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gnatlistens · 2 years ago

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30-day song challenge! (PART 2)

heyohello welcome to pt 2! creds to @/eggtaurus on instagram

DAY 1: a song that represents you

jealousy, jealousy -- olivia rodrigo i can't think of one omg. song that describes an aspect of me the most i guess (but i wouldn't want people to know me as this ..)

DAY 2: a song to play at a party

everybody talks -- neon trees omg. depends on the party but i think people would be the most accepting of this one, but any from my neon playlist would work (my playlists describing vibes are finally put to use!!)

DAY 3: a song title with the name of a food

豆浆油条 -- jj lin the first one i thought of LMAOOO. it's means bean paste and fried pastry, english title: perfect match

DAY 4: an old song

amore che nasce -- piero piccioni (1967) i had to dig through to find an app that sorts my music by release date. anyways this is the oldest one i could find. i'm NOT putting running up that hill even if it kills me. i might as well list an old-ass classical piece like mozart

DAY 5: a song that makes you feel nostalgic

youtube

piano -- ariana grande i feel like i've listened to this a lot but i did not,, basically all the songs in my being sentimental playlist though

DAY 6: a song about love

youtube

色香水 -- yoh kamiyama

any romance soundtrack would fit lmaoo but this was the first one off my ♡! ? playlist! title means: colour perfume

DAY 7: a song from the year you were born

童話 -- michael wong

i'm spending so much more time on this challenge than the previous one UGH. anyways slay !! a classic

DAY 8: a song title w/ the name of a person

jenny (i wanna ruin our friendship) -- studio killers

i know another jenny song omg why is that name so popular. also that one beatles song

DAY 9: a song that cheers you up

passcode -- jannine weigel

love the vibes

DAY 10: a song you never get tired of

youtube

notgonnalie -- shye

immediate answer would have been sparkle, but i used that already. ugh this is getting hard

DAY 11: a song you used to like but now hate

dynamite -- BTS

umm i don't keep track of songs i hate. maybe bts songs bc of the fandom but i didn't particularly like them, they were just decent

DAY 12: a song you want to play at your wedding

promise of the world -- chieko baisho

howl's moving castle theme would work too but i want to appreciate this :) i imagine this would be played at howl and sophie's wedding HAHHAS

DAY 13: a song you discovered this year

youtube

hasta los dientes -- camila cabello, maria becerra

doing a song released this year instead, i did discovered alr

DAY 14: the last song you've listened to

youtube

room at the table -- charlie lim

i'll do this after i'm done with the rest of the days edit: okay a song i thought of while searching for songs!! it didn't make into any of the days but i just listened to it! yes it's that ndp song :D

DAY 15: a song with a title you like

youtube

don't miss me -- claire rosinkraz

honestly i think i just like the cover (her blowing bubblegum) which makes me like the title

DAY 16: a song for running away from home

carrying you (from laputa) -- joe hisaishi

kind of about running away from home LOL. original song is called innocent though

DAY 17: a song title with an acronym

IDGAF -- boywithuke ft. blackbear

UM the first one i thought of was YMCA.. but this one is better

DAY 18: a song title with 1 word

youtube

phonecase -- shye

easy one FINALLY

DAY 19: a song that sounds better w/ headphones

youtube

still trying -- shye

honestly all shye songs are better with headphones bc the vocals hit harder

DAY 20: a song for stargazing

stargazing -- kygo, justin jesso

LMAO i said mirror was good for stargazing yesterday. anyways what about a song called stargazing !! it's quite sad though

DAY 21: a song for the beach

youtube

summer on you -- PRETTYMUCH

hmm i think hype songs would be better? depends on the mood, if it's chilling on the beach any stream cafe/lofi, if i want to hang out w friends i'll choose this!!

DAY 22: a song about friendships

you've got a friend in me -- randy newman

i'm sorry

DAY 23: a song for breakups

youtube

you broke me first -- tate mcrae

iconic. first song from tate that got me invested

DAY 24: a song by one of your favorite artists

pretty please -- dua lipa

brb after random number generating my top 20 artists i got 14: dua lipa

DAY 25: a song you sent to someone

itim -- shye

yeah i remember this one clearly. they didn't give a shit. well i do!! shye is now one of my top artists, this was one of the songs that got me hooked

DAY 26: a cover of a song

perfect / style -- jonah baker

mashup time!! mashups >> covers

DAY 27: a song about being angry

GO TO HELL -- clinton kane

a recent one i just added to my playlists !! memorably angry

DAY 28: a song to play while running

rumours -- jake miller

neon playlist saves the day again

DAY 29: a song to play during a date

a journey (a dream of flight) -- joe hisaishi

♡! ? playlist again. time to link it since i keep using that

DAY 30: a song you want to share

vultures -- evanturetime, linying, charlie lim

WOOO LAST ONE!! evanturetime is really good and criminally underrated

i tried not to use wdw this time HAHSH uh i'm kind of running out of good recs for songs .. watch me recommend a whole album 😭😭 had to stop myself from including another kimi no na wa soundtrack. i also need to cut down on shye omg i keep going back to the same few artists

#reposting my old posts #song challenge #summary #long post #Youtube #pop

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crystal-in-nagasaki · 2 years ago

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have we not talked about taiko?

For some reason I haven’t given much attention to this on my blog, but I’ve been an active member of a taiko drum group called Hibiki Garashi (the translation is kind of like...spicy sound?? but cooler sounding in Japanese) for the entire time I’ve been in Japan. Because COVID-19 was pretty prevalent when I first came to Japan, we didn’t have our first performance until last summer, more than six months since I arrived, but we have still met every week for practice. Since our first one, we’ve had about three more performances, with many more planned for this spring and summer as Japan is finally opening up again.

As taiko has a very traditional sound and feel, we generally perform at festivals, but we did have one performance indoors in an auditorium as a showcase for the community center and to appeal to new members. Our uniform is usually our group t-shirts (designed by the very talented Sean, one of our members), black pants, headbands, and white tabi shoes. The more senior members and our teacher wear more extravagant and traditional uniforms like happi jackets and hakama style skirts.

Although I’ve been playing with the group weekly for over a year, I only know about three songs, and have only ever performed two, called Agari Yatai and Haruka. The last song we have been learning for almost a year but haven’t performed yet is Shunpu (meaning “spring breeze”), in which I play the flute part. I’m very nervous, but excited to someday be able to perform this song. As many know, I played the flute in high school. The bamboo flute used in taiko is a bit different from a standard flute, but wasn’t too hard to get used to after some practice.

Here are some pictures from our past performances. In a more recent one, we collaborated with a professional calligrapher, and our senior members performed on the drums while he drew out enormous letters in ink. It was pretty amazing!

Let’s talk about what kind of instruments we use in taiko. Of course, there is the taiko drum, which comes in several sizes and shapes. The three general types are nagado daiko (the most popularly recognized shape), shime daiko (the smaller taiko with a high pitched sound), and the okedo daiko (a lighter drum made of staves of wood rather than one hallowed out piece.) Since the okedo daiko is lighter, you can attach a strap and also play while standing or walking, which we make use of in the song Shunpu.

The more advanced players of our group can play every type of taiko, but most of us tend to lean toward a specialty. For example, shime daiko requires more speed and (large, AKA odaiko) okedo daiko requires more power, so our two senior ALT members mainly play the shime daiko and the odaiko respectively. Being still a beginner, I tend to stick to nagado daiko, but am beginning to find a place with the members of the more power-focused odaiko team.

Besides the drums, other instruments include the shinobue, AKA the bamboo flute, which comes in several different sizes which will accordingly change the pitch of the flute. We also sometimes use other percussion instruments like the chappa, which are small cymbals.

And of course, we use bachi, drumsticks, to hit the drums! These also can come in different sizes, weights, and wood types. The lighter ones are usually made from hinoki (which smells great!) The lighter sticks are usually used for the shime daiko and can move a lot quicker. Accordingly, the heavier sticks are used for the bigger drums and can provide more power and sound. In one of our songs, we use one large bachi for the big drums that looks like a baseball bat.

In our group, we get our bachi engraved with our names. My nickname is Slay-chan after my last name, so this is engraved in Japanese on my bachi.

Many times, I leave practice with aching muscles and bleeding blisters (which we refer to in Japanese by mame, meaning beans.) But not even mentioning the sense of community I get from being a part of the group, the exercise, stress relief, and strengthening of my body is a great benefit of being a part of taiko. It’s a hobby created from a wonderful mix of musical and physical skill.

Speaking of community, taiko has given me an incredible opportunity to connect with my community. Many of the members are parents and their children, plus several of us foreigner ALTs. We have really become a close group and refer to ourselves as a taiko family. Outside of rehearsals, we sometimes have parties together, such as the hotpot party I wrote about last year, and a Christmas party we had a few months ago. Japanese society is often very strict and reserved, but at taiko practice, I feel this barrier melt away and I feel like I can let loose and be my goofy self with everyone.

I’m so beyond grateful to be a part of this group and the sense of community it has given me here. If you would like to see some videos of our practices and performances, you can visit our group’s Instagram page here. Thanks for reading!

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falsebooles123 · 2 years ago

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Finding The First Gay Kiss - Diary of a Big Ole Gay 1/14/23

Hey Whores, so first some good news. I may have a new job. Its tenous but I should have some breathing room and at least some part time stuff so thank god for that.

Second, um can we talk about M3GAN?

(yass qween slay)

So I just say it in theaters and its great and its about like parenting, and grief, and adulification and also the robot does a silly dance for no reason. Because she fucking can and its like this perfect encapsulation of this dicotomy between Innocence/Danger and Child/Adult. IDK Good Shit.

So as always sluts lets get into the Good Stuff

City Lights (1931) dir Charlie Chaplin

This is one of those films thats included a lot in general discussion of absolute kino. Not only is this one of the last silent films and the last of Charlie Chaplins films its also considered a favorite not only by the director himself but a lot of the later autuers that have graced the silver screen.

My opinion is that its .... alright.

Don't get me wrong this is a really great film, its enjoyable and I enjoy the vibe but I don't get the hype for it. The main reason why this is on the list is because the tramp basically has a sugar daddy in this. So Theres this Drunk Millionaire who whenever hes drunk he basically just wants to give the Tramp Money and kiss him on the mouth, and sleep in the same bed as him.

Basically what I'm saying is that the millionaire is tramp-curious.

Side Note: So random guy at the bar called himself "Bi-flitatious" and I kinda love that for him.

Besides that this movie is very straight and the Tramp gets up to a variety of antics.

Some LIke It Hot (1959) dir. Billy Wilder

So if you know anything about this film then you know that at the end of the film the guys goes, "I can't marry you I'm a man" in which his fiance says "Well Nobody's Perfect"

(honestly that line is raw, we stan)

I think I also summerized the queer aspects of this really well on letterboxd and since I'm having a lazy day I'm just gonna Copy & Paste this shit there.

"This cross-dressing comedy is more like the 60s and 70s ones were these filthy men are invading womens spaces!!!!

thats a joke, anyway this film of course has ride or die Osgood Fielding III who likes "Pobodies Nerfect". at the same time the bottom in the relationship is honestly kinda gender fluid in this to the point where hes just perfectly comfortable marrying a man and living with she/her pronouns so like thats a thing."

This is also to the best of my knowledge the last of the "Role-reversal" comedys which is ironic since this is also a movie so slutty it broke the hays code, (though I just watched the "Sadian Trilogy" and that was only a few years later and they were so god damn slutty).

Its hard to pinpoint why the role reversal comedy fell out of favor my best guess is that the lavender scare and the general culteral hatred for those filthy queers eating donuts. Thats not to say that there is not any drag comedies moving forward but the next resurgance I can think of in mainstream popular culture is in the 90s and 2000s and obvously in our modern decade drag queens are once again becoming popular. Its been an intersting experience within this niche genre because its always fascinating to see how different eras constructed gender.

Suddently, Last Summer (1959) dir. Joseph L. Mankiewicz

Ok there are a lot of great clips from this film but you just know I had to show a clip of Elizabeth Taylor being STUNNING.

so this is one of several adaptations made by GIANT GAY Tenessee Williams which deals with homosexual subtext. Along with Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, and Rebel without a Cause or something.

This film follows hot doctor, Montgomery Clift, (also gay), who is being ara ara between Katherine Hepburn and Elizabeth Taylor and its this amazing southern gothic vibe of incest and insanity and just being horny on main for the surrogate of your gay ass son.

There is definetly a subtext to the play that deals with the mental healtcare of the past and its hard not to draw the comparision between Taylor's threat of a lobotomy with the way that many queer people with lobotomized during the time. It should also be noted that Williams sister was lobotomized in real life so there is definetly a personal aspect to this story telling.

Also on the BTS Big Gay Time, Gore Vidal, Famous Bisexual, wrote the script for this film.

This film is textually about Elizabeth Taylor hanging out with her cousin who may or may not be paying the locals to suck his dick. Its very colonalistic. Anyway , Spoilers, he does get cannabilized by the locals like its a kenneth anger film.

Subtextually this film is just CAMP AF and so it also has this amazing amount of divas chewing the furniture. It is amazing.

Vampry (1932) dir. Carl Theodor Dreyer

Vampry ... Der Traum des Allan Grey , (ugh you know I have to say the full ass german name because I AM AN ASSHOLE). is just this random ass vampire movie made by Dreyer I think after he did his religious epic with that one saint the lesbians like.

(ok I also love Joan of Arc, who doesn't she was a bad bitch)

this is on this list because according to Dreyer he based this off of Carmilla and also so like super random short story he read. This film is a lot like Nosferatu in the sense that the tropes for vampires wern't solidified and this is super artsy. A lot of these early non Dracula Vampire films were just doing the most and while this movie is probably the least gay vampire film i've ever seen it was v v cool.

The Blood of a Poet (1932) dir. Jean Cocteau

So basically Jean Cocteau, (Gay), was talking to his rich friend who gave him a bunch of money and was like. Hey whore I want you to make the artsiest art film, just whatever goes throught that gay gay gay GAY gay gay brain of yours.

So this film is giving us Eux d'artifice vibes but at the same time this movie is not gay enough for me needs to be gayer. That being said there is two more of these films so I expect symbolic sucking and fucking in the sequels.

Also Tonight I'm watching some of Julian Eltinges Filmography. A lot of his work is lost so if your gonna watch twitch tonight ge ready for Isle of Love and Madame Behave. anyway Sluts and Slanterns you have a good night.

#diary #firstgaykiss #queercinema #experimental film #lynching #homophobia #alcoholism

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author-morgan · 3 years ago

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Okay, you have officially made me thirsty for King Harald. 😩🤦🏻‍♀️ So I went through your Prompt Lists and found a few things, especially those two: "What happened? I told you to stay by my side!" and "Are you sure? Once we start, i might not be able to stop." With a young virgin reader maybe? 👀 You absolutely don't have to do this, I'm kinda just dropping my thoughts and ideas. 🥰 Thank you for giving us all this great content! 😭

ask and ye shall receive, tho i cannot say no to Harald. fresh spicy fluff for our smol fierce king. Harald Finehair x fem!Reader

THE WOUNDS LEFT by his brother’s death are still fresh —still bleed if he thinks too long on what could have been had he stayed his blade in the heat of battle. They are wounds he does not think will ever heal —do not deserve to heal. The gods will not forgive him for slaying Halfdan and they punish him now for it, with yet another battle come quick as the last ended.

King Harald Finehair is awake when the war horn sounds outside the walls of his home and settlement. It is hard for him to find rest, and when he does it never lasts long —not even when his bed is warmed by his sweet princess. He sits up, running his hands over his face and through his beard. There’s a sinking feeling in his gut he cannot shake as he looks to his armor and sword lying on a table at the edge of his chambers.

You turn onto your side, having woken with the resounding horn, knowing what it means. Sitting up too, you rest a hand on the center of Harald’s back, thumb tracing a line of fading blue-black ink as you lean into him, pressing your cheek into his shoulder as though to ground him from the stormy thoughts and war waging inside him. “Harald.” His name is a rough, broken whisper.

He shifts, arm moving around your shoulders, fingers twisting into the thin linen of your shift like he needs to hold tight lest you leave him too. It is never easy for a man to admit weakness, less so for a king, but the weight of everything makes Harald’s heart feel heavy. “I cannot lose you,” he breathes. You know the look in his cold eyes —the determination and burgeoning scheme twisting the gears of his mind.

Parting from his grasp, you lean back, lifting a hand to his cheek, fingers combing through his beard. The slightest of smiles kinks his lips when he sighs, leaning into the touch. “But you cannot keep me locked away like a caged songbird either,” you tell him.

“No,” he agrees, gently pulling your hand from his face. He knows to keep you from his side, and the call of battle would only make you hate him —and he cannot, will not, lose you to his own folly. The gods presented him with a woman to love good and well, at last, and by the gods, he will love you as you deserve. Harald lifts his hand to your cheek, thumb dragging over your bottom lip. “Though I could clip your wings.” He means it in jest —the slight curve of his lips and the spark in his eyes tell you so. Smiling, you glance at the patchwork of wolf pelts. “Stay close to me today, elskede mitt,” he whispers. Harald does not think it is a tall task to ask of you.

You nod. “Of course.” If the gods are kind enough, they will not let Harald from your sight. You will stand at his side, shielding his back, and he yours. “I pledged my sword to you,” you remind him, fingertips following a fading scar on his neck and the dark lines of the tattoo just above it. Then you smile. It is not just your sword and shield you have promised Harald. “And my heart.”

Harald thought you naïve when you first came to his kingdom seeking an alliance —a young, beautiful princess with no suitors or family to challenge your title. The thought still makes him feel a fool; you were everything but naïve. It had not taken long for you to play him like a lyre —as most women did. But the longer you remained stranded in Tamdrup given the summer storms, the stronger the easy friendship between you and Harald grew, soon blossoming from a simple alliance to something else, equally as wonderful. He reaches for your hand, lips and greying whiskers brushing over your knuckles. “And I do not take those gifts lightly,” Harald answers, holding your hand against his chest.

Another cry of the horns echoes, and you both know this moment must end. He reaches for his tunic, shrugging the piece of burgundy wool overhead before rising from the bed. You follow after him, helping straighten his dark leather armor, tugging the buckles and straps taut, and tie the laces of his vambraces. Harald returns the favor, helping you into your leather and mail breast piece, and takes a moment of the time slipping away to braid your hair before offering your sword and shield. He reaches for your hand before you can leave the safety of his chambers. There’s a passing second where you study each other, as though you may not meet again in this life, but garbed in armor with sword, shield, and axe, you are both ready for war and whatever the gods may have in store.

“FORWARD!” HARALD SHOUTS, his voice rings clear across the narrow strip of grassland surrounded by thick forests. The first line of his army advances, a slow march to meet those who had come to take retribution for the murder of their previous jarl. You look to him, shield raised, and sword held aloft —feeling the anticipation of his next command rising in your blood and bones. He nods, and you unsheathe your sword, falling into stride with him as he shouts again, moving toward the heart of the bloody fray.

You both sink into the thickest of the fighting, cutting your way to the heart of the battle —among the few places in Midgard one could truly feel alive. The shield wall breaks into a hundred skirmishes. Stepping out of the arc of a two-handed axe, your back presses against Harald’s. He turns, lashing out as you lunge forward, thrusting your sword point into the warrior’s belly. You both share a nod, falling back into place once more.

It happens too quickly for either of you to do anything —both of you are swarmed by a second wave of the enemy pouring out of the forest, ripped apart from one another. “Harald!” You shout, hoping your voice will carry over the grunts of those locked in combat and the screams of the dying. Lifting your shield, you block an axe blow and slash your sword over the assailant’s throat.

The pain seizes you before you know what’s happening. A blade has cut deep into your thigh, cutting through your britches. The warm gush of blood sluicing down your leg sends you to one knee. You lift your sword, blocking the overhead death strike with both hands, pressing up with all your strength until you can spin, breaking the stalemate when you slice the man up the length of his back. But as he falls, you do too.

One of Harald’s vanguards sees you, struggling back to your feet —sword pressed into the ground as a crutch, shield lost. An easy target for those on the opposing side who know who you are. Skane makes his way to you, cutting down the man who raises his axe against you. You give a nod of thanks to him, searching the field for Harald, prepared to fight through the pain. But Skane hefts you up onto his shoulder, ignoring your protests, and turns from the battle to see the long cut on your leg tended. He cannot let Harald lose his future queen.

The battle ends. Harald’s forces are victorious, yet as his army celebrates, he searches the battlefield for you until he hears the news and quickly leaves for the forward camp. The healer ducks out of the tent when he arrives, thinking it best to leave Harald and his princess. You sit up, leaning back on a crate with a bedroll as a pillow. Thick bandages are wound around your thigh, blossoming red in some places. “I told you to stay by my side,” he grits out, pacing the small space in the tent, disguising his worry and anguish as anger. Then the anger ebbs, and he kneels at your side, hand resting on your shoulder. “What happened?”

You look at your hands, still stained with mud and blood, feeling your face grow hot. Hubris found a place in your thoughts as you cut down Harald’s enemies —it almost cut you down too. “I thought,” you start, shaking your head, feeling a fool, “I overestimated my capabilities is all,” you confess. Harald reaches for your hands and lifts both to his lips, kissing your knuckles and then the center of your palms, and allows himself to breathe a deep sigh of relief. The healer assures him you will live. This wound would heal given time, rest, and care. Harald will see you get all three and more.

TO SAY YOU do not enjoy his attention and affections would be a lie, but in the week since the battle, it has almost become an annoyance —how he frets over every little thing. Like now, he insists on carrying you from the mead hall to your shared chambers as if you are a delicate little spring blossom doomed to wilt if your feet dare touch the ground. Harald glances down, finding your exasperated expression amusing. You cross your arms, looking away, indignant. He laughs, the sound rumbling from deep within his belly reverberating through the both of you. “I am not crippled,” you remind him as he places you on the bed.

“No” —he smiles as he kneels before you, hands resting on your knees— “but you see, I wish for you to heal quick as you can.”

You lift a brow. “Why? Do you not enjoy doting on me anymore?”

Harald lifts his hand to your cheek as he rises, sitting next to you. The mirth in his grey-blue eyes fades, replaced by love and longing. “I would carry you to the ends of the world if you’d let me,” he says. Coming from him, it is not an exaggeration. Your breath catches under the weight of his gaze. “I wish to marry you on the summer solstice,” he says, a weight disappearing from his shoulders with the admission, “if you will have an old man like me.”

His proposal does not come as a surprise —you knew when your relationship began, he would seek to take you as his wife and queen. The lure of power is what first drew you to Tamdrup before you grew to know Harald Finehair. You smile for him, finding the gesture quickly returned —the fading blue-black tattoos on his cheeks and forehead wrinkling. “Old man?” You tease. You’ve seen him training, have fought next to him in battle, and seen the dense muscle in his arms and middle —he may not be young anymore, but he is certainly not old either.

“There is silver in my beard and hair now,” he says, laughing as he strokes the short-cropped whiskers on his chin.

“That makes you wiser,” you amend, leaning into him, “not an old man.” His smile doesn’t fade, not even as he awaits your answer. Your kiss is answer enough, sweet and loving. Harald holds your waist, drawing you closer, holding you tighter. And when you pull back, he chases your lips, settling for a quick kiss on the corner of your mouth, letting his beard tickle your cheek and jaw. “I will marry you” —you lay your hands on either side of his neck, thumbs running along his jaw, and kiss him again— “a thousand times.”

IT FEELS ODD to be a stranger sitting on the edge of a bed you have laid on a dozen times over, shared with the same man whom you loved, but tonight it is your marriage bed —and you know the duties expected of you by your husband and your people. Harald skirts around the room, lighting tallow candles and oil lanterns in place of the hearth. The summer night is warm, the air thick and made thicker by the growing tension and anticipation for this moment.

Harald sheds his wine-red tunic, draping it across the back of a chair. You’ve seen him like this before, know the scars on his arms and back as if they were on your own flesh —have memorized the curves and angles of his tattoos and the feel of his muscles beneath your fingertips. And yet, now, it is a sight that brings heat to your face. He studies the sheathed dagger lying on the table at the edge of the room and runs his hand down the length of his braid. He made a promise to himself, and now it was time to keep it.

Unsheathing the dagger, Harald goes to you and kneels —a king before his queen. Swallowing the knot in his throat, never believing this day would come. He peers up at you, eyes dark and kind. Unthinking, you lift your hand to his cheek, thumb stroking over his cheekbone and along a dark woad ink curve below, fingers slipping down to comb through his silver-tinged beard.

“I swore I would only let the woman of my dreams cut my hair when she married me” —Harald holds the dagger for you to take— “and she has.” You take the blade from him, fingers curling around its leather hilt, the dark lines of the metal ripple like water in the candlelight. “Cut my hair,” he breathes. It's a gentle command. “Please, elskede mitt.”

He bends forward, forehead pressed into your thigh. You run your fingers down the thick, dark brown braid, moving it to lay straight along his spine. Laying the sharp edge against his hair, you shore off his hair just below his shoulders. He feels the weight lift and straightens, smiling when he sees you clasping the severed braid. Harald rises, cupping your cheek —thumb stroking over your jaw, reverently. Then he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. Soft and slow and sweet with a burning heat you have not felt in his kisses before. When he draws back, Harald takes the dagger, placing it back in its leather sheath, and lays it on a low bench at the foot of the bed.

His attention returns to you. Harald has seen you wade into battle without fear, stand up to men of power without a second thought, but now you look like the young naïve princess he first believed you to be. His brows furrow —you have shared his bed for months, relished in his kisses, yet now as his wife, you quiver like an autumn leaf in a cool breeze. “Why do you tremble, wife?” He asks, fingers brushing along your neck.

“Harald, I–” you don’t have to say anything else. He understands your hesitance then; you are untouched, save for his kisses, having never lain with a man. “I” —he starts, jaw clenching. The lust in his stormy eyes gone in an instant. "I will not touch you if you do not want me to." Is all he says, voice deep, calm, and steady like the tides of an ocean. Harald has waited months and knows he is willing to wait many more for you.

You sink with the words, relieved, but the memory of what is expected of you, of the duties of a wife and queen, wash in with the next wave of emotion. You love Harald, yet fear still cuts you deeper than any sword could. Your face sours from your briefly agape expression at the thought. Bending your head, you draw in a long breath, eyes flicking to his. "No” —you shake your head, smiling, this is Harald, the man you loved, the man you now called husband— “I want you to,” you tell him, but the words break in your throat, and you grimace at how desperate you sound, as though trying to prove yourself a good and dutiful wife.

He looks at you, waiting for a more certain answer. It comes when you take his face into your hands, fingers sliding back into his hair, loosening the remnants of his braid, and kiss him with all the fierce desire kept bottled away. Harald rips himself away from your kiss with a low groan from deep in his throat. "You’re sure?” At that, you shatter. Your nod is small but firm. Harald is your husband, and you would know him as only a wife should. His hands curl around your waist. “Once we start,” he breathes in, eyes going dark again, “I might not be able to stop." Your smile tells him all he needs to know.

He begins with the slow drag of rough yet careful hands down the outsides of your thighs, over your hips, pushing your thin shift up around your waist. You can’t stop looking at his face, serious and handsome —only focused on you. Harald moves his hands to the soft insides of your thighs, squeezes them, then leans up on his knees and places a kiss below your navel —scraping the coarse whiskers on his chin and jaw over the soft skin. You jump at the tickle, and his low chuckle reverberates through you both, sending a wave of warmth washing over you, gathering low in your belly.

“Relax, wife,” Harald says, running his calloused hands over your thighs and across your pelvis, urging you to lay back. He can still tell you are tense even if your cunt is eager for his mouth and fingers. The deep rasp of his voice, the puffs of hot air across your slick folds as Harald tilts his head and breathes —warmth shoots through you as though you’ve been struck by one of Thor’s lightning bolts. He hums his contentment, turning his head to kiss your thighs, his coarse beard scraping over your skin before his tongue darts out, drawing quick patterns.

You lose conscious thought the minute he wraps his lips around your clit, hands holding you firmly in place as he laps and licks through your folds, methodical and slow with a long groan —letting you know this is just as torturous for him as it is you. Harald’s fingers brush through your folds, gathering the slick there, and he eases one finger into your cunt, curling, and stroking, then adds a second. He’s doing something devastating —the gentle pressure with each flick of his tongue— your breath coming in short gasps, chest heaving.

His mouth encircles your clit again, and he sucks gently as his fingers thrust deeper. Your moan is shaky, high, and loud, your hips curling upwards into Harald's face. He groans against your frazzled nerves, his free hand stroking over your thigh and stomach until it's crossing over the curve of your back. He sucks loudly, panting and groaning into your cunt, and you're nearly sobbing his name while digging your head back into your bed, body shaking as your pleasure crests.

He slowly withdraws his fingers, their wetness rubbing along your twitching folds as he kisses up your body. You suck in harsh breaths as you quiver, nails digging into Harald’s arms while he rises, hair a mess, mouth wet, and wide eyes wanting.

He slides his hands away from between your legs, pushing the rest of your shift up and off, leaving you bare and vulnerable before him. His hands slip below your hips, pushing you to the center of the mattress as he crawls over you —taking a moment to drink in the sight of you, a goddess lying in his bed, surrounded by soft pelts and linen blankets. Harald presses down over you, kissing you as though it is the only thing to keep him anchored in a raging storm. You sigh with him as he rocks into you, your legs winding around his hips to draw him closer.

The sweet and slow grind continues, and your sigh and plead for him in soft whispers and whimpers —music to Harald’s ears. His mouth showers your neck and chest with wet kisses, leaving your nipples standing hard and need swelling between your legs again already. A warm hand cups a breast up to his mouth, and your gasp as he sucks it deeply, tongue swirling over your nipple.

You twist a hand into his hair, arching back into the furs. Harald groans, hips rutting down into yours. His britches have sagged, and you feel the weight of his hard cock against your hip, his belly keeping it pressed into yours as he mouths across to your other breast.

With a pinched brow, you raise your head to press your forehead into Harald’s, mouth parted. His head had angled to watch your chest heave under his ministrations, but he turns back, nose brushing yours and heavy eyes meeting before he kisses you once more. “Harald,” you breathe. His name is a soft plea on your lips.

His torment has lasted too long. Shuffling back, he undoes the ties of his britches, pushing them down his thighs and off to the floor, quickly settling back between your thighs. Harald strokes his cock, thrice over as he kisses you and swallows the startled little whine you make when he slides the heavy, weeping head through your folds. He curses below his breath, beginning to press into you, slowly, watching your expression for any signs of discomfort —he finds nothing but bliss.

It is a pleasant ache, a dull burn as he presses his hips flush against yours, inch by inch, nudging you open, stealing the breath from your lungs, too full of him to think properly. You gasp, every nerve on fire as you clench your fists into the furs below, Harald’s cock still slowly sinking into your cunt —branching and crackling through your system like lightning. You whimper, pinned beneath him. Harald doesn’t move; instead, he presses soft kisses to your neck and then your lips, his breath shaking —the muscles in arms flexing over your as you draw in a deep breath.

And then he moves, and it’s so deep, and he’s so heavy and thick inside you that you can feel all of it, every ridge and vein, each pulse of blood in cock as he rocks his hips —his thighs already slick with you essence. Harald’s eyelids droop down, his mouth falling open. It’s so good it’s devastating. The pressure and pleasure make you want to cry, scream. You want more of him —harder, faster, deeper. He dips his head down, panting and grunting at your ear.

You see stars behind your eyelids. This must be what the poets sing of you think. For how could anything feel as good as the drag of his cock inside you. Slick and hot, you can feel every twitch of him as he slowly pulls his hips back, then presses back in just as slowly. It bows your back, your hips raising from the bed to meet his with a whine.

He shuffles closer on his knees, rocking his cock within you. He sits back on his haunches, a hand sliding under your bent knee, bicep flexing as he does. You groan when you sink upon him again, his cock pushing another wet sound from your needy body, fisting the sheets around you. You stare up at him, eyes wide, taking in his body and the way it looks between your spread thighs —the way the firelight flickers over the curve of his shoulders, around the muscles that hug his ribs and down over his hips.

Carefully rolling your hips in time with his, you moan, and he pumps inside a little deeper, a little quicker. You grip his arms, move your hands to his face, unsure what part of him you want to touch, which part to anchor yourself to. Harald leans down for a kiss, and you press your fingers to his cheek, kissing him with a burning intensity he’s not seen from you before. He groans against your mouth, and you pant as your bodies work together. It’s almost instinctual, the need to take him deeper, to meet, thighs hard against each other.

He presses your thighs further apart, leaning back to watch himself disappear inside you, the cling of you around him so tight it makes a cold shiver creep down his spine. Harald swipes his thumb across your clit, rubbing circles on the sensitive nub of flesh to watch you writhe and whimper for him. The way your breathing hitches and face twists in pleasure tells him you are riding the edge of a precarious ridge, ready to fall when he wills it. He leans back over you.

You drag your nails along his skin, and he shudders into his next thrust, an elbow giving out to press his body down into yours again. Then the other, curling near your head, his heat all-encompassing as is the rub of his skin into yours.

"Harald," you whimper, rolling your hips with his as he works his cock inside you. You feel lightheaded and breathless and full and– "Yes," he breathes, your name a prayer on his tongue as he kisses across your jaw and neck, back arching as his hips start to work up into an actual rhythm. By the gods, you love the way your teeth clench and your body shakes and how you can just barely take everything Harald has to give —every thrust, every moan, every kiss is yours.

His cheeks and chest are flushing even in the low light, and his hair sticks to his neck and forehead as his pace picks up, unable to withdraw completely from within you. Long, calloused fingers bury into your hair, angling you to look at him, his other slides down to where your bodies are joined, rubbing your clit, knowing by the way your walls flutter you are close, as is he. His forehead and nose press to yours, eyes locked —you’re staring into dark seas, happy to drown.

The budding pressure grows, setting you on a precipice ready to fall. It’s still a foreign sensation as your body begins shuddering against his, limbs limp but jerking, neck tilted back into the furs —shining with sweat and your skin so prettily flushed. Seeing you like this is enough to push him over too. Harald’s body tenses, his hip stuttering, cock twitching deep inside you with a spreading warmth. His groan is strangled, almost pained when he thrusts into you again, lazily —just to feel his seed begin to seep from your ruined cunt.

Harald holds himself above you, breath still coming in pants. He searches your hazy and tired expression, then dips down, taking another kiss —he does not think he will ever tire of kissing you. Sighing into his mouth, you run your hands up his sides and back, feeling the scars below your palms as you urge him to rest atop you. He does, head pillowed on your breast, listening to the beat of your heart, slowing with each passing moment. You brush aside his hair, tracing over the fading tattoo between his shoulder blades. “You have made me very happy,” he admits, looking up at you, “that happiest man in Midgard.”

You smile for him, brushing back his sweat-damp hair. “And I am grateful the gods led me to you.” The gods had woven your fate a millennia ago; they intended for the threads to twine with Harald’s of that you are certain. He turns his head, lips pressing to your breast. You both stay like that, with you tracing patterns on his shoulder, and he runes on your ribs.

On the verge of sleep, Harald rolls off you but is quick to draw you back into his arms. His lips brush against your forehead, and then in a rough whisper, you hear him breathe, “ek ann þér.”

Yes, you sigh, the gods had been good to you, and so had your husband, Harald.

[ Vikings taglist: @elizabethroestone @naaladareia @gossamarnie @n0sferatus @alicedopey @charming-merlin @ahotmesswithprivilege @certifiedlittleshit @pats-writing @gearhead66 @elluvians (for Harald) ] if you want to be added to my Vikings (Harald, Halfdan, and Ragnar) taglist, just let me know! if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you.

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years ago

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Vampire haikyuu boys. No,listen me out. Like they love volleyball,but they can't play due to the lack of blood. Then their darling ever so lovingly offers them some. Or reverse Darling is vampire and then the boys go absolutely feral for their shoulders to be pierced right through. They would absolutely starve darling,locking them up,just so their blood,and only their blood would ever pass through their lips.

I decided to go with the latter opition, if only to make this into a sort-of Monster Hunting AU. It’s just like the canon Haikyuu, except everyone has a darker color palette, comes equipped with a broadsword, and volleyball is replaced with generalized slaying, save for our lovely vampire Darling, of course. They’re allowed to pick favorites.

Title: Captivity.

TW: Imprisonment, Blood, Graphic Violence and Cannibalism.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been so hungry.

You weren’t a stranger to starvation. Creatures like you were gifted with an inhumane lifespan and all the skills you need to hunt down at least one unwilling donor every month or so, but every so often, you’d find yourself wandering the streets blindly and searching for a meal after half a year of famine. You were acquainted with the salivating, the sleeplessness, the pangs of hot, pure desperation, you’d even had a fair amount of encounters with the inescapable numbness that came after the rest of it faded away. You were used to all of that. You could live that.

You weren’t used to not being able to do anything to change that, though.

That was the part you didn’t care for - your own undeniable, unfiltered helplessness.

You made a half-hearted attempt to pull against your restraints as the metal-plated door swung open, letting a fresh stream of warm summer air flow in with the night’s darkness. Your hands were bound behind your back, silver cuffs biting into your wrists and keeping you tethered to an unforgiving stone wall, the chain barely long enough to allow you to lay down, let alone explore your current prison. Still, you did your best to growl and glare and make your unhappiness known as a group of your captors entered, their names’ known and their faces’ familiar. You’d been here far too long not to know exactly kept you imprisoned.

You knew them, and yet, you refuse to acknowledge your jailors as individuals. Instead, you bowed your head and made sure your tone was resentful as possible, your loathing generalized and impersonal. Indifferent was the worst thing you could be, to them. “Let me go, humans.”

If they felt any compilation to obey, they didn’t bother indulging it. Rather, the tallest of the four scoffed, crossing his arms and stopping about halfway across the room. A good distance, a wary distance, one that emphasized caution over curiosity. “And to think, we come to do something nice for you,” Tsukishima said, watching as his companions continued to approach. “I don’t know why we bother to keep this thing alive. It’s not like it does anything to pull its weight.”

Yamaguchi paused, frowning softly as he threw his elbow into Tsukishima’s side. “That’s awfully heartless, for someone who practically dragged us through away from camp,” He countered, his stern tone melting into a laugh as his companion rolls his eyes. “Don’t pretend you aren’t excited to see (Y/n). It’s not fair, considering the rest of us have to deal with your whining.”

“Hinata whines, I point out inequity,” Tsukishima mumbled, the rebuttal quiet but impassioned. You were sure he went on, but your attention was quickly drawn away by a much braver boy, the shortest of the group, whose smile was hardly obscured by his thick, fur-lined cloak. He had no reservations when it came to approaching you, kneeling less than an arm’s length away and staring you down as he pulled off one of his gloves, his intent becoming obvious with the modest show of skin. You’d love to say something so meager had no effect on you, but you could already feel your fangs begin to emerge, prodding at your lower lip and only making you more aware of your own light-headedness, of how full he was.

Of just how long it’d been since your last meal.

He was the first to address you directly, his grin broadening with every word. You couldn’t bring yourself to mind, not when his pulse was suddenly drumming in your ears, growing louder with each passing second. “We waited a little too long this time, didn’t we?” He asked, his tone akin to that of an owner talking to their loyal pet. “I’m sorry - it’s so hard to keep track of time when we’re traveling. Sawamura wants to start leaving a few of us nearby while the other’s hunt, but I think it’d be easier to take you with us. Then, you’d get to see how cool we are when we’re not…” His gaze dropped to your restraints, quickly flickering away. “You’d like that, right? Traveling together will be so fun, when the others’ trust you as much as I do.”

“I’d rip out your throat at the first opportunity.” Your voice was flat, purposefully so, your speech only slightly distorted by your protruding canines. “The only thing I want is to get away from you and the rest of your butchers.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love your spirit?” He let out a sigh, and without further delay, he rolled up his sleeve, pale skin making itself apparent in the darkness. He was tentative, at first, moving slowly as he bent his hand back, taking care to angle his wrist so a string of thin, blue veins were merely a breath away from your lips. “Be gentle, alright? It’s been a while since my last turn, so I don’t want--”

He didn’t get a chance to finish, his words morphing into a stifled, pained moan. You didn’t try to be graceful or respectful or gentle, simply driving your fangs into his skin and biting, ripping away everything between you and the sustenance lying just below his flesh. In less than a second, it was flooding over your tongue, filling your mind with cotton and your body with euphoria and canceling out your restraints and your surroundings and your captors. For a moment, your hunger faded, and you were content. For a moment, you were no longer suffocating.

And then, someone grabbed your source by the collar, dragging him back until your fangs could no longer reach him, and the hunger was free to plague you as it wished.

“I told you not to get so close,” Kageyama spat, the sentiment frustrated, venomous. Hinata pursed his lips, glancing over his shoulder as his sense of self-preservation fought against his dissatisfaction, but Kageyama was quick to shake his head, sighing as he released the smaller boy. “Look at yourself,” He explained, gesturing vaguely towards Hinata’s wrist, now a bloody mess of tattered skin and gauged veins Yamaguchi was rushing to bandage. “It’s still a monster. You can’t forget that just because everyone’s treating it like a pet.”

“You’re so mean, Tobio,” Hinata drawled, from the blood loss or the effect your bites usually had on your victims, you couldn’t tell. “You’re just jealous that you didn’t get to feed ‘em, this time. You always get moody when it’s someone else’s turn.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, moron.” The sentiment was blunt and vague, but it didn’t take long for his focus to shift, his eyes coming to center on you. Unceremoniously, he dropped Hinata, the boy scrambling to regain his balance as Kageyama stepped towards you, his hand drifting towards the knife strapped to his belt.

The barest hint of a smile finding its way onto his expression.

“We still have to teach the mutt not to bite the hand that feeds it, don’t we?”

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a-world-in-grey · 4 years ago

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@secret-engima so I got sidetracked editing that monster post of the Lucian Council (it keeps getting longer every time I turn around T^T) thinking about worldwide and Lucian holidays. I know somewhere buried in your own worldbuilding tags you mentioned Lucis having a couple festivals, but I don’t believe you ever really elaborated.

Welp, I elaborated a bit. These aren’t all the holidays, mind you, just the ones my brain got distracted by, so feel free to add on!

Some general notes - contrary to what certain Astrals would like, Ifrit and Shiva are the main deities of the pantheon worldwide. Ifrit because he was the first to care for and guide humanity, far before even the rise of Solheim. And Shiva, because she was the second, whose cold heart melted in the warmth of Ifrit’s love. Individual nations/regions celebrate their patron deities - Galahd has specific festivals for Ramuh and Leviathan, Altissia for Leviathan, Duscae for Titan, Lucis and Tenebrae for Bahamut, Niflheim for Shiva - but worldwide it’s only Shiva and Ifrit’s main holidays that are celebrated.

Festival of the Six - A week long festival celebrating the six Astrals, with one day set aside for each individual Astral and the final day being for all of them. Stories from the Cosmogony are portrayed, there’s food and alcohol and music and dancing, and generally everyone has loads of fun. This is one of the few festivals celebrated worldwide.

Summer Solstice - Feast of Ifrit, celebrating the height of Ifrit’s power on the longest day of the year. This holiday celebrates Ifrit the Knowledge-giver - there are plays of history and fable, parades with floats of historical figures, exhibits set up for educational purposes as well as contests of knowledge and skill and other competitions. At sunset, a host of paper lanterns are set aflame and lifted into the night sky to bear messages to the Pyre-burner and Keeper of the Dead, so that Ifrit may pass their words onto their departed loved ones. In the modern era it’s called the Summer Solstice rather than the Feast of Ifrit, in order to distance the holiday from the fallen Astral, and many have forgotten Ifrit’s influence on the holiday entirely. Still, the holiday remains one of the few festivals celebrated worldwide.

Winter Solstice - Feast of Shiva, celebrating the height of Shiva’s power on the shortest day of the year. This holiday celebrates Shiva the Trickster in the form of a masquerade - for the festival everyone dons masks. ‘Any face but your own’ is the only rule. For the nobility, wealthy, famous, influential, etc., there is a masquerade ball that starts at sundown and lasts till sunrise. There is a ‘red carpet’ where the press take photos of the costumes of the various attendants and post them online for the public to enjoy/criticize the following day. While no longer called the Feast of Shiva in modern day, Shiva’s influence still lingers in various superstitions - such as the requirement of wearing a mask lest the Trickster Goddess steal your face. It is one of the few festivals celebrated worldwide.

Founder’s Day - literally the only holiday/festival/celebration we know of in canon. No, I don’t have a date for it. It’s probably not in winter, but beyond that I’ve got no idea. For obvious reasons, this is a Lucis-only festival. This is one of the festivals for which they pull out the really big fireworks.

King’s Birthday - not really a festival, but it’s a Lucian national holiday and thus most people have the day off work (exception being essential personnel, but they are compensated with holiday pay). The date of this holiday varies monarch to monarch.

Day of Parting - a day of remembrance honoring the end of the War of the Astrals. In Lucis, it is a day to remember deceased loved ones and celebrate Bahamut’s victory over Ifrit. In Galahd it’s the day they remember and honor the sacrifice Ramuh made in slaying his Kin, and to mourn Ramuh’s Exile.

Festival of Light - a Lucian festival honoring Bahamut. Light shows, fireworks, strings of lights and paper lanterns, this is a celebration of triumph over the darkness.

Spring Equinox - Feast of Leviathan, celebrating the return of spring, the return of life. A minor holiday in Lucis, but a much larger one in Galahd and Altissia.

Autumn Equinox - Feast of Titan, celebrating the harvest and the culmination of all the hard work and care dedicated to the fields. A minor holiday in Insomnia, it is a major one in the Lucian outlands, especially in Duscae, rivaling that of the Solstice celebrations.

#Shadow of Heaven's Light #ffxv #worldbuilding #lucis #holidays #galahd

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himbeaux-on-ice · 4 years ago

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Can I just say that Habs “fans” who act like Carey Price’s contract is somehow patient zero of all this team’s problems drive me absolutely fucking insane? Seriously. Buckle up. This is about to be a rant.

Now. First things first. Is it ideal that the $10 million goalie is currently uh, not doing very good? Fucking NO! I am disappointed as shit with that and I don’t like seeing him struggle. I know he can be better. He has to be better. Obviously.

However. That being said.

Do I think it’s an incredibly stupid look to spend several tweets complaining about all the issues Habs defence have been having, and then also griping that they haven’t started Jake Allen enough for how he’s performing, only to then for some inexplicable reason state that the FIRST THING, the first thing that needs to be dealt with after the new coaching staff have had ONE GAME (and zero practices) to work on things, is somehow “well, the ten million dollar man in net is weighing them down, that contract has gotta go!”?

Yes! That’s stupid!!

I think that’s a very ice cold small-brain take, and not just because Price is my favourite of favourites for as long as I’ve been a hockey fan! I have reasons, dammit!! I put THOUGHT into this!!

Here, dear ppl of Habs twitter who will never read this, are some reasons why this narrative you’re concocting is dumb, and why management/coaching are unlikely to think of trying to ditch Price mid-season to fix the current problems:

1: Time. It has been one (1) game under Ducharme. He has been able to run zero (0) full practices on off days with the team. We just changed up a major piece on the Habs chess board — why don’t you give it a minute to see what fresh eyes and minds can do with this roster before you decide we are fucked? This season is fast-moving, sure, but there is time for us to ride out some little bumps here and still make a playoff spot in this Canadian division. Have patience. Do you remember what patience is? Dom is a new head coach, not a wish-granting fairy godmother. Chill. Do you remember chill?

(rest of this under a cut because I actually LIKE Habs Tumblr, and I want to be nice to you all by not making you scroll past all of it if you don’t want to)

2: Jake Allen exists. There are a couple of things I like for what this means for the Habs. Firstly, for basically the first time in his NHL career, we are not in a situation where if Carey Price is in a slump, we have to go “Ah, shit, so now our options are let his stats tank while he tries to get the groove back in net, OR throw whoever the poor backup is out there to get murdered while we plummet through the standings.... 😬” We don’t have that problem right now, because the backup is... actually good? Oh my god, the backup is actually good! Thank fuck! We’re not doomed. If I’m Ducharme, I put Allen in net for a few consecutive starts to put a solid backstop behind all my fun experiments I’m probably planning with the skating roster (to catch their slip-ups, while also giving Carey lots of time and rest with which to work hard on sorting out whatever his issue is along with the goalie coaches).

2b: Jake Allen exists and is competition. Hell, if I’m Ducharme, maybe I even play a little hardball and say “Look, Carey, I don’t want you to be an expensive benchwarmer, but if things don’t pick up soon I am going to start whoever is doing best and you will have to compete for that net.” Related to my last point, when was the last time Carey Price had to push himself to compete for net time against anything other than his own injuries, and wasn’t simply always the default starter? Has that EVER been a thing? Honestly as much as I love the idea of him being The Goalie for the Habs, I also kinda like this idea a lot because I think it could really push him to a higher standard of performance. Maybe that kind of high-pressure situation (given how much he thrives in the pressure-cooker of the playoffs) could be what he NEEDS in order to Be Carey Price again. Worst comes to worst, he doesn’t respond to that challenge, and I am very sad but the Habs have a good goalie in net anyway, because Hallelujah, Jake Allen exists! God, isn’t it nice to have Jake Allen? Bless him.

3: Money. Guys, this league is so broke right now. Seriously. Seriously. Nobody has any fucking money. The Habs probably have more money than most teams, and that does not help when it comes to offloading large contracts. Trades are a NIGHTMARE both because of the flat cap but also because travel is complicated (especially cross-border) but also nobody wants to trade within their division if possible because all your games are against them. Who in the name of fuck do you think is jumping at the idea of taking the $10 million per through 20-lots-and-lots-of-years-from-now contract of a goalie who is currently struggling, impressive past record aside? What kind of astral plane of fantasy hockey are you on to think there’s a trade out there for that within this season. Shut up. And no, don’t bring up the expansion draft, this post is a rebuttal SPECIFICALLY to the people who think that Price and his contract are the biggest problem that needs to be dealt with RIGHT NOW and first on the list of ways to immediately remedy the team’s struggles.

4: Spite. Specifically to piss you off, bud. You personally.

5: Knowing how to troubleshoot properly. Fellas, if my computer is running slowly and freezing up a lot, do I immediately decide the first step to fixing it is to crack open the chassis, remove the hard drive, and try to sell that hard drive to someone to see if I can enough money back to somehow get a better hard drive for less? No, dipshit. That’s not how troubleshooting a complex system works works. It’s the same with hockey teams. Ah, my star goalie is not performing great. This situation is deeply less than ideal. If you’re actually good at troubleshooting, the first thing you do is not “WELL. I GUESS WE’LL HAVE TO THROW THE WHOLE GOALIE OUT. HE’S TOAST.” The first thing you do, if you’re a smart coach, is you say “Okay, what are my defence doing in front of him? What are they doing to reduce the amount and quality of our opponents’ scoring chances? Oh. Oh, they’re taking a lot of penalties, and... oh, uh, some of this is very not great. Yikes.” And then you start your work by trying to make the defence actually work instead of running the same Pairs That Everyone Is Very Much Over And Tired Of, because your goalie is actually supposed to be your Last Line of Defence. And maybe during that time you give more starts to Goalie Who Is Absolutely Slaying It, so that when you start trying new D-pairs and they inevitably have some mistakes, it doesn’t immediately turn into an Oh God Holy Fuck moment every time, because that last line of defence backstopping them is solid. The reason you need to deal with defense first is because a) You know you have a reliable goalie (Allen) in your pocket right now if you need him. What you don’t have is a whole-ass proven and tested and practiced Backup D-Core you can swap into the roster in front of your goalies to make their lives easier. Fix your defense and it WILL improve your goalies, even marginally. Defrag the hard drive before you ask why it’s not working. and b) If you need to go looking for any new D-men to solve the issues, those are WAY easier and cheaper to find than top-tier goalies, and you always want to start any troubleshooting process with trying the simplest solutions first to hopefully save time and money. The better that D-core is, the less it fucks your team over if the goalie isn’t feeling themselves, because the D is going to stop more of those pucks before they ever even become the goalie’s problem. FIX. DEFENCE. FIRST. Then try to train your goalie back into top form. THEN explore your other options.

6: The vicious cycle. Guys. We literally do this once every year or second year. EVERY time Carey Price has a slump, this fanbase gets into a tizzy like the Bell Centre is burning down and he was the one with the matches. And what ALWAYS happens literally within the year, every single time? He gets his mojo back like he did last summer in the bubble and goes on a heater and everybody goes “JESUS PRICE!!!! 🙌” and is ready to name their firstborn kid after him. Until eventually that performance becomes unsustainable, and he becomes mortal again, and suddenly he’s The Real Problem With This Franchise once again. I know he’s the guy they chose to build the team around instead of a superstar forward, but oh my god folks. You’d think he was the only player on the team. Guys, I feel like fucking Sisyphus pushing a blue blanc et rouge boulder up Mont Royal once a year with this shit. This man’s entire career has been a constant seesaw narrative between “Carey Price is our saviour!” and “Carey Price should be exiled to Nome!!!!” from parts of this fanbase, I swear. Look, slumps suck, but for once we are actually lucky enough to be in a position where this team, for the first time in YEARS, does not solelylive or die by the inscrutable magical cycles of Carey Price’s goalie powers — because when he has to step back and work to get back into his groove, there is FINALLY a SECOND GUY who is GREAT. Honestly, given that the state of this team for so long has been “they will go as far as Carey Price can take them” and he has put in a pretty fucking decent job of it despite all of the team’s other struggles, I feel like it is owed it to the guy to be like “Okay, well, we have somebody else solid to fill the net right now, and a chance to really figure out our defence and special teams with this new coach. Why don’t you take a step back and work your ass off at trying to get back into the form I know you can still perform at, and we’ll go from there?”

Anyway. Some parts of this fanbase have been waiting for a fresh excuse to claim Price is overrated, washed-up, and to blame for all of this team’s flaws and ills ever since he signed that contract, if not since the start of his NHL career. Just unreal how nasty some of this fanbase is willing to be about a player who is ON. YOUR. TEAM.

Am I saying he is beyond critique of his play and can do no wrong and his contract is perfect? No! I want this team to have the best goaltending it can get, and I want them to kick ass and take names. The difference is, I still believe Carey Price is a part of that winning formula, and I also think Twitter is overflowing with idiots who just repeat what everybody else says. He’s still a better goalie than your ass would be if I stuck you out there to stop shots from Mark Schieffle, for crap’s sake.

“The first thing that has to go is Carey Price’s contract 🤪”. Shut the fuck up. You are actively making other people stupider by talking. Go eat sand. Good day.

#It’s Time For My Opinion #I put so much time into this I hope it’s coherent lol #habs #Carey price #montreal canadiens #long post

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winifredsandersonsbitch · 4 years ago

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“Wallow”

Spike x Summers!Reader, BTVS

Warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of sex, S6 SPOILERS!!!

Description: Out of the five stages of grief, anger is the one that appeals most to the reader. Spike gets the brunt of it during training.

writing fanfics doesn’t feel so appropriate atm, but I wanted to take a break from signing petitions/writing letters (which I encourage you to do as well) and do something creative for a minute. Posting in case anyone else is in a similar situation

Training started up again the day after Buffy’s funeral.

It was important to keep moving, now more than ever. Spike didn’t think it was a good idea, but you shut him down every time he tried to bring it up. What you needed was not time or space or love. You needed to be prepared. You were not going to lose another sister. No one else was going to die. The universe had taken more than its due.

“Again,” you panted, and Spike lunged at you. He couldn’t go in with the intent to hurt you or his head would fill with white hot pain, so you were always uncomfortably aware of how much he was holding back, how easily he could take you if he wasn’t. Most times, he still beat you, although he always offered to fix you up after. All in all, he was a patient teacher, better than you deserved. But even he had his limits.

Spike tackled you to the ground, knocking the breath from your lungs, but you recovered quickly and aimed a punch at his face before he could pin down your arms.

Wheeling backwards, he stretched a hand out to his aching jaw, running it over the bruising skin. “Listen, sweetheart, I know my stamina is legendary, but we’ve got to give it a rest.”

“Again.”

This was all there was for you now. Practice and duty and anger. You wondered if this was how it had been for Buffy, near the end.

You woke up every morning with your skin a mottling greenish purple, darkening with time. Everywhere ached. You covered it up with makeup as best as you could for your shifts at the diner, but your coworkers were starting to notice.

No doubt they blamed it on the blond who sometimes came in to sit at the corner booth during your shifts.

Today hurt more than most. Spike had hurt your back the last time he slammed you against the alley wall, complaining that you fought like a rabid animal instead of a person when you tried to bite him to get away.

“Use anything that you have at your disposal.” You spat blood into the gravel. “That was your first rule. Come at me again.”

That was when he threw you across the alley.

It wasn’t the first time you had been tossed around in a fight. But for some reason, this time you couldn’t get up. You hit a pile of crates and struck your abdomen before rolling over onto your back.

You had practiced being thrown before, falling, all of it, but this was different. Today your anger had gotten the best of you. You had only been focusing on hurting him, not on protecting yourself. And now you couldn’t move.

Spike appeared above you, a bone-white face in a field of black night. You wheezed, trying to take in air that wouldn’t come.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to throw you so hard. Can you sit up?”

“Something cracked,” you said, and Spike reached out for you, then yanked his hand back like he was afraid he’d hurt you more by touching you. Then he covered the side of your waist with either hand, trying to relocate the pressure that would come with hauling you up to his body instead of yours.

“Here, I’m going to help you up, we’re going to take you to the hospital. I’ll call the others. We’ll— What the hell are you— Stay down, woman!”

You put your hand flat on the crate nearest to you and hauled yourself to your feet. Then you put your fists up, your knuckles bloody from where the scabs had split.

“We—don’t—stop,” you puffed, each word more difficult to get out than the last. “A real fight doesn’t— stop— for anything.”

“This isn’t a real fight,” he reminded you. He reached out and you ducked under his arm, a lightning strike of pain shooting up your side where the bone had fractured. But you came out on the other side, planting your feet.

“It’s real. You’re a vampire.” You needed him to be as worked up as you were, so you pushed this button deliberately. “I’m the new Slayer.”

“You’re not—”

“I am.” You were taking shallow breaths now, trying to stay steady. “She’s gone and I’m here. Someone has to take over.”

“There’s already a new Slayer out there, you don’t have to—”

“I promised my mom I would take care of her. And if I couldn’t do that, then I’ll make damn sure I take care of Sunnydale. Now fight me.”

With one swift move, he had your wrists pinned behind your back, making your ribs groan.

Jesus Christ.

“You can handle it,” Spike said, reading your mind. “Don’t think I’m going easy on you. Not when you seem to like the pain so well.”

You weren’t strong enough to shake him off. Months of this, of trying to train your body to do better, and you still didn’t possess a fraction of what Buffy had.

“Why don’t you tell me what this is about, love?”

He bent his neck over your shoulder like he was playing the part of the loving boyfriend getting ready to place a kiss on your cheek, maybe hold you from behind like he was helping you to line up a shot in golf.

“I need to get better.”

“You’re killing yourself.”

“No.” You almost broke your wrists pulling out of his grip and he had to steady you before you fell back. He placed a hand on middle of your ribcage where the skin was beginning to swell, wincing. “I wouldn’t do that to Dawn. To any of them. I’m only trying to make it right. Willow will look me over when we’re done.”

Spike shook his head. “I know this is how you deal with grief from your mum, but this is ridiculous.”

“This is nothing like that.”

“No?”

You picked your jacket up off the ground, shaking it out. You got hot during training, but you were freezing now.

“No.”

He followed you out of the alley doggedly, his thunderous footsteps right behind your own. Across the street, down the sidewalk, and into your car. He climbed in before you could lock the doors. Sitting down made the pain in your ribs flare, but you filed that away under Things to Deal with Later.

“Tell me.”

“It’s just different.” He continued to watch you steadily. Stealthily. Hungrily. You reached to start the car, but he stilled your hand. You slapped his away.

“Why do you care? Do you really have so few other friends that you have to follow me around like a lost puppy? Get out, Spike.”

“You know why.”

You did. He told you before, before Buffy took the high dive, but you had ignored him. Even when he offered to kill Drusilla for you, even when he almost got himself killed by Glory to save Dawn. You believed he felt something. Lust, a proximity to danger. Something to make his immortal life more interesting. But as you had told him before, that wasn’t the same as love.

“Get out.”

“I care about you,” he said through clenched teeth. “For the last year, I’ve only tried to do right by you. You say that you don’t want to play the part of the broken girl, but here you are. I should nominate you for a bloody Oscar.”

“Just because I don’t want to fuck you doesn’t mean that—”

Spike almost broke off the handle as he slammed open the car door, his jaw tight.

“Don’t come crying to me when no one else is willing to stomach your bullshit.”

You stewed in the car for all of two minutes, smacking the horn and screaming at the top of your lungs, before you calmed down enough to think things over.

You were miserable.

Mostly because of Buffy’s death, but also because you were tired of trying to fill her shoes. You couldn’t come up with that many puns in combat or put slaying ahead of everything else. You couldn’t lock down your feelings in order to get the job done. You couldn’t even be honest with the people you loved about how you felt.

You fully considered letting Spike walk out of your life and never come back. You probably would have, too. If he hadn’t been right. If he hadn’t found a way to get you the money you needed after your mother’s death. If he hadn’t volunteered to watch Dawn, to do extra research, even to make dinner one night when you were feeling especially out of it. He almost burned the house down, but he had tried.

You had lashed out at him more times than you could count, and he always took it with a steadiness that kept you grounded when it counted. And now, when he finally bit back, it was because you had suggested that all he wanted from you was sex.

You rolled out of your seat, locked up the car, and tucked the keys in your pocket, swiveling blindly. Where had he gone? Back to the crypt? To the alley? You saw a flicker of black disappear around the corner and followed.

You caught a glimpse of Spike ducking into a decrepit all-night bar. Tugged your jacket tighter around yourself. Prayed that no one would recognize you. Stepped inside.

It was the seedy kind of monster venue that only he could like. Demons leered at you from behind tables marked with blood and vampires ordered drinks at the scuffed bar top. Spike was ordering a Bloody Mary when you sat down next to him. The stool creaked beneath your weight, but he didn’t so much as look at you. The bartender glared at you disapprovingly but let you be. To soften him up, you ordered your own drink, although you didn’t know if you’d be able to take a single sip. The place didn’t look very sanitary.

“I know when I’m wrong,” you said to the glasses behind the bar. “I’m not trying to put up walls. But I don’t want anyone taking care of me. I don’t like to be treated like I’m fragile.”

That wasn’t true. You remembered that one night after your shift when all you had wanted was to be babied. To have someone else take the load for you. But that was before and this was now.

Spike stayed silent. You cleared your throat. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to dangle anything in front of you. When I suggested we train together, I wasn’t leading you on. Or I didn’t mean to be leading you on. It’s just different being around you than the others.”

You could practically hear crickets chirp in here. The bartender dropped off your drinks and Spike took a long sip. Like you didn’t even exist.

“I didn’t want to ruin what we have.”

You were conscious of sounding like every annoying movie protagonist ever.

“Not that we have anything, only—we’re friends, aren’t we? I don’t want the only reason for you hanging out with me to be that you’re waiting for the day you can get in my pants. So I ignore it, like it’ll make it go away,” you babbled. Demons were giving you disgusted glances now, but you rushed on. “And I meant what I said, about how this isn’t like when my mom died. I always knew that any one of us could meet something we couldn’t come back from. I had a plan then. I saved and I learned how to do taxes and I made sure Dawn got to school. But now when the money’s almost run out and we’ve been through two funerals, I can’t—I can’t do this. Any of it. And if you’re only in this for the chase and I give in, that means I have one less person on my side, and I used to have friends, people I trusted, but then life started revolving around Buffy like she was the sun and now— Now she’s gone. And I don’t want anyone to love me ever again, I only want to know that I can take care of myself in the absence of love. I only want to know that I can take care of who’s left.”

He still wasn’t looking at you. And whose fault was that? You had burned your last bridge to the one person left in your life who had known you and cared about you more than Buffy. Who was more concerned with your life than her death. Wasn’t that awful of you? To have ever wanted that?

“I’m sorry,” you said again. You left the money for your drink and stood up. “I thought you should know.”

God, your ribs fucking hurt. You applied pressure to the swelling like you were holding in your internal organs as you dragged your feet to the front door. Then you heard one of the barstools squeal as Spike spun in a full rotation, casual as the devil.

He finished his drink and stood, meeting your eyes for the first time and prying the keys from your hand.

“Come on then. I’ll drive you home.”

#btvs x reader #btvs season 5 #fanfiction #spike x reader #buffy the series #angst

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amphtaminedreams · 4 years ago

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A/W 2020 Fashion Month & Top 20 Collections: Before Vogue Went Blank (Part 4)

Hi all,

Welcome to part 4! It’s gonna be a bit of a shorter one because I wasn’t sure if I could fit the last few collections into my part 3 since I also want to include a ranking of my favourite F/W20 shows. I have so many ideas for what I’d like my next few posts to be (there’ll probably be a bit of gap between them as I would like to try and get some fiction writing in too) and I need help and recommendations on one post in particular so I thought I’d open by explaining that if anyone would like to send me suggestions! The post is basically going to highlight the often under-appreciated personal style of PoC, and I’d also like to make sure I include all types of bodies and genders and ethnicities (other than white girls, as we get enough credit as it is, all a tall, skinny blonde woman has to do is wear some light wash jeans, heels and a blouse and high fashion Twitter are posting non-stop about how incredible her style is)! This can be a celebrity, a model, an influencer or even just one of your friends if you think they deserve some hype too! Obviously there’s only so many photos I can include but I will make sure to look at any suggestions, though of course I’m gonna be biased towards the grungier looks; I gave Dolls Kill a pass for a long time because I thought the brand had changed and become more responsible over the last few years but since Shoddy Lynn’s thoughtless Instagram post during the protests last month and then her lacklustre response video, I say fuck that “goth is white” bullshit, alternative black women are hot af. I’ll also make sure to include a list of my favourite black owned clothing lines I’ve seen people talking about on Twitter and Instagram so again, if you have any suggestions feel free to inbox me. Other than that, I have a couple of lookbooks planned and after, either a post about my favourite shows for style inspiration OR a lookbook depending on whether I have the clothes to do it already/can source a few things from Depop-Depp-I’ve made a commitment not to buy anything new for the next couple of months and I want to stick to that this time round! I’d also like to do a general collation of my favourite summer outfits, an almost scrapbook-y kinda post, and another post on some of my favourite fashion icons (I’ll probs end up repeating a lot of the women from the post I was talking about above but I’ll try and include different outfits to keep it varied!).

Now, into the final part, and the top 20, starting with Tory Burch (I’m really pissed off because I added an unnecessary E in after the R and now Tumblr is once again being stupid and not saving any of my editing changes-also I said on the next post instead of in in the last paragraph and my anal-retentiveness is kicking into high gear).

You’d think it’s a kinda anti-climatic one to open with but I do like this collection! It reminds me a bit of last season’s Miu Miu but more so of Brock’s general aesthetic, though with more layers and in some ways to its detriment, a lot more wearable. Looking like something from a bygone era is part of what gives Brock its mystique, but Burch’s designs are practically made for the Chelsea born and bred lifestyle blogger who dresses for a cold spell in the Coachella valley all year long and treats trawling Pimlico’s furniture shops and meeting their girlfriends for coffee like it’s a full-time job. She’s probably born into money and doesn’t work all that hard but hey, she looks angelic holding a bouquet of flowers and in 2020 we all low-key want her life, right? It’d go against my ethics but...*whispers* it would be nice to be that girl just for a couple of days. It is a gorgeous collection, with a lush colour palette and an ever graceful variety of prints and textures, and it toes the line of being accessible and being worthy of a fashion week spot with dexterity. 8/10 and it only loses marks because it’s safe for the brand.

When it comes to Valentino, they’re a pretty reliable favourite for me, and this season’s collection doesn’t break tradition; this one is slightly grittier than usual too which is a big win for me. Whilst the usual sophistication and delicate details are there, quirky embroidery, sequins and tulle, we also get a lot of leather and more black than usual, which I pray doesn’t a herald a return to people thinking “I only own black clothes and listen to Artic Monkeys” is a personality trait. I don’t know if it’s intentional, but there seems to be a lot of aquatically inspired pieces in this collection too; the 3d roses resemble scales to me (and are a really unique texture), and the way the tulle is placed kinda reminds me of fins and has a mermaid on land feel. It wouldn’t surprise me, since Valentino does tend to draw from nature quite a bit. Highs for me were the Valentino red tulle piece and the tulle pieces in general, of course with the embroidered florals as well which the basic bitch in me always looks forward to. The few lows were concentrated in the leopard print section, a print that for me is really overdone and reminds me of recent Dolce and Gabbana. It was cool when layered with the matching coat but I otherwise could’ve done without it.

Vera Wang is another one of my reliable faves-I think I like this collection even more than the last, it really is a fucking DREAM. The overly floral pieces I wasn’t too keen on but I’ll ignore that on the basis that as with Gucci, the tulle-harness combo is everything I look for in a dress and more. I know manic-pixie-dream-girl is a bit of a slur (not a slur slur but you know what I mean) in terms of the associated character, but this 90s Courtney Love grunge twist on that aesthetic is gold, fully realised big anarchist fairy energy (which is a screen name I’m surprised I don’t see more often and which I might now steal). These dresses were made for someone like Zoe Kravitz or FKA Twigs on the red carpet, and if god forbid I somehow ever ended up on one, I would go to the ends of the earth to be wearing one of the dresses from this collection. Aside from the dresses, I appreciated the moody doesn’t-want-to-be-at-the-family-function teenager inspired sleeves and the 2014 Tumblr Cruel Intentions style knee high socks. Love, love, LOVE it.

So, Versace started off strong with the all black looks-the cut outs were cute if impractical and the fit and flare trousers in particularly were really well fitted (from a distance, at least). I hated the film Red Sparrow but the visuals were very cool, and this section reminded me of that, like a high fashion collection based on Jennifer Lawrence’s character. There were some stunning colour combos in the Ashish like hyper-floral part too, and the houndstooth, marble and Versace tile prints were sick. The black jumper with the flowers on reminds me of a jumper of my nan’s I always wanted that my aunty ended up donating to a charity shop after she died not knowing I liked it. Gutted (not just about the jumper obviously, looool).

HOWEVER, as with many 91 look collections, it was sloppy at times. A lot of pieces I at first liked (I.E the silver dress we saw Kendall Jenner in, included above) are kind of unfinished up close. There was also a big varsity inspired section which was nice at times but got pretty repetitive and occasionally looked like it could pass for Jack Wills or a bad Michael Kors collection. On the whole, it had both its pros and its cons which puts it directly in the middle of the pack.

Victoria Beckham’s collection is near the lower-middle quartile when it comes to plotting the highs and lows of the F/20 collections. The pieces are pretty and accessible, I’d definitely wear them, but they’re predictable and mostly a rip-off of other brands who did something similar in a more interesting way. Though her collections are never really experimental, this one is particularly safe, and she and whoever helped design this season’s pieces were clearly avoiding the edges of the box like a child playing the floor is lava. It’s alright, and I hate coming towards the end of the post with negativity, but I have to be honest, and this just doesn’t really interest me beyond a “yeah, that’s nice” glance.

Vivienne Westwood, on the other hand, is always interesting whether I would actually wear it myself or not. Despite the mix and matchiness that is essential to the deconstructed look, which being the basic bitch I am I often struggle to see past, there were some gorgeous pieces and eurgh, I could really talk about that Bella Hadid look all day. The contrast between the exaggerated femininity of the waist cinchers against the androgyny of the less structured, oversized pieces is a really interesting one and the colour combinations work beautifully together. I also love the idea behind the collection, which is, in the words of Andreas Kronthaler about “rites of spring, and the good and the bad, and conflict, and the good prevailing over evil”. Ahhh, I hear you say. THAT’S what’s with the garlic necklace. Can I get another pat on the back for summing up this collection as “vampire slaying uniform” in my notes? I mean, that’s kind of a good vs. evil situation, isn’t it? I know it’s hard to ignore how hot vampires always are in TV series and movies but just think of the true forms of the ones off Penny Dreadful and remember THEY DRINK BLOOD (I personally think being a vampire would be really cool, just need to work out how to do it “ethically”).

Lastly, Zimmerman, and I really can’t say how happy I am to end on a positive note because this collection was stunning. Not without all the characteristically ornate, indulgent and painstakingly detailed efforts we’ve come to expect from Nicky and Simone Zimmerman, these looks (in an icy winter themed colour palette as well) are the offspring of a sophisticated flower child and a 70s glam rocker and I think with this sentence I’ve finally put my style aspirations into words. Honestly, give me the money to produce a modern day Almost Famous and I’ll make my character this no-nonsense intersectional feminist front woman of a fictional Haim-like band who sings with the voice of an angel but is rock and roll as fuck and eats men for breakfast and I’ll put her in this collection and (deep breath) it would be ICONIC. There. Got to the point eventually. Am I talking about a 2020s version of Steve Nicks? Possibly. After all, I do have a framed illustration of her on my wall. But regardless, I need those lace-up velvet BOOTS, that mesh dress with the celestial embroidery, the flame detail pieces, the white pussy bow blouse with the eyes on it. Everything is sooo dreamy; when I was looking through the collection for my favourites, I saved pretty much every. single. look. IT’S EVERYTHING I STRIVE TO BE. WHY CAN’T I AFFORD ZIMMERMAN GOD DAMN IT!?

See, I’ll be going on about Zimmerman in a couple of paragraphs again because it will be very high in my top 20, which I’m so glad is a top 20 BTW. I know I said it would be a top 10 in my last post because I thought that was how I structured it last time but I double checked and it is 20, which is a relief; once again, picking only 10 collections would be very hard. SO! Let’s get into it!

1. Gucci

I hate being predictable but Gucci once again holds the top spot for me. How could I not love this? I would say that I hope Alessandro Michele fucks up next season so I don’t come off as a boot licker but when the boots in question are platform Mary Janes and knee high socks and they’re underneath tulle with BDSM inspired harnesses on top...maybe boot sole doesn’t taste so bad after all.

2. Zimmerman

Well, I did say it wouldn’t be long until you were seeing the same outfits again, so at least you know my word is good.

3. Moschino

Wow, as if putting Gucci first again wasn’t bad enough, Moschino’s also a non-mover. But...Marie Antoinette this season and Picasso last? And this campy? It’s like Jeremy Scott reached into my brain magician-into-a-top-hat-style, picked out an interest of mine at random, and tried to communicate this to me through the medium of design with THE most chaotic energy humanly possible. I an only commend the man, because he succeeded, and I approve. It’s weird because before I always saw Jeremy Scott’s designs as tacky and yet I’ve loved all the collections I’ve reviewed, so I must ask...are the collections getting less tacky or am I getting more tacky? Much to think about.

4. Vera Wang

The battle armour of a punk princess. Not very good at protecting against knives, arrows, bullets or...anything really, but I’ve never really been the kind of person to get into physical fights (apart with a bouncer who tried to push me down the stairs once at an ABBA night but I was really drunk and she was mean, alright!?), so who cares? Nobody can make you do anything in dresses this pretty.

5. Lanvin

I’m a few years behind everyone else but I’m still on the Mad Men hype train and I don’t ever want to get off. All I wish is that Betty Draper had *SPOILERS* divorced Don’s detty arse earlier and rode off into the sunset in that white Bella Hadid coat with the red lip to match (or the checkered one above will do).

6. Etro

As long as she remains the queen of dreamy bohemian fashion, I’m not gonna do Etro dirty by putting her any lower than this ever again on the basis that she’s not conceptual enough which ashamedly is what I implied in my last ranking-yes, Etro is a she because just as most women deserve more from men, she is beautiful and deserves better than my previous disrespect! I said what I said.

7. Dilara Findikoglu

I see your Thom Browne and your Commes Des Garcons and I raise you my “weird”-though-not-actually-that-weird-at-all-can-we-all-just-dress-like-this-on-a-day-to-day-basis-please? fave, Dilara.

8. Paco Rabanne

Battle armour that actually COULD protect you against knives, arrows, and bullets. Maybe. Well, you’d hope so anyway for the price.

9. Rodarte

Suddenly my phobia of spiders has evaporated. And no, it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that these ones are diamond encrusted, what are you on about?

10. Alberta Ferretti

The colour combinations in this collection were stunning. Honestly. I just picked a really bad pic to illustrate that. Go read my first post to see (grifting 101: complete)!

11. Charlotte Knowles

I saw Bella Hadi wearing a Charlotte Knowles two piece, so I bought a Charlotte Knowles two piece.

LMAOOO, I wish.

12. Balenciaga

It’s occurred to me a couple of posts too late now on the basis that Tumblr is being a dick and won’t go back and let me edit stuff, even little typos, but I’m now wondering if there’s a link between the climate change theming of the show and the exaggerated structures of the pieces? Ya know, the whole abundance is killing the planet line of thinking? I know analysis isn’t exactly on brand with these silly mini captions and that oversized and exaggerated proportions is one of Balenciaga’s running motifs anyway buuut just a thought I had! And sidenote: I do believe overconsumption is killing the planet! The way I phrased that made it seem like I’m a climate change denying dickhead! That I am not! Maybe if I shave my head, legally change my name to Steve, get a British flag tattoo on my bicep, and spend every waking moment in my nearest Spoons I’ll get there but it’s not on the agenda quite yet!

13. Christopher Kane

If fashionable robots took over the world, they’d raid Christopher Kane’s studio and fry us all with laser beams whilst wearing his dresses.

14. Fendi

Siri, play Vroom Vroom by Charli XCX.

15. Olivier Theyskens

Mandarin collar. Mandarin collar. Mandarin collar. NEXT TIME I WILL REMEMBER WHAT THE PROPER NAME IS INSTEAD OF NEEDING TO GOOGLE IT AGAIN. Come on brain, you’re supposed to be good at this kinda thing, make it happen.

16. Elie Saab

Blair Waldorf’s wet dream. Add in some platform boots and chain jewellery and now it’s my wet dream too.

Because Chuck Bass is creepy as FUCK and maybe it’s because I watched Gossip Girl at the ripe old age (lol) of 21 and most people watch it as teenagers but I don’t know why YOU WERE ALL SO OBSESSED WITH HIM! He tries to sexually assault Jenny who is about 14 in the VERY FIRST EPISODE. I think I went off on a tangent here but it had to be said. You girls have no taste.

Don Draper was an absolute dog, but he was played by Jon Hamm, and he might be one of the finest men on the planet. What’s your excuse, Chuck and Blair enthusiasts?

17. Miu Miu

As someone who has probably been/met many a spoilt brat in her time, I appoint Miu Miu as the official sponsor of the Spoilt Brat™ aesthetic and yeah, that’s something I just made up but I’m on the money here. Imagine one of those “daddy, can you get me a pony?” types all grown up. Are you telling me you don’t picture her in Miu Miu? Because that sounds like a lie.

18. YSL

The war flashbacks I get of the Friends episode where Ross tries to get out of those leather trousers aside (I know it’s PVC her not leather but they have the same sheen, you can’t deny it), these outfits turn me into the irl version of the heart eyes emoji. It’s not like I think this is the best collection I’ve ever seen, YSL could def push the boat out a bit in terms of experimentation, but there aren’t many people who wouldn’t look hot as fuck in one of these pieces

19. Balmain

I didn’t like ALL of it, but the looks that I did like were amongst the ones that stuck out to me most when I was reflecting on the collections I’ve reviewed: the breast plates and silk capes and the scorpion detailing are real chef’s kiss moments.

20. Marques Almeida

Miss the collection that gave us this coat off the list? Never.

SO!

That is the end! Wow! I started saving the photos for this review back in late January/early February or whenever it was that the first fashion week began and now it’s mid-fucking July!? I don’t know if that speaks more to my incompetency or what a state the last few months have been. I’m not gonna write a super long ending paragraph because you’ve heard enough from me already and it’s 2:30am and I’m being hassled by Trump supporters on Twitter (literally just for stating that it’s a privilege to be able to pursue a career you truly have a passion for rather than having to be practical about finances first) anddddd I’ve got a closing shift tomorrow so I should probably log the fuck off and remove my clown makeup before it’s time to start my shift, lol!

Quick recommendation before I wrap this up, there was a really interesting debate on ITV literally a few hours ago on the Stephen Lawrence case that I thought I would recommend (they also showed the 1999 dramatic portrayal of events afterwards) about racism in England and whether or not much has changed since the murder. I didn’t catch the whole thing but from what I did see, there were some really strong points being made and I think it could be a good thing to sit and watch with your family members if you want to get talking about the Black Lives Matter movement and aren’t sure how to broach the topic. I bring it up because I feel like most middle-aged white people trust ITV so they’re less likely to turn their noses up (lol, I wish I was joking) at it and maybe go in with a more open mind. I’d like to keep the conversation about social issues going so if there’s anything you’d like me to get some information together on and make a post about-I read yesterday that there’d been arrests of THE PEOPLE PROTESTING the way Breonna Taylor’s death has been handled. No, not the police officers responsible for her death, the people simply pointing out that those police officers have done wrong. It’s a ridiculous situation and just shows how deeply embedded a police officer’s supposed right to kill and to use force is in upholding the American status quo. I wish I could end the post on better news, but let’s hope that next time I post, there is some, and as always thank you for reading til the end if you did get this far! I really don’t have all that many followers on here but do et me know if there’s anything I can reblog or share to help.

Lauren x

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buffyversefanfiction · 4 years ago

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Tristan Tormented

Fanfiction Series to “Buffy the vampire Slayer” series, “Angel” series and the Buffyverse continuation in the “Dark Horse Comics” series. Warning: I do not own the rights to the television show Buffy the Vampire Slayer, its spin-off series Angel, its dark horse comics continuation series, or any of the characters created by Joss Whedon and others in the Buffyverse. 15 years +, Mild to Strong Violence, Sexual References F/F, F/M, M/M, Other +

Volume 3 - Able Angel

Vampire Tristan Summers had a mission on his mind and he was not going to stop until he achieved said mission, the mission being destroying anyone who could remotely bring out the man inside his monster and although the list was not long it was still a hefty task after all he had almost died several times before when trying to take out some of them and did die with one of them.

Angel was never meant to be a father mostly due to his undead status so when he did father his first child Connor he found himself feeling an unconditional love like no other only to lose him to another world and although over the years they had made major progress their bond was still nowhere near as great as Angel hoped it would be and now he was facing all that pain again with Tristan Summers only this time it was worse because sooner or later Angel’s second son would have to be stopped and his biggest fear had become the idea that he might just have to be the one that does the stopping. “You have to forgive me someday Angel,” Faith told him as she walked through the front doors of the abandoned looking Hyperion Hotel, chasing after her vampire friend, pleading with him to forgive her for past mistakes. “This is not just some mistake Faith; you kept my son from me and then you stopped me from killing him so now he is out there killing people and that is on you!” Angel argued. “He was killing people long before he was a vamp and if we give up on him now, he will be long after.” Faith replied, eager to make Angel side with her on her quest to save Tristan’s soul. “He was coming off less evil not a lot less evil but still less and I just know if we get Willow to ram a soul down his throat or however that goes then you may finally get to have some kind of relationship with him.” “Do not think I do not want to be a father to him, of course I do but you and Buffy made it impossible and now the next time I see him I am going to have to kill him!” Angel admitted to the redeemed slayer. “He has no soul and even when he did, he was evil.” “We both took walks on the dark side and we had each other’s backs why can’t we have his too?” Faith asked him, reminding them both of their dark pasts. “It’s not as black and white as that.” Angel reluctantly replied, once again facing the fact he may have to kill his own child. “Then let us dive straight into the grey and save your son.” Faith responded, making her determination clear to Angel. “On this particularly rare occasion I happen to agree with Faith.” Giles announced as he walked through the front doors shocking both Angel and Faith by his presence. “After my failed attempt to rehabilitate him I have been working hard to find a way to make things right.” “Failed attempt?” Faith scoffed at the former watcher, “That is like me saying oops my stake slipped when I killed a guy, somehow I do not think that response would have went down that well, nor is yours.” “It would have been more believable than trying to pin the crime on Buffy.” Giles replied to the troubled slayer. “Look I am here to make things right!” “Trust me when I say your nowhere near the top of the list of people who need to make things right for me, even if you did almost kill my son, Dru actually did so she’s ahead of you in that department.” Angel explained to Giles, making it clear no ill will was held between the two of them. “Thank you, Angel,” Giles responded to the vampire with a soul before walking over to him and Faith. “I’ve been referring with some old friends about the impossibility of Tristan Summers as well as doing some digging on my own and the information I have found was…well rather astonishing really! The boy really is one of a kind.” “Something tells me this is going to be one big watcher talk when I would rather just be out there doing what needs done.” Faith chimed in, making it clear she wanted Giles to get his point across quickly. “I stumbled upon a prophecy of a human who was born of both vampire and slayer origins yet somehow remained human and as I continued to read the text in which is was written it only grew more fascinating. The prophecy spoke of the human becoming a slayer by his own means, then later a vampire by another’s hands and yes I know that already sums up what has happened but it was the next part that really blew my mind, so to speak.” Giles informed them both. “You see it said the boy would change before becoming a slayer in his own right but he would not change after becoming a vampire, it spoke of how all that was remained unlike any vampire before him and how it would lead to the beginning of the demonic slayer…a being possible of both great things and terrible evils but a being needed in an upcoming apocalypse nonetheless.” Angel and Faith remained stood in shock by Giles’ revelation that Tristan was still the man he was before a monster and while that idea did not surprise Faith entirely due to her strong belief in the rogue slayer turned vampire it did surprise her hearing it was possible for Tristan to do some good, as Angel remained shocked by every word, knowing Giles would not lie to them but not wanting to admit there was hope for his son until he saw it for himself, having lost his sons one too many times before.

After throwing his latest victim’s body to the ground, having drained the woman completely of her blood, a full vamp face Tristan wiped the blood off his face before return to his human form which was when he realized the alleyway he had found himself was very familiar to him being too hungry and focused on the hunt before too realise where he was going but now he was fed and his victim was dead he realized his hunt had taken him home. Memories of his beloved Dante began charging through his mind as he felt all the pain of losing him once more while continuing to walk down the alleyway until Tristan stopped outside of the boarded up building he and Dante once called their home, the deadly demonic dive bar where he had last experienced any kind of happiness with his now fully dusted vampire lover. Tristan could swear just by standing outside the building itself that he could smell Dante but he knew that was his mind playing tricks on him, wanting to undo what could not be undone but still feeling Dante once more was what he needed in that moment as he began tearing down the planks of wood boarding up the door to his home before kicking the door open and walking in. “Did he know about Drusilla?” He wondered about Dante as he stood in the middle of the barely standing demonic dive bar, once again taking in the ruins of what used to be. “Did he help kill my parents? No, he would not do that to me…he loved me…but he did not love me then.” He had never doubted Dante’s love for him for one second and felt bad for doubting it now he was gone but with Drusilla having lied to him all these years he couldn’t help but wonder if any of his time spent with Dante was true or was he playing a role just like his sire Drusilla. “Did anybody ever really love me?” He asked himself, fearing the answer was no. “Could anybody really love a monster like me?” Tristan quickly realized he was not alone to his thoughts when he heard footsteps coming from the front door and like a knee jerk reaction he quickly picked up a piece of broken wood from the ground ready to slay whoever dared come into his home only to be left completely stunned when none other than Spike walked in. “I guess you never got far from those woods, but I guess why would you when this place was your home.” Spike said as he held his hands up to show he had no weapons and had no plans to fight Tristan, “I only want to talk to you kid.” “Why would I want to talk to my mother’s pet?” Tristan asked his fellow vampire, while clutching the wooden stake in his hand tighter. “You see I do not feel like talking but I am always down for killing.” “I want to help you and I know somewhere in there you want to be helped.” Spike told him. “You really are desperate to get Buffy to look at you again.” Tristan laughed cruelly, amused by Spike’s words. “Hate to break it to you but me bad you good we do not talk we just fight to the death.” “The hatred you had for Drusilla remained after turning didn’t it? And that hatred comes from a place of love, the love you had for your adoptive parents, the love I am going to guess you still have for them?” Spike questioned the slayer turned vampire, already knowing he was right. “Wow, of all the pep talkers I did not take you for one but then again you are Buffy’s pet after all.” Tristan replied, eager to antagonize Spike. “I barely had feelings when I was alive and I sure as hell do not have any now.” “Would you stop with the bloody pet talk?” Spike groaned as he walked closer to Tristan. “If you stop calling me kid,” Tristan responded before throwing a right punch across Spike’s face. “because this kid has gone pro now!” Spike wasted no time in replying to Tristan’s violence with some more violence as he punched the former slayer across the face leading to Tristan headbutting Spike in the face before kicking him to the ground. “I guess the slayer strength stuck around after death.” Spike replied as he quickly rose back on his feet, before his face turned into full vamp mode and he charged towards Tristan ready for a brutal fight with the son of the woman he loved.

Meanwhile back in Los Angeles, Angel sat behind his desk within his office at the Hyperion Hotel reading from the books that Giles, fact checking what Giles had already informed of about his son Tristan, realizing that his son did somehow still have his soul despite becoming undead making Tristan more like his father than Angel ever expected him to be. He must have re-read the text within those ancient and mystical books a hundred times not believing the truth to what he was reading as he struggled to come to terms with not only his sons seemingly indestructible soul but the importance he would have in an upcoming apocalypse, not even wanting to think about the likelihood of Tristan being on the team of evil rather than good. “You know you can keep reading it forever and it is not going to change, trust me I read it about a million times before I even began to consider it being true.” Giles told Angel as he walked into the vampire’s office. “Then went the excruciating research, the endless pleading of former colleagues to decipher it differently or at the very least some definition of whether he was fighting for good or evil.” “I get the demonic part of being a slayer I mean I feel the demon inside of me every day but I do not understand how it is even possible for him to still have a soul.” Angel answered as he closed the books and stood up to stand face to face with Giles. “You are a vampire with a soul the very definition of impossible clearly your son takes after you in that sense. I cannot begin to try and explain how he is possible let alone how his soul is still intact, but I do believe this means there’s something inside of your son that is salvageable.” Giles attempted to explain, revealing his newfound optimism towards helping Tristan find redemption. “Why not go straight to Buffy?” Angel wondered, “I am glad you came to me with this but why not her?” “I am not exactly on speaking terms with Buffy or Willow for a matter of fact after almost killing your child, besides I truly believe if it comes past the point of redemption that you will do what you have to do…so would Buffy of course but I would rather spare her from that pain.” Giles admitted to the dark-haired vampire. “I guess this means it is time for a father son reunion.” Angel declared, terrified to how this intervention for his second child would end, hoping beyond hope it would not end in him having to kill his son. “Count me in!” Faith chimed in as she walked into the room, making it clear she was eavesdropping the entire time and she was more than eager to take part in another round of team twisted. Giles had convinced Angel that his claims were real and even convinced him to take part in his redemption rescue mission but one person who never needed any convincing was Faith who had been backing Tristan from the beginning despite his endless evil deeds. A part of Faith connected with Tristan or at least her former self anyway, a part of her that was still in there deep down but had been controlled for a long time now and she believed she could help the slayer turned vampire into controlling his dark side too. Faith Lehane was never the saving souls type until she found her own saved and although she did not make a case of going out on a limb for most if any people she was determined to get Tristan Summers on the right side, partly because of seeing herself in him, partly to do something good for Buffy to make up for all the bad and to make up for straining her relationship with Angel. The funny thing about the path to redemption is the person seeking it for themselves tend to pick up a lot of others along the way, believing deep down that if they can help as many people as possible down that path then they would ultimately be helping themselves too.

“Yeah funny thing about Tristan…let me just say I have him secured already!” Spike said down the phone to Faith while standing in Tristan’s former demonic bar, bloody and bruised from his fight with the demonic slayer which he had eventually grown the upper hand in as a passed out Tristan lay on the floor beneath Spike’s feet.

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deathstakes · 4 years ago

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How to be Buffy Summers — A Slayer How-To Guide: Tips, tricks and wood chips.

PREFACE: So you want to be the Slayer, huh? Well, newsflash. Everyone wants to be the hero. In the movies, it is flashy and cool. Well, here is a newsflash. Slaying isn’t exactly glam-o-rama. The movies really pump up the whole what it is like to be a hero, and let me tell you, it isn’t as cute.

Disclaimer: You might have heard a lot from the fang-population. They like to spread their gossip faster than a bunch of ladies sipping their afternoon tea. I’m here to clear the rumours and give you the insiders scoop.

I am more than just the Slayer. I am also Buffy. They go hand in hand like…. Hands going in hand. I like my weapons as much as I love a good sale. There’s nothing wrong with liking pink, dressing cute and also being able to kick some major ass, and trust me, if you ever doubt it, I can show you what a Slayer really is.

TIPS, TRICKS AND WOODCHIPS

1. There is nothing fashionable about eye bags. Concealer is your best friend.

Patrol usually ends around 3 a.m, if the vampires aren’t biting much. If I am lucky, I get about four hours of sleep a night, and if I am even luckier those four hours are free of nightmares or weird, cryptic-y apocalyptic messages. Most of the time, I am not, and my dreams aren’t steamy with Swayze but the uglies, but we never go past second base because they always seem to die when they try to handle my stake.

Those sleepless nights are going to make you want to wear a caffeine drip. Speaking of, coffee will be your other best friend. Thank me later.

Oh, and you’re also going to need a concealer for the bruises. Trust me on this, you’re going to find bruises in places you didn’t even know you could have bruises. Those rough tumbles aren’t without consequence. Sure, they’ll go away in a bit, but in the meantime, do what Elsa said. Conceal, don’t feel. Cover it with translucent powder to really set it in and don’t forget to colour correct! This works for both bruises and for those vampire bites. Totally hickey-proof.

2. Sisterly duties.

Make sure Dawn is up for the school day. I used to get up much easier, in my opinion. Also, remember to pack a stake in her lunch and some holy water, just in case. You never know when she is going to need them considering she has a habit of getting kidnapped every other Tuesday. Replenish the supply every so often and get your witchy best friend to put in protection trinkets that you can slip into her backpack.

IMPORTANT: When it comes to her safety, nothing is off limits, at all. Monsters will play dirty if they have to, and the ones closest to you are the most susceptible. It’s a hard knock life.

3. Because this gig isn’t really big on the paying front, you also need a day job. Glamorous.

Remember that thing about how being a superhero isn’t like how it is in the movies. I was being dead serious about that. There isn’t a batmobile or really cool headquarters, unless you want to count the Magic Shop, and oh, that thing about getting paid? Hah. Yeah, you’re not really going to be rolling in the dough unless it is cookie dough. It is a whole, long-winded thing, so just make sure you have some resistance to temptation when you see a really, really good shoe sale. I am talkin’ goes with everything, cute but also practical heel. Don’t do it.

You might have to play pool shark, might need to flip some burgers and learn how to give your Buffy best smile while being dead inside, or you might need to bust an undercover demon black market. Get creative. Just don’t rob a bank. Morals still apply, you know.

TIP: Having a boyfriend who is good at forging credit cards is really helpful. Though, sometimes, he gets too crafty with the aliases.

4. Unchipped manicures? Puh-lease.

I’m going to give it to you straight, so it doesn’t get hard later on. You know that feeling of freshly painted nails? Don’t get used to it. There has yet to be a patrol that I go on that doesn’t end up with me chipping my polish.You’d think someone would get into the market for this stuff and break the bank, but nope. Well, considering I would probably be their only customer... Don’t even think about acrylics, who has the time and also, not great for grip. Gel? You’d think it would hold, but let me tell you, not even the best formula can stand against the roughest of tumbles.

Having pretty, polished nails was nice while it lasted. That isn’t to say I don’t do my nails, now, because I do. I’m not letting fangs take that away from me. They already took away my sleep.

5. Healing.

So, right about now, you might be starting to realize that being a superhero isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. So, let me throw in a decent thing. This isn’t to get recruits or anything. This job position is filled until further notice (or until I get the axe.) One of the good things about the gig is that you heal faster. That isn’t to say you don’t get hurt, because oh boy, do you get hurt. The pain aspect is still there, but you’ll heal a broken bone in days compared to weeks only to break it again. I’ve made with the stabby, and gotten out of the hospital the same night because I was healing quickly. Other than the limping, the bruises that go away in a day or two and the scars are barely there scars, you’re golden.

But that doesn’t mean that I am invincible.

If Slayers were invincible, I wouldn’t be here.

I still have my scars (the ones that can be seen) on my neck. From the Master, from Angel and those couple rounds with Dracula that I went, but that’s for another time. The naked eye can’t really see them, but get me under some great selfie taking lighting and it's there, just a sheen paler than my skin tone.

TIP: If you are trying to hide fresh ones, try scarves. Fashionable, but practical. Ascots if you’re into looking like Fred Jones, hubba hubba.

6. The weapon of the tongue. No, not that weapon.

Anyone can learn high kicks and how to throw a punch. Well, most anyone, anyways. But if you really want to know the inner workings of how to be Buffy, try me on for size. I only come in a small, though. When I do my rounds, I like to provide a double feature slayer combo, you know? Throw in a pun or two between my punches, give them a real show. You know why? It gets them going. It drives them crazy, and they get angry. That anger helps fuel the whole show. Also, I am great at talking circles, so sometimes, you just keep going and going and watch their undead brains try to scramble it together, and while they are doing that?

PRESTO-POOF-O.

It really is a Buffy skill, even if Giles doesn’t think so.

Well, except when it gets me in trouble because part of being me is realizing that my mouth speaks faster than my brain tends to comprehend and then it just becomes a whole intangible tangent that really shouldn’t even be called a tangent, because really, who---

7. Sacrificing fashion for slayage.

This one hurts me to write. This one hurts me because it is still something I struggle with, but what can I say? I’m a lifelong learner, dedicated to becoming the best. Nerd alert. There was a time when I used to dress cute. You know, the minis and the halters? The to-die-for booties? Well, guess what? Long gone are those days. Now, I aim for pr… for… prac… for practical. Sorry, it is still a touchy thing.

That doesn’t mean you still can’t dress cute, because you totally can. Have I given up my style? Nope, not a chance, and hey, sometimes my halters still see the life of patrol because I believe when we look and feel our best, we slay the best (Can I get an amen?) I wear booties all the time, but it’s because I know how to run in heels.

Body con dresses and tight skirts? Save them for a day you aren’t slaying, because otherwise, you’ll be sitting in a bank and suddenly be faced with a bank-robbing demon and you’ll have to slit your favorite pencil skirt with shears so you have enough leg room to fly-kick that ugly.

That was a nice skirt, it was.

8. Accessorizing is important.

It is no secret that accessorizing can make an outfit go from nay to yay. Come on, that is a given. But, being the Slayer, there are some accessories I have to make sure that I am wearing at all times. Keeping a cross on you all the time would be too bulky, and it isn’t for the religious aspect of things, so what do I do? Cross necklaces, chokers, rings or little dangly earrings can be the perfect way of making a vampire weak in the knees. Also, punching with rings really hits differently. For them, not me.

Keep some scarves on you, too, because well, it isn’t any of my business what happens to your necks, fangy or not.

TIP: Scrunchies? Make great face flingers if you need a real quick distraction to get out of a fangy situation. Just some tricks of the trade, you are welcome.

9. That appetite.

Let’s get personal, here. You think that you’re going to do all that cardio and vamp-ass slayage and not feel like you could eat a horse? Oh, it’s bad. Sometimes, the first thing I do when I am done patrol is hit whatever place is open or go straight for the fridge. It’s never cravings for a salad, either, nope. It’s 3 a.m, and all you want is a stack of double chocolate chip pancakes, some sunny side up eggs, hash and extra greased up bacon, maybe even some triple scoop chocolate shakes.

Dawn says she always feels like she is interrupting the fridge and I when she walks in on us, because my head is just always sticking inside it, but what do kids know, huh?

Also… there is another kind of appetite. This is why this book isn’t in the kids section. We’re all grown ups here. Sometimes, all you need is to get rid of that tickle that seems to always find a place. It’s explosive until you give in and have to do something about it. It’s kind of why I prefer solo-slaying, it gets real intimate.

A low-fat yogurt does the trick, too.

10. Weapons, ooh.

So, we talked about the power of words, but here comes the good stuff. Let me tell you, nothing feels good as the first poof after a freshly shaven stake. I never thought I would ever admit to that, but here we are. It is important to always keep your weapons ready to fight like it was the end of the world, because most times? It is.

Try to keep a knife in your boots. Pockets are important because you can slip in stakes discreetly enough, but don’t make them too bulky. Keep important spells on your phone because you’re not carrying around books everywhere you go. Never forget your phone, your gloss, crosses and holy water. You know, the essentials.

My favourite weapon? My precious baby. My scythe. It looks sweet and is just as killer. I like it for its double functionality because it does both the beheading mucho smoothly and the point of the stake? Talk about hot.

…. Yes, we all get attached to our weapons.

As for guns, they are still pointless.

Keep your weapons hidden. Somewhere they won’t be found. I went through storing them in places I knew my mom wouldn’t bother looking (crosses and holy water vials between the bookshelves, stakes in the closet…) Maybe build a trunk for it, for all your storage needs. This is where I plug Xander Harris. He built me a beautiful trunk on my 21st birthday. Give him a call.

11. Do NOT sleep with vampires.

So, here’s the thing. I don’t want to be a hypocrite but, sometimes, I just have to say it. Do not sleep with the enemy. Here’s the thing. I get it. I know. There’s this whole mysterious aspect to it, and sometimes at the end of it all, you just want to knock your boots with someone, BUT DO NOT SLEEP WITH THE UNDEAD. It never works out good for anyone. There are too many complications, like the loss of souls and dignity. The only shaft they should be getting worked is the stake.

There are plenty of living, breathing, normal human fish in the sea.

Seriously, screw vampires. By that, I mean don’t.

This message was brought to you in part by the Learn from Buffy’s Mistakes Association, because clearly she never did.

12. Don’t let it turn you into stone.

I’m going to get real with you. Being the Slayer… it is so easy to cut yourself off. From the world and everyone around you, because you think that it is easier that way. That it’ll hurt less if you keep this unbudging wall between you and the people you care about. Somewhere along the way, the hard heartens from all the losses that turn you into a ghost of who you were. Somewhere along the way, you stop wearing your heart on your sleeve because you’re not that innocent or naive girl anymore.

Being the slayer… it makes me different. It makes me different in a way that I don’t think anyone will ever truly understand, even when they say they do. I’m not saying that because I think highly of myself or I am trying to keep people at bay. It is just the way it is. This is a fight that belongs to the Chosen One, even when she didn’t ask to be Chosen.

It is about trying to find that balance. For a long time, I cut myself off, and sometimes I still find myself having a hard time letting other people in because I tend to swallow in myself when things get hard. I don’t like putting that on other people… they deal with enough just by slayer association. Now, I try.

I try to embrace the way my emotions give me power, the way they make me feel, even when I feel the most vulnerable - even more than I am mid-battle.

13. Don’t fight it, just accept it. - stop being so hard on yourself, you’re one girl.

One girl in all the world...

I used to hate it. I used to despise Destiny and wanted to give it the finger. For a long time, I hated this life. Hell, there are still times when I wish I wasn’t ‘the One.’ Being the one sucks, sometimes. The losses, the sacrifices, the constant worrying about everyone around you?

It hits harder when I think about the ones I couldn’t save. Yeah, I saved a bunch of people, but what about the ones I couldn’t? That is on me and only me. This is the heavy, so-not-star spangled stuff that sleeps with me every night. The guilt. The could-haves, the should-haves…

I have grown from not accepting this role to embracing what I bring as the Slayer. I know I am damn good at it, total humble-brag. Hey, longest lived for a reason, okay. My stats are impressive.

Sure, there are days where my bones are downright tired. There’s an ache I can’t really explain, and hurt that never goes away and sits in my chest. I have to remind myself that if it is not me, then it is some other girl and I want to save that girl and have her live a normal life for just a little bit longer, you know? She might have something important to get to. She might be Dawn’s age. I could never do that to her.

Every day, I am doing the best I can. There’s only me, and sometimes, only me needs to cut herself a break. Just like most everyone needs to cut themselves a break, sometimes. Have a break, have a Kit-Kat.

*** BONUS TIP: Practice safe necks. Just, please, people. We live in Sunnydale, this should be obvious. Don’t give into Sunnydale Syndrome, have a little awareness.*

CONCLUSION: There you have it, folks. A little intel about the oh so (not) glamorous life of a Slayer. Not coming to a theatre nowhere near you because books on my life are enough, thank you very much. If you have any questions, please contact your local library or that idiot named Carver Edlund. Spam him, spam him good, maybe even send him some hate-mail while you are at it.

END NOTE: If Giles finds this, I repeat, I did not write this. This was written by someone else who knows way too much about me. Probably Dawn because she reads my diary all the time.

A Buffy Summers Publication ™

#✞ :: | ✦ ❛ Drabbles of the Chosen One

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notalwaysthevillian · 5 years ago

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Parent Trapped

Warnings: fear of drowning, anxiety, food mention

Pairings: Eventual Romantic Remile, platonic LAMP

Word Count: ~1.4k

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Masterlist

Chapter 9: Summer

The rest of the school year went by in a blur.

Instead of one of the leading roles in Into the Woods, Roman landed the part of Cinderella’s Prince. He didn’t seem to mind, flawlessly delivering his lines and belting out Agony.

Virgil took the opportunity to tease, dubbing him Princey. Roman didn’t mind in the slightest and the nickname stuck.

Beating school records at his first meet, Virgil became the MVP of the track team. He was slightly suspicious that no one seemed to bug him about it. He had a feeling Ted Task was behind that, but he couldn’t prove it. (And Patton refused to tell him, but he’d caught Ted explaining Virgil’s more timid nature to the rest of the team.)

The Picani household constantly had delicious aromas floating out of it, thanks to Patton. He’d been working really hard in cooking club. The first few weeks, there had been some charred bricks thrown in the trash. But with his hard work and determination, he’d risen to the middle of the pack, which he was more than happy with.

Logan absolutely adored astronomy club. They always opened with any news from NASA and it was eye-opening to him to know that there was probably something out there.

When the end of the year rolled around, Logan was voted into the club’s secretary spot. He was ecstatic about this new development and vowed to do his absolute best.

The school year wrapped up mid June, releasing the children on a sunny afternoon. Everyone headed over to the Picani’s to take advantage of their pool.

“Thank goodness we befriended you guys.” Roman said as he sipped on his lemonade. Emile had allowed them to take drinks outside, as long as they were in plastic cups. “Otherwise we’d be lying in front of the air conditioner at home.”

“So you’re just using us? How dare you, Princey!” Virgil teased, nudging Roman’s floatie with his foot.

Unfortunately, Roman hadn’t been expecting the sudden shift. He flailed for a moment before flipping into the water.

The resulting splash soaked Patton and Logan, who were sitting on the edge of the pool.

“Hey!”

Taking his chance while Virgil was distracted, due to laughing so hard, Roman tugged on his ankles, dragging him into the pool. Virgil’s eyes flew wide as he went under the water. He came up coughing, sputtering, and shaking.

“Please don’t do that again.” There was a quiver to Virgil’s voice as he looked Roman in the eyes.

Immediately feeling terrible, Roman nodded. “I’m sorry, I won’t.”

Virgil climbed out of the pool. Patton followed him over to the towels, their voices too low for the Sanders brothers to make out their conversation.

Without taking his eyes off the twins, Logan said, “You just scared him, I think.”

Roman sank further, his chin dipping into the water. “I feel awful.”

“He’ll be okay.”

Patton came back over. Roman’s bad feelings got worse as he watched Virgil go in the house.

“We’re going to head in and dry off.” He shifted his weight, trying to think of what to say. “You can come in and play some games if you want, but V is done with the pool.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

Patton nodded. “Yeah, he’s just a little shaken. More bad memories.”

“I will slay the people who did this to him.” There was a dark edge in Roman’s voice.

Rolling his eyes, Logan headed into the house without another word. Patton and Roman were quick to follow, Roman being last due to being the least dry.

“Dad, when did you get here?” He asked as he walked into the Picani’s kitchen after getting dressed.

“I never left.” Remy said as he sipped on his glass of lemonade. “So, Emile, you were going on about the benefits of therapy?”

As they continued their boring conversation, Roman grabbed the pitcher and a stack of plastic cups, heading into the living room. Virgil was wrapped in a fluffy blanket, leaning into Patton’s side. Logan was flipping through Netflix, trying to find something for them to watch.

“Parks and Rec is always a good one.” Putting down the lemonade, Roman glanced at Virgil for approval.

“That’s fine.” He mumbled into Patton’s sweater, barely being heard.

Despite his worries that he’d ruined their friendship, by the end of the third episode Virgil was leaning heavily against his side. When Roman glanced over, he saw Virgil’s eyelids drooping. He exchanged an amused glance with Patton, shifting to get Virgil into a more comfortable position.

Virgil was out like a light in minutes, snoring softly into Roman’s shirt.

Something that Roman teased him about the a few weekends later, when the Picanis came over for a Fourth of July barbecue.

“I was exhausted and you make a nice pillow.”

The two of them continued their good natured bickering, making Logan and Patton shake their heads before moving out to the patio.

Remy glanced over when he heard the screen door. “Hey, Patton, you’re in cooking class right? Come here, I’ll show you how to use the grill.”

“Okay!”

Logan sat down with Emile at one of their deck tables, content to sit in the sun and sip on his lemonade.

“Where did your dad learn how to grill?”

Logan set his plastic cup on the white wood. “His mom taught him how. She’s an excellent cook. Last year she won a chili cookoff.”

Emile surprised himself by thinking how Patton could learn a lot from her. He shook the thought from his mind, glancing over toward Patton. He’d had thrown his head back, laughing at something Remy had said.

Remy caught Emile’s eye and threw him a wink. Emile felt his heart skip a beat in his chest and looked off toward the street, hoping to hide his blushing cheeks.

An action that was not unnoticed by a very observant child sitting across from him. Instead of saying something, he logged that information for later.

“Em, your kid is a natural!” Remy called out. “Probably even better than I am!”

“Nonsense! You’re the grill king!” Roman said as he and Virgil finally joined the others on the deck.

Virgil snorted, sitting next to his dad. “Looks like someone else is taking the title of prince.”

“How dare you! You insolent -”

Unable to keep up the facade, Roman devolved into a fit of giggles. He was quickly joined by Patton, which set off everyone else.

In no time, all of them had plates in front of them, digging into the delicious burgers Remy and Patton had made.

“Oh my goodness, Pat, you are amazing at grilling.”

Virgil wiped some watermelon juice off his chin. “We should do this more often.”

Emile looked up, meeting Remy’s eyes. “I wouldn’t complain about having a get together every other weekend.”

He really hoped he wasn’t imagining the faint blush on Remy’s cheeks.

“Anytime.”

Once everyone was done eating, the kids headed in to the living room. As soon as they were settled in the house, Roman sat everyone on the couch and stood in front of them.

“We have to set up our parents.”

Patton nodded, eyes lighting up. “I know they fought a lot when we all first met, but they’ve been getting along so well!”

Virgil picked at his sleeves. “Dad seems a lot happier now, but I don’t know that he likes your dad? No offense.”

“Actually, evidence would suggest that Emile is, in fact, romantically attracted to our dad. I caught him blushing earlier after a compliment that Dad gave Patton. Not only that, but he had been eyeing Dad for a while before that, thinking I didn’t notice.” Logan adjusted his glasses. “I have no evidence for the other side, however.”

“I do. Remy asked an awful lot of questions about Dad when he was teaching me to grill.” There was a glint in Patton’s eye. “No one asks about someone’s love life if they’re not interested.”

“Yeah, Dad eye fffflirted with him the first time they met.” Ignoring the stern look on Patton’s face, Roman continued. “I was at the store with him, but I’d gone outside to buy some girl scout cookies. He’s been into Emile since day one.”

Hearing all the evidence, Virgil nodded. If nothing else, the two of them had some chemistry. “What’s your plan for getting them together?”

A grin split Roman’s face and he leaned forward, his next words barely above a whisper.

“Have you ever seen The Parent Trap?”

#platonic moxiety #platonic logince #platonic lamp #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #emile picani #ts sleep #remy sanders #food mention #parent trapped

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la-fille-en-aiguilles · 5 years ago

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Not a One Time Thing

Female Reader x Young!Sirius Black Drabble

A/N: I’ve been consuming a lot of Sirius Black content lately, and it got me thinking about The First Wizarding War, and this drabble just happened. It’s nothing much, but I hope you like it.

I also have a request for Remus in my inbox (I haven’t forgotten you, Anon - I was wondering by the way if you are the person that requested the story about Sirius’ son). Anyway, I’m planning to write it once I finish with The Beautiful & Damned story - which returns tomorrow with the last chapter.

Synopsis: Beside Y/N is where Sirius Black finds a home in the midst of The First Wizarding War - Attention, slightly smutty content!

...There was something blatantly tragic in the way he lowered his gaze. He probably thought he wasn’t welcome, and dodged your eyes in attempts to escape that guilty feeling scratching on his chest. In vain, might you add. You knew all too well how the rest of your night was going to play out, one look at him sufficed.

While Sirius was probably dealing with his inner demons and trying to come up with something to say (none of what he could tell you would make sense, and both of you knew it), you tilted your head, studying his silhouette bathing in the moonlight, bleeding through your bedroom’s curtains, summer breeze playing with the weightless gauze (you always left the window open, so owls bringing news could fly straight in).

Everything about Sirius held a trace of that flagrant culpability that made your heart ache. You were always very discreet about it, tried not to stare too much at the prominent lines on his forehead, or that tense line of his jaw now hidden by a thick beard – a new look he must have been forced to adopt, for it is difficult to find the time to shave in the middle of a war, when the fiercest of Death Eaters are constantly tracking your ass. You felt bitter now, not able to see the bottomless oceans of his light grey eyes, very upset at the fact that he still thought he needed to hide them every time he’d apparate unannounced.

Suddenly alarmed on some intuitive level, you let your gaze scan his entire frame, propped up on a chair, searching for any sign of injury. When you found none, a sigh of relief escaped your bitten lips.

That’s when Sirius raised his gaze to face you. The crystal clear surface of two moonstone-colored oceans were finally fixed on you, and there was nothing in the world that you wouldn’t give just to see those silver sparks dance around the pitch-black pupils. Seeing Sirius smile was a luxury these days that lasted for rarely more than a couple of seconds. Blink and you miss it.

Watching him raise from the chair, his hair slightly longer than the last time you met and falling on his forehead, you made your way towards him.

“You don’t have to explain”, you muttered under your breath before you tangled your fingers in his hair, your mouth brushing ever so slightly against his. Feeling his long eyelashes tickle your skin, you deepened the kiss, his hands clutching on to your hips as if you were his lifeline. He might not have had those familiar clean-shaven cheeks or neatly combed hair, but he still smelled like he used to: like the dust of the battles he had slayed, an old-fashioned patchouli perfume and some musky odor you couldn’t quite place. Burying your face in his collarbone, you inhaled the mélange, for the first time in months feeling like home.

“I just needed you”, his voice came out rasp, but so full of sentiment. “Coming here is incredibly stupid of me, but…” you’d expect him to develop, but Black did no such thing. After a second of staring onto your reddened lips, he couldn’t make himself finish. His lips captured yours again, the kiss so much more heated this time, his beard scratching your cheeks and chin; but you had no fucks left to give. You might not have mentioned it before, but you needed him too. Not like the members of the Order that sent him on the most dangerous missions, because they knew he was the only one able to come back alive. Not like his best mates James and Remus, when they were confronting the darkest parts of themselves and needed the light of the brightest star to chase them away. Your need was of a different nature, and right now he was trying desperately to fulfill it, in Merlin knows how many minutes you were allowed to share this time.

“Sirius,” you moaned, as his lips traced a burning path down your throat, his hands cupping your breasts through the thin material of your shirt. The wind outside picked up some, ruffling Black’s hair from behind as he faced you again, his grey eyes asking you what was wrong. The truth was, nothing was wrong. You just wanted to see him, wanted to remember every detail about his features, every small crinkle in the corners of his eyes, before he left again.

“I love you”, he stole the words right off your mouth, rubbing small circles in your cheekbones with the tips of his calloused fingers. His eyes were so bright they were hard to look at this up close, but he gazed at you in a way you’d never expected from him before, and you were hypnotized. “Stop me if this isn’t what you want”, he whispered.

The tips of your noses grazed before your lips smeared together in a stinging kiss that ignited every fiber of your body. The tip of his tongue slid along the seam of your lips and you opened up for him, your lower belly weightless, desire for Sirius overwhelming you. Dizzy and lightheaded, you let out a little gasp when you felt one of his hands slip down the arch over your back, bringing you closer to his solid, taut body. Everywhere he touched you was white hot, the taste of him on your tongue making your entire body shiver, down to your core.

You knew this was leading to something more than what you both were accustomed to. As you slid your hands around the back of his head, pushing your lips squarely onto his, whimpering in his mouth, you wondered for how long he would leave you this time, and before the thought upset you, you brushed it away. What mattered was here and now. And if he survived – and he most assuredly would – he would come back to you, because whatever was going on between you was never a onetime thing. You both knew it before, but tonight, your sentiments were put into words.

“Open up for me, baby”, he whispered into the silence of your dark room, and you threw your head back, feeling his fingers press to your folds, your skirt resting entirely on your waist by now. “Let me feel you… Let me taste you”.

You knew his beard would leave angry skin on the insides of your thighs. You knew it would be a torture to feel him fill you up and then walk around empty for Merlin knows how long. Yet you also knew he loved you, and you wanted drink his love up like a shot of firewhiskey.

“Not tonight,” you whispered into his mouth, staring right into his eyes blown-up with emotion, positive you looked just as fucked out. “Merlin knows there’s only one thing that I want between my thighs other than your head”.

And then, a fire coursed through you, a veil of tears burning at the back of your stare as you struggled to keep it in. Biting your lips, you admired the beautiful sight in front of you, bestowed upon you by some silly joke you considered yourself lucky to come up with.

Sirius said nothing – and he didn’t need to talk. His smile and sparkles dancing on the surface of his moonstone eyes had said it all…

#young sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #sirius black smut #sirius black angst #sirius black fluff #sirius black drabble #sirius black one shot #ben barnes #sirius black imagine #marauders era #marauders imagine #harry potter imagine #harry potter reader insert #first wizarding war

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youcanblogifyouwantto · 4 years ago

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Biff’s Year in Music

2020 what can I say… I feel like this meme summed up the first half of it pretty well.

https://cheezburger.com/12209157/ant-man-meme-gives-a-recap-of-all-the-horrors-of-2020-so-far

Then to top it off this last week my son developed a spontaneous pneumothorax which basically is a collapsing of his lung for no apparent reason other than he is a tall thin white adolescent. To make matters worse he is 18 and COVID is raging in all the hospitals. Thankfully my wife is an RN and should have been a lawyer as she was able to argue her way into staying with him. Good thing she did because one the doctors fucked up so bad she gave him another Pneumothorax by turning a valve a wrong way. Needless to say it has been a very rough year and especially rough week for me and my family. Music has been and always will be the only constant positive release for me. 2020 had some great music and being home for almost an entire year now has led to a lot of music consumption. The only other thing I did almost as much as listen to music was drink and cook food to match what I was drinking. I’ve always loved beer and wine and dabbled in Whiskey but this year was the year of the cocktail for me. I would discover a new alcohol type and then plan crazy elaborate dinners that cocktail would either be an aperitif of digestif for. Fun yes, healthy? …That is yet to be determined. I did take up running again to counter the amount I was drinking and eating and I would say that I have consistently worked out more this year than any other year so my liver might be fucked but my heart and lungs are strong.

So to start it off, this year saw releases from some of my all-time favorite musicians that I found nice and good even but never clicked or haven’t yet. I had been eagerly anticipating Matt Berninger’s solo release all year and I dig it but strangely not enough to return to it unless I purposely tell myself to. The same goes for Bright Eyes, Real Estate, Sylavan Esso, Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever minus Cars in Space (I played the shit out of that song), Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Car Seat Headrest, Dirty Projectors, Sufjan Stevens, Laura Marling (on first listen I thought easy top for the year then Fiona Apple came out and I haven’t returned to Laura Marling since), Damien Jurado, Jason Isbell, Neil Young (Homegrown had a special place in my heart for a month but again haven’t returned since August), Future Islands, Kevin Morby, and Busta Rhymes. All of these albums I do not hate or even dislike in fact some I liked a lot at first but just didn’t have staying power. The following list are albums I loved that some stayed all year in rotation. Not in particular order but kinda like a Coachella poster if it’s near the top it’s one of my favorites of the year. I can be very longwinded on paper and very brief in person so I will try my antisocial tendencies to describe these albums. I will say for the most part the albums that hit this year are like comfort food music for my soul.

Waxahatchee - St. Cloud – Home, comfort, introspective

Phoebe Bridgers – Punisher – Witty, production, great voice

Run The Jewels – RTJ4 - best running album ever. My favorite from these guys and best rap album I’ve heard in a while.

Jeff Tweedy – Love is the King. Maybe blasphemy but I like better than Warm. Perfect example of music comfort food. His biography is great too and so is the Summer teeth deluxe reissue.

Fleet Foxes – Shore – Beautiful, peaceful everything I needed from them and more. Side note Helplessness Blues was the first album review I ever wrote for ATR and I’m so glad I found those guys! Thank you for continuing the tradition.

Jeff Rosenstock – NO DREAM There was some good punk rock this year but this was the best also great running music. Rosenstock is now my go to for punk

Taylor Swift- Folk Lore- Story Telling, Sweater music, more music comfort food. And now Evermore continues the greatness. Dorothea might be my favorite track from both records. If you would have told me a Taylor Swift album would be in my tops for the year a couple of years ago I would have laughed you out of my face and now she has two albums in my tops. 2020 is one crazy year!

The Avalanches- We Will Always Love You- I’ve loved every single and was waiting for this to drop before posting this. Well Worth the wait. I like it better than the Gorillaz release and that is saying a lot. It’s hard to have this many spot on features and keep a cohesive vibe! Johnny Marr meets MGMT is another need more of this collab.

Loma - Don’t Shy Away- If 2020 could be articulated through music disorienting but also working from home has some perks. Good balance of weird and comfort

Adrienne Leckner – Songs- She writes great songs and performs them immaculately

Muzz- ST – The last show I went to before shutdown was Morrissey with Interpol opening and I forgot how much I love Bank’s voice. This album is highly underrated in my opinion especially Evergreen.

Gorillaz –Song Machine – Best since Demon Days and Robert Smith/Damon Albarn Collab was never anything I thought I needed but now want more of. When Tony Allen died I went through a deep Tony Allen dive that was quite enjoyable. Great Drummer!

Dinner party – ST – The title explains it better than I can

Against All Logic – 2017-2019 – Kelly Lee Owens and this were the only electronica to stay all year both great running albums and If you can’t do it good do it hard is worth the price of admission alone

Hamilton Leithhauser- The Loves of your life- I love this man and I loved the walkmen. I feel he for me is like Frank Sinatra was for my mom. Not as sweet as a voice but can sing the hell out of a song.

Walter Martin – The world at Night- Another Walkmen member, this is another comfort food album it just feels right in my soul

Ka – Descendants Of Cain – Criminally underrated for too long this dude paints lyrical mood pictures like GZA.

Perfume Genius – Set My Heart On Fire Immediately – Beautiful Authentic Elegant

Fiona Apple – Fetch The Bolt Cutters - Lyrically and sonically slays me. You have to like spoken word and weird rhythm texture but she nails both of those.

Bonny Light Horseman- ST – Great folk indie I just knew this was an album for me on first listen

Rose city band - Summerlong – Best new discovery, feeds my jam band meets indie soul

Strokes - The New Abnormal – I don’t know why this didn’t get more love? I loved it and The Adults are Talking is top five best Strokes songs.

Pinegrove- Marigold – More indie comfort food music

Bartees Strange – Live Forever – Second best new discovery. This dude is all over the place but in a good way. If you like this check out his singles where he covers many National songs.

Kelly Lee Owens – Inner Song- My Friend Antony described this better than I can at the current moment. Inner songs indeed.

The Killers – Imploding the Mirage- Most surprised album of the year, I’ve never been a big Killers fan but this one just wrapped it hooks inside me and didn’t let go all year

Young Jesus – Welcome to Conceptual Beach- Avant-garde or experimental music stretches me in ways that are very good for my soul and this one was such an album

My Morning Jacket – Waterfall II – Took a trip up to Humboldt in Early August and this was the soundtrack of the trip. Very much needed social distance return to nature vacation.

Hum- Inlet – I rocked out to this many a summer early fall evening sitting on my dock fishing and drinking beer.

Haim- Women in Music Pt. III – Best Haim yet and yes they are maturing into great song writers

Nation of Language- Introduction, Presence – Third best new discovery.. My friend Spencer at Shadows and Noise (a blog I’ve contributed to on occasion) accurately describes this album nicely. My wife loves Depeche Mode, New Order, and Erasure so this album is a new version of that genre that she and I can love together.

Coriky- ST – Half of Fugazi with a female drummer that sounds like classic Sleater Kinney in fact Fugazi meets Sleater Kinney is how I would describe this and that can’t be wrong!

EP’s Singles

James Blake- Before (Great marriage of his old and new)

Kruangbin & Leon Bridges- Texas Sun

Local Natives – Sour Lemon

Radio Dept – The Absence of Birds

Leon Bridges – Sweeter

Tom Berlin – Projections

Father John Misty – To S/ To R

Rostam- Unfold you

Mank is one of the only great movies of 2020!

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