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kittyball23 · 1 year ago

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Branch Has Feelings (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: As Poppy helps Bridget out with with her wedding outfits, Branch explores his old home, and experiences some emotions…

A/N: I tried giving Trailer 2 a chance to release, but I mean, we’re already about to get into August and there’s still nothing out online… But, like I’m sure a number of us have, I saw it on leak back around the 21st of July, therefore, my oneshots continue :3

Already as I’m sure you know from the new info and stuff that has been released in the past month, some of my theories have already been debunked – the fact that Spruce is married, the fact that Velvet and Veneer do not seem to be Bergens (unless they are a different kind of Bergens), the usage of ‘I Want You Back’ by NSYNC, the fact that the argument seemed to happen because of ONE wrong thing that occurred versus a culmination of stuff over time.

Note that I will not make changes to what I’ve already written, but I may rewrite some stuff as separate oneshots. I feel that making changes to what I’ve already written would kinda mess up the point of this collection of stories, which is, that they are supposed to be predictions and wild guesses before seeing the movie :)

__________________________________________

“We are family!

Get up everybody and sing!”

Troll voices from all six of the musical tribes rose up, loud and strong, mixing in with Bergen voices who were also singing along and causing a lovely melody to fill the air all around Bergen Town. How could anyone not be in a good mood? This was a time to celebrate – it was King Gristle and Bridget’s wedding day! Needless to say, there was much to do, from decorations to food to the seating arrangements and such. But it was not a matter to be worried over. There were more than enough helping hands to go around, and with music to help them groove along, the job was getting done pretty quickly and entertainingly. Attendees of the wedding were dressed down in their fanciest formal attire – tuxes, and gowns, and ribbons, and bows, and glitter were as far as the eye could see! There wasn’t one single individual who was not impressively adorned – at least this is how Queen Poppy of Pop Village saw it.

Poppy herself was looking quite nice that day as well, sporting a lovely green-and-pink glittered dress that had a fluffy, cotton train that ran from the skirt down. Extensions of various colors had been placed in her hair, and she’d even had a light layer of glittery makeup around her eyes. She knew she looked decent, but what made her feel exceptionally pretty was how much Branch had liked it. The way he’d told her she was beautiful, so cute and flustered, was replaying over and over in her head. She of course had immediately told him how handsome he looked, with his iridescent-fishscaled vest and glittery-green shorts. She wished she was looking at him now again, having her pink hand in his larger, warm teal one, but for the time being, the two of them had parted, seeing to different sections of the wedding prep and ensuring that it was coming along. Poppy’s glowbug had helped her fly along towards the castle, where she knew her dear friend Bridget was getting ready. Satin and Chenille were there, too, along with Smidge and Legsly. But all five girls were met with an unexpected sight inside the dressing room.

Rather than a song filling the air here, there was a wail, and that wail was coming from the bride herself!

“Oh my gah!” Smidge squeaked, her hands over her mouth as Bridget sat there, slumped at the vanity in her slip and crying, some of the makeup she had been attempting to apply running down her cheeks in dark streaks.

Poppy sprinted up to the Bergen. “Oh no, Bridget! What’s wrong?”

The twins gasped. “King Gristle didn’t cancel on you – “ Satin started asking.

“- Did he?” Chenille finished.

“Aw, no, that would be awful!” Legsly said, tugging at her orange pigtails in concern.

“You can just leave it to me to talk some sense into him,” Smidge said darkly, her voice deep, a frown on her eyebrows, and her hands busy at cracking her knuckles.

“No,” Bridget sniffled, trying to calm down some. “I… it’s just… I don’t know what to wear!” she blurted out. “This is the most important day of me and Grizzy’s life and… I just want to him to think I look nice!”

Poppy and the girls exchanged a glance of pity among one another. To anyone else it probably wouldn’t seem like a big deal, but in truth it was. They knew just how stressful a wedding could be, as they’d helped out plenty of times before for weddings in Pop Village. To add onto the matter, Poppy knew her friend was probably having doubts with the way she used to be the castle’s scullery maid for such a long time, ignored, with Gristle having been nearly oblivious to her existence. It was obvious to her and the other Trolls that Gristle would not go back to that, but still, her friend probably needed that extra reassurance.

Poppy made her up the vanity and patted Bridget on the arm. “Bridget, King Gristle loves you and thinks you’re beautiful no matter what. He really, really wants to marry you, because you make him happy!”

Bridget looked down at Poppy, like an epiphany had hit her. “I guess I do make him happy, don’t I?” she asked in a soft voice, then blushed.

“Uh, yeah! Totally!” Poppy said. “So even if you go out there with your maiden outfit, he’s still gonna marry you, because he loves you for you!”

The words were getting through to Bridget, and she smiled. Poppy really did know just what to say sometimes!

The twins, however, were having different sentiments. They exchanged a glance with one another and then piped up.

“Uh Poppy, she’s, um, not going to go out there with that outfit though, right?” Satin asked while her sister Chenille peered up worriedly.

“No way!” Bridget and Poppy exclaimed at the same time, and then laughed at the image that it put in their heads.

The twins breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness! It would have been a certain fashion disaster. They turned their attention to the plain, white wedding dress that was laid out on the bed.

“Hmmm,” they both hummed at the same time, mirroring each other with their hands on their chins and sharing the same squinted look at the apparel. “How far can we take this?”

Bridget perked up. “Oh, however far you want! Please! I want everything – ribbons, bows, frills, lace – whatever you wanna do!” She clasped her hands excitedly.

Satin and Chenille liked that answer. They pumped their fists in the air. “All right! Then let’s do this!”

With the help of the four Trolls, Bridget was transformed into a gorgeous diva. The dress was adorned with various colorful bows at the skirt, and was very frilly at the train. Bridget looked at herself in the mirror and gushed, absolutely loving it so far. “Oh, it’s great! But… maybe it needs more.” She paused and thought for a second, and then snapped her fingers. “Ooo! How about flowers!”

The twins gave her a thumbs up. “Flowers – we’re on it!” Soon enough, Bridget’s dress had been modified to include a gorgeous array of colorful flowers, just as vibrant as the bows were, that were stitched onto the blouse portion of the dress.

“Wow!” Legsly said, stretching herself up on her legs to get a better look all around Bridget. “That’s so cool!”

“I know!” Bridget squealed. “Oh! But how about we add little rainbows and glitter and stuff? Oh oh! And can you make my hair bigger?”

Once again, Satin and Chenille hopped in to help. “You got it, girl!” they said, giving her a thumbs up.

Bridget was once more changed, and this time, she looked super extra glamourous!

Well, maybe a little TOO extra glamorous…

Her hair had indeed been puffed up huge with extensions galore – it looked almost big enough to live inside of! Her makeup had been done heavily, with dark, navy-blue eyeshadow, a brilliant scarlet-red lipstick, and deep pink blush coating her cheeks. Her dress indeed had the rainbow designs she wanted – on top of the bows and flowers that were already there. It all was shiny-fied with a layer of glitter, making everything about her glimmer like diamonds. And that was not mentioning the large, hoop earrings that had little gem-like crystals hanging from the ends.

“Oh my gah!” Smidge said again, and this time she recoiled a little.

Bridget gave a little shout of fright when she caught sight of herself in the mirror, also. “AH! Oops… too much, huh?”

Poppy grimaced a little. “Err… maybe juuust a tad,” she admitted. “But you guys keep working on that, alright? You’ll figure something out, and it’s gonna be fabulous!” The Pop Queen gave her friend a reassuring thumbs up and then began to mount on the glowbug that she’d used to ride over to the castle. “I’ll come back in a little bit, I’m gonna just check on a few things in the town!”

“Okay, Poppy!” all five of the girls called back to her.

Poppy shook her head fondly, chuckling as she was brought back to the main town square. Bridget was so excited – so she could only imagine what it would be like to know that you were going to be united with your one true love, to be bound for life in a union that was stronger than the glitter glue that was sold at Sky Toronto’s Fun Factory! Secretly, Poppy hoped to have that experience someday, with the one Troll that had her heart captive, though she wouldn’t admit to him just yet. She knew that said Troll was still probably getting used to the whole idea of even being in a relationship, let alone with the Queen of Pop.

Hmmm… where IS he? she suddenly thought. Poppy flew her bug over to where she saw Prince D and Cooper helping out on the banquet table for the grand feast that was to take place right after the wedding. She grinned, watching the brothers pal around and groove with each other, and, not for the first time, wishing that she, too, had a sibling that she could sing with.

“Hi, Cooper! Hi, D!” she greeted cheerily, waving her hand.

“Hey, Poppy!” Prince D said. “How’s it goin’?”

“Totally amazing!” Poppy replied with a giggle. “Have you guys seen Branch?”

“No, I haven’t,” Prince D said. He then nudged Cooper. “Have you, bro?”

“Uh-huh!” Cooper nodded, helpfully gesturing his long neck over to where the altar was set. “I think I saw him head over for the Troll Tree!”

“Oh!” Poppy said, wondering what her boyfriend was up to. “Well, okay! Thanks!” She gave Cooper a high-five, and Cooper gave his signature goofball laugh as he watched the Pop Queen head off.

“Any time, Poppy!” he called.

__________________________________________

As it turned out, Branch was in fact at the Troll Tree.

Curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he’d gone up exploring the Pop Trolls’ old home. Many pods were, surprisingly, still as intact as they had been before King Peppy had evacuated the town. He could see the old schoolpod, and the large one that was the one for the royal family. Which made him wonder…

Branch scaled the tree, guiding his glowbug to the right places to go, around certain familiar bends, mushrooms, and vines that were there, until he finally reached the spot, stopping short and gaping. There it was. Still in the same spot that it had always been, as timeless as ever.

His old pod.

Well, it had been his grandmother’s old pod, but it had been his home all the same.

The nostalgia hit him hard as soon as he’d dismounted the bug and set foot inside. Not much had changed, really at all. It was the same old carpet, the same old decorations, the same old walls and halls. He remembered how his grandmother would sing to him and play games out there in their living room, and how they’d both snack on delicious treats of all kinds in the dining area. He remembered his grandmother letting him help out in the kitchen making cookies, and when she’d tuck him into bed at night, planting a sweet kiss on his forehead and always reminding him that he was loved. He remembered being thankful for it, having needed that reminder to keep him planted in reality. But most of all, he remembered something else…

His eyes darted to the gramophone at the farther end of the pod, and he remembered how much his grandmother would love to play music on there. He could remember how she would dance with him, letting him stand atop her feet while she toddled them about, the two of them enjoying themselves thoroughly and laughing. They’d had plenty of music to dance with and plenty of records to show for. Though, of that collection, there had been a significant amount of them had not been played. Those particular records caused too much pain for the two of them, yet, it would have been even more painful to simply discard them, and make pretend that they didn’t exist. That’s why they were always right there, tucked behind the gramophone, where it was an arms distance away, but never dared to be played out loud.

On automatic, Branch felt himself move toward the gramophone. He swallowed hard when he did in fact see records still there, tucked neatly behind it. He itched to reach for them, to see the cover of the albums he had so wanted to forget existed. But he wasn’t so sure.

Get a hold of yourself, Branch scolded himself. You got used to the other song, didn’t you?

That ‘other song,’ as he called it in his head, was in fact Total Eclipse of the Heart, the song he’d so gladly belted out when he was a young boy, singing into his flower microphone…

… Providing the soundtrack to his grandmother’s death.

Branch shook his head. True to how that voice in his head had reminded him, he indeed had learned to accustom himself to the song once again. He wouldn’t willingly go out of his way to play it, but he wouldn’t find himself tearing up and feeling lightheaded after hearing it, either. He had learned to keep those emotions in check. Could he keep these in line, too?

Before he could help himself, he tugged the albums out from behind the gramophone. They were a little dusty, but not too bad to where he couldn’t tell what was on it. Because he most certainly could. They were four faces he still had yet to see again, after over twenty years and still counting. The faces of John Dory, Spruce, Clay, and Floyd. Also known as the hit boyband BroZone.

Also known as his brothers.

Branch felt angry at himself for already starting to feel a pang in his chest. This wasn’t even an actual photo of them! The album covers were just little felt, scrapbook-like figures that looked a little silly in their appearance, each brother identifiable by their bright-colored hair – JD a brilliant turquoise, Spruce a rich purple, Clay a bright yellow, and Floyd a serene magenta. Then there was himself – pictured with his crop of blue hair right there with the rest of them, side by side, together.

If only it had been that way in real life…

Branch frowned. What was the use in dwelling on alternative scenarios? He wouldn’t call himself as much of a pessimist as he was in his gray days, but there were still some bits of mottos and self-advice that he’d acquired then that he still used to that day. One of those was the fact that sometimes, bad things happened, and nothing could be done to change them. His poor grandmother, for example. She had been taken by Bergens, suffering a horrible fate. He couldn’t do anything about it now. There was no time machine to take him back to that moment and fix what had occurred. Just like there wasn’t one to help take him back to that other awful day, one that had happened a few years beforehand, and fix the mistake that had happened…

Branch glared at one of the album covers. A few silly songs were not going to get the better of him. He tugged the record out of the case and placed it on the gramophone, adjusting the needle so that it lay on top of it. The gramophone was old, but worked without so much as a hitch, and, slowly, a tune began to warble its way out of it, a little low at first, but then louder, clear enough so he could hear the song that was playing and clear enough so he could pick out just who was singing what part. Branch felt himself freeze when he recognized what song it was, and inwardly groaned. Of all songs, it had to be this one. The one that they’d done right before everything got decimated. He wanted to tear the record out of the gramophone right there and then, but it was too late. He was being taken back to that memory, still feeling so fresh on his mind even after so long…

__________________________________________

There was a packed house that night.

The five boys could hear the loud whoops and cheers from the Trolls that had gathered there to see the show, impatiently hooting and hollering with uncontained joy. They knew it was so much fun to perform, but they also knew how critical it was to get their performance as perfect as possible. That was, if they wanted to win the award.

It was going to be difficult, but John Dory, the leader of their pack, welcomed it. Finally, a chance to share the stage with the greats – like the Sugar Gals and the Chillin' JillyNs, who had already gone on and performed before them – and outshine them! There had been not one single doubt in John Dory's mind that BroZone was the most band-tastic musical group out there. What more, if they'd managed to pull this off, they'd be the youngest talent to ever have won. John Dory was starry-eyed, already imagining just how many pictures he and his brothers would take with the wonderful trophy. He had already cleared a space in their room on the wall, and also made room on one of their shelves for where the trophy would be placed.

He quickly polished down his goggles and then snapped them on his head carefully, checking in the mirror to make sure that they looked extra fly. His other brothers were also getting ready for their performance – Spruce was sprucin' up with a little bit of hair gel and spray, Clay was warming up with a plié of sorts, and Floyd was clipping on the one pearl earring he liked to wear.

John Dory took a deep breath and clapped his hands together once to garner their attention.

"All right, listen up!" he said. "I don't think you really need me to tell ya how important this night is, but, heh, I still kinda am going to." Suddenly, his eyes narrowed, and he placed his hands on his hips in a way that made him look very determined. "We are going to make boy band history tonight..." His voice was deep and serious, and the others could get the gist of how critical everything was. Everything had to be flawless, and, luckily, it all was practiced to perfection, so Spruce, Clay, and Floyd didn't really feel so concerned.

Still, though, there was one bro who wasn't feeling up to that particular level of confidence. John Dory didn't notice, but Floyd did, and he wanted to say something about it.

"Bro," he said, approaching JD's side. "You're making Baby Branch nervous."

John Dory peered over to where Floyd was gesturing at. Their youngest brother of the bunch was a few paces outside of the dressing room, standing near the curtain where just beyond it was the large mushroom stage on which they would be performing on that night in just a few short moments. Branch shuffled from side to side on his small blue feet, and had his eyebrows creased with slight worry.

JD dismissed the matter. “Ah, it’s just the usual pre-performance jitters. He’ll get over it!”

“I don’t know, JD…” Floyd said.

“Want me to go talk to him?”

The magenta Troll glanced at his eldest brother. John Dory meant well, yes, but Floyd noticed that sometimes he could be a little oblivious to how his words affected someone. A pep talk that was good for some teens who’ve already put on several shows before might not be so good for a small baby who’d just barely gotten his singing voice. But Floyd didn’t want to go through the trouble of trying to explain this to JD at that moment. “Maybe I’d better go talk to him,” he said.

JD looked slightly confused for a second, before recovering. “Huh? Well, alright, but make it snappy, ‘kay?”

Floyd gave him a quick thumbs up and then walked over to where their youngest brother still stood, perhaps looking even a smidge more nervous than he had a second or two ago. Floyd felt pity for him. Baby Branch was the smallest one of their group, but he looked even smaller now, with how fearful he was being.

“Hey, bro,” he said gently, “everything okay?”

Branch didn’t turn around just yet. His eyes were still fixed on the curtain. “No,” he responded, his voice small, meek, and of course, babyish in its nature. “I feel like I’m gonna barf.” He turned around to look at Floyd, pressing his little hands together.

“Branch, it’s just another show,” Floyd said, keeping his tone light. “It’s just like our rehearsals.”

“But there’s so many people…” Branch worried. He stole another glance from behind the curtain, and whimpered a little.

“Yeah, there is,” Floyd agreed, “but that’s because they wanna see just how great you are on stage. You, and me, and all our brothers.”

Branch’s eyes lit up some. “Really?”

“Yes, really!” Floyd responded, glad to see that his little brother was showing signs of feeling better.

“B-but… what if I mess up?” Branch asked, worry still pricking at him. “They’re gonna be mad…” The blue Trolling peeked over to where John Dory, Spruce, and Clay were at in the dressing room.

“They might be a little disappointed if we don’t win,” Floyd admitted. He knew he would probably feel slightly disappointed, too. “But, hey, remember our motto?”

Branch scrunched his small face as he tried to remember. “A prankster never reveals his tricks?”

“No, I think you’re thinking about Clay’s motto,” Floyd chuckled. “I’m talking about the BroZone motto, the one John Dory came up with?”

Branch thought again and then seemed to get it. “Bros before shows?” he asked, tentatively.

Floyd nodded. “Exactly! And you do know what that means, right?”

Branch squinched up his nose. “I think…”

Floyd kneeled down, and placed a hand on Branch’s shoulder. “It means that being brothers is always gonna be more important than any performance that we do. Okay?”

“Well… okay!” Branch replied chirpily, and then snuggled into Floyd when the magenta-haired Trolling scooped the baby in for a warm hug. Branch was still a little skeptical about their band’s motto. He constantly heard John Dory remind them any time before they performed that that show was “very important.” Oh well, he could get clarification later. At that moment, Floyd had released him and was taking his hand in his.

“Come on, now,” he said, “let’s go back to the others.”

Branch let himself be guided along back into the dressing room, where, sure enough, John Dory huddled the whole team together for one final bout of pep-talking.

“We’re gonna be entering this as band-tastic boys, but we’re gonna be leaving it as bro-dacious superstars!”

The boys cheered, excited and eager, exchanging rounds of high-fives, fist-bumps, and even a playful smack in the rear (specifically John Dory on Baby Branch).

If only the positive attitude had remained with them for the rest of that night.

Because what was once seeming to be a dream come true on that stage rapidly turned into a Nightmare on Elm Tree. With the fall. And then the vines. And then the humiliation. And then the argument…

If they had been puffalo, they would have certainly careened their way back inside the safety of their pod with their tails between their legs. But they were not puffalo, they were Trollings, who all had a variation of negative emotions radiating from them.

Spruce’s cheeks burned red with a mix of embarrassment and anger. He stormed into the center of the pod and whirled on his brothers. “My rock-hard abs and I quit!” he growled, making a show of tearing his purple vest from his body and ripping it clean in two.

Clay was quick to second that. “I quit too!” he said, despising the way that folks had laughed at him, and not with him.

Floyd was about to speak up, hoping to turn the heat down, but John Dory didn’t want to bother even hearing what he had to say. In less than a minute, they were already two brothers down in their band. He didn’t see a point – Floyd was probably just going to say that he quit, too! He stormed over to the entrance of the pod. “This bro bro’s goin’ solo… YOLO!” JD called over his shoulder, still trying to bust a rhyme even as he headed off, glaring at his brothers and then departing.

Branch stood on wobbly little legs beside Floyd, barely registering his older brother’s presence, his head in a whirl. He felt tears pooling in his large blue eyes, and a whimper in his throat.

“I ruined everything…”

In his eyes, he really did. If he had just practiced more, if he had just been as great as John Dory, and Spruce, and Clay, and Floyd had wanted him to be, then this wouldn’t have happened. Then he wouldn’t have been standing there, watching his family fall apart before his very eyes, watching the band break up, watching their dream be crushed.

This is all my fault. MINE.

I’m the one to blame. Nobody but me.

I ruined our band. I ruined our family.

I wasn’t good enough.

They hate me.

This is MY fault…

__________________________________________

“Branch?”

The Troll gasped, and he jumped right into action as soon as he’d heard the voice of his girlfriend pipe up from behind him. His fingers flew to the gramophone, and quickly removed the needle from the record. Then he turned around, plastering a large, toothy grin on his face in hopes of remaining inconspicuous.

Poppy was standing tentatively at the doorway of the room, a little uncertain, and some concern shining in her fuchsia eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You’re crying and smiling at the same time. It kinda looks like it hurts.”

“It does kinda hurt,” Branch admitted, feeling up his face with his hands. Then he sighed, letting the smile drop and hurriedly wiping away the remainder of the tears that had streaked his face.

Poppy approached him. “Branch? Please tell me what’s the matter…”

Branch rubbed his arm. “It’s nothing, really… it’s just that this place brings back a lot of memories, that’s all,” he said, trying not to let his voice waver.

Poppy nodded in understanding. “This was your grandmother’s pod, wasn’t it?” she asked, though she knew the answer already. A small portrait of Grandma Rosiepuff was on one of the walls near the door, and the types of antiques and such that were leftover in the pod also gave her a clue.

“Yes, actually,” Branch said. “This was where I grew up.” He gestured around the space and felt another lump grow in his throat thinking about his beloved grandparent. “I miss her.”

“Oh, sweetie, I know you do,” Poppy cooed, taking it as her cue to bestow a much-needed hug onto him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his chest. Branch returned the hug, extremely grateful for the comfort.

After a moment, Branch allowed himself to speak again. “Grandma and I did lots of stuff here. We loved to sing and listen to music together before, um…” He trailed off, and Poppy already knew what it was that he was getting at, though she did not force him to have to say it out loud.

Instead, the Pop Queen’s gaze drifted to the gramophone, and the albums next to it. She raised an eyebrow curiously. “Can I take a look?” she asked, gently releasing their embrace and peering up at him with question in her eyes.

Branch felt himself go stiff. NO! he wanted to blurt. But he knew his hard refusal over something so trivial would meet Poppy with confusion, and then have her raise suspicion. She’ll wonder what I’m hiding, he thought. He’d managed to keep his secret under wraps for this long, much to his surprise, and he did not want her to put two and two together and figure it out. But if I show her the album, maybe she WILL figure it out! Branch argued with himself. His blue face was plastered on the cover of the album just as prominent as his other brothers. But then again, I was a baby back then, he reasoned. I mean, I’ve grown up since then. I don’t look THAT much the same now than I did back then… do I?

Branch didn’t want to keep going on this back-and-forth, so he found himself slowly nodding to Poppy in reply. Poppy smiled and went right for the albums, carefully picking them up. Her reaction was just as he’d pictured it. Confusion, and then pleasant surprise.

“BroZone?!” she exclaimed. “Oh my gosh… and they’re original records!” Poppy ran her hand over the cover, her fingers grazing over the felted cover and the little figures of the boys that were featured. Poppy gushed some more. “Wow! I can’t believe it! I mean, I had no idea your Grandma was a fan!”

“Yeah… um… I guess they had universal appeal,” Branch said, very carefully choosing his words.

Poppy sighed, a dreamy look in her eyes. “Yeah, you’re telling me.” Her pupils dilated, and there was a sudden lovestruck quality to her gaze, one that made Branch feel a twang of jealousy. “They’re my favorite band!” she blurted.

“Oh… really?” Branch asked, maintaining his voice to a calm level.

“Yeah!” Poppy said. “Oh, can I please play one song? Please?”

“Err…” Branch swallowed. He’d just tried to listen to ‘one song,’ believing that after so long of being apart from his disbanded family, it wouldn’t have much of an effect on him. But he’d been wrong – very wrong. Heck, he hadn’t even remembered when he’d started crying!

Poppy saw his hesitance, and quickly added, “I don’t have to, it’s okay, you know…” She was saying the words, but Branch could tell she wasn’t fully ready to take on that option. At least not with the way her fingers twitched excitedly on the record, more than ready to place it in to be played. He didn’t want to disappoint his girlfriend… or have her ask any questions out of suspicion.

“No, no, it’s all right! G-go ahead,” Branch said, coughing afterwards to not have her pay any mind to his brief stutter.

Poppy didn’t pay mind. She squealed happily, bouncing twice on the spot, and then placing the record in. The opening notes to “The Right Stuff” began to play, making her bop her head up and down.

“First time was a great time Second time was a blast Third time I fell in love Now I hope it lasts I can see it in your walk Tell 'em when you talk See it in everything you do Even in your thoughts

You got the right stuff, baby Love the way you turn me on You got the right stuff, baby You're the reason why I sing this song!”

Poppy giggled as she sang along, removing the record when the song was done and looking at Branch. “Ahhh, I just love this song! It’s my favorite! How about you? What’s your favorite song of theirs?”

“Well, you see, um, I don’t actually have a favorite song,” Branch said, in a way telling the truth. He hated hearing the songs now, as they only brought him bad memories.

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean! I mean, how can you pick a favorite when they’re all so awesome!” Poppy exclaimed, unaware of his thoughts. Then she paused. “No wait, scratch that, not awesome, but uh, what’s that other word they used… oh! Oh wait, I remember! Bro-dacious!” She snapped her fingers, happy to have recollected correctly. “Yeah! The leader of the band used to say it all the time. Oh, he was sooo cute!”

John Dory! Cute?! Branch frowned. He could think up an hour-long speech with over hundreds of reasons for how NOT ‘cute’ that airhead of a brother of his was, starting with the fact that he abandoned him. But what Poppy said next distracted him.

“Oh who am I kidding – they were all cute! Especially the baby, he was my favorite!”

Branch blinked. “The baby?” he echoed.

“Uh-huh!” Poppy said. “I can’t tell you how many times I wished I coulda pinched his cute little fat cheeks – like this!” She squealed and demonstrated by pinching Branch’s blue cheek between her pink fingers. Now that he had to chuckle at. Boy, if only she knew the irony, Branch thought.

“Oh, but Branch,” she said, suddenly reeling herself back, “None of them are cuter, or sweeter, or more handsome than you are.” She blushed, feeling embarrassed. “I’m sorry if I made you think so… I kinda go a little bonkers about BroZone.” Poppy let out a flustered little laugh and looked down at the ground, like a child that had been caught swiping from the cookie jar.

Branch suppressed the sigh that wanted to escape him. He felt bad for feeling jealous before. It wasn’t her fault. Poppy didn’t know. Poppy wouldn’t ever come to know. She was just like much of their fans when the band was in their prime, fangirling and overly ecstatic at the mere mention of BroZone’s name. And part of him really did wish he could tell her. He didn’t like the idea of keeping secrets from his girlfriend, the one Troll who loved him and understood him so well. She wouldn’t keep secrets from him. And, she would also understand about his past if he explained it, wouldn’t she? But then again, at the same time it would open the floodgates for a whole bunch of other questions. She would never look at him the same way again, that’s for sure. She wouldn’t see ‘Branch,’ she would see ‘Bitty B,’ the small, diaper-clad youngest performer of BroZone. Not only that, but she would want to know every single little miniscule detail about his brothers. She’d wanna know their whereabouts and how she could get a chance to meet them and get their autographs. Those were things he didn’t have answers to, and even if he did, he most certainly wouldn’t want to tell her so that he’ll have to deal with them again. Was telling her worth it? Was what he’d envisioned happening afterwards something that he really wanted?

No.

Branch had to go with his default answer this time around, despite, deep down, his gut feeling telling him otherwise.

What does it matter! Branch argued with himself. There’s plenty of time to tell her. It wasn’t like anything was going to happen to require the explanation to be given. If there was, he figured, it would have happened by now. If his brothers really and truly cared, if they felt remorse in any way for the wrong that had happened, matters should’ve been resolved by now. Long resolved. If they wanted to pretend he didn’t exist, then he’d do the same – he would go on with the illusion that he had no siblings to speak of. A family didn’t abandon one another, so in a way, it was sort of true. He had no brothers.

Branch’s decision settled, he approached Poppy and gently took her hands. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I still love you, Poppifer,” he cooed, using her fun little nickname that he’d invented even before they’d officially sealed their relationship.

Poppy’s blush of embarrassment turned to one of bashfulness, and a sweet little giggle escaped her at once again hearing that this wonderful Troll loved her. She was still swooning when she heard Branch suddenly gasp, looking down at the watch in his Hug Time bracelet.

“Poppy! We’re gonna be late for the royal wedding!” he cried, grabbing her arm in haste. “Let’s go get married!”

The Pop Queen gasped. “Branch!”

Branch glanced at her in confusion, seeing the shocked look she now wore. “What?” Then it had hit him what he’d said. “OH! I – I mean, let’s get Bridget and Gristle married,” he corrected himself, chuckling awkwardly.

Poppy looked relieved. “Oh, okay! Because that would be weird if we got married.”

Branch quickly agreed. “Yes, very weird. Yeah.”

They awkwardly looked away as they continued to bounce agreement off one another, Branch finalizing the point with a seemingly disgusted “bleh” which Poppy copied. By then, the awkwardness had lifted some, and they were ready to make their way over. But Branch still had a lingering thought in mind.

Would it really be that weird if they got married? They had already reached the status of being boyfriend-and-girlfriend, so, logically, if things went well in their relationship, marriage would be the next step. And Branch couldn’t foresee anything going wrong in their relationship. Sure, they’d had a little tiff back when they had only been best friends, after he’d pointed out that she hadn’t been listening very well and that in turn was making her not be as great of a queen as she’d wanted to be. But even that was resolved fairly easily enough, and their relationship only continued to blossom from there.

Does Poppy really think it’s weird, though? Branch wasn’t sure, but right now, he didn’t want to go through the trouble of finding out. This day was not about him and Poppy – it was about their friends, Bridget and Gristle and their marriage. One day, perhaps, it could be about him and Poppy. And boy did he look forward to that day. By that point though, if they were lucky enough to reach that cherished husband-and-wife status, Branch knew that one thing was for certain, and that one thing was making his stomach churn with foreboding, making him think back to the albums that were in his grandmother’s old pod, the way Poppy had glanced at the Trollings on the cover and then at Branch and having not made the correlation.

There CAN’T be any secrets between us.

__________________________________________

A/N: I had to write this after seeing the way the new trailer started 😭 Bridget's wedding outfits scene was an idea used from the leaked pages of The Art of Trolls Band Together. Song used is "The Right Stuff" by New Kids on the Block

Oh yeah, and I had to include the "let's go get married" bit again, because it is one of my favorite things ^_^

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #branch trolls #poppy trolls #broppy #fanfiction #dreamworks #kittyball writes

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bulingyang · 2 years ago

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Assessment3

My final assessment chose the topic of option 4, and I used two tracks to complete this selection.

Initial idea

My idea was to create a chill rnb type of beat and the track should fit a rainy vibe and the scene that came out of my mind was a girl sitting alone in a café reading a novel while this song was playing in the background. In terms of creative techniques With this aim, I have used jazz guitar to play extended chords and their arpeggio with a very soft tone with ambience reverb (3.84s decay time). In order to approach the sound that I wanted, I use an eq low pass filter around 4500 Hz to make it sounds even warmer. For the drums section, I wanted the hihat pattern to sound like sea wave (fade in and out) and for the kick and snare I used a classic groove rhythm. And probably layered some keys and pad together to give unique vibe.

structure

Intro-verse-chorus-verse-chorus-outro

Arrangement

This is to make the jazz guitar sound warmer, and I use the eq low pass filter around 4500 Hz

This is 3.84s reverb

The sound sources.

I have used jazz guitar, texture soundscape preset in omnisphere, Rhodes and Celeste in keyscape, rainy texture sample, drums oneshot samples that are suitable for rnb, some percussion loops and transition samples from splice.

artistic vision

Inspired by the song “Pretty” by Col3trane ft. Mahalia, I used similar drum patterns and arrangement but with my own settle changes. The drums and instrumental in this song are just so fascinating and instantly make the audience fall into the vibe.

This is what I want my hihat to sound like ocean waves. Imitate hihat from pretty

Technical or other problems are I worried about

While I was layering different keys and pads together, I worried about this might cause phase issues and what I did to address this was using eq to cut some frequency to leave spaces for the main jazz guitar and Rhodes.

The second songs

Initial idea and artistic vision

My inspiration came from the painting "Ophelia" by the nineteenth-century English painter John Everett Millais. This is a painting depicting a character in the play Hamlet, who cannot accept Hamlet's betrayal and chooses to die after the death of her father. In the painting, her death is beautiful. Ophelia is lying in the water, surrounded by lush vegetation, and the picture shows an "abnormal" beauty. When I first saw this painting, I was attracted by the contrast presented in the picture, so the inspiration for this piece comes from this 19th-century painting.

When I first wrote this piece, I wanted to have a sad vibe. The piece can be divided into four main parts, and I tried to use a third-person perspective to describe the first part of the piece. It is quiet, lonely and desperate, just like Ophelia lying in a pool of water, and it was also my intuitive feeling when I first saw this painting. The second part is still a third perspective, but I tried to make the song a little lighter to reflect the youthful life that flows through the flowers and vegetation with the water. In addition, there is another layer of implication. I want to describe what I feel when watching the painting. "abnormal" beauty.

As the song progressed, in the third part, I began to try to bring myself into the role of Ophelia. Here I tried the first-person perspective. I want to use this paragraph to describe my short life in Ophelia’s memories. Also, I tried very light drumming to try to describe what it was like to face the world when Ophelia's life was coming to an end. At the end of the story, that is, the fourth part, calm was restored, and the third-person perspective was returned. Ophelia was still lying quietly and gracefully in the water.

In terms of creative techniques

My idea was to create an emotional track accomplished by piano, strings and drums. With this aim, I have used piano to play 6543 chord progression because in my opinion, I believe this is one of the saddest progressions that I know. The string part was very simple laid out because I want them to be relatively settle and leave space for the main piano and vocals. After the first chorus, I introduced the cello to give more the sense of sadness and loneliness. I made the snare and rim to be quite space out by using reverb to fit into the vibe more.

structure

Intro-chorus-verse-chorus-outro

The arrangement

main piano midi writing

The sound sources.

I have used Cinematic LA C7 in keyscape for the main piano and Frozen Piano Dreams in Omnisphere to play the chords with low velocity (just to add more texture and width). I also used Stone Mill Tuned Noise in Omnisphere as the arp in the second chorus. All strings were from the free version of BBC Symphony Orchestra.

This one I used the frozen piano dreams preset and then played chords with low velocity for adding some warmth and width

To reflect

Music art is a special aesthetic culture. In the creation of these two pieces and the study of music digital software this semester, I found that music art can directly reach people's hearts through a special charm. In the process of music art aesthetic experience and self-creation, my association and imagination have been greatly improved. The art of music is not only to simulate the sounds in nature, but also to arouse the audience's complex emotions in their own life experience by ordering the sounds in regular order, forming a rhythmic and aesthetically pleasing infinite free space. The process of creation is also a process of observing life. It also makes me learn to observe more carefully what is happening around me to abstract things and use different instruments to assist me in expressing this deliberate expression. mood.

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gaiuswrites · 4 years ago

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yoga!din thoughts:

they've been fucking around for awhile, but only in the studio. never beyond the studio doors, not even in the cramped, single-person bathroom across the hall. their relationship is purely physical—probably couldn't even consider it fwb. he likes her, is irritated by her, likes the smoothness of her pussy. she likes him, is fascinated by him, likes the rigidness of his cock. it doesn't go much further than that.

that all changes when they run into each other at the grocery store.

I-

christ on a cracker here we go. I’m ready to die now. Cause of death, yoga!Din oh NO-

This... I have no idea what any of this is, but Jess and I have been having a good ol’ time with it. I also want to give a shout out to Rachel for always being a rock in these unprecedented times and taking interest in this main man and I’ll probably be sending you similar messages for your masseuse au to torture you and im not even a little sorry about it

(warnings: SMUT, spanking, language, so pls minors, politely, go home thanks)

She always does this—why does she always do this?

She drifts down the aisles with the practiced effort of a trapeze artist, juggling the load of groceries bundled to her chest.

Get a cart. Just get a damn cart—a basket, something.

But no. She doesn’t. It happens every time: she goes in for one item—maybe two—and two turns to three and three turns to four, and suddenly they’ve multiplied like rabbits and she’s got half the store in her arms.

Trail mix from the bulk bins, almond milk, coffee grounds, bananas, spirulina powder, those delicious chickpea chips that were buy-one-get-one—how was she supposed to just walk past that—spinach, tofu, zucchini noodles, salmon fillets—

And she nearly drops it all when she spots him. Dark hair, dark eyes.

She stalls out, puttering to a halt. He’s reaching into the frozen meats section, rifling through the various cold cuts. She’d recognize the yawn of his back anywhere, the slope of that broad plane— his arms too, how his tricep cuts across the tawny gold. The shapes they can make.

The positions they can bend her into.

Maybe it’s best if she just turns around now, sneaks away, pretends like none of this ever happened—she could do that. That would be easy—the easier of the two options, to be sure, because the alternative sounds terrifying and messy, and maybe if she just backs up nice and slow—

Din wheels his cart forwards and glances up. Shit.

He’s not sure what he’s even looking at at first. His feet slow, and there’s a groove creased into his forehead, brow ticking down. She’s here— right here in front of him. How can she be here? How can she be anywhere but where he knows her best—knows her at all? Inside that room, woven limbs and sweaty skin on glossed wood floors. How can she be here—outside that sacred space—in his fucking grocery store?

They stare at each other. She breaks first.

“Hi,” she mumbles out, beguiling.

“Hey,” Din responds, gruffer than he means.

“Hi,” she says again, pressing her lips together to hide a smile.

A grin tugs at him too, but he tampers it; they let a silent, pregnant beat pass between them and then—

“What are you doing he-“ “Have you been here befo-“

They’re speaking over each other—nervous and out of step—and they share a huffed chuckle. They’ve never been this before. They’ve always been physical and brash and bold and they’ve never needed words—they’ve shown each other exactly what they meant and what they wanted through touch—and now, when they need them most, they’re at a loss.

“Just getting some supplies,” she answers him with a shrug, causing one of her many parcels to slip from the precarious tower she’s constructed, and Din, ever agile, catches it before it strays too far.

“My hero,” she quips dryly, gratefully, as he carefully places the package of tofu on top of the heap. He makes a face, wrinkling his nose. “Is that stuff any good?”

“It’s an acquired taste,” she smirks.

He’s closer to her now, less than an arm’s length away, and Din’s eyes flit to the fading mark at the swallow of her neck, peeking up from the collar of her shirt— the mark he left there just days prior, when she ground down on him, supple frame speared by his cock, rocking frantic and needy up and down on him, whimpering hushed noises into the empty studio. His hand splayed the width of her back, cradling her to him as she rode Din, stretching around him fucking perfectly.

“Fuck, this pussy takes me so well,” he seethed through a clenched jaw, her breasts rutting against his chest with each bounce of her hips. He growled. “You’re so - shit - you’re tight-”

Din gave her ass a sharp smack before pawing at it, grabbing a fistful of the flesh there and she moaned— she fucking moaned, depraved and oaky, and knocked her head back, lips falling open and eyes rolling shut. Din groaned at the sight—this woman, this fucking thorn in his goddamn side—sheathed around him, writhing as he fucked up into her—and she had the audacity to moan like that.

“You like that?” He slapped her ass again and she whimpered, clawing at him, tangling her fingers into his hair, nails scraping over his scalp. He had to resist the urge to shudder—snapping his mouth tight around a whine.

Normally, she’d meet him with some sort of resistance. She was cheeky and smarmy and they both knew it—it’s a game they played—perfectly balanced, perfectly opposed. But she couldn’t help it—she was too far gone, too fucked out, and the words unspooled from her lips like yarn.

“Yes-yes—fuck, Din- please.”

That earned her another swift crack, the pillowed flesh prickling red from the sting of his palm, and it tore a guttural sound out of her, wrecking through her pretty throat. “God, you’re a filthy little thing. So f-fucking filthy for me-“

He ripped her orgasm out of her, his fingers snaked between their bodies, furiously working at her clit in tight, wet circles. It felt like a punch to his gut, as her pussy clamped down around him and gushed.

When he finally came, spilling into her slicked cunt, he had to bite down on her neck just to keep from fucking shouting.

He tears his gaze off the bruise, returning to her face—and it’s hardly any better. The corner of her mouth has turned up, just barely, the whisper of it wry and aching. That look—that infuriating, debilitating glint in her eyes—has settled and it makes his cock twitch against his jeans.

“Having a barbecue?” she asks, nodding to his cart, the beer and buns and patties there.

He clears his throat, “Something like that.”

Fenn insisted on it—’I’m not wasting the perfect weather. We’re all doing something, whether you like it or not’— He could only fight her on it for so long. Lesser men have tried and failed, and he knew it best to quit while he was ahead.

“Sounds fun. It’s supposed to be a beautiful weekend.”

“Yeah, so I hear.” Din has to fight the roll of his eyes.

The spell had been broken. They’d spirited themselves away—lying to each other and themselves—as if their tryst existed above consequence, above ramification—like they weren’t even real people. Just ideas, ideas they’d fuck and then suddenly and conveniently vanish—out of sight, out of mind; would disappear as the sun that set on them, blurring lines into the dark.

But he sees her here, clumsy willow arms and cotton tee and cut-off shorts and those beautiful fucking legs he loves wrapped around him so much, and she’s glowing despite the ugly fluorescent sheen cast up from the linoleum tile and—

It’s different. She’s different. Fuller. He knows her now—like this. And he can’t unknow her.

His throat bobs. Maybe he should ask her if she’s free. If she’s got plans. Maybe—

“I’ll see you on Wednesday then,” she says, something unreadable in her voice.

Din swallows. He nods. “Wednesday.”

Oh fuck, he likes her.

She tips her head to him, grinning something small, and shuffles off towards the register.

He watches her go, eyes following as she rounds a corner and slips away. She can feel them on her, his eyes, boring into her backside—all the way to her car, through the town, up to her driveway, into her kitchen where she cupboards her groceries—she feels him, the heavy heat of him, melting against her spine.

@djarinsbeskar @frannyzooey @pedros-mustache

#yoga!din #I am unwell #good bye #modern!din #din djarin smut #mando smut #I ain’t sorry #din djarin x female oc #mandalorian smut #thirsty thursday #amirite

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kur0m1bab3 · 4 years ago

Text

Star Treatment

SunaxBlackFem!reader

3rd person POV

Cw: tooth rotting fluff

Edited

suna grinned cheekily as he ran down the wet pavement. Hair carelessly tossing in the wind hand wrapped firmly around y/n's hand.

Giggles spilled from y/n's lips as she laughed up at the sky, basking in the essence of the damp midnight air.

Nights like this were the best. Carelessly running around the city watching the lights twinkle and sparkle against the dark canvas of the night sky, like mindless teenagers.

"AHHH SUNANO" Y/n screamed,giggling madly as suna picked her up slinging her over his shoulder spinning her around.

The cold wet winter air nipped y/n's skin as her sweet laughter filled the air.

suna bit his slightly swollen lip, akin from the constant pecks or short burst of passionate kisses he'd been given throughout the night, laughing loudly as he held her waist tight.

"Come on lets have some fun" suna whispered into the ear of his girlfriend as he gently set her down holding her waist like it was the most delicate fine china.

Y/n smiled nodding as suna stared at her for a minute. She never failed to take his breath away constantly. He bit his lip softly as he cupped her face bringing her closer.

He quickly closed the space in between them as his lips hovered over hers. Both of their breathing labored, as y/n gripped the sleeves of his sweatshirt hard as she anticipated the passion filled kiss.

suna leaned in ever so slightly, but still not enough for their lips to touch as, a ghost of a smile made its way into the dark haired boys lips.

"You'll forever and always be my baby.....I love you" he whispered before kissing her softly.

It was a soft yet passionate kiss that let out every emotion they had for each other out.

Pure unadulterated raw love. Something rare you'd find in a couple so young,But their emotions were so raw you couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the plethora of it.

Y/n began to pull away from the kiss only for suna to gently grab the back of her head to pull her in closer.

"Not done yet" he mumbled against her lips as y/n giggled as the pair finally pulled away.

Hearts pounding , lips swollen and breathing heavily the couple stood staring at each other.

suna grabbed y/n's hand as they began to walk towards the 7/11 down the street.

They walked hand in hand into the tiny convenience store as suna grabbed a buggy. Y/n quickly hopped into the buggy as suna smiled down at her as he began to run down the isle throwing every junk food insight in the buggy.

Y/n stuck her arms out in the isles causing any food that came in contact with her hands to fall into the buggy.

childish giggles could be heard from the couple as they headed towards the freezer section.

suna quickly grabbed some vanilla ice cream, a bag of marshmallows and jar of maraschino cherries and smiled. That was their "couple ice cream" as they liked to call. A trademark for the two of them.

They made it up to the register junk food in tow as Y/N clutched the ice cream and its ingredients up to the register.

They quickly paid for their items as they ran out of the convenience store with the buggy.

suna ran down the hill beside the 7/11 with Y/N in the buggy screaming to the top of her lungs in joy as suna screamed carelessly riding the fast moving buggy.

suna quickly hopped off the buggy as the buggy began to get closer and closer to the river at the end of the street. suna grabbed the buggy causing it to come to a screeching halt making y/n laugh hysterically.

suna grabbed her, taking her out of the buggy as he grabbed her face,softly kissing her.

They made their way to the river.the first place they had their first kiss.it was their couple hideout.

suna began to push the buggy towards their little hideout. A moss covered rock that had all kinds of flowers surrounding it.

Cliché I know but they loved it. suna quickly grabbed a blanket out of his backpack laying it on the ground as he grabbed y/n putting her in his lap.

Y/n opened the tub of semi melted ice cream as she began to pour the marshmallows and cherries on it.

suna wrapped his arms securely around y/n as he watched her.he smiled softly kissing her neck softly causing her to giggle as she grabbed a spoon digging in.

suna chuckled as he tapped her cheek softly.

"You gonna share?"he asked, pouting softly causing y/n smile. She dipped him some ice cream shoving the spoon in his mouth making suna laugh.

They took turns feeding each other. Before long the ice cream was gone and so was about 90% of the snacks they bought.

suna packed up the rest of the food and blanket in his book bag as he helped y/n up grabbing her hand as they began to make their way up the hill.

At the top of the hill the city was just as lively as before.bright lights, noisy cars, just as before.

Y/n looked around at the city as she strolled beside suna.hands entwined in an embrace.

Y/n stopped momentarily as she tugged on sunas sleeve softly.

"Baby....look" she said softly pointing. suna stopped as he turned around to see what she was looking at.

A smirk started to spread across his face as he nodded.

"You wanna go?" He asked shoving a hand into his pocket as he fiddled with the ring on her finger as a smile spread across y/n's face as she nodded.

"Yeah" she said as they began to walk towards the record shop hand in hand.they made it to the record shop. The shop was illuminated in an reddish orange tint as the soft sound of an arctic monkeys album played.

Ironically it was their couple song.

'Star treatment'

suna smirked as he grabbed one of

y/n's hand as the other rested on her waist.

"May I have this dance?" He asked as she nodded softly. suna began to rock side to side with her.

He began to admire everything about her. Her darker skin and the way it contrasted against his milky white skin.

The way her hair framed her face perfectly making her look ethereally beautiful.

The way her lips naturally pouted or the way her eyes sparkle every time he looked at her.

He loved everything about her and so much more.she was a dream come true to him.

'Soon baby...soon...you'll be my wife'

He thought to himself as he smiled down at his soon to be fiancé.

Y/n looked at suna as she felt her heart stop.he never failed to take her breath away every time she set her eyes on him.

The way he walked the way he smiled or the way he talked. He was perfect. Every time she looked at him she felt as though she was falling in love with him all over again.

They slowly began to look at each other as suna but his lip raising an eyebrow.

"I know I'm cute but you don't have to stare" He snickered as y/n rolled her eyes smiling.

"Mhmnn dream on baby" she said making him let out a loud laugh making y/n's hear skip a beat.

"You love me though" he said placing a hand on her cheek smiling as she nodded.

"With all my heart" she smiled as a bright blush appeared on sunas face making him close his eyes taking a deep breath as he hid his face in the crook of her neck.

"Baby stopppp" he whines softly making her giggle as she ran her fingers through his hair.

"I'm sorry babe I just can't help how I feel" she joked making suna laugh as he lifted his head back up to look at her.

"You're so fucking beautiful" he whispered staring at her as y/n turned her face away as she felt her cheeks began to grow hot.

"And so are you" she said quietly looking back at suna to see him staring intently at her.

He stood up straight as he looked down at her a smirk playing on his face. He grabbed her chin softly as he pulled her face to his.

"Kiss me pretty girl" he whispered as

y/n smiled pressing her lips against his.

This kiss wasn't like the playful ones earlier in the night. This kiss was a kiss. The kiss that basically told suna she was his forever and always. It held so much raw emotion, suna began to get emotional himself as he pulled away.

"God....you're my baby..." he whispered as he looked at y/n.

He stuck out his pinky finger as he wrapped it around hers.

"You're mine....forever.."

He said.

"And always" y/n finished as she smiled up at him.

She loved this.the way he treated her everything.she thought only celebrities could be treated like this.

But in the end she got it.

'The star treatment'

A/N: I swear this has been written for the longest fucking time🧍🏾‍♀️aNYWAYS if you have a Headcanon request, or a imagine request feel free to ask, I’m still getting in the groove of using tumblr, so I don’t have any rules set up atm, but I’m very open minded into writing anything so just lmk. I hope you guys liked this, it isn’t my best but I plan on having some other stuff up soon❤️

#anime x black!reader #haikyuu!! x black reader #black reader #haikyuu!! x poc! reader #hq suna #suna fluff #suna rintarou #suna x reader #suna x black reader

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tarithenurse · 4 years ago

Text

Spark - 16

Fandom: Enn Enn no Shouboutai / Fire Force. Pairing: Shinmon Benimaru x fem!reader. Content: Scheming, angst, pining, someone’s not good at dealing with a variety of feelings. Oh! It’s almost a tradition in this so no proofing. A/N: So...I should’ve been asleep and trying to rearrange my sleep cycle after a weekend of nightshifts, but meh! Much better to get this down in words. Feel free to ASK (or reblog) for tag – in fact: always reblog. Thanks to those who have already <3

16. Inferno

... Benimaru ...

The route might be different than the one [Y/N] had followed earlier, but the determination to reach the destination is just as great. Just short of running, Benimaru hurries down the street, takes a left down the alley, and finally two rights before he has to stop and wait for an inhabitant to let him in.

This is taking too long. I shou-

The door is opened by Mr. Ozaka who isn’t given a chance to greet the captain properly before the young man has rushed past, barely taking time to ditch the boots (not that it reduces the thundering noise as he races up the stairs) - Benimaru knows exactly where to go: he insisted on personally inspecting each and every single hiding place to make sure it would be safe enough.

And there’s the futon, easy to push aside. Must be nearly suffocating under there! It bounces off the wall from the force and he ignores as it plops against his skull, focusing instead on jamming a handful of fingertips into the groove along the floorboard and lift it enough to ensure better purchase. A section of the floor lifts neatly revealing the cramped hiding hole and...

“WHERE is she?!” Benimaru demands from the meek homeowner.

... Reader ...

You’re still not entirely sure you won’t get in trouble (actually, knowing Shinmon and his grumpiness: you’re screwed), but you’ve learned not to argue with the old woman who finally seems to be pleased with the situation.

“This is my favourite tea, dear,” O-bāchan smiles as she readies the leaves and waits for the water to reach the perfect temperature.

When she first pulled you out of the hiding hole (she’s surprisingly strong!), she had tutted at the sight and refused to listen to explanations or excuses while ushering you along. Then she’d drawn a bath for you (which had been lovely considering the sweat from the training and then the dust) and laid out a clean yukata to wear. Once you were re-freshened, she’d prepared a light meal for the two of you.

“Are you sure you don’t want me t-”

“Don’t you dare,” once more, her voice grows sharp as a harpy’s, “you’re my guest.”

You don’t dare point out that a guest normally has a choice of whether or not to go to someone’s home. Instead, you dutifully sit, knees and shins digging into the little cushion as you groan mentally at the constricting cotton from the protonationalistic outfit. You’ve seen a lot of women wear it around in Asakusa. It does sort of look pretty in the same impractical way the yellow sundress you’ve inherited does – the difference there being that the latter still allows free movement. And that’s the thing: for too long, you’ve had to think smart to get by on your own and clothes were meant to be practical; something that helps a person survive.

“Here you go,” O-bāchan hands you a cup of tea with a smile just as there’s a loud knocking on the door.

Are they still searching? Is the first panicked thought shooting through your head and you can’t help but wince as the banging is repeated.

“Oï-oï, such impatience. Excuse me for a moment, sweetie, and do try one of the cookies.” Your host is perfectly unfazed as she clambers to her feet (a few muttered groans proving her age) and shuts the door upon leaving the room.

You don’t taste the baked goods – don’t even have the wherewithal to put down the cup of tea as you listen for the muted sounds of voices. Oh...I know that one.

A quick glance around cements what you already knew: there’s only one way in and out. It’s tempting to grab the roll of dirty clothes and try to make a dash for it. Perhaps you can escape to another room and wait there until the hallway’s clear? You scrap the idea right away, resigning yourself to the inevitable.

At least O-bāchan’s delighted chatting warns you before the door slides open, revealing her and a blank-faced Shinmon. No, not blank. There’s a tick in his jaw and his eyes narrow the second he spots you sitting at the neatly laden table. He’s still wearing the same clothes as when you were sparring that very morning (something that feels like ages ago), stale sweat momentarily overpowering the more pleasant fragrances as he too is ushered to take a place. Right next to you.

“I’ll warm bathwater for you, my lad,” Asakusa’s granny chirps.

“No need, we won’t be staying long.” It’s border-lining a growl, and her pointed gaze makes him add, “Thank you, though.”

“Well...fine...” Something is muttered under her breath that neither of you dare ask about. “I guess I’ll find a new cup for myself. [Y/N], be a good girl and pour Waka some tea.”

You do as she says and rush to free your hands, both because you’ve already learned there’s no sense in refusing her but mainly to do something, anything, to keep the awkward silence at bay. The pot trembles slightly as you fill the blue porcelain cup, and it’s much too loud as you replace it in the holder above the little candle.

...

O-bāchan had done most of the talking during the rest of you visit, but despite the unwillingness of her guests, she still seemed mighty pleased with herself when she waved goodbye. While the tea had warmed your belly and the sweets had made you think of happier days...well, nothing lasted long enough to tide you all the way back to Company Seven’s station.

Walking to your room with too short steps, bare feet silent on the wooden planks, you’re uncomfortable aware of Benimaru following you a few steps behind (probably on his way to the showers or his own room). Your fingertips greedily curl around the etched slit of the door, knowing that soon you’ll be in your own little sanctuary. Alone.

“[Y/N].”

You freeze, loath to turn around because you know he’s about to chew you out. “Shinmon.”

“I told you to stay hidden until I came for you.”

Sorry. “I know, but have you tried arguing with her? The old bidd-”

“Shut up. When you weren’t there...all I could think was...if they’d...” his voice is raw as he struggles with the words.

Too curious for your own good, you turn and find the normally stoic captain in a state you never expected. Hands flexing as his side and shoulders tense. His shaggy hair covering most of his face because he’s looking down as if searching for the root to the frustration that’s rolling off of him. He’s not angry? Or maybe he is but that’s not what’s prevalent right this instant. As if feeling your gaze, he lifts his face and allows your eyes to meet and there, just for a millisecond, there’s a flicker of pain and fear.

Then it’s gone.

... Benimaru ...

Ever since Mamoru had warned about the cops, it had either felt as if a fire was searing everything inside the captain’s chest or the sharpness of ice had pierced every organ there. No in between until he had finally stepped in and seen the woman – the source of all the trouble – sitting daintily and sipping tea. For a moment all he had felt was weightlessness. Pretty as the flowers on the yukata – obviously a borrowed item which his brain took time to comment that she ought to own instead – and apparently unharmed, [Y/N] somehow mellowed out the extremes battling inside him.

Now the internal storm is back and it’s all he can do to contain it.

“If they’d -” he bites back the urge to say what he wants, mentally stomps out the burning urge to grab the woman to make sure she really still is there. It’s not just hold her hand or grab her arm but a thirst for her lips and her body’s response if he were to melt into her.

Sensing [Y/N]’s movement, he does wrangles it all into submission by reminding himself that despite appreciating the safety provided by the “neighbourhood watch” she has made it clear as sunshine that she shuns him. Konro, the twins, hell even most of the guys are honoured with the friendship...but not Benimaru. Well, I’m still going to keep you safe.

“They wouldn’t be as forgiving or hospitable as we’ve been,” he grinds out before marching away.

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ioncewaspoison-ivy · 4 years ago

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I Wanna Dance With Somebody Pt. 1 (Charlie Gillespie x fem! reader)

Author: Alex / @ioncewaspoison-ivy

Summary: charlie gillespie x fem! reader; dancer/dance teacher au. this is a working idea—as in i’m not totally clear on the direction it would take—that was in my head that i just had to write down. probably gonna be a part two, or i’ll just delete it. takes place in vancouver during rehearsals/filming.

Word Count: 1.3k+

Warnings: none that i can think of other than i wrote this in two sittings and didn’t beta it.

You were so concentrated on working through this one sequence of choreo that you didn’t even look up when you heard what sounded like several people come through the door.

It was slow time on the weekend, so you figured it was just some students looking to see if they could snag a studio for some extra practice.

You were so concentrated that the three pairs of eyes now looking at you didn’t even register.

It wasn’t until Zach, the manager of the studio, walked through the door of Studio A that your bubble of concentration burst.

It only took one look at the expression on his face to realize that your peaceful studio time was gonna be cut short.

“I hate to do this to you, Y/N, because I know you’re trying to get through this choreo, but could you possibly use one of the smaller studios the rest of the time? I’ll clear someone else out if I have to,” said Zach, pleading evident in his voice.

“Yeah, I guess,” you replied. “Can I ask why?”

“Kenny Ortega is working on some new Netflix show that’s clearly filming in Vancouver and they had some electrical accident happen at their space so they need a place to rehearse.”

“Wow. That’s cool I guess. Don’t know how they found us though.”

“Me either, but Kenny freakin’ Ortega!” Zach, responded, clearly trying not to squeal.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, smiling and rolling your eyes at your friend’s excitement.

You both turned to see several pairs of eyes now staring at you.

“I’ll take that as my cue to leave,” you said, slipping off your shoes and gathering up your stuff. “Is studio C okay?”

“Yeah,” Zach said, throwing you a key.

You caught it, and walked down the hall past the crowd of people to your destination. You again failed to noticed three pairs of eyes following you.

You had just settled into a groove again when there was a knock on the door.

“Zach I swear to god,” you started, turning around and noticing he wasn’t alone. A man who you guessed to be Kenny Ortega was standing out in the hall behind him.

“Yeah yeah I know, but, you see, the dancers clearly didn’t get the memo about the floors having been polished recently, and one of them twisted their ankle and they need a stand in and they asked me if there was anyone around,” Zach said, all in one breath.

“Slow down there buddy,” you said, laughing.

“You have to do it, Y/N” Zach replied. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

“You know that hasn’t been my thing for a long time now,” you whispered back.

“It wouldn’t be for too long, I promise, but I can’t continue rehearsing this dance one short,” Mr. Ortega piped in.

You smiled and nodded at him, and turned to shoot a “you’re lucky I’m too nice to kill you right now” glare at Zach. Your friend simply beamed back at you.

You slipped into sneakers and followed Zach and Mr. Ortega back to Studio A. On your way there you noticed a girl and a boy practicing a duet in Studio B.

You walked into Studio A, and Mr. Ortega called out for two people named Tori and Savannah.

Two girls turned their heads in response from where they were stretching on the floor.

“This is Y/N. She’s gonna help us out by standing in for Sofia while she’s getting her ankle looked at.”

The two girls greeted you, and then turned to their director for instructions.

“Will you two, along with Paul while we have him, teach her the section that we’re working on starting to incorporate Owen into?”

A blonde guy sitting against the mirror at the front of the studio perked up at that. You also noticed the brunette sitting next to him, who was still looking at his phone.

“Yeah sure,” the brunette, Savannah, said, leading you to a spot on the floor.

You noticed her wearing a shirt that said Julie and the Phantoms on it and assumed that must be the name of the show.

“‘All Eyes On Me’ ladies let’s go,” said the guy introduced as Paul said, turning everyone’s attention to the front of the room.

Once you got a feel for things, you picked up on the choreography pretty quickly.

After about an hour of rehearsing with just the girls, a five minute break was called.

“When we come back, it’s Owen’s time to shine,” Paul said, waggling his eyebrows at the blonde sitting at the front.

“You ready for this Owen?” you heard Savannah call teasingly.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” the guy, Owen, said back.

As you grabbed a sip of water and stretched out your legs, Owen and the other guy who had been sitting with him came up to you.

“Hey Y/N, we didn’t get to formally meet before rehearsal started, but I’m Owen. I play Alex on the show.”

You took the hand he held out to you.

“And I’m Jeremy. I play Reggie. Thanks for helping us out today. Sorry if we pulled you away from something important.”

You shook Jeremy’s hand too.

“Yes, thank you” Owen echoed. “I’m not much of dancer but it would’ve made it even more confusing to do it without the right number of people.”

“No problem,” you said, giving them a small smile. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

“Alrighty people that’s 5,” Paul called, the sound of a phone timer going off accompanying him.

Despite not being one of the actual dancers, you could feel the number starting to coming together based on the looks that the director and choreographer gave the group as the day went on.

At one point, the guy and girl who had been rehearsing something separately slipped into watch.

He was cute, real cute, you thought briefly, before squashing that thought down. You could feel him watching you, but you were able to concentrate.

At around 6pm, Paul called time. “Go home and get some rest some rest because we’ll be back to finish this off tomorrow.”

“Back tomorrow?” you said to yourself, groaning internally. So much for having the studio to yourself.

You gathered up your stuff and started to file out of the studio after everyone else, getting stopped by some people who thanked you again, including Paul and Mr. Ortega.

Before you could get out the door, the boy and girl who had been watching from the back stopped you.

“Hey, Y/N. I’m Charlie. We didn’t get to meet earlier because I was off rehearsing a different number. From what I saw though you looked good out there. Thanks for helping out.”

“Oh it was no problem,” you said, turning your attention to the girl in an attempt not to blush.

“I’m Madison. And yeah, you seemed to fit right in. We appreciate the help. Owen can be hopeless.”

“Hey!” Owen called out indignantly.

“Am I wrong?” Madison replied, sass dripping from her words.

“Well….no,” Owen said, turning his attention back to his phone.

“Well, we’ll see you tomorrow?” Charlie said, almost sounding inquisitive.

“Yeah I’ll probably be here,” you said.

Charlie gave you a big smile before jogging to catch up with his castmates.

You turned around to see Zach giving you a knowing look.

“Sooo how was it?” he asked.

“It was actually kind of fun,” you begrudgingly admitted.

“Be moody all you want but it sure earned us a nice payday plus money for costumes potentially,” Zach said in a sing song voice. “Oh, and how about that Charlie guy?”

“I’m leaving now,” you said, dumping the studio keys on the counter before walking out the door.

Later that night, back at your apartment, you may have spent a decent chunk of time googling the show, and specifically Charlie, but nobody needed to know.

Little did you know Charlie was doing the same thing back at his and Owen’s place.

#charlie gillespie #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #charlie gillespie imagine #jatp #jatp fanfic

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thekyraalexandriablog · 4 years ago

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Kyra’s Top Albums of 2020 🎧

Despite a tragically hectic year, some of my favorite artists managed to release some phenomenal projects in 2020. Here are my top picks (in no particular order):

Girl Eats Sun—Hope Tala • R&B

Tala’s third EP is a picnic on a Spring evening—breezy and warm. I absolutely adored her first two projects, so it’s been a joy hearing how she’s continued to develop her unique style. On Girl Eats Sun, she masterfully serenades you through the different phases of love from dizzying happiness to aching longing. The little things are what elevate this project, from the strings on the wistful Easy to Love Me to Sky’s high-pitched, flowy vocals on the chorus of Mulholland, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention my special appreciation for when Tala’s pitch dips and she’s in that pleasant moment between rapping and singing—hello verse two of All My Girls Like to Fight. Despite the title, Tala’s latest project brings the sunshine out for me every time I listen.

Ungodly Hour—Chloe x Halle • R&B

If you somehow managed to miss Chloe x Halle being the darlings of R&B this year, then please allow me to be your introduction to one of 2020’s few must-listen albums of the year. There’s no other way to describe Ungodly Hour than as a treat for R&B fans: from the variety of tempos (there’s the breathtakingly beautiful ballad Wonder What She Thinks of Me as well as the certified party bop Do It), to the timely range of topics from relationships to self-love (the lyric “I had to learn to love me lately” felt especially pertinent in a year without the usual social distractions); the album takes you on a ride. And of course, the whole time you’re wrapped in the surreal pleasure of their talent for unique harmonizations. If you’ve yet to queue this project on your streaming account, do it.

Holy Cow—All Cows Eat Grass • Electronic

Now here’s a group I’ve missed! ACEG projects always excel at layering dreamy synths with smooth beats, and Holy Cow fits right into the herd. One of their slower projects, tracks like Fly and Pillow Talk would easily fit into a summertime playlist with their simple, fun melodies. There’s also great storytelling in the lyrics of this project from the palpable excitement of the VIP section of a nightclub on About Us to the visceral shock of hearing “thank you” in response to “I love you” in a complicated relationship on Pretty Ladies—ouch. There are so many melodic gems on this 35-minute project; welcome to the pasture.

Ice Cream Clones—ROMderful • R&B

I must admit I was late to the party that is ROMderful’s music. I first encountered ROM last year via Twitter where he would post short clips of miniature duplicates of himself playing the various instruments of the track; the full videos can often be viewed on his YouTube channel. Since then, I’ve been enjoying the pleasant rabbit hole that is his Soundcloud (he’s had releases on Soulection) and production credits (he’s worked with artists like DUCKWRTH and Rayana Jay). A talented multi-instrumentalist, ROM’s music is full of fun sounds and soulful melodies, and his social media presence is just as joyful (his current Twitter name is ROMderTHICC). This project is full of very short tracks with infectious hooks. It’s a quick listen, but one I’ve returned to often.

Rumble Pack—Button • R&B

Button is the collaborative union of Allen Love and Bobby Earth—one of my absolute favorite independent R&B artists, and the reason I gave this project a listen. I’m very glad I did. Rumble Pack is brilliantly bizarre: funky synths, blazing features, all interspersed with random gaming commentary. Fans of The Jet Age of Tomorrow (Pyramid Vritra and the Internet’s Matt Martians) and ROMderful (who has a Rumble Pack feature) will surely appreciate the groovy eccentricity of this one. Thanks to this fun, soulful project, I’ve decided I may be a video game fan after all.

Cosmic Lips—Momocurly • Smooth Jazz

If the phrase ‘easy, breezy, beautiful’ were an album, this would be it! Momocurly is Japanese pianist and vocalist Momo Otani and French guitarist Christophe Pannekoucke. Together the two crafted an exquisitely mellow medley of melodies. Cosmic Lips is everything I enjoy in jazz: relaxing, mid-tempo and smooth. Otani’s voice is unique, high and light, and she glides over the tracks like Pannekoucke’s guitar. This project transports, it’s otherworldly.

with HER - EP—Crush • K*R&B

Because I believe Crush is one of the most talented R&B crooners making music right now, I was completely unsurprised to find that his latest project is smooth and soulful. Only five tracks, it’s a short one, and the concept is incredibly cute—each track is a duet with a different woman vocalist comprising a project of unique love ballads. The different vocalists mean each track has a unique sound and lyrically the project is full of heart-warming quotables and seductive one-liners. with HER is a project to fall in love to.

DPR ARCHIVES—DPR Live, DPR Ian, & DPR Cream • K*Rap/K*R&B

Ahh DPR, the eye candy that makes ear candy. DPR, initialism for Dream Perfect Regime, a South Korea-based art collective, blessed fans with this collection of both new and previously released tracks from DPR Live, DPR Ian, and DPR Cream. Though they collaborate extensively, each artist has a distinct sound that diversifies the collection overall—where I would call DPR Ian a pop artist, I’d call DPR Live a Rap/R&B artist, and then there’s DPR Cream whose contributions are purely instrumentals ranging from smooth and R&B-tinged to piano solos. For fans or those dipping their toes in for the first time, the ARCHIVES offer much to enjoy. (Also watch some DPR videos if you haven’t yet, both the men and the art are exceedingly visually pleasing.)

Peace Is Not a Dream—Senpu & ROMderful • R&B

And ROM makes another appearance! This time on a collaborative project—he has quite a few and I’ve enjoyed them all so far. Senpu, who I am less familiar with, contributes production and vocals to this project. Unlike Ice Cream Clones, these tracks feel more fully fledged out, with a verse or two in addition to the chorus. Between the memorable melodies and vocal harmonizations this project is certainly dreamy.

Rare Changes—Mayer Hawthorne • Soul

If you know anything about me, you know Hawthorne is one of my favorite blue-eyed soul artists, and Rare Changes is a lovely retro addition to his catalog. This album is from the seventies, I’m convinced: from the mid-tempo disco grooves to the doo-wop style background vocals. Rare Changes demonstrates Hawthorne’s adeptness at balancing nostalgia with the best parts of modern music, queue this one for a mellow night of slow dancing and slow sipping.

Honorable Mentions (there’s some bops here, but overall the project didn’t move me):

It Is What It Is—Thundercat • Funk

Whimsical & free-flowing as is his style; lyrically musing & haunting, the last track is an absolute clincher to the project.

The Slow Rush—Tame Impala • Alternative

If age-ripened weariness had a soundtrack you could bop to at a festival; Breathe Deeper instantly brings a smile to my face.

Shabrang—Sevdaliza • Alternative

Sevdaliza is one of the few artists who consistently leaves me breathless—her art is daring, thought-provoking, and absurdly beautiful. Shabrang is no different in its presentation and lyricism, though it is musically more traditional than I might expect.

Sin Miedo—Kali Uchis • Reggaeton

I already think Spanish is a beautiful language but Kali just makes it even more so. I’m not the biggest fan of reggaeton (I’m sorry to say it starts to sound repetitive to me after awhile) but the slower songs on this project are lovely: R&B melodies with her breathy, unique vocals. I definitely enjoyed the listen!

SLINGBAUM ONE—Slingbaum • Experimental Jazz

Voyage-19—Bilal x HighBreedMusic • Experimental Jazz

For fans of experimental jazz, get into SLINGBAUM ONE and Voyage-19, both projects are odd in the best sense: more about vibes and transitions than the traditionally cohesive album—I bought both and I’m still enjoying exploring them.

SAWAYAMA—Rina Sawayama • Pop

Future Nostalgia—Dua Lipa • Pop

Pure pop is not my usual fare, but SAWAYAMA, a fun, dance project is truly special—it is genre melting and Rina’s strong voice transforms to expertly complement each new vibe. Also, PLEASE watch the video for XS, it was one of the few things that energized me this year. And then there’s Future Nostalgia, a fun disco-inspired project. Only a couple of the bass lines & melodies caught my ear, but the visual/aesthetic roll out was spectacular.

The Album—Teyana Taylor • R&B

This was my first time sitting down to try a full Taylor project, and while I overall found the tracks repetitive, The Album has some bass lines I enjoyed and Taylor’s voice is beautiful.

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parkers-gal · 4 years ago

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cups

boomerang pt. iii

wc: 2k

warnings: very detailed anxiety attack

There’s two faucets, each with a cup under, catching the liquids. There’s one that flows consistently, one she drinks out of on the daily. The other comes out in drips, in which she sips from the cup rarely. Now, the rare cup is overflowing, so much that she can’t drink all of it. She’s drunk on it now, and she’s not sure where the end or the start is anymore. The other cup has stopped flowing all together. The once consistent flow that kept her thriving and hydrated was now barren and dry.

One would complain about how different the two beverages taste, one being bitter and sour and tart, the other sweet and honeyed and enjoyable. But not her. Maybe the whole point of having both is to keep them balanced. Maybe that’s where the fault line is, where the recurring problem always starts from. Maybe nobody is ever supposed to have too much of one beverage; perhaps it needs to be even, balanced, steady. One thing’s for sure, you’re always supposed to have both; never neither.

Y/N’s in a pickle. Out of the two of them, she wasn’t the actor. But now, pretending is her main task; something she must do everyday just to survive to the next. It starts at her friends house, the place she’d ran off to when things went crumbling down. To any outsider, the split wasn’t as drastic as others, though the pair didn’t exactly end on great terms, one would expect both to hold no grudges or remain satisfied. When they said the game of love was a battlefield, nobody ever told them it would be war.

She’s sitting on the floor in the middle of the living room. Despite the name, the room is anything but alive. It’s dead and cold and dull and unwelcoming. The welcome mat outside could even be considered click-bait, in Y/N’s opinion. But nobody had ever cared about Y/N’s opinions. Or her feelings. Or her thoughts or struggles or ideas or wishes. Because she’s the nurturer, the person other people turn to when they want to show insights of their lives. Y/N had never gotten the opportunity to do the same.

At one point, though, she thought she had found the person she could do that to. But of course, things went crashing down, the foundation crumbling and cracking until piles of rubble and concrete were left, dust wafting through the air and making her lungs burn.

Three weeks have passed, and by the middle of the fourth week, Harrison had told her about his accident with the car. She wanted to be there – as the person who sat with him in the ambulance, or the person who was driving the car – she wasn’t sure, but she knew she wanted to be there. She almost drove to the hospital; the keys were in her hand and the door was opened, but she had ultimately decided that he didn’t want her like he used to.

The heart does a lot to a human. Love is like blood, the source of living and anyone’s lifeline; you need it to survive, the heart needs it. That’s why the heart pumps it 24/7, flushes it through the body and asks the lungs for continuous support in doing so. Y/N used to be breathing heavily, panting as the love ran through her veins and pumped her heart, filling her soul and her skeleton. Now, she was lying on the floor in an empty void, bleeding out the love that once kept her alive. It’s ironic, how the thing you need is also the thing that gets you killed.

“Get up,” Aisha nudges Y/N with her foot. “get off the floor for once.”

Groaning, Y/N sat up, head rush flooding her skull as she rolled her eyes. “What?” she whined.

“Let’s go out tonight.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes,” Aisha cuts her short, standing up and reaching for Y/N’s hands to help her stand too. “You said you would; I’ve already promised the gang we’d be there.”

“Fine,” she grumbles, standing up and patting her thighs for any stray hairs or dirt.

“Go shower,” Aisha nudges her in the direction of the bathroom. “We can get ready on time for once.”

Y/N laughs with a nod, walking towards her room. Once her back is turned, the smile drops from her face and her hands cover her face as she rubs. Hopefully, makeup would cover up the luggage her eyes carry under them.

She’s wearing heels and an off-the-shoulder-top dress that’s shorter than anything she owns. Aisha called it “clubbing material,” when she bought it, so she knew this would suffice for the night and satisfy her friends’ requirements.

“Y/N?!” Aisha calls from the kitchen. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” she yells back. “Let me just grab my purse!”

Opening a drawer to grab her jewelry, she wears a necklace before grabbing her purse. She halts all of a sudden, practically tripping her own self as she looks at the handbag her fingers are encased around.

“Y/-!” Aisha walks through the door, two shot glasses in her hands, but she too stops and takes notice of what Y/N is doing. “Are you… okay?”

Y/N shakes her head wildly, dropping all thoughts as she gives Aisha a smile, reaching for one of the glasses as she leads the way out of the room.

Club hours extend on weekends. Friday’s run all through Saturdays, so the club is pretty wild when they arrive. There’s five of them, each wearing something equally sexy and stunning and powerful. Y/N wishes she could feel all of those things, but she pretends, for now. It’ll do.

“This way!” Jennie calls, grabbing Y/N’s hand as they move to a particular section of the dance floor, some of them already getting into the groove with the beat. Y/N laughs before moving her hips, joining them.

She dances for about fifteen minutes before a certain figure catches her attention. It’s not who she thinks it is, thankfully, but he is wearing a familiar hoodie, one she’s certain she had worn a copy of. The memories flood back quickly, and she stops her movements suddenly, trying to catch her breath.

“You good?” Aisha asks, a hand on the small of her back. Y/N nods, telling her something about needing a glass of water, and Aisha nods, coming with her. Hands linked, they make their way through the crowd of sweaty twenty-something-year-old’s before settling on two stools at the bar counter.

“What’ll it be this time, ladies?” Ciara, the barista, asks.

“Just a bit of h-two-oh,” Aisha says with a laugh, going on about some new store opening down the street. Ciara happily chats back, and Y/N is thankful for the free moment to distract her brain. Before she knows it, she’s sipping out of a glass cup and another figure sits in the vacant seat next to her. The girl – who’s wearing something Y/N would love to buy – is chatting with the fellow she saw earlier. Her perfume is so strong that Y/N can smell it from her spot, and the scent is so familiar that she recognizes it immediately.

Upon the realization, she stands up from the stool hastily, setting the glass on the counter before going back onto the dance floor – a different type of distraction. She doesn’t last long, though, because someone is changing the song for Karaoke Hour, and the runner up is some girl – and the song she’s chosen sends Y/N into a furry of more memories and nostalgia.

Her breaths get short, eyes unable to focus on one particular item, and she’s reaching her hands out for nothing in particular, reaching out because she’s been abandoned for so long.

“Are you alright?” Daniella asks, lightly holding her left arm, one that Y/N had accidentally swung into her stomach.

“What’s happening?” Aisha asks, coming over to the group, abandoning her spot at the bar.

“Y/N,” Daniella tries again.

There’s tears trickling down her face, mascara smudging in the most cliche way. Her breathing has picked up so much she’s practically hyperventilating now, and her heart is beating faster than a 365 GTB Ferrari. Sweat builds on her palms and her underarms, and she nearly trips while stumbling backwards, her heels sabotaging her ankles’ strength.

“Let’s take her out of here,” Aisha shouts over the music, and the four of them attempt to bring her outside of the club. The majority of Y/N’s weight is on the girls around her, and she’s internally grateful they’re not as oblivious as former friends.

They sit her down on a bench, one of them wrapping a jacket around her shoulders as Aisha talks softly to her, sending two of the girls inside to get another glass of water. Y/N gulps half the cup down on her first go, and her breathing calms down after ten minutes.

After five minutes of sitting on the bench in the calmest degree she could manage, Aisha tells the three of them to get the rest of their stuff and pay the tab while she calls for a taxi cab, and Y/N feels guilty for ruining their girls night out.

“We can talk when we get home- if you want, of course,” Aisha assures her.

When Y/N’s certain they’re alone, she rambles. “It was just- so much, the lights and t-the songs and my p-purse and the perfume and ja-jackets-”

“I know, baby, I know,” Aisha coos at her, pulling her into a hug before the rest of the girls come out, and they file into a cab, scents of alcohol lingering on them.

***

When Y/N wakes the next morning, there’s seven missed calls in her notification center. Four are from the girls (about last night), two from a colleague at work, and another from Harry. Unplugging her phone, she clicks on his number, the phone dialing.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice is raspy through the phone, and Y/N has a feeling she just woke him up.

“Hey,” she breathes into the phone. “You called?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Aisha told me about last night; ‘was just checking in.”

“Oh,” Y/N sighs. “Yeah.. I’m okay,” she whispers.

Harry hums in response, and a few beats pass before he speaks again. “Did you hear he punched me?”

“What?” Y/N laughs. “Yeah right-”

“No really. I had to go to the hospital to make sure my jaw wasn’t fractured.”

“Wow.”

“I know- what a fuckin’ twat.”

It’s Y/N’s turn to hum, and Harry just laughs, rubbing his jaw from the remaining aches.

“Are things… bad?” Y/N whispers again, afraid somebody might shame her for being curious, for being worried.

“Worse than they’ve ever been,” Harry says back quietly. “I know you were Tom’s, but everything is different over here. It’s like this piece of our lives is just gone, and everyone has to work around it now.”

Y/N sighs and looks down, phone still to her ear as she thinks about his words. “Yeah,” she whispers before wiping at her face. “I get it.”

“I don’t know if you do, though.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Do you honestly think you’re meant to be apart?”

“Harry,” Y/N says sternly with another sigh. “I just- we’ve talked about this already. I’m tired of being the one that doesn’t matter.”

“But you matter to me,” he says back. “And Harrison and Sam and Tuwaine and Paddy and-”

“But who’s the base of it all?” Harry doesn’t reply, so she asks again. “Why’re you a group?”

“Because of him,” Harry admits. “No, yeah, I know, I get it,” he sighs too. “I just.. miss my home.”

“It was home to you but hell to me.”

“I know. And I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel guilty about doing what’s best for yourself.”

“Don’t be,” Y/N rubs at her face. “It’s whatever.”

“Will I ever see you again?”

Y/N looks to the window, glancing at the rays of light and the green leaves, and she ponders the thought.

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”

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wejusthereforthefanart · 4 years ago

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Team BRNZ Oneshot

"I don't wanna be here."

With a sympathetic smile, Roy patted her back, "It's alright, May, we'll get through this together."

"Ugh, you guys are so dramatic!" Brawnz groaned, "Remember, we're here to build connections. Which means I want you--all of you--to socialize."

"Wha-I'm not talking to anybody here! I look absolutely ridiculous!" the girl lifted a section of her a-line dress, small sequins that covered its brassiere shimmering under the luminous chandelier before she unceremoniously dropped the hem with a huff.

Beside her, Nolan looked down at his own suit, "I don't know, I think we look pretty good."

While Brawnz wore a standard tuxedo, the only splash of color being a faded purple bowtie, Nolan had replaced the rented white dress shirt with a maroon button-down and rolled up the sleeves of his blazer.

"We might look the part, but we are hardly prepared," Roy said, "What exactly are we supposed to discuss with these people? They're in a whole other society from us."

“Uh, just, you know, talk like Team NDGO. They go to these things all the time, somehow.”

May hunched over, covering her well-endowed chest behind her arms, “That’s because Gwen’s aunt is a higher-up in the Schnee Dust Company. She’s invited to Atlesian parties so she can promote their future business.”

“Oh.”

Nolan scanned the room, “Are we going to get kicked out when they figure out we snuck in? ‘Cause I saw some awesome finger food over there, and-”

“Alright, alright,” Brawnz combed a hand through his hair, slicked back with a sheen of gel, “Let’s split up into pairs. May, you’ll come with me while Roy keeps an eye on Nolan-”

“Hey!”

“-and works on his social skills.”

“I resent that, but won’t deny it,” the man frowned.

“I know you guys feel like fish out of water, but just think of these folks as potential clients after we graduate. We’re Team BRNZ, we can handle a party in a fancy mansion, right?”

By then, Nolan and Roy had disappeared, the former dragging his boyfriend across the dance floor to a long table covered in platters of food. Before him stood May, hugging herself uncomfortably tighter as a curtain of short purple hair fell over the left side of her face. His eyes softened, and with a gentle touch, he brushed it behind her ear.

“When we get back to school, I’ll let you play any game you want, okay?”

She glanced up at him, “Even two-player?”

“I mean, I don’t know why you insist on playing with us since you always win, but… sure.”

“I like winning,” the shadow of a smile graced her lips, and she lowered her arms. The pair stood in a comfortable silence while the music flowed in a soft, slow cadence. From the other side of the room, Roy watched Nolan devour another pastry until he heard an unfamiliar feminine voice nearby.

“Oh, hey, are you Vacuans?” a woman dressed in a strapless white gown walked up to them, “It’s just that I’ve never seen you before.”

Roy avoided the sight of her cleavage peeking out from the tight corset, his cheeks warm with a blush hidden under his dark skin.

Nolan swallowed a mouthful of sugar, “Yeah, we’re students at Shade Academy, just a little ways from here.”

“Ohhh, you must be friends of little Gwen! Ms. Darcy is an associate of mine, with dust exports into Vale.”

“Gwen’s pretty cool,” he spared a glance at Roy, “We share a few classes with her and her team.”

“I see. Well, I hope you tell her that if she ever finds herself in Vale, she can just find me,” pulling out a small card from her clutch, she reached it out to Nolan. However, once she noticed the remnants of chocolate icing on his fingers, she swiftly passed it to Roy.

“And, if you boys really do know little Gwen, I suppose I can extend the offer to you.”

Roy turned it over to read her name and contact info under ‘Schnee Dust Company’, “Thank you, Ms. Linen, and you can call me Roy Stalli-”

“She’s already gone.”

He looked over to see her speaking with another lady, and Nolan licked his fingers clean before wiping them discreetly against his pants. With a sigh, he tucked the card into the chest pocket of his pinstripe vest before adjusting the ascot wrapped around his throat. Soon, the classical piece faded, and an upbeat rendition of some jazz song boomed through the parlor. A group of drunk patrons flailed about in the center of the dance floor, laughing as their drinks sloshed out of glasses and spilt onto their clothes.

“We should find the others,” Roy took Nolan by the hand and led him along the row of tables, searching for their partners' red dress or gray locks.

“I need to find a bathroom,” Brawnz said, “Are you okay waiting here?”

She nervously ran her tongue over the grooves of her molars, before nodding.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I can do this,” May offered a small smile.

Her boyfriend returned it with one of his own, “Alright. Be right back, babe.”

She watched him weave around men and women to ask a server for directions when a low chuckle rumbled beside her. A man, who looked only a few years older than herself, stepped into her personal space with a cocky smirk and a tall glass of champagne.

“Oh, dear, please tell me what such a beautiful young woman like yourself is doing with someone of his caliber? I hope he hasn’t been fooling you with that cheap suit.”

“Um, we’re, um,” she mumbled, too flustered to finish a single sentence. The stranger was far too close for comfort, and she could smell the stink of alcohol on his breath. She took a step back, but felt her rear bump against the table behind her, trapping her as he loomed over and shamelessly leered at her curvy figure.

“May-May!” Nolan called, “How’s it going?”

Quickly stepping behind his girlfriend to rest his arms over her small shoulders, Roy aimed his steely gaze at the newcomer, “Is this man bothering you?”

“Nonsense, I was simply indulging her with the presence of a true gentleman, after seeing her about to fall victim to one of the pathetic frauds that tend to sneak into parties like these,” the dirty look he shot Nolan was followed by another smirk, “My name is William Rudolf, a pleasure to meet you.”

“Roy Stallion, of Team BRNZ at Shade Academy, and I believe the ‘pathetic fraud’ you were referring to was my team leader.”

His mirth simmered into a pert frown, “I see, well, perhaps you and your… befitting partners should take your leave back to school.”

Once he soaked up another eyeful of May’s body, he turned on his heel and sauntered off, leaving her with an embarrassed blush and a pit in her stomach. Brawnz suddenly returned from the restroom, confused to see his boyfriends with her.

“Did something happen while I was away?”

She curled her arms to hook over Roy’s, trapping him close in an embrace while she stared down at her feet, “Can we just go now? Please?”

He exchanged a look between the others, but took May’s shaky fidgeting as a sign not to press. He led his partners through the crowded ballroom, shouldering a surly woman who nearly spilled wine on her suit.

“Hey, watch it!” she yelled, but a glance at the girl made her blink, “Wait, are you Team BRNZ?”

May turned her head, her shoulders relaxed once she saw the fascination in her eyes.

“Um, yeah, that’s us,” she answered shyly.

“My wife’s a professor at Shade Academy, and talks about you all sometimes. You’re Ginger’s favorite students, you know.”

Nolan hip-checked Brawnz out of his way, “Aw, yes! Finally, I get to call a teacher by her first name. So long, Professor Goldgoose; hello Miss Ging!”

“Here, I’ll give you my card,” she offered, “I’m sure you’re in Atlas to promote yourselves for future work?”

“That’s right, but it hasn’t been working for us. Some people here are either creeps or uninterested because we don’t have any connections yet.”

She smiled at Roy, “Well, now you have me. That has to count for something, right? As for the creeps, you just have to point them out, and I’ll take care of them.”

Watching the head developer of Human Nextwork chew out Rudolf was the highlight of their night. They were eventually escorted out of the party, however. Once they returned to their hotel room, the group took turns showering and Nolan reinserted his insulin pump as soon as he changed into his sleepwear. May played on her scroll until Brawnz wrestled it away from her, and hid it in his bag for the night.

“Hey,” he said, “I wanted to apologize for leaving you alone like that. It was stupid on my part.”

She closed her eyes and stretched her slender legs under the covers, “Mmh, it’s not your fault. I just don’t like crowds.”

“But I should’ve been there to defend you…”

“And you will next time,” she scooted closer and rested her head on his shoulder, “I still trust you, Brawnz. I’m not just going to lose faith in you after one pervert waited for you to leave my side for a few minutes.”

He smiled down at her, her damp hair sticking to his skin like a warm, messy kiss. When he planted one of his own on her cheek, she barely stirred, and fell asleep. Nolan soon followed after his friend, spread across the other bed like a starfish and drooling a puddle on his pillow. Brawnz had never seen Roy asleep, as he always managed to stay awake the longest, but no matter how hard to he tried to stave off sleep, it consumed him.

And finally, Roy was alone. In the darkness, he rose out of bed, threw on his jacket, and slipped out the door.

“Rudolph, you have no idea what you’ve just done,” he hissed.

#rwby #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #Team BRNZ #Brawnz Ni #brawnz #roy stallion #nolan porfirio #may zedong

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goodbysunball · 4 years ago

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Bring it on home

Comparatively easy listening from the set of records showcased this time around, but there's a world of grief settin' your jaw to grind. You deserve a neck massage and a cocktail; lean into these after you put your misery rectangle aside for a spell.

Astute Palate, s/t (Petty Bunco)

Emily Robb, David Nance, Daniel Provenzano, and Richie Charles got together and hammered out this LP during "48 sleepless hours" in Philadelphia. It's definitely a fairly rough documentation, but if you know the players, that's generally what you'd be gettin' into with 'em anyway. Gotta admit that I'm not a huge fan of what I've heard by David Nance - respect his hustle, though - and the same goes for the tracks he leads here; in particular, the studied classic rock caterwaul employed on "Stall Out" basically rolls my eyes for me. I am, however, fond of David Nance the Guitarist and his heroics on "Stall Out," and "A Little Proof" definitely has me more curious about his recent solo work I've skipped. These are pithy grievances, though: the album rules, as a whole, but it's just hard to stomach some of Nance's lyrics when they're side-by-side with bonafide jammers like "Bring It On Home" and "Treadin' Schuylkill." "Bring It On Home," in particular, with its Velvets-inspired chug and Robb's bleary vocals coolly beckoning you to do as the title says, heats to a boil with the blustery, fried guitar interplay. For me it wipes the floor with anything else on the album, and pretty much anything else I'll hear this year, so let's put all my petty complaints aside and declare this the Summer of Astute Palate, OK? Looks like the secret's out - the LP's sold out from the source, but can be found hiding in various distros and shops. Hunt it down, crack a tallboy, and embrace the sweltering heat of our melting planet with Astute Palate.

Maraudeur, Puissance 4 (self-released)

New and best LP yet from Leipzig's Maraudeur, self-released with some of the best packaging/artwork I've seen in a minute. My memory's usually a bit faulty, but I recall the band being a three-piece on their last, still very good LP from Bruit Direct Disques. I'm inclined to think that the group's ranks have swelled to five anyway, since the sound here is a bit more bright and full, lots of different moving parts zipping and moving around, giving the crisp recording some effervescence. Compared to older songs like "Computer Dreams," Maraudeur sounds sharper, capable of backing up any threats rather than coming across as deflated and listless. Even the slower songs on Puissance 4, such as "Slow Dress," thrive on tension, guitar strings set to snap amidst the robotic/hypnotic vocals. The band seems to have located a sweet spot between the simmering minimalism of Household and the technologically damaged vision of Chrome, and "TWYWYS" basically sounds like a collaboration between the two groups. Guitars are used as window dressing, favoring instead synths and showcasing the chops of the rhythm section. "Face/Figure" and my favorite track "C'est Caché" are the best examples of Maraudeur's rhythmic foundation, but nearly every track causes inadvertent head bobbing. While accessible and familiar on the surface, Maraudeur's dry humor, the carefully camouflaged layers of sound, and whatever is going on in "I Am Here" keep boilerplate post-punk comparisons at bay. Puissance 4 is a refreshing, addictive brew from the not-too distant future, and probably a blast to experience live.

Astrid Øster Mortensen, Gro Mig En Blomst (Förlag För Fri Musik)

New Gothenburg talent alert! Mortensen is apparently a newcomer to the scene, and her debut LP fits in nicely amongst the Förlag För Fri Musik discography. Gro Mig En Blomst features lonely and debased late-night solo explorations with guitar, piano and what sounds like an accordion, accented by electronic manipulations and the found sound that accompanies most FFFM records. It's dreary and stark, and can quickly bring the mood down when it's on. For me the most obvious reference point is Grouper's Ruins, in that both are recordings so intimate that it feels like an interruption to move while it's on. But I also get bits of Picastro's Whore Luck ("Hvor Kommer Mørket Fra?" sounds like it was plucked directly from that album), and there are similarities to Chloe Alison Escott's solo work, on the title track and "Piano i" and "Piano ii." Gro Mig En Blomst is a far cry from more traditional singer-songwriter music, dabbling in Stars of the Lid-like drone on "Brud ii" and jumping into the "Is there a record on or...?" genre on "Solen Er Et Lille Hus" and "Brud i." I can't say I go out looking for records this fragile and surface-level bleak anymore, but Mortensen's work is more often beautiful and calming than hopelessly gray. Another keeper from FFFM, sure to be one of the most sought-after records from the label, and for good reason.

Nightshift, Zöe (Trouble In Mind)

Travel back in time with me, if you will, to a time when "indie rock" was a genre label that had some meaning. After getting rid of the bad taste in my mouth and shaking off the embarrassment at who I was when I largely listened to stuff that'd broadly fall under that label, I'll allow that Nightshift is making a strong argument for some of the music released during the comparative naiveté of the late '00s/early '10s. Across Zöe, you get shades of Broadcast, Lower Dens' Twin-Hand Movement, the UV Race ("Spray Paint the Bridge"), Belle & Sebastian and A Sunny Day In Glasgow ("Power Cut" and "Romantic Mud"). The trick to Zöe is that it folds all these reference points in neatly and places it on a sturdy percussive base. I won't argue that every song here is memorable, but they're all enjoyable, and the songs that hit - "Outta Space," the title track, "Infinity Winner" - send chills down my spine every time. Guitars are plucked and scraped for leading beats, accentuating shuffling drums and giving the bass the spotlight. The vocals are dreamy and lyrics direct, and for the duration of Zöe you're relieved of the pessimistic present and allowed to rigidly dance to Nightshift's hesitant groove. They've charmed their way through my cynicism, and Zöe's been on heavy rotation despite my reluctance. Take it for a spin, and fall under Nightshift's spell.

Hugo Randulv, Radio Arktis: Samlade Ljud Från Den Norra Polcirkeln (Förlag För Fri Musik)

First solo LP from Hugo Randulv, an active presence in the Gothenburg scene with his involvement in Enhet För Fri Musik, Skiftande Enheter and Amateur Hour, among others. Though typically a guitarist, on Radio Arktis, he drops the guitar and instead fills both sides with glacial synths and dusty samples. The label's original write-up for this record called it "grand ambient," though to me it sounds and feels much more personal than something that would soundtrack the Olympics. His use of samples, most notably on "Radio Reykjavik," sounds intimately tied with some fleeting memory, the music serving to enhance or exorcise the feeling tied to it all. It reminds me most of the Fun Years' "God Was Like, No" in that both records used the tools common to ambient/drone music but applied a much more personal touch, that certain nameless attribute that keeps drawing a listener back in. Can't put my finger on it, but both records just sound like they had to be made, rather than serving as a genre exercise or one-off exploration. I don't know that Radio Arktis is going to change anyone's life, but it could, and I've been hypnotized by its wordless, sparkling gray tones for weeks. Even though the "solo musician embraces synths" thing is usually pretty tired and pointless, Hugo Randulv's contribution shows why it's an alluring proposition at all.

Sunhiilow, Beyond the Cycle (Ikuisuus)

More solo synth, this time coming from Valerie Magisson and her Moog Mother-32. Magisson's Sunhiilow project veers into new age/ambient with its bite-sized kosmische explorations. There's something about the combination of the short length of these tracks and the sense of movement present within each that allows Beyond the Cycle to transcend the lifeless drivel that's usually tagged "new age" and "synth." It seems intentional that Magisson was trying to capture the mood of each track title in its corresponding music, and she is largely successful, though its unclear if the title provided direction or was applied afterward. The somewhat jarring introduction of "Wilderness Bloom" and the stoned growth of "Circle Motion" are my top picks, but the album works best as a whole and played very loudly, the overall effect immersing the listener into heady zones traversed by the Nightcrawlers. Leave it to Ikuisuus to release an "ethereal ambient music" record that satisfies, and sounds and looks great to boot. Sunhiilow's a lot more tame than most of what Ikuisuus releases, but it's an accessible, recommended starting point to one of the best active labels. HOWDY.

#Astute Palate #Maraudeur #Astrid Øster Mortensen #Hugo Randulv #Nightshift #Sunhiilow #Petty Bunco #Förlag För Fri Musik #Ikuisuus

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happymetalgirl · 4 years ago

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Five* Outside albums of 2020

I do this little list every year of my favorite albums that fall mostly “outside” the metal sphere and weren’t so metal-adjacent that I reviewed them formally during the year. The past three times I have written this little piece, I have kept it to five, but *this year, I’ve just had a hard time narrowing it down, so I figured, why do that? Well, I could go through a few dozen albums or so that I fucked with this year outside the metal sphere, but I’m compromising with the addition of a new, quick (we’ll see) honorable mention section.

So, in the interest of keeping my verbose tendencies in check, I’ll cut this introduction off and get into the honorable mentions.

Honorable Mentions:

Anna von Hausswolff - All Thoughts Fly

I did review Anna von Hausswolff’s previous record, Dead Magic, back in 2018 as part of my bunch of metal albums reviews that year, because it was kind of tangentially metallic. It wasn’t a lot at a technical level, only a few metallic elements here no there, but it had a lot of harrowing qualities that I thought metal listeners might appreciate. For the Swedish singer and pipe-organist, that album really was the closest she ever came to metal’s territory, and I don’t think any flirting with the genre was intentional on her part. Most of what she does is haunting, neoclassical, organ-based music that’s usually not as wild as what Dead Magic was, and this year’s album is a real scale back to her roots and an appreciation for the pipe organ. While I do miss her bewitching vocals on this entirely instrumental album, All Thoughts Fly stands well on its own merits as both a solid tribute to von Hausswolff’s organ playing and as a beautiful, incredibly immersive ambient album that does so much with its relatively small palette. I’ve talked a few times on here about really shitty ambient music that’s approached with a clearly lazy attitude because of its supposed background role. Rather than being made to be ignored, All Thoughts Fly pulls you in and around in a swirl of lush sounds that aren’t too common in ambient music, and with a relatively minimal approach, relying on the naturally serene tambre of the instrument to fill the space with a lightening, floating ambience and well-structured movements to do the gentle moving. It’s a beautiful example of what an ambient album can achieve if it’s actually made with a lot of love and care.

Shabaka & The Ancestors - We Are Sent Here by History

Okay, that first one went pretty long. I’ll try to keep the rest of these here relatively short. Sons of Kemet band leader, Shabaka Hutchings, takes his other group on slightly less chaotic Afro-jazz odessey that what Sons of Kemet have been delivering us. While more contained on the surface within the genre’s usual light grey areas, Shabaka & The Ancestors move with freedom and flexibility on this album in a way that highlights the natural appeals of the Afro-jazz sound pallet through constantly engaging arrangements from masters of the craft.

Lady Gaga - Chromatica

I know we’re all well aware of Lady Gaga, but the pop icon has been relatively quietly been making the best music of her career since taking the edge rather than the center of the spotlight, from 2013’s diverse Artpop to 2016’s more bare-bones Joanne. And now, after her mellower, more traditional Americana-influenced album in 2016, Gaga cranks the volume and the fun way back up. Chromatica is a blast of an album whose wide span of dance pop albums influences new and old keeps it varied and lively all the way through. This album feels very much like it’s Gaga unleashed, just doing her thing and having a good time with a bunch of dance music styles that she’s always loved, and it’s impossible not to feel that enthusiasm secondhand, and groove the hell out along with it.

Black Thought - Streams of Thought, Vol. 3: Cane & Abel

Black Thought has had nothing to prove since the relative inactivity of The Roots this past decade, but he has sure been rapping as if he does have something to prove on his solo work. The Philadelphia rapper put out a couple of EPs back in 2018 that showcased his impressive modern lyricism and flow, and the third, LP-sized installment in the series is just another offering of further proof of the man’s lyrical chops. There’s a little bit of an understated delivery in the music overall, but Black Thought really lets his words speak for themselves more than his moderate bravado. It’s not super flashy because it doesn’t need to be.

Phoebe Bridgers - Punisher

Indie folk has always loved to soak in the puddles of personal sadness, but Californian singer Phoebe Bridgers takes the style to whole new depths of personally gripping, bordering on the outright emo, and that is by all means a compliment for rather than a shot at. The album’s candid journaling of Bridgers’ personal struggles is so tangible and so genuine that it would probably rival Connor Oberst’s best work with Bright Eyes. It is just a beautiful, yet tear-inducing album.

Alright, now on to the five “main” “non-metal” albums of the “list proper”.

Hexvessel - Kindred

Hexvessel are a Finnish six-piece whose sixth album of psychedelic folk here manages to touch on the same haunting, gothic tones that groups like Opeth and Gazpacho do at their most forest-y. Indeed, Kindred is an enchanting album, with sprawling styles and a full-bodied sonic pallet to keep it interesting the whole way through. And it’s as strong in its more bombastic song like that which opens the album as it is in its more stripped back acoustic tracks like that which closes it. Songs like “Magical and Damned” straight-up evoke Mount Eerie, while songs like “Kindred Moon” hearken to The Beatles at their most minimal and folky, and there’s plenty of spooky, mystical energy to go around. Definitely one of the best finds of the year for me.

The Strokes - The New Abnormal

Coming at the end of a seven-year gap between it and their previous album, 2013’s somewhat fan-polarizing Comedown Machine (which I liked a lot), The Strokes’ aptly named return is a return to the spotlight, but hardly to normalcy or the musical roots in garage rock that so many of the band’s fans have been sweating for. Twisting the electronic alternative rock of their Angles era into some odd, but mesmerizing forms, The New Abnormal is a subtly wild ride of an album through lots of melancholic overtones and undertones whose impact is made all the more potent by the occasional teasing of sorts with the few more traditionally rockin’ moments on here. It doesn’t take long to pull back the seemingly preppy synth rock or 80’s rock curtains to find the melancholy beneath “Brooklyn Bridge to Chorus” and “Bad Decisions”, respectively. But the band aren’t even that subtle with the immediate depression of just the straight-up guitar melodies on songs like “Selfless”, “Not the Same Anymore”, and the chill-inducing soar of “Ode to the Mets”. The album’s prize piece, though, has to be the utterly gorgeous and empathetic minimalist synth song, “At the Door”, whose simple melodies and bare delivery make for one of the most gently heart-piercing songs I know and of my favorite songs of the year and probably my favorite Strokes song ever, as hard as it is to listen to. Welcome back Julien and company.

Rina Sawayama - Sawayama

Quite possibly the best outright pop album I have heard in a long while, Sawayama sounds simultaneously fresh and vintage in the landscape it was born into, making use of a lot of early 2000’s pop rock instrumentation, even some heavy metal guitars here and there, but most importantly, a real sense of passion that seems to be flat-out absent from so much of the pop that I (usually inadvertently) hear. I don’t want to overstate the prominence of the metal elements, but the album does have a bubbling, infectious energy both vocally and instrumentally from front to back that the occasional bursts of heavy guitars between Sawayama’s charismatic, dance-inducing performances do provide a good snapshot of. Furthermore, there’s a rich diversity of song types across the album that dive into the pop sphere beyond the standard trend-hopping that dominates streaming playlists and make for a dynamic and fun, rather than disjointed, pop album. And that’s all only possible with the consistently tight compositions o the album. Indeed, this is one of the best pop albums I have ever heard, certainly in recent years.

clipping. - Visions of Bodies Being Burned

clipping. are the second artist to be on here two years in a row after last year’s spectacularly spooky There Existed an Addiction to Blood, and Denzel Curry’s one-two punch of TA13OO and Zuu in 2018 and 2019 respectively. There Existed an Addiction to Blood was a thrilling and fresh take on many tropes of horrorcore with the band’s already forward-thinking and creative noise-driven instrumental production guiding harrowing stories of femme fatales and street violence in a more modern setting that often flipped the script on victims and perpetrators, as well as settings themselves. Visions of Bodies Being Burned is quite literally a continuing sequel to that explosive album, also released in time for Halloween this year; the material was recorded in the same sessions as the previous album and in the same unique vein. Consequently, there’s not really a whole lot I can say about this album in contrast with the last without getting way too in-depth and spoiling the fun. Whereas MC Daveed Diggs’ hooks were one of the biggest strong points of last year’s album, the creatively noisy production is the big star on this album. The fans seem to be leaning a bit more toward this year’s release, but I think I’m still a little partial to There Existed an Addiction to Blood. Nevertheless, Visions of Bodies Being Burned is a blood-pumping follow-up not to be missed.

Mac Miller - Circles

The posthumous release from Pennsylvanian rapper Mac Miller captures the man at his most chill and contemplative. The album is more of a minimalist ambient singer-songwriter sort of album than hip hop and its serene atmosphere becomes kind of inadvertently tragic in the posthumous context, but it serves as a beautiful swan song for the creative rapper whose struggles with addiction sadly prevented him from being able to bask in the deserved wide appreciation of his sixth album. Circles is a soulful, bittersweet cap to Mac Miller’s legacy that I think anyone will be able to feel the love and raw humanness of.

#Black Thought #Streams of Thought #Streams of Thought Vol 3 #Anna Von Hausswolff #All Thoughts Fly #The Strokes #The New Abnormal #Hexvessel #Kindred #Rina Sawayama #Sawayama #Phoebe Bridgers #Punisher #Lady Gaga #Chromatica #Shabaka and the Ancestors #We Are Sent Here by History

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stevepotterwrites · 4 years ago

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A Review of David Lynch Biography/Memoir “Room to Dream”

As one might well expect from a book about the life and work of the eccentric auteur David Lynch, Room to Dream is by turns hilarious, heartbreaking, and a little strange. Biography and memoir in one, each chapter contains two sections separated by three or four pages of black-and-white photos from the time period covered in the chapter. First, we get a well-researched and clearly-presented biographical take featuring input from Lynch’s friends, family members, and collaborators. Former L.A. Times journalist Kristine McKenna does a fine job of keeping the story of Lynch’s improbable rise moving along. She gets out of the way and lets her interviewees do the talking when that’s best and weaves their recollections effectively giving us glimpses of the different stages of Lynch’s life and career from multiple angles. In the second section of each chapter, Lynch takes over and revisits the past in his own words. He goes into greater detail, sometimes, focusing on an aspect of the story that wasn’t covered in as much depth in Ms. McKenna’s section sometimes building on what others said. On a few occasions, he remembers things differently and disagrees with what others have said. For example, Lynch believes that Anthony Hopkins tried to get him fired from directing The Elephant Man. Ms. McKenna’s conclusion, based on her research, is that Hopkins complained bitterly about Lynch but stopped short of demanding he be fired and replaced. Who can really say for sure which account is closer to the truth? Either way, Lynch had the last laugh. The Elephant Man was a critical success and received eight Oscar nominations including Best Director. His career was launched. As much as one may be put off by Hopkins’ snotty attitude and presumption, regardless of whether or not he actually pushed to remove and replace Lynch or merely complained about him, his concern about being directed by a complete unknown isn’t really too surprising. Lynch was an inexperienced young director whose only full-length film was a bizarre, unclassifiable, no-budget, black-and-white surrealistic nightmare starring a bunch of actors no one had ever heard of before and which had only been shown as the midnight movie at a handful of art house theaters in the States. Yes, it’s recognized as a classic now and, yes, Lynch has become a legend, but at the time he was a completely unknown young American directing a cast of highly-acclaimed British actors including stage legend John Gielgud. Incredible. Thankfully, producer Mel Brooks had great faith in Lynch and admirably threw his full support behind him despite the reservations Hopkins and, quite likely, though less vocally, others had.Lynch’s rise was an astonishingly steep career trajectory by any measure. He made the animated short loop Six Men Getting Sick in 1966 and the live-action short The Grandmother in 1968 while a student at Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts in Philadelphia. Those opened the door to the American Film Institute in California where over a five-year period, on a tiny budget, with a small dedicated crew, he made Eraserhead. That film, in turn, convinced Mel Brooks that Lynch was the guy he was looking for to direct The Elephant Man starring his wife, Anne Bancroft, among many other fine performers. Then came hard lessons learned from the $40 million (estimate according to IMDb) big-budget disaster of Dune. Despite that not going so well, producer Dino De Laurentiis gave Lynch the go-ahead to direct Blue Velvet with full creative control. Lynch found his groove and went on to create the body of work he is best known for. What we see examples of repeatedly throughout Room to Dream that at least in part explains his success is how Lynch’s charisma, contagious enthusiasm for his projects, and dedication to his craft and vision engenders a sense of loyalty from his actors, crew and other collaborators. The section of the book which recounts Catherine Coulson’s final performance in her iconic role of Margaret Lanterman, AKA the Log Lady, may well have you weeping when you read it. Her scenes will take on a deeper poignancy when you watch Twin Peaks: The Return again. Ms. Coulson was a key member of the Eraserhead team who worked tirelessly to help get that film made even donating her waitressing tips to the cause. Many of those sharing stories in the book are world-famous — Isabella Rossellini, Kyle Maclachlan, Laura Dern, Sting, John Hurt, Sissy Spacek — but some of the most illuminating insights come from lesser-known behind-the-scenes talents. One of my favorites is handyman and jack-of-all-trades, Alfredo Ponce. Mr. Ponce was doing some landscaping work in Lynch’s neighbor’s yard in the mid-nineties. Lynch struck up a conversation with him and the two hit it off. Lynch hired him to do some cleaning. He has been working for Lynch ever since taking care of everything from landscaping to plumbing to electrical work to mechanical repairs to building a set for Inland Empire. “People see me here cleaning or raking leaves and they think nothing — they don’t know how much I know,” Mr. Ponce says. “I can smell things from far away, and I can see immediately when someone comes up here who doesn’t have David’s best interest at heart. The negative energy — I can see that, and I’ve seen a lot of people come and go. David’s an easygoing, nice person and he can be taken advantage of, so I try to protect him. Anybody who works here has to be somebody I trust.” Ponce’s picture jibes with the overall depiction of Lynch in the book. While he’s had his fallings out, breakups, business deals gone wrong and so forth the general consensus seems to be that he’s a pretty nice guy. On a scale of Dale Cooper doppelgangers, he’d likely hew more toward the Dougie Jones side of the spectrum than the Evil Coop zone. No doubt the man can be cantankerous, cranky, foul-mouthed and ill-tempered when confronted with realities that get in his way, as demonstrated in this clip below from the making of Twin Peaks: The Return, but some Hollywood veterans who’ve worked with him describe the experience as among the nicest, most pleasant and least dysfunctional gigs they’ve had in their long careers. The man has manners. He’s considerate. He knows everybody on set by name and acknowledges their contributions far beyond the directorial norm. This may in part be due to his long commitment to the daily practice of Transcendental Meditation. We also see Lynch’s maniacal attention to detail. He’ll fuss over something on set that likely won’t even be visible on screen in the end. To get the feel of the scene just right, it is important for him that all of the details be just so, just right. And, of course, if one gets to the point of fussing over minor details that won’t ever show, it’s only because there’s nothing left to fuss with. Everything is just right and ready to go. He’s like the short story writer who knows he is done with a story when he finds himself putting commas back in that he’d previously cut. Yet coupled with that powerful desire to get the set to look just the way he envisioned it is the seemingly contradictory willingness to embrace chance and serendipity, to spontaneously incorporate a new element that presents itself into the work. Lynch’s best friend since high school, the production designer and artistic director Jack Fisk, who has worked with many of the finest directors in Hollywood including the Coen Brothers and Terrence Malick and is every bit as well-respected as Lynch in the movie industry (though far less famous to the general public) gives an example of this from when they were teenagers obsessed with painting. A large moth flew onto one of Lynch’s wet paintings, got trapped and flailed away trying to break loose. While another painter might have been upset and set to work to remove the moth and smooth over the disrupted section of paint, Lynch was thrilled and at once accepted the dying moth’s struggle and eventual death as a part of the painting. Many years later, in a now famous incident, set designer Frank Silva accidentally got himself trapped on the set of Laura Palmer’s bedroom when he blocked the exit door with a dresser. He hid behind the bed during the filming of a scene. Lynch was intrigued by the thought of an unseen character hiding in the room. In a later scene in the Palmers’ living room, Silva’s face was accidentally shown reflected in a mirror. Clearly, he was supposed to be in the show. Lynch incorporated Silva into the series as a central figure, the evil, interdimensional being BOB who possesses Leland Palmer and makes him do bad things. It is hard to imagine Twin Peaks without BOB but such a version might have been if Mr. Lynch was less open to influence, if he didn’t allow himself the room to dream. Room to Dream. What a perfect title. Mr. Lynch managed to find himself the room to dream and to bring those dreams alive on film, on record, and on canvas so the rest of us can dream along with him. He got past the most common destroyer of artistic ambition — concerned, well-meaning parents who don’t understand what you’re doing — and found collaborators who did get it. That this is a book Lynch fans will enjoy goes without saying, but it’s also a good choice more generally for anyone interested in how movies get made or those who simply enjoy a good memoir.

-- Steve Potter

https://bookfreak.us/2018/10/21/david-lynchs-room-to-dream/

#david lynch #room to dream #biography #memoir #moviemaking #eraserhead #blue velvet #muholland drive #dune #the elephant man #lost highway #wild at heart

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rpgmgames · 5 years ago

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March’s Featured Game: acai cOrner

DEVELOPER(S): moca & Mitty ENGINE: RPG Maker 2003 GENRE: RPG, Adventure, Surreal SUMMARY: acai cOrner is about Mizuki, someone who has fallen into the sewers and who happens to find their favorite electric guitar! Upon obtaining the guitar, Mizuki turns into a magical girl who must defend herself against spooky sewer creatures using the guitar's magical powers.

Download the game here! Our Interview With The Dev Team Below The Cut!

Introduce yourself! *moca: Hi, I'm moca, a Starbucks barista aspiring to be a writer and game developer. I have been making RPG Maker games for about six years now, with my first two projects being a Pokémon fan-game and a Corpse Party fan-game. Those two happen to be my two favorite franchises as well! I have also created the RPG Maker game MOMOKA (IGMC 2018). I have founded a group called 'Team Shibu!' dedicated to making horror games! Our current project is a RPG Maker survival horror game named 'Katharsis'.

*Mitty: Hey there, I'm Mitty! I've been working with Moca on several games for a while now, helping with mostly graphics! Please support him, as he is very kind and hardworking!! I'm also the main developer of a game called "Marinette", so I hope you'll check that one out too, when the demo is released!

What is your project about? What inspired you to create this game initially? *moca: acai cOrner is an experimental spooky RPG Maker game that only uses 4 colors! You are a magical girl with a just-as-magical electric guitar that you use to fend off spooky sewer slimes and other weird enemies you find in the surreal sewer system. It's half exploration and half RPG battles. What inspired me to create acai cOrner initially was to actually get myself back into the groove of making games again. I had just recently came back from a hiatus and found myself having trouble getting back into the development of 'Katharsis'. That's when I decided to make a short, experimental game to get the juices flowing.

How long did you work on your project? *moca: acai cOrner was finished in just about under a month!

Did any other games or media influence aspects of your project? *moca: I had always wanted to make a Yume Nikki-like game and thought this was the perfect opportunity to try. So for the more surreal parts of acai cOrner, I took inspiration from Yume Nikki and a Homestuck random planet generator. Gameplay wise though, I took inspiration from a RPG Maker game called Ghost Suburb 0! I really loved how unique it was, especially with the timer and no dialogue aspect. I knew I wanted to do something with a timer, so I tried a rogue-like approach with the gameplay.

Have you come across any challenges during development? How have you overcome or worked around them? *moca: If you played any of my previous projects, you know that acai cOrner is vastly different than anything that I have ever done. I'm so used to using words to describe the violence in my games, so when it came to making the story, I had a lot of trouble. It wasn't until I looked deeper into why people like these types of games that I had realized that people like to interpret the story on their own, guided by exploration, to enjoy these games. After that, I let loose a bit and made something more open-ended. Another challenge was the difficulty. I was the only one playtesting the game, and since I knew the game front and back, and had no trouble getting the ending. That's why when I sent out demos to friends, I was really discouraged to hear that the experience was mostly frustrating and rage quitting-inducing haha. I worked closely with their feedback and made changes accordingly to make the experience less frustrating but still difficult. *Mitty: I think I was going through a weird artblock during the development of the game, so for some of the illustrations and backdrops for each area's fights, Moca sketched out the basic idea of what it could look like, and I just put my spin on it! It made the work much easier and faster!

Did any aspects of your project change over time? How does your current project differ from your initial concept? *moca: Well, the game was meant to be short so there wasn't room for any big changes. Sure there are a couple gameplay changes and enemy tweaks, but not anything mindblowing. I added in the idea of making four surreal worlds kinda last minute, if that counts, haha.

What was your team like at the beginning? How did people join the team? If you don’t have a team, do you wish you had one or do you prefer working alone? *moca: In the beginning, it was just me! I didn't think I was gonna need any outside help since this was supposed to be a relatively easy project to release, but the further in development I got, the more I realized the game needed pizazz. The four color limitation wasn't enough for my lack of graphical talent. That's when I contacted Mitty about helping with the games battle backdrops and sprite animations! She is also a member of Team Shibu!, but we have collabed together even before that. Her art really made the project shine and I enjoy working with them on games! *Mitty: Moca contacted me, and I wanted to help! We are working together on another game called Katharsis, so we are quite familiar with each other. I like working with other people, especially if I'm not in the lead, it releases a bit of the pressure I feel sometimes ahaha

What is the best part of developing a game? *moca: To me, it's seeing everything come together and just... working exactly the way you envisioned it. As a game developer, you section the game off into parts to make development much more organized and faster but seeing it all come together in the end. Pure bliss *chefs kiss*. *Mitty: I like a bit of everything, but currently I've been enjoying animating and spritework, as well as map assets' designs a little more than usual!

Do you find yourself playing other RPG Maker games to see what you can do with the engine, or do you prefer to do your own thing? *moca: Mm... not really! I have an idea of what the engine can do, so when I do go out of my way to player other RPG Maker games, it's usually for writing inspiration rather than gameplay inspiration. Ghost Suburb 0 is something that I accidentally stumbled upon and immediately fell in love with it the minute I played it haha. (Fun fact: the developer of Ghost Suburb 0 is apart of Team Shibu! and is in charge of monster design!)

Which character in your game do you relate to the most and why? (Alternatively: Who is your favorite character and why?) *moca: There is a rat in the game that is internally called 'Ratthew' who leads you into a funky room. I relate them the most. *Mitty: I relate to the land sharks the most on a spiritual level. They are pretty much confused beans, and that's very relatable.

Looking back now, is there anything that regret/wish you had done differently? *moca: I wish I added more random spooky events and trap rooms. But the game was also supposed to be short and I knew that if I kept adding more and more things, development was never gonna end haha.

Do you plan to explore the game’s universe and characters further in subsequent projects, or leave it as-is? *moca: Well, by the time this interview comes out, there should be a new update for the game. The update should include 100% custom music by a talented composer, and a nerf in difficulty. As for sequels, who knows! The next time you see acai cOrner may be in 3D.

What do you most look forward to upon finishing the game? *moca: Definitely the fan reaction! The satisfaction of seeing your work being noticed by people and actually enjoying makes me happy. It's also the relief of just... finishing something! *Mitty: For this particular project I was obviously looking forward to seeing what people said about the little animations and such ahaha! I also was curious about the reaction to the timed difficulty mechanic, I had never seen anything like that before Moca presented it to me, so I had no idea on what people's feedback would be.

Is there something you’re afraid of concerning the development or the release of your game? *moca: How people will handle the difficulty. The game isn't supposed to be completed on your first playthrough, but in 2-3 playthroughs. There are rooms and places that are meant to waste your time that you should ideally skip the more you play. By later playthroughs, you should be shaving time and be better. I understand that it's not handled as best I could, but I think the experience should still be challenging and hopefully fun! *Mitty: I was a little conflicted on the timed mechanic, I loved it because it's pretty original and helps set an interesting athmosphere of worry and unease, and also seems to tell a bit of the vague story; and at the same time I don't like it much because I prefer more story-driven games and the vagueness mixed with the mechanic feels different from what I'm used to playing! I think it's more of a personal taste kind of thing, it was an experimental jam game, after all!

Do you have any advice for upcoming devs? *moca: Take it easy! Take short breaks throughout development. And most importantly, have fun. If it's a hobby and it's making you overly stressed, just take a step back!

Question from last month's featured dev @ressurflection: What would you say is the weakest part of your game development? *moca: Procrastination. I'm so bad at sticking to my own schedule, it's something that I try to keep in check when working with a team especially.

We mods would like to thank moca & Mitty for agreeing to our interview! We believe that featuring the developer and their creative process is just as important as featuring the final product. Hopefully this Q&A segment has been an entertaining and insightful experience for everyone involved!

Remember to check out acai cOrner if you haven’t already! See you next month!

- Mods Gold & Platinum

#rpg maker #acai corner #acai corner game #rpg maker games #pixel games #indie games #gotm #game of the month #march #march 2020 #2020 #moca #mitty #interview #needles

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rosesgonerogue · 5 years ago

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Let the Sunshine In - Chapter One

AO3

Three Years Later

Awareness came in waves. There was a constant drumming that was enough to drive someone insane, as well as someone breathing heavily. It sounded wrong, and even worse, it felt wrong. For some reason it gave him the visceral urge--no, the need to hurt, to maim, to kill.

After the sound came the pain, the feeling of needles dancing across his skin, of circulation resuming in disused limbs. Soon after came the smell of sulfur, of something rotten. Finally a toxic green light filtered into his vision, the unnatural shade looking infinitely distasteful.

What was this? Where was he? His mind felt broken, fractured--the information he needed was all there, somewhere, the pieces just didn’t fit together, and it pissed him off.

He was in some kind of disgusting, green water, and outside the water a whole host of people waited. The pounding grew faster as his eyes flicked around. A part of him swore to find whoever was responsible for the drumming and acquaint their face with a wall.

“-odd, we simply want to--”

“Who the hell are you?” The extremely rusty voice surprised him. It was his. Something about that felt important. “What happened, where am I?”

“You are Jason Todd,” a stern man said primly. “And I am R’as al Ghul, an acquaintance of your previous mentor. We are at the Lazarus Pits.”

The pounding got louder and he--Jason--clenched his fists, ready to kill someone to make the heartbeat sto--

Heartbeat. It was his heartbeat.

The heartbeat he shouldn’t have.

A rush of memories assaulted his brain; a crowbar descending, unhinged laughter, an explosion, but most of all, pain. Pain and fear.

This wasn't right. His hands sank into his hair, ready to pull it out as he stumbled backwards, unable to process everything. He was dead--or he should be. He wanted to still be dead.

The man, Ra’s, advanced, speaking calmly and slowly, like Jason was a wild animal. “If you would follow me, we can--”

Jason rushed the man with a strangled cry, bludgeoning the man with his fists, elbows, feet, fighting however he could. He heard a few distinct snaps, but he didn’t stop until the man was a bloody mess at his feet.

He still quivered with rage, his entire body feeling like it was about to explode.

“You should have left me dead,” he growled before barrelling through the mass of people that moved to surround him. His feet carried him out of the cave he had been in and out into the night that waited. After being dead, apparently even starlight was a little bright for his eyes--if it had been daylight, he might have just gone blind right then.

Something inside him dictated where his feet carried him. He felt a distinct pull to… something. It felt important, so Jason began trudging along.

**************

“I think that’s the last box, sweetie,” Sabine said, following her husband in.

“Thank you guys for helping so much, it really means a lot,” Marinette said with a smile to her parents.

Tom set the box down carefully, eyes already filled with tears. “I can’t believe my little girl has a place of her own. It seems like just yesterday I was teaching her to make macarons for the first time.”

“Oh, don’t you start crying, Tom, or I’ll start crying too,” Sabine said, swatting her husband with a sniff.

In a few short weeks Marinette would be starting her studies at the best fashion program in all of Europe. Like many of her classmates, she was staying in Paris for at least the near future. She had originally planned on staying at her parents’ house for at least the first year of the program, but the perfect opportunity presented itself, and Marinette just couldn’t say no.

Marinette’s beloved grandmother, Gina, had decided to bike around the world. This was pretty much how she spent her life anyway, but now her granddaughter was legally an adult, which meant she could grant said granddaughter some much needed freedom.

Despite how little time Gina actually spent in Paris, she was the proud owner of an adorable little house. She had already willed the house over to her fairy, but now she could tell Marinette to move in under the pretense of having her house-sit. Gina paid for the utilities still, and her only stipulation was that Marinette had to keep a room clean and ready for her, should Gina show up unexpectedly.

The thought of having her own house, free of charge, even, was mind-boggling, but at the same time it was everything Marinette hadn’t known she needed. There was the natural yearning all young adults had to try things on their own, but this solutions came with the ultimate safety net. Even more importantly, it came with the privacy that she desperately needed.

While she waited for her program to begin, Marinette had spent the majority of her time at the bakery. It was fun, being with her parents and taking care of deliveries whenever Luka had a gig. It also made keeping a secret identity secret nearly impossible. This way Marinette was still close enough to help at the bakery when she needed to, but her parents weren’t constantly barging in at inopportune moments.

As they set up, somehow her things fit in perfectly alongside Gina’s like it was meant to be. The last thing the family had to do was go grocery shopping so Marinette had something to eat other than the copious amounts of pastries her parents had forced on her.

When the deed was done, it was time for her parents to leave, even though none of them were really quite ready for that.

“You’re not used to being alone,” Sabine fussed. “Are you sure you don’t want to spend just one more night at home?”

“Or we could spend the night here with you,” Tom said hopefully.

“No, I’ll be fine,” Marinette said with a smile. “I’ll be sad, but we’ve got to start somewhere, right?”

Staring at his daughter, Tom couldn’t hold it in any longer-- he started crying. “Don’t forget to call us, sweetheart, and write too! We’ll be waiting to hear from you.”

“Tom, she’s moving twelve blocks away. If she doesn’t have time to visit us, we can just pop in on her, right?”

“Right,” Marinette confirmed, eyes completely dry. “I’ll make sure to visit often.”

Finally she was able to bid farewell to her parents, closing the door to her house behind them. She milled around looking for something to do, finally settling on turning the TV on for background noise and getting to work on her latest commision.

Just as she was getting into the groove and making real progress, Marinette’s phone rang. She sighed, finishing the last little bit of handwork on that section before answering the video call.

“My little Marinetta, how are you?” Gina asked. As far as Marinette could tell, her grandmother was somewhere tropical at the moment. Where exactly was anyone’s guess.

“Good, Nona, just getting settled in!”

“Are you just sitting around at home?” she asked suspiciously.

“No, I’m working on a commission and--”

“I didn’t leave you the house to just sit around, my fairy. You need to be young and free, even if it’s only occasionally. This is your first place of your own, so go celebrate! Go out to dinner, go get ice cream, find a party to go to, I don’t care, just go do something!” Gina commanded.

“Yes, Nona,” Marinette said, knowing it was useless to resist.

“I’ll be waiting to see a picture of whatever you do,” Gina said firmly.

“Yes, Nona.”

Gina kept chatting for a while longer, but before she hung up, she reminded Marinette one more time that she needed to go celebrate somehow. Afterwards Marinette attempted to keep working on her commision, but it was fruitless knowing that her Nona expected her to go have fun.

Even though they had just bought groceries, Marinette didn’t really feel like cooking after all the day’s activities, so she decided to walk over to one of her favorite cafes. It was a ways away, but she didn’t have much else to do with her time, so she decided to simply enjoy the weather. She ate a light dinner at one of the outside tables, made sure to send a picture of it to Nona, and once she was finished, she swung by one of the nearby farmer’s markets on impulse. Yes, she had the groceries she had gotten earlier, but no grocery store could beat fresh produce like this.

The farmer’s market was closing soon, which meant that a good majority of the things that were high in demand were already sold out. There was one vendor that had one frozen chicken that she really didn’t want to take back home, so Marinette got a really good price on it.

It was nearing dusk as she made her way back to the house, but she couldn’t help but feel uneasy. There was something in the air that just felt wrong. It was kind of similar to the feeling she got from akumas, but also not. It was familiar, but twisted, corrupted inextricably. As she walked the feeling only got worse, and Marinette didn’t know if she should go find out what it was, or if she should just run away as fast as she could.

In the end, the urge to investigate won out. She was Ladybug, it was her responsibility to see to the safety of Paris as a whole. On edge from the unsettling feeling, Marinette moved through the streets discreetly and carefully.

Her instincts took her to the opening of an alleyway in a fairly quiet part of town. The feeling of wrongness was pervasive as she edged forward. It took everything in her not to gasp at what she saw.

A boy who looked about her age stood at the back of the alley was surrounded by three cloaked assailants. He could almost be mistaken for an akuma because he didn’t actually wear clothes, he was only covered by ragged bandages, almost like a mummy. The poor boy was gaunt, he looked like he was only a few steps away from death. He couldn’t be an akuma, because in all this time, Marinette had never seen one so feral.

“I have to help him,” Marinette whispered, hand tightening on the handle of the bag her chicken was in. “Tikki, spo-”

“No Marinette!” Tikki hissed waving her arms frantically. “Don’t transform. We should leave, this is dangerous.”

“What are you talking about, Tikki? That boy clearly needs help.” Marinette’s claim was only emphasized when one of the assailants drew a sword-- and actual sword being used by someone who was not akumatized.

“If you transform he’ll hurt you! We really should leave,” Tikki said, trying to pull her away. “I’ll explain at home, but we need to leave.”

Something about the boy was deeply unnerving to Marinette. His very existence felt wrong. But something about this made her think of Robin, who she hadn’t allowed herself to think about for quite some time now.

“No,” she said with steel in her voice. “I’m not abandoning someone who is scared and alone.”

“Marinette, you’ll get hurt!”

“Not if I’m lucky,” the girl said with a smile that held far too much venom.

The boy was already faltering when Marinette entered the alleyway. His eyes latched onto her for the briefest of moments, but that only caused for one of the assailants to get even closer, knife grazing the boy’s arm.

Years of being Ladybug had taught Marinette to move nearly silently, as well as where to hit to take down an opponent quickly. The first man was taken down by sheer luck--she somehow managed to hit the pressure point at the juncture of his neck despite being hooded. He fell down, immediately unconscious from her assault. The one who didn’t have a knife in hand glanced over, only to be met face first with a swinging frozen chicken.

By the time the third man turned to see her, the chicken was already swinging to knock the knife out of the man’s hand, potentially breaking some fingers as it swung. Marinette had already cracked the man across the face before the knife had clattered to the ground, leaving only her and the boy conscious in the alleyway.

He looked at her with crazed blue eyes, his pupils blown as he fixated on her. “You!” he snarled, leaping forward. “You had something to do with this!”

“No, I just wanted to help, let me--”

Before Marinette had to do anything in the way of restraining him, the strange boy staggered forward a few unsteady steps before collapsing right onto her. She hadn’t noticed the way that he towered over her before, but supporting his entire body weight helped her realize just how absurdly large this boy was. With that in mind, she should probably stop mentally referring to him as a boy.

“Marinette, this is really dangerous. He could hurt you, he already tried to!” Tikki said, once again trying to pull her away.

“Tikki, he needs my help,” Marinette said, stubbornly shouldering the boy. “I’ll keep myself safe, but I won’t leave him here!”

“You promise you’ll do everything you can to keep yourself safe?” Tikki asked, eyes baring into Marinette’s soul.

“I swear.”

“Fine,” Tikki sighed, wilting a bit. “Go ahead and transform, it will be easier and faster to carry everything that way.”

*********************

Be warned, this is just going to be me ranting about Batman lore for far too long.

Okay, so even in AUs like this that are clearly distanced from canon, I like to research and make it as close to canon as possible. For those of you that don’t know, doing research on anything related to Batman is a MESS. I’ve read “Death in the Family,” the original Batman issue where Jason dies, I’ve watched “Under the Red Hood,” just because I wanted to get a really good sense of Jason and what the whole alive again experience was like for him. I also looked into the Lazarus Pits for placement questions, and apparently there are little Lazarus pits all over the world, including in Switzerland. Switzerland is close enough to France that I just went with it.

Now for the part that REALLY kills me. I recently also watched Son of Batman, and in it, Ra’s is killed, but apparently he was too dead for the Lazarus Pits to work. However, upon looking into Jason, it is revealed that he was brought back to life after being dead for a few YEARS. I’m not even going to go into the fact that Jason’s body was complete even though he died not by crowbar, but by an explosion. I’m not touching that. Additionally, Jason was still really short and pretty scrawny from being malnourished when he died, and he somehow comes back as a beefy twenty-something year old.

TLDR; the Batman canon is a mess, so when writing fanfiction I can do what I want and it’s still canon compliant.

Let me know what you guys think!

Taglist:

@cravethosecrazysquares @krispydefendorpolice @thesunanditsangel @sonif50 @kris-pines04 @persephonebutkore @tbehartoo @corabeth11 @caffeinetheory @drarryismylife101 @bluerosette23 @weird-pale-blonde-person @mystery-5-5 @heaven428 @thethirdwheelfriend @thetinymoonflower @interobanginyourmom @chocolate1721 @akana-sama @skyel0ve @katiegardneriscoolerthanyou @theatreandcomicfreak @jardimazul @karategirl119 @thewondersoflebanon @tbehartoo @shizukiryuu @northernbluetongue @moonlightstar64 @naoryllis @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @saphiraazure2708 @yokizu @jeminiikrystal @chocolatecatstheron @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @zalladane @slytherinsheashire @bran-thecreeper-stark @otaku4312 @emotionalsupportginger @dorkus-minimus @18-fandoms-unite-08 @tired-butterfly @bamagirl513 @pauliestorylover @alenee13 @ladybug-182 @senpaiweird @kalligraphics @jessigurl-design @emeraldpuffguide @veunnotvuen @storyteller-d @g-arya @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @procrastinatingrightnow @sturchling @dast218 @trashystar420 @indecisive-mess-named-me @awesome-starfish-and-tacos

#jasonette #maribat #Let the Sunshine In #LtSI

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