#if you need me I’m reveling in my ft nostalgia

[risingmoonyue]

I fully believe Nalu is the ship where:

1) one party (Natsu) fully believes they have been dating for an unreasonably long time while the other (Lucy) is convinced they’re Just Friends TM he wouldn’t know what romance was if it was in a bright neon sign that hit him on the head and Is Suffering

and

2) Once they’re finally on the same page they’d just completely skip the dating phase. Nothing changes and no one realizes anything happened between them until someone finally gets fed up and tells Natsu to just ask her out already, at which point nalu is confused because they’ve been married for three months now and btw Nashi is on the way.

[cristalconnors]

BEST SONGS of 2019

20. “MOTIVATION”- Normani

“Why would we ever do something instead of falling into the bed right now?”

Watching the 2019 VMAs, it was easy to feel despondent about the current state of mainstream pop. And then Normani descended from a basketball hoop, breaking up a string of lifeless performances of cookie-cutter top 40 with a preposterously physical tour de force that harkened back to an era when pop fame felt like something closer to a meritocracy, when talent mattered more than spectacle. It felt like a major arrival: at last another pop goddess that truly had all the goods. The public may not have caught up to her quite yet, but “Motivation” is a statement of purpose for Normani: I’m here, I’m very fucking talented, and I’m not going anywhere.

19. “SO HOT YOU’RE HURTING MY FEELINGS”- Caroline Polachek

“I cry on the dancefloor, it’s so embarrassing”

The charms of “So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings” are seemingly endless. First, there’s that title that makes you chuckle the first few times you hear it. Then, there’s the pre-chorus that title is effortlessly plugged into: a crystal clear image of lovelorn insecurity placed atop a sublimely simple melody that builds into a harmonious, show-stopping chorus. But the song’s zenith has got to be that bridge, marrying a mind-bending, distorted vocal solo that more closely resembles electric guitar with the singsongy refrain “show me your banana,” effortlessly striking a balance between the highbrow and the silly, casting Polachek as the carefree pop diva she perhaps always should have been.

18.“WAY TO THE SHOW”- Solange

“Candy paint down to the floor”

“I want it to bang and make your trunk rattle.” I think about that quote a lot when listening to “Way to the Show,” the grooviest track on When I Get Home- the one whose meandering funk bass line and countless key changes build to an explosion of synth runs and gun cocking, showcasing Knowles’s growth as both a songwriter and curator of mood as she crafts a singularly hallucinatory, heavenly vision of Houston and the sounds that raised her.

17. “WONDER BOY”- ARTHUR RUSSELL

“I’m a wonder boy. I can do nothing”

The back catalogue of notorious perfectionist and genreless chameleon Arthur Russell is so vast, so varied that even 27 years after he was taken from us, we’re still being treated to new material. Every single song of his that’s been released posthumously, including all 19 tracks of Iowa Dream, feel like their own revelation, each of them a uniquely dazzling bucking of all your expectations of what a song of his should sound like. “Wonder Boy” is unique in how tidily its melancholy, frosty images of impermanence sum up the tragic story of Arthur Russell the man- the brilliant artist who never found success and only ever managed to put out a single album while he was alive- the wonder boy who could do nothing.

16. “I THINK OF SATURDAY”- Moodymann

“I called you on Thursday... I called you on Friday...”

“I Think of Saturday” starts simply enough, listing the days of the week almost as a gimmick, evoking soul and early rock filtered through a house lens, until halfway through the song when the beat drops away, introducing a brief sample of Joe Simon’s “With You in Mind” that’s followed by the reintroduction of the beat, but now accompanied by a recurring distorted, dissonant chord that reframes the song as a sinisterly rousing account of unrequited desire and delusion that refracts itself over and over again. 

15. “SOFIA”- Clairo

“I think we could do it if we tried”

The opening bars of Clairo’s “Sofia” sound like a really good Strokes knock off, but the song quickly reveals itself to be something vastly more interesting, unfolding itself steadily over the course of three minutes as she and producer Rostam Batmanglij subvert well worn pop tropes to craft an exquisitely textured, soul-baring, and ultimately hopeful anthem for young wlw everywhere.

14. “LARK”- Angel Olsen

“What about my dreams?”

Olsen’s widescreen, abstract vision of a break-up song is thrillingly unbound from the constrictions of song structure and narrative, favoring instead the visceral power of strings and drastic dynamic contrast to craft a symphony in miniature, a “journey through grief” as Olsen herself describes it, that announces the bold, panoramic vision of her fourth album.

13. “WALK AWAY”- (Sandy) Alex G

“Someday I’m gonna walk away from you. Not today...”

“Walk Away” evokes the sense of being trapped, stuck in a cycle of recognizing unhealthy relationships or habits and being unable or unwilling to do anything about them, looping the simple two line refrain over and over and over again to weave a hopeless, woozy tapestry of crunching beats, acoustic and electric guitar, mournful piano and harpsichord, and distorted vocals.

12. “THIS COUNTRY MAKES IT HARD TO FUCK” (BJÖRK REMIX)- Fever Ray

“That’s not how to love me!”

Björk isolates the most memorable line from Fever Ray’s “This Country”- “this country makes it hard to fuck!”-and explodes it, distorting it and stretching it across a fearsome sample of the droning, discordant flutes from “Song of the Alféreces and Dances of the Chinos,” evoking a kind of tortured funhouse mirror image of the current state of reproductive rights that rightly recasts Fever Ray’s song as a horror film.

11. “ABOUT WORK THE DANCEFLOOR”- Georgia

“I was just thinking about work the danefloor...”

“About Work the Dancefloor” is Georgia’s ode to the cathartic, restorative powers of the dancefloor, where your worries fall away as you melt into the crowd and language abstracts itself, as evidenced by that perplexing chorus that doesn’t seem to mean anything- and why should it? When you’re lost in her pounding bass and gurgling synths, that incoherence is strangely comforting. You can cast whatever meaning you want onto it and work through it physically, together. 

10. “GONE”- Charli XCX & Christine and the Queens

“I try real hard, but I’m caught up by my insecurities”

The jelly squiggles that criss-cross Charli XCX and her collaborator’s faces on the artwork released for the singles from her latest album Charli suggest a kind of symbiosis, a cosmic intertwining of sorts. But only “Gone” achieves a true melding of the minds, where Charli and Chris’s best and boldest instincts collide, complimenting one another seamlessly in this dizzying vision of insecurity and isolation that unravels into a stunning pop abstraction. 

09. “CELLOPHANE”- FKA twigs

“Why don’t I do it for you?”

Usually for FKA twigs, more is more. Her songs are busy, even the slower ones, packed to the brim with glitches, unusual rhythms, and a million little details that pull attention, giving them texture and making them extremely immersive listening experiences. “Cellophane” pares those idiosyncrasies back. They’re still there, but the focus is twigs’s voice, which bends and cracks and really emotes in a way we’ve never heard. Her voice is naked and unvarnished, allowing her to be truly vulnerable in a way we’ve never heard either, and it’s heartbreaking. 

08. “CINNAMON GIRL”- Lana Del Rey

“If you hold me without hurting me, you’ll be the first who ever did.”

“Cinnamon Girl” is the culmination of every other ballad she’s ever written. They were practice and this is the real deal- a painterly missive on tumultuous love that reads like a pained confession whispered in confidence, something Lana’s always done well, but her composition has never been so exquisite or immersive, so beautifully in concert with her poetry or her velvet voice, or so flawlessly constructed, effortlessly building toward a show-stopping finale that asserts Lana as the postmodern princess of Americana.

07. “COOKIE BUTTER”- Kim Gordon

“Industrial...metal...supplies...”

“Cookie Butter” has got to be the most stunning showcase of the power of Kim Gordon’s voice, as she drags out some vowels, muffles others, attacks consonants and bends words until they don’t sound like words anymore, all atop a trance inducing beat drives towards the song’s unlikely climax- Kim Gordon saying “cookie butter” in the most impossibly distinct way you could imagine that carries the weight of an EDM drop, leading the track into it’s disorienting second half that both clarifies and obscures the half that came before it. Haunting and addictive. 

06. “CATTAILS”- Big Thief

“You don’t need to know why when you cry.”

To hear Big Thief talk about the process of writing and recording “Cattails” on their episode of the Song Exploder podcast, one is struck by how organic it was. Adrianne Lenker describes it as a “magic wind” that swept through the studio, the song kind of falling out of them in one take. That sense of life comes through in the song, the simple, sublime repetition, bounce, and build of it sounding like a transmission from deep within the soul, a cosmic image of nostalgia and grief that is as cathartic as it is heavenly.

05. “GOD CONTROL”- Madonna

“I think I understand why people get a gun.”

“God Control” is ostensibly about gun control, though you’d be forgiven if you had a hard time discerning what exactly she’s trying to say. Like some of her best work, it’s provocative and maybe a little empty, but damn if it isn’t supremely interesting and compelling as hell. Madonna taps into a sense of apocalyptic malaise and skepticism of authority that feels at times remarkably in tune with the public consciousness, at others a grotesque caricature of it, to uniformly fascinating results as she spins a deranged disco yarn that, once those swirling strings hit, is downright euphoric. 

04. “GOLD TEETH”- Blood Orange, ft. Gangsta Boo, Project Pat, & Tinashe

“We gon’ rumble in this ho!”

Blood Orange takes Project Pat’s “Rinky Dink II/We’re Gonna Rumble” and explodes it, gifting it both playful levity and added depth with a rollicking beat minor chord synths respectively, effortlessly criss crossing Hynes’s many disparate strengths and interests in the most effortlessly rousing and joyful track in his entire ouevre, elevated by the powerhouse Three 6 Mafia reunion verses of Gangsta Boo and Project Pat himself.

03. “INCAPABLE”- Róisín Murphy

“I don’t know if I can love, in all honesty.”

“Incapable,” Róisín Murphy’s virtuosic disco epic, stops time. That indelibly simple bass line loops over and over and over again until you’re lost in it, the song slowly building itself on top of it, adding claps here, hi hat there, rising towards a stunning sequence backed by whooshing synths where the song really comes alive, where an almost boastful breakup anthem morphs into a glamorously melancholy self-indictment in which she ponders that maybe it’s her there’s something wrong with, creating a dazzling dichotomy between the pitfalls of introspection and the bliss of the dancefloor.

02. “MOVIES”- Weyes Blood

“The meaning of life doesn’t seem to shine like that screen.”

“Movies,” appropriately, plays out with a big screen gloss. Those arpeggiated synths feel like they’re slowly expanding as Natalie Mering coos atop them, wondering how if movies are fake, how come they’re more real than anything in real life? As the synths suddenly give way to frenzied strings, the song splits itself open, giving itself over wholly to the melodrama, the sweeping enormity of feeling that Mering so masterfully conjures as she longs for the vitality, the simple answers, and the meaningfulness of movies.

01. “DO YOU LOVE HER NOW”- Jai Paul

“There’s a time for everything.”

On June 1, 2019, when I first read the news that Jai Paul had released new music, news so momentous it was accompanied by a red “breaking news” banner on Pitchfork’s home page, I immediately found my headphones and sequestered myself. I knew whatever I was about to listen to would require my undivided attention. Quite frankly, I was shocked it existed at all. After the notorious, devastating leak of his music in 2013, he’d exiled himself so thoroughly that it was easy to believe he was just gone forever. But here it was, the second coming- two (2!) new songs, effectively doubling the amount of  (completed) material he’s released in an official capacity. 

Pressing play, I was a little nervous that it wouldn’t live up to my expectations, that it might somehow diminish the work of his that I’d loved so much, that changed the way I think about pop and R&B. That didn’t end up being a problem. While “He” is excellent, “Do You Love Her Now” is maybe the most stunning piece of music he’s ever written. Billowing, moseying guitars provide the heartbeat for what starts as a straightforward, sublimely simple send up of 60′s and 70′s R&B. But this Jai Paul we’re talking about, and nothing he does is simple. Nuances and complexities creep out organically from the fabric of the song- synths whiz in and out, harmonies soar to the forefront of the soundscape seemingly out of nowhere and fall away just as suddenly, crafting an immersive, richly textured listening experience that is unpredictable, washing over you like a wave, building, cresting, and crashing over and over again. 

[veronicassadboi]

Core 4 at pops getting together after 10 years apart, talking about life and kids?

Hi! Thanks for the prompt! I love it!

Core 4 at Pop’s getting together after 10 years apart talking about life and kids.

Note: Ended up being more of a “core 4 featuring parenting over discussion” so I hope you don’t mind. If you do mind, let me know and I’ll have more detail in another drabble!

------

It was a step back in time, but instead of the nostalgia being a comforting blanket over him, it was a suffocating plastic bag. The sickly sweet smell of vanilla shake spills and burning grills took him back in time. Betty Andrews sits across from him, but for a split second, she’s not an Andrews at all. She’s Betty Cooper with tears in the corner of her eyes, pushing her straw up and down the glass trying to distract herself.

Rapid footsteps run up and down the length of booths at Pop’s, one kid falls to the ground and lands on his knees. Veronica groans next to Jughead and leans into his ear. “Jughead,” she hisses. “Please control your son.”

Jughead flicks his eyes to Archie, “Whoever told you that a sugar overload was what created fun memories in children was a liar, Arch,” he groans. “You’ve created a beast that cannot be tamed.”

Betty laughs when she looks over to her husband scrambling for words. Dylan may be riding his sugar high but Betty’s daughter Maisey with the mess of red hair like her father was riding it too, and no amount of soft hushes and whispers of “don’t do that” was keeping their daughter at bay.

“Ah, Jug,” Archie shrugs, a grin plastered on his face, proud of his work. “You haven’t been back in town in ten years, let Dylan have a taste of Riverdale!”

“Come on, you two were addicted to the chocolate shakes here!” Betty adds, feeding her son from under a muslin wrap and Archie pats the baby’s head. “Soon enough, Freddie will be joining them.”

Jughead feels his hand being moved by Veronica’s fingers, placing it on her belly he feels a quick kick and he smiles, keeping it to himself. It may have been ten years since he had stepped foot in Riverdale, but Sweetwater River still called to him, reminding him that this was home. The same push that he and Veronica felt, pushing them to leave was the exact same as the pull that beckoned him home. Riverdale held the stories of their upbringing, when it was him and Archie against the world as kids - as seven year olds just like his son and Archie’s daughter in this moment. It held the love ballad of Jughead and Veronica, the greatest story Jughead ever had the privilege to create. The great demise of himself and Betty, the betrayal of Jughead and Archie. He lived it. Riverdale was his life once upon a time. Skipping this place was all he and Veronica ever wanted, and it was them against New York City. Veronica revelled in her home city, Jughead at first, drowned.

“You, my love, are bouncing off the walls. Literally. And if you spill anything on these tables, I will be having you clean them up. These tables don’t disinfect themselves, you know. It’s one part soap to three parts water. Trust me. I did this job for years so I will not be having my own son disrespect this place like that. Archie… I’m holding you responsible for this!” Veronica says in a frenzy that reminds Jughead of a sixteen year old her.

Archie’s head is spared when Freddie starts to cry. “How is the Register holding up without you there?” Jughead asks Betty.

Archie raises his eyebrows and looks to his wife who sighs. “Toni is doing as good as she can…” she says, a frown apparent.

“Betty was thinking of finishing up her maternity leave early until I said no…” Archie reminds his wife.

Betty rolls her eyes. “I was just thinking of going in for a day or two just to help with the writing.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Toni’s writing.”

“I know,” Betty groans. “But she’s not usually my writer, and you know how she prefers to be behind the camera,” she adds, looking for Jughead to agree with her.

“It sounds like the Register is in need of another writer, I happen to know one,” Veronica replies with a menacing tone.

It was no secret that Veronica wanted to move back to Riverdale. She felt the call too. The faster she rubs her own swelling belly, the more it felt to Jughead she wanted to settle. The news of their leaving had spread like wildfire, the news of their return had ignited just as fast. But the transition from big time magazines down to the slow paced Riverdale Register might do him good, and being back in the presence of his two best friends eased his heart in a way he would never have guessed. Veronica’s smile as she coos over Freddie and brushes Maisey’s hair out of her eyes while she played with their son made it all that much harder for Jughead to want to leave.

“Are you actually contemplating staying, Jughead Jones?” Betty asks.

Veronica’s hand tightens on his again. “I’m game if you are.”

Archie’s grin brightens the room instantly. “Don’t get my hopes up just to break my heart, man.”

“Well,” Jughead shrugs, “I mean, it looks like it’s going to be hard to tear Dylan away from Riverdale now.”

Betty stands, “Does anyone want anything else while I’m up? I need to restock so we can talk more about your move home!”

“Only if you’re treating,” Jughead replies with a grin.

They continue on, Fangs was the manager of Andrews and Son construction, easing things up on Archie. If Jughead and Veronica moved home, Betty wouldn’t have to worry about the Register. Veronica was just happy to be closer to her mom again.

The bright neon lights of Pop’s painted Veronica’s skin, pinks, purples, yellow, blues. She smiled in the light that sent Jughead into feeling fifteen all over again. He leans in and kisses her temple, watching their son play with the red headed girl. “I love you,” he tells her.

In that moment, Jughead was there with his best friends, no matter how long it had been or what problems had been in the past. He sat with his best friend, a blonde woman with a heart of gold, a raven haired woman who was his entire world and the friendliest red headed man in the universe. For one shining moment, they were just kids again.

In the booth over, a dark haired boy spills a chocolate shake over the table. A red haired girl attempts to help him hide the evidence. They both start sucking up the contents with their straws.

“Dylan! What did I tell you!” his mother snaps.

Jughead is pulled back into reality. Maisey’s smug grin as Dylan gets in trouble makes Jughead smile. Finally, they were home.

------

Send me a Jeronica centric ft Barchie prompt and I’ll write a >1000 word drabble!

[thesinglesjukebox]

BENNY BLANCO FT. HALSEY & KHALID - EASTSIDE

[5.00]

Meet Benny...

Katherine St Asaph: Meet Benny Blanco, former Dr. Luke protege, self-admitted "record producer, songwriter, and masturbator," and horseman of the fratty atmosphere and lowest-common-denominator ethos in pop music. Bonnie McKee's said that when working with Max Martin and Dr. Luke, they had to "Benny-proof" away any quirk or lyric he didn't get, because otherwise "America won't get it." Benny, for instance, didn't get a double entendre about "trying me on" in "a "Teenage Dream" draft, because presumably he's never heard of trying clothes on for fit, unlike McKee or Katy Perry or any woman on the planet. Slapping someone's ass cheeks as a snare drum (or at least claiming he did)? That, he gets. He, as much as his toxic former mentor and more than Max Martin, is responsible for shaping this decade of pop music, and not for the better. Now, he's been bequeathed the fanbases of Halsey and Khalid and others to come for a top-billed solo career. Fortunately, his production work has grown less garish alongside the pop-music vogue (though he did do "Freaky Friday," so outliers remain). Unfortunately, he's also been bequeathed co-writer Ed Sheeran, whose trademark quasi-rap verses Khalid and Halsey struggle to replicate (Halsey manages better than Khalid). It's a chill tale of forbidden love, nuance to the story Benny-proofed away, Los Angeles nostalgia written by an Englander and and sung by people who grew up in Georgia and New Jersey. It's not that I expect their work to be literally autobiographical; you just need some source of extramusical oomph to sell this "Fast Car" for Chainsmokers. [3]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: After producing some of the biggest hits of the past decade, Benny Blanco goes "solo" with a song that reminds listeners that "Closer" was actually a relative high-water mark. Its corny, forced rhymes and lightness of tone made every faux-diaristic detail feel more authentically teenaged/young adult. In other words, its very inelegance was made admirable through sheer commitment and self-awareness. "Eastside" has just as many shallow attempts at fleshing out a particular relationship, but the moody guitar figure and hushed vocalizing are too self-serious, revealing just how purposeless every lyric is. Even worse, Khalid sings with little to no conviction while Halsey fares only slightly better. Still, better performances couldn't salvage a song with so many other shortcomings. [2]

Ryo Miyauchi: Khalid and Halsey make sense as the stars of "Eastside": it's hard to find better alternatives in current pop who can provide the voice of The Youth. Yet their passive display of teenage memories undermines the potential in the collaboration. Both reminisce upon details of their adolescent years that likely resonate to them personally, though it feels too mundane viewing them from the outside at such a distance. [5]

Stephen Eisermann: A "Don't Let Me Down" retread shouldn't move me this much, but "Eastside" feels like Kirkland-brand old Taylor Swift mixed with current pop trends, and in the fallout of the Reputation era, I'll take it. [6]

Alfred Soto: Halsey wastes her Stevie Nicks-influenced high thinness on a track that's no more than a rueful catchphrase and guitar. [5]

Jonathan Bradley: The non-specificity of the eastside in which these stories take place hints at the low stakes of this song; it's as if the principals hope they can summon dramatic intrigue without too much effort. Fortunately, that's a task for which Halsey's flickering vocal and stray clarity is suited. [6]

Jibril Yassin: As much as I'm annoyed with Khalid becoming The Dude You Get For Pop Duets in 2018, he and Halsey make for a stunning duo here, trading verses of first loves with a bittersweet yet playful energy. Benny keeps out of the way here, providing a minimal backdrop that could nearly be mistaken for twee if not for those massive dancehall drums. [7]

Pedro João Santos: Longing for summer has been and perhaps always will be a fixture of my life, in spite of how tedious or torrid it gets, and summer hits used to be a large reason to why -- opulent lyrics and cooler, sensual sounds invading the airwaves for often indiscriminate aural pleasure. I did, however, always avoid the ubiquitous sad ones -- from "I'll Be Missing You" (I wasn't alive in 1995 and it still caught me) to "See You Again," the worst offender. So (apparently) not having one in 2018 was a relief, but also seemed to be a sign of the times, as if listeners were finally learning to revel in the artificial hedonism that permeates the season. "No Tears Left to Cry" could be considered, but its urgency far outweighs its suggestion of sadness; "Another Lifetime" is nowhere near charting. Turns out the top contender was just belated, via Benny Blanco's newest stab at summer melancholia. "Eastside" is airy and a touch insubstantial, flowing pleasantly through its verses and a hook made memorable by the melody and Khalid's expressive vocals, which re-tint "Eastside" as their own vehicle. With her fragile tone, Halsey doesn't benefit in any way from the song, despite a lovely -- and just as generic -- delivery. In terms of downbeat summer soundtracks, "Eastside" is acceptable, benefiting from its easygoing structure and tugging lightly at the heartstrings, if not much else. Also, one point for not being (the Blanco-assisted) "2002." [6]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[athcnvs]

☾✧.° leaving it up to you ft. brandon

“ i arrived there early and as always you swanned in much later as if nothing had ever changed, you nod at me and order your double mixer to see you again, to be your friend, to hold you in my mind ”

Athena had never been known for impulsive behavior, so sitting there in the cafe, she felt guilty. Pathetic, even. It was difficult to wrap her head around the fact that four years later, she still carried a soft spot for the boy whom she used to call her best friend. The boy who broke her heart without saying a word. Four years later, and she was giving him a chance to explain himself. To give her closure. That’s all she wanted, right? Closure? Though long overdue, she simply wasn’t going to pass up on the opportunity. She needed to know how Brandon was able to drop their friendship so easily. For the longest time, she believed it was because of a crush. A stupid crush she got in the way of. It all felt so stupid, their entire situation. As she sat there waiting for him, she considered leaving. Going back home. But she couldn’t, and she hated how she couldn’t. He had knocked on her door years after running away from home, and she just let him in. How pitiful.

Brandon: i’m just around the corner Brandon: really sorry i’m late

A soft chime came from the entrance, causing Athena to look up from her phone. There he stood, in the flesh, scanning the cafe before locating her. A gentle grin graced his lips, and a wave of nostalgia washed over her as he neared, taking a seat on the other side of the small table for two. She stared at him for a moment, her gaze lingering longer than it should’ve. Though it had been nearly half a decade, there was no doubt this was the same boy she once couldn’t imagine a future without. Yet there they sat, two strangers meeting in the night.

Realizing she had been caught in a daze, Athena quickly glanced down at the table. “Please tell me why we’re getting coffee and not dinner or whatever,” she said plainly. Stay aloof, she reminded herself. Don’t be an idiot. As if she wasn’t already one for agreeing to meet with him.

Brandon chuckled. “It’s nice to see you too, Athena.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Of course.”

“Remember when we used to study at that one coffee shop near your house? You’d always get a latte and a cheese danish. This’ll be like old times’ sake.”

“I’m not into cheese danishes anymore,” she lied, “and I’m not here to reminisce, Brandon. You told me you were going to explain. You were going to apologize.”

He tilted his head as he looked at her, seeing right through her cold demeanor. Even after all this time, she could never truly fool him. “Alright, just let me get you a drink. Latte sound good?”

Athena shrugged.

“Okay, then. Latte it is.”

After watching him get up and make his way over to the counter, she briefly buried her face in her hands. What am I even doing?, she wondered. She had no clue how she was supposed to carry herself, how she was supposed to act. It felt so wrong, this detached facade she had planned on committing to, but she couldn’t give in to the idea of welcoming him back into her life with open arms and a warm smile. She couldn’t seem as though she had been waiting for him. She hadn’t been. She was doing just fine these past four years, so what was the point in revisiting a part of her life that only brought her grief? Athena once again contemplated the option of going home, but she remained planted in her seat, some force inside of her determined to get the answers she tried piecing together herself time and time again. She knew she owed it to herself to finally move on from that chapter of her life.

“Here you go, miss,” Brandon chimed, setting her drink down on the table. “Be careful, though, it’s probably pretty hot.”

“Thanks,” she muttered. “You’re not getting anything?”

“Nah, I’ve got a lot of talking to do anyway.”

“Fair enough.”

And so he did. As far back as he could remember, Brandon told her everything. He spoke of his discomfort with their friends constantly pairing them romantically, how it affected his friendships. He wasn’t able to get through a single conversation without someone bringing her up. To him, it was beginning to feel as though he wasn’t treated as an individual anymore but, rather, a unit. He couldn’t exist on his own, and it was suffocating. When he developed a crush on a girl in their class, their friends made it seem as though he wasn’t allowed to have feelings for anyone else but Athena. Their friendship was suffocating, and that fact only made him see her in a different light. Every little thing she did bothered him. He couldn’t do study dates anymore. He couldn’t do movie nights. He couldn’t walk with her to classes. Talking to her only made things worse. Their friendship grew toxic and he was the one who poisoned it. But at the time, it didn’t seem to matter. All he wanted to do was be his own person, be able to breathe. He was consumed by tunnel vision, and once he realized what he had done, it was too late. He had gone too far, and it was practically impossible to repair the damage. After what he did, he knew he didn’t deserve her anymore. So he let her go. Without any word, he let her go.

“I’m really sorry, Athena,” he concluded. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I wouldn’t. I just—” Brandon reached over to place his hand over hers, squeezing it gently. “Even after all these years, I never stopped thinking about what I did and how I hurt you over something so stupid.”

She simply stared at him. The entire time he spoke, Athena didn’t mumble a word, her latte remaining untouched. With each revelation, she had tried to make sense of it all. She tried to find the words to say, but she came up short. How was she supposed to respond? He gave her the explanation she was searching for, but why didn’t she feel like she was ready to leave him in the past like she had planned?

Pulling her hand away from his grasp and setting it in her lap, she managed to choke something out, barely above a whisper. “Brandon, did you not know that I had feelings for you?”

“Oh,” was all he could say.

“Yeah, tragic, huh?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

They sat there for a moment, a somber air filling the space between them.

“What now?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know.”

“Are we okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want us to be?”

The answer should’ve been obvious, but the longer Athena looked at him, the more she realized how she didn’t actually know him anymore. People change, and she couldn’t tell if she missed him or the memories they shared. Brandon once was an important part of her life, and the thought of denying him a do-over seemed wrong. It was as though she was eighteen again and fresh out of high school, still soft for a boy who didn’t deserve her.

“Do you?”

He nodded. “As weird as it sounds, I really did miss you, ‘Theens.”

You can’t do that. You can’t just call me by my nickname and expect everything to go back to how they were before we fell out, she wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him to go back home and never speak to her again. However, the words remained unsaid. Athena couldn’t understand how she could sit there after everything and still consider letting him back into her life. She couldn’t understand why he wanted to come back in the first place.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss you too,” she mumbled, unsure if she was later going to regret this admission.

“Listen, how about this?” Brandon pressed his lips together before he continued to speak. “I sort of brought along some DVDs from our old jazz band concerts. We can watch them back at my hotel room—”

“You booked a hotel room?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know how long I’d be out here. But we can watch the DVDs, catch up a little. You can make a decision about me after that, if you want. No rush. What do you say?”

Athena bit her lip, brows knitted together. She knew she had to get home before her absence was far too noticeable, but the offer was tempting. As long as she set boundaries, it would be okay, right?

She shrugged, her eyes trailing to her still-full latte mug. “I guess. Sure.”

“Are you gonna drink that?”

“It got cold.”

“Oh, alright. Let’s go, then,” he said, standing up. “You can apologize for not appreciating the latte the next time you come here.”

The two made their way out of the cafe before hailing an Uber to their destination. Athena remained silent the entire ride, simply listening to the radio and the driver’s attempts to initiate small talk with Brandon. She wasn’t sure why, but the longer she sat in the car, the more she wished she had never agreed to anything in the first place.

“Okay, have a nice night,” the driver said as he brought the car to a stop in front of the hotel.

“Thanks,” they replied in unison.

Athena followed him to the room, the lack of conversation on her behalf quite uncharacteristic. There was a heaviness in her soul that she could not label. Was it the result of her being in Brandon’s company? For keeping their meeting a secret from her friends?

“You can go and sit down on the bed. I’ll load the DVD from freshman year.” He laughed. “Get ready to cringe, ‘Theens.”

They managed to make it through two full concerts, exchanging commentary about little things they had remembered about each one, before lethargy hit. Athena was the first to knock out, then Brandon shortly after. Her head rested on his shoulder during their slumber, and there she remained until she woke.

“Fuck,” she whispered upon realizing where she was. Slowly getting out of the bed so as not to wake the boy and have to deal with what a conversation would entail, Athena checked the time on her phone. 5:24am. She immediately shut her eyes, hoping she had been dreaming, in reality still back at the villa without ever having communicated with Brandon, but alas, her reality was the hotel room. Her reality was being there with a boy she shouldn’t be with. Hesitantly, she opened up the Messages app, only to see an exchange in the group chat having to do with her disappearance. Great, I’m officially in deep shit.

Pocketing her phone, Athena glanced back at her old best friend. Having been so caught up in the memories of high school, they forgot to talk about their present lives during the time they spent watching the performances. Perhaps that was really all they had in common anymore, the past. Perhaps it was finally time she acknowledged the fact. She didn’t have to forgive him for what he did, he even said so himself, so why was there a part of her still holding on? The only way for her to move on from what happened is to let go, she knew that, so why was it hard to leave?

Taking a pen and a piece of notepaper from the nearby desk, Athena scribbled a quick ‘I’m sorry. I can’t do this,’ placing it on top of one of the DVD cases. This was the closure she decided to give herself. It might not have been exactly what she had expected, but it was what felt right. Just because someone meant the world to her in the past, it didn’t mean she had to give up her world to have him back. She knew better than that.

So Athena took one last look at him, then she left.

[eddiejpoplar]

Classic Drive: 1989 Saab 900 SPG and 2008 9-3 Turbo X Sport Combi

SALT LAKE CITY, Utah — My copilot, Jordan Melville, pokes at the pair of window switches between our seats as the heavily tinted windows slowly lower. They get down just in time for us to notice that the pair of police cruisers that snapped us into attention lack occupants. I suggest that there’s nothing like the local constabulary to motivate a little preventative maintenance, and he agrees. I’m driving his 1989 Saab 900 SPG and, despite the sun’s efforts to drag the temperature into the triple-digits, we keep the windows down.

The 900 SPG transitions smoothly from side to side, and the upgraded brakes scrub speed without any fuss when it’s necessary. A Bilstein suspension tightens things up, making the black hatchback even more of a canyon carver than it was when it rolled out of the factory at Trollhattan. The 900 makes all the right turbo noises, with turbo whistle and some flutter when I change gears. I drove a few of the cooking grade 900 Turbos just out of high school, so the SPG is a nice dose of turbo nostalgia. Roll on the throttle, spool, revel in the noise, clutch, choo-choo, repeat.

The turbocharger, a Swedish Dynamics Red Series T3/T4 hybrid, has lots of lag and a tendency to overboost on full throttle. We’re talking capital-L Lag. Even the bone stock 900 Turbos had a distinct difference between being on-boost and off-boost.

“You have to back off the throttle a little bit when it comes on boost,” I’m instructed, “since the turbo can produce a bit more boost than the stock APC [boost controller] can process.” It takes a few corners for me to find a rhythm the car is happy with. Hunting for gears is an exercise is patience as the shifter is more than a little bit vague. Since this wasn’t my first Swedish rodeo, things went pretty smoothly. Melville plans to install a Trionic 5 engine management system that was used on later 1994-1998 Saab turbo models. It’s not quite drop in, but it’ll handle the boost of the upgraded turbo and should eliminate the overboost issue.

You’d probably be surprised to learn that this car started out as a winter beater in 2011. Jordan’s uncle had always been a Saab guy, so when a classic 900 turned up he thought “why not?” It was pretty rough, with rusted fenders all the way around. It wasn’t until later that he learned he had something special. Jordan wants to get the car back to “stock plus” to see what it might have been like when it was new, then make some careful modifications. One of the most striking is the acid green wheels. They very nearly glow in person, and are the result of a three-part powder coating process. In addition to some serious repairs—Jordan found more than a bit of bondo—the wheels got a coat of black, a coat of clear, and a coat of green powder, which explains their luster.

As we wind up Big Cottonwood Canyon road, which leads to the Solitude Mountain Resort, I’m surprised to see that all of the electronics are still working, from the sunroof to the air conditioning. As a bit of a testament to the dependability of these cars, he noted that even though the body had succumbed to the elements, the accessories needed no reconditioning.

Often, when people think about a “classic Saab,” they think of this generation of the 900. The engine is oriented longitudinally, but “backwards,” with the flywheel connecting to the five-speed manual driving the front wheels at the front of the engine bay. Inside the cabin, the controls are laid out logically, with the main instrument panel angled towards the driver. The biggest curiosity is the location of the ignition cylinder, which is between the seats by the parking brake instead of on the steering column where it’s typically found. It makes sense once you get over the unfamiliarity of it. Too bad General Motors didn’t take that from Saab after it acquired the brand in 1990.

Jordan also owns a 2008 9-3 Turbo X Sport Combi, which is extra rare as the wagon made up less than half of the 600 units the U.S. market received. A limited-edition version of the 9-3, the Turbo X was powered by the 9-3 Aero’s 2.8-liter turbocharged V-6, but with the boost cranked the boost up from 8.7 psi to 11.6 psi and the addition of all-wheel drive via a Haldex unit. From the factory, the combination was good for 280 hp and 295 lb-ft of torque (up from the Aero’s 255 hp), but without a whiff of the torque steer the front-wheel drive Aero is known for. The Turbo X is also an homage to the original Saab 900 SPG, so it sports black paint and a set of three-arm alloy wheels.

The Turbo X Sport Combi is good, too. Really good. The Haldex system is an active one, so it consistently sends power to the rear wheels instead of reactively when traction is lost. It can also apportion torque side-to-side, which helps it to stay planted on nearly any road surface. On the softly winding corners of Big Cottonwood Canyon, I was surprised by not only the complete lack of torque steer, but how planted the stock wagon feels. It’s comfortable, and rides nicely, but there’s hardly any body motion. The weight transfers smoothly, and with the automatic the power comes in with a healthy push halfway through the powerband. It’s not the instant torque of modern direct-injected engines, but the Turbo X feels a lot like the old 900 SPG, just with the hard edges filed down. The Sport Combi is fast in a modern way, and the only thing hinting at its relative vintage is the green LCD display above the radio. Inside the cabin it’s all “classic” Saab, though, with the ignition between the seats, the instrument panel canted towards the driver just so, and a nice ergonomic layout. The wagon is as stock as they come, and Jordan plans to keep it that way.

We chatted a little bit about parts availability and maintenance on orphaned Saabs. The current state of affairs has left a dwindling number of NOS (New Old Stock) on the shelves of independents and parts shops, while a network of European repair shops continues to offer service where they can be found. In Salt Lake City Jordan tells me one of the local glass shops still has a mold for the Classic 900, meaning his SPG can still do daily duty on the often less than stellar roads. Some of the parts have been hard to find, he said, but thanks to the internet and a number of dedicated bulletin boards, it’s fairly easy to source parts. A lot of working on these cars falls to DIY type affairs, though Jordan suggests finding a reputable shop with experience in the quirky Swedes for more complex jobs.

One of the best parts about driving a Saab is the people. You get looks and thumbs-up from everyone, and whenever you stop to pump gas you’ll hear a few stories about how they had an uncle, or cousin, that had “one of those”. Good thing Jordan went from being one of those people whose uncle “had one” to proud owner keeping the love of the brand alive. If you want to get into something unique, with a great base of knowledge freely available, and a reasonable aftermarket, then a Saab turbo might be worth considering.

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