#nicotine is a banger though

[ethereal-occultist]

The fact that this album came out right before I realized I was bi means every time I hear this song I am brought back to the worst time of my life

[lilyultraviolet]

Album Review: Dance Gavin Dance - Dance Gavin Dance

Hey all!~ Hope you enjoy my review, I'm trying out a new format for the first time, so this is my dry run to see how it looks! :3

Thoughts on the album: Dance Gavin Dance has made so much music that has made my ears happy, as morally dubious of a band as they are. I'm a huge fan of the late 2000s post-hardcore sound, its much more intimate and honest feeling than modern offerings, feeling much more sterile. This album captures what I enjoy about that sound perfectly. It's an album that has a lot of expression and character, a distinct fun factor permeating the atmosphere of it. In true post-hardcore fashion, the guitar work and harmonies is (in most cases) immaculate, and keeps my silly ADHD brain very occupied, ESPECIALLY when listening with headphones, as the stereo mix is taken full advantage of. This album neither overstays its welcome or is too short, and has several absolute bangers to make it really memorable overall. This is a very danceable and singable album, which makes me happy, as someone who loves doing both to my music. There are a few tracks that don't hold my attention as well, but that's more than made up with the highs of this album. I'm a sucker for Kurt vocals too because I can match his sound pretty well.

And now we move on to the other section of the review, where I rate a couple extra aspects of the album concerning how well it sounds production wise, and how much it sounds like an album rather than just a collection of singles, I call this the cohesion factor.

Album Cohesion: The songs flow together well, and while there is no overarching concept, the songs do not feel as though they're individual singles slapped on an album. Exactly how a non concept album should feel.

Production Quality: Bass could be louder, however the rest of the instruments are mixed very well, and the vocals are placed very well in the mix too.

Track Thoughts:

Alex English: A very strong opening track, it has some very memorable sections. 4.5/5

Buffalo!: A song that's incredibly fun to sing and groove along to, short and sweet. 4.5/5

Me and Zoloft Get Along Just Fine: One of the most hard hitting choruses I've ever heard in a song, truly lovely. This is one of those "not a second wasted" type songs. 5/5

The Robot with Human Hair Pt. 3: The verses could be stronger, but there is also some amazing sections in this song, especially the middle and end bits. 4/5

Hot Water on Wool: Wonderful vocal harmonizing at the beginning, lovely opening. I love that there's delay guitar in the left channel and a more typical tone in the right, it keeps my mind very occupied. Truly a great song that has a great flow. The verse that starts with "maybe I'll sleep through a century" always has me singing along. 5/5

Hot Water on Wool (Reprise): Confusedly, this song was broken up into 2 parts, but it essentially still is the same song. Has some amazing guitar harmonies and goofy instrumental antics. 5/5

Uneasy Hearts Weigh the Most: The Dance Gavin Dance song, if there ever was one. A very lovely and catchy song, albeit a bit basic. I do very much enjoy it, but I don't feel as strongly about the compositional depth. 4/5

Caviar: A really pretty song, I really like the vocal trade offs with the guest singer, it works well. 4.5/5

Rock Solid: The lyrics and vibe of this song are really silly, but I think it adds to it a bit. The bit with Jon and Kurt is charming and funny and the outro is absolutely spellbinding. 4.5/5

Burning Down the Nicotine Armoire Pt. 2: Very nice bass lines, TASTY grooves once Kurt comes in with plucky sounding delayed guitar riffs in the background, overlaid with vocal harmonies. The chorus is incredibly tasty too. The refrain leaves a bit to be desired though. 4.5/5

Reprogramming Mental Preprogramming: This song is alright, I find it misses its mark in terms of catchiness or grooviness. It's not a bad song by any means, it's just one of the underwhelming songs of the album. 3.5/5

Skyhook: Great guitar harmonies and all the sections feel placed well. This song is short, and feels even shorter with how well it flows. 4.5/5

People You Know: This is the other song on the album that doesn't particularly do all that much for me. It's okay, but not amazing, feels underwhelming as a closer. I'm also not a big fan of the 2000s "hidden song" trope (save for The Man Land by BTBAM, its hilarious), and the hidden song here doesn't offer much. 3/5

Closing Thoughts: This is an incredibly fun album, from the bombastic instrumentals to the silly and also emotional vocals. This album has been a mainstay in my rotation and gets the Lily stamp of approval. <3

OVERALL ALBUM RATING: 4.5/5

[strandedcrow]

hullo! so, we've gotten your favorites from AJR and Glass Animals but.. what about your favorites from each of the holy trinity emo bands?

so right off the bat i’ll start with panic, as they did end up being the band of the trinity that i was least invested in but even then i still definitely have favorites for sure

starting with my absolute favorite from them, though, tables is an absolute banger. the cockiness of the lyrics, the harmonies between brendon and ryan, the harsh trumpets, there’s a good reason these tables are numbered honey you just haven’t thought of it yet is a classic for panic. it’s high energy and it‘s pure panic at the disco. beyond that, afycso is a great album, like i’m not gonna be the first or last person to praise the smooth transition from it’s better if you do into i write sins, because holy shit what a transition. but right after that? i constantly thank god for estaban? another great song, the acoustics of the verses in contrast with the sharp drums of the chorus? the breakdown 3/4 of the way through the song? absolutely amazing

outside of afycso though, nine in the afternoon is such an obvious choice for a favorite but with good reason, that green gentleman is sheer vibes, and for as much as i’m ready to critique brendon in general, his vocals through the entirety of vices and virtues (especially ballad of mona lisa, hurricane, and nearly witches) are remarkable. moving onto too weird to live to rare to die, though, holy shit, dallon’s influence. miss jackson? a banger. vegas lights? a banger. nicotine? absolute fucking banger. and honestly the entirely of the death of a bachelor album is just Good, even if not similar to their previous albums, it’s still great tracks cross the board imo

mcr is somehow the band i’ve listened to the longest and also the band i’ve gotten the least invested in, but the way they use each era as a way to tell a clear story through their albums is so amazing. genuinely picking any favorites from them is difficult and i’d like to just pick the entirety of the black parade album tbh

pre black parade-wise, you know what they do to guys like us in prison definitely sits way up there for me, amazing lyrics, great personality to it, just a fucking banger all the way through

black parade though? all of them. but specifically this is how i disappear (the RIFFS, the desperation and depravity in the “you wanna see how far down, i can sink? let me go, FUCK” ?? holy SHIT?). and the entirety of sharpest lives when it comes to the lyricism too, like i could talk for a full day about this band’s lyricism and i’d still have more to say when i’m done, and this song is such a great example of that. mama being written as a result of a bet, the guitar solo of teenagers being reminiscent of classic rock guitar styles to fit the song’s character, the “you’re just a sad song, with nothing to say, about a lifelong, wait for a hospital stay” of disenchanted, this is genuinely my favorite album of all time, and that’s not even mentioning sleep, an amazing fucking track

post black parade? na na na is an absolute classic, planetary go fucks, party poison slaps, and destroya BANGS. to this day, ray toro is the ONLY guitarists i can recognize solely based off of his guitar playing, which is something that deserves so much appreciation and respect in my books

fall out boy, though, was definitely the band i mained out of this trinity. and pretty much everything i have to say boils down to “folie a deux was a masterpiece”

sending post cards from a plane crash and grand theft autumn are absolute classics. 7 minutes in heaven and sophomore slump were like. absolute mid breakdown go to songs and honestly they still hold up holy shit? and the take over, the breaks over’s long ass held note from 2:12?? patrick king spare some kings for the rest of us? hello? and god save rock and roll was genuinely such a great comeback album for them, especially with where did the party go and just one yesterday.

and then abap?? even the title track still goes hard, i still remember when it dropped on youtube while i was on a trip with my family, i listened to that shit on repeat for DAYS. and don’t let me get started on the kids aren’t alright, favorite record, and twin skeletons oh my GOD. after abap? stay frosty royal milk tea and young and menace go fucking hard

so now for the last part of this post, back to folie a deux. i love this album so much. the way disloyal order sets the atmosphere which i don’t care just takes over for itself, the almost hypnotic melodies of america’s suitehearts, the medley of what a catch, 27 going so hard, the transition from $20 to west coast smoker?? this album is genuinely so amazing. and that’s not even touching on headfirst slide into cooperstown on a bad bet, my absolute favorite fall out boy song. the repeated “i didn’t”s, the blend of the “does your husband know” and the “i will never end up like him towards the end? it’s such a beautiful song i will never get over it

short answer: there’s a reason these tables are numbered, sleep, and headfirst slide into cooperstown

[peroxideprinces]

rank every p!atd song.

okokok >:]

s tier (10/10, 9/10) - all of afycso + pretty . odd; all the boys; far too young to die; collar full; kaleidoscope eyes; casual affair

fever n po r some of ryan ross's best work , along w what he did w the young veins . i cant say im in love w all of his solo work but the lyrics arent as bad as pftw . the songs off too weird r wonderful ! all the boys is so fun to listen to , same w collar full . while i will say that i enjoy the brobecks vers of far too young to die Much more than the p!atd vers , the lyrics still fuck . all of the vices demos r pretty good , but kaleidoscope eyes is somethin else ... casual affair slaps godbless

a tier (8/10) - can't fight against the youth; house of memories; la devotee; always; the ballad of mona lisa; nearly witches; new perspective; it's almost halloween; mercenary; the calendar; trade mistakes; the rest of the vices bonus tracks; golden days

can't fight against the youth id say is jus a bit worse then all the boys , or at least i like it less . house of memories , golden days , n la devotee r probably the best songs off of dob in terms of lyrics id say . impossible year isnt bad, but it isnt as good as these three . the calendar n trade mistakes dont get enough love , vices doesnt get enough love in general , but they r so so good ! the bonus tracks especially r the best part of the album (turn of the lights my beloved <333 also love that pete wentz ghostwrite) ! the demo lyrics of nearly witches r a lot more fun then what we got , but i dont necessarily hate it ! i do wish we got the cabin album though </3 mercenary is such a fun song ! it does get a tad repetitive , but who cares bc it fucks ! new perspective is jus generally a good song id say . its almost halloween probably doesnt deserve this spot , but god do i love it dearly .

b tier (7/10) - girl that you love; crazy = genius; impossible year; death of a bachelor; this is gospel; hurricane; get me out of my mind; don't threaten me with a good time;

girl that you love isnt really special , but it has some banger lines in it that punched me in the fuckin gut ! crazy = genius n dont threaten me with a good time r both songs that r fun to listen to , but they kinda do nothin ? like , theyre there , but they arent really important . impossible year has some good lines as well but i dont like the sound of the song , nor do i like how br*ndon sounds . this is gospel , get me out of my mind , n death of a bachelor r all songs that exist ! ready to go gets annoyin at some point but its an overall fine song , this is gospel has a few things goin for it , n death of a bachelor is an alright song . borin tier tbh

c tier (6/10, 5/10) - sarah smiles; let's kill tonight; nicotine; girls/girls/boys; the end of all things; the good, the bad, and the dirty

sarah smiles is a song . the end of all things is a song . bc i dont like that One Guy nor his wife i dont like to listen to them , but they arent the worst songs ever . would skip them every time though . let's kill tonight gets repetitive really quickly n it gets hard to listen to multiple times . nicotine is fine , it jus never really meant much to me . girls/girls/boys does absolutely nothin for me n i could not care less ab it , but i dont hate it ! im glad it exists ig ? i jus dont really like how that One Guy handled it though. the good, the bad, and the dirty is also nothin special but it doesnt suck so i guess it goes here .

d tier (4/10, 3/10) - memories; the overpass; roaring 20s; miss jackson; victorious

memories is such a bad song i dont care . i cannot stand it n i legitimately cant describe why . it makes me feel an indescribable emotion that i fuckin hate . the overpass n roaring 20s have nothin to offer but r the best songs off of pftw , so i guess they can be a tier higher . miss jackson is kinda borin n vaguely sexist , though id be lyin if i said it wasnt fun . i jus dont think i can put it any higher than d . victorious as a song jus rubbed me the wrong way n i cant shake that feelin , so d tier .

f tier (2/10, 1/10) - hallelujah; every other pftw song

hallelujah is jus borin . like ig it isnt bad i jus cant stand it at all . f tier . pftw is such a shitty album , at least for panic standards ! bc how did we go from lines like "i know the world's a broken bone // but melt your headaches call it home" to fuckin "don't call me saint california if you're at another altar" . how did we go from "i've never so adored you // i'm twisting allegories now // i want to complicate you // don't let me do this to myself" to "it's just cherries, cherries // everything is cherries on top" . pftw doesnt make me feel despair it makes me so fuckin mad . pftw is a solo album n doesnt deserve to be compared to twtltrtd . its obvious that this album was jus for money n i hate it sincerely .

what the fuck tier (0/10) - high hopes; hey look ma, i made it

they suck <3 theres a line in high hopes that . holy shit . you cant say that n expect people to be COMPLETELY OKAY WITH IT ? hey look ma, i made it is genuinely so annoying to listen to . in fact , both of them are . i'd rather listen to fucking anything else . these songs were a mistake <3

[heffrondriving]

top 3 heffron drive songs to cry to fhskdjskdjs -kendxllsgf

Okay, so the first song that immediately popped to my mind was definitely Could You Be Home. Either the original or unplugged version, although I prefer the acoustic because it's a lot softer and rawer, with 10/10 guitaring, and when Kendall's voice kicks in just before the final chorus in that part...that shit hurts me directly in the soul ;-;

Art of Moving On, oof that one's also a real stinger. Extra points for the way the Interlude seamlessly slides with the track, I always go feral for that. And of course, the unplugged version comes with its own special brand of pain. It also has *eherm* more 'personal' connotations—but come on, how could you not sob at Kendall softly begging “I'm tired, can we give up? / the art of moving on / it keeps me up all night” in the chorus????? sir please who hurt you I just wanna talk-

And finally, Passing Time. But only the unplugged version. Because Logan. That's it that's the whole thing I don't even have any other reasoning it's Logan and Kendall and Dustin and it makes me think of BTR which is a special kind of crying in and of itself :'^)

Also special mention to Don't Let Me Go, that one was a solid mental breakdown anthem for at least a good week for me. It's like the kind of banger you would have a thermonuclear episode over while dancing to in a club. And I think I might've cried to Nicotine at some point although that was probably because I was watching the acoustic session on YouTube and even just seeing Kendall playing the guitar and singing makes me tear up like a whole-ass waterfall incarnate fool 👀 I shamefully have yet to check their older non-Spotify available songs though, so maybe there's tearjerker gems I'm missing there too??

Thank you for sending in an ask!! 💛 I'm sorry if rambly, I have Many feelings about this band and their beautiful songs (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

[joshslater]

Grimsby pt. 5

Similar stories and bonus material (like the photo tumblr blocked) on my Patreon.

Declan greeted us with an “Oi, lads” as he walked past us to the kitchen. He took me completely by surprise. The beer, the weed, the fatigue, the everything had me zone out and only concentrate on what was immediately in front of me. The beer, the weed, the heat and smell of big Jace next to me, and the FIFA game I was slowly losing. I had completely forgotten the possibility of Declan. He returned from the kitchen, Stella in one hand and a Lidl bag in the other.

“O'Rourke down at 2 lit the grill. I bought some bangers for us. You coming Jace?” “Always”

He threw down the controller on the table and got up. I still wasn’t grasping what was going down. Jace looked down at me as I aimlessly was moving my team around while trying to comprehend what was happening.

“You’ll lose. Come.”

I accepted what he told me, pressed pause and got up to join them outside. The afternoon sun made everything too hot and too bright, after smoking weed in front of the TV for hours. Jace and Declan talked about something as we walked down the street to number two. I was too buzzed to try to comprehend. I could see a small group standing at the end of the street, in front of us. They looked young, all dressed similar to us, perhaps with less shirts on, and everyone holding a can or a bottle in one hand.

“I got one left” “What?”

I looked at Declan, followed his eyes towards his hand. He was holding out a nicotine patch towards me. I took it, removed the package and stuck it up inside my T-shirt, somewhere on the chest. Fuck, I’m still wearing the track suite from work, I realized. The one that didn’t smell like weed. Didn’t.

“This is Chayse. Lives in 10. He’s cool” “Cheers mate!”

I took a swig out of the bottle of blue wkd in my hand and nod towards the group. Where the fuck did I get that from? Who drinks that kiddie stuff? Just how fucked up am I, really? If they could tell I was high as a kite, which of course they could, they didn’t appear to give a fuck. Everyone was busy chatting, having a beer and whatever else they were doing. This wasn’t so much a party as it was a bunch of lads having a beers on the street, spilling out into the main road. A white, plastic outdoor chair was placed outside the door of number 2. An extension cord snaked its way from the house and was draped over the arm rest, with nothing plugged in. The BBQ setup turned out to be a couple of single use grills, coal on aluminium trays, probably bought at the nearest petrol station. Declan got a pack of vacuum packed hot dogs from his Lidl bag, tore it open, and dumped the sausages on one grill. One of the unfamiliar guys I’d just greeted turned towards me.

“Aight, did you catch Chelsea Arsenal?” “Of course”

It was one of the games I watched with Declan, and I wasn’t even drunk or debilitatingly high, like now, when I did it. I even remembered some of what the commentators said.

“What you think about the first score?” “It was his first for the season, was it?” “Was it? You might be right, mate. What’d you think about it?” “I can’t even describe it.” “With you, mate. Fucking epic doesn’t cut it”

I shocked myself that I could string together some commentary fragments with empty statements and pass them along as conversation. Not wanting to press my luck I tried to be as agreeable as possible through all the footie talk.

“Oi! Bun!”

Declan threw a hot dog bum at me, which I didn’t catch, but quickly scooped up from the ground. Not trusting my dexterity I put down my blue wkd next to the plastic chair. I stepped over to the grill and grabbed one of Dec’s sausages in the bun. I realized I was starving, as I bit into the hot dog.

“This is fucking great, mate!” “Lidl deluxe onion pork bang. Best there is. Farewell bang, innit” “You’re leaving?” “Want to beat the traffic. It’s been fun.”

I didn’t know what to feel. Most of all I was annoyed he’d drop the news on me like five minutes before he’d drive away. Communication wasn’t his thing though. But it felt like I was going to miss him. Without him I was back to knowing no one here. No, I knew Jace, I immediately realized. It’s like a relay, where I’m handed over, moving further and further away from where I started. Declan didn’t know who I was, but he knew I wasn’t Chayse Brown, at least not this version. Jace only knew what I was now.

Someone from the group took a seat in the white plastic chair, and another one connected a clipper to the extension and started to buzz his head. I couldn’t see a difference, as it was short to start with.

“Hey, Declan. Thanks for everything.” “Safe. Keep your phone charged.”

He walked away towards the car, stella in hand. I stepped back to the chair and grabbed the blue bottle. I took a swig out of it, and almost choked on my big gulp. It wasn’t my blue wkd but something far stronger. I looked at the label and saw a bottle of MD 20/20 blue raspberry. Still fucked up, apparently, because those bottles are nothing alike.

“Hey, are you stealing my shit!” shouted the boy in the chair, jumped up and started to puff his chest. “No, I’m... mistaken” “It fucking looks like you are stealing.” he was staring right at me, just inches away when he suddenly relaxed. “I’m just messing with you. That is yours?” he pointed at the blue wkd still standing next to the chair. “Yeah, I think so.” “Here, take over from Liam” “I don’t know how to... I’ve never used a clipper before.” “Nothing to it. Just move it around until it looks even.”

Liam handed over the clipper to me as the boy got back in the chair. He was right. There was nothing to it. In a few more strokes, though probably much slower than proper, he looked “even”. Not that I would know.

“Here, take a seat and I’ll fresh you up for Friday. Yours looks pretty mint, but I’ll fresh the sides for you.”

I had no idea what he meant, but took a seat to go with the flow. He lathered the sides of my head all around with shaving foam, and then picked up a Gilette razor from a kitchen plate and started to shave my head. It was all bizarre to me.

“You do this a lot?” “What?” “Hairdressing” “Just taking turns freshing up the lads for Friday. It happens.”

Someone new came up to me and stuck a can of Fosters in my hand. “Oi. I’m Connor”

I could feel the headache pulsate with my heartbeat as UK Bounce blared out of the phone’s alarm app. I was in my bed, no, on my bed, again without remembering getting there, and fully dressed. I would take the bus to the dock, I already knew that. Should I snooze or bother with a shower?

As I walked to the bathroom the door to the second bedroom was open, and I was reminded that Declan left yesterday. I wondered if he brought the plastic bag with my old clothes with him, or if he had already binned them. I looked into the room. A couch and a cheap home gym. I’d forgotten that it was even here, since I hadn’t looked into the room since the first day. Fuck, that was only days ago.

My eyes were red and I looked like I was decomposing. By contrast my skull was shiny, like a doorknob with a round little carpet on top. The slits in the eyebrow were more pronounced too. Apparently someone touched them up, though I had no memory of it. What was the name of the guy? Liam?

I took a shower, and some of the magic was back. It felt so good. I was hoping that some 3-in-1 would wash off some grease, and make me less shiny. I didn’t really do much, but then the people at the dock didn’t appear to give much of a fuck. I put on the the clothes I had on me when I entered the bathroom, lit a cigarette, and left the house. I felt like a zombie shuffling to the bus stop in the morning darkness.

I’d finished my cigarette by the time I got there, but still craved more, so I lit another one and inhaled deep. Why didn’t I bring a morning beer? Because that’s not what actual humans do, a little voice in my head whispered. Still, would have been fucking nice right now. Luckily the bus peeked around the corner, so I didn’t have to wait for long. I should probably learn the time table.

There were a few people on the bus, but not many. They were all staring like I wasn’t welcome. I guess I didn’t look my best after what I’ve been through. Saturday couldn’t come fast enough. I decided to sit at the back to avoid the glares of people. It wasn’t until I was just about to stomp out my cig I realized I was smoking on the bus. Fuck. And no one told me not to, not even the driver. In fact, I just realized, I hadn’t even paid fare. Why didn’t he tell me?

One glance at my reflection in the bus window, and I had my answer. I looked like trouble, and he didn’t want any. I felt guilty all the way to the dock, and plonked down two pounds at the driver as I exited the bus. Regardless what Liam, or whatever, said I did not intend to become a thief.

Drudge time.

[droxley]

in the process of trying to find a certain mashup (and failing), i found a few cool mashups. none of these are mine, credit to the people who made these. some of these have interpretations in the comments, and it’s honestly p cool

miss jackson/my songs know what you did in the dark (light ‘em up) - a pure bop. i love it.

car radio/mr. brightside - this has an unspeakable vibe to it. the car radio instrumentals with mr. brightside vocals. i adore it.

sugar, we’re going down swinging/this is gospel - a banger

ignorance/all the boys - holy shit wow

miss jackson/twin skeleton’s (hotel in nyc) - some parts were unexpected. they worked better than expected.

everybody (backstreet’s back)/victorious - these two should not go together this well. what the fuck.

collar full/ignorance - holy,,,,,, shit,,. the ending??? with the riff??? everything??????

ain’t it fun/gives you hell - i cant even. wow.

don’t threaten me with a good time/young volcanoes - it... works. huh.

nicotine/novocaine - wow???

uma thurman/the phoenix - major hype

hold me tight or don’t/miss jackson - main focus hold me tight or don’t, background vocals-type stuff miss jackson. on another note: miss jackson is in a lot of mashups. also, the lyrics for this (in the comments) are hilarious

church/say amen (saturday night) - pretty cool. pretty good.

hold me tight or don’t/don’t threaten me with a good time - wack. s’good.

ode to sleep/uma thurman - the actual mashup starts 30 seconds in. other than that, it’s new. pretty good. interesting, though, as it takes an Extreme Hype song and combines it with one like ode to sleep. nice twist. i like it

nicotine/pet cheetah - same creator as the one above. they’re extremely ambitious, song-vibe wise. if you want a different mashup that’s really well-made, go to this channel. feel free to skip the first few seconds; the mashup starts at 0:15.

some meme ones. i’m gonna tell you what one song is. click to find the other one:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=maK7AgGm0Xw - thomas the tank engine theme

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wL55gJ95CCw - we are number one. this lands in the category of “why do these two go together so well what the fuck.” hint: they both say “hey!” in the beginning.

[neonorangevelvethatchback]

My personal ranking of every Panic! At The Disco albums.

#1: Pretty. Odd.

This albums is just full of bangers, every song goes hard. The contrast between Brendon’s vocals and Ryan’s vocals is beautiful. Very chill vibes. 10\10 could listen to this album on repeat for the rest of my life

#2: A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out

Probably the most iconic album of theirs, once again every songs fucking slaps. The transition between But it’s Better and Sins kills me every time. The vocals are such a staple of the emo sound and I love it. Wish it was easier to differentiate between the two singers but otherwise, all around another perfect album.

#3: Too Weird To Live, Too Rare To Die!

I feel like this one is gonna be controversial or whatever. The only thing putting it above vices, is the absolute bangers that came out of this album. Miss. Jackson, Nicotine, This is Gospel, Girls/Girls/Boys, etc. a very fun and upbeat album really appreciate it!

#4: Vices & Virtues

A very good album. Honestly it has more of a first album feel though and is kind of forgettable. There aren’t really any true hits that came out of this album. But nearly witches will always go hard.

#5: Death of a Bachelor

I do really like this album, Brendon’s vocals really shine in this album. It’s never gonna be my go to album, but I still like every song on it and will listen to it willingly. It was a really good venture into a different genre of music and I can really appreciate that.

#6: Pray for the Wicked

This album is bad. It’s boring. It’s repetitive, and the only good song is Say Amen. It opened with the worst song on the album, and somehow got worse. The songs are choppy and Brendon’s vocals can’t make up for the background noise and it’s honestly a tragedy. I am praying for the next album to be better.

[je-suis-clarisse]

SIX YEARS AGO: TRYST NIGHTCLUB. LAS VEGAS. Newly divorced, she couldn't resist. She wanted an evening of just pure fun. It was a night where old-school rock, hip-hop and r&b would be played. Cover was waived and people of all backgrounds would be there. She had dressed in a strapless purple dress and sky-high heels. As usual, she kept the make up to a minimum and her hair cascaded down her back. Simple enough. And no one knew who she was. Heading down the elevator, Clarisse du Volde meandered quietly into the club, pleased with the turnout. Overhead Metallica played, but the DJ was mixing it into The Notorious B.I.G's 'Hypnotize'. She made her way into the crowd, swaying along with the music before dropping low and bringing herself up slow. She wasn't oblivious to the fact that her ass looked amazing in this dress. That would be why she hadn't been allowed to wear it. Well, f*** him. This was her night. And she'd do whatever she wanted. Her hips swaying back and forth, moving in time with the music, she jumped slightly feeling two hands come to rest on her. For a moment, she feared it was him. The touch wasn't indifferent though, rather it was that of someone who just wanted to have a little fun. But remembering her promise to herself to have fun, Clarisse reached back resting her hand on the stranger's neck, fingers gently brushing through his hair. His left hand moved up her abdomen, resting on her stomach. Tilting her face to get a better view of her dance partner, she laughed softly as his goatee tickled her forehead. The pulse of the music and the strobe lights added to the ambiance and she moaned softly as his fingers kneaded into her, drawing her closer. Her pert backside pressed firmly against him and she could feel his hips grinding into her. Her lips curved upwards in a smirk feeling him press firmly against her; he had a hard-on. To say she wasn't feeling some type of way would have been a lie. "Mm..." she sounded as he turned her around. Bringing her arms around his neck, she strained to hear him as he spoke, feeling a shiver go down her spine as he leaned in and whispered in her ear, "'s your name?'" "Clarisse. You?" "Noah. Nice t'meet you, Clari." "You too, Noah." She replied with a smile, giggling as he rested his hands on her ass, giving it a squeeze as he pulled her in. For the next hour, they didn't part, teasing one another and seemingly hinting what should come next. She was pleasantly surprised when they snuck in things about themselves. She felt embarrassed to say she was newly divorced, but the smirk on his features amused her. She lowered her gaze for a few moments as he leaned in more and she ground herself against his leg. She was tempted to ask him up to the office or the VIP area when he seemed to read her mind. "You want t' get away from here?" Noah asked and she paused. Did she? His face was only an inch or two away from hers. And there was something about him that drew her in. He was a biker, no question, but there was something in his eyes that hooked her. She liked this Noah. "Sure," she murmured and laughed as he drew her away from the crowd and down a hallway, her hand in his. Looking around before pressing her against the wall; his muscled form flush against her soft curves, his hand pinning her wrists above her head. "Goddamn, girl," he smirked at her as he looked over her figure. "The f*** kinda man would leave all this? 'Specially for another chick?'" She laughed, shaking her head. "My ex, obviously, Noah..." Her French accent twisting around his name in a caress. His breath was warm on her face and she could smell tequila...and nicotine. They blended to make a scent she could only call 'Noah'. She tilted her face up and just as she was about to press her lips to his; she could hear someone calling his name. what. the. f***! "Yo, we gotta split! Noah!" A grunt and curses under his breath. "Sh*t. Clari, I gotta go." "I understand, of course..." she began and blinked as he reached into his pocket, taking out a gum wrapper and a pen, scrawling out something."Call me in a few days. Sh*t's gotta cool down. Don't give it out." "I'm gonna write it on the bathroom wall," she teased and he gave her a wink before he left. Looking at the paper, she smirked, memorizing the number. They'd seen one another on and off, here and there until she'd gone back to New Orleans. But that hadn't stopped them from keeping in touch--something she was glad for. -------- PRESENT DAY. She hated California. And yet, here she was. Cruising down the highway on her own bike. Granted it was old, but it was hers and she liked it. She'd learned how to ride on it back during the second world war but of course, that was her own story. To anyone else, she just liked old sh*t. She was tired of being at home. Sigyn was out here, seeing friends. She had looked at her phone and saw a text from Noah. So, it had inspired her. He'd given her the name of a bar near the border. It was ironic. "But that humanitarian crisis!" She had texted back, referencing the foolish man who called himself president. She had cruised through the towns noting how some places looked so rich, others looked like shacks. She wondered about it; was this a cartel holding? 'la casa de diablo.' The House of the Devil. Leave it to Noah to pick a bar with a name like this. As she parked, she took notice of the crowd. Some sort of MC, of course, and a few gang bangers, it appeared. Fair enough. At least she'd dressed in leather and worn motorcycle boots. She would have a Corona; it'd been awhile. Taking off her helmet, her blonde hair coming down over her shoulders and down her back. Setting it down, she pulled it up into a bun. As she went to enter the bar--dive, really--a heavily accented voice greeted her. It took all of her good sense not to cringe. Not because he was speaking to her; but because the line was so lame. Did he really think that she'd fall for it? "Hey mamita, where you been all my life?" He asked, extending his arms as his friends sniggered and elbowed one another. Looking to the bartender, she offered a smile. "cerveza, por favor," she spoke politely, inclining her head and dropping a twenty in his tip jar. The wide grin on his face revealed she'd made a new friend. A gentle tap on his hip told her what she needed to know. He was carrying. Setting a Corona in front of her, the bartender nodded and went to the other patrons. "Pretty little thing like you, you need a real man." The man went on motioning to himself. His hands came to rest on her barstool turning her around. She was of a mind to smash the bottle over his head, but instead, she tilted it and sipped the beer slowly before setting the bottle down on the bar. "Tight lil ass like that, I could tear that sh*t up. You wouldn't sit right, but you'd adjust, right, baby?" She couldn't get a read on him. Was he just a regular guy? Gangbanger? MC member? He was dressed like a cholo. She had nothing against Mexican people; but she loathed men who didn't take 'no' for an answer. Furthermore, she loathed being called baby. Why the hell Noah couldn't have told her where he was, she didn't know. But if he didn't get here soon...she couldn't promise he wouldn't find a dead body. Cracking her neck, she played along for a little longer, mainly ignoring the guy. Her lip curled up, however as the tattooed son-of-a-bitch grabbed her breast and squeezed. Her hand gripped his wrist and her eyes met his dark ones. "I'm sure you learned that's no way to treat a lady," she sneered as she slid off the barstool. The bartender's hand moved to his hip but she shook her head. "Gents, you're going to learn a lesson today. A real man would know when a woman isn't interested," she countered calmly as the bar went suddenly quiet. "He'd know that no means NO. Or that my silence was not permission. That was me ignoring you." His dark pools met her own and he smirked stepping closer, thinking he'd get what he wanted, ignoring her words. Giving him a smirk in return, she grabbed his crotch and looked up into his eyes. She gave a gentle squeeze, listening to him moan. "That's it, ba--" He began and she squeezed tighter, the previous moan turning into her begging to let him go. "You don't feel like a real man. Little small for my taste," she mused, giving another squeeze and laughing as he screeched. "Who's a real man now?" she spat out at him before taking a seat again. "Anyone else?" she asked. "I just want to drink my beer and meet my friend. If any of you vatos have an issue, step up now. Or end up with your now, most likely, impotent friend. ¿y cuando una mujer te ignora? toma una maldita pista, ¿sí?" She snarled before sitting down again and ordering another beer.   She was about halfway through when a sense of familiarity filled her. A grin crossed her lips as a tall figure stood behind her, casting a shadow over her. Turning around, she gave him a playful smile before standing up and giving the figure a hug. "Goddamn. It's my favorite Outlaw." He looked just as she remembered, though, his eyes seemed a little sadder. A line or two more but still the Noah she had known. She lingered a moment before pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Of all the dive bars in the world, you had to send me to the one where someone grabbed my tit and wouldn't take no for an answer in five minutes." She teased, motioning to the guy in the corner, still whining about the puta who'd maimed him. "So, catch me up with you, Noah West. It's been far too long."

[cooperjones2020]

Nobodies Nobody Knows, chp. 5

Summary: She is the lamp in Hero’s tower, the scissors in Delilah’s hand, the blood in Guinevere’s bed. She is a million and one metaphors and all of them are his undoing. (Some of the scenes from Second City but from Jughead’s perspective. More a character exercise than a story.)

A/N: Spoilers from The Third Man. But not really. Cause it came out in 1949. If you haven’t seen it, Jughead the Cinephile is disappointed in you.

ao3–>http://archiveofourown.org/works/11434950/chapters/25935393

Nobodies Nobody Knows one / two / three / four (ao3)

Second City one / two / three / four / five / six / seven (ao3)

Jughead stops paying attention to Archie’s words as soon as Betty sits down next to him. He’s too busy measuring the space between their bodies in increasingly implausible distances, in handbreadths, in millimeters, in eyelashes. How deep a breath would he have to take to bring their shoulders together? How long does a person usually sit still before readjusting?

As his hands are otherwise occupied—holding an iPad and digging into the couch cushion behind Betty’s shoulder, respectively—he tenses his legs instead.

He has the absurd urge to try the sneeze and grab, just to close that small but insurmountable distance between his hand and her shoulder. But he knows better. He knows she would startle like a deer from a hiker.

All in all, it’s a a relief when Veronica kicks him out and he can join Mike on the front porch, can focus on the feel of the beads of condensation trapped between his hand and the beer bottle Mike gives to him.

After dinner, they’re banished to the back porch, a nice change of scenery, while Mike and Mary clean up. He tries not to read anything into it. Normally it’s his job to load the dishwasher, to eat whatever bits of food remain on plates before he does so. Yes, he is aware that this is normally the role of the family dog. But Betty doesn’t know their rituals, and he doesn’t want to leave her alone, or make her uncomfortable by presuming an intimacy with Mike and Mary which she may not share.

So, she leans her elbows on the railing and he tucks his hip into the place where it meets a column. She’s drawing out the end of her glass of wine from dinner. He tries not to stare at the delicate bones of her hand when she grips the stem and swirls the bowl of the glass, or at the long line of her throat when she has to tip her head back to swallow the dregs.

They’re quiet. It’s almost peaceful, the way the beams of light cut across the rooftops as the sun slinks away. With each breath, he relishes the hit of nicotine from the cigarette between his lips. He had contemplated quitting. He’s trying to remember why when her voice cuts across his thoughts.

“How’d you get out, Jug?”

“What?”

“The Serpents. You were in a gang. Teenage gang members don’t usually wind up with full rides to tier one colleges.”

Oh.

Fuck.

“You’ve been talking to Mary.” This was probably inevitable. He shoves his beanie in his back pocket so he can ruffle the top of his hair. “FP found out after a while and lost his shit. He managed to get a hold of my foster parents from prison and all of a sudden, junior year, I was being escorted to and from school. It let up after his trial, but he also reamed out the Serpents. So that was sort of it for my career as a gang banger.” Please please God let her be satisfied, let her leave it at that.

“Oh, that’s why you disappeared for a while.”

“Disappeared?”

“I mean I stopped seeing you around town. And then when I did again…”

“You were with Archie.” It’s been so many years and, still, the image that materializes is a punch in the gut.

“Yeah, and you were with that other blonde girl.”

“Sabrina.”

“Yeah. I would get this quick little pang when I would see you around town, at Pop’s or with Sabrina, I always thought it was regret that I’d let our friendship die along with our relationship.” Pang is a mild word for what Jughead feels, both then and now. “I mean, we drifted apart and eventually we both moved on. We should have been able to still be friends.”

“It wasn’t like that with Sabrina, you know. She had a boyfriend. Harley? Harvey? I don’t know. Last I heard they’d just gotten back together.” It seems stupidly important that he correct her on this point.

“No I didn’t know.”

They stand in silence for a while while he builds up the courage to give her words back to her.

“I regretted it too. That we lost our friendship as well. That I lost both of your friendships.”

“Yeah well, you’re the one who walked away.”

“What? Betty, I didn’t” He forces himself to take a deep breath through his nostrils and the sound is harsh.  “Okay. Yeah. I did.”

“And you didn’t come back.”

“There was still shit going on, Betts. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.”

“Why not? If not the Serpents, what else?”

“Even if I wasn’t a member anymore the Serpents were still a factor. They were still my friends. My dad was still in jail. We were still in the middle of a fucking civil war. We’d already been threatened, and not just with the pig’s blood.”

“Please. No one threatened me beyond Chuck and his usual douchebaggery.”

“Not true.”

“Oh yeah, who was the big threat? And why don’t I know about it?”

Every muscle in his body locks into place. He flicks away his half-finished cigarette in frustration. At her. At this. At himself. “Ah—no. You’re right, you weren’t. I’m misremembering. I must have just been thinking about something else Chuck did.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” It’s not a lie. But it’s not the truth either.

“Fine, whatever. Don’t tell me. I suppose I’ve gone this long not knowing.”

“Betty.” He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say. The two syllables of her name have always sounded like a prayer, now they sound like penance. When he suggested to Mary that she invite Betty to their dinner, he’d tried to make it sound like a whim. A natural extension of his and Betty’s recent proximity, of Mary’s kindness, of all of their history. But it wasn’t a whim.

He says her name and realizes he’s going to have to tell her. If he has any hope of this continuing, of maintaining her sudden reappearance in his life. Until this moment, he wouldn’t have admitted that’s a thing he wanted, even to himself.

But if he wants it, he’s going to have to break her heart, and his own, again. And he doesn’t know if he’ll be strong enough to do it a second time.

“I’m going to go help with dessert.”

He follows her in a few minutes later, resumes his seat across from her. The millimeters now feel like miles.

Jughead jumps at Mike’s offer to work on the desk, desperate for an activity that will shut off his brain for a while. He cannot bear to be so near her.

The system moves slowly, like maple syrup in winter.

FP couldn’t make bail, so they transferred him to the county correctional facility in Greendale to await trial. It took more than a year.

Jughead visited when he could. At first, Betty drove him when she could manage to get one of her parent’s cars. Then, once he had a bike, she still insisted on coming with, even though he tried to stop her from coming inside.

After, he went alone, or with Penny Peabody, the lawyer he neither liked nor trusted, or with Viper, who became the Serpents’ acting leader in the wake of FP’s arrest, Mustang’s death, and Joaquin’s continued absence.

When winter, and FP’s trial date, approached, when FP had stopped asking him about Betty, he showed up, for the first time, in his Serpents jacket.

FP screamed and Jughead swears, to this day, he had never heard him so animated, so adamant in his entire life. “That is not what I meant, Viper and you know it. God damnit!” The last, punctuated by a foot to the rickety metal table at which they sat, brought the guards running. “I said protect him not initiate him.”

In retrospect, he understands why FP was so upset. He understands that gangs are serious business. That they’re no place for sixteen year olds. That FP wouldn’t have been embroiled in the whole Jason Blossom mess without the Serpents.

But at the time it felt like just another family his father’s decisions took away from him.

FP intervened before he could get the tattoo. Which he supposes he’s grateful for. He didn’t really fancy the idea of his own personal Dark Mark. But he also didn’t appreciate the face FP made when he saw the tattoo Jughead did get a few years later of his own free will.

He didn’t see her much afterward. And when he did, it wasn’t for lack of trying. He avoided Pop’s, SoDale, Pickens’ Park, any of the places they once frequented together. But one morning in September, when FP was seven months into his sentence, he was waiting in the cab of Viper’s truck to be dropped off at his new job at the depressingly indoor, depressingly suburban Cineplex, when it happened.

He saw Archie and Betty. Her hair was down and wavy. Her eyes looked dark, shadowed, from far away. He imagined it was because she had little smudges of makeup beneath her eyes.

Once, they’d fallen asleep in his bed at his foster parents’ house while waiting for dinner to be ready, worn out from a long week of not seeing each other and late night phone calls. When they’d woken to his foster father’s embarrassed knock on the door, Betty’s mascara had left a pattern of dark snowflakes across the translucent skin below her eyes.

He brushed them away with the pads of his thumbs. She grabbed his hand and made a wish before blowing away the eyelash that had traveled with the worn off makeup.

Archie held the bakery door open for her and she blushed, shrugging one of his sweatshirts higher up on her shoulders. Jughead crushed his empty coffee cup and spilled the few remaining drops on his jeans.

It wasn’t surprising, really, that they’d find their way to each other eventually. He’d been waiting for it to happen since they were all six years old, since he realized Betty and Archie and their families existed in a different world than his own. But it still hurt. It was still the moment Jughead realized he’d never get her back. That his actions had broken them, that he couldn’t put them back together.

As he toils away in the basement, Jughead ruminates on a line from his favorite film noir. He ruminates on the increasingly demoralized Rollo Martins, climbing the stairs to Anna’s room, hoping the truth about Harry Lime would somehow “pay the mortmain that memory levies on human beings.” It’s a line that’s stuck with him. Because it doesn’t work. Anna still loves, will always love, Harry, even though he’s a criminal and murderer.

That moment, on a cold September morning outside a bakery, when he sees Archie and Betty together for the first time. And that other moment, years later, when Archie tells him Betty’s engaged. Those moments shine the light on a truth he’s otherwise been sometimes successful at shadowing. You cannot pay a mortmain. You own your memories in perpetuity. They cannot be escaped.

[breazyvapors]

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