#that you hear about years later being hardcore metal heads who go all out for renfaires

[floorboardghost]

Ok but hear me out…older chuck with long majestic hair.

[absolutelyfizzing]

I just wanted you home.

TFATWS era!

Bucky x reader fluff!

Description - Bucky and Sam need a place to stay for the night, Bucky reluctantly makes a call to you. Sam is surprised at the different person that bucky is around you and he soon realizes why he didn’t want to call you right away.

Warnings - very fluffy? Not good writing probably, the timeline may be a bit wack? Little bit of angst but a happy ending

Word count - about 1500 (I’m sorry!)

MASTERLIST

Bucky ran a metal hand through his hair, wincing as he moved his ribs, which he suspected to be bruised. His face was scratched up and there was a gash on his side that was a little concerning. Despite this, he was more worried about Sam, though Buck would never admit it. Sam looked like he had taken one too many hits and he needed someone to patch him up. Bucky debated in his head if there was a way around it but decided it was inevitable.

“I know a place we can go for the night, you need to get patched up.”

Sam looked like he was going to protest but when he moved to sit up straighter, he only let out a groan.

“Aw, has Freaky Magoo gone all soft on me?” He winced out.

Bucky gave him a sharp glare but didn’t jab back. Instead he got out his phone and found your phone number, hesitating before he pressed call.

Sam could see Bucky on the phone but couldn’t hear from his spot on the ground. He was perplexed by the super soldier’s body language. Bucky had a wide smile and his eyes were brighter as he leaned casually against a wall with his hand in his pocket. Oh sam couldn’t wait to make fun of him later.

Bucky hung up and walked to Sam, “Come on, I got us a place to stay but we have to walk there. It’s only a few miles.” Bucky helped Sam up and they began their travel to your place.

The trek was long and when they arrived Bucky took a deep breath, wincing as his ribs complained, and knocked on your door. He could hear you rustling around as Sam finally spoke up after an almost silent journey.

“Who is this supposed to be again?”

You opened the door, looking slightly frazzled and you made eye contact with Bucky. He smirked as he looked at you.

“A friendly face”

You grinned and pulled the door open wider, getting on the other side of Sam to help him in. You led them both to a couch in your living room where Sam promptly collapsed.

“I’m Y/N. I’m a friend of Bucky’s. You must be Sam, I’ve heard all about you. Give me a minute and I’ll grab some stuff to fix you up with.” you smiled warmly. You brushed your hand against Bucky’s as you walked past him to grab your medical kit from the bathroom.

Sam looked at Bucky funnily.

“She’s heard all about me, huh?” Sam smirked while quirking an eyebrow.

Buck rolled his eyes, “All bad things.”

You chuckled as you came back into the room with a box in hand. “He’s lying, I heard all about your heroics. And if Steve trusted you then that’s enough proof for me.” You kneeled down and began to wet a cloth as you looked over Sam’s injuries.

He raised his eyebrows, “You knew Steve?”

“Oh yeah, he’s the one who introduced me to Bucky. He used to come by the coffee shop I worked at and he would walk me home on my late shifts. He was always kind to me.” There was a soft smile on your face as you spoke of Steve and there was a pang in your chest as you thought about how you missed him and how he had watched out for you in the last 5 years. “He though I might be good for Buck but I could never get him to stick around long enough to convince him to take a break.” You sounded sad to Sam and he looked over to the man.

Bucky was standing over by your front door, a steely look on his face as he did his signature stare out the windows. He seemed protective, like he was worried someone was gonna come through the door to hurt you.

You had begun work on the man on your couch, cleaning the blood off his wounds and giving him pain meds as you started to stitch him up. It took the better part of an hour and Bucky didn’t move the entire time but you just continued work. When you were done you smiled up at Sam who thanked you quietly and asked if he could get any water.

Your eyes widened, “Of course! I’m so sorry I forgot to ask.” As you stood up to get a glass for the man on your couch you looked over at Bucky. “Can I get you anything, James?” He looked at you when you said his name.

“A water would be great. Thank you, doll” he smiled.

You grinned and traveled over to the sink, getting out the things to make a couple plates of food as well for yourself and the two men in your home. You came and dropped off their water before heading back in. They both said quiet thank you’s and Bucky made his way to sit on the couch with Sam. Sam just stared at Bucky.

“Okay now you’re the one who has the staring problem. What is it?” Bucky grumbled.

“Who is she? To you?” Sam asked. His tone seemed surprisingly gentle to Bucky.

“I already told you, a friend.”

“Alright if you don’t wanna tell me that’s fine, I’ll figure it out later.” Sam smirked as he sipped his water and Bucky rolled his eyes before doing the same.

You came back into the room with plates of sandwiches and chips for the three of you. You handed Sam his and then put yours and Bucky’s down.

“I can see you sitting funny, where are you hurt?” You squinted at Bucky.

“I’m fine, doll.” He smiled.

“We both know that’s bullshit so either you show me now or I make you.” Your eyes were teasing as you talked. Buck rolled his eyes but there was a smirk trying to come through as he slowly stood up and lifted his shirt so he was showing you his bruised ribs and the cut on his side which was no longer bleeding but looked really awful. You tried to suppress the gasp in your chest and you grumbled as you got the stuff to dress his wounds. Bucky sat back down, glancing at Sam who was happily munching away on his lunch as Bucky glared. Bucky let you get to work, trying his hardest not to wince. He noticed that whenever he did, you flinched and there were tears in your eyes. He could feel his apology rising in his throat before it came out of him.

“I’m so sorry for bringing you into this.” He said barely above a whisper. You looked up at him and then back down at his wounds you were almost done dressing.

“You think that’s what I’m upset about? Bucky I’ve been waiting 6 months for you to come here. I’m not mad that you brought me into this, I’m mad that I didn’t get brought into this sooner.” You barely said it above a whisper but both of the men heard it. Sam gave Bucky a look before gently getting up.

“Excuse me, Y/N. Is there somewhere I could crash for a bit?”

Bucky looked at him thankfully as he was hoping to get a moment to talk to you alone.

“Of course!” Your chipper voice was back. “Right down that hallway, first door on the left.” You directed him to the guest room. You then looked back to Bucky’s wounds as Sam slowly walked down the hall. You swallowed dryly as you finished putting the bandage on Bucky before getting up. Buck grabbed your hand before you could get too far and pulled you down so you were straddling his thighs. The tears in your eyes threatened to fall and Bucky wrapped himself around you tightly. You sighed as you buried your face in his chest, trying to be mindful of his wounds, and some tears began to fall.

“I missed you, Buck.” You whispered and Bucky looked toward the ceiling to try and prevent the tears in his eyes from falling.

“I missed you too, sweet girl. I’m sorry I haven’t been calling.” He felt the guilt in his chest and he couldn’t tell if it was that that was constructing his breathing or his ribs. “I just didn’t wanna bring you into this mess.”

You pulled back to look into his eyes. “What mess?”

“My mess.”

“Bucky, you were gone for 5 years and I couldn’t think about anything but you. I don’t care how much of a mess you think you are, I just wanted you home.” You sighed at him sadly.

His flesh hand moved to try your face and you leaned into it. “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. I promise.” You buried your head in his chest again and you both fell asleep on the couch like that, despite it being the afternoon.

When Sam emerged from the guest room, feeling well rested after a quick crash, he found you both on the couch, wrapped up in each other. He tried to repress the smile that came to his face as he thought about the fact that he understood why Bucky had seemed reluctant to come here. He couldn’t fool Sam into thinking he was a hardcore soldier anymore. He snapped a quick photo for blackmail purposes later.

[achillieus]

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, sebastian desperately needs to hug the reader, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning

(pinterest inspired board)

part: 1/6

(other parts)  (masterlist)

The day it happened, it wasn't a significant meeting at all, you barely even talked. In fact, when he opened the door of your neighbor’s flat that day with a beer in his right hand and his hair messy, he didn't have any effect on you. You always knew that living next to a director meant that sooner or later you’d bump into the pretty faces of well-known people. Sure, you didn’t expect them to be Hollywood actors like him, but to say you were starstruck by the man, would be the overstatement of the year.

The building you’ve lived in for the last three years has five floors; you live in the 4th, he lives in the 5th. He’s a quiet person, usually spending his evenings out of his apartment. You’ve talked sometimes, about the weather and the weird lady that lives in the 1st floor. You’ve never told him you find his directing style a little pretentious.

You’ve never been to his place until that annoyingly warm August evening, when you find a white button up shirt on your balcony. You can clearly see more clothing when you look up and you’re certain the item you’re holding belongs to him.

He’s not there though. Instead you find a different face behind the door. Lighter eyes and darker hair. The man in front of you is definitely younger than the director. You don’t bother to notice what he’s wearing.

“Can I help you?” His voice is deeper than you expected. Stronger, with a touch of European accent. The sound of English surprises you at first but soon you realize he must be another foreign coworker that came to visit your neighbor

“No, I just think Argyris dropped this and it ended up on my floor.”

He looks at you and then at the shirt, in your hands.

Then he says “Sure, I’ll take it.”

“Okay.”

Then it ends. He doesn’t even ask your name. You don’t have to ask his. You figure out, as soon as you walk down the stairs, that it’s Sebastian Stan that you just talked to.

And while being a big fan of marvel movies, you think nothing special of him at first. You just wonder how a mostly unknown director from Greece got an actor like Sebastian to come here so they can work together. It makes no sense to you, but you forget it when your phone starts ringing.

/

It would’ve been easier if you never saw him again, yet you do. You see him trying to understand what the old lady from the first floor is trying to tell him. You already know. The elevator is not working. The next day you see him walking up the stairs.

You exchange a quick hello, how are you and then off you both go.

The same night Argyris invites you to have a drink with them in the terrace. Part of you wants to just stay in bed and binge watch some Sherlock episodes. Part of you already thinks of what to wear.

There are around ten people there when you show up. They’re all sitting down in huge pillows drinking and talking loudly. You don’t know most of them.

You sit next to a blonde girl, across from Sebastian. This time you notice he’s wearing a plain black shirt and holds a glass of whiskey.

You don’t share any direct conversations but you learn that he’s afraid of growing old and that he thinks Taxi Driver is one fucking masterpiece, as he says.

When you mention that you’re probably the least artistic person in the room right now, you hear him laugh.

A curly haired woman starts dancing with him at some point. You decide he’s not a good dancer.

He leaves the same time you do, following you down the stairs.

“I thought you live here.” You say when he doesn’t stop at the floor you expect him to.

“Ah no, I stay at a hotel near the centre.”

He keeps talking about his suite until you reach your door.

You part in a blur, with a short goodbye.

He still doesn’t ask for your name.

It makes you feel genuinely offended.

/

Two days after, he is the farthest thing from your mind, until you find him sitting in front of your door, his eyes roaming the place with despair. And then he sees you.

“Ah finally you are here.” He starts casually. “Thank god.”

You just nod.

“Argyris told me to wait for him with you. We had a meeting but he got stuck in traffic.”

You give him a look.

“He said you’re always at home so you won’t mind.”

Ouch. Yeah sure, your social life wasn’t something to brag about but for some reason the way Sebastian said it, it sounded like an insult.

“Okay, come in.” You shrug, clearly not feeling comfortable and turn around to unlock the door.

You hear him call your name. You thought he didn’t know.

“Yes?”

He offers you an easy smile.  “Thank you.”

/

Sitting in your couch he’s eyeing the entire room, while you put some groceries in the fridge.

“Argyris says you’re a great girl.” He clears his throat. “But he thinks you’re too quiet for your own good.”

You look at him, your eyes flicking up and down his face.

“And from what I can tell, he’s right.”  You hear him laugh.

It felt weird to see him laugh while he was leaning back at your cozy pillow. He had entered your life so suddenly you didn’t even have time to react to it.

“I’m sorry but I barely know you.” Your words are sharp. He sits up.

“Okay then let’s get to know each other, what’s your favorite Disney princess?”

Defeated, you laugh. “Are you kidding me?”

“No, this is an important question.”

You wait for him to crack up but then you remember he’s an actor.

“I don’t know.” You think for a second. “Mulan?”

“Oh my god. Mulan is amazing.” You smile at him. “My favorite is Jasmine, she’s just so badass.”

You share your favorites that day, having almost nothing in common rather than your everlast love for animated movies and buttered popcorn.

When it’s time for him to leave, he stops and looks at you in the eye.

“You should talk more often.”

You stare at him with confusion. “I talk,” you raise your eyebrows. “When I have something to say.”

“Good.” he says, still looking.

/

Later in the evening, you’re eating some yoghurt when he comes knocking on your door.

He’s different. The white tank top he was wearing this morning is replaced with a dark shirt and his face looks tired. You assume they’ve been working since he went upstairs.

“Hiii”, he says dragging the i, “Am I interrupting anything?”

You desperately want to nod. You want to tell him that you were doing the most exciting thing in the world, before he came but you were never a good liar.

So you just tilt your head and take a step back.

That’s when he enters and is met with some loud rock music blaring from your laptop.

“You like AC/DC?” he asks, almost wide-eyed.

“Well, I can tell it’s them when I hear their stuff.”  For the first time that day, he seems to be in loss of words. “Why are you so surprised?”

He sits in the same spot in the couch as earlier and laughs.

“I just didn’t take you for the kind of girl who likes this music.” It’s your turn to laugh.

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Quiet girl who loves animated films and eats kids’ yoghurt” he looks at the carton in your kitchen table, “and also likes metal music? Doesn’t add up.”

“We’ve basically just met; you shouldn’t make assumptions about me.”

“Fair enough.” He sits back, fidgeting with his fingers.

You take some time just looking at him

There was a certain vibe about that man that made you wonder how it’d feel to cruise down a dessert highway in a convertible mustang with him. In the summer. With him wearing that white tank top.

The color of strawberries emerges at your cheeks just at the thought of it.

You wish he doesn’t notice.

You’re glad to find him looking the other way, before he speaks up.

“We’re going out tonight.” His voice is warm now. “Argyris says you should come along, even though I’m quite sure there’s no hardcore music where we’re going.” He laughs again.

I can’t. You almost say. But then anxiety slips away from you and out of sudden you want him to stop being so freaking arrogant, going around and acting like he knows exactly what kind of person you are.

He thinks you’ll say no. You can see it in his eyes.

“Sure, when should I be ready?” you say, surprising both of you.

He looks at you for some time and then trying to hide whatever he was thinking he says the first thing on his mind.

“How old are you?” He sounds pitiful. He knows. He wishes he could hit a wall; with his head.

“Twenty-one.” His eyes scan yours, unsure of what they’re looking for. “Why?”

“No reason.”

He inhales deep.

/

You try to blink. You’re at a party in a little bar you’ve never been before and a lot of people are wearing black. Alcohol. You can still taste it on the back of your tongue. You don’t remember how you end up pressed against a dark skinned man, but you can tell he smells of cigarettes and despair.

You sway your body to the beat, close your eyes. Breath in. And out. You think the music deafens you for a second but you open your lids and see Sebastian and he’s watching you, unashamed.

He’s not that far, though it feels like it with countless bodies in the way. The music melts. His gaze is almost angelic. Or devious. You can’t really tell.

He’s dancing with that curly haired woman again. You wonder how intimate their relationship is.

The red neon lights make his skin glisten. His muscles move divinely. It makes you think there’s an entire world inside him, his flesh barely keeping it hidden. Out of sudden you get the urge to walk towards him. You want to see him up close under this dim lighting. But you don’t move.

The man that’s groping your waist asks for your name. You tell him you need to flee. He doesn’t understand.

You sit outside with the sweet summer breeze touching your bare arms. The bass of the music in the background syncs with the beating of your heart. You can feel your ribs grow with every breath you take. Until you stop breathing because the door opens and his eyes suffocate you.

You can’t fathom the effect he has on you. He was a pretty face on screen some days ago. But right now he steals distance and stays near you.

You don’t look his way. He doesn’t say a word. Nicotine and smoke surround you as he exhales. His fingers hold the cigarette butt with care.

“Do you want some?”

You turn to look at him.

“I don’t smoke.” He laughs.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want some.”

You want to know if his breath has the taste of sulfur. You want to pretend it’s the alcohol or the loud music that makes your head hurt.

“What’s the best part of being an actor?” The blue in his eyes glows.

There’s silence but he seems to be thinking about it.

“Do you ever feel things too much?” He says, his voice hoarse. “I mean, when you feel something so intensely it becomes a part of who you are.”

You nod. You understand.

“Acting allows you to let go of these feelings,” he starts. “You share the burden with the audience until it becomes light and you can hold it again.”

You look at him, shaking your head.

“I don’t think I could that,” you close your eyes. “I don’t think I could share what I feel so easily.”

He stands up. The wind hits you again.

“A lot people can’t. That’s why everyone is heartbroken,” he takes a breath, “Feelings eat us raw.”

You both go to bed alone that night. Tomorrow there is a hole next to you.

/

the morning after, search history

(02:45 PM) hangover recovery

(03:00 PM) best food after a hangover

(03:10 PM) sebastian stan

(03:30 PM) sebastian stan girlfriend

(06:00 PM) xanax side effects

/

You follow him on Instagram. He doesn’t follow you back. You remember he probably gets tons of followers every day and decide not to let it bother you. Instead you study for the exams of the following month.

The subject of your studies doesn’t interest you. Another poor decision you made under pressure. Sometimes you feel as if your life is borrowed from someone else. Sometimes you feel as if you haven’t found your home yet.

Feelings eat us raw.

His girlfriend looks beautiful in the pictures you find online. The media isn’t certain if they’re still together but you like to think so. It makes it easier to avoid him.

But the universe seems to be oblivious to your thoughts and you see him that same day. You’re taking the garbage out and he’s coming down from the top floor. You meet in the elevator.

“I’m glad to see you’re still alive,” his eyes are smiling as he talks “you looked kinda drunk last night.”

You fidget with the hem of the bag you’re holding.

“I wasn’t drunk.” You notice he’s growing some stubble. You’re not sure you like it.

“Whatever you say, doll.”  You bite your cheek trying to devour any sign that might give away how his words make you flinch.

He turns his body a little so now you’re facing each other. He’s so pretty. He’s so pretty in a way that doesn’t hurt. You try not to stare at him, but you fail sometimes. You’ve never noticed how slow the elevator moves until you want to get out. You can’t stand being so close to him for much longer.

He’s an arrogant rich actor who loves Disney and smokes a lot, you think. I have no reason to be affected by him.

“Ah! Argyris said we’re leaving for the weekend.” You eye him curiously. “He wants to show us some small villages in the south. He thinks we should get to know the country a little more before we start.”

You’re stunned by your neighbor’s dedication to his work. Sometimes you wish you had something you could be passionate about too. Sometimes you think you’re never going to find it.

“That’s great. I’m sure you’ll like it.” You give him a smile.

He leans his back at the wall. The elevator stops. Finally.

“I like your eyes.” You grab tight onto the bag. “But they don’t smile when you do.”

He opens the door and he’s gone.

They tell you that it’s fun to meet a famous person. They tell you, you can ask for a photo and a hug. They tell you celebrities don’t talk a lot but that doesn’t mean they’re rude.

But he’s not like that.

He’s fire. He’s burning heat and scorching flames. His words are his thoughts; raw. You don’t like it.

/

late night search history

(00:38 AM) blue valentine movie soundtrack

(01:15 AM) is sebastian stan a bad person

(01:30 AM) acting classes for amateurs

(01:50 AM) cheap leather boots

(02:10 AM) sebastian stan eyes

 You find it annoying; how he’s present even when you’re alone.

Thankfully he’s leaving for the weekend, you think.

/

The weekend, however, is two days away.

You think you can get away without seeing him. And you do. Until it’s late at night again. And they’re all upstairs with music so loud you’re certain the lady on the first floor is going to be rude about it in the morning.

The music tempo has you unaffected. All you think about is if he’s dancing with that woman again.

He’s such a bad dancer, he should not be dancing.

There’s a subtle knock on your door. You know it’s him. You hope you’re wrong.

“Do you feel like dancing?” His face is all flustered. It’s a good look on him.

“You can’t come knocking on my door at 2 AM and ask me to dance.” His gaze is filled with confusion.

“So you don’t feel like dancing?” You roll your eyes. He notices.

“That’s not the point Sebastian.” It’s the first time you call him by his name. You let it slip away slowly, testing the way it sounds coming out of your mouth.

He takes a step closer. You are suddenly aware of your pyjama shorts and your exposed skin.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to irritate you.” His eyes are the cliché blue of the sky. “I just thought you might want to dance, that’s all.”

Suddenly you feel guilty and embarrassed. He’s oblivious to it.

For a moment you feel his eyes linger on you. It feels surreal.

You nod at him.

He’s ready to say something when Argyris comes down the stairs, his shirt slightly unbuttoned.

“Ah man, I thought you got lost or something.” You lower your eyes. “Stop messing with the poor girl. People are looking for you.”

He throws a smile at you and Sebastian takes a quick breath.

“People are always looking for me.”

He gives away that he’s carrying a burden. Your expression softens. But then you look at Argyris and you see he doesn’t really pay attention to these words.

You share a quick look before you’re there standing alone at your doorstep, trying to grasp the idea of him.

/

When you wake up you feel like running. You can’t fathom where the feeling comes from but it starts like a liquid running down your veins and soon you can’t stay in bed even for a second.

Feelings eat us raw. Only if you let them.

.

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged in this six part story :)

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #22- If You Don’t Love Thunderclash, Get Better Soon I Guess

One last issue before we reach Comic Event Hell.

Time to use a dead man to set up the rest of the nonsense that’s got to happen, because apparently 14 issues of setup, including six issues of literal prelude, wasn’t enough.

The first bit of information we’re presented with is the fact that Chromedome and Swerve are on the opposite sides of the camera-shy scale. I guess that’s bound to happen when your spouse has had his video-cam literally connected to his brain for at least several thousand years.

The art may look really gritty and hardcore here, but this is actually due to a filter Rewind has over all his footage that he’s neglected to take off, because it made all the wartime propaganda he would stuff into people’s heads all the more brutal-looking.

No, this is the style of our artist for this issue, James Raiz, who we’ll be seeing a fair bit of over the next several issues. Raiz has worked on the Transformers franchise over the course of multiple license-holders, as well as contributed to both Marvel and DC comics. He also works in special effects, including matte painting and VFX. That’s just neat.

Anyway, the reason Swerve’s completely frozen in place isn’t because Rewind  switched out his head-mounted camera for a gun that goes off if it hears you make a self-deprecating joke, but rather because he’s conducting interviews with everyone in the main cast. We get all their introductions, Cyclonus makes a statement about his political stances, Drift sounds like he’s high as a kite, First Aid strikes a sassy pose while not being bitter in the slightest, and Ultra Magnus makes a move that would get him murdered on any given film set in the universe.

You do NOT use your bare fucking hand to clean a camera lens, mister. Go get a microfiber cloth and try the fuck again, you complete and utter duffel bag of a creature.

We get a quick cut of the speech Rodimus made back in issue #1, with an angle that implies that Rewind was in the front row of the front row, then cut over to Rodimus asking Rewind to document their Capital-Q Quest. This is where we establish that this film doesn’t only contain footage from Rewind’s personal camera, but also that of the Lost Light’s security system.

Which feels like the sort of access you maybe wouldn’t want to give some nosy little film buff, especially when you have a secret giant serial killing sadist living in your basement like a disappointing adult child.

See? He was given the job to record the adventures of the Lost Light not five minutes ago, and he’s already using his powers for evil. Eavesdropping evil. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, Rodimus, and you just handed it to the guy with a massive Dominus Ambus-shaped chip on his shoulder.

So Rewind’s got permission to film just about whatever he wants, and Rodimus figures it’ll be nonstop action from here to the finish line! Fights! Intrigue! Mild hijinks and peril! Explosions aplomb! Oh man, I can’t wait to see what kinds of crazy shit will happen on this absolute roller coaster of a Quest!

Smashcut to Swerve literally falling asleep in the middle of a conversation. Yeah, as it turns out, no quest, capital Q or not, is nonstop action. Which is good, honestly, because that kind of seems like it would be exhausting after the first week or so.

Swerve, Tailgate, and Rewind are discussing cool alt-modes, which seems like an odd topic, seeing as Tailgate and Swerve have basically the same situation going on there, leaving Rewind alone in the camp of “does not have wheels”.

I worry about you sometimes, Rewind. Internalized Functionism is a very real problem. Uh, well, in your universe anyway. Us humans have to deal with regular ol’ classism and racism.

Rung gets brought up, and it’s revealed that the wheel on his back is almost purely cosmetic; it doesn’t even actually attach to his body. The lads decide that they’ve got nothing better to do, and set up a gentlemen’s wager- first one to figure out Rung’s whole deal gets 100 space-dollars.

Throwing shit at people’s heads will be a major plot point in the climax of this comic series.

Swerve’s go at trying to win the bet involved tossing a grenade at Rung to hit him in the neural cluster, which is rumored to be able to force an involuntary mode change if done correctly. Obviously, it didn’t work this go around. Then our narrative focus switches over to the crew’s hobbies.

You were listening to Prince, weren’t you, Magnus? Not even deep space is safe from the Cease and Desist.

Skids’ hobby is meeting new people, because he suffers from the terrible curse of being so fucking good at everything he tries, he always ends up dropping whatever he picked up, because what’s the point? This acts as a segue into another flashback, to even MORE bullshit that the fellas got roped into on Hedonia.

These are the Stentarians. They’re like the Cybertronians, if they were better in every way.

And by “better”, I, of course, mean “more bloodthirsty, warmongering, and driven enough to make their civil war last about as long as the Jurassic Period”. Also, they’re all combiners by default, and Whirl seems a little TOO into their whole situation. So much so, in fact, that when the Imperial Guard of their race show up to kill them, he decides to do them a solid by single-handedly ending their entire war.

You know, in most cases you’re supposed to show and not tell for visual media. This is way funnier, though, so it can be excused.

We jump back into the interviews, and Rewind’s just asked everyone if they’re happy. This might seem like an odd question, until you remember that everyone on-board this ship has crippling depression and PTSD, and Rewind’s married to one of the saddest motherfuckers to ever exist, so he probably has this question loaded into the proverbial chamber at any given moment. We won’t cover all of the answers here, because they’ll be more poignant to reflect back on later in the comic run, but let’s take a gander at the characters who’ve completed the first leg of their character arcs this season.

Drift, is that perhaps… an honest expression of your inner thought processes happening right there? Has Rewind broken through your carefully crafted persona, if even for just a moment, with his question? Perish the thought!

Because Tailgate outed himself as being baby in issue #21, I have zero doubt he’s not exaggerating here. He was a janitor, then he fell in a hole and became Dirt-Nap Supreme for six million years; even the most boring day on the Lost Light’s got to be better than that.

And it’s nice to see Chromedome on a good day for once. Hopefully he reveled in it while he had the chance, because this interview takes place maybe a couple weeks before he fucks everything up big time and has to blow up his husband with a missile strike.

Getting back to the Mystery of the Rungian Alt-Mode plotline, we see Rung using his backpack as a wheelbarrow- no idea what he’s actually pushing in the damned thing- and wearing the most disgruntled face I’ve seen him pull in a hot minute. Someone yells for him to come down the eerily unlit and sinister-looking hallway, which he does. Rung would not do well in a horror film.

He winds up at Swerve’s, where Tailgate, Swerve, Brainstorm, and someone who is most likely Trailcutter, given the colors, are hanging out in their alt-modes. Tailgate’s ploy to find out Rung’s deal is to do what he does best- lie! They’re having an alt-mode party, and wouldn’t Rung like to join in? There are, of course, logistical issues with being a car in a bar, especially when your drink is on the table and your head is tucked up somewhere in your torso, but never mind all that! Let’s get crazy!

This doesn’t work either. Maybe we should cut out the middle man here and just get Rung drunk enough to agree to a wet alt-mode contest.

No, I don’t have any idea how that would work.

In our next vignette, Rodimus comes into the comms room, Rewind trailing behind him like a grim shadow of death, to see what the hell Blaster wants, other than just the hugest glass of water.

Raiz’s work is very detailed, and you really feel the weight of these giant metal space robots, but everyone looks like they’ve been put through a food dehydrator.

We get a lot of build up to the character who’s about to be introduced, with a common opinion being shared amongst everyone- even Tailgate, who hates successful people like his life depends on it.

Lovely readers, put your hands together for the ideal male partner for Autobots, Decepticons, and Neutrals alike:

A man with so much charisma and charm that only Rodimus could hate him, Thuderclash brings to IDW what everyone wishes Optimus Prime would, making our disappointing space dad even more mediocre by comparison. He fights for justice, and freedom, and the good of the universe- and he does it all while having a chronic medical condition that forces him to stay within a certain distance of his ship that is also a life-support machine, otherwise he will die. Despite his handicaps, Thunderclash seemingly brings to others what they need most, even if they don’t even realize that they needed it in the first place.

He also, in this one scene, appeals to Drift’s religious sensibilities, does a secret best-friend dance with Ratchet (who he helped to pass his medical exams- yes, Ratchet), and congratulates Rodimus on his questing so far.

Thunderclash is one of those characters that everyone in-universe is supposed to love, and I completely buy it- because he’s completely genuine and humble about all of this the entire time.

Compare this to the last time Roberts wrote Thunderclash, in Eugenesis.

Where he was an ex-Decepticon.

And kind of an abrasive asshole.

And then he died.

Y’know, now that I think of it, Eugenesis Thunderclash and MTMTE Ambulon being basically the same character makes a whole lot of sense, even without the horrors of Roberts’ Twitter getting involved.

Thunderclash reveals that he, too, is on a quest to find the Knights of Cybertron, much to Rodimus’ chagrin. But first he needs the Lost Light to break out the jumper cables, and then for his second in command to stop threatening his life.

Turns out, not everyone is as obvious as the Cybertronians with their naming conventions. Whirl assassinated the wrong folks; I’m sure the Galactic Council is utterly thrilled. Paddox wants to steal the quantum engine technology for the good of his people, so they can kick the ass of the up-and-coming Terradore leader.

Completely unaware of the situation unfolding here in the lab, Swerve is directing Rung towards the warm, loving aura of Thunderclash for another go at winning the gentlemen’s wager- through the power of lying about having friends, Swerve’s “agreed” to get Rung Thunderclash’s autograph, in exchange for getting to check that Rung’s transformation cog is still working. Then they bump into the nightmare currently unfolding. My, whoever will save us from this dreaded menace, who holds a gun to the head of the Autobots’ greatest warrior, confidant, friend, and perhaps even lover?

How about a bartender and a giant vape pen?

Okay, so Rung doesn’t actually turn into a vape. It turns out that the Mystery of the Rungian Alt-Mode is also a mystery to the man himself. Because Rung is old as shit, the Functionists got to see this bullshit for themselves, and ended up testing him over and over and over trying to figure it out, lest he prove to be a flaw in their fascist ideologies. Fun fact: fascists HATE it when people they’re trying to oppress don’t play to their expectations.

The Functionists were the ones who gave Rung his little wheelie backpack, to make him at least appear useful. This sort of treatment tends to warp one’s head a bit, which would explain why he’s bothered to keep it for so long- internalized functionism’s a real bitch.

At least he’s not giving teenagers nicotine addictions under the guise of being somewhat better than cigarettes.

Back with Rodimus and Cybertron’s Autobot of the Year for 40,000 consecutive years, we get the unfortunate news that jump-starting Thunderclash’s ship is going to make the Quest go a bit slower for the Lost Light, much to Rodimus’ horror, though he does his best to put on a brave face; after all, that’s what heroes do, isn’t it?

It’s at this point that it’s revealed that “Little Victories” was being screened to all the Circle of Light members who didn’t get murdered or turned into Legislators on Luna 1, and man are these guys pissy. What was meant to be a recruitment video turned out to do just the opposite, because none of these guys want anything to do with what the Lost Light’s got going on.

Too bad Rewind didn’t have time for a cleaner cut for showing. Maybe they could have at least snagged a couple of these guys to tag along.

As all of the Circle of Light leave the theatre to go call everyone’s favorite Autobot to see if he needs a more crew members, the film plays on behind Skids, back to the interviews, as everyone promises more adventures just waiting on the horizon.

You’re not even on this trip anymore, you dork.

Chromedome gives us the title drop for the movie and issue, and we cut to Rewind organizing a group photo of all the interviewees.

And then Rewind died horribly like a week later. Thus ends season one of More Than Meets the Eye!

While I’m here, I’d like to take the time to cover a little bit of cut content from this issue, a scene between Drift and Ratchet.

Drift, during his interview, recalls the time that Ratchet called him into his office for a very serious discussion about his/Pharma’s hands.

Yeah, turns out they’re haunted.

Well, no, not really, because this is a prank. But Drift doesn’t know that yet.

Ratchet demonstrates this hand-haunting by punching Drift in the face, as he screams damnation at Pharma’s ghost. Drift, because he is a spiritual man, knows exactly what to do to deal with this possession; he draws his sword and chops Ratchet’s hands off, then throws them out the airlock.

This, too, is a prank, not that Ratchet knows it right away, yelling at Drift that he’s crippled him.

Clearly, these two belong together.

This bit of cut script was lucky enough to have gotten drawn by the colorist for MTMTE Season 1, Josh Burcham. Burcham’s line art is iconic- you won’t mistake him for anyone else. It’s rough and angular, and honestly just very charming. I’m a sucker for this sort of style. If you want to see his adaptation of this chunk of script- and trust me, you do- the link’s right here:

https://dcjosh.tumblr.com/post/107665292031/its-done-the-mtmte-22-deleted-scene-in-all-its

[unloved-cadillac]

Leather Jackets and Glasses Two

Y/n L/n, the leader of the notorious gang called The Scouts. Placed in Rose high, Y/n is in her senior year but things take a turn when she starts getting interested in a certain boy named, Levi Ackerman. Follow the journey of heartbreak, betrayal and love between two people who were destined to be together.   

Chapter Two:

-What do you mean “you keyed the teacher’s car”!? Did you or did you not!?

My father yells at me. So yeah. He found out what I did.

-it’s not my fault, he was being an asshole. Dad, is 57 a bad score?

He looks at me curiously.

-Not really. I mean you passed. Why?

-When he gave me my paper, he freakin scoffed and rolled his eyes. He looked at me like some low life. So I taught him a lesson.

My dad chuckles. He leans down and cups my cheek.

-Honey, i know you did good. He is an asshole for doing that. Teachers are supposed to uplift your spirits and try and push you further because they believe in you. I can have a “chat” with him on Monday.

He finishes and kisses my forehead.

-Thanks, Dad. I wish I could say I was sorry.

-Don’t push it.

His stern voice caught me off guard.

-Sorry, sir. May I leave now?

He nods and I wake up and leave to my room. It seemed I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking because I bumped into someone, making me fall to my ass.

-Oh Jeez Y/n. I didn’t even see you.

Mike says as he offers his hand to help me up.

-Yeah,you giant.

I wake up and dust my pants.

-I heard what you did to your teachers car. Not bad, kid. I did worse.

I raise my eyebrow to that. Mike always seemed so chill and not one to cause fights. But that was before I saw him and my dad interrogate one of our ex members. I can still hear his bones crack from Mike crushing that guy’s arm.

-What did you do?

-No no. I’m not giving you ideas. What did your dad say?

-Nothing.

He hums in response and starts to walk away.

-Hey Mike?

He turns to face me.

-You know what...never mind

I take off running to my room leaving Mike confused. I take out my phone as I enter. I dial a number and wait for them to pick up.

-hello?

-still on for tonight.

-aww HELL YEAH. Same time?

-yeah. I gotta sneak out though. So I might be a tad bit late.

-it’s fine. As long as you’re coming. Everyone is gonna be there.

I perk my ears up.

-everyone?

-yeah. From our grade. They wanted a pre-prom thing or something. Is it cool?

I smile.

-It’s perfect

~a couple of hours later

I put on my jacket and boots and head to my window. I jump out onto the roof and make my way to a ladder I left there earlier. I climbed down and make my way out of the years. So as you can see, I have been sneaking out for a while. It’s not like my dad cares, he never caught me and plus those guards are shit at their jobs. I hop over my gate and walk to the end of my neighborhood. I take a left and see Mikasa’s car, waiting. I hop into the passenger seat.

-Hey.

Mikasa says as she puts her cigarette out.

-Took you long enough.

-Yeah. Had some trouble with the ladder. Anyway, everyone is there?

-Yeah. Fucking sucks. All the nerds and jocks are there. Eren and Jean are there already too.

I smile. Nerds. Only one comes to my mind.

-Alright let’s go.

I tell Mikasa. She nods her head and puts the car into drive and we make our way to the party. This party was at the end of town. So it takes a good 15 minutes from my place. It’s at an abandoned scrapyard where not many people hang out. This place was perfect. It had these big old cars where you can chill in, some cool scrap metal. It was our little getaway.

-So...I see you have your eye on someone.

Mikasa tells me. I look at her confused. How the fuck...

-I don’t know what you’re talking about.

I say and look out the window.

-Yeah. Sure. I’ve seen you look at him. Eren may be stupid enough to believe you were looking at Reiner but I saw you look at Levi.

I widen my eyes, still not looking at her.

-Ok. Fine. But just so you know, he’s there too.

Mikasa smiles. I look at her and smirk.

-Stays between us.

-Don’t need to tell me twice.

The rest of the car ride was quiet apart from Mikasa’s radio playing. “Dead!” by My Chemical Romance was on. Perfect.

By the time we pulled up to the scrapyard it was half 8 at night so it was already dark out. Mikasa parks the car and we jump out.

-Yo look who’s finally here! Y/N!

Eren shouts from the fire. People looked at me and cheered. I look at the crowd looking for a certain someone.

-Finally. I thought you weren’t gonna come.

Eren says as he puts his arm around me.

-What are you drinking?

I take the blue cup from his hand and sniff.

-Vodka and Redbull.

-Jesus. As if you don’t need the extra energy.

I laugh. We go to the big fire that was burning in the middle of the yard. Only seniors were there so I knew everyone.

-Y/N!

I hear my name and turn to the source.

-oh fuck.

I whisper to myself. Reiner. That dipshit. He is such an asshole. Remember earlier when I told you that I was fairly popular, especially with the boys? He was one of the boys that just won’t give up.

-Reiner.

-Aw. No hi? I ran all the way across the yard for you.

-Well I didn’t ask you to.

I say as I sip my drink.

-So mean. Well, you won’t be mean on prom night. Because I’m gonna be your partner.

-Oh for fucks sake, Reiner. I told you. I don’t want to be your partner.

-Then who are you going with?

-Nobody. I’m not going.

I lie. In fact I was going. I wanted to trash the place. But when the time comes I’ll tell you about it.

-Aww come on,Y/n? Why won’t you give me a chance? I’ll treat you so good. I’ll do whatever you want. And when I say whatever, I mean whatever.

He finishes his sentence with a wink. Gross.

-Yo! REINER. COME THROW SOME BALL WITH US!

Someone calls out to him. He turns to them and yells out a “COMING!” He turns to look at me, smiles and runs off. I swear that guy tries so hard. As I take a sip of my drink,at the corner of my eye I see a couple of people coming to the yard. I recognize them immediately. Levi and Farlan.

-Levi Bro! You made it!

Isabel runs up to him and he ruffles her hair. Cute.

-And no “hey babe” for me?

Farlan asks Isabel. She laughs and kisses him. I’m not gonna lie they made a cute couple. Apparently, Isabel had no interest in Farlan at first. She never cared for finding a boyfriend. But one day, a bet was made that she couldn’t get his number in one day. She ended up telling him a shit joke and caught his interest. She had no intention of falling for him, but she did. She won the bet and his heart and I thought that was beautiful. It turns out I was daydreaming, again, because Eren is poking me.

-Yes, my hyperactive rodent?

I finally turn to him.

-I live for your weird names. Anyway, they starting a game. Come join.

-No Eren. I don’t do these games.

-Please,Y/n?

-No. I’ll watch though. Go.

He pouts but he leaves. I refill my drink and I make my way to an old car near to hear the game and sit on the bonnet. I look to my left and see someone sitting on the car next to me, but I ignore them and listen.

-Alright, seniors. It’s been an awesome night so far. So let’s play a game. Today’s game is Never Have I Ever. Everyone has to play. Even those sitting on the cars. Including you too, Levi.

I hear that name and look to my left. Holy shit, HE was sitting there. He scoffs and looks at Farlan who was sitting on the ground with Isabel on his lap. He turns and looks at me for a split second but does a double-take. I smile and wave a small wave. He widens his eyes and waves back.

-OK! First up, Sasha!

Connie points to her. She has her face stuffed with McDonald’s but speaks anyway.

-Nemver hamve I emver eaten Sushi.

I raised my eyebrow at that. That’s a weird one.

-Sasha, have you never eaten sushi?

Connie asks her. She shakes her head.

-it’s fucking disgusting. It’s the one food I won’t eat.

-Haha. Alright. Everyone if you didn’t eat sushi before, take a sip of your drink.

Yeah, everyone tried sushi so no one drank. I sneak a glance to my side and Levi also didn’t drink. Good to know.

-Ok. Never have I ever broken a bone.

Jean says. A few drink and I do too.

-ok whoever drank tell us what you broke.

Connie tells us.

-I fell down the stairs and broke my leg.

-I bumped into a door and broke my nose.

-I got knocked and broke a few.

A couple of people say. I laugh at some.

-Y/n?

I look up.

-You drank. Tell us.

Connie says. I smile.

-I got into a fight and broke my wrist and collarbone.

Many widen their eyes. Jean smiles. He smiles cause he remembers that fight.

-Hardcore, man. You aren’t labeled as dangerous for nothing, huh?

I shake my shoulders and chuckle. I sneak a peak to my left and see Levi staring. I smirk. He didn’t drink yet. Maybe he really was a good boy.

-Y/n. Your turn.

I put on a thinking face. Then I smile and say my line.

-Never have I ever had friends with benfits.

Many drank. Almost all. And few glances were sent. I look at Levi and he didn’t drink. Mmm.

-Now that was a good one, Y/n. Already getting dirty. Alright, Levi. Your turn.

I turn to look at him and see him look down. It’s quiet for a bit but then he speaks up.

-Never have I ever been arrested.

Jesus. That is unexpected. I would drink but surprisingly that never happened. But I did see Jean sip and Mikasa sip. The air got a bit tensed because Connie was gonna ask them about it. Until I caught his eye and slowly shook my head. He cleared his throat and smiled.

-Jeez Levi. Good one. Alright. Hange. You’re next.

Connie smoothly says. I look at Levi.

-That was good one. Why ask that?

I ask him. He looks at me. My God. This boy just got sexier to me.

-I don’t know. I felt like there needed to be a wilder one.

He says. I smile. I like his voice. I want him to speak again. But we get interrupted by Connie.

-Guys did you hear? Hange asked if you ever sent a nude.

I make a disgusted face and so does Levi.

-Jesus Christ no. What the fuck.

-Yeah Four-Eyes, what the fuck?

He turns to look at Hange. She was sitting between Erwin’s legs as he wraps his arms around her. Yes,they were dating and they also got together by chance. Erwin was her locker neighbor and he mistakenly tried to open hers instead of his. They laughed and a few days later got together.

Levi just swore. He just said “fuck”. I guess he wasn’t a good boy after all.

-Levi.

I say his name to catch his attention. He looks at me.

-Yes?

-Why did you give me your handkerchief the other day?

He blushes and looks down. He doesn’t say anything for a while.

-Your hand was bleeding and it looked like you didn’t have yours on you. Did you think I would just let you suffer like that?

He quietly says the end part. It was soft but I caught it. I smile.

-You’re sweet,Levi. Thank you. By the way you’re not getting it back.

-It’s ok. Keep it.

He says. I tilt my head. He really is strange. We weren’t even paying attention to the game anymore. So I just drank and looked at him. I guess he sensed I was staring so he looked at me.

-Y/n?

I snap out of my daydream.

-Oh sorry was I staring? I just can’t get enough of your cuteness.

I tell him. He widens his eyes and looks away, hiding a blush. I smile. He is so easy to fluster. The night progresses and people start to leave around 12. I stick around for a while with my gang. As we are chatting I see Levi and Farlan leave. He looks at me and I smile. He waves to me.

-I knew you liked him.

Someone says to me. I turn to that someone to see Mikasa light her cigarette.

-Shut up. I don’t like him.

-Tell that to your face. You can fool anyone with your stoicness but not me. I can clearly see that you’re blushing.

It was my turn to widen my eyes and look away. Fuck.

-Just take me home.

I say and Mikasa chuckles.

-Sure.

We leave and I see Levi and Farlan by their car. It looks like it’s not starting and the engine sounds like shit. Isabel tries starting it but the engine just give out.

-Dammit. I just got this fucker fixed last week.

I hear Farlan scream.

-I told you not listen to Kenny.

Levi responds. Kenny? That name seems familiar. But I brush it off and grab Mikasa’s arm.

-Hey. It looks like they are having car problems.

Mikasa smirks at me.

-Wanna help out?

I look at her and squint my eyes.

-..yes.

-Alright. Let’s go.

We walk up to them and Mikasa taps Farlan’s shoulder.

-Hey. You guys ok?

Farlan looks at us. He instantly recognized us.

-Oh. Oh yes. This damn car gave out.

Farlan tells us.

-Can I have a see?

I ask Farlan. He nods his head and make my way to the engine. I ask Isabel to try and start it. When she presses the accelerator there’s a weird sound coming from the back of it. I look inside and see something weird.

-Uhm Farlan? Do you have a pair of pliers?

He looks in his boot and pulls out a pair of pliers. He gives them to Levi and Levi comes and gives it to me.

-Oh. Oh, thank you.

I take it from Levi and smile. I stick the pliers in the back and pull out a wire.

-Ok, Isabel. Let’s try it one more time.

And when Isabel starts it, it successfully starts.

-WHOOHOO!

Isabel yells and Farlan moves to thank me.

-Thank you, Y/n. Thank you so much. How can I repay you?

I shake my head.

-Nothing. Just bring the car by Pixis’ Shop downtown. Tell him I sent you. He would do the car up for free.

-Whoa, what really?

-Yeah. Also, your engine is shit right now. Whoever did it before really did a number on it. It looks like they either didn’t know how to do it or they hated you guys.

Farlan laughs at that.

-That’s what Levi said. Our uncle recommended the shop. Levi said that they were gonna fuck up the car because they hated our uncle.

I look at Levi and he smirks.

-Yeah well, be careful on the road ok?

-Yeah. You too, Y/n. Thank you again.

-Thank you, Y/n!!!

Isabel shouts. I wave them off and walk to Mikasa’s car. She starts the car and we head off. Halfway through the drive Mikasa says something.

-He was staring the whole time.

I wake up from my light slumber.

-Huh?

-Levi. That whole time you were working on Farlan’s car. He didn’t take his eyes off of you.

I click my tongue.

-Nah. Perhaps it was the fact that I was working on his brothers car and also I’m a gangster and he was trying to make sure I didn’t fuck with them?

-Nope. This was a different look. I can’t put my foot on it but it was different.

-Hmm

I respond to her analysis. I roll my eyes. No. There’s no way he is interested in me.

===

*In Farlan’s car*

-Levi-bro! Y/n is so kind. Don’t you think? I  didn’t expect her to know about cars, if im being honest.

Isabel tells him. He hums in response.

-I saw you two talking to each other at the party. You seem close.

Farlan says to Levi.

-No. We only recently started talking.

-But she’s super pretty up close, huh? And I think she likes you.

Isabel tells Levi as she leans on Farlan’s seat.

-No. I don’t think so.

-Why not???

-She has so many other options. Why would she go for the nerd of all people? I think she’s interested in Farlan.

-Levi! No! I’m with Isabel and I’m 120% sure she knows that. You really need to put yourself out there and stop thinking low of yourself. Plus, Y/n doesn’t seem like a person to go for someone who’s taken.

Levi clicks his tongue and looks at the road.

No. There’s no way a girl like her would like a guy like me...

———————————————————————

<Chapter One Chapter Three>

Here is Chapter Two. Feel free to message if you want to be added to my taglist.

Tagged: @windex-princess-gia​

[namjoonspiration]

ON [1]

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: You and your best friend Jungkook grew up in the only Mage village in the corner of the Citadel--the last civilization on Earth. When the humans feel threatened by the magic abilities of your people, you are taken away from your family. Thankfully, Jungkook remains by your side.

Warnings/Tags: violence, hate, imprisonment and forced labor (but, it’s not hardcore or extremely upsetting because that’s not what this story is about), finding happiness even in the darkest of places, kissing

Author’s Note: Welcome to my second BTS fanfic! Thank you guys for all the support for my first one (Saudade ft. Jimin)! I’m a little late in posting this, but here it is finally. This is chapter 1 out of 6 (maybe?). It won’t be super long. BUT this is my interpretation/imaginative storyline I created based on the ON music video. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Part 1

Year 3040 – 379 years after the Fall of the World

“Y/n, please be careful! I won’t wash your clothes again if you fall in the mud, and you’ll be wearing it for the next week,” your mother warns as your little legs took you farther and farther away from the hut—your home. You reply back with a high-pitched okay, only half-paying attention to what she said. You are too excited about today’s mission to give thought to anything else. The wind helps carry you faster, lifting your feet off the ground and whipping your hair in front of you.

The dirt under you became wet and tried to suction you to the ground as your trail changed from dirt paths to the tilled fields. The ever-looming walls that always remained in two directions of your vision at all times grew even more gigantic with each step towards the end. And by the end, you mean it the part where those two walls connect, keeping you and everyone in your village inside. These walls continued around in a massive rectangle that encased the Citadel from the outside world, like an army of giants.

You search amongst the kids running about near the East wall for your best friend. “Kookie!” You call. “Kookie!”

Jungkook, whose mouth is pressed in concentration, looked up from the lily he was trying to levitate. “Here!”

“Did you find the rabbit again?” You asked about today’s mission, watching him staring intently at the flower top.

“Yeah! You can see him from here.” He abandons the daisy and rushes to the wall. You run after him. He peeks through one of the holes caused by the many cracks in aged pewter stone. “He’s right there. He’s nibbling on that patch of grass,” he moves and gestures for you to look with a floppy wave of his small hand.

You peer through with one eye and spot the rare brown speckled rabbit. It was having some lunch on the thin short grass that covered the endless open environment outside. “How do you know it’s a he?” You ask.

“I just do,” Jungkook shrugs, tapping at the wall with the toe of his shoes.

“But I named it Princess Brownie, so it’s a girl,” you counter.

Jungkook crosses his arms. “No, its name is Captain Carrot.”

“Not so! We named it Princess Brownie the last time we saw it,” you pout, looking back out the hole. Suddenly, you spot another bunny—and then baby bunnies! “Oh my gosh! More rabbits!” You shout in excitement.

“Lemme see, lemme see!” Jungkook pushes against your shoulder, trying to see outside too. “Are those babies?”

“Yes! It’s a family!” You both watch them sniff around the grass for a few moments longer. Then, the two bigger bunnies hop closer to each other and rub noses. “Bunny kisses!” Jungkook ‘ews’ in disgust. “What? S’Cute,” you say.

“Kissing is gross,” he screws up his face, waving his arms in front of him in a ‘no’ fashion.

“Oh yeaahh?” you drawl, eyeing him mischievously and making a kissy face. Jungkook’s eyes widen in terror, and he turns on his heel to run away. You begin to chase after him, quickly gaining distance on him. Even though he’s a year older than you, you have pretty long legs for a six-year-old. He looks over his shoulder to see how close you are and begins yelling in fear. He pushes himself to run faster. Both of you dodge other kids left and right, most of them calling for you two to stop before the adults scolded you for causing such a ruckus. Jungkook ceases his wild screaming but doesn’t stop running.

Eventually, you get really tired. You stop, hands resting on your legs and you try to catch your breath. Jungkook didn’t seem to notice that you stopped chasing him. You sit against the cold stone of the wall, calming your breathing.

Sometime later, Jungkook circled back and found a seat next you.

You were caught up in your thoughts when he asked you what was wrong. “I wish we could go outside.” He knew what you meant. The outside world beyond the Citadel. No one ever went outside the walls unless they were ordered by the Governing Circle to find medicines and supplies, but very rarely did it happen because it was dangerous for those who went out and then came back in to where everyone was living.

“I think we will one day,” Jungkook says optimistically.

“You think so?” Despite his hope, your voice was sad. After a few moments of silence, “You promise?”

He gives you a closed-lipped smile. “I promise we’ll go outside one day.”

You smile, playfully bumping your shoulder into his. When then he bumps back, and then you bump back, and he bumps back until it turns into an all-out pushing contest to see who is stronger.

A boom sounds, like a cannon being fired.

You and Jungkook cease your shoving, startled by the sound.

A sequence of chirps and whistles followed immediately after.

You look at each other in panic, both knowing the meaning of those sounds.

The village was in trouble. And the Governing Circle was on their way.

Scrambling to your feet, you begin to run back towards the house with Jungkook running fast by your side.

“Mommy!” You lock your arms around your mother’s legs. “What’s happening?” You cry. Everyone in your village had dropped everything and stood in the crowd at the village gates. Jungkook had left you to find his parents, and you lost him in your line of vision amongst the throes of people.

“I don’t know, baby. It’s going to be okay. Don’t worry.” You mother reassures softly, patting your head and wiping your tears away. Her voice is comforting, but her expression is anything else but as she looked beyond the gates.

Men on horseback are approaching the village entrance. Soldiers with guns in tow and directly two horses pulling an iron prison wagon behind them. You mother tightens her grip on you into steel, pulling her behind you. You could feel tremors of fear shaking her.

They enter the village, the Lead Governor of the Circle standing at the forefront. He is wearing an eye patch rumored to be cover a nasty eye infection that never healed. A thick scar ravages the cheek underneath, and his icy blue eye drills fear into those who dared to look him directly in the face.

“People of the Mage community,” his voice booms, making you clutch your mother’s skirt tighter in your hands. “You’ve betrayed our trust, and it has resulted in several deaths of our brave men who dare venture outside the Citadel for our survival.”

“We haven’t killed anyone!” An elderly Mage steps forward and her shouts. Her words are very quickly echoed by the other adult Mages around her.

“Silence! Or you’ll be arrested for insubordination!” He threatens. You watch as those who had the courage to speak up suddenly cower back with their heads bowed. “Nearly thirty years ago when our kinds signed the Treaty of Coexistence, you Mages—the last of your kind—agreed that you would not use magic to keep the darkness that plagues this Earth away. And in return, we allowed you to enjoy the safety of the Citadel. Now, magic has brought that evil closer to us, and it has killed our own and it’s your fault!” His face is bright red with rage.

“So, we’re here to stop you from breaking the law any further and to save the lives of humans. First, arrest the children!”  He orders. Shouts of protest erupts from the Mages. Your mother cries for them to not take you, hiding you as much as she can. Terror makes your blood turn cold. Why were they here to arrest you? Where were they going to take you? You didn’t do anything.

“They don’t have magic! We do! Take us and not the children!” One of the younger parents steps forward, tears running down her face. She holds her wrists out to the Lead Governor.

He scoffs at her, a horrid laughter scratching its way out of his throat. He nods at one the armed soldiers.

And he shoots her.

She falls to the ground, blood staining the dirt underneath her.

It becomes absolute chaos. Screaming, yelling, pleading, Mages fighting against the soldiers from taking their children, who were wailing as they were dragged from their parents. But even in the midst of the ear-ringing pandemonium you could hear the Lead Governor’s voice loud and clear. “We know about you Mages! You lose your magic at old age, so you pass it all onto your offspring! They are dangers to the citizens of the Citadel and will be treated as such!”

An iron-grip wraps around your arm, and you scream. “Mommy!”

“NO! Don’t take her! She isn’t a danger to anyone! She’s only six years old!” You mother pleads, keeping a locked grip around your waist. “Please, please, please…” Your mother is crying hysterically, mirroring you. Two soldiers grab at her shoulders, trying to pull her away from you, but she won’t relent. A solider hits her in the head with the butt of his gun, and she collapses. She loses hold on you, and you’re dragged away.

“Mom! Momma!,” you cry hoarsely, kicking at the soldiers hauling you into the iron wagon. Your knees bruise against the unforgiving metal when they throw you in with the other sobbing children. You crawl, scrambling away from the opened door to the iron box, sitting in the far corner. You curl into a tight ball, burying your face in your arms.

“Y/n!” Jungkook shouts, moving from his spot to sit close to you.

“Kookie…” You sob, looking up at him. He has a growing bruise on his cheekbone, tear tracks staining his face. You couldn’t think of what else to say. Nothing made sense.

The soldiers throw the last of the kids in the box and slams the doors into locked position. It becomes very dark. The only sunlight streaming in is from the intermittent line of small punched out circles at the very top of the box that none of you could reach. Then the wagon is moving, the protests of your mom and the Mages growing fainter until you can no longer hear them.

Jungkook rests his head on your shoulder and gently, carefully, holds your pudgy hand in his. “We have each other.” After a while, you calm down, exhausted but soothed by your best friend’s presence. “I’ll keep my promise,” he murmurs. That promise had suddenly become so much more, unspoken between the two of you. The promise you’ll both be freed one day from the prison you had just entered. The promise that one day the Citadel will simply appear as a tiny box in the distance.

Year 3049 – 388 years after the Fall of the World

Nine years didn’t change much. Since the day you and the other children were taken, you’ve grown up together in a dank prison, let out only when the soldiers have been ordered to take you to a cased-in farmland. They had used the word “greenhouse” to describe. But that didn’t make this whole situation more peaceful or less wrong. When you first arrived at the prison, the soldiers pushed all of you in pairs into individual cells. Thankfully, because you and Jungkook never let go of each other’s hand, you got assigned to the same cell.

You both had sat in there for days at first, periodically receiving water and bread with cheese. You’d made sure to split it evenly between you and Jungkook while also agreeing to ration it as long as you could. Neither of you could tell what time it was or how many days had passed. The food never came at regular enough intervals to tell what meal it was.

Then, one day, all of you were herded to the “greenhouse.” There the Governor of Agriculture was waiting to reveal how your life would be moving forward. He was an elderly man with a white beard, dressed in tan cotton robes. He looked kind to you at first glance, but as you learned so far in the past—well, you guessed—several days, nothing seemed so clear anymore.

But you always welcomed a surprise.

Mercifully, he had vouched for all the Mage children, appealing to the rest of the Governing Circle that your magic would be valuable to the survival of humans.

If there was a moment that any of this became even more confusing, it was that moment.

The Governor of Agriculture, whose real name was Michael—and preferred you to call him that—did not completely agree with the Lead Governor’s decision to prison you until they finally figured out what to do with all of you. However, you weren’t under any illusions that this guy was some kind of Saint. He still wanted the Mage children imprisoned and their magic restricted, only freed when it served to benefit the survival of the Citadel’s human citizens. A blessing, but still a curse. That blessing was—

Food.

It was certainly odd, but you realized later that there is worse labor you and the others could have been subjected too. You were taught farming skills—how to plant seeds, how to care for crops, when to harvest them. They tried to force your magic to cooperate with the plants the first year that you were there. Unfortunately, they were under the impression that your powers were in full bloom. They learned quickly at that your young age, it takes years for them to develop beyond simply being able to levitate objects—something that Jungkook forced himself to quickly master, but you could still not do even four years later.

At that point, you had become concerned that they would take Jungkook away from you and separate him into the group of older kids that were beginning to successfully get their magic to cooperate with the crops, while you would keep farming like a human. You cried to yourself every night that Jungkook wouldn’t come back for hours, nearly making yourself sick that he wouldn’t ever walk back through the cell door.

To your fortune, he always did, albeit eyes already closed, swaying with exhaustion until he collapsed onto his bed and fell asleep. He always came back like that, practically sleepwalking and overworked. You became so concerned about his health that you secretly ate less of your food and put more on his plate for him to eat the next morning. It was all you could do for him.

Then, to your surprise, one evening, he wasn’t so exhausted and caught you crying uncontrollably after a particularly bad day. “Y/n? What’s wrong? What happened?” He asked, looking you over to see if you were injured.

“They’re going to take you away from me, Kookie.” You cried. “I can’t get my magic to work. They are getting impatient with me, I can tell. They’ll find some other use for me, and I’ll never see you again.” Your sobs wracked your body again.

Jungkook shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes. Goodness, when was the last time he had a haircut? It was down past his shoulders now, you thought to yourself distractedly. “That’s not going to happen. I told you, we’ll always have each other. I won’t go anywhere without you.”

“I know, Kookie, but it doesn’t change the fact that my magic doesn’t work,” you said, frustrated with yourself.

“I don’t think that it’s your magic that doesn’t work; you’re just not being able to express it.” He explained, and it slowly began to make sense to you. You’ve felt repressed the last four years you’ve been here already, thinking about your mother, who you might never be able to see again. That you’re trapped between one cage and another with no telling when you’ll be free. “I’ll help you.”

Jungkook sat crisscrossed on the damp stone of your shared cell, the only light coming in from the lamps outside your cell door. You joined him. He fished something from the pocket of his beige cotton clothes, which were too big for him. The soldiers always did that with the clothes, so as you got bigger, you’d grow into them for a few years. Less resources they had to spend on you.

He pulled out a lily and tenderly placed it between you two. You looked at him in surprise, and he simply smiled at you. “It gets a little easier to take things from the greenhouse the more time you spend up there. Try and levitate it,” he gestured to the flower, perfectly untainted with the stain of this place.

You focused all your energy on it but are only able to get it to move a tiny bit. It wasn’t even that profound. Your magic looked like nothing more than a slight draft or wave of the wind. You set your eyes downcast. You were a failure. How could you even call yourself a Mage? “I can’t do it, Kookie.”

“Yes, you can.” Your eyes met his when he gently touched the underneath of your chin to lift your head. “And you don’t have to do it alone.” He used his other hand to bring yours to meet his, palms and fingers pressed together. “Every time you want to use your magic, think of the connections you share with it. It’s in your blood; your mother gifted it to you; the other kids have it, who got it from their parents; and I have it. We’re connected by magic—a living, flowing entity that surrounds us and binds us. Think about it… You’re never alone. Believe in that.” His voice calmed your spirit and centered your magic with every word. Your eyes had fallen shut, seeing the faces of those you loved and had happy memories of. Your skin tingled and warmed until it cooled.

You opened your eyes to see the lily floating between you and Jungkook.

You stared at it, shocked. “Jungkook, are you sure you’re not making it do that?”

He merely laughed, beaming at you. “I’m sure. This is 100% all you. It’ll take more practice to master it, but now you know that it’s possible.”

You let out a shuttering breath of relief. So much of the anxiety and worry that had wrapped around your lungs like a vice finally let go, and you could breathe again. “Thank you, Kookie. I don’t know what’d I do without you.” You released your magic, throwing your arms around him in a hug.

He wrapped his arms around you, too. You can still hear the smile in his voice when he said, “You’ll never have to find out. I’ll always be here.”

Life became a little easier after that.

You were forever grateful for Jungkook’s presence in your life. You had to give back somehow, so you would secretly teach the other young kids who were struggling with their magic expression while pretending to plant seeds. Soon, every single Mage child got their magic to cooperate with the plants—getting them to grow faster and better, removing sickness and disease, increasing the yield of each crop, coaxing tropical crops to finally grow in this dry climate.

You were silently put in charge by Michael to grow oranges the next year, given a few orange seeds that had survived hundreds of years since the Fall. You weren’t sure if there was any life left in them, but it didn’t matter because your magic could get the inner workings of the seed functioning again. Getting the seed to sprout was the easy part, but it took the better part of three years for it to grow. Finally, the summer you turned sixteen, the sprouting had grown into a tree and produced oranges. Michael was so pleased that he allowed you to have two on the week of the Summer Harvest.

You were so excited to share them with Jungkook. You’ve heard the taste is like nothing like you’ve ever had before. When you were dismissed, you hurried to the Greenhouse, spotting Jungkook and gesturing for him to meet you in a hidden corner behind crates of fresh vegetables and the tool shed.

“Jungkook, look,” you whisper excitedly, showing him the bright fruits. “Oranges! I finally got them to grow!”

“Shhh,” he holds a finger up to his mouth, chuckling. “That’s awesome. I have something to show you too.” He presents his hand from behind his back to show you a handful of— “Strawberries,” he grins excitedly.

“They look amazing,” you examine them closely, pocketing the oranges in your apron.

“Yeah. They taste even better too.” He hands you one, and you don’t waste a second in biting into one. Strawberry juice escapes your mouth and dribbles down your chin. You try to catch it and wipe it off with your free hand. Jungkook chuckles again, happy to see you clearly enjoying yourself. He eats his own strawberries, and insisting you eat the last one since he’s already snuck in more than he should have while picking. After you finish, you pull out the oranges, so he can get a better look at them. “How do you eat them?”

“Well, you see, you have to peel them. The skin is too bitter and thick to eat, but the fruit on the inside…” You skillfully peel one orange and hand it to him. You quickly then peel the second one. Opening the circular fruit, you pick a fat, juicy slice and hold it between your fingers. “It’s citrus-y, but sweet. Open up,” you nod at him, excited for him to finally taste it.

He opens his mouth, and you gently plop it in. When he first bites down, his face first screws up, but then relaxes in the indulgence with a few more bites. “It tastes so good,” he says, and you giggle at his satisfied smile. “You eat some.” He pulls a slice from his orange and takes a step closer, coincidentally putting you between him and the wooden shed. He holds it out, nodding at you like how you did with them.

You can’t help the giggle that escapes you before opening your mouth to receive the orange. Jungkook takes his time bringing the fruit to your lips, gently feeding you the fruit, watching your face as you pull the orange slice into your mouth and eat it. The corners of your mouth turned up at the delicious taste of the fruit and at Jungkook’s hopeful expression.

You take your turn to feed him another slice of your orange, doing it exactly as he did. He gets a playful look in his eyes, and then makes sure his lips brush your fingertips when you feed him the orange. You feel a hot blush creep onto your face, which does not go unnoticed by Jungkook. He thoughtfully eats the fruit you just gave him, reading your expression as you try to hide your red cheeks from him with a hand. When you drag your eyes back to his, he grins cutely at you, and you can’t help but blush further or fight your own grin.

Jungkook reaches a tentative hand out to brush your hair behind your ear. You had recently cut off several inches of it again with the gardening scissors you snuck from the Greenhouse again. You’d even given Jungkook a haircut, so his hair wasn’t hanging in his eyes while he worked. You were by no means perfect at it, but you did your best to make him handsome.

He smiled down at you, and you suddenly couldn’t remember when he’d gotten so much taller than you. When had the muscles in his arms appeared? When did his face begin to lose the soft roundedness of childhood? Then you wished he was seeing you the way you were seeing him just now. You weren’t kids anymore.

He brought a hand to cup your cheek, moving closer. Searching your eyes for an answer to the silent question of permission. You nodded, your nose just barely brushing his before your lips meet in your first kiss, for both you and Jungkook. Your lips were trembling against each other’s, not sure how to explore such new territory. He pulls back to search your face again.

Then, you were both smiling like complete idiots. He presses his lips to yours again and again and again until they meld perfectly in synch. Your hands come to rest on his waist. You two deepen your kiss, tasting a mix of strawberries and oranges, sweetness and citrus.

And you swear, the sun grew brighter outside the Greenhouse, its rays breaking through the cracks in its structures to shine on your faces, and the world appeared more colorful. It was euphoric. Your settings melted away, and you felt free for the first time in years. You could feel your magic dancing with his in the air around you. The plants around you perk up more in their pots, and the birds chirped a little louder. Jungkook’s hands move from your face to your waist and yours to wrap around his neck, pulling the other impossibly closer as you two lay sweet kiss after sweet kiss on each other’s lips.

When you two became breathless, you finally pull back with much reluctance. Jungkook rests his forehead against yours as you both became to giggle to yourselves. “I love you, Jungkook,” you whisper to him, hoping to keep this moment between just the two of you.

“I love you too, y/n. Always have.” He steals one last kiss from you before having to let go even though he very much did not want to, as he expressed. You assure him that you would see him later on that day, and he walks back to his station after staring at you for several moments longer, not wanting to take his eyes off you. He thought you looked positively radiant—skin pink, eyes bright, mouth pulled into a big, beautiful smile.

Thus, began several weeks of farm work and taking advantage of every possibly excuse you had to see Jungkook in the Greenhouse to steal a kiss when no one was around or to brush hands when they simply weren’t looking. Of course, then at night when you got back to your shared cell, you watched each other fall asleep while lying in your separate beds, murmuring sweet nothings and promises of your future together.

….

However, the Citadel seemed to have a way of ripping away the things you loved just when life was happy.

You and Jungkook were sitting on his bed in your cell, playing handshake games. He was quietly singing to you one of the songs from the Hymns of the Mages that he remembered from childhood. You tried to keep up with his angelic voice with your own singing but didn’t do as well as you hoped. Jungkook loved that you were singing, stealing kisses from you to make you feel better.

That’s when you heard men screaming from down the dank hallways of the prison. You were swords slashing, guns being fired. You both scrambled to your feet, rushing to get a peek out of your cell’s door to see what was happening.

The screaming and clashing of metal kept getting closer and closer until heavy footsteps rushed in your direction. “Get them out!” Doors of cells creaked open loudly, along with startled yelps of your fellow Mages.

Suddenly, a large, muscled man—a warrior—with long silver hair appeared in front of your cell, his gold eyes feral. Jungkook jumped in front of you, shielding you from the man, and pushed up back into the cell. The warrior smashed the lock with his weapon, and the door swung wide open. He stepped into the cell, weapon tight in hand and pointed towards Jungkook, who took up a fighting stance, his lips parting to reveal bared, gritted teeth.

The air sudden tasted metallic in your mouth. You realized it was because of Jungkook. His magic was radiating from him. It was like a heat wave rippling off his body. How was he doing this?

The warrior simply scowled at him and raised a hand, eyes closing shut. Then the metallic air dissipates into clean oxygen. Jungkook’s body visibly relaxed, and you stepped around him, watching the warrior curiously. Then your boyfriend said, “You’re a Mage.”

“We’re here to rescue you. Get you out of the Citadel,” he said, firmly.

“Really?” Your voice was full of hopeful.

“Yes, but we don’t have much time. I’m afraid our mole has gotten cold feet, and it won’t be long before the Citadel realizes we are here.”

We? There were other Mages, here?! Had your village finally figured out how to save its children and escape the clutches of the Governing Circle once and for all?

“Let’s go!” He shouted at both of you before stomping out of the cell to bark other orders.

Jungkook led you out first, following close behind you. In the hallway, your fellow Mages were either looking around confused or eagerly following the silver-haired warrior. The warrior’s team, men you’d never seen before, shook kids from their stupors and pushed them up the dungeon steps. Jungkook made sure the younger ones—the ones that were babies when you all were taken from the village—behind you two got in front and were following.

The sounds of quick breathing and feet running on stone bounced off the prison walls. Everything seemed so quiet otherwise.

Too quiet.

“Don’t let them escape!” One of the familiar voices of a Citadel soldier called behind you. You turned around and saw men with guns approaching fast. One of the Mages shouted for the silver-haired warrior in front, who pushed the kids to keep following another one of his team to the trucks. At the last second, the warrior and two other Mages stopped an onslaught of bullets flying towards you with a wall of powerful force. The metallic taste had returned in the air, but ten times more potent than before. The warriors groaned in effort until the soldiers at last emptied their guns and had to waste precious seconds to reload. Just enough time for the Mages to raise stone spikes from the surroundings walls to block the path.

“Run!” He bellowed, urging everyone to duck from any further bullets fired.

You were all sprinting out of the dungeon, and you could taste the fresh night air. You were so close to freedom!

What you didn’t expect was the smoke that instantly invaded your lungs. There were fires everywhere outside, blurring in your vision as you ran. Screams of terror and of pain rattled your ears. More Mages. They were everywhere, fighting the Citadel’s soldiers or anyone who tried to get in their way. Bodies dropped to the ground one-by-one. They noticed their silver-haired leader emerge from the prison with their intended targets and worked ferociously to clear a path to the vehicles.

They had to get out of here. They were already out of time.

“Get in the carts!”

Mages began to pile into carts strapped to horses, but the little children were loading too slowly. The Mages put up walls of force or moved the wind to blow around everyone, creating screens of smoke. You and Jungkook, along with the other older kids hauled the younger ones up into the cart beds and closed them shut. You all hopped in after them.

“Go! Go! Go!” A Mage warrior called after everyone was on the carts.

“Wait!” Jungkook whipped around in the cart bed and saw one of the children sprinting desperately. He must have gotten lost in the chaos. Without even thinking, Jungkook jumped out of the cart, rolling onto the ground to his feet and ran for the kid.

“Stop, stop!” You shouted desperately. “There’s one more!” The silver-haired warriors gold eyes glared at you. “Please! Jungkook, hurry!”

He ran as fast as he could back to the kid, dodging bullets. He scooped up the kid, who wrapped himself tightly around Jungkook’s torso, and sprinted back. He was panting heavily, sweat running down his face. He had to make it. Pounding boots sounded closer to him, and whipped around just in time, arm outstretched and eyeing a nearby fire to direct it onto the soldiers chasing him.

They are set ablaze immediately, howling in pain as the magic in the fire burns through their flesh rapidly. Jungkook turns back on his course quickly, leaving the men on fire to become ashes as they fall to the dirt.

You slam your hand against the wood of the cart. He’s going to make it, he’s going to make it, he HAS to make it! “Jungkook!” You called, desperate for him to run faster.

He gritted his teeth, willing his legs to move faster. He’s so close. 10 meters. Then, out of nowhere a black guard rammed into his side, sending all three of them reeling off track.

“No!” You cried.

“We need to go!” One of the Mages ordered. “The others can’t hold the gate any longer!” You looked towards the gates; they were slowly closing. If the warrior didn’t instruct those horses into full sprint in the next ten seconds, none of you were going to make it out.

Jungkook let go of the kid and blocked the black guard from attacking the boy. “Go to the carts,” he shouted. A large cut on his forehead sends blooding dripping down the side of his face into his eye.

The young Mage ran towards the cart, and you hopped out, ready to hoist him in.

“C’mon, c’mon,” you hurry him along and toss him into the back. You turned around, hoping to see Jungkook running towards you.

But he’s not. He’s still trying to fight off the black guard.

The black guard suddenly brandished a knife from his sleeve and cut deep into Jungkook’s arm. He cried out in pain, hand flying to the injury. It’s the worst pain he’s ever felt in his life. This wasn’t just a knife wound. He felt like all of the magic in his blood was burning in his veins.

“No!” You tried to run towards him, to save him! But thick arms wrap around you and haul you back to the cart. “No! Let me go! We can’t leave without him!” You kick and punch the Mage warrior who had a hold on you, but he won’t relent dragging you further away.

“We’re leaving now!” He hauled both of you into the cart bed, his grip like iron.

“Jungkook! Please!” Tears burned like acid in your eyes and down your face.

Jungkook has flipped on his stomach, still screaming in his pain. And he sees you, trying to fight your way to him. You’ll have to leave without him, he thought, but this isn’t goodbye. No… A new kind of rage filled him, one that scorched more than the pain in his body. Gathering the last bit of strength, he had left, he yelled as loud as he possibly could. “I promise!”

I promise I will find you again. I promise we’ll be free someday. I promise we’ll burn the Citadel to the ground. I promise to stay alive.

You heard him. Every last one of those promises etching themselves into your heart. You felt his rage, his pain, and his relentless love for you.

The carts hauled faster and faster, and Jungkook grew smaller and smaller in the distance. Even as everyone looked towards the gates that were closing with each passing second, you couldn’t move your eyes from where you can see Jungkook being lugged to his feet and taken away.

“Come on!” You here the warrior driving shout in frustration, urging the horses to go faster.

The stone gates get closer and closer

No, we won’t make it, it’s too close. We’ll crash the truck.

The Mage warrior bellows a cry of war, snapping the reins quickly in one last effort.

And then you’re through the gates, the stone booming shut behind you.

Deafening silence sucks the sound out of the air like a vacuum.

You stop fighting the Mage and fall to the floor of the cart bed, staring numbly at the Citadel—a locked box, probably to never be opened again. Black smoke billowed up into the night sky in thick clouds, the inner walls of the Citadel lit orange by flame. And Jungkook—your best friend, your true love—your Jungkook, was still inside.

You felt a hand at the back of your neck, and then a sensation that stole the breath from your lungs and froze the blood in your veins.

You fell, out cold, and the Citadel became a tiny box in the distance, until it was nothing more.

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | The Decline of Western Civilization series (Spheeris, 1981-98)

Many years ago, before I sold out to the man, I have to admit I felt a certain attraction to punk music. No, I was never anywhere close to a full on punk (I was, and still am, extremely lame), but I have to admit the anti-establishment streak definitely resonated with me at a certain point of time. (Not that it still doesn’t, but in addition to selling out, I’ve softened with old age.) Like many people I’ve found appealing the political conscience and mix of influences of the Clash, or the boneheaded energy of the Ramones, but I also found my interest straying to hardcore punk. I remember the first time I listened to “Damaged II” by Black Flag and finding it unbelievably abrasive and foreign to my ears, yet it was something I couldn’t get out of my head, and returned to the song and the album it was from a few years later and appreciated it as one of the most forceful expressions of angst ever recorded. I remember first learning of bands like X and Fear, and seeing performance footage on YouTube and being thrilled by the rawness and danger, especially when they had to fight off their fans. This footage was from Penelope Spheeris’ cult classic documentary, The Decline of Western Civlization, which for years was not easily available but I have now finally seen in its entirety.

The movie is structured simply, moving from one band in the L.A. punk scene to another, interviewing them in their natural habitats and punctuating this with footage of their performances. Songs are presented in full so we can get the complete experience. The first band we see is Black Flag, then with frontman Ron Reyes. They are lively on stage but it’s interesting to note how different the energy was prior to the arrival of Henry Rollins, who brought a certain discipline and muscularity to their music. (One of the songs featured here, “Depression”, pops up again in Damaged, and the impact in the latter is noticeably more forceful.) The guys here come across as aimless and destitute, living in a decrepit church where they’ve turned the closets into makeshift bedrooms, seemingly losing money with every gig. But they are also quite affable (you can tell the lyrics of “TV Party” sprang from these minds) and do not have illusions about their situation, especially their difficulty in getting gags thanks to their rowdy fans. These scenes play like a moment frozen in time, right before the band’s most significant period would begin. We move next to the Germs, and these scenes play like a car accident in slow motion, with Darby Crash’s self-destructive tendencies on full display. This was a short time before his death, which occurred between completion of filming and the theatrical release (his image was featured heavily on the promotional materials), once again giving this a lost in time quality.

Next we go to the headquarters of Slash Magazine, the staff of which moonlights as a band called Catholic Discipline. The frontman complains about New Wave, claiming it doesn’t actually exist, yet they come across as downmarket New Wavers who are slumming it in the punk scene. Yet their love of music and their work is obvious and the frontman does possess a certain charisma. Much of what we see of the punk lifestyle is squalid and dismal, yet the music of X manages to poeticize this condition. Their unassuming demeanours during their interview contrast sharply with their vigour in their performances, during which they do their share of batting off overeager fans. We get a burst of political conviction when the Circle Jerks launch into the libertarian anthem “Red Tape”, but this dissipates by the time they start playing “I Just Want a Skank”. We spend some time with the Alice Bag Band and then are treated to a montage of interviews with punk fans. These are shot in monochrome with stark backgrounds and a single bulb providing the lighting, which has the effect of bringing them and their words into sharp relief. We hear similar stories again and again, of aimlessness and aggression, the subjects using the music both as an outlet for their frustrations and inspiration for violence.

Spheeris’ camera has been largely nonjudgmental, yet there’s an undeniable sadness in this sequence. But lest I make it sound that the movie makes punk seem uniformly depressing, the closing sequence provides a potent antidote. The electrifying final minutes of the film feature a performance by Fear (who are not interviewed). The atmosphere here is hostile, with the band riling up the audience with homophobic and misogynistic taunting and having to physically fight them off throughout their set list. It might be tempting to liken their shtick to cheap alt-rightish provocation, but I think that robs their music of the proper context. When almost all their peers and fans adopt an attitude of “everything sucks”, Fear’s ability to find the humour in that mentality is kind of refreshing. It also would ignore the sheer muscularity of the delivery, which almost turns the music into a form of violence. The film is undeniably a fascinating document, but while Spheeris may have had the good fortune of turning on her camera in the right place and right time (even if she had to pay to rent soundstages to film some of the performances), it’s moments like this of pure exhilaration that cement the film’s greatness.

Part II: The Metal Years takes place almost a decade later, with a drastically new context and perspective. This time the focus is on the L.A. metal scene, which was a dominant cultural force unlike hardcore punk ever was. And this time around Spheeris’ POV is less of impartial observation and more satirical condescension. Taken journalistically, the movie is obviously compromised, particularly in an interview of Ozzy Osbourne that’s misleadingly edited to make it look like he has the shakes. I wish the movie hadn’t done this, as Ozzy is a flamboyant enough presence that he’s already funny without needing to frame him into gags, something Spheeris acknowledged in an interview years after the fact. Ozzy and a few other veterans of the scene are not immune to metal culture’s innate ridiculousness (the movie’s biggest laugh for me was Spheeris’ deadpan reaction to Steven Tyler’s extended masturbation metaphor to describe the rock’n’roll lifestyle). It’s worth noting that Spheeris asked her subjects how they wanted to be filmed, leading to such choice setups as Gene Simmons in a lingerie store and Paul Stanley in a bed full of scantily clad models. (Lemmy allegedly took offense to how he was portrayed, claiming Spheeris shot him from afar to make him look stupid, but I don’t think he comes across badly. He’s low key and unassuming in a way that contrasts him from the other participants, at the very least in terms of appearance).

The structure of this entry is tighter, using snippets of different interviews to flesh out different ideas, exploring the decadence and excess of the music and the surrounding culture. We even hear from the anti-metal folks, particularly in one amusing scene where a woman describes the dangerous potential of metal fashion with the solemnity of a cop or anti-gun advocate describing illegal firearms. Performance footage is limited to brief excerpts, usually for comic relief (assless chaps and a limp attempt to set fire to a Soviet flag are highlights), although we do get an extended look at a sleazy stripping context. (The club owners featured seem as much into the metal lifestyle as some of the musicians and fans, in sharp contrast to the genial working class types featured in the first and third entries.) The most notorious segment of the film is the interview with Chris Holmes from W.A.S.P., who lounges in a pool in alcoholic self loathing, which probably went farther in deflating the excitement around the metal scene than any single moment. Yet like the first film, this one refuses to lock into too narrow view of its subject and rebounds with a Megadeth performance that goes a long way in showing that yes, this music can in fact be good. (I should say that I enjoy my share of hair metal, which Megadeth is decidedly not, but the songs earlier in the film don’t do the best job of selling the genre. Although anything would look lame with assless chaps.) This movie is more obviously flawed than the original, but I can’t help but kind of love it. The fact is that the metal musicians and fans, despite being somewhat boneheaded, are also full of good vibes and fun to hang around (more so than the self-serious punk fans in the original), and the movie is quite slick and stylish by documentary standards, which makes the film true to its subject matter in a a way. I mean, you open the movie with Motorhead and I’m half won over already, and I haven’t stopped thinking (and smiling) about it since I’ve seen it.

The good vibes don’t carry over to Part III, which follows a group of homeless gutter punks in L.A. around another decade later. Once again there’s a change in context and perspective, with Spheeris coming across as more compassionate and maternal. The musicians here offer a more sobering, grounded presence. The veterans here, Keith Morris and Rick Wilder, come across as survivors more than anything, particularly the latter with his skeletal, emaciated appearance. The music this time around is almost beside the point, although we do get the sense that it offers the main subjects one of their only sources of relief. Their stories are similar. Broken homes. Forced onto the streets. Substance abuse. The movie feels like extended versions of the Darby Crash scenes and the interviews from the original, but with the grim consequences covered in the final moments, and the film’s sense of despair is alleviated only by the compassion Spheeris brings to the material. I can’t see myself returning to this as readily as it’s more downbeat and less dynamic than the previous movies, but it is undeniably moving, and had a profound effect on Spheeris as well, who decided to become a foster parent after her experience making this movie.

[ih8paris]

i hate paris

Do people still use tumblr? I’m so old. And I never used it. I don’t keep up with the times. I don’t give a shit. You know what? It all passes. Except facebook. They made a deal with the devil and really, was it worth it? I use facebook. I live in Paris and there are these groups for women, expats, cheap people like me that want free yoga. That’s what I use it for. And news. BBC CNN ABC NBC MSNBC, you get it and the posts. They report what the people supposedly want, but then we can see what the people are actually saying. Donald Trump won’t win? Look at voices talking? Look at the little people. It looked like he was going to win. What do you know, he did. But what if he had lost. What if Hilary didn’t get a handle on COVID and then Donald won in 2020? We would all be so fucked right now. Maybe we already are. Anyway, I’m not here to talk politics. I’m here to process my life choices and see if there were signs that I was making HUGE mistake. 

So here’s the thing. I’m a bit untraditional. Growing up was shit. Chuck left and made sure to shit all over everything before he did. And the whole get married in your 20′s have babies get divorced get remarried have more kids bc hey you’re not old at 30 and this is the guy you actually wanted to have kids with. I rant but you get it. Traditional not for me. Also not traditional, i have some money. This money has paid for college, pastry school and yes this wonderful covid filled experience in paris: the city that hates me. I’m fortunate. I don’t live lavishly. It’s not that much money. I grew up poor, I pinch pennies. Then i do exciting things. Or maybe challenging things? I am fortunate and grateful. And guilt filled. I am given this gift and shit it away, trying make something out of this paris experience. It’s like a bad relationship where i keep begging to give it one more change. It will get better. I’m a fucking idiot. So here I am, you know third times the charm, right? Back in paris. Vaccinated. I’ve made connections with people. I feel confident that this will not be a waste. It will be fun. It will be educational. I will network. Gain experiences. Omg learn so much. Be able to travel. OH the hopes and delusions i had. But maybe we should start from the beginning. 

Omg, which beginning. Paris, i guess, we can go back further when the moment calls. So 30 is approaching. I’ve moved back home. That’s story for another time. Remember my life is not traditional. So I’m home to help out and idk try to figure out what the fuck i want to do with my life. See the big mistake i made in my 20s was listening to people i don’t admire. i graduate with an art degree. my college exit interview said i am qualified to work at a bank or Kraft foods. no connects, recommendations. No direct. And my family keeps talking about getting a job, benefits, 401k. At one point a little later on, my grandpa was pushing for me to go into service. Sorry gramps, they don’t want me. My education was good. I learned a lot. They had good resources and a lot. But then nothings. So i worked at a bakery. I worked hard at this bakery. For more than a few months i worked 7 days a week. I didn’t have a life. i had money. Money i made. And apparently that was the most important thing, from the talks i keep getting from my family. And of course i wasn’t earning enough, so needed to work harder and climb the ladder. There is no ladder in a bakery. Whatever, I rant again. We’ll come back to this. 

So 30. It’s looming. I’ve thought about grad school. The money I mentioned earlier. It’s had time to grow. The GRE expires after 5 years, not that i took it but 7 years after I graduated, i wasn’t taking it. So Europe. Europe is artsy. I would like to make good money, enjoy the work okay, but mostly make good money with the least amount of actual work. So teaching. My mom teaches. Computer programing. She’s the head of the department. She fucking hates it. The dude that was suppose to get that job, he died. It was sad. But they also didn’t replace him so when the other guy retired, it became her job. It was an unpleasant 10ish years. But again, I digress. So teaching. Work hard and play hard. And it’s always changing - ish. I guess as much as you want, or don’t. New students every 15 weeks. breaks at all the holidays. Summers off. And when you’re just about to get bored, you’re back at work. Maybe because this is the only lifestyle i know, but it doesn’t sound bad. I worked in an office of women in high school. That i for sure knew i never wanted. But teaching. College. Okay. I need a masters. Learn about MA and MFA. Start looking for jobs in Cali because life’s too short to fucking deal with the snow and mosquitos. Idk everyone doesn’t live in Cali. So now the plan is MFA. They are much more rare and more in demand at universities. More money - but this time i think chasing the money necessary bc Calif = expensive. Now back to looking in Europe. I love Italy. I would love to live in in Italy for more that just a semester but actually live Italian or close to it. The language makes sense. The people make sense. The art makes sense. And it’s omg gorgeous. Alas, no American accredited MFA programs I could qualify for in Italy. I don’t know if there were none but if there were, they would have been in textiles, or digital/graphic design. Which I don’t know anything about. I’m old school, metal work, drawing, printmaking - although so far we haven’t gotten along, another thing i going to try to make work before i leave this city that hates me, for good - painting, ceramics, you get it. I hate computers. I appreciate technology but my mom teaches computers therefore there was never a working computer in my house so we (my brothers and me) don’t do computers. So i find this school - in english and in Paris. Paris, so glamorous. Home of famous artists and their art. The Louvre and Eiffel Tower and Fashion. So okay, i check out their programs. One i have no fucking clue what it is. Still don’t. Another is Photography - pass. Graphics - no. List continues. Then i see Drawing. That’s interesting. I can draw, i draw well. This is a program i could probably get into. SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: you can get into any program. No program is ever full. It’s bull shit. Masters program. Undergrad = everyone is applying at the same time. Masters = ages range and much fewer people go. So don’t fall for that shit - EVER. 

They have a one year and two year program. The second year is less than half the first year so makes sense to go the second year and get the MFA vs MA. So that works out. I’m reading and checking it out. Not sure what I’m looking for but in hindsight, i knew something was missing. Talk it over with my mom and her peers who are also teachers. Consensus - don’t be part of the first group. So i have an interview to get it - what a joke. It is also a time for me to learn more about the program. So i ask, is this new? How long has it been around. Answer: Oh no, it’s been working several years. Very confident. I didn’t have a follow-up, just said I don’t want to be in the first group. I said those words. Her response: Oh no no don’t worry. I was so naive. And yes this continued through the whole program. People’s personalities are what they are. So she lied to get me into the program and just kept lying. No respect for the insane about of money i was paying for this ‘experience’. No respect for the education i could have gotten somewhere else. Because this program had NO educational value. I’m not being bitter or dramatic. It was a complete waste of time and money. Then covid happened. Might have been a blessing in disguise. I can go into detail of the program later. This is just an overview of the beginning. 

So, I get accepted. What a surprise. I’m now officially 30 and this - i feel- is my last hoorah. After this i will be an adult who can get an adult job and become an adult. But first i need housing. And a visa. Which is very confusing. So the French and Italians - Italians I am familiar  with, tell you about it later. So they’re similar in that lazy, lack of thoroughness, that’s their thing. Difference being Italians own it, French hardcore deny. So I’m reading this paperwork and it says thing like you need to have all your documents before your visa appointment including plane ticket. Well I can’t go without the visa so why would i get a plane ticket? Cart before the horse shit - it’s very french, wait until you hear about banks.  

[joemuggs]

DO YOU SUFFER FROM SPYMANIA?

It’s the 25th anniversary of the Spymania label, and to celebrate it they have released a record of unreleased tracks. It’s brilliant, you should buy it. In 2016 I wrote a history of the messy, messed-up, but brilliant Brighton scene that they found their feet in. Sadly it got lost in the archiving of the Red Bull Music Academy site, but I’ve still got the text, so here it is. And to prove I was there, here is me, in an inexplicably bad shirt, with the Spymania crew and friends:

Some Spymanians - far left is Hardy Spymania, next to him in blue t-shirt is Paddington Breaks, third from right leaning forward is MDK and that’s me in the bad shirt on the right.

25th Anniversary EP by SONGBIRD & WAFTA

From the town's 18th century genesis as a playground for aristocrats, Brighton has always been a space for outrageous hedonism. Being the closest point to London on the English south coast makes it an obvious place for escape and misbehaviour. With that has always come something grittier and grottier though. It's no coincidence that the best known fictional depictions of Brighton feature razor-carrying petty gangsters (Brighton Rock) and running street battles and hurried back-alley knee-tremblers (Quadrophenia). The novelist Keith Waterhouse famously said “Brighton always looks like a town helping police with their enquiries” – and it still does. Behind its facade of homeopaths, holidaymakers, students and media folk, it hides rampant corruption and organised crime, a heroin economy to match any British city, and sprawling estates that are among the country's poorest.

In the heat of the 1990s rave fervour when the world and its dog came down to Brighton to party their way through untold seven-day weekends, all of this ambiguity was expressed via a rather different electronic scene. While the superclubs along the seafront pumped to the sounds of handbag house, trance and big beat, hidden away in the nooks and crannies a techno style formed that became known on the European underground simply as “the Brighton sound” – and around it sprouted odd rave and electronica mutations that, though they might have seemed pisstakey or bloody-minded at the time, would alter the course of electronic music for a long time to come. All of this was surrounded by a dense web of art, theory, satire, in-jokes and meat-flinging cabaret, that could be perplexing, even off-putting, but has left a huge creative legacy from a tiny scene that punched way, way above its weight.

This scene of malcontents and squarepegs was by definition loose-knit – but if there was a centre to it, it was Cristian Vogel. Originally from the south Midlands, he and his friend Si Begg already had experience putting out cassette releases and primitive music software hacks (with the Cabbage Head Collective) before he came to Sussex University to study 20th Century Music in 1992. With a head full of Stockhausen and rave tapes, he was boshing out the techno, and by the end of 1994 had two releases on Dave Clarke's Magnetic North label and was resident at the Acid Box club nights in a little sticky-floored upstairs venue in Brighton's North Lanes.

This was the period when techno and hardcore were still part-fused, and along with headliners like Carl Cox and Luke Slater you could expect to hear Belgian hoover noises full-pelt gabber rolled into the more “intelligent” beats, all with nothing but relentless strobes and smoke to intensify the experience. It's a sign of how intense it was that the “chillout” in the backroom consisted of Richie Hawtin tunes playing and Tetsuo: Iron Man being shown on a couple of TVs, and felt genuinely laid back in comparison to the dancefloor. It could be shoulder-to-shoulder packed, or have ten people raving away, but it was pretty much always guaranteed to deliver mental obliteration. It's precisely this delirium you can hear in key early releases like Vogel's “Ninjah” or Tobias Schmidt's “Minus One”.

Si Begg and friends

Cristian, together with Si Begg founded Mosquito Records around this point, around which a motley crew of producers of monstrously banging but sonically razor sharp techno gathered. Neil Landstrumm, Tobias Schmidt (an ingenious pseudonym for one Toby Smith), Ibrahim Alfa and Russ Gabriel, as well as Begg and Vogel themselves, all released in the first couple of years. They were closely allied with the Scottish techno scene, notably through Landstrum but also the Sativae label run by Dave Tarrida and Steve Glenncross, and played to seething crowds north of the border, as well as absolutely huge ones in Germany, Poland and further afield. Yet even though the audiences were tiny back on the south coast, the local brand was inescapable: indeed Si Begg, who lived in London right through the nineties, recalls with some bafflement seeing untold German flyers with “BRIGHTON TECHNO” in big letters under his name.

All of this was great, but taken alone could simply have been another local flavour on the international techno scene. The four-to-the-floor certainly remained the heartbeat of the scene as The Acid Box became The Box, which became Defunkt, which became Freekin' The Frame, and the techno dons kept coming through: Blake Baxter, Shake Shakir, Claude Young, Beltram, Weatherall, Surgeon, Bandulu... but very quickly, things became about more than just that. There was a strongly disruptive element from the beginning in the form of a close alliance with the Brighton “clench” of the Church Of The SubGenius. If you don't know about the Church, that's a whole other rabbit hole to fall down, but for our purposes it's enough to know that the local bunch existed on the fringes of freeparty soundsystem culture and subverted its tendencies to crypto-mystical bollocks, and were big on collage and stencil graffiti, heavy punning streams of consciousness (“Bulldada” in the SubGenius parlance), mischief disguised as culture and vice versa.

Heavily influenced by this SubGenius mischief was Mat Consume, in-house designer, computer animator and frequent back-room DJ for the Vogel-related axis. His art, brain-bent ranting and noisily experimental sets became a vital part of the identity of the scene, helping coalesce obsessions with punk and Situationism and ambivalent embrace of digital progress among Vogel and compadres to the point where when they formed an umbrella organisation for their activities it was natural to call it No Future. Held loosely together by Vogel's partner and manager Emma Sola this acted as a booking agency for various acts, but just as much felt like a chaotic but fiercely independent joint art project between Vogel, Sola and Consume, throwing ideas and aesthetic forms out into the underground and forging alliances with equally bloody-minded creators.

Emma Sola

These included the likes of Canadian filmmaker and stencil artist Pablo Fiasco; animators and sound artists Ruth Jarman and Joe Gerhardt aka Semiconductor; non-techno eclecticist club collectives Mufflewuffle and Slack; the combative cabaret night That Stupid Club which would feature subcultural saboteurs like Stewart Home, Dennis Cooper and The Divine David; and another more rave-influenced cabaret night called Monkey's Lounge full of spoken word, off-colour comedy, offal-flinging and pints-of-piss-drinking, run and compered by... um... me (under the names Rimmington Snuffporn Esq and DJ Dead, with help from my music production and DJ partner Jeffrey Disastronaut). It was at a Monkey's Lounge session that Consume physically pushed Jamie Lidell – already widely known as a wildly innovative techno producer via the Subhead collective and their Growth parties – on stage with the house band Balzac, immediately kickstarting a long running residency as their singer and marking the beginning of a performing career that still continues.

Tom “Squarepusher” Jenkinson and Hardy Spymania

Possibly the most important alliance of all, though, was with the Spymania crew. Their social circle was a motley bunch of Londoners, Midlanders and most notably a large contingent from Chelmsford, Essex. Many of the latter had been to school with Tom Jenkinson, a musician known originally as Stereotype and then, when the Spymania label itself was formed by Paul Fowler and brighton-based Hardy Finn, as Squarepusher. Their ethos was preposterous in all ways, fuelled by unstable fusions of questing intellects and Essex swagger. As teenagers they first congregated around a Chelmsford club night called Club Trout, run by future scene mainstay Jane Mitchell (and later exported to Brighton as Smooth But Halibut); they smoked themselves sarcastic to early tapes made by their friends Cassetteboy; everything they did was shot through with skater-stoner-hardcore-raver pisstake attitude. Their rickety old website, which remains live today, still gives a hint of all this. http://www.spymania.com/pgs/hardcore.html

Yet these were musical connoisseurs too, assiduously collecting hip hop, acid, Detroit techno, British electronica, and especially in the case of Martin “MDK” Wood, death metal, gindcore and anarcho punk. This pile-up of musical expertise and sarky dicking about was there from the first release, Squarepusher's Conumber EP – which featured everything from a track that was nothing more than a timestretched Jenkinson asking “can anyone lend me a fiver” to the jungle-acid fusions that would literally redefine how electronica was made from the Aphex Twin on down for the rest of the 1990s. The Spymania records that followed touched on illbient mismatched time signatures, Drexciyan electro-funk, Deicide samples, eerily blissed out atmospherics, Cassetteboy's peurile genius (via offshoot label Barry's Bootlegs), and a dozen more awkward twists and turns besides, always brain-frying, always funny, never settling on any sound that offered the casual listener an easy handle on what was going on.

A standardly Dada Spymania cover

This added up to a refreshing antidote to the chin-fondling seriousness and purism of much of the electronica scene. And when Finn, Wood and friends went raving at the Acid Box, they naturally found a kindred spirit in Mat Consume who would design almost all the Spymania sleeves, their grainy photocopy style a counterpoint to the garish clashing computer images and animated dancing baby skeletons of his No Future work. They in turn helped inspire Consume, with the urbane Lynton Million (a university friend of Jamie Lidell's), to set up Trash Records.

Trash was a label that would take the horrible and confrontational side of the scene to extremes, with anger and ugliness from label mainstays including DJ Paedofile, Chuck Shite and Shit & Cheap (aka Consume & Landstrumm – sample track name: “SuckingCocksForFishheads”), as well as impossibly intricate turns from the likes of Liddell and another Chelmsfordian Squarepusher contemporary and Rephlex recording artist, Matt Yee-King. Si Begg, too, was close to the Spymania team, and launched the rather more good-natured but equally ridiculous Noodles family of labels, featuring a slew of collaborations and AKAs (including Hardy Spymania's pleasingly literal Barry Pseudonym) from the No Future and Spymania families.

It was a messy and disparate little scene. The bulk of the rave action took place in the big clubs of Germany and the rest of Europe, but the creative processes were at least as much about what happened in smoky shared flats and workshops in Brighton's tatty backstreets as they were about big dancefloors. Vogel once described his metier as “the drug pub rant”, and a lot of work sprung from precisely these. Continually, though, the bulk of Brighton club culture, from the seafront clubs to the free parties on the beaches and Downs, tended to look askance at the belligerence and deliberate obfuscations of the No Future axis, or more often simply ignore it all. Perhaps the glorious cresting of the first wave of activity, and probably this scene's peak visibility in Brighton full stop, was at the Brighton Dance Parade of 1997. This attempt to replicate Berlin's Love Parade was never to be repeated – hippie mismanagement and Brighton's endemic corruption saw to that – but for one day only the ravers had their literal day in the sun.

The Trash crew: top - Consume, Hunter & Million / middle - Million & Consume / bottom - Cristian Vogel & Million

There, among floats pumping out free party trance and funky house, the No Future bus – stencilled all over by Pablo Fiasco with pictures of dead rock stars, and with a stunningly crsip rig playing weaponised techno whose angles and curves were a thousand times sharper and more present than any other music on the day – stood out like a septic thumb. This was also the year that Vogel's musical partnership with Lidell began in earnest – with Lidell's furious remix of Vogel's “(Don't) Take More”, which remains a brain-damage anthem to this day in some quarters, and their first release as the mutant electronic funk duo Super_Collider, “Darn (Cold Way O Loving)”. The latter track, amazingly, emerged on a major label, thanks to it being signed by Skint parent label Loaded, in turn licensed through Sony. It was a year to wave the freak flag high.

Despite untold hard drugs, fights and the incestuous nature of a town as small as Brighton, the scene and the various record labels involved remained vigorous and continued to diversify right through the last years of the nineties and into the new millennium. Super_Collider released one album on Loaded, and another on Rise Robots Rise, the label created by Vogel and Sola for ever more varied output including Catalan girl-punk and German dancehall. Lidell's ultra-experimental first solo album, Muddlin Gear, came out as a joint venture between Spymania and WARP in 2000, accompanied by deranged artwork and live films by Pablo Fiasco. Bands increasingly became part of the mix: whispering neo-Krautrockers Fujiya & Miyagi (on Paul Spymania's Massive Advance imprint), the terrifying Wevie Stonder (who he managed) and space-pop group Chungking (which I was in for a couple of years, and whose multi-instrumentalist James Stephenson played bass for Super_Collider live, creating a Chelmsford rhythm section with Matt Yee-King on drums - both of these two had also been in the aforementioned Balzac too).

No Future’s logo, designed with typical aggression by Consume

There were prominent fans too. John Peel asked the Trash collective to open Meltdown Festival in 1998. Thom Yorke and Radiohead's resident artist Stanley Donwood designed t-shirts for No Future. Vogel is namechecked on the Sabres Of Paradise Haunted Dancehall album, and Andrew Weatherall would frequently call him up, dumbfounded at his latest sonic advances. One memorable 1999 awayday for the Freekin' The Frame club to The End in London saw Róisín Murphy jumping on stage after the live Super_Collider show to duet with Lidell on an impromptu version of “Once in a Lifetime”, a very young Kieran Hebden repping UK garage, Chicks On Speed shouting their hearts out, and Chris Cunningham playing long segments of white noise to puzzled ravers, as well as sets from various No Future / Spymania stalwarts.

Inevitably, like all but the very biggest musical scenes, the micro-one in Brighton dissipated as people grew up, fucked up, or moved on – but its echoes continue. Vogel and Landstrumm continue to be significant forces in electronic music, both as influences on the post-Blawan generation and as musicians in their own right. Si Begg is a respected sound designer and composer. Matt Yee-King runs the computer music course at Goldsmiths college, and is a big noise on the “Algorave” scene. Paul Spymania is an artist manager and agent, and along with Scuba, brought dubstep to Berlin in the legendary Sub:Stance sessions. Semiconductor became artists in residence for NASA, among many other extraordinary commissions. Jamie Lidell supported Elton John. Consume is in Bristol, currently working on a giant mural of DJ Derek. Lynton Million lives on a small island, selling whisky. Ibrahim Alfa took several sharp diversions that are an epic tale in their own right, and is only now picking up where he left off with a Workshop issue of his “lost” album Once Upon a Time in Brighton. And so it goes on...

Unlike some electronic scenes, the one in Brighton was never particularly chic (although it certainly had massive cultural cachet in a few countries if not at home), and its records don't necessarily fetch silly money on discogs (like that's a measure of value, right?). But out of a tiny techno club and its committed few regulars grew something that filled an entire decade with utterly extraordinary art, music, humour and ideas, and which still has relevance and resonance for smart creative minds many years on. Those messy, aggro, awkward bunch of ravers and jokers somehow managed to hold it together just enough to build a creative world entirely of their own, with its own rules and its own distinctive identity: what more can artists hope for?

This history is dedicated to James Phillips, a vital part of this scene and always 100% one of the good guys. RIP

Some tunes:

Cristian Vogel: Ninjah https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ydOFHo9JtI

Tobias Schmidt: Minus One https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5YjozNVF7_I

MDK: Sound of Saturday https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FV3KQHGxmcg

Subhead: Ruction (produced by Jamie Lidell) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b5vNX_ylRQM

Squarepusher: Sarcacid https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_IY6cvGnVCA

Cristian Vogel: Bite & Scratch (Blake Baxter Detroit Mix) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXIB7I3D7ss

DJ Paedofile: I was Rise in Clouds https://youtu.be/WcyrrAwqaQY

Buckfunk 3000 (Si Begg): Future Shock Planet Rock https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lp4b6PE0FkY

Cristian Vogel: Sarcastically Tempered Powers http://youtu.be/Q2G3204pfkY

Yee King: Goodnight Toby https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mbnZuv3xHog

Super_Collider: Darn https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dh2kauFcGpw

No Future at Brighton Love Parade: https://vimeo.com/119001501

[thedirtpreferences]

Preference #12 - Motley Meets The Baby 

Mick: It had been too late for the epidural. Which meant you felt every single rip, tear, squeeze, and ache that labor had brought. And it had been excruciating; probably the worst pain you had ever had to endure in your life. You had always heard that once the baby was born, you would forget the pain. That was a lie. You remembered everything. But now your baby was here; and somehow the pain had been worth it. “I’m relieved.” You yawned, exhaustion taking a serious toll on your physical state. “It was a close call,” Mick agreed, walking from the crib over to where you laid. You smiled when he squeezed himself on the edge, scooching you over so that he could hold you in his arms. “I hate to have to ask, but are you in the mood for visitors? There are three very excited uncles out there,” Mick’s words were slow, careful. You could tell he was trying to be respectful of your wishes, but also genuinely wanted to show his daughter off to the band. He was proud, and who were you to tell him no? Of course, they could meet her. “Go get them,” You encouraged. Mick kissed the crown of your head one last time before leaving the bed and exiting the room. Seconds later, he returned with his three bandmates. “Glad to see your still alive,” Tommy joked, leaning forward to give you a fistbump once he approached the bed. “Barely.” You responded weakly. “Here she is; here’s our girl,” Mick carefully grabbed the newborn from the cradle, turning around to display her to the boys. “She’s beautiful, guys.” Nikki beamed as he reached out for the baby, arms awkward as he prepared to hold her. “Careful,” Mick reminded as he passed the baby over to Nikki who gasped once she was in his arms. “Y/N she is your twin,” Nikki commented causing you to smile. “Thank God she looks like Y/N,” Tommy joked as Vince and Nikki laughed, your scowl as well as Mick’s causing them the laughter to cease. Vince was the next to hold her, a smile creeping on to his features as the little girl stirred in his arms. He was every bit as in love as Nikki had been and truthfully was bummed when he had to give her up to Tommy. “You should really be proud, she’s so cool.” Tommy breathed, staring down at the baby. “We couldn’t be happier,” Mick spoke, joining you back on the hospital bed, encircling his arms around you. The exhaustion was now occupying the larger part of you as you fought the urge to stay coherent. As excited as you were that your daughter was meeting her uncles, you couldn’t help but to be more absorbed in how tired you were: you desperately needed to sleep. And as you rested your head on Mick’s shoulder, you accidentally fell asleep. “She’s really tired,” Mick smiled sadly, as Tommy placed the baby back in the cradle, respecting the fact that you needed your sleep. “We’ll visit tomorrow,” Vince affirmed, as the boys nodded their heads in agreement before they left. “Get some sleep, Y/N” Were Mick’s last words before the soft snores began to leave your mouth.

-

Nikki: You were out like a light. Although the labor had seemed like it was going to be quick, once you actually made it to the hospital your labor had actually lasted for approximately forty hours. Forty hours of constant pain, starvation, and complete and total enervation. After the baby was born, you had had one good hour of attending to her and loving her with all the fondness you could muster; then you had passed out. Hard. “You have to be quiet, she’s zonked out.” Nikki whispered as he led his bandmates into the room. Even though you were fast asleep, Nikki couldn’t help but to show his bandmates his new daughter. One because he had never been so completely proud in his entire life and two because they had been dying to meet her since the moment you had gave birth to her. “I guess forty hours of labor will have that kind of affect on a person.” Vince chuckled as they scrutinized your sleeping form. “It’s a good thing she’s getting rest now, she probably won’t be getting anymore until the kid turns eighteen.” Mick mused as Nikki picked up the small child from the cradle, adoration swimming in his eyes as he held her. He couldn’t believe how blessed he was to be her father. “That’s your uncles,” Nikki murmured, kissing the top of her head as he turned around to face them. As hardcore and metal as the band appeared, it was humorous how quickly they turned into a puddle of love at the sight of her. Furthermore, in a fleeting instant she had became the most important thing in the world not only to her newfound parents, but now to her uncles. It was amazing how quickly she had them wrapped around her tiny little finger so quickly, for they had never seen something so precious in their years of existence. “She’s amazing,” Tommy breathed as Nikki passed her into his open arms. When the small child cooed softly, Tommy swore his heart had never felt so full. When it was Mick’s turn, he cradled the child securely as he rocked her back and forth a small smile twitching at his lips. “You guys did good, Nik.” He nodded his head earnestly as the child stirred, before closing her eyes. “You guys are hogging her,” Vince grumbled, and Mick gave her up unwillingly at his requests. When the baby was placed in his arms, Vince let out a soft sigh, his heart filling with infatuation. He couldn’t help but to think that their life had really came full circle. From being degenerates, to establishing a family, to now holding Nikki’s first child; Vince was simply proud. “Congratulations, man.” Vince whispered, as your eyes began to open, disorientation still clouding your mind. Blinking slowly, a smile reached your lips as you saw the men crowding around your daughter, staring down at her endearingly. Words couldn’t begin to touch how blessed you felt to have such caring uncles to your daughter who you loved so much.

-

Tommy: “I can’t believe he’s finally here; that we’re finally able to hold our beautiful baby boy.” You were happy. No, not happy. Ecstatic. No, not ecstatic. Exultant. Actually, scratch all of those words. In no way, shape, or form were you able to describe your feelings using words. This feeling, this joy you felt as you held your son in your arms was not something that could easily be explained. Furthermore, it was nearly incomprehensible. Your son had managed to flip your whole entire world upside down in the most magical way, and you had never felt more fortunate in your life to be his mom. You were equally as advantaged to be raising your son with the love of your life; your beautiful and amazing boyfriend, Tommy. “Can you believe we made something so amazing?” Tommy inquired as he kissed the side of your head gently, running his fingers over his sons scalp. Much like yourself, Tommy was equally as excited as you were. He couldn’t believe that he was half responsible for creating such a beautiful human being. Out of all the things he had accomplished, which had been a lot, he couldn’t help but to think that this had to be his proudest one. Furthermore, his son was absolutely perfect. “Can we interrupt?” Suddenly breaking you out of your fixation, a smile reached your lips when Nikki’s head poked through the door, an eager expression coloring his features. You had almost forgotten that the band had been waiting for the arrival of your son for quite some time now. It almost made you feel guilty that you had failed to update them until now and that was only because they had made the first move. Whoops. “Of course, of course.” You waved them in halfheartedly, the better half of you keeping your grasp tight and secure around your sons small, fragile body. “Well, would you look at that.” Vince announced as the three men trickled in the room, their expressions curious, yet excited. “It’s a little baby Tommy,” Peering over your shoulder, the boys gathered around to glimpse at their new nephew. For the first time in the many years you had known them, they became completely and totally speechless. You watched as their mouths curved into small smiles, their eyes beginning to twinkle in wonder. You could tell just in the few seconds that they had laid eyes on your baby, that they too were amazed by how special one child could be. Furthermore, just as you and Tommy had fell in love, you were watching the boys fall in love as well and it was amazing. At just one day old, your baby was already so cherished and adored. Once again you felt fortunate. “I’m proud of you drummer,” Mick murmured as he clasped Tommy on the back, a beam coloring your boyfriends features at the compliment. He had been yearning to hear those words from Mick since he met him in his teenage years; it felt good to finally come full circle. “How are you, by the way, Y/N? Less grumpy?” Nikki asked causing your cheeks to warm at the not-so-fond memory. “Sorry about that Nik, my hormones were all out of whack and-” Your words were cut off as Nikki suddenly raised his hand to stop you. “Hey, I get it. I would be grumpy too. I’m just happy to see you back to yourself,” the bass player ruffled your hair causing you to grin appreciatively. Sometimes you didn’t feel like you were worthy of their unwavering acceptance and love, but you certainly weren’t ever going to question it.

-

Vince: “By popular demand, we brought you…” Scouring in the McDonald’s bag, Tommy began to pull out various items of food for you. “A big mac, a ten piece nugget, two large fries, and a McChicken.” Laying the food on the bedside table, you beamed graciously at the sight. It had been a very long, tiring labor. Even though it had seemed like things were escalating quickly at the concert, the process had actually slowed tremendously once you finally made it to the hospital. Furthermore, it had been 48 hours to be completely exact. 48 hours of contractions, of pain, and most importantly of no food; just the measly, sad excuse of a substitute meal, ice chips. And at this point you were absolutely starving. “You guys are a gift from God,” you muttered, beginning to stuff handfuls of fries into your mouth. “Oh, and I almost forgot, here’s your chocolate shake too.” Nikki handed you the creamy beverage, laughing at the twinkle of excitement in your eyes. The way you looked at the food was supposed to be the way you looked at your newborn child, but frankly you were too hungry to feel bad. Furthermore, you were unapologetic for how famished you were at this point of time. “So, are you guys ready to meet him?” Vince asked, rubbing his hands together as he scrutinized his band members carefully. The question was, of course, rhetorical. The whole purpose of them being here was not to bring you McDonalds, but to meet your son. “Of course.” Nikki smiled, trying to steal a glimpse into the crib as Vince reached in,  gently scooping the restless child into his arms. “Say hello to your nephew, everyone.” Turning swiftly on his heels, Vince presented the newborn to his best friends, amused at their overwhelming reaction to the child. Even though they didn’t utter a single word, it was obvious that they were all amazed by the child. How could something be so small, yet so important in the grand scheme of things? They couldn’t believe how beautiful, and amazing a small baby could be. They were astonished to say the least. “Wow, man.” Tommy breathed, lurking over Vince’s shoulder, eyes wide in awe. Just from his body language you could tell that he was going to be insistent on holding the baby, but you were silently freaking out. Your baby was just so tiny, so fragile, so breakable. It made you nervous to let someone hold him, but you knew that these people weren’t just any regular person; they were his family, his uncles. So, bracing yourself, you nodded your head reassuringly at Vince watching carefully as he passed the infant into the drummers arms. “What a perfect combination,” Tommy mused before passing the baby to Mick who smiled kindly at the child. “Half expected him to come out with ratty, bleached hair like his dad.” Mick’s words made the room giggle as he rocked the child back and forth slowly. Out of all the guys, Mick seemed to be the most natural. You could tell just by his body language that he was fantastic with children. Mick was definitely going to be the designated babysitter in the future. Lastly, the baby was passed to Nikki, which to your surprise was actually very controlled and calm. “You guys are going to make amazing parents, you know that?” Nikki inquired as Vince took a seat on the bed next to you, kissing your temple gingerly. “I think so.” Vince smiled as you look up at him, a smile dancing on your lips. Of course, you were going to be great parents. 

[bensdump]

you forgot your haa- | part 27

feeble ∶ sm au previous ∵ next

Words: 2,782

∷ ‘’your sister and brother being famous Youtubers was always so difficult to understand, but when they invite you to join them and their friend in a hardcore game of Mario party you start to realize it isn’t so bad,,

∵ back to feeble masterlist

Your small hands clutch at the waterproof gloves in your palms, fingers wrapping around and ringing them tighter and tighter as you stand by your door trying to just reach up and grab the handle. So far you’ve had to do everything in steps and not think about what you’re getting ready for in the first place.

Meeting and talking to Jungkook was starting to get harder and harder. He was always, always tripping you up, figuratively and literally. There were these moments where Jungkook protruded classic ‘hubby’ material and you had to crane your neck away every time to hide the embarrassing heat rising in your face. You look like a thermometer after you put it in hot water.

There were no clear signs to you that you still had a crush on Jungkook, but, you liked lying to yourself.

With a shake of your head, you pulled open the door to hear the same sound as an echo down the hall. Jungkook walked up, bundled up in coats and scarves; he just looked adorable. Jungkook spotted you and spoke to you down the hall.

“Aren’t you ready,” he asked furrowing his eyebrows.

“Yeah, why?” you were pretty sure you weren’t missing anything apart from a hat, which you refused to wear in case of hat hair.

Jungkook disappears into his room and reappears moments later with a red beanie in his hands. For fuck sake. He closes his door and walks over to you, “it’s freezing outside and the fact that you refuse to wear a hat because of having bad hair is ridiculous,” the beanie was shoved down onto your head and you looked up and Jungkook sorting the adjustments as if it was tilted to the right more than the left it would look terrible.

You bit your lip as you watched the adam’s apple in his throat bob up and down; you didn’t know you were staring until Jungkook called you out on it, “do you have a thing for necks or something?”

You clear your throat and shake your head as he lets out a low rumble for a laugh, “no I don’t, can we go now?” you don’t wait for a response and walk ahead and down the stairs.

Stepping out into the snow was like taking a deep, clean breath, but then being kicked in the stomach by how bloody cold it was. The sky looked beautiful when you looked up; white dots freckled over the black canvas and sparkling softly as a thank you for looking up at them.

Jungkook walked up next to you, listening to the satisfying sound of new snow grinding beneath his boots; he watched your eyes and how the night sky was reflected into them. They twinkled every so often, but Jungkook refused to believe that was the stars.

You giggled and grinned to Jungkook before wading your way through the snow to go down the hill to find the sledge.

“Jungkook I will rip your balls off!” You shake the snow out of your jacket and glared at the menace.

There was a grin taking up half of his face and a glint in his eye; the same look you’ve gotten after ever snowball he’s thrown at you in the past 20 minutes. He was asking for a fight with that mischievous glint.

“Jungkook I’m trying to enjoy the snow,” you whined and kicked the slow in his general direction, “why are you pushing it?” you snapped as he raised his arm to throw at you again.

“Snowball fights are fun, come on,” Jungkook used his whine card too, but he ended up pouting as you turned and walked away.

Oh, what a stupid sack of shit.

Jungkook didn’t expect your next move as three separate snowballs rained down on him, “Y/N! What the fuck!” Jungkook ran away and tried to find cover; he couldn’t see you anywhere but heard your soft giggles which made him laugh and give away his position.

“You fool!” you shouted as you spotted Jungkook and fired a snowball at the tree above his head, watching the snow fall onto him and covering his hair.

“White looks good on you,” you chuckle and watch Jungkook stand up and move into a starting position for running; he used your confusion to his advantage and set off, sprinting towards you.

A quick gasp choked from your throat as Jungkook tackled you to the ground- it didn’t take him long to run over and you didn’t mind being tackled by Jungkook at all.

You groaned and slapped his back whilst laughing, “you’re so heavy you lump!”

You felt Jungkook’s hot breath against your cheek as he moved up and looked down at you. Clouds of smoke that seeped out from your open mouths merged together and warmed up your cheeks even if they were already bright red.

Why wasn’t he saying anything? Why wasn’t he talking? Why was he looking at you like goddammit?

You knew that look all too well. That was the same look he gave you the last time he kissed you and you didn’t want a repeat of last year; you couldn’t have a broken heart again.

“Can you-“ you nudge Jungkook off and spring to your feet, walking back up the hill. That definitely wasn’t awkward- what a brilliant show you just performed.

“Y/n?” You turned around to see Jungkook with brows crashed together. That wasn’t a good sign, he was thinking. Fuck. What do you do?

You bent over and flung a pile of snow into Jungkook’s face whilst screaming, “DISTRACTION!” and dashing in the opposite direction.

He was so close to you before, thankfully you could blame the pink dusting your cheeks and nose on the cold air nibbling at you.

This is what you did, anytime you were close to him, anytime the conversation took a turn in the direction you didn’t want to go, you had to grab the steering wheel or create a distraction. Throwing snow in his face seemed like an exquisite idea.

As you were running away up the hill and to the tree where Jungkook got covered you heard a low grumble behind you. An aura of anger loomed over you like a dark cloud; you twisted your neck to see Jungkook chasing after you with a look that could melt metal with the first glance.

He obviously reached you just as you made sanction under the tree because he’s fast as fuck, but this time he didn’t tackle you; he grabs your hand, spinning you around and not thinking twice before slamming his lips onto yours.

Part of you was begging for your hands to push him away, but as your palms made it to his coat you just balled your fists around it and kissed back, pulling him closer. You felt your back bending inwards as Jungkook’s hand rest against it and pushes forward with the kiss.

The release was sudden and the popping sound of when you both pulled away, to you, sounded like it echoed across the mountain.

Jungkook waits for your reaction, feeling the burst of heat against his lips from the quick contact of yours. Snow acted like sprinkles, decorating your clothes making this scenario even more dream-like as your huge eyes wander back up to Jungkook’s face and it’s evident this wasn’t the response he was expecting from you by the terrified look at the back of his eyes and the gnawing at his lip.

“Well I… I shouldn’t have done that,” Jungkook steps back, the sound of snow crunching getting faster and faster as he starts power walking back to the cabin.

“No- I didn’t even-“ you start stumbling after him haphazardly, trying to catch up but your legs were betraying you- it gives you another excuse why you shouldn’t run and use up all your energy.

Unbeknownst to you, a secret root from the tree was tucked away under the blanket of thick snow, waiting for you to trip up it. And you did. You face planted into the snow gracefully just when you thought you couldn’t embarrass yourself in front of Jungkook anymore.

A small poof sound of your body being swallowed by the snow caused Jungkook to turn back around and trek back to make sure you were okay. He didn’t understand why you wouldn’t lift your head (because you were too embarrassed too) when he dragged you up by your arm. The awkward tension was thicker than the snow covering your feet and you just wanted to get back inside now as you were wet and humiliated because you can’t seem to stay on two feet properly.

“Are you okay?” you mumbled a short response of yes, “Just forget I did that, I’m sorry,” you shook your head and continued to avoid eye contact with Jungkook who was brave enough to speak up.

You wanted to say you enjoyed it; you wanted to say how it set your heart on fire; you wanted to say how you felt like you were going to shit yourself every time he walked into a room because he has too much of an effect on you. But you had already confessed; you couldn’t drop your pride down that far to tell him again. You already felt vulnerable every time he so much as put a hand on your shoulder so there was no way you were telling him you still harboured some sort of feeling if he just told you to forget about it.

You used Jungkook’s arm to hold onto as you both trudge through the snow; the cabin door was in sight and you struggled through the snow faster just to run away from the tension.

You both burst through the door, hastily kicking the snow off your boots before speeding off upstairs; Jungkook tries his best to keep up, but at this point it seems you didn’t want to talk about it so Jungkook wouldn’t force you to.

“Well uhm, goodnight Y/n,” Jungkook spoke up before opening his door. You mummer a response and the door is shut. This is exactly why you don’t like being alone with him anymore.

You sigh and grab at the thing tightening around your head and you clutch in your hands. This isn’t yours.

Oh fuck.

With every thought in your brain telling you not to, you walk over to Jungkook’s door anyway. You can be cool; you can be casual. Your fist reaches up to the door and you don’t know how you manage it, but even you knock fucked up.

The door swings open and you try blurting out the sentence, “you forgot you haa-“ the rest of it came out as a laboured breath as you just looked at Jungkook’s face.

He had stripped down to a skin-tight thermal turtleneck and waterproof trousers. You found it strange how you still thought he looked delectable.

You locked eyes and that was it; you saw the glint in his eyes again and it was beckoning you in. Jungkook seemed to be thinking the same as you as when your arms wrap around his neck and you jump up, Jungkook catches you and leans forward to plant a kiss on your lips.

The door was kicked shut and the last thing you remember was trying to pull Jungkook’s thermal top off as you both kissed with open mouths and toppled back onto the bed. Chaste kisses were placed down your neck, soft lips reaching your chest -your top was already flung across the room- before Jungkook shows some teeth and bites down, running his tongue up a small patch of skin before leaving a hickey. He did that a lot, leaving purple and blue all over your chest.

After that it was indescribable. Up there with one of the best nights of your life. Jungkook’s name played out of your mouth like a song; different tones and pitches that each sounded as beautiful as the last to him.

The best way you could describe the rest of the night was like the song Bohemian Rhapsody. First, it started out slow and emotional. Where most of the breathless thoughts were released and left to ponder over the next morning. Most of it was kissing and teasing, breaking away from the touch just to fall back in because it tasted so good.

Then it moved onto the second part. The weird part. All the clothes were discarded and you both were under the covers. This was new to both of you, only seeing Jungkook without a shirt wasn’t seeing him naked. He looked perfect above you and you felt like a shrimp as you curled up, but Jungkook just had to do it and let his ‘hubby’ part show, kissing compliments into your neck and whispering words of encouragement in your ear. There was also this part of trying things you didn’t think would work before. A lot of ‘do you like this?’ or ‘am I doing this right?’ before it got to the ‘FUCK YEAH DO THAT’.

Lastly was the end- the best part. The guitar and drums had kicked in and it became fast paced. Jungkook found out what you liked and you found out what Jungkook liked so each of you were using it to your advantage. It was hard to keep quiet, but you did because Taehyung was in the room next door and you would like to avoid being called a ‘nasty’ by him Monday through Friday. Saturday and Sundays were an exception, but today was Thursday, so fuck that. You thought Jungkook’s tongue was only useful for talking shit, but after last night you could think of two or three more things you, yourself, find convenient.

Mornings after. How you hated them.

In your defense, you hadn’t exactly experienced them, so that meant your next actions were justified. They weren’t obviously.

You figured out Jungkook was in the shower by the running water and the fact that he wasn’t in bed next to you. What a fucking detective you are.

Your legs swung out of the bed and you blushed whilst collecting your underwear from the weird places they were discovered. You fling on your bra that clips from the front that got a battering from Jungkook last night as he shouted profanity at it because he just didn’t understand how to get it open. You managed to clamber into your underwear without falling over. Your clothes weren’t as hard to find and you managed to pull on some trousers and your top before you heard a clicking of the bathroom door opening.

Jungkook was stood there, in all his glory, with just a towel tightly wrapped around his waist. This image would be imprinted in your brain for a while because god did a good job on this one during puberty. Your stomach was basically in your ass as Jungkook opened his mouth to speak.

“Are you leaving?” his tone was more annoyed than hurt, “I need to talk to you about something.”

No no no. You didn’t want to hear it; you just wanted to bolt and tear your eyes away from his body goddamn.

“W-well yes because we have to leave in uh-“ you tap the home button on your phone that was conveniently in your pocket, “30 minute- 30 MINUTES!” you start moving quicker in a panicked state as you left packing till the last second like always.

“Y/n, I still need to talk to you,” Jungkook stepped forward and you stepped back, tripping over your boots before trying to pull them on.

“Save it,” you shake your head and once you gathered yourself and your things, “please just save it till we get back home.”

That was the last thing you said to him before dashing out of the room and into yours to hurriedly pack your things- zipping up the case was a challenge that took 93% of your non-existent strength.

With a grunt, you managed to drag your suitcase out of your room just as everyone else was vacating their rooms too.

Emma approached you and started talking nonsense which was easily drowned out in your ears as you listened to Jungkook’s voice and his conversation with Taehyung.

“When’s your video going up? I thought it would be last night; I was waiting for it to post,” Taehyung questioned as Jungkook just looked down.

“I was… occupied. I finished editing it early this morning and scheduled it to post when we land,” Taehyung was overjoyed, obviously proud of his friend’s talent.

“It’s not that amazing, just my favourite parts of the holiday.”

[sirvalrigard]

genuinely cannot figure it out. cann you please tell me what the fnaf series is about

OK OK so like we’re extremely off our shits rn but lets try to make this coherent

edit: this actually turned into a fucking wall of infodump bullshit so adding a cut lol

1970s. a gay furry dad named henry emily decides to make a furry restaurant cause he’s passionate abt animatronics and making kids happy. he opens the restaurant with a man named william afton as his business partner. henry makes animatronics and william handles idk being fucking creepy and handling money is my best guess. the restaurant is called Fredbear’s Family Diner, featuring Fredbear and Spring Bonnie (after a year or two it becomes popular enough for henry to have money to build bonnie, freddy, chica, and foxy too!) 

ok so shits fine and normal until william billiam is like ‘hmm im gonna be a child predator now’

on a rainy night one of henry’s children, Charlie Emily, is locked outside the pizzeria somehow, where william finds and kills them. the security marionette that henry built to protect his kids drags itself outside to their body, and thus is possessed by their spirit

obviously henry is fucked up but no one knew who the killer was, so henry was able to reopen another location, this time under the new name of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, with the now familiar friends Bonnie, Freddy, Foxy, and Chica to join the original two! multiple locations are eventually opened, and things are going just fucking fine until WILLY billy does his bullshit again!!

this time he lures them into the back by wearing a Spring Bonnie suit, and kills four children and stuffs their bodies into Bonnie, FReddy, Foxy, and Chica, where Marionette (charlie) finds them and binds their souls to the animatronics

but even though willish addon was employed at the very location he killed kids at, AND he was even convicted as the killer, since police couldnt find the bodies (and are useless) he didnt go to jail which is honestly so accurate its the scariest part of the franchise

so like henry at this point i imagine is like “fuck this” and sells the restaurant line to—you know what? honestly? i would love to know who runs Fazbear Entertainment. with the way help wanted was going i rlly hope we get an expansion on that with them as the villians (destroy capitalism) ANYWAY–

“Fazbear Entertainment” becomes the parent company of this mess now and theyre like :)……oh lets hire that william guy again hes fine

and at this point wwillus is making his OWN fucking pizzeria and his OWN animatronics and is actively kidnapping, torturing, and killing children to steal life essence from their souls! during the process of testing this, he gets his own ‘daughter’ Elizabeth Afton killed!! yeah im not fucking making this up!! (ppl in the fandom really defend this guy lol)

1983. so as Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzas are expanding,  Willard Afturd somehow? got himself some children. like to raise. like as a “““father”““. personally i do like 2 think a mother was involved but honestly he totally coulda just fucking kidnapped some random children to raise as his own and im starting to think thats more plausible  actually BUT ITS NOT GAME THEORY TIIME

one of these kids he is personally torturing! his own “son”! incredible! long story short this traumatized child ( unofficially named CC Afton ) is forced into the mouth of Fredbear by his brother Michael Afton and his friends, aaaand he dies ( and is guided by Charlie to possess Fredbear )

even after years of rumors about dead kids being hidden in animatronics, its this accident is the last straw for Fazbear’s Pizza and they are finally shut down. then WILL rubs his nasty hands together and tries to open his OWN pizzeria with his original OCs do not Steal™, Funtime Freddy, Bon Bon, Ballora, Circus Baby ( possessed by Elizabeth) , and Funtime Foxy and theyre all. probably possessedtoo cause theyre used 4 his kid torture fetish

uh ok so Aphton is like hey michael go clean up my child abuse for me anyway brb so his son Mwanders into his father’s Pizzeria to find his sister elizabeth . long story short…………he finds her and she does the “we’re brothers but closer” spongebob meme but also with her friends

ANd they leave! hooray! from then on the story is about Michael, whos zombified now after being used as a husk to hide an amalgamation of 5 animatronics fucking trying to find his shitty fuckass dad, and to help the anguished and vengeful spirits inside

but the first location to reopen after having been shut down, Wilson AAAAA is employed AND KILLS SOME MORE KIDS who would have guessed omg amazing..stunning.. and michael is employed there JUST a week too late like it happens RIGHT before he’s employed so Wumbo Man gets away again and Fazbear Entertainment gets shut down AGAIN, in 1987

not too many years later Fazbear Entertainment tries to open restaurants yES AGAIN and theyre still using the original animatronics that are still rotting and bloody on the inside . somehow this place stays open for a bit, and michael is employed there still looking for Worst Father Ever, and the children attack him due to rage and confusion, and when they kill another employee, the restaurant is shut down for like the trillionth time

but then for some reason Whenwillhedie Afton is like im gonna go try to dismantle the other haunted animatronics at the shut down pizzerias cause i dont actually even know i have shit for brains and also probably wanted to melt them down for life juice BUT

theyrelike FUCK OFF and the spirits of the children materialize in front of Wellington Well Done and force him into the old crusty spring bonnie suit that he’d murdured in before nd spring is like FUCKy ou and crushesAlton with their animatronic parts aand smush him. trapped now #springbonnieisgoodguy

the spirits go to rest in animatronica, the events of fnafworld happen when: 30 fucing years later in like the 2010s some jackasses thought it would be a good idea to mak e a haunted hoiuse attraction based on fazbear’s pizza and use actual shit from the restaurants and of COURSE this fuck shit up hardcore and disturbs the spirits from the rest that they were in ( until it turned intp the events of FNAF World ) and then they were ripped back into reality when Fazbear’s Fright was built

also! they found WWWacky smacky Acky all rotting away inside Spring Bonnie (now called Springtrap) and were like yeah this is good. definitely not a robot struggling to hold back the influence of a murderer predator and definitely wouldnt haev a problem with being set free

basically michael hears about this thing when it opens and is the first employee there and proceeeds to burn the whole place down as soon as he sees Willmont stuck inside ofs Springtrap

buuuut it doesnt work and Springtrap and other various spirits and haunted robots are still wandering the fuck around and Henry at this point is like Okay I Need To Do Something About This Cause This Is Entirely Out Of Fucking Hand and he reopens a Freddy Fazbear’s location himself, but advertises for a manager who wants to build their own pizzeria

you know who pounces on this like a purple cat? MIKE hes like FUCK yeah egg boys gonna kill his dad and be ann egg MAN today

with the help of Henry’s use  of luring mechanics and michael’s endurance and survival skill they gather Scrap Baby (elizabeth), Lefty (charlie), Scraptrap (springtrap, unfortunately  who has a rotton raisin inside him ), and Molten Freddy (the remaining animatronics that  had jumped into michael’s skin lumped together)

soon as theyre all there ? boom . henry lights the place on fire just like mike had and THEY BOTH JUST SIT THERE AND DIE IN IT TOO LIKE ITS SO METAL and it burns everyone else as well

and all the kids are like

uwu

owo

and drag william afton into HELL!! and they get to torture him for a while together and get the revenge they deserve hell yeah tbh UCN is so iconic

BUT Fazbear Entertainment drinks the capitalism so theyre like…. :((( we’ve been so bullied we totally didnt haev an employee who killed countless children… .pleas,e,e,, buy our mehrch, , n,,jdn

SO they employ an AU version of scott cawthon to make, essentially, the games that we’ve all been playing, but like, in-universe, – so the company in universe has fnaf video games made in order to make light of and cover up the actual murders that happened in the canon. is this too meta yet?

okay i lied this is also the scariest part of the franchise bc of how accurate it is to corrupt business hGJFSKDLHDSS

therefore, they create Help Wanted, the recently released VR game (also a game in-universe) and they use salvaged circuitboards and shit from all the old animatronics to program the game, but of course that just ends up transferring everyone’s soul into the game – the kids, the animatronic AIs, and BASTARD MAN

spring bonnie, now called Glitchtrap, is in a deteriorated mental state and is weak to Afton’s influence, and the fuck is able to manipulate an unknown amount of people into helping him out of the VR game and into the in-universe real world. one of these people was jeremy fitzgerald, michael afton’s childhood friend and a former employee at Fazbear’s Pizza during 1987.

he was involved in a lawsuit against the company making the game, and we don’t know what has happened to him yet. but he’s very important. evidence points to him being one of the kids that helped michael put CC’s head into Fredbear’s mouth, and that in 1987 when working at freddys he was bitten and is somehow functioning without a frontal lobe (but like, michael at this point is functioning with insides made of pudding and rotting skin so . basically theyre both too gay to die )

but we DO know that theres at least one person communicating directly with Glitchtrap, who he seems to have convinced to help set him free, someone whos made their own rabbit mask but doesnt seem to be willingly doing this, and might be brainwashed

also, currently, (this is really weird because we are currently living in the same time as the fnaf timeline is at right now) Fazbear Entertainment is planning on a “service program” that is basically sending personal animatronics to peoples houses and GUESS how fucking well THAT works out bc theyre STILL ALL HAUNTED YOuf g

and it seems like theyre planning on opening a new location in 2020, and that might be when we can learn more about the reluctant follower of springtrap and who has the camera while everyone moshes on william aftons corpse

basically the games are about childhood trauma, recovery, the love of family and friends, and justice against many kinds of evils

also where the fuck is sammy

[sinceileftyoublog]

Riot Fest Sucks

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Riot Fest Sucks. It’s a tongue-in-cheek phrase that occupies multiple meanings and connotations, referencing the organizer’s self-deprecating recognition that they’re not gonna make everyone happy with the lineup and scheduling conflicts. It’s the name of a Goose Island Beer Co. pale ale made for the Fest, at times served lukewarm, its $10 price tag a symptom of a somewhat pretend punk festival bombarded by corporate sponsors whose presence fails to belie the lack of close, cheap parking, credit card lines, and functioning ATMs. Oh, and Riot Fest Sucks because hours into it my girlfriend sprained her ankle exiting the Vans popup experience down the 20-foot fire pole with no soft landing. So unlike previous years, this year, I left after a couple sets on Friday.

I won’t get there yet--first things first, Caroline Rose. When I walked up to her stage and heard Natalie Prass playing on the loudspeaker, I thought what I initially did upon first seeing Rose’s name in small print on the lineup poster: “Why not Pitchfork?” But as soon as her band gradually came out--first "nicest legs in the band” drummer Will Morse, then “handsome and single” bassist Mike Dondero, then “best friend” Abbie Morin--and started playing a surf rock melody as Rose entered, it was clear that her unique mix of electro pop and retro rock--not to mention her early folk and country material--had her suited for a festival that embraces classic sounds. They began with new song “Everybody’s Making Out”, potentially from the new album she just finished, and then “Cry!”, the band providing a plinky breakdown to the LONER standout. Rose alternated between genuinely appreciative of a fairly large crowd coming out early on a Friday to hear some upbeat but sad songs, and being playful and goofy--essentially conducting the band with her feet while playing keys on another new spacey synth pop song, all before noticing the camera and posing as if she was in a photoshoot. Her joking fit the sarcasm of songs like “Money”, which was interrupted by Rose chugging a 312 and barely smashing the can on her head and then playing Aerosmith’s “Don’t Wanna Miss A Thing” on kazoo. Rose is as fun at a festival as she is forlorn on record.

But then the incident happened. I listened to a remarkably nonstop and consistent Hot Snakes set through the medical tent next to the stage as my girlfriend iced her foot, leaving for urgent care right as Neck Deep’s catchy but juvenile pop punk began, not to return until mid way through Turnstile on Saturday. Thankfully, we were able to rent a wheelchair for the next couple days. Navigating the grounds with a wheelchair was a challenge, parking for free on Roosevelt before going through the grass of Douglas Park and the various street curbs separating the Ferris Wheel and the Rebel Stage from the main area. For what it’s worth, save for a couple unsavory comments (“You’ve got him trained well!”), most people were extremely aware and respectful, moving out of the way when necessary, and even helping us out of the mud. We chose not to get ADA access next to the sound stage until Sunday, partially because we were unaware of the possibility, but also because we wanted to be with friends and in the crowd. And from my brief experience, Riot Fest and its attendees walked the walk as much as they talk the talk about acceptance and zero tolerance for discrimination against differently abled bodies.

Speaking of Turnstile, what I saw from them was a perfect mix of rap rock, hardcore, and nu metal, favoring songs from last year’s Time & Space like “Generator”, short ditty “Bomb”, and standout “Moon”, the last played twice, once regularly and once a capella by vocalist Brendan Yates to close the set. It was much more inventive and progressive than the band who commenced immediately afterward, nonetheless Riot Fest staple Gwar. This time around, most of Gwar’s set surprisingly focused on the generic thrash music, not as many antics, just costumed men playing and spraying blood willy nilly as opposed to as part of a plot. (Except when they killed Donald Trump--that was great.) It’s not Riot Fest without Gwar, but at this point, their sick jokes and edgelord humor is appealing mostly to dudes like the one in the Joe Rogan 2020 shirt I saw leaving the set.

We then traveled to the secluded Rebel stage to catch supergroup The Damned Things, who thankfully came on late, since on the way we got caught up in one of many “What happened?!?” conversations with a friend. The band first formed in 2010 to release their debut album Ironiclast, then consisting of Joe Trohman and Andy Hurley of Fall Out Boy, Scott Ian and Rob Caggiano of Anthrax, and Keith Buckley and Josh Newton of Every Time I Die. Nine years later, they’ve released their second album High Crimes, and this time around, Caggiano and Newton have left, and in has come Alkaline Trio’s Dan Andriano. At Riot Fest, they played half songs from the first record, half from the new one, including the first four tracks of the latter, which showcase equally what The Damned Things do well and where they fall into the traps of MOR rock. “Cells” is more raw than you’d expect from a band with FOB and Alkaline Trio members, both on record and live, and is a surprisingly great introductory song to the album. The other songs they played from High Crimes, including cheesy cheerleader chanting “Something Good” and “Omen”, whose lead riff can’t decide whether it rips off Tame Impala’s “Elephant” or Muse’s “Uprising”, could have been ditched in favor of record standouts like “Carry a Brick” or “Young Hearts”. The former combines the vocal urgency from Buckley that we’re used to with ETID, with Anthrax-worthy thrash metal, while the latter (along with the record’s centerpiece “Storm Charmer”) interpolate a menacing blues rock stomp that could have been emphasized over the pop punk sheen of the Fest. Not to mention “Let Me Be (Your Girl)”, whose music is straightforward but whose lyrics feature gender inversion when assumed sung from the perspective of the lead singer. I left enjoying the set but wishing they had played for longer so I could hear the deeper cuts.

Album score: 6.3/10

Of course, the scheduling gods put Testament, also known as “if Metallica was still good,” during The Damned Things, so we had time for just a bathroom break before catching The Struts. In case you’ve never heard of them, The Struts are English glam rockers, fronted by a man who wears a shirt with batwing sleeves, who fancy themselves the lovechild of Queen and Def Leppard but end up falling closer to someone like The Darkness--which is not a bad thing! Their second album Young & Dangerous is catchy and somewhat undeniable, and the band’s fanbase came out to support them at Riot Fest, British flag in tow. It was probably the crowd’s enthusiasm that fed off lead singer Luke Spiller that made the set infectious; “If you’re not ready to dance and sing, then you might as well fuck off,” he proudly proclaimed, a nice, clear contrast to drummer Rafe Thomas oozing out the words “Hello Chicago” in the most droll voice possible. Sure, the lyrics “I bet your body’s so sweet” are even more cringey in 2019 than they would have been in the 70′s and 80′s, and the “instructing the crowd to get down to the ground” maneuver is pretty tired, but it was refreshing to see a band so unabashedly and unironically unashamed of their influences. “Don't wanna live as an untold story / Rather go out in a blaze of glory,” Spiller sang on the opening lines of “Could Have Been Me”, and upon ending the song, he instructed the crowd: “Ladies and gentlemen, remember our names!” It felt like a scene from a movie, and I couldn’t help but think that such cinematic flair is exactly what the band is going for.

I had time to catch a little bit of underrated electro pop band Pvris and pick up an Orange Wit from All Rise Brewing Co (another Riot Fest staple whose most popular beer has actually improved over the years) before catching Wu-Tang Clan, almost by default. The legendary group seems to be Riot Fest’s token hip hop booking every other year, and so I’ve seen them play Enter the 36 Chambers about 36 times. They ended up doing it again even though not billed to do a complete album set, but was I really going to see Rise Against, Manchester Orchestra, or Andrew W.K. over some of the greatest artists, let alone the greatest hip hop collective, of all time? I’ll take time number 37.

Then came what I knew was going to be the most difficult decision of the weekend, and one I kept thinking about even after it was made. Thrash metal titans Slayer were playing their final Chicago area show at Riot Fest, and their other supposed farewell show I saw last year was phenomenal. Then again, who am I to believe that this would be the time Slayer would finally stop cashing it in and retire? Instead, I opted to see something I very likely would not see again: Bloc Party playing their 2005 debut Silent Alarm in full. Based on how surprisingly great their Lollapalooza 2016 set was, I was eager to hear a set filled with, uh, only good songs, and the idea of the first sounds of the set being the echo of the opening drums to “Like Eating Glass” traversing through the crowd, was one that supplied me with a rare kind of glee. So when the band came out donning masks, launching into the album’s slow final song “Compliments”, I realized that what I initially heard as speculation--that they would be playing the record in reverse--would be true. There went my dream. The sounds and images of fire coming from Slayer’s stage filled me with regret.

But as the set went on, I realized that the choice was one that was both strategic on the part of the band, making the crowd stay to hear favorites like “Banquet”, and beneficial to the crowd. Each song was more energetic and frankly better than the previous one, from the sweet dancefloor melancholy of “This Modern Love” to the stop-starts of “Positive Tension” and “Helicopter”. Of course, “Like Eating Glass” proved to be a worthy singalong, everyone around me air drumming like nobody was watching. And I even got to see Slayer close with “Angel of Death” on the way out!

With one full day of Riot Fest finally in the books and surprisingly sore from navigating a wheelchair over patches of grass, mud, and curbs, I was thankful that the first batch of sets we were interested in seeing on Sunday was at the same stage, where I could grab beer and food and come back, and we could switch off between the grass and the ADA stage (which, awesomely, had free water). Arriving to hear the end of wildly cool and catchy Chicago post-punk band Ganser, we sat and waited for Nick Lowe with Los Straitjackets (and watched a different kind of “jacket” swarm unfortunate members of the crowd who mistakenly wore too much cologne). With the masked instrumental rockers (another band with masks?!?), two years ago Lowe released an album of instrumental versions of some of his best songs, so I was curious to hear how they would fare as his backing band. They got a slowed down “So It Goes” out of the way, as if to say to casual fans in the crowd, “I dare you to leave,” before burning through a variety of early era Lowe classics like “Without Love”, given a country spin by the band. The band delivered a mid-set instrumental performance as Lowe took a break, showing their guitar chops and stop-on-a-dime dynamism, before Lowe came back for “Half a Boy and Half a Man” and the other song everybody was waiting for, “Cruel To Be Kind”. Before playing set closer “Heart of the City”, Lowe said to the crowd, “Thank you, music lovers!” the quintessential statement from a true “music critic’s band,” but one with the pop songwriting talent to reach beyond.

I took the one-two punch of the “Save a lollipop, suck a dick” t-shirt and the tardiness and subsequent flatness of The Village People’s set as a sign that I should leave and walk by Less Than Jake opening their set with Back to the Future music, be mad again at the scheduling gods for putting the amazing-sounding Ride at the opposite end of the park from where Guided By Voices was about to play, and grab some delicious Harold’s Chicken for myself and unfortunately protein-lacking pad thai for my girlfriend. But there’s nothing like GBV to fix a less-than-ideal situation or improve an already good one. “How do you follow The Village People?” Robert Pollard hypothetically asked as the band went on. “With the village idiots!” With even less time to play than they had at Summerfest, GBV churned out practically all hits, starting with their usual set closer “Glad Girls” and revealing a barrage of known live gems--“Cut-Out Witch”, “Motor Away”, “The Best of Jill Hives”--and some they haven’t played in a while, like Isolation Drills’ “should have been a hit” “Chasing Heather Crazy” and “Echos Myron” prelude “Yours to Keep”, during which a crowd member actually blew a whistle when Pollard sang, “the whistle blows.” The latter was part of the band’s Bee Thousand finale, giving a crowd of casual fans exactly what they wanted and pleasing diehards no matter what.

Deciding to forego sprinting and catching any of Against Me!’s full albums (two of them!) set or Dave Hause & The Mermaid, I planted myself in a spot where I could see Kate Pierson and Cindy Wilson’s beehives. The B-52′s followed a recipe for success in their set, leading off with track one of their debut, placing one hit early (“Private Idaho”), segueing a couple more from their debut into “Roam”, saving the two you knew they were gonna save for last. (Though I didn’t know they’d introduce “Love Shack” with War’s “Low Rider”.) The band was appropriately absurd and silly, frontman Fred Schneider’s sprechgesang adding hilarity to his response to Pierson’s “Something’s on fire in that pizza joint!” (“That’s my dinner!” he responded.) After the band ended with “Rock Lobster”, Pierson broke character and said two very serious things: 1) “Please vote!” and 2) “Go see Patti!”

And Patti Smith we did see, in all her glory. Her voice was as strong as ever on “People Have The Power”, “Dancing Barefoot”, “Free Money”, “Because the Night”, and “Gloria”. Unfortunately, almost half of her set was covers: “Are You Experienced?”, The Rolling Stones’ “I’m Free”, “Walk on the Wild Side”, “After the Gold Rush”, and for some reason, Midnight Oil’s “Beds Are Burning”. I would rather have heard something from her excellent later career albums like 2012′s Banga.

Hey, but she got a tribute during The Raconteurs’ set, as they chanted a little “Gloria” during “Top Yourself”. Along with shouting out headliners Bikini Kill (and the fact that they call God a “she” on new album closer “Thoughts and Prayers”), was it all part of Jack White’s plan to reveal himself as a feminist punk? I’m not sure; I do know that sociopolitical ideas aside, Help Us Stranger is a bit underwhelming as compared to the previous two Raconteurs releases, which were no White Stripes albums themselves. In any case, the band gave a very good set, because Jack White live is not to be reckoned with. The generic charge-up of album opener “Bored And Razed” was a buzzing jaunt on stage, and the blue-eyed soul of “Now That You’re Gone” was actually a nice change of pace from the blues-rock mashing of “Top Yourself”. On record, though it’s a welcome Ryan Adams diss track, “Don’t Bother Me” is straight up annoying, the repetition of the title after each line well-intentioned but flat--again, live, it somehow worked as a piece of absurdism. Thankfully, the band did play some of Stranger’s highlights, like the beautifully melancholy “Only Child” and power pop jam “Sunday Driver”. I wish they had replaced the comparatively generic “Somedays (I Don’t Feel Like Trying)” with catchy punk dirge “Live a Lie” or “Thoughts and Prayers”. The latter is the best song on Help Us Stranger. From the title, you think White might be trying to comment on gun control, but the song is at heart about life, a zooming folk odyssey rife with synths and fiddle and mandolin. “There’s got to be a better way / To talk to God and hear her say / ‘There are reasons why it is this way’,” White sings. It would have been an appropriate Riot Fest song: realistic, yet inspiring.

Album score: 6.3/10

But it was Bikini Kill’s triumphant reunion that was the perfect way to end the weekend, with dizzying instrumentation courtesy of Tobi Vail’s drums, Kathi Wilcox’s bass, and Kathleen Hanna’s guitar and siren of a howl. You knew they would sound great and play everything you wanted, from “Rebel Girl” to “Demi Rep”, the latter of which I hope will expose a new generation of fans to the band as the theme song to Hulu’s excellent PEN15. But the most fitting, even if not entirely poignant, was Hanna’s commentary, decrying “Let’s take this country back” white feminists and men who think they know everything, calling out rape culture more explicitly than anybody at the entire fest. “I’m sure Slayer talked about this a lot,” she quipped at one point. But it was a thought-provoking off-handed comment, one that makes me look forward to future lineups. Forget my forced symbolism of a $10 dollar beer. And I know the inherent problem of having a private, very white festival in a public park in a neighborhood made up of predominantly people of color, is not going to go away as long as the fest stays in said park. But Riot Fest can make a statement with the curation. Do they continue to market to nostalgia with minimal radical politics? Or will the festival live up to the name and, in their own words, stop sucking?

[chrysolina]

Quickie at dinner

Ask - @tabseus Hi :) I have a request for a one shot. I‘m not sure if you write smut but if it‘s alright for you, it would be cool if you could right Chirs Evans x reader where they visit Chris‘ family for the first time bad Chris wants to have sex but reader is scared someone could hear them. And then either smut or not, depending on whether you feel comfortable writing that. I hope that does not sound too weird :D Thx :)

Omg gurl thank you so so much for this!! I’m so sorry it’s soooo late but I wanted to get it right before posting it. Here it is though, enjoy!! <3

Summary - In which Chris just can’t keep it in his pants, even at his own party.

Word Count - 1.8k

Warnings - SMUT (+18 readers only!!), Dom!Chris, rough sex, Quickies (duh..), floof

“And this is my bedroom.” Chris concluded the tour of his house with the final stop being his old childhood bedroom, the only room you were really intrigued with - being his newly engaged fiancee, of course. 

As a way to welcome you into the family, Chris’ parents decided to throw a small house-come-dinner party in yours and Chris’ honour and made sure all the family’s closest friends came to meet their beautiful (soon-to-be) daughter-in-law.

For the past two hours you had been greeting and getting to know Chris’ wider family in Chris’ adoring company, it wasn’t until you needed the toilet you realised you had no clue where you were in the house. In a quiet whisper, you asked Chris where the toilet was - to which he decided to show your around the house instead.

One toilet stop and a particularly enjoyable house tour later, you found yourself snooping around Chris’ old bedroom. His room was really an insight into his childhood alright, from the little photo frames of his early school and acting days to medals, trophies and posters of slightly provocative bikini models by his desk - you were entranced by it all, so much so you didn’t register the sound of Chris flicking the door lock shut.

It was while you were bending slightly down to look at the books and films teenage Chris had in his bookshelf that you felt the knowing pressure Chris’ boner press tight against your ass. Even after a spetacular blow-job minutes before leaving, you couldn’t help but laugh at Chris’ virile nature as his hands roamed up and down your deep ruby red cocktail dress. 

“Excited, are we?” You smirked humorously and leant back to grope the bulge in Chris’ dinner pants, a strangled moan escaping his lips at the feeling.

“With you in this dress,” Chris growled and slid a hand up to grope your breast, a similar moan escaping your lips at his touch.”How could I not?”

Before you could turn to push him onto his bed, you realised where you were and what you were going to do and you decided it was best to head back downstairs, horny or not. “Maybe when we get home baby,” you turned and pecked Chris’ lips teasingly quick before walking away to the door with a triumphant smile on your face.

Maybe it was the alcohol or the endorphins in his blood talking but Chris couldn't miss the chance of having sex with the most beautiful woman in his world right in his old bedroom, the same place he realised he loved you all those years ago after being away filming. Before your hand could even touch the brass metal door handle, Chris had yanked you back and had you pressed up against him in a vice-like grip.

“Nu-uh sugar,” Chris cooed devilishly and ground his erection up and down your ass-cheeks. “I ain’t waiting for later.” He nipped and sucked on the side of your neck as he spoke and spun you around to face him.

“And I ain’t walking out of here back to your family covered in hickies you gave me.” You quipped back with a smirk and a knowing look on your face, it was a nasty habit Chris just loved to use on you, he just loved to mark you. 

From hand marks on your ass to hickies all over your neck, breasts and shoulders, Chris loved the message he was giving to any man - or woman - who laid eyes on those marks, you’re his.

“Fine, I’ll do you a deal;” and he also liked to make bargains with you before doing the deed. “You give me five minutes to fuck your ass into that wall b’there,” Chris nodded to the empty piece of wall beside you two. “And I won’t leave a single hickie anywhere at all.” Chris swore with a hand on his heart, just for effects. You hummed in question and made a face of uncertainty around Chris’ preposition.

“Promise?” You flicked an eyebrow up in question. “I promise.” You smiled at Chris’ sudden change in tone and kissed him passionately as thanks, to which he delved in and pushed you against the wall he spoke about. As quick as he was, Chris lifted the tight-fitting cocktail dress up over your ass and let it bunch around your hips as he got to work removing your thong. 

“A thong, hm?” Chris hummed in astonishment, you never liked wearing thongs or thin underwear so you told him; they were always so uncomfortable, so you’d say. 

“Look, I needed something with no VPL and it was the best I had.” You muttered through your teeth and tried not to moan when Chris pulled the thong off teasingly slow, your pussy aching for some sort of attention.

“Well Y/N,” Chris kissed your ear as he whispered. “I’m not complaining, at all.” He growled as he allowed your panties to pool at your heels and flicked the slightly distended butt-plug that sat snug in your ass - literally.

Whether the two of you did or didn’t do anal right now, you didn’t care at all; all you needed was to relieve the arousal down below, through whatever means necessary. The moan you gave though when Chris’ fingers slid down to your achingly wet pussy made it clear to him, you needed a release just as bad as he did and you, also, needed it now. 

Without much rational thinking, Chris ripped his zipper down in his trousers and unsheathed his dick, giving it a good pump in his hand to relieve the pressure down there and slid it up and down your lips for lubrication - not like he’d need it soon though.

“You ready baby girl?” Chris moaned into your ear as the tip of his penis slowly slid inside your silky wet pussy. You couldn’t trust your voce and only vigorously nodded in agreement. Chris smirked at you behind your back and poised himself ready to enter you. 

“Gotta stay quiet for me though, okay?” Chris placed a finger against your lips for effect and pushed his thick veiny dick straight into your pussy and began to pound it relentlessly.

After every animalistic thrust Chris gave, the pool of arousal that sat deep within your pussy began to boil, over and over and over. It was a fact, Chris’ hardcore dominant sex could not be beaten, he was rough and gentle in all the right places that made every woman weak to her knees.

On and on it went until you couldn’t contain it no more, the stranged moans leaving your lips testimony to how well Chris was fucking you, the sound of skin against skin and Chris’ grunts echoed orgasmically around in such an innocent room - to you, at least. Chris’ thrusts suddenly began to get sloppier and quicker as your pussy tightened around his length, meaning his release was coming soon, too. In a bid to get you to orgasm at the same time, one of Chris’ hands moved from your hip to your clit and began to rub it furiously and made you see stars. 

“Go on baby, cum for me.” Chris moaned into your ear at the deeper feeling you gave him after bending lower. “I’m so babe, c’mon.”

After two or three final sloppy thrusts, you and Chris came in a symphony of muffled moans and grunts, his hips stuttering to a halt as your pussy milked his length for all it was worth, your walls painted white with his cum.

A relieved sigh escaped your red swollen lips whilst Chris pulled out of you slowly and tenderly, just the way you liked it. After a dozen or so kisses and thank yous from Chris, the two of you stepped out of his room and out onto the landing with a sigh, thank god you hadn’t been caught.

“And where have you two been?” Oops, too late. You and Chris turned to see Scott looking at you like he’d just heard the best gossip ever and smirked at you both. “Had fun in there Y/N? Chris?” Scott lost his smirk within seconds after seeing your worried face and smiled at you warmly.

As you went to go open your mouth, Chris beat you to it and could have read your mind there and then. “Scott, please don’t tell mom or dad; or anyone for that matter.” Chris pleaded and held you close as the nevres rolled off you, the thought of blowing your reputation for a quickie in Chris’ old bedroom didn’t make you the most relaxed person there.

“Why would I? I get it y’know, best foot forward and all that bs.” Scott laughed and motioned yo to follow him downstairs, you knew what he said was meant for you and it made you smile at the calmness Scott brought with him.

“Thank you Scott.” You said warmly and hugged him once you got to the bottom of the stairs where you’d thought you’d be the centre of attention but in reality, nobody even saw you there.

“No worries sweetheart,” Scott hugged you back tightly and whispered into your ear. “Welcome to the family.”

“And where have you two been off to?” You thought it was your mind playing tricks on you again but once you turned around and left Scott, you knew you had to think of something fast as Chris’ mom looked at the two of you dubiously.

“My fault Mrs Evans,” You lied calmly, linked arms and smiled at Chris loving. “I was asking Chris about his medals and school-life and I got a bit caught up. I’m so sorry.” You smiled at her sympathetically for leaving her party for too long and expected to be scolded slightly for your absence, instead she smiled at the two of you and winked at you.

“It’s fine sweetheart, no need to apologise.” She smiled at the heartwarming of her son finally with the woman of his dreams. “And please, call me Lisa.” She winked at you again and wandered back to the group of ladies that she’d left.

Chris let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and leant down to kiss you, arms still linked together. “God I owe you one there babe.” He smiled into the kiss as you caught his cheek with the other hand and rubbed it soothingly. “Thank you Y/N/N.”

“After what you did upstairs, yeah you owe me mister.” You smirked at him discreetly and laughed as he rolled his eyes, knowing he wasn’t going to hear the last of it for a good while yet.

“Like I said, I can’t help it if I’m engaged to the most beautiful woman in the world.” You smiled at his corniness and rolled your eyes as you two walked arm in arm t the dining room for food.

“That’s my line, handsome.”

“Not anymore it ain’t.”

Tags : @patzammit @tacohead13 @youreahandsomedevil @coffeebooksandfandom

[ladyteacups]

The Boy With the Spider Tattoo

IMAGE NOT MINE

Warnings: Curse words.

Summary: Peter has a crush on Tonys intern Y/N, who is covered in tattoos and has a thing for piercings. Natasha tries to let him down easy by telling him she’s too hardcore for him. Peter, with the intent to impress her, decides to get a tattoo himself.

A/N: For those who don’t know, I’m a total metal head. So I’m very interested in how our boys would react to someone with a tongue piercing. My apologies for not posting in a while but I had to get over my total lack of drive to write.

“Peter, are you sure about that?” Ned was looking at the girl wide eyed. “She’s kinda scary,” he whispered to him. Peter only laughed. “C’mon man, she’s so cool. Look at her tattoos.” Peter raised an arm to gesture to the woman. “And she’s crazy smart. I mean she has an actual internship with Stark.”

Ned nodded as if to say ‘I guess you’re right’.

The woman looked over at the two friends, catching them staring. Her face turned pink and she suddenly fell self-conscious. She was used to it though. People staring. She bit at her lip ring with a nervous wave directed at the friends. Sure she liked Peter. He was a nice guy, kind smile, soft looking hair, thoughtful, great hands- She looked away quickly, realizing she was now the one staring. She fiddled with her chunky skull ring and tried to pay attention to Tony. When she glanced back up, they were gone.

Natasha laughed loudly. “Y/N? Really?” She smacked her hand against the table. “Sweet little Pete,” wheeze, “likes,” wheeze, “punk and all around badass Y/N?” She couldn’t contain the fit of giggles, condemning Peter to the abyss of bashfulness. “Peter, she’s a little hardcore. Do you really think you can handle a girl like that?” She shook her head.

“She’s just like everybody else Nat.”

“No no no no no,” she interrupted. “She gets tattooed for fun, She has doll heads nailed to her bedroom walls, she had a death hawk for a good three years. I once caught her listening to some band called “murder bitches.” Natasha gave Peter a pitiful look. “Pete, you built a lego death star with Ned in high school, while she was in metal shop building cars and an actual sword. I’ve seen it. It’s right next to her battle axe.”

Peter looked a little confused. He didn’t quite understand what Nat was getting at. He couldn’t hangout with Y/N because she liked different things? It didn’t make sense to him.

“Nat, I don’t understand. She’s cool.”

“Peter, a girl like that want’s someone like Matthew Heafy. An all-around badass needs an all-around badass. Someone who will still cuddle up to ear piercings and skull tattoos, without getting scared.”

“I can totally do that!” Peter threw up his hands, he felt at a loss. On one hand he could ignore Natasha and probably get shot down for not being cool enough, and on the other he could just go on living without her.

“Well, what if I get a tattoo?”

Natasha covered her mouth and shook her head. “Peter, you’re the kindest guy I know. I don’t know if I could see you with a tattoo.”

“Well I could do it.” Peter was apprehensive about the idea anyway but Natasha’s teasing was getting to him. Maybe he really would get a tattoo.

“Hey Pete, Natasha.”

“Hey Y/N,” Nat answered quickly.

“Did my ears deceive me, or did I hear you say something about a tattoo?” Y/N raised a brow at Peter, leaning in softly.

He just stood there making that confused face and thinking of what to say.

“Maybe?”

She smiled at him, and noticed Nat now leaving silently. “I think you’d look cool with some tattoo’s Pete.”

Peter loved when she got that kind look in her eyes. He thought it complex and he wanted to spend all day searching them.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “Well listen, I’m going to my artist in about two hours. If you wanna come get an idea for what it’s like, you’re more than welcome.”

She saw the hesitation in his eyes and immediately regretted inviting him. Of course he wouldn’t want to go. Who wants to be pressured into getting a tattoo.

“I mean, you don’t have to.” She looked nervous. Her eyes flinted around, avoiding Peter and searching for a place to rest.

“No, no, I… would love to go.”

Peter, what are you doing? If he goes, there’s no way he could back out of getting one himself, without looking like a big child in front of her. He wanted to slap himself for agreeing, but she’s so pretty, and her smile made everything worth it.

“Great! So I’ll see you in two hours yeah?”

Peter just nodded as she smiled, the gleam of the metal through her lip catching his eye. She held his gaze for a second longer before leaving the room.

Once the door closed Peter released a harsh breath.

“Y/N! How are ya baby cakes?” The lady behind the counter greeted her with a warm smile.

“Better now that I’m here,” she sighed in relief. Pete could tell this was her comfort zone as he saw her shoulders eased up.

The woman laughed, telling Y/N she’d go find Lars and be right back.

The two sat on the loveseat positioned by the window. Peter was starting to relax until presumably Lars, called Y/N’s name and escorted them into a back room.

He sat back, playing on his phone and not paying attention to what was going on, until Y/N crossed her arms over her stomach and pulled her shirt over her head. The tattoo’s she reveiled to him were beautiful. They streached with her along her spine and sides, draping snuggly over her back and hips.

Peter wasn’t shy about admiring her until he caught her gaze. “I’m sorry, it’s just,” he gestured to her back piece, “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes, it is. Lars is incredible. Beyond talented. I trust no one else.” She looked smug about it.

The artist gave her a thoughtful look. “Anything for my best girl.”

The way they smiled at each other made him suddenly nervous.

“So how do you two know each other?” Peter twisted his hands together, feeling them clam up a bit.

Lars eyes met Y/N’s and she gave him a smile before she took a seat to display her back. “We go way back man.” He gave Peter a wink and got ready to start on Y/N’s shoulder blades.

It had been three hours and Peter still wasn’t tired of watching her in this intimate moment. He could see her fists clench, her eyes squeeze shut, and her breathe leaving in a controlled rhythm. She was in obvious pain but the way she smiled and spoke, he could also tell she was happiest in this moment. He was watching the way she bit her lip when she spoke to him.

“Peter, come here. Lars says he’s starting in on the white and I need someone to hold my hand.”

He hesitated for a second before moving to kneel next to her, and grip her hand; letting her squeeze as hard as she needed to get through the immense pain. It didn’t last long before Lars announced they were done for the day. She still didn’t release his hand as the artist cleaned up his work, or maybe it was Peter who didn’t let go..

Peter watched the exchange between client and artist loosely. He mostly tuned it out until he saw her kiss his cheek affectionately. That caught his attention. Lars was gone two seconds later.

“So what do you think? Are you ready for one now?”

The smile she sported was encouraging and Pete decided, fuck it.

“Yeah, why not?”

She grinned like a wolf. “So what are you thinking of getting? Lars is taking a break but I’m sure George could take care of you.”

He reached into his pocket to pull out a picture of the spider on his suit, handing it over to her.

“A spider?” She looked surprised, until a wide and wicked grin stretched her lips. “Peter that’s hot.” Normally she would feel embarrassed at having uttered those words, but she was in her happy place. Nothing could touch her.

His cheeks burned up at her words. Hot? No way would anyone use that word with his name and mean it. Nevertheless it was blush inducing.

“Don’t speak too soon.” He leaned in, looked left then right, despite them being completely alone. “I’m too nervous to show my aunt. It’s going on the bottom of my foot.” He sat back and waited.

Y/N looked confused. That’s gonna fade fast Pete, are you sure about that?”

He smiled at her. “Yeah, why not right,” he asked with a nonchalant shrug.

She nodded with a huge smile on her face. She was enjoying this carefree wild side of him, and it was showing.

Peter took advantage of the ‘fuck it’ attitude he now exuded and asked, “so what’s with him?” He nodded to the door where the artist had just exited.

“What? Lars?” Y/N smiled. “He’s my older brothers best friend from childhood. He took care of me on the playground.”

Peter nodded. “And you guys are- together now?”

Y/N licked her lips and smirked. “He’s married, to my older sister actually. He’s my brother in law.”

“Is that so?” His eyes looked hungry. The tension was certainly building and pressing against his self control. He tried to hold it in but looking at her with that sexy smirk he didn’t care about the possible rejection.

“Do you wanna go out sometime? Like a date.”

“Yes.”

“Great.”

“Alright Peter, George is available now if you wanna come with me.”

The pair looked up at the girl from the front desk, then back to each other.

He stood up and smiled at Y/N. He may have been feeling overly confident from her yes, but he couldn’t help it. He winked at her and left with the woman. Y/N’s face heated up and she tugged at the edge of her shirt nervously. This boy was affecting her in a way that was completely new to her, and she was loving it.

Peter was ambushed when he got home. Everybody wanted to know how his “date” went.

“It wasn’t a date” he would say, but he couldn’t get rid of his smile. They weren’t convinced though. It seemed a permanent blush had dyed his cheeks pink. Something was up.

Natasha and Tony pushed him harder. “Tell us or we’ll ask her about your date.”

“No! I just.. It wasn’t an official date or anything.” He held his hands up as if he had nothing to do with the situation. “We just got tattooed is all.” Peter walked quickly to the kitchen to get away from prying teammates and to get some juice.

The Avengers looked at each other.

“They got tattoos, together,” asked Bruce.

“Tattooed,” repeated Sam as if to emphasize the point.

“Oh yeah, something happened.” Wanda looked unsurprised. She of course knew Y/N thought Peter adorable. All though she wanted it to be clear that it was an unintentional snoop.

Natasha followed Peter, and chuckled at him. “I can’t believe you’re gonna actually get this girl.” She shook her head at him exasperated, when the thought came to her. “Oh hey! Let’s see that tattoo then!”

Peter smiled and began to remove his shoe. “Check it out.”

Taglist Angels

@redeyed-winchester @sophiealiice

[laviarray]

Why I can’t stand Ian Flynn’s writing style.

 Ever since I read his stuff from issue 160, he consistently makes fundamental mistakes that no professional writer should ever make. He incorrectly builds his story lines, doesn’t know how to handle characters unless told, his themes are poorly thought out and shows no imagination in his fantasy or action beats. However, I tend to ask for positive opinions before because I wanted to get more insight into why people like his stuff. While I am glad for the input, I can’t get past how his writing is ambitionless and lacks basic understanding of storytelling, leading to a very unengaging script.

 EXAMPLE?

A good example of this is in issue 267, where Sonic and Rotor meet an Eggboss and Rotor’s father, Tundra for the first time. Flynn said he wanted to try to set up the mains to have rivals, with Rotor’s being Tundra. In this story Rotor meets Tundra after not seeing him for years, gets mad at him for working with Eggman, Tundra throws them into prison and then they break out with the ending being Rotor and Tundra looking up to the sky to show a parallel of… something?

Rival?

There are a lot of problems here, but the main one is that the story fails to establish these two as rivals, mainly because they have nothing to be rivals about. Being rival isn’t just being on different sides of a fight, it’s about two characters who want to beat each other for their own personal reasons and are usually written in for the writer to challenge something about at least one of the characters. Ash from Pokémon shows this pretty well. Each of Ash’s rivals are usually written in to challenge him on some element of his character. Gary challenged him on his lack of privilege and struggling to keep up. Paul challenged him on his kindness and loving nature to his Pokémon. Sawyer on his pride and his seniority getting the best of his ego. Just to name a few.

 Tundra on the other hand, doesn’t challenge anything about Rotor. Tundra does call his technology interest “hiding behind his toys” and calls him weak, but so what? Besides the fact that working for Eggman contradicts this worldview, what does this mean to Rotor? None of what Tundra speaks here contradicts Rotor’s beliefs. Rotor has never defined his strength or character to his technology nor does he have any world view that deals with strength or lack thereof. Neither of them have any reason to want to butt heads over or to compete against each other and neither of them have anything to prove by beating the other. Rotor doesn’t even have any anger or animosity towards Tundra after meeting him. He just sulks in the cell before Sonic tells him to get over it (remember this).

Maybe this could’ve worked as a revenge subplot for Rotor wanting to get Tundra for failing his home town, but that ends up being undermined when Rotor isn’t mad or vengeful towards Tundra during this whole issue. Sonic gets more upset at Tundra than he does. However, this still falls flat because the only reason you would know or care about Rotor’s home town is if you read supplementary material. Not universe issues, which still would be a bad place, but special issues that most people couldn’t get. So… yeah, there is no animosity between these two.

 Rotor’s character

I’m not surprised this doesn’t work, mainly because Flynn doesn’t know how to write characters and Rotor suffers from this the most out of the leads. Throughout the shattered world arc, Rotor is never given any major character traits besides being super focused on saving the world, and by that I mean being a straw man for why the characters keep getting distracted from the A plot to focus on side missions. He’s never given any personal moments or conflicts before this, nor does he have any motivations or wants outside of the conflict of the arc. So by the time we get to 267, the only thing of note about Rotor is that he is into technology, but not in any way that is personal to him. So having him get a rival was always going to be pointless.

 Give Flynn a break!

However, as I hear from every Flynn defender, “This might’ve been fixed later”. Two problems. One, why would any sane writer introduce and have the rivals interact without establishing some animosity or reason for them to see each other. Two, if that wasn’t the goal of this issue, this comic issue is beyond pointless. Nothing else of note happens in this issue. They have a light show of a fight scene, get caught, meet Tundra, breakout, leave. Besides getting a Gaia key, that could’ve been anywhere, there is no other reason to get these two on their own to meet Tundra, other than to establish their rivalry. To be honest, I’m not sure what’s worse. The fact that they dedicated half an issue to this half-baked idea, or that they wasted the other half on Eggman getting Metal Sonic back, that should’ve been 3 pages at best, instead of writing a story that is a major game changer for a lead character to the fullest.

(We totally needed to cut pages from learning about and developing a lead character and dedicated the same amount of time to seeing Eggman get Metal sonic back... Im not kidding they are both 10 pages.) Now the reason I was asking you guys for your thoughts was because I want to gauge how others view the comics too. However, when I get outside of comic fans, I get… interesting views. For example, I showed this issue to a group of people that all have daddy issues (as in they had to fight their dad to protect their mom kind of issues), so it should’ve been easy for them to relate to Rotor. They were also a wide range of opinions on Sonic, ranging from hardcore fans to ambivalent. However, after reading it, they all had the same reaction of “Well… That happened…” with all of them feeling nothing after reading. And after we discussed it, we figured out why. The story never gives you a reason to care about Rotor, Tundra just shows up and leaves, leaving no impact on the story or audience and there isn’t a reason to get invested with the conflict when Rotor isn’t.

 “OK, that was a bad issue, but that isn’t all of them?”

Except it is. Every last problem that I brought up here shows up throughout Flynn writing.

Poorly developed main characters?

All of them written around this quality and the ones that aren’t usually have characterization mandated or coming from other parts of the franchise.

(ok... we were five stories in at this point... Why were their 12 characters in the main cast (Chip not pictured)? Longer slice of life stories would have issues developing characters with a cast that big.) Rivalries that don’t go past superficial elements of the characters and don’t challenges the leads well?

Pretty much all of them, but especially Antoine’s with Hood, Nicole’s with Phage, and Bunnie’s with Cassia

“What about Sally and Clove?” I don’t count them as Flynn said in his podcast “Sally would be too busy to have a rival”. Which speaks volumes about his writing priorities.

Having characters get Pep talks to get them over writer inflicted trauma and to never address again?

Flynn did this 8 times in Shattered world and already 2 times in IDW (Issues 1, and 3)

B plots that go nowhere and should’ve been cut early in production?

Most of the issues during shattered world

Dedicating an entire issue to one plot detail that may or may not be relevant to later issues?

This is practically his brand at this point.

(These two are going to be soooooo relevant and integral to the story. Just... you know... Not for this entire arc...) And these aren’t his only problems.

  What is your point?

So why am I going through all of this? Why did I just type all of that for you guys? For 3 reasons.

1) I want you to understand where my vile for Flynn’s writing comes from. Not because of one thing he did wrong or that he doesn’t get a certain character right. But from a comprehensive look at his written patterns and worldview on writing.

2) I do genuinely want to understand why this man is well liked as I’ve seen some writers do half the crap Flynn does and get flogged by their fan bases.

3) If possible, try to get us to ask for better. I don’t hate Flynn or anything, but it boggles my mind that he is seen as a great writer when he is subpar at best. I don’t want him fired or anything but I don’t want him on any other branch of the franchise, nor do I want to see anyone thinking he should be either.

Now I’m fully willing to admit I’m wrong on all of these points, so feel free to tell me what you think.

In the meantime, I’m going to get ready for the completion of the arc in IDW. Expect a full essay by Janurary!