#my life is full of whimsey

[bitchyblkqueer]

5pm breakfast kind of day 👍🏾

[vacantgodling]

i'd like to say that this year was more of a planning year than a writing year; not to say that i didn't write; but i spent a lot more time on outlining, worldbuilding, and a new skill that i've added to the fold -- conlanging(!!). because of that, i didn't hit all the goals i made last year but tbh that's aight. without further ado tho:

TOTAL WORDS WRITTEN [january 2024-november 2024]

111,535 (as of 11/15)

once again, if this was all in one place, that would be a full novel but. speaking of full novels:

2024 GOAL STATUS

❌ reach 150k words written overall ✔️ finish cage like it’s GOING to happen i will it ❌ finish the first draft of paramour!!!

so i'm only 1 for 3 and tbh i'm not that mad about it. finishing cage back in february was one of the biggest writing highlights of this year because i showed myself i could do it, i CAN finish something of novel length if i really put my mind to it.

(and yeah, i really did go and get it printed out lmao)

and more than just the accomplishment of writing 82k in one piece, it's also helped me really understand and work out what systems and processes i need to have set up prior to writing to make it work. this is why outlining has been such a huge undertaking for me this year, in varying levels of success (lmao). having a fully fleshed out outline with the literal beat by beat playout of how i want the story to go helped me TREMENDOUSLY in pushing through cage. even on chapters that were rough for me, having that outline to fallback on made it so much easier to stick to a every week one chapter system. and its something i plan to implement with my original wips too.

the only issue is, because original work inherently requires more work since there's no framework except what's in your own head... its been a bit slower for me writing wise. BUT next year i will be operating out of a desperate need for whimsey so i think i'm going to make my goals much.... less stressful than i did this year.

2024 WRITING HIGHLIGHTS

FINISHED CAGE! biggest accomplishment in my life right now tbh. seriously if you haven't and you have any interest in overwatch at all go read it and leave me nice comments while you're at it lol. technically i am working on the interlude piece between cage and its eventual sequel, schism, but that's been kinda slow going as i don't have much motivation to do it right now. first chapter of it is also up on ao3 though -> interlude - quiet

created a conlang??? in a very bizarre turn of events i have created a conlang for my wip with the working title HE WHO SMITES THE SUN (under the tag #s: ph). the language itself is called dzonime'si and if you want to see more of that process check out my #ren fights linguistics tag :)

finished the entire "first draft" of my wip betwixt thumb and forefinger--which is actually an idea that i only thought of this year so that's fun. for the uninitiated it is a gothic reimagining of twilight but with a shit ton more body horror and prochoice commentary. the reason first draft is in quotations is because it is technically a 16k word long outline that i am considering draft one. draft 2 is literally me going bullet point by bullet point and expanding the draft into something more akin to prose. i do have the first few paragraphs of draft 3 started, which is where i'm going to attempt actual prose writing for the first time. pretty much, btaf is becoming a very lengthy process but it's my first "test drive" on how this new outlining to written prose for my original projects will go. i've just gotten... distracted by other wips since then.

2025 GOALS

to be honest, i don’t know if i have many hard goals for next year. mostly because of *gestures at the state of the world right now* :))))))) it’s blatantly obvious that when things are tough, it becomes more difficult to do the things that you want to do that bring you joy. amid trying to just survive the day to day, there’s also my desires to get more involved in bothering the FUCK out of my senators, looking into ways i can be more involved locally (without burning myself out) and just generally trying to not let the state of the world get me down.

i think there’s a lot of things i want to do. i want to finish a bunch of outlines for my wips becuase i can’t tell you how REWARDING it’s been to be able to fully just go back and reread btaf’s outline whenever i like (and have the AMAZING multi leave comments on it like that’s actually another huge highlight of this year thank u friend 💛) and get excited about telling this story all over again. it motivates me to keep doing it! i'd also love to finish btaf's draft 2, maybe try and finish interlude - quiet etc. but—long story short. i don’t think i’m going to put myself on for any particular goals. next year is going to be about celebrating wins in any and every capacity. so all i wanna do is give myself wins.

looking forward to seeing y’all next year, crying about our ocs as usual

💛 ren 💛

[moe-broey]

THIS IS. SUCH A FASCINATING THING TO HEAR... Mani is something else entirely, unfortunately, LMFAOO BUT!!! This got me thinking......

Think of these as hypothetical What-If scenarios! The ages aren't hard and fast either, just general placements based on how things went for me LMFAO -- and pronouns listed are ones I imagine Moe using at the time. But it is retroactively It. Forever and always 👍

You know. Moe is so heavily defined by everything that happened in very quick succession when its egg cracked and it came out. Whole world fell out from underneath it. In the example given here, I actually don't know how things would have turned out for it... I just wanted to draw an outfit it would feel comfortable wearing as a """girl""" (and something it'd genuinely like, aesthetically!). Esp the little cape addition... that thing is hiding beneath So many layers of fabric LMFAOOO (and.. layers.... in general.....)

THIS ONE.... I LOVE SO MUCH ....... one of the cutest Moes I've ever drawn..... absolutely captures that freshly out desperately trying to socially transition but can't quite get it right or hasn't developed a full sense of self in its new identity yet. They tell you about second puberty when you transition. What they don't tell you about is the second awkward "teenage" phase you go through as you're growing into yourself again (for real this time). Also just... the euphoria.... 🥺🥲 Even if there's horrors... the euphoria is still there...

And some older sketches of this Moe! So full of life and wonder and whimsey........ all of which feel so fragile........ and the world doesn't have any kindness or patience about it. SAD.

World-weary autistic burnout Moe........ it's probably closer to 23. For me personally I just didn't exist when I was 23. Blacked out that entire year. Once it starts feeling alive again, it probably starts making mods to its outfit (in line w it's current look!). All things considered, it is very close to the current Moe! I just needed one more guy in-between Fragile Joyous Whimsy Moe and Got My Whimsy Back Bitch But I'm Evil Now Moe (the current one). Hey, where the fuck did it find that black band tee shirt btw??? Did it just come with that?????

More older sketches! I really like these ones, I almost wish I reffed them for this actually... the hair is so good here.

AND. FINALLY......

The most powerful of them all.......... baby.

[ridragon]

cant stop thinking about the post making fun of people for being into missing 411 cases and bigfoot abduction stories thinking theyre creepy and mysterious snd believing in them. firstly, it's a part of the culture. the Bigfoot shit, the weird deer, you're making fun of the culture of the area, for one.

and you're telling me that even if explained, the fact that people just. go missing. no trace. their families will never know what happened. you don't think that's terrifying? you dont feek deepy disturbed? never to be buried or seen again? Even with all our tech? Your technology cannot save you, that you rely on so much?That one mistake and that's it (in the cases of mountain climbing) "the national forests are just full of dumb people" okay but if you actually bothered to look into them you'd realize the ones that captivate people are experienced hikers. most of the cases that give me that discomfort are the ones where, yeah, he probably fell off the mountain after a mistake, but it's haunting, it's the what if, it's the mystery. not the individual cases, just the otherness of the complete wild.

like that david paulides guy lies all the time, he said something happened on november 31st. fuck that guy lmao, but come on. you don't wonder? you don't find it fun to suspend your disbelief?

have some fucking whimsey in your life, pretentious screwball. When did it become okay to make fun of people's beliefs? even if you think it's stupid and illogical? Okay. so is religion. so is me praying and offering to my Gods. you aren't slick talking down to people just because theyre southern and american.

[gorewound]

Hello, I am Sir Captain Sir John Dippschytt Hubris Laccovforesyghte The Third. I have a pet monkey whomst I misgender and have never fed or bathed. My favourite food is eggs eaten directly off of my own face, my second favourite food is my own boots served with a lightly warmed sherry. My wife is devoted to me and I love her dearly, so dearoy in fact that I have made a career of traveling to the opposite side of the globe from wherever she is at any given time.

Good evening. My name is a joke someone played on me and I never got over it. I have dedicated my life to being Sir John's proxy wife, he refers to me as Jarmels Footlocker and I have never corrected him. My hobbies include telling upsetting stories repeatedly at parties I wasn't invited to, and tasting Sir John's boots to make sure they are cooked to his specifications. My favourite book is Moby Dick but I cannot read I just enjoy the pictures.

I am gay and fanciful and carefree and full of whimsey. (And murder, I will gayly and whimsically chop you into bite sized pieces in your sleep)

You lot keep up whatever the bloody fuck that all is, I'll be in my cabin with every bottle of booze we brought with us. Wake me when we're either out of this mess or all dead, whichever comes first.

[strawberri-syrup]

IT SYARTED SNOWING SO ME N MY BUDDY WALKED HALF A MILE TO SHEETZ AT MIDNIGHT LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL AND FULL OF JOY AND WHIMSEY

[deepfriedseagullfeet]

sorry for being inactive these past few days......ive been full of whimsey and lust for life......sleeping and eating good food and taking my new car out for drives.........i do be livin!!!!!!

[pokichusramblings]

It’s so fucking crazy being a person filled with whimsey and joy. Last week I was coming home from a vacation, and at the airport the suitcase made a funny noise when we got on the escalator and I giggled. My dad said “it’s nice how you find joy in the little things.”

Anyway find more whimsey in your life. Laugh with a full belly at the little things. You’ll find that you become a more pleasant person.

[stampwithtami]

Pretty Birds Illuminated Tea Light Easel Card [Series #9]

TEA LIGHT CARD SERIES #9 A little birdie told me you've got something to celebrate! I created this illuminated easel fun fold card with the Stampin' Up! Pretty Birds stamp set and dies. The words are from the Sweet Songbirds stamps. Insert a tea light and the bird cage glows behind the birds. I really love this bundle, I have some links to more fancy folds I created with it below. I designed this easel fancy fold in portrait orientation so it stands tall, but it still folds flat to standard 5-1/2″ x 4-1/4″ card size.  Scroll down for:  ✅ INSTRUCTIONS✅ TEA LIGHT CARD VIDEO✅ TEA LIGHT SERIES✅ PHOTOS✅ PRODUCTS USED INSTRUCTIONS INSTRUCTIONS TEA LIGHT CARD VIDEO TEA LIGHT CARD VIDEO TEA LIGHT SERIES Click the photos for each tutorial in the series that has been released. I'll be posting the rest of these tea light easel card tutorials over the next couple of weeks. Stay tuned for more. PHOTOS Want to save these ideas for later? Pin them to your favorite Pinterest board. Have you tried this design? I love to see your creations! Be sure to share them on  #shareyourcrafts post every Saturday on my Facebook Page.  I love the Stampin' Up Pretty Birds bundle so much. I've had some fun making fancy folds with it. In addition to this tea light easel fold, I have a sliding theater fold and a pop out swing fold created with it.  The tea light adds a special glow behind the birds. It brings the card to life.  This is a view of the card folded flat.  With the lights off the card is stunning.  I used the crosshatch pattern folder from the Basics 3D Folders to emboss the background. The birds are colored with the Stampin' Blends Markers.  The inside is faux stitched with the Stitched with Whimsey dies.  Which of these 3 fun fold Pretty Birds is your favorite?   PRODUCTS USED BATTERY OPERATED TEA LIGHTS 24 Pack of Tea Lights 24 Pack of Tea Lights with Timers 50 Pack of Tea Lights Color changing Tea Lights Read the full article

[absolutebl]

I saw your posts about ITSAY and was curious if you've seen Love of Siam (2007)? ITSAY in a way resolved the angst I felt from that film. When Love of Siam aired, I argued that it would usher in an era of new gay film and television, and we saw the beginnings of Thai BL in the years after that. Wanted your thoughts on the matter.

OMG what a great ask and it turns out I have lots of thoughts. Who knew? *sarcasm* 

Love of Siam, ITSAY, Thailand & the HEA Gay

First of all I agree with you in so many ways. 

Yes I have seen Love of Siam (2007) and it totally destroyed me. That old school queer cinema amorphous ending is hard for me to take. We were given nothing but that (or death) for so many YEARS in queer cinema, it was always the same message: 

“yeah, but society is the way it is, so sucks to be you.” 

I totally get that this was mainly queer writers and directors working out their damage as a result of a homophobic world’s pressures and expectations, but I’m exhausted by it. I want us to get positive, happy, life affirming narratives. 

I also get the argument that in many ways ITSAY solves for Love of Siam’s damage by putting its characters through a similar narrative arc but ending them up together, and I will watch it in order to get there some day. I just gotta work myself up to struggling through the first half of that old familiar journey of DOOM. 

I mean they even parrot the famous last scene. “I can’t be your boyfriend” to “Be my boyfriend.”

I agree with you that Love of Siam is Thailand’s first tentative step towards BL and it’s certainly a seed child for more queer affirming and realistic Thai BL like ITSAY. But I think it was critically acclaimed and accepted at the time, and still is because of its so called “realistic approach.” But IMHO what is actually going on is a homophobic society’s (and film critic’s) way of saying “well, we liked it because we find its messaging acceptable.” By plauditing Love of Siam, in part, they were doing their own messaging: “This film is correct in that the gays can’t be happy because they are gay. Love doesn’t conquer all.” 

I would argue that if Love of Siam had ended with an HEA for the boys it would not have been as acclaimed. Partly because the culture at the time couldn’t stand a more positive queer message, and partly because any narrative that ends happily is automatically critically disenfranchised for various reasons. I will die on that tiny hill. 

I’ve spent my whole life (and career) fighting for HEA narratives in the critical, academic, and pop culture sphere.  

I desperately want to see normalization of a positive outcome for the queer life journey. That is why I’m such a proponent of gay romance, and Thai BL especially, but more than anything else Happy Ever Afters for queer couples. 

I think queer HEA is a vital component of cultural shift towards acceptance. One of the most powerful things fictional narratives can do is represent us in positive happy centrally-focused universally palatable ways. At their foundational level, these narratives give out hope. (And yes they have many flaws, but this isn’t one of them.)

But I believe modern Thai BL owes more (tonally) to Love Sick and SOTUS than Love of Siam. And yes, absolutely Love Sick probably wouldn’t have happened without Love of Siam but it is fundamentally different, as is what came after. 

What Thailand did with Love Sick in 2014 is to go soapy and cheesy with the coming out experience. Yes it still has that touch of genuine teen angst, but Love Sick pivoted into full on HEA and charming whimsey and I love it for that. SOTUS kind of cemented the deal that what Thai audiences wanted (and the rest of the world from Thailand) was upbeat BL. Fortunately for me, they leaned into it. 

That bifurcation I talk about with Japan? Thailand chose the cheerful sun dappled path.  And I am grateful they left narrative arcs like Love of Siam behind. 

I genuinely love the fluffy escapist stuff that comes after 2016 better (I use both those terms affectionately). I really enjoy the light-hearted cheese of what amounts to Thai’s gay romcoms. It makes me happiest when there’s very little angst and what’s there is trivial (Oxygen, how I love thee). I don’t want to be reminded in any way of how dark and unhappy the queer life experience can be. I get that enough from real life. The fact that ITSAY goes there, but then rectifies it, still means I’m on the narrative path of going there first. 

For me the two great joys of modern Thai BL are 

how unlike reality it is 

how unremittingly happy the messaging of a future of unity and acceptance 

Well that question made me think about my whole damn life philosophy. 

What a morning this has been.

*queer hugs for everyone* 

(source)

[omgitscharlie]

𝖉𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊

AO3 link

ɪɴᴜʏᴀꜱʜᴀ x ᴋᴀɢᴏᴍᴇ | ᴘᴏꜱᴛ-ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ | ɴꜱꜰᴡ (ꜱᴍᴜᴛ)

summary: She'd been teasing him all day, and she knew it. Those fleeting glances and knowing smiles, it drove Inuyasha insane; not to mention she smelled sweeter, more intense. What happens when Kagome pushes Inuyasha beyond his limits? One-shot.

It had started with a simple, slow, wet kiss to the pulse point on his neck before they left the house and words that seemed to hint towards more. That alone would have been enough to have the silver-hair hanyou take control of the situation and allow them to give into their more primal desires. If it wasn't for the knowledge that Kagome had promised to do an archery lesson with Rin before her own miko training, he would have happily allowed them to be a little late. The scent of her made that even more difficult than usual, as he knew exactly why it had changed slightly - why her behaviour was much more sensual than normal. It wouldn't be wise to act upon his urges, not if she didn't want to be pupped, but, of course, his wife was making it extremely difficult to keep a level head.

He'd scolded her on the way to the village, calling her out on her intentions, "What're you playin' at?" All he got in return was a cheeky shrug, not even giving him the decency of making eye contact as she did so.

"It was just a kiss, Inuyasha - don't look into it so much," it was obvious she was trying to rile him up, and boy did she know how to do so better than anyone.

Judging by the very low, primal growl that left her husband shortly after, she knew her tactic was working, "You know exactly what you're doing, woman." The hold on her hand tightened, tempted to stop them and make her look at him, but was stopped by the sound of Gyokuto calling out and bringing attention to their presence.

"Doggy!" she shouted, having Sango turn around with little Hisui bundled up in her arms, "Hi uncle Doggy! Hi auntie 'gome!" Gyokuto repeated as she began to make a b-line towards the pair.

Inuyasha released Kagome's hand then, as reluctant as he was to do so - all he wanted to do right now was drag her back to their hut and show her who was in charge. It was only when the warmth of his hand left her that she looked up at him, only then seeing the glint of irritation and flustered need in those amber orbs of his. Satisfied with herself, she waved back to the small girl running towards them, leaving Inuyasha to bend down and pick her up. Adjusting the small girl to rest on his hip, he followed his wife towards Sango and Miroku's home.

"Gyokuto, remember what we agreed on?" the hanyou asked, immediately seeing the small girl's hands reaching upwards to the ears perched on his head. Though, when he spoke, he saw her immediately stop, pulling her hands back into her chest.

"No touching," she murmured, disappointment dripping from her tone, as high-pitched as it was, "Not unless uncle says so," she added, Inuyasha nodding in confirmation as he reached his claw-tipped finger out to push on her nose playfully.

"That's right - and I haven't had breakfast yet, so now isn't a good time," he added, the 'boop' to the nose having Gyokuto give a high-pitched giggle as she once again nodded in understanding. All the while, Kagome was standing with Sango, watching her husband interact with the child with a sense of whimsey. The way he looked holding such a small being, and acting so gentle and paternal, it had her only more needy from that morning. It seemed her husband had picked up on the spike in her scent, gaze quickly flitting towards her before narrowing his gaze.

That woman's gunna be the death of me...

Breakfast was normal enough, the four friends conversing as they typically did as they indulged in a simple meal of fish, rice and pickles. Though, it became obvious that Inuyasha's answers were more curt than usual and, when it came time for the men and women to go their separate ways, Inuyasha almost seemed desperate to get out into the fresh air. His goodbye was short and sweet, telling the girls to be careful, as he normally did out of habit.

Her smell had enveloped the whole room to him, like a heavy perfume that he couldn't shake, no matter how hard to tried to focus on something else. Not to mention her fleeting glances and teasing mannerisms that weren't obvious to anyone but him. Like how she gently dragged her finger over her collar bone as she adjusted her kosode, or stretched her head to the side enough to show her throat, only to quickly do the other side to make it less inconspicuous.

When he finally made it outside, she felt like he could finally focus on something other than her; think of something other than pinning her to the futon and fucking her until she begged him to stop.

"Inuyasha sure seems wound up today - you two have a fight?" Sango finally asked when the men were gone and out of earshot. Hisui was happily babbling to himself as Sango held him against her chest, gently rocking him and patting his back with the intent to burp him.

The sight of Sango being so domestic had been one she needed to get used to, having become accustomed to seeing her in such a fierce and formidable position and demeanor. Though, after a year of being back, Kagome realized how well being a mother suited the demon-slayer. The young miko could recall a time when Sango had mentioned she wanted a big family someday, little did either of them know it would be with Miroku.

"A fight?" the question left her slightly thoughtfully, as if she needed to actually take a moment to think about it. Lifting a finger to her lip, she tapped them softly while looking upward before answering, "Mmm, no. Not fighting." With her gaze averted upward, she couldn't see Sango's questioning look - she wasn't blind.

"Then what is it? The only time I've ever seen Inuyasha this desperate to start his day is if he's irritated," another pause was left after her final word, seeing Kagome feign innocence - if Kagome was anything, it was not a good liar, "What are you not telling me? C'mon Kagome, you can tell me." Sango had always thought of Kagome like a sister and never so much as she did since the young miko had come back. It was nice to finally have a woman who understood, not only what she had been through, but her as a person.  

How was she supposed to say this? What words were the right ones to explain what she had been doing all morning, "Uhm...I guess you could say I've been," she shrugged while speaking her next words, "Riling him up?"

It took Sango all of two seconds to understand, eyes widening before she released a very real laugh, "That poor guy," she managed to say between bouts of laughter, "That makes much more sense," she added, wiping away a tear from her eye as she finally managed to get her laughter under control.

"Does Miroku act like that - y'know, when you-"

"Kind of, but Inuaysha and Miroku are very different, especially when it comes to women. It wouldn't be fair to really compare them; however, you could say Miroku gets pretty flustered, yes," Sango then offered her friend a very wide, genuine and amused smile, "How far are you willing to push it?"

Kagome shrugged in response, a flush now on her face from both embarrassment and sharing that large fit of laughter with Sango, "As far as he'll go, to be honest. Does that make me mean?" Leave it to the ever compassionate Kagome to turn it into something she could worry over. The scoff from Sango, paired with a flippant flick of her wrist gave Kagome some reassurance.

"I wouldn't worry about him - if anything, I'm sure he's enjoying it to some extent; besides," Sango began, leaning closer to Kagome with a knowing look on her face, "You gotta keep things exciting, right?"

With wide eyes, Kagome was shocked by Sango's statement, only to have them soften and her expression change to that of playfulness, "You're husband is rubbing off on you," she stated, Sango chuckling as she leaned back, shrugging her shoulders.

"It's bound to happen, there are things Inuyasha does that have rubbed off on you, I'm sure."

"Keh, ya right!" The second the statement left her mouth, she covered it with both hands, eyes wide once again at the realization that she had just proven the demon-slayer's point. Another fit of laughter left the young mother, "It's not funny!" Kagome tried to combat, though both of them knew just how funny it truly was.

The men walked off in silence for a good while, Miroku trying his best not to probe his friend for answers to the many burning questions that arose from that morning. Staff jingling, the two walked farther into town, having offered to help the headman with gathering a list of things he needed from the market days. Inuyasha remained tense, hands shoved into his sleeves as it seemed his ears were working harder than they normally did, twitching at any and all sounds, from the laughter of villagers to a snap of a twig beneath his foot. The hanyou wasn't oblivious, feeling the tension between the two of them and knowing full well that Miroku knew something was up. A grunt left him, side-eyeing the monk before breaking the silence, "If you got somethin' to say, than say it."

As cool as ever, Miroku wasn't affected by the edged tone his friend carried within that question; instead, he didn't even look towards his counterpart as he spoke, "I'm only curious as to what has got you so pensive, Inuyasha. You've been on edge since this morning."

Inuyasha turned his gaze to the ground, growling under his breath, though it was mostly towards himself for being so predictable, "It's nothing, alright? So, just drop it." That did not help his case, Miroku only more curious now, knowing his friend much better than most.

"Does it have something to do with Lady Kagome?" Miroku couldn't help but prod, having gotten rather good at drawing at least some intimate details from the hanyou - not much, but some, "A happy wife makes a happy life, my friend. Remember that." He could only assume that this behaviour meant that himself and Kagome had found themselves in another one of their notorious arguments. Even after almost a year of marriage, it seemed their bickering never changed.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" The hanyou snapped, stopping in his tracks to make a more defensive stance towards the monk, "Yeah, it has something to do with her, but not like that! I said drop it, alright?!" The volume of his voice was high, causing Miroku to stop in his tracks as well, turning to his hanyou friend as they stood just off to the side of the main rice fields. Luckily, not another soul was around, at least not for a good distance.

"Then what is it? If she's not angry at you, then what else could it be that's making you so-" then it hit him, eyeing his friend before his lips pulled into a grin. Inuyasha's eyes widened, taking a step back from Miroku - he hated that look.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" Now it was Inuyasha's turn to ask the questions, it seemed.

"That little minx..." he mused before fully smiling at his friend, "She's teasing you, isn't she?" The amount of discomfort Inuyasha felt in that moment, the flush of his cheeks giving way any sort of resolve he could muster in an attempt to convey confidence. Miroku gave a slight huff of amusement, "Enjoy it my friend, only good things will come of it."

As if the conversation had never taken place, Miroku made his way towards the headman's house, leaving an extremely stunned Inuyasha behind to try and completely register what he had just experienced.

After the archery lesson with Rin, Kagome made her way to Kaede's hut, spending the rest of the day with her in training the way of the miko. Yet, Kaede immediately noticed that her young pupil was rather distracted. Perhaps not in the way that was obvious to some, but Kagome had much difficulty tapping deep enough within herself to draw out any sort of spiritual power. Kaede let it be for the day, knowing that some days would be more successful than others, and by the time the sun began to go down, she'd dismissed Kagome from her training. However, before letting her go, the old priestess made one small comment, "Goodnight, Kagome. Hopefully tomorrow your mind will be more clear than it was today." Kagome stiffened at the statement, blushing softly before giving a slight nod of apology and understanding.

Upon leaving the hut, she immediately saw Miroku and Inuyasha standing outside of it, speaking with another villager about something Kagome frankly couldn't care less about in that moment. Gaze lingered on her husband, only to have his attention be mirrored; she could see how he clenched his jaw that he hadn't forgotten about that morning. There was a hunger in his gaze that had a shiver run up her spine - and though they would be headed to Sango and Miroku's for dinner, she knew he wasn't hungry for food and neither was she.

"Oh, hello lady Kagome!" the villager spoke, bringing the young priestess out of her husband's trance to see him bowing.

Kagome returned the gesture with a small smile, "Tanaka-san, hello. Nice to see you. What are you talking about?"

"Tanaka was just talking about how one of his cows got loose and was asking if any of us had seen it," Inuyasha stated rather bluntly, hands folded in his sleeves.

"Uh, well - yes. If you see her, I'd be very grateful. This is the second time this year," Tanaka stated before Miroku placed a hand on the villager's shoulder, guiding him in the direction towards the center of the village, where Sango and Miroku's house was. It left the young couple alone for the first time since that morning.

When he knew they were out of earshot and no one else was around, his ears not picking up on any other footsteps or voices, he reached a clawed hand out to grip his wife's chin a bit more harshly than he was sure she was expecting. That theory was proven when he heard her gasp, looking up at him with slight shock, "Still planning on continuing whatever the hell it was you were doing this morning?"

Remaining in his grasp, she gave a look of that same feigned innocence for that morning. Gripping his wrist, she tilted her head down enough to nip at his thumb, "I don't know what you're talking about," she sang after releasing his thumb and seeing an ever growing desire in her husband.

His yokai was strong, potent, but flared even more so as a result of her teasing. A growl soon followed, emanating from deep in his chest, primal and filled with a heated need. His hand moved from her chin to her neck, holding her throat as he peered down at her, "You're lucky they're expecting us, or else I'd have half a mind to pull you behind a tree and take you right here..." That statement had a heat pooling between her thighs, leaning into the dominant hold on her throat, foretelling just what awaited her once they made it home for the night. The sudden spike of her scent had Inuyasha losing some of his resolve, leaning forward to capture her lips in a domineering kiss - all tongue and teeth, drinking in at least enough to tide him over until they got home.

When the kiss ended, he peered down at his wife, seeing her eyes half-lidded and seemingly in a daze. Not taking his hand from her throat, he leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. With a soft, but very rugged tone, he planned to leave her with one statement before they carried on and made their way to dinner, "When we get home, I'm gunna ruin you. Am I clear?" Such a bold and dominant statement had Kagome releasing an involuntary whimper.

"Uh-huh..."

A smirk formed on the hanyou's face, a fang hanging over his bottom lip as he did so, "Good girl." Kagome's breath hitched in her throat at those words, never thinking that Inuyasha would be capable of being so bold, always rather subdued when it came to their intimate time beneath the sheets. Those two words had her clenching her legs together, as if to relieve some of the pressure built up between her thighs. The fact that he was doing this out in the open too, it only added another element of excitement to everything else - she must have pushed him farther than she'd anticipated.

And just like that, he pulled from her, releasing her neck and taking a half step away from her. She'd almost fallen then, suddenly void of his touch and strength to keep her from her knees buckling completely beneath her. The hanyou couldn't help but smirk, simply reaching out a hand for her to take as they finally made their way to Sango and Miroku's house.

Dinner was a little less awkward, especially since Inuyasha had let off some steam with himself and Kagome's moment before meeting up with their friends. Kagome, however, seemed to have switched places with her husband, though she was much, much better at hiding it. Both Sango and Miroku gave each other knowing looks, having an unspoken conversation between the two of them when Kagome and Inuyasha weren't looking or were too invested in their food to notice. After indulging in some rice wine after dinner, the couples finally parted ways, the friends saying a much more comfortable goodbye, even though Inuyasha was eager to take his mate home.

Preparing to walk home, Kagome took her husband's hand, only to have him crouch down to indicate for her to climb on. Doing as she was told, she climbed onto his back and, without a second of hesitation, they were off.

Touching down in front of their home, Kagome climbed from her husband's back. Walking though the entryway, she took off her shoes and left them in the dirt at the front entrance. Inuyasha stood and watched as she headed inside, preparing himself for what he had planned, for what his primal self couldn't seem to hold back for much longer.

Walking in after her, he acted as though he hadn't made the promise, the tension building exponentially the longer the two of them refused to acknowledge it. Inuyasha grabbed some wood for the fire, easily starting it and granting some light and warmth to their home. Kagome rolled out the futon and straightened out the bedding, knowing that they would probably end there at some point in the night. Neither of them said anything as they went about their typical nightly routine, Kagome even going as far as undressing to put on her sleeping yukata. All the while, she could sense a golden gaze following her every move, or at least two ears twitching to keep track of her.

As she was about to head back out to the main room, she was stopped by a flash of silver. A claw-tipped hand found its place back on her throat, but this time it forced her against a wall. Kagome had enough time to take in a deep gasp before reaching up to grip her assailant's wrist. Before she could take too many more breaths, his lips were on hers, seeming to continue the one he'd given her back in the village. It held the intent to claim and conquer, Kagome rewarding her husband with a very real whimper of need, "Inuyasha-"

She was cut off by him pulling away from her, though not moving his hand from her throat, followed by the sudden sound of cracking. Biting down on the claws of his index and middle finger, he spat them out on the ground before diving into what he'd planned. He didn't want to have to worry about being careful with her, not this time around.

Running his fingers between her thighs, he wasn't obstructed by the typical panties she still tended to wear - an old habit from her time. A smirk passed over his features, immediately greeted by the feel of her need, slick and practically dripping. Just that simple touch had her crying out in need, back arching against the wall as he began to circle her clit, "Mmm, what's this, wife? Needy are we?" he teased, finally able to get some revenge on her for tormenting him the whole day.

Kagome released another affirmative whimper, "Inuyasha, please..." she gasped before feeling him take his fingers from her, only to lick them clean with a low hum of satisfaction.

"Please what?" he asked, eyeing her as he gently squeezed on her throat, not enough to obstruct her airway, but enough to make her slightly lightheaded. With deep mahogany eyes rolling to the back of her head, she pushed her hips forward.

"I want-I need-" sentences became difficult to create, mind hazy from the lust that coated it, paired with her husband's hand on her throat.

Shaking his head, he released his hold on her, causing Kagome to take in a deep breath and release it with a slight cough. With some worry, Inuyasha leaned his head forward, resting their foreheads against one another as if to comfort her. In return, Kagome lifted her hands to his cheeks, as if to tell him she understood.

That fleeting moment of tenderness was over just as it began with Inuyasha pulling at the obi of her yukata, letting it fall open before he leaned forward to press wet, biting kisses to her neck and collarbone. Reaching below her thighs, he easily lifted her off the ground as if she were weightless, only to push her harder against the wall. Out of instinct, Kagome wrapped her arms around his neck, only to just realize that he wasn't wearing his haori or kosode. The warmth of his bare flesh almost seared her, making all of the experience just that much more intense.

"I'm gunna breed you," the low tone of her husband's voice entered her ears and sent a shiver down her spine. Before she could even get a hold of those words, he felt the wetness of his tongue lick a stripe up her throat, nipping at her jawline as he released one of her thighs. She barely noticed as he loosened his hakama, letting it fall to his mid thigh and releasing his achingly hard cock, thick and pulsing with need.

Gripping it, he pressed his head against her opening, guiding it just enough before he thrusted up and into her. It as seamless and easy, her pussy wet and waiting for him.

The sudden entry had Kagome almost scream in surprise and relief from the knowledge that she finally got what she wanted - what she had been aching for. Arching into him, Kagome let her head fall back and rest against the wall, realizing her husband was wasting no time with a slow build up. Each thrust was deep and hard, drawing deliciously desperate sounds from his wife - his mate. There were cries of euphoria, holding his name within them as he continued to pound into her, keeping her pinned against the wall.

"Inuyasha- oh, Kami, yes!" she whined, her voice sounding slightly strained before he hit a particularly sensitive spot within her, "Fuck!"

If he'd been in any other state of mind, he would have halted right then and there, having only ever heard his wife use that expletive once or twice in their time together. He tried to hit that spot again and seemed to do so, the grip of her nails digging into his shoulders giving him the indication. His head dug into the crook of her neck, allowing her to run her fingers through his hair and inch towards his ear.

Before she could grab one, the hanyou pulled his head away, glaring up at her with his teeth bared, "Don't you fuckin' dare," he warned. The viciousness behind it startled Kagome for a brief moment, though the sight of him being so dominant only brought her more excitement. Putting her hand back on his shoulder, she bit down on her lower lip, only to release another needy cry when he hit that spot within her once again.

She was careening closer and closer to the edge, a whimper leaving her before she managed to form the words, "I'm-uhn! I'm so close!" Just as she thought she would be falling over the edge, he pulled his cock from her completely, causing a desperate sob to leave her, devastated at the fact that he was just that cruel, "No! Inuyasha, please!" she begged, only to feel her being pulled from the wall and laid down on the futon, his body hovering over her.

Gripping her chin, he made sure their gazes met as he spoke, "You don't get to cum - not until I say," he snarled lowly, keeping his cock from her still - an opportunity to catch his own bearings. The last thing he wanted was to find his own climax too early, "Think of it as payback for teasing me all day."

Kagome's jaw hung open, practically writhing beneath him in protest as she tried to push her hips up against his own, "No - please. Kami, I'm so close, Inuy-aaah!" Before she could finish her sentence, he'd entered her again, moving to pin both of her hand above her head, held down by only one of his own as the other reached down to push her thigh up against her stomach in an attempt to get deeper within her.

He could see the way her body reacted to his thrusts, how her breasts bounced and her pussy clenched around him as she drew closer to her climax once again. Having seen her cum plenty of times throughout their year together, Inuyasha knew the telltale signs. She got quiet for a bit, as if her mind was trying to concentrate on nothing but the pleasure she would be feeling. When he noticed that start to happen, he pulled his cock from her once again, both of them panting heavily as Kagome gave another desperate sob, "You're cruel," she hiccupped, only to feel the crushing lips of her husband's on her own, as if trying to make her stop talking.

Ending the kiss with a bite to her lower lip, he released her wrists and straightened himself, pulling the leg he had pushed back up to rest on his shoulder. With that leverage, he could get deeper, beginning his thrusts once again, after he'd figured she'd had enough time to come down. Turning his head, he dragged his fangs over her calve, seeing her place a finger in her mouth as if to keep herself from getting too loud - as if she hadn't been practically screaming since they started.

She looked absolutely wrecked already, lips swollen and cheeks flushed; the look in her eyes made it seem like she was completely lost in their fucking. Hair was a mess, tousled over the futon and sticking to her neck as a sheet of sweat coated her body, "Fuck, Kagome" he hissed, "You're already looking wrecked." There was little fight left in her, he could tell - but he wasn't done with her yet.

The view from where she lay was enough to have her meet her end right then and there, watching as Inuyasha's strong, defined stomach and pelvis moved easily, flexing the marble-esque muscle beneath his tanned flesh. If she looked up father, the view of his amber eyes, filled with the desire to claim and ruin her as he promised, made her feel as if he were devouring her. Only she got to see him like this - no one else. Not even Kikyo got to have him like this and, deep in some miniscule part of her, she was smug about it.

Before long, he pulled from her again, having witnessed the beginning of her end once again; she felt like her heart was going to leap out of her chest or explode - one of the two - when he stopped them.

Putting her leg down, he maneuvered her so she was one her stomach, "On all fours, bitch. Time to breed you proper," he commanded, smacking the side of her ass as if to emphasize his command.

"I-I don't know if I can," it was meek whimper as she tried to bring herself onto all fours. The best she could do was bring her back half to its knees, ass up in the air; that was more than he needed. Gripping her hip, he held his cock in his free hand before guiding it back into her swollen, aching pussy. Again, he started his vicious rhythm, pulling he hips back onto him as he pounded into her again and again.

"Fuck, I'm so close," he groaned, the words slightly choked as he looked down to watch himself enter her again and again, "I'm gunna fill you until you can't hold anymore," he snarled, reaching one hand down to grip her hair at the base of her neck, only so he could bring her up onto her arms. The sounds that left her were almost incoherent, eyes rolling into the back of her head as her jaw hung open.

"Inu...yasha...please," she sounded almost defeated, "Please let me-"

The strength of his hand against her throat helped keep her up, his body leaning over hers - their height difference was enough for him to have his face hover over her own. Pressing a bruising kiss to her lips, he snarled at her, "Cum for me, wife." It was curt and simple, but it was enough to have Kagome's entire body tremor as her pussy clenched around his cock. A long, high-pitched cry, almost a scream, left her as she finally found her release.

It was only two thrusts later that the hanyou bottomed out within her, spilling his seed into her in ropes as he rested his head against the space between her shoulder blades. Deep, long groans left him, mixed with grunts and some snarls, thrusting his hips slightly before he felt himself go slightly limp.

He could hear the way she panted heavily, how her heart pounded in her chest and see just how boneless she'd become. Shivering a few times as he came down from the original wave of euphoria, he pulled from her. Rolling her onto her back, he crawled over top of her, cupping her cheek as he scanned her face. The gentle touch of her own hand on his reassured him, but he couldn't help but ask, "You okay?" Kagome could only giving him a smile and a nod in return, lung gasping for air as they both came down from their incredible highs.

Collapsing beside her, he rolled onto his back as well, trying to catch his breath, "I should tease you more often," he heard her say between heavy breaths. Turning his head towards her, he saw her do the same, their gaze meeting with a sense of electricity, even after such a vigorous fuck. A breathy laugh left him then, a sign of agreeance before he managed to grab one of her hands and press a kiss to the back of it.

"You're gunna be out of commission for a couple days, so maybe not too often," he teased, Kagome releasing a giggle of her own, breathy and tired.

"I don't think I could move, even if I wanted to," she admitted honestly, her husband getting the hint and grabbing the covers after kicking off his hakama completely.

Maneuvering them, he brought her back against his chest, spooning against her; with a gentle kiss pressed to her shoulder, he could already hear a string of faint snores coming from her, "That was fast..." he mused before smiling to himself. Resting his head against a pillow, he squeezed her close against him before finding his own path into slumber.

[auroraemoon]

How to Nurture the Fledgling Aesthetic-Vintage Soul in you:

(** I am continually adding to this list **)

1. Explore secondhand bookstores for old, pretty editions of novels you may or may not have heard of.

2. Light candles in your bedroom/bathroom, and read by candlelight.

3. Write during a thunderstorm, and why not make it extravagant, even a little flowery, and if it is poetry, scribble it on parchment.

4. Dress in turtlenecks, plaid coats, and occasional bright socks (but keep the socks hidden-yes, be a mystery, in real life and on social media).

5. Go on, make yourself tea in pretty teacups (you can find plenty in secondhand stores!)6. Listen to classical and/or mediaeval music (with a lute and possibly a hurdy-gurdy) as you sleep/read/study.

7. Button up shirts are a must (and if they have a high collar, all the better.)

8. Stay late at a university library studying topics that no one else would. Delve into the realm of philosophy, metaphysics, epistemology, aesthetics, poetry—broadening ones mind is never to be frowned upon.

9. Avoid the pretension and arrogance that can often accompany academia — it hurts no one to be kind, gracious, mindful, and humble.

10. Elegance and confidence walk hand-in-hand, and if mingled with the right amount of nonchalance, mystery, and whimsey, then you are halfway to wherever you want to go.

11. Certainly, you can debate metaphysical theories, spiritual oddities, theological conundrums. Be kind though.

12. One day go and pick wild flowers and sketch leaves as the honeyed glow of the sun kisses their tender skin—memorise all the colours of the forest.

13. Watch dawn arrive, tis the colour of a dark purple-red wine, a starless sky, adore her quiet arrival—give thanks.

14. I know you just want to wander a thorn-covered castle by candlelight, write a letter as a storm thunders outside, and drink red wine as you read poetry by a crackling fire. If you can, why not.

15. Sometimes you might need to be coy or charming - it can all add to the mystery.

16. Remember how you craved knowledge when you were young, you once dreamed of adventures, of 'slaying dragons', of mystery, of overcoming mortal peril.

17. Buy an expensive journal and write in it the things that set your soul alight, all those existential suspicions that there is something more waiting out there for you to find it; all those spiritual questions you would dare not ask anyone.

18. Yes, the nights are marvelous. The full moon, with her burning white embers and the gathering of her velvet darkness. This also is to be a place of contemplative beauty.

19. That awkward smile you give your friends, yeah, I know, they don't really understand you, do they. Big libraries, big forest, big ideas, big dreams, big words and messy handwriting that tries to capture some of it alive.

20. "Taking a new step, uttering a new word, is what people fear most." - F. Dostoevsky. You may not have been this way before, have no fear...the angels are cheering you onward.

21. One of the skills you have is called daydreaming. From that psychotic state all good things flow.

22. Read some gothic literature, by candlelight.

23. The sound of wind and rain is calling you to leave your warm and cozy inside, and venture out into the wild and dark—and even there lies a metaphor for a light shining in a dark place.

24. On earth we are briefly gorgeous. Literature, ancient and modern, reveals it so like no other—surround yourself with books and words and poetry, all the fierce passions of the world bound in ink and vellum. They are eternal conversations with anguish and desire.

25. You long for the gentle strokes of your pen hitting the page as imaginations subtle hues rush through your mind. Your heart swells at the library of ideas now outlined in the mists, a bonfire of words, skyward ember fly , flickering thoughts on seraphim wings at the final push - and look at you - you've written a single sentence, you've conquered an Everest.

26. Delicate fairy lights wind their way along your bookshelves, an enchanting bouquet of light to draw your eyes to a thousand ideas.

27. In the morning you're still tying your shoelaces, it is a ritual, an act of faith, you often ask yourself: "Where are you even going?"

29. You like fonts, late nights you are sprawled in front of two monitors researching the aesthetic qualities of the dips and curves in a modified serif. 

30. You are a combination of dark and light, a rain stained window, a poem tapping out some internal crisis—the vintage soul finds solace here among the soul's quieter, more desperate hymns.

31. Reading books in the shade of trees with the melody of a harp in the distance would be exquisite. The keeper of the flame lingers in such moments.

32.  Perhaps you would like to go on little night picnics—bring fairy lights, imaginations, dreams, stories. The moon would love to hear your conversations, and she might just come down and tell you a story or two (Moon is like that).

33. Every day I wonder why I'm not living in a dark castle with secret passageways and rooms filled with books. Finance is one issue, howbeit a small one #sigh 

34. "Of course there must be lots of Magic in the world." - Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden. But you already knew that, didn't you.

35. You're upset, I understand. You cannot go to sleep and wake up fluent in Latin, Elvish, or with an Irish accent.

36. Freshly baked lavender and lemon cake are necessary at times.

37. Folklore, legends, mysteries, secret poetry hidden behind castle stones, quiet on the outside, but filled with enough seismic activity that you might just create a new planet, complex theories about many things that never come out quite right, renaissance murals line the walls of your soul, spilling your deepest secrets to a bird at your windowsill. Sleep deprived, but still conscious. A mix of Clair de Lune and In the Hall of the Mountain King. 

38. Pinpricks of stars on a velvet night, glints of dust floating on a ribbon of sun-streak, droplets of rain weaving down a windowsill. All of this, and you, are the same. Behind your eyes and coffee stained pages lies a whisper and an ache of what you may become.

39. Buying that new special pen.

40. Buying that new special notebook.

41. Trapped inside is a wild inner celt staring over the cliffs of moher, waiting for a ghostly lover to return from the sea.

** This is apparently a work in progress...

Current mood: aesthetic, bookish, nostalgic - LOL  aesbookic (Some were gleaned from various blogs, bust mostly my own)

[irndad]

the moon song- b.b.

a/n: IT’S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I POSTED I AM SO SORRY!!! real life has swallowed me whole, i’ve been out of town and college and bla bla bla. this is a really sweet one, a bit sad but good!

summary: for my @sgtjbuccky​ end of year challenge. my prompt was “tell me not to kiss you.” “mean it.” “I can’t.” this fic is about the history of a song through their lives together, and their marriage. 

wc: 3k (IT’S A LONG ONE)

Bucky Barnes falls in love on a night when the sky is peppered with diamonds, on the roof of a tower he’s just gotten used to living in, with a woman he hasn’t said a damn word to.

This woman, is laughing with someone he does know, smiling with his friends Natasha Romanoff and Tony Stark, a champagne glass between nimble fingers, a laugh on her face, joy written across her features as though she is a canvas and happiness was the only thing ever meant to cross it. He thinks he might’ve seen her before, a photo around the tower somewhere.

And she’s just lovely, wearing a blue dress that falls to her ankles, the color of the sky above them, with glitter all over it just the same, and then there’s her smile, the kind of smile you would give anything to be in the presence of.

In the end, it’s Steve who notices him staring, and it’s almost like they’re back where they used to be, two kids in Brooklyn, goading each other into the affection of a dame. Here they are, in 2018, under stars in a world neither of them quite understand, and Bucky is still being helped by Steve to talk to a girl. Some things are certain. And so Steve walks him over, cooly explains to her who Bucky is, and she nods as if she already knows but is listening anyway, doe eyes sparkling like jewels and flitting over to meet his gaze every now and then.

Then, she speaks her name, and offers her hand as though he is meant to kiss it. It might be a joke, based on the look of whimsey in her eye, the crookedness of her clever grin, and he wants to kiss that too. He presses his lips to her knuckles though, and she preens.

He commits her name to memory.

They talk, and her voice is like a flute, flowing and sweet just like her name, and he thinks of how amazing it would have been if he’d met her in the 40’s, if he’d met her in the age of smoky dance bars, if he’d have the confidence to pull her in to his chest, and dance to the crooning voice the band is playing.

But she seems to have what he lacks, and pulls him to the dance floor, and under a sky of stars Bucky Barnes dancing with a beautiful woman for the first time in decades, with the sound of a singer pulling heaven into reality.

I'm lying on the moon

My dear, I'll be there soon

___________________________________________________

He sees her all the time after that rooftop gala.

Of course, he could never forget the way she looked the night they met, all covered in grace and elegance, holding a champagne glass with pretty fingers and painted nails, bright and golden under starlight party lights. It was a beautiful setting, something out of a storybook, and he wondered if the magic of that was what endeared him to her, that first night.

But it wasn’t, and that reveals itself sooner than later, when he finds out more about her, and finds himself utterly fascinated with every aspect of doing so.

She is a writer, in the past for a newspaper (how she met Stark, an interview right after he closed weapons manufacturing) and now she write books, quietly publishing novels under a pen name no one knows.

More than the facts of her, Bucky finds himself falling in love with just about everything about her.

“Macaroons are so weird,” she says to him, one day sitting across from him, in a lovely light blue dress and a lovelier smile, pleasant atmosphere surrounding him. He hasn’t told her how he felt about her, wonders if it reads on his face every time he’s with her. She is so entrancing, excited by nothing and full of joy at the slightest mention of something he loves. He can’t help it.

“Have you noticed,” he says, looking up at her, brushing a crumb off of the corner of her lip, seeing the sweet expression of being flustered cross her face, “Every time we come here, you comment on the food, never just eat it.”

“I’m full of opinions, Barnes. You have to get used to it.” And she winks, crosses her hands to hold his own, set on the table.

She runs her hands across the thumb of the metal hand, and that’s what does him in, really.

She smiles at him, like he’s just a normal man, not an old soul or a broken man, just a man across a table from a girl who is helplessly endeared with him.

And he kisses her.

It’s his first kiss he can really remember from anything, first one since he’s had the choice to kiss again, and so it’s probably meant to be bad, but she’s smiling, holding on to his collar, when did she do that? And when she pulls away, there’s that smile again, the one that made a super soldier's heart stutter back on that rooftop.

“What?” he hears himself ask. He’s not sure if he made the choice to, too high on everything that comes with someone like her giving him her affection.

“It’s our song, Bucky.”

And she’s right, the song that played in that gala is being played on the radio, soft and crooning.

The right thing to do, when such a thing occurs is to of course, kiss her again. Which he does.

Your shadow follows me all day

Making sure that I'm

Okay and we're a million miles away

___________________________________________________

Years later, they have a spring wedding.

It’s full of colors, held out in the compound with breath of spring coating the area, last night’s rain giving birth to a clear blue sky and clouds that are overhead as his bride to be walks down the aisle. Steve is at his side, and such things seem to always be the case, as her father walks her down the aisle.

And she’s a vision in ivory, under a veil and looking up at him when she reaches, and there are a million things he wants to say. She’s just gorgeous, and he can never be sure if it’s the adoration he holds or her or if she’s’ really looks like something plucked out of a Louvre painting.

“Hi,” she whispers, as the officiator speaks. Her lips are a gorgeous scarlet, and he tries to meet her eyes, instead of staring at her cupid’s bow.

“Hey there,” he whispers back, smiling that cocky smirk she loves, playful because they both know nerves are eating them alive.

Before he knows it, she says the two words he needs to hear, and the words curl around the air like a blessing.

“I do,” he says when the time comes, and kisses her, like no one was watching. It hardly mattered that anyone did, holding her face in his hands and she is smiling, and it is the kind of moment he is going to remember for the rest of his life.

At the reception, they dance to the same song they danced to when they met.

Years have produced familiarity, and the beautiful stranger who had given a chance to a man with a jaded history and the nervous man, have been replaced with a woman he’s in love with, a partner he knows like lines on his palm, her mind a constellation he spends forever trying learn every detail of.

Her head is against his chest, and it strikes him that this is it, the beginning of his happy ending. If he plays his cards right, this is his forever.

They sway, and she kisses the corner of his mouth, and he is blessed.

Time's we're swallowed up

In space we're here a million miles away

___________________________________________________

Bucky is a much better father than he ever expected himself to be.

They had Winnie after being married for 2 years, a little girl with his wife’s eyes and his tenacity, bright and loud and adorable, the apple of his eye. He is so incredibly blessed, given the kind of life with a loving wife and a child that looked at his metal arm like a toy, like the thing that feeds her and plays with her and keeps her safe. And his wife, who regards him with such warmth after time has hardly spared them from hardship.

At this moment, Bucky is watching JARVIS’ cameras in the nursery. His wife has been shushing her for a while, a restless child who wasn’t hungry or thirsty but missed her father, and Bucky’s heart ached. Winnie was a great kid, adorable and sweet and she was going to be a heart stealer, he just knew it. She looked just like her mom. There was about nothing in the world Bucky wouldn’t do for his little girl, no obstacle he wouldn’t cross to see his Winnie smiling again.

But he is on a quinjet, far from being able to hold her and to have her sleep. Instead, he is off playing the hero, when his girls need him. And what kind of father is that?

Panic builds in his chest as he hears her small cries build, and whoever thought the Winter soldier could handle being a father? This was never meant to be his life, the man who could’ve been a husband and a father went down in a fall, and tricking himself into thinking he could handle it is hardly enough.

“Did you know,” he hears his wife say, and isn’t that just like her, pulling him out of his panic when she doesn’t even know he’s looking, “Your daddy loves you so much, did you know that?”

He smiles. She has too much faith in him, too much belief in the goodness of his heart. She’s right, though. The two women on his screen are his entire world.

“Sometimes bad people try to hurt the world,” and WInnie has no idea what she’s saying, not old enough to understand but the words seeming to calm her down a little, “And so Daddy has to go fight people who would want to hurt us.”

Winnie’s not asleep, but just about, her eyes fluttering a bit and he wants nothing more than to be there, and she begins singing. It’s the same song they always loved, the song that played when they met, what feels like a million years ago, the song that they first kissed to, the song they danced to at their wedding. Now, she’s singing it to their child.

His heart could burst.

I'm lying on the moon

My dear, I'll be there soon

Bucky arrives in the morning, and kisses his wife and his daughter’s head, and he promises that no matter where he goes, he will be home soon.

___________________________________________________

Life is beautiful, for Bucky Barnes.

Winnie grows up too fast, crawls and walks and talks so fast it is unbelievable, and the song follows them through their life. His wife is beautiful and wears age like fine jewelry, carries everything life throws at them in stride, and sings the song to their daughter, as she washes dishes or kisses him goodbye, or writes her books.

He goes to a SHIELD doctor when his good elbow starts hurting

“The serum is breaking down,” the doctor says, and the floor falls out from under him.

“Excuse me?” he hears himself say.

“While this does lessen your lifespan,” and oh god, he is going to leave his family, going to lose his life, how could he expect this to last- “You still will have excellent health for the next 70 or so years.”

70 years. Bucky has 70 more years to live, and his wife likely has 60 or so, and for a second, he realizes his life is going to be just fine.

He decides not to tell his wife about it, not yet, anyway. When he comes home to their apartment, Winnie runs to his leg and she lifts up her glasses, smiling up at him, and gives him a look.

“What?” he says, pulling her into his arms. Her smile is full of warmth, and he adores her. All he does is love her, it seems. It takes up most of his heart.

“Tell me not to kiss you,” and she’s teasing, too close to him, no bite in her words and now that’s all he wants to do.

“Don’t kiss me.”

“Mean it.”

“I can’t.”

And they’ve been married ages, know each other inside out, he knows the lines on her palms like an old book, but they still understand each other. He worried often what he would do when she passed, when everyone he loved did, the serum making him live longer than anyone he loves.

He just kisses her, and laughs when Winnie yells at them.

___________________________________________________

In their old age, after Winnie is a beautiful young woman and off on her own adventures, after their apartment is all their own but never quiet, full of life and love. They are never lonely, and Bucky loves her as much as he did the day they got married. He has grey hair, wrinkles by his eyes, and she loves these all the same.

“You know,” she had said, the night he first got a grey hair, sipping tea out of a chipped blue mug, “I thought I’d be married to a man with eternal youth. This is much better.”

And so life continues as normal, good and sweet, hot tea and adventures in their own right time spent in her company.

Every night, when they get ready for bed, when she puts on the cream that insists it will reduce the symbols of age (he insists she doesn’t need it, every night kissing her shoulder and telling her she is beautiful) and she hums that song, the same one that no one really remembers anymore.

But with you my dear

I'm safe and we're a million miles away

She sings softly, like she doesn’t mean to, and he kisses her like they’re still punch drunk kids on a rooftop.

___________________________________________________

She starts forgetting things.

It’s here and there, little things. Bucky gets used to it quick, his reflexes are still great for a man that looks 70, and he covers her slack. When she forgets the recipe to that italian dish they always have on Sundays, he makes it instead. When she forgets the punchline, he smiles anyway. He wants her to be okay, and she seems okay. She does.

But then she can’t remember the song.

“You don’t know it?”

“I’m sorry,” she says, and her voice is a whisper. She’s scared, and honestly, he is too.

The doctor’s office is cold and unwelcoming. Maybe it just feels that way because the words alzheimers settles over the room, and he realizes what it means.

She’s going to lose her memory, and her mind, if she doesn’t die first.

Here’s the thing. Bucky knew he was going to outlive her, and he knew they had an incredible life together, that she’s in 70’s, that they’ve had a beautiful life.

Goodbye is coming, and he should be ready for it.

But he’s not. He never will be.

So when the silence settles over them on the drive home, and when she enters through the door, Bucky hums the song, and holds her hand and makes her dance with him to a record player. Bucky is a relic of a past time who found a place with her. If she is forgetting time now, he will fill in the gaps.

It’s different to hear him singing it, his deeper voice, and she smiles, so it’s okay. Maybe the things are different, but she is still with him.

___________________________________________________

In the end, it works out. She forgets more than she remembers, and he has to hold her sometimes when her joints start aching, and more often than not, even if she doesn’t know the time, she knows him. That is enough. Any piece of her is better than nothing, and he loves her.

One day, she lifts herself up to go walk by him, and he smiles up at her. She has that glint in her eye, both the lucidity of knowing exactly where she is, and knowing her husband is right there with her. She also has that mischief in her eyes, and he loves her so much.

“Tell me not to kiss you,” she says, and he remembers this, remembers this like the song they dance together, like their first kiss, like every bit of joy that’s laced his life from the minute she stepped into it.

“Don’t kiss me.” He replies, in kind. She is smiling, and he could cry. That smile is rare, and he’d cross oceans to see it.

“Mean it.”

“I can’t.”

And she kisses him, smiling and warm, and he recognizes that with her burst of energy, she got the speaker to play an old recording of her singing.

Bucky Barnes holds his wife while she knows who he is, while the ghost of her voice from a time she always did plays, and he can’t fathom how life could be any more perfect.

We’re lying on the moon

It’s a perfect afternoon

Your shadow follows me all day

Making sure that I'm

Okay and we’re a million miles away

tag list:

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[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume 6, Number 1

A new year means new music. At least eventually, it does, though January is notoriously slow for album releases. Meanwhile, there’s plenty we missed from late (and mid and even early) 2019, so let’s dig into that for one last big Dust. Here we cover subcontinental LGBTQ gangsta rap, industrial clangor, string quartets, Welsh agitpunk, electronics, free jazz, blackened death metal and an odd, charming collaboration between Cate Le Bon and Bradford Cox (see photo). Writers include Bill Meyer, Jennifer Kelly, Ian Mathers, Tobias Carroll, Andrew Forell, Ray Garraty, Jason Gioncontere, Ethan Militsky and Jonathan Shaw.

Jeb Bishop / Alex Ward / Weasel Walter — Flayed (Ugexplode)

Flayed by Jeb Bishop / Alex Ward / Weasel Walter

You know a party is good if it carries on even though the organizer can’t show up. Bassist Damon Smith planned this encounter, which involved his long-term partner in intensity and chaos, drummer Weasel Walter; New England improvisational fellow traveler (at least until Smith moved to St. Louis a few months after this March, 2019 session) Jeb Bishop on trombone and electronics; and Alex Ward, a veteran of work with Derek Bailey and This Is Not This Heat, on guitar and clarinet. Since Walter has played with both of the other guys in and outside of the Flying Luttenbachers, when Smith had to drop out for scheduling reasons, he was confident that the trio could make something of both the opportunity to play and the space made available by the absent bass. He was right. Both the title and prevailing assumptions about Walter might set you up to expect a one-dimensional blowout, but there’s loads of listening and thoughtful, instant reacting taking place on each of the album’s eight, mostly pithy tracks. This music plays out like a combination of jujitsu and shuttle diplomacy, with players shifting between support and challenge, density and space, rapidity and reserve from second to second.

Bill Meyer  

 Cartel Madras — Age of the Goonda (Sub Pop)

Cartel Madras turns gangsta rap’s hyper-male, African-American-oriented bravado on its side, filtering the guns and blunts ethos through a female, queer, multicultural lens without diluting its violence in the least. Sisters Priya and Bhagya Ramesh, known as Contra and Eboshi, have lived in Calgary since childhood, but they immigrated from Chennai, India, once part of Madras, hence the name, hence the tricky scales and intricate, not-quite-Western rhythms of their rhymes. Age of the Goonda works in a spare, menacing way, dense, referential wordplay atop an undulating threat of sub-bass and the occasional spray of bullets.

“Goonda Gold,” celebrates cartoonish dominance, though with a South Asian twist. Little bits of Hindi harmonics decorate the bare architecture of synth bass sounds and cracking, stabbing percussion (augmented here by gunfire); the Cartel’s chant of “Gold on my neck I’m a Goonda/got guns in the air like a junta” puts a subcontinental spin on ghetto law. The clever-est word sprays come in “The Legend of Jalopeno Boiz,” where the duo references everything from Frost/Nixon to incel stereotypes, but the single “Lil Pump Type Beat,” is all hedonism, devious syncopation and sexual predation. Though wildly intersectional, these tracks make no concessions to soft, liberal ideas about how women/minorities/LGBTQ people wield power; they do it just like the men do, with guns. “Take off your top boy/somebody bring me my gun/that bag in the back of the jeep/you just a bitch on the run,” asserts one or the other sister in “Jumpscare.” What was that you were saying about women and nurture?

Jennifer Kelly

 CIA Debutante — The Landlord (Siltbreeze)

CIA Debutante-The Landlord by CIA Debutante

A new Siltbreeze record is a rare blessing nowadays. The label’s first release since 2018 comes from Paris duo CIA Debutante. The Landlord fits in nicely with the label’s storied '90s output, particularly the Shadow Ring. The electronics aren’t quite glitchy—they sound more like the batteries in a cheap toy dying. Still, CIA Debutante are savvy enough to avoid getting too clever with their sputtering, plodding, and whizzing, and they don’t go the easy route when layering incongruous sounds. There’s never the fatiguing sense that they rely on the same few tricks. It helps that their murky, paranoid vignettes are fully engrossing. CIA Debutante tap into something truly nightmarish on The Landlord, which is a rare accomplishment. Sure, plenty of music shoots for tense and creepy, but CIA Debutante have an exceptional gift for the uncanny, the kind of stuff that haunts you long after you’ve woken up and can no longer hope to grasp it. Ethan Milititsky

Decoherence — Ekpyrosis (Sentient Ruin Laboratories)

Ekpyrosis by Decoherence

Decoherence is a pretty good name for a band that locates itself in the liminal space between industrial music’s stomp and clangor and black metal’s astringent tumult. The band’s new LP (and first full length release) Ekpyrosis is at its best when its waves of distorted hiss, dissonant riffing and distant shrieks and growls threaten to rend the record to shreds. One imagines that if you found yourself in an aluminum ladder factory, amid the massive drills and extruding machines and metal presses and then removed your ear protectors, you’d hear something akin to this — especially if the place was possessed by demons of ill intent. It’s a well-crafted, ritualized chaos. The band is so insistent on a specific set of sounds and forms that the record’s long tracks tend to blur into one another. Which may be the point. Decoherence, indeed.

Jonathan Shaw

 Bertrand Denzler / CoÔ — Arc (Potlatch)

Arc is a two-part, album-length work by Bertrand Denzler, a Swiss-born, Paris-based saxophonist and composer. It is performed by CoÔ, a string septet led by double bassist Félicie Bazelaire. The ensemble’s composition is a sort of funhouse reflection of a string quartet, distorted towards breadth; it comprises one violin, two violas, one cello and three double basses. But there’s nothing comic about this music, which is quite beautiful in the same way as a slow winter sunset. Denzler’s method here involves the use of continuous sounds, but don’t call it drone. The players use both conventional and extended techniques to create a continually changing sequence of striated sounds. Naked scrapes and cavernous groans arc in formation, changing fairly frequently over the course of each piece. The result is immersive enough to let you get lost, but keep your ears and eyes open; you wouldn’t want to miss one moment of gradual transition. A note about circumstances — Potlatch, the label that released this CD, has slowed its production in recent years, and this is the only record it released in 2018. Apparently, the label isn’t wasting its time with unnecessary effort; Arc clears the necessity bar.

Bill Meyer

 Fujiya & Miyagi — Flashback (Impossible Objects of Desire)

One of the interesting things about Fujiya & Miyagi’s songwriting is that as the UK post-motorik outfit’s music becomes ever more focused and sleekly propulsive, frontman David Best has zeroed in on any number of little aspects of life disturb and upset the kind of cool pulse the band specializes in. Here it’s everything from violations of your “Personal Space,” the “Fear of Missing Out,” and nagging thoughts in the title track to the more political concerns of the closing lengthy workout of “Gammon” (which eventually, in one of the little touches that makes F&M’s music so addictive, settles on the “pure evil vibrating” of a dial-up modem). That doesn’t mean the band can no longer bust a groove just for the pure joy of it, as “Dying Swan Act” proves, but it’s the combination of those chops and the perceptive if increasingly jaundiced eye they turn on life that makes them such a unique and compelling act.

Ian Mathers

 Cate Le Bon & Bradford Cox — Myths 400 (Mexican Summer)

Myths 004 by Cate Le Bon & Bradford Cox

Intricate fancies turn just out of true in this pop-up collaboration between Cate Le Bon and Deerhunter’s Bradford Cox, the fourth in a series of joint EPs recorded under the auspices of Mexican Summer’s annual Marfa Myths festival (hence Myths 400). The two artists work in a skewed, peripheral vision take on artful pop, building interlocking boxes of percussion and whimsey in which fleeting glimpses of loveliness flit by. The song-i-est bit of Myths 400 is undoubtedly “Secretary,” a Weimar-decadent bit of mournful song hedged in clanks and clicks, strings and clarinets, and the odd combination of Le Bon’s pure art-song shiver and Cox’s less pristine, more grounded voice. Yet the rhythm-centered oddities are just as rewarding; resist the slap-bang fanciful-ness of growly-voiced, Cox-led “Fireman,” with Le Bon trilling off center arias in the margins at your own peril. “What Is She Wearing” bangs out disconsonant guitar tones in slightly off center patterns and tunings; it’s a wind-up toy’s existential crisis. Le Bon chants in a Middle European cadence, as the cut falls somewhere between early Michachu and a Kurt Weil song. It’s about the last thing you’d expect to emerge from the desert, eccentric, abstracted, playful and utterly urbane.

Jennifer Kelly

  Urs Leimgruber / Andreas Willers / Alvin Curran / Fabrizio Sperra—Rome-ing (Leo)

Urs Leimgruber has covered a lot of musical ground in a performing and recording career that spans over 45 years. The three musicians who join the Swiss saxophonist on this freely improvised encounter, which was recorded in Rome late in 2018, are well chosen to access aspects of that history and shape it into sound configurations that are quite present-focused. Quick, light-fingered, and restless, drummer Fabrizio Sperra keeps things in constant motion. Swiss guitarist Andreas Willers stirs chunks of almost rock-ish noise and sprinkles stinging, pure-toned notes into the mix that give the music heft without slowing it down. Alvin Curran, an American keyboardist and composer (and member of MEV), draws on classical more than jazz elements in his piano playing; there are moments where he stubbornly erects a structure that the other musicians must either inhabit or work around. But his sampler also enables him to inject the sounds of other places. Shifting between tenor and saxophones, Leimgruber drives quickly spiraling phrases through the open spaces and uses astringent, distressed tone-shards to suggest where there needs to be more space.

Bill Meyer

 The Master Musicians of Dyffryn Moor — Music for the National Health Service (Amgueddfa Llwch)

Music for the National Health Service by The Master Musicians of Dyffryn Moor

When I was a younger punk, I would sometimes take in the phenomenon of bands’ whose lyrical explanations would take longer to deliver than the playing of the actual songs. And while I haven’t seen this crop up much recently, I feel like that aesthetic is alive and well when I visit the Bandcamp page of The Master Musicians of Dyffryn Moor, which includes a terse essay about the dangers facing the NHS under the current British government. This new EP follows two excellent full-lengths, Cerddoriaeth Ddefodol Gogledd Sir Benfro (Ritual Music of North Pembrokeshire) and Contemporary Protest Music, which blend the “instrumental music can be politically charged” feel of Godspeed You! Black Emperor with the intricacy of Steve Reich’s Drumming. These two songs continue in that tradition — furiously played percussion with a heated political subtext — but add a few tweaks to the sound the group has already established. Specifically, there’s a stronger electronic element here: you could probably get a dancefloor moving if you cued up “A spell to protect the NHS from those who seek to destroy it.” Its opposite number, “A hex on those who seek to destroy the NHS,” is built around a steady pulse. You probably can’t dance as well to that, but given the potential psychic damage incurred by dancing to a hex, would you actually want to?

Tobias Carroll 

 Overground Collective — Super Mario (Babel Label)

SUPER MARIO by OverGround Collective

The Overground Collective is a pan-European big band that is based in London and led by Paulo Duarte, a Portuguese guitarist/composer currently based in Scandinavia. If that sounds like a bit to get your head around, you probably need only wait a while to see what Boris’s Britain does to the freedoms of movement and thought necessary for such an endeavor to get off the ground. For the rest of us, it’s a nice illustration of why such fluidity is part of a better way. Duarte spent some time in England studying the ways of various improvisers, and recruited 17 to join him in realizing a set of compositions designed expressly for them. Certain of the participants come from free jazz (Julie Kjaer, Rachel Musson) or cross-genre experimentation (Yazz Ahmed), and you can hear the influence of such approaches in a few moments of freefall and adventurously conceived solos. But these elements fit into a structure that fits squarely in the tradition. Duarte sets tunes you could hum on grooves that’ll make you tap your feet, albeit quickly enough to annoy your neighbor if the floorboards happen to transmit your amateur approximation of his beats, and dresses them up in arrangements that could speak to a person who thinks that jazz’s lineage is a straight line from Duke Ellington to Maria Schneider. Music like this is a reproach to those who think that differences can’t be complimentary parts of a whole.

Bill Meyer

  Pictish Trail — Thumb World (Fire)

Thumb World by Pictish Trail

Folktronica from the tiny island of Eigg in the Hebrides, this latest album by Pictish Trail (Johnny Lynch) demonstrates the aesthetic value of both isolation and connection. Per isolation: Lynch lives on a windblown island with fewer than 100 other people. But as for connection, he is intimately involved in a northerly folk scene through King Creosote’s Fence Records and surrounded by local musicians. There aren’t that many folks on Eigg, but almost everybody plays an instrument. That kind of environment allows space for eccentricity and practice, which shows up on these expansive, dance-inflected, folk-shadowed cuts. Pictish Trail enlarges his subtle, personal songs with enveloping arrangements of rock sounds and club electronics; Kim Moore contributes some string arrangements and Alex Thomas of Squarepusher sits in on drums. “Double Sided” has the lilt and ramble of Three EPs Beta Band (Lynch has been out touring with Steve Mason lately), while gorgeous, glistening “Slow Memories” has the glitch, glow and aura of early Tunng. Thumb World demonstrates that music can be solitary without being lonely, introspective without self-absorbation. “You’re my solitude/I’m never so alone by myself,” sings Lynch, on the surprisingly rock-guitared “Bad Algebra,” underlining the fact that too many people (or the wrong people) can be isolating, and a few can provide the space for originality and experiment.

Jennifer Kelly

Pinkish Black — Concept Unification (Relapse)

Texas psych sludge prog metal duo Pinkish Black has been quiet for a little while; their last record, 2015’s Bottom of the Morning, was such a compact and potent summation of the miasmic bad vibes that Daron Beck (synthesizers, voice) and Jon Teague (drums) can summon up seemingly at will. No more than a minute into the opening title track of their fourth record you get a strong reminder of just that atmosphere; you might as well be in a haunted castle during the full moon. The closing, lengthy “Next Solution” also offers a reminder of what you might call classic Pinkish Black, but it’s the four songs in between that show Beck and Teague working to make sure there is always room to expand their dark palette. Whether it’s the relatively straightforward, thrashy “Until” or the prettily drifting “Inanimatronic” the results are always interesting. Bottom of the Morning remains the best introduction for now to this duo’s indelible sound, but once you’re a fan Concept Unification makes for a strong and promising follow-up.  

Ian Mathers

  Alexa Rose—Medicine for Living (Big Legal Mess)

“How I wish I were kinder, how I wish I were patient, I could learn all the songs on the gospel station,” trills Alexa Rose in a water pure soprano touched with shivery vibrato as she navigates the twists and corners of the title track from her lovely debut album. The Virginia-born, Memphis-based songwriter has a native’s familiarity with gospel, country and folk blues, but a fresh, sparkling delivery that makes these well-worn forms sound like she just thought of them. A lilting, effortless voice elicits spare melancholy sparked with hope and a crack band of Americana pros in tow – Will Sexton on guitar, George Sluppick playing drums and Mark Edgard Stuart on bass — fill out the songs without a bit of bloat. “Tried and True” enlists a cajun squeeze box and skittering banjo into Rose’s smart, unsentimental songcraft; country teems with strong women disappointed by love, but Alexa Rose is clear-eyed and strong enough to kick its ass without breaking meter. Gorgeous and empowered stuff.

Jennifer Kelly

Sartegos — O Sangue da Noite (I, Voidhanger)

O Sangue da Noite by SARTEGOS

This new release by Sartegos isn’t so much blackened death metal as it is a death metal record that morphs its shape and sound into black metal. The buzzy crunch and acrobatic soloing of opener “Sangue e Noite” gradually give way to leaner, meaner riffs, and by the midpoint of fourth track “Solpor dos Mistérios,” the record has fully taken on the properties of merciless, muscular continental black metal. The record may engage with various metal subgenres, but O Sangue da Noite is held together by Sartegos’s focus on Galician nationalist themes and celebrations of its landscape. The band is named for a miniscule rural hamlet in Galicia, and we are told that all lyrics are delivered in the region’s native dialect. Black metal and ardent nationalism don’t always make for the happiest of combinations. For those of us lacking fluency in the language, it’s tough to know what ideological charge the lyrics carry. And Galician regional politics feature a panoply of leftist and right wing factions, all with their own fiery arguments for the region’s autonomy. What sort of blood? Who sings in the night? Hard to say. But the music’s pretty good.

Jonathan Shaw

 Seablite – Grass Stains and Novocaine (Emotional Response)

Bay Area quartet Seablite’s debut album navigates the fuzzy end of indie pop with aplomb. Vocalists Lauren Matsui (guitar) and Galine Tumasyan (bass) are joined by drummer Andy Pastalaniec and ex-Wax Idol Jen Mundy on lead guitar for 11 tracks of chipper, summery shoegaze that sit easily alongside their most obvious influences Lush, Curve and Stereolab. Seablite’s songs are elevated by the interplay of twin vocals, clean guitar lines and bouncy bass lines supported by cymbal heavy motorik drums. There’s steel beneath the gauze as Mundy brings a little of the Idols’ shade to proceedings and Pastalaniec drives songs like “Pillbox” and “Polygraph” hard and fast down a euphoric freeway of top-down thrumming thrills. Yes, it sounds like a lot of bands you’ve heard and maybe loved but Grass Stains and Novocaine is so well put together and convincingly played it’s hard to resist.

Andrew Forell

 Seiðr — Intethedens Afsky (Nattetale)

Seiðr is a one-man band from Denmark. For just one man, he was awfully busy in the past year, having put out three records. Intethedens Afsky can boast of 10 tracks of dirty, primitive sound with bursts of melody buried immediately under a wall of noise. The inspiration for Seiðr’s music can be found in early 1990s Norwegian black metal, and Claus H. (that’s his name) cannot be blamed for being too much of a good student. Why shouldn’t he have learnt from his elders? The first two tracks here have samples from “nature,” and this gives us a hint to how Seiðr’s music can be interpreted: it’s ruptures in Nature’s hellish landscape. No one will be saved.

Ray Garraty   

 Spider Bags — A Celebration of Hunger (Sophomore Lounge)

SPIDER BAGS "A Celebration of Hunger" by Spider Bags

Spider Bags are still around, making a record every three or four years for Merge. But listening to this debut, it’s hard to imagine how they did it. If subject matter reflects life style, then the motto of these guys back in 2008 was, “We do the hard stuff so there won’t be any left for you. Say, can you loan me a couple of twenties?” But there’s a self-observing intelligence at work in these songs that suggests that self-awareness wasn’t totally obliterated, and a loose, rumbling energy to these roots-tinged garage-rock songs that confirms that the Bags spent at least part of everyday upright. Add to that engineer Brian Paulson’s knack for getting sound under challenging circumstances, which renders the live-sounding performances with sufficient but not distracting clarity, and you have a good soundtrack for the next time you want to drink yourself off the barstool in the privacy of your own home.

Bill Meyer

 Luke Spook — Small Town (Third Eye Stimuli)

Australian multi-instrumentalist Luke Spook steps away from the garage-punk of his Pinheads to conjure up lysergic specters from bygone times on Small Town. There are a fair number of freaked out boil-overs in the offing but the general tone is one of reserved simplicity. Whether sipping tea with the subject of “The Owl” or gathering around the fire with some fellow townsfolk on the title track, Luke channels Syd Barrett to the point of becoming nearly indistinguishable. But what makes Small Town more than just a covers album is Luke’s ability to vary the intimacy of his arrangements when needed. “All the King’s Horses” features a harmonica solo backed up with an (accidental?) chorus of distant, wailing hounds. Those types of moments lurk beneath the surface and inject a pastoral quality that feels authentic. More quirky utopian village than small town, the world Spook creates is a place to live rather than to pass through.

Jason Gioncontere  

 Nick Storring — Qualms (Never Anything)

Qualms by Nick Storring

Nick Storring’s latest recording started life as the score for a dance performance, and it is easy to imagine how it might function in that role. The composition, which spans both sides of a cassette, is episodic. Each moment feels unique unto itself, creating an environment in which things — maybe movements, or maybe something in your own imagination — have the space to happen. If you caught him onstage with the group Picastro, you would probably see Storring play cello, but for Qualms he plays a couple dozen keyboard, stringed, percussive and woodwind instruments. This allows similar themes and actions to appear and reappear in different garb. One stalking theme, for example, manifests once as a psychedelically dense string melody, and again played by gamelan percussion. Elsewhere passages of meter-less sound temporarily halt the progress. Moments of Steve Reich-like repetition surface, but instead of locking in like they might in a Reich piece, they quickly morph into something else. The same pattern of change that probably made this a handy program for a dance performance makes it an engaging pure listening experience.

Bill Meyer

 Sun City Girls — Dawn of the Devi (Abduction)

Dawn of the Devi by Sun City Girls

Dawn of the Devi holds an important place in the Sun City Girls’ discography. Released in 1991, it was the follow up to the much-celebrated Torch of the Mystics, which remains one of the more tuneful and easily-relatable records that Charles Gocher and brothers Alan and Richard Bishop ever did. As such, it had a job to do, and it did it well. That was to throw the followers who sandals instead of sturdy shows off the track. They did this by serving up a song-free album of jagged, totally improvised jams. While it did the job at the time, and in doing so established a pattern of giving the people something other than what they want, in retrospect, you can appreciate it for another reason. Dawn of the Devi makes a pretty strong case for the trio as a rock-derived improvisational ensemble. They sound like they’re listening and responding to each other, and their transitions from acidic splatter to swooning hesitation or heavy ambush make intuitive sense. It wasn’t always that way.

Bill Meyer

 These New Puritans — Inside the Rose (BMG)

Essex experimentalists These New Puritans return with a lush yet disquieting take on English pastoralism. On Inside the Rose multi-instrumentalist twin brothers Jack and George Barnett create an often lovely, occasionally portentous, romantic paean to nature and love. As the Barnetts move further beyond the fractured post-punk of their debut Beat Pyramid, this, their fourth album, elaborates the use of contemporary classical and choral orchestration into arrangements that channel Talk Talk. Jack Barnett’s voice is high in the mix and evokes David Sylvian at his most emotive. Beneath the sheen and swooning strings George’s drumming shifts and slides between Reichian repetition and fierce Taiko inspired rhythms. Inside the Rose is a meticulously produced but never fussy collection, welcoming the listener but refusing either to compromise or patronize. A serious but accessible work full of carefully considered details, some gorgeous melodies and an almost Pre-Raphaelite sensibility expressed in a thoroughly contemporary manner.

Andrew Forell

 Various Artists — No Other Love (Tompkins Square)

No Other Love : Midwest Gospel (1965-1978) by Various Artists

No Other Love is, like the several albums that Mike McGonigal has compiled for different labels, a sequence of gospel records drawn from one collection. In this case it is the collection of Ramona Stout. She culled the 45s that make up this set from her husband Kevin’s trawls of records that had spent years in Chicagoan basements. A graduate student who had spent much of her life outside the USA, she saw with clear eyes the grime of American urban poverty, and found herself deeply compelled by the discovery that hopeful music could grow in such decay. There are no big stars amongst these recordings. Even at the time they were recorded they would have sounded rough and behind the times production-wise — just electric guitars, drum kits, whatever piano or organ was sitting in the church where they were recorded, and congregants’ voices. But the fervor of yearning and the joy of release makes every track a transporting listen.

Bill Meyer

 WOW — Come La Notte (Maple Death Records)

Come La Notte by wow

Underground Roman duo China Now (vocals, drums) and Leo Non (guitars) recent album as WOW, Come La Notte (Like the Night), is seven tracks of 1960s influenced Italian noir cabaret high on atmosphere and drama. Now’s almost operatic vocals are at the forefront over skeletal brushed drums, minimal bass and restrained guitar. The band lulls then surprises with a spectral sax and bursts of crashing cymbals and feedback on “Niente Di Speciale” (“Nothing Special”), a keening gypsy violin on “Vieni Un Po’ Qui” (“Come Over Here”), middle eastern organ on “Occhi Di Serpente” (“Snake Eyes”). Fatalism drips from every note bringing to mind a low ceilinged club in the catacombs where refugees from the sun fill the air with smoke and their guts with grappa and cheap vino rosso as Pasolini scouts for rough trade and fingers grip switchblades concealed in socks. Come La Notte is a slow grower that draws you in even while it picks your pocket. Put it on and live a little vicarious danger in your own private La Dolce Vita.  

Andrew Forell  

[writernotwaiting]

I’m going to Deadwood this weekend to a poetry reading. Help me choose what to read.

Ruby Slippers (1) Ruby Slippers (2) — Every woman needs a pair of red shoes

If Dante Was a Tourist — And Virgil his tour guide

Half Dozen One Way, Six the Other — A life on a doorsill

Di/vi/ding /up/ the / day — Here is a list of things to do

Cozy, but Slightly Scratchy — The world like a woolen lover

Mother Love — Look

Penelope and Odysseus — So many years ago

Domestic Zen — All the world, like a woolen lover

Verse Epistle 1 — You love pomegranates

Newton’s First Law — (Just     keep     breathing)

What My Mother Taught Me — Tracking his progress was simple

Visiting Nana’s House — Over here, / she bent double

At an Impasse — The last time I spoke to God

Perspective — Sometimes something matters so much

Potential Energy — It was / an abyss

Negotiations — The red-haired man hands me a glass of Irish Cream

Verse Epistle 2 — It’s not that I don’t love our little talks

Verse Epistle 3 (Dear Reader) — When you read poetry

Definitions — I wonder if the kind of love we’ve found is love at all

Sirius Business — I live my life being judged by dogs

Taking Care of Business — Outside, / big fat snowflakes come straight from God

Ars Poetica — She reached into her word hoard

Knowledge Is Water Soluble — It comes out in tears

Just Testing — just a little blood

Epigram — When I walk in winter

The World Is Full of Bad Jokes — Whimsey with a lead feather

Of Marriage and Comfort Food – You’ll need to find a sturdy iron pot

Verse Epistle IV – You are sharp shiny flashing

Power Play – They / play solitaire / in the bathroom

Verse Epistle V (to Pilgrim) – I don’t even know where to send this

What My Father Taught Me – He is the loudest-quietest man I’ve ever met.

Verse Epistle VI (So, This Is What Today Is Like) – The stars were not as bright as they should have been that night

Verse Epistle VII – You’re such an easy mark

Verse Epistle VIII (Actively Useless) – We are swimming through / the kind of air you could drown in

Verse Epistle IX (Hungover) – I am erasing you,

In Second Childishness – The tv talks to an empty room

Verse Epistle X (to Erato) – Teach me how to write about happy things.

Verse Epistle XI – Lying in the dark

Verse Epistle (Lovely but broken) – Desdemona excelled nature.

Preservable Ephemera – The shoulder rolls just a little.

Speeding – The car horn blared deep and long and obnoxious

Pentel Clic Eraser – Technical specs

Supplications – “I’m not poetic at all.”

Cassandra – In / spiring

More than a Teapot – I am an ocean

Verse Epistle (to the Silver Child) – The best bed must have been a big four poster

Legacies - You were not born with a silver spoon

Forecast – If it keeps raining like this

Ephemera – a prose poem or flash fiction one of the two

Rosetta Stone – write your life on me

TMI – If I look

Home on the Range – On a clear day

Doing the Math – I have covered half the distance

Diminuendo – I am erasing you

It’s not about tears  I’m thinking about ducks

Kitsune in Orlando – fox is a trickster

Both hello and goodbye – at 16 true love is a sure bet

Iris – a process – “Move that chess piece.”

Spit Shine – My mother took a kleenex

Pronouns – It doesn’t matter

“Emotional Labor” – You have learned their speeches

“Kitchen Magic” – Mom does long / division

“Let’s Review” – failing. / failing at school.

“Ever After” – Once upon a time

“Played” – *press pause*

“Breathe Deep” – A long. slow. pull.on that cigarette

“Riding your Triumph” – I am a thief.

“The owl and the pussycat are still sailing” – The cat slinks over the couch

“In my wake” – Don’t lie to me. lie / about me.

“On the face of it” – Write your life on me.

“Half of forever is still forever” – Split infinity audio file of the author reading the poem – X

“Pandora’s Box” – You were born

“It’s what’s for breakfast” – She’ll never get used to it.

“After the flood” – You have been holding your breath

“A ghost of my former self” – This is my ode to/useless things

“Lysbeth Louise” – Here is what I have left of you

@pedeka @icybluepenguin @incredifishface @ache-and-hunger @darklittlestories @iamhisgloriouspurpose @anastasiaoftheironwood @larouau12 @sarabeth72 @angelsseb @damageditem @indomitablemegnolia @laterovaries-og @catedevalois @thejeanetterun @martinssonconstruction @rynfinity @izhunny @musicfashionandscotch @acebakes

[clockworkdryad]

Slime Rancher Review

I got Slime Rancher as a gift. It’s currently in early access, which if I recall correctly is going to be ending on the first of August. It certainly felt, for the most part, like a complete game, and I look forward to seeing what’s added when it officially releases. Like.. a lot. I’ve set the game down for a bit but I will eagerly be picking it back up once it releases.

At first blush it’s just a super cute game about farming on an alien world where the indigenous life (I assume) are all slimes. You’ve got your basic pink slimes that have no special qualities, and then a host of other types each with their own quirks. Tabby slimes, which superficially resemble earth cats and love to jump and pounce and devour hen hens whole; rock slimes, with their crown of sharp spikes that hurts you if you jump on them; all the way up to quantum slimes, which you can never really be sure are in the corral or not.

But more than that, it’s a game with two love stories hidden in the background.

I took over the ranch from its previous owner, and though apparently he went and locked all the doors and downgraded the whole ranch before he left (thanks...) he also left me notes scattered all over the Far, Far Range. Each new zone unlocked gives new notes, and more of his story. You learn about how he handled being on the ranch, and about the woman he loved. Then, after a long day on the Range, you get home to letters from a friend you left behind on Earth. Some of these letters made me want to cry as I read them, getting to know these people even in such an indirect way. I didn’t expect to cry when I sat down to play a game about farming slime plorts for fun and profit.

I don’t want to go too into the content of these letters, so instead let’s talk about plorts. I assure you, they’re perfectly sanitary. You see, when a slime eats food it produces a plort. When a slime eats something it really likes, it produces double plorts. These plorts have vast scientific and practical value back on Earth, and it is through selling them that you make your living.

Yep, you sell slime poop.

Some plorts burn for an incredibly long time, others can be processed to make medicine, and others just taste really great sprinkled on some cereal. The game has a fairly well done encyclopedia that gives lore on every slime you’ve captured or whose plorts you’ve acquired. While I played, I loved pausing to read the new entries I discovered to get a better picture of the ecology of this alien world and the socioeconomic effects it has back on Earth.

Overall, the game is super light hearted and full of whimsey. Even the monstrous “Tarr” you encounter are gorgeously cute even while they try to eat everything in their path, including you. You see, when a slime eats a plort from a different type of slime, you end up with a hybrid of those two slimes. As an aside, it makes me think about the whole microbiome thing, our gut bacteria, and how much it can influence our health... (yes, I know I’m reading too much into this).

If a Tabby slime eats a phosphor plort, you end up with a freakishly adorable lightning-bug-cat monstrosity. With over ten types of slime in the game, the combinations are almost impossible to see all of. But you have to be careful because if a mixed slime (called a largo) eats another plort, it turns into a ravenous beast that can tear through a whole ranch of slimes in no time. Your goal is to manage your ranch to maximize profits while minimizing risk of a Tarr outbreak that would destroy your whole stock. The last thing you want when you come home from a day of exploring is to find everything you worked so hard on in shambles.

Those awful ravenous rainbows...

A large portion of the game for me was the exploration, even more so than maintaining my ranch. When you first set foot on the Far, Far Range you’ve got little more than the clothes on your back and your trusty vac-gun, perfect for sucking up slimes to take back to the ranch. Your ranch is has several possible upgrades that you can’t afford yet, and a gate that leads to the Dry Reef. The first slimes you see are the basic pink slimes, and tall rock walls tower to either side of you. I found a couple caves and other paths I could follow to explore and find new areas, and discovered locked doors that needed Slime Keys to open up. At first, it felt fairly linear. Finish one task to unlock the next area and find a new type of slime, repeat.

But then I got the jet pack

I had thought that I would need to find another key, unlock another door to get to new areas, and then I learned to fly. What had once been walls to either side of the path became questions to answer, and when I jumped up and saw a whole new part of the Reef the game expanded. There was another slime door, but it was positioned in just such a way that with careful jetpack usage, I could get over it without needing a key! New areas, more messages left by the previous rancher, and even more slimes!

That’s when exploration became my primary motivation. I wanted to see what other areas had been right next to me the whole time, and what new slimes I could find. I went places I honestly shouldn’t have, well before the door would normally be unlocked. I spent tons of time, then, desperately searching for a way to get BACK to where I was before because not unlocking the door meant I had no easy way to get home.

Every new statue I found, every new little alcove and section of the world just urged me on to keep looking, to see everything I could find even when I got hopelessly lost. See, there’s no map in the game (or at least no map that I could ever figure out how to look at). You’re really out there on your own and the only way to get around is to learn about your environment. To me, at least, that makes it feel more realistic.

Eventually, I reached the end of the playable areas in the game. I know there’s still so much more for me to discover, and I’ve not even scratched the surface of all the stuff I could craft to decorate my ranch and all the quality of life upgrades available for the game. There’s still a ton of game left for me to play, and in a few days there’ll be even more. I’m really excited to pick it up again, and if you’re interested in light hearted fun and the cutest slimes ever, I totally think you should pick it up, too!