#teenagers dance while listening music at 4am

[mawrjexel]

I see people say that Damian likes classical music but that gremlin definitely likes R&B, pop and kpop, but he will never admit it, he likes music with strong instrumentals and loves songs with good bridges.

So we all know that Damian is never fully asleep and that he has a lot of nightmares and is always on his guard, sometimes when he can't sleep and is very paranoid he definitely starts listening to music and starts dancing all over his room and goes down. like at 4 am to eat (everyone goes to sleep at 3 am or leaves the manor because if they stay Alfred will force them to go to sleep) while he walks down the normal hallway while singing silently and he goes down the stairs dancing (he's a teenager, let him be)

definitely kiss of life, beyonce, ariana grande, the weekend and chase atlantic are in his 4 am playlist.

On patrol he listens to nmixx, aespa, stray kids and bts (one of his favorite songs is no more dream, fight me)

Cass introduced him in the world of kpop, she definitely knows all of gfriend's choreographies (which are terribly complicated), and she taught them to damian while they were spending charity time together because they are the only members of the "raised by league" club of assassins and later taken in by bruce wayne"

Damian also sings very good but the only ones who know that are Duke (he heard him singing and told him he sang well), Cass because he once snuck into the mansion (there was supposed to be no one there) and heard him, and Alfred because he's alfred

[acuriouslilthing]

Edit of I like me better + Miraculous please.

Hello! This is a document to put all my fangirling into. Don’t mind me. I enjoyed the movie. I didn’t put on my analyzing glasses on much but my inner teenage girl was definitely there. Also the fact that it’s 4am might have something to do with it. I will be addressing how the Miraculous movie sorta fits well with the song “I like me better”

------------------------------------Non Spoiler------------------------------------ The beat matches so well. It’s so vibey. And in my mind, it pictures well with idealizing New York to be a place where you can just live your dreams. Of course I know that isn’t reality but besides the point. It makes it feel magical. “Second” most romantic city in the world if you will. It just gives me vibes when I went to America and I was so happy. Plus I’m biased to this song and show because I did indeed watch an important episode in New York and I did listen to this song a bunch while watching the roads.

The lyrics match so well with it. You’ll see it more when you watch it. Plus the lyrics analysis are down below. But, it’s so sweet.

The movie did idealize what New York was and it was so fun. Not too realistic, but fun. There was hardcore Adrienette for like 20 minutes or thirty minutes straight. And seeing it in highkey quality animation? Hell yeah. Now picture this, seeing those moments + animation + Lauv music? U h u h. Am I flying to Heaven?

--------------------Spoilers/Lyric Analysis-----------------

To be young and in love in New York City (in New York City) ***They are literally in New York. Alya calls it “Second” most romantic city in the world. O m g. It matches well and it’s just the first line. Plus they’re just teenagers just fooling around ya know?

To not know who I am but still know that I'm good long as you're here with me ***Adrien does have an identity crisis. He has a breakdown about who he is but he knows as long as he has his lady’s trust, he’s okay. As well as Adrien keeps emphasizing “I wouldn’t mind being stuck here with a friend like you”  Woah buddy. “Just a friend” goodbye.

To be drunk and in love in New York City (in New York City) ***Lmao they don’t get drunk. But they do a lot of clumsy things together that they might as well be.

Midnight into morning coffee ***I picture the plane scene here. Marinette had a hard time sleeping on the plane and she couldn’t get through it. So she watched the sunset. With Adrien.

Burning through the hours talking ***Continuing here where Adrien and Marinette talk on the plan about stuff.

Damn, I like me better when I'm with you I like me better when I'm with you ***Cue small edit matching the beat of them doing something cute and having fun.

I knew from the first time, I'd stay for a long time 'cause *** I imagine one of the scenes where they’re staring at each other. Some examples *** Adrien looking at Marinette in the plane *** Marinette telling Adrien that she’ll do everything she can for him to go. *** Marinette looking at Adrien *** (My personal choice for this part) Adrien looking at Marinette in the bus

I like me better when I like me better when I'm with you *** *Cute edits*

I don't know what it is but I got that feeling (got that feeling) Something with a frame of either Adrien or Marinette. Cause as seen in the movie, she’s trying to avoid her feelings for him. Or Adrien who doesn’t admit to anything but I swear he says Marinette in the most emphasized voice. He says it like he says “Ladybug!” Just him figuring out his stuff. Could flash to him thinking.

Waking up in this bed next to you swear the room *** Either the plane scene or the scene where he stares at her in the bus or insert scene from that episode which included them being seatmates.

Yeah, it got no ceiling *** Just them at the part dancing happily I suppose. Not the one in the sky. Just the one when the music starts and they’re like yey.

If we lay, let the day just pass us by *** It should be something with just them living in the moment. Because they don’t care about past or present, they’re just them being them and having fun.

I might get to too much talking *** Definitely a scene where they’re being clumsy, probably the plane or just Marinette being Marinette.

I might have to tell you something *** A part where they’re about to say something to each other. A dramatic scene maybe when they were in the rain or something else.

Damn, I like me better when I'm with you I like me better when I'm with you I knew from the first time, I'd stay for a long time 'cause I like me better when I like me better when I'm with you *** Cute edit things

Stay awhile, stay awhile Stay here with me Stay awhile, stay awhile, oh Stay awhile, stay awhile Stay here with me Lay here with me, ayy-ayy, ayy-ayy, *** Option 1: The dramatic parts where Marinette is running for Adrien to come back and stay. *** Option 2: The dancing part where they’re just staying in the moment *** Option 3: The sunrise part can also be.

I like me better when I'm with you (yes, I do, yes, I do, babe) I like me better when I'm with you (ooh, no) I knew from the first time, I'd stay for a long time 'cause I like me better when I like me better when I'm with you Better when, I like me better when I'm with you *** Cute edits

============================================== Conclusion/Proper Analysis: I’m in desperate need of an edit with this song and that movie. If I’m desperate enough, I’ll scrap it together with my own crappy editing skills. I’ll let y’all know if it happens. Also, this was supposed to be an analysis on why, it just turned out to become how I want the edit to be woops. But to get it straight. “I like me better” is a song about being lost but being with that special person you want to be lost with. It’s reemphasized over and over again in that movie by Adrien himself that he’s okay with being with Marinette longer. And by that framing, he wants to. He doesn’t want to stress over Paris, he wants to have a good time. And the main person that seems to be is Marinette. It’s just so cute. But yes, my fangirling + shipping glass are on and I’m sure there’s a lot in the movie that I’m very huh with but I’m too tired, I can’t. If you wanna see that analysis if ever just hmu ;D

[dulcetminds]

some (concept) playlists

find my spotify here ✨ & my fandom character/ship playlists

this page is updated monthly!!!!

💫 monthly, yearly & get to know me playlists:

 monthly mixtape: updated daily and refreshed every month with no correlation to anything what so ever.

twentytwenty: a song for each day of the year

the soundtrack to my life

my favourites

pass the aux cord, fool: car vibes

🍾🌉 playlists based off cliché concepts:

coming of age indie romcom soundtrack: cigeratte burns on film, a first kiss that tastes like beer and chapstick, and laughter falling on train tracks

not another coming of age soundtrack: red party cups and the never-ending feeling of nostalgia

Mother Nature reclaims: a soft apocalypse mix

tragedy in the dark: set in the 90's, you're driving at night on the highway, passing under street signs and street lights that illuminate your lovers tired face as they trace circles on your thigh

rise up!: (a futuristic teenage rebellion playlist) you live in a world full of holograms and plastic food, the government is corrupt and somewhere out there is a bunch of rebels that are fighting back

an angels kiss in spring: it’s the roaring 40′s and you hit the town in bold red lipstick, curled hair, flared dresses & traditional swing

a wispy field of sunshine: there's something alluring about falling in love under the sun, sipping on raspberry lemonade & kissing someone who tastes like chapstick

the air is fresh out here: i am lost beneath the earth; dirt and moss fill my lungs and i cough up ivy and rose petals as the trees whisper my name so soft, it gets caught in the wing of a butterfly floating by

3am dancing with my lover: fairylights are hung low around the kitchen, my lover has tired eyes full of wonder and we trip over our own two feet, laughter pumping our hearts alive

the last dancers at midnight: my prom could have been better so we're gonna visualise it like a teen romance movie; tired feet, starry eyes & a tender kiss under the disco ball in your high-schools' hall

even my phone misses your call: 'hey, this is [redacted] please leave your message after the beep!' 

you’re so nice to come home to: finally moving into a small apartment with your lover; succulents adorn the windowsills and you both have a love for vintage polaroids and dream catchers — a dreamers dream

I've been in love with you forever: best friends that live next door to each other & know one another like the back of their hand, connected windows, rooftop talks, sleepovers, & everything that comes along with we're best friends & i don't want that to change but i am definitely in love with you

found you in this life: my mother once told me that some of the people we meet in this life, we knew in a past life and it’s up to us to decide where it goes from here

raspberry stains: spring flings includes squashing raspberries between finger & thumb, and dancing under the sun

rollerskating disco rink fever: we're twelve years young & there's a disco ball highlighting our hair as we dance the night away & i'm pretty sure we've happened to scuff the linoleum floor

endless summer afternoon: hopping from shadow to shadow, blisters on our feet; summer, summer, summer!

summer ate me alive: and I want nothing more than to sleep through the next three seasons

ragtag band of misfits from the year ‘87: group of four trying to solve the murder mystery of their late best friend / everyone’s hiding something / he might be in love with the boy he’s known since childhood

[our hands are brushing against each other as we walk]: i want to slow dance with you in the middle of the street

hey, new kid!: its highschool and life is full of rumours and giggling girls & boys with sharp teeth and then english class rolls around ━━ and did the principal just introduce a new student?

🧚🏻‍♀️ specific concept playlists (mostly based on moments and emotions that I've experienced & can’t get over):

head’s a buzz!: stoned out of my mind, I'm pretty sure I met the girl of my dreams last night

 I should be sleeping: but i am walking aimlessly under street lights trying to forget your face, your taste, your voice; with vodka stained cheeks and chipped nail polish

pity party for two: the sudden realisation that the future is scary and we're two lost souls stuck in love with people who helped us grow

we’re under the same stars: It’s talking under the stars till the sun breaks through the trees with him, who makes your stomach ache full of laughter and although the wind is cold against your skin and the sleeping bag is thin, he burns just as brightly as the stars in the night sky, and you want to exist between 3 and 4am forever.

I fell in love for one night: he kissed my shoulder & held me tight

moments left unsaid: I love every part of you when it’s loud, when it’s silent, when you don’t know it at all (basically falling in love with your friends in the moment over the smallest of things like the way they dip their head back to laugh or hide their smile behind their hand or when they slow down waiting for you to catch up or pull you aside to ask if you’re doing okay, etc)

angel in disguise: can angels fall in love?

skate park shenanigans: I spent a the hours 8-11pm at a skatepark with my friends and we don’t even skate but this is the specific energy those hours gave off

you’re dreaming beside me: & I’m dreaming of you

how to be soft, sad & content at 4pm

I wish we could live forever: knowing someone you love is gonna die is the one of the hardest things you’re ever gonna witness

remember when we were in love?: 2015: yellow. open roads. a boy. a girl. my house. high school musical. clouds. stars. a pillow. sunflowers. beauty and the beast. skype calls. a bear. / 2017: a girl. blue, blue, blue. / 2019: a girl. a boy. picnics. skateboards. burgers. your house. an empty promise.

the pretty reckless: my friends fall in love too easily

the ceiling is staring back at me: it’s 1am and I'm thinking about everything and anything

me against the world, vol. 1

me & my apathetic brain: basically Russian roulette with I’ll die anyway by girl in red & just a girl by no doubt

🏳️‍🌈🌈 lgbt+ playlists:

this is for the gays!: for pride month 2019, gay bops to rock your socks to

all I see is her: girls r great!

we should fall in love or something: just kidding... haha... unless?

I don’t wanna b ur friend, I wanna kiss ur neck: yeah, it’s based off I wanna be your girlfriend by girl in red & also my ex but we’re gonna take the former

please look at me the same!: my bisexual teen angst

🦋🏹 ‘old groovy, 70′s, 80′s, 90′s etc music’ playlists:

butterfly dust: old time music that goes together

groovy, groovy: 70′s, 80′s, 90′s

lovestrucklovestruck: nothing goes wrong when you live in your head

she’s gold dipped & cherry wine kisses

funky glow

🥁🍒 genre specific playlists:

metamorphic: rock n roll

devils advocate: it’s like white noise before you enter hell (mostly ghostemane)

you’re not indie till: you skate, own a pair of hot converses, have good fashion taste, drink ice coffee and and and

monsters live amongst us: hiding in plain sight, the people we call our friends / a horror pop playlist

hazy affection: anxiety reducing songs and study beats

softly, sweetly: relax your eyes & dream of simpler times

bubblegum pop: the radio is overrated but here we are

glazed eyes, cherry skies

darkness looms overhead

magic under fingernails / under veins

state of mind: kinda like rap but not, definitely an easy listen to while stoned

moon rockets: fly me to outer space where we’ll become another star in the night sky.

dream & folk pop

my dreams reach the stars: my mind is far away from here / starry-eyed and captivated

local neighbourhood party: songs I'd bang my head to at a party

heavenly hymns

fluorescent heartbeats

take me away, into the night

if you see me listening to this, look away: literally Disney musicals mainly Disney’s descendants & zombies

autumnal breeze: a mix of bedroom pop & 80′s tunes

blueberry feelings: is this soundlcoud or tiktok?

untamed glory: the songs dont vibe together as well as they should but i guess thats ironic given the name of this mixtape

all strung up: my favourite female pop songs & then there's sunflower, vol. 6 by harry styles

candyfloss kisses: baby pop

and that’s on tiktok luv: literally what it says

candle lit afternoons: candles + rain = a gentle quiet in it’s purest form

tenderness: soft, quiet, yielding; murmurs at dusk & the playing of hair

my bed is the warmest place: for rainy days & the chill in your nose

🚀🍁�� playlists to listen to when your doing this specific thing:

classic picnic bitch: (cute songs that give me picnic vibes) and we bond over a pack of UNO cards and strawberry-filled desserts

beach bums, baby!: a beach-y playlist

hotboxing ur friends car: get high w/ me!

🥺💫🌞🌻🤩🐝 playlists to grow & fall in love with yourself to:

falling in love w/ myself !!!!!: I'm still learning how I work

then I defy you, stars!

seventeen: I made this when I was seventeen and getting over my first heartbreak and realising that I should never wait for people who can only give half back

no negative vibes here!

💌💖 my romance / love centred playlists:

dancing in my room to the sound of you, you, you (middle school crush vibes)

love cluster: and i guess there are lot of love songs out there but there are also a lot of songs that aren't about love that got me feeling like i'm in love so which is it

lovelorn: (a unrequited love playlist) and we yearn for the hearts we cannot hold; lovelorn, lovelorn, lovelorn

our love has gone cold: I love & I loved

whimsical lovers falling out of love

baby boy blues: fell in love for a day with a boy whose smile is contagious and ever-lasting

you gave me panic attacks & I called it love: unsure if you’re in an unhealthy relationship? leave them.

regret in the simplest of forms: I could have loved you / I think a small part of me did

my favourite ‘what if’: soulmates who weren’t meant to be

seeking love among cruel hearts: perhaps we were friends first and lovers second. but then perhaps this is what lovers are.

it’s a long way down from your window: everyone’s favourite secret relationship trope

heartbreak hotel

i’m yearning for his heart while he gives me his body: I love you, don’t you love me too?

make out w/ me?: songs I'd kill to make out with someone too

miss you forever: sad pop love letter

I liked you better in my dreams: the idea of them has taken root in your mind and it’s much different to how they really are

little bit in love with u: alterous attraction? we KNOW her

drowsy cacophony of love

tracing you back to the roots of my house: I'm sifting through the memories of us, where did we go wrong?

love; a choice or a feeling?: and it is both I suppose, it is a feeling, it’s happiness and soft giggles, faint blush. and then it is a choice, a choice to stay with them or leave. it is a choice to not only love them, but yourself too.

tenderly, tragically: this used to be a collab playlist with someone who loved me fully and unconditionally, things have changed since, but this is whats left; it's our story compiled into a playlist

second chance at love: you make me hard, but she makes me weak

lonely in love: (it was supposed to be just casual sex but fuck, I think I'm in love with you)

silent lovers: skinny love (n.) a type of love where two people are in love with each other but are too shy to admit it

my first love: they say your first love never dies, and love, they’re right

my lover is a liar: victim to broken promises and false truths by a boy who died when he gave me his heart

love locket type of love: I loved you in secret !!

the charms of love: don’t fall in love with the moment & think your in love with the girl! (yes, she’s american by the 1975 lyrics)

almost lovers

💸💄💅🏻⛓ playlists that give off bad bitch energy:

rich girl$: my cash flow will never ever end

kiss the boys n make em die!: femme fatale, girl revolution, girl power

GIRLS. FOOD. GEAR: loosely inspired by people by the 1975

girl, interrupted

you’re like a rhinestone pick-up line: picture this — a girl with a hard attitude that you can’t just seem to get off your mind

back on my bullshit: just got my heartbroken; revamped!

👻👽 my halloween inspired playlists:

hallohalloween: basic halloween playlist

 the fae know my name: humans beware the manic pixies & lip curling fae for although they don't lie they are cunning creatures with kind eyes!

frothy vampire chick meets soft green witch: red fanged lover & a green house full of potions, spells & succulents

sirens lament: sharp teeth hidden under a pretty face

murder at the casino: (in breaking news: monster hunters just cant seem to catch a break!)

the howling

witchy renaissance

fuckin vampires, man!

🥀 if I were series (playlists that only feature one artist based off something specific):

if I were to dance in a faerie ring to hozier songs: maybe I want to fall in love with a faerie and be under Hozier’s rule

if I were to live my teenage years to Lorde songs

if I were to get high by the beach to skeggs songs: BIG greening out energy

 if I were to fall in love to tom rosenthal songs: tom rosenthal songs that make me feel like I'm in love!!

if I were to reminisce about heartbreak to LANY songs:

Hogwarts Houses:

🌻 Hufflepuff

🥊 Gryffindor

🐍 Slytherin

📘 Ravenclaw

[solecize]

.  .  .  𝑩𝑨𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑼𝑺  (EPILOGUE) |

— — sometimes it’s the right person and the wrong time and place. you always thought that fate had more in store for you and jung jaehyun, but the college basketball player who once broke your heart and pieced it back together went missing for years on end after the crash of your relationship. now, you’ve put everything in the hands of fate.

note: not proofread of course this is probably shit bc its 4am also literally who the fuck asked for this to be so long lmao well, here it is. i originally wasn’t going to post this because i was satisfied with part twenty but clearly i wasn’t bc i added all of this lol and also everyone keeps asking for it 

MAY 27TH, 2022. 7:07 PM KST.

there was nothing you hated more than love songs.

they were lame, cheesy, and reminded you of your failed love life. however, since sooyoung never came to visit seoul, she insisted that she had full control of your apartment’s speakers for her short stay here. in fact, sooyoung made herself quite at home. johnny insisted that he would sleep on the couch and that she should take his bedroom, while she proceeded to redecorate yours. that included your closet.

“good lord, is this from high school? why don’t you own anything other than a variant of the same three colours? is this MINE?” sooyoung flung clothes left and right as she rummaged through your wardrobe. in the background, old ed sheeran slow dance-type songs was on full blast, leaving you in a puddle of irritation on your bed.

you snapped your head up to see sooyoung holding a red mini skirt that you vaguely remembered shoving beneath your workout clothes because you weren’t sure where to put it. “i dunno, probably.” you gave a half shrug.

she rolled her eyes and flung it into the pile that she’d been working on. “you have absolutely no formal clothing here. are you just going to show up to doyoung’s wedding in this stripper dress?” your friend of many, many years grumbled. “listen, i know it’s been a while since you’ve gotten laid, but. . .”

“ew, stop it.”

“am i wrong?” sooyoung cocked an eyebrow. “ever since you broke up with jaehyun, as far as i know and as far as lucas and i have gossiped, you have barely kept a relationship since.” 

the mention of your ex boyfriend left you having no choice but to hurl one of your throw pillows at sooyoung, aiming for her head, but she effectively ducked down in time. although it’d been quite some time since the split, you still weren’t comfortable talking about jaehyun. you’d casually dated here and there, but nothing really lasted longer than a month. you blamed it on school and dance and work, which were all genuinely busy for you, but it didn’t seem right.

you said, “god. don’t say it like that, it’s pathetic!” plain embarrassing, really. “it’s been, like, three years.”

that didn’t mean that the thoughts of jaehyun didn’t plague your mind from time to time. he’d sometimes creep up with your thoughts at night, keeping you tossing and turning for hours. you always figured that it was what life intended to happen, despite the fact that you were the one who voluntarily ended it.

after becoming an official couple during your freshman year, the two of you had a wonderful time together. however, it didn’t take long for reality to sink in when jaehyun’s graduation date was fast approaching. generally, it wasn’t supposed to be a problem, but then he revealed something to you that he himself admitted that he should’ve told you about far sooner. law school. you always figured that jaehyun would want to continue studying in seoul, where his family was and where his feet seemed to be permanently set. that was the beginning of the end and down came crashing the supposed plans that the two of you were supposed to have.

before meeting you, jaehyun planned to move back to america and attend law school there. he revealed that he never told you about it because he decided that he would stay in korea for you. obviously, you weren’t going to have any of that. it was his dream—and a hell of a hard dream to get into, you did your research—and there was no way in hell that you were going to let him give it up for you. 

“i’ll always need you” was what he told you before he left. it was never supposed to be the end and you thought that three years was nothing. looking back, it was definitely naive to assume that the sudden change of jaehyun’s position from across the city district to across the world wasn’t going to affect you.

you remembered the first signs of the relationship’s downfall. they were subtle and you couldn’t have possibly noticed them back them, however in retrospect, you truly should have. postponed upon postponed skype sessions, forgetting important dates, and of course, the arguments.  immaturity made the fights worse, a trait evident in him considering the nature of the bet, but you decided that he was bettering himself. you and jaehyun were fairly young and possessed equally destructive tempers. 

at the end of everything, after the summer of your life and the pitfalls that came with the autumn semester, you and jaehyun called it quits on valentine’s day. it was his birthday and a holiday of love, but the feeling was mutual. there was still love between the two of you, but it was decided that life had a different plan. sometimes, it was the right person, but the wrong time and place. from that point on, you lived life the way it was meant to be. 

the sound of the front door opening brought you back to reality. you hadn’t noticed, too busy reminiscing about your past, but sooyoung was delivering a tirade about your love life. there were bits and pieces that you caught onto, including how you “never put yourself first anymore” and how “ballet wasn’t going to put a ring on your finger,” but you chose to mute her out. thankfully, she stopped when she, too, heard the front door open. 

“johnny?” she called out, as she turned her music down from her phone.

a muffle acknowledgement could be heard and not even seconds later, johnny appeared at your bedroom doorway. he wore a sleek maroon suit and a matching tie, an outfit that was probably worth more than quadruple your rent. these days, johnny looked exhausted at home, yet still managed to find ways to mask his humanity while he was at work.

despite the fact that you lived with him in an average two bedroom apartment, he was still john seo, heir to some big shot insurance company and son to one of korea’s most renowned chefs. it was easy to forget, as you always saw him as just another brainless jock in college. things changed after johnny was left high and dry when sicheng left to further his modelling career, doyoung went to teachers’ college, and jaehyun disappeared to the other side of the world. the latter was what truly brought the two of you together.

for quite some time, you continued to hold a grudge against johnny for the idiotic bet that he commenced. it took some effort, but after deciding to get to know jaehyun all over again, you realized that you might as well show johnny the same kindness. you did so, and discovered that johnny was still the same goofy person that you thought you knew. he’d definitely grown a greater appreciation for you after you helped him with his injury that fateful night. sure, he was a little bit immature at times, but you saw that the end of his college career was what forced him to grow up. it was like reality had finally sunk in when all of his friends left and he had no choice but to uphold the promise he made to his father as a teenager and work for the family company. usually, he would have turned to jaehyun for comfort and hurt from the absence of his best friend. at the same time, you also felt the same way after he left and inevitably, the two of you turned to each other and thus, blossomed a deeper friendship with the man, more than you’d ever expected.

“i still can’t believe you willingly choose to live in this apartment with y/n instead of a big house like you can probably afford,” sooyoung said out of nowhere, eyeing his appearance.

you retorted, “there’s no fun in that.” it was true, johnny could probably move out at any second he wanted to. since sooyoung moved to france, the arrangement came naturally. he moved into the apartment that once belonged to lucas and sooyoung, then you and sooyoung, after lucas moved closer to campus. eventually it was just you, who could not pay the rent as one person, alone. two years later, the system was still in tact and johnny told you that he was never in a rush to move out, as he always thought it would feel lonely to live alone. 

you’d effectively had enough of sooyoung’s attempt at being a personal stylist and got up yourself, making your way to scour your closet for an outfit.

“don’t tell me you’re looking for something to wear to the wedding. there’s literally two days left.” johnny grimaced, looking around the room, where the floor could barely be seen due to scattered articles of clothing. “dude, you’ve had so many months to find a dress.”

sooyoung poked his chest. “not everybody owns two hundred different suits, jonathan.”

it wasn’t as much of a travesty as sooyoung made it out to be, but your closet did look pretty bad. there wasn’t exactly a myriad of options that screamed wedding, except for one or two dresses that you pictured better in your mind when you thought of options that you already owned. this was going to be a pain in the ass.

“can this wait, though?” johnny glanced past your head, at the clock on the wall above your dresser. “i’m going to go pick up sicheng at the airport. i’m assuming you want to come?”

you gasped dramatically. “my wedding date is here, of course i’m coming!” a grin stretched across your face.”

all of your friends were tragically single, even the rich and famous ones like sicheng and johnny. doyoung made a remark about how none of you were probably going to find a date to the wedding. with everyone digging deep into their inner smartass, you all paired up as dates for the elementary school teacher’s wedding. it was you and sicheng and johnny and sooyoung, while lucas insisted that he was going to be objecting to the marriage during the ceremony so that he could have doyoung to himself. 

at the end of the day, you were just happy to have all of your friends in one place at once.

DECEMBER 24TH, 2019. 10:49 PM KST.

distracted by the glimmering lights of christmas, you failed to do anything about jaehyun’s standoffish behaviour. since the holiday season kicked into full swing weeks ago, you were preoccupied with juggling the christmas ballet show, buying presents for your friends, and of course, school. now, you found yourself in the middle of johnny’s family’s penthouse in gangnam, sipping on a candy cane cocktail.

“what do you mean, you’re thinking about dropping out?” your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape, as sooyoung announced the news to your group of friends. your reaction wasn’t the worse one, however, as lucas literally choked on the gingerbread man he was eating.

beside you, doyoung patted lucas’ back, trying to get him to recover. “for good?” he eyed the female.

she shrugged carelessly. “yeah. i don’t think this is for me.”

“but, you only have a year left,” said sicheng, who seemed to appear out of nowhere. you even jumped at his voice, as you thought you last saw him across the living room talking to some fancy businessmen with johnny and jaehyun.

you surveyed that side of the room, where you saw johnny still in place. ever since graduation, he was thrown right into the world of his father’s insurance company. it surprised you just how robotic he could become in front of important people, as impressive as it was, yet was able to continue be as goofy as ever with you and your friends. it was a little disappointing to see that his own christmas party was full of business, even though sicheng and jaehyun flew out back for this short amount of time. jaehyun. swiftly, you noticed that he was also missing.

tapping sicheng’s arm, you inquired, “do you know where jaehyun went?” 

it wasn’t hard to recognize his change in attitude since landing in korea. you figured it might have had something to do with the fight that the two of you had right before he left, one not about anything particularly specific, but a build up of several issues arising over the months. nonetheless, after a while, the two of you seemed to settle the conflict mutually without actually  saying anything out loud.

the two of you fought so often because of your circumstances, but forgave just as easily because you loved each other too much to let things affect you. in the long run, it wasn’t going to be healthy. the two opposing ends were simply not meant to be cancelled out.

“hm? oh, i think he went out on the balcony, the one in johnny’s room.”

sooyoung was still busy explaining her sudden desire to travel the world and while you were very concerned with your friend’s spontaneity (and also the fact that if she dropped out, you would be roommate-less, as lucas moved out), you got up from your position on the couch. weaving through the crowd was easy enough and you strolled down the narrow hallway that johnny showed you earlier, where the bedrooms were located. you picked his out easily and knocked first, to no answer. as a result, you decided to just open it up.

the entire room was dim and you could barely see anything at all, despite the little light streaming in through the blinds. beyond was johnny’s balcony, illuminated by the sights of seoul and the luminosity of the skyscrapers along the city’s skyline. you could barely make out a figure leaning against the railing. 

it was jaehyun’s red jordans that gave him away. he flew in from pennsylvania without bringing any dress shoes and it was either these basketball shoes that he gave you before leaving—of course he gave you those—or the ugly vans that he’d been wearing during the whole trip back. you knew his broad shoulders and the way he always balanced his weight on his right leg and bent his left.

you approached slowly, but he somehow managed to hear you and took a glimpse over his shoulder. he smiled softly when he saw you and slid the balcony door open.

“hey,” he said, voice quieter than usual. “i thought you’d be enjoying the party.” jaehyun wrapped one arm around your shoulders.

“you’ve barely been around, jae.” you frowned. although the two of you arrived together, he always seemed to be off to the side alone, even with the few times johnny roped him into conversation with other people. “are you tired or something? we can go home if you want.”

at that, he only shrugged. “it’s whatever.”

you studied his expression intently, possibly for answers as to why he was acting so off. it was all the jaehyun had been doing lately, shrugging everything off and acting sluggishly. it was like someone who didn’t want to be here. this was the first time you’d finally taken notice of it.

he saw the way you were looking at him and leaned in to press a kiss against your forehead, as if to reassure you, but it felt empty. there was something floating in the air that didn’t want to be said, something that didn’t want to be touched. however, the two of you continued on with smiles and left for the party once again.

MAY 28TH, 2022. 2:11 PM KST.

jaehyun hated thinking about you and the way things ended with your relationship. you’d always told him that everything happened for a reason and the end of the two of you had one as well. he just always thought that there could’ve and should’ve been something done to prevent it. of course, jaehyun placed a lot of the guilt on himself and it took a while for him to realize that some things just aren’t meant to be. 

the male rarely came home anymore. in the past three years, other than the first christmas, he only flew over for his mother’s birthday, as well as his sister’s, both of which were conveniently during the same week. he spent the holidays alone, albeit with some of his newfound friends in america. meanwhile, his old ones rarely heard from him. jaehyun chatted scarcely with his former teammates here and there, mostly talking to johnny the most because of the latter’s persistence. hell, it took doyoung weeks to get ahold of jaehyun so that he could extend the invitation to his wedding. it was a big deal when jaehyun hopped on a plane back to seoul and that was precisely why he did not tell anybody other than doyoung and johnny.

home reminded him of you. his family moved away from seoul to a quieter town years ago and while seoul was his home territory, it was always going to be a city that belonged to the two of you. even just getting off the plane and taking a look around the airport, jaehyun remembered the exact spot that he said goodbye to you. it had been three years, but after supressing the emotions and memories for years, it all came flooding back to him. he tried to shove those feeling away yet again when he caught sight of a familiar friend at the arrivals gate.

“JAEHYUN!” doyoung had never hugged jaehyun so hard in his entire life before, the newly arrived male could literally feel the breath getting squeezed out of him.

seeing doyoung again was like reuniting with a brother. “holy fuck, it’s been way too long.” he gasped for air when he was finally released.

“did you get buffer, what the hell?”

“uh, are you about to get hitched, what the hell?” 

the only other thing that jaehyun could’ve asked for was the presence of their other friends. from what doyoung told him, johnny picked sicheng up from the airport the day prior, sooyoung flew in at the beginning of the week, and y/n wrestled lucas out of his apartment to go last minute shopping today. doyoung probably noticed the way jaehyun shifted uncomfortably at the mention of his ex girlfriend’s name, but didn’t say anything.

“i’m sorry i couldn’t have come earlier,” jaehyun said, i really wanted to come to the bachelor’s party, but i had my graduation ceremony earlier this week.” both men grinned, hearing about the bachelor’s party. of course, all the crazy shit that went down was relayed to jaehyun, including how lucas gave doyoung a lap dance, jungwoo broke an entire television, how johnny and taeil pushed doyoung into a pool full of hired dancers—everything. 

doyoung shrugged it off. “don’t worry about it, but hey! congrats! you did it, you’re basically a real lawyer now.” he nudged his friend playfully. “you’re going to be living comfortably there in america with that law degree under your belt.”

a lack of response came from jaehyun’s end, as the two men made their way to the pick up section, where doyoung’s fiancee was waiting for them in the car. jaehyun figured that his late arrival would just add to the element of surprise. they talked about wedding preparations, work, and more. 

they stepped outside, through the automatic sliding doors and the seoul sun hit jaehyun’s face without hesitation. he took a deep breath—this was home and he was finally here. for the most part, at least, this was home. now, he needed to find the missing part of it.

MAY 29TH, 2022. 9:20 PM KST.

the universe felt like everything in balance for the first time in forever. the spring of your first year of college was one that was for the history books and relieving that with all of your old friends around you made you feel nothing less than content. the ending notes of an usher song faded into another one, as you and your friends took your second round of shots at the bar.

“i’m so ready to get fucked up tonight!” lucas whooped and it made you happy; you had not seen him, for a lack of better words, so wild and free in a long time.

the volume of his yell and the proximity to taeyong’s ear caused your brother to wince harshly at the assault. you giggled at that, patting his arm with sympathy. similar to lucas, taeyong rarely found time to myself and to have fun. you thought it was nice of doyoung to also invite him, considering they spent four years of their lives swearing on each others’ names, even though they never actually knew each other. he also seemed to serve as lucas’ last minute date when he realized that it was probably best that he shouldn’t object to the marriage during the ceremony. (he still muttered it under his breath, though)

there were no other words to describe the reception other than ravishing, breathtaking, or simply just beautiful. the surrounding area was full of lush gardens and trees that had absolutely no business being in the middle of bustling seoul. twinkly lights hung from pole to pole, as the sounds of laughter and music filled your ears.

with that, lucas was dragged away by sooyoung to the middle of the dancefloor and doyoung left to attend to his new wife. this left you with taeyong and sicheng. it was an hour or so into the reception and you were not nearly as drunk as you wanted to be after an exhausting day, so you ordered a cocktail for yourself. 

looking briefly back at the pair after ordering, you noticed them having an oddly intense conversation. taeyong was making some peculiar hand gestures and it seemed like sicheng was agreeing profusely. you couldn’t be too sure over the blaring music.

“what’s going on?”

for whatever reason, it was as if they forgot that you were present and jumped. you caught taeyong eyeing something behind you, but before you could look, sicheng cut in.

“listen, y/n. i think you need to take a deep breath,” he suggested and that only made your suspicion grow even more.

abruptly, taeyong swore. you furrowed your eyebrows at that and turned your head. even lucas and sooyoung stopped dancing. you couldn’t make it out at first, but when you did, it was as if you saw a ghost.

clad in an all black suit without a tie and unsurprisingly, red jordans, was jung jaehyun. his hair was a natural black for the first time in the amount of time that you knew him. he had one hand shoved into his pocket. he made your stomach do backflips and tumbles and light your chest on fire. oxygen left your throat and you blinked the dizziness away. 

“that isn’t. .  .”

you always wondered what it would be like if you ever encountered jaehyun again, whether it would be in five years down the line, maybe ten, maybe even more. would it be in korea? an accident? an event like this? you didn’t expect jaehyun to show up in all honesty, as doyoung remarked dismissively that he hadn’t heard from jaehyun since you had. you wanted to say that you forgot he existed, which you admittedly did at times. however, since the arrival of all of your old friends, the memories began coming back to you. 

now, it was jaehyun who came back to you.

you were too focused on him to notice the female linking arms with him. you noticed her before, she was one of doyoung’s wife’s bridesmaids. she was pretty, probably around your age, but you weren’t sure exactly who she was. 

before you could jump to conclusions, she broke free of jaehyun’s arm and started making a beeline in your direction. your heart nearly stopped at this point, what the hell was happening? meanwhile, jaehyun was too busy being tackled with hugs by lucas and doyoung, with sicheng following suit. the woman stopped in front of you and taeyong, though her entire focus was set on him.

“hi, jinah.” taeyong said simply at the woman and you attempted to search every nook and cranny of your memory for that name.

she smiled warmly and the two of them sparked a conversation amongst themselves.

confused, you decided to slowly back out, grab your drink, and maybe take a breather elsewhere. there were paths that you took notice of earlier, ones that led deeper into the gorgeous gardens, and you figured that now was a better time than any to tour the area, even if you were alone. there was just no way you could face jung jaehyun now.

then, the starting piano notes to a hauntingly familiar song began to play. your lips parted in shock and you wondered if you were hearing correctly, this song that you left in your past. closing your eyes, you took in the first few lyrics of the song and realized that this was reality.

the dancefloor around jaehyun began to part for couples to take the spotlight, as everyone began to pair up.  he nearly tripped over his own two feet, having not heard the song in years. 

“by the way, she’s by the bar. i know you’re looking for her,” johnny said casually, taking a sip of his beer. 

jaehyun didn’t want to admit out loud that he was ‘looking for you,’ but you were definitely something that had been on his mind. he sat in the back during the ceremony, laying low with johnny, but he remembered what had happened to him when he saw you for the first time in three years. it was like everything fell apart and he forgot how to function. despite being apart for so long, you still managed to have that effect on him.

however, he didn’t go to you. he let the song that played during all of your late night roadtrips play without asking you for a dance. it wasn’t right and it was no longer his place.

MAY 29TH, 2022. 10:42 PM KST.

everyone had been pushing you all night to go and just fucking talk to jaehyun. you felt like a high school student who didn’t have the guts to confess to their crush, it was idiotic. thankfully, you’d yet to physically run into each other, mostly due to the fact that you were rotating between hiding behind sicheng and taeyong. mostly sicheng, due to the fact that taeyong was busy catching up with his own ex lover. how could he have the guts, but you didn’t?

you escaped for the nth time that night, trailing into the parking lot. after hours on heels, you eventually gave up on them and removed the shoes, opting to walk around barefoot. to the outsider, you probably looked crazy, walking back and forth without shoes on and muttering things to yourself.

“hi, jaehyun. how are you—how have you been? been?”

the clock was ticking fast. you needed to find a way to build up the courage and stop hiding from him and at least attempt to have a civil conversation. you weren’t even sure what you were afraid of in the first place (yes, you did.) were you scared that he wouldn’t want to talk to you? forget who you were? 

no, you were afraid that you would get sucked into those big, brown eyes and those dimples again. you afraid that you were going to lose yourself in his velvety smooth voice and his wits. you were afraid that you would fall for him again.

“i’ve been fine, thank you.”

this time, you legitimately fell, not for jaehyun, but because of him. he was standing right behind you and not for a second did you suspect any footsteps coming your way. for that, you toppled over and your body folded into one in pure shock. luckily, he was there to catch you before you fully fell down and steadied your body.

jaehyun widened his eyes. “shit, are you okay?”

“mmph. just tipsy.” you couldn’t even feel embarrassed, too engrossed in the feeling of pain from scraping your knee. 

his arms still remained around you even after you were back on two feet. jaehyun’s eyes trailed over your body, noticing that there was a slight dirt stain on your dress after tripping. he realized what he was doing and that it probably looked like he was checking you out, so he let go immediately.

you raised an eyebrow. “why are you here?”

“this is my sister’s car that you’re pacing in front of—i was just going to grab my phone charger.” 

“i think i need a break from here.” despite the fact that you’d been practicing for an hour to talk to jaehyun, words fell out of your mouth without any second thought. it was all natural and you spoke to him like no time had passed since the last time you saw him all those years ago.

jaehyun paused, seemingly lost in his thoughts for a few moments. he looked back at the party, then back to you. you noted that he was debating about something in his head, without a doubt.

he suggested, “so, let’s go for a drive, then?” the statement caught you off guard, as you watched jaehyun unlocked the car doors. “like old times. it always made you feel better.”

there was no denying that. you weren’t sure what you expected for this reencounter with jaehyun. despite constantly imagining it, this wasn’t exactly the way you thought it was going to go. 

“have you been drinking?” you asked, not wanting to risk anything.

jaehyun smiled. “no. i drove jinah here and i’ll be taking her back.” 

you looked back the party yourself, wondering if it would cause any trouble if you left for an hour or so. probably not. you took a deep breath and decided to throw caution to the wind. there couldn’t have been anything wrong with going for a drive with jaehyun, you’d done so a million times during your whirlwind relationship. 

getting into the passenger seat, you glanced over and saw that jaehyun was beginning to charge his phone. he turned on the screen and appearing as if he was about to open up his spotify, you immediately snatched his phone away. for a second, you thought he might have been angered from the gesture, as it was one you did automatically like you used to, but he simply chuckled and failed to even protest. you turned on one of your own playlists.

“why didn’t you say that you were coming?”

“we haven’t spoken in a while, y/n,” responded jaehyun, as he looked down at his two feet. “and that’s mostly because of me. i wasn’t sure if you even wanted to hear anything from me.”

he began to reverse out of the parking spot, as meticulous as ever. the windows rolled down halfway on either sides and the street lamp light shone against his skin. it was a sight that you thought you’d never see again.

“i thought i never would,” you admitted, wondering why you were never the one to reach out first. “it’s stupid.”

“things get stupid,” jaehyun shrugged.

the two of you took your old route around the city. for an hour, the two of you caught up on what exactly had been going on in your lives for the past three years. you discovered that jaehyun lived alone, but had a cat named pepper. he has two good friends in america, both fellow law school students, but they’re going to be practicing in new york. he showed up to his graduation late, just like he did three years ago. he wasn’t the top of his class, but he was a decent suck up to his professors. he got a part time job at the local zoo. jaehyun hadn’t gotten into a serious relationship, only dated casually like you had. he started playing a bit of american football, but his true love was always going to be basketball. his dad was proud of who his son was, even after throwing away national victory.

the old ice cream spot that you used to go to late at night closed down sometime in the past three years. it was disappointing, but the two of you got greasy street food instead and it was just as good. you didn’t want to insult doyoung on his wedding day, but the food was pretty shitty and this was just what you needed.

“i just find it so weird that this is how everyone turned out after all this time,” jaehyun remarked, as the two of you returned to the venue. it had been quite some time since leaving, but the party was still in full swing.

you nodded. “you think everyone’s happy?”

“johnny? no, but he will be someday. lucas is definitely stressed as hell,” he chuckled a bit. “sicheng is. sooyoung is still finding herself. i think we’re all a little bit here, there, and in between and that’s okay. we have time.”

“are you happy in america?” you asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“i am, but i’ll be even happier in korea.”

“what?”

before he could answer, a swarm of individuals collided with the two of you. it was everyone, some greeting you, others questioning where the two of you have been, while others, namely lucas, nagged for you to join them at the bar or on the dancefloor. you’d just sobered up, so you opted to join johnny and sicheng on the dancefloor to the voices of old school girls generation and jaehyun was unwillingly whisked away to the bar by lucas.

MAY 30TH, 2022. 12:56 AM KST.

there were just a few more minutes until the music was to stop playing for the reception and all of the guests were to be sent home. you spent the last while mostly with sicheng and sooyoung, as you knew they were the first ones you’d have to say goodbye to when everything was over. however, there was one more person that you needed to see and that was jaehyun. thankfully, he made a magical reappearance just in time for the last dance.

the sappy love song was a special request made by a very single johnny, who drunk slow danced with lucas in the middle of the floor. you were sitting at your table, taking a break from your devil shoes and talking with sooyoung when jaehyun strode over. you bit your lip, having noticed him started to make his way from your peripheral vision and mentally tried to prepare yourself.

“sorry to interrupt,” jaehyun said, “but i’d really like a dance, y/n.”

“she’s all yours,” sooyoung answered before you could, a smirk pressed on her lips. 

you stifled a laugh a her and got onto your feet, slipping the heels on and grimacing at the feeling. jaehyun helped steady you for the second time that night and you thanked him quietly, as he led you onto the dance floor.

something in you wished that he asked you to dance with him earlier, but this song was just as warm and fuzzy. they were about, simply put, love and the purity of it. jaehyun slid his arms around your waist and you placed your hands on his shoulders like it was an instinct.

all of a sudden, he said, “i wish things ended up differently.”

“jaehyun. .  .”

“doesn’t it feel like nothing’s changed?” jaehyun asked, taking his finger and pulling your chin up, so that he could meet your eyes. “it’s been, what, three years? you can’t tell me that it doesn’t feel like it.”

you cocked an eyebrow at him. “what are you trying to say?”

the feeling of stares burning into the back of your head was overwhelming. you were certain that all of your friends were watching the two of you, but you didn’t even care.

“i know we said that it was life that made things go wrong with us, but we can’t just blame that. it was us, too, you know.”

jaehyun nodded, eyes closed. “things started to feel empty when we stopped putting in the effort. that didn’t mean that i didn’t love you.”

“did you, though? shouldn’t you have put in the effort to show it?” you countered. it wasn’t like you wanted to argue with him, but the emotions were starting to spill out when you hadn’t been able to talk about this with him or anyone for years. “and don’t get me wrong, i can say the same for myself.”

“we were immature and we were taking everything so fast. we told each other that we’d get married after four months of dating,” he pointed out and you couldn’t help but reminisce about it, the feeling of young and stupid love that you felt for each other.

you let out a long sigh, placing your head on his chest to hide your frustrated expression. it was happening, the one thing that you were afraid of. you couldn’t afford to get lost in jung jaehyun and his pretty dimples and smooth talk again. 

you said, “can we please not do this? it’s not going to end well.”

“why? because that’s the way life dealt our cards?” jaehyun retorted. “it’s not that deep, we were separated by distance, so what? that wasn’t the problem.”

“then, what was it?” you asked.

jaehyun ran a hand through his messy, dark hair. “alright. you know what my dad told me during nationals in my last year?”

“oh, the nationals that you willingly lost? yeah, i remember it vaguely, nothing too special.”

he playfully poked your side, causing you to squeal and also turn some heads around the two of you. “shut up. yes, that one. he told me that there are two ways to play the game of basketball. you could either play it as it is, as the game flows and how it’s expected to be played by logic and precedent. then, there’s the way where you take control and ignore all other circumstances in order to focus on your goal.”

“god, nobody other than you would compare our relationship to basketball,” you laughed and so did he.

“fine, i guess i should just skip to the part where i tell you i’m staying in korea to shut your sarcastic ass up.”

“wait, what?” you stopped in your swaying movements, completely frozen at the news. “you’re. . .what?”

jaehyun grinned and pushed some of your hair out of your eyes. “i'm going to be working here. i have an articling job lined up already and from there, i’m going to build my career here in seoul.”

“b-but, i thought you were going to stay in—”

“i thought a little bit of risk taking was needed in my life. it was nice and it would probably be easier to start off there, but i think it’s time i take control. i took too much time blaming our circumstances and not doing anything about it. if i stayed in america where i knew that i wouldn’t be as happy as i would be here, but stayed because it was easier, it would be just like the unhappiness i felt after we ended things,” jaehyun said.

you nodded. “i’m sorry. i was like that, too.”

jaehyun shook his head, a small smile still playing on his lips. “it’s all in the past.” he said, “and since i’m back here permanently, i figured a good way to start my new life here was to steal my ex girlfriend’s heart again.”

it turned out that you didn’t need to fall back in love with jaehyun because like the two of you said before, the love was always going to be there. love is sweeter the second time around, even when the fates don’t exactly line up perfectly for you. that’s when you capture your own destiny. jaehyun was with you and he was finally home.

jaehyun & y/n’s song: my thoughts on you by the band camino the last dance song: all my life by wild

tag list: @i-hate-these-people​ @glitterystanz​ @jkuwus​ @jenojae  @csillagosegnelkul​ @imtaehyungry​ @theloouiisee​ @ikonictaelien​ @knisterlicht​ @seungkwanismyaesthetic​ @jaemingold​ @xysabella​ @sua246​ @ireallyjustneedcoffee​ @p-platonica​ @just-a-dream-40​ @fuckthatfeeling​   @sehunights​ @xjinyoungiee

[graduationemmasep]

'I like the way MDMA gives you a deep sense of connection to your friends'

I'm no fiend. Most nights I'd rather share a bottle of wine with some friends than stay up till 6am getting sweaty and boggle-eyed on a bender. But while I associate alcohol with talking about past experiences, I associate drugs with making new ones. Party drugs can often make a stranger feel like a confidant; a simple trip to a town centre feel like an Enid Blyton escapade.

I probably take class-A party drugs such as MDMA or cocaine once a fortnight, and have done since I was 16 (I'm 27 now). I like the way cocaine gives you a new lease of life, like a mushroom in Super Mario, to carry on with a night out. I like the way MDMA softens the edges of reality and gives you a deep sense of connection to your friends that you can never get when you meet them for dinner and they moan about their jobs. I like how when you're coming down from a pill another person's touch has a comforting, almost electric capacity. If you're suffering from exhaustion, anxiety or stress, recreational drugs can give you a bit of a leg-up.

Drugs can also be a total pain. Ecstasy can make you feel like you're floating in a cloud, but just as often it's an admin nightmare: you come up at different times from your friends; only half the people in a group remembered to get sorted and there's endless hassle at a party trying to get more. Even when you're having a great time, there's a self-doubting internal monologue running through the whole process: Have I done enough? Am I coming up? Do I look like a prick?

I would just like to have that conversation about drugs being sometimes brilliant and occasionally annoying. Yet I feel like there is no one who is willing to talk about drugs in those terms.

When children ask their parents where babies come from, they get a white lie – a stork delivers them, you find them in a cabbage patch, you order them from Ocado. That's the closest thing I can think of to explain the difference between the perception and the reality of drug use by young people in the UK. There is a societal stork myth that is propagated by the media and popular culture to hide a basic reality. Even users themselves are entirely unwilling to talk about drug-taking honestly. Everything in the drugs world tries to stifle this conversation. Take nightclubs. It doesn't take a genius to work out that staying up till 6am listening to dance music at an ear-splitting volume would not only be unenjoyable without some kind of mind-altering stimulant, but a painful test of endurance. Most people in big nightclubs are on drugs. The clubs know that: that's why they charge so much for entry and, often, for bottles of water. They know that not many people will be buying drinks. Most of them have in-house dealers too, so they can sort out their DJs. Bigger DJs put requests for drugs on their rider. "We just put it on expenses as 'fruit and flowers'," a promoter at a major nightclub told me this year. But there's still a stork charade, with the venue covered in posters promising to eject drug users and bouncers searching punters – but not too thoroughly. The pretence is that this could all be above board.

I suppose the reason for this false picture of drug-taking is that most people don't take drugs. The statistics show that only a small fraction of the UK population are regular drugs users, and a smaller fraction still do anything harder than weed. But drug use is not spread evenly across the country, nor across age groups. In my demographic – under 30, living in London, job in the creative industries, disposable income – almost everyone is a recreational drugs user.

Where I grew up in south London, it was pretty uncommon to find someone who didn't at least smoke weed. The children of more middle-class parents were taking cocaine, ecstasy, ketamine and mephedrone almost every weekend. These were not reprobates ruining their lives: they were intelligent, bright people who got three As at A-level and went to good universities.

We would go to raves in places such as Camberwell and Hackney Wick, to warehouse venues where almost no one was over 18. White powders flowed as freely as the Fanta Fruit Twist and Malibu we were drinking. Festivals played a big part, too. Parents, even quite strict ones who wouldn't dream of letting their kids out past midnight, were happy to send their kids to music festivals, perhaps because of the reverent music-focused coverage in the media.

If you go to somewhere like Reading or Benicàssim, almost everyone is under 20. Half of them barely leave the campsite. Festivals are drugs playgrounds where teenagers experiment with copious amounts of uppers in presumably quite dangerous combinations. Some of the best moments of my life took place going to festivals as a teenager. I remember one muddy year at Glastonbury, racing down the hill arm-in-arm with a bunch of people, all off our faces on MDMA, feeling happier than I had ever felt. Another year, I remember taking mephedrone with a girl I fancied during Blur's headline set, both weeping with joy at a band we'd grown up with our whole lives.

Again, everyone knows this; no one thinks the thousands who watch the sunrise at the stone circle in Glastonbury every year are just on a high from seeing Mumford and Sons. But the festivals keep up the pretence that they are drug-free zones. Even a recent BBC3 show, Festivals, Sex and Suspicious Parents, which was supposed to show parents what their kids really got up to at festivals, ignored the fact that as the cameras panned around the festival, many revellers were plainly as high as a kite, their jaws swinging back and forth like pendulums, a side-effect of taking ecstasy. The voiceover just kept talking about people being "drunk".

I am also part of the first generation of people whose parents are likely to have been drug users. Of course, some adults would be outraged, like the parents on BBC3, to see what their kids got up to. But many more knew only too well – plenty of people I know would smoke weed or share dealers with their parents. In some families drug use had less stigma than smoking.

I thought all this was normal, but at university I met, for the first time, young people who totally abstained from drugs. They mostly came from outside major cities, or outside the UK, and many shivered in horror when they saw the rest of us dabbing our gums with mysterious white powders. I thought there would be a rift in social lives, an us-and-them situation, but it was around that time that mephedrone happened. Known by literally no young person ever as "meow meow", mephedrone was a legal high that changed attitudes towards drug-taking. Polite do-right kids who would never dream of taking illegal drugs were happy to chow down on bombs (self-made wontons of mephedrone powder wrapped in Rizla) like they were no more risqué than chocolate liqueurs.

Mephedrone was incredibly cheap – about a tenner a gram – and incredibly available. You could order it with next-day delivery to your university PO box. Mephedrone was a drugs phenomenon of which I have never seen the likes before or since. Everyone started doing it. I remember visiting a friend at Leeds University during this period. We went to a club and the queue for the men's bogs was at least 70 people long. When I finally got inside the place stunk of mephedrone, you could hear everyone loudly sniffing.

On nights out during this time, everyone would be raging – making out with one another, dancing with total abandon. But the comedowns were immediate and severe, far worse than ecstasy. By 4am people would be lying on the floor sharing the most intimate and personal shames and secrets, as if the drug was somehow compelling them to be honest. Some people called it a truth serum. Friendships were forged in the hot irons of that emotional exposition, as were the most horrendous hangovers.

Mephedrone was banned within two years of it taking off. People talk a lot about one legal high being banned only for another to take its place, but the real legacy of mephedrone was to numb the stigma of harder drugs. By the time I left university, many of the drug abstainers who had tried mephedrone became relaxed about most illegal drugs, too.

Ecstasy and mephedrone make it pretty hard to get much done in the days after taking them. You can't regularly use them and be a successful, functioning adult, so they become a rarer treat once you leave student life. In their 20s most people are overworked: they have second jobs and work incredibly long hours. If they're going to go out on a Friday night they need a pick-me-up. And that is why cocaine remains the young professional's drug of choice.

I see cocaine usage almost every weekend wherever I go: clubs, pubs, people's houses, dinner parties. At fancy celebrity parties, the sort you see on Mail Online, cocaine is so prevalent that it's almost boring. Everyone does it – butter-wouldn't-melt TV presenters, wholesome pop stars adored by your mum, people who would immediately lose their job if anyone found out. Those tabloid stings where they catch someone doing cocaine are kind of hilarious in that respect. If you followed any celebrity around with a secret camera on a Friday night you'd be almost guaranteed to find them doing coke. But cocaine users are like hipsters in the way they will vehemently deny they are one, and cast aspersions on others. "It was just full of self-aggrandising wankers doing coke and talking about themselves," someone will say about a party where they did cocaine and talked about themselves. Most of my friends are cocaine users, but I've never heard them say one nice thing about cocaine.

No doubt some people will have read this piece and think that I am just a monstrous twat, that this has all been little more than infantile boasting in a vain attempt to try to sound cool. But that, too, is part of the cover-up, that any open discussion of using drugs or enjoying them is necessarily a boast. We can talk about great food, great films, great sex, but if we talk about great drugs we immediately sound like we're engaging in some teenage bravado. That's why the biggest taboo surrounding drugs today isn't taking drugs, but saying that they're fun.

I'm not saying that people are lying about the negative effects. I have, of course, seen lives ruined by drugs. Rarely has this been because of an overdose or because someone has ruined themselves financially because of addiction (although I am only 27 – that may yet come). Far more often I have just seen people become dulled through regular drug use: their youthful spark extinguished by a never-ceasing quest to get on it; brains frazzled by overheated synapses. There are friends I want to slap every time I see them doing another line, but I can't because that would be hypocritical.

I also appreciate that's it's easy to be blasé about drug use when you're a well-adjusted middle-class white guy who has never been stopped by the police and has a distant non-social relationship with their drug dealer. For many people, drugs aren't something they can dip in and out of and separate from their lives. People entangled in the economic and legal realities of drugs – dealers, those convicted of possession, addicts – don't have the luxury of my relaxed attitude.

But until we stop pretending that getting high is inherently bad – that drugs can never be brilliant, can never enhance human experience for the better – how can we properly deal with people whose lives have been made worse by drugs? At some point, kids grow up and learn the facts of life. I think it's time we all had the talk.

[linernotesandseasons]

My 19 Favorite Albums of 2019

       2019 is coming to a close. The entire decade is coming to a close. This list has been an increasingly comforting exercise the last few years. I guess this will be the eighth annual version of the linernotesandseasons favorite albums of the year list! Crazy how time passes. So here are the collections of songs that I used to mark my personal time & space this year. The lyrics that I learned by heart & sang out in dark & dirty rock clubs. I also made a spotify playlist with two songs from each album if you’re interested in listening along as you read. 

This year most of my writing focuses on when & why I fell in love with a specific album. Sometimes the history is important, building a base or connecting some threads, so when relevant, I have also included my history with when I fell in love with a specific artist. And finally, as has become more important to my music chasing brain in the last few years, why this artist or album is important to music right now. What they’re doing to leave a mark on the world, in whatever small space or way.

So without any further ado, here it is, in no particular order (unless you’re particularly knowledgable or fond of the english alphabet) my 19 (well actually 20 cuz freaking Big Thief put out two!) favorite albums of 2019. It’s been a pleasure.

BETTER OBLIVION COMMUNITY CENTER   /   Better Oblivion Community Center

    Spring 2019 in Denver was cold & breezy, sunny & exciting. I had spun the Phoebe Bridgers/Conor Oberst match-made-in-indie-emo-sad-folk-heaven record once through, but in late March I made a game time (like I bought a day-of ticket off stubhub at 6pm!) decision to drive down from work and see their show at the Gothic on South Broadway. I’d been up since 7am the night (morning?) before, watching opening day baseball live from Japan (on March 20th?!). Ichiro’s final game and I was feeling maybe a little emotionally fragile already. But anyway… Better Oblivion Community Center’s live show (they call them meetings) has all the potential to come off as cheesy or contrived. A recorded voice welcomes you, self-help-cult style, and invites you to “celebrate sound & light” & “travel the well worn pathways,” because “we are one.” A mystical backdrop gives a hint of what you’re in for (I didn’t know what I was in for...) with letters at the top reading “It will end in tears.” The band is brilliant, loose, & fun. They play all the songs. They play “Lua,” “Bad Blood,” & “Easy/Lucky/Free” from the endlessly varied Bright Eyes catalog. They turn Phoebe’s “Funeral” into a punk blast. They cover The Replacements! They wear shades and sing a song from lawn chairs! The show feels effortlessly cool and I feel like I’m part of something special again. Music has a way of doing that.

The record is perfectly equal parts Phoebe & Conor. From the opening lines, where Phoebe takes control with “my telephone it doesn’t have a camera” sounding for all the world like a gloriously mopey “Smoke Signals Vol. 2″ to the way Oberst sings the first lines of ethereal closer “Dominoes” sounding 100% like Cassadaga-era Bright Eyes. If you know & love either, you should know the other now. Phoebe carries a torch from early 2000′s emo with a sad-at-heart, genius songwriting style that emphasizes pinpoint autobiographical lyrics, a cutting, (even humorous at times) wit, and a teenage, feminist, internet, millennial heart. Oberst for his part has kept up a steady output since Bright Eyes, and (at least lyrically) doesn’t seemed to have cheered up much. Better Oblivion Community Center’s self titled debut feels fresh & catchy. While there is definitely an aching sadness in the duo’s songwriting, light hearted moments abound, and the writing often points to getting older, all hard work & growth. There is the bouncing outro to “Sleepwalkin’” where their voices rise in unison singing “Acting insane, playing it safe, I wasn’t sold on that plan anyways. Feeling afraid of making a change.” Or in the bright, rolling verses of “My City” where they go looking for “little moments of purpose.” But the one song I kept going back to; the one I recorded to cassette tape and played on almost every drive home from work at 4am through April & May, is the bittersweet closer “Dominoes.” Ironically, this one is a Taylor Hollingsworth cover (I think that’s him adding the random, spooky voice overs) but Conor takes the lead on vocals, singing a mostly lonely, hopeless tale, until the last verse when Phoebe cuts in. She’s “carpooling to kingdom come, into the wild purgatory.” Encouraging us to “Experience a magic rainbow, all you gotta’ do is follow. & if you’re not feeling ready… There’s always tomorrow.”

    “The world will not remember when we’re old & tired / We’ll be blowing on the embers of a little fire…”

BIG THIEF   /   U.F.O.F. & Two Hands

       2019 was the year that I finally finally got really really into Big Thief. A band’s band known for their live show (I still have yet to see them live) their following seems equal parts cult-y and universal. How a band that sounds the way they do, made it almost to the top of the indie-rock world is an exciting & inviting mystery.

This year, for me, the catalyst was “Cattails.” Released at the beginning of April, this song struck me and stuck with me, making its way onto almost every mix I made last Spring, Summer, & Fall (including this one for my Mom!) A real song of the year contender (& my #1 most listened to song of 2019 on spotify!), “Cattails” is a melodic, driving, beautiful tune, that finds singer & front person Adrienne Lenker marking Time (”riding that train in late June”) & Space (”going back home to the great lakes”) with grace & depth. There is a sacredness & mysticism tied up in a lot of Lenker’s writing and she refers to her writing experience with “Cattails” saying…

“It was one of those electric, multicolored waves of connectivity just sweeping through my body. I stayed up late finishing the song and the next morning was stomping around playing it over & over again. We thought why not just record it … & when James and I were playing it felt like a little portal in the fabric had opened and we were just flying. Listening back to it makes me cry sometimes.”

In truth, U.F.O.F. (the last f stands for “friend,” a way of humanizing the foreign) is a gorgeous record. Soft & gentle, full of songs about the constant tussle between things known & unknown. A real headphones-on-an-airplane record. And then, out of nowhere, Big Thief announced that they had a second (!) record on the way in the Fall. A dirt & earth twin for U.F.O.F., a special surprise gift for their burgeoning fan base. They announced Two Hands with the vicious single “Not,” a song very unlike “Cattails.” A brooding, ravenous rock song that made me remember why I love unhinged, well-written, unafraid rock & roll music. Another song of the year contender. If you’ve followed this blog the last few months, my well thought out comments to “Not” were “ohhhhhhhhhhhhh shit” & “oh my holy shit.” to the live version! But it was actually the second track on Two Hands that solidified Big Thief’s greatness for me. “Forgotten Eyes” is sonically similar to “Cattails” and rides the same effortless rhythm, driven by Lenker’s repeating guitar riff and James Krivchenia’s consistently impressive drumming. The riff seems to fall in & out magically, and the writing bookends “Cattails” with lyrics that speak to both a great pain & a great universal truth. While she wanders through homelessness & death, Lenker reflects beautifully on the life cycle we (& our planet, & maybe everything?) are all going through.

    “Forgotten dance is the one left at birth / Forgotten plants in the fossils of earth / & they’ve long passed but they are no less the dirt / Of the common soil keeping us dry & warm / The wound has no direction / Everybody needs a home & deserves protection…”

BLACK BELT EAGLE SCOUT   /   At the Party With My Brown Friends

    After finding Black Belt Eagle Scout’s debut album late last year, I soundtracked many a dusk, dawn, or midnight drive with her swirling vocals & entrancing guitar, usually in the cold & dark, through the early part of 2019. It made my 2018 favorites list, and her Larimer Lounge show in May was a highlight. I guess it makes sense then, that I didn’t truly fall for her sophomore album At the Party With My Brown Friends (released in August) until it got cold in November and I was able to take it out for some dark, snowy drives. Moody & serious at times, Black Belt Eagle Scout sounds every bit like the gray Pacific Northwest where front person Katherine Paul (KP) hails from. The lyrics are simple, repeating phrases, full of deep, important ideas. Family & friends. People & land. There are bursts of guitar coming out of rewarding slow builds, shredd-y, rhythmic, & melodic. Also, all the instruments on ATPWMBF are played by KP, and the drumming is fucking fantastic.

I have some sort of longer form writing building somewhere in the back of my mind about listening to music in cars, and both Black Belt Eagle Scout albums are perfect examples for that. I have always loved the feeling of having roads (highways or simply long straight dirt back roads) & music to listen to. In high school, we would sometimes get in the car simply to drive & listen to music (small town life ya know?) and I still relish any chance I get to take new (or old & long loved) songs & albums on road trips or just commutes around town. The time to sit with the songs, to focus on nothing but the words & melodies, instruments & voices, & the pull of the road, mystical & magical. Black Belt Eagle Scout’s songs have been a calming companion on a lot of drives over the last year, and I recommend you taking them out on a spin of your own. Drive to that coffee shop that’s 30 minutes away that you’ve been wanting to go to, drive out of town just to drive, alone with your thoughts & the road. You just might learn something about yourself.

    “& I wake up / I love you / Screaming loudly / Screaming softly too / Am I here? / My heart dreams…”

BON IVER   /   i,i

    Bon Iver is a long time favorite and if you’ve followed this blog at all, you know how much I love his albums and how much Justin Vernon’s Eaux Claires festival has helped shaped my musical timeline. Seeing 22, A Million (the record that precedes i,i) live in Wisconsin by the river for the first time, was something special. That record made my 2016 favorites list, but until this year, until i,i, my story of the music felt very insular. Special & secret for me, confined to very specific times & places. Only to make me feel certain things. It’s why I was hesitant to buy a ticket to see the Red Rocks show last September. Or why I questioned streaming the album early while I was on vacation in Holden Beach, North Carolina. I thought the songs were only meant to carry me back to the river, back to Wisconsin, back to the Summer. Back to a very specific, special place in my heart. But thanks to the wonders of spotify, and the Bon Iver crew just up and releasing the album a week early under the simple & generous guise of “wanting folks to have the album & learn the songs before the tour!!” I obliged and… YESSSS that’s how you do an album release in 2019! I had the album in my headphones as I ran and sweated on the beach in North Carolina, letting brand new songs transport me thousands of miles away.

i,i is a gloriously weird, perfected mess of a hit indie record. It’s everything I wanted the next chapter of the Bon Iver story to be. It feels personal & widescreen. Little moments stretched out and shared with family & friends. Lyrics about growth & hard work & life (& a few WTFs, it’s Bon Iver after all!) The gang’s all here again (the massive crew that worked on the album are all pictured on the record’s gloriously, weird inside gatefold!) recorded from Vernon’s home (April) base in Wisconsin, to Sonic Ranch in west Texas (also pictured in the liner notes) walking distance from our southern border. The sounds are all here again too. There are hints of For Emma’s Winter falsetto folk in the gorgeous acoustic guitar of “Marion.” There are the industrial swells & stomps, bleeps & bloops of bi, bi’s Spring in the warbling, green grass, warmth of “Holyfields.” Then there is the distortion, the choppy samples of 22, in the jigsaw glory of “iMi,” the way it starts & stops, all choruses & voices, real & programmed. Threads of new songs tied up with threads from long, long ago. There is a fullness to i,i, a generosity, a true front to back album, with hits & new favorites sprinkled everywhere. The second half blooms with the charging folk of “Salem” & “Faith” and the contentedness of closer “RABi.” These are songs that I will love for years to come. These songs make me happy. They make me think. They make me want to share them with friends. They make me want to work on relationships. Songs about life. Songs about true, unconditional friendship. As Justin said way back in 2015, when my journey with the Bon Iver story began “The story is history, nothing more. Only the music can rise anew. & it is gone as soon as it is sung. & so we sing again…” I am soo soo happy to sing again, with songs anew.

    “Living in a lonesome way / Had me looking other ways / Cuz I am lost here again / But on a bright Fall morning I’m with it / I stood a little within it…”

EARTHGANG   /   Mirrorland

      EARTHGANG’s major label debut Mirrorland comes in hot & dancing, a hip hop duo with a true tribute to Southern culture, and a whole world encapsulated in 14 tracks. My personal introduction to the EARTHGANG universe, came courtesy of a dusk till dark dance fest at Denver’s Underground Music Showcase on South Broadway back in sweaty July. Their energy was infectious, their stories hilarious, & their songs stuck in my head. Specifically the Young Thug featuring “Proud Of U,” a song that carries enthusiasm & positivity through to the end. Other standouts include colorful, bouncing opener “LaLa Challenge,” & the squealing horns of Atlanta hot spot, name dropping “Wings.” A concept album of sorts Mirrorland references “The Wiz” as a jumping off point saying,

“We thought about how, if we’re going to make a project sonically to rival The Wiz, we got to create another world for people to imagine & go to. You know when Dorothy got swept away and she met the Munchkins? That was such a beautiful thing. You could see Quincy Jones on the piano, just playing away. It’s really colorful. It’s really dangerous. It’s really trippy. It’s literally Freaknik Atlanta in the summertime—folks riding around in cars with big rims with paint on their faces.”

EARTHGANG was formed in 2008 by high school buddies Johnny Venus & Doctur Doc in Atlanta, GA.  It’s impossible to ignore Outkast comparisons and for their part, EARTHGANG does their best to keep up the Southern hip hop tradition. Mixing in bits of soul, blues, & jazz, Mirrorland plays like an homage, a soundtrack to the South. A real reminder that the album is not dead. These songs sound best played together. Also, that the hip hop group, or duo, is not dead. And finally, that touring and playing live shows is most definitely not dead. I probably still wouldn’t have heard about EARTHGANG if it wasn’t for their primo UMS slot (at the same Import Mechanics stage where Leikeli47 & Kiltro played!) and infectiously positive live show. Speaking of their live show, see y’all at Cervantes on February 3!

      “One time, one time for your baby moms / Two time for the hand in the candy jar / Holy Ghost showed up in my favorite thong / Three times in the car for the way we are / Another white man scared, another black man dead / Another rich man war, another red man bled / I been writing this album down way too long / When I drop my shit, pray it hit the toilet like lala, lalalalala...”

FRUIT BATS   /   Gold Past Life

    In the Autumn of 2013, my coworker Cassandra Disney at Mile High Organics played me “When You Love Somebody” by Fruit Bats (had that song already been out for 10 years in 2013?!) on one of her early morning work mixes, and I immediately put it on one of my favorite (if embarrassingly bro-folk heavy) mixes I have ever made myself. Discovering a weird/cool indie band in the vein of all my other loves (Band of Horses, The Shins, Modest Mouse, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, etc…) but more underground (!) was hipster heaven. I subsequently forgot about Fruit Bats for awhile, but was reminded with their graceful “comeback” album Absolute Loser in 2016. Although that one missed my favorites list, it gradually became a constant road trip companion; from the mountains of Colorado, through the great American Southwest, and even on some epic Mexican back roads. All alt-country, lost 70′s AM radio classics, and wistful, witty, & wise writing about highways and scenery. A true classic.  

I was therefore super excited for Gold Past Life (Fruit Bats’s seventh album?!) to drop on Merge Records this Summer, and fell in love pretty quickly on a late afternoon drive across the high road between Taos and Santa Fe, New Mexico back in late June. Swirling guitar, bouncy piano. and Eric D. Johnson’s piercing, clear, impassioned vocals. Fruit Bats sound timeless & effervescent. Upbeat guitar rock with some weird twists, and Johnson’s consistently bittersweet, humorous, & big hearted lyrics. Growing up, growing older, & grinning a wry smile at a golden world. After catching back to back beautiful Fruit Bats shows in Fort Collins & here in Denver at the Bluebird this September, these folks are the real deal. Long live touring bands, long live seventh albums, long live music marking time & space! Here’s to many more Fruit Bats albums, Gold Past Life will be car stereo classic for awhile.

    “Still waiting around for some mystical shift in the winds / So honey please, don’t go just yet / Cigarette fingers, a shake in the knees / A bit blue, kind of tired, but not broken… Anticipating a magical bend in the road / So hang on, take it slow / Your go bag is packed & your hangover gone / Another dawn at the edge of the known world…”

HISS GOLDEN MESSENGER   /   Terms of Surrender

    Durham, North Carolina’s Hiss Golden Messenger (folklorist, family man, & singer-songwriter MC Taylor & revolving crew) have become something of a mainstay on this music blog & in my car’s cd player over the last five years. I picked up a used (!), advance (!) copy of Lateness of Dancers in the $1 bin at a record store in Seattle, Washington. after having been passed a burned copy of his 2010 solo album Bad Debt by an old coworker. Lateness ended up on my 2014 favorites list. Two years later, Heart Like A Levee made my 2016 list, and the next year, Hallelujah Anyhow was one of my favorites of 2017! I referred to the songs on Hallelujah as Hiss “building a repertoire, creating a legacy.” This may seem like quite a bit of superfluous backstory, but believe me, it is essential to the story, a journal of the journey. Geographic art for a topographic heart if you will. But anyway, Terms of Surrender…

The title is cryptic, referencing (as Taylor puts it “what we are prepared to sacrifice in order to live the lives that we think we want”) and the songs are deep (& growing deeper) & timeless. Not so much timeless in the way Yola’s songs sound timeless (skip down a few albums on this list to read about Yola!) but timeless in the way the songs seem to seep their way into my bones and stay for years. Terms burst on the scene with the release of the first single “I Need a Teacher” back in stormy June. With bright, rolling guitar stabs courtesy of The National’s Aaron Dessner (whose upstate New York recording studio was home for the Terms recording sessions), “Teacher” is about “the search for infallible guidance in an ever-changing universe.” but it is also about everyday work. Dedicated every night of the tour to all the teachers in the room, a political statement wrapped up in the seemingly obvious sentiment of “Defend Public Schools.” See what I mean? Timeless songs written for the here & now. “Bright Direction” & “My Wing” are reminiscent of Hallelujah’s “Jenny” & “Darkness.” a 1-2 punch of driving, drifting major key numbers, written from a hillside in Virginia, high on mushrooms. They contain multitudes. With a murky middle (Brad Cook gets funky on “Old Enough to Wonder Why” & “Cat’s Eye Blue”) & the already canonical Hiss’ live fav “Happy Birthday Baby,” the back half of Terms spreads out the Hiss’ sound in new ways. New live favorite, the nostalgic “Down at the Uptown,” had me googling maps of San Francisco to find the mythical Uptown bar where Taylor first heard Patti Smith’s Horses.

In late October, Hiss played an absolutely glorious three night run at little Globe Hall over in Globeville, just Southeast of where Interstate 70 meets Interstate 25. I went to all three shows. The shows were special & career spanning; from “Jesus Shot Me in the Head,” to Dead covers (& a Jesus & Mary Chain cover!) to all the Terms songs.  I spent the Saturday afternoon before show #2, walking around the disappearing & rapidly gentrifying neighborhood in & around Globeville (& drifting across the highway into Sunnyside) listening to Terms of Surrender on my headphones. Thinking about the things I’m willing to sacrifice, thinking about the life I want, what are my Terms? After all, “It’s a real live world & I wanna live in it.”

    “Something drove me crazy / Love had me lazy / Backwards won’t get me to my destination / Move me in some bright direction / Looking to be captured, looking for my freedom / Oh, dreams will come to get you / So careful what you’re wishing / Your family might correct you / Your heart might take a pounding / Make sure you take a picture…”

JUNE JONES   /   Diana

    I can’t remember where I first heard of June Jones, but I’d like to think it was from one of my many Australian music friends (thanks Camp Cope, Julia Jacklin, Middle Kids, Courtney Barnett, Gang of Youths etc…!) The music community is a wonderful thing. June’s songs can be hard to explain, but Diana is an epic album that burns with a steady, stately drama. Most of the songs ride swelling synths and measured, 80’s sounding drums and center around June’s unique, emotive voice and head turning lyrics. Jones had fronted the Australian rock band Two Steps on the Water and written songs on the guitar for many years, but it’s pretty clear from listening to the writing and sound on Diana that these songs were meant for piano, synth, and a solo album. Her own writing. Her own words.

The album begins with the brooding “Rome From Afar” and the opening line “I got drunk again last night & I fell down outside the bathroom at my little sister’s party.” It then follows a dancing bass line into an apocalyptic nightmare of a world ending. “Meryl” is a gorgeous, autobiographical (?) song, an ode to “complicated” hard working women everywhere. There are parts of Diana that nod to it being a break up album, like in the gorgeously melancholic “Boulder Falling Slow” (”I am a boulder falling slow / You’re a magnificent spiderweb”) but I have been viewing it as just a complex, everyday life album. Jones lets her magnificent voice trail slowly over seemingly uncomfortable or awkward topics that she strives to make… not so. Sorry Alex Cameron, your “eating your ass like an oyster” line in “Miami Memory” is only the second best “eating ass” line this year after Jones’ “Look at You Go!” Her voice often belies the emotion in her lyrics, she works it up & down, and lets it stretch out over words, like in lonely closer “Sixteen Horses,” but she also sounds almost matter of fact at times. There is a moment in the piano led “Thorn” where she glibly throws “Have you seen the moon tonight? No, me neither, who cares about the moon when everything is dying?” over an understated horn trill. Everything is dying after all, but I want June Jones to sing it to me like an Australian Lana Del Rey or Matt Berninger. Trust me, you’ll be hearing more about June Jones in the coming years. Watch out.

    “I haven’t thought too much about family / Ain’t got no husband or a couple of kids / I’ve spent 26 years in this office / I said goodbye to my relationships a long time ago / What does the mayor of a small town heart do after she retires?”

JUSTIN PETER KINKEL-SCHUSTER   /   Take Heart, Take Care

     My long time music friend Adam over at songsfortheday had been trying to tell me about Justin Peter Kinkel-Schuster for quite a few mixes with songs I loved from his 2016 release Constant Stranger. But it somehow wasn’t until I needed Take Heart, Take Care, that Schuster’s work hit me right. It didn’t feel like a light at the end of the tunnel, but more like a light in the tunnel, something lasting, a collection of songs lifting up & out towards a light. As Schuster wrote upon it’s release…

     “Here, I’ve fumbled my way, as always, and of necessity, into a collection of songs that hold a light to the joys & comforts of life not given up on, those that appear over time as we are looking elsewhere, to surprise & delight us when we need them most. Sure, it’s me, so there are glimpses of and nods to the dark, but the dark is not winning anymore. I simply mean to acknowledge its presence. To me, that’s the most fundamental job of songs, of stories, of all art — to be allies, friends, companions, when we need them most and it’s my hope that these songs can do that work in a world that seems to need it. If you are lucky enough to have something good to say, say it. Please. We’ll thank each other, now & later.”

So i guess it’s that second part that I have found solace in through my 20′s and into my 30′s. That songs (and stories & all art, but songs & albums seem to be my thing) can be allies, friends, & companions, and that sometimes (like Hanif Abdurraqib wrote in his brilliant collection of essays “They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us”)…

     “If you believe, as I do, that a blessing is a brief breath to take in that doesn’t taste of whatever is holding you under: say I Speak To God In Public and mean more than just in his house, or mean more than just next to people who might also speak to God in public, or say God and mean whatever has kept you alive when so many other things have failed to.“

Take Heart, Take Care is a straightforward, well written, indie rock album. The songs ring true with light & darkness, an uplifting take on growing older and finding “Plenty Wonder” still to be found in the world. Schuster played the Hi-Dive on South Broadway in November, the last show on the Take Heart tour. A show I had bought tickets for months in advance, and I found myself in a crowd of maybe 15 people, celebrating the songs of Take Heart, Take Care. Listening to a writer with something good to say. Trying all in our own way to hold our own. I have a feeling I’ll keep these songs with me for awhile.

     “Time is the mender / Whose strange mechanics yet untold / Bid us rise entwined together / So take heart, take care / Be true but beware / & honey we need not be scared…”

KARA JACKSON   /   A Song for Every Chamber of the Heart

      In only 10 minutes & 42 seconds, Kara Jackson creates an intimate, magical world with just her voice and a guitar on her debut EP A Song for Every Chamber of the Heart.  Four intricate & intentional songs, none longer than three minutes, finger picked slowly & methodically, Jackson balances a poetic, whimsical wandering with a steely focus on the craft of songwriting. These are the bones of songs, played honest & upfront, with no adornment. There is room for Jackson’s lyrics to really shine, all aching & wistful, yet practical. Like the way she balances “I have a crush, I have an ache” with “I know that love’s just a pain in the ass” in the bittersweet “Crush.” Her songs buzz with a youthful energy & teen angst. Wise beyond their years, finding their way in the world. As a songwriter and a poet, Jackson writes about race, activism, social justice, self, bodies, & humanity.

At 20 (!) years old, Chicago’s Jackson is... oh also a poet. The 2019 National Youth Poet Laureate (!) in fact, and it was her absolutely breathtaking writing about being a teenager that first caught my attention. She quotes Gwendolyn Brooks (pulitzer prize winning American poet) in her Ted Talk saying “write what’s under your nose.” She says that Brooks took the mundane and put it on a pedestal. That she understood there are “poems in train cars, poems on front lawns, & poems in microwaves & tea kettles.” An almost obligation to celebrate the ordinary. Ordinary folks celebrating similar ordinary folks. It’s the way that John Darnielle howls on The Mountain Goats song “Werewolf Gimmick” (track nine on 2015′s Beat the Champ) about “nameless bodies in unremembered rooms.” In his prerelease essay for Merge Records, music writer Joseph Fink wrote that the entire career of The Mountain Goats has been about “giving names to nameless bodies and remembering unremembered rooms.” and what a worthy cause that is. That thought has stuck with me for years and I have always loved the specificity of it. Whether it is Darnielle resurrecting historical characters real or fictional, or the way Lady Lamb (keep reading a few more albums down!) celebrates the specifics of her friends & family, in all the messy details. Written in song, remembered forever. It is also essential that all cultures have artists who look like them and think like them, as the ones doing the remembering.  It’s why it’s so important that Kara Jackson is the one doing the remembering for young black girls. The same way Eve Ewing did for her, and Gwendolyn Brooks did before that. I can appreciate the magic of the remembering, but I need to let them be the ones to tell the stories. Oh, speaking of appreciating, I bugged Jackson enough on social media and got a handmade PHYSICAL copy of the EP that I’m hanging onto forever cuz it’s probably gonna be like the next original pressing of Bon Iver’s For Emma! Thanks Kara!

      “Don’t take my pillowcase, that's my place to be alone / Don’t take my lamp from me, it helps me read about places I don’t know / Don’t take a lot for me to be on my own...”

KILTRO   /   Creatures of Habit

      My end of the year albums list usually has at least one local Denver band. The Lumineers way back in 2012, Gregory Alan Isakov & Covenhoven in 2013, Nathaniel Rateliff, Covenhoven (again!), & The Yawpers in 2015, Nina de Freitas in 2017 (hey Nina & the Hold Tight, new album in 2020 please?!), and Izcalli last year. Kiltro is a part Coloradan, part Chilean folk band that have been putting on one of my favorite live shows around town this year. The brainchild of Chris Bowers-Castillo, a native Coloradan who spent time growing up in Valparaiso, Chile, Kiltro is named after the Spanish word “Quiltro” meaning a mixed breed dog. A dog that Kiltro has taken for their logo. In their own way, Kiltro is a mix breed; both in the way they mix the sounds of South America with the folk music of North America, and also the way they mix organic, acoustic instrumentation, with electronic, looping sounds and effects pedals. Their live show is a masterclass in layers, with Bowers-Castillo adding loops of guitar rhythms (sometimes simply bare hands slapping beats on the top of the guitar) to steady bass & drums, until the songs swell & build into dramatic crescendos and almost EDM-influenced drops. The extended intros & outros are my favorite parts of their songs and the live versions (from their sweaty 2pm UMS dance party, to Lulu’s Downstairs in Manitou Springs) have stirred hearts & feet alike with dancing not usually found in the Colorado “indie-hipster” scene. Keep an eye on these guys and maybe come out to Larimer Lounge in January and witness the dance party for yourself!

      “Somewhere down the bank where the dogs go / Por la calle que te lleva a Curicó / & down the beach, where no others can find / Ni por agua, piso, coche, ni avión...”

LADY LAMB   /   Even in the Tremor

      As I have been writing this year’s favorites list, I’m realizing that so many of the albums I loved & learned, came hand in hand with experiencing the artist, and specifically that new album, live. Lady Lamb released Even in the Tremor, her masterful & moving third album, way back in April, and I had a Spring-y three weeks to learn all her intricate, visceral lyrics to sing back at her Larimer Lounge stop in Denver on the Deep Love tour. Maine by way of Brooklyn’s (by way of a bunch of other places) Aly Spaltro has always written songs for Lady Lamb like her hair’s on fire. Wailing & gasping about blood & guts & death over spiraling electric guitar, there is a realness to her writing that reminds me of the east coast emo I grew up on. But for all the blood red gore & messy heartbreak that colors much of the Lady Lamb discography, there is a light hearted tenderness as well. Tremor has songs written for & about friends, lovers, parents, & god. Quirky opener “Little Flaws” is a first-dance-worthy love song, while personal favorites “Strange Maneuvers” & “Emily” are odes to platonic friendships, mental health, & growing up. In the same way I wrote about Kara Jackson celebrating the ordinary, Lady Lamb has always celebrated specifics of people, time & space. Tremor’s characters are Spaltro’s real life people (Emily, Shervin, Kurt (Kurtie Bear), Isaac, & her Mom), and the places (the diner, the batting cage, Templehof Park, Midtown, Berlin, Montreal, Madrid, a fast food joint, the stage of a church, someplace upstate, Lavanderia & Graham Ave) are specific, varied, & globe spanning. Her stories are autobiographical and rewarding and the music is stirring, singer-songwriter rock & roll with some punch behind it. She is one of my favorite modern writers for her ability to not just tell a story, but to find wonder in the small things and to celebrate the ordinary. Like she tells Shervin, minutes before “Emily” closes the album on a gorgeous, uplifting high note, “No photographic artifact, but here is something better than that.”

      “There’s a picture that I found, my first car in the falling snow / Seems like yesterday I drove down into low tide / & Isaac snapped a polaroid of me pretending I was sinking, pressed against the glass pleading / I misplaced it but I’m looking... / When we are young, if only we could see beyond our fears where we are free / When we are lonely if only we could know that in our stillness we are growing... / All the portraits we collected, while we were running around in the desert / We were trying to seem fulfilled to rewrite our New York City narratives / But Emily we were utterly dejected / We took turns crying on the passenger side of America / Too clouded to be empowered by towering Redwoods... / When did we lose the ancient truths? / Is it what we’re born bending our bodies toward?...”

LIZZO   /   Cuz I Love You

      For much of 2019, Lizzo could be heard playing everywhere. The 31 year old Minnesotan’s third full length album Cuz I Love You, came out in April, after a busy three years of huge singles, consistent touring, & building a repertoire of songs capable of headlining arenas. When Lizzo finally exploded these last few years, it has been fun watching the whole world embrace her uptempo, bold, self-love anthems, and hearing them blaring from open Subaru windows in Cap HIll, from balconies & rooftops in uptown, and on the lips of countless joggers & bikers, loving themselves in the Denver Summer sun. I know for my part, I took Lizzo with me to the beaches of North Carolina & through the Southern mountains of Colorado, dancing, singing, & gleefully giggling along. Bottom line, the songs on Cuz I Love You are FUN! You try not to crack a smile as Lizzo romps through “Never been in love before, what the fuck are fucking feelings yo?” on the bouncing, brassy, vocal led, track one title track MOMENT. Or the way she makes up the word “accessorary” on the spot (“my ass is not an accessorary”) and then fires back with “Yeah, I said it, accessorary!” Lizzo has been an outspoken supporter of our generation’s version of the self-love, body positivity movement, and has put her money (and body) where her mouth is, inspiring legions of teens & twenty somethings to do the same. “Soulmate” is a loner anthem that finds Lizzo belting “True love ain’t something you can buy yourself / True love finally happens when you’re by yourself / So if you by yourself, then go and buy yourself another round from the bottle on the higher shelf.” The soulful slowdown “Jerome” is about being the bigger person and ending a relationship that isn’t working. Lizzo manages to actually address her own issues, focus on the work she needs to do (“I’m trying to be patient & patience takes practice.”) and still absolutely belt a singalong chorus that rhymes Jerome with “take your ass home.” Also, the deluxe version of Cuz I Love You tacks on three previous Lizzo singles that hadn’t found an album home. Those singles? “Boys,” “Truth Hurts,” & “Water Me.” Three songs totaling almost 555 MILLION plays on Spotify. With apologies to Ariana Grande & Billie Eilish (Billie see ya in a few months at the Pepsi Center!) Lizzo is the biggest superstar that I want on this list. And she 100% deserves every bit of it.

      “If I’m shinin’ everybody gonna’ shine...”

ORVILLE PECK   /   pony

      There is an appealing, theatrical quality to the dramatic country songs on Orville Peck’s debut record Pony. I spent my high school years growing up in small town Western Colorado so country music has been embedded in my brain since I was 11. I’ve gone through so many phases of loving it, hating it, loving it ironically, nostalgically, hating it for it’s sound, cheesiness, backwards politics, etc... But with Pony; these are true country songs written by a gay, masked cowboy anti-hero from.. Toronto? Maybe? Who is Orville Peck?!?! It’s like all the best parts of “country” music came together. And the mask? The fringe? All the packaging & theatrics? It makes it fun. Part Bowie, part Coheed & Cambria, part Grace Jones, part Ghost, part Brandon Flowers. Hollywood meets Vegas meets Carson City.

When I listen to Orville Peck’s songs it brings together so many feelings from my youth. From country radio & boxes of old country cds, to the dramatic side of theatre, play acting on a stage, dress-up, halloween, cowboys, loneliness, & the open road. From the tumbleweed roll & mournfully powerful coyote howl of opener “Dead of Night,” to the shoegaze rumble, autumn ride of “Winds Change.” Peck’s lyrics are honest & heartfelt, drawing on sweeping, western imagery, & idolizing the classic country ideal... the cowboy. Music marks time & place and Peck makes sure to reference the cities along his highway songs. Salt Lake City, Las Vegas, Carson City, Kansas, a veritable Rand McNally road map of the American West. In the same manner as both Black Belt Eagle Scout albums, Fruit Bats, & Caroline Rose from last year, it wasn’t until a highway drive that I truly fell in love with Pony. It was a brilliant November sunset & still warm, but windy & changing, and we knew we had to hustle to beat the snow back to Denver. Highway 159 from the Southern Colorado border through Costilla County, on the way towards Fort Garland & then Walsenburg. Purple & Orange out the window to my left, Winter on it’s way. Peck’s songs sang with a heartache... a loss. a rhinestone loneliness that country finds a way to revel in. When “Kansas (Remembers Me Now)” statics out like a long lost FM radio. When “Hope to Die” fake ends at 3:30 and instead key change pivots like a washed-up Broadway starlet, shooting her shot on a dusty jukebox. When “Nothing Fades Like the Light” draws its last, peaceful breath, closing Pony like the last light of that November sunset. Thanks Orville, this one’s a classic.

      “Fell in love with a rider / Dirt king, black crown / Six months on a knucklehead hog / I like him best when he's not around / He gets me high, oh, big sky... Fell in love with a boxer / Stayed awake all year / Heartbreak is a warm sensation / When the only feeling that you know is fear / I don't know why, oh, big sky...”

RAPSODY   /   Eve

      Rapsody’s third album Eve is a masterclass on rap music, and the Snow Hill, North Carolina rapper sounds relaxed & loose, while still staying focused & on topic with an album that reads as, as Rapsody herself puts it “a love letter to all black women including myself.” She is at the top of her game right now, and these songs cement Rapsody as one of the premier rappers in an exciting field of rap talent both young & old.  

Each track on the album is dedicated to one of Rapsody’s personal heroes, and I am going to focus these words & my research for Eve (besides listening to it nonstop, which I’m currently doing now!) on those black women. Track one is for Nina Simone (”without Nina there’s no Lauryn Hill, & without Lauryn Hill there’s no Rapsody.”) and features critically important verses about black heritage & culture over Nina’s terrifying & sobering classic “Strange Fruit.” Rapsody is recognizing her legacy and the importance of heritage, but she is clearly claiming her spot in that bloodline. “Cleo” preaches standing up for yourself over a Phil Collins sample (between Cleo & Lucy Dacus, “In the Air Tonight” is getting some serious love this year!) and is named after Queen Latifah’s character in the 1996 movie “Set it Off.” From there Rapsody recognizes artists (Aaliyah), philanthropists (Oprah & Michelle Obama), actresses (Whoopi), athletes (Serena Williams & Ibtihaj Muhammed), writers (Maya Angelou & Reyna Biddy), models (Iman & Tyra Banks), and historical figures & activists (Hatshepsut, Myrlie Evers-Williams, Sojourner Truth, & Afeni Shakur). Bottom line, ALL of these women are essential google material (you’re reading this on your phone or laptop, google and give yourself a five minute refresher if there’s anyone you don’t already know!) While you’re at it, google the lyrics for Eve (and Jamila Woods’ equally incredible, equally name dropping LEGACY! LEGACY!) and listen along. This is an important time capsule document for Rapsody and it’s just a damn good rap album.

      “I am Nina & Roberta, the one you love but ain't heard of / Got my middle finger up like Pac after attempted murder / Failed to kill me, it's still me, woke up singing Shirley Murdock / As we lay these edges down, brown women, we so perfect...”      

SABA LOU   /   Novum Ovum

      When I listen to Saba Lou’s intoxicating sophomore album Novum Ovum, I am transported to somewhere magical & different. Maybe older, maybe out of place & time. Everything about Novum feels… classic. From the dusty, record-store-bin-find look of the out of focus cover photo, to the laidback natural way Saba Lou seems to dance along on top of a rollicking house band lifted from the 70’s. There are elements of surf rock, shoegaze, late night soul, and classic rock & roll on Ovum, but it is all driven by the singular writing & vocals of Saba Lou. In the liner notes of the record, a note can be found, claiming that this album is meant to be from the future. 2286 to be exact! Is a concept album?! Is it actually from the future & delivered to us by a time traveling band of Germans?!! Does it have songs about Star Trek??!! Maybe, mayyyybeee... & YES!

Yet to turn 20 (!), Saba Lou is a German born singer songwriter who has been making & releasing music since she was literally six years old! Novum Ovum is Latin for “the new egg” and features a hot four piece full band, and wonderfully fleshed out songs that bounce and swing with palpable energy. The lyrics span an awesomely wide spectrum from endometriosis pain (the title track obv) to a Star Trek mindmeld tune sung from the perspective of Gracie the pregnant whale (closer “Humpback in Time”)!! All in all, Saba Lou is an absolutely electric songwriter and her youthfulness & fervor are contagious. It’s the reason I love making this list every year, and what makes discovering new music so exciting. Can’t wait for the next one!

      “A brick wall around your placenta / Cut them all off from her mother blood / The hounds call for appassionata / A phoenetic paste for the fetal bud...”

SHARON VAN ETTEN   /   Remind Me Tomorrow

      Over the last few years I started the practice of making a draft favorite albums list in January and adding albums throughout the year, as I fall in love with them. This way I don’t forget the ones I loved in January & February, the ones that got me through the backend of the Winter. I’m able to track my year in music as it develops, a sort of captain’s log. A living, personal journal using music to mark time & space as I sprint my way through another increasingly faster, increasingly chaotic year. Sometimes, scrolling through the list acts as a comfort. “That album only came out this year?! OK, this year isn’t moving too fast, that feels like forevvverrrr ago!” Sometimes it helps to show me how much I’ve grown, how much an album has meant, or has helped with my mental & emotional growth. This year, the very first album I added to that list, the very first album that I fell hard & holy hell in love with... was Sharon Van Etten’s Remind Me Tomorrow.

A blast of energy. A weird synthy, pulsing red & blue darkness. Simultaneously club-y & indie rock vibey. Van Etten’s fifth album is supposedly written from a place of contentment. A marriage, a child, a life & happiness discovered. Less desperation, more introspection. I hear in her voice & words, how taking care of yourself, how striving to be your best self, can bring out the most powerful, most emotional art. She also isn’t afraid to let her voice go and I think her vocal performances are what truly take Tomorrow to another level. “Memorial Day” rides a haunting vocal loop & tumbles in nearly wordless, glimmering vowels, all ethereal magnificence. The chorus of the brooding “Jupiter 4″ spirals upwards & then rollercoasters, a late night drunken banger. But at the heart of Remind Me Tomorrow sits one of my songs of the year, one of my songs of the decade, “Seventeen.” I had heard it first live, way back in October 2018 in the rain in the mountains at Red Rocks. I got tipsy & wrote about it the day it came out, January 8, 2019, after a long, cold stretch working the night shift. This album & especially this song will stay with me for a long time. Sharon has taught me to keep working on myself. To look back in fondness. To think about how, with hard work, how much joy & peace & comfort await in my coming years. But she also taught me to lean into emotions. To embrace the ache of memories and the bittersweetness of growing up. Thanks for making this album Sharon.

      “Downtown hotspot, halfway up the street / I used to be free, I used to be 17 / Follow my shadow around your corner / I used to be 17, now you're just like me / Down beneath the ashes & stone / Sure of what I've lived and have known / I see you so uncomfortably alone / I wish I could show you how much you've grown...”

TIM BAKER   /   Forever Overhead

      I have a special feeling tied to the collection of intimate, swirling songs Tim Baker released this year from Canada. Forever Overhead carries a certain small town holiness, recognizable to those who grew up in small towns , but specific to his own personal, north-north-eastern-eastern “small” town, St Johns, in Newfoundland & Labrador, Canada. Growing up on the farthest coast of the Atlantic on the tippy, tippy point of Canada (seriously google it!), Baker fronted emo band Hey Rosetta! for four albums until striking out this Spring on his own with Arts & Crafts Records. There is a very Springsteen-esque bent to the way he writes about growing up somewhere (as someone) small & wanting to be somewhere very big and exciting. He captures the bittersweetness of growing up so perfectly. From the teenage romantic feelings in swaying opener “Dance” & the rousing “Mirrors,” to the friends & bars & singing found in the melancholic “Spirit” and the absolute hit “All Hands.” The latter is the core of the album, a bright, rhythmic guitar number that builds & swells with voices & instrumentation to a few huge, singalong choruses. A real song of the year contender. Baker isn’t afraid to let the songs go on journeys on Forever Overhead and they rarely finish where they begin. Horns & handclaps burst in at points, celebratory & fearless. The sexual tension of “Strange River” is lightened with a false start and a “sorry. In ‘D’” followed by a belly laugh, before restarting. The light & dark are present throughout Overhead and listening to these songs remind me of growing up. I feel like I’m being given a secret glance into Baker’s youth and the parts that mirror mine make me want to lift my voice in unison with those that understand. Sometimes small collections of well written & well played songs can do that, and to me... it’s sacred. Hopefully I get a chance to visit St Johns someday, and if I do, these songs will be playing as my soundtrack.

      “A boy in bed, all the windows wide / You can hear the hot rods running from the light / From the light, into the dark / That's all I wanted in my cousin's car / To listen to the wind & to the lead guitars / & feel the reckless running of your heart / Now is that gone or does that all remain? / Can I go back and have it all again? / Well now I know it, where I'm going / I'm going back behind the river / I'm going back behind the rain / Cuz no matter where you're heading / You end up where you’ve been...”

YOLA   /   Walk Through Fire

     It’s clear from the first minute & 30 seconds of Yola’s debut full-length Walk Through Fire, that this album is destined to be an all-time classic. She comes in slow & wistful with “wish I knew what you were wishing for...” over a soft wash of cymbals and mournful country-soul guitar. Then one minute in, her voice swells to gigantic proportions, seeming to lift the song right off the page, carried into another stratosphere, timeless & magnetic. That “Faraway Look” in your eyes.

From there, Yola (36 year old Yolanda Quartey from Bristol, England) takes her commanding voice through bluesy, fiddle-led country (”It Ain’t Easier” & the title track), and laid back soul (”Shady Grove” & “Deep Blue Dream”). Personal fav “Ride Out In The Country” became a backroads, summer anthem for me this year on multiple trips through Southern & Western Colorado. Through it all, her voice booms, whispers, & rocks gently, propelling the songs forward with warmth & light. Her lyrics are full of both dreamy memories & work-a-day stories about the challenges of life. It was fun this year to have different friends & family members get into Yola at different times, getting texts like “have you heard of YOLA??!!” Sharing songs, & collections of songs (like the ones on Walk Through Fire) is what makes making this list every year so fun, and I’m always excited to see what new, life-long favorites I will discover. See you in a couple months at the Bluebird Theater on Colfax here in Denver Yola!! Can’t wait!

      “A little shady grove / A memory long ago / A tale too old to know the ending / I gave it all away / It takes my breath away...”

[harryandmolly]

The Long Way Home -12- FINAL

A/N: what a brilliant journey! thank you ALL for your incredible support and feedback. you all mean the world to me. I’m extremely proud of this whole series and I hope the ending satisfies you all. (A note for the end: I am not a lyricist so I stole Sugarland’s “Little Miss” and made it Emma’s. Highly recommend you give it a listen to give yourself the full picture while you read)

Summary: His world is a little rocked when Shawn is joined on his 2019 world tour by Emma, a former child star with a chip on her shoulder and a voice that haunts him.

Warnings: Language, family angst, Finality (TM)

Word count: 7.9k (ta daaaa!)

“Now put yer teeny little fingers there… and there.”

Emma obeyed. Emma always obeys.

Grandpa Norm stroked the strings and a pretty noise came out. Emma looked down, eyes wide.

“See, lil girl? You can do it.”

Emma lies in bed, bare feet planted on her Ravenclaw duvet, staring at the ceiling. She’s blasting Shawn’s latest album from her multi-thousand dollar stereo system with her hands folded over her stomach and she’s never felt more like a moody teenager.

She’s never been allowed to be a moody teenager, so maybe this was some sort of box she had to check to level up.

She closes her eyes and he’s there again, face red and panicked, fingers gripping her car window as he jogged to keep up. She didn’t look back when they drove away toward Reagan National for the red-eye back to LAX. She couldn’t.

She drafted six different long-winded texts between the security line and landing in Los Angeles. She sent none of them.

It’s not so much that she had to leave him – she knew that was coming in a few weeks when tour ended anyway. She’s been emotionally preparing for that. It’s more the disappointment she knows he felt at her giving in to Sandra. That’s why she was so desperate to explain it to him – he has to know about the trump card. He has to understand.

She waits until she’s striding into her house, Sandra trailing behind tapping away on her phone, to call him. It’s 4am in LA which means it’s 7am in Boston but she’s betting it doesn’t matter because she doesn’t imagine he slept either.

He answers on the first ring and listens while she sobs out the whole story, the whole sordid affair. He spits curses about Sandra in between her ragged breaths but lets her get it out. She knows he wants to protest, wants to tell her she should’ve stood up. But Emma knows Sandra. She knows when she’s bluffing. And she wasn’t.

“So… that’s it? You’re confined to your room?” he whispers.

She looks around. “Yeah. Or the house, at least. Ashley’s called me about eighty times since we were papped at LAX this morning. I’ll give you one guess who arranged that Kodak moment.”

Shawn sympathizes as much as he can, but he’s angry and she can hear it in his voice. She understands. She’s angry too. She’s so angry she can’t see straight. But she’s so tired. He talks to her until she falls asleep and then he leaves for the gym, sending her a text with a heart emoji and a promise to call her again later.

It’s been eight days since Emma has left the house. She’s trying to do the math in her head of how many hours that is when something taps her leg. She looks over at Georgie who’s lying in the same position, her bony knees pointed up at the ceiling, looking pensive. Georgie nods at the speakers. Emma turns down “Where Were You In the Morning.”

“Are you hungry?”

Emma nods. Georgie nods back and hops off the bed, scurrying in fuzzy purple socks out the bedroom door, closing it on her way out.

Georgie arrived the evening after Sandra and Emma got back to Hollywood. Emma was asleep – she slept all day after she and Shawn talked. Georgie crept into Emma’s room, turned on the lamp and crawled into bed.

Emma stirred. “G?”

Georgie’s wise old eyes stared back at her. She was expressionless, a face only a sister, another half of a soul could read.

Emma’s face crumpled until she was racked with sobs. Georgie dragged her face into her shoulder and rocked her until she calmed and fell asleep again.

The next morning, Sandra announced she and Georgie would be moving in and they’d all be spending time at home for a while to “regroup.” It was essentially Sandra-enforced house arrest. Georgie screamed, slammed doors, threw a fit unlike Emma had ever seen. But she was too tired to fight. She just watched.

She doesn’t leave the room now. She can’t look at Sandra’s face. She’s afraid she may claw it off. Georgie calmed down after her initial outburst and plays liaison now, occasionally relaying messages and couriering food.

Georgie returns to her sister’s boyfriend’s voice blasting through the wall. She closes the door again and climbs on the bed, offering Emma a plate of grapes, cheese and crackers. Emma plants a wet kiss on her cheek and Georgie sneers and giggles.

Georgie waves at the music again. Emma turns it down reluctantly, wanting to drown herself in the emotion of “Why.”

“Can I ask you something?” Georgie murmurs, smacking her lips like she always does when she eats. Emma shrugs and pops a grape in her mouth.

“What was your first time like?”

Emma’s jaw goes still mid-chew. Without meaning to, she relives her first sexual experience in fast-forward mode in her head, raising her eyebrows and wincing slightly.

Georgie snorts. Emma hears an anxious tone in it.

“That bad?”

Emma runs her tongue along her bottom lip, considering how to answer. “Honestly? Yeah. It hurt. I wasn’t ready. And it didn’t mean anything to him. It didn’t really mean that much to me, either.”

Georgie schools a calm look on her face. Emma takes another grape between her fingers, studying it.

“What’s up, G? Are you having sex?”

Emma’s heart pounds when she asks like she’s a nervous mom. She feels like one sometimes. Someone ought to around here.

Georgie’s quiet a beat too long. “I might be about to.”

Emma wants to crawl under the bed. She’s so horrified that she knows nothing about this, has no clue who her sister could be considering sleeping with. She’s been so wrapped up in her own shit, insulated by fame and Shawn and her own fucking ego. She feels nauseous but keeps a straight face as she encourages Georgie to go on.

“I’ve been talking to Holland Dittrich’s older brother Josh.”

“Jooooosh,” Emma teases in a deep voice, rolling her eyes, “That’s such a teenage boy name. Where do all the Joshes go after they turn 21? It’s like they disappear.”

Georgie snickers. “Shut up. He’s cool. He’s a rising senior at Belfort. Captain of the lacrosse team. He wants to go to Stanford pre-med. He’s like, perfect. He likes the same music as me. I even played him “Lost in Japan” last week and he really liked it. Like, I could tell he was into it.”

Emma picks at her grape and smiles gently. She kind of loves that liking Shawn’s music is a metric Georgie’s using for boys now. Shawn will like it too when Emma tells him.

“Have you been out with him?”

“Not yet. We’re catching a movie this weekend. I think he’s going to ask me to Homecoming in the fall.”

Emma nods like seasoned big sisters are supposed to even though she’s never been to a school dance in her life. Well, that’s not strictly true – she’s been to a set of a school dance for Fake It and had her first onscreen kiss there. She doesn’t think that experience counts, though.

“And you’re thinking about having sex with him.” Emma’s repeating it out loud more for herself than for Georgie. She’s trying to wrap her head around the idea.

“I mean, yeah. Seems like a good idea. He’s nice, he likes me. He’s had girlfriends before so he probably knows what he’s doing.”

Emma sews her mouth shut over the words “THAT’S NO GUARANTEE” springing up.

She stays casual. “Yeah, if he’s good to you, if you want to do it, sure. I have condoms. Always bring your own.”

Georgie smiles in that unnervingly wise way she does. “That’s not what I mean, Em. I just… I don’t know if I want to wait for someone I love.”

Shawn’s rosy face and perfect smile appears in Emma’s mind. Her heart aches. It’s all she can do not to reach for her phone and call him just to hear his voicemail.

She nods, sighing. “I hear that. I get it. Sex is a personal thing. But it doesn’t have to be with someone you love. I think it should at least be someone you like. I…” She trails off, shrugging.

“What?” Georgie prods.

Emma hesitantly continues. “Despite… everything, I don’t regret any of my sexual history. Yeah, my first time sucked. Most first times do. And I didn’t have sex with someone I loved at all until Shawn. And it was mind-blowing and so different,” she feels herself grinning and watches Georgie mirror it, “But there was a lot I learned about myself and men and sex before I got to that point and I don’t regret any of it.”

“Was… was it perfect with Shawn?”

Just there, Georgie goes from wise old owl to actual 16-year-old girl and Emma gets to feel like a competent older sister for once. She lends her a crooked smile.

“As close to perfect as anything can get. He was so… he was so gentle. And affectionate. And just… everything I wanted. Everything I deserved.”

Georgie nods thoughtfully. “I want that too. Someday.”

Emma pops her grape in her mouth and pats Georgie’s knee. “Hopefully you won’t have to wait too long. If Joooooosh feels right for the first time, do it. Enjoy it. Know it’ll probably get better, but learn from it. Learn what you like, what you’re into. And don’t be shy to tell him, boys like that, I promise.”

Georgie’s nodding again. Emma’s phone buzzes against her hip. Georgie snatches it away before Emma can answer.

“Hi Shawn!” Georgie quips, her voice going up an embarrassing several octaves that Emma will mock her for later.

“Hey Georgie,” Shawn chuckles, “How’s house arrest?”

“Fine. Emma and I are eating grapes and sulking in her room. How’s tour?”

Emma stiffens. Georgie immediately regrets the question. Shawn feels the change in tone and bites his lip.

“It’s ok. Not as fun now. Can I talk to Em?”

“Yeah,” Georgie murmurs, nodding, “Bye, Shawn.”

Emma takes the phone. Georgie takes the plate of food and scampers out of the bedroom.

Emma curls up on her side. “She’s asking me about sex.”

Shawn giggles. “Oh no.”

“Don’t laugh at me. Your sister’s not that much younger than mine.”

“Oh god, don’t say that,” Shawn whines, “I’m so not ready for that.”

“Yeah, well, when she starts asking questions, send her my way. Apparently I’m the guru.”

“Good to know,” Shawn hums, “What did you tell her?”

“She asked about my first time. I told her it was garbage and most first times are—” Shawn interrupts her with a snort of agreement, “But you learn and you grow and it’s better with someone you love but you don’t have to wait for that if you don’t want to.”

Shawn bobs his head. “Very wise.”

“She asked about us.”

She can hear Shawn’s reflective smile through the phone. She returns it.

“What did you say?”

“I told her it was as close to perfect as anything is in this stupid world.”

Shawn’s quiet. It’s a weighty silence – it’s an I love you silence, an I miss you silence, a why did you leave silence.

“I can’t lose her, Shawn. It would end me,” Emma whispers, closing her eyes and feeling threatening tears rub at her throat.

He’s quiet again for a few seconds. “I know. We’ll figure it out. You’ll figure it out.”

The words are simple and seemingly unhelpful but from him, they feel good and real. They talk for another few minutes before he has to go to soundcheck and tries not to let her know that because he doesn’t want to remind her what she’s missing but he’s in the venue and does a lousy job of hiding from the loading in noise. She wishes him a good show and they exchange blushing I love yous like a couple of kids who are still getting used to the words.

+

Shawn’s little fingers curl into his fists. He can’t quite catch his breath. His jerking heaves of air are fluttering the sweaty curls on his forehead as he stomps out of the rink.

He’s never felt this before. He barely knows what this is. He thinks it’s rage, despair even, but he’s never seen it before, doesn’t know how to recognize it.

He’s been practicing so hard. He was in three different hockey camps this summer. Not making the travel team is the worst thing that’s ever happened to anyone, and it’s just happened to him. He has no idea how to deal with this feeling. It’s swallowing him.

Shawn and anger are admittedly not well acquainted.

He’s seething on the sidewalk after he loses sight of the D.C. cab’s taillights. He can feel the heat radiating off him as his blood boils. He takes enormous steps back into the hotel. He doesn’t hear a word Andrew’s saying, only a dull ringing in his ears as the elevators carry him up to their floor. It’s not until Andrew follows him into his room and Shawn gets the chance to sit on the bed and gather himself that he even understands what he’s saying.

“You should’ve told me,” Andrew almost barks. Andrew doesn’t really get mad either. Especially not at Shawn. Shawn’s brow furrows.

“Told you what?”

“That you’re fucking Emma Kingston!” Andrew cries, throwing his hands out.

Shawn’s jaw juts out, clenching hard. He presses his balled fists into the bed.

“I am not fucking Emma Kingston. I’m in love with her.”

Andrew is silent, flabbergasted. His jaw hangs open. “You… what?”

“I love her. I’m in love with her. She’s the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. She’s got more talent in her little finger than I have in my whole body. She knows more about music and the industry than anyone I’ve ever met, including you. She is so sharp and so funny and so thoughtful and so sexy and I’m crazy, stupid in love with her.”

Andrew suddenly looks exhausted. He has this way about him where he’s all energy until something hits him too hard and he just slumps. He sinks into a chair and hangs his face in his hands. Shawn bristles.

“Why does this fucking matter?”

“Why does it matter?” Andrew repeats in a half-crazed chuckle, “Because it does, Shawn! Because everything you do matters. Especially the romantic stuff. The driving force of your fanbase is female. Females that want to date you. So when you’re dating someone, it fucking matters.”

Shawn balks. “I’m not gonna not date someone because it’ll hurt business, Andrew!”

“I’m not saying that! I’m saying there’s a process to these things. One of the things we talked about when I signed on was honesty. Honesty always. I can’t do my job if I don’t have all the pieces. You should’ve fucking told me.”

“I couldn’t. If anyone on her team knew, especially once the Kyle Dillon thing started…”

“Yeah! The Kyle Dillon thing! You realize if this gets out it’s going to look like a weird love triangle? Or worse, like you stole Kyle’s girlfriend. Is that what you want?”

Andrew’s getting hysterical and it’s really pissing Shawn off. He hangs his head and closes his eyes to breathe.

“You know that’s not what I want. I… fuck, I didn’t mean to make your life harder, man, I just… I wanted to be with her. This was what she needed from me. I’m… I’m sorry, dude.”

Shawn’s apology seems to quiet Andrew’s frazzled brain. He nods his acceptance. They’re both quiet for a while, raking hands through their hair and thinking too hard.

“Well… it’s probably better she’s off the tour, then.”

Shawn perks up. “What?”

“Until we figure out how to approach this, you guys can’t be public. Every day you were together was a risk. You can’t see her again until we set up a strategy.”

“A strategy?” Shawn cries, “What the fuck? This is my life, Andrew!”

“Yeah!” Andrew bites back, “Your life! And you hired me to manage it. This is how this stuff goes when you’re Shawn Mendes. Dude, we’ve talked about this. You know we have. You knew this was never going to be easy. It’s harder when it’s someone like Emma who’s out there in the public eye with you. We need a strategy.”

Shawn fumes. He has half a mind to jump on a plane to LA and be seen making out with Emma very publicly somewhere just to buck the system but he can’t and he feels impotent and small. He’s not used to that.

Andrew leaves him there after a few minutes. He’s lying face up on his bed missing her so much already he can barely breathe.

He didn’t know it was going to be like this. He didn’t know that the shitty things that happened to her would feel like they happened to him too. He didn’t know he’d feel her wounds as deep as he feels his own. He’s tethered now and she’s across the country so he feels stretched and uncomfortable and breathless.

He closes his eyes, tries to play her song in his head. He hums it, bounces his knee, wills it to distract him.

His eyes open. He has an idea.

+

The tall, spindly woman kneels in front of Emma. She’s held in place by her father’s rough hands on her shoulders so she can’t run and hide behind her mother’s dress. Emma blinks.

“Hello, Emma. I’m Margaret. I’m going to help you become a star.”

Emma frowns and sees something she doesn’t like in the flat brown eyes staring back at her.

“Ok,” she whispers.

The other shoe had to drop eventually, Angelique reminds herself. It was all going too well. The transition from Margaret to her had been too seamless. With her finely honed senses and slight paranoia, she should’ve felt this coming. Her hackles should’ve been up.

She let her guard down. She finally felt comfortable with what she was doing, like she was in the right place at the right time managing the right person. Emma felt like her teammate.

She was loading into the bus when Shawn first sprinted past her red-faced looking like he’d just seen a ghost. Andrew followed quickly after, shooting her a firm glance.

“Call your client. She’s getting on a fucking plane.”

Angelique felt her stomach fall into her shoes. Whatever this is, it can’t fucking happen.

But it did. Emma went home without a fight. Sandra smugly responded to every email about tour cancellation details. She patronizingly yammered on about Emma needing “mental space” and “time with her beloved family” like she was writing a fucking press release instead of just lying to Angelique.

She’s between a rock and a hard place now, the rock being Emma, the hard place being the rest of Emma’s team who are clamoring for answers.

Emma was apologetic, to her credit. She explained the whole situation. Angelique was about to launch into a somewhat unprofessional and probably really inappropriate tirade about getting Georgie legally emancipated when she heard something in Emma’s voice that gave her hope.

She doesn’t have a name for it, whatever it was. It was a small tinkling of something underneath that told Angelique in her gut that this isn’t over yet. Angelique had been thinking of Emma like a boxer who’d been hit hard and was waiting for the countdown so the round could end. After that phone call, she realized something – Emma isn’t down for the count. She’s waiting. She’s resting up. She’ll come out swinging.

She’s not out of this yet.

+

“I don’t want another lesson,” Shawn insists in the middle seat in the back of his mom’s Volvo, “I just learned notes. I want to play a song.”

“Love, you have to learn the notes to play a song,” his mom says softly.

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “I can learn on YouTube faster than a lesson. Seriously.”

Karen relents. Let him learn on YouTube, she thinks. Maybe that’ll hold his interest.

Shawn sits cross-legged at the end of the stage, knees bouncing as the FaceTime ringtone blares at him mockingly.

Her face is warm and pink when she answers him. She’s just finished Pilaticardio, it looks like. He flushes at the idea of her in her tight Lululemon pants and shakes the idea from his head before it can sprout.

“Hey, you,” she greets. Her voice isn’t tired so much as her whole being seems tired. It makes him want to wrap her up in his arms and shut it all out. He can’t do that, so he tries something else.

“Got a surprise for you,” he says breathlessly, a little giddy, nodding and biting his lip.

Her eyebrows lift. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he nods at someone off camera and suddenly he’s not holding the phone, “I’m passing you off to Geoff. I want to show you something.”

He hurries adorably to the center of the stage and thanks Joey the tech for the guitar he’s handed. Emma smiles, watching him get ready to command his space. Maybe he’s written something new.

He starts first. She knows within two seconds what he’s playing. And he didn’t write it.

She did.

He plucks expertly at his acoustic, bobbing his head, feeling her song in his bones. The breath leaves her body in a sweeping exhale. She doesn’t remember to breathe for a few seconds until the pounding of her heart races over the deep tones of the accompanying piano.

He closes his eyes and steps into the mic, brow wrinkling as he sings her words, sings her heart to an empty stadium. Each piece of her arrangement comes in like she told him, like she envisioned. The drums shake the song, indicate something big is coming. Shawn carries it forth, leading steadily into the throbbing pre-chorus, tapping his foot and shrugging a hand around the mic. The piano climbs with him, the drums steadily increase in volume until the song reaches a climactic pause. When it comes back in, she folds her hands over her mouth in shock.

It's everything she wanted, everything she imagined it could be. It’s big, it’s bold, it’s emotional, it’s her.

And he did it for her.

He plays through the whole song and she falls in love with it all over again. She recognizes every beat, every note, every choice made as her own. He’s playing it for her not as himself, but as her proxy. He’s made no customizations, no little twists. It’s just hers exactly as it’s meant to be.

As the last note fades out, Emma finally uncovers her mouth. Geoff comes around the camera to peek shyly at her reaction. She offers him a watery grin and he smiles back sincerely for the first time since she met him. He moves his head so Emma can see Shawn hustling to the front of the stage to get his phone back.

He’s rosy, a little sweaty and grinning with a mad look in his eye.

“So? Did you like it?”

Emma opens her mouth. A choked sob escapes where words were meant to be. She claps a hand over her mouth and coughs a laugh.

“It’s… it’s perfect. That was it, that was what I wanted. I… oh my god. I’m so—”

She cuts herself off, shaking her head. He gets it. He’s been blessed to have had this moment himself before – to watch his brain child songs get the live treatment, to feel real and big and beautiful. He knows how this feels. That’s why he wanted to give it to her.

“It’s yours, Em. You did that. You did all of it.”

Emma swallows. She tries to regulate her breathing, muttering about thanking his band for learning it, for playing it so beautifully, thanking Geoff for holding the damn phone. Shawn laughs.

“Face it, Emma Kingston. You’re a fuckin’ rockstar.”

Emma’s laugh bubbles and spills as her tears do. Shawn walks off with his phone for some privacy as she gets it out of her system and wrenches at her self-control.

“Thank you,” she manages through a throat full of snotty tears.

He bobs his head shyly. “It’s be alright, Em.”

+

Emma held Georgie’s pudgy little hand as they walked into Somerset School for Georgie’s first day of kindergarten. Being a rough and tumble second grader, Emma felt big and cool. She’s never seen a real first day of school before, only on sets. She’s glad these aren’t kids her age or she’d feel a lot less cool.

Georgie tugs at her hand. “What if I don’t make friends?”

Emma shakes her head. “You’ll make friends. Plus, even if you don’t, I’m your friend.”

On the 12th day of confinement, Emma and Georgie lie side by side on Emma’s bed. It’s not an unfamiliar position to them now.

Emma’s trying so hard not to feel it, but there’s something in the air. She tries not to think that it’s the last day of tour and Shawn’s playing the Barclays Center in Brooklyn and she tries not to feel like a part of her is there and she needs to go get it back.

But Emma doesn’t always get what she wants, so her efforts are pretty useless.

With a shaky sigh, she reaches her foot out and kicks Georgie’s leg to get her to turn down “Ruin.”

Georgie turns onto her side to regard her big sister. Emma looks a little less tired now. And resigned, somehow.

“G,” Emma whispers, and it’s the same voice she used when she told Georgie Grandpa Norm died while she was at camp, “It’s time to go talk to mom.”

Georgie shakes. She doesn’t know why. This is Emma’s fight, she’s just back up.

Even as she thinks it to herself, she knows it’s flatly untrue. Any fight of Emma’s is a fight of hers. And this, this fight, this cosmic inertia of mother and daughter, she’s a part of this too.

She’s a few paces behind Emma as they pad into the living room, unintimidating in pajamas at 11am.

Sandra is sitting on the couch in gym wear typing away at her phone with E! News on in the background. She doesn’t notice when they walk in.

“Mom,” Emma prompts. Georgie feels relieved not to hear a quiver in it.

Sandra’s head snaps up. She hasn’t seen or heard from her eldest daughter in days. She beams at her two girls who’ve come to see her.

“Hey babies,” she coos, setting her phone down, “Want to go get some lunch? Might be time to get Emma Jean back out in the world.”

“Mom, I love you,” Emma states.

Georgie’s eyes blow wide open. Sandra’s mirror them. To be honest, neither of them is sure of the last time Emma said that. Or any of them said that. They aren’t that kind of family.

“Babygirl, I love you too,” Sandra hums, her voice lowering, misunderstanding the direction of this.

“I love you and I don’t want to hate you anymore. So you need to leave my house.”

Sandra’s brow furrows. Her eyes briefly touch Georgie’s – she’s equally stunned. But Emma is a mountain that will not be moved. Not this time.

“Honey, we talked about this, I know it’s been a hard few months, a hard few years even, but this—“

“No. We’re not doing this again. I’m not gonna do this dance with you.”

Emma takes Georgie’s hand and tugs her forward. Georgie stumbles along behind her until they’re both sitting on the oversized ottoman facing their mother, who’s sitting straight as a rod.

“I’ve spent the last couple weeks thinking. I’ve been thinking about why it was easier for me to say the things I said to Margaret than it was to say them to you. I’ve been going over it and over it. It didn’t make sense. She was as much my mother as you ever were,” a flash of real human hurt crashes across Sandra’s face for a split second, “so why was it so different?

“The truth is, Margaret has always respected me a little more than you have. Maybe because I was always her client and I was always your daughter. And at the end of the day, she was never going to be permanent, no matter how entwined in my life she was. Not like you are.

“I think because you never respected me, I always feared you. Because I didn’t know what you were capable of. I didn’t ever really know until you threatened to take Georgie away from me.”

Georgie stares at Emma, feeling her face heat. It takes her a full few seconds before she can lift her eyes to Sandra’s. Sandra is looking back, pale as a ghost.

It’s not like Georgie didn’t know. Georgie knows all. Before Emma even told her why she agreed to leave tour, Georgie had an inkling. She knows Emma wouldn’t leave tour, leave Shawn for anything but her. Georgie is the trump card.

She stares at her mother, her unfeeling, judgmental wisp of a mother. She sees years of signed permission slips, missed band concerts, nearly forgotten birthdays. She sees a vapid hole of a woman who nearly sucked the life out of the person Georgie holds most dear. She sees nothing in Sandra.

“Emma Jean, don’t do this.”

It’s not a plea, it’s a warning. Sandra Kingston’s never backed down from a fight. She’s not about to start with her 19-year-old headstrong bitch of a daughter.

“Mom,” Emma breathes, leaning forward and taking one of her mother’s frigid, veiny hands in hers, “I have to do this. It’s all that’s left.”

Georgie didn’t know she was about to cry until the tears fell. She sniffles gently, sweeping them away, trying not to make a scene as the culmination of her entire family’s angst hangs over them.

“Do what you’re going to do,” Emma whispers. Georgie blinks in surprise. Emma lets go of Sandra’s hand. Sandra looks bowled over.

“I can’t stop you, I can’t control you. If what you really want is to place a restraining order on me so I can’t see my sister, do it. Or try. I don’t necessarily trust the American justice system, but I think I still trust it more than you. So if that’s what you want, to separate us, to use her as a pawn to make me your dancing monkey, fine. Because guess what? Georgie turns 18 in 17 months and there’s your only power over me, gone.

“Margaret is gone, mom. She signed a girl band in Sweden. She’s happy. Angelique is leading my team now. She is my teammate. She collaborates with me and listens to me and we have a way forward that I’m really, really excited about. I’m more excited about this than any move I’ve ever made in my career. I want you to be excited, too. I know you had a plan. I know you wanted to take charge when I was younger, wanted me to succeed. I can’t do it if you threaten my happiness and my family.

“I want you to be a part of this someday. Not today, probably not any time soon, but someday. I know as well as anyone how savvy you are. I don’t discount that. But you don’t know how to be a teammate, mom. And you don’t know how to be a mom, either. So for now, you’re off my team until you figure those things out.”

Emma glances at Georgie for the first time in minutes. She wraps her hands around Georgie’s and smiles softly.

“Georgie’s going to go home to dad’s. She’s going to go to Belfort Homecoming with Josh Dittrich. She’s going to make lacrosse captain and start visiting colleges. You’re going to stay home, at your home in Beverly Hills, and go to her games and take her shopping for her dress and get her for dinner every Wednesday night and on every other weekend.”

“I’m going to get on a plane.”

Georgie’s eyes lift from their hands to Emma’s face. She looks… serene. Georgie’s never once seen her look serene. She blinks quickly, feeling her fingers unfold from her sister’s. Emma plants a hand on her head.

“C’mon, kid. We have somewhere to be.”

+

Emma watches the lights of the New York City skyline glimmer off Georgie’s shining eyes in the back of the speeding cab. Emma promised him a $100 tip if he could get them to the Barclays Center before 10:30pm. He’s taking his challenge very, very seriously.

Emma and Georgie slide into each other during another scary hairpin turn. They both giggle, a little giddy from adrenaline.

Emma tucks a chunk of hair behind her ear and looks down. She’s in an oversized plaid shirt, Daisy Dukes and checkered Vans. Her hair is muddy with grease and dry shampoo. She’s breaking out a little on her chin. She feels fucking great.

Finally, the cabbie dumps them off outside the artist’s entrance. Emma makes good on her promise and throws in an autograph for his niece with a grin and a wink.

Emma and Georgie hustle up to venue security. Suddenly, Emma vanishes into Emma Kingston. Her face goes cold, eyes go dark and vacant. She strides up like she belongs there.

“Excuse me,” she says in that soft velvety tone of disdain.

Venue security doesn’t look impressed. She lets the corners of her mouth fold down further.

“Name?”

“Emma Kingston.”

“You’re not on the artist roster,” the guard says boredly. Emma cocks her head.

“I’m the tour opener. I was here two hours ago,” she groans, sounding convincingly exhausted. She spots a tour poster and points at her name and face splashed helpfully beneath Shawn’s. She quirks an annoyed eyebrow.

This seems to work, because they’re letting her in. She still has to find a couple crew members to swipe passes from to keep this alive a little longer. She hopes she hasn’t stirred up too much ill will with her formerly bad attitude. She needs this to work. She has to see him.

Georgie’s along for the ride, gawping at the backstage like she’s never seen one before. She waves at passing crew members and roadies. She’s charming enough that they wave back even when they’re rushing or their hands are full.

Emma lunges for Shawn’s favorite tech Joey when she sees him. “Joey! I need a pass.”

He beams. “Emma! Hey! Wow! Yeah, c’mon.”

Georgie’s teeth start to chatter with nerves as they wind their way through the labyrinthian tunnels. As they grow closer to the stage, Shawn’s voice becomes clearer. He’s nearing the end of his set. Emma’s growing fidgety, wants to watch his last few songs and be there when he walks off stage.

Joey very helpfully gets them passes and leads them up through the backstage, doesn’t ask questions when he helps them dodge Andrew, who Emma knows to avoid due to Shawn’s explanation of the “strategy.”

Emma’s nerve endings are buzzing all over her body when Joey leads them to sidestage and she catches sight of Shawn under a spot. He’s pounding hard at his guitar, dripping sweat, thrashing around like a fucking rockstar. Her stomach releases a team of butterflies that don’t stay put – they feel like they’re exploding out of her ears and cheeks. Emma reaches for Georgie’s hand, gripping hard.

She looks over. Georgie is grinning so hard her face might just break. She’s bopping up and down, singing along like she’s at her favorite artist’s concert. Emma smiles, remembering that she is. Georgie looks over and squeezes her hand.

The Kingston sisters scream and dance along to “Particular Taste” under Joey’s watchful eye as he stands guard from Andrew or other interferers.

When the song ends, Emma’s adrenaline-laced heart pumps straight into overdrive. Shawn breaks for water and turns toward them, glancing around casually as he brings the water bottle to his lips.

The bottle almost falls from his hand when he spots her. She’s smiling that perfect, quiet Emma smile, the one that first made him wonder who she was underneath. She’s standing there, a vision in plaid and denim, with bouncing, screaming Georgie nearly vibrating next to her.

Shawn bares a toothy grin and starts to laugh. His band members look up to stare at him like he has three heads. Emma and Georgie giggle along with him until the three of them are nearly doubled over, laughing at nothing.

Finally, Shawn straightens up. The music has long since faded out and the crowd is wondering what the hell is going on. Shawn chews on his lower lip, one hand around the neck of his guitar, one gripping the mic. Emma watches him curiously.

Shawn returns his gaze to the crowd. He can’t see them over the house lights, but he can hear them, can feel them. He smiles softly.

He plucks the first few notes, just to give her a taste, get her blood moving. He doesn’t look at her reaction, just down at his guitar as the crowd cheers for something they don’t recognize.

“Brooklyn,” he crows, a smirk in his voice, “Have I got a surprise for you.”

He backs away from the mic so he can see into sidestage. Emma is laughing again and Georgie is looking between Shawn and Emma so quickly she’s going to give herself whiplash.

Joey, being Joey, takes his cue and hands Emma a tuned up acoustic. It’s not her little yellow guitar, but it’ll do. She smiles gratefully and looks back at the stage as Shawn races around to inform the band that a change is being made.

When all is settled, he nods to Joey and strides back to the mic. As Joey approaches, he lifts off his guitar and hands it to him.

“Thanks, Joey.”

Shawn stands in front of the mic, hands folded behind his back. “This is my last night on this tour,” Shawn begins, sounding a little nostalgic and a lot proud. Emma looks up from fiddling with a guitar pick to watch him.

“This was the best tour ever. I want to thank my incredible band and crew for all their hard work. You guys are everything. I couldn’t do this without you, obviously, but I also wouldn’t want to. Thank you.”

He steps back from the mic and applauds, looking to each member of his band gratefully. The crowd’s roaring dies down as Shawn takes the mic again.

“I also want to thank my tourmate,” he chuckles and Emma knows it’s because “tourmate” doesn’t even begin to cover what they are to each other now, “Emma Kingston.”

The crowd shows waves of recognition, they think they know what’s coming.

They don’t.

Emma turns to Georgie with bated breath. “Want to see something cool?”

Georgie nods. Emma grins. “Stay here. You’re gonna love this.”

Georgie squeals and stands back. When Emma looks back to the stage, Shawn is turned toward her, smiling in anticipation.

Emma grips the guitar for dear life.

She’s never been on a stage as Emma before. She’s been on who knows how many hundreds, maybe thousands of them. Pageant stages, sound stages, arena stages. She has stood at the back or the side putting on her mask, lacing up her persona. She became Emma Kingston for them because that’s what they wanted from her.

She’s never been this Emma before – this Emma in a shirt from Goodwill and ratty sneakers without a stitch of make-up. This is Georgie’s Emma, Shawn’s Emma.

Emma’s Emma.

And now it’s all that’s left.

Emma takes a deep breath and it feels like new life. It feels like a promise. It feels like she’s finally present.

She takes a step, then another. Shawn starts to clap and whistle as she takes the stage, scorched by the bright lights. She’s grateful, then, that all she can see is him.

She walks up to him, watches his smug smile grow. She shakes her head, laughing again, turning to the elated crowd to wave. They shake the damn stadium with their applause. Something new is happening. They can feel it.

Shawn’s gentle touch on her arm brings her back. He leans into her ear.

“You good?”

Emma leans back and looks up at his sparkling chocolate eyes. She nods meaningfully. “I’m ready.”

Shawn grins wildly, curls bobbing as he jogs back to take a seat at the piano.

Emma takes her time adjusting the mic stand, feeling the intensely weighted quiet of the crowd as they wait for her. They think they know who she is, but they haven’t seen this before. They’re curious. Who is she?

Emma looks down at the guitar as she plucks out the first chords slowly. She repeats them a few times, not as much getting her bearings as she is falling into this.

This, what she’s worked every day of her life for since she was five.

This, what she’s dreamed about through years of misdirection, of pampering, of bad attitude, of tight jeans, of broken promises.

This, what she’s built with her own two hands.

Emma lifts her head, tips it back and forth as her eyes slide shut. She starts playing to tempo, hears Shawn’s first notes on the piano come in shortly after.

“Little miss down on love… little miss I give up… little miss I’ll get tough, don’t you worry ‘bout me anymore…”

Her voice is hers. It’s not sweetened, it’s not tuned, it’s Emma Jean. It’s generations of southern heritage, it’s years of Tammy and Patsy under the covers in bed, it’s a little twangy and it’s fucking perfect.

“Little miss checkered dress… little miss one big mess… little miss I’ll take less when I always give so much more…”

Her eyes are shut, pinched tight as she feels every word like they’re getting tattooed on her skin as she sings them.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, sometimes you gotta lose till you win…”

“It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright, it’ll be alright again.”

Her eyes open. The chorus crashes in. She rocks along with it, crooning into the mic, strumming hard.

“It’ll be alright again, I’m ok, it’ll be alright again…”

As the chorus fades back into the first chords, Emma feels the crowd with her. She has them – an artist knows when she has an audience, it’s like feeling the wind at her back. But this is Barclays Arena so it’s not wind. It’s a goddamn hurricane. And it feels so good.

“Little miss do your best… little miss never rest… little miss be my guest, I’ll make more any time that it runs out.”

Shawn’s impressive at the piano. She grins around her words as he strikes hard at the keys, feeling this as much as she is.

“Little miss you’ll go far… little miss hide your scars… little miss who you are is so much more than you like to talk about…”

With the build-up of the next chorus, Emma stomps her foot along with the piano and drums. The pause before the chorus breaks and Emma slashes at the guitar, going full rockstar like she’s always wanted to but never could. It gets even more of the crowd behind her. She’s a born performer. It’s hard to ignore.

The bridge is simple, but it’s big. It builds like the chorus, but it’s more climactic. Emma feels it rising in her. It shows her true chops as a singer. She holds her note, grinning around it again as the crowd reacts in waves of cheers and applause.

“Hold on… hold on, you are loved, are loved…”

Emma’s voice fades out after an impressive vocal run that has at least half the stadium on their feet. If she looked behind her, she’d see the band exchanging shocked looks of delight -- all but Shawn, who knew for certain she had it in her. He’s smiling that perfect proud smile, eyes glued to her like the first time he saw her perform. He remembers her blue spangly dress, her bare feet, her mismatched voice. There’s nothing mismatched here, now. This is right. This is her.

Emma steps back from the mic for a moment, regaining her breath after her impressive display of vocal prowess. She gasps breath, lifts her hand to her mouth, shaking her head in amazement as the crowd grows even louder in reaction. 

She stares out at them. She wonders about every face, every story behind every life, every song in the hearts of these people who didn’t expect this today but got it anyway. All these people who are making this memory with her. All these people who took a perfect dream and made it real.

She smiles wide. It’s projected stories high onto the screen behind her. The crowd continues to cheer.

She steps back to the mic and the song returns to its quiet beginning. Emma is solo, strumming the guitar, bobbing her head and scuffing her sneakers on the stage floor. She turns to face Shawn, lifts her head and flips hair out of her eyes. He’s sitting proudly at the piano, staring at her. He ducks his head shyly when she catches him. He knows what’s coming.

“Little miss brand new start… little miss do your part… little miss big ol’ heart beats wide open, she’s ready now for love…”

Fuck a strategy. Fuck Kyle Dillon. Fuck Island. Fuck Sandra.

Emma’s looking at Shawn and Shawn’s looking at Emma and it’s obvious to anyone with eyes. And they don’t fucking care.

The chorus builds again, bigger than before. It takes Emma a minute to realize why.

It’s because they’re singing along.

The crowd is chanting with her, “it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright.”

They’re singing her words back to her and it’s so much better than she imagined it would be. Tears catch at the corner of her eyes. When she glimpses Georgie jumping up and down sidestage, crying like a 13-year-old at a Bieber, concert, her tears come loose. Her throat grates, but she sings through it.

Emma sings “I’m ok,” Shawn echoes “it’ll be alright again” and for the first time in her life, Emma believes it.

She doesn’t want to let go when the song draws to a close, the last chord reverberating but barely audible under the mass of screams, of delighted cheers, of chants of her name.

Emma steps backward away from the mic, trying to catch her breath. She drops her pic and claps her hands over her mouth, shaking her head. The cheers grow louder as she gets emotional.

She recovers enough to swing her guitar behind her back and lift her arms to wave. She’s choking back sobs, biting her lips, wishing in the back of her head that Sandra could see this.

Emma looks to Georgie, who’s crying harder than she is. When Georgie realizes she’s spotted, she waves hysterically, cheering and jumping up and down again. Emma laughs, lifting her hand to wave back.

A big, warm hand catches her wrist. She looks up instinctively. He’s there beside her looking at her like she handed him the world.

Slowly, like she’s watching from above, he drops her wrist and steps into her, cupping her neck in his big, rough hands. The crowds roars are deafening as they see what’s about to happen. Emma holds onto his ribcage as Shawn leans in and gives her a searing kiss.

He holds nothing back. He slots their lips together, pulls her up on her toes to deepen it, dropping his hands from her neck to wrap around her waist and lift her slightly. She swings her arms around his neck and holds on desperately, gasping into his mouth, whimpering gently.

With the ground-shaking din of the crowd’s reaction ringing in his ears, Emma’s mind is perfectly blank, clearer than it’s been since she was small. She has one thought in her head. A memory.

She sighs, resigned. She sweeps a hand through his hair, gripping the back of his neck. She leans in and kisses him, soft and sweet. It lasts only a moment. His lips are soft and taste like morning and lemon. She shudders.

He has lost any sense of the world around them. He shrugs an arm around her, uses the other to move some hair out of her tear-streaked face. He leans back in and she shuts her eyes, waiting for another kiss. Instead, he trails his lips over her hair, her cheekbones, her nose, her fluttering eyelashes.

“Emma,” he breathes into her ear. Her body tightens against his in response.

The name doesn’t sound so scary anymore.

Emma smiles into his lips, overwhelmingly grateful.

Her hero’s journey for independence was a long affair, one Shawn arrived for the tail end of. He can’t be attributed much credit for Emma’s departure from her team, from Margaret and Sandra. He was a background figure in all of those scenes.

But Shawn did something just important, just as crucial to getting Emma to this point. He taught her how to be loved.

When Shawn releases her, they smile big and toothy in unison and start to laugh again like they did before, too filled with love and hope and plain, stupid youth that it comes out like explosive carbonation.

Shawn tucks hair behind her ear and kisses her forehead. The girlish shrieks are deafening. They make Emma chuckle again.

“Wait for me?” Shawn whispers in her ear.

Emma nods. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Taglist: @the-claire-bitch-project @smallerinfinities @crapri @stillinskislydia@carlaimberlain @abigfatmess @rosecolouredtimes @heavenly—holland @wanderingmendes @blush-and-books @oyesmendes @embracehappy @toumendes @nosafetynetunderneath @kitykatnumber @parkerspicedlatte

[vendettacanons]

Wilson’s Heart Headcanons

// I dug back through that old blog at 4am for these-

Given the time period, I don’t think it would be too far of a stretch to say that Wilson probably likes swing music. He rarely dances but I can see him being the kind to enjoy it and move his feet to it on occasion, and he’s not bad at it either! He might also low-key enjoy electroswing if he was in a modern au/lived long enough to see it become a thing

It wouldn’t be surprising if, after everything he’s been through and after all he’s seen, Wilson is uninterested in seeing anymore bodies. He went to war and watched his friends die beside him, he’s lost his wife, he saw people be maimed and slaughtered in the hospital. As far as Wilson is concerned, he’s seen enough bodies to last him a lifetime.

As time progresses, Wilson tries to keep up with trends and learn about new things like advancements in technologies. He’s fascinated by new machines and new breakthroughs that people discover and often enjoys taking a hands-on approach to said methods. He likes giving the newest music at least a listen before judging it and likes reading the latest books. He loves learning about newly proven theories and debunked myths. Overall, Wilson just enjoys expanding his knowledge and understanding of the world.

Wilson doesn’t really mind the weather. If it’s cold, he tends to generate a decent amount of body heat to keep himself warm. If it’s hot, it’s pretty easy for him to cool down. He doesn’t mind the rain and actually likes the feeling of it on his skin, or the sound of it pattering gently against a window. He has an issue with lightning and thunder due to his PTSD however (same goes for fireworks). Wilson’s favorite season is probably fall because by that point, everything is just the right temperature and the air always smells nice. Plus he thinks it’s an ideal time of the year to go on walks and he likes the way the environment looks during the autumn season.

Wilson adores physical contact and being held. He and Evelyn loved cuddling and dancing together and physical contact is very important to him. He’s not excessively touchy, but he does value touch and sees it as a sign of trust and deep compassion. After his wife passed away, he sort of drew into himself. Physically, he wanted to be comforted throughout the ordeal, but emotionally, he couldn’t handle the thought of being touched. He’s since recovered and is in a somewhat better place and while he does still very much appreciate and enjoy physical contact, he’s less inclined to make an attempt to engage in it anymore unless the situation prompts him to do so.

Wilson was always a good sport about the water growing up. He and his brother would often go swimming when the weather got really hot and he was a very strong swimmer that loved diving and doing cannonballs. The one issue he had with the water is that he always wanted to go in swimming pools, but never into the ocean. He eventually came to realize that the fear was because when he was very small, he feared the deep water. The one time he ventured in and stayed just a little past the shallow end, he accidentally stepped on a skate and almost drowned after losing his balance. Since then, he’s taken to avoiding the ocean for swimming and he’s disgusted by the idea of swimming with fish around. He’s also quite picky with what kind of fish he’ll eat as a result.

While Wilson never took to drinking heavily or smoked excessively, his use of cigarettes did pick up a fair amount following the death of his wife. Paired with the trauma he received during the war, Wilson became a serious recluse. He began retracting from the outside world. His brother was the most worried of all about this because he knew Wilson better than anyone and knew Wilson wasn’t handling the death of his wife well at all, but for a period of time, he didn’t know how to help. He didn’t know where Wilson was, Wilson was barely writing to him, and he was seriously concerned he was going to lose his brother along with his sister-in-law. Eventually, Wilson found a way to claw himself out of his pit of despair himself. He decided to just work more hours to help distract himself, picked up social contact again, and lightened up on the cigarettes. He’ll even go out on occasion to enjoy himself. Despite getting a bit better, things were never the same with him though. He still felt very disconnected from the world around him and he still felt a constant ache from where his wife used to be in his heart. He felt sad, tired, and lonely very frequently, and while he adored physical contact (and still really does), eventually that too became a rarity for him and he couldn’t feel the same pleasure now as he had from it before. He often pondered why he bothered going through life each day but he was still determined and sensible enough not to give up because he knew he still William and his sister-in-law and niece that loved him and needed him. Wilson has gotten better since reconnecting with his brother and talking about all this, but the death of his wife and the lingering effects of her passing still loom over him like a dark cloud some days.

Aside from the fact that one-third of Wilson’s vocabulary appears to be swears and snarky comments, Wilson’s way of speaking very clearly sets him apart from others. He’s often known for calling people bastards, both playfully and with derogatory intent. He calls people who are clearly younger than him kiddo, he refers to Elsa as “lady” when she grates on his nerves, and call Kurt a punk when he’s acting out of line. When Wilson’s nervous, he tends to stutter a lot. He babbles and the panic is evident from the fact that his voice raises an octave when he’s freaked out by something. When he’s startled, he curses and temeprorarily loses his nerve before he recovers it and shows anger to mask the shock.

Wilson is Bisexual, but he’s very much in the closet. Not just in the closet, but hiding behind the clothes and the shoe rack and the shoeboxes of old comic books and toys in the closet. And he’s only somewhat aware of it. Being that the game takes place during the mid-1900s, when homosexuality was generally seen as a massive no-no and could be met with threats, harassment, and even physical violence or death, Wilson is very much quiet about his preferences. During his teenage and early adult years, while he said he was never interested in dating and wanted to focus on finding a job and work before looking into a relationship, he did find himself looking more at men than women. Generally, he found men more appealing and it sometimes found his way into his and William’s conversations. William never really picked up on it though and figured that Wilson was just intimidated by competition. Eventually, when he met Evelyn, he realized that he did have an attraction to women. But after the draft, he began to feel confused and conflicted, because even though he was married (and even though he never felt compelled to cheat on her), he still found himself finding men attractive. For the longest time he told himself it was just because he missed Evelyn so much and he was surrounded by men, but a part of him knew that and he was in denial and he did find himself attracted to both sexes, not just one. After returning home to find her dead, Wilson’s heart (heh) sort of shut down entirely as he tried to cope with the circumstances. He still finds himself looking at both men and women, but he hasn’t really thought about getting into a relationship because he still feels like he’s grappling with the aftermath of Evelyn’s death, and because knows the risk he could be taking if he ends up with a man, or even coming. So far, no one knows yet. Not even William.

Despite that fact that it has been years, Wilson is still struggling to cope with his wife’s loss. He loved her with all his heart, even if at times his heart and his mind felt confusion. Evelyn was the world to him, the perfect wife, and it broke his heart when he was drafted and had to leave her and their unborn child. He was absolutely devastated when he heard she’d passed on and has never fully recovered or gotten closure. He still visits her grave frequently and writes letters to her, talking about what’s on his mind and what he’s going through. He still has all of these letters saved somewhere too, highlighting some of the best moments that he wished she was there for, and some of his worst. The reason he’s struggling so much to move on is because he hasn’t reached out to anyone to talk about it and hasn’t seeked any professional help either. As time has gone on, he’s been able to resist a lot of the darker thoughts that linger in his head as a result of being a widower; self-harm, suicidal thoughts or tendencies. He’s been strong and reminded himself that as much as he loved Evelyn, there are more people than just her that love him, care about him, and are depending on him. Similarly (and because he is essentially an extension of Wilson), Boris feels strongly about Evelyn in away. How he goes about expressing this often clashes with how he torments Wilson and varies based on his mood. If he’s trying to “empathize” with Wilson on s good day, he’ll often sit in silence with him and look through the paintings of them and the very old photos. He’s not in any of them but he feels the same despair and sadness that Wilson does to a degree and he understands many of the thoughts Wilson has. Though he doesn’t do anything to comfort him. If it’s a bad day, Boris will do what he was meant to do. Torment Wilson. And he can, will, and has used Evelyn’s death against him. He’ll threaten to mess with the photos, or mess with them outright, and say things like Wilson is to blame for her death, remind him that she died without him being able to say goodbye, and constantly hang the fact that he doesn’t know the truth about her and their unborn child’s death (that last one never fazes him because doesn’t know the truth, he was never told what really happened surrounding the circumstances around her death.) Boris mentally breaks him down and laughs about it. And he’s left some nasty permanent scars on Wilson as a result of his heinous words, both mental and physical.

Wilson has received a lot of nicknames, some of which he likes more than others. Bobbie happened to be what his brother called him growing up, and it was his wife’s favorite nickname for him. William still calls him Bobbie from time to time, not nearly as often anymore because Robert’s made it clear that he prefers to be called Wilson after hearing it for so long. He doesn’t like it when other people he doesn’t know/barely knows calls him Bobbie or give him nicknames at all.

Because Wilson lives by himself now, it’s safe to assume that he cooks his own meals from scratch and he’s damn good at it. His favorite thing to eat is biscuits with mashed potatoes and gravy (and maybe some beef or pork on the side) and apple pie with some ice cream for dessert. Evelyn used to invite him to come and cook with her, and he has his mother’s old cookbooks. After decades of it, he’s become an excellent chef. He can’t make up his own recipes, but he does add little twists to the ones he does read and they come out great.

Robert knows how to play piano. He took lessons when he was younger, along with guitar and the drums but he strongly preferred piano to either of the others. Guitar strings used to hurt his fingertips too much and he felt a little bored playing the drums, which William picked up instead. So he spent hours practicing on a piano his father bought for him and used to practice playing songs and singing with William. The two never enrolled in a class or choir, but after years and years of doing it, they built up their own skills over time.

The two brothers used to put on “neighborhood shows” with their parents being their biggest supporters. They both remember people encouraging them to pursue music, including their parents since they loved to sit around the radio all the time and listen to the songs that played. For a brief while in their teens, the two had worked with Thomas Baker (their neighbor) and another kid and formed a small band. They continued it throughout high school and into college before originally breaking up when their other member tried to get serious about it, while the three original members insisted they played just for fun. Wilson does occasionally play piano now and then and has the curious habit of humming or singing to himself, especially when he thinks no one is around. He can’t play often or for long on account of his developing arthritis (that he has yet to find out about).

None of Wilson’s clocks or watches has a six on them. Back then, the number six was considered an unlucky or cursed number, and therefore people would often leave it out of things like elevator floors, clocks, watches, and other numeric lists.

Wilson has a terrible tendency to feed animals. Stray dogs, raccoons, cats, opposums, squirrels, deer, bears, bunnies, birds. If he sees an animal and he has food, he will give the animals scraps to eat. This has led to things following him home on more than one occasion, much to his dismay. Currently, he has some resident cardinals, bunnies, a lizard, and a big possum taking residence in his backyard that he feeds fairly often. On the bright side, Wilson is rather knowledgeable on what animals can and cannot eat and will feed them accordingly. He’s not aiming to tame them, but he will admit that knowing that they’re there provides him some sense of company.

Wilson has a lot of phrases and a lot of ways he says things pretty often. Here’s a few the more notable ones.

“ I’m getting myself a creemee cone, you want one? ““ Can I get bowwow with extra red and sauerkraut ? ““ I could kiss you right now. ““ Another one bites the dust. ““ Pass me the clicker. ““ I’m at the rotary now. “ - referring to traffic circles“ Shit, I have to make a uey (pronounced you-we)/ take a jug handle “ - referring to making a U-turn“ Must be a full moon. ““ Looks like its leaf peeper season. ““ Just because a cat has her kittens in the oven don’t make them biscuits ““ Looks like the shoe is on the other foot ““ Shove that in your windpipe and smoke it ““ I’m done ““ I’m going on a packie run, you want anything? ““ The kid’s got moxie ““ This hits the spot! ““ I’m stuffed ““ I’m beat ““ Ain’t that the cat’s meow/ pajamas? ““ I’m zozzled. ““ This is the bee’s knees? ““ What a fucking loon. “

After leaving home with William, Wilson and his brother lived in New York. They owned a pretty big house and lived together with their wives in that house. After their parents death, William agreed to let Wilson be the sole heir of their parent’s house, their childhood home, and the land left behind. After Evelyn’s death, Wilson decided to move back into their parent’s home where he still lives all by himself. And he still knows every inch of their land like the back of his hand, including the grass fields behind their house, the woodlands beyond that, the creek where he and William used to play, and where their old treehouse is.

There’s a part of Wilson’s house on the bottom floor that’s completely clear of furniture. It’s between the living room and kitchen, and the floor is well worn and scuffed despite their being no furniture present in the space, and it makes the house feel larger than it actually is. The reason for it being so barren is because Wilson and his wife would often turn up the radio and spend time dancing together in the space. They made it for themselves, and Wilson can’t bring himself to try and move anything around to fill it up. Sometimes, he turns in the radio and tries to dance all by himself in the space but he’s never actually finished a song on his own.

Robert, for obvious reasons, is put off by loud noises. It’s the most clear cut result of his PTSD, but sounds like pots and pans suddenly being dropped, fireworks going off, thunder at close range, or other generally loud and very sudden noises spook him badly and can leave him with a nasty case of the shakes. On rare occasions, it can sometimes send him in a downward spiral and leave him hiding in the closet clutching his teddy bear.

Despite all his previous hopes and desires to build a family, Wilson’s age has all but prevented that from happening. Being old has essentially eliminated his chances of finding someone, and he’s hesitant about even trying because he likes to take his time developing a relationship with someone before becoming romantically involves. And of course, time is not on his side. That aside, he’s basically given up on having a child of his own. His chances of conceiving even if he did have a partner are incredibly low, and he’d rather not have a child that he might not be around to see grow up. Not to mention adoption isn’t exactly an option given the time period he’s set in. Though if an orphan showed up at his door Kurt, he’d take them in in a heartbeat.

One of Wilson’s childhood nicknames was Bobblehead. His father was the one who christened him with it. It kept in line with the theme of his nickname Bob, but it initially came from the fact that Wilson was born with a big head (as opposed to William who was born with a big body). The nickname only followed him as he got older and ended up becoming the brainiac child of his family.

Throughout his entire life, Wilson has taken on and fit the role of leader pretty nicely. He’s the man in charge, the boss, the one who leads the pack, the one who protects them all. But the position has had its drawbacks.When he was a young boy, being the oldest, it was natural that Wilson’s parents pushed him to try everything. They wanted to give him as many opportunities as possible and pushed him to work hard, which of course, led him to being one of the top students in his school. He was the genius kid, the creative kid, the innovator. Above all, his mother repeatedly reminded him that he, as the older child, was supposed to be more responsible and “set a good example for his younger brother William”. To his credit, Wilson was the best older brother and followed that advice to the letter. He convinced William to get into sports, which became his passion. He helped him whenever he struggled, kept him on the straight and narrow when he threatened to stray, and was a positive example in his brother’s life. He supported him, he loved him so much, that he would give his life for him. But that also meant he was held to exceedingly high expectations. Everything he did right raised the bar for him each time, and it would crush him when he couldn’t exceed the expectations he was given and prove himself to be the most successful child he could be. Disappointment and failure was physically painful for him, and he was always trying to prove he was a good example for William and for others. In the military, Wilson ended up working his way up to head of the 42nd infantry unit. He was admired for his logistical thinking, his coordination, his strategizing, and the way he could bring his squadron together to do what they had to do. He embraced the title wholeheartedly and grew into the mold of the leader and the protector. But again, that meant he was constantly under pressure. His every move was monitored and it made him an anxious perfectionist because he knew one wrong move could get him or his battalion killed, and he couldn’t bear the thought of his polished reputation being tarnished because of some small but critical oversight. With Evelyn, he was always worried about being the best protector. He lovingly embraced the title as the household defender and breadwinner, but he was also anxious that anything he did wrong might threaten that title and make him seem less like of a man or less like the strong, protective, good example that everyone recognized him as. Nowadays, Wilson is too old and too tired to be worried about other people’s judgements. He’s a grumpy old man that feels like he did all he needed to do to get the approval of others at the time, and lives with the pride of knowing he did a lot of things right. And even if he didn’t, even if he wasn’t perfect, he’s too old and sad to care anymore. His reasons for being a good example have moved on, and he stands by himself now. He’s a lonely, solitary man that doesn’t have anyone left to be a good role model for or protect. The anxiety is gone. But the regrets of letting the judgement of others stop him from doing things he thought might be fun still haunts him.

Robert knows how to write in cursive and his signature is simply R. Wilson. He picked up cursive early on in his life while learning how to write. He sometimes has the habit of taking shorthand notes in cursive or starting in print and fading into cursive as he write faster, which can be difficult for others just looking at it to read sometimes.

The Real Reason Wilson Was Hospitalized (TW for mentions of suicide and suicidal ideation)

Throughout the game, Wilson shows that he has a strong love for the horror genre. He enjoys the scary side of entertainment. The grotesque engrosses him, the intimidating intrigues his interest, the frightening fascinates him. He has a particular affinity for comic books given they’re what he grew up with, and he loves books about monsters and mystery, but given his time and the era of the game, he’s seen his fair share of movies. His favorites are definitely Dracula, Phantom of the Opera, Frankenstein, and Wolf Man.// That being said, Wilson is less keen on romance. He’s willing to watch it to get romantic ideas of to please a friend/partner, but it’s not his cup of tea. He’s much less fond of the sci-fi genre and tries to stay away from it when possible. He loves superhero comic books as well and has a pretty big collection of them he has stashed away.

Whether it’s because he is linked to Wilson or because he simply spends so much time around him, Boris has picked up certain habits that Wilson has. For example, if Wilson is reading the newspaper, Boris will read the newspaper. If Wilson is sitting in a room listening to the radio/watching tv, expect Boris to be in the same room. If Wilson is working on puzzles, Boris is likely hanging off of his back watching him (and maybe eventrying to help). If Wilson is in the kitchen cooking for himself, Boris tends to sit on the countertop kicking his little legs and watching (and occasionally fucking with the food or helping prepare it, depending on what kind of mood he’s in). By technicality, Boris doesn’t need to eat. But he can, and he does, and is often a nuisance about it. He likes to steal snacks from Wilson, will often mess with the meals being prepared whenever Wilson is trying to cook, and will pick off of Wilson’s plate if it’s left unattended. Sometimes, he won’t even try to be subtle about it— he’ll jump up into Wilson’s face and snatch the food off of his plate/out of his mouth. Wilson has learned to appease him by making him a plate of his own from time to time. He shares a lot of Wilson’s favorites, including orange juice, grilled cheese sandwiches, strawberries, milk, and cookies.

Sweets are something Boris is a particular fan of. Ice cream is at the top of his list, cookies and cotton candy being a close second and thirds. Sometimes he’ll be up at 2 or 3 AM making himself a bowl of ice cream with chocolate sauce and cookie bits sprinkled on it. Wilson himself has a bit of a sweet tooth, but it’s nothing compared to how much Boris enjoys sugar.

Boris has a habit of sticking his claws in his mouth or licking them excessively after he eats. He has no fingers so the claws double as both weapons and a means of staying dexterous. They’re a still very sharp though, so whatever he’s grabbing tends to get caught on the edges. He’ll spend a while licking things off of his claws until they’re completely clean, and that often means he’ll put his paws in his mouth and just start sucking on his claws until they’re completely clean. He’s careful never to cut his mouth but it still looks ridiculous. Similarly, Wilson has a tendency to chew on his nails. He never bites them and only very rarely breaks them, but he has a habit of chewing on his nails when he’s very very nervous. However, he also does it because, like Boris, he sometimes gets food on or under them and he nibbles on them to get the food out. He’s less about napkins and more into sucking the leftovers off his fingers then wiping.

At times, Boris can only be compared to a child. As intelligent and manipulative and dangerous and vindictive as he is, Boris displays attributes at times that one can only describe as being childish. He is easily motivated to act based on the idea of reward. He often enjoys being gently held and treated like a toy and is amicable with children given that they respect him. Boris has the habit of grabbing people’s legs, climbing onto their backs, and peeking over their shoulders in a way that is cute displays a sense of childlike curiosity. Case in point, when he’s not being a microbastard, Boris is tolerable and can be regarded as being akin to a small child. You can talk to him (not like a child, but as an adult), ask him to do things (which are more likely to get done if you offer him some sort of treat), you can hold him/his paw and guide him around, etc. The only issue is, if you’re going to regard him as a small child, don’t be open about towards him. He tends to get offended when he’s compared to a toddler and he may get aggressive/throw a tantrum.

Unlike his person, Boris has a distinct dislike for water. If he’s wet, his fabric essentially soaks up and holds water for long periods of time, making him heavier and slowing him down. It is not only difficult but painful to him to try and wring it out of his limbs, and sitting in the sun isn’t an option. If he tries to sun dry, his fabric will temporarily shrink— so much so that it will burst his seams which can lead to detached limbs or gaping “wounds” where his stuffing will pour from (or he’ll bleed) and he will start freaking out. (The shrinking does revert over time with normal stretching, but it still hurts). Being that he is a teddy bear and that he moves around often, he often picks up everything he’s around (dust, dirt, pollen, lint, etc). Smells also get trapped in his fabric, which means that naturally, if he gets wet, he’ll also be incredibly smelly and he does not like that. Despite his spite, Boris needs to be cleaned. And he and Wilson are both aware of this. Boris tries to put it off as much as possible because Wilson’s way of cleaning him is to throw him in the washer with a few Tidepods and let him ride the 90 mph spin cycle, then toss him in the dryer to tumble around for a bit without shrinking. As one can imagine, Boris is not fond of this treatment at all. He much prefers to be gently wiped down with a soapy wash cloth and rinsed by hand, blow dried, and lint rolled, all of which he usually does by himself (since Wilson sure as hell won’t). On very rare occasion, he will open himself up and try to wash his stuffing/give himself a scent pack of some sort to try and freshen himself up but he always loses his nerve. He can’t stomach the sight of his own stuffing. He also brushes his teeth very often and takes excellent care of his claws.

Being an extension of Wilson, whatever happens to Wilson will happen to Boris. If Wilson is injured, it will carry over to the bear. The only exception to this is when Boris harms Wilson himself. He has immunity from injuries he deals himself, but otherwise, anything that harms Wilson will reflect on him. Hence why in the game, since Wilson has a cut with a bandage over his left eye, Boris also has an open stitch wound with a bandage covering it. It is very rare for the pain to carry over unless it’s extreme. On the other hand, if Boris is harmed, it will not carry over to Wilson. He can be harmed in manners that cause him to bleed or require him to restuff and stitch up open injuries he receives, but said injuries will not carry over to Wilson. Meaning there is absolutely no risk in dealing damage to him, aside from the fact it’ll majorly piss him off and make him want revenge later on. Similarly, Boris can read Wilson’s thoughts at any given time, though this requires a lot of concentration and he usually doesn’t have the patience for it. While he can usually tell how Wilson is feeling and what he’s thinking, Wilson cannot do the same for him, making it that much harder for him to predict Boris’ behavior and protect himself from the little bastard.

Boris has exceptionally good vision. In darkness and low light, he can perceive things at a much greater distance and with much greater clarity than a human can. In extended periods of darkness, this ability seems even further enhanced. The main drawback is that Boris has a sensitivity to light. He can adapt to it over a short amount of time, but sudden exposure will temporarily blind him to the point of daze. Hence, when he moves around brightly lit areas, the lights around him tend to flicker and dull in his presence, a side effect he seems to have on his environment. Another drawback, perhaps more to the people around him than himself is the fact that his eyes tend to glow in the dark. If he’s completely shrouded in it, his eyes are still visible. When a light is shone directly into them at certain angles or under these conditions, his tapetums tend to glow greenish-blue as well.

Lucy’s teeth continuously grow to stay sharp for when she bites into people. Biting and chewing on things help keep them from getting excessively long. However, the longer she goes without a meal, the longer they grow in preparation for the next bite, until they are virtually unusable due to length. Thankfully, she comes equipped with a way of handling this. If her teeth are damaged (cracked, broken, have cavities, etc), they will simply fall and new ones will grow in to replace the old ones. By manually breaking off her overgrown tusks teeth, Lucy can trigger  the release of the old roots and the growth of new teeth to eat again. As one would imagine, this is extremely painful because all of her teeth have nerves (and if she waits too long to replace her teeth, she can develop quicks and nerve growth more towards the point of the tooth).

Evelyn’s spirit was disturbed by the hospital hauntings due to being buried nearby. She’s in no way malicious, but like Boris, she finds it difficult to return to where she came from now that she knows Wilson is still around. So she watches over him as he continues living on without her. She’s not exactly strong enough to send objects flying or cause illusions on the regular- again, she’s not an angry poltergeist, and she can’t always be around. But she can move small things around now and then and warm up a room by entering it for brief periods of time. Her spirit can be stronger but only in bursts, which she reserves exclusively for protecting him when the situation calls for it.

Evelyn can appear in people’s dreams. It requires relatively little effort on her part and it’s about the only time she can verbally communicate with people and actually talk to them. How vividly she is seen in the dream depends on how attached to person she is and if they’ve previously made contact with her before (Ouija boards, foggy mirror messages, warmth bursts, etc). Despite the temptation of it, she always refrains from entering Wilson’s dreams because she knows it wouldn’t impede his progress in recovering from her death.

Over the years, monsters have not been the only thing Vin has studied extensively. He’s learned that humans are sometimes the facilitators or “protectors” that like to shelter the beasts that he enjoys hunting. As such, he’s delved deep into the psychology of people, their words, and their actions. Paired with his intuition and unstoppable determination for his cause, Vin is as much a danger to some people as he is to the beings he primarily targets. He’s not ruthless, but he knows when someone’s trying to bullshit him, and he is not above threats, blackmail, or ransom when it comes to achieving his goals. 

[claramarla]

Connections

Pairing: Victor Nikiforov/Yuri Katsuki Word Count: 4200+ Rating: M Summary: Yuri's days are connected by the music that plays throughout them.

Excerpt:

Yuri’s itching to thread his hand through Victor’s fingers again. He settles for stuffing his hands between his knees and biting the inside of his cheek.

Later, he thinks. But that reprimand doesn’t do anything to douse the high giddiness he’s been swallowing down since he got off the plane and tracked down Victor outside of customs.

Oh, he thinks, with something like wonder etching onto his heart, I’m excited.

Here on tumblr, and on Ao3 

There isn’t snow the first day Yuri arrives in Russia. Instead, a fog hangs low on the ground, smudging out views of the water under the bridges they pass in Victor’s car.

It snowed when Victor came to Japan. It would be fitting if it snowed again now, considering the month.

Maybe they left all the snow back in Hasetsu, and only brought warmth with them. But that’s the type of thought that makes his stomach squirm with embarrassment and redirect his gaze out the window.

Yuri’s itching to thread his hand through Victor’s fingers again. He settles for stuffing his hands between his knees and biting the inside of his cheek.

Later, he thinks. But that reprimand doesn’t do anything to douse the high giddiness he’s been swallowing down since he got off the plane and tracked down Victor outside of customs.

Oh, he thinks, with something like wonder etching onto his heart, I’m excited.

Victor keeps shooting quick glances his way, and it’s easy to notice how pleased he is to see both Makkachin and Yuri after more than a few days apart.

“You must be tired,” he says, and Yuri’s considers the time. It’s about 4am in Japan right now.

He shrugs, “Not really. I slept during both flights.”

Feeling a little coy, he adds, “I’ll probably be awake all night.”

Victor sends him a smile that’s too flirtatious for its own right, and says, “What a coincidence, I will too.”

Yuri bites the inside of his cheek again.

Bon Jovi is currently testing the capacity of Yuri’s speakers on his laptop from where it sits on the bedroom floor. Livin’ On A Prayer fills the room in a way that makes him feel nostalgic for college.

His music taste is… eclectic, at best. He doesn’t really know genres the way some of his friends do. Mari’s room used to mirror Yuri’s own walls when they were younger, when posters that came in magazines were coveted. Her walls had been covered in odes to rockstars that were huge in the 2000’s.

Yuri had been too busy taping up posters of long haired athletes to care much about JRock at the time.

Phichit loved music with the same experimental openness he approached everything else, dropping folders of 80s and 90s American ballads onto Yuri’s laptop as an act of friendship in their first year together. There was a weekend where all they watched were MGM musicals, listening to Debbie Reynolds, and watching Fred Astaire dance while Yuri felt a reverent burning itch to transfer those step sequences to the ice.

Victor’s taste in music-

“If you want, we can connect my speakers to your laptop.”

Yuri jumps at the voice and drops the hanger he was threading through his shirt. It hits the floor with a clack, plastic on hardwood.

Victor’s leaning against the door, his hair still messed from the cold wind outside.

“You scared me,” says Yuri as he bends for the hanger. He just realises now how his music being played this loudly is suddenly something he’s embarrassed by.

“I’m sorry, I’ll turn it down,” he says, and quickly reaches for his laptop. Presses the volume button fast enough to transmit a Morse code of anxiety. “I didn’t think you’d be back for another half hour.”

“You can leave it on,” soothes Victor. When Yuri looks over he sees him smoothing hands over his hair, taming it back from its windswept tangles. Victor doesn’t like to wear hats in the winter. They leave his hair crackling and hovering with static.

Unfortunately, the next thing he decides to do is help Yuri unpack. He picks the first thing he can reach for out of one of the boxes. “What’s this?” he asks, looking down at a picture frame, as if Yuri could answer the question without actually seeing the subject.

He prays it’s not some poster of Victor his mother had decided to frame and shove in with the rest of his belongings. Or worse, a poster of himself, like the kind plastering the walls of Hasetsu’s train station. He gets off the floor and walks over.

“Oh,” and then flushes with mild annoyance. “It’s my degree. My mom wanted me to hang it up before. I guess she bought a frame for it.”

Victor turns to him, practically glowing.

“I’m not hanging it up.” Yuri quickly amends. He’s proud of his schooling, and he enjoyed it for the most part, but hanging up your own degree wasn’t something he found comfort or humility in.

“Then I’ll hang it up.” Victor says with some bolster of pride. “I’ll put it next to our medals.”

Yuri makes a choking noise of embarrassment at the idea of his lonely degree hanging next to Victors wall of medals and trophies. Eight Grand Prix gold medals, and a Bachelors from Wayne State University.

Victor is rich.

How rich he was didn’t necessarily surprise Yuri anymore. Spending longer than a few hours together back when they’d crashed into each other’s lives (the second time) made everyone in Yutopia aware of just how well the other half lived.

Yuri had taken the time to explain why they were hand washing the dishes when Victor nodded at the broken appliance next to them. “Why not just buy a new dishwasher?” he asked. Yuri just stared.

Living with him in his own bachelor’s apartment brought that awareness to the surface once again. Victor’s housecleaner came on Wednesdays. Half of his clothing had ‘dry clean only’ on the tag. He owned three cars.

Yuri once bought half his groceries at the dollar store during college.

“Alexa, play track 14,” Victor says. The speaker on the kitchen counter lights up and Victor’s newest choreography experiment plays.

They breathe each other’s program music. Yuri enjoys the routine sound of it in the apartment when it’s still fresh and something exciting to listen to. He watches Victor run through choreography from his spot on the couch; watches the expressions that pass his face, the lay of his arms, the tilt of his shoulders.

Tomorrow, or maybe next week, Victor will ask him to run through some of the routine, to see it in its fruition on the ice in front of him.

Right now it’s easier for Victor to dance across their hardwood floor in socks.

“Alexa, Pause,” he says. Then, “Rewind 20 seconds,” before he does the same steps again. He transitions this time with a deep lunge, brushing the tips of his fingers along the hardwood.

“I like that bit,” says Yuri, transfixed.

Victor turns his head and his expression softens.

“Who’s it for?” asks Yuri, straightening a little.

Victor lips curl up at the edges. He places his finger to his lips and hums. “Hmm? Would you be surprised if I told you?” he teases.

Yuri sighs, incredibly fond.  They’re caught like that for a few seconds, just staring at each other, matching smiles softening for the other.

Victor cracks first, “You’re so handsome when y-“

“Alexa,” Yuri interrupts, “Play ‘Late Night Jazz’ playlist on Spotify.”

He stands up to hold Victor close, just to see the light pinking of his ears up close. Victor’s biting down his own smile.

Yuri’s not a romantic. At least, he’s not sure if he is. But, little actions like these, bridging the distance between them so they sway slowly to trumpet playing, leaning closer to Victor… Yuri presses his face into the shoulder of Victor’s shirt, smelling laundry detergent and dog. What would he have done if he’d given up this opportunity in Barcelona?

They dance together next to the living room coffee table for the next twenty minutes.

Victor’s taste in music is just as dramatic as he is. It almost matches the taste that teenage Yuri imagined Victor would have: a playboy with a Hugh Hefner bachelor’s pad with soft opera music in the background.

Well, matching a playboy persona to a man who rolls around the floor and coo’s endearments to his dog doesn’t seem to fit. And Victor’s apartment is actually smaller than Yuri ever would have expected. It’s modern, and filled with…an interesting theme of décor.

But Victor’s taste in music is exactly what teenage Yuri had imagined, filled with operas and old jazz, soft ballads from tenors and aching reprises from movie scores.

Yuri and Makkachin come home to Nessun Dorma blaring from the radio on the television. Makkachin’s already dancing around Yuri’s legs, waiting for his leash to be unhooked. Apparently, none of this fazes him.

“Ma il mio mistero è chiuso in me,” belts Victor from the kitchenette. He had skated to this in 2005, back when he could use songs about disappearing into history, name forgotten.

“Il nome mio nessun saprà, No! NO!”

“Whose name?” mutters Yuri. He puts his coat in the closet. He’s cold, and wet from the sleet outside. Victor was destined to have three stadiums and a shopping mall named after him. No one would forget his name.

Warm arms circle around his waist, and a kiss is pressed behind his ear when he turns his head.

“Mine, won’t you take it?”

And it’s both the cheesiest and most annoying line Yuri’s heard, but he flushes anyway. He loves the idea that he’s the one who gets to keep Victor; loves the idea that he’s the one who will get to wear his name. Victor knows this, and slides little facets of Yuri’s possessive nature back to him like they’re gifts that cost Victor nothing to give. Like he’s not aware that it makes Yuri shiver from his neck to the base of his spine and want to drop to his knees no matter where they are.

Yuri’s going to destroy himself one day thinking of all the things Victor’s willing to give him through no struggle at all.

“Lilia and Yakov have been arguing lately,” Yuri Plisetsky admits quietly one day. The way he says it, as if he’s hiding a secret from the empty ice, eyes looking anywhere but at the only other person in front of him-

It hits Yuri in the chest, and lodges tight in his throat, his jaw.

The rink is empty save for the zamboni which is circling around the first half of the rink. The arena speakers have come back to life in preparation for the novice classes that would take place in half an hour, pushing out Russian and American pop.

Yuri Plisetsky looks lost.

“Do you want to come over for dinner?” Yuri asks. He’d be eating it alone in Victor’s house anyway. Victor’s currently hosting double hours at the gym, studios, rinks, physios, in order to get both himself and his student on the podium in time for World’s. He wouldn’t be home until late.

There’s tension present in Yurio’s jaw. ‘Don’t pity me’ it says.

Yuri smiles. The pride Yurio exhibits feels like a little like navigating a field of landmines sometimes. There’s almost ten years between them, but he doesn’t remember being this proud at Yurio’s age. Then again, Victor’s 28 and he’s still this proud.

“Okay,” Yurio mumbles eventually, and slides off the bench they were sharing. “I need to pick up some homework first.”

Yuri nods along.

“I’m only speaking Russian once I get there!” Yurio threatens.

Trial by fire, thinks Yuri, and prays he can remember enough vocabulary to make conversation better than a toddler.

He can’t, but Yurio speaks slower and lets Yuri respond in English.

  “Oh!” says Victor, abandoning his coat on the nearest chair. “Yurio!” he sings out in acknowledgment. Yurio sends him a look of impetuousness from the kitchenette table, but says nothing of the nickname.

“Makkachin,” Victor coo’s and bends to pay attention to the dog jumping and snuffling around his legs. What follows is a verse of Russian that Yuri can barely pick apart sentences from. “Good boy,” and “Did you miss me?” and “Taking care of the home.” Makkachin loves it and wiggles around on the floor.

“There’s broccoli, carrots and rice in the fridge” says Yuri. He’s surrounded by Yurio’s homework and an answer card, checking over his calculations.

“Thank you,” is accompanied by a hand at the small of his back and a body draped over the back of his chair. Victor’s looking down at Yurio’s physics text books, and then back at Yuri with a confused expression like he doesn’t understand where this fits in with the fiancé he knows and loves.

“You’re really a nerd, Katsuki-kun” teases Victor, in Japanese.

Yuri sticks with English, “I have a bachelor’s of science. What do you have?”

Yurio snorts from across the table, “You’re marrying an idiot, Katsudon.”

“I’ll be a trophy Husband,” Victor says, not at all ashamed.

  “Yakov and Lilia are fighting,” says Yuri, when it’s just the two of them. The movie on tv is being played at low volume, subtitles in English present for Yuri.

“Mm,” mumbles Victor, and he angles his face further into Yuri’s neck, presses straighter behind him on the couch until there’s a long line of Victor Nikiforov touching Yuri’s side.

“They’re not. They’re thinking of getting back together.”

“Yurio thinks they are,” whispers Yuri.

“Yurio is 15. Do you know what I was doing when I was 15?”

Yes, thinks Yuri. Out loud he says, “Tell me?”

“Living with Yakov and Lilia,” Victor says, and smiles against Yuri’s neck. Yuri almost rolls his eyes.

“They were fighting then, and they divorced when I was 17. This is different.”

“Did they always fight?” asks Yuri, and shifts on the couch so he can look up at Victor, whose hands have been maddeningly tracing lines up and down his thigh.

“No, but there are some people who yell when they want someone to understand them.”

“Oh,” says Yuri. And then a moment of silence stretches out between them while Yuri gives Victor a significant stare.

“What?” asks Victor.

“Nothing,” Yuri dismisses. Victor has always been yelled at a lot by Yakov, and now, to a lesser extent, Lilia.

“Yuri~” whines Victor, and tucks his smiling face back into Yuri’s shoulder.

Yuri wakes up with a headache. He wants to fall back asleep, but drags himself up with a resolve he finds every morning.

Two glasses of water later, he takes Makkachin out for his walk, and comes back with his head pounding with every heartbeat. He swallows a pill that Victor assures him is for headaches, helps with the breakfast dishes, and then pulls Victor out of the door for morning rink time.

By the time they reach the bridge, his headache has slipped away, and has been replaced by a flushed warm fogginess that settles right through his body.

Back in Hasetsu, he’d seen Victor step onto the ice still drunk from the night before. At nationals, Yurio had skated with his nose red and dripping, hissing and sniffling as he sat in the kiss and cry.

Yuri’s practiced through worse. He’s skated on next to no sleep, learned new step sequences while suffering from spring colds before.

He’s pulling himself through his stretches with Victor by his side, folds his body over to reach his toes, leans his warm cheek against the cool flooring of the change room, and thinks, this would be a nice place to take a nap.

Victor leans over his stretched back to land a kiss at his shoulder, and asks if his headache is okay. Yuri tries not to evaporate into a feverish cloud.

  “Yuri,” calls Victor from the boards. He’s skated over to where his notebook lays open, and is flipping through it.  Yuri picks himself off the ice and glides closer.

So far they’ve just been going through combination jumps, and Yuri has been drilled for the past 10 minutes on take offs alone. One of Yuri’s Phichit-gifted playlists is playing. Background noise actually helps him keep his head clear, and Victor adores the idea of Yuri having a playlist with both Bruce Springsteen and songs from Top Hat.

Weekday dawns are their private time on the ice, something Yuri appreciates with a reverence because it allows him to warm up, fall down, and be impatient with Victor’s particular brand of coaching cheer without a large audience. There’s no doubt that this private time was negotiated as one of conditions that determined Victor returning to competition - probably arranged in an iron exchange between Yakov and Victor while he was still in Japan. He’s never seen a coach and student relationship like how Yakov and Victor work with each other – full of stubbornness and respect. But he’s never seen another skater quite like Victor either.

“-see the same thing as last week, then I won’t let you do it in competition.” Victor’s smiling as he finishes, and Yuri realises he’s just spent the last 40 seconds staring without listening to a single word.

He shakes his head to focus, “Sorry, could you repeat that?”

Victor pauses. He levels Yuri with a serious expression, and then leans fractionally closer.

“What are you worrying about?” he asks patiently.

Yuri leans away. ”Oh. No,” he corrects. “I think I’m sick.”

Victor hums in thought, and raises a hand to Yuri’s forehead. Yuri doesn’t stop him, and also doesn’t point out that he’d be cool anyway after half an hour in an open rink.

“I feel fine,” he insists, “I just have a bit of a headache, and my head feels foggy.”

He knows as soon as he’s said it that he should have kept that last part to himself. Victor’s expression turns from attentive coach to concerned partner faster than a quad loop rotation.

  Eventually he goes home after ignoring Victor’s insistence for another solid 20 minutes.

He climbs onto the couch, convinced he’ll spend the next hour cycling through social media, emails and whatsapp. It’s only when he’s reading through his third email that the wave hits him, and he puts down his phone, and drops to sleep.

His dreams are filled with feverish strangeness, and the melody of Victor’s short program on sickening repeat.

He wakes up briefly to the sound of keys and the front door opening, but falls back under before Victor’s done taking off his boots.

He wakes up some time later to a hand combing through his hair, and a weight next to him on the couch.

“I brought home some soup,” Victor says softly, and Yuri notices a bowl of it on the table in front of them.

His headache has returned and he grinds a palm into his forehead in retaliation of the thumping.

“What time is it?” he grumbles, trying to push the sleep from his limbs.

“Almost 1 o’clock,” says Victor, meaning he’d slept for almost four hours. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

Yuri’s eyes are closed, savoring the coolness as Victor presses his hand against his face.

“I don’t want you to get sick,” he says. Taking a day or two off is probably okay for him. Taking Victor away from training for more than one day is not negotiable, in Yuri’s mind. He’s prepared to spend the next five days on the couch if he can avoid that.

Victor doesn’t seem to care.

“Oh, I’m definitely going to get sick.” He says it with the same cadence he usually saves for “Oh, I’m definitely going to kiss you,” when they talk about future competitions together.

Yuri considers that they routinely share a bed, and spend the remaining 60% of their day within six feet of each other. Thinks about how Worlds is only 5 weeks away and concludes fuck.

“I’ve already warned Yakov,” says Victor, completely unaware of the anxiety building next to him.

“Victor, nooo.”

  Victor gets sick on day three, despite Yuri’s continued isolation on the couch. He’d gone back to light training after the second day himself, but had disinfected the apartment within an inch of its life while home. Victor ruined all his efforts by hanging around to comb his fingers through Yuri’s hair.

He also found immense joy asking Yuri questions when the fever made his answers jumbled and whiny.

“Please get drunk more often,” he laughs, right after Yuri had swatted him with away with a long, and heavily accented, “Victooooooor.”

Luckily, by then, they’d bought enough medicine for cold and fever relief that they were capable of acting like normal functioning adults. Well, to each of their extents.

They haven’t slept together for over a week. Between their fevers, and catching up on their schedules, they’d fallen into bed earlier each night, practically comatose from cold remedies.

Yuri wakes up hours before dawn feeling coiled tight in the best way: confident and languid, stretched next to Victor. The clock on the bedside table reads 4:28 am. He slides closer, presses his whole body along Victor’s back, and mouths at the back of his neck.

“Mn,” Victor mumbles, “Yuri, I have to get up in an hour,” and then, “Ohhh,” quietly, as he wakes up a bit more.

Yuri uses the moment to wrap his arm around Victor’s chest and pull them closer. The cotton of his own nightshirt is riding up and he can feel the warmth of Victor’s back against his abdomen as the other stretches out, pliant under his arm.

Victor’s hand reaches back and finds Yuri’s hip, slides under the elastic of his pajama pants. He keeps it there, warm against Yuri’s skin, encouraging, and lets out an appreciative hum when Yuri kisses up to the line of his jaw.

Victor isn’t secretive about loving the feel of Yuri pressed to his back. He loves being the little spoon, loves the feel of Yuri rocking into him slow while holding a hand around his chest and breathing damp on his shoulder.

Which isn’t an issue, but Yuri loves seeing Victor on top of him. Can barely breathe when Victor presses him into the mattress, fucking into him with deep thrusts while Yuri pulls at the sheets around them, desperately trying not to come in the first five minutes.

“Ah,” gasps Victor, as Yuri drops his hand from his stomach to the band of his sleep pants. The hand gripping at his hip tenses. Victor arches back and grinds against Yuri, makes another tight noise at the hardness he feels.

It’s slow, and dark, and Yuri’s determined to appreciate Victor’s body in all the ways he finds himself shy of doing during the daylight.

He’s kissing a spot high on Victor’s jawline when Victor’s ankle tangles against his. Toes tug down against the hem of his pants. “Take these off?” Victor asks, breathless.

Yuri manoeuvres away for just a few seconds in order to shuffle out of his pants and shirt, pushing them off the bed and onto the floor.

He returns to press back up against Victor, and licks a long line across the man’s shoulder.

Victor leans back against his body, and shudders from head to toe at the bare feeling of Yuri behind him. His breath is coming uneven as he rocks back into the hardness against his ass.

Yuri returns to trailing his fingertips along the skin just above Victor’s waistband, which has been steadily sliding lower with each roll backward of his hips.

“Ah, Yuri,” breathes Victor, as Yuri pushes down the bottoms of his pajamas to grasp his cock.  He stretches out in an arch, grinds back against Yuri’s hard-on. It’s dark in the room, but Yuri can hear the sound of fingers grabbing at sheets.

If Yuri had to consider it, living privately together would be one of his own non-negotiable conditions for returning to competition. Only this had been constructed silently over long weeks where they could do nothing but breathe heavily against bedsheets in Hasetsu, trying to keep quiet, and the drawn out nights in hotel rooms, where neither of them got sleep.

Luckily, this condition was never something they’d had to negotiate for.

He leaves Victor again, briefly, to reach for the lube under the bed. Uses it to slick between Victor’s thighs and ass before smearing the rest on a firm stroke up Victor’s cock. Victor’s shaking at the stimulation, voice cracking over small sounds, and kicking his pajama bottoms the rest of the way off, lost in the blankets.

Yuri kisses along Victor’s shoulders. His hand is pulling long tight strokes up Victor’s cock. He rests his forehead against the back of other’s neck and thinks, tonight I want to give him a blowjob in the shower.

When he slides his cock between the cheeks of Victor’s ass, he hears a moan that’s hastily bitten down.

A quiet “Mn,” escapes Yuri’s throat, unable to catch his reaction when Victor so clearly loves this. “Ohh,” he breathes.

They rock together like that, using the dark of the room to map each other out with hands and strained noises. By the time Victor comes, he’s whispering soft “oh, oh, oh”s into the sheets and digging his fingers into Yuri’s hip again, goading him to grind harder between his thighs.

Yuri’s practically laying over him by then, toes digging into the mattress, breathing hot pants against the side of Victor’s neck before he spills between one sharp thrust and the next.

“I love you so much,” says Victor, with a bone deep exhaustion that just spells how fucked out he is.

Yuri huffs out a laugh and kisses his cheek, still trying to catch his own breath.

They’re interrupted by the switch of the radio alarm playing classical music.

[ideasmithy]

Last night, I DJed catering to a modern Bollywood loving teenager, a newly on-the-wagon friend learning to appreciate rock as just music, a restless toddler, seniors loving 50s Hindi music and 70s pop. I sang and listened to friends sing. I was taken aside and given a talk on leaving the past behind and going into the new year with hope. I received a voice note from a friend coping with a lot but still remembering to say, just call when you need and I'll be there. I took care of a friend drinking for the first time, watched a usually caustic pal play doting father and listened to a 50-something dreaming of revived dance dreams. I looked out on my favorite part of my city while talking to someone who makes me smile at 4am. And this morning I was woken up by a 17 month old ringing a little bell in my face. Thank you 2018 for all the people you brought into my life. Happy New Year! 2019, you're welcomed with a lot of hope. #happynewyear #newyear https://www.instagram.com/p/BsFufYqnt7K/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1u02fgmz39iv7