#the feel of his albums and concepts these days are a million miles away from what sm used to do

[herewegobebe]

ONEW 4TH EP 'CONNECTION' ✦ Preview [x]

[yok00k]

coming down

pairing: non-idoloc! x idol!jk

genre: angst

“i always want you when i’m coming down”

sypnosis: although you sleep next to jungkook every single night, it feels like you’re million miles away from him.

wordcount: around 1,000

warning: in 1st pov, it’s a little sad (for me), open ended ending, one sided love, allusion of cheating, oc’s world revolves around jk (don’t be like her)(lowkey im her), toxic relationship, lack of communication

author’s note: this did not go as I initially planned help-_- i was gonna make light jealousy oc/jk drabble idk how I ended up with this. i hope yall sob w/ me or lmk ur thoughts

an absolute ideal.

his performance. the concept. the way he sang his new released songs flawlessly. how smooth his dancing movements were. how the stage composition and development were so sumptuous.

and most importantly, how romantic the live performance was, given the fact that there was an actress involved in the show.

calling Jungkook an amazing artist would be an understatement. He’s creative, unique, and original in his masterpieces. Everything he does, no matter what, is just mesmerizing and astounding. He’s indeed a true performer.

Jungkook dedicated several months to work on his solo album. The time and effort he had put to his work is just admirable. On most days, he stays up late, trying to come up with so many possible ideas and options he can add on his album.

and I was there by his side. I chose to be.

I was there, waiting for him to come home every single night, or usually midnight, in our noiseless living room, wrapped with a thick blanket and loneliness. He would arrive home, but as night by night goes, I was accompanied by nothing but solitude. it feels like it’s taking over me.

I was there, in bad days where Jungkook is focusing on the negatives and having doubts in himself. Days where his standards for himself weren’t being met. both of my shoulders were closely next to him if he needed something to lean into. Reminding him that it’s okay and he’s doing wonderful.

I was there, even in times when he didn't want or need me to be there. times where he just wanted to be by his own with no distraction. but here I am, continuously showing him my undying love and support for him.

I chose to stay there. on nights where he stopped saying “i love you” back before going to dreamland. I hugged him closer as I convinced myself to believe that he just didn’t feel like saying those three words at those moment because of all the stress he undergoes through day to day.

I gave all of myself, I’ve done my part as his other half. Just like how Jungkook produces his works, I poured all my love and time to him, leaving not a thing for myself. It sounds foolish, but that’s just how I love

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

we’re both lying on the massive bed, only inches apart from one another’s body yet it feels like he’s millions of miles away from me as I stare at his cold, broad back that’s facing me.

I’ve got to used to this upsetting scenario at this point but that doesn’t mean it hurt less.

The whole bedroom feels chilly. I’m freezing, solely due to the fact that his warm arms weren’t wrapped around me like they used to be. as i’m not hearing his snores, I know that he’s still awake

“Do you still love me?” I manage to ask out loud and clear, immediately regretting the words that came out of my mouth even though it’s simply an inquiry.

a question that’s been going around my head for quite some time now. a question that i’m afraid to know the answer to because his response might be the response my heart doesn’t wish to hear or else it will shatter into millions of pieces.

my hope for an answer rapidly decreased as seconds went by filled with silence. The absence of noise that surrounded me was deafening; abundantly mocked the emotions I was feeling at the moment, screaming at me that my feelings didn't matter.

It's alright.

I did nothing but wipe the single tear that uncontrollably rolled down my cheek.

it’s stupid. I should’ve just kept it to myself. maybe that would be less embarrassing. less problematic. less painful than I was feeling minutes ago.

I turned my back against his as I accepted my defeat. maybe I’m just tired. maybe drifting to sleep will make me feel okay although I know deep inside that I won’t take the pain away. this is not some type of feeling i’m unfamiliar with to begin with.

I shut my eyes, as I try to put myself to sleep. but in that process, i felt his body moving, turning around, and finally snakes his warm arms around me. a pair of arms, the same ones I longed for so many nights.

“____, why would you ask that?” he giggly asked, sounding like he just heard a silly question. as if i was just being clingy and wanted some piece of his attention.

‘because i don’t feel like you love me anymore’

the man waited for a response, waiting to see if I was just fooling around or that was really genuine. the noiselessness, just like all times, answers the question we both interrogate to each other.

the heavy feelings just got worse, if not heavier. even so when he talks more. “i won’t be laying next to you if i wasn’t.” as if that makes me feel better.

indeed, he’s physically here by my side yet distant. Jungkook is so far off that I’ve lost him. numbness was all I felt as I heard his words. I couldn’t be more content now that I have my answers.

his indirect answer to a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question is enough for me to know where we stand.

I can’t help but to turn my body to face him, just to stare at his doe eyes that I easily get lost in due to the fact that they hold thousands of stars, if not a whole world in them.

regretfully, my eyes should’ve just maintained contact with doe-like eyelids. but rather, they drop their focus on the side of his neck, detecting a foreign lipstick shade that he might have forgotten to wipe off. a shade that will be tattooed in my brain and will forever hate.

Inhale. Exhale. I chose to shrug it off, bringing my attention back to his worn out face.

“I love you” truthfully and whole-heartedly confessed to him once more just like I always do. although this was a little bit different because I don’t expect him to say it back anymore.

and with that in mind, this was also the last night that I will to express my love for him.

[bubblesuga]

Special-Tea

Summary: Yoongi’s always been a coffee man. When stuck at the studio in the early hours of the morning, he craves caffeine. The only problem with that is there’s no coffee shops open at three in the morning. So, he finds himself at the next best thing, a 24 hour tea shop where he finds you. 

Warnings: cussing, smut, shower sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral (f receiving)

W/C: 4,798

It’s too early for this. 

Or maybe it’s too late. 

Yoongi isn’t sure. In fact, he’s pretty sure his clock stopped working three hours ago. Unless the last few minutes have felt like hours, then Yoongi was on the verge of tearing every piece of equipment from the wall and smashing it into a million pieces. 

Yoongi’s been working on this album for far too long. His fingers are cramped from continuously playing the same three notes over and over just hoping and praying that something will come to him. He’s confused more than anything. Before he had no problem spitting out 2 or 3 songs in a day, recording demos and having the studio ready to record for the other members the following day. 

Lately, however, he’s lucky if he can even get a concept for a song down. It’s like his mind has been clouded over with writers block and he’s not getting anywhere. Like someone sucked his ability to compose music right from his brain with a straw. 

He tosses the pen he had been anxiously tapping on the desk into his bag, along with his notebook, and he stands abruptly. 

Scoffing at his phone, he glares at the black 4:37 on the screen while the elevator in the BigHit offices slides downward. There’s no coffee shops open yet, there has to be something though. He just needs caffeine, though he could really go for an iced americano with- 

“Special-tea...?” He raises an eyebrow at his phone, Google holding up options for the nearest place selling caffeinated beverages. Rolling his eyes, he begins the short journey to the one 24 hour shop within a five mile radius. 

What kind of a name is ‘Special-tea’? Who sat in an office and thought, ‘ah you know what? Let’s name a tea shop but make it punny.’

“Stupid.” He grumbles to himself. He’s well aware that he’s far too tired to be having human interaction right now but he needs to get some progress done. At this point he’ll take a ghost of a song. 

Stepping into the tea shop, he’s overwhelmed by the smell of flowers. Undeniably strong, he takes a moment to collect his thoughts before stepping all the way in. As the door chimes, he hears a gasp and a patter of foot steps.

“Welcome to Special-tea! How are you doing today?” 

The voice is loud, echoing off of the various shelves scattered around the shop with loose tea for sale. He whips his head towards the register, spotting you. 

“I’m fine, thank you.” He didn’t realize how sore his voice was from attempting to record backing vocals earlier in the day, but it came out gruff and quiet. A stark contrast to the bubbly barista in front of him, her nose dusted in flour and a messy apron protecting her clothes. Well, attempting at least, because Yoongi has to hold back a smile when he notices hand prints of flour on your backside. 

“What can I get you this morning?” you question, leaning over the counter and causing Yoongi to blush when he notices the way you’re smiling. When you meet his eyes, Yoongi can tell you recognize him. For a moment he feels the need to brace himself, but soon realizes you’re calm. 

Yoongi returns a smile, haphazardly running his fingers through his hair. “Dumb question, but do you guys sell coffee?” 

“Coffee? No, but we do sell black earl grey. I’m told that’s a close comparison as far as bitterness goes,” You explain, turning to the shelf behind you and pulling out a bag of tea, “you’re welcome to smell it if you like.” 

He raises an eyebrow, leaning forward and sniffing the bag. He backs away quickly and watches you bite your lip to stifle a laugh, “It’s not exactly a new tea drinker’s type of tea.” 

“I’m not really a new tea drinker,” he grumbles, wiping his nose, “I’m a tea drinker only in times of desperation.” 

She smiles again, “What causes said desperation?” 

Yoongi rolls his neck, “I’m trying to write another song. Get the ball rolling to finishing up an album.” 

“BE, right? I’ve heard good things about the process,” you say softly, surprising Yoongi by your admission to being a fan, “I figured it would be finished already?” 

His eyes stay trained on you as you turn back to the shelves, rummaging through various boxes of tea. It takes him a moment to realize what your question was, so he sucks in a breath, “Ah, yeah. It’s nearly there, we just need one more track because one of them got trashed.” 

Why is he revealing so much to a stranger? Namjoon is going to kill him. 

“Trashed? Why’s that?” 

“We realized the song itself didn’t follow any of the messages we wanted to put out there.” 

Damn it, Yoongi. Stop talking. 

You finally stop rummaging and pull out a bag of tea without showing Yoongi. He tries to catch a glimpse but instead watches as you boil more water and begin steeping the tea. 

“What kind of message did it have?” You ask, leaning backward against the counter and crossing your arms. Having expected a follow up question, Yoongi swiftly dismisses it, “What kind of tea are you making?” 

“The kind you drink.” You smirk. 

He lowers his gaze at you, “It’s kind of your job to tell the customer what they’re getting.” 

You laugh, “Alright. Jasmine green tea. It’s subtle enough that it won’t get your coffee loving tongue in a twist, and has enough caffeine to keep you up to finish whatever you’re working on.” 

Yoongi is happy with this response, taking the time to lean away from the counter and gaze around the shop. It’s small, something he’s definitely not used to from coffee shops. The earthy smells from earlier have dwindled down to a nice summery scent, lavender filling his nose the closer he got to the register. 

As much as he tried to keep his eyes away from the cute girl behind the counter, he couldn’t help but turn back and watch you as you organize various things. Something about the way your hair slips from the messy bun it’s in and your charismatic way of helping him while also providing a sense of normalcy drew him in in a way he has never experienced before. 

“Order up, Suga.” 

He shakes his head from his gaze, walking back up to the counter and pulling out his wallet. 

“On me,” you say, “besides... don’t want to make you pay for something you may not like.” 

Yoongi nods, murmuring a small ‘thank you’ and bringing the cup up to his mouth. 

Without missing a beat, he reaches for his wallet and pulls out a 10000 won bill, stuffing it in the tip jar. He gives you a small smile, thanking you again as he turns towards the door. 

“Wait!” you call, “What do you think?”

Yoongi raises his hand up just before he walks out of the door, “It’s delicious!” 

The smile on your face was worth Yoongi’s little white lie. 

~*~*~

“Alright, this is great! We’ll record tomorrow, yeah?” Seokjin speaks for the entire group as Yoongi plays them the demo of the song he was finally able to right. There were a few jabs here and there about the auto tune Yoongi likes to utilize, but other than that it was well received. 

The only person he could think was you, though, because if he hadn’t have tasted that tea he would have never thought of writing what he did. 

“How did you manage to spit out something like this in a night?” Jungkook teases, patting Yoongi’s shoulder softly. 

“What do you mean?” Yoongi chuckles, clicking sound files around and creating a copy of his demo.

Jungkook grins, “Who’s the girl that made you think of that?” 

“No girl,” he defends, “a good writer doesn’t need actual experiences. All from the imagination, young Jungkookie.” 

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, “I’m pretty sure that’s not the case at all.” 

Yoongi shushes him, saving his project one more time before deciding to kick everyone out and lock the studio. 

Of course they’re going to find out eventually what happened. Especially since Park Jimin follows Yoongi to the elevator. Once they’re the only ones inside, Jimin turns to his Hyung, “Tell me about the girl.” 

Yoongi, knowing that no one else could read him better than Jimin, sighs in defeat. “She’s gorgeous. Her nose had flour on it, her hair was messy, and she was everything that I’m not used to. She has a smirk- god the way she smiles- it just makes me melt for her.”

Jimin seems pleased with this answer, “and you’re going to see her now?” 

“Yep.” 

The bell above his head is a welcoming sound. This time you’re not waiting in the back. Instead, you’re counting money at the register as he enters. This time you wore a purple apron, and it’s clean compared to a couple of days ago. You still haven’t looked up, so Yoongi walks slowly up to the counter and taps his fingers twice. 

“Ah- Yoongi! Good evening, what can I get you started today?” 

“The same as last time, please.” Yoongi grins, watching you carefully as you nod at him and turn on your heel and kick on the kettle. The way the straps of the apron tie right above the curve of your back has Yoongi’s mind beginning to wander. It’s been years since he even thought of looking at a woman like this in person, but for some reason when it comes to you he just can’t stop. 

“So,” you break the silence, “how did that song writing go?”

“Oh,” his cheeks are a rosy pink, “it went well. I showed the other members the demo and we’re recording it tomorrow.” 

“I can’t wait to hear it.” You grin, pouring the water over the tea bags. Yoongi thanks you quietly and pulls out his wallet once more. You shake your head, “Nope. Your last tip was enough to cover your next 3 drinks.” 

Yoongi nods, “Oh okay.” but then ignores you, slipping another 10000 won bill into the tip jar. Just as you’re about to open your mouth in protest, Yoongi sends you a wink and salutes on his way out before he closes the door behind him. 

~*~*~

Your alarm is too loud. 

It’s like a banshee screeching in your ear, like a baby crying, like a rooster crowing. You groaned loudly at the sound and threw your hand on top of it, rolling out of bed to drag yourself to the shower. 

It’s been a few weeks since Yoongi became a regular to your work. The initial star struck feeling you got when you were around him had dwindled away, and now you feel you can call him a friend. 

Your routine was as follows: Yoongi enters the shop, you make him his drink, and he stays and distracts you for a while. Much against everything you stand for, you drop everything to talk to him. It causes you to have to move much faster than usual on your prep work but you didn’t mind, because you loved seeing the way Yoongi would laugh at your jokes. 

You feel like you know the man beyond the idol. The person who hides under the shadow of a stoic demeanor is bright. The way you perceived him prior to actually knowing him was wrong. He is, without a single doubt in your mind, the most interesting man on the planet. 

When you arrived at work, your evening worker is already willing to go. 

“I counted the safe and there’s some money missing. If Summer asks, it wasn’t me.” Flora says, shrugging her shoulders. 

“Okay,” you raise an eyebrow, walking towards the back, “any orders?” 

“Uh, yeah!” you hear her call, “chocolate covered strawberries for 6!” 

“Awesome-- thank you!” You call back just as the door dings and Flora exits the store. You take a moment to walk through the kitchen to make sure everything is set up and then you pull your apron over your head. 

The doorbell dings and you can’t help the smile that stretches across your face. 

“What’ll it be today, Mr. Min?” You still stand in the back, glancing in the mirror to make sure you look your best. 

“Honey butter croissant,” he yells back, “how did you know it was me?” 

When you’re happy with your look, you finally walk to the front and smile, “So we’re changing it up today, are you okay? You sick or something?” 

“I just wanted something new,” Yoongi looks different today. He’s dressed in a cream cardigan and black jeans, the usual rose tint to his cheeks is a bit stronger today. 

“Okay, I’ll have to bake some new ones. It’ll take about 20 minutes if you’re willing to wait.” You explain, with an unsure smile. 

Yoongi looks around for a moment, “Ugh, I guess I can wait.” 

“Awesome,” you speak, “I’ll be back in a moment.” 

As you walk towards the back, Yoongi listens carefully to you humming along to a song that’s been stuck in your head for days. You pull out a couple of fresh croissants and prep a baking sheet. Sticking it into the oven, you brush the flour from your hands onto your apron and walk back to the front. 

Yoongi jumps up from his phone when he notices you standing in front of him. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him, the freckles across your nose easing him into a sense of comfort. “Do you plan on telling me why you kept ordering a drink you hate?” 

Yoongi’s eyes widen, “Now why on Earth would you think that I hate it?” 

“Welp,” you laugh, “you’re usually my only customer at night, and every morning I would check the outside garbage to see if it needed to be changed, yet the only thing I would find is a full cup of tea, with your name on it.” 

For a moment, Yoongi was silent. He stumbles over his thoughts in an attempt to come up with some type of excuse. Something to hide why he had been coming here all this time. Yet, he couldn’t. So instead he looks up from his chair and smirks, “How else was I supposed to talk to the pretty girl at the tea shop?” 

You swallow, your mind racing a million miles a second. Before you have the chance to respond, he stands. His body is close, and he smells so good. His cologne is expensive, herbal and earthy, and it makes you want to bury your nose into his neck and inhale. His eyes, the usual dark brown has turned into honey, drawing you in and keeping you there. 

“You could have asked me on a date, we could have gone from there.” You shrug, feeling Yoongi’s calloused hand gently push away a stray hair behind your ear. He doesn’t move it afterwards, though, instead his thumb finds home on your cheekbone, stroking gently. His face has shifted, and he laughs. Almost bitterly, causing your heart to sink. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be interested in the types of dates I get. You see,” his other hand slithers around your waist, “we get long walks in the park but we have to wear a mask and a hat. We get picnics by streams late enough at night that we know no one will be around. Sometimes we can slip away to another country where we pray that no one recognizes us, but with my schedule that thought is laughable at best.” 

“What if I like long walks in the park with masks and late night picnics?” You breath, the look in your eyes stirring Yoongi’s heart. 

“Then I guess we’d have to give it a shot, wouldn’t we?” He whispers. Your eyes flutter from his eyes to his lips, silently begging him to close the gap. You could sense his hesitancy, though. It blossoms from his chest and heats up his entire body but for some reason he’s frozen, completely still. He’s fighting, urging himself to lean forward and kiss you but he can’t move. 

Good news for him, though, because you take a moment to lean up and press your lips against his softly. It’s gentle, easing him into the feeling of you so close to him. His lips taste of mint chocolate, causing you to smile into the kiss. It takes a moment, and for a second you’re hoping that you didn’t read the situation wrong until finally, he kisses back. It’s eager, introducing his tongue to yours and grinning idly into the kiss. 

You allow him to back you up against the counter, boxing you in and surrounding you completely. His hands move down and pull your hips close to his, feeling the strain of his cock against his jeans. 

“We’re entering dangerous territory here, baby.” Yoongi speaks, pulling away just a little bit. His eyes stay closed and his breath is hot on your face. 

“How so?” You whisper, afraid of the answer but also intrigued. He doesn’t respond, instead capturing your lips and breaking the kiss repeatedly. Your fingertips dig into his shoulders and he smiles at the knowledge that you’re enjoying this just as much as he is. 

A groan fills the air when you finally buck your hips towards him. In a feverish attempt to feel more, you wrap your legs around his waist and hang from his shoulders. Just as you’re about to slip your hand between your bodies, the timer on the oven blares through the building, shattering the small walls you built around the two of you. 

“Fuck--” you gently pull away, “I’m sorry. I’ll be back in a moment.” 

Quickly, you slip off the counter and rush to the oven. You pull out the croissants and douse them in honey butter from the fridge. You watch the butter melt for a moment, collecting your thoughts.

Did that just happen? Did that actually hap-

When you walk back out, Yoongi’s hands are clasped behind his back. He mutters a small thank you as you hand him the plate. He rips off a corner of the pastry, and pops it into his mouth. 

There’s a beat of silence. One-- two-- then he speaks. 

“It’s delicious.” 

“Thank you, I work hard on them.” 

~*~*~

“And you just left her?!” 

Oh god. Yoongi has never seen Jimin so angry before. The small man can yell louder than ever imagined, and Yoongi would be lying if he said that he wasn’t scared. 

A mere 30 hours ago, Yoongi had his tongue buried in your mouth and he was the happiest man on the planet. Then it changed quickly once he realized what exactly this could entail. Even though he wanted nothing more than to bend you over the dough table and take you roughly while you scream his name, he couldn’t help but over think. 

Standing in Jimin’s living room, he expected to be comforted and given some nice advice from his friend. Instead he’s learning that he pulled a bad move.

“You’re supposed to be giving me advice, not yelling at me!” Yoongi yells back, gesturing his hands wildly. Even though he’s scared, he can’t help but defend himself to a certain extent. 

“Hyung, I thought you’d have enough intelligence not to kiss her and run!” 

Yoongi groans and drops onto the couch, his face falling into his hands, “The things I was feeling scared me.” 

“Oh my god, go to the tea shop!” 

~*~*~

Yoongi spots a customer at the register. He opens the door quietly, the break of dawn just behind the mountains. This was different to Yoongi’s usual time and you know that, your eyes going wide in surprise while you finish ringing up the last customer. 

Once Yoongi hears the heels clack against the tile and the door open, he rounds the shelf and walks up to you. 

“I’m sorry I left so quickly yesterday. I just- I got scared. I wasn’t sure how to approach the situation but after thinking over it I realized that I really need you to kiss me again,” Yoongi speaks fast, quicker than you’ve heard him before and it takes a moment for the words to settle in your mind, “I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

You breathe out a laugh, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his again. This time it’s slow and soft, different but Yoongi loves every second of it. The minute you kiss him, you taste coffee. You hold back another laugh, pulling away with mock hurt, “You cheated.” 

Yoongi brows furrow, “I don’t follow.” 

“You drink coffee and then come try to sweep tea shop girl off her feet? Cheater!” You tease, putting your hand on your chest as though you’re in pain. 

Yoongi grins, “You’re crazy. I would never drink coffee, not when I can taste you. You’re probably going to have to kiss me to make sure.” 

You gnaw your lip, leaning upward and pressing a kiss to him again. He giggles against your lips, a sound that you will never get sick of. You pull away much to both of your dismay, “Let me take you back to my apartment. It’s small but it’s big enough for the two of us.” 

He agrees instantly. 

Yoongi waits in the car while your relief shows up and you clean up. He taps his feet against the pedals anxiously, the thought of what could happen exciting him. You have clouded his mind for a weeks now and as you skip out of the building and hop into Yoongi’s passenger seat, he can’t wait to get his hands on you. 

He follows your directions, his hand resting on your thigh as he tries not to speed. When he pulls into the parking lot, you lead him up the stairs to your apartment. 

Nervously, you toss your bag onto the couch, “It’s not much. . . but it works for me.” 

Yoongi grins, “It’s quaint. Cute.” He reaches forward and wraps his arms around you in a back hug. You welcome it, craning your neck to kiss him. 

“I need a shower. Join me?”

Yoongi nods, “Yes please.” 

There’s a thumb in your chest louder than you’ve ever felt before. This is actually happening. Min Yoongi, is being lead to your bathroom and you’re about to shower with him. 

Yoongi doesn’t waste much time once the door is shut behind you. He latches his lips onto your neck, tugging at the hem of your shirt and easing it over your head. 

“I want to make sure you want this as much as I do.” Yoongi says breathlessly as he catches a glimpse of your bare chest. You don’t respond verbally, but you look him directly in the eye as you slip your pants and panties off in one swoop. 

You stand in the shower, turning on the water and peaking your head behind the curtain, “What’s taking you so long?” 

Yoongi moves fast as he tears off his own clothing, and you close the curtain so you don’t spot his body too quickly. Building suspense for yourself, you wet your hair under the warm water and feel your muscles relax after your long day of work. Although your eyes are closed, your ears are trained on Yoongi. He steps behind you, continuing his assault on your neck. 

You sigh happily, but everything changes the minute Yoongi opens his mouth. 

“Spread your legs, baby. I’ll hold you up.” 

Instantly you feel your cunt clenching around nothing (unfortunately). You immediately allow Yoongi to guide your leg to the edge of the tub. He slides a finger in between your folds, collecting your wetness all while his lips trail kisses across your chest. 

Finally you allow yourself to open your eyes, gasping at the image in front of you. Yoongi’s body is as rosy as his cheeks, his knees on the bottom of the floor and his face level with your heat. 

“Ah, now you open your eyes.” He smirks, and doesn’t give you much warning as he licks a long stripe from your heat to your clit. You instantly moan, tossing your head back and bracing yourself against the wall of the shower. 

He moves ruthlessly, consuming you like a starved man. The feeling of him against you doesn’t compare to the imagine in front of you. His fingers reach between your folds and pump in and out of you while he continues to nip and suck mercilessly at your clit. He looks up at you through his lashes, and you swear you feel him smirk against you as he speeds up his thrusts and sucks as hard as he can. 

“You look so good like this,” you moan, “your tongue feels so good.” 

Yoongi pulls away to let out a groan, “Fuck.” His chest is heaving and he reaches a hand down to squeeze his shaft for a moment of relief, then he stands. 

“Think you can hold your leg up for a moment, baby?” Yoongi instructs, laying a kiss on your forehead as you spot his hand pumping himself a few more times. You nod silently, allowing yourself to relish in his glistening skin as he runs the head of his cock over your slit. You appreciate his concern, and you know he’s going to take care of you after he’s finished ruining you. You couldn’t be more excited as Yoongi’s cock continues to slip over you. 

For a moment you feel him enter, both of you gasping at the contact but just as quickly as he enters, he slips out. 

“No,” you shake your head, “please no teasing. Fuck me.” 

Yoongi gives you a devilish grin, his hand holding up your thigh once again as he finally begins to push into you. He takes pleasure in the way that your lips part with every inch that he pushes in. Yoongi was proud of his size, and your reaction further fuels his ego. Finally, he bottoms out and you’re rewarded with being filled to the hilt with nothing but Yoongi. 

He moans your name in your air after you adjust to his size, beginning to thrust faster. “So... tight. Fuck.” He sinks his teeth into your collarbone, relishing in the feeling of your nails scratching into his back. He can’t bare to leave your cunt for more than a few seconds, because the way you clench tightly around him was the closest thing to Heaven on Earth that he’s ever experienced. Every one of his thrusts is meant with a rewarding moan from you, your juices coating his cock more and more and fueling his pleasure. 

“Ah,” you moan, “Yoongi. So good.” Your brain was absolute mush. You couldn’t think of anything else but him. 

“So good at taking my cock,” he laughs breathlessly, “I can’t believe how well you’re doing.” 

You surrender yourself completely to Yoongi at his words, his encouragement pushing you closer to the edge. “I’m close.” 

“Good girl, cum for me. Cream on my cock.” Yoongi praises, kissing your lips tenderly as you feel yourself clench tightly around him. White hot electric shocks rush through your body, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

He breaks the kiss with a bite to your bottom lip, “Take my cum. Take it- fuck fuck-” Yoongi’s cut off by his orgasm taking over, and you open just in time to see his jaw drop as he rides out both of your orgasms with increasingly slow thrusts until finally, he slips out, the feeling of his release dripping down your thighs. 

He rests his forehead against yours, suddenly hyper aware of the water dripping down your bodies.

You lower your legs onto the floor, Yoongi holding you up while you struggle to regain your balance. The two of you giggle, sharing kisses for a moment as you both work off the pleasure. 

You reach behind Yoongi, squeezing shampoo into your hands and massaging it through your scalp as Yoongi takes your soap across your body. It’s such a simple move, but even though you’ve already had sex he still is taking the time to take care of you. It’s endearing, and it fills you with hope for something more with Yoongi. 

As you both finish the shower, you step out of the bath tub and reach for a towel. 

“Oh, by the way, Yoongi?” You say as he runs a brush through your hair. You bite your lip to hold back a giggle as he stops, “Yes baby?” 

“I still tasted coffee.” 

Yoongi laughs, “God damn it.” 

[lalainajanes]

For klarosummer bingo, this completes my first row! The prompt was “swimsuit model.”

Fortune Favors

“Bekah, these are amazing,” Caroline gushes. She 100% means it, but she’s laying it on a little thick. She’s seen pictures, mock-ups, and was fitted with prototypes. Now, with the line entirely constructed, all the details finished, Caroline’s impressed.  

Rebekah, however, seems frazzled, her usual rock-solid confidence nowhere to be found. 

Totally understandable. It’s a big day for her.

Rebekah’s working on launching a swimwear line, is funding a big chunk of it herself. Caroline would have agreed to help out even if she didn’t owe Rebekah a favor. Caroline continues flipping through the garments until she finds the tag with her name on it.

She pulls the first hanger off the rack to look at the suit more closely. It’s a white one-piece with a deep-v neck, a belt slim black belt, and ruffled straps. Rebekah fidgets, “We’re styling this one with red lips and heels, a big hat. We’re going to try to shoot this one on the rocks.”

“Sounds good to me.” The shoot seems far more professional from the ones they’d managed to pull together for school projects. They’d done the best they could with the facilities available to students, but the house they’re using today is by far the nicest one Caroline’s ever been inside of. It backs onto a private beach which seems unnecessary considering the freaking gorgeous pool in the backyard. “Who’s the photographer?”

Rebekah grins, clearly pleased with herself. “I managed to convince my brother to donate his services.”

Well. Now Caroline’s nervous. “Your brother Klaus?” she asks, kind of hoping she’s wrong. Klaus Mikaelson is a big deal. He’s shot major covers, A-list celebrities, million-dollar international campaigns.

He’s used to models who know what they’re doing, and Caroline’s definitely an amateur.

“Yes, Klaus. I’ve forbidden Kol from coming within a five-mile radius. Can’t have him harassing the models. And Elijah’s been a gem, but his expertise lies more in negotiating with suppliers and nagging me to mind the expenses.”

Caroline takes a deep breath, tells herself it’ll be fine.

She studies her next look, a sleek black bikini and a sheer black robe covered in floral details. “Love the appliqués. Did you bead this yourself?”

“Till my fingers were bloody. But I think it’ll photograph well.”

Caroline hums in agreement. “Is this one on the beach too?”

“No, by the pool. Chaise lounge, martini glass, one of the male models in the background. Think rich divorcee seducing the help.”

Caroline hopes it’s a real martini. She might need it.

 She flips to the next hanger and has to bite back a distressed groan. Rebekah’s concept leans retro, so the yellow polka dot bikini in her hand is skimpier than Caroline had anticipated. 

“Probably should have skipped breakfast,” she mutters.

Rebekah scoffs, “None of that. You’ll look smashing in it. I have impeccable taste.”

Caroline’s distracted by male laughter, a new person slipping into the tent. “So you’ve insisted your whole life. I distinctly recall you sneaking into the family albums and burning most of the photographic evidence of the unfortunate style choices you made in years 7 through 9.”

Ordinarily, Caroline would exploit the opportunity to get a little dirt on Rebekah, but she’s annoyingly tongue-tied and intimidated. She’s pasted on a polite smile, more out of habit than anything. 

She may have google stalked Rebekah once upon a time, way back when they’d been rivals at school. And if during Caroline’s research, she’d read several articles and poured over dozens of pictures of Rebekah’s very talented and successful fashion photographer brother, that was her business.

Know thy enemy and all that, she couldn’t have known that rivalry would shift to friendly competition, then to actual friendship. 

She’d noted he was attractive, of course, as anyone with eyes and sense would have. Most people don’t manage to live up to photos taken by professionals.

Klaus Mikaelson does, and it’s not helping her insecurities.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Nik.”

He walks further in, offering Caroline his hand. “You must be Caroline. It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Klaus Mikaelson.

She swallows, is relieved when her voice sounds normal. “You too. I’m excited for today. I love your work.”

He nods, appearing pleased. “It’s been ages since I’ve done this kind of shoot, but you must know how Rebekah can be. Wouldn’t stop haranguing me until I agreed.”

Rebekah glares, piqued, and Caroline presses her lips together to hold in a laugh that threatens, knowing it would not be appreciated. “I can’t blame her for doing what needed to be done to ensure the desired outcome. It’s only good business.”

Rebekah nods firmly, “Exactly. Thank you, Caroline. At least someone here appreciates me.” She picks up the last hanger that had been in Caroline’s section and hands it over. “This one’s first since the set-up is the simplest. Bonnie should arrive while you’re shooting. We’ll do her first look while you go back into beauty, then rotate throughout the day. Put this on. I’ll send hair in first.”

She knocks into Klaus’ shoulder when she leaves, hard enough to have him swaying. “That’s why you’re not allowed in my house!” he calls to her retreating form. “Just had the floor redone,” he tells Caroline. “Can’t have her stomping all over them if she has a tantrum.”

“She’s stressed. You might want to be nicer.” Caroline regrets the words immediately, glances away under the pretense of studying the bikini in her hand. He’s donating his time and apparently his house. Their family squabbles really aren’t her business.

But Klaus isn’t offended, “Perhaps you have a point, though Rebekah’s never more productive than she is when she’s angry. Failure’s not an option when she’s fueled by spite.”

Hmm. Caroline has similar ideals. Maybe that’s why she and Rebekah came to understand each other.

She realizes she’s been twisting the bikini top’s strap, hurriedly straightens it out. “I feel like I should warn you, my modeling experience is limited to pitching in with other student’s shoots at school. So, I’m far from a professional.”

He shrugs. “You have nothing to be worried about.”

That startles a laugh from her. “You only say that because you don’t know me. I am a world-class worrier.”

He takes the suit away from her, setting it aside. His knees bend, until their eyes are level. “Caroline. You’re beautiful. Rebekah’s created lovely things. I’m very good at my job. I have every confidence the final product will be spectacular, and I’ll be able to enjoy reminding Rebekah that she owes me a favor down the line.”

Caroline blinks at him in surprise, some of her nerves having drifted away when faced with his absolute and unwavering confidence. “That’s… actually very reassuring.”

“Was it? I confess that’s not a strength of mine.”

She’s not sure if he’s joking or not, but she picks up her first outfit again. It’s another bikini, a tropical print on a pink background with a halter top and a high waisted bottom. “I should change,” she says. “Something tells me Rebekah won’t appreciate it if we fall behind schedule.”

Klaus nods, rocking back a step. “Of course. I just wanted to introduce myself. Please feel free to let me know if you need or want anything at all.”

She thanks him again, and he lets himself out of the tent. 

Caroline takes one more deep breath and then ducks behind the screen in the corner and strips out of her sundress.

Once she’s dressed in Rebekah’s design, she begins to feel like everything might just go okay. The suit fits like a dream, propping up her breasts and perfectly hugging the curve of her hips. By the time hair and makeup work their magic, leaving her curls full and her lips slicked bubblegum pink, she feels freaking fantastic.

When she steps out onto the set, Klaus’ eyes widen when he spots her, lingering in a way that’s slightly unprofessional but not at all unwelcome.

He walks over, paying not the slightest bit of attention to anyone on the crew, even when an assistant tries to wave him over. Klaus offers his arm to help steady her as she steps into the matching pink pumps, leans in close, and tells her she looks incredible, his lips brushing her ear and sending a pleasant shiver down her spine.

She might be in trouble.

Will Rebekah kill Caroline if she flirts with Klaus? Probably.

Caroline thinks she’s willing to risk it.

[i-watch-too-many-movies]

My Sweetest Friend: Which Version of “Hurt” is Better?

(CW: Suicide mention, self-harm mention, drug mention)

Recently, I had been going through the discography of the legendary industrial rock band Nine Inch Nails. After listening to their second record multiple times, I decided to tackle an age-old question that music critics, fans, scholars, and religious philosophers have been debating for centuries. What is the better version of “Hurt”, Nine Inch Nails’ original song or Johnny Cash’s cover?

Nine Inch Nails’ original appears at the end of their seminal sophomore album The Downward Spiral, a dark, masterful concept album, exploring themes of drug abuse, self-hatred, and bleakness with only a faint glimmer of hope at the end of the tunnel, if there even is one. The song takes place after the penultimate title track, in which the character followed all throughout the album attempts suicide. He survives, and then the song slowly transitions into “Hurt”. The opening lines are iconic, “I hurt myself today / To see if I still feel / I focus on the pain / The only thing that’s real”. To be so broken and empty that all you can do is just feel the poke of the needle or the cut of the razor blade that causes some sort of relief.

The context of Cash’s version is much different. Trent Reznor, the mastermind behind Nine Inch Nails, was a 29-year-old man when “Hurt” was released. Johnny Cash was 69 when his rendition of it appeared on his record American IV: The Man Comes Around, released in his American Recordings series, which show Cash performing mostly covers. Cash was a phenomenal covers artist, and it shows on these records, especially American IV. He does an excellent rendition of The Beatles’ “In My Life”, a lovely duet with Fiona Apple covering Simon & Garfunkel’s “Bridge Over Troubled Water”, and even a country rock rendition of a new wave classic, Depeche Mode’s “Personal Jesus”. But the most notable cover is track 2, that of Nine Inch Nails’ “Hurt”. In the context of the album, it’s still great, but it feels strange to go from a powerful, emotional performance of that song to then have the subsequent song on the record be “Give My Love to Rose”, as you’re continuing to process the power and beauty of such a heavy performance of “Hurt”. 

The best way to listen to Cash’s version of the song is with the music video. Directed by frequent Nine Inch Nails collaborator Mark Romanek, the video attempted to show the contrast between Johnny’s beginnings as a bright, vibrant young man, and Johnny’s present as a withered old man, surrounded by his legacy. To this day, I can’t listen to that lyric “Everyone I know goes away in the end” paired with that immediate cut to a picture of his widow, June Carter, and not just get chills. To see the archival footage of him performing on television, delivering his signature smile, coupled with the empty halls of the House of Cash museum, a frame containing a gold record shattered on the floor is a beautiful, heartbreaking contrast. 

The production of Reznor’s song is distorted and fuzzy, reflecting the ugliness of the record. Some parts feel like you’re listening to the track through a radio, with those crackles on his vocals and the guitars sounding like the audio from said radio is just starting to get out of range, echoing the loss that is in Reznor’s vocals. He sings the verses and the first half of the chorus in a bit of a whisper, as if the shame and regret is too much to bear. The production on Cash’s version is much more spare, just a man and his guitar, alongside some piano during the chorus. Because this cover is stripped of any sort of industrial rock, Cash sings it with much more clarity, like he is in a confession booth, telling all of this to anyone who will listen. 

Certain lyrics in each version stand out much more. One of the best lines is “You are someone else / I am still right here”. In Trent’s version, it makes the most sense, as I imagine him singing this about his old friends, maybe former addicts who have gotten clean and seem to have their lives and their health in order, and he is still in the same place as he was. His delivery on that line is just absolutely perfect.

The one line that sticks with me on Cash’s version is “And you can have it all / My empire of dirt”. In the original, Trent sings it with the intention that his life has completely amounted to nothing, as does Cash. What makes this line so haunting and effective is that Johnny Cash is a country legend. Considered to be one of, if not, the greatest performer in the genre. Millions and millions of records sold, and a blossoming late career that showed that he was still the best in the game. A museum dedicated to his legacy and the impact that he had left, nothing more than dirt on the ground in his eyes. Was all the fame and glory worth it if it didn’t kill the demons you had yet to conquer and if it had left people that he had loved hurt? 

But then there’s the ending line; “If I could start again / A million miles away / I would keep myself / I would find a way”. In the Cash cover, he sings those final lines so clearly, even as the strumming of his guitar and the clinks of the piano only get louder. As dark and as tragic as this cover is, there’s something so beautiful about the way the instrumentation stops and Cash sings “a way”. After a song of self-hatred, anger, pain, and sadness, there’s a calmness, an acceptance, even a hope to his voice at the end of “Hurt”. In Trent’s case, however, it's the opposite. The outro starts off hopeful, with the drums giving a sound of someone finally having that sense of turning their own life around, but once Trent sings “I would find a way”, there’s an ugly, sludgy guitar chord, drowning out his voice, followed by the sound of static, as the album ends. The protagonist cannot escape, they only get sucked into a further darkness. A haunting ending to a haunting album.��

But which version of this classic song is the better one?

The answer is, no version of “Hurt” is best. I know that’s a cop-out answer, but both of these versions showcase two men at different points in their life. Trent Reznor was a drug-addicted twentysomething who needed to perform this song as some sort of catharsis. To attempt to triumph over the demons he was facing. Johnny Cash needed to sing this song as he realized that his own life was about to come to an end. He had also struggled with drug addiction throughout most of his life, and could probably relate to the same things Trent was singing about. Compositionally, each note is perfect, and shows that whether performed on synthesizers or acoustic guitars, Trent Reznor wrote a song that perfectly captures the darkest corners of someone’s mind, at their brink, at their bleakest, one that is the perfect closer to one of the greatest albums ever recorded, and Johnny Cash’s cover transformed the song into one of the most iconic country tracks of the 21st century. One version can be preferred over the other, and it’s the correct answer.

[howaminotinthestrokesyet]

Behind The Album: OK Computer

The third studio album from Radiohead was released in May 1997 by Parlophone Records. This would mark the first album that Nigel Godrich worked on as their producer. The band would self produce the entire album themselves, which they have done on every record since. In 1995, Brian Eno asked the band to contribute a song to a charity compilation for War Child entitled Help. They were scheduled to do the recording in only a day, which led to the track, “Lucky.” Godrich would say of the recording. “Those things are the most inspiring, when you do stuff really fast and there's nothing to lose. We left feeling fairly euphoric. So after establishing a bit of a rapport work-wise, I was sort of hoping I would be involved with the next album." This track would form the foundation of what would become OK Computer. In early 1996, the group took a break from touring because they found it a bit too stressful. Thoughts now turned to a new record with the mindset of distancing themselves from anything similar to The Bends. Drummer Phillip Selway would say, “There was an awful lot of soul-searching [on The Bends]. To do that again on another album would be excruciatingly boring.” The label gave the band a rather good sized budget for recording equipment for the new release. A number of producers were considered for the album, but they kept coming back to Godrich as an advisor on equipment. Eventually, the band hired him as the producer. Ed O’Brien said of the album, “Everyone said, 'You'll sell six or seven million if you bring out The Bends Pt 2,' and we're like, 'We'll kick against that and do the opposite'."

In early 1996, Radiohead began proper recording of the LP at Canned Applause Studios in Oxfordshire, England. Issues immediately came up as the band had difficulty staying focused on one song all the way to completion. Selway would talk about this later, “We're jumping from song to song, and when we started to run out of ideas, we'd move on to a new song ... The stupid thing was that we were nearly finished when we'd move on, because so much work had gone into them." Although the members of the group were considered equals, the voice of Thom Yorke always represented the loudest one in terms of musical direction. Godrich would talk about his role within the group in an interview. They “need to have another person outside their unit, especially when they're all playing together, to say when the take goes well ... I take up slack when people aren't taking responsibility—the term producing a record means taking responsibility for the record ... It's my job to ensure that they get the ideas across." His permanent role on each Radiohead album would lead to the producer being called the sixth member of Radiohead. After only recording four songs, the band left the Canned Applause Studio for a variety of reasons Including the fact that the studio had no bathrooms or dining rooms. They decided to take a break from recording in order to support Alanis Morissette on tour, which gave them a chance to try some of their new tracks live. Around the same time, Director Baz Luhrmann asked the band to contribute a song to his film, Romeo and Juliet. “Exit Music for a Film” would be played as the credits rolled during the movie, but they did not give Luhrmann permission to place the track on the movie soundtrack. Yorke would later observe that this song became very important to the album. It “was the first performance we'd ever recorded where every note of it made my head spin—something I was proud of, something I could turn up really, really loud and not wince at any moment."

In September 1996, the band began recording again at a mansion in Bath, England owned by actress Jane Seymour. Jonny Greenwood would say the environment represented a much more pleasant change for the group. It “was less like a laboratory experiment, which is what being in a studio is usually like, and more about a group of people making their first record together." One quality that the band enjoyed during the sessions came in the fact that they took full advantage of the natural environment of the mansion. “Exit Music for a Film” utilized some natural reverb courtesy of a stone stairwell. They recorded Let Down” in an empty ballroom at 3 o’clock in the morning. The group worked at its own pace as Ed O’Brien observed later. “The biggest pressure was actually completing [the recording]. We weren't given any deadlines and we had complete freedom to do what we wanted. We were delaying it because we were a bit frightened of actually finishing stuff." A majority of the album would be recorded live with no overdubs because Yorke hated them. The band completed the rest of the album at the studio in Saint Catherine’s towards the end of 1996. In January 1997, the strings for the album were recorded, then they spent the next two months mastering and mixing the album. Actually, the mixing of the album only took a couple of days. Nigel Godrich would later comment, “I feel like I get too into it. I start fiddling with things and I fuck it up ... I generally take about half a day to do a mix. If it's any longer than that, you lose it. The hardest thing is trying to stay fresh, to stay objective."

Several artists would influence what would become the finished product of OK Computer. First and foremost came the 1970 album Bitches Brew by jazz great, Miles Davis. Thom Yorke would tell Q what he saw in that recording that made up his vision for this album. “It was building something up and watching it fall apart, that's the beauty of it. It was at the core of what we were trying to do with OK Computer." Other artists that helped to inspire the record included Elvis Costello, REM, PJ Harvey, the Beatles, Can, and composer Ennio Morricone. Jonny Greenwood would describe OK Computer as an attempt to recreate the sound on all these great records, but they missed the mark. The band would expand their instrumentation for this album to include electric piano, Mellotron, cello and other strings, glockenspiel and electronic effects. Spin would say this about the release, “A DIY electronica album made with guitars." The lyrics to the album focused on themes much more conceptual when contrasted with The Bends. Yorke would sing about a wide variety of topics including transportation, technology, insanity, death, globalism, capitalism, and more. The singer would say, “On this album, the outside world became all there was ... I'm just taking Polaroids of things around me moving too fast." He also took inspiration for some of the lyrics from a selection of books including Noam Chomsky, Eric Hobsbawm's The Age of Extremes, Will Hutton's The State We're In, Jonathan Coe's What a Carve Up! and Philip K. Dick's VALIS. Despite the abstract nature of the lyrics on the record, many critics have looked upon OK Computer as a concept album. They argue that there exists a singular theme running throughout the record, but the band has consistently denied any attempt at making such a release. Jonny Greenwood commented, “I think one album title and one computer voice do not make a concept album. That's a bit of a red herring." They did pay particularly close attention to the order of the tracklist taking almost two weeks to complete it.

The album opens with “Airbag,” which highlights the drumming of Phillip Selway. The track had been inspired by the work of DJ Shadow. The band would later admit that they represented novices in this attempt to base a song on DJ Shadow due to their lack of time with programming. Yorke had actually read an article in a magazine entitled “An Airbag Saved My Life.” Another book that helped to create the basis for the song lyrics emerged in the Tibetan Book of the Dead. Yorke had always been obsessed with the idea that any time you get into a car you could possibly die at any second. The second track “Paranoid Android” stands out as one of the longest tracks in the band's entire catalog. Two songs inspired it from classic rock, “Happiness Is a Warm Gun” by the Beatles and “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen. The lyrics are meant to reference the alien from Douglas Adams’s A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Yorke got the idea after watching a woman lose her mind after a drink spilled on her at a bar in Los Angeles. “Subterranean Homesick Alien” referenced “Subterranean Homesick Blues” by Bob Dylan. The lyrics are meant to refer a person who is abducted by aliens, then returns home to realize his life is in no way any different. The beginnings of the theme for this track actually began for the singer in private school when he had an assignment to recreate a British literary movement called Martian poetry. Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare inspired the lyrics to “Exit Music for a Film.” This should come as no surprise as the band had specifically created the song for a remake film. Yorke would use it as a chance to simply recap the entire narrative in the song because Zeffirelli’s version of the film greatly affected him at the age of 13. “I cried my eyes out, because I couldn't understand why, the morning after they shagged, they didn't just run away. It's a song for two people who should run away before all the bad stuff starts.” The singer had tried to replicate Johnny Cash’s Live at Folsom Prison as he sang along to his acoustic guitar. “Let Down” represented an attempt by the band to recreate the sound made famous by Phil Spector and his wall of sound. Yorke would later comment that the lyrics are “about that feeling that you get when you're in transit but you're not in control of it—you just go past thousands of places and thousands of people and you're completely removed from it.” The singer would look upon such lyrics as perfect symbolism for Generation X, which had strongly influenced the direction of it. “Karma Police” contains two major sections that alternate between piano and guitar, which originally came from “Sexy Sadie” by the Beatles. The title of the song was an inside joke between the band during the previous tour. If something bad happened to someone, they would say that the karma police were going to get them. The short Interlude “Fitter, Happier” became something that the Radiohead frontman wrote in 10 minutes while on a break. The voice came from the Macintosh Simpletext software application. He would later describe the words as a “checklist for slogans from the 1990s.”

“Electioneering” turned out to be one of the band’s heaviest rock oriented songs probably ever with lyrics that were inspired by the Poll Tax Riots. Another source of inspiration came in the book Manufacturing Consent by Noah Chomsky. “Climbing Up the Walls” has been described by Melody Maker as “monumental chaos.” The track was arranged by Johnny Greenwood for 16 instruments based on composer Krzysztof Penderecki's “Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima.” No Surprises” would be initially inspired by “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” by the Beach Boys, but they really wanted to replicate the mood of “What a Wonderful World” by Louis Armstrong or the soul music of Marvin Gaye. Yorke would say the song’s narrator is “someone who's trying hard to keep it together but can't.” The track that started it all “Lucky” was actually inspired by the Bosnian War. Yorke wanted to illustrate the actual terror of that conflict on the charity album, Help. Another theme that he drew upon emerged in his own anxiety about transportation. Critics have likened the guitar on the song to 1970’s Pink Floyd. The final track on the album “The Tourist” was specifically arranged by Jonny Greenwood to create a bit of space on the LP. The lyrics originated from Yorke witnessing tourists in France trying to see as many sites as possible. The title of the album came from the 1978 radio series based on The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy when character Zaphod Beeblebrox says, “Okay, computer, I want full manual control now." They had first heard the line while listening to the series on the bus for their tour in 1996. Yorke would say this about the title later. It “refers to embracing the future, it refers to being terrified of the future, of our future, of everyone else's. It's to do with standing in a room where all these appliances are going off and all these machines and computers and so on ... and the sound it makes." The artwork would be created by both Yorke and Stanley Donwood using a computer. The Radiohead singer would observe this about the art, “It's quite sad, and quite funny as well. All the artwork and so on ... It was all the things that I hadn't said in the songs."

Leading up to the release of the album, the band got very little support from Capitol Records because they did not have too much faith in the commercial potential of it. Much of the pessimism came in the fact that the record did not have any singles to put on the radio. Ed O’Brien would call it the “lack of a Van Halen factor.” The singles that were released from OK Computer included “Paranoid Android,” “Karma Police,” and “Lucky.” All of the singles charted in the top 10 in the UK, while they also did very well making the top 20 on the US charts. Their official website was created in order to promote the record, as well as some non-traditional promotional techniques by the record label. One such idea came in their decision to take out full-page ads in popular British newspapers and magazines with only the lyrics to “Fitter, Happier.” Another promotion sent out floppy disks to people in the press, which included many Radiohead screensavers. Upon its official release, OK Computer would debut at number one on the UK charts, while in the US the record made it to number 21. Please note that this was the highest American debut for the band. By September 2000, the release had sold 4.5 million copies worldwide.

Critics loved the album across the board. Writer Tim Footman would comment, “Not since 1967, with the release of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, had so many major critics agreed immediately, not only on an album's merits, but on its long-term significance, and its ability to encapsulate a particular point in history." Many critics saw it as a very important album. Mojo wrote in their review, “Others may end up selling more, but in 20 years' time I'm betting OK Computer will be seen as the key record of 1997, the one to take rock forward instead of artfully revamping images and song-structures from an earlier era.” The New Yorker would congratulate the band on taking many more risks artistically then their contemporaries like Oasis. “Throughout the album, contrasts of mood and style are extreme ... This band has pulled off one of the great art-pop balancing acts in the history of rock." Most of the reviews that were slightly mixed seemed to focus on the fact that when compared with The Bends, this record did not contain as many catchy songs. The release would go on to win the Grammy for Best Alternative Album, but did not win Album of the Year. The praise for the album seemed to inundate the band a little too much. Also, Radiohead did not agree with the universal assessment that they had made the greatest progressive or art rock record since Dark Side of the Moon. Thom Yorke would say, “We write pop songs ... there was no intention of it being 'art'. It's a reflection of all the disparate things we were listening to when we recorded it."

The legacy of the album came to be represented in a variety of ways. First, the release of OK Computer coincided with the election of Tony Blair. Some writers have pointed to the pessimism on the record as a sign of things to come. Stephen Hayden would write, “Radiohead appeared to be ahead of the curve, forecasting the paranoia, media-driven insanity, and omnipresent sense of impending doom that's subsequently come to characterise everyday life in the 21st century." Second, the arrival of this album directly coincided with the decline of Britpop. The Oasis album Be Here Now did not attain the commercial or critical success that What’s the Story Morning Glory had received in 1995. Third, OK Computer directly influenced a new generation of artists including bands like Bloc Party and TV on the Radio. The album has landed on many lists over the subsequent years as one of the best releases of the decade and all time. Yet, not all retrospective reviews have been kind to OK Computer as it has also landed on some lists as one of the most overrated records of all time. A New Musical Express column criticized the release as the exact point when Radiohead stopped being good, but instead started to become important.

[abundanceofsoph]

SkyFire 2: Chapter 11

The Mural & The Anniversary: September 201

Word count: 2.1k

Aurora's memorial song is Andie Case's See You Again/The Scientist/Stay With Me

SkyFire 2 MASTERLIST

>Instagram posts

Aurora and Steve were working in their shared art studio a few days later. Aurora was wearing her prosthetic hand as she painted at her easel, thankful to finally be able to hold her palette again instead of piling paint pots on a side table. Ben had instructed her to only wear it for an hour or two each day to avoid injuring herself or creating pressure sores on her stump. She’d spent her hour the previous day at the piano, slowly retraining herself to play again and today she had allotted the time to painting. Both she and Steve had missed the hours they would spend together in the studio, soft music filling the comfortable silence between the two of them. Aurora was chewing at the inside of her cheek, her mind a million miles away as she focused in on the finer details of her mural concept.

“Hey pops?” she finally asked, drawing Steve’s attention away from his own canvas. “Do you have any plans this week?”

“No, why bug?”

“I’m going to be painting that mural at Columbia,” she explained, “and I was… I was wondering if you could come with me. But if your busy, it’s fine.”

Steve picked up on her anxiety almost immediately. There was a fine tremor in her right hand, her paint brush wavering in the air, and her eyes couldn’t seem to land on anything for longer than a split second. He knew if he placed a hand on her chest right now, her heart would be racing.

“I’d love too,” he smiled softly. “Always love watching you work.”

She returned his smile, the anxiety washing out of her in a wave, reassured that she wouldn’t be alone when she returned to the campus for the first time in almost a year.

xXx

As she walked onto campus Aurora was glad that she’d swallowed her pride and asked Steve to come with her. The terror she felt being back there was palpable and she felt herself shaking as she looked at the sprawling buildings in front of her. Happy had dropped them at the closest entrance to the quad, helping Steve pull her equipment from the trunk of the car. She had her backpack slung over her shoulders, full of brushes, paint tins and drop cloths, her prosthetic was mostly hidden under the sleeve of her oversized sweatshirt, red letters spelling out Columbia across her chest. Steve walked over to her side, dropping the ladder and bag of equipment beside her as Happy climbed back into the car and drove away.

“You ready to do this?” he asked, reaching out to squeeze her hand. She let out a shaking breath, continuing to stare out across the perfectly tailored lawn and she knew that without his hand in hers she wouldn’t have had the strength to put one foot in front of the other. She squeezed his hand in reply and it was only when she tore her gaze away from the campus to look at him that she saw her own nervousness echoed in his blue eyes, so like hers. In that moment she knew that he was reliving that day right along with her.

“I’m ready,” she replied. “You?”

“Let’s do this,” he said, smiling softly as he dropped her hand to pick up her supplies again.

Without another word they both strode off up the path in front of them. They quad was empty when they arrived and started setting up. After spreading out the drop sheet they quickly got to work prepping the wall and laying down a base coat of sunshine yellow. The happy colour helped pull them both out of their memories and Aurora set up a little speaker to play some of their favourite tunes. By the end of the afternoon they had finished the base yellow and Aurora had started to rough in the outlines of the figures in the foreground. Once the sun started to set, they cleaned off their brushes and rollers, leaving all the equipment in a storage room in a nearby building that had been cleaned out for her by the Student Union.

Steve wrapped his arm around her shoulder as they walked back through the campus towards where Happy was waiting to pick them up. “Thank you for coming with me Pops,” she said.

“Glad to be here,” he replied. “Feels good to be making better memories of this place.”

“Yeah it does,” she agreed. “I think that’s why I wanted to be the one to paint the mural when it was announced. I used to feel like I belonged here, and I want to take that back.”

“You will.”

xXx

She spent the next two weeks working on the painting, starting with the school mascot kneeling in the centre of the scene. On either side of the anthropomorphic lion, with a hand on each shoulder, were Iron Man and Captain America and behind them were the other first responders; police, paramedics, doctors and nurses, all standing shoulder to shoulder in solidarity, their heads dropped in mourning. The crowd behind the lion steadily lost colour as they moved towards the back of the scene until the furthest figures were only black silhouettes, a faceless mass of support. Across the bottom of the painting, at their feet, was the wreath of roses being placed down by the lion and then, lining the ground in front of them were 43 white pillar candles, one for each victim, their names painted in gold and flames glowing softly. She finished the piece with a frame bordering the image in soft metallic gold paint, the same paint she used for the lettering. When everything was done, she packed all her equipment off to the side and stepped back to take in the finished work. She felt a few tears slide down her cheeks as she read each name on the candles once again, every name burned into her brain, unable to be forgotten even if she wanted to.

She sent a quick email to the Student Union to let them know she was finished and then called Happy to come pick her up from the usual spot. She left all of her equipment in the storage room again, deciding that she was too tired to deal with taking it all home today. Maybe Pops would be free tomorrow to help her ferry it back. She shouldn’t have been surprised when Harry was the one waiting for her on the curb, but she was. A grin lit up both of their faces and he kissed her softly once she reached them.

“Do I not get to see the masterpiece?” he asked as she went to climb into the car.

“I’ll show you tomorrow when I come back with my camera and lights,” she replied. “I just wanna go home now.”

Harry silently agreed, holding open her door for her and then jogging around to climb into the driver’s seat. Aurora had been planning for what she wanted to do when she finished the mural for weeks and was excited to finally be able to enact her plan.

She’d been working on a video idea, and having gotten permission from the Student Union, she and Harry return to the quad the following evening, late enough that the sun has set, and the campus was nearly deserted. Harry helped her set up her lighting rigs, ensuring that the mural was softly lit under a warm glow. While Aurora turned her attention to setting up her video camera on a tripod, lining up the shot perfectly, Harry set up the dozens of battery powered candles they’d brought with them. Finally, everything was ready, and Harry moves behind the camera, hitting record when Aurora nodded from where she’d taken a seat in front of the painting, surrounded by the flickering glow of the candles. The scene was beautiful with the candles providing enough light to illuminate Aurora’s face while the mural was backlit, a faint breeze blowing through the quad to lightly lift Aurora’s long, dark curls. She’d taken her prosthetic off, the stump of her left hand visible below the hem of her black shirt.

Harry pressed play on his phone, music filling the night air as the video camera recorded the scene in front of him. For the past week, Aurora had spent her days on campus painting, and then once the sun set and she returned home, she had spent the evenings in the studio, recording the song now playing from Harry’s phone. It was a medley that Aurora composed of The Scientist, See You Again and Stay With Me, a soft piano track backing her vocals. After an hour, and multiple takes, Aurora was happy with what they had and ready to head home to start editing it all together in time for the anniversary at the end of the week. They quickly packed up the camera, lights and candles before leaving.

“I’m really proud of you,” Harry told her as they headed for the car. “It’s going to be a beautiful tribute.”

“Thanks,” she replied, holding out her hand for his and lacing their fingers together, his thumb brushing softly across the back of her hand.

xXx

◊Mark: The news is reporting on you painting the mural at Columbia. I’m getting bombarded with interview requests.

◊Aurora: and you think I should do one.

◊Mark: With the CMAs around the corner I think this would be a good way to relaunch your brand.

◊Aurora: Relaunch my brand? I’m rolling my eyes so hard at you right now.

◊Mark: Yeah, yeah, I know you hate all of this. Doesn’t make it any less true. Everyone has been itching to hear your side of things for the last year.

◊Aurora: Ok. I don’t like it, but I trust you. Who’s the best option?

◊Mark: How do you feel about Stephen Colbert? We were in talks to get you on there last year before everything happened and they’re planning a memorial episode with some of the other survivors.

◊Aurora: He’s been great to Dad and Pops. Can you make it happen?

◊Mark: Leave it with me and I’ll set it all up.

◊Aurora: I’ve been tossing up the idea of releasing a song and having all the profits go to the ColumbiaStrong fund.

◊Mark: They have musical acts on the Late Show, you feel up to combing the two?

◊Aurora: Perfect.

xXx

Harry and Aurora were curled up on the sofa the afternoon before her appearance on the Late Show, her head rested on his shoulder and his fingers brushed through her hair.

“Hey babe?” Harry asked. Aurora hummed in response, prompting him to continue. “I know we’ve got a lot on our plate over the next few months with the CMAs and then the wedding and the album in the new year, but there’s something I’ve been thinking about… I think I want to sell Erskine after the wedding.”

“What?” Aurora gasped, sitting up suddenly to look at him. “You love that house and you’ve put so much work into it.”

“I know,” Harry agreed, “and I do, but it’s my house and I want to buy somewhere with you. I want to have our house. I know that when we’re here in the states you want to stay in the tower so I thought we should buy a place in London together. Wherever you want. Maybe we could buy something in Wimbledon.”

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed, her voice laced with all the affection she had for the man sitting in front of her. “You’re such a romantic. I would love to buy a place with you. I think we should keep Erskine though. We both have a lot of good memories there. Maybe we could rent it out.”

“We could do that,” Harry grinned. “If we find something new before the wedding it would be handy to let all the family stay at the house after the reception since they’re already there, then we can just sneak out and won’t have to wait until everyone leaves.”

“I like the way you think Styles.”

xXx

The next day Aurora found herself in a green room at the Ed Sullivan theatre with her manager, Mark. “You ready?” he asked her.

“I hope so, because it’s a bit late now to change my mind.”

“You’ll be great,” Mark promised. “He’ll do the monologue and then introduce you. You’ll talk about your recovery and the charity work you’ve been doing with Steve and Tony, then you’ll come back out here for a breather while he talks to the other survivors. You sing Reaper and then join them all back on the couch for the second half of the interview with all of you.”

“Yeah, I know. I can do this,” she muttered.

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

[anotherkpopvictim]

When Insecurities Get the Best of You (We’ll Be There) - Namjoon X BTS Littlespace Drabble

(Gif Source: jinseas)

“anonymous asked: Hiii my favorite trope is joonie being insecure but ot6 comforting him and loving him hbnskskh i feel like i haven't read one of these in a while it'd be great if u wrote smth like that 👉🏼👈🏼”

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting this! I really liked the idea, and my last little!joon X caregiver!bts fic I wrote for Namjoon’s birthday was really well-liked so obviously others want to see this relationship again :)

So here it is! Enjoy!

Relationship: Little!Namjoon X Caregiver!BTS

Rating: G

Words: 4146

Hurt/comfort, fluff

PLEASE NOTE:  This fic is a collection of short moments over the years when Namjoon felt insecure about himself and the others were there for him. Some moments were based on actual events that happened in real life, while others were completely made up. If it really happened, I will link the moment I based it on.

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As the leader of Bangtan, Namjoon was no stranger to being the unfortunate target of the brunt of embarrassment. He had taken a “class” of sorts back in the day, where he was taught exactly what it meant to be a leader. One of the main points that Namjoon spent a lot of time working on, was that a leader needed to be able to take charge when any public conflicts or awkwardness overwhelms the atmosphere of any concert, interview, or award speech. BTS had gone through their fair share of public humiliation, and it was Namjoon’s job to keep things stable and calm during those times.

Fortunately, Namjoon was really, really good at this. He’d been the one to keep Yoongi from punching that asshole B-Free in the face during that one interview near the beginning of their career that none of them would ever forget. He was the one that could seamlessly take over when any of the members got choked up at a particularly invasive question.

Namjoon was also extremely good at hiding the complicated slow burn that was the members’ romantic relationship.

It started out way back in the day with himself and Yoongi, who were both wound up from the frustrations of trainee life and frankly just horny teenagers. What began as helping each other get off every now and then developed into something more romantic as Hoseok, Jungkook and Seokjin were added to the group line up.

Then Namjoon and Yoongi became Namjoon and Yoongi and Seokjin and then as debut finally rolled around, Hoseok joined in as well. Hyung line’s relationship was confusing for a few years as they figured out the dynamics within it.

BTS’ debut also brought about the start of maknae line’s romantic relationship. The three youngest had been close since the day they’d met, but it remained platonic until the night of their debut stage, where the high of emotions made them braver and they shared tender kisses and cuddles between themselves.

Then the two separate relationships (hyung line and maknae line) began to blend together until it was one unit.

Throughout all of the developments of their relationship and even after, Namjoon constantly had to keep an eye on everyone when cameras were rolling. It was Taehyung and Jungkook that had the most difficult time holding back the lingering touches and stares and it hurt the leader that he needed to separate them so much, but it was necessary.

So, yes, Namjoon was an amazing leader, and though it wasn’t easy, he was able to put his own emotions on the back burner for his group - at least, most of the time.

Because he was human and he was far from perfect, he too had those moments where things were too overwhelming for him as well. The company could forget that sometimes, but never his members. His members were always there for him.

-------------------------------------

2013 (based on this moment at 1:05)

The first time Namjoon really felt incapable of handling a situation was shortly after their debut. Coincidentally, this was also the first time Namjoon ever fell into littlespace.

BTS was lucky enough to be able to perform not only the title track of their second album but also the special concept trailer performance that fans loved so much.

It started out great, the hype of the screaming crowd giving them all the confidence in their performing. It got to the point in the choreography where the back-up dancers helped pull off their outer shirts, leaving them all in white sleeveless shirts. They’d all rehearsed it a million times, but that, unfortunately, didn’t mean that it was seamless every time.

It took a moment for Namjoon to realize that both of his shirts had accidentally been ripped completely from his body, leaving his torso on display for all the people in the audience and millions through the television to see.

A numbing panic like no other went over Namjoon like a wave, his face draining of all blood beneath the bit of BB cream he had on. Then, like flicking a switch, his professional side that had been ingrained into his brain took over.

He finished off the performance while holding his shirt feebly against his exposed chest. Namjoon didn’t dare to look into the audiences’ eyes as he bowed and hurried from the stage.

The next few moments were a blur, but suddenly Namjoon found himself in their dressing room bathroom, leaning back against the closed and locked door. His breathing was coming harshly and his heartbeat was pounding in his ears so much that he could barely hear the knocking on the door behind him.

“Joonie,” came Seokjin’s comforting voice from the other side, soft and soothing. “Joonie, open the door for me, love.”

But Namjoon couldn’t. How could he open the door and reveal his weak state to the rest of his band members when he was supposed to be their fearless leader?

“Yoongi’s taken the maknaes and left for home early, so it’s just us now,” Hoseok said, making the leader aware of his presence outside the door as well. “Please, Namjoon-ah, let us in.”

With sudden desperation for comfort that he couldn’t explain, Namjoon got up and unlocked the door shakily. Jin and Hoseok came in and immediately pulled him into a tight embrace.

Namjoon felt overwhelmed with emotions - embarrassment and panic and shame being the most prominent. “H-Hyungs-” he choked out.

“Let it go, baby,” Jin encouraged, kissing the side of his head, “I know you want to cry and it’s not good to keep that all bottled up inside.”

“We’re right here, okay?” Hoseok added.

The confirmation of their support was enough for Namjoon to listen. He let the tears that he had been keeping at bay slip from his eyes and make trails down his cheeks. He heaved out a sob that was followed by another and another.

His two hyungs were there for him through his whole breakdown, holding him in their arms and whispering words of comfort into his ears.

“T-They all saw me,” Namjoon choked out, “They all saw my body. I didn’t want anyone to see me like that.”

“We know, love,” Hoseok replied, rubbing his hand soothingly up and down the leader’s arm. “It was an accident and we know it hurt you, baby.”

“J-Joonie embarrassed! Joonie don’t want fans to see his ugly tummy.”

The sudden change in the leader’s tone and his switch to speaking in third person gave his two hyungs pause for a moment and they shared a look of confusion between the two of them. Namjoon had never acted so...childish before.

Both of their minds were running a mile a minute, trying to register and adapt to this new situation.

“Namjoon-ah,” the eldest began slowly, pulling away from the other enough that he could look him in the eye, “You don’t have an ugly tummy, love. Your tummy is super cute.”

The younger glanced up timidly and looked at them with glossy eyes. “R-Really?”

Jin and Hoseok shared another look before the older returned his attention to Namjoon. Seokjin smiled gently, “Of course, Joon-ah.”

The leader slowly sat up a bit, “E-Even if Joonie doesn’t have abs?”

“Even if you don’t have abs,” Hoseok confirmed, his expression soft and fond. “Even if your skin was purple, even if you had an extra nose.”

That elicited a soft giggle out of the leader, quiet but there.

Hoseok and Seokjin felt unimaginable relief. It was hard to see their leader, their friend, their boyfriend, hurting so much.

Namjoon tossed his arms around both of their shoulders, “T-Thank you, hyungies.”

“Of course, baby.” Jin and Hoseok replied simultaneously before smiling at each other.

“Jinnie-hyungie?” Namjoon began rubbing at his drooping eyes with a fist, his lower lip pouting out cutely. “Tired.”

“Go ahead and sleep, love,” Seokjin said, adjusting Namjoon so the younger could rest his head on his shoulder. “We’ll carry you home, okay?”

“M’kay.”

Just as Hoseok finished closing all of their bags and slinging them over his shoulder, Jin appeared back in the dressing room from the bathroom with Namjoon curled around him like a koala. He looked much better than an hour ago as the oldest had gently cleaned the tears from his cheeks.

The two shared another smile and began making their way to the car waiting for them outside.

The car ride itself was uneventful other than the fond glances their manager gave them in the rearview mirror. Namjoon had shifted into Hoseok’s lap in the backseat and was attempting to curl up in a ball.

Once they’d returned to the dorm and Namjoon was tucked comfortably under the covers of his bunk bed, Hoseok and Jin snuck out from their shared bedroom and sat down together in the living room.

“So...” Hoseok began quietly, “Namjoon’s a little.”

“Namjoon’s a little,” Jin confirmed, “Can’t say I saw that one coming.”

Hoseok hummed in agreement, “This must have been the first time it happened because we both know Namjoon wouldn’t be able to keep something like this from us.”

I think so too,” Jin said, biting his lip in thought. “Should we tell the others?”

“We need to talk to Namjoon once he’s out of his headspace, I think it should be his choice.”

“Alright, but Hoseok?” the lead dancer locked eyes with his hyung’s fierce ones, “No matter what happens, we need to show Namjoon how much we love him, whether he’s in littlespace or not.”

Hoseok nodded firmly, “Always.”

----------------------------

2015

The leader of Bangtan had broken countless things over the years, whether it be objects or bones, having inherited his clumsiness from his mother. Meaningless things somehow breaking into pieces once his hands touched it, they were easier to get over, but sometimes Namjoon would cause damage to something important and he would have the overwhelming feeling of embarrassment take over him.

One such time was when Namjoon was with Yoongi in his studio, working hard on some songs that they hoped would be approved by their boss for the next album. Yoongi excused himself to go to the bathroom after having been staring at the computer screen for a good five hours.

Namjoon himself was fighting sleep, his eyes closing of their own accord and his head falling forward. He had a cup of hot coffee clutched in his hands (his fourth or fifth that night) that wasn’t really doing all that much to keep him awake anymore.

As he nodded off once more, his grip on the coffee unintentionally loosened. He felt the paper cup slip from his hands and his eyes shot open just in time to see it hit the top of the desk. The lid popped off and steaming coffee went flying everywhere, most notably all over a bunch of cords just to the side of Yoongi’s computer.

He heard a couple sizzling and popping sounds and then Namjoon watched in horror as Yoongi’s computer screen went black.

“No,” he whispered, suddenly much more awake than he was just a minute before. “No, no, no!” his voice got louder as his panic grew.

“Joon-ah?”

Namjoon’s head snapped towards the studio door, where Yoongi was standing, looking on with shock at the scene before him.

“I-I...I didn’t mean...”

Yoongi saw his friend’s slip into littlespace moments before it happened. He was at Namjoon’s side and pulling him into a comforting hug in a flash.

“It’s okay, Joonie,” he insisted, his voice soft. “It was an accident, baby. It’s okay.”

“B-But it’s gone! All hyungie’s hard work. Joonie so sorry.”

“I know you are, sweetheart,” Yoongi pulled back so he could look the younger in the eyes. “Accidents happen sometimes. Luckily, I backed up all my work last night, so I probably only lost what we worked on today.”

That didn’t really make Namjoon feel any better. In fact, it only made the guilt in his heart even heavier. The little’s eyes widened, “B-But hyungie has been working for long time! L-Like eight hours! Joonie made hyungie lose so much!” Namjoon’s shoulders sagged and he pouted down at the ground. “Joonie stupid. Joonie clumsy.”

“Hey now,” Yoongi tapped under Namjoon’s chin to get him to look at him again, “Don’t be calling yourself mean things. You’re not stupid, baby. A little clumsy maybe, but your clumsiness is cute.”

The younger perked up a bit, “Joonie cute?”

The cold-faced rapper let out a fond laugh, his eyes squinting shut for a moment as a gummy smile appeared on his face. “Yes, baby,” he replied through chuckles, “You’re the absolute cutest little one I’ve ever seen, yeah?” he leaned in a bit, “But don’t tell Jiminie that, okay? He’ll get jealous.”

The little still had tears in his eyes, but they had stopped falling. Namjoon let out a giggle, his adorable dimples that Yoongi loved so much showing themselves.

So, of course, no one could blame Yoongi when he poked at one of those dimples, which somehow led to a tickle fight on the couch, followed by a much-needed nap.

----------------------------------

2016

Namjoon was overall pretty confident in himself - not in a cocky way, but a self-assured way. He knew he had a true talent for rapping and producing, not to mention his natural capability to mediate any bad situation. Even his dancing, though nowhere near Hoseok, Jimin or Jungkook’s ability, never seemed too bad.

The one thing about being an idol that really made Namjoon insecure was his singing voice. Hoseok and Yoongi also didn’t have the greatest singing voices in the group, but they had accepted that fact long ago, while Namjoon just couldn’t seem to bring himself to.

So to say that he was anxious about singing a verse on an actual album song would be an understatement. Bang PD had asked him to, and perhaps it should have been assuring for Namjoon to know that the big boss felt he was good enough to sing, he couldn’t get past his apprehensiveness.

Jimin and Taehyung accompanied him to the recording studio to meet their boss and a few other producers to begin recording. Both of them could easily tell that their hyung was nervous, though he tried his best to hide it from them.

Bang PD greeted the three of them brightly when they knocked on the recording studio’s door. “Right on time, boys. That’s what I like to see.”

“Of course, hyung-nim,” Namjoon replied, hoping that the smile on his face made up for the slight shakiness of his voice. “We’ll always do our best to be on time.”

The boss gave him a pat on the shoulder and then got right to business.

Taehyung and Jimin went in to record first, each able get their parts right without too much trouble. Namjoon tried not to be envious of the ease with which they sang, tried not to let the harsh insecurities swirling around in his head drown him.

“Namjoon-ah,” Bang PD said, gaining the leader’s attention immediately. “It’s your turn. You only have half a verse so it shouldn’t take too long. I know you’ll do well.”

The leader had to gulp against the lump growing in his throat. “Yes, sir.”

Namjoon entered the recording room and moved to stand in front of the microphone. It was funny, he had stood before this microphone countless times in the past, and yet, Namjoon had never been so terrified to approach it.

“Alright,” Bang PD’s voice came through the speaker, “Let’s start with just the first line.”

Namjoon nodded, feeling the familiar dampness of sweat beginning to form on his trembling hands. When the music started in his ears, he leaned forward and sang into the microphone.

He sounded terrible.

Even to his own ears, he was flat and sounded like an amateur.

He winced and bit his lip, eyes shutting in shame. “Sorry,” he blurted out before one of the producers could say anything. “Let me try that again.”

The second time was better, but not by much.

The producers were endlessly patient with him as they gave him direction and tips in an attempt to get the right sound out of him. It wasn’t working, that much was obviously clear after an hour with little progress.

Namjoon was fighting the panic rising up within him, his damp hands now clenched tightly into fists. He knew that it was his nerves getting to him, that he could sing the line just fine. He’d practiced enough to be sure of that, but of course, the one time it really mattered, he just couldn’t get it done.

“Are you okay, Namjoon?” Bang PD asked, genuine concern coloring his tone.

Namjoon found himself unable to answer, his tongue feeling like lead in his mouth.

He heard the door to the room opening and footsteps heading towards him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up.

First, he felt the touch of a hand on his arm and moved his gaze down to see Jimin’s small hand holding onto him. Then he looked up to meet Jimin’s gentle eyes and felt like he could get lost in them.

“Bang PD-nim said to take a fifteen-minute break,” Taehyung’s voice came from Namjoon’s other side, “They left to go get some lunch.”

The leader, even through his panicked haze, could understand the underlying meaning in the second youngest’s words. They were alone. Namjoon could break down if he wanted to.

“W-Why can’t I do it?!” he began, the words starting to pour out of him before he could stop them. “I was okay during practice. Why can’t I do it now?!”

“Hyung,” Jimin replied softly, “I think you’re just too nervous. It’s making your throat too tight and affecting your vocal cords.”

“I know,” Namjoon moaned, “I can’t help it.”

“Why are you so anxious, hyung?” Taehyung asked.

“Joonie isn’t a good singer! Joonie sounds bad!” Namjoon exclaimed, his tone getting higher in pitch as he fell into his headspace. The other two couldn’t say they hadn’t expected it. “ARMY will hate Joonie!”

“Agioo, that’s not true,” Jimin furrowed his eyebrows as his arms naturally wrapped themselves around his hyung’s shoulders. “I think your voice is very nice, love.”

“Me too,” Taehyung added, bopping the little’s nose, “Just because you might not be able to hit high notes or do a bunch of runs doesn’t mean that you’re a bad singer. And you’re really good at being on key, unlike some of the people that like to go to karaoke.”

Both Jimin and Namjoon huffed out a little laugh at that. It had become clear to everyone in the group that the easiest way to calm Namjoon down from his panic attacks was to tell the truth and add a bit of humor to keep the atmosphere light. They also made sure to never just sugar-coat their words.

Taehyung didn’t tell him that he was the best singer ever because that wasn’t the truth, but Namjoon certainly wasn’t a bad singer by any means either.

“You have to remember, Joonie,” Jimin said, “Bang PD-nim and the other producers think that you’re good enough to sing on an album song. Trust them on that, okay?”

Namjoon could feel himself calming down slowly but surely. He was still pretty far in littlespace, but his head felt clearer now. “Okay,” he nodded, taking their words to heart. “Joonie’s sorry he got scared.”

Taehyung waved it off, “Eh, we all get scared every now and then.”

Jimin and Taehyung spent the next ten minutes bringing Namjoon out of his headspace so he could record his lines when the producers returned. This meant they had to fight the urge to cuddle their hyung, which was difficult considering they were probably the two most cuddly members of their group.

When Namjoon went to try his lines once more, he kept his eyes on his two dongsaengs through the little window and sang to them. He was encouraged by the proud smiles on their faces and it helped him to relax enough to sing.

Bang PD was happy with the results and praised Namjoon once they finished an hour later, leaving the two ninety-five liner’s to finally take their hyung back to the dorm to cuddle.

--------------------------------

2018 (based on this moment at 2:19)

When it happened, Namjoon couldn’t help but be brought back to that moment just after debut where something so similar had happened to him.

It was during a live performance of Fake Love that Namjoon’s innate knack for breaking everything he touches showed itself once more.

Yoongi started his verse and the six behind him began their chain dance. When Namjoon reached over to Jungkook and put his hand on his chest as the choreography went, he gripped the material too hard and was unable to release his hold before he jerked away in the next dance move.

Just like it had when it happened to Namjoon five years earlier, the leader watched in almost slow motion as the top three buttons of Jungkook’s shirt ripped off completely. The maknae’s chest was left exposed.

Namjoon saw Jungkook’s eyes widen in panic momentarily as he registered what had happened before the maknae regained his professional composure.

The rest of the performance was a blur to the leader, who couldn’t stop the insistent replaying of the panic he’d seen in Jungkook’s eyes. It had been the exact look that he’d had in his own eyes all those years ago.

Before he knew it, they were back at their dorm and someone was calling out his name.

Namjoon blinked and forced himself back into reality. He was in his bedroom now, sitting on the edge of his bed. Jungkook was sat beside him, eyeing him with a worried furrow in his brow.

“Hyung, are you okay?” he asked.

Namjoon took in a deep breath, trying (and failing) to will his anxiety away. “I’m so sorry, Jungkook.” he blurted before he could stop himself. “I’m so sorry about ripping your shirt earlier, it was an accident.”

“Oh, that’s alright, hyung,” Jungkook replied, his eyes softening. “I know you didn’t mean to do that.”

“B-But...” Namjoon stuttered, his voice quivering along with his lower lip. “But...”

Jungkook saw his leader’s slip into littlespace before it happened, so he pulled the older into his lap and wrapped his arms around him comfortingly. “I won’t lie, it made me nervous for a moment -” Namjoon whined and hugged Jungkook close to him, burying his face in the maknae’s neck, “- but it’s okay. Accidents happen, yeah love? Don’t worry about it anymore, I’m okay.”

“P-Promise?”

Jungkook guided the little’s head away from his neck and then held up his hand, his pinkie finger pointed out. “Pinkie promise.”

Namjoon linked their pinkies together and felt a wave of relief go over him. “Sorry Joonie so clumsy.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jungkook shook his head, “We all love clumsy Joonie, okay?And we’ll tell you that as many times as it takes for you to believe it.”

“Okay.”

“Now,” the maknae said, “How about the two of us go gather everyone up and we can have a sleepover tonight?”

Namjoon’s eyes lit up in excitement and he hurried to scramble off Jungkook’s lap, nearly falling into the corner of the bedside table in his haste.

The maknae caught him before it could happen, thankfully, and shook his head fondly. “Careful, love.”

Namjoon probably didn’t hear it, however, as he was already halfway out the door and screaming to the rest of the house their new plans for the night.

...

“Why do we always do this? It’s such a bad idea.”

“Stop being a party pooper, Yoongi-hyung. You know you love the cuddle pile.”

“But we don’t even all fit properly on here.”

“Shh!”

The bickering between Yoongi and Hoseok was brought to an abrupt halt when four of the other members squished together in bed with them quieted them harshly.

“Enough you two,” Jin said, his voice low, “Namjoonie’s sleeping and we don’t want to wake him up.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to take pictures,” Jimin added, body positioned awkwardly so he could get his phone to properly face the little curled up in the middle of them.

Namjoon was dressed in his blue dinosaur onesie and had a rainbow tie-dye pacifier between his lips. He looked so content pressed between his members, the hand not under his head clutching at Jungkook’s t-shirt as he mumbled a little in his sleep.

“Send those to me,” Taehyung croaked, half-asleep on the other side of Jungkook as he glanced over at Jimin snapping a few too many pictures.

“Me too!”

“Me three!”

“Me four!”

“...”

Jimin rolled his eyes and turned to the one member who hadn’t said anything yet. “Yoongi-hyung, you don’t want the pictures?”

The eldest rapper grumbled under his breath.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said they’d better be of the highest quality!”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

A/N: So this one was focused more on when littlespace comes into play for Namjoon when he’s insecure, of course, so there weren’t many littlespace activities like I usually have. I hope that this was okay still, let me know!

[fmdjaewonarchive]

► reply.

date(s): 6 september - 23 september 2020 mentions of: charm (very brief but i thought it was fun to mention), @fmdsamsoo​ word count: +/- 1850 (minus lyrics) warnings: jaewon being gay tw details: fmdos2, the creative process behind reply, basically jaewon is really fucking gay, that’s the solo. i could’ve split this up into two solo’s probably but i like to have the whole creative process in one place plus i need to write about his performance still anyway. 

a part of jaewon still had a hard time puzzling together that somehow, someway he had actually managed to secure the first place last round. it was nice of course, alarm was an incredibly personal song to him and he didn’t know how his already brittle self-esteem would’ve taken the blow had he ended up in the bottom ranks but as nice as it was, it was still unexpected.

there was, however, no time to perfectly puzzle out how exactly he felt about the result, the bliss short-lived as he found himself back in the studio’s of dimensions entertainment mere days after, ready to do the whole circus all over again only this time with a much, much harder mission. colors were a vague concept to write a song around after all and a part of jaewon felt back in high school all over again, the familiar anxiety of receiving a very unspecific task that somehow had to fulfill the criteria set that were completely unknown to him. he didn’t like that gnawing in the back of his mind, having to second guess if maybe, he was interpreting this in a way that wasn’t expected of him.

if anything, jaewon felt lucky that he didn’t have to tackle the task alone (even if it still felt a bit like cheating) finding himself back in the studio with the same producer from before. jaewon kind of felt for the man, seemingly assigned to deal with him for however long his run on the show was gonna be.

“look who we have there, if it isn’t our big winner.” the producer greeted him enthusiastically and jaewon received the compliment with a hint of a blush and a quick bow of his head. “ah, thank you, but please the credit is just as much yours as it’s mine hyung, i couldn’t have pulled it off without your help.”

the man just shook his head. “always with the humility, enjoy a nice thing for once buddy, you’ve earned it.” he turned to the computer in front of him. “unfortunately, i don’t think we have much more time for pleasantries and celebrations, we’re short on time as always so what are you looking for?”

and that was the million dollar question wasn’t it. what was jaewon looking for? the color white, apparently. and someone in direct contrast with his last song. those two together meant something far out of his comfort zone. but truly, that wasn’t as telling as one would assume it was. truth be told, jaewon’s comfort zone was very small (both in terms of music and well… in general). most things were outside of his comfort zone.

“okay… so… remember what we did last time?” jaewon asked, more rethorical than anything yet still waiting for the producer to confirm with a nod. “forget all of that, we’re completely abandoning that. i need a complete 180.”

the look the producer shot him was one of mild despair and mentally, jaewon noted that after all of this was over, he owed the man much, much more than just a meal to thank him for all his efforts.

“i need something that doesn’t sound like anything i’ve ever done before. not by myself, not with my collaborations, not with unity, not even with champion. something people would never associate with me.” he elaborated further and the more he spoke, the more the other man seemed to form an idea.

“okay, that i can do. but tell me jaewon, do you think you can wave the brooding angsty vibe goodbye for one song?” it would’ve felt like a dig if well… the question wasn’t so valid. jaewon’s whole image was created around being dark and mysterious with a bit of a sexier push from dimensions. he could show up with a song completely different from that, but could he pull it off?

“yeah, yeah i can.”

when jaewon left the studio, it was with an instrumental filled with light-hearted, bouncing piano chords woven together with a deeper drum sound. he could work with this, he could make this work.

-----------------------------------------------------

with kick it promotions wrapped up and little schedules outside of that, jaewon has plenty of time to withdraw himself in either one of the many studios of dimensions entertainment or the one back in his and soo’s apartment (the perks of both being involved in making music, a home studio was a must).

unlike for alarm, where jaewon had just forced himself to stare at an empty document until some semblance of an idea, this time the process was more guided. there was a lot of mood setting, browsing visuals of… white things. because that was the theme had to run with after all right, whatever that was supposed to mean. but also going through music, listening to songs much softer than what he was used to.

first just unity’s music, songs on their softer side. like touch for example, or 0 mile, but also a large chunk of their unity zone album (pandora’s box, daydream, love me now). none of them had the same playful edge the instrumental had, all on the softer side rather than the cute side but it was a step in the right direction. especially for jaewon who had always gravitated to the grittier, more experimental, noise-heavier sound of unity’s music. it was good to remind himself he’d done lighter before, that he could again.

it wasn’t just unity’s music though. jaewon doubted he’d ever listen to as much charm music as he did for writing this song.

so the first few studio days were spent spitting through reference material, both audio and visual, the most jaewon actually wrote a list of vague ideas, feelings, directions he could take the song in without, you know, actually writing lyrics.

the actual concept for reply came, funnily enough, completely by accident.

it’d been the fourth consecutive day jaewon had locked himself away in a recording studio in the company’s headquarters. it hadn’t been the plan to be away from home so much but he was on the verge of a breakthrough, he could feel it, all he did was try a little harder.

and still most of the day passed without much progress.

fine then, a small break was probably in place with how it had started bleeding into the evening already and jaewon retrieved his phone from wherever he had discarded it, not having looked at it for hours as he had been too busy with the creative process (even if, truly, he hadn’t achieved much).

unlocking his phone, he was immediately met with a row of text notifications, all from samsoo.

[ 09:16 incomming message : my universe ] i saw you already left, what time will you be home? [ 14:48 incomming message : my universe ] i’m going to get groceries, is there anything you need? [ 16:04 incomming message : my universe ] don’t overwork yourself jagiya [ 18:35 incomming message : my universe ] i’m assuming you won’t be home for dinner, there are leftovers in the fridge [ 19:22 incomming message : my universe ] just let me know what time you get home yeah? [ 19:59 incomming message : my universe ] jagiya?

of course, jaewon felt bad for leaving his boyfriend unanswered for so long, still, a part of him couldn’t help but smile fondly at the texts, warmth spreading in his chest at the concern, a feeling no one other than samsoo had ever been able to evoke in him.

that much had to be worth a song right?

jaewon could work with this, but of course not before responding to his boyfriend.

[ 20:31 outgoing message : my universe ] sorry, i lost track of time [ 20:31 outgoing message : my universe ] i just got an idea so it will be few hours still probably [ 20:32 outgoing message : my universe ] let me make it up to you tomorrow? no plans or anything, just us [ 20:33 outgoing message : my universe ] i love you, see you in a few hours

after that, his phone ended up back where it had been all those previous hours, after all, he had better things to focus on, like writing. he wanted a song that did justice to the happiness he felt whenever hearing from soo, how his heart felt lighter with every text message, every phone call from his boyfriend that had pretty much been dragging him through the workload that mainly had come with champion lately.

even two years into their relationship, their was a certain giddiness that came whenever his boyfriend’s name popped up on his phone, especially when the two of them were separated for a longer period of time.

it's a waste of time being alone and i'm waiting for your reply

the more lyrics he writes, the more he deviates from his original inspiration, somewhere along the line deciding to depict a relationship in its earlier stages rather than his own. as lovestruck as him and soo still were up to this day, jaewon had no doubts that he had been even more whipped, even more impatient to spend more time as a couple than he was today. this wasn’t supposed to just be about his relationship, it was supposed to have a universal feeling to it, something almost everyone could relate to.

i don't want to be alone let's just go out to the cafe on a day like this

it seemed a fitting theme for the color white, the excitement and eagerness of young love. of anxiously awaiting a text message even though you’d seen each other a few minutes ago, almost obsessively yet so innocent, so well-intended that it’s hard to attach a negative connotation to it. a helpless, awkward kind of impatience as you’re still figuring out the ins and outs of dating.

ya, what are you doing, except for me, call me what are you doing?

some more hours passed but eventually, jaewon finished the song a little before midnight. it was still a draft, some parts would undoubtedly have to be tweaked, words swapped out to be more fitting but it’s just fine-tuning, it can wait.

at the moment, jaewon just wanted to return home to soo with the same eagerness in his heart that he had just written down for reply.

-----------------------------------------------------

(he did end up fine-tuning the lyrics but not until the 23rd, the day he went in for recording and producing the final version of the song. ideally, he would have waited with the final recording until after the demo performances the next day but with champion leaving for america almost immediately, there was no time for that, the deadline slated for when he would be in the state. this would have to do instead, trying to get done the majority of the work before he left and if anything needed to be changed after the demo recording, any unforseen feedback, suggestions of criticism, jaewon would have to trust on his co-producer to take care of it. not that the thought worried him, the man was probably more skilled than he was anyway.)

[howiexperiencemusic]

cat heaven

honestly i’ve loved a lot of albums in my life. i’ve been fixated on musicians, songs and albums until one day i just simply move on. so my obsession with cat heaven isn’t entirely unfounded; but this album in particular, i’m completely enamored. i love everything about it, every song means the world to me and i just can’t stop playing them all. i’ve had phases with every single song at different times, i’ve also had phases where i just loop the album as a whole or i can’t stop playing a three-song run in it. it all makes sense to me and it’s one of the few things that does. this isn’t a review or a reaction, this is a scattered recollection of everything i’ve been through and how cat heaven says it all. it’s messy and scattered in a million directions so don’t expect perfect grammar and phrasing.

i initially came across roy about a year or so ago being a fan of enya, and finding out he was her boyfriend. i had the music video for happy recommended to me on youtube and once i finally gave in and clicked it, i saw myself on the screen. of course i cannot relate to the nitty gritty details of the lyrics, they’re just so personal, but i found those same feelings in myself. i heard his voice say everything on his mind in a way that was familiar yet new. it made me long for what i once felt but only the idea of it all. the sound was expansive, it took me up into the sky at night and crash-landed me into raw earth. the sound was so specific to myself i couldn’t help but pay attention.

over the course of the last year, my life has changed entirely. everything i’ve ever known got upended and destroyed, with no chance of getting it back. i’ve had to learn how adaptable i truly am, and explore my ability to land on my feet when nobody is there to tell me how. i had lived life before that was difficult but manageable. i had a life that wasn’t without challenge, but didn’t necessarily have a lot at risk. however, over the course of the year i had my home, my relationships, my finances, my life as i knew it, uprooted. and there was nothing i could have done and nothing i could do to ever get it back.

now, all that to say this album has been my soundtrack for it all. it would be disingenuous to say it was the only thing i listened to the entire time. of course, i listened to other artists throughout this time and found other things to obsess over (posts for those forthcoming), but this album was the definitive supreme over it all. when i look back at my twentieth trip around the sun, i will forever hear cat heaven being the soundtrack to it all. and for that, it has entered into the upper echelon of albums defining my life. and i am so appreciative of it. there isn’t a moment on this album that isn’t special to me in some way, whether it’s the quiet part during the bridge of thunder, the fuzzy awakening of grow up,or the triumph of hazel, a bittersweet anthem. it’s his searing honesty in the face of a world that had wronged him. he told his story regardless of who wanted to listen and it gives me chills to even think about how powerful that is.

when i say i’ve had a phase with every song here, i mean every. single. song. grow up is the perfect opener, it starts the album and every day when i wake up and press play, it begins my day in the same way. that song will forever be special to me because in a lot of ways it represents me waking up in a brand new life i can’t escape.

alex comes in like an energetic jolt of lightning. he quite literally says “i’m gonna lose my mind tonight, no one in the world is gonna stop me” it’s so empowered and positive, he doesn’t just promise to enjoy himself regardless, he threatens it. this song for me fills me with so much happiness it single-handedly got me out of bed and ready some days because it fueled me. alex is the song i want people to know if they want to get to know me.

family simmers at first, it’s lowkey and you almost miss it. he’s quiet and it’s ominous. he says “pain keeps growing taking over my life, i don’t really care it’s been like this for a long time” and you almost believe he doesn’t care until you hear the chorus and you hear how pissed he is. the chorus looks you in the eyes while it openly bleeds. this song was all i could hear during the darkest times in 2019. so many things wronged me this year. when i let the anger encompass me, i found solace in knowing someone else had my same fury.

perfume is the sugary delicacy i can’t stop eating. when i was streaming this song with my sister one time, she asked me “when he says ‘everything i do is for you’ who do you think of? since you’ve never been in love.” it was a read for sure and i laughed when she said it. but i told her that for me, when i hear him say that to someone, i think about how much nerve it takes to say that to someone, and how much courage i would need to ever put it into a song and i’m blown away. sometimes love songs are even more vulnerable than they appear on the surface. i aspire to love somebody so hard i forget the fear of expressing emotions. and when i hear that i don’t think of a boy, i think of a concept i may one day attain. it’s beautiful and pure.

thunder had to grow on me. thunder doesn’t go out of it’s way to be in your face like perfume or alex. it makes you wait for all of the best parts of it and it takes it’s time getting there. every second is pure quality and it’s perfect. he gives you time to think about everything he says and it’s important you do because he says it so perfectly. but once i heard it the way i needed to, i now regard it as one of my favorites on the entire album. it’s s u c h a good song and i am still in awe he had the emotional maturity to create it. it’s the perfect song to stare at the stars and listen to and if you haven’t done that yet, get on it!

jane is my current favorite on the album. it’s my most recent fixation and i listen to it for hours on end sometimes and just savor every second. the drums are so vocal and the guitar communicates such a specific feeling i can’t put it into words. the part that sits in my soul the most is when he says “the best thing about not having you around, i can finally be myself, think out loud. and the trees tall since i always look down.” it’s quietly bittersweet. it refuses to let you be completely happy or sad it just forces you to hear it for what it is. and the outro is just pure perfection it sets the scene for what’s to come and helps the album feel the way it does.

kansas is special to me because in the last year i’ve driven across the us twice and that songs feels e x a c t l y like middle america when you’re driving through it. there’s so many miles of nothingness and it’s lonely and beautiful all at the same time. the night sky is clear when you look up at it and there’s no noise. just miles of plains and you wonder how people live there. how people have to live in a town with 20 people in it. when you see a random house in the middle of nowhere and it looks abandoned and you just have to wonder what happened. so much wondering while wandering and kansas is the perfect song for it.

september is like a kindling of a smile on my face. it wraps me up in the feeling of home. home for me is no longer a place and now all i can do is hope that the feeling of home returns to me one day. when i listen to that song one day i hope i can mean what i feel. it’s slow-going and it has nowhere it needs to be other than right here. and all that to say it isn’t a happy song. it’s sad but resigned. and that’s exactly where i’m at too.

switchblade defines my time living in a place i wasn’t happy in. when i lived in that place i felt such anger at the world and i needed everyone who lived there to know i didn’t like them. roy spits out these words with such venom you know he still feels that same rage he felt from living there and i know it exactly. when he says “you don’t mean shit to me” i have vivid memories of me in the car yelling that to the world with him. it killed my throat to yell like that but it felt good. it matched the fury burning in me over an unfair world humbling me again. it’s so excellent.

in a broken world where everything turns it’s back on you, grand theft auto reminds you what’s important. he describes a series of things in his life that are broken or ineffective and doesn’t care because “you’re all i’ve got” he’s found his peace despite the fact that life isn’t what he wanted it to be. it’s wisdom.

california is everything to me. this year i left california and moved so far away. it was a circumstance completely out of my control. to hear this ballad about leaving california it means something completely different to me than it does to him. it makes me cry and miss california. “the sun rules on but the leaves got a hole in the center.” he says we need to slow it down. the song is sonically gorgeous but being born and raised in california, i know it’s my speed. the most bittersweet part of it all is that even if i were to return, it would never be the same.

hazel is also one of my absolute favorites on the whole album. it’s just the perfect ending. i’ll never forget my last month living in the place i hated. i listened to this song the whole month. it was a beacon of hope that i knew i was leaving behind the last person i had to cling to in life. it played when i left and i chose to put myself first for the first time in my life. while i still haven’t recovered from that, this song helps me so much in seeing how beautiful life is. it reminds me to look at myself and my choices and love who i am. even if i don’t think i deserve such reverence. “nights in the rv, i won’t remember, rides in your car seat i won’t forget” is just the most perfect line. “the times where i thought it was love, were just peaks. a mountain a month between terrible weeks.” chills. lyrically and sonically he pulls out the stops and it’s stark and stunning. even the part that says “just stay forever,” like he knows it’s impossible but it’s still what he wants. if my life were a movie, the moment i died this would be the first song in the credits. the end is once again immaculate. he closes the album with an audio clip and the last thing you hear is a door closing, when you know the ride you just went on this whole album is over. but before that he winds down and it gives you time to breathe and take in everything he just took you through. you can’t make out the sounds in the closing portion, you hear voices but it’s almost like they’re coming from down the hallway and you’re speeding through your life too fast to focus on just one sound. you hear everything. there’s an overwhelming comforting loneliness. and that’s where he leaves us off at.

this is not a review, this isn’t supposed to make sense. it’s scattered and raw and my stream of consciousness while hearing the album i’ve listened to more than anything else. to an album that understands when i find out once again life isn’t fair and doesn’t owe me anything. there are few things in life that can get me to shut the fuck up and just listen. music has the capacity to do that for me but when it can make me cry just by hearing it, when it narrates my life, there is something special about it. i am so appreciative it came to me in this time and i am even more appreciative of the fact that i got through some really hard times with this comforting me. i can only speak for myself but if i’m the only person on this earth who loves this album like this that makes it worth it. and one day i hope i can make something so powerful.

cat heaven forever

[yeswritingsandwritings]

COVID Diaries; Pennies

It is March 2020 and I’ve channeled the spirit of Paul Revere. As Los Angeles erupts into rioting and mass fentanyl suicide, I dive headfirst into the cabin of the Mazda, and gun the packed ship upwards along the vacant I5 corridor. Every smouldering city under Gavin Newsom looks further gone than the last. The navigation takes me on some perverse fantasy detour thru post-apocalyptic San Francisco. It’s been a long time coming but now it’s solidified. The mayor and her delegates have chomped their cyanide pills and now the streets and bridges offer rotting cars beside silent, beautiful Victorian manors. Still in full color, the sky is blue and the sun is yellow, gleaming indifferently. I am nervous about San Franscisco County. The shelter in place order says no one shall be out on the street without proper reason. And, proper reason or not, I have a pharmacy of drugs in the trunk of my car. Will it be enough to wait out the pandemic in my mother’s house? Enough to keep me sane tucked in the basement of the compound on Cougar Mountain, Issaquah, Washington, for GodKnowsHowLong? My very own Bavarian Alps.

For years in LA I have lived for high speed and hard sex in a blackout frenzy which no young American could denigrate without looking like a nerd. In our culture of excess I sought the most insane, unexplored corridors. Chavionistic romps through the bitter forests of lust, contamination, too-young suicide, too-good blowjobs that leave explosions on this cast of characters flown from every corner of the globe, all with the same indelible fever. I come to now, in this chaotic month handed down by God, March 2020, and I’m withdrawing from all of it in the penthouse on the side of the mountain.

In this moment the fantasy is fading fast, like being jolted from a wet dream by a home invasion. For a lot of people the American dream was already a flickering ember in the distance, a relic of some stupid pilgrimgrage for egoic glory, a blind propaganda puzzle piece with no jigsaw to belong to. But I had formed my own relationship with the concept, and, until now, had believed wholeheartedly in the myth in America; or at least that myth’s capacity to spur significant action, which could abolish hunger and pain, mistreatment and misunderstanding, which could deliver us from evil and unto the kingdom of heaven.

I am not, to many of her 300 million pairs of eyes, a portrait of traditional American success. I am the starving artist archetype. I’ve lived in abandoned buildings and shot cocaine into my veins in the speeding bathroom of many an Amtrak carriage. These may be my most definitive traits, save for the music I somehow manage to draw out of all of this. Albums worth of potential answers to the impossible questions. Sometimes I think I’ve reached the peak, with the LSD and the naked festival girls. I am 26 years old and feel incompetent. I go to pay a traffic ticket or am electric bill and find myself paralyzed at the entrance to the website. In a moment of otherworldly strength I call the bank and my debit card has been cancelled. I stare at the parking ticket in my pod, which has been rented from a company called Up(Start), and is arranged in a row with twenty others. At least I’ve made it to Los Angeles.

Up(Start) is a strange place. I find most people don’t last very long in this community. They leave back to their hometowns or find apartments. The ones who stay haunt this place like ghosts, with no discernible goals and mysterious incomes. I’ve learned not to ask how these life-longers pay the rent. The answer is not translatable.

Willow is one of these life-longers. She always talks about moving out; sometimes to an apartment in LA, most recently about some nebulous palace in France. She says her grandmother died and left her everything. She shows me a suitcase full of watches and rings that still can’t fully convince me of her story. She drinks vodka when she wakes up and convinces me to fuck her when Jesse leaves us in his room alone.

Jesse found his way out to a beautiful house in Silver Lake. He had been at Up(Start) for a year before that. He is the nicest guy I know, offering the coat off his back for nothing but a swig of your vodka in return.

I left these characters behind, keeping a steady 65 on the interstate and stopping only to black out in a hotel room in Redding, CA. Summer, inspirational barista and blowjob queen, dared me to stop and see her in Portland, but my body was crawling from scabies from Lucy, (who was also in Portland and, I would later learn, infected with the virus) and I sped right through.

My younger brother Jon was at the house and had been awaiting my arrival. I instantly understood why. My mother had become a figurehead for the national panic, and shoulder-hugged me with her mask on. She is, as we speak, sterilizing the place.

I’ve gotten to spend a good amount of time with Jon, and am somewhat surprised to find that he faces the same existential torment as I do. This is not something we talk about, but I can feel it on him. He is super into Xanax, and orders pressed bars off the darknet. I share the drugs I’ve brought with him. Kratom, weed, and, —most enticing— Flubromazolam. I learn that he has been kicked out of UW on academic probation. I ask him about it in front of my mother and stepdad. With a casualness that shocks me he says he just didn’t care about any of his classes. But he’s got reaccepted to the school and he says he’s going to make it this time.

I show him how I order my drugs online. I show him the designer benzodiazepines on the clearnet, pennies per dose. We place an order for O-DSMT. It’s an insane solution to our problems, but I guarantee you it works.

I tell Jon about my life in LA with the stuff. Taking it and driving weed deliveries all day. I don’t tell him about the long nights with Lucy, telling her the love I feel from the opiate is sourced from her, then failing to get hard.

Jon, for his part, tells me about the peak of his Oxycontin habit, poppin 7 OC30’s a day with his buddies at Rolling Loud. I was just a few blocks away. I didn’t know he was in town.

We order the O-DSMT to his apartment in the U District, stopping to and snag it on our sole vacation to Dad’s for dinner. Two packages have been delivered. We have the save pavlov response. We carry the packages to his apartment on the top floor and split the bubble wrap with a butterfly knife. Out of a manilla envelope comes 100 green Xanax bars. From a bent UPS envelope comes a gram of O-DSMT and 250mg of 4-ACO-DMT, a bonus for me (Jon says he hates psychedelics).

We set to the scale and split the gram, dosing 50mg then and there to get through dinner. The next day he visits me in the basement, saying “Yo, this O-DSMT shit… it’s dope.”

I say “I’m with you.”

My days are spent deep in the dream flow, recording songs for a hopeful fourth album. The third one is still far from complete, but I can’t go back and meddle with those songs now. Wouldn’t dare touch their Los Angeles essence with the hand of the evergreen state. They will go to Rob and Twon and Andy as they are.

I’m back to guitars for the new album. Cardinal sin AC/DC type songs. I think it may be a double album, quarantine permitting. I want an exploratory, unstructured, throw paint at the wall and see what sticks, White album/Life of Pablo situation. I want solo piano pieces and Aphex Twin-esque 808 excursions. I want the label to release it on white vinyl with extensive liner notes. Indulgence. I want this album to be the one where I say “indulge me.”

If Rob is vehimently opposed to the idea I had the fantasy of making an easy album. Taking songs like Parade Owl, See You Tomorrow, Miss Can’t Sleep and putting out a whole album of them. Good rock music. Take a step back from the frontlines; the cutting edge. We’ll see what sticks to the wall after this quarantine is over.

Weeks drift by. There’s a trade route for all the beer that gets brought into the house. It goes from the garage fridge to the basement fridge to my eager hand, to my mouth, to my blood. Night by night the ritual recurs, til my mom takes out the downstairs trash and finds all the empties. She makes some subtle comment. I tell her to buy more White Claw.

Despite the drug flow my inspiration seems to be drying up. Rob took a listen to the twenty five songs I’d completed since arriving in Issaquah and said they sounded like Dogs. The old band. The old rock and roll band we’ve been trying to move away from. I was disappointed to hear him say it. I was disappointed he wasn’t excited about the songs. “Fuck it, should I scrap them all?” I asked myself. Then I started to look around the house and understand that if nothing came of these songs… I must be insane. I must be losing it. The stupid research chemical stimulants don’t help. I thought they would. Productivity and all… but I’m just jittery, texting strangers on Instagram for hours, all the while feeling like I should be doing something else. And the television is on in the background, and I told myself I was going to do so much to day. And I did it. And people on Instagram say “you seem busy.” They’ve always said I seem this and I seem that. I never agreed with any of it, but they probably know me better than I do. How could I see myself? I look for myself through a fog and it’s only a ripple of a shadow. A microcosm a million miles away through a hellscape with no up or down, no east or west. They say I’m social. They say I’m a socialite. Really I just get drunk and unleash all my nervous energy on the party or, nowadays, the Zoom meeting.

Today I drink Modello. Ma and Chuck went to the Seattle waterfront for a picnic or something. I didn’t get the details. But the sun should be going down now, and she’s texting me asking if I want to play a board game when they get back. I say yeah sure I do. My temper when I’m off these amphetamines analogues, though… I worry I’ll flip the Pictionary board. Slam dunk the wine glass onto the wood floor. Now the cliffhanger; will this Modello calm my nerves?

This morning I went with mom to buy plants for the garden. I thought we were going to get seeds but she wanted the already grown ones. She was ready to be angry. Nothing made her happy. We went to three different garden store. I think she got some tomatos. How the hell am I going to get out of this one? Feels like the walls are closing in. I feel like I’m in the freezer in the back of McDonalds. I feel so sad for her, but I also feel so sad for myself. I feel cut off. I feel short of breath. I feel terror. It is Friday, April 17, 2020. Dread, terror, paranoia… I’m sure it’s been felt a million times by a million people, but here’s my version of it. In this McMansion on the side of the mountain, feeling less like I have a mission than ever. Calling nobody. Freezing. Yeah I’m freezing.

My brother and I both have drugs to get through this crisis but I’m planning to get off them. I sold him half of my etizolam and half of another shipment of O-DSMT the other day. He wasn’t at all interested in the 2-FDCK, an analogue of the dissociative Ketamine. I am still not really sure what dissociatives do to consciousness. They can move you into states profound darkness. You feel like your life is a black and white film and it is raining outside. And it drips off the palm trees and you sit in traffic on the way back from the Boy’s and Girl’s Club, where the boys and girls wouldn’t listen, they’d just go off into their own worlds. I wonder how they’re all doing now, tucked into their parents houses in Calabasas.

Anyway, I said to Jon “I’m getting off the stuff.” And I intended to. This journal finds me at a crossroads between fantasy and reality. What is my life going to be for? Where do I cast this fishing pole? Well the pole’s been cast. It’s out there in the middle of the ocean. But at the same time it’s in my hand, in this very moment, and I can chose where to dip it. I’m not trying to catch a fish in this scenario, I just like the serenity of the bay.

The question on everyone’s mind is: “If not drugs, then what!?” That’s a great question and I’d be bullshitting if I said I could answer it. I don’t know what lies on the other side of this life. I want to find out. Do I truly? I have to truly. Love, sex, work, victory… I’ve seen all these things before. And I keep turning to these substances. They fill up my days and my hours and all the music is informed by them. They move my hands to play the guitar and my voice is scratchy when it comes out. I’ve formed an identity around these drugs to a certain extent. That idea of me has to die. It does. I’ll have to mourn it. I’ll have to mourn a lot. I guess I don’t know what to be afraid of. I know a lot of stuff is going to come up through this process. The drugs numb it all out. People say that but it’s really really true. Bad news doesn’t don’t hit you as hard. Most things don’t hit you at all. You’re in your world. You’re off in a cloud. You’re unaware of the world around you. You’re afraid to engage. Why?

It’s easier not to ask why. It’s easier to get the immediate relief of a squirt of etizolam tincture. Or a gross tossing of O-DSMT powder into your mouth and a quick washdown with water. In this way you don’t have to answer any questions. In this way nothing hits you. And guess what else? All your heroes did the same thing.

But a lot of them died doing it. And you don’t want to die. You really really don’t want to die. You want to live a long life, with kids and grandkids, and see what happens to America and what music turns into. You don’t want to die, but what do you have to live for? You know you can make things up. Everyone’s always making shit up. All of this is made up. The culture, the value of a dollar, the value of a Benz. We just decide on it. And that takes a lot. But you know what takes a lot less? Deciding how you want to react to each moment. This one and this one and this one. Do you know what I mean? They say a lot of stuff about the world. The world’s fucked. They say the world’s burning to the ground. They say we can’t leave our houses. They say America won’t be a super power by the end of all of this. But they’re making shit up. And I’m making shit up too. I’m whipping up like a chef. Throwing dishes out from the kitchen, but the dishes are words and actions and the kitchen is my mind. What kind of food am I throwing out? What kind of food am I serving the world? Let me serve love and hope. But for that to happen, let me cultivate it in myself first. Let me nurture it like a child. Let me see it sober. Let me take the steps in the right direction. It’s simple. It’s simpler than you think it is. What are you going to do right now, after reading this? Or while reading this? How are you going to face the world?

Jon told me he got into Xanax from the Famous Dex song “Japan.”

“Baby girl, what you doing, where your man? I just popped a xan, fifty thousand in Japan”

He told me his friends heard the song and picked up some Xanax because of it. They liked it and reached out to him “You’ve got to try this,” they said. My little brother, in the throes of this batshit demon force that will bury him. It might bury me too. The jury’s still out. Mom, just let me withdraw in peace. She brings down a space heater. I grow to love it. I lay down on the wood floor that the spiders sometimes dash across. The space heater comes close to burning me, but I’m ok. I stand up, dizzy from all I’ve done to try to combat the withdrawls. Way too much etizolam, way to much kratom, getting to the point of way too much weed and alcohol. But hopefully it’ll all be over soon, and I can call my friends in peace and not want to slam down the phone whenever there is the tiny threat of silence, or whenever I speak, or whenever they speak. I can’t any of it sober, that’s what I think. Life is hard sober; it’s a breeze when you’re floating thru it. A good dream. So why get sober? They say it’ll kill me. Well, I said that. In this very same paragraph. And maybe it will. But when you’re withdrawing like this… all you want is a moment of peace.

Oh God, at dinner tonight I started to go off about my own mental state to the family. I should have known it was a big mistaken, but on my way home from Doordashing a rainy Issaquah I stopped at QFC and got a bottle of True Eagle American Spirits, Kentucky manufactured vodka. And, helping myself to serving of kimchi,  I said to them “I think I’m losing it.” And the conversation spiraled until my mother asked me “Are you suicidal?” And “Are you struggling with drugs?” Jon, between us, must have felt betrayed, but I just wanted to feel understood. I feel Chuck does not want to understand. I understand what he’s sacrificed for the life he has, but what value does that life has to him? He has a tumor in his jawbone, and it’s eating away at him, and no one can do anything. And they can’t get out to the specialists on the East Coast, and they won’t do the invasive surgery. He’s too busy. I know, in some capacity, he understands. Because he blows these things off like they don’t matter at all, when anyday he could have a stroke like Grandma had, fall to the floor of the kitchen while dishing up his kimchi, or pulling a slice of pizza out of the carton. I feel the same way. I have no idea what’s going to happen, but I know that I am mentally unwell. And I avoid the questions about my drug use and about my suicidality. I miss girls, ma. I miss pussy and parties and not giving a fuck. The way I don’t give a fuck now is in these terrifying sound collages drafted on the latest of nights, in the deep dark depths of quaratine. What was I saying in the last one? Something about how I didn’t wanna kill the crabs on the beach on Whidbey Island as a kid. Holy shit I’m losing my mind. But it’s all fine, isn’t it? As long as the music comes out fine.

What could I possibly do to get healthy? I feel so far off the deep end. You have no idea; I feel like crying. My best friend, living with the girl I thought I could always go back to. We don’t talk. I mix these ketamine analogues in with that cheap cheap vodka (plus etizolam) and cry tears onto this plastic table. It’s pointless to keep up the tinder courtships. I feel like this will never end. And it started with such a bang. I was such a part of history. Now I’m a nobody; I’m a junkie, holding on by the thinnest thread. No energy to pray. I feel like Cobain, and I know so many people do… but I really do. I can only imagine. But I’m only listening to Mingus, Lana Del Rey and Radiohead (Kid A thru Hail to The Thief).

Should I throw weed in the mix? Lord knows I have enough of it. It’s my number one priority. I’ve made enough songs now that we could workshop what I’ve come up with years. What else is there to do? Mingus ripped the piano strings out of some pianist’s instrument in front of a live audience, then stormed off the stage. Where the fuck is that in my life? I’m in front of the computer, weeping because America has come to a close. You know they sent jazz to the Soviet Union as a WEAPON? A weapon of freedom and democracy and individualism. What the fuck happened? It all makes me want to cry. It’s all too much; this world. These people I’ve known and loved and lost. This music I’ve made that they promise me will be something, but I don’t know if I believe them. I don’t know if I want anything to do with this life. I can’t engage with my culture anymore… my history. I feel like I’m not a part of it. I feel so disconnected. Who’s rippin the strings out of MY piano? Or who’s piano am I ripping the strings out of? We’ve lost so much… I mean… I’ll do my best to work with what we still have, but we’ve been so fractured. It wouldn’t surprise me if this was the end. Of America. Of our culture. Of our music and our hustle and bustle and industry and lover’s lanes and rites of passage. I feel like I’m mourning it now. Mourning my culture. Maybe mourning the illusion that was sold to us. Believe me, I was first in line to buy. That’s why it destroys me so deeply to see it collapse.

I guess we’re all one people. I’m crying writing this. Weeping, weeping, weeping. Grieving. You know what grieving is. I remember what’s-her-name in the pool. We went to every hot tub, each a different temperature, in the Desert Hot Springs Resort. Then Lucy’s friend’s new boyfriend told us Bernie Sanders had stayed there when he had visited DHS. I laughed so hard. Lucy ordered me another drink. She didn’t mind the cost. She liked me to be on her level. And I didn’t mind. I was proud to sip. We went back to the hotel and did god knows what. Feels a million lifetimes away.

This was back when anything could happen. When America was a blank slate and no one could predict anything. When you could go outside and say “What the fuck is up?” and get in adventures. I mourn the loss of that. Maybe it’s all in my head. Maybe that’s still there. But I’ve emotionally severed my ties to it. And I wish I didn’t. Because I love it. I love it so much. It’s not a myth. I swear to god it’s not a myrh. It was a reality… until all this happened. You have no idea. I mean, if you’re reading this and weren’t around before. You have no idea. I mean… I don’t know what things are going to be like after this. But not the same. There’s no way they could be the same.

You know I hope I get this shit. I hope I contract COVID-19. Lay in this guest bedroom bed with the scabies I may or may not have gotten from Upstart Creative Living… and which wouldn’t die off. I hope I can’t breathe. I hope I’m immune. I want to walk the world. Maybe I should go out, get it, isolate, heal, be immune… if that’s even possible. At this point we don’t even know if immunity is a thing that happens with COVID. But even if I could walk the earth without fear of it… everyone else is cowering, and they pull away from, seeing I’m not wearing a mask or gloves, or even if I am… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it would all end this way. I would have done so much more. Focused so much more on each kiss. Even every note. I did my best, I guess. It feels like it’s all coming to an end. It’s Thursday, April 23, but that doesn’t mean anything. You have to understand how little dates mean in this time. It’s like we’re living in one of those time capsules buried beneath the walkway at WWU. Stagnant… yeah we write songs and poems and do our work and keep the economy from faltering completely… but there’s a different angle to look at it all now. The world is over. I mean, aha, to use the words of Rem… “It’s the End of the World As We Know It.” Key words: “As we know it.” I had no idea this would happen in my lifetime… I couldn’t even conceive it. If you would have told me this would have happened six months ago I wouldn’t have believed it. America seemed so stable. And now it feels like it’s in shambles. It really did feel stable. You may think I’m insane for saying America in September, 2019 seemed stable… but shit, we were free. And we were headed where we were headed. This throws a wrench in all of this. And it could be the end. And I thought this was the greatest country on earth. Happiness is a buttery, try to catch it like every night.

I’ve been fascinated in American history since I could understand it. Most specifically, I’ve been fascinated about how history is still happening. The closer you get you the current day, the harder it is to get a straight story. FDR did what he did and we won. That’s fact. That’s cement. Nixon? Everyone agrees he was a crook. But what about Reagan? What about Bush Sr? What about Clinton? The closer you get to the modern day, the more difficult it becomes to discern what is real and what is fake.

[grimelords]

My March playlist is finished! This one is slightly more diverse than usual, swinging all the way from vibraphone jazz to Bhad Bhabie to black metal so I’ve taken the liberty of actually sequencing it properly for you. So if you’ve got 3 hours you can listen to this straight through and be taken for a hell of a ride. No matter what you like I’m sure you’ll find something in here that you love.

Tahiti - Milt Jackson: For an unknown reason I had a big jazz vibraphone phase this month and when you're talking jazz vibraphone you're talking the Wizard Of The Vibes himself, Milt Jackson. I feel insane even having an opinion on this but it's a shame that some of the best vibraphone performances were made at a time when the actual recording technology wasn't really there, they all have this very thin quality that I think misses a lot of the great character of the instrument.

Detour - Bill Le Sage: Like compare this from 1971 to Wizard Of The Vibes from 1952, the sounds is miles warmer and gives so much more of the full range and detail of the instrument. I also listened to this song five times in a row when I first heard it, the central refrain is just so fuckin good. Like I said, big vibes vibe and who knows why.

Blowin' The Blues Away - Buddy Rich And His Sextet: Superhuman playing aside, it's unbelievable how good these drums sound. The whole first minute just feels like a tour of each specific drum and I absolutely revel in it. I feel like flute and vibes is a relatively rare combo so it's extremely nice to hear Sam Most and Mike Manieri go ham in tandem.

Yama Yama - Yamasuki Singers: A friend sent me this song that he's had stuck in his head for ten years ever since it was in a beer ad from the days when beer ads were incredible strange for complicated legal reasons about not showing people enjoying the product or something https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ORfkh0OojxY and this incredible song is apparently from a 1971 French concept album where a couple of guys wrote a bunch of psychedelic songs in Japanese for an unknown reason that later became a massive drum and bass breaks album, and one of the guys was Thomas Bangalter from Daft Punk's dad! Music is crazy.

Alfonso Muskedunder - Todd Terje: I'm starting a petition to get Todd Terje to write the soundtrack for the next Mario Kart. I absolutely love this song and this whole album because it's so joyful and strange and it just sounds like nothing else I've ever heard. He seem to truly operate in a world entirely of his own.

Pala - Roland Tings: I love this song. It's like he wrote it with normal sounds and then went back and replaced every instrument with the party version. This song hands you a coconut and says welcome to the island where bad vibes are punishable by firing squad.

Keygen 13 - Haze Edit - Dubmood: There's a fucking album of keygen music on spotify and it's absolutely great and so good that someone's doing the work to recognize the value of the music this extremely weird scene produced and preserve it. If you don't know, back in the day when you pirated photoshop or whatever, you would download a license key generator which was a program made by extreme nerds who had cracked the license key algorithm to give you a fake one, and for unknown reasons they would make the keygen program play original chiptune music that someone in their nerd crew would compose. Who knows why but god bless them.

My Moon My Man (Boys Noize Remix) - Feist: The very concept of a Boys Noize remix of My Moon My Man is hilarious and it turns out it sounds absolutely amazing as well. Two great tastes that taste great together.

Low Blows - Meg Mac: I had a big Meg Mac phase this month too, listened to her album a lot and it's extremely solid. Great timing too cause her new one comes out in a month or so too. I really am excited to hear her next album because she's so good but I've always got this feeling that she hasn't reached her full potential yet, she's only going to get a million times better in an album or two.

Patience - Tame Impala: I love that the cover of this single is a pic of congas because it feels like that's the central thesis here. Kevin Parker bought some congas and is making disco Tame Impala now and I really couldn't be happier about it.

Unconditional (feat. Kitten) - Touch Sensitive: I love a 90s throwback done with love. There's nothing cynical or ironic about this it's just fun as hell!

Last Hurrah - Bebe Rexha: Get a fucking load of this Bebe Rexha song that interpolates Buy U A Drank by T-Pain for the chorus! It's a testament to how good that song is that she's using the verse melody as the chorus. T-Pain will quite literally never get the respect he deserves. Also this song goes for 2.5 minutes. There's something happening where pop songwriting is getting more and more compact, completely trimming the fat and ornamentation and it's very interesting.

Hi Bich - Bad Bhabie: Also I'm fully six months late on Hi Bich but I'm of the opinion that it's extremely fucking good. A perfect little reaction gif of a song and it only goes for 1m45!

Friends - Flume: I'm doubling down on my thesis about emo rap from last month but this song literally sounds like a Flume remix of a Hawthorne Heights song. The whole melody of it, the overlapping yelled/clean vocals. The lyrics obviously. I don't know it's just very odd how close it is. A sort of emo trojan horse to trick people into thinking The Used are cool again. 

How To Build A Relationship (feat. JPEGMAFIA) - Flume: I've been meaning to check out JPEGMAFIA (AKA Buttermilk Jesus AKA DJ Half-Court Violation AKA Lil' World Cup) for a while but this is the song that convinced me. There's just so much to digest in this. Every line is gold and delivered with massive conviction even when he realises it's total nonsense like 'dont call me unless I gave you my number'.

Bells & Circles (feat. Iggy Pop) - Underworld: Underworld alive 2019?? I love this song becuase Iggy Pop has been riding a fine line between punk provocateur and old man yells at cloud for a while now and this song is the perfect mix of both. You can't hijack airplanes and redirect them to cuba anymore and as a result it's over for liberal democracies. Just yelling about air travel for six minutes and it's good.

Guns Blazing (Drums Of Death Pt. 1) - UNKLE: This beat is some of my favourite DJ Shadow work I think. The menacing organ bass throughout, and especially the distorted drum freakout near the end. It's just great all the way through.

Homo Deus IV - Deantoni Parks: Another Deantoni Parks track like I was raving about last month. This whole album is great and flows together as a single piece of work amazingly. I love the purposefully limited sample palette of each track forcing an evolving groove throughout. He absolutely wrings every bit of variation he can get out of every single sound he uses and once you get into the groove of it it's absolutely mind blowing.

Boredom - The Drones: I love that The Drones can write a song about joining ISIS that's also a lot of fun. Spelling out radicalization in a way anyone can understand and sympathise with and then switching it in the second verse to spell out how we got into this situation anyway. 

Loinclothing - Hunters And Collectors: I love how much this song sounds like a voodoo celebration in christian hell.

The Fun Machine Took A Shit And Died - Queens Of The Stone Age: There's a good bit on the live dvd they put out after Lullabies To Paralyze where they play this song and they say it was supposed to be on the album but somebody stole the master recordings from the studio, which is an incredible and brazen crime. Then when they put it out on Era Vulgaris as a bonus track Josh Homme said in an interview "The tapes got lost. Actually, they were just at another studio, but we falsely accused everyone in the world of theft" which is extremely funny. This is really one of their best songs and I sort of really with it had been on Lullabies because it fits perfectly between The Blood Is Love and Someone's In The Wolf type of vibes, I love how it just kind of keeps shifting ideas and riffs throughout. An absolute jam overflowing with ideas.

10AM Automatic - The Black Keys: This song is an all time great in my opinion. It's so straightforward and so effective. I wonder if we'll get a blues rock revival ever or if Jack White still being alive and bad is souring everyone on that idea. This song also has one of my favourite guitar sounds in history I think - the outrageously huge sounding solo that comes out of nowhere and swallows up the rest of the mix like a swirling black hole near the end.

Gamma Knife - King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard: I've never gotten much into King Gizzard and because of their one million albums already it's hard to know where to start but I've been listening to Nonagon Infinity a bit and it's great, it's just good old fashioned 70s prog jams front to back.

Gina Works At Hearts - DZ Deathrays: I absolutely love this song and I absolutely love the second guitar sound in the chorus of this song that sounds like it's made out of thin steel.

Black Brick - Deafheaven: When I saw Deafheaven the other month I was right up the front and it was a life changingly great experience AND they played this new song live for the first time before it went up everywhere like three hours later which was very exciting to be given a sclusie like that. After they finished a guy behind me whispered to his friend "Slayer..." which was very funny to me.

Gemini - Elder: I found this band because one of my Spotify Daily Mixes was all stoner metal for a while, which is a good genre to see all lined up because it'll have Weedeater, Bongripper AND Uncle Acid & The Deadbeats right there in a row for you. Anyway this album is extremely good, the very best kind of stoner metal where it's groovy and fun and has big meaty riffs and ripping big solos and it's extremely easy to listen to three times in a row.

The Paradise Gallows - Inter Arma: My big obsession the past little while has been Inter Arma ever since Stereogum posted The Atavist's Meridian from their new album. It is just so fucking good and I can't believe I've never heard of them before. You know when you find out about an amazing band and then you find out they've been around for nearly ten years and you can't believe everyone in your life has been selfishly hiding them from you?

The Atavist's Meridian - Inter Arma: I think a big part of my enjoyment of this band has also been that I discovered them at the same time as I'm listening to an audiobook of the complete Conan The Barbarian omnibus so I'm very much in the brain space for music that sounds like it would be nice to swing an axe to.

Untoward Evocation - Impetuous Ritual: I love how halfway through this kind of just turns into a big swirling mist of dark sounds. It feels so formless and dark that it could just shake apart and dissipate at any moment and you'd look down to realise your skin is gone.

Eagle On A Pole - Conor Oberst: from Genius: 'In an interview with MTV news, Oberst stated “We were on the bus one day and a friend of ours that travels with us and works for the band kind of came out from the back of the bus and said that first line: ‘Saw an eagle on a pole… I think it was an eagle.’ And then this guy Simon Joyner, who is a great songwriter from Omaha and one of my great friends, he was on tour with us and sitting there and he was like, ‘You know, that’s a great name for a song.’ We kind of had a contest where he wrote a song with that first line, and [then] I did, and a couple of our other friends. We kind of all played them for each other. Simon’s is better than mine, but it is a good line to start a song.” Another version–Mystic Valley Band drummer Jason Boesel’s interpretation–is on the next album, Outer South.' The idea that such a good song has such a braindead origin only makes me love it more.

Lake Marie - John Prine: When I saw John Prine the other month he played this song that I had never heard before and I had to look it up after and now I'm completely obsessed with it. It feels like falling asleep during a movie and missing a critical plot point so the rest doesn't make sense when you wake up but is thrilling nonetheless. Also he absolutely screamed "SHADOWS!!!" when he played it which was a fucking cool thing to see a 72 year old man do.

Little White Dove - Jenny Lewis: The drums on this whole album are absolutely huge for some reason and I love it. My favourite recent sound is in the first chorus where there's a funny little pitch correction noise as she sings 'dove'. It's very strange and very very good.

Locked Up - The Ocean Party: I only found out The Ocean Party existed as they announced their farewell show this month which is a real shame but I'm glad I got to hear of them at all because they're very good. A very good song about that feeling we all know and love: driving for a long long time.

Plain & Sane & Simple Melody - Ted Lucas: I found out about this song from Emma Ruth Rundle's Amoeba Records video and she makes a good point about this whole album sounding like something's gone wrong and it got accidentally pitched down slightly in the recording process. It's unclear if that's what happened or that's just how he sounds but it adds a very softly spooky undercurrent to a very nice song.​ 

listen here

[themusicview]

Falling Down the Hole: The Downward Spiral in Retrospect

The year is 1994.  The place is Woodstock, New York.  The crowd is abuzz, despite having slogged through mud and paid outrageous prices to be here.  A single name rises above the rabble, Nine Inch Nails, a teenage war chant accompanied by pumping fists.  A pounding industrial beat comes on, sounding like machinery dredged up from the bowels of Hell itself.  The cheers only grow louder as the band takes their places.  They are a disheveled sight, caked in mud from head to toe, sloppy, almost inhuman looking.  One picks up a guitar and begins to play a rising chord progression, distorted, angry, feral. They are Nine Inch Nails, and they are the newest addition to the rock pantheon.

25 years later, Nine Inch Nails may not remain as relevant as they were on that night in 94, but their legacy is secure.  Frontman Trent Reznor managed to capture the particular angst of the 90s in a way that made it seem terrifyingly real and raw.  Reznor would yell, scream, throw microphones, destroy keyboards, and endanger audience safety in their incredibly intense live shows.  However, before 1994, they were unable to translate that energy onto record.  Perhaps only 1992’s Broken EP came the closest, but even that lacked the same lyrical rawness of Pretty Hate Machine. That changed with their masterpiece, The Downward Spiral, an album which manages to provide excellent tunes and a terrifying concept that hasn’t aged a day.  With a society that deals more and more with issues of depression, alienation, social rejection, and uncontrolled id with each passing day, The Downward Spiral serves as a warning to what happens when we go too far and fall too deep.

Before we can speak about the album, we need to contextualize it, because like most bands, context is just as important in evaluating an album as the music itself.  In 1992, Nine Inch Nails were going through extreme turmoil, with their label, and their personal lives.  The band’s label, TVT Records, had placed extreme pressure on the band to produce a follow up to their modestly successful debut album, Pretty Hate Machine. During the course of this pressuring, Reznor learned that the label was going to be taking away creative control from the band, turning them into, as he put it, “Depeche Mode Part 2.”  Reznor was having none of it, and demanded to be released from his contract.  TVT records refused.   As a result, he had to record the follow up EP, Broken, in secret from the label. Reznor eventually signed with Interscope Records and created his own sub-label, Nothing Records.  As he put it. “We made it very clear we were not doing another record for TVT.  But they made it pretty clear they weren't ready to sell.  So I felt like, well, I've finally got this thing going but it's dead. … Jimmy Iovine got involved with Interscope, and we kind of got slave-traded.  It wasn't my doing. I didn't know anything about Interscope. … But Interscope went into it like they really wanted to know what I wanted.  It was good, after I put my raving lunatic act on.”

Having regained control of his music, Reznor retreated and began to work on a follow up to the Broken EP. He was looking for a happy medium sound, something between the harshness of Broken and the anger of Pretty Hate. Looking for a studio space, he rented out 10050 Cielo Drive, the place where the Manson Family murdered Sharon Tate, and converted the infamous house into a recording studio.  Over the course of the next year, Reznor would produce The Downward Spiral.

The Downward Spiral opens with a sample of a prison guard beating a prisoner from George Lucas’ debut feature film, THX 1138.  This clip is a perfect summation of the album’s treatment of first time listeners.  In this metaphor, you, the listener, are the prisoner being beaten.  As the sample speeds up, like an engine being turned over, the opening track, Mr. Self Destruct, takes off like a rocket.  The first time I turned on the album, I nearly blew out my headphones it was so loud and abrasive.  However, once I got used to the sound, I found myself rocking along.  The album shifts between sulky, funky synthpop tracks, and blistering fast metal.  I know this makes the album sound binary, but there are so many layers to the synthpop and metal. Compare the album’s second track, Piggy, and the fifth track, Closer; where the former is a slinky, almost slimy villain song, the latter is a sexy funk jam that wouldn’t be out of place in a BDSM film, complete with effect pedal drenched guitar and screamed, almost orgasmically delivered vocals. The degredation of this, “sex I can smell” is not something to be avoided, it is something to be fully embraced.

While the music on this album is excellent from beginning to end, it is the concept that propels it from merely great, to legendary status.  When questioned about the identity of Mr. Self Destruct, the album’s protagonist, Reznor replied that Mr. Self Destruct is him, but the version of him that follows all of his vices to the bitter, most extreme, end.  The album tells its story through careful layering of metaphor and music, with the narrative binding lyric of, “Nothing can stop me now, cuz I don’t care anymore.”  Needless to say, this lack of caring doesn’t end well for him.  Mr. Self Destruct’s journey of hedonism and, well, self-destruction, leads to him losing faith in God, humanity, and himself, and culminates in his suicide in the album’s title track.  “He couldn’t believe how easy it was.  (he put the gun into his face) Bang! (so much blood for such a tiny little hole) Problems do have solutions you know.  A lifetime of fucking things up fixed, in one determined flash.”  The problem is not the man, but the uncaring, the malignant hatred that forces people to their basest instincts to chase highs in a meaningless world where God is dead and no one cares.  

The Downward Spiral is a warning against such uncaring, and it is presented in such a raw, unfiltered way because it was painfully ripped out of Trent Reznor’s own guts.  Reznor used his own journal as inspiration for lyrics when writing the album, and composed everything to be in line with the personal vision he had. Struggling with depression, thoughts of suicide, and a drug problem that would later in his life almost kill him, he wrote a treatise on how easy it is for people to fall down the rabbit hole of poor decisions.  By the time we reach the album’s ninth track, Mr. Self Destruct has completely retreated into his own mind, the only place where he can find refuge from the swirling torrent of hell his life has become, but even that is quickly usurped.

Hurt, the album’s closer, found first here on The Downward Spiral and eventually made famous by Johnny Cash, describes the end result of following every impulse, including suicide.  Mr. Self Destruct is reduced to a machine that must hurt himself in order to feel anything, pondering, “If I could start again, a million miles away, I would keep myself.  I would find a way.”   The album ends, not in triumph, but in human suffering.That’s the most appropriate word, I think, for this album: human.   Most concepts, and concept albums by extension, feel alien to any listener, but The Downward Spiral’s concept is something people live out daily.  Generally, we don’t have experience with becoming a martian rockstar a la Ziggy Stardust, but we all know the fear of losing ourselves to vice.  Ziggy is an unreachable ideal that plays guitar; you could make one bad choice, and turn into Mr. Self Destruct tomorrow. Despite being made of abrasive textures and screamed lyrics purpose built to convey artificiality, the album relates a deeply human fear. And, as the album’s continued longevity proves, the audience, like the Woodstock kids, continues to move to it’s poignant message today.

[jimhenson-themuppetmaster]

Michael Caine and the Muppets The Muppets Christmas Carol

[justanothersecretfangirl]

I Got the Boy (part 1)

A/N: so this fic is loosely based off the Jana Kramer song. I emphasize the loosely part, but yeah. The bold is song lyrics, and the Italics are flashbacks. Hold on tight. It's gonna be a bumpy ride 😂

Another huge thanks @embracehappy for reading through this mess!

I saw your picture in a paper, Honeymoon in Jamaica, she’s a lucky girl

You look so grown up in your black tux, from a ball cap in a pickup, seems like another world

You and me and our big dreams, falling in love

We were two kids in the backseat, all fearless and young

“Heads up everyone,” comes the booming voice of Dylan Lovelace as he made his way up the steps into the large conference room at the office where you work.

You glance up from your file that you were working and Olivia quickly ends her call, stuffs her phone away on her desk and turns to face Dylan. “We have a VIP coming into today to tour the facility and record a quick demo. We will stay professional and make Shadow Recording proud, yes?” he started, and you roll your eyes, turning back to the chart in front of you. You were not interested in working with an VIPs, much preferring to help small indie artists. Anyone with a good head on their shoulders. You tuned out Dylan’s voice, focusing on your work. Soon, Dylan left the room, but returned soon thereafter.

“Everyone, Shawn Mendes will be joining us today and the next few weeks. Make sure to make him feel welcome.”

As soon as the name leaves his mouth, your heart stops. Your head jerks up so fast that you’re sure you suffer whiplash. You see the one person you had been running from for 3 years standing in your office. He claps Dylan on the shoulder, thanking him before glancing around the room, offering a warm smile.

You and Olivia exchange glances, her eyes wide, before Shawn catches your eye. He holds your eye for a minute and offer a small nod and slight smile, completely melting you into a puddle of goo, before he turns back to Dylan. Feeling a burning in your cheeks, you quickly look back down to the file in front of you, pretending to read it as Dylan continues on. You only rejoin the discussion happening around you when you hear your name. “I’m sorry, what?” you ask, glancing up at Dylan.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “I said, will you please show Mr. Mendes to the studio and help him with anything he needs. I want you to do this. You are the best we have in indie mixing. Give him anything he needs.”

“But… what about Sanjay? He’s the pop guy. Shawn’s style isn’t exactly indie…”

“Shawn is trying something new. That’s why he’s here. Is there a problem, Y/N?” You shake your head and glance over at the pop star, who is watching you closely. You could very easily have gotten out of this project. You were technically Dylan’s boss’ boss. But that would mean everyone would find out.

“Not at all...” You decide 3 weeks is worth being able to continue doing what you loved.

“Good.” He throws his glance between Shawn and you before turning to walk into his office. “Back to work, everyone.”

I got the first kiss and she’ll get the last

She’s got the future, I got the past

I got the class ring, she got the diamond and wedding band

I got the boy, she got the man

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Geoff shouts, as he makes his way across the parking lot of the bar, toward the car of the woman he was going home with. He was smashed, no simple feat for a man of that stature, but he had single handedly downed almost an entire bottle of Jack Daniels.

You chuckle as you watch him try to fit into the car. “Don’t worry Geoff, I won’t!” He finally gets into the car, seat belts in and shut the door. He waves to us, and both you and Shawn wave back as they drive off.

Shawn chuckles and turns to you. “How much did he drink exactly?” he asks, as he opens the door of the Jeep for you to climb in.

“Oh I’d say he drank at least three fourths of the bottle.” You giggle and he shakes his head, laughing. He shuts the door and runs around the Jeep before climbing in the driver’s side and starting it.

“Let me guess, you finished it off for him?” he asks, glancing over at you, eyebrows arched.

You turned to him and raised an eyebrow. This causes him to chuckle, and you give in, laughing along with him. “Well of course. He was drunk, and acting like an idiot. I couldn’t let him be a drunk idiot by himself, could I?”

He pulls the Jeep out of the parking lot and starts down the highway, still laughing. “Oh the trouble you two get into.”

You roll your eyes playfully and glance out the window as the night zips past. “Oh please Shawn, you’re the worst of us all.”

“No arguments there.” He chuckles, and grabs your hand. You glance at him to find him looking at you. He shoots you a wink before intertwining your fingers. You feel your cheeks turn red and glance back out the window, a giant smile on your face.

You drive in comfortable silence for a good 10 minutes before coming to a stop. You were at the Toronto Music Gardens. You and Shawn had been here many times before, loving the concept and the beautiful scenery, but it looks very different at night.

Without saying a word, Shawn put the car in park, reaches in the backseat to grab a blanket and then jumps out. He jogs around the Jeep, opens the door for you and you jump out, stumbling slightly into his chest. He just chuckles, steadying you. You walk hand in hand across the park until you find the perfect patch of grass on a slight hill. You spread out the blanket, and lay down gently. He follows your lead and now you both are laying down on your backs, staring up at the stars. You spend the next few hours talking, and enjoying the peacefulness of the evening.

“Y/N/N?” he mumbles, and you stir lightly, having been just about asleep in his arms.

“Yeah Shawn?”

“I have something for you.” he whispers, and you finally open your eyes. You glance down to his right hand and watch as he pulls his ring off his finger. “Now, I know this will be too big for you, but I want you to have it anyways.” He starts, as you stare down at the ring in his hand. Your heart is beating a million miles a minute.

“Y/N, I love you more than anyone or anything on this planet. I know, my life is just starting to get absolutely crazy, and I don’t want anything out of this except for you to know exactly how much I love you. Would I mind still being with you in 30 years? Hell no. Nothing would make me happier.. but I also know I live a life that makes this extremely hard. We both have so much more to do in our lives, and I want us to do them together. But I do want to marry you one day Y/N Y/L/N. So, as a promise to you that one day I will do just that, will you keep this safe for me?”

With tears in your eyes, you turn around in his grip and take his face in your hands. “Shawn Mendes, you are such a piece of work, but you are my piece of work. I love you so much, and I would love nothing more than to keep this safe for you,” you say, taking the ring from his hand and holding it tightly in yours. You glance down at it, a permanent smile on your face, before glancing up at him. He was watching you, a content smile on his face. You take one more glance at the ring before leaning in and crashing your lips onto his.

Yeah there’s an old you that I knew,

Fake IDs to get into those spring break bars

Back woods on a four wheel, hanging on tight, I can still feel my racing heart

And now you’re cleaned up with a haircut, nice tie and shoes

If things were different and I had a choice, which would I choose?

“We don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to.” You were looking up at Shawn, eyes wide. He glanced over at you, then back at the ATV’s parked in front of him. Your dad and brothers were hurrying about, picking up this or that, or tightening this piece or that piece, stalling.

“I want to. I just… I’ve never done anything like this.” Shawn glanced over at you, a nervous smile on his face. You were sure that the only reason he agreed to come today was to impress your dad and brothers.

“Here. Hold this,” you say, handing him your helmet. “I have an idea.” You take off running toward your mom and dad. After explaining the situation, you convince them to let you and Shawn ride the RAZR. You jog back over to Shawn.

“We’re going to ride in the RAZR. It’s a little easier to ride than the wheelers, and you can even drive if you’d like.” Shawn’s face lit up. “Plus, there's more room for those giant legs of yours.”  He laughed out loud at that comment, and finally loosened up, ready to enjoy the new experience.

Later that night, after all the riding and commotion of the day, everyone sat around a campfire, roasting marshmallows and telling jokes and stories. Shawn strummed softly on his guitar, humming melodies to himself. You glance over at him, a smile on his face, even through his singing. You softly started singing along with him. He looked up at you, a huge smile on his face. He stops singing and lets you finish the song. You laugh at him, but kept singing until the song ended.

“That’s my girl,” he grins and wrapped you tightly in a hug. That was the first of many stolen moments between you and Shawn, even though you should have never let yourself believe in a happily ever after.

I got the first kiss and she’ll get the last

She’s got the future and I got the past

I got the class ring, she got the diamond and wedding band

I got the boy and she got the man.

The room erupted in hollars and cheers, clapping and smiles filling everyone’s faces. You smiled at Shawn through the window. Teddy was sitting next to you and hugged you quickly before hopping up and joining the festivities. That was it. You were done recording Shawn’s first album. It had been a whirlwind production. But when Teddy Gieger approached you to help produce some of the tracks, you just couldn’t say no. You and Shawn had been friends for a couple years at this point, and you were sure he had something to do with it, but honestly, you just couldn’t be happier for the opportunity.

“Y/N,” you heard behind you. You smiled, turning to look at the giant in front of you. He was the literal embodiment of happiness, and you couldn’t help but wrap him in a big hug. He rested his head on the top of yours and sighed contentedly.

When you pulled away, you were about to say something, but Shawn cut you off by pulling you back in and placing a soft kiss on your lips. Your eyes widened, surprised, but eventually melted into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut.

I got the first kiss and she’ll get the last

We each got something, the other will never have

I got the long hair, hot head

She got the cool and steady hand

I got the boy and she got the man

I got the boy and she got the man

“Y/N,” Geoff shouted for the millionth time, as he continued to pound on the locked door. “Y/N, we’re worried about you! Please open the door. Are you okay? Are you alive in there?”

It had been such a long time since the urge to hurt yourself was this strong, and you finally let it consume you. Now, you were filled with disgust and guilt, blood dripping down your arm. You wrapped your arm tightly in a bandage, and sat on your bed, head feeling woozy.  

After Geoff yelled through the door again, you reluctantly pushed yourself off the bed and walked over to the mirror in the bathroom. You quickly redid your messy bun, wincing with pain as you raised your arm. You splashed a bit of water on your face. Once you looked like you hadn’t been crying for hours, you turned and made your way to the door.

Geoff grabbed you as soon as you opened the door and you gasp in pain. He looked at you worried. You pushed up your sleeve to reveal the blood soaked bandage on your arm. Geoff gasped a bit, “Oh, Y/N, why? Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” He gave you an extremely worried look and then directed you to the living room.

“Where’s Shawn?” you asked quietly.

“He just went to grab some food…” You could tell he was lying to you.

“He’s with her, huh? That girl from the bar we were at?” Geoff just looked at you, a sad look in his eyes.

A few well placed butterfly closures and a large bandage later, you had convinced Geoff that you were fine and didn’t need to go to the hospital.  You laid back on your bed, eyes swimming with tears. It was then, glancing at your mauled arm, drunk on pain and heartache and whiskey, that you knew you needed out.

That night, after Geoff was asleep, you grabbed your duffel bag, hopped in your beat up car and left.

That was the last you saw of Toronto. You still don’t know exactly why you had left, or why you hadn’t called. You thought about it a hundred times. But eventually, you stopped thinking about him, thinking about calling him. You were heartbroken, but you knew it was for the best. You were never going to have your happily ever after with Shawn anyways. After you left, he really blew up. He released a few more albums that all hit #1, and you had to force yourself not to listen to his music.  

But, music is what you know best, so you applied at a few colleges in the US and got accepted. You decided on NYU and you were off to New York City. It took you a little while to get into the hang of the city, but you ended up loving it. You made sure to stay as far in the background as you could. The last thing you needed was someone picking up on the fact that you had co-produced Shawn Mendes’ first album. You graduated at the top of your class and approached the owners of Shadow Recording. They were happy to add another partner on, and you made it very clear that you wanted to be a silent partner. They thought this was strange at first, but you love producing. You aren’t a business person. You have a say in who you take on as clients, but, for the most part, you try not to get too involved. Which is why you had no idea that Shawn is the newest client.  

With a heavy sigh, you push your chair away from your desk and show the superstar quietly to the biggest recording booth. You ask if he needs any coffee and walk over to the coffee machine for a much needed caffeine jolt. You close your eyes and sigh internally when you hear footsteps approaching you. You don’t even have to turn around to know it’s Shawn. He had been eying you ever since he walked in this morning.

“Hey,” he says softly as you turn around to face him.

“Hey,” you reply, raising an eyebrow at him.

“How have you been?” he asks, reaching for an empty coffee mug and filling it to the brim.

You shake your head, stopping him right away. “No Shawn, we aren’t doing this.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but you hold your hand up, telling him to stop once more. “No Shawn, okay? We can’t do this. I am helping you with this recording and nothing else. Everything we had in the past?” you ask him, reaching up and slipping off the necklace you had worn underneath your clothes for the last 3 years, handing it to him. “It’s gone. It’s history. I am your producer, nothing more.”

With that, you turn and walk back to the seat in front of the mixing board, leaving him standing alone. You set your coffee down and begin flipping on a few switches. The room in front of you springs into view, various switches turning on various cords and instruments in the room. You glance to the other side of the room to find him still staring down at the ring in this hand, before he glances over his shoulder at you. You quickly avert your gaze across the room and catch Olivia’s eye as she sticks her head into the room. The confused look on her face is actually quite comical.

You settle back into the seat, knowing you were making the right decision. Shawn Mendes was not the boy that you had fallen in love with a little over 5 years ago. That boy is gone, and he is now a man. A man you no longer know. Hailee, she gets the man, but you got the boy.

Forever Tag List: @embracehappy @atlas-of-a-human-soul

[mrsgrangermalfoy]

GOT7 FIC RECS

JJP

Featherweight by foxxing 

It’s been 13 years since any of them have seen Jinyoung. Spurred onward into a life of crime from their delinquent childhood on the streets, the 6 of them have risen in the underground ranks to become the most successful group of hitmen under the Knight Group. Jinyoung, having abandoned them and their lifestyle at 18, has risen to stardom as the hottest actor in Korea, but not everyone loves him: on a sunny February day, a $6 million dollar hit crosses the desks of the 6 Knights, but only one of them is bitter enough to take it.

Or: Jaebum becomes Jinyoung’s bodyguard under a fake identity to get revenge for a broken heart.

Word count: 124,000 

tbh read everything by this author, they are a quality source of jjp

Anteroom by minyukie

How do you act around your ex with your child in the other room? It’s been almost a year and a half, and Jinyoung has yet to figure it out.

Word count: 76,771

i love kidfics, kinda angsty

Charade by Sugarbowl 

Jaebum and Jinyoung walk parallel paths in many ways, but Jaebum isn't interested in their intersection. Jaebum struggles to support his young son on his own, while everything seems to come easy for wealthy, charming Jinyoung. But when they're forced to partner for a project, Jaebum finds himself a bit more willing, and much more in need.

Word count: 152,145

I love this author’s characterization of Jinyoung, please read it dadJB is something we all need more of

Compass Calling by Sugarbowl

Prince Jinyoung is destined for a lifetime of luxury, until he's shoved in a trunk and accidentally abducted. Im Jaebum clawed his way out of poverty to captain a pirate ship and... not much else, actually. Jinyoung could be his first real treasure, if Jaebum could just figure out how holding someone for ransom actually works.

Word count: 82,944

if you didnt think you needed a pirate fic before, YOU DO NOW, literally the fic that made me ship jjp

Wilder by Sugarbowl

Newly graduated, Jinyoung is determined to try new things. New parties, new boys, and when Mark asks for a favor, even volunteering as a counselor at summer camp. But new experiences can get complicated, and he quickly finds himself a little out of his depth.

Word Count: 76,619

why are there not more summer camp AU’s. i love this author so much they come up with the best ideas i had to rec three fics honestly just everything they’ve written you won’t regret it

Citation by KingJackson

When the one book he needs for an important term paper has to remain in the campus library, Jinyoung catches the eye of Jaebum, a library assistant.

Word count: 115,401

jinyoung’s a dick here and jb is too good for the world, quality smut, cute markson on the side, read the sequel Renewal too

Honey by crimson_calamity

It was always the handsome ones, his mother always told him: handsome boys will use you, break your heart and leave you with the pieces. Jinyoung used to think she was talking about herself but, well. Her intuition towards her son has always surprised him.

(Jinyoung doesn't think she could ever have anticipated this)

Word count: 5693

This is the first fic in the “We’re the opposite of angels” series. just read the whole series (Of all the assignments, Not quite what anyone expected, Let's make this work) cus JB as a demon is hot ok

Baggage by mertlekang

RentAU! - Jaebum and Youngjae have been living in a shitty apartment on the wrong side of town for years, struggling to pay their rent and carrying the weight of their past mistakes. With the introduction of a new neighbour, a meeting with an old flame, and the help of a stranger after a mugging, new relationships are built and their lives grow all the more complicated.

Word count: 47,081

Warning this fic made me cry, but it’s so well done i could feel the characters pain myself, it’s not solely a jjp fic, contains markson and yugbam too

Walls of Glass by hakkais_shadow, katamari

The city's social structure is firm and unyielding--Alphas at the top, Betas in the middle, and Omegas as pliant, broken servants to the Alphas. When Im Jaebum, the heir of an old Alpha family suddenly finds his social position flipped, he's thrown into a world of intrigue, deceit, and as the very unwilling servant to an even more unwilling Park Jinyoung.

Word count: 37,873

I still dunno how i feel about ABO fics but i like the power dynamic between JB and jinyoung and i found the world very interesting and well created

bloom by subsequence

Jaebum may have learned to accept his role as future king, but accepting this new role — the thought makes him sick to his stomach.

If he could have, Jaebum would have chosen any other way to present as an omega.

(Or: Omegaverse Arranged Marriage AU featuring Princes!JJP and a cast of loudmouth extras.)

Word count: 82,833

another ABO fic, but also well done, great if you love a good royalAU like me

꽃이 만발한 차 (Tea Blossom) by seitsemannen

Unlike the other companions at the Red Orchid, Jinyoung’s robes never revealed more than the slope of his neck or a sliver of his wrist, if he was being flirtatious. His clients were paying for his intelligent company and handsome face, nothing else.

The entrance of Jaebum in his life is the start of a series of exceptions.

Word count: 39000 (this is a WIP)

interesting concept, i’m intrigued to see how the story progresses

MARKSON

The Prince Who Never Laughed by seitsemannen

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, lived a beautiful and kind prince named Mark, who after his mother's loss never laughed again. That was until he met the brightly smiling apprentice of a glassblower, Jackson Wang.

Word Count: 50,000

a cute fic, i love royalAU’s

Playhouse by seitsemannen

All sorts of rumours surround the handsome Wang heir and the good-looking servants of his household, but no one seemed to know for sure, as no matter the price, the members were not willing to give the secrets of their Master up.

Mark doesn't care for celebrities or rumours, except the one that says the Wang household pays several times more than the usual servant's salary, so when there's a job opening at the House, he goes for it. In the days and weeks spent at the House, Mark gets to know the members and finds out what of the ludicrous rumours were true and what weren’t. What he did not know to expect, however, is how good friends he would become with the other members of the House, and what’s worse, that he would fall in love with Jackson Wang.

Word count: 311,000 (this is a WIP)

honestly this is like a classic, and super smutty and long 

Twist by KingJackson

Mark knows Jinyoung. Jinyoung knows Jackson. Jackson hooks up with Jinyoung who also hooks up with Mark. Mark goes to hook up with Jinyoung and ends up also sleeping with Jackson. Jackson sometimes hooks up with Jaebum, but that isn’t important right now.

And they say romance is dead.

Word Count: 68,964

honestly this was the fic that made me ship markson, i wasn’t too big on them but jackson is too good here to not root for them

MARKJIN

(tbh if anyone know any good markjin fics hmu i’m struggling to find quaility ones)

Blue Neighbourhood by gotsichi7

Jinyoung lived in his own bubble until Mark came around and reminded him how precious friendship was. The bond they had was beyond any friendship Jinyoung had ever made which made Mark special to him. But school was coming to an end and after graduation, there was no telling where everyone would end up. Life threatened to break that bond or rather seperation made them realize just how special their bond was.

The relationship of Mark and Jinyoung based off of the Troye Sivan album, Blue Neighbourhood.

Word count: 43,963

angsty af, another one of those that hurts so good and you feel in your soul

Ameoto (Part 1 of 2) by aquilaprisca

In a small town, hidden beneath constant rain and shadows, Jinyoung spends his time alone lying on his mattress wondering whether the hollowness inside him will ever be filled. Somehow even the smile he perfected over the years can't even seem to save him from himself. But being the only bartender within a mile radius means Jinyoung meets people on a daily basis, and as he watches the door, and waits for the ring of the bell, he wonders sometimes if there'll ever be someone that enters his bar and changes everything for him.

Word count: 28,806

cute fic i enjoy the writing style, light angst, don’t forget to read the sequel 

MARKBUM

ok so i don’t really read markbum but cutiepiemarkeu has written a huge amount of really solid markbum fics if you are interested