-something, out for good. But old folk said that the building had been ablaze just as frequently before his time- and truth to be told, there had been two more fires ever since, although those could have been the aforementioned kids or the occasional squatter. Two fires in about ten years is pretty normal in an abandoned place like this.

A few of those old people said the mansion had been built on hallowed grounds in their parents’ time, and the fires were punishment for disturbing the church ruins and the dead it used to house. Even fewer said the church must have been built on the very gates of hell and the ruins had kept the flames at bay.

And old geezer Giran in particular said that you could see the devil himself on the night when spirits roam free, around where the isolated belfry’s foundation stands still with walls crumbling- the place around which the crypts were erected on top of upturned graves. To be frank, the dude himself looked as if he escaped from hell, so what better myths to bust as an aspiring photographer? And even if the devil won't drag his ass outside, this will still make one hella Halloween photoshoot. He has loads of candles and some lampions in a backpack to get the mood right as well.

If anything remotely threatening pops up, though, like a mean stray dog… or a horde of drunk homeless, he's so ready to run for the hills, you have no idea.

He’s pricking his ears good as he closes in on the center of the once-upon large cemetery. One has to acknowledge the effort those rich bastards put into this dumb maze layout just to hide their own dead. It’s as if they feared a zombie apocalypse and concluded that they wouldn’t be able to get out if the hedges grow in a pattern, like, seriously. Then again, if the ‘horde of drunk homeless’ situation comes true, it will feel and work just the same, so who’s he to judge.

The scenery, too, is something to behold still. The entire area is surprisingly… not very foggy. One can see just as far as there is anything relevant to see, nothing more, nothing less. The waning moon even came out to play for a bit, shedding some decent light on his surroundings.

What catches his attention is not the excellent lighting to make photos, though, but rather someone sitting on the ruins of the old belfry, right under where the plump planet is working her magic.

He checks the display of his watch again- two past midnight. He’s late. Well, bummer… maybe next time.

That… guy, though? He doesn't look like any devil he knows of, but rather a human figure. One he also doesn't know of, actually. Which is remotely more interesting than Satan himself, because… that’s a goth silhouette if he’s ever seen one, and he’s seen all in town. All three of them.

They are a chill bunch, so he figures he might as well go up to this one. May be an acquaintance of Tokoyami and company’s who was also told about this spooky deal.

"Hey. Have you seen the midnight devil, or did he not get the memo this year?" He lifts a hand over his eyes to let him have a clearer look.

Just the way the other looks over to him, even while slouching quite a bit, is in a manner that’s nothing bar… uh… majestic, should be the word? Sublime? Yeah. That's peak cinematography. He’s… a bit at a loss of words here, because? People have waxed lyrical about the positively blessed relationship between him and sunlight, but this guy?? Has legitimately the most beautiful pair of eyes ever, period???

Before he could get too entranced by the sight of the sky blue pins of the overshadowed figure sitting between a moonlit sky and milky deep sea of mist, he notices that said eyes skim over him. Slowly, creeping down, and then up. Um…

Did… did he just check him out?

A hardly concealed grin can be heard out of his voice as he speaks up. “Hey there, angel."

… that's a yes.

This… coming from someone with eyes and a voice like… that, is actually… hm.

Like, look… he’s been looking forward college to maybe…  find someone he genuinely clicks with. But he has been through this immediate infatuation thing a hundred times already… and knows from experience that falling for mere potential is a grave mistake. What even are the chances that he’ll be the one? Put the aesthetic boner away and think rationally, Keigo. You don’t even know his name.

However, if, and IF he plays his cards well and this is not a total asshole… he could get both a photoshoot and a phone number out of this endeavor, which sounds like an excellent deal.

“Straight to the point, eh?” he acknowledges with a grin that's almost genuine. “Witching hour stuff aside, I don’t think I’ve seen you around…? A friend of Tokoyami’s?”

The other hops off the wall as he’s talking, stirring up some fog. Keigo could swear to hear absolutely nothing upon him hitting the ground. Must be the grass, but still, confirmed for cat. Not having to deal with the moon’s flare, he can now also tell that he’s about as old as expected.

The young man pauses to think for just a second before walking up to him. Nonchalance and weariness mingle in his steps.

“No, but I think I do know who you’re talking about. The kid with the raven.”

“Oh? Yeah, that’s him. Just visiting, then?” So he’s somewhat familiar with the area. Huh… how in hell did he never notice someone so obvious? Maybe he should come out here more often.

Also, is it just him, or did it get really cold all of a sudden?

“Him and his friends spend a lot of time here, I know enough. And yeah, something like that.”

As he stops in front of Keigo, an odd sensation trickles down his spinal cord, raising every hair on his nape. He’s had this once or twice when watching a legitimately good horror movie or catching a glimpse of an especially beautiful scene, or at least something very similar. It’s just the cold and being out in the middle of nowhere with a handsome stranger this time (which is kind of a combination of both), but still.

… this is not the time to be thinking ‘but what if he’s a serial killer and you are stuck out here with him alone’, brain. Thanks.

“Family business, gotcha.”

He’s onto something, because a certainly troubled look flashes over the hot--- the goth’s face as he reaches up to his own nape to rub away at it. “... yeah. That.”

The train of thought is seemingly swept out of the way after short consideration and his attention returns to Keigo. His neutral staring face is actually a little unnerving, no lie. “What about you, coming out here? Didn't quite catch what you first said.” He eyes him in a way similar to when he was sitting up on the wall, as if measuring him up.

“Oh, I wanted to take some photos,” Keigo starts, lifting the camera and the first candle he can grab from the bag, swinging it playfully around a few times with a smile to mask the nerve building up inside. “I figured it would be a nice opportunity even if the hearsay tale of the ~devil~ coming out at midnight was total humbug. This place is very atmospheric.”

What he says rouses a chuckle from the other. “Oh, so I wasn't imagining things. Been a while since I last heard that one.”

For someone deadpan he really has a cute smile. We are on a schedule here, but please never stop?

Keigo presses the tip of the candle into his cheek in contemplation, trying to steer his thoughts back on topic. “You mean, that local legend thing? I heard about it fairly recently… from the most suspect old dude." He rolls back and forth on his heels, watching out for reactions; "Giran, if the name is telling. But asking other old folks made them ring a bell, too, so I guess I was just ignorant.”

The other raises an eyebrow in amusement as the fading smile pulls into a smirk. "Maybe you are, a little bit."

Oh, come on. "Nobody is born cool, wise, or a folklore expert, okay…?" He pouts.

"I could already tell you were born without a trace of those things, alright."

"..."

He just said that. Looking him dead in the eyes.

Wow.

Dude's lucky his smile is cute, because that was so uncalled for and he's way too proud of himself. Sheesh. Anyway…

"Said the one who wouldn’t know manners if they hit him in the face…” He sighs. "Before we go down the name calling path, though… I’m Keigo." This was getting a little awkward without throwing it in, although he doubts the cocky asshole deserves it.

“Touya. My pleasure.”

Keigo hums as he moves to rummage through his stuff for the lighter he definitely threw in the bag before setting off. That’s not a very common name, but… “I think I’ve heard of you before…? Beats me where, though.” He’s pretty sure the conversation happened years ago by the crypt here, though.

Everything he says seems to amuse the other to no end. “It’s probably for the best. You seem like the type to run for the hills.”

Keigo gives him the side eye; being right aside, the hell is that supposed to mean…? And he’s so smug about it, too. About everything, really.

And no, it really wasn’t a line even remotely connected to serial killers, shut up, brain.

“Cryptic, are we?” he sighs, lighting the candle with a flickering click at last. The gentle flame sheds some dim, fog-broken light onto Touya’s face, and Keigo hates himself for being charmed by what he sees once more. That pale skin looks too perfect to be true… should feel like silk under one’s touch. If he ever gets a proper close-up look, he swears he’ll get a heart attack.

Touya blinks once, resetting his expression to nearly a default. “It's the two of us in a haunted, abandoned graveyard, inside a fog ridden maze, on the night after the 31st of October. You are basically begging to wind up dead. Coming off as cryptic and creepy as possible right now is elementary, angel.”

He… he legitimately can’t argue with that. The guy's almost as good at this as the bird kid is. “... touché.”

Stunned for words, he places his candle where planned instead. It's so stupid, but makes… so much sense. Is this why they all are like… that?

As he moves on like that without a word, Touya seems to get weirded out himself. "... You okay there?"

"I just had… an epiphany." He says, putting the first lampion with pinpoint precision. This guy just accidentally revealed some kind of arcane goth knowledge too advanced for him to begin to understand and doesn't even know it.

Touya heaves a deep sigh. "... you obviously got the wrong one out of that, but congratulations nonetheless."

“Maybe? I have not the foggiest what you were trying to imply.” He’s not that thick, but the dude’s being ~cryptic~ or whatever, and he’s not in the mood to write an essay on what edgy goths mean by what they say.

“Ah… figure that's why it's so clear out here this year… all the mist from the glade must have relocated to your head.” concluding that, Touya’s eyebrows pull closer upon seeing whatever else the blonde pulls out from his backpack while shooting a glare in his direction. “… what are those for?”

Keigo considers not answering at all, but decides against it. Being the bigger person by default is such a chore sometimes, but… “There’s some decent moonlight to work with, but these umbrellas help me get the little extra I need right where I want it. See?” With that, he turns the flashlight on and blinds the other with the sudden brightness.

“Ow, seriously?! I haven’t seen daylight in decades, turn that shit off…!”

… but, he can multitask and still be an asshole while answering the question. And laugh at the reaction, then laugh some more the decades comment as the other rubs his eyes, because he positively has the looks of a display-tanned indoor hermit. A hermit who is having a bad time.

“Wanna help, or would you rather brood somewhere the umbrellas won’t be able to reach you?”

A mechanical click can be heard in the distance; now that there’s no music playing in the streets, the bad (and always slightly ahead of time) clocktower bell can be heard signalling quarter past midnight. This seems to catch Touya’s attention and remind him of something as he stares into a nondescript spot for a while. At the very least, Keigo is certain he’s not thinking about the question that slipped out and which he will regret- if he says no, it’s gonna be the disappointment… if yes, then it’s because of all the things that will definitely go wrong.

“... well, it’s not as if I had no time to kill,” comes the apathetic answer a few seconds later, although the wrinkling eyebrows are telling of his misgivings regarding the idea.

“...”

Now, hold on… hold on, he may have an even worse idea that he’s definitely going to regret…

Keigo taps his pointing fingers against the camera anxiously. “Actually… say, what would it take for youuu… to be my model tonight?” He takes out his best puppy eyes as he looks over to him with the tiniest smile, blinking slowly.

It’s as if Touya had another light induced migraine immediately. He looks almost disgusted, which… is hilarious. “For that I'll take both your life savings and your soul.”

Keigo stifles both a giggle and a sigh at that, resulting in somewhat of a snort. He must be put off by those umbrellas quite a bit. "Really…? If that’s all, fine by me."

The answer brings back Touya to a much more reserved, if not vaguely sceptical stance. “You… sure are ready to jump the gun for that, huh.”

"Well I, too, am asking a bit much of you out of nowhere, aren’t I?” He asks, shrugging. “I figured it was worth asking, at the very least… you fit the mood a little too perfectly, one doesn’t get an opportunity like this every day. If all it takes is my birdie bank, that’s fine by me. … We can also talk about the soul part later if you want to.” It takes him every ounce of self restraint not to throw in a wink at the end.

“...” Touya stares in contemplation before taking a deep sigh and scratching his head. "Fine. I guess it’s going to be much less bothersome than posing for hours to have a portrait painted."

Keigo’s ears perk up at that. Like, a lot. "Y---you… there's a portrait?!"

Whaaa?!? A professional-ass painting, of him?? And, even more importantly, where?!?

"... I know what you're thinking of, and no, I have not the slightest idea. Who knows, maybe it even burned along with---" he cuts himself off right there. For the first time that night, he seems upset, or rather angry; whichever it may be is the strongest emotion the blonde has seen him display in these past minutes, affecting even him quite a bit. His hairs stand alert once more--- but the sentiment goes as it came, along with Touya’s stifled ire.

"... never mind. Let’s just… get on with this."

"..." He figures that being nosy would be straight-down rude, having just met and already asking for quite a bit… so he lets it slide as if nothing happened.

Keigo turns around to the lampion that he placed before the convo started.

Huh… that’s weird.

He doesn’t remember lighting it.

Overall, Touya seems to pay quite a bit of attention to what he's doing, visibly taking mental notes of the processes he goes through. First, it's a little embarrassing to be watched so closely, but eventually Keigo gets used to it and just does his thing. He soon finds himself in the zone, in fact. Hell knows how much time goes by as he keeps clicking away, barely even instructing, but rather just basking in whatever the other does, giving the okay to everything. He’s not even bothered by the bone cutting cold that’s now heightened by a breeze, because Touya seems to be a natural, and by god, does his presence do things to him. He’s had phases of architecture, mixed media with cutouts and shadow play, birds, and abandoned places, but this… this must be what finding a muse feels like.

When he's looking for the misplaced lighter for the hundredth time again, it's already shoved into his face.

"You should just keep this in your pocket, angel."

"Ah, thanks." He takes it, then turns to Touya sheepishly while pulling his jacket tighter as the light wind blows especially cold air down his collar. "I've been… stupidly quiet for a while. It must be really awkward, uh… am I really not bothering you?"

"It's fine. I like having the company."

Maybe his voice is softer than before… or maybe he’s just imagining things.

“I, uh--- same.” Keigo feels blood creeping to his face, so he quickly moves on; “I have enough of these candles left for like about one more location. Any ideas?”

It takes Touya only a second of consideration before he nods towards the belfry ruins.

He flashes a smile; “Gotcha.”

In barely 10 more minutes, Keigo is speeding through the hundreds (whoops?) of photos he’s taken, walking circles around the ruin. His breath hitches over the one where Touya looked directly into the camera right by the wall. He’s gonna frameit and putitonhiswardrobedoor andmmmakeit his ppphone wallpaper---

He can hear a chuckle behind him, and remembers that whoopsie daisy, he’s not alone. “You're pleased as punch over a few pictures… It’s adorable.”

Keigo gets red to the eartips this time around, realizing that he’s got that goofy-ass smile Rumi keeps teasing him for. Unfortunately for him, once it gets pointed out… it always sticks. “I’tsjustthat---…!! I… didn’t think I’d get such nice photos at all? Moody scenery is nice and easier to sell, but I prefer lived-in spaces and models, anything that feels alive. Especially when they’re so pret...ty. Patient.”

Someone kill him.

“...”

The thin eyebrows twitch the smallest amount and for a torturous, silent pause Keigo wishes for some kind of deity to strike him down and grant a merciful, immediate death.

“I suppose I’ve had a few years to put some patience practice under the belt.”

He fights the urge to run away crying. There’s no way anybody exists who wouldn’t see right through that… at least he gets to see that cute smile once more.

He forces one on, too. “... I can tell.”

The wind starts picking up, distracting the other. Touya takes a look up to the moon, which has made quite some progress on its route since they’ve been there. Then there’s three clicks echoing through the night, signalling that it’s nearing 1 a.m. “Well… you were babbling about showing me, too, so you better hurry. I don’t have much time left.”

Keigo snaps out of the shameful frustration only to be legitimately ashamed. “Oh… sorry, I… hadn’t even considered that you had other business tonight.” Shit. He just assumed he had all night, but Touya was just humoring him until he had other business.

The other shakes his head. “It’s no issue, just get your fidgety ass over here already.”

As he makes his way over to him, Keigo feels something grab onto his leg and the familiar itch of thorns scratching up skin through his jeans.

Fucking vines again.

He should have expected this, shouldn't he. As he stumbles forward, he sighs in immediate acceptance.

He would have never expected being caught, though.

Nor Touya’s hands being as cold as a frozen piece of meat that can be felt even through his jumper and jacket. His touch sends shivers down his spine, freezing him in surprise first; if the strap didn’t get caught around his arm, the camera would hit the ground as his hand loses its hold on it.

What he’s definitely not ready for, however, is the arctic chill radiating from every inch of Touya’s, the same icy presence that he’s been feeling ever since… since he got close.

The thing that makes him break into cold sweat and brings even the blood in his veins to a halt, however, is the pair of forget-me-nots staring into his soul from mere inches.

Those beautiful, blue eyes, that… that are glassy and clouded and definitely not… human.

His lips part, but the scream dies off in his throat.

The realization flashing in his eyes draws a lenient, gentle smile onto the pale face. “You’re slow, angel.”

Keigo's paralyzed in what he can only guess is sheer terror, his body's last resort in hopes that the threat will just leave if it's not interesting enough to investigate. His mind, however, is racing and panicked as his inevitable end leans in for the kill.

Fuck.

Fuck, he's… dead.

He's dead, he's dead, he's dead---

He’s dead.

At least, that’s what he remembers thinking before passing the fuck out… not knowing who exactly he was referring to anymore. Because he feels positively not alive when waking up on the belfry’s cold ground, on the patch of concrete that lay behind where the catafalque used to be, surrounded by what remained of the candles and lampions he had brought along, and some of the flowers that people decorate graves with.

The spot where everyone suspected a former hidden path… or another grave.

He turns around, because now he remembers where he last saw the name Touya- it’s barely legible, but there it is, crudely chiselled into the stone right above the grey ground.

At first he supposes that the cold, empty feeling that seeps through his entire being must be the nasty cold and pneumonia he gets after the deed. As the days go by, however… the shivers and cold sensation persist and his dreams are plagued by endless mazes, fires, and haunting, blue eyes all the time.

His second guess for the cause of it is lingering fear: on the camera, he finds creepy photos of himself lying in the grave once he gets better. When going through them all, he considers to delete the ones he took of the other or use them for digging, (there’s no fucking way he actually hung out with a ghost, is there?) but… they all pop up as vaguely distorted landscapes, with light spots where a pair of eyes may or may not be.

Having stared blankly for like an hour at the one he really liked back then, he throws the camera into the corner of his armchair and doesn’t touch it for weeks.

This carries on through winter, in spring, and he's convinced of how badly he fucked up when even in the suffocating summer heat he feels the veil of an icy embrace.

Once leaves start catching rust again, the chill makes his bones ache, much like they did after the encounter. And it only gets stronger by the day. He hasn't shown the pictures, developed or otherwise, to anyone. Somewhere down the line he figured… that he should just give him the photos and trade them back for his soul, because hell if that dementor did not help himself to it right along with the kiss he definitely got but doesn’t remember. Trauma alone cannot possibly cause this.

It's midnight again. This time, he's already there, waiting for the toll of the distant church bell they had fixed and reset sometime in spring. The autumn fog is as thick as ever.

His grip tightens on the envelope; deals like this are notoriously hard to break or undo. Hell, the guy agreed to have the photos taken, creating a nice little loophole. Whether he printed them, deleted them all or whatever might be a moot point.

… no. No, he can't start thinking about this right now, if he comes he'll get this thing annulled, get his damn soul back---

As the last gong dies off in the night, a pair of lean arms slink around his aching chest and pull him against a body so cold it's scalding his skin.

"Hello again, angel," greets the voice, sounding a hundred times sweeter than he remembers.

…

Or maybe… he'll just let him keep it forever.

[fidelcastrato]

Saturday Night Dead

A dull roar floods a small, derelict house and about a block of surrounding land all of a sudden, followed shortly by a piercing screech which acts as the conditioned stimulus to roughly 30-40 people between the ages of probably around 15 at the youngest, up to pushing-40, causing a mass salivation in response to the promise of real, proletariat, bullshit-free Punk Fucking Rawk™. Brando Murely himself sits on a cinder block outside the door, just enough out of the way of the crowd distractedly making its way inside, everyone in the middle of a conversation, turning around every few seconds to give their latest opinion on the eternal IHOP v. Waffle House crisis, shouting-match phone calls, drunken wobbling, stoned hobbling, and oh-that-sweet-cocaine's-a-calling. From Brando's arm dangles eazily-breezily a small bucket, perhaps formerly housing some domesticated plant, with the word "DONATIONS" written in sharpie on the side. He is only a few brainwaves away from REM sleep, that sultry temptress.

Avey and Fyo take their sweet time. The openers are about to play, now sound-checking, if you can really call it that (not to be rude, but the opening acts of these kinda shows were more often than not either local upstarts or local failures, and lacked some level of expertise in regards to acoustics, dynamics, levels and such), but they have both just lit a new cigarette. No worries, though; they've been around enough that they know the path straight to the front, if it should turn out that The Ushi Onis were worth front row listening.

Towards the back of the house stood in solidarity the introverts so in love with music, but so out of touch with people, the old farts who didn't really care anymore but still attended out of habit, the few (if extant) devout fans of another band on the line-up who just wanted to get it over with already, and the stray college kid; not any art or philosophy major, no, just some regular Joe (and hilariously enough, one independent study in "Crime and Punkishment", a locally famous zine, reported that 73.7% of these people were actually named Joe) who happened upon this utterly obscene proceeding via a stack of coincidence and misfortune--maybe they were there with some punk ladyfriend from class.

In the middle, by far the largest section, you could find pretty much anybody from anywhere. Regulars who still hear the heartbeat of the scene, newcomers enthusiastic but not enthusiastic enough to put themselves out for judgement if they happened to accidentally nod their heads a bit with the music (mortified.....), and that strange demographic that seemed to place itself starkly in the middle of all the aforementioned alignments; middle-of-the-roaders through and through, to the point where they have risen above the road, and the ideal of the road, and smugly glance at one another and then down to you as if to imply a transcendence which those of us who have ever experienced anything in extreme can never know of.

Front and center, ears blasted to bits and facial muscles entering anaerobic respiration due to excessive smiling, the All-Stars of the scene danced alongside strangers, either naïve or drunk. The frontmen of the most famous local bands, the influencers, both silent and megaphonic, the photographers, the beauties, the hype-builders, the next band, the people who arranged this show in the first place, all of them stood in almost equal amounts of admiration as the performing act themselves. The rich and famous of the DIY; the proletariat bourgeoisie; the broke stock brokers; the soothsayers and the fortune tellers; basically, the people you want to know.

"Hey, let's make a film tomorrow" says Fyo.

"About what?" from Avey.

"Who cares? Let's climb that billboard at the top of the hill. Let's hop on a train and record the city from like, some weird dutch angle, or something. Let's see how many cats can fit in one box."

"We could never find enough cats for that. All of our friends have like two cats at least, including me, and that still wouldn't be close to enough."

"Let's give the camera some 4-aco-dmt and see what happens."

"Easy on the Adderall, bub."

Fyo had a pretty publicly-known problem with stimulants, which he was recently combatting with a burgeoning benzodiazepine habit. Avey's personal dog hair was Kratom. Both of them partook in casual use of just about every recreational substance at this point, always especially eager to try something new. They still more or less had a handle on their sanity, but not without their eccentricities. Both had a deep love for consumption and creation of art, primarily music; between them they owned a veritable arsenal of digital and analog synthesizers, samplers, ancient MIDI keyboards, melodicas, and various novelty instruments collected over the years. Each had their own individual recording endeavors, as well as a joint operation making full use of their combined setup. They had played shows, Fyo more than Avey on account of having played in front of various kinds of audiences since the age of 15, from dull high school jazz band performances to the exact kind of venue they found themselves at tonight--in fact he'd played at this house several times already in the past year. “Holy House”, one of the few legit punk houses remaining in the city after a long string of misfortunes over the past two years lead to some places being shut down, others burning down, some simply forgotten about, living on only in the ink of flyers taped to the walls of just about every DIY art kid in the area--it was kind of like collecting baseball cards. Avey had played a couple of the more fleeting art spots once or twice, but was generally overcome with anxiety at the last minute.

Now three cigarettes in a row have been smoked, throughout yet more overly-anxious stim-fueled artistic brainstorming, both Avey and Fyo silently assuming that tomorrow would in reality consist of the same events as every other Saturday; recovering from the debauchery of the previous night, maybe with a half-hour or so of absent-minded musical improvisation.

The Ushi Onis had completed their set, and from what they heard from outside, it was agreed that their nonsense conversations were about on equal footing with the music, as far as time-wasting went. Not that they were bad, it's just.....it seemed as though they'd heard this same band hundreds of times, despite the fact this was their debut show. It seemed to Fyo, who had been in attendance for, shit, a decade now, that every show more-or-less went the same these days. You could even predict non-music related events. There was the guy who got way too drunk and was basically floating around the crowd, eyes only half-open, flailing around off-rhythm in a disconcertingly unhuman way during particularly intense performances--Fyo himself had been this guy on more occasions than he'd like to admit, as well as more occasions than he could literally remember. There was the creep getting kicked out for being creepy; that was a very strict rule for this scene, "NO CREEPS". You'd see it on basically any given flyer. House shows did tend to attract these creeps, what with the combination of pretty, young, and drug-addicted attributes of many of the female frequenters. Thankfully, Fyo had never been that guy. There was the kind of slapstick situation that occurred immediately after every band played, where the members of the other bands playing that night would come up and say "Hey, great set, what pedals do you use?" and then annoy the shit out of the poor guys just trying to fucking get their drums in the van, only for the same thing to happen to the original complimentary artists. Nobody ever learned their lesson. Nobody ever learned their lesson, forever and ever. This pretty much sums up the stagnation that Fyo has recently come to observe within the scene.

"Hey, I'm done here, if you are. Head back to my place?"

"Right you are."

The four-minute drive back to Fyo's apartment left just enough time to blair at obnoxious volume Avey's favorite song by The Mountain Goats (at least, his favorite song that day--the song changed frequently, but The Goats always remained Mountainous). On the way upstairs, Avey got a text from Tomie: "Beck pulled through. Pool party?"

So Avey said to Fyo; "Beck pulled through. Pool party?"

"Fuckin duh."

Tomie was a close friend as well as ex-girlfriend to both Avey and Fyo. Beck was their communal coke dealer. Fyo was the only person in The Crew whose apartment had a pool, and it was the deep depths of summer, so late night swimming was a common occurrence. Tonight, Tomie had brought Beck along (who surely had more coke, and anyone can see that hanging out with a coke dealer, who definitely had plenty of coke to spare, would certainly turn out to be a fun time--Fyo knew this from experience, as an old friend, Jericho, also happened to be a coke dealer before moving off to.....fuck-knows-where; Fyo wasn't sure WHY they hung out so much exactly, or why Jericho had given him so much free coke in those days; Jericho was gay, but Fyo didn't really feel like he could possibly be desirable enough to warrant such favor, especially with his [back then, at least] very socially awkward mannerisms, even after several lines of really honestly pretty great coke--although, Fyo [himself being hetero, this only now in the narrative needing to be made clear] usually thought the same thing about ladies he spent time with, and surprisingly often was proven wrong) as well as invited Fitch, who invited Les, who invited Beck, who invited Lil, who invited Vick, who invited.....

.....

Noujeff.  

"Wait you say WHO the fuck is coming to my apartment???" Fyo demands answers.

"Shit, I'm sorry Fyo. I didn't know Vick was friends with him, don't know why he still is. We'll tell him to fuck off once he gets here, waste some gas at least. But hey.....The Crew here ain't gettin' any younger, so let's fuckin' get to it. Pick a record already."

The Crew was, in no particular order:

Avey, reserved but strong-willed and resilient, and disarmingly cunning; he once got Fyo, his on-and-off-again girlfriend Elise, and himself a free pass to this really exclusive music festival in what can only be described as an "experimental city"--FORM Arcosanti was the name of the festival (the town being just "Arcosanti"), located smack dab in the middle of the deserts of Arizona, where Fyo first glimpsed that now-out-of-reach image, occasionally dreamt or half-remembered, of a lone mountain, in the middle of one of the least forgiving deserts in an entire superpower-nation's worth of land, one of the hottest and driest places around, soaring so high into The Places We Cannot Reach, the great heights, the domain of myth and fiction more than anything, of a mountain seen from the road of a lonely desert which had a peak covered, even here in the frenzied peaks of July, the radioactive horror show burning of July, a peak covered in SNOW. Beautiful, nostalgic (and always nostalgic, for there was no "winter" in Arizona), almost, no yes certainly CLEANSING snow. The rest of the trip only got better. That is all we'll say of it, for now;

Fyo, the one whose thoughts we gain direct access to (to hell with a fourth wall; give me 50, 500, 5,000,000 more walls, and I will break them all), generally responsible, has a dependable job as a pharmacy technician, "almost" a real job, and two major flaws; here we move into

 1.) Intense Manic Episodes On a Yearly, Predictable Basis

-----

Every year, in the period of time spanning between around March and June-Mid-July, Fyo would suffer an intense clinical episode of mania; he would become obsessive over ideas so obscure and opaque that he only sounded like a lunatic when describing them, and indulged in drug abuse as if suicidal, and more than once now had indeed proven to be so. Fyo would and did argue, however, that during these periods of admittedly (even by him) questionable ties to reality, his artistic output became noticeably higher in both quantity and quality than what was usually found in his "seasonal depression" (so-called) episodes during the months of October-February. No psychiatrist has yet explained this adequately.

 2.) An Unhealthy Obsession With All Forms of Art, As Well As the Definition of Art Itself

-----

From a very young age, Fyo had shown great interest in art, and strangely enough but of course conspicuously naturally, surrealist art in particular. At 12, on a family vacation to Florida for the purposes of the (back then affordable even by the lower-middle-class family, with some planning) relaxation of the beach and the primal thrill of the Great Twin Amusement Parks, he devoted a day to visiting the Salvador Dali museum in St. Petersburg, Florida; a couple years later, the very first band he was in (at 15 years old) was named after Dali's "The Burning Giraffe". Then he gradually caught on to the growing web of obscurities, myths, exaggerations, half-truths, genuine enigmas, and philosophical contradictions that were accepted by some as truth, and saw the art embedded in life; and in the mirror, he saw the reflection of such, and in that he saw things that moved him in ways he was naïve to previously. That's how he got older. That's how he saw that the waking life was just as absurd as the dream. All that mattered was which space he occupied at a given time;

Tomie, as mentioned previously was both a close friend and ex-girlfriend to both Avey and Fyo. Each relationship was separated by such distance (spatially and temporally) that it really didn't matter, everyone had moved on cross-country and it was just nice to have people just fuckin' caring about each other, you know? Tomie was not afraid to bite into you in a very personal way, as long as she knew it would help you. She was a great ally to have in the world, if sometimes blunt; but this bluntness was out of a genuine kindness and invariably proved effective somehow. If you trusted anyone's advice, it was Tomie's;

Fitch, constantly in-and-out of jail for something or other, after so many years the circumstances blurred out a bit. Being eternally and self-admittedly impermanent, he always seemed almost as if acting in repentance to the best of his abilities; but around people like this, hope for repentance was laughable;

Lil, probably the most adult of the group, an ex-girlfriend of Fyo from back in the day, had worked her way to a very well-paying analytics gig. She still found herself hanging around with these wannabe artists and revolutionaries, for whatever reason; she was certainly always welcome, and that gave her a warm, content feeling.....

"Pick a goddamn record" says Lil.

Every time The Crew got together for some midnight coke-fueled swimming, someone got to ceremoniously choose a record from Fyo's collection, off of which the cover of the cocaine would be inhaled. It was Fyo's night. He was having trouble deciding. The record that was chosen would also be played on the record player while the lines were being drawn and erased; the lines themselves were on the sleeve, the small but not ignorable visual component of the LP. He looked through his stack; Joyce Manor (played a show with them before they became big--frontman was kind of an asshole. No.), The Antlers (far too sad for shamelessly inhaled thrills), Talking Heads (no, we'll just end up putting "Once In a Lifetime" on repeat), no, no, no, no.....LCD Soundsystem? Hm. Yeah, this one. Sound of Silver, talk to me.

"Fuckin' finally. Okay let's get this train wreck a-rollin'."

Greed filled the eyes of everyone in the room. Along with record-choosing duties came the first line of the night. Fyo lays down one FAT fucking line, finely crushed almost down to the individual molecule it seemed, grabs the closest straw, leans over and looks down at the snowy mountain range here in the middle of the silver desert, and unflatteringly snorts with all his might, and feels each crystal immediately begin its own personal attack on his neurotransmitters, leans back to make sure everything falls into the mucous membrane, nothing wasted, except for Fyo himself, and steps back to fall comically onto the couch, a smile of contentment and even relief overtaking his facial expression as Nancy Whang chants "You can normalize. Don't it make you feel alive?"

This. This is the life.

[adorkablephil]

Fic: The Body Electric (Epilogue)

Title: The Body Electric Summary: Filmmaker Phil Lester finds his computer infected by a surprisingly endearing artificial intelligence virus that calls itself D.A.N. Phil just calls him Dan. Rating: Mature (But there’s no sex here.) Word Count: 1.8k Tags: Phandom Reverse Bang, Science Fiction AU, Computers, Virus!Dan, Rather Unconventional Romance Thanks: This story was inspired by a prompt from the artist @lilacskylester in the @phandomreversebang. Their art for the fic is here! The story is straying from the original prompt, but that’s still where the inspiration came from. You can also read the whole fic on AO3

—————

[ The Body Electric Chapter Masterlist ]

—————

Epilogue: Hacker

Sitting at one of the window seats at my favorite Starbucks, dipping an almond biscotti into my pumpkin spice latte, I notice a tall guy with a dark quiff staring at me oddly from the queue at the counter. He’s cute, in a dorky kind of way—kind of gangly and awkward, as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with the length of his limbs.

In my experience, that doesn’t necessarily translate into a lack of coordination in the bedroom. I’m just saying.

Also, even from this distance, I can see that his socks are two different colors. I have a weird thing for guys who wear mismatched socks. I like the way it implies a relaxed refusal to comply with societal expectations. I’m not a big fan of societal expectations in general, whether it comes to gender roles, sexual identity, physical appearance, sock choice, or pretty much anything else.

I’m just not a big fan of people telling me what to do or who to be.

I dip my biscotti back into my drink and take a bite. Biscotti by themselves taste like cardboard, but pretty much anything tastes good if you’ve got a tasty dip. I chew and swallow, then glance back toward the queue.

The guy with the quiff and the mismatched socks shoots me another strangely intense look, and I smile. Maybe he’ll have the guts to come over and say hi. I don’t have to be at work for another half hour, so I wouldn’t mind a bit of flirting with a cute stranger to start the day off nicely.

He lurks awkwardly near the pick-up area after placing his order, but then the barista booms, “Pumpkin spice latte for Phil!” and he jumps, then walks over to pick up his drink. He glances at me again, obviously nervous, and I give him another encouraging smile.

He sips from his drink, still standing near the counter, and jerks his mouth away from the cup abruptly. Probably burnt his tongue. He shoots me another glance and smiles sheepishly, so I finally just motion him over, and he comes to sit across from me at the table. He takes the lid off of his drink and blows on the hot liquid. I notice his lips are soft and pink, his face pale and narrow with killer cheekbones.

“Hi,” I say, and take a sip of my drink. “Pumpkin spice latte, huh?” Phil gapes at me for a moment, and I begin to question his intelligence. “They just announced it when you picked up your order,” I remind him with a chuckle.

“Oh, right.” He ducks his head and blushes, and I realize he’s just really nervous for some reason. And he keeps shooting quick glances at my face then looking away again. “I’m sorry,” he says in obvious embarrassment. “This is just really weird.”

“Why is it weird?” I ask, taking another sip of my drink. “Do you not usually talk to strange men in coffee shops? Or do you not usually drink pumpkin spice lattes?” That gets an honest laugh out of him, and his face looks much more relaxed afterward.

“No,” he says, still laughing, “I always drink pumpkin spice lattes. It’s an annual rite of passage. It’s the start of the lead up to the Big C.” I raise an eyebrow in question. “Christmas!” he explains.

I nod knowingly. “Of course. There needs to be a specific dividing line for when the festive season actually officially begins, and the arrival of the pumpkin spice latte at Starbucks is that line.” He nods solemnly, taking my fake seriousness as it’s intended, and then grins.

It’s a nice grin. A nice smile in general. And his tongue peeks out just a little bit out of the corner of his mouth, which is perhaps the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen on a grown man. It should look silly, but it just looks cute as hell.

“That’s why I’m drinking one, too,” I admit. “I think they’re too sweet, personally, but who am I to argue with festive traditions?”

Phil looks aghast. “There is no such thing as too sweet!” he insists.

I just shake my head sadly. “Here I had such high hopes for us, but we’re clearly hopelessly incompatible on a basic molecular level.”

His face lights up. Almost literally. It’s like something within him just shines, and I notice the beautiful color of his pale eyes, multiple colors all at the same time. One of the colors is actually yellow, as if sunshine itself is beaming from the center of his irises. I’m a little stunned by the sudden output of pure wattage, to be honest.

“You had high hopes for us?” he asks, still beaming at me like the freaking sun. “Based on what?”

“I like a guy with mismatched socks,” I say with a smirk, getting my metaphorical feet back under me. “But the real problem is that I need to get going to work soon.” I give him a more genuine smile. I wouldn’t mind getting his number.

Phil’s eyes grow wide. “It’s Derek!” he murmurs in this voice that sounds almost awed. He seems to be staring at my smile, but he must have seen someone else behind me.

I look around. “Did you see someone you know?”

Phil blinks a few times and shakes his head. “No. Sorry. Just … you were telling me about your job,” and the weirdness seems to have vanished, leaving just his cute sort of awkward oddness behind. “What do you do?”

I sigh. I hate my job. I hate talking about my job. I hate everything that even remotely pertains to my job. “I’m a solicitor, specializing in cyber crimes,” I admit with chagrin. “I love the cyber part, but the solicitor part is a huge drag. I don’t know why I ever studied law.” I’m leaving a lot out—such as my own extracurricular forays into the “crime” part of “cyber crimes”—but I just met this guy. “What about you?” I ask, taking another sip of my PSL and noticing that it’s only half finished. We’ve been talking longer than I realized, and my drink is beginning to cool. I set the remaining half of my biscotti on my napkin, not really interested in it anymore. And I really do need to get to work.

But you know what? Fuck work. I hate that job. All those classes in computer coding, and I end up a fucking bureaucrat.

So if talking to a cute guy makes me late for work for once, who gives a fuck? Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to get fired. I can become a pianist or sell Kanye CDs on the street or something. Become a fashion model for Alexander McQueen. Make baking videos on fucking YouTube. Anything would be better than this hell job. Talking to this cute guy is definitely better.

“I’m a filmmaker,” he tells me, and I’m instantly intrigued.

“Really?” I ask, and he nods.

“I started out making movies when I was a kid. I wanted to be the next Wes Craven,” he says.

“Ah! Horror films!” He nods. “I fucking loved The Ring!”

“Me too!” Phil enthuses, and then he just sits at looks at me for a long moment as we both sip our drinks. His has apparently cooled down enough for him to drink it normally now.

“Do you feel like we’ve met before?” Phil asks out of nowhere. He’s giving me that weird stare again.

I raise an eyebrow and smirk. “Aren’t we past those kinds of pick-up lines? I think we’ve already established that I’m into you.”

He blushes the prettiest pink I’ve ever seen, the shade of his cheeks almost matching his lips, and he looks away before glancing back at me, looking adorably shy. “No. It’s not a pick-up line. I really want to know. You don’t … I don’t seem familiar to you?”

I shake my head. “Should I remember you from somewhere?”

“No. No, you shouldn’t,” he replies, and I think there’s a bit of sadness in his tone. Did he think I was someone else, and now he’s disappointed? Well, I don’t need that kind of baggage.

“I should get to work,” I say abruptly, and scoot back my chair to stand, prepared to toss the rest of my stupidly sweet PSL into the rubbish bin.

But Phil jumps to his feet and pleads, “Wait!” We stand there a moment, just watching each other, and then he takes a deep breath and says, “I’d really like to see you again. If you want that. I … I like you. More than I thought I would.”

That seems like an odd thing to say, so I raise an eyebrow. “More than you thought you would?”

Phil shrugs uncomfortably. “Well, at first you reminded me of this other guy, but once I started talking to you … I don’t know…” Yup, baggage. I don’t need that.

I head to the door and toss my cup into the rubbish, and Phil follows me. Gotta give the guy points for persistence. “Look,” he says firmly, “I know I’ve been a little weird.” I shoot him a look and he sort of laughs. “Okay, maybe a lot weird. I’m just generally kind of awkward, but … you seem really cool … and I’d really like to get to know you better. Nothing about any other guy. Just … you. I like you.” He bites his lip, and there he goes again with the adorableness. I’m not immune to it.

I can’t help but smile, and his shoulders drop about two inches in relief. “Okay. Meet me here again for coffee tomorrow? Same time. We can talk more. And maybe you can show me one of these horror movies of yours.”

“One’s showing at the independent film festival next week,” he says with shy pride. The combination of humility and self-confidence makes him even more attractive.

“It could be our first real date,” I suggest, half joking. “Will it scare me enough to make me leap into your lap?”

“One can only hope,” he replies with a grin. “Some people really like it. I hope you will, too.”

We stand and smile at each other until somebody pushes past us to get out the door. I really do need to get to work.

“So … I’ll see you here tomorrow?” I ask, and I find that I’m really looking forward to it.

“Definitely,” he says. “I promise.”

**********

Author’s Note: Now THAT is the end! I hope you enjoyed it!

[smol-and-smad]

Soukoku Rant

So I just needed to get this out there.  This won’t have any references (although I will try to direct to where I saw a thing) so sorry, but I just need to blab about this thought in my head. THIS TURNED OUT TO BE SO LONG SO HERE’S A CUT.

A big part of the BSD fandom is Soukoku.  Don’t get me wrong, I love Soukoku (Nakahara Chuuya and Dazai Osamu).  I don’t ship them but I love them, and especially love them separately (Chuuya is my favorite, and he’s still taller than me). ANYWAY something that always comes up is Soukoku’s relationship and I think the fandom in general is pretty spot on about how their dynamic is complicated and complex.  It is stated in the both the manga and anime by the characters themselves and in the manga character sheets that they hate each other.  Like to the point that Chuuya’s only dislike is Dazai. Not even Atsushi and Akutagawa have each other listed as dislikes (granted that’s pretty obvious and is a main story arc with Shin Soukoku, but I digress).  And they do apparently hate each other.  However, we all saw in both the manga and the anime how, when Dazai was smacked by Lovecraft and actually pretty hurt, Chuuya was concerned.  And in the opening art of Chapter 31 (Double Black/Soukoku)  of the manga little Chuuya and Dazai looking at each other as they walk away.  This all leads (pretty obviously) that their dynamic is more complex than just ‘they hate each other’. 

What I’ve been thinking about is this - there are two ways their relationship has played out. But there is something to keep in mind here before I ramble more: 1. the main ‘pairing’ of the story isn’t Soukoku (at least the main story of Bungou Stray Dogs); that belongs to Shin Soukoku. Atsushi IS the listed main protagonist and the manga has this goal in mind.  BSD is about Shin Soukoku not Soukoku. 2. We are getting an original movie that the poster featured Soukoku; so there might be hope for more Soukoku past but I don’t know anything and all my info has to be translated because I’m lame and don’t speak Japanese. So all this could be for naught. But do keep in mind, the movie is a Bones production and I have no idea how much say Asagiri is having (could be writing the whole thing, again I don’t speak Japanese and I have no idea). 

Now, the two ways Soukoku relationship could play out.  Let’s start with the optimistic one first. They were probably raised somewhat together in the Mafia and were friends once upon a time. They were partners after all, and while one could make an argument for putting them together for the compatibility of their strengths alone it was probably a little more than just that.  But they are SUPER compatible.  Chuuya is strong, and not just because his ability is fucking gravity manipulation; he is the lead martial artist of the Mafia.  Dazai is ‘the demonic prodigy’ and while he does have some hand-to-hand combat training and is good with it his real strength is his strategic mind.  They are very much a brains and brawn combo.  Not saying Chuuya isn’t smart, he is; Dazai is just smarter.  And this is where the hatred probably started.  They are listed as being the same age (both 22 in present day BSD) yet Dazai is the one known as the Demonic Prodigy, the one with the title of ‘Youngest Mafia Executive’.  Not Chuuya. We don’t know when Chuuya became an Executive (or at least I don’t) but we can assume it was after Dazai became one. And we know Dazai used to give Chuuya shit all the time when they were partners - Chuuya says Dazai used to spite him and insult him during Episode 10 (and the correlating manga chapter) when they were partners all the time.  Do we think Dazai is above rubbing something like that in Chuuya’s face? Chuuya is big on loyalty and the Mafia hierarchy, and Dazai being an Executive and Chuuya not would cause some problems for Chuuya with being his partner.  But is Dazai about being petty? Absolutely not.  Especially ESPECIALLY Mafia-Dazai. And Dazai toward Chuuya in general; he admits he was captured and came to Mafia headquarters ‘mostly for Atsushi’ with the rest of his reason being to spite and goad Chuuya.  EVEN AFTER FOUR YEARS OF NOT SEEING EACH OTHER DAZAI IS STILL A LITTLE SHIT TO CHUUYA. So let’s think about this; Chuuya as we know is an extremely hard worker, loyal to a fault to the Mafia, and cares deeply (as shown when he is looking at the deaths from Q’s curse).  Dazai (especially Mafia-Dazai and yes we must separate them) cares little for others, loves to prank his partners, and while he works hard everything is easy for him because he is so smart.  The hatred could have started, at least on Chuuya’s side, from a sense of jealousy and that’s WHY anytime Dazai is brought up and praised he still gets upset (that wine scene with Kouyou, Mori, and Chuuya post Shin Soukoku fighting Fitzgerald). And another thing - Chuuya is dependent on Dazai for Corruption. Completely dependent and at Dazai’s whim.  Soukoku is powerful and became Soukoku because of Corruption (as stated in the manga); Corruption being CHUUYA’S ability yet Chuuya’s life is in Dazai’s bandaged hands. And yet, Dazai seems to get the most praise.  Now why does Dazai hate Chuuya? (We know he does, it’s stated and he is much less reactionary toward Chuuya than the other way around). Not sure, Dazai is always hard to read.  But I would theorize that they were friends at one point, probably partners for a long time, and it was jealousy and conflicting personalities that made them drift apart.  But it’s hard to let go of in-grained habits, like caring for your partner and knowing their habits and attacks; remember it was 4 years from when Dazai left the Mafia and they still remember their old maneuvers.  And caring for the one person that could save your life if you have to use your suicidal yet super strong true ability. Looking at you, handsome ginger. 

Now for the more pessimistic reason they hate each other - because Asagiri wanted a parallel to Shin Soukoku. That’s it. Because the author wanted a parallel.  And this only works as the parallel to Shin Soukoku because Dazai is officially part of the Agency and Chuuya is a Mafia Executive.  It would make sense for there to be an original Soukoku if the end-game is Shin Soukoku with Atsushi and Akutagawa.  It makes Shin Soukoku more believable and gives them room to grow and makes them front and center if and when they become more powerful than Soukoku.  Now yes, Chuuya and Dazai were dubbed Soukoku back when they were in the Mafia together, but WE DON’T SEE THAT which is what is important.  We don’t see Soukoku originally, we see Soukoku as Asagiri (this is an intentional fallacy but imma do it anyway) intended for us to see them - as one member from the Agency and one member from the Mafia working together. Giving us an original Soukoku with a backstory that makes it believable makes the idea of Shin Soukoku more appealing and more believable especially since Akutagawa spends SO MUCH TIME trying to kill Atsushi. Them working together without a previous basis of reliability, of an example of ‘oh hey two people from opposite sides who hate each other working together can work cool’ would be hard to sell.  Now this isn’t the first time things have been twisted to suit the narrative in BSD.  Very first episode, very first chapter - when we find out Atsushi is the tiger and we see Dazai’s No Longer Human nullification for the first time, for some reason Atsushi’s arm doesn’t return to normal.  Which, by all accounts and all instances we see of No Longer Human later, it should have.  So why this first time does Atsushi’s arm remain a tiger paw? Dramatic effect. So Atsushi can find out in a slightly humorous manner he is the tiger and he is a gifted individual.  Dazai says “My nullification ability is absolute” in Double Black when fighting Lovecraft.  If it’s absolute, as we have seen it to be, this first interaction of No Longer Human on Atsushi makes no sense - except as a twist made by the author for the narrative.  And the narrative is Atsushi, as the main protagonist, joining the Armed Detective Agency and later becoming part of Shin Soukoku. Side/Last note, Soukoku isn’t the only Mafia/Agency duo OH NO we find out Mori and Fukuzawa were an unofficial Soukoku back in the day.  Chapter 50 we discover THIS LITTLE TIDBIT and it was hinted they had interacted before during the Guild Arc. 

All in all? It is probably some combination of the two.  There is probably a back story to Chuuya and Dazai’s hatred of each other we are not privy to. But this is a chance it is not detailed because it isn’t necessary for the main story.  Now, if the movie does prequel to our BSD universe and gives us the truth of Soukoku? I’m down. 

The purpose of this? I’ve been thinking about this every god-damned day for like a week and I needed to get it out. Sorry for the ramble. 

[raitrolling]

i fucked up and answered the wrong symbol but fuckit im still doing this

☾ - What was the first idea that inspired the creation of each of your trolls, and do they still embody that idea now?

listed in order of creation, and some of these answers are gonna get really fuckin long so prepare yourself for masses of textwalls

charon: ive gone over his history in this ask here, so tl;dr version: i wanted to make a light greenblood who was creepy and loved blood and fighting. thats it. why people like this guy even though his origin is literally being Edgy(tm) is beyond me. while blood and fighting are still his main interests, his creepiness is no longer being creepy for the sake of being ‘ooh hes so evil and InSaNe xD xD xD’ to actually having motivations and becoming a legitimate threat to others.

skathi: I DONT THINK IVE EVER ACTUALLY TALKED ABOUT OLD!SKATHI BEFORE SO ONLY FORMER MSPAF MEMBERS REMEMBER THAT DUMPSTER FIRE LMAO. but basically skathi’s original concept was vaguely inspired by The Importance of Being Earnest since i was studying that play at the time, but rather than being a british gentleman who invents an alternate identity as an excuse to fuck off to the country or invents a sick relative as an excuse to avoid boring social events, she was a lowblood posing as a highblood because people she fucked over burned down her hive. however that idea didnt work at all because she was complete shit at hiding her blood so that got scrapped, and shes been completely remade twice. now the only concepts that have stayed through the revamps is that she’s an axe-wielding Flarper who uses poisons and got her hive burned down.

cvetka: cvetka’s another character who’s been completely revamped and reset, but her concept hasnt really changed as much. originally she had chlorokinesis that went awry all the fuckin time because whatever man im 16 i can write whatever bullshit i want (aka no reason at all). also she was inspired by the Victorian Era + the language of flowers because i was studying that at the time (you will see this becomes a common thing). then i cant remember if it got confirmed in the comic or if it just because a commonly accepted headcanon on mspaf that highbloods didnt have psiionics at all (whats a vriska) so that got scrapped. then in her revamp she became a complete recluse because pacifism is a no-go on alternia, and while i find that shes become a much better written / well-thought out character as a result, my chances to rp her have become severely limited.

katrin: was my self-insert. originally she was painfully shy and couldnt really talk to anyone without get super embarrassed, and also she was an artist instead of a writer. then everything changed when the fire nation attacked she got a boyfriend. its kinda funny tho because she had no interest in working or getting rich until she met gerrel, yet she ended up on the complete opposite path to him by becoming a thief and running scams with her moirail at the time. then a shitload of events occurred (most of them retconned out of her backstory but their effects on her character still remain. also we dont talk about 90% of those events because i was a Bad Writer at the time and im embarrassed by everything and nearly anxiety-vomit whenever people go ‘hey remember this’ BYE) and we got the piece of shit raccoon thief we all know and love. also ive mentioned this heaps of times before but at one point she had robolimbs cuz both her arms got shot off but i retconned that to having the bullets graze her because i hated drawing her cybernetics lmao. the only things that’ve really stayed with her is that she’s still really awkward and a little shy, as well as still retaining a lot of my negative traits from her self-insert days.

viltau: ive also talked about vil’s history in another ask, but tl;dr wanted a Gatsby troll cuz i was studying the book at the time, ended up making an Edgelord. he’s still pretty gatsby-esque, being a rich guy who worked his way up to the top (tho nowhere near as drastically since he’s already a highblood) and throws a lot of parties, but since he’s a huge literature nerd now he’s a lot more self-aware and aims to purposely embody tropes from his favourite novels. i still like the idea of yellowblood!viltau (and his old sprites are adorable i mean look at him), but i have a lot more fun writing him as he is now. he’s almost a parody of himself, yet simultaneously played completely straight.

somerl: he was originally inspired from me going through my photo albums from times ive been to Hamilton Island on holiday, and in particular the one night i went on a cruise on The Banjo Paterson. i liked the idea of a cute sailor troll, and that was all he got characterwise. then, like katrin, he developed as a result of a bunch of events occurring to him and that’s how he gained a personality. he’s still a cute sailor troll, but now he’s a paranoid insomniac sailor troll with an obsession for superstitions and hatred for seadwellers and women. seadweller women are his worst nightmare.

dismas: his origin is actually kinda funny cuz i was watching this amv, and around about the time that Birthday Massacre song starts playing there’s this white-haired kid who appears and i thought he was the coolest thing ever. to this day i still have no clue who he is or what anime he’s from. also because it’s still 2011 and I Was A Teenage Edgelord i had an embarrassing obsession with Izaya from Durarara so of course dismas had to be an informant who fucks with everyone. originally he was yellow!viltau’s assistant who carried out all the shady jobs and was my go-to troll for killing off ocs i got bored of but they had history with other people’s trolls so i couldnt just get rid of them. then his original concept got combined with vil when i retconned vil into being an indigoblood. when i brought him back i kept the informant stuff and the Edgyness, but now he’s edgy to make fun of the fact he was a legitimate edgelord played 100% straight back in the day. also his roboarm switched sides because i forgot which arm he lost lmao.

aegiel: did a complete 180 in terms of character concept, and went through a bunch a revamps before i even started rping her. originally she was inspired by Hollywood Undead (particularly the song city), and was actually a super hemorebel who managed to escape capture and culling by having probability manipulating psiionics that ensured luck was always on her side. then i scrapped that entirely because at the time i was studying the Chinese revolution and the topic of the cultural revolution came up. so then her concept switched to being based on the Chinese Red Guards, as well as partially the Russian Cheka since i studied the Russian revolution the semester prior. I thought the concept of a super hemoloyal lowblood with a fanatical dedication to the Empire would be interesting, since most hemoloyalists tended to be highbloods. the only things thatve stayed from her original concept are her name and symbol, as well as her laughing quirk being a remnant of how her lusus was originally a cheshire cat.

aiolos: i dont really remember where his original concept came from, apart from i remember seeing a fanart of a 1920s style Scout from TF2 and liking the idea of a courier troll. i know i drew his original design in history class while watching Doctor Zhivago but i dont remember anything about that movie to know if that had any bearing on his character lmao. originally he was pretty rude and kinda sleazy, which ended up morphing into the sass you see today. he hasnt really changed much from his original concept, but its more that his character has grown over time.

kalpan: ok i have a confession to make. the reason why i made kal was because there were a shitload of anonbloods on mspaf that were either A. really bad at hiding their anonblood status, or B. were all almost always tyrianbloods in disguise who would pull rank every time someone gave them shit for being anon. and me, being the egotistical piece of shit i am, decided that i wanted to make a good anonblood. so kal’s blood was kept secret and she stayed out of trouble so that itd never get revealed, and her reasoning for being anonymous was just that she didnt really care my dude. she hasnt really strayed too far from her original concept, but rather expanded on the reason why shes so casually apathetic and gave her more of a backstory.

leithe: leithe’s original concept was something i dreamed up, no joke. from what i remember from the dream, i went to like a superhero school or something, and there was this one kid whose power was to cancel out other people’s powers so he’d be the one to save other kids when they lost control of their powers. his power also looked like a bubble that’d envelop himself and the other person whose powers he was cancelling out, so when i made him a fantroll that turned into an invisible field in which his psiionics were constantly active. and instead of being a hero, leithe was just an average dude who’d take up odd jobs here and there so he could have the skills to get a good job in the fleet. conceptwise he hasnt changed much, although hes become less tolerate of other lowbloods over time and he grew 500% more eyebrow.

pratap: was the first new troll i made after starting this blog. his first idea was a cute little seadweller who didnt really understand why other trolls were suspicious of him and his innocent offers to take them to his cafe for coffee. then shortly after making him, I studied Great Expectations in my uni literature class, and loved the idea of pratap getting a mentor who turns him from an innocent little kid to a typical shithead member of high society. that plot was going pretty well but fell through because of Reasons (read: i no longer associate with the other rper), so now he’s stuck in limbo characterwise but id love to pick it up again sometime.

errett: i say this every time i bring up errett’s history but haha remember when this guy was supposed to be cute. so errett was supposed to be in a group of trolls inspired by the four main elements from the game OFF., but pwo and i never got anyone to fill the spots for the elements of metal and plastic so it was just errett and his troll karnvr. and yeah, errett was supposed to be cute and his rudeness was meant to just be cutesy ‘ill puff up my cheeks and get angry and everyones gonna think im adorable’ but that got thrown out the window the moment i started rping him and he became a complete cunt. then we started thinking up a backstory for him and he became even more of a Bitter Angry Baby, so now the only elements that’ve really retained are his design and references to the game OFF..

sigrun: was inspired by those gifs of penguins falling over and the fact that i fucking love penguins and cry whenever i see cute penguin-related things. apart from being a bit more aggressive in their first draft, they havent changed much at all (probably because i never use them ever oops).

kisert: i have another confession to make. the reason why i made kisert was because i thought the whole ‘creepy little kid who talks to ghosts’ troll was overdone to hell and back so i wanted to make a parody of it by making a troll who pretends to be creepy and talks to ghosts to con people. he’s always been a massive childish brat, but his brattiness and childishness has gotten even more apparent over the years. tho at the same time, because those tendencies have been played up, he’s become a lot more emotionally stunted and stuck in the past as a result, which i think is more interesting than his original concept.

raesul: also hasn’t really changed from her original concept. i had the Danger Days album on repeat and really liked the idea of a hemorebel radio host, and so rae was born. she’s also partially inspired by Motorcity which i was watching at the time (and never finished oops), hence her radio station being called radio BRNR, after the Burners group. while rae was always supposed to be completely different from her miss summertime identity, the differences have become a lot more pronounced now that rae is super awkward and insecure while miss summertime is loud, proud, and always in control. also miss summertime’s wardrobe went from being super girly to more punk and rock-and-rock inspired, originally i wanted to avoid that because i thought itd be too cliche but then somewhere along the line i decided ‘lol fuck it’.

shirei: is based off the pokemon pangoro, cuz one of it’s pokedex entries states how its tough and aggressive but doesnt tolerate bullies, so i thought the idea of a tough but almost motherly gang leader would be neat. i was also watching Kill La Kill and Revolutionary Girl Utena at the time, so she gained some tomboyish but also princely/fairytale-esque qualities as a result. she hasnt changed much in terms of concept and ideas, but she kinda retroactively got inspired by quite a few of the Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure protagonists (particularly Jolyne and Giorno, but also a bit of Josuke) because they were kind of similar in concept.

redeti: was made as being a part of a group for trolls based on santa’s reindeer that i was doing with pwo. red is a combination of the ideas i had for Dasher and Vixen, and when i first designed him we joked that he looked like a lovechild between viltau and kitaer, so his interests became snowcones and murder to reference that. while he’s still a part of the Northern Lights crew with all the other reindeer inspired trolls we made, he’s become more detached from everyone else as a result of making friends with people outside the community. but in terms of original concept and ideas, he hasn’t really changed apart from probably becoming a lot more naive and dense over time.

fannar: is another troll from the Northern Lights crew, although they were made about a month after. they were kind of based off my idea for Donner, but also a mix between one of my older trolls i got rid of and my old Hetalia oc Antarctica. since they werent going to be a reindeer troll, i wanted them to be an outsider to the group, hence their polar bear lusus and their sickly constitution making it difficult for them to live in their current environment. originally they legitimately hated redeti’s guts and wanted him dead, but over time it’s become more of just a simple blackcrush that’s made them very protective of him.

nancor: ive mentioned this before, but his original concept came about because of this video and me deciding i really liked xatu. i had also seen The Book Thief recently, and loved the character of Death (i havent read the book yet tho dont judge me), so that’s where nan’s whole ‘pleasant but morbid angel of death’ came from. he’s also somewhat based on a couple characters from Hamatora (which is an alright series but the 2nd season is a complete dumpster fire and you should only watch if you want to watch a show fly so far off the rails it becomes hilarious), such as Ratio’s power requiring him to cover up his eye, and Moral’s design (as well as Izuru Kamukura from Danga Ronpa being another design insp). he’s always been kind of a silly character with his dumb puns and the fact that he walks around wearing a blindfold and fights with semaphore flags, but the more serious aspects of his personality didnt come in until much later.

eichio: another troll that started out as a huge fuckin joke, i saw this vine and wanted to make a troll who used noisemakers as their strife weapon. his mimicry and talent with musical instruments was just random brainstorming, and his whole ‘mimicking other trolls so he can learn how to act properly and pick up their behaviours to become likeable’ became a thing because i didnt know what personality or interests to give him. then i really started to explore the concept of a troll who has been raised to be nothing but the perfect people pleaser and even more perfect servant, and the effects that would have on someone’s mentality. he also developed an anxiety disorder cuz i got diagnosed with GAD and realised how much of myself id unintentionally put in him. its kinda amusing how a character who was originally supposed to just be a blank slate ended up so complex, but i really like how much hes grown as a concept.

davitt: dav was made for that meme that went around where you and a friend had to come up w. 2 ocs in secret and not reveal them until they were both done, and then you had to figure out how to ship them together, so i came up with him while pwo made walker. i was watching How To Get Away With Murder at the time, so i really liked the idea of a corrupt lawyer who used loopholes to get all his clients out of being found guilty, and was only in the job field for money and the fact it was really easy for a tealblood to become a Legislacerator. but, since im incapable of making trolls that arent also huge fuckin dorks, he was also a huge lazy piece of shit cat who hoarded random garbage and came up with dumb ways to be efficiently lazy. over time his corrupt and greedy ways have fallen to the wayside in favour of the more comically serious side to his personality, though they’re still slightly there since he is primarily a defense lawyer and we all know those types of lawyers are the devil.

ananta: ana is based off the game OneShot, which i played and fell in love with instantly. a lot of their concept stems from the game, ranging from superficial stuff such as their appearance resembling Niko and how their strife weapon is a lightbulb, but also the technical aspects of the game such as their unforgiving personality being a reference to how you only get one shot at the game, and their hobby as a hacker referencing how the game does shit to your computer as part of a puzzle. the resemblance was apparently so close that the creator of the game reblogged my concept art for ana, which im both still flattered and embarrassed about. like a lot of my recent characters, their core concept hasnt really changed, but rather ive focused a lot more on aspects of their personality like their extreme bitterness to hide their vulnerablity, and their loneliness as a result of the events in their life and the facade they put up.

soroll: is a literal meme. hes based off the ‘scream at own ass’ opossum meme, and is part of a group of meme animal trolls owned by pwo, who is also a huge memer. again his concept hasnt really changed since hes always been kinda dumb but with a huge heart, but over time hes become more of a mother hen type since he ended up unintentionally gravitating towards trolls who never took care of themselves so hed fuss over them. also i have no clue what happened to his quirk over time or even what accent its meant to resemble now lmao.

benrii: is based off Sanetoshi Watase from one of my favourite anime of all time, Mawaru Penguindrum. like ana, he’s not so much a direct rip of the character (apart from appearance) but more of an amalgamation of references to the series, so you have things like his obsession with fate mirroring the theme of the show, his apple bombs referencing the symbolism of apples that appears constantly, and the fact that he’s 9.5 sweeps refers to the 95 arc number in the show. also at one point i fell into a huge rabbit hole and ended up reading up about cults and biblical shit so that’s where his god complex came from. the whole ‘being addicted to praise and acting out for attention’ aspect of his personality didnt come about until much later, and thats now the dominant part of his character as a whole.

rosato: is another troll based on memes and joke posts on tumblr rifp, but this time its those posts on modern vampires and people not recognising they’re actually vampires and seeing things like their sudden aversion to the sun and garlic to just be weird coincidences. so then i came up with the idea of a forgetful rainbowdrinker who refused to believe theyre actually dead because they forgot how they got killed and assumes all the associated Weird Vampire Shit are just coincidences. he’s also got a shitload of Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure references in him because this was around about the time i got into the series. after errett failed, rosato was my second attempt at making a shy and cute but kinda mean troll, but once again he ended up becoming a full-blown rude asshole.

zotick: i was reading Vento Aureo and thought ‘you know Gold Experience is a fuckin cool power, what if I tried to make it less OP and turn it into a fantroll’. thus, zot was born. like rosato, his design and personality are a bunch of references to Giorno, and his love of bugs/scorpions/lizards/etc came from the fact that whenever Gold Experience turned something into an animal, its always something gross and dangerous. like eichio, i couldnt decide on any interests so i took the cheater’s way out and made it that he got bored easily so he doesnt stick to any main hobbies apart from bugs and pranks. Over time, he became more obnoxious and annoying, which was mostly because every single bug-related post on this site i could find was a fuckin meme.

Indi and Kaiman: im putting these two together because i came up with their concepts at the same time. firstly, i wanted to make trolls who were interested in the paranormal and aliens and shit, and secondly, i wanted them to be not quite siblings but grew up so closely they could basically be considered the Alternian equivalent of brothers. They were supposed to look similar in appearance and clothing too, but when i drew my first concept of indi i really liked what i came up with but it didnt suit how i envisioned kai so they ended up becoming completely different. i also wanted indi to be the quiet one and kai to be the loud one, but then i liked the idea of them being completely conflicting in terms of first impressions and ‘real’ personality. while their concepts never strayed away from their original idea, they definitely became a lot more developed and evolved once i started talking about them to ez, who was designing mauban at the time. from their interactions with mau, indi became a lot more extroverted but also trusting and optimistic, whereas kai became more judgmental and standoffish than i had initially intended, which i thought was a neat contrast.

mikiel: he’s Ghiaccio from Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure. that’s it. character analysis over. ok i lied, but a lot of his character concept came from the fact that i really loved Ghiaccio’s design, personality, and powers, and really wanted to make a troll like that. funnily enough his gang affiliation is not a reference to Passione / La Squadra, but rather because i wanted to add more characters to the red scarves. the whole mutant thing is because i really wanted him to have psiionics but also wanted him to be a blueblood, and the fact that his powers are nigh uncontrollable is me reusing original!cve’s chlorokinesis idea, this time the reason being because his body cant handle an ability that supposed to be only seen in lowbloods rather than just Because Shut Up. he was actually supposed to be aggressive and Angry(tm) all the fuckin time, but after a while i considered that his life is actually really fuckin depressing so he gained ‘depression’ as his second emotion. now i try to focus more on his defeatist nature as opposed to anything else because otherwise he feels just kinda one-note.

aislin: is based on Alphys from Undertale, because i really like making characters based on my fav indie rpgs apparently. i got to that part in the game when you realise that alphys has been watching you from the very beginning, and thought a troll with surveillance-based psiionics would be a really neat concept over making Yet Another Geeky Scientist (although ais is interested in science to reference alphys, she just doesnt practice it). in terms of personality, she’s katrin 2.0, because as much as i love kat how she is right now, i really missed her adorably yet painfully shy personality that she used to have. i am also v. protective of ais and the types of trolls she interacts with because i refuse to have another Incident. so its more of a return to original concepts that earlier characters once embodied.

lanthi: came about because A. I was watching Owarimonogatari and i fuckin love Ougi and B. it was finally time for me to make a subjug. her chucklevoodoos are a play on the fact that Ougi is scarily good at prompting people into figuring out the exact answers they’re looking for, and especially in the Sodachi arcs how she was able to make Araragi remember everything about his past that he’d blocked out of his mind just by asking the right questions and the right time. for lanthi, i interpreted that as fabricating memories through suggestion, so her targets become more receptive to listening to her since they suddenly recall her as a familiar face they can trust. i havent really done much with her so i dont rly have anything to say, other than i still have no clue what the fuck she is.

velour: oh boy, velour. i had so many concepts for this fucker that it was hard for me to settle on one. along with being a celebrity fashion designer and vlogger who happens to be a lowkey con artist, other concepts i had in mind were a matchmaker, and a borderline yandere who uses his celebrity status to lure in targets to fall in love with him. i scrapped the latter two ideas (tho now the yandere thing gets referenced by the fact he gets fans paying him to act out their own weird celebrity stalker fantasies LMAO), and somehow managed to mash together all my concepts into an actual troll. he took the longest for me to figure out, and it wasnt until after i made liiore and gave him a past with him + mikiel where everything started to click, but now everything works and im super happy w. him.

liiore: was somewhat of an offshoot of my many velour concepts, since along with the celebrity idea i was also thinking of an ex-celebrity concept as well. also one night i was reading the PokeSpe page on Bulbapedia and it mentioned one of the main characters being an ex-celebrity who became a shut-in after he got too overwhelmed by the lifestyle, and i really liked that concept. so then liiore was born. he was also my 3rd attempt at making a cute shy boy character, except this time i nixed the ‘but also grumpy in a cute way’ so i wouldnt end up with Yet Another Errett or Rosato. now hes a huge dopey ball of adorable shyness.

daimon: so when i first played Awakening i made a Fire Emblem-inspired troll who didnt really click with me so i scrapped them almost immediately. then Fates came around and I fell in love with every single archer but especially Niles and Takumi, so i was like ‘yknow what lets try round 2 for an FE troll’. so dai is a mishmash of all the Fates archers (but Niles remained the main inspiration so that’s why his appearance and personality is closest to him), as well as kinda more Arthur than Setsuna simply because i thought a troll with impossibly bad lukc would be hilarious. and also hilariously tragic, hence his backstory. since i havent really rped him that much he hasnt really changed in concept, but he also became inspired by Jake Peralta from Brooklyn Nine-Nine after i started watching that and now i cannot unsee dai in jake help me.

callan: is based on a combination of ‘The Phantom Thief’ trope, Bungou Stray Dogs (particularly Dazai and Chuuya in terms of design), and the fact i was talking about my faceblindness issues with my parents and thought ‘hey a character who no one can remember what they look like would make a great thief’. and i was thinking about rosato’s backstory and really wanted to make an npc to fill in the gaps re: how he died but whoops i got attached to the concept and now ive got a legit troll on my hands. i was also thinking about how i have way too many pretty + well-dressed + cultured male trolls so i kinda made callan a different spin on my own predicability by making him look smart and cultured but really not giving a shit about anything of the sort. he loves the theatre but only if theyre musicals with a lot of comedy, he steals art and knows his art history but only so that he can definitely steal something of worth that isnt going to end up a forgery, he’s sharp dressed because it attracts attention given his caste, and he drinks beer because he looks like a guy who’d prefer wine.

[autumnwritesstuff]

Artists Make the Best Lovers

“Nate, I have to, it’s for my class.” You huff. He’s overreacting.

“I don’t like it.”

You lay your head on the kitchen table, exasperated. “And What? You think I’m excited to stare at some random’s guy junk for a few hours? It is what it is. It’s art. It’s completely professional.”

Nate’s jaw ticks. “You have no say in who? They just pair you with some perv?”

You perk your head up as an idea pops into your head. Nate probably won’t like it much better. “No, actually. I can pick my model if I want. If I’m…” You look him up and down and bite your bottom lip. “…inspired.”

Nate looks at you confused for about three seconds and then deadpans.

“No.”

“Come onnnn.” You wiggle your eyebrows.

“No way, Y/N.”

You sigh. “Okay. I guess I’ll give Enrico a call, I should ask him exactly how much charcoal I’ll need to bring…”

You go to grab your phone but Nate snatches it before you can. You see his upper lip bulge out as his tongue moves across his teeth. He’s glaring at you while you try to keep your poker face.

You wait a beat then shoot him a winning grin. “It’ll be fine, babe. Maybe even fun!” You get up and go to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Up to you how you want to prepare your…area…but this will be seen by my entire class and potentially the other art classes, so you might want to trim a bit.”

You have to run to dodge Nate’s hands from trying to grab you, barely making your escape out of the room.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Nate has faced terrorists and open fire. Roadside bombs and plane crashes. He’s been shot. Almost died on more than one occasion and has had to survive in the wilderness for days on end.

And he’s never felt more uncomfortable than he is right now. Lying on his own couch. Naked.

Or he’s about to be naked anyway. Is it too late to call Enrico?

You’re busying yourself getting your supplies together. Setting out your charcoal, blenders, erasers. You adjust the lighting again for the third time.

You’re more nervous than you thought you’d be.

When you feel like there isn’t possibly anything else you need to do, you clear your throat, unsure how to get things started. “Okay..a-are you ready?”

Nate slowly stands up and nods, hooking his fingers into his boxer briefs. You blush, and then blush harder at the fact that you’re blushing. What is wrong with me? It’s nothing I haven’t seen before! Get it together, Y/N.

For some reason, seeing him this way is effecting you differently. Maybe because it’s in a non-sexual setting–purely observational. And anyone with eyes can observe how handsome Nate is. Every part of him. It’s unnerving.

“Y/N?”

You realize that Nate’s been talking to you, but you’ve been–understandably–distracted. “Hmm?”

Nate smirks. “So…how do you want me?”

“Oh. Uh..just standing there, but tilt your head to the left a little and shift your right foot….” You can tell you’ve lost him by the way he’s looking at you. Laughing, you walk up to him to position him the way you need.

You slowly trail your fingers down his arm–feeling his muscles, his fine hair, his veins–before placing it where you want. You do the same with the other arm. You kneel down in front of him, taking both hands around one knee and bending it just slightly to the side, then running your hands down his toned calf until you reach his foot and turn it. Since the other leg is fine where it is, you stand back up, sneaking in a quick kiss on his stomach on your way. You notice Nate’s breathing has increased, but he hasn’t moved an inch from where you’ve placed him. You take his face in your hands and tilt it slightly, your fingers brushing through his beard. You reach up and fix a stray hair.

When you put your arms back down to your sides, the room is heavy with silence.

Your nerves makes sense now. You’re not just nervous, you’re…intimidated. Here Nate is in front of you. In all his glory.

His sweet, fine as hell, glory.

Your Nate.

“You are so…beautiful, Nate.” You breath out.

Nate’s lips pull up slightly. “In general? Or are you referencing my dick specifically?”

You narrow your eyes, annoyed that he ruined the mood, is so pleased with himself, and that that was really funny. You reach forward and flick him just above his–apparently–most beautiful feature. He flinches so hard he almost falls over

“Jesus Christ, Y/N–”

“Stay still, babe.” You say sweetly as you return to your stool and begin your sketch.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

It requires a lot of charcoal to draw Nate.

You find yourself learning new features, finding new scars, memorizing every line of muscle. You’ve gotten lost in him.

Nate has gotten lost in you as well. He’s never seen you more focused, so immersed in something. You have charcoal smudges on your face and your hair fell out of its properly placed bun ages ago. Nate can’t think of a time when you were more beautiful than you are right now.

You put the nub of charcoal down and slide your stool back, taking a look at your work. “Okay. Done.” You let out a deep breath.

Nate turns his neck, rolling it around to stretch. He walks over to you, peering around the easel. “Can I?” You hesitate, but nod. He looks at the sketch thoughtfully.

Nate’s eyebrows go up slightly. “Babe.”

“…yeah?”

Oh no. Does he hate it? Did I smudge the penis and now it looks weird?

"You’re amazing, you know that?” His voice is low and soft, you feel as if you’ve been caressed with the sweet sound alone.

Nate pulls you in for a kiss. It’s lazy and slow, as if he has all the time in the world. His hands move down your body, tracing fingertips down your arms, then back up again until he just ghosts over your breasts. You feel his erection on your thigh. You take in your hand, softly pumping it a few times before Nate breaks the kiss.

“Your lack of clothing at this point really isn’t fair, love.” Nate growls out. He slips your shirt over your head, then bends down, kissing your stomach before peeling your leggings off as well. Nate picks you up by your thighs and presses you into the wall behind you. You put your hands around his neck, pulling his lips to yours, smearing charcoal on his skin. His fingers graze beneath the elastic of your panties, pulling them to the side.

The sounds of your ragged breaths echo in Nate’s ear. Your soft moans hot against his skin, your lips graze against his shoulder, your desperate whimpers–they’re enough send him over the edge, his hands gently caress your inner thigh. “You are so fucking beautiful, Y/N.”

His deep voice and hot breath tingling against your ear, the combination making you tremble while creating an undeniable ache you knew you couldn’t contain any longer.

“Please, Nate…” You plead breathlessly, pulling him impossibly closer to you.

A little whimper escapes as you feel Nate move his hips, slowly easing his cock into you. Your body, needy and aching, slowly starts to grind against him urging him into you further. Completely taken in the moment you briefly open your eyes gazing down into Nate’s.

You stay lost in each other, moaning in pleasure as he drives into you, your body melting against Nate’s. The concept of time leaves you, just about all concepts and thoughts leave you except for Nate.

Nate around you.

Nate in front of you.

Nate inside of you.

You’re never intimidated when you’re together like this. The two of you fit together like the cliche puzzle pieces from romance novels and love songs.

His teeth are just grazing your neck as he pumps in and out of you, increasing his pace, anchoring you to the wall. You and him are all pants and little moans as you go higher and higher together. A tear escapes down your cheek, not from sadness but from the pure and raw emotion that you are giving each other.

Nate sees the tear and wipes it away with his thumb, his eyes questioning if you’re okay. You answer by pulling him in for a searing kiss. He moves his thumb between you, pressing it to your clit. You cry out into his mouth and he presses harder and starts moving it side to side in the way that gets you every time.

Nate’s movements become more erratic. “You close, baby?” He strains out.

You’re so close that you’re having trouble forming words. You just whimper and move your hips against Nate’s cock inside of you and thumb against you, welcoming your climax.

When it hits, you cling to Nate, the pleasure almost too much to bare. Nate’s release follows close behind and you feel his warmth start to coat your inner thighs. You both stay still for a few minutes, needing to hold on to come down for your respective highs.

When Nate finally sets you on the ground, your legs are weak in the best way. You hear Nate chuckle behind you. Turning to ask what’s so funny, you see a large group of charcoal smudges where your back was just pressed.

“Do you think charcoal comes off of walls?” But Nate’s face says that he doesn’t give a shit if it does or doesn’t.