#first stuff not traced or anything HOO

[bluepenguinstories]

Happiness - Redux 8: Scissor Beats Paper

Both Selkie and partner lay on the cold, laminate floor, that was Temperance’s laboratory. Their legs spread, pants tossed aside and ripped around the middle. Their bare thighs and crotches were red with purple bruises littered around. Clear fluids ran down their thighs and seeped down from their genitalia. Sweet, sticky, acidic sweat. Above, also sweaty, also red, and short of breath. Heaving, eyes closed. The one, working arm each of them had, held onto their chests. In a daze, they each started tracing their index finger around the nipple of their right breast over the fabric of their clothing. Usually, such an act, when done alone, would have felt like nothing more than an absent-minded fidget. Here, however, it only increased their blood flow as their legs and face grew warmer. Yet out of breath they were, they couldn’t help but let out intense, brisk panting.

“Please...let me rest…” Sapphire begged while sounding hoarse. Tears began to stream down her face and her head began to throb. When was the last time I had anything to drink? She thought.

“You started it,” Scisso Ring sneered, though the way it came out sounded more like someone’s last words.

“How do I know you didn’t start it?” Sapphire flung the words out in a scratchy, whispered flurry.

“I bet you thought of it first,” Scisso countered.

“I don’t think, okay?” As dry as her mouth was, Sapphire was starting to find her voice again. “I just play with myself sometimes. Is that so wrong?”

Scisso coughed in between laughter. When next she spoke, she wheezed:

“Selkies are known for their extreme libido, sensitivity, and stamina. It must be agony for a human.”

“Known by who?”

“Known by anyone, if they knew how to take a hint. Instead, most people are only concerned with themselves and their own feelings.”

Sapphire knew no response.

“What? Not going to argue? Are you saying you’re one of them?” Scisso meant it with her typical biting sneer, the kind that was both malicious as it was delightful. But instead it came off more like inquiry. Not even an accusation, or self-pitying, but something far worse: the attempt at understanding.

Sapphire, however, kept silent.

“O...oh...I see,” Scisso attempted to cackle, butt instead she wheezed. “You’ve never done this before.”

Sapphire pulled herself up with her one functional arm.

“Can you not read my thoughts?!” She retorted.

“I’d love to. But we’re sensory partners now, connected in more ways than one. We’ll continue to mimic ourselves and match each other the longer we’re jacked on. This may be permanent for us. To my knowledge, no one has stayed jacked on with their Selkie before. In other words, we really are exploring uncharted territory.”

“Woo-fucking-hoo. Where’s my trophy?”

“You’re angry.”

“I’m annoyed.”

“You’ve never had a girlfriend, either.”

“I never had time to explore that stuff. Everyone in my village had to work hard as a community to feed and house each other. There was little time to sleep with the constant threat of Corrector attacks, either. There were a few times we were lucky, and most people survived, as the Correctors tired themselves out and ran off. But even then, there was property damage. Homes in constant need of repair.”

“Never found anyone attractive?”

“I had friends, but I don’t recall feeling any particular way about them. If you find something from my memories, feel free to share it with the class,” Sapphire’s words were littered with sarcasm, but Scisso Ring knew that if the opportunity ever presented itself, she would make good on Sapphire’s offer.

“You find me attractive,” Scisso stated.

“It’s your Selkie pheromones. That’s all.”

“A Selkie’s pheromones only affect those who would be attracted to one in the first place,” Scisso corrected her partner.

“Let me try you: you want to be held,” Sapphire shot back.

“Wrong. That’s what you’re thinking of.”

“How do you know that’s not what we’re both thinking of?”

“Reminder: Selkies do not need to be held, nor do they have any need for aftercare. It’s one of the things we have over humans.”

“You’re lonely.”

“Wrong,” Scisso looked away in response. “I want to be held.”

Sapphire crawled over to Scisso with little mind paid to the mess. It took much maneuvering with her one good arm, but once she had herself turned around, she nestled up next to her Selkie. With Scisso’s left arm, Sapphire was snug tight.

“I see. You wanted to be held all along,” Scisso surmised.

“Do you feel manipulated?” Sapphire asked.

“Not at all. I feel what you feel.”

“Is that so?”

“Your warmth is increasing my warmth as well. Even if, under the circumstances, the term may not mean anything, I could play the role of your lover if you’d like. We could call ourselves – or each other – girlfriends,” Scisso propositioned.

Their moment was soon interrupted when stomps erupted and Temperance burst through the concealed room.

“What are you two doing? What’s all this mess? You think you can just lay around the floor and get your bodily fluids all over the place? It reeks of salty sweat!”

“I bet it turns you on,” Scisso smirked.

“It really doesn’t. Can’t you learn any restraint? You should know humans are more fragile than us Selkies, and if she’s injured, so are you.”

Scisso turned to Sapphire.

“Wanna see how much more of a mess we can make?”

“No,” Sapphire responded while pulling herself out from Scisso’s grip and brought herself up on two legs. “I’m going to shower.”

Scisso turned to her left and saw a small, walk-in shower. Usually such a thing was for washing off chemicals and other hazardous materials, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

If only it was large enough for both of us to fit in, Scisso thought and wondered if her partner heard her too.

“Good. While she’s doing that, you clean up the floor,” Temperance instructed Scisso Ring.

“With one arm?” Scisso tilted her head.

“Get creative.”

“And if I get turned on while she’s scrubbing herself?”

“You’re going to have to figure something out. Selkie skin gets just as dirty as human skin. There’s spare clothes in the closet, as well as a pull-out bed. There’s no reason to be splayed about the floor with dirty clothes lying around. There’s a mini washer and dryer, too. I think you’ll find there are enough amenities to get by.”

Scisso Ring yawned. Such servitude.

I should have known better, she thought with a smile. My freedom only lies in transferring my servitude to another.

Sapphire, careless as ever, lacking in manners with eyes only focused on avenging her village. A goal which may as well have been abandoned seeing the futility of such actions in reality. She tossed her clothes to the floor, off to the side of the shower, exposing herself and her slender, toned backside to the other occupants. The curves and contours which led to her shapely hips and hilly butt. Scisso Ring whistled.

Still, this is entertaining in its own right, she thought as she stared at her companion who entered the cramped space which trickled lukewarm water down. They could have considered each other girlfriends. In that moment, neither cared that each of them watched the other – and themselves – through each other’s eyes.

Another cramped space, just a day before. Hours before Scisso Ring and Sapphire Lesvos ever met. Darkened, like a storage contained, and thin, but heavy walls. Lights shone through thin-lined holes. Like a bug jar, or in short, a closet.

Lying around on the floor, in cold blood, was a young man – Marquis Tosca. Tall frame, with short, brown hair which was well groomed. His shape was thin, like a fresh loaf of bread, and like opening an over easy egg, his contents spilled out from the middle. A sharp, snip of a cut was made, deep into his stomach from the waist. Intestines littered the floor, along with such organs as a spleen and kidney. Somehow, even the bladder had been ruptured in the mix.

Another moment ago, he had breathed his last breath as he reached over to the culprit of his murder – his own lead Selkie, who he had pulled on a recent banner: Scisso Ring.

She stood against the wall, stared down at her handiwork: there were incisions and cuts all across his body, many of which much smaller, but no less messy. Scisso was halfway between laughing and crying in pleasure and horror. Admiration, excitement, and the realization that she spelled out her own death sentence, all in one package.

“I’ve really done it now,” she giggled and sniffled.

She already heard boots hitting against the dirty hallway. Groups running at top speed. Oh, there were crowds out there, but maybe they had tracking devices set up whenever a commander died. She never heard of such a device, but her knowledge wasn’t vast and an institution she was caged in was full of yet to be uncovered secrets. Once she was found out, one way or another, she was going to be branded as a ‘Rogue Selkie.’ If she wasn’t killed on the spot, she would be hunted down until she was. Such was the price for Selkies who dared harm their commanders.

But among her laughter was another from just outside – huskier, sultrier, and acrid:

“Yes, you have,” whispered the seductive voice just before the door opened wide and the dim lights from outside blinded Scisso as if they were a supernova.

But all that blindness itself was blinded – by another brown haired being, this one messy hair, and thick eyebrows, with a smug look upon her face. She seemed like a typical military brass. Those types who always looked important but never saw a day of combat.

But there was something else – a faint, intoxicating scent of lilacs and violets. Little tickles of lavender.

“You’re a Selkie,” Scisso Ring stated.

“Astute,” the uniformed woman rolled up her messy hair and tied it in a thick ponytail. She stepped inside and closed the closet door. “Here’s what’s going to happen: the ones at the top won’t care if you were the one who did it or if it was someone else: in their eyes, a Selkie without a commander may as well get scrapped to make way for the next model.”

“I know.”

“So you can either die an obedient puppet, lifeless and willingly mutilated in front of men in suits for their leisure or you can at least have your last moments with your current iteration be fun. Which will it be?”

“What do you mean?”

“What happened? Why did you kill him?”

“He just wanted to add me to his collection. I didn’t get a say in it. To the eyes of many commanders, he’s some saint who treats all his Selkies with kindness, but he yelled at me in private about how I was the only one of his who wouldn’t put out and how he’d ‘fix’ me. So, it should be no surprise that he gassed me, knocked me out, and dragged me into this closet, which he had soundproofed, and have his way with me. He thought I’d be too weak to fight, but...I couldn’t help myself. It was exciting being able to cut someone up just as they’re on the verge of making moves...I let my urges get the better of me, and now he’s essentially soup.”

“You weren’t attracted to him?”

“Funny, ain’t it?”

The bushy Selkie scratched her armpit with a dull expression, and said:

“To the eyes of their commanders, Selkies may as well be asexual. Our pleasure, our interests? Those are secondary. As long as we play the roles that they want, they’ll be placated.”

“And do you think that’s true?”

“I don’t know. Unfortunately, no one’s written a ‘Kinsey Scale’ for Selkies.”

“So what do you propose?” Scisso laughed.

“You'll clean up this mess. I’ll find you a female commander to hook up with.”

[nepenthesmira]

you know whats weird and different??? digintal art

you know whos trying???me

[darknessisafriend]

Commodus x Plus size reader HC

@1reblogger @emperorcommodus here your request, please enjoy^^

Commodus never truly had a plus size woman in his close surroundings. Mostly because beauty standards for the elite were rather complicated. White skin, wide hips and thighs but a small breast and belly, which to his mind was a bit opposite to each other.

So, when he met you he was amazed. Not in any bad or perverted way of course. He would simply be blown away by such beauty. Your curves like the waves of the ocean he loved so much; your soft skin that seemed the most pleasing to caress…to lay his head on.

You were like a Greek goddess to him and it made him feel even more like Hercules, blessed by the gods.

It was rather simple, the moment he would see you, his eyes would shine and he could get shy like a young boy with his crush. He didn’t make any assumptions about your lifestyle, he simply adored you before even talking to you.

You had to admit you were surprised by his interest, you liked your own body but sometimes it made you uncomfortable by people’s glances and whispers. Commodus was the first to make you feel like a goddess indeed, proud of your body.

Commodus would make sure to make you comfortable. He would have the most beautiful clothes made for you, outlining your wonderful curves, and have statues. He had completely fallen for you.

Once you were married, on your wedding night, you would be a little nervous. Fearing he might not like your body so much. Sometimes you felt ashamed of your stretch marks, your belly pouch and love handles. Commodus would look at you so fondly as he undresses you.

He wouldn’t see anything ugly in you. Your curves made you unique, he would say. “Those marks…” his fingers would trace you stretch marks “ You were blessed by the thunderbolts of Jupiter…it is beautiful.” he would smile, totally making you forget your worries.

As you would make love for the first time, he would lovingly grab your love handles “They are not called love handles for nothing…” he would breathe against your lips. And you would notice that Commodus himself would have little love handles as well, even your strong Hercules.

Commodus would love to rest his head between your breasts after a bad day, loving how big and soft it was, sometimes you teased him that he loved it more than a breastfed baby. He would also love to rest his head on your soft belly, his favorite cuddle position while you would caress his hair.

He was very proud of you and your body, the most magnificent of all to his eyes and over the years, he would get comfortable with a small belly forming on his body too, even better to cuddle between mortal gods.

Commodus Harem:

@lyoongx @weirdflecksbutok @skaravile @niniitah-ah @stardancerluv @sgtsavoytruffle @charlie-sisters @ohcarlesmycarles @rajacero @hopelessdisasterr @buttergirlie @rosebloodstuffandthangss @clowndaddyfleck @jaylovesbats @dreamingmaria @sagyunaro @just-a-fucking-comedy @spaceinvader @radio-hoo-ha​ @lady-carnivals-stuff​ @sierraclegane​ @legojorny​ @lemondedeniname​ @hvproductions​ @syvellsworld​ @papercut-paranoia​ @jokerflecker​ ​ @bring-your-holy-water @five-miles-over @galos-writing @fawnsing @beatlebabe1996 @kfanniart @bb-skyrunner

[misslilli]

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Chapter 10 - XOXO, Gossip Girl

[ DS ]

“Man, I thought our staff meeting was never going to end, I was boored out of my mind while Principal Skinner droned oon and oooon about the importance of having the kid’s desks and chairs at the perfect heights!” Sarah pours herself another glass and passes the bottle to Holly, who agrees wholeheartedly.

“I know, how long can a freaking staff meeting take, everyone’s life flashed before my eyes, I thought I was gonna die in that meeting!” I grab the bottle from Holly and refill my glass.

“Yeah, when he started going over the fire hazards, that haven’t changed in the four year’s we’ve been teaching there, mind you, I was about ready to strangle him with my lanyard!”

“It wasn’t that bad guys, you’re being dramatic. I think he made some interesting points in his speech about classroom safety – seems like you’re going to need it with yours, S!” Alex, always the voice of reason, hands out seconds of our clam chowder.

“I know”, Sarah replies, “The first year’s always a clumsy bunch. On Wednesday one of mine, Felix, he managed to skin both his knees and his hands pretty badly. Poor kid, had to be picked up by his dad!”. Suddenly, the bowl of soup in front of me seems like the most interesting thing in the world and I push bits of clam around with my spoon quietly.

Sarah continues with her story: “He’s a cute kid though, very bright and I can tell he’s good with observing other people, judging their emotions, you know? And get this, I get such a kick out of this: His name’s Felix, yeah? and his dad’s name is Fox. Fox and Felix, how cute is that? I love it! And hoo boy, his dad is. A fox, I mean. He’s devastatingly handsome and so charming!”

Holly whistles through her teeth. “Oooh an interesting turn of events, so much better than complaining about the staff meeting!” At the mention of Felix’s dad, a blush creeps onto my cheeks and I continue to silently stare into my soup. Sarah’s right, of course, and my arm tingles again as I remember the encounter. The elephant on my chest is making an encore performance as well.

“You do realize that that’s a pretty inappropriate topic of conversation we’re having, right?”. Alex gives Sarah and Holly her patented raised-eyebrows, no-nonsense look, which makes Holly giggle.

“Great job at sucking out the fun of a conversation, Alexandra!” Meanwhile, I’m tracing figure-eight swirls into my chowder with my spoon, still not contributing to the conversation, praying to God they won’t notice.

“Of course, he’s off-limits to me as one of my student’s dad but I’m sure he’ll be a hit with the moms, single or not.” Holly goes along with her around a spoonful of soup.

“That’s for sure, I’d be surprised if they haven’t roped him into helping out with every. single. function they have planned this year!” Grinning, she turns her attention to me. “Hey Silent Bob, you’ve been awfully quiet over there, what gives?”

‘Oh shit.’

“You’ve met him D, when he came to pick up his son, haven’t you? Back me up over here!”

“Uh huh…yea…” I mumble into my soup, trying my hardest to hide my flaming cheeks.

Holly frowns at me, cocking her head to her side. Sarah shoots the others a confused look. I swallow thickly around a clam, my throat so tight I can feel it pass all the way down to my stomach.

Alex covers my clammy hand with hers. “Are you alright, D?” I can’t even recognize my own voice when I squeak out a high-pitched “Ya, sure…” and a nervous laugh escapes my lips. I feel pathetic.

Sarah’s eyes widen and she gasps, realization dawning: “YOU LIKE HIM!” I want to dig myself a hole right then and there and crawl into it to die. Damn my Irish complexion for betraying me in a moment of need.

I raise my eyes from my soup and look around at their faces. Sarah’s still in shock and stares at me, Holly is wearing an huge grin of unadulterated glee and Alex just looks at me over her glass with a thoughtful expression on her face, waiting for me to continue. “Yeah, maybe I do…” I sigh miserably and shrug my shoulders, swirling the wine around in my glass.

Holly claps her hands together excitedly, startling the rest of us. “Oh Lordy this is gooood stuff, a budding romance graces the sorrow halls of Plymouth Elementary!”. I frown at her exuberance and Sarah wakes from her stupor.

“I know right? Finally, someone to charm that little rainbow skirt right off of D and I think he’d be the perfect candidate to do just that! His little mini-me is already permanently attached to your side at recess, I saw!” The mention of Felix makes me slide down in my chair just a little bit more and I look down into my bowl, embarrassed.

Alex sets down her glass slowly. “Why the long face, D?”

“Well… you do know that this child must have a mother around, as well, don’t you?” I whisper into my spoonful of soup.

Alex nods solemnly but Sarah pipes up immediately: “I think I can help with that. I only ever saw his dad pick him up, except for today, when his mother did. So like the Curious George that I am, I went to admin and looked at his file – I know, I know, I’m too nosey for my own good – his dad is listed as a sole custodial parent.” She looks pleased with herself. A little glimmer of hope settles in the pit of my stomach at her words, he’s a single parent!

“Still, from what I hear from S, the little guy is already pretty attached to you and he’d be caught right in the line of fire when things go south. He’s already been through a divorce, girls.” At Alex’s words, the little glimmer dies an untimely death.

“A, nothing has started yet and you’re already talking about things going south, you’re ruining all the romance!”

As always, Sarah agrees with Holly. “You’re always so unromantic, Alexandra, let her live a little, she deserves whatever it is that’s about to start!”

They’re trying to get a raise out of Alex, but I’m willing to bet that she won’t budge on this. “It’s not about that and you know it. I wish D all the happiness in the world but there’s a kid here, a kid who’s already been through so much and more importantly, who is already somewhat attached. Think about him for a second before you start up anything.” Before the others can start their counter-argument, I interject.

“Guys! Stop! She’s right! Nothing is ever going to start. Besides Felix, you know how small our town is! People talk. And that talk might very well cost me my reputation andmy job!” It’s a pretty lame excuse, but I can’t tell them that I’m completely overwhelmed by my feelings and the whole situation. Overwhelmed and terrified.

Sarah refills our glasses with the rest of the wine. “Are you kidding me, D? You finally stumble across a guy you like and you’re going to pine for him from afar because you’re afraid the town folk are going to dust off the torches and pitchforks?”

I shift in my seat, uncomfortable. “Can we talk about something else? Please?”

“Que será, será, chicas.,” Holly sings under her breath.

Whatever will be, will be.

[fbfh]

light up the dark [V] - leo x reader

genre: romance + action + enemies to lovers kinda

word count: 2.4k

au: none

pairing: Leo x gothy!child of eros!fem reader

requested: yes teehee

warnings: spoilers for HOO but like what’s new, at least one fuck, mentions of breakfast foods and burger king, one “cranberry fucknut”, brief visit to a historical memorial site, I think that’s it????

summary: you have a very weird dream that leads you to realize you’re actually on some kind of quest! very fun! you, Leo, and Jason follow a lead, find out Chiron’s sending you guys some backup, and realize you’re going to need a very large airbnb

listen to: making mirrors - gotye aka the best dream sequence music

                also we’re the rats. it’s not relevant just living in my brain.

a/n: honest to god it tookme so long to write this i forget what happens in the first half rip

also requests r open uwu

Your dream is unnerving, and not just because you had spent years in a dreamless sleep and forgot what dreaming was like. Okay, partially because of that, but also because of the atmosphere. 

You’re standing in a dark room. It’s pitch black, but you can make out the shape of the room, which is unusual to say the least. It’s long and rectangular, and the ceiling has cylindrical indents, almost as if giant logs were supposed to fit there. The indents go across the short side, with another in front of it, like a rope bridge across a river. Giant curved metallic discs like flat mushrooms are embedded in the ground at regular intervals. 

You get the feeling something’s missing. You stare up at the ceiling trying to get more information, when something hot and glowing presses against the roof. It shines through, casting everything in a strange pink light. You can’t see it, but you know what it is. A translucent sundial that gave off a glowing orange cast.

Sunstone. 

You look back down not wanting to hurt your eyes, and they fall on someone else in the room. He hadn’t been there a second ago. He’s blonde, and looking up at the ceiling, seemingly unbothered by the blinding light. 

“He has it,” he says, wistfully, almost regretfully. 

"Who?" You question. 

"I can't pronounce his name, no one can."

"How can we get it back if we can't find him?" He smiles, liking how you know what he needs you to do before he even tells you. 

"I can't tell you his name, but he's very old… some may even say archaic…" He looks at you with intention, searching for a spark of understanding. He doesn’t find what he’s looking for, and continues, “and not far from here. Which is good, since I need you to get it back for me.” 

“How do we find it?” He tosses you a small, clear container filled with what looks like yellow slime. You look at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“It’s a drop of sunshine,” he explains, “don’t touch it or you’ll burn up. It’ll glow when you get closer to what you’re looking for.” You tuck it in your jacket pocket.

“Can-”

Before you can get out the rest of the sentence, you feel like you’re being pulled out of deep water. Your eyes shoot open, and you take in a quick breath through your nose. You open and close your eyes a few times, and push yourself into a sitting position. There’s a weight on your stomach and you trace the hand back to Jason, who had gently nudged you awake moments ago. His mouth is open and there’s a stale smile, like he was about to tell you to rise and shine. Your stare is unwavering, and he retracts his hand. 

“Uh… breakfast is ready,” he says, turning back and heading over to the couch. 

“Kay,” you mutter, still groggy and disoriented. Maybe sleep just isn’t for you. Jason hesitates about half way across the room, noticing the lack of cat-like vengefulness in your tone of voice.

“...You okay?” he asks softly. 

“Fine, just a weird dream,” you roll your shoulders, back sore and stiff, to try and loosen the two stubborn knots just below your shoulder blades. His eyebrows furrow at your words and you continue, “I’m starting to think I should add a little chloroform to my sleepy time tea.” 

“What happened?” he asks, sounding way more serious than you’d expected.

“I dunno, I-” he cut you off, calling for Leo. Jason encourages you to tell them what you’d dreamed about as in depth as possible once Leo comes in from the sitting area, so you don’t have time to gauge how he seems after last night. You feel a little silly trying to describe a surreal dream to them, especially since they seem to be paying such rapt attention. After recalling as many details as you could, they sat in silence for a minute. They share a look, then sigh in unison. Jason pushes up his glasses and squeezes the bride of his nose as Leo lets out a soft ‘fuck’. 

“I’ll go iris message Chiron, Leo, do you want to get some food and offerings to burn?” Jason says. Leo agrees, and Jason’s already in the sitting area, misting water in the air with a squirt bottle. Leo puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Why don’t you get dressed, I already made some coffee,” he says, the spike of hesitance that shot through his stomach at his instigated physical contact dissolving when you nod sleepily. An unusually warm feeling clouds through you, less distant and detached than normal. You realize while digging through your bag that for whatever reason, you didn’t hate the feeling of Leo’s hand on your shoulder. You grab your clothes from your bag, and feel a weight in your jacket. You reach into the pocket, and pull out the “slime” from your dream. It glows briefly, fading as you walk towards the bathroom. Huh, you think, at least now we know what to look for. You’re grateful for the example as you get dressed and freshen up, wondering what the hell happens next. 

Burning the food doesn’t take long. Leo throws the extra breakfast they’d ordered onto the metal table on the patio, except for a piece of toast he held in his hands. He summons fire until the toast is engulfed in flames, and drops it with the rest. He fans the smoke and asks for guidance, protection, typical pre quest stuff. After a minute or two, he pours out a pitcher of water to extinguish the flames, and heads back into the sitting area with Jason. On his way, he watches you through the open bathroom door for a second as you put on your makeup. You sure are different from girls he’d liked in the past. A strong twinge of pain from the previous night makes him flinch. He shoves it away, and takes a seat, greeting Chiron through iris message. Jason had just finished filling him in on the dream and the sundial, and he looks worried.

“I was afraid this might be the case. I'd gotten word that something like this might have happened, but I hoped it was just hearsay… I'm sorry boys, but you're most definitely on a mission from the gods. The story behind that sundial is long and complicated; in summary, if Apollo does not have his sundial by june, summer cannot happen."

"Wh- like, time will stop?" Leo says. 

"Will it just skip to autumn?" Jason adds. 

"What about Persephone?"

"Can Demeter do anything?" 

Chiron holds up his hands to quiet them. 

"I wish I could say, but no one really knows what will happen, only that we do not wish to find out."

"So, what do we do?" Jason asks. 

"Who can I send?" Chiron says to himself, "Dear gods, this is… unfortunate."

"Chiron," Jason says again, getting his attention. 

"Right, I'm sorry my boy, this whole situation is… preoccupying." Jason agrees, and asks what they should do next. 

"Get as much information as you can from what Apollo has told you. I'll gather some people to send over at once, they'll be on their way shortly. This is most distressing…" he trails off, lost in thought again, and the iris message cuts out. Jason's stomach is in knots. 

After freshening up, you get dressed, having chosen your clothes deliberately before. If shit’s about to hit the fan, which it looks like it is, you’re going to need a strong balance of comfortable and kick ass. Plus, it’s still the cold part of spring, and New England weather is no joke. 

You assess yourself in the mirror, satisfied with your choice; half black half gray cargo pants with chain belts, a long sleeved fishnet top with a black crop top over it, and one of your favorite pairs of platform boots. You topped it off with a layered choker studded with black jewels and delicate chains, asymmetrical earrings - one attached to an ear cuff, the other dangling - and a ring that looks like a snake wrapped around your finger. Last but not least, a dark olive green bomber jacket with ‘god save the queen’ written on the back in paint. 

Your mind wanders as you lean closer to the mirror, laser focused on perfecting your eyeliner. The memory of Leo’s hand on your shoulder creeps back up, and your brow furrows at the panicked flush to your cheeks, wondering why you didn’t push him off. 

‘Some cranberry fucknut broke his heart last night, I didn’t want him to feel worse’, you think deliberately, refusing room for any objections or alternative solutions your brain keeps offering up. You finish your makeup relatively quickly, pleased at how much better it looks when you don’t sleep in it for years. Your hair is… hanging in there, but you can’t drop everything and redye it now. At least you know what color you want next - a nice, coral tinted red. You’ll have to keep an eye out the next time you go shopping. 

Finally, you’re ready. You put away your makeup and pajamas, and make your way over to the boys. You grab some coffee and pick at a muffin, the strategy session beginning. 

Jason takes a sip of his own coffee, scowling at the slightly burnt taste.

“Where should we start looking? Do we have any decent leads?”

You sip your coffee, your face mirroring Jason’s moments before.

“The guy from my dream-”

“Apollo,” Jason interjects.

“Right,” you continue, “he said whoever has what we’re looking for has a really hard to pronounce name or something. Maybe we can start there.”

After some back and forth, and consulting of travel guides, you find a memorial for some historical figure with a name that definitely would have gotten him bullied. 

“Wasn’t that guy a demigod?” Leo asks, and Jason confirms. You’re already checking the maps scattered around for a route.

“It looks like it’s pretty much just further west from where we are, we can probably get there pretty easily,” you remark. Jason and Leo look at you, then each other. No one has any better ideas, and at least it’s some kind of lead. 

~

Four and a half hours later, you sat in the car in stumped silence. It took almost three hours to get up to the memorial site, an hour to look around and realize there is absolutely nothing there that can help you at all, ten minutes to debate what to do next, and twenty minutes to get burger king, since no one had eaten since breakfast. 

“Well, that sucked.” 

Leo and Jason give you a look, knowing you’re right.

“Yeah, it did.” Jason agrees matter of factly, earning a small chuckle from you and Leo. 

“So what do we do now?” Leo asks. 

“Well, no one’s around, we could probably iris message Chiron-” before he could finish his sentence, a shimmery image of a tan girl with choppy dark hair appears in front of him. 

Jason and the girl - Piper, apparently - greet each other enthusiastically, then Leo follows suit. It looks like she’s in a cab, holding something at arm's length. You make it out to be a phone, probably to trick her cab driver into thinking she’s on a facetime call or something. Two other people lean over, one blonde and smiling, the other dark haired and irritable, and more greetings are exchanged. You lean slightly to the side so you’ll be out of site and hopefully won’t have to make any introductions. Leo seems to catch onto this, and when Piper’s eyes land on the edge of your shoulder.

“So did Chiron send anyone else?” he asks before she can say anything. 

“Yeah,” she replies, “Frank and Hazel are coming from camp Jupiter; Frank’s flying, and Hazel’s getting a ride from Arion,” Leo and Jason nod in understanding, picking up instantly on her deliberate word choice. Christ, you’re going to have to get a bigger place than that hotel room.  

“Uh… Percy and Annabeth just started spring break, so they’ll be coming soon. Hazel should get there first, for…” she glances at the cab driver, “obvious reasons, and me, Nico, and Will are on our way now, we should be there in a few hours.” 

Your skin is already feeling prickly from the idea of being around that many people. They talk for a few more minutes, and Jason says he’ll tell them the specific address as soon as possible before ending the call.

Thankfully, you all had repacked the car with your bags from the hotel room before you left, just in case you needed anything, so there’s no need to make the two and a half hour trip back to the hotel. You sigh and turn to the boys.

“Why don’t we go get some groceries and stuff, and I can get us an air bnb.” 

They agree, pleasantly surprised and grateful for the normalcy of something like grocery shopping,  and you ask how many people there are going to be.

“Uh, should be te-”

“Eleven.” Leo says firmly. Jason looks like he’s going to say something, but he bites back whatever it is. Leo’s hands normally dance around like swirling snow, light and natural with subtle patterns if you can figure them out. But right now, his normal subconscious movements seem to be heavier, more intentional. His relaxed expression is set in stone, a silent plea to move on, act like everything’s normal, and you know he’s covering up the depth of the wound that girl left on his heart. A twinge of concern flares in your gut, and you blink, looking away. 

“Okay,” you say, pulling out a pen and notepad from your bag to write out a grocery list, “Let’s go. What do we need?”

Jason pulls out of the parking lot, and begins to head to the nearest box store. Your eyes dart over to Leo involuntarily a few times, and by the time you’re almost there, he seems to be almost back to himself. Subconsciously relieved, your mind starts to wander back to the list, skimming it one more time to make sure you don’t forget anything. 

Maybe you can pick up some hair dye while you’re here.

[happyandticklish]

Idk if you’ve already done this, but do u have any headcanons about the gangsey group and if they’re sensitive and such, and if so where? Love ur blog xx

Aw, thank you! <3 I would love to write some headcannons! I believe I’ve done a couple for Gansey before right here.

The Gangsey:

-Gansey:

. I figured I’d start here because his name is right there in the title. 

. Okay, so Gansey is one of those people who’s deathly ticklish but doesn’t seem like it at first. He’s really good at hiding/suppressing it, so most people just assume he’s not (his friends know the truth of course). 

. His worst spots are his neck, knees, and stomach. His laugh starts off as this startled huffy chuckle, before slowly turning into this combination of wild, crazed laughter that makes everyone around him melt. 

. Loves being tickled because of this physical closeness of it all. My boy is hella touch-starved, and doesn’t know how to handle any kind of attention. Teases will destroy him because he just doesn’t know how to respond to it and will turn into this blushing, stammering mess. 

. More of a lee than a ler, except when it comes to Ronan because the latter is a little shit and needs to be put in his place. He’ll also tickle Blue on occasion, but the consequences are scary so he tends to refrain. 

-Adam:

. Not as ticklish as most people would assume, but he has a couple spots that get him going. 

. His ribs and knees are death spots, and if you do any combination of the two he is not held responsible for his actions. 

. Didn’t really know how to handle being tickled at first. Gansey ended up poking him in the side once jokingly and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Gansey of course immediately apologized and Adam assured him it was fine about a million time, his face burning all the while. 

. Tickling made him feel weak at first, as it was just one more way that he was out of control. After a while though, he begins to feel comfortable enough for soft gentle tickles and eventually more intense stuff, though he still can’t do too much at a time. 

. Doesn’t mind tickling on the whole. He doesn’t hate it, but it can get super unbearable at times and the others have to be careful not to push boundaries with him. 

. As a ler he is fucking terrifying. 

. He knows everyone’s spots because he’s eerily good at observing others, as well as whatever method flusters them most. His main victim is Ronan, though he’ll wreck the others on occasion if they need it, even Blue though he’s gotten kicked multiple times. 

. Doesn’t actually tickle Gansey that much, even though he knows the other likes it. There’s something strangely nerve-wracking about the concept of wrecking Perfect Gansey. He’ll risk it on occasion, however, and each time the sight of Gansey genuinely laughing and pleading makes him have a near heart attack. 

-Ronan:

. One of the few of them that doesn’t actually deny being ticklish or the fact that he enjoys it. Ronan’s creed is honesty and he holds to it even in situations like these. He doesn’t openly admit it, but he won’t contradict anyone if they say something. 

. The small of his back is weirdly sensitive and Adam teases him with it all the time. Tracing swirling shapes with his nails over the spot will make him melt and he’ll let out these pure giggles that Adam is addicted to. 

. Other than that, his thighs, feet, and underarms are his worst. Adam loves to sneak up behind him and taser him, usually leading to the other choking on a repressed snort before glaring at the other. His thighs being sensitive can become difficult in more intimate circumstances, though sometimes Adam will take advantage of this and just pepper kisses over his thighs until he’s a flushed, writhing mess of laughter. 

. The tickle monster to boot. Has no sense of self-preservation and will destroy everyone regardless of consequences. Pins Gansey down all the time and goes to town on his stomach and sides. He has this look he’ll get right beforehand and Gansey’s eyes will widen as he starts scrambling backwards and protesting, “No, wait, hold, Ronan-” 

. Often will just straight up pick up Noah and dig into his ribs and stomach, leaving the other a squirming, giggling mess instantly. 

. Adam and him hold constant tickle fights, and if Ronan ever gets the upper hand, hoo boy... He loves to tease him with these soft, gentle tickles that drive Adam absolutely insane, all the while commenting on how beautiful he looks like this (Adam insists he hates it, but Ronan knows the truth). 

-Noah:

. Possibly the most ticklish person on earth, god help this boy. 

. Has this boisterous laugh that’s such a change from his normally drawn-back personality, and for a moment they’re able to see the Noah from before, high energy and full of joy. 

. Literally ticklish everywhere, but his worst spot would have to be his hips. Scratching your nails lightly over the spot is unfair and he cannot handle it for the life of him. But if you dig your thumbs into the dip of the bone and press in, he’ll lose his shit, shrieking and arching back against whatever surface he’s on, desperately trying to get your hands away. 

. Loves tickling, being tickled, tickling others, just everything about it. Will openly admit to people that he loves it and and it always flusters the others how easily he can just say it. Asks for tickles often, though he does have to be restrained often as he is just too sensitive to hold still. 

. A strange phenomenon they discovered is that his ghostly qualities actually make him less ticklish than he was in life, but if Blue’s in the room than it’s amplified. So if any of them ever needs to wreck them they make sure she’s in the room. And if she’s the one tickling him? God have mercy on his soul. 

. Alternatively, if his body is less corporeal it makes his fingers feel like cold feathers against your skin and tickles like a motherfucker. Ronan, out of curiosity, had him try on himself once and it was almost scary how ticklish that simple touch was. 

. A super playful ler, he’s constantly poking his friend’s sides and scribbling fingers over the backs of their necks on a near daily basis. He just loves seeing his friends smiling and happy (have I mentioned that I love him???).

-Blue:

. Her greatest accomplishment has been convincing everyone in her life that she’s not ticklish and that all breaks down when she meets the Raven Boys. 

. Adam is the first to discover it when they’re dating, but was too shy at the time to initiate anything. Gansey is the second to figure it out, and is much bolder in his further investigations. As they all quickly discover however, Blue is dangerous when tickled and you will get obtain physical harm if you attempt it.

. Generally speaking, she doesn’t like tickling all that much, though she’ll tolerate it from a Gansey on occasion. 

. Has an adorable little giggle that she is super embarrassed of and Gansey loves. Her worst spots are her hips, ribs, and sides. Basically, her entire upper torso. She’ll snort if you tweak her sides suddenly, as all members of the Gangsey have confirmed by this point. 

. A tiny but vicious ler. No mercy from this munchkin. She takes constant advantage of Gansey’s sensitivity, and there’s rarely a peaceful moment between the two ever since she found out about it. Most of their make-out sessions (post the Raven King, of course) are filled with at least a giggle or two because Blue cannot keep her hands to herself—but then again, who could when their boyfriend has such cute reactions?

. Discovered Adam was ticklish also while they were dating and loved to tease him about it. Once Adam and Ronan began dating, she made sure to pass this information on. 

. Noah is one of the few people that she’ll actually get into tickle fights with, as there’s something so addicting about the comfort of his presence and his infectious smiles. Loves to grab him from behind and ruin him with tickly hugs, and will even let him tickle her back on occasion. 

. Her and Ronan have a truce—Blue doesn’t tickle him, he doesn’t tickle her. But if one of them ever does build up the confidence and initiates something, it is war. Adam still gets shivers thinking about their last tickle fight. 

I hope you enjoyed these! Thank you so much for the ask! :)

[ljstlr]

When I Was Your Man.

joshua x oc au

genre: angst

words: 1233 words

——————————————————————————

Same bed but it feels just a little bit bigger now.

Joshua woke up covered in cold sweat. He sighed when he dreamt of a memory he long wished to forget, but it always came back to haunt him. Especially now that he’s back to the place where he had countless of regrets in. He sat up from the bed and felt empty. The last time he slept here, he wasn’t alone. He shook of the thought to get ready for the day.

Our song on the radio but it doesn’t sound the same.

He was now driving to the place where he had to be. He dreaded to go to the event in the first place, but he didn’t want to show bad riddance. So, there he was. And just his luck, he chuckled as the car’s radio played a familiar song. The song that brought back a thousand events in the past that he’d do anything to get back; but it’s not like it was possible anyways.

When our friends talk about you, all it does is just tear me down.

He arrived at the venue and was immediately greeted by his friends. He offered them smiles and a few handshakes to wipe off the worries in their faces when they saw that he came. He wondered if he was good at concealing his feelings as his friends started to talk about you. He felt the familiar pain of longing for your presence – but it was pain that was impossible to relief himself from.

Cause my heart breaks a little when I hear your name.

Joshua, together with his friends, entered the main location for the day when various event place organizers instructed them to settle in their seats as the event was about to start. All he could hear was your name. You were the star of the show and everyone was excited to see you. Even he was, but he knows the excitement will die down fast and be replaced with another emotion.

And he was right. When the doors opened, and you entered with a white long dress and a flowered detail veil – he was in awe to see how beautiful you were. You finally looked so happy.

It all just sounds like ooh, ooh, ooh, hoo.

When he watched you walk down the long red carpeted aisle, he couldn’t hear any of the choirs singing nor the people clapping. It felt like dead silence to him to finally see you walking down a church aisle, but the loud breaking of his heart broke the silence when he watched your parents hand you off to the man you’re marrying.

He always thought he’d be the one thanking your parents for finally lending you their daughter’s hand.

Mm, too young, too dumb to realize.

As the priest made the audience sat down, he couldn’t help but feel the regrets rushing into him again. It’s been five long years since he last saw you because he left without a word. He saw how tired you were in the relationship as you juggled taking care of him and being in graduate school at the same time.

He felt like a burden. So, he left you to let you focus on pursuing your career and thought he can come back when you have less on your plate. But he sure was wrong, when he received an email of your wedding invitation the day before he planned to go back to town.

That I should have bought you flowers and held your hand.

He hated himself from depending on you while he was lost in his career. He knows he lacked in a lot of aspects as being your fiancé a few years back. He worked a lot to have you in his arms, but he never once showed the same efforts when the relationship started getting old.

Joshua wanted to make up for it. But the day he saw you breaking down in the bedroom as you continuously chant that everything was a big burden to you, he didn’t know what else to think. The guilt started to consume him which led him to his inevitable dumb decision to leave.

When he could’ve just stayed and promised to make things easier.

Should have gave you all my hours, when I had a chance.

He can’t count the number of times he wanted a do over. He wanted to go back to the day he packed all of his stuff from home and speed off with his car to a different city without a trace. Because if he could, he would just tell himself to get his shit together and work himself out to be a better man for you.

He had numerous chances in the past to make it work with the love of his life, but it was too late now.

Everyone started cheering as the bride and groom shared a kiss that concealed their marriage for life. Joshua stood up from his seat and forced himself to clap at the scene in front of his eyes even though it hurts. He badly wanted to be that man, but he knows he doesn’t deserve it anyways.

Take you to every party cause all you wanted to do was dance.

As Joshua entered his car to drive to the reception, he started to think back to the days when the both of you were happy. Life was pure bliss, and he would trade the wealth he has now to relive the happiness. You had so much passion in life and he adored the way you danced wherever it might be.

And the passion started burning out because of him too. He was as useless as a rock when he didn’t pass the licensure exam which broke him and left him vulnerable for you to take care of. You had to give up the thing you enjoyed most just to balance him and graduate school.

The spark in your eyes was different whenever you danced. May it be solo or with a group. But nothing could beat the illuminating spark when the two of you shared a small dance in your small apartment.

Now my baby’s dancing, but she’s dancing with another man.

But he was way wrong. He looked straight into your eyes as you shared a dance with your husband, and it looked like it was galaxy filled with stars. The brightest stars he has ever seen.

You found your happiness and passion again. That was the thing he hoped for when he left. But one thing he never expected was for you to find another man in the process. But could he blame you? Of course not. As he thought back into it, you didn’t deserve anyone close to what he was before. You sacrificed so much for him, but he never gave the same energy back.

He took one last look at you in the dance floor and finally excused himself from the table. As he walked to the parking lot, he still hated himself for the past, but he was happy that you’re happy. You finally found yourself that you lost because of his selfishness, and that was more than enough to him.

He would’ve done so many things different back when he was your man. But he wasn’t anymore.

And so once again, he left without a trace.

[minavalentina]

Motion Thickness / Chapter Two

The night air was cool - a welcome relief from the hot California summer. Jake and Amber walked in the middle of the road, enjoying the breeze and not saying much. At 1:30 in the morning, the streets were empty, and it was nice to feel the space around them after the stifling atmosphere of the party. As Jake moved over to some bushes near the side of the road to relieve himself, Amber found herself wandering, head still spinning from the alcohol she'd had earlier and enjoying the brilliant stars pulsing in the calm, still night. She rounded off the main street to explore down a back lane, a shift from the expensive area they were in. Garages edged the otherwise wood-fenced street, and power lines dipped low across from one side to the other. Amber continued strolling, one foot landing messily in front of the other until she noticed something, and stopped dead. Kneeling in the small one-way street was a man, lit by the streetlight above. She jumped for a second, before she realised that she recognised him. He went to her high school. They didn't run in the same circles, but she knew his face. Could probably even come up with his name if she thought hard enough. She had been more arty, more popular, and he had been the type to smoke behind the gym. He must have come down from the party to get some air as well. "Hey." She said lightly, a fraction of a second before she saw the body. A second guy, laying on the ground near whats-his-face, a dark, thick pool spreading out from beneath the head. Amber's blood turned cold. The gun was fired before she even realised he'd heard her. A bullet, frighteningly loud and real, hit the tall wooden fence to her left, and all the muscles in Amber's body contracted. She was frozen, eyes wide and body trembling. He paused after firing the first shot, and studied her face in the dim light. "I know you. You that bitch from art class." He said, voice cold and furious. He whooped out a chilling, abrupt laugh. "Hoo, you in it now." This time, Amber did see him aiming the gun at her. The first shot had been on instinct. This one had intention. He didn't want to miss. The bottom dropped out of her stomach and Amber was running frantically, weaving side to side as she sprinted down the road to make herself harder to hit. Thoughts of regret and 'what if?' flooded through her and mixed with her panic as she heard one, two, three more shots ring out from behind her. She'd just graduated, literally just turned eighteen. She had plans, big dreams. She was going to be famous. She was supposed to become a star. Terror jumbled her thoughts, but not too much to stop tears from escaping her eyes before being whipped away by the wind hitting her face. Amber felt a fourth bullet whistle by her, and she screamed, forcing her legs to pump faster.

“Run, bitch!” She heard him screaming behind her as she tore away down the empty street. “Doesn’t matter though, I seen you before! Best believe I’ll find you.”

Sprinting out of the side-street, she found Jake already running towards her. Clearly he'd heard the shots, she thought. Somewhere in amongst all the feelings rushing through her in that moment, she recognized a tiny grain of warmth, noticing that he had run towards the sound and not away from it. But there was no time to dwell on it, as Amber barrelled into Jake and forcibly spun him around with her hands to face the direction she was running. "We gotta go!" She yelled, giving him a few panicked shoves to get him started. "We gotta go, we gotta go!" He ran with her, the two of them hurling down the road until they were a few blocks away and closer to the main road. The road was still deserted but the taillights flashing by on the highway nearby, as well as the illuminated windows dotted around the surrounding houses made them feel like they could stop for breath. "What happened?" Jake asked, rubbing her back as she bent, gasping for air. "He tried to kill me!" Amber wailed, straightening up and throwing her hair from her face. "He killed someone else! There was someone else there. Dead."

"It's okay." Jake was shaken, but he tried to calm her. "We got away. He didn't follow us."

"It doesn't matter." Amber said with tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. "He knew me. He goes to our school, Jake. He said he was gonna find me and he can!" She sobbed, shaking, and wrapped her arms around herself. "He was going to shoot me dead right then. He tried. He'll be able to find me if he wants to."

She sniffed, cheeks wet with tears, looking completely distraught. She wouldn't meet his eyes. "I don't know what to do. Everything was about to be so good. I don't want to have to move away, I love this city. This is where I'm meant to be." As she spoke, the night's events began coming together in Jake's mind to form a scrap of an idea. It was out there, strange, and he wouldn't have dared come up with it at any other time, or to any other girl. The more he thought it over, he began to breathe faster as Amber turned away, holding her hair back and fanning her face in an attempt to calm down. It was a wild plan, that was for sure, but the exciting secret she had shared with him not even two hours earlier fit strangely well into her new predicament. And suddenly it all became so perfectly clear, that Jake was speaking before he even realised it. “Amber, this is your chance.” He said, quiet. Confident. “Chance for what?” She asked, despondent. “He saw your face. He threatened your life. Clearly you need to disappear.” Jake said. “I don’t wanna leave L.A!” Amber cried. “I begged my parents to move here from Ohio when I was fourteen, this is where I’m meant to be! I can’t give that up just when I’m about to start my career, just because of one fucking assho-“ “Amber.” Jake took her by the shoulders, cutting her off. "That's not what I meant. He knows what you look like. So you could either leave... or you could change." She was listening now, the certainty that he spoke with seeming to calm her enough to let him get his idea out. And he was excited, the more he thought about it the more he fell over his words in his haste to get them out. “Think about it. You don't want to hide away in Albania for the rest of your life, and despite what seems to work in the movies, dyeing your hair just isn’t enough of a change to gamble your life on." Jake levelled his eyes on her, speaking slowly, landing each word with impact. "But you told me, only a few hours ago, that you wanted to change the way you look and now that’s-” Amber's eyes widened when she realized what he was talking about. "No!" She exclaimed, face reddening. “Oh- no, no, no.” “Amber, get fat.” Jake held her by her petite waist and looked deep into her frightened eyes. He could feel her shaking. “It makes sense. If you put on even a half of the weight that you told me you wanted to, I bet you'd be damn near unrecognizable.” “I-- I can’t!” She stammered, not meeting his eyes, embarrassed by her earlier admission. “I can’t do that.” “Why not? You said you wanted to.” Jake said. “You do want to, don’t you?” She hesitated, clearly embarrassed. “...I was drunk.” “I know you were.” He said. “But were you telling the truth?” A long pause hung between them. She was sober now, stone cold sober. Time, shock, and fear had wiped away any trace of inebriation. She’d have no excuse for anything she said now, no way to explain it away if she regretted letting him in on her most private, darkest fantasy.

“Yes.” She said, finally. It was a half-whisper, she barely made a sound. Heat rose in her cheeks as the realization of what she had just admitted hit her. She closed her eyes. “Yes.”

Jake’s eyes were dark when she looked back at him, pupils blown wide and whole body seemingly vibrating with excited energy. “Then do it now.” He said. “This timing, it means something. You can pile on weight, as much as you like - you can transform yourself, and it might just save your life.”

“But… it doesn't happen that fast, Jake! It won’t be much of a disguise if they’re watching me slowly f…” Amber wet her lips, still not used to saying the words anywhere other than in her own head. “F-fatten up. He'll have enough time to kill me before I look any different at all.”

“Then we’ll leave.” Jake rushed his words, excited. “Just for a while. We’ll take my car and we’ll leave town tonight. And from the second we reach the city limits until when we return, we’ll stuff you full of so much fattening food that the Amber who comes back to L.A. will be in no danger of being recognized.”

She took a step back, more out of surprise than anything else. What was that word he had used? “We?” She asked. “You want to… be a part of this?” “Yeah.” Jake admitted. “Desperately.”

Amber studied him carefully. For the first time that night, he was the one under scrutiny. And, considering the night she’d had, he supposed that was fair. “Do you like this?” She asked. She sounded half accusing and half intrigued. “I thought you were just interested earlier because it was a crazy thing to say but it's more than that, isn't it? Come on. After what I’ve told you, if you don’t think it’s weird, then fucking put me out of my misery and tell me!” “I don’t think it’s weird.” Jake said, before he could stop himself. “I like it. I... I-I want to see you get fat, too. I think it’s really hot that you wanna do that to yourself.” Amber’s mouth had fallen open, and for a moment she was just silent. Jake let her process. They were still standing out in the open, barely a few blocks over from where they had run from. There was an urgency to move, but this revelation of their shared understanding caused a sudden calm to fall over them as well. ”Okay.” She said. A small smile crept onto her face, and her eyes twinkled as excitement swelled inside her. “Yes. I want to.” Jake sucked in a breath. "Are you serious?" Amber nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Yes, I want to do it. I need to live in Los Angeles, I'll regret it forever if I don't. And I won't risk my life, I have so many plans. A reason like that to get big... it's... it's perfect."

It made a kind of sense. It sent chills of excitement through them both to think that such a hedonistic act could save her in this way. It was permission. The moment Amber had said okay, reality started setting in. Her head swam with questions, thrill, fears. Despite the years spent fantasizing, she had no idea what it was like to be fat. How it felt, not only to be fat, but to become fat - to grow a thin body fatter. Did it hurt? Was it uncomfortable? And what about the embarrassment? Her face would change, maybe after enough weight no one would be able to recognize her. Maybe not even herself.

[irelise]

Yassen Gregorovich - Books vs TV

With the excellent new Alex Rider tv show out, I thought I would make a comparison post for one of my old favs, Yassen Gregorovich, who has a somewhat different feel in the books as compared to the show! This post will largely cover the first book Stormbreaker and should theoretically contain no spoilers for the potential future arcs of the show, since the events of Stormbreaker are presumably non-canon now. (Spoilers abound for the episodes of the show already out, though!)

If there’s any interest, I’ll put up a second post covering Eagle Strike and some parts of Russian Roulette that delves deeper into Yassen and his complicated relationship with Alex. Just let me know!

Much like the show, Yassen was the one who killed Ian Rider. Unlike the show, however, he’s known to be active on the field and the first time we “encounter” him is prior to Alex’s first mission, where Mrs Jones gives Alex a warning:

She took out a black-and-white photograph and laid it on the table. It showed a man in a white T shirt and jeans. He was in his late twenties with light, close cropped hair, a smooth face, the body of a dancer. The photograph was slightly blurred. It had been taken from a distance, possibly with a hidden camera. “I want you to look at this,” she said.

"I’m looking."

“His name is Yassen Gregorovich. He was born in Russia, but he now works for many countries. Iraq has employed him. Also Serbia, Libya, and China.”

“What does he do?” Alex asked.

"He’s a contract killer, Alex. We believe it was he who killed Ian Rider.”

There was a long pause. Alex had almost managed to persuade himself that this whole business was just some sort of crazy adventure…a game. But looking at the cold face with its blank, hooded eyes, he felt something stirring inside him and knew it was fear. He remembered his uncle’s car, shattered by bullets. A man like this, a contract killer, would do the same to him. He wouldn’t even blink.

[…]

“Why are you telling me this now?” Alex asked. His mouth had gone dry.

"Because if you see him, if Yassen is anywhere near Sayle Enterprises, I want you to contact us at once."

“And then?"

“We’ll pull you out. It doesn’t matter how old you are, Alex. If Yassen finds out you’re working for us, he’ll kill you too.”

I always thought this was a pretty good introductory scene -- Yassen has a very deadly reputation in the books, which is established at once then hammered in over and over again. Other traits which come up again and again include his coldness and his dancer’s body which is totally something I’m into, gotta love those “elegant and deadly assassin” tropes

(also, yes, Yassen is blond in the books and definitely not a brunet or even a redhead as in the movie. he also doesn’t have a distinctive facial scar!)

Yassen doesn’t actually have many scenes in Stormbreaker, although the shadow of his presence looms pretty darkly over the narrative. Alex only runs into him twice on the mission: once from a distance -- A lean, fair-haired figure dressed in black detached himself from the assembly line and walked languidly toward a door that slid open to receive him -- and the other encounter also occurs from a distance, when Alex is spying on a mysterious delivery at the docks in the dead of the night...

And then the tower opened and a man climbed out, stretching himself in the cold morning air. Even without the half-moon, Alex would have recognized the sleek dancer’s body and the close cropped-hair of the man whose photograph he had seen only a few days before. It was Yassen Gregorovich. Alex stared at him with growing fear. This was the contract killer Mrs. Jones had told him about. The man who had murdered Ian Rider. He was dressed in grey overalls and sneakers. He was smiling. He was the last person Alex wanted to meet.

[…]

Meanwhile, the guards from Sayle Enterprises had formed a line stretching back almost to the point where the vehicles were parked. Yassen gave an order and, as Alex watched from behind the rocks, a metallic silver box with a vacuum seal appeared, held by unseen hands at the top of the submarine’s tower. Yassen himself passed it down to the first of the guards, who then passed it back up the line. About forty more boxes followed, one after another. It took almost an hour to unload the submarine. The men handled the boxes carefully. They obviously didn’t want to break whatever was inside.

By the end of the hour they were almost finished. The boxes were being repacked now into the back of the truck that Alex had vacated. And that was when it happened. One of the men, standing on the jetty, dropped one of the boxes. He managed to catch it again at the last minute, but even so it banged down heavily on the stone surface. Everyone stopped. Instantly. It was as if a switch had been thrown and Alex could almost feel the raw fear in the air.

Yassen was the first to recover. He darted forward along the jetty, moving like a cat, his feet making no sound. He reached the box and ran his hands over it, checking the seal, then nodded slowly. The metal wasn’t even dented.

With everyone so still Alex heard the exchange that followed.

“I’m sorry,” the guard said. “I won’t do that again.”

“No. You won’t,” Yassen agreed, and shot him.

Largely a reaffirmation of what we saw from the photograph scene, this time in person: Yassen is generally quiet, understated and deceptively relaxed -- up until the point he murders somebody without blinking. I think the show does a good job capturing that aspect of Yassen, with scenes like Ian’s death and Dr. Greif in the car coming to mind in particular. Gotta love that pairing of Yassen’s generally calm demeanour with the bursts of restrained yet lethal violence!

Some other minor but interesting character notes: despite being one of the most highly-paid and successful assassins in the world, Yassen is perfectly comfortable doing grunt work (passing boxes, dressing in shitty grey overalls). Similarly, despite being (presumably) more comfortable working alone, he’s also at ease with giving orders and coordinating large groups of people.

Now, moving onto the last time Yassen shows up in Stormbreaker. This is right at the end of the book after Alex successfully foils the plot of the big bad (Herod Sayle), only to get kidnapped by him while his guard is down. Sayle takes them to a rooftop where a helicopter is coming to whisk Sayle away, but first he wants to have some revenge...

"That’s my ticket out of here!” Sayle continued. “They’ll never find me! And one day I’ll be back. Next time, nothing will go wrong. And you won’t be here to stop me. This is the end for you! This is where you die!”

There was nothing Alex could do. Sayle raised the gun and took aim, his eyes wide, the pupils blacker than they had ever been, mere pinpricks in the bulging white.

There were two small explosive cracks.

Alex looked down, expecting to see blood. There was nothing. He couldn’t feel anything. Then Sayle staggered and fell onto his back. There were two gaping holes in his chest.

The helicopter landed in the center of the cross. The pilot got out.

Still holding the gun that had killed Herod Sayle, he walked over and examined the body, prodding it with his shoe. Satisfied, he nodded to himself, tucking the gun away. He had switched off the engine of the helicopter and behind him the blades slowed down and stopped. Alex stepped forward. The man seemed to notice him for the first time.

"You’re Yassen Gregorovich,” Alex said.

The Russian nodded. It was impossible to tell what was going on in his head. His clear blue eyes gave nothing away.

"Why did you kill him?” Alex asked.

“Those were my instructions.” There was no trace of an accent in his voice. He spoke softly, reasonably. “He had become an embarrassment. It was better this way."

"Not better for him.”

Yassen shrugged.

“What about me?” Alex asked.

The Russian ran his eyes over Alex, as if weighing him up. “I have no instructions concerning you,” he said.

"You’re not going to shoot me too?”

"Do I have any need to?”

There was a pause. The two of them gazed at each other over the corpse of Herod Sayle.

“You killed Ian Rider,” Alex said. “He was my uncle.”

Yassen shrugged. “I kill a lot of people"

“One day I’ll kill you.”

“A lot of people have tried.” Yassen smiled. “Believe me,” he said, “it would be better if we didn’t meet again. Go back to school. Go back to your life. And the next time they ask you, say no. Killing is for grown-ups and you’re still a child.”

He turned his back on Alex and climbed into the cabin. The blades started up, and a few seconds later, the helicopter rose back into the air. For a moment it hovered at the side of the building. Behind the glass, Yassen raised his hand. A gesture of friendship? A salute?

Alex raised his hand. The helicopter spun away.

Alex stood where he was, watching it, until it had disappeared in the dying light.

HOO BOY where to start! This is a longer scene compared to the rest but I love it so much, it’s probably the best part of Stormbreaker for me and obviously it’s fairly different from the show. I adore the last scene of the show since the tension was delightful, but this hit in a different way. Alex! And Yassen! Actually talking!!! It’s a sparse scene (like most of AH’s writing), but very atmospheric and loaded with meaning all the same.

Let’s start with the obvious stuff first - book!Yassen is fair-haired and blue-eyed (or grey, depending), and has a very measured way of speaking without any accent at all. He very much falls into the archetype of “inscrutable Russian assassin with a mysterious connection to the protagonist” and it’s delightful.

I do like the fact we only really see Yassen in person for two scenes in the entire book, and both times he kills someone ruthlessly and efficiently. (...yes, he did kill Sayle while piloting a helicopter) His reputation is well-deserved and I think the show does an excellent job with that too; every time we see Yassen on screen there’s a feeling that shit is about to go down and somebody is about to die.

The show also does a pretty good job hinting at the connection between Yassen and Alex (ughh Yassen’s expression when he sees Alex for the first time kills me every time). In Stormbreaker, Yassen does (initially) seem colder towards Alex, emotionless, just a man on a job. But even then, we get little hints of warmth shining through such as the way he smiles when Alex promises to kill him, and of course the salute! It’s pretty clear that Yassen has some measure of fondness for Alex, because no way an assassin would normally just let somebody go after they promised to kill him, even if that person is only a teenage boy (especially considering that teenage boy is driven by a desire to take revenge on his uncle’s killer). I also think it’s interesting that Alex reciprocates his salute. He’s clearly aware (even if only subconsciously) of the connection between the two of them.

Though I think what hits the hardest for me is the fact Yassen is the one to tell Alex that he belongs in school, that he’s a child and he shouldn’t be part of this world. Alex in the books is much, much lonelier compared to the show. There was no Jack or Tom there for him, since Jack was kept completely out of the loop and Tom doesn’t even exist in the book. Wolf and the K-Unit largely either ignored or bullied Alex. As for Blunt and Jones, Alex just saved thousands of kids in England yet the only thing MI6 tells him afterwards is that his actions can never be revealed to the public, his youth will make him useful for future missions, and then the only thing they give him is a doctor’s note(!!!) to explain his absence from school.

If that sounds all sorts of terrible and unfair, Alex agrees:

In the end the big difference between him and James Bond wasn’t a question of age. It was a question of loyalty. In the old days spies had done what they’d done because they loved their country, because they believed in what they were doing. But he’d never been given a choice.

Nowadays, spies weren’t employed. They were used.

And of all the people to point out how fucked up the whole situation is and how Alex needs to get out...it’s Yassen, the contract killer, his uncle’s murderer. And Yassen says it straight to Alex’s face instead of just making token protests about how wrong it is to send a teenage boy into danger and then doing it anyway. I think the moment had a fairly big impact on Alex, and I was sad it wasn’t included in the show, but ah well. Another time, maybe?

BONUS

OK i know this was meant to be a book vs tv show thing BUT I WOULD BE REMISS IN MY DUTIES NOT TO LINK TO THE LAST SCENE AS DEPICTED IN THE OLD MOVIE

‘2 minutes of questionable everything’ from the video description about sums it up. the violins. the closeness. the long lingering looks. “i’ll never forget you.”

Anyway, hope this was interesting and at least a bit informative! Do let me know there’s any interest in a part 2 of this post covering Eagle Strike and maybe a bit of Russian Roulette!

[toxic-potions-productions]

Accurate meets Blackjack (Collab with Dorkygurl89)

Hoo-wee, another art collab!

So, I was wondering what it would be like if my version of Accurate met Dorky’s character Blackjack based off of something she made for me a while back & I talked to her about it & it eventually turned into a collab cuz the idea would not leave me alone & it was driving me crazy

This was mostly an excuse to do another collab with Dorky cuz I had so much fun with the last one & I kinda wanted to do another one

So, yeah, Accurate meeting Blackjack for the first time I drew Accurate & Dorky drew BJ

Spoiler alert: It didn’t go well

BJ sees Accurate as a threat & Accurate is not a fan of how much poison is dripping from his mouth (Yes, that green stuff is poison, not spit. I thought it was spit for the longest time)

Fun fact: Accurate’s tail frizzes up when he feel threatened

Let’s just hope they don’t get all violent. Please control him if he tries anything, Dorky ;w;

-----------------------------------------------

Accurate39 drawn by: Me

Blackjack drawn by: @dorkygurl-89​

do not steal, trace or copy.

[halo-jpeg]

Hi love! Can I make a request for Thomas, Bubba, Brahms and the three Sinclair brothers asking their s/o to marry? I love your blog 💗💗 Ily💗

Of course this is so cute holy crap-

Some Slashers Proposing to their S/O

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas would ponder the question for days and days and days! Was he really up for this? Were you up for this? Would you say yes?

With some coaxing from his momma he’d finally decide that- yes, he could do this! He wanted to marry you, and he was confident that you would say yes!

He would try to make it seem like nothing was happening, though he never takes you into the forest. He always says it was too dangerous for you!

Unbeknownst to you, Luda Mae and Hoyt are hot on your tails, anticipated for the big question. Luda Mae just can’t wait to hold a wedding ceremony, her boy’s all grown up!

Thomas would stop you in the woods, towering over you in the most non-threatening way possible, taking in everything about you, tracing a hand over your cheek. 

The look in his eyes can’t help but make you smile, but the smile fades into a surprised expression as he gets down on one knee like he’s seen people do in movies. 

The ring he presents is nothing special- a simple silver wedding band passed down from his mother, but it’s more than enough because it’s from him. 

Of course you would say yes, and he’d be so relieved, standing tall again and wrapping his hands around your waist. After a passionate kiss and a dramatic twirl, Luda Mae and Hoyt would burst from their hiding places to congratulate the both of you. 

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba would be so, so so so so so so nervous, pacing in front of his brothers as he tried to communicate his question with shaking hands. He needed their approval first, of course.

After much struggle, Drayton would obviously encourage the idea, since you aren’t actually that bad- don’t tell your S/O he said that, Bubba! Bubba would be absolutely overjoyed, and he might even cry a little. This was really happening!

He’d make it up to be something very special! Drayton would prepare a huge dinner, and Bubba would dress up in his nicest outfit- his Grandfather’s old tux and his prettiest mask, topped off with lots and lots of makeup! He’d even get Nubbins and ChopTop to dress up!

After a spectacular dinner he’d drag you out to the sunflower fields, giddy with excitement and anticipation. He’d stop surrounded by tall yellow flowers and he’d hold your hands in his. 

With a deep breath he’d finally gather the courage to get down on his knee, holding out the ring he’d carved from bone fragments. It was detailed with little carvings and swirls, his greatest work ever. 

The pure joy he would feel as you say yes would force him to leap right back up, slipping the ring onto your finger and taking your hands, spinning quickly around in circles of celebration. 

He would hug you so close, kissing your cheeks and forehead repeatedly, and then he’d walk you back home to a waiting and happy family to plan a wedding.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms would know he wants to marry you from the moment you first started dating. He’d never tolerated anyone before, but you had wormed your way into his heart and he liked that.

He would want to do something very, very special, and since he’s always too afraid to go outside (but you begged him to come out and garden with you) he knew that you would love what he had in mind.

Days in advance he would build up his courage and slip out into the yard, scared as a squirrel. He’d scout out the grounds for a perfect place. Thank god you had kept all the flowers alive. 

At last, with a ring in his hand, he would drag you to the door after dinner, clean and wearing a fancy suit. You would be stunned and happy enough by him leading you outside with a confidence you hadn’t thought was possible for the scaredy cat. 

He would bring you to the ruins-like place overlooking the large lake, a bouquet of roses he’d snipped (dammit, Brahms, don’t cut the flowers!) resting on the edge. 

First, he’d give you the roses, and as you admired them he’d slip of his mask without you asking for once. By now you have to be wondering why he’s being so romantic and perfect. 

When he gets down on one knee it clicks, and your eyes well with tears. The ring he pulls out is gorgeous, a faded gold with a large diamond encrusted on the top. It was his mothers ring. 

A yes would be obvious, and once he stood again, slipping the ring onto your finger, he’d kiss you, a passionate kiss, more love-filled than any you’d ever shared. 

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent would make the proposal perfect. He’d get Bo’s permission to take over one of the buildings, moving out the wax figures and littering candles all over. He’d light each one and try to collect some flowers to scatter about. 

He’d be a little bit off all day, more affectionate and confident than usual. You also notice Bo and Lester are staying out of your way for once. 

Vincent would present to you a meal more sophisticated than any you’d ever had with the Sinclairs. Expensive steak, expensive wine, and expensive dessert.

Then, he’d take your hand and you’d stroll slowly towards the building he’d set up, the candles all lit and the flowers arranged beautifully. He’d hold the door open for you and he’d watch, adoring your surprised and awestruck expression. 

He’d profess his unending love for you, saying that you are his absolute soulmate and no one else would ever even rival your perfection. He’d take your hand, and he’d place the wax ring gently inside. 

Upon closer inspection, you can see that instead of a diamond there is a perfectly carved rose to size of your pinkie nail, realistic and stunning. 

After you say yes, he’d kiss you passionately, and rest your forehead against his, swaying back and forth and muttering praise, love, and thanks for being so perfect. 

Bo Sinclair

Bo never imagined himself getting married. It had never been important to him, but you- you made him feel some type of way and he needed you to see how much he loved you right back. 

He wouldn’t make it too special- he wouldn’t know how but he’d spend the entire day with you, making sure you felt appreciated. 

As the sun slid towards the horizon and Vincent was down in the basement, Lester asleep, you and Bo were left alone. He’d pull out some beers, a big blanket, and he’d sit with you out on the front porch stairs, your head on his shoulder and his hand in yours. 

He’d start off the proposal with a nervous question; “Can I say somethin’?” you could detect the nervousness in his voice, and you’d pull away to face him with a furrowed brow. “Of course!” 

He’d go on about how much he loves you; how mouch you’ve changed his life for the better, how he could never live without you, how you bring out the good in him. 

He’d fish through is pocket for the ring he’d stolen off of a victim from a few months back. It had small diamonds along the top of the rosegold band. 

“Sorry for bein’ so cheesy and soft, but... I wanna marry you. Or... I want you to marry me. This is a proposal, I guess.” he isn’t very good at this, stumbling over his words and correcting himself on numerous occasions. The amused expression on your face almost makes him think you’ll decline, but a passionate kiss is enough for him to know you agree.

He’d slip the ring on your finger, wearing a silly half smile, and you’d know he was the one. “I love you even more when you’re cheesy and soft.”

Lester Sinclair

Hoo, boy he is nervous. He has some serious self-esteem issues, so for the longest time he really wants to propose but he’s too afraid to. He rants to Vincent quite often since he’s so knowledgeable about romance and stuff like that. 

After plenty of reassuring, Lester finally gathers the courage to ask you the big question. He’d ask you to come on a last-minute scan of the nearby areas for roadkill, but that wouldn’t be very romantic. That’s not what you’re actually doing, of course.

He’ll bring you out to the forest, and now is when you realize the way he taps nervously on the steering wheel, chewing on the inside of his cheek. When you ask him what’s wrong, he’ll stutter out a “n-nothin’!” that makes you even more concerned. 

He’ll stop somewhere quiet and open so you can stare up at the stars, hopping from the front seat and asking you to meet him in the bed of the truck. 

He’ll sit with you there for a while, staring up at the breathtaking stars and the even more breathtaking you, until he feels gutsy enough to speak. 

He’ll brandish a ring he had bought from a nearby pawn shop, afraid that you wouldn’t like it. He’d spent more on it than he’s ever spent on anything else other than his truck. 

Upon hearing your ‘yes’ he can’t help but hold you tight, burying his face in your hair and inhaling your scent. He’s so lucky to have you.

[devourer--of--books]

Some time ago (and by “some time” I mean a long ass time, oops) Kate (@pumpkinpaperweight) posted an analysis of gold rush by Taylor Swift tracing parallels to Agatha, which this post is clearly inspired by. 

(Go check that one out after you finish reading this post, it’s really good.)

Ever since, I’ve had an entire tagatha x taylor playlist/unfinished post that I don’t think will ever see the light because I’m too lazy to actually finish it. But now I have some spare time and I noticed that,,,, invisible string wasn’t on it.

And that's cause, well, despite the obvious gold fingerglow motif which is very tagatha … you already read the title of the post. It’s more like my own version of of what I would have had happen post-otk (will my epilogue version ever see the light, I wonder) than anything else, but this is my account, in which I am correct all the time and accept no criticism so,,,,

Green was the color of the grass where I used to read at Centennial Park

I used to think I would meet somebody there

Basically, these first two lines are about how Sophie’s egocentrism isolated her and kept her from making genuine connections with people from very early on, until she becomes friends with Agatha and even after that.

Okay, so have you guys ever seen those tiktoks that are like ‘13-year-old me, in black jeans and sneakers, at the beach, reading a book mYstERioUsLy so that when Harry Styles showed up he’d know I’m dIfFeRenT'?

This is the energy I get here. 

Like, Sophie in the start of book one doing all those ‘good deeds’ so set herself apart in the eyes of the school master hoping that he’d bring her to the school where she would meet *drumroll* The One. 

Most of us have, at some point (I hope, otherwise it was just me and that would be so embarassing), tried and failed to channel that main-character-energy to manifest ourselves into a story much more interesting than whatever is going on in your life at the moment. I feel like at the very core, that’s sort of what Sophie was trying to do? It’s a very juvenile feeling and shows just how little Sophie knew about love overall. Love as it is in fairytale books, as opposed to as it actually is.

She thought herself as above everyone else and thought she was entitled to true, unconditional love, which ended up holding her back and isolating her from everyone in the town, save for Agatha, give or take. 

This mindset is what really keeps her from seeing Tedros (and Agatha, and everyone else) as people, rather than characters in her story, and actually connecting with them on a non-superficial level. 

Teal was the color of your shirt when you were 16 at the yogurt shop

You used to work at to make a little money

I don’t think this part needs much explaining? 

On surface level, Nicola canonically started working at her father’s pub at a very young age to help with family expenses.

If you think about it a little more and contrast it with the previous line, though, it highlights the differences between Sophie and Nicola:

Nic works to help her family, learning responsibility and duty, while Sophie barely ever did anything for her father, both out of vanity (and a superiority complex) and out of spite (which is honestly undeserved all the way up to book 3, when Stefan let Callis die and fucking tried to blame Agatha for returning without Sophie and then guilt-tripped her into going to save her, after which he was dead to me lol). Sophie grew with a princess-like mindset, despite being just slightly better off than Nic, given all the villagers save from Callis and Agatha (due to them being outcasts) seem to have a similar income (with the exception of the beggar which I don’t understand and am probably overthinking about, but honestly, it’s a impossible to leave town and people die on the mill all the time, there's no college or whatever, did none of these assholes offer the beggar a job- I’m getting carried away), while Nicola has to shoulder most of the responsibilities due to her dad being sick.

Also, given the *misogyny* I’d be surprised if Nic didn’t have to do all the housework, as the only girl in her house.  

I doubt that the uniform of the pub was teal and given the book timeline she wouldn’t have been 16 in any instances in which Sophie and her met in Gavaldon, but I digress.

Time

Curious time

Gave me no compasses

Gave me no signs

Were there clues I didn't see?

Also kinda self-explanatory in a way?

On one interpretation, it takes Sophie an awful long time to mature and grow into an okay person. She lashed out after Tedros’ rejection because her desire was, when you get down to it, to be loved, even though she didn't understand what love was or how to go about it. She was already loved both by Agatha and by her father but she couldn't see it because the idea of love (romantic, loud, grand-gesture) was so embedded into her, but the clues to it were there all along.

On another, you could argue that Nicola also did not see this coming at all, specially if you consider canon!Nicola rather than fanon!Nicola (why would you, but okay, ignore my Hunter post, go on, stomp on my feelings). Nicola, whose purpose in TCY was to be the new hort-love-interest no one asked for, ending up with her *gag* love-rival? Unexpected, iconic, never done before (never actually done in canon), amazing, mind-blowin-

Bad was the blood of the song in the cab on your first trip to LA

You ate at my favorite spot for dinner

Bad Blood was a smash hit on Taylor’s career, playing on the radio  non-stop during the 1989 era, arguably her peak in terms of mainstream pop and radio plays.

The Tale of Sophie and Agatha was the equivalent in this context, as it was all the rage in Gavaldon after book 3; Sophie’s persona as the Dean Of Evil is solidified and everyone in The Woods knows who she is and read her tale, including Nicola (who already knew who she was, but now had a another version of her to compare to the version she already knew, which hm, did not favour Sophie either way).

I think it’s kind of fascinating how parasocial relationships work in the context of SGE because like, the storian is there as an omniscient narrator, but it doesn’t write everything. Like, does it just expose what the people in the tale feel and think only if it suits the plot or do the tales look just like the SGE books, in some sort of fourth wall break or is it like an actual children’s fairytale, where you just get told actions and have to sort of assume motivations? How does that affect public opinion? I don’t think most people would be too keen on stanning Sophie after reading The Tale Of Sophie and Agatha (cause damn, Sophie does a lot of questionable shit there) but canonically, they do, despite her being the villain, which is something I have opinions on (do I ever not have opinions on things?).

Like, sure there would be Nevers stanning her, but honestly, if they read the tale, wouldn't they be more likely to stan Hester or even Agatha? Cause Sophie almost got both Evers and Nevers killed, doomed everyone in The Woods for a guy, and was overall a horrible person with no regard for actual Good or Evil as balanced things? Isn’t this why The Coven sided with Agatha, like, I don’t get it- Is it stanning out of fear? Cause that’s the only sort of explanation I have, specially for people in Gavaldon, but that’s something I’ll go deeper into in another time.

Anyway, I wouldn’t be surprised if Nic’s first class at SGE was about The Tale Of Sophie and Agatha, given she was originally placed in Evil, due to Dovey and Sophie’s bet, and Evil’s school curriculum was under Sophie’s control, so if you think those classes were anything other than the Sophie-Show, you are wrong.

Now, on to headcanon territory, wouldn’t it be poetic if during her first lunch Nic sat at that tree in the middle of the clearing where Agatha and Sophie used to sit? Not only for ship reasons, but the tree is right in the center, which could relate to how Nic was supposed to be half/half?

Bold was the waitress on our three-year trip getting lunch down by the Lakes

She said I looked like an American singer

It’s a real shame that I don’t remember most of TCY. (But is it really?)

This is kinda of my own personal interpretation of what the OTK epilogue should have been like (and so, it's kind of a spoiler for my ever unfinished rewrite sksnsksn).

Imagine if, instead of that horrid school wedding (kill me now, please), they actually held the respective funerals for all the people lost in the Camelot power-struggle (I’ll take a school funeral, but don’t come at me with school weddings or I’ll lose my shit).

Tedros and Agatha, poor traumatized children, are on their way back to Camelot to try and get stuff back under control and do royal things. Sophie is pretty much on her own, with the remaining faculty of the school, as well as the new kids (yeah, Hort’s staying dead, boo hoo, I’m not sorry sbfhbsdb). Nicola will be returning home to Gavaldon soon, since the school schedule is already messed up beyond repair and everyone is taking some time off anyway. She was only staying there until christmas originally, so might as well.

Public opinion on the main trio is kinda weird at the moment:

Tagatha suffered a coup, then a while laterTedros killed the brother of his usurper, whom had been more popular than him, and well, they do tell people that Japeth killed Rhian, but it’s not like they have receipts? Like, there’s no way to fact check that. They could very well have killed Rhian, we, as bystanders, wouldn’t know? You can bet rumors like these don’t just go away.

And Sophie?

Well, I think public opinion on Sophie was already fear-based rather than coming from a place of admiration for her acts. People aren’t sure of her alliances anymore, and don’t really know how to behave around her so they mainly avoid her. Now that Dovey and Hort are dead and everyone else is resuming their quests, she’ll be pretty much on her own to deal with the aftermatch, which is not only sad, but also probably not healthy. She considers staying with Agatha, but she doesn’t want to add more scandal to the Camelot situation.

So she decides to go back to Gavaldon. Not permanently tho. Just to visit her father and take some time off to decide who could balance her well enough to be appointed as Dean Of Good. 

She'd choose Agatha, but you know, Agatha is kinda busy. Plus, it'd be good to see her father. Watching most of your parental figures drop like flies really puts things into perspective and maybe (just maybe) there's still something to salvage there.

Not many people know she's at Gavaldon, and that's on purpose. For once, Sophie just wants to be left the fuck alone, so she just tries to lay low and not bring unnecessary attention to heself. It's so unlike her to do so that when she walks in to have lunch at Nicola's pub, no one but Nicola even recognizes her.

And if Nicola keeps her company and accompany her on walks, well, it’s no one’s business. Bonding time? Bonding time.

Time

Mystical time

Cutting me open, then healing me fine

Were there clues I didn't see?

You know what these kids need after this Camelot shitstorm? Therapy, that’s what.

There’s no therapy in The Woods, so friendship will simply have to do. Please sir, let these kids heal.

Nicola was dragged to SGE while her father was sick and knew no one there personally, then got dragged again, now into a power struggle where she almost died multiple times, dated a guy, broke up with a guy and I can’t even remember what else but that sounds like a stressful time considering how close together the events from TCY are compared to TSY. What does she want to do now? Will she become a knight? Will she remain in Gavaldon? Does she have to finish school? How have Hunter and her dad been? Whatever went down with her brothers? Why was she important in the first place? Lots to reflect and self-search.

And Sophie. Oh Sophie.

Sophie fell once again for a ‘get-love-’quick’ scheme, not once, but twice! That is not something easy to look in the face and forgive yourself for.

With Rhian, it backfired by hurting everyone she loved, and after the shit Rafal pulled on her, she should have known better. But can you blame her? It’s not like the Rafal thing left her unscratched: you try being in an abusive relationship with a predator, see if you don’t get some trauma. And instead of doing the hard thing and keeping up the work she had been doing on herself she threw her progress out the window the moment Rhian said what she wanted to hear!

After that went belly-up, she at least managed to help her friends, but then later that backfired and she got brain-washed (are we gonna talk about this? disturbing much?). Then, she got fragile enough for her to attempt to find purpose in her life within Hort’s feelings for her, even if she didn’t actually reciprocate those feelings, simply because she was sure of them and they were familiar.

And later, even Hort was taken away from her. 

(Probably for the best, given their attachment had been… precarious, to say the least.)

Therapy, I’m telling you.

A string that pulled me

Out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar

Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire

Chains around my demons

Wool to brave the seasons

One single thread of gold tied me to you

These two would be so good for one another.

I think that being alone when you’re going through something is literally the worst you can do, but when you have someone who just…. gets it, you know? They were there too. They understand. It forms a connection.

After OTK, both of them (Sophie mostly) have enough on their plates for them to go down a dark path to a horrible place. But they don’t. Cause they are here for each other and have their support system to help them.

Does that translate into late nights drinking together after the pub shuts down? Maybe.  Keeping tabs on each other to make sure they’re sleeping and eating right? Yes. Keeping secrets and confessions? You got it.

And then my friends, begins the pining.

Cause, you know, they’re just gals being pals, gals being gay- wait what.

Nicola probably comes to terms with it first, but thinks Sophie is not interested in her like that (she also suspects that Sophie only sees her as Agatha’s stand-in and will drop her eventually once Agatha is no longer in such high demand.) Sophie is, in classic Sophie-fashion, neck-deep in denial, she’s not a lesbian right? she’s boy crazy, she’s not a lesbian-

Except she never felt like this with any of those boys. The only comparison she has is what she feels for Agatha, this feeling of being heard and seen and understood, but-

But Sophie doesn’t want to kiss Agatha.

And in retrospect, she never wanted to kiss anyone like this either.  Tedros who, Rafal who, Rhian who, Hort who, these bitches could never.

Eventually they attend the official tagatha wedding, HELD AT THE CASTLE, as each other’s plus-ones, and well, maybe consider checking my eventual OTK-epilogue for more on this, once it eventually comes out.

Cold was the steel of my axe to grind for the boys who broke my heart

Now I send their babies presents

Very self-explanatory, Tedros may be Sophie’s favorite ex, but he’s still an ex and they will be killing each other if left unchecked for two long unsupervised.

Nicphie as the tagatha baby godparents. Please, YES.

I’m not gonna go into detail because children make me uncomfortable,  I wish this was a joke, haha, but yes, Sophie and Nic pic the presents together and they attend the baby shower together. Are they dating, are they just married but don’t know it yet? I wonder. They're just together and no one really knows what's going on.

Gold was the color of the leaves when I showed you around Centennial Park

Hell was the journey but it brought me heaven

You know what’s funny? I didn’t tell you anything between the wedding and the baby shower. Remember how there was an opening for Dean of Good?

Yeah, too late to send in your resumes, position is already filled.

Sophie shows Nic the ropes of being Dean, or at least that’s how she’ll present it, but they’re still sort of figuring it out together. And that's okay.

They spend summers traveling around, christmas in Gavaldon, new years in Camelot and all is well. Their fingerglow colors now match. But it’s, unfortunately not gold.

Time

Wondrous time

Gave me the blues and then purple pink skies

And it's cool

Baby, with me

Yeah, it’s fucking purple.

I can’t remember if Nic has a canon fingerglow color, but I don’t really care much for canon, do I? I just really like the imagery of it, so it’s blue and pink mixed together. Because, you know I’m a symbolic bitch.

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

Anyway, I am correct, this is the post.

[darknessisafriend]

You should kneel to your Empress Commodus x Reader

Here it is @beatlebabe1996 I hope you will enjoy it^^ 

Request:  Commodus' Empress is mixed race and she overhears people at the palace making remarks about her and her family even though without her, they wouldn't have trade or peaceful relations with a prominent tribe in Africa. Commodus hears it and defends her.

You had been the wife of Commodus and Empress for a few months now, and you were getting used to your life in Rome, far from your home and your people in Africa. It was different, the Roman society, senators were much different, often dangerous…but Commodus had very soon taught you all you had to know to survive in that rude world. And you knew from the start it wouldn’t be easy, even if you were hopeful. Commodus had fallen in love with you as you visited Rome and discussed with him the possibility of a partnership with his powerful Empire. Later, many had been against your union, an Emperor who doesn’t marry a roman woman of noble blood, it was unusual and disgraceful to the eyes of the senatorial elite.

Tonight, was one of the usual dinner nights were a few senators and nobles had been honored with an invitation to dine with the emperor. And of course you were there, you would never miss an occasion to support your husband and then Commodus got bored without your presence, licking the boots of senators and nobles to get their loyalty was mentally exhausting to him, he suffered enough from paranoia already. You wore a beautiful cobalt dress, your neck and ears ornated with golden jewels, and Commodus couldn’t take his eyes off you, even when you were not standing by his side, you felt him eyes on you, you were beautiful, he loved your chocolate skin and clear orbs, a goddess to his eyes. “I will be back in a minute, love. I am going to get fresh air.” You told him, briefly squeezing his arm, excusing yourself to the guests and heading to one of the balconies of the palace.

“Come on it’s a political choice obviously. The Emperor needs too much the resources of Africa, we need more grain, and lands. She doesn’t have the stand of an Empress; she has a just a pretty face he can exhibit to everyone and a body he can enjoy in his bed.” You suddenly heard a senator say to another guest, thinking they were out of earshot from you. You tried to hide your hurt and took a drink, still heading to the balcony and putting yourself in a corner where you could still hear them talk.

“Ah! Yeah, she is lucky to have this position. From a lost kingdom in Africa and a family so naïve to give us all their resources. How ungraceful…to mix her with roman blood…” another said with disdain. It hurt you more than you expected; you thought you would be used to roman arrogance, but you didn’t…even as empress they dared to speak bad of you.

Tears came into your eyes, threatening to come out, your vision becoming blurry, pained not to be appreciated at your true value, you did everything to fit among them…your grip on your cup of wine tightened, anger rising in your chest, you did everything they expected of you and more, and you were their empress! How dare they disrespect you, insult you, your family and kingdom!?

“Senators. You should think twice before speaking or keep your mouth shut. I feel deeply insulted.” You were startled by the voice of Commodus, strong, commanding…threatening. He stood in the middle of room, any trace of amusement gone; he looked at the two senators that had spoken ill of you, he had heard them, and he was furious.

“Your Highness?”

He instantly silenced him with a gesture from his hand “You deeply insulted me by disrespecting my wife, your empress. Have we not offered you hospitality, gifts and rewards for your good service? And this is how you repay your souverains?” You could feel the room getting cold, fear filling the guests, especially those two senators.

“Look at your emperor in the eyes if you are not a coward!” Commodus raised his voice as he noticed the senators had a hard time looking at him in the eyes and making them jump in fear.

“You deserve the worst punishment for your offense inside my house. However, the most wounded of us all will choose it. But first…” He extended his arm towards you to invite you to join him, his eyes softening as he looked at you, full of devotion. “You should kneel before her, because it is thanks to my wife and her kingdom that you can feed your wives and children. Rome owes her the food you are putting in your mouths. She is saving us from the famine.” he growled, his eyes filled with pure anger, romans were arrogant and thought of themselves as the best, clearly they had a few things to learn. And in fear but also shame, all the guests kneeled before you, you lifted your chin, tears disappearing from your eyes, thankful to Commodus for this intervention, this was how they should be with you, respectful and grateful.  

“The Senate will choose a fitting sentence.” You declared fiercely, democracy first, you would not lower yourself because of your emotions. You were the Empress, and you would show them. “Escort those senators to the entrance.” You ordered the guards who instantly obeyed, humiliating the senators even more, they shouldn’t have been so disrespectful.

“I shall have the Senate deal with their behavior tomorrow. If it was only up to me, I would have you exiled to the worse and most isolated parts of the Empire.” Commented Commodus, not even looking at them, he was disgusted by their behavior and even thought of having them executed. The room remained silent, people not knowing what to do…but suddenly Commodus made a gesture towards the musicians, indicating them to start playing again, everything was to go back as normal.

“Thank you.” You said in a murmur, looking up at your husband who gave you a small smile, he was upset about what happened.

“Anything for you Y/N. I would never accept my wife to be insulted.” He replied, offering you his arm and leading you to the balcony again, giving you two some intimacy. You looked at the gardens, lit by the moonlight, that view appeased you and the pale light on Commodus’ skin had always fascinated you. You looked at him as his put his hand on yours, his fingers gently caressing your skin; he always did that when he was upset, he wanted you to be safe, and happy…

“My love…” you murmured and came closer, burying your face in his neck, feeling his strong arms protectively wrap around you. “I’m happy with you. It’s all that matters to me. With the wellbeing of our people.” Just like him you had a strong sense of duty and devotion; you would do anything for them.

“I’m sorry Y/N. For the way they treat you. I shall make sure it doesn’t happen again.” He vowed, keeping his voice down and yet it radiated anger. “I will make it laws if necessary.”

You chuckled “I really appreciate Commodus. But I have to do this on my own, show that I am your equal and not hiding behind you. I’m not afraid of making heads fall.” You spoke with determination, making him smile, it was so you to say that and he loved that strong spirit of yours, he wouldn’t like to be your enemy, he knew you could be subtlety ferocious.

“Alright, I will let you do, my queen.” He cooed, kissing your forehead. But deep down, he was going to get rid of anyone who would speak ill of you, to his eyes it was a crime. And hurting his love was the worst crime that existed, he will all slay them down, he was the emperor, the judge on who could live and who deserved to die.

Commodus harem: @skaravile @lyoongx @weirdflecksbutok @charlie-sisters @stardancerluv @sgtsavoytruffle @ohcarlesmycarles @rajacero @niniitah-ah @morrisonmercurryphoenix @fly-like-a-phoenix @hopelessdisasterr @stellargirlie​ @rosebloodstuffandthangss​ @clowndaddyfleck​ @jaylovesbats @dreamingmaria​ @sagyunaro​ @just-a-fucking-comedy​ @spaceinvader​ @radio-hoo-ha @lady-carnivals-stuff @sierraclegane​ @legojorny @lemondedeniname​ @hvproductions​ @syvellsworld @papercut-paranoia​ @jokerflecker​ @beautifulyoungprospect​ @bring-your-holy-water @five-miles-over​ @yukis-writing​ @fawnsing @beatlebabe1996​

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume 7, Number 3

Black Country, New Road

One of the funniest parts of Martin Amis’ Inside Story concerns an up-and-coming novelist, constantly asked at literary festivals to differentiate between his short stories and novels and just as consistently coming up with new ways to say that the short stories are, well, shorter.  Same deal with Dust.  These abbreviated reviews are, indeed, shorter than the full-lengths, but otherwise well worth reading.  And, hoo boy, are there a lot of them this time.  Contributors include Ian Mathers, Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer, Tim Clarke, Patrick Masterson, Arthur Krumins, Eric McDowell, Justin Cober-Lake, Andrew Forell, Ray Garraty, Jonathan Shaw and Bryon Hayes.  

Aarktica and Black Tape for a Blue Girl — Eating Rose Petals (Projekt: Archive)

Eating Rose Petals by Aarktica and Black Tape for a Blue Girl

Aarktica’s Jon DeRosa and Black Tape for a Blue Girl’s Sam Rosenthal have known each other for a long time, but this release is the first time they’ve actually worked together. Rosenthal was so struck by the title song, one of the few from Aarktica’s 2019 release Mareación to feature DeRosa’s vocals, that with the latter’s permission and participation he created the almost 19-minute “Fleeting Rose Petals”, which features the original track backwards with wordless additional vocals from DeRosa, plus additional material by Rosenthal before and after it. The original (also included here, along with the closing “Valley of the Roses” which features Rosenthal further reworking the additional material from “Fleeting Rose Petals”) already felt like a single lambent moment in time suspended and held, and by reworking and reconfiguring that material over a full 37-minute span that effect is only intensified. 

Ian Mathers

 Altaat & Euter — Split (Ikuisuus)

split by Altaat / Euter

Two experimental drone outfits from Finland play extended abstract compositions on this split LP. Altaat’s sidelong “Palava Palaava” sounds like an orchestra tuning up in a wind tunnel as it splices long bowed tones with the rush and whir of large machinery. But however, chaotic that may sound, the actual effect is quite serene, the om of dissonant overtones melting into a white noise background of rattling, humming, whooshing mechanical sounds. Altaat’s Niko Karlsson and Miki Brunou, along with Jari Koho, subsume the noisy clatter of the post-industrial era into a dream-like, beckoning hiss. Euter, also a duo but not willing to give up personal names, works a less organically grounded sound, filling an expansive, echoey space with chortling, wobbling synth cadences, metallic clangs and staticky, between-stations blare. The long “Slowly Underwater,” unfolds in chilly surreality. You get the sense of vast metal furnaces blowing out corrosive chemical clouds, of mechanical sensors picking up and sending signals and of chittering, hurrying life amid ruins. (No, I’m not hearing anything especially watery.) “Magnetic Mammals,” which follows, is similarly machine-like and ominous, picking up vast, sirening sounds as if from a distance with bubbling bursts of radio interference in the foreground. Altaat’s side is certainly closer to conventional Western classical music, but Euter finds some intriguing, disquieting spaces. Makes you wonder what they’re putting in the water up there in reindeer land.

Jennifer Kelly

 Rrill Bell — Ballad of the External Life (Elevator Bath)

ballad of the external life by Rrill Bell ////// aka The Preterite

One of the challenges of early electronic music was its labor intensity; it could take months of recording, processing, card-punching and pondering to come up with a few minutes of music. But tools change, and with them, opportunities for access open up. The music of Rrill Bell, a German-based American musician, makes that lengthy process shake hands with instant performance. Originally trained as a percussionist, he works mainly with tapes, which he records, uses in performance, and in the course of performance, records over and re-uses again. But in concert, he tends to improvise with these materials, making split-second decisions that occasionally get preserved for potential re-visiting.  

If that sounds like a recipe for frenetic sonic action, it’s not. Mr. Bell’s tastes in original sounds tend towards bells and environmental captures, and he rarely crowds the mix. Tones squiggle and unspool, unidentifiable bumps appear and disappear, and birds chirp at the periphery. It’s easy to characterize this as ambient music, since a low-volume listen is pleasant but undemanding. But keep in mind that successful ambient music must be interesting as well as ignorable, and the dream-like sound walk of Ballad of the External Life still delivers.  

Bill Meyer

Black Country, New Road — For the First Time (Ninja Tune)

For the first time by Black Country, New Road

“Sunglasses” erupts out of a blare of feedback, a roar of guitar noise that splinters and disintegrates as you trace its melody. Synths sound like police sirens. It’s all very slow and ominous, and for a minute, all those Slint comparisons make sense. And then it resolves into something like an indie rock song, spoke-sung over thunderous drums by one Isaac Wood, he of the tremulous voice and the unreliable narrative, whose art song proclivities may bring bands like Wild Beasts to mind, though without the fey falsetto. The song is a marvel of bravado and doubt, working the soft seam between ordinary male adolescence and mental illness, and the sunglasses play a key part. Says Wood, “I am looking at you with my best eyes and I wish you could tell/I wish all my kids would stop dressing up like Richard Hell/I am locked away in a high-tech/Wraparound, translucent, blue-tinted fortress/And you cannot touch me.” (Also, later, “I am more than adequate/Leave Kanye out of it,” which strikes me as brilliant for reasons I can’t fathom.) The point is that there are startling, riveting lyrics here, of the sort that you could make a case for leaving it unadorned, but Black Country, New Road is not interested in simplicity. The rather large ensemble includes not just the regular rock instruments but saxophone, violin and synths, all knotted up in proggy complexities and paced by a drummer (Charlie Wayne) good enough to give Black Midi’s Morgan Simpson a run for his money (the two bands are aligned and friends and Black Midi gets a name check in one of the songs). Indeed, the opening track of this six-cut collection is aptly titled “Instrumental,” a whirling gypsy klezmer cubist fantasy that is, if anything, nervier and more complicated than the vocal tracks. This is exciting, volatile stuff that could go anywhere from here.

Jennifer Kelly

 Deniz Cuylan — No Such Thing As Free Will (Hush Hush)

No Such Thing As Free Will by Deniz Cuylan

Everything about Deniz Cuylan’s solo debut is understated. Six instrumental tracks running to just 27 minutes, released on the fittingly named Hush Hush Records, No Such Thing As Free Will seeks to evoke something subtle and universal out of minimal ingredients. There’s a robust architecture to this music, generating a sober, contemplative mood. Arpeggios on nylon-string classical guitar cycle around in precise arcs, gently bolstered by piano, clarinet and cello. The space in opener “Clearing” shyly invites the listener in; the record reaches a modest peak in the bright harmonics of “She Was Always Here” and the almost joyful elegance of “Flaneurs in Hakone”; then the music recedes into a melancholic fog on the closing title track. It’s telling, therefore, that Cuylan has worked as a soundtrack composer — his music feels complementary, receding modestly into life’s scenery rather than commanding the spotlight. 

Tim Clarke

 Arnold de Boer — Minimal Guitar (Makkum) 

MINIMAL GUITAR by arnolddeboer

Somedays you just don’t do what you’re supposed to do. At the end of the last summer, Arnold de Boer decided to extend his holiday by a day and take a walk around town. When he got back home, he sat down, picked up an instrument and listened to the music that came out of his fingers. The music was no more expected than the activity that preceded it. Instead of the rough, voltage-enhanced intricacy of the music he plays with The Ex or his one-man band, Zea, de Boer played a set of acoustic guitar solos. Neither ostentatious nor self-consciously rustic, de Boer’s playing tends to zero in on an idea and see where it wants to go. Each rhythmic pattern, decaying harmonic, or rap on the body proposes an idea, which de Boer either explores or restates with minimal variation. Ah, there’s that word. This isn’t a study in minimalism, but an appreciation of how little you need to do if the original idea is sound. 

Bill Meyer

Dusk + Blackdown — Rinse FM Mix January 28, 2021 (Rinse FM)

Rinse FM · Keysound (100% Keysound Production Mix) - 28 January 2021

I’m not sure there’s a place left on the internet better suited to explaining the rise of grime, dubstep and its attendant mutations than Martin Clark’s aging Blogspot under his Blackdown alias. From ground zero in London, Clark has been documenter, eyewitness and participant alike, a true lifer fully evidenced by his longtime partnership with Dan Frampton, aka Dusk, showcasing new music on their monthly Rinse radio show and Keysound Recordings record label. They’re an essential part of the culture, so it’s especially pleasant when they serve up some of their own riches. After the traditional December year-end roundup show, Dusk and Blackdown came roaring out of the gates in January with an all-Keysound broadcast in the middle of the night that features gobs of unreleased rollage over its two hours. It’s a nice reminder that though time may pass, URLs may cut out and memories may dim, some are still putting in the work one release, one radio show, one listen at a time. The sound is the key is right.

Patrick Masterson   

 EKG — 200 Years Of Electricals (Bandcamp) 

200 Years of Electricals by EKG (Ernst Karel & Kyle Bruckmann)

Most things don’t hold their value. Why should time be any different? So, if Gabriel Garcia Marquez wrote 100 Years of Solitude in the 1960s, EKG might as well proclaim 200 Years Of Electricals in 2021. EKG is Kyle Bruckmann (double reeds, analog electronics, organ) and Ernst Karel (analog electronics, microphones). The duo first convened in the mid-1990s, when both men lived in Chicago, and Karel was mainly known as a trumpeter. They’ve carried on in sporadic fashion ever since, playing increasingly rare concerts as each man moved away from his original home base. They’ve turned snippets from these shows into subdued musical constructions, which they’ve issued on a number of compact discs over the years. For their first release in over a decade, the duo, who currently both live in the Bay area, have ditched the trumpet and the physical album format, and incorporated some of the field recordings that have become Karel’s main sound material in his solo work. But in other respects, this effort is every bit as concerned with iteration and inevitability as Marquez’ book. When you flip a switch, something hums. When you layer quiet sounds, they don’t necessarily get louder, but they do exert a stronger magnetism upon your ear. And you when spread your quietness over a vast stretch of silence, efforts to follow the sound inevitably do strange things to your sense of time. Wait, how many years have we been listening to that crackle? Why stop now?

Bill Meyer  

 Michael Feuerstack — Harmonize the Moon (Forward Music Group)

Harmonize the Moon by Michael Feuerstack

Montreal-based singer-songwriter Michael Feuerstack sweeps aside all extraneous fluff on his new album, Harmonize the Moon, zeroing in on precise finger-picked guitar parts, vivid lyrical imagery and a stark, affecting tone. He has a knack for smuggling blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moments of understated wonder into traditional-sounding folk songs you’ll imagine you’ve heard somewhere before. Indeed, he wryly admits to recycling the past in the opening song: “I used to be a singer, bumping around in the astral plane / Picking up astral trash, to polish it up again.” Though the foundation of guitar and vocals carries most of the weight, there’s tasteful reinforcement from vocal harmonies, electric guitar, lap steel, bass and drums. Amid these clean, spare arrangements, some of the lines stop you in your tracks, like the following from “Too Kind”: “The world is broken mirrors, traps and triggers / And cold blood pools in the kindest eyes.” With 10 finely honed songs running to just over half an hour, everything is measured and rather lovely. (Beautiful cover art, too.) 

Tim Clarke

Michael and Peter Formanek — Dyads (Out Of Your Head Records) 

Dyads by Michael and Peter Formanek

Virtuoso bassist, stalwart sideman, solid bandleader, fearless improviser, intriguing composer — Michael Formanek is all of those things, but he’s also a cool dad. At least that’s what it looks like from the outside. Not only did he include his son, Peter, in his musical activities from an early age, giving the youngster a chance to sit in with the likes of Tim Berne and Jim Black. Upon Peter’s return home from college, he joined him in a working duo. Dyads is their first recording, and it is testimony to the merits of giving the kid first-hand experience in the family business. Peter, who plays tenor saxophone and clarinet, has learned the merits of having a bold tone, a flexible improvisational approach and a way with a tune. Their performances unfold with a combination of patience and pith, which permits the listener to savor the elegance with which each musician supports the other. 

Bill Meyer

 Chris Forsyth & the Solar Motel Band — Rare Dreams: Solar Live 2.27.18 (No Quarter)

Rare Dreams: Solar Live 2.27.18 by Chris Forsyth & The Solar Motel Band

Chris Forsyth teams with Sunwatchers Peter Kerlin and Jason Robira at London’s Café OTO for expansive, incendiary jams that will remind you like a physical ache of what you’ve been missing in live music this awful year. “Dream in the Non-Dream” is a wide-horizon, endless vamp, driven ever forward by Kerlin and Robira in lock-sync, while Forsyth ratchets up tension with a car jack, then spins it off in wreckless, fiery abandon. “The First Ten Minutes of Cocksucker Blues” similarly balances rigor and open-ended-ness, marking off the measures with a hammering, repetitive cadence that becomes a mantra over time. There are also two Neil Young covers, both tending towards the electrified, Crazy Horse side of things, a slow by blistering “Don’t Be Denied” and a raucous “Barstool Blues” from Zuma. It’s all great stuff, and it might hold you for a month or two until we can all crowd up to the stage again.

Jennifer Kelly

 Alexander Hawkins — Togetherness Music (Intakt)

Togetherness Music by Alexander Hawkins

Whether you listen to him in duos with Evan Parker or Tomeka Reid, small bands like the Chicago/London Underground or Decoy, or leading his own ensembles, English keyboardist Alexander Hawkins accompanies and improvises with an astute perception of the situation’s requirements. The title Togetherness Music can be taken several ways. The six-part suite combines parts from two different commissioned pieces, and it brings together elements of free and conducted improvisation, scored chamber music, and some discrete electronic interventions. Passages showcasing Evan Parker’s intricate soprano saxophone lines and Mark Sanders’ kinetic percussion contrast and coexist with rich and patiently evolving string passages executed by the Riot Ensemble. This music feels less like a sum of differing approaches than the expression of a cohesive in which all Hawkins’ good ideas fit together. 

Bill Meyer

Russell Hoke — The Melancholy Traveller (Round Bale Recordings)

The Melancholy Traveler by Russell Hoke

This release follows up on the archival compilation A Voice From the Lonesome Playground from 2016 of Hoke’s material from small run releases of the 1980’s. With the new material here, Hoke delves into the unadulterated sound of voice and guitar or banjo, with mainly his own songs of loneliness and also the singularly bittersweet moments of existing as yourself, free and detached from society. Also covering two beautiful takes on Sandy Denny songs, which fit into the UK/US traditional direction of the rest. The album rests in the same delicate territory as other folkies such as Connie Converse, Jackson C. Frank, or even the more sedate songs of Daniel Johnston. What brings the album together is the expressiveness in any given moment of a song. The tact and execution consistently bring the emotion of the songwriting home.

Arthur Krumins  

 In Layers — Pliable (FMR) 

Pliable by In Layers

In Layers puts up a middle finger against anyone who thinks that European unity is a passed fancy. The quartet’s members come from Portugal, Iceland and Holland, and their collective experience encompasses Nordic music theatre, lyric free jazz and the tooth-powderingly loud trio, Cactus Truck. But the music they make doesn’t really sound like any of that. Guitarist Marcelo Dos Reis, drummer Onno Govaert, pianist Kristján Martinsson and trumpeter Luís Vicente improvise music that is spacious enough to frustrate viral transmission, but composed of elements hefty enough to tip a scale. There’s plenty of bravura playing, but the displays are subordinate to the music’s abstract cohesion. You won’t hum it, but you won’t forget it, either. 

Bill Meyer

 Just For the Record: Conversations With and About “Blue” Gene Tyranny

Composer, writer and pianist Robert Sheff, better known as “Blue” Gene Tyranny, collaborator with everyone from Iggy Pop to Robert Ashley, passed away at the end of 2020. Just before that, David Bernabo’s documentary about Tyranny’s life and work, and more generally about the avant garde world Tyranny was a vital part of, how much of it almost vanished and the ways it continues to be vibrant even today, was released. For a while Just For the Record was available to rent, but this year Bernabo made it available for free on UbuWeb Film. It’s a wonderful watch for anyone who’s a fan of “Blue” Gene’s work, for sure. The conversations with him are near the end of his life, but his evident joy in music and art and people shines through, and the conversations with Joan La Barbara, David Grubbs, Kyle Gann and others cast new light on both his history and work and importance and the group of artists that he worked with and around. There’s so much here you almost wish for a miniseries instead (one episode on reissue labels and blogs, one on Robert Ashley’s operas, one on Tyranny’s time as a Stooge…), but given how overlooked artists like “Blue” Gene Tyranny often are, it still feels like a gift to have what’s here.

Ian Mathers

Kariu Kenji — Sekai (Bruit Direct Disques) 

Sekai is a COVID-era exercise in circumstantial lemonade-making. Kariu Kenji’s band, OWKMJ, executes intricate, quick-changing jazz rock with aplomb. Stuck alone at home, he has made a solo record that never betrays his prodigious dexterity as a guitarist. Instead, Kenji has fashioned an album of low-key, keyboard-heavy bedroom pop. It is low key, almost to a fault, since you could easily miss the subtle fault lines between clean and distorted sounds, let alone the moments when he unobtrusively pulls the rhythmic rug out from under a song. The songs poetically render small memories and quietly absurd scenarios, which are considerately translated for the benefit of people who won’t understand Kenji’s all-Japanese crooning. 

Bill Meyer

 Kid Congo and the Pink Monkeybirds — Swing from the Sean Delear (In the Red)

Kid Congo Powers has been in more great bands than anyone I can think of — The Cramps and The Gun Club to start with, but also Nick Cave’s Bad Seeds, Divine Horsemen and, just last year, the Wolfmanhattan Project with Mick Collins and Bob Bert. That’s exalted company all round, and his latest, with Pink Monkeybirds, is no slouch alongside any of them. It begins with a vamping, churning, soul-funk-psychedelic “Sean DeLear,” which commemorates the recently deceased Bay Area punk-fashion icon in exultant, chandelier-swinging style.  All three side one cuts are bangers, spinning out Sam & Dave bass-and-drum foundations into dayglow garage extravaganzas, but the 14-minute b-side “He Walked In” takes things in another direction, slowing the pace down and letting the music smoulder, a trippy hippy flute weaving through heat-shimmered desert psychedelia. Like the opener, it’s an elegy, this time to Gun Club front man, Jeffrey Lee Pierce, a haunted surf rock dreamscape where spirits dwell.

Jennifer Kelly

 Katy Kirby — Cool Dry Place (Keeled Scales)

Cool Dry Place by Katy Kirby

Katy Kirby makes a stripped down, lofi pop that aspires to bigger things. Even low-key, acoustic strummed, bedroom ballads like “Eyelids” are always on the verge of busting out into flute-y, melismatic diva choruses. Even the tender “Cool Dry Place,” dreams of a big pop payoff and gets there in the end. And the single “Traffic!” is strung through with the tension between its muted, all-natural melody and the crescendoing climax that waits at the end. Here Kirby’s plain, wholesome voice gets threaded with fluttering autotune, not because she can’t hit the notes, but because that’s how big pop songs sound. This is the opposite of Katy Perry doing carpool karaoke. It’s acoustic, unadorned versions of songs that long for mainstream gloss and glamor.

Jennifer Kelly

 The Koreatown Oddity — “Breastmilk” b/w “My Name Is Dominique” (Stones Throw)

Breastmilk by The Koreatown Oddity

“I got the hook-up from my baby mama / While you fetish freaks get it off the black market.” If the cover art left any room for doubt, the lyrics soon make it clear that Dominique Purdy’s approach to the subject of his latest single is every bit as literal as it is cartoonish. While albums like last year’s Little Dominiques Nosebleed put the Koreatown Oddity’s powers as a storyteller on full display, the rapper’s rhetorical mode here is ostensibly argumentative, with appeals to the all-naturalness — and deliciousness — of his preferred “regimen”:“You looking at me like I’m a strange human / But you drinking cow’s milk — fuck is you doing?” In the space of just two and a half minutes, he also achieves a hilarious upending of a range of hip-hop tropes, from the objectification of women to the glorification of illicit substances, not to mention MC braggadocio. There may even be a comment on fatherhood in there, too, for anyone who really wants to go looking.  

The b-side of the 7” offers something different altogether, a stiff-legged but hypnotic beat beset by periodic electronic splatters and the somewhat manic refrain: “My name is Dominique and I’m a fresh musician.” Indeed.  

Eric McDowell

Bobby Lee — Origin Myths (Tompkins Square)

Origin Myths by Bobby Lee

A swamp-gassed shimmer hangs over Bobby Lee’s electric blues, as notes bloom and waver and subside like ghostly lights in a humid dusk. Bobby Lee, the man, lives in Sheffield, England, but his music dwells in some lysergic delta, in the south but not entirely of it or anywhere else. Listen to the way that notes flicker in the steady runs of “Broken Prayer Stick,” a regular cadence of them left to warp and wander in steamy sunshine. Or the way that sustained tones drift like seaweed in “Looking for Pine and Obsidian,” losing themselves in thickets of overtone and echo. Bobby Lee would likely find a kindred spirit in Tarotplane’s PJ Dorsey or in William Tyler in a transcendental mood. Like them, his blues drift towards revelation but very, very slowly.

Jennifer Kelly  

 Nashville Ambient Ensemble — Cerulean (Centripetal Force)

Thinking of Nashville doesn't typically bring to mind ambient music, nor does the image of pedal steel guitar typically suggest the work of an electronic composer. Nashville Ambient Ensemble, though, mixes those elements. What makes the group's debut album Cerulean feel special isn't its oddness — other acts, of course, do this sort of dreamy work — but that the Nashville elements remain so present. Pedal steel player Luke Schneider does much of the work to create that feel. The instrument itself has long since moved out of its traditional settings (a quick dip into the music of Susan Alcorn, for example, can prompt a fun rabbit trail of the guitar far removed from Western swing), but composer Michael Hix and this group enjoyably maintain the country signifiers even while moving into far spacier terrain. Some of the album pushes toward psychedelic swirls, but the ensemble restrains these gestures. As they head west out of Nashville, they resist simply playing a given genre with a gimmick. Cerulean isn't spaced out country, and it isn't twanged-up ambient. Instead, the group develops its own curious space.

Justin Cober-Lake

 Neutrals — "Personal Computing” b/w “In the Future” (Slumberland)

Personal Computing by neutrals

The clever punk lifers in Neutrals upload two incisive songs about technology here. The a-side, “Personal Technology,” bashes antically through a tale of a young man with an, ahem, very committed relationship with computer paraphernalia, amid crashing, Clash-like chords and rumbling bass and drums. As noted when Neutrals’ 2020 EP Rent/Your House pried Dusted’s Jonathan Shaw away from black metal mid-last year, the front-person Allan McNaughton retains a Glaswegian accent, despite decades stateside, which gives these two cuts a rough Northern post-punk glamor. But the obsession with last year’s state-of-the-art, the excruciating torture of “loading,” is all Silicon Valley, enjoying BDSM with its peripherals. The b-side takes a somewhat more expansive view of technology, asking a la Dan Melchior what happened to the flying cars we were promised. Both are sharp and stinging and utterly catchy. I’d call it old school except for its fascination with the new.

Jennifer Kelly

 Nun Gun — Mondo Decay (Algiers Recordings/Witty Books)

Mondo Decay is the audio component of a recent collaboration between Algiers’ multi-instrumentalist Lee Tesche and visual artist Brad Feuerheim (who drums on four of the tracks). The two bonded over a mutual love of 1970s Italian cannibal zombie films and their soundtracks. Joined by fellow Algiers member Ryan Mahan and a roster of guest vocalists including Mark Stewart (The Pop Group), ONO and Mourning [A] BLKstar, Tesche reconfigures the soundtracks to make explicit the connections between present conditions and the socio-political turmoil that informed the original films. Musically that means claustrophobic dub inflected industrial grind, hip-hop influenced cut-ups, mutant disco and plenty of noirish saxophone. Nun Gun emphasizes atmospheric atrophy and deliberate decay with great and pointed effect to create a terrifically dark soundtrack to accompany the book of Feuerheim’s bleak photographs of post-industrial malaise.

Andrew Forell  

 Oui Ennui — Virga​/​Recrudescence (self-released)

Virga/Recrudescence by Oui Ennui

In the words that accompany the release of Jonn Wallen’s second album of 2021, he says that “when rationalizing yet another synthesizer purchase, I've often remarked to myself, ‘Well why wouldn't I want that color? I'll have it.’” It’s that attachment to messing around with new toys, a mass of streaks of rain appearing to hang under a cloud and evaporating before reaching the ground (“Virga”), the recurrence of an undesirable condition (“Recrudescence”), and what seems to be a whole lot of Brian Eno (“Oblique Strategies”) that informs these two extended avant-garde digressions. “Virga” is a roaring 24-minute star birth that veers into plinking helicopter rotaries without warning at one point, while “Recrudescence” covers more ground both literal (it’s 39 minutes) and figurative (woodland creatures, Space Age percolations and various rhythms sprout up throughout). Likely better experienced at high volume in a small club setting, we’ll have to settle instead for our headphones barely handling another intriguing development in the ongoing Oui Ennui experiment. How long before DFA co-founder Jonathan Galkin stops lurking in his Bandcamp buys and starts offering him a deal, I wonder? 

Patrick Masterson 

 Payroll Giovanni \ Cardo — Another Day Another Dollar (BYLUG Entertainment)

At some point in his career, Payroll Giovanni switched from worker to boss. His new album with the producer Cardo is another chapter in the Boss of All Bosses saga. Songs on the CD approximate the language of business manuals and the cheap sloganeering of workers union reps. Work harder, save more, invest, save again — the usual tips handed down to the unfortunate few who didn’t make it like Payroll did. By the middle of the album, you start to feel like you are at a stakeholders meeting where the CEO went for rapping instead of a PowerPoint presentation. When the rapper fails, it’s hardly the producer’s fault, so Cardo just plays up to Payroll with lazy, muzak-ish beats. 

Ray Garraty

 Rio da Yung Og \ Nuez — Life of a Yung Og (Southern Giants/Ghetto Boyz)

Rio da Yung Og has been working with a lot of producers (and quite a few of them later got their fame because of it), but up until now he hasn’t released a collaboration with a single producer. His EP with Nuez came out of nowhere but it is a nice change of beats. Up to now, Rio has mostly recorded his raps with very bassy beats. Nuez provides a Southern vibe, more relaxed and less heavy on the bass, which allows to Rio shine. At this point it’s evident that Rio da Yung Og saves his best lines for his solo work (just compare this EP with simultaneously released Heatcheck EP, a collaborative work with artists of varying degrees of talent). In fact, the whole 21 minutes seem to be recorded in one single sleepless studio session with Rio freestyling his way through under the heavy influence of lean. This is Rio at his most desperate, just before his five-year bid in the federal pen. On “Whatchu Need” and “Last Call” (thanks to Nuez’s production) he sounds close to the early Scarface in a paranoid mode. 

Ray Garraty 

 Ben Roidl-Ward and Zachary Good — arb (Carrier) 

arb by Zachary Good and Ben Roidl-Ward

A decade back, bassoonist Ben Roidl-Ward and clarinetist Zachary Good were students at Oberlin College. The two friends formed a duo, The Arboretum, which performed new works. Nowadays they teach and perform separately, but share an apartment in Chicago. When the city got locked down and their gigs dried up, they revived the band, after a fashion. The six pieces on arb (named after that first project), which clocks in at just under half an hour, focus on a single musical phenomenon. Each musician plays sustained multiphonics (a technique whereby a horn player sings or hums a note while playing another) that are pitched close enough that their sounds interfere as well as blend with one another. The interactions can be dramatic; on “Guby,” the clarinet sounds like it is keying morse code into the fabric of the bassoon’s timbres. Listening to this music is a bit like staring at a heat mirage; the harder and longer you focus, the less certain you are of your own perceptions. 

Bill Meyer.

 Rotura — Estamos Fracasando (Self-released)

Estamos fracasando by Rotura

This new EP of melodic anarcho-punk from Barcelona is deceptively breezy stuff. Rotura’s guitars have some crunch and the rhythm section is tight — think Subhumans c. Rats meets Orange County in 1982. But the alto vocals of Silvia (no last names provided) are clean and tuneful, and there are seductive hooks galore. All the musical excitements and pleasures contrast with the intense reports of misery and struggle in the lyrics. “Pisadas (Confinament)” sounds like a COVID-period song, documenting the sound of footsteps resounding through a network of deserted streets and abandoned shops; “Sobrevivir”engages the manifold alienations and inhumanities that attend the refugee crisis in Europe’s Mediterranean nations. Upbeats subjects, those ain’t. But the music keeps your hips shaking and your head nodding. Rotura constructs lively sonic spaces in which to encounter some sharply political punk discourse. One of the EP’s best songs is “Palabras,” which sets to music a poem included in Svetlana Alexandrovna Alexievich’s The Unwomanly Face of War (1987); like much of that book, “Palabras” speaks in the voice of a female combat veteran of the Soviet Army, one who served in World War II. It’s a terrific song, from a very good punk record.

Jonathan Shaw

 Sahara — The Curse (Regain Records)

The Curse by Sahara

Argentine miscreants Sahara bill themselves as a “stoner doom” band, and one wonders why anybody would willingly self-apply a label so surpassingly stupid to music they made and presumably care about. The middle-schooler-with-a-magic-marker degree of technical polish on the art for the cassette’s j-card doubles down on the crispy-fried semiotics — but sort of lovably so. This reviewer was rather charmed. If you can penetrate the choking layers of weed smoke and unironic hesherdom to press play, you may be pleasantly surprised. Sahara’s songs don’t evoke Kyuss or Acid Witch nearly so much as Blue Cheer, and that’s a really good thing. It’s power-trio, bluesy-boogie music, played by dudes who cut their teeth on Master of Reality and No Sleep ‘til Hammersmith (with just a little Physical Graffiti in the mix, for the boogie). While no wheels are being reinvented (or competently balanced, for that matter), there’s a winning rawker quality to the enterprise, kicked up a notch or three by the unambiguously great time these guys are having playing the tunes. It won’t be for everyone: it sounds like it was recorded in someone’s Dad’s garage, and the songs have titles like “Altar of Sacrifice” and “The Curse (instrumental).” But if you love the fact that they included “(instrumental)” in parens, it could be for you. Buyer beware: when listening, you may find yourself suddenly craving a sheet of brownies. The entire sheet.  

Jonathan Shaw

 Bernard Santacruz / Michael Zerang — Cardinal Point (Fundacja Sluchaj)

Cardinal Point by Bernard Santacruz & Michael Zerang

French bassist Bernard Santacruz and Assyrian-American percussionist Michael Zerang have encountered each other in larger ensembles on either side of the ocean since the turn of the century, but it took them until the autumn of 2019 to record a distillation of their musical concord. Beyond their shared history, they are matched in depth of experience. Both were born in the latter half of the 1950s, and each has passed through a myriad of improvisational settings on their way to developing their respective styles. Santacruz is an economical player with a beautiful, rounded tone. Zerang can supply whatever rhythm you need, but whenever freed from time-keeping requirements, he gravitates to sounds that project the movement and friction required to make them. So, while this is a record made with drums and a double bass, it’s by no means a groove-bound affair; melodic fragments confront seething ruptures, and strings and skins knot together into thickets of texture. Each man maintains his individuality while they jointly solve the problems of collaborative music-making.

Bill Meyer   

 Ignaz Schick & Oliver Steidle — ILOG2 (Zarek)

ILOG2 by Ignaz Schick & Oliver Steidle

 These two German gentlemen lay down a bizarre yet intriguing hybrid of free jazz, hip hop and musique concrète on their sophomore effort as a duo. Schick is a serial collaborator who divides his time between turntablism and saxophone skronk. Steidle, on the other hand, is rooted in the free jazz world as a drummer. Together they conjure two distinct modes: ADHD-inspired percussion-and-noise workouts and atmospheric electronics-forward soundscapes. Between these two disparate personalities, the more aggressive one tends to dominate. It’s in this high-energy state that the duo dwells in the worlds of hip hop, jungle and free jazz. Steidle’s drumming is out in front, as he deftly throws himself around the kit with the enthusiasm of Lightning Bolt’s Brian Chippendale. Schick takes an everything-but-the-kitchen-sink approach to noise-making. His Bomb Squad-meets-Pierre Schaeffer method of weaving snippets of speech, instrumental passages, drones, and blasts of noise is the perfect foil for Steidle’s frenetic skin-pounding. Schick and Steidle tug at the outer limits of beat-making with their unusual blend of electro-acoustic sound, and while they let a slight touch of the ethereal temper their blaze, the sparks still fly. 

Bryon Hayes 

 John Tejada — Year Of The Living Dead (Kompakt)

Year Of The Living Dead by John Tejada

On Year Of The Living Dead, John Tejada chases the human through machines, seeking the traces of connection and shadows of loss blurred by the conditions we continue to live through. His minimal dub-inflected techno is immaculately produced and composed rather than constructed. Suffused with warmth and emotional depth, Tejada employs a sonic palette the elasticity of which makes his music generously expansive and resonant. Melancholy chord progressions, heartbeat percussion, a bottom end in turns ominous and cocooning.  The 4X4 structure provides a framework in which Tejada is free to focus on the granular aspects of tone, pitch, ebb and flow so that while on the surface his brand of microhouse may sound “all the same” there is both plenty of interest for home listeners and danceable beats for the more active. There’s no abrasion here, no confrontation, little to challenge but Tejada’s music moves along with the relentless soft power of molten molasses.

Andrew Forell

 Tree — Soul Trap (self-released)

SOUL TRAP by TREE

Tremaine Johnson is one of those heads who’s been around the block. He’s gotten that MTV airtime, he’s done records with Chris Crack and Vic Spencer, he’s outlasted a car company that sponsored one of his EPs, he’s performed at Pitchfork. But maybe more than anything, the Chicago rapper and producer wants to make sure he doesn’t forget his roots as the father of “soul trap” — and you don’t, either. Following steadily on from 2020’s abbreviated The Blue Tape and nearly two years on from his last proper full-length We Grown Now, Tree has lost none of his step as he rounds 40 years aboard this tainted orb exuding the confidence of a relaxed auteur rowing through verses and songs at his own pace; his sandpaper vocals sound at ease with his beats as he addresses negotiating parenthood, bills, the creation and maintenance of his art. Though these tracks had reportedly been sitting around for years before Soul Trap’s release, listening to this album only goes to serve the greater point that the man has a style out of step and time with his contemporaries. That’s worth more than remembering; it’s worth celebrating.

Patrick Masterson

 Dave Tucker / Pat Thomas / Thurston Moore / Mark Sanders — Educated Guess (577 Records) 

Hale, hearty, and steeped in the lore of a multitude of American underground art movements, Thurston Moore always seemed like a guy who was creatively rooted in his native soil. But he seems to have found solid footing since moving to England. On this record, he fits right into an improvising ensemble that is composed of Café Oto regulars. Keyboardist Pat Thomas, drummer Mark Sanders and guitarist and electronic musician Dave Tucker, who convened the quartet, are all long-standing members of London’s improvised music scene. But Moore, a punk from way back when, was probably quite tickled that Tucker played with the Fall for a brief spell in 1981. The sound they develop over the course of this set is pleasingly unbounded, with fragments of monster movie sound design and some jungle-style drum machine beats that could have been pulled from a pirate radio broadcast in 1994 sharing space with cavernous prepared piano, restless percussive exploration, and Moore sounding just like himself, but respectfully restrained when the moment demands. 

Bill Meyer

 Karima Walker — Waking the Dreaming Body (Keeled Scales)

Waking the Dreaming Body by Karima Walker

Karima Walker’s second album considers the full-ness of empty space. Her songs, if that’s what they are, arise out of soft, slow drones that fluctuate in a natural way, like tides or winds or aurora borealis. They incorporate natural desert sounds captured from near at hand as she locked down in Arizona, and they unfold in a sublimely gradual way as if, like the growth of plants, the movement of continents, the melting of snow, they cannot be rushed but must proceed on their own terms. She sings, a bit, in brief, dream-haunted phrases that seem as distant and unknowable as the organ tones that swell around her. “Reconstellated” best represents her eerie blend of human and electronic sounds, internal dialogue and the wide spaces of the natural world. She murmurs, “Sonoran sky plays a movie/Draw a line to the stars inside of me/Write it down, tell your friends/I know where I am but I can’t tell where I started,” against a blipping, percolating atmosphere. The title track is, by contrast, several orders folkier and more conventional, a gentle conjunction of acoustic guitar and Walker’s clear, trilling soprano, as she considers the way the ineffable intersects with the mundane. “Seems every morning starts the same way, waking the dreaming body,” she croons in this track near the end of the album, coming up into the daylight after a long nocturnal exploration.

Jennifer Kelly

 Whisker — Moon Mood (Husky Pants)

Moon Mood by Whisker

Bassist Andrew Scott Young and multi-instrumentalist Ben Billington are luminaries of Chicago’s experimental jazz and electronic scenes as members of Tiger Hatchery, soloists and collaborators with a range of local groups. In Moon Mood  the duo performs two lengthy improvisations for double bass and electronics. Young’s bass is to the fore, and his bow work is particularly expressive as he explores the registers of his instrument. Billington works a number of patches to interpolate all nature of blips and plinks and squelchy runs that respond to and interrogate the bass. The workouts are as much an investigation of sonic limits as a demonstration of the sympathetic interaction between natural and artificial sounds, if that is even a worthwhile dichotomy these days. Moon Mood is a fascinating conversation well worth eavesdropping on.  

Andrew Forell  

 Wode — Burn in Many Mirrors (20 Buck Spin)

Burn In Many Mirrors by Wode

The guys in Manchester-based band Wode play black metal, but they don’t wear corpsepaint or futz around with severed goat’s heads and candelabras. That’s a good thing, because their music has bombast aplenty. Any additional theatrics might send the project over into a species of irritating kitsch. When Wode’s music works — as it does on “Lunar Madness,” the first track on the band’s latest LP, Burn in Many Mirrors — it’s muscular stuff, with terrific momentum and gut-thudding energy. Throughout the song, vocalist Michael Czerwoniuk does his usual stuff, chewing the sonic scenery, plentiful groans and gurgles punctuating all his shouting. Even in the maximalist context of black metal vocals, he’s a handful. But on “Lunar Madness,” there’s enough interest and excitement generated by the rhythms and riffs to offset his histrionics. A couple songs on the record are shaped by oft-handled forms, and rely overmuch on Czerwoniuk’s outsized presence; upon listening to “Fire in the Hills,” you may find yourself flashing on the self-parodic antics of Jim Dandy Mangrum, or on metal heroics that were already tired on records like Bark at the Moon. That’s too bad. When Wode clicks as a unit, they can make compelling sounds. “Sulphuric Glow” moves at a dead run for nearly the entirety of its five minutes, and while Czerwoniuk’s vocal stylings are still a bit much, the riffs are fluid and furious. If he could just dial stuff back to 11, folks might be able hear the rest of the band. They’re pretty good.  

Jonathan Shaw

[denkimystery]

Denki Mystery: Six Idol Statues of Taboo - Chapter 9

ー [Akatsuka Village.] Day of the Jyushimatsu Festival, Night.

Festival noises fill the air, whistles and fireworks setting off on the distance.

[The group is currently walking towards the mountain.]

Ozo: The festival procession is headed to the top of the mountain, right?

[[A few heads nod in agreement.]]

Ozo: Okay, we're going this way. Let's get away from the festival crowd, okay?

Karatsugu: Got it.

[[A moment passes. The group walking, trying to avoid the big crowd.]]

Karatsugu: Is the origin of this festival really mountain worship? Isn't it rather something that began with fear?

Chorosuke: Enshrinement or Fear. It could be both…

[[Chorosuke suddenly stops in his tracks.]]

Chorosuke: Oh, a path over there!? Do you know which way to go?

Hajime: The Myoujin Torii gate just before Twin Peaks, is poised to face the mountain of the deity. There doesn't seem to be the Honden Hall, just the Haiden Hall.

Toshio: I can see the flames of the torches going up the twin peaks in the festival procession! Oppai! Oppai!

Hajime: Looking at it now, it sure looks like that... good for you. Wait. Right now, our main concern is the Kitsune of the Masha shrine**. Its tails point all the way to the front. Look.

Takashi: Isn’t it just a design thing?

[[Takashi goes silent for a second, trying to recall something.]]

Takashi: Ah, the song “Don't hide your head…”. Does that mean it has a secret hidden in its tail!?

Toshio: The tail is pointing to... That way over there!

[[Eyes follow Toshio's finger. There is the start of an off beaten path hidden by some bushes.]]

Toshio: There's a hidden path to the foot of the mountain. Let's go that way!

[[Toshio takes off, leaving everyone to follow in his trail.]]

Takashi: Eh!? Getting into these bushes!? I don’t want to! Ew!! Is this really a hidden path, or rather a trail made by wild animals?

ー

ー [Deep in the woods.]

Ozo: Look. Can you see anything? Half broken ... temple? … this atmosphere is perfect!! Wanna do a hundred stories* here?

Karatsugu: Hey!? … What if we end up really summoning a spirit? This is in a blind spot from the mountain road, but what is this? An old Hokora shrine**?

Chorosuke: Wawawah… Hold it! Isn’t it kinda chilly? There's something dangerous about this place, you know? I wonder if it’s okay to be here? Won't we be cursed?

Hajime: Shinto Buddhist temples and shrines are not uncommon. There are both shrines and temples for Inari worship. But, in the era of the separation of Shinto and Buddhism…

Toshio: It was destroyed by someone. Someone was enshrining it carefully... It's kind of sad.

Hajime: Many buildings have been destroyed without a trace. Maybe it's better that, at the very least, they're still intact. I can't say for sure if the state of this building was the cause of that era, though.

ー

ー [Inside the shrine.]

Ozo: It's dark. Can you see anything? Flashlight...

[[Searching for his flashlight, Ozo turns it on.]]

Ozo: ... Woah! ... What is this? What's going on?

Karatsugu: Th-This is a big bIG BIG SCOOP!? M-Mummies??? Th-th-the real thing!?

Chorosuke: One, two, three… What the-, there are six of these!? No way!? Six mummies spirited away into this hiding place!?

Hajime: ... Let's open it.

[[Hajime starts unwrapping the bandages on the head of the first mummy.]]

Hajime: ··· Th-This is? A horn!??

Toshio: Eh!? There are horns!? Oni demon!? Mummified Oni demon***!?

Takashi: A regular mummy is already scary enough! But an Oni mummy!? Youkai!? Why don’t we stop!? Can we go home already!?

Ozo: Wait. It… It's shiny? Let's undress it some more!?

[[Ozo takes the bandages from Hajime and starts unwrapping even more.]]

Karatsugu: This is...? Not a mummy? Something more like, an artifact... a golden statue for idolatry ...?

Chorosuke: Golden statue? N-no way, you don't think it has anything to do with the story of the buried gold?

Hajime: It’s quite possible. Maybe it's buried gold that has been molded into a different shape. Or it may be this is the true form of the treasure in itself…

Toshio: Ah! Someone’s coming!

Takashi: Please, give me a break already!

ー [Outside of the shrine]

Iyami: Sheh-sheh-sheh-sheh~... You six sextuplets.... I’ve found you, zansu!

Ozo: You look weird…! Did you eat your weird mushrooms again?

[Iyami’s eyes look fuzzy, her stance is unbalanced. Suddenly she starts swinging her log around.]

Iyami: Woo hoo! I've found it, zansu!!! Sheh-sheh-sheh-Sheh~!!! … The secret of the buried gold! … The Sextuplets!

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Mod notes: The Honden Hall is the Main part of a Shinto Shrine, it is where the God being worshipped resides. Since the object of worship is the Mountain itself there seems to be no need for a Honden. The Haiden is the worship Hall. It's where rituals and ceremonies are held.

*This is p common knowledge if you watch anime that touches on horror and stuff but 百物語怪談会 (Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai, lit. A Gathering of Hundred Supernatural Stories) is a game where you and a bunch of people take turns telling supernatural stories in a room lit by lanterns. It is customary to stop at the 99th story out of fear that you may summon something by that 100th. This is connected to the Aoandon (Karamatsu’s Yokai), where blue paper lanterns are lit instead, and by the 100th story an Aoandon (lit. translated to Blue (Ao) Lantern (Andon)) appears. The entire game is similar to telling spooky stories around a campfire in western culture, minus the spirits thing ofc.

** To my understanding a Massha shrine is a shrine taken care of by a larger shrine. A Hokora shrine is a smaller Shinto shrine. They’re both smaller shrines but the difference is that Massha shrines have Kami deeply related to the bigger shrine, while Hokora shrines are standalone shrines independent of any larger shrines. Explains why the Massha shrine was found near the village but the Hokora shrine was found deep in the forest. It’s not shown here but the Hokora Shrine has a Tanuki statue beside it, and the Massha shrine, a Kitsune.

*** ok i know how repetitive some words i use, like oni demon, kitsune mask, hokora shrine and massha shrine. (like oni means demon etc.). But for justification’s sake, I didn’t want to just use the word demon, cause it wasn’t any kind of regular demon, but specifically an oni. Same with Kitsune, not just any fox but specifically a kitsune. Also Massha and Hokora are stand alone words but you wouldn’t be able to know what exactly they are unless i put shrine in front of them so hopefully i cleared things up?

[aquilamage]

I finally finished my Sebastian birthday fic!!!!! a little behind schedule but who’s counting? Special shoutout to @unnecessarygayfeelings for all the conversations we have had about this concept and other Seb-Kay friendship stuff, she really inspired and encouraged me to actually write this whole thing

Also on ao3 and ff.n

When Kay finds out Sebastian's never had a proper birthday before, she knows that something must be done about it.

It had become something of a ritual for the two of them: spending their weekend evenings at Mr. Edgeworth’s house, usually with Kay bringing something over to further her quest of catching Sebastian up on all of the stuff he’d never seen before. Tonight was Pink Princess (admittedly in part as an appeasement tactic, since last time she’d gotten them into a lively roasting of the Steel Samurai franchise before Sebastian realized Mr. Edgeworth been in the adjoining room for a while).

They were partway through a filler arc – the one involving the non-powered secondary characters having to defend the town by themselves – and the episode’s ending credits just started to roll when Sebastian slumped forward with a huff.

“Yeah, I know. This isn’t the best writing in the series,” she said, using the break in action to check her phone.

Another little sound. “It’s not that. It’s… they’re the same age as me, and they’re doing all this important saving the world stuff.” When she glanced over at him, he’d wrapped his arms around his knees, resting his head on them.

She shook her head. “Well yeah. But it’s made up, right? Besides, I think the cases we’ve been helping with lately have been pretty cool and important too.” Seeing him still looking downcast, she slid the popcorn closer to him.

That cheered him up, at least enough to be watching with some interest as the opener for the next episode started.

As the theme song started, Kay processed something else about what he had said. Oh. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but breathe out a laugh. When he gave her a look, she waved a hand. “Sorry. You just said you were the same age as these characters, so, you know...”

He only kept staring, tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Uh. Just that they’re eighteen, actually. Which is fine,” she added quickly, seeing him frown, “it gets mentioned like once, so it makes sense you might mess it up, especially when it’s that close anyway.”

A long silence. “But…I am eighteen.”

The smile dropped right off her face. “What?” she breathed, then “I’m serious; it’s fine.”

Mouth quivering slightly, he brought his hands up to his collar. “I am too.” The very beginnings of tears formed.

“…that you’re eighteen?” She huffed, flopping herself back against the couch. “Since when? Because I seem to remember you saying you were seventeen before.”

“Since…my birthday? Last month?”

She stiffened. “Wait, your birthday was last month and you didn’t even tell me?” An exaggerated pout. “I thought we were friends.”

He ducked his head. “It’s not like it’s important.”

Kay opened her mouth, then closed it. Looked down, frowning, hand on her chin. Tilted her head back up. Only managed an “uch-” sort of sound before giving up again. Finally, after a series of very expressive eyebrow and nose wrinklings, constantly shifting back and forth: “what do you mean it’s not important?!” When he jumped at the force and volume, she immediately backed up. “Sorry,” she whispered. “But really, it’s your birthday. Your eighteenth! That’s a big thing!”

With an uneasy frown, Sebastian half-shrugged.

“Aw, come on.” She softened a bit. “Look, I know it wouldn’t have been the same, but I know we all would’ve done something to celebrate if we’d known.”

There was a long silence. Then, slowly, he relaxed his shoulders and his arms wrapped around himself, a bit at least. “Can we not- not talk about this anymore?” His voice was thick and strained.

“Uh- Okay.” Much as she was suddenly curious and a little concerned, Kay knew she shouldn’t push. The number of times she’d actually seen Sebastian assert boundaries could be counted on one hand, and they were supposed to be encouraging him about that. She held up the remote. “You…wanna keep watching?”

After a steadying breath, he nodded once, sharply.

---

It was about an episode and a half after Mr. Edgeworth had gone to bed, tone suggesting that he thought they should too (although the droop of his eyes betrayed he wasn’t expecting that of Kay, nor did he see it as being worth his energy to try very hard to convince them), when Sebastian spoke again.

“I’ve never ca- celebrated it before.” The admission almost got lost in the onscreen dialogue, not helped by the fact that he didn’t give any real indication that he was doing anything but watching the tv.

Kay turned. “What do you- oh. Oh.” With only the flickering screen as lighting, it was hard to make out any expression. “What, like, ever?”

That habitual little half-flinch of arms to his chest. “Not that I can remember.”

She stared at him. In her mind flashed memories of every birthday event she’d ever had: family, school, friends – especially the ones when her dad had still been alive. She tried to picture all that, gone. Her brain couldn’t even grapple the concept, it was so foreign.

How did she respond to that? She’s noticed over the past few months, how much Sebastian had going on in his life that she couldn’t even imagine, but still. “…that sucks.”

He shrugged, but even in the darkness it was very obvious how hard he was struggling to keep his face neutral. “It’s fine. I- …I’m used to it.” Another deep breath, and then he broke down crying.

Cursing under her breath, Kay pushed herself up, but then stopped herself immediately. Too abrupt. Right, she’d messed this up last time and they’d talked it over after. Do that instead. She pulled the blanket off the top of the couch. “Can I, uh…?” She held it up.

He nodded. When she draped it over him, he kept still, but when she sat back down (a bit closer than before but still giving plenty of space), he pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. Not quite relaxed, but free of tension.

As that happened, she shuffled around for the remote and switched off the tv. She didn’t know what else to say, so she sat there bouncing her leg, hands on her knees. It felt awkward, though she couldn’t say why until she finally realized that Sebastian’s crying was awfully quiet.

Which was why she immediately perked up when he moved.

“Do you ra- r- …where are the tissues?” He had one hand keeping the blanket on, the other on the arm of the couch propping himself up, and his face was a mess.

“I’ll go get them!” Because if nothing else it gave her something to do, and the situation did nothing to curb her usual fidgety tendencies. She found the box quickly, bringing it back over to him.

He practically cradled it in his lap. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

They resumed their positions. This time, Kay’s thoughts went back to the crux of the situation: Sebastian’s lack of proper birthdays. It was a smaller cruelty than many of the others he’d suffered, she knew that. But that didn’t make it not awful. Besides, unlike some of the ‘bigger’ stuff, this seemed – unlike some of the others, as she started to think it over – like one she could do something concrete about.

But first, she needed some information.

---

A stream of people poured into the lobby as the trial let out. Kay stood against the wall at just the right angle to keep out of their way, watching the crowd intently. The place practically cleared out, but then she spotted her. “Judge Courtney!” she said, rushing over.

“Ah, Kay. What brings you here?”

She crossed her arms. “Some questions. You’ve known Sebastian the longest out of anyone I know. What does he like?”

A pause, barely noticeable except for a blink and a slight tilt of the head. “May I ask what this is for?”

“Sebastian’s birthday.”

“Oh. Kay,” she held up a hand, “perhaps we should sit somewhere more comfortable.”

Hoo boy, that was code for ‘Serious Adult Conversation ahead’ if she ever heard it. “Alright.” Kay shrugged. Then as they started walking, she dropped her voice. “I already know it was last month.” She didn’t know Courtney knew that part about him, but considering how things were going, she figured it was a pretty good guess.

Courtney didn’t respond until they reached one of the benches outside, draped over with trees. As she sat, she smoothed out her dress. “I certainly trust that you have the kindest of intentions. However, I have to question if…whatever it is you have planned...is for the best.”

“I just want to throw him a party! He deserves to have one for once in his life.” Really, she’d thought Courtney would be more chill about this.

That gave her pause. “I don’t know what your understanding of the situation is, but,” she sighed, then put a finger to her lips. “I mentioned it to him before the date, and he simply told me not to bother about it.” As she spoke, she traced patterns on her gavel, face downcast. “It’s wonderful that you want to do something for him, but this might simply be too close to everything that’s happened for him not to be reminded how much things have changed.”

Kay frowned. “I guess.” That tracked, even if she would’ve thought that Sebastian dismissed his birthday because he didn’t think it was worth Courtney bothering. From what she could tell, though, it seemed like she wasn’t aware of the whole ‘hadn’t actually had a birthday before’ part, and honestly Kay wasn’t sure if it was her place to mention it now. She slid one foot off the edge of the chair and onto the ground. “But I can’t just not do anything. It doesn’t feel right.”

A car started up in the nearby lot, and the wind rustled through the trees, brushing Kay’s hair against her face and ruffling her scarf.

Courtney sighed. “I’m not going to be able to stop you.” She bowed her head, slightly, slowly, then looked back up at her. “Perhaps, then, I can at least convince you that whatever you choose to do, to remember to keep his best interests at heart.”

Of course she was doing this for Sebastian’s interests! That was kind of the whole point. Kay frowned.

“Including not pushing him further than he would be comfortable.” Folding her arms in her lap, she sat with an even more proper posture, a presence wholly focused on her, waiting expectantly to appraise her response.

Despite herself, she shrunk back a little. What Sebastian would be comfortable…hm. She supposed she hadn’t thought of that, at least not in the details of the situation which, yeah. Might be a bit much. Kay cleared her throat, and said, meekly, “yeah. I can do that.”

---

“Alright, so we’re gonna have to make some adjustments.” Sprawled out on her bed, she regarded her open notebook. The page was absolutely covered in notes of different ink colors, some highlighted, with little drawings in the margins and white spaces. On a post-it note, she scribbled “save for next year?”, stuck it on top. She flipped to a blank page. “Let’s try this again,” she muttered.

For a long time after, the room was quiet but for the light scratch of paper rustling and a lot of pen clicking. Finally, she sat up. This page had a short bullet-point list, made seemingly longer by the lines she’d crossed out.

Kay smiled. “Now we’re talking.”

---

Mid-knock, the door was yanked open. “I have a flight to catch in half an hour, so this had better be-” Franziska paused. “Kay Faraday. How can I help you?”

She grinned. “You can sign something for me.” With a flourish, she produced a blue-and-pink envelope.

A huff. “Well, let me see what…” Holding the paper stiffly, she looked at Kay with narrowed eyes. “Kay Faraday. Are you sure this is an appropriate thing to be doing?” In a lower voice, “I’m not sure I am the best person for this.”

“Aw, don’t be like that!” Kay sidled around next to her. “I just hit you up first because I had a deadline. You don’t have to do anything besides sign your name. Ok?” Seeing Franziska still waver, she leaned in further with the last line, tilting her head.

“…Very well.” Moving to her desk, she scribbled something down. For a second, she paused, pen hovering over the paper. But then she shrugged and resumed like it was nothing. “Here you are.”

Oh, she was going to have to resist real hard not to immediately read whatever was on there. Then again, if other people would be seeing it anyway, maybe… She plucked it out of her hands. “Awesome, thanks! Good luck on your investigation!”

Franziska crossed her arms. As the door shut, she sighed. “You might need it more, if you are doing anything like I might think,” she murmured to herself lightly.

---

“..and that’s when they switched over notation styles. Well, except for- Uh, Kay?”

Her train of thought flew away like the bird on the windowsill. “Hmm?” She looked back at Sebastian.

He still had his hands out in front of him from talking, his eyebrows slightly raised now. The lack of his voice in the air hung in the silence like an afterimage on the back of her mind. As that quiet went on, the line of his mouth gathered into a slight pout.

Kay’s thoughts felt like they were swimming through honey as she tried to process herself back to what was happening. The whole thing started from Sebastian getting antsy about Mr. Edgeworth’s meeting taking so long, she recalled, the stiffness from sitting in the rigid waiting room chair settling back into her awareness. He’d started fidgeting with his baton. So she’d asked him about it. Sebastian had immediately been distracted talking about the few concerts he’d been to- Oh, right. She had been listening intently, but after a while of having nothing else to do but listen, she’d found herself staring through the window behind him and that had been the end of her attention.

Seeing him start to tense, she cursed herself about it. “Sorry,” she rubbed the back of her neck. “I kind of spaced out for a bit. What were you saying?”

For a terrifying moment, his face went blank. Then, he blinked, and smiled. “Oh, that’s ok! I get disgruntled a lot when Justine’s explaining things, so I get it.”

“You mean distracted?”

“...Yeah! That.” He hummed something under his breath. When Kay didn’t say anything else, he stared down at his feet. “Do you actually want me to keep talking?”

Well, she had mostly been trying to occupy him, but there had been some curiosity there too. Besides, it was fun to see him so excited about something. Kay stood, stretching. “Give me a second, but yeah.” As she pulled her arm behind her head, “but, maybe a little more beginner level, if you can?”

---

“Wow pal, I can’t believe you’re asking me for help with this.”

“Of course I am!” Kay threw an arm around Gumshoe. She meant it too: he was the most friendly, enthusiastic person she’d ever met. Yeah, he didn’t know Sebastian as well, so it might be a little more difficult to- and he was already writing, brow furrowed in concentration. Huh. Cool.

With a thoughtful noise, he held it up to reread, chewing lightly on the end of his pen. Then, with a nod, he handed it over. “How about this?”

It was only a quick scan, but she could tell “Perfect. Thanks, Gummy.”

---

A spoon clattered to the table.

“Yeah!” Kay threw her arms in the air, sending her spoon skittering across the floor. “Oohf, I got it.” Ducking under the table, she picked it up.

Across from her, Sebastian watched with his eyebrows raised, putting his own spoon back where it belonged.

She flung herself back up. “So! If you really want to make it stay, the secret is to-”

“How was everything tonight?”

Immediately she put her hands down, smiling politely. “Great, thanks!”

The server nodded. “Great. And are we having dessert today?”

“Yeah!” Kay said, at the same time Sebastian dipped his head with a “no, thank you.” They looked at each other.

Kay spoke first. “Can we get a menu?”

“Sure thing!”

When they’d left, she leaned over. “Aw, come on, you should get something.”

“Eh.” Half-shrugging, with an uneasy frown, he looked away. “No, it’s fine.”

Hmm. She let him be for the moment. Scanning the menu, she made her own decision, then continued staring, counting to a minute(ish) before she moved. The laminated paper slid across the table. “I’ll pay if that’s the issue, but seriously. We’ve been working so much, we deserve something nice.”

Sebastian looked at her, briefly at the menu, then back to her. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

“…What, to order dessert? Yeah. That’s why it’s there.” She rested her chin in her hands. “You could show up and just get desserts, if you really wanted.” She paused. “Huh.” Then, she shook her head. File that in future developing plans.

“Okay.” Not sounding entirely convinced, he started examining the options anyway.

To give herself something to do, Kay pulled out her phone. She bounced between a couple game apps, refreshing the same website three times, replying to a conversation thread she’d been having with someone about Steel Samurai, checking a different site…

“Ready to order?”

About to answer for herself, she noticed Sebastian frowning, the menu making wobbling noises from him bending it in his hands. “Uh, can we get another minute?” Then, she picked up her chair from under her and dragged it over to sit next to him. “What’s up?”

Seemingly reflexively, he clutched the menu to his chest. “Sorry.” He relaxed slowly. “I don’t know…”

“Well,” she tapped one of the items, “they’ve got a sampler tray. How about we get that?”

An uncertain nod. But then, a tiny smile.

Kay insisted on handing each of the desserts to him individually, putting on her most exaggerated game show host voice to ask ‘the celebrity judge’s opinion on the contestant’s dishes.’ It took him a moment to warm up to it, but soon enough they were trading remarks and dishes back and forth with ease.

It made her feel energized and light to see Sebastian enjoying himself so much, and even more grateful to herself for this idea. Even so, she didn’t let that distract her from keeping notes about the whole thing in her head.

---

“Hey, Mr. Edgeworth.” Her usual singsong greeting had a little extra touch of sweet to it, in the cadence that led up to something rather than being a sentence on its own.

“Kay. What food have I run out of this time.” Sure, he did sound a little tired at that, but the sarcasm weighed that pretty lightly.

She leaned on his desk, taking a tone of false indignation. “No.” She paused. “I mean, you might want to pick up more cereal next time you go shopping, but that’s just my thief’s intuition.” Wagging a finger, she leaned forward just enough to push some of his papers askew. “I came here to ask a favor.”

Now, he finally looked up at her. All he did was raise an eyebrow (and narrow his eyes a little, but this instance felt more like squinting – because she was pretty sure at this point that he needed glasses), but it was pretty obviously leading up to a ‘Kay, what kind of trouble do you expect me to help you with now?’

“Kay, what trouble do you expect me to get you out of now?”

She laughed. “Hey! It’s not like that this time, and besides, it’s not even for me.” In one motion she pulled the envelope out of her bag and dropped it so it fell perfectly in front of him.

Still with a bit of trepidation, Mr. Edgeworth looked inside. He frowned, until he got to actually examine the contents properly. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Sliding off the desk, Kay wandered over towards the bookshelf. She started poking at files randomly, mostly as an excuse to not look at him without just pointedly not looking at him. Although she did peek over her shoulder. Just for a second.

All she saw was him glaring down intently, anyway.

Several minutes later, he cleared his throat. “Here you are.” When she stepped back over to take it, there was a moment of hesitation from him. The hand holding the envelope faltered. “Kay. What else do you have planned?”

“Why, are you offering to help?”

“Ngh. No, I simply…wished to be forewarned.” He looked off to the side. “Rather than being thrown headlong into who knows what.”

Surprise party for Mr. Edgeworth: no, but it might be funny to let him think you’re planning one. She grinned. “You’re such a stick in the mud.” Before he could react, she snatched the envelope “but thanks for the help anyway!” and bounded off.

“Kay!”

She stuck her head back in the door. “What?”

“Do you have something else planned?”

“Yeah,” she said, drawing out the pause. “But nothing involving you, unless you really want.” This time was sincere, rather than teasing.

He relaxed, slowly sitting down. “I…think I will pass this time.”

“Alright, suit yourself.” That made things easier, since she hadn’t planned for him saying yes anyway. And then she was off again.

---

“Hey!”

Sebastian froze, head darting from side to side.

“Up here.”

He gazed up the stairwell to where Kay was, leaning over the railing to wave at him. “Uh, hi. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I-” With a shake of her head, she jogged down to his level, skipping a few steps as she went to land next to him. “So,” she huffed, “I was wondering. Instead of going to Mr. Edgeworth’s Friday, can we do my place?”

For a moment, he wrung his hands together, expression mostly empty with a tinge of confusion. But then, he nodded. “Sure.” He breathed in through his nose. “Uh, where is that?”

She blinked. “Right. Here, get your phone out.” And she dictated the address for him. “Good?”

“I...think so.” Furrowing his brow, he clutched his phone in a way worryingly like he would his baton if his grip were any tighter. “Is there anything I have to do?”

“No? Just show up.” She did her best to smile reassuringly. Sebastian had never been over to her apartment before, but it wasn’t that big of a thing. Well, for her at least, she supposed. “It’s not as fancy as Mr. Edgeworth’s, but I’m not going to get as uptight about things either. Actually, let me know if you want me to pick up any specific kind of snacks, but otherwise yeah. Same time and everything. Trust me, it’ll be great.”

---

“Was there something else?” It had been a while since their last conversation, but considering that one had been about Sebastian, and that those were the only times Kay had approached her on her own before, she supposed it was fair for Courtney to assume so. Besides, she was right.

Kay held out the envelope. “I had an idea. If you could get that back to me by the end of the day.” With a playful salute, she turned to go. “Drop it with Mr. Edgeworth, if you need to.”

She raised an eyebrow, but slowly opened the envelope. As she scanned the contents, her expression warmed into a soft smile. “I see.”

---

The door to Kay’s apartment swung open. “Hey! Come in.”

Shoulders tight, Sebastian stepped inside. “Uh, hi.”

She smiled. “Make yourself at home, okay. What do you want to drink?”

There was a bit of a pause before he said “water’s fine,” leaning over to take off his shoes.

Well, that was something at least. In the kitchen, she filled up both glasses – she’d get him to drink something else later. It was pretty quiet, Kay noted as she opened a cupboard. But then again, it made sense that Sebastian wouldn’t be a ‘having conversations from different rooms’ kind of person. Balancing the drinks and as many snacks as she could fit in her arms, she reentered the living room to find him standing in the middle of the floor. “Sit down, stay a while.” She dumped everything on the coffee table. Then she collapsed on the couch, patting the other cushion.

He followed her lead, tucking his legs under him. The glass of water was accepted, and as Kay started up the tv, he even reached for the bag of grapes.

“So. Do you want to start off where we were watching or do you want to play a game first?”

---

Three episodes of Jammin’ Ninja, a pizza, several rounds of Mario Kart, and five Guitar Hero losses in a row later, Kay dropped her controller in her lap. “I think I’m done with this one,” she said, flopping back.

“Hey, you are pretty good at this.” Sebastian leaned forward with his fork to slide another piece of pizza onto his plate (Kay was tempted to poke fun at him for that – it felt like such a Mr. Edgeworth thing, and she definitely would’ve gotten at him for it – but dropped it, considering). He smirked. “I guess I just happen to be better.”

Kay opened her mouth, but failed to find a smart remark that wouldn’t end up unnecessarily mean. Instead, she stuck her tongue out.

He stuck his tongue out back at her, and when she repeated the action, but more exaggerated, he burst out laughing. As he calmed, he simply sat watching her. Then, with a yawn like a cat, he stretched, arms over his head and back arching. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

“Alright.” Kay stayed slumped against the couch until she heard the door shut, at which point she dashed to the linen closet. She had just enough time to throw herself into approximately the same position before Sebastian returned. “So, I have something for you.”

He tilted his head. “What?”

Grinning broadly, she lifted the gift bag from behind the couch. “I know it’s a little late, but,” she plopped it in the spot between them. “Your birthday present.”

In the background, the game’s menu music looped through again. Right, she’d meant to turn that off before. Not that Sebastian seemed to care or notice, with the way he stared wide-eyed at the multicolor balloon print. Finally, he started to lean forward. “Are you sure?” His voice was very small, a scared hesitancy that nearly broke her heart.

“Yup.” She nudged it closer to him.

Still cautious, he picked up the bag into his lap, and just…held it there, for a moment. His hands were still curled around it, but loosely, and he watched Kay over the top of it, as if waiting for her to…do something, she didn’t know.

“There should be a card on top; start with that.” She wasn’t sure prompting was exactly what he needed, but…

“Oh,” he said softly. “Oh, right.” He pulled it closer to himself then. With a delicacy that she hadn’t started showing until- wait, no, she still tore into presents like an excited three-year-old. Anyway the point was that Sebastian was very careful in opening the envelope flap and taking out the card. It was a rather generic design, but only on the outside. Sebastian looked at her, and she motioned for him to open it. When he did so, he let out a tiny gasp.

Kay tried not to stare at him as he read, but every time she tried to turn her attention away it kept skittering back. It was impossible to tell exactly what part he was reading when, but she already knew the contents. The card had only come with a simple “Happy Birthday” on the inside, but that was fine. They’d done plenty to fill the rest of the space

In the top left corner, written in smooth black ink and typographical quality cursive, was Franziska’s. It simply read, “All good wishes on your birthday. -Franziska von Karma”

While not much more in content, Gumshoe’s big round handwriting took up a lot bigger of a space, occasionally spilling across the fold line. “Happiest of birthdays, pal! Have a great day – you deserve it!”

Mr. Edgeworth’s looked as though he had lined up a ruler as a guide for writing it (honestly, she would bet money he had), and the actual lettering, while angular, was equally neat and consistent across the bottom right side. “We’ve only been working together for a short time, but even in that I have witnessed your great strength and dedication. It is an honor to continue to be a part of your journey.” There was just the tiniest dot of extra ink at the end of the sentence, the closest thing to an imperfection in the writing. “Happy Birthday, Sebastian.”

When she’d taken a peek at the card this afternoon after Mr. Edgeworth had handed it back to her, she’d been surprised to see that Courtney’s handwriting was somewhat jumbled. Then again, the fact that she’d had to make do with working around the space of everyone else’s notes probably didn’t help. She’d written, in pen that looked like some very dark color that was just off from black, “Sebastian. When we spoke about your birthday previously, I hope that my misunderstanding did not seem like a lack of care. If it did, I can only offer my deepest apologies, and the promise to try harder in the future to become the kind of person you would be more comfortable being open around. I wish you the best belated birthday possible, with love. Justine.”

And taking up a good third-bordering-on-half of the bottom right side (helped by the fact that she’d put a sticky note reservation there before handing it out), was Kay’s cursive-print hybrid, alternating sparkly gel pen colors every phrase or so. “Hey. I hope this isn’t overstepping, but you’re someone important to all of us, so I had to find some way to include everyone. You deserve to have your birthday celebrated, okay? This isn’t enough to make up for past stuff, but it’s still something, right? Happy Birthday. -Kay” In the space under the words, she’d doodled a little picture of herself making a heart with her hands.

Sebastian started crying very early into his reading. The first couple tears steadily developed until the paper shook and had to be in danger of getting wet (if it wasn’t already). Taking a big, shaky breath, he put the card on his lap.

At this point, Kay reached behind her for the box of tissues on the lower shelf of the side table, and held it out.

With a nod, he took it. He hadn’t stopped crying, so it was more damage control at the moment as he blotted at his face.

While he was busy with that, Kay took the opportunity to gradually turn down the tv volume. That didn’t take very long, though, leaving her to sit and wait. At least it was less awkward than last time.

Finally, he got his breathing and the tears mostly under control. Although when he sat up and looked at her he quickly ducked his head again, eyes watering. “I- uh… He sniffled. “…thank you,” he whispered, voice thick.

Oh, now her eyes were starting to sting. “It’s no problem at all.”

Sebastian smiled weakly, although his mouth still trembled.

They sat there for some time. Kay held in her impulse to say something, wanting to give him time to finish processing and let him move on at his own pace.

And eventually he did. Very carefully, he set the card on the top of the back of the couch and opened the bag. A few sheets of tissue paper, pulled out and scattered across the couch later, he held up a small box. He looked at Kay just long enough for her to give him a ‘go on’ nod, then opened it. “Huh,” he whispered upon seeing the contents. His mouth pressed together, clearly trying to keep steady as he examined a pair of dark blue socks patterned with tiny orange cats. “I love it.”

She grinned, leaning on the back cushion. “Yeah. That one made me think of you.”

A heavy breath, although the tears were framing a smile. It took him a minute, but he managed to steady himself again without fully crying this time.

“Hey,” she fake-whispered. “There’s more in there.”

He carefully lifted the socks, only to squint at finding just paper. The moment he saw what was on it, though, his hand flew to his mouth in a gasp. “Oh, this is…”

“That’s the right one, right?”

With a soft noise of agreement, he started studying it further. “I’ve never gotten to hear them, but I’ve heard the orchestra performance is- Wait, why are there two tickets?”

“So you can take someone with you,” she murmured.

The smile wavered just a little. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Carefully, he repacked the box. Still not looking at her, he said, “do you- would you want to go?”

Kay had figured it would come up, and she picked her words carefully. “If you want. But you know I don’t know a thing about your fancy music stuff.” It wasn’t that she wouldn’t go and at least have a decent time, probably. But for Sebastian’s sake, if he just wanted someone to talk at, it wouldn’t make much of a difference if Kay had actually been there or not. “You gotta know someone who would get more out of it than me.”

Chewing on his lip, he stared down at the cushions. “Well, there’s-” he paused, the little flinch of frustration that usually popped up when he started talking about some part of his life only to remember that, since the mess with his father, it wasn’t the same anymore. “...Uh. I’ll have to see,” he said, barely audible.

“Or you can go by yourself. It’s meant to be something nice for you, so if dealing with that part’s a problem, don’t bother. I can handle returning it and I’ll buy you lunch or something instead, alright? Focus on the cool music stuff.”

He mimicked her pose, hands on his hips. “Yeah!” The smile returned as he closed his eyes, arms drifting until he was doing tiny little conducting motions, probably not even aware.

When he’d calmed a bit to merely bouncing a little, she leaned forward, chin resting on her head. “You’ve still got one thing left.”

“Oh!” Again, he put the box to the side and shuffled through the paper, this time retrieving a much larger translucent plastic container. Sliding the bag out of the way on the floor, he pried off the lid. And stared at the contents.

The look on his face was so blank… “I picked cupcakes because I thought they’d be more fun.” Plus, a couple of them were much easier to fit in a gift bag than a whole cake. “The rest are in the kitchen, but I put one of each flavor… What?”

As she talked, he’d bowed his head, and his shoulders were shaking, breaths coming fast and unsteady.

“Uh, Seb?”

Then he looked up. Sure enough, there were tears at the corners of his eyes, but the light in them…

Kay stared. “What is so funny?”

“You-” He covered his mouth with a hand. “They’re, uh,” laughter tripping up his words, he tilted the box so she could see.

Nothing about it seemed out of the ordinary to her- three medium size cupcakes of different flavors (carrot, spice, chocolate: not Sebastian’s top three, but she’d gone with what he seemed to like and then whatever other likes that let her use the same frosting), although you couldn’t tell from this angle due to the teal frosting she’d painstakingly decorated with sugarwork music notes. “What are you talking about?”

“No, it’s-” he shrunk back slightly. “It’s really nice, but” his voice got quieter “you did write this all wrong.”

She crossed her arms. “But I looked at references and everything!”

“Well, you got the notes right, but if you actually look at the way the measures are laid out across these, none of them have a combination of notes that gives them the same amount of beats as the other ones, so it’s…” He trailed off as it was Kay’s turn to start giggling.

“I’m not laughing at you,” she said as she scooted next to him. “I did really mess those up, though, huh?”

At that, he relaxed. “Yeah. A lot.”

“I’ll get it right next year.”

There was a moment of silence. Then, he reached up to wipe away a single tear. “You better,” he said, smiling.