#this is rapidly becoming one of my favorite bass tones

[uhgood-dooghu]

Dial Tone [M]

Author uhgood-dooghu

Pairing Namjoon x Reader

Summary Namjoon’s been gone for a week. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

Rating 18+

Genre Smut, fluff, my attempt at crack, established relationship

Warnings Explicit sexual content, phone sex, daddy kink you’ve been warned, dom/sub undertones, begging, edging, orgasm control, dirty talk, use of a sex toy, Namjoon’s packing, OC is a bro girl at heart, self gratuitous porn with no plot

Word Count 2.7k

“Daddy...”

Namjoon almost swerves into a passing truck as your breathy voice fills his car.

Swearing, he composes himself, eyes flitting rapidly between the road and his phone, the Bluetooth allowing a string needy moans to ring out from the speakers.

When you’d called earlier, he’d been in the middle of the Meeting of the Year (trademarked by Seokjin), deep in the throes of negotiations but also riding high on the success of the afternoon. He hadn’t seen the notification until he’d finally left the building forty-five minutes late, waving goodbye to his business partner and waiting for his car just outside the lobby. He’d frowned when he’d seen your name. You’d made plans this morning to call him later tonight, so the timestamp concerned him slightly, but he knew well enough that if there was an emergency, you would call at least 7 times. Probably blow up Seokjin’s phone as well.

Sliding into the drivers seat, he’d connected his phone and pulled onto the street, absentmindedly hitting play on your message.

Thank god Seokjin had declined his offer for a ride.

“Holy mother of fuck,” he exclaims, panic clouding his thoughts before he has the sense to throw a hand out and adjust the volume. Does he know what’s happening? No. But he really doesn’t need the bass bumping your moans through the window for the whole world to hear.

Gripping the steering wheel, he swallows thickly, ears tuning in to the words you start to speak.

“Daddy, I need you,” you whine. “Where are you? You said you’d be done by now–“ You break off with a gasp.

When it hits him, the panic subsides, his jaw locking in place as he maneuvers his way through the evening rush. To clarify, you’d made very specific plans to call him tonight.

Apparently you’d gotten impatient.

The way your voice shakes tells him you probably had three fingers buried in your pussy, trying and failing to replicate what his own fingers are capable of. He listens to you take a few grounding breaths.

“I miss you, daddy. You’ve been gone for so long–oh my god–I miss you touching me.”

Namjoon’s eyes harden and he presses harder on the gas. A horn blares to his left, but he ignores it completely, barely seeing the angry driver flip him off, because his pants suddenly feel much tighter than they did five seconds ago.

“I miss your fingers. And your dick. Fuuuck, daddyyy!”

Your moans start to escalate, chasing after that edge, likely trying so hard to curl your fingers against your g-spot while circling your clit frantically with your free hand. His knuckles whiten around the wheel, his exhale dark as your voice turns progressively more manic, more helplessly panicked, until you cry out in desperation, the way you always do when you’re denied.

Your voice cracks and he feels it right in his dick.

“Daddy daddy, please please please, call me back, please please, I wanna come, daddy, I’ve been so good, please please please, call me.”

Your words slur, voice wrecked, and you let out a final sob before the message ends.

Namjoon sits frozen for a moment, mechanically turning his car into the hotel drive, before he inhales sharply and looks down.

Yep, he’s hard as fuck.

“Shit.”

Pulling up to the valet, he fumbles with his belt, tucking his erection into his waistband with a silent prayer that it’ll be enough to save him some embarrassment. It probably won’t (surprise, it’s actually quite difficult to hide a massive dick, who would’ve thought), but he doesn’t have a whole lot of options. At least he wore black pants.

He grabs his phone and steps out of the car only a little awkwardly, passing the man his keys before making a beeline for the glass doors. Thankfully, the lobby is near vacant as he rushes to the elevator, angling himself away from the front desk. Still, the receptionist raises an eyebrow, so he forces a smile, dimples fully on display even as his eyes stare daggers at the dial above the door. Tapping at his phone, he shoots you a text.

Namjoon: Couldn’t wait for tonight, huh? [6:31 PM]

When the doors finally open, he darts inside, choosing his floor and frantically tapping the “close” button.

The elevator moves far too slowly. That’s all he can think as he adjusts his crotch, swearing under his breath. It does nothing to relieve the pressure and he swears again. He really does have big dick problems. He nearly trips when the doors slide open, narrowly missing a wide-eyed housekeeper passing by with a cleaning cart. He is quick to apologize but does not stop as he speeds to his suite, already tugging at the knot of his tie.

Letting himself through the door, he works the top few buttons of his shirt open and glances at his phone. You haven’t responded, which, knowing you, could mean one of two things. Either you let the moment pass...or you’re too fucked out to notice his message.

Quirking a brow, he texts again.

Namjoon: You there baby? [6:34 PM]

This time your response is immediate.

Y/n: Call me [6:34 PM]

With a chuckle, he strips to his boxers and falls to the mattress. Readjusting on the pillows, he presses the phone to his ear, listening to it ring twice before you pick up.

“Daddy…”

“Hi, baby.” He hooks his arm behind his head and licks his lips. “What you up to?”

He smirks when you moan, loud and wanton.

“Having fun?”

You stutter out a yes.

“Mmm, without me?”

He listens in amusement as you keen.

“I’m sorry, daddy, I c-couldn’t help it. I miss you!”

“It’s okay, princess. I miss you, too.”

In the background, he hears a soft drone.

“You got a toy in you, baby?”

“Mhmmm!”

“Yeah? Which one?”

You take a shaky breath. “T-the black one.”

He hums in approval, cock twitching at the image of you lying on the bed, legs spread, the suction cup of your favorite toy pressed to your clit while the other end curves inside you, buzzing against your g-spot. He can picture the way your eyes squeeze shut as you bite and suck on your fingers to keep yourself from touching.

“How long’s it been in, princess?”

“Too long,” you moan, and he tuts in disapproval.

“Not an answer.”

You whimper, voice pitching. “Since I c-called you.”

In the back of his mind, he’s impressed. That was at least an hour. Giving a low whistle, he finally reaches down and briefly palms himself. The relief shoots up his spine as he sighs.

“Dang, baby. Wanna tell daddy what you did while you waited for me?”

The way you groan tells him you’d much rather not, but he waits expectantly. You know what to say if you want to stop. You exhale a few times before managing to speak.

“I u-used my fingers...and I played with my clit. I got myself m-messy for you.” You pause to breathe. “Then g-got close, I was so close, and then I called you.”

You’re starting to heave, voice modulating rhythmically, and Namjoon suspects you are rocking your head back and forth, trying to keep the pleasure at bay. His dick throbs, but he refuses to touch just yet. Not until he hears you be good for him.

“Keep going, baby.”

You huff a whine and press on. “T-then I put my toy in...I let it suck my clit–ah!”

The device clicks off and he swells with pride and satisfaction as you pant heavily in his ear. Your self-control never fails to blow his mind. He doesn’t even have to tell you what to do, you’re so desperate to please. Tugging at his waistband, he pulls the elastic below his balls, finally wrapping his hand around the base of his cock and squeezing.

“You like that, huh? You like your toy sucking your clit?”

“D-daddy sucks it better.” You mewl and click the toy back to life.

He allows himself a smug grin. Sue him, it’s nice to hear. “What then, baby? What did you do next?”

Slowly, he starts raking his fist over his shaft, swirling the palm over the tip, and he bites back a groan, because, shit, he gets so ridiculously hard for you, it’s almost pathetic. Almost.

“I–fuck–I kept it inside me, and I...I p-played with my nipples until I was close–shiiiiit.”

You’re losing coherency by the second, and Namjoon loves it. It sets his nerve-endings on fire. Makes him a little light-headed himself. Still, he murmurs soft praises in your ear, wishing he was there to stroke your hair and kiss your face, your hands, literally every inch of your body. It takes you a minute to continue, the vibe clicking on and off once more.

“I was s-so close, and then I t-turned it up and it felt so good, daddy, it felt so good!” You’re on the verge of tears, and Namjoon smiles fondly, dragging his thumb through the precum beading at his slit.

“I’m sure it did, baby. Were you a good girl?”

“Yes yes yes,” you insist, and he hears the frantic rustle of sheets. “I was good, I didn’t come. I promise.” There’s a slight change in your voice, the toy becoming more muffled, and he can tell you’ve flipped to your stomach. “I promise.” This time you actually sob, and Namjoon shushes you softly.

“It’s okay, baby, I believe you.”

You moan. “Daddy, I wanna come.”

The throb of his dick lets him know he wants you to come, too. He moves his fist just a little faster.

“I know, baby.” Biting his lip, he lets his eyes fall shut. “But I want you to use your fingers first. Take the toy out and get them wet. Taste yourself for me, princess.”

You shift and, a few moments later, audibly swallow.

“Tastes so good...” you moan.

Fuck.

“Yeah? Nice and sweet for me?”

Your affirming whimper is slightly muffled, and Namjoon can see the way you press your face into the mattress, ass up and knees wide, fingers drenched in your own slick and drool as you rock your hips in the air. The image is lethal.

“Yesss daddy, please–“ You choke in the way you do when you force yourself to hold off for him. “Please, I’m so close, I’ve been so close for so long, please.”

God, he doesn’t know why he loves this so much. It’s almost sadistic how much he gets off on hearing you beg, on hearing you so broken and needy and desperate, such a far cry from the confidently composed woman he knows you to be.

In the beginning, he was confused, reluctant even, when you asked him to take control of your pleasure. Even though the idea sent a shiver up his spine, he couldn’t imagine you of all people truly wanting something like that. You, who demands control in every aspect of your life, who refuses to take orders and sends 6’ 5”, built-like-dump-truck CEOs crashing face first into their glass office doors (a story for another time).

He asked you again and again and again if you were sure, hesitant to jump too hastily, no matter how badly his mind and body buzzed at the thought. It took you grabbing his face and shaking him, promising him you wanted this, wanted him to have that final say, for him to finally agree. You had a more detailed conversation after that, discussing boundaries and safe words and all the nuts and bolts he was adamant to set firmly in place.

You haven’t come without permission since.

And now, as you whine and beg for him, completely at his mercy even 1,000 miles away, he revels in the power trip. He feels it swim through his veins and collect in his dick, and yeah, another drop of precum oozes out because that’s how much he fucking loves this.

“Daddy,” you choke, and he can tell you’re quickly reaching a breaking point.

“It’s ok, princess, I’m here.”

Putting you on speaker, he sets his phone on his chest and reaches down to cup his balls. He’s barely touched himself, but they’re already so tight, and he knows he won’t need a whole lot to get there. You do all the work without even trying.

You keen helplessly, and he rolls the flesh in his palm.

“Alright, baby,” he coos. “Put your toy back in. I want you to turn it up high. I wanna hear it, okay?”

The answering buzz has you crying out. Loudly.

Namjoon grins in satisfaction. Resting his head back, he tugs on his dick, finally allowing the warmth to grow and spread throughout his limbs. Your moans spur him on, his pace increasing in time with your desperation, until all he can hear are your sobs of ‘daddy daddy daddy!’

Fuck, he’s close.

“You know what to do, baby,” he growls.

You’re practically wailing, words muffled and unintelligible, and he fleetingly wishes he had FaceTimed you instead.

“Can’t hear you, princess.”

You gasp loudly.

“P-please, daddy, can I come?” You break off in a desperate slur of pleasepleaseplease, and that’s all he needs to snap.

Gritting his teeth, he tightens his fist.

“Come.”

“Fuck, daddy!” You squeal, crying out for him incoherently as you fall apart, the sound slightly distorted from the way your writhing rustles the sheets against the speaker.

“Good girl,” he groans, fist pumping furiously, head falling back as your whimpers send him over the edge. Cum spurts over his hand and stomach in hot streaks. “Such a good girl for me, fuck.”

He works himself through the pleasure, dragging his cum back down his cock, all the while showering you with praise as you gasp helplessly.

“Fuck, baby, you did so well.” With a hiss, he slows his hand to a stop, giving himself one last squeeze before dropping his dick to his stomach. “I’m so fucking proud of you. You hear me?”

You whimper, panting heavily, toy already clicked silent, and he knows you’re just about boneless on the sheets. For a second he lies there, letting the cloud settle, his sticky hand hanging off the bed. Taking a breath, he checks in.

“Can you talk to me, y/n?”

You don’t respond right away. “G-give me a minute,” you eventually whisper, and he relents with a soft ‘okay.’

It takes about five minutes, but he finally hears your breathing level out, a sated sigh crackling though the phone.

“How you feeling, babe?”

“Dead.”

He laughs, grabbing some tissues from the nightstand. “How long were you–“

“Two hours. Two fucking hours, Joon.” He laughs again, wiping the cum from his abs and fingers. “How long does it take to check your messages, goddamn!”

“Sorry, the meeting ran long.”

You hum in mock annoyance, then yawn loudly. “It went well, at least?”

“Mhmm, really well. We closed the deal.”

“Fuck yeah, bro.”

Laughing, Namjoon tosses the tissues in the trash and falls back onto the pillows. “Were you really edging for that long?”

“I mean, I took a couple breaks, but yeah, pretty much.”

He shakes his head, feeling a little guilty. “I’m sorry, baby, you know you didn’t have to–“

“Namjoon. It felt good. Really good.”

“...well, shit.”

You snort, and he lets go of any intrusive thoughts. He trusts that you know what you want, and lord knows he’ll give you anything you ask for. He hears you yawn once more with a smile.

“You should go to sleep.”

“It’s only 7.”

“You’ll be asleep in an hour anyways.”

You shift on the bed with a scoff. “You calling me old?”

“If you want me to.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

Namjoon smiles, and starts softly asking about your day, content to just hear your voice and stare aimlessly at the ceiling. Eventually, though, you settle into silence, simply listening to each other breathe. It’s not nearly as good as feeling your warmth beside him, but he’ll live. Still, he’s counting down the hours until his plane lands in a few days and he can kiss you for real. It’s been a long week.

He sighs. “I miss you, y/n.”

“I miss you, too, Joonie. I love you.”

His heart swells and he closes his eyes. He loves you, too. So goddamn much.

© moodievitamine, January 2021. Please do not copy, repost, or translate!

[oh-so-scenarios]

Loose Ends | three

⇢ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀ ʟᴀsᴛɪɴɢ ɪᴍᴘʀᴇssɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ...ᴛᴏᴏ ʙᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ sᴛɪᴄᴋ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀᴍᴀɢᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀᴜsᴇᴅ.

⇢ᴄᴇᴏ! ᴋɪᴍ ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ x ᴀᴅᴍɪɴ ᴀssɪsᴛᴀɴᴛ! ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴇx-ғɪᴀɴᴄᴇs!ᴀᴜ, ᴀɴɢsᴛ, ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇsᴛᴏʟᴏᴠᴇʀs

**A/N: Yall already know the deal, there are errors! (Word count 6.03K)

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Y/N:

I have to tell her. I have to tell her. There is no way I can keep this from her forever.

I’m staring at the door that led into my roomy 3 bedroom apartment. On the other side was my 17-year-old sister. The bass of the TV was leaking through the door, letting me know that she sat in front of the living room TV.

Today was my 6th day working for Mr. Kim and since the heated discussion four days ago, he barely speaks to me. He barely lifts his gaze to acknowledge my presence and I can’t say I hate it, but I don’t like it either. 

I can’t expect anything from him. The state of things was due to my decisions and even though I am fine with handling that burden, I wasn’t prepared to see his face every day. It’s slowly taking a toll on me. It’s picking away at my resolve and leaving me with a familiar empty feeling I haven’t felt in a long time.

Luna may only be 17 but she worries about me like a mother. It’s been like that since I could remember. I can’t recall when the roles changed. When did I lose my grips of being the older sister, and when did Luna take on that role?

I lean against the wall by the door, staring blankly at the floor. It’s unfair really, how I have leaned on Luna. It’s unfair and cruel because Luna should have been leaning on me. Regret bubbles up in my stomach and travels up my body to leave a bitter taste in my mouth. 

Luna was always my mother’s favorite child. She was the one that received the most hugs, the better presents, and the compliments. As a child, it bothered me. Why was she more important than me? A mother should love her children equally! They should put the same amount of effort into each child. 

But that wasn’t the case with Luna and I. Oh no, Luna needed the extra attention and love because Luna was sick. She’d been sick since birth, but our mom did a good job of hiding it from me. The random walks they’d take together while I stayed at home with my grandmother would leave me in envy. 

But I found out as Luna got older and started to talk that they were going to doctor’s appointments. Juna was born with a weak heart. I never understood the details. Something about a tube she was supposed to have didn’t fully develop. My mother was hiding it from me because she didn’t want me to worry.

Doctors were telling my mother that it would be a miracle if she lived past 22 years old. A horrifying thing to hear from anyone. The fact that my mother didn’t crumple from the stress is unbelievable. This was after my father up and left us. My parents were never married, so when he left after Luna was born, my mother was one her own.

We moved in with our grandmother and my mom worked and worked. All she would do is work. We’d see her on weekends and that’s when she’d pour all her time into Luna. I grew to resent her. I was only 7 when Luna was born, so the present blossomed as I entered adolescence.

However, my mother passed when I was 16. A car accident took her life, leaving us to be raised by our grandmother. My mother worked like crazy, leaving money for that we used for Luna’s medical bills after she passed.

Well, as much of the bills as we could.

Luna adored Namjoon, and when things went to shit 3 years ago, she blamed herself, but what could I have done?

I took my keys out, unlocked the door and stepped into the apartment. Just as I predicted, Luna sat on the couch, her back facing me, with her laptop on her lap and the tv on as background noise.

“You’re home?” She called over her shoulder. She didn’t spare me a glance, clicking rapidly at something. 

“Yeah.” My voice came out thin, which made her clicking stop. She looks over her shoulder at me, her short brown hair pushed behind her ears. Her thin bangs were a distray, a result of her running her fingers through her hair in frustration. 

“Rough day at work?” She questions, keeping her eyes on me for a moment longer before turning back to her laptop. I take off my shoes, and approach the couch, barely peeking at her laptop screen. I take a seat on the loveseat perpendicular to her and watch as she starts to type something.

“An essay?” I assume.

“Yes ma’am.” She answers glancing up at me. Luna does school online, her grades being good enough that she convinced her school to allow her to do most of her senior year online. 

“Luna,” I call out with a heavy heart, “There is something I need to tell you.” 

Without a glance, she hums in response. She wore an oversized black hoodie with pj shorts she found on sale some time ago. She told me she bought them because of the design of avocados on it. I’m not surprised. She loves silly things like that. 

“You know that new contract I started?” 

“The long one you swore you weren’t gonna accept?” She mentions, smiling in a mischievous manner. She only did that because she was also against me doing such a contract. She knew I’d be miserable, and she was right.

“Is the CEO an asshole?” She asks but speaks again right after. “-It’s not like you haven’t handled some rude CEOs before?” 

“The CEO is Namjoon.” I forced it out, and it feels like I was running out of oxygen when I said it. My words are quick and unsteady. 

She looks at me with wide eyes, like she was waiting for me to start laughing and tell her it was a joke. 

“Seriously? The Kim Namjoon?” She questions and moves the laptop off her lap and onto the couch. She leans forward, and she doesn’t look away from me.

“Yeah. He’s the CEO.” I show her a small smile before leaning back in the loveseat. I throw my head back and stare at the ceiling.

“You need to quit.” She orders.

I chuckle, “I knew you were going to say that.” I mutter, still gazing at the white ceiling. 

“Y/n! Come on! You can’t keep working there! This isn’t good for you.” She argues. 

“You think I don’t know that Luna? Seeing his face every day is wearing me down, but I signed the contract. I can’t leave.” I informed her. 

When I picked my head up to see the worried grimace on her face, I sighed and sat up in the loveseat. It was usually comfortable, but today it’s softness was useless. I’m in an uncomfortable situation. This job is leaving me in a constant state of stress.

“It’s not too bad.” I try to lift the mood, “He barely speaks to me, so it’s nothing! He only speaks to me about work.” 

“Y/n.” Her tone is different and she drops her focus to her hands in her lap. I know what’s coming. I know what she’s going to say and I’ve heard it too many times for my liking.

“Luna, don’t even go there!” I groan, shaking my head at the sad sad look in her eyes.

“Y/n, you keep saying this but...I still feel awful! This is all my fault! If it wasn’t for me You and Namjoon would have been marr-” 

“Stop!” My voice comes out in a panic shriek, taking both of us by surprise. Luna jumps at my outburst, her eyes becoming wet with tears.

“Luna, you don’t need to bring it up again. None of this is your fault, okay?” I stand up from my seat, grabbing my bag off the coffee table, and walking around the couch she sat on, and down the hallway. But before I can go far, Luna speaks again.

“Do you still love him?” She shouts. I stop walking and stare down at the carpet. My chest tightens and I lean against the wall for strength. Do I still love him? 

“Y/n? You still love him right?” This time her voice is closer. I turn around to see her standing at the end of the hallway, her hips leaning on the back of the couch. Her eyes showed pity, while she ran her fingers through her bangs. She always does that when she’s stressed. 

We stare at each other and a moment of silence passes before she sighs.

“Y/n…” She whines, taking my silence as an answer, “You need to quit.”

“I can’t.” I answered immediately, “I can’t quit. It doesn’t matter how I feel. He hates me now. Plus, a man like Namjoon...you can never stop loving him.”

“M-maybe this is fate? It’s a second chance.” 

I laughed at her notion and could only shake my head in response. A second chance? What a joke. The sad look in her eyes only makes me want to retreat. I turn my back on her and go into my room, feeling the weight of the past few days on my shoulders. I closed the door behind me and tossed my bag to the side before falling face-first into my bed. The painful memory burned into my mind. It burned like a new fire wound. It stung and the slightest thought back to it made my eyes water. 

The heartbreak in his eyes will haunt me for the rest of my life, but I made a choice. 

《 PAST ���

At this moment, I’d rather be swallowed up by the ground. I’d rather whatever higher power there is, strike me down and end my life at this very moment. It would be less painful. Pulling layers of band-aids from burnt skin would be less painful. At that moment my whole body went stiff. My knees locked, my muscles tensed and my lungs were struggling to take in oxygen.

Maybe it’s because I was holding my breath with my eyes wide. I stared at the man smiling up at me for the past 3 seconds. 

3 seconds. It had only been 3 seconds but it felt like an eternity. I blink, and he smiles back at me. He’s on one knee, holding out the most beautiful ring I have ever seen.

Not a huge rock, but it shines beautifully. A dazzling circular diamond, with smaller diamonds lined around the band. The silver band itself sparkled. In the ring, I could see his love, his hard work, and our years of laughter, tears and good memories.

I left out a harsh breath, my head feeling light as I was holding my breath. My awareness grows and I become aware of where we are. At a fancy restaurant in which it was rented out, making us the only customers. The kitchen staff stood at the back of the restaurant, watching me for my reaction. 

Namjoon. Kim Namjoon, the love of my life and the man I’m pretty sure the universe made for me and I for him. He stares at me with a smile, tears of nerves, and joy coating his loving eyes. It’s only been another 4 seconds. 7 seconds since I saw his lips move I say those words. 

I couldn’t hear them as I was having an out of body panic attack, but his lips moved so I’m sure he said the words.

“Y/n, will you marry me?” 

He said them and I knew he would. I saw this coming and I knew he was going to say these things...so now I know what I have to say. 

I push down the dread pulling in my system and laugh. I laugh in his face, trying my best to not see his hopeful smile drop into a look of anguish and fear. 

“Seriously Namjoon?” I cackled, trying to swallow down the tears that were burning my eyes.

“Marry you?” I hissed. He stays there on one knee, bringing down his arm that was showing me the ring. 

“I-is there something wrong?” His voice trembles and it feels like my heart is turning to ash in my chest.

“Is there something wrong!?” I raise my voice, stepping back from his crouched figure, “Namjoon, what do you have to offer? What do you have to give that makes you think you could be my husband? We just graduated college and you don’t have a cent to your name because you went and got disowned by your rich parents.” 

He gasps, shocked by my words.

“Y/n, I did that for you and for myself! You’re the one that pushed me to go against my parents plans for me. You said you’d stand by myself.” He exclaims, and stands to his feet, the tears in his eyes not the same happy tears as before. 

“As you do what Namjoon? Write poetry? Help other people put out their shitty works? I need stability. You had that when you were listening to your parents.” My voice trembled towards the end, my resolve breaking with every second. 

Namjoon narrowed his eyes at me and staggered back. It was as if his own realization left him physically drained.

“Y/n…” He pauses, staring down at the ground while tears run down his cheeks.

“Did you only get with me because of my family’s money?”

I love you. Namjoon I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I have no choice Joon, but I need to do this. 

“Of course, I did.” I choke out, “After years of friendship, I knew you had a crush on me so I took it to my advantage...but there is no reason to stay with you now.” 

He looks up from the floor and clutches the velvet box in his hands, “I don’t believe you.” 

“Believe it.” 

“Y/n,” He reaches out, holding a hand of mine in his free one, small pants leaving his lips.

“Y/n, please stop. This has to be a joke right? This is going too far!” He squeezed my hand, pleading with me. Hi eyes stayed on my face, scrutinizing my expression for any sign of a joke. He brings me closer to him, his familiar warmth and scent overpowering my senses. 

He stares down at me, in disbelief and anguish all I could see. I almost broke. I could feel my eyes burning with what was going to be tears. My dearest Namjoon gazed at me with a death grip on my hand, knowing that if he let me go, I’d fly away from him like a balloon.

“Get off of me!” I yelped, taking my hand away from his and pushing him back. 

“Y/n.” His voice broke. The sound alone triggered tears too well in my eyes. I turn my head away from his so he doesn’t see them. I grabbed my bag that sat out the dinner table and rushed out of the restaurant. My heels clicked as I got out of the restaurant and onto the street. I don’t know where I’m walking to but my legs just carry me, wanting to run away from the pain.

《 PRESENT 》

It has been a quiet day. It’s been a quiet week. Mr. Kim only speaks to me when needed, falling to having Sana deliver orders to me, making it so I only see Mr. Kim is passing. No surprise, and no hard feelings. This is probably for the best and if we can keep this up for the next 7 months and 1 week...things will run smoothly.

Mr. Kim is currently out of the office, so I sat at the desk with Sana at my side. She worked on some documents for a presentation Mr. Kim will be having. The rights of a book that will be made in a movie are up for discussion. 

While I am setting up a meeting with authors who are looking to publish with Moonchild Publishings. It was 3:37 PM, 6 PM not feeling too out of reach. The place is filled with the constant tapping of the keyboard and the humming of printers and copy machines. Everything was going as normal. 

I sat in my seat, my black & white checkered flare pants making me wonder if my curves were being shown off a bit too much. Despite Mr. Park’s wandering eyes, I was beginning to think that my outfits showed how hard I was trying.

I wore a simple black long sleeve blouse with some tan heels to bring the outfit together. I did a simple hairstyle and rushed out of the house, waking up a bit later than I usually do. The clouds were grey when I left the house, with a humidity thickness in the air. 

So when I was returning from lunch, which Sana followed me to, I felt the first softy warning drops of a storm come. By the time when I reached the top floor in the elevator, it was a full downpour. Mr. Kim hadn’t left the building. He was out of the office but was somewhere doing business.

He had certain types of meetings that though they were on his schedule, the reasonings were unknown. I don’t ask questions, I answer them so there is no point in asking him for details.

I hear the elevator bing from down the hallway and I assume it’s Mr. Kim made his way back. I don’t plan to even look up, seeing as Mr. Kim doesn’t spare us a glance when he enters, so I stopped standing up to greet him, as Sana still does. 

The coldness we show towards each other hasn’t gone unnoticed, making me think back to something Sana said back at lunch.

“You two really hate each other huh? Like old enemies or something.” She laughs it off and takes another bite of her sandwich.

I’m snapped out of my flashback just in time to hear the click of heels. Heels? That couldn’t be-

I looked up to see another familiar figure. An older Korean woman wearing a straight and non-form fitting white dress with a creme colored bag over her shoulder and nestled in between her armpit.

Her light brown hair was up in a neat bun with a sparkling brooch attached. Her light make-up and freshly done nails gave away the lifestyle she lives. She’s rich, she's well off. Her confident posture and expensive heels show that.

She holds her head high and believes she's above the people that work here. She’s also looking at me. No she’s glaring at me. 

I stare back at her and the feeling of disgust crawls it’s way up my throat. I press my lips tightly against each other, clenching my teeth to force a somewhat presentable smile. 

“Mrs. Kim.” My voice was strained, and my muscles were reeling in discomfort. 

She smiles, that same smile she gave me 3 years ago. Pity. Disgust. Superiority. It was all in her smile. It was a victory smile almost, her eyes showed anger. Anger and confusion. She probably thought she'd gotten rid of me, but here I am. Back in her perfect son’s life.

“Y/n, we meet again,” she pauses, “the unfortunate.”

Sana looks back and forth between both of us, her facial expression going from surprise to confusion and finally understanding. She rises from her seat to say hello to Mrs. Kim. I, on the other hand, do no such thing. 

I stay seated and stiffly look back down at the computer.

Sana sits down again, awkwardly clearing her throat and looking at me as if she wanted to speak. The slight trembling of my fingers gave away that I wasn’t going to speak.

“Hello, Mrs. Kim. Your son is out of the office, I’m sure he’ll be back soon.” Sana informs her. I continue to type away at the computer, trying to contain the rage that was causing a sense of anxiety over my body. 

This cursed, evil, and wicked woman. I look up from the computer screen

“That’s fine. I’ll wait in his office.” She answers Sana but keeps her eyes on me. She slowly turns around, happy that I’m watching her. I forget where I am for a moment and roll my eyes at the older woman just as the door to the office closed behind her. 

I looked over to my right and met Sana’s blank facial expression. 

“I’m not gonna ask any questions.” She says.

“Good.” I deadpan and look at the computer screen. I pretend that I don’t feel Sana’s stare linger on my profile. However, I couldn’t help the feeling of heat rising in my body. My body temperature was going up as my anger increased. I forgot how much I hated that woman. I forgot how STUPID she thought I was. Yet in the end, I was exactly what she always accused me of being. 

A lousy woman that would take money over her son. That’s exactly what I did. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, my movements stopping but the trembling of my fingers continuing. 

“Y/n?” Sana called. As if a thin string of my sanity snapped, I stood up from my seat, causing Sana to flinch at the unexpected movement. My breathing becomes labored while I stare at the closed double doors of Mr. Kim’s office. 

Who was the real winner in any of this? Did I get what I wanted out of our stupid deal? Did she get what she wanted? She must have, her smug smile burned into my frontal lobe. It’ll probably hunt me in my dreams, and any random thought of it in the future will cause me anger. 

Like an embarrassing memory that makes you shiver up and regret your decisions. That’s exactly what I’m feeling. I stomped away from the desk and down the hallway, those white walls leaving me to be drowned in my thoughts. I have to find the bathroom. I know there is one in this hallway somewhere. 

I keep my eyes low, stomping quickly to seek a place I can let out my scream of frustration. 

It isn’t till I crash into something hard that my parade is stopped. The scent is familiar but not comforting, causing my stomach to drop. 

“Ms. L/n?” Mr. Kim's voice held no concern but confusion. Why was I not at my desk doing the work that was expected of me? I continued to look down, only staring at his expensive dress shoes and the carpet. 

I took a small step back, my hands balling into fists to keep from reigning my anger onto him. He didn’t deserve that. If anyone is a victim here, it’s Namjoon. I have no right to take this out on him. I also had no right to waltz into his life as I did. He knows that, though not for the same reason as Mrs. Kim and me.

“Sir, I’ll be there in a moment, you have a guest waiting for you in your office.” I take a step to the right, hoping to bypass him, but he mimics me, blocking my way again.

“Where are you going?” He questions, this time crossing his arms over his chest. I don’t have to see his face to know he’s looking down at me with his jaw clenched. In the last 3 weeks, I’ve realized he does that when he suspects I’m up to something. Or what he thinks I’m bullshitting. 

All those suspicions only being grounded in personal feelings, seeing as my work here has been nearly perfect. I picked up on his routine quickly and moved before I had to be told. His charcoal grey three-piece suit looked like a smooth fabric. Something else with a combination of silk. A sign of wealth. 

I almost chuckle to myself at the bitter aftertaste of my choices. I couldn’t even want Namjoon back. It would only play into the gold digger impression I had him believe. I mean, no one expected a small-time publishing company to explode in success in its first two years, then dominate in its third. The 25-year-old CEO became a millionaire. 

Whether it was due to any assistance from his parents, I can’t be sure but...it makes me wonder if he would have still succeeded with me at his side. If I have to lie to myself and say he needed me gone to grow like this, I’ll do it. It makes me feel better. 

I take in a deep breath and slowly look at Namjoon, my eyes moving over his suit and the dark red tie, before meeting his cold eyes. 

I mustered up a smile, while oozed with sarcasm. So unprofessional of me. But this whole work atmosphere is unprofessional. The conflicts of interest would make any businesswoman lose her shit. 

“The bathroom.” I answer, “I am allowed to use the bathroom, aren't I, sir?”

He doesn’t acknowledge the testing edge to my words but asks another question. 

“What guest did you let in my office?” The beginning of him scolding me. I could feel it. My eyes fluttered close in frustration.

“Have you forgotten the rules I laid before? Any meetings that weren’t on my schedule should be turned away. I do not pencil people in-”

“It’s your mother, sir.” My eyes open after saying, “The guest in the office is your mother. She let herself into your office, I was not going to argue with her.” 

His face relaxes from displeasure to...discomfort? He groans and runs his hands over his face before staring at the carpeted floor for a moment. 

“What is that woman doing here?” He says under his breath. I could barely catch it, but there was disgust and unhappiness dripping off the words. My brows furrowed, not expecting that. Their relationship wasn’t repaired after I left?

I bite my lip to hide the victorious smirk that threatens to appear on my lips.

“Carry on.” Mr. Kim says without a glance back at me. He walks past me, no urgency in his movements. I continued down the hallway, past the elevator, and further down till I came to the bathroom marked for women. I was lucky enough to find it empty. I stood there staring at myself in the mirror, feeling like I was having an out of body experience. 

This is what people mean when they say your decisions always come back to haunt you. 

I clear my throat and let out a scream of frustration, knowing that anyone who gets off the elevator at this moment could probably hear it up the hallway.  

  But I don’t care. I need to let this out. I scream against, this time bringing my foot up to kick an innocent stall door.  

《 PAST 》

I don’t belong here. Anyone could tell that I don’t belong here. The eyes of every person that I met held the question of, “What are you doing at a restaurant like this?” 

I was wondering the same thing. I was wondering about all types of things. Why did Mrs. Kim call me here? Why did she tell me not to tell Namjoon? Was she ready to stop forcing her and Mr. Kim senior’s dreams onto Joon and to let him do what he wants?

I bet she is still a bit shocked at Joon taking himself out of the family. He was disowned but also removed himself. The Kims weren’t expecting such action from their son. He was only 21 years old, almost 22, and fresh out of college with the Business degree they forced on him.

The world isn’t easy, so he surely wasn’t serious about throwing his family away? But he did. 

They blame me. The whole family blames me and that’s okay. I was the one encouraging to do such a thing, so I’ll carry my weight of responsibility. I, however, can’t wait to tell her that both Joon and I are doing great without their money. It’s only been a few months since he was disowned, but I haven’t seen Joon so happy in all my years of knowing him.

“I’m here to meet Mrs. Kim?” I said to the host. She nodded, looking me up and down before motioning for me to follow her. I wore a simple tee and some jeans with sneakers. I wasn’t going to dress up for this woman. With how she moves about things, I doubt we’ll be eating anything.

The restaurant was huge, seeming to have different wings and sections for people who wanted to be away from others. I try not to gawk at the luxurious decor, noticing the judgemental looks from the host who was in front of me.

The hostess brings me to a small circular table where Mrs. Kim sat waiting. Her focus was on the table cloth. She traced the small details of the white and gold table cloth, not even looking up as I took my seat. 

“Y/n.” She says sternly, putting her dark gaze on me. 

“How would you like to make a deal?” She continues. My brows furrow and I cock my head to the side. I think for a moment before laughing. 

“Is this like those dramas where you give me a check to leave Joon? Mrs. Kim...you must be joking? You didn’t really call me here for this?” I keep laughing but her stone-cold facial expression doesn’t change. 

“I just want my son back.” She hisses.

“You can have your son back Mrs. Kim. You just need to understand his--” She cuts me off, frustration appearing on her face for a split second.

“You don’t understand, do you? Namjoon is never gonna open his arms to us as he did before! I don’t know what nonsense you put into his head, but if you get out of the picture, any last strands of this riff will be gone.’

“Excuse me?” I say.

“I don’t leave loose ends Y/n. You are a loose end of this rebellious and hard patch I’ve been having with my son. Which is why I simply cannot let you stay.” She smirks, reaching for the glass of water that was sitting in front of her this whole time.

She can’t be serious! What type of entitled selfish--

“Namjoon is going to ask you to marry him.” She states after getting a sip of water. 

My breath is knocked out of me, “H-huh?”

“You heard me right,” she gives me a pointed look. As if she couldn’t believe that I didn’t see this coming. 

“He told me himself Y/n….at least during an argument he did. Seeing as there is no ring on your finger,” Her eyes flicker to my hands that sat on the table, “He hasn’t asked you yet.”

She wasn’t giving me time to move past the initial shock of Namjoon’s proposal. He’s going to ask me to marry him?

I brought a hand to my chest, trying to catch my birth. 

“Y/n, I’m sure it’ll be a lovely ceremony,” She pauses, “too bad Luna won’t be there.” 

My happy mood is lost. The surprised smile left my lips while my face twisted up in pain. 

“E-excuse me?”

“Your sister Luna,” She gives an ungenuine pout, “Poor girl is sick right? And from what I heard getting worse.” My eyes burn and blur with tears. She’s right.

Luna is getting worse and worse. They say she’ll need surgery soon because her odds aren’t looking good. Namjoon has done his best to be the supportive rock for us both. Luna already believes her time is coming to an end and I have to smile and tell her to stay hopeful, all while having the same thoughts.

She has been on the waiting list for a heart transplant for the last 2 years and we’re still nowhere near where we need to be. As if I could even afford the surgery once she gets a transplant. 

The doctor told me it’ll be another 3 years before she could get a heart donor, and in the same breath told me she wouldn’t last a year without one. Life is cruel.

Mrs. Kim isn’t phased by my tears, and through my blurred vision, I think she smiles wider. 

“Y/n,” She leans close as if she has a secret she’s been dying to tell me. Her dark eyes were now bright with mischief. 

“Reject Namjoon’s proposal. Tell him you’re done with him and turn your back on him. That’s all I need from you and I can get your sister moved up on the transplant list. I could get her ready for surgery by tomorrow if I wanted to. I’ll pay for everything.”

I leaned back in the seat, a sob ripping through my chest at her proposition. My hands fell into my lap and I looked down at them.

“I mean, you’re not going to let your precious sister die are you?” She egged on, making my sobs grow stronger, “A big sister should do everything in their power to save their siblings right?”

Namjoon’s smiling face flashed into my mind, followed by my sister’s face. She sat there weak and scared in her hospital bed with a small smile on her lips.

“At least I'll be able to see mom soon.” She said softly. 

I bring my hand up to my chest, slouching over in my seat with my hand gripping at the fabric of my shirt. It feels like my heart is tightening up. Growing tight in the grips of the reality of what’s in front of me. 

The pain was running throughout my whole being, leaving me unable to speak words. 

“So are you going to pick Namjoon or Luna? What will the choice be Y/n?”

I don’t know how long I’m sitting there crying but Mrs. Kim doesn’t stop me, watching me with judgmental eyes. It might have been the tears in my eyes but for a small second, I thought I saw some sadness in her eyes. 

I struggled to catch my breath, sniffling, and wiping the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hands.

“So what will it be?” She asks when my breathing returns to normal.

I clench my teeth, fighting off the second wave of tears that tickled my eyes. 

“I-I’ll...I’ll leave Namjoon. I’ll do it.” 

《 PRESENT》

I walk out of the bathroom, knowing I was already 5 minutes past the appropriate time someone takes to use the bathroom. I walk down the hallway, my steps quick to get back to my desk before Mr. Kim has a reason to yell at me. 

I meet an angry Mrs. Kim coming in the opposite direction. When we lay our eyes on each other, other steps slow, leaving us in a silent staring match. We stood about 4 yards from each other, the tension being so thick, I thought I could feel it around me.

“Seems like your son still hates you.” I jeer with a grin.

She snickers, taking slow strides towards me, “What? Does it make you feel like you’re a winner?” She looks me up and down with the same look of pity she gave me while I sobbed in front of her 3 years ago.

“All I know is that you weren’t able to repair that so-called relationship with your son. You should have known I had nothing to do with that.”

She stops just as she’s walking past me, her eyes forward while she stood right beside me. 

“Don’t worry Y/n...knowing that the questions of ‘What If’ that haunt you at night will always cause you to hate yourself, is all I need. In the end...only a fool would think they’ve won such a battle.”

Her words make my blood run cold, and I grow stiff as she continues to waltz away, stopping at the elevators. I stand there frozen long enough to hear the ding as the doors open, and the ding as they close.

It seems this time around, there are no winners after all. Just two losses and a casualty that is the one and only Kim Namjoon.

∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ❣

Alrightty! So the story can finally start to really get moving! I’m excited! :D

There were people who told me they wanted to be on the taglist for this but i sadly lost the list I had! 

Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! I’m excited to see what you think of it and how you think things will progress. 

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

what if in the distance series, she’s been having a really stressful week with her album promotions and whatnot and all calum wants to do is make her feel better and the facetimes can only help so much so he decides to fly out and surprise her 🥺

Thanks so much for the suggestion! I’m going to combine it with this one: 

i’m feeling rlly down do u think for the distance series you could write another blurb about the reader being really upset and not wanting to bother cal but she tweets a really concerning tweet and cal calls her and she’s balling and maybe he sings to her to make her to feel better and the next week she gets a care package?

I did some tweaks. Her album’s not out yet. She’s just promoting the singles. But the album is coming out soon! I’m not a professional, so I don’t know how any of this actually works. But I’m trying. 

Here are parts one, two, three, four, and five. This is the Distance series on my masterlist!

If you have any suggestions or ideas for this series, please feel free to send them to me! I will try and use as many as I can while also progressing the story along!

_______________________________

The thing about life is that, sometimes when one thinks there’s not much lower that they can do, there’s something right around the corner that proves deeper is possible. Though the tweets hadn’t exactly lessened,  she made a point not to be on social media unless she had to be, she only interacted with fans for a spare few minutes, liking tweets and reply to the love and positive outreach. Her relationship with social media is rapidly evolving and for the first time in a while, she kind of understood the reason why Calum never seemed to be on his. It was a hard river to get out of, if one floated down it too long. 

But now, she was looking at her schedule for promotion and while thankfully most things were still relatively close to her, traveling this much so soon, made her nervous. She tried to speak with her manager and the team, to see if some of the interviews could be scheduled for video. They had managed to keep a decent portion video based but still too many required her traveling. “I’ll try to talk to some people, but you really have to get out there, have people see your face. Besides, you already traveled out of the country once before. What’s the big deal now?”

It makes sense and she’s still new to this game. But going to see Calum is completely different than being in cities for hours before flying out for the next. Just the idea of her being herded around made her a little uncomfortable. “I understand that, but when am I supposed to be a human being during all of this? I still have songs to finish. And I visited a friend for a few days. Totally different than bouncing around god knows how many countries in two weeks. I need time to breathe in all this.”

“Listen, we’re here to help you out. The only way for this relationship to work is if there is mutual respect.”

“That’s rich,” she retorts. “I’m only simply asking that for my mental wellbeing that we adjust some of the interviews, that’s all.”

“And we will see what we can do.” The rest of the meeting is tense and it grates every nerve in her soul that there seems to be no real regard. It’s really just in the tone. Like she’s a child begging for candy in the checkout line while her mother has already told her once before that there is candy at home. 

But she has to in some ways take them at their word. She lets this go for now but when the next day, she receives an email that the schedule will remain the same, she knows in her gut that no one actually talked about rearranging anything. Can she really afford to cause a ripple? Especially so early in her career? These people kind of did pluck her from obscurity but at the same time, shouldn’t her voice be heard?

Remember the compression socks, reads the message from Calum. He sent her a care package last week, after hearing about her promotion schedule. It was going to be hell and Calum wasn’t going to hide that fact from her. She hadn’t told me about the small feud. So he sent things that helped him out a lot, the socks for the constant air travel, a sleep mask, vitamins, a book that he recommended but she hadn’t stopped by the local shop to buy, a pack of her favorite pens that she had to order from a place in New York, and a beautiful bound leather journal. Her wire bound notebook was curling at the corners and well loved. It was by time to get a new one but she had a hard time giving up on things. 

Snapping a picture of her carry on, she makes sure the socks are resting right on top. I would never. 

You got this, buttercup. Calum stares at his phone, wishing he could do a little 

The first couple of days aren’t so bad. The flights aren’t terribly long. The interviews are kind of fun, filled with plenty of laughter. There are gimmicky games based on her singles and they didn’t always pan out completely, but for a second, she figures maybe she had overreacted. But soon the interviews grow repetitive, the games are no longer fun. She can’t even write, by the time she’s on a plane, all she wants is sleep. The time zones are killer and she swears time means literally nothing as she’s hurded about. 

I’m losing it, she texts Calum. Losing all sense of her humanity. She’s grateful to meet her fans in the small pockets of time she’s allotted and that keeps her going. But slowly and surely, her body is drained. No amount of sleep means anything. She can’t hardly concrete. It’s all crumbling around her. She doesn’t feel human. 

“Are you sleeping?” Calum asks, through the screen. His picture goes pixelated for a quick second but then it straightens back out. 

“Yeah. Just doesn’t seem like enough though.”

Calum knows that feeling. He knows that look in her eyes too. It’s hard to keep up the facade when constantly about.  “Eating enough?”

“Kinda,” she admits. She tries to think what she had for breakfast. But that was hours ago and now she’s sitting waiting for another plane that will take her even further ahead in time. Will she be eating breakfast again soon? Does it even matter right now?

Calum passes along a few more tricks, but mostly aims to distract. He talks about the new music he’s working on. She asks if she can get a sneak peak and he’s more than happy to oblige. If that’s all he can do for the small moments in time, he’ll do it. He wishes he could do more though. It’s not easy and he’s fortunate to have three other people that are going through it all at the same time as him. There’s always a support system. But it’s just her. And she can confide in a couple of her security guards, they’ve become a level of friends, but it’s still not quite the same. 

“I miss my dog,” she confesses, randomly amongst the reverbing rumble of Calum’s bass as he finishes the last chord in the progression. Her chest starts to ache. And the tears are stinging her eyes before she can really stop them. “I miss my dog so fucking much,” she cries in a whisper. “I miss my bed. I miss you.”

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s hard to be away. I totally get it.” His heart races, because of her tears but also because of her confession. Now, probably isn’t the time, not to get hung up on that last sentence but his mouth is moving before he can will it not too. “I miss you too. And I know your dog misses you. And it’s okay to miss us. We’ll always be right here when you need us.”

It doesn’t help to be having this breakdown in the middle of an airport. And sure, there might be headlines in the coming days but at the end of the day she’s so human. No matter how much she wants to pretend nothing ever affects her, it does. It always will. Her wall isn’t without some flaws. She does her best to calm the tears, steady her breathing but it feels so right just to let it all out. 

She manages to excuse herself to that bathroom. There are still about thirty minutes before her flight and she has to get it all out now before she boards. With Calum still on the line, she sobs in the bathroom. A toilet flushes alerting her that she’s not as alone as she once expected but locked into the stall, it doesn’t matter. Calum soothes her as best he can, telling her it’s okay to get it all out.  Ten minutes later, she’s cleaned up and running back to her gate. “Thanks, Cal.”

“No, no need to thank me. Just take care of yourself, okay? Please.”

She nods, guards waiting for her with her bags. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Just like she knew, it’s all over the internet the next day. The woman interviewing asks if everything’s okay, what sparked the teary episode. “I’m human, in case anyone forgets. I am human and I just hit my limit. I think we all need to take a moment to remember we are human. I am. You are. The person listening to this. We’re all human at the end of the day.” That’s all she has to say because if truth be told, she’s still at that limit, she’s still hitting that wall in which everything feels hazy but crying her eyes out helped a little bit. 

Calum sees her interview, not trying to look for it, but it pops up on his timeline. Her voice shakes as she speaks, lower lip quivering but her tone is strong, there’s a fire behind her eyes as she talks. Calum knows she’s hitting that wall and she won’t really get over it until she gets home and gets a chance to unwind. It’s crazy. Really, but he can’t do much over a call or over a video chat. So he figures out when her return home is and books a flight out for the next day. He should really make sure she wants company to, but it’s too late now as his email dings with the confirmation. 

It’s midday and it should require more pants than she’s currently wearing, her only plans are to stay curled up on her couch and snuggled up with her dog. She has plenty of food in the house and she doesn’t mind taking the moment to cook for herself. The knock at her door is surprising and she stands, hollering that she needs just a moment and scurries to her room to grab a pair of shorts off the chair in her room that has just become the clothes chair when things aren’t dirty to go into the laundry but aren’t clean to stick back into the drawer. 

And there’s Calum, just standing at her door. A hoodie on his head, covering the baseball cap and his sunglasses. “Hey,” he exhales with a tiny grin. 

All she can do is hug him, shaking with a small bit of laughter. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, or if I’m hallucinating this, but I’m absolutely okay with this.”

He kisses the top of her head. “Just here to cheer you up, buttercup. That’s all.”

-H

[cyberninja]

“Extremely detailed character sheet template”

Character Chart

Character’s full name: Caleb Akamori ( last name given to him by the Grand-master )

Reason or meaning of name: Caleb was chosen by his mother , but Akamori has a interesting background . mori [ meaning forest ] . the Grandmaster gave him this last name because he knew his spirit was as big as strong as and as old as a forest .

Aka [ meaning red ] was given because it was foreseen the evil in his that was to come . finally coming to Akamori . “ the evil will come first and then you will find your true spirit “

Character’s nickname: commonly known as the Cyberninja by most people , also among the Darkness Clan they refer to him as Doragonsureiyā ( Dragon Slayer )

Reason for nickname: he is known as Cyberninja because any photos captured of him he is in his prototype armor . Now he is know as Doragonsureiyā by earning this name , because he killed Doragonrōdo ( Dragon Lord ) a general of the Darkness Clan thought to be the most powerful ninja alive .

Birth date: June 9th , 1999 Physical appearance

Age: usually i write him at 18 - 20

How old does he/she appear: 20 but appears to be 25

Weight: 235 lbs

Height: 6 foot 3 inches

Body build: extremely fit and athletic 

Shape of face: not round but not oval either sort of a middle ground normal face 

Eye color: blue , a deep blue like a ocean .

Glasses or contacts: neither

Skin tone: lightly tanned .

Distinguishing marks: X shaped scars across the front of his chest and a scar across his throat ( received from a very intense fight ) 

Predominant features: his dark blond hair and his deep blue eyes .

Hair color: dark blond ( almost black )

Type of hair: straight

Hairstyle: messy ( always looks like a good messy though . )

Voice: deep voice , amazing bass singer .

Overall attractiveness: 8/10

Physical disabilities: none 

Usual fashion of dress: usually blue jeans , with a tee shirt with ripped off sleeves , dog tags tucked under his shirt , tennis shoes , and a coat if its cold out .

Favorite outfit: white tee shirt with the sleeves torn off , blue jeans , and tennis shoes .

Jewelry or accessories: his dog tags ( never come off his neck ) Personality Good personality traits: loyal , caring , kind , brave , courageous , unselfish , and outgoing . Bad personality traits: usually very overprotective , hot headed , and can be clingy . Mood character is most often in: focused Sense of humor: can be a bit dry , but if you get him going he’ll loosen up . Character’s greatest joy in life: helping others Character’s greatest fear: losing those he cares about and being alone again Why? he has been alone most of his life to be outcast again into the cold darkness by himself . What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil? a friend dying . it would send his mind into utter chaos . Character is most at ease when: he is around someone he trusts Most ill at ease when: he is worried about something , before he goes into a fight . Enraged when: hahahah . if your the wrong person just look at him wrong . Depressed or sad when: he is by himself Priorities: protect , regain his honor , and eventually settle down . Life philosophy: treat others as you want to be treated If granted one wish, it would be: to have his family back  Why? they were murdered when he was just a boy , didn’t even get to say goodbye . which has cause irreversible trauma to him . Character’s soft spot: just show him you care . Is this soft spot obvious to others? NO !! Greatest strength: his fighting skills and magic Greatest vulnerability or weakness: his short temper Biggest regret: long story short . he feels responsible for a civilian being murdered . Minor regret: not seizing the moments when he has the opportunity Biggest accomplishment: thats a tie between him becoming a master ninja , and building his prototype armor Minor accomplishment: ... quitting his addictions . Past failures he/she would be embarrassed to have people know about: his drinking and drug problem he used to have Why? he is very ashamed of it Character’s darkest secret: his curse and demon  Does anyone else know? yes Goals Drives and motivations: his biggest goal is to eliminate the darkness clan and to eventually live out a normal life . Immediate goals: to become a better fighter everyday and maybe a little bit of a better person everyday .  Long term goals: to eventually settle down , rejoin his clan , maybe have a family ? How the character plans to accomplish these goals: four words . blood , sweat , and tears . How other characters will be affected: nobody knows what the future will hold . Past Hometown: New York ( to the best of his knowledge ) Type of childhood: his childhood was very dark and scaring . 5 is a very young age to be all grown up , but his situation called for it . Pets: his pet Koi fish ( given to him by the Grand-master ) and his pet Cerberus  First memory: falling asleep in his mothers arms Most important childhood memory: going fishing with his dad . Why: it was one of the only good memories he has of his childhood Childhood hero: ninjas ( needless to say he followed them quite well ) Dream job: N/A  Education: he registered education is 6th grade , but he is very smart . often when working he will do the math in his head rapidly often involving advanced calculus . Religion: none Finances: n/a

Present Current location: New York Currently living with: himself Pets: his pet koi which resides in Japan , and a pet Cerberus  Religion: none Occupation: assassin and master ninja Finances: well off Family Mother: deceased Relationship with her:N/A Father:deceased Relationship with him:N/A Siblings: brother Relationship with them:N/A ( still looking for him ) Spouse: none Relationship with him/her:N/A Children: none Relationship with them:N/A Other important family members: anyone he calls a friend . Favorites Color: Yellow Least favorite color:red Music:rap and country Food:fruits , vegetables , junk food , ECT ... Literature:spell books Form of entertainment:training Expressions:laughter Mode of transportation:car , motorcycle , feet , teleportation . Most prized possession:picture of his family  . ( touching it is a good way to loose some fingers ) Habits Hobbies: smithing Plays a musical instrument? guitar Plays a sport? no How he/she would spend a rainy day: training , inventing , sharpening his weapons , patrol . Spending habits: weapons Smokes: has quit Drinks:has quit Other drugs:has quit What does he/she do too much of? training What does he/she do too little of?resting Extremely skilled at:combat  Extremely unskilled at:expressing any form of emotion Nervous tics: none ( he is trained to hide these ) Usual body posture:tall , informal , and downright intimidating . Mannerisms: very polite Peculiarities: extremely secretive Traits Optimist or pessimist?optimist Introvert or extrovert?extrovert Daredevil or cautious?daredevil Logical or emotional?can be both Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat?methodical and neat Prefers working or relaxing?working Confident or unsure of himself/herself?unsure Animal lover?YES Self-perception How he/she feels about himself/herself: the his not good enough , he doesn’t deserve  One word the character would use to describe self: secretive One paragraph description of how the character would describe self: ( character speaking ) “ well i try my hardest but a lot of times i feel like i am not good enough , i know i could be better and i have a whole world that doesn’t even know that i am protecting . maybe one day this will all finally end . What does the character consider his/her best personality trait? kindness What does the character consider his/her worst personality trait?temper What does the character consider his/her best physical characteristic?muscles , if you can sneak up on him on a good day you might caught him flexing in front of the mirror . What does the character consider his/her worst physical characteristic? the scars scattered across his body . How does the character think others perceive him/her: hot tempered , probably hated , reclusive , untrustworthy . What would the character most like to change about himself/herself: his life Relationships with others Opinion of other people in general: he knows the world can harsh and cruel but ha also has seen a lot of good in it also . Does the character hide his/her true opinions and emotions from others? not really , most of the time he is quite blunt . Person character most hates: himself Best friend(s): Dove ( @beyondthetemples ) , Red ( @champofpallet ) . Love interest(s): Dove Person character goes to for advice: his adopted father or his brother .  Person character feels responsible for or takes care of: Dove Person character feels shy or awkward around: not anyone , most of the time . Person character openly admires: N/A Person character secretly admires: Dove Most important person in character’s life before story starts: his brother After story starts: his adopted family and all his friends

found here

tagged by : @beyondthetemples

tagging : @champofpallet , @tameradabsol , @sky-mxxn and anyone else who want to do it .

[thesunlounge]

Reviews 245: Visible Cloaks, Yoshio Ojima & Satsuki Shibano

I owe much of my interest in modern Japanese music to the duo of Spencer Doran and Ryan Carlile, otherwise known as Visible Cloaks. Valve / Valve Revisted introduced me to dip in the pool, who have since become a beloved favorite, and the far-out sounds and forward thinking production techniques of Japan have long informed the duo’s approach. As well, Spencer Doran spent years diving into the country’s environmental, new age, fourth-world, and future-pop landscapes and issued a couple of essential mixes for Root Strata in this direction, with his work eventually leading to the breathtaking Kankyō Ongaku collection on Light in the Attic…all of which have had a massive impact on my own musical journey. So it’s entirely fitting, if not fated, that Visible Cloaks’ first contribution to RVNG Intl.’s longstanding FRKWYS series sees Doran and Carlile joining together with Satsuki Shibano and Yoshio Ojima, two masters of innovative sound design and visual art that were highly influential on Japan’s cultural landscape during the 80s and 90s and whose work continues to resonate today: Shibano through her immersive piano dreamscapes inspired by Satie and Debussy and Ojima via his explorations of computerized composition and in scoring artistic and public spaces such as Wacoal’s famous Spiral building. And like all FRKWYS pairings, it completes a circle of influence and inspiration, with elder artists stirring the creativity of younger generations, whose novel approaches then inform and are folded back into the work of the original source…a sort of eternal conversation between past and present about the sonic landscapes of the future.

In the write up for serenitatem, RVNG discuss the group’s interests in aleatoric music, the British avant grade, pre-classical composition, and Lovely Music, Ltd, as well as Ojima’s and Satsuki’s groundbreaking work with the St. Giga radio installation…a free-form and continuously broadcasted collage of field recordings, poetry, and audio experimentation that looms large over the approach and vision of serenitatem. As for the process, Doran and Carlile recorded sketches while on tour and sent them to Ojima, who added his own sounds and edits before returning the recordings to the duo. So it continued for months, with the trio trading ideas and building on each others’ manipulations until a studio session in Tokyo brought all four musicians together, allowing them to further enhance their preliminary experiments and create new compositions on the spot. And the results are truly beguiling…a spellbinding coalescence of futuristic sonic exploration and deeply human emotion that features cloudforms of orchestral gas shattering into crystalline vapor; funereal organs playing ancient hymns to the sun; tropical new age textures surrounded by spectral space foam; mermaid choirs singing through overtone resonances; and marbles vibrating within tunnels of morphing glass. And though the sensibilities of Visible Cloaks and Ojima are almost entirely indistinguishable, the artistic identity of Shibano is uniquely discernible, with her effected voice and majestic piano themes standing out amidst the rainbow energy fields and fractal orchestrations while also feeding generative MIDI software, in turn creating new and ever-evolving paths of exploration.

Visible Cloaks, Yoshio Ojima & Satsuki Shibano - FRKWYS Vol. 15: serenitatem (RVNG Intl., 2019) In “Toi,” liquids drip over aquatic swells while gong drone overtones hover in place before rapidly vaporizing. Vocals awash in a haze of euphoria flow into the mix on layers of aquamarine synthesis, ringing feedback tones weave pastoral melodies, and disjointed piano chords splash through crystalline tide pools while swirling noise clouds move chaotically before being sucked out of existence. The mix is repeatedly intercut by globules of bouncing glass that wash the stereo field clean and after a false ending and a fade to silence, oceanic orchestrations diffuse into the mix with swelling string reveries and long glorious bow strokes calling out to the dawn. Sometimes breathy choirs join in with these etheric chamber incantations while liquiying metals flow throughout the spectrum. And as the track ends, mystical electronics create starry-eyed sound swirls and decaying bodies of spectral mist. “Anata” follows with a shimmering world of tonal mesmerism where voices and machines blur together…like mermaid choirs coalescing with the droning hum of an industrial machine. Bleary-eyed orchestrations intermingle with textures of brass as Shibano delivers a strangely effected spoken work performance, with her voice morphing and modulating discontinuously while fracturing across the spectrum. Then, as futuristic whispers transmute into bleeping static amidst insectoid oscillations, a heavenly streak of soprano calls out from the void.

The MIDI-generated idiophone melodies of “You” are sourced from the words of “Anata” using Intermorphics’s Wotja software and the result is a paradise of gleaming gamelan starlight. Shibano’s piano merges perfectly with the vibraphone dream weavings while heartbeat pulses, blasts of white noise, and plucked string tones fade in from shadowy depths. Amorphous pad hazes swell in strength then dissolve into ether as siren pulses generate machine rhythms at odds with the free form idiophone tapestries. Feminine whispers pan wildly while throbbing bass currents flow in from all directions and there’s a strange moment where the mallet instruments recede, leaving the soul afloat in a delirious landscape of morphing sonic magic. “Atelier” revels in microtonal vibrations, industrial droning, and layers of humid resonance, which all eventually set the stage for a gorgeous melody played out on synthesized woodwinds. The mind is enchanted by longform oboe and bassoon lullabies while the background is painted over by glimmering wavefronts and smoldering vibrations that never rise above a spiritual hum. Tibetan bowls sing over tapped gongs while the lonely ping of a vibratube calls out periodically and deep within the spectral fog, timpani drums can be heard pounding away. The meditative woodwind spells eventually feature several layers intertwining, while chittering lizard fx and slithering psychedelics contrast the beatific mood. And if you listen closely, you can hear Shibano alighting on free jazz cloudbursts and atonal fantasias deep within the radiant miasma.

“Lapis Lazuli” sees mirage drone atmospherics suffused with flute and birdsong tones while waves of some nacreous and opalescent fluid crash against an unfamiliar shore. Shibano moves through the wavering landscape with further spoken spells which are this time bare and unaffected…just pure and expressive vocalisms surround by skittering static washes, glowing ghost melodies, and universal string vibrations divorced from any source of attack. At some point, electrified gemstones start raining down upon the mix…these crystalline structures of every possible color bouncing and vibrating in ways that defy logic, which are perhaps sourced by an electric piano...only one obscured by infinite layers of sonic manipulation. As the song progresses, Shibano’s voice becomes increasingly shrouded in robotic strangeness, eventually leaving humanity behind altogether in favor of cyborg sizzle and free flowing android poetry. Chime tones are stretched and smeared into a feedback haze above the soft pitter-patter of dripping water, heatwave vapors wash across the mix, and chaotic bell alarm oscillations seem to spin at the speed of light before swelling into solar flare sound spirals. All the while, the landscape is increasingly colored by the calls of alien jungle fauna as the flowing water takes on the appearance of a mystical stream surrounded by dense layers of extra-terrestrial vegetation.

The beads of bouncing glass from “Toi” return in “Stratum”, here splattering over ring-modulated steel-drum tones. It’s a tropical lullaby accented by towering piano chords and swirled around by angelic choral hazes and rainbow fog refractions. Starshine modulations cut through the air as the island melodies recede, leaving behind an expanse of new age celestial shimmer. Then comes one of the most breathtaking and hard to describe sonic effects I have ever heard, generated by using Shibano’s piano improvisation to source reactive idiophone and voice cascades in Ableton. Imagine a choir of angels and the bars of a marimba as if transformed into a field of colorful flowers, such that each time an oceanic piano chord cluster or radiant ivory lead drops, it’s like a cyclonic wind disturbs the field, causing the individual flowers to sway drunkenly out of phase. But eventually, the harmonious drone currents and pastoral sonic breezes cause the marimbas and voices to lock together into a loose rhythm….as if all the flowers of the field are flowing in unison beneath a bright shining sun. And going further, Shibano’s spontaneous melodies are discernible amidst the synthetic mallet and dreamworld voice motions, leading to an ever-evolving and deeply moving interplay between improvised human beauty and aleatoric computer magic.

Though most of the album explores cutting edge spaces and forward thinking sonic languages, Doran, Carlile, Shibano, and Ojima reserve the final track on each side for immersive excursions into the musics of the distant past. The A-side houses “S’amours ne fait par sa grace adoucir (Ballade 1),” originally written in the 12th century by the ars nova poet and composer Guillaume de Machaut. Ecclesiastical organs reach across centuries with polyphonic wonderment, first flying solo, then joined by bell tones and chiming vibrations of medieval metal. And at some point, the organ fades away and is replaced by effervescent fluids and wispy string synthesis…like a chamber orchestra playing through gentle distortions of space and time. Closing the album is “Canzona per sonare no. 4” by famed sacred music composer and organist Giovanni Gabrieli (1557-1612). Sonar tones revolve in long arcs before giving way to spacious stretches of silence while morphing bass pulsations underly Shibano’s baroque piano incantations. It’s a repeated refrain…childlike, naive, beautiful…backed by swelling pads, dreamworld atmospheres, and subtle hints of choral majesty. All the while, shards of ivory are caught up in fractal webs and reflected across the spectrum as overlapping feedback currents generate calming seascape motions that float the soul away.

(images from my personal copy)

[writing-yj]

Kid Flash x Reader: My Hero

@cas-backwards-tie : what about 40 & 48 with Wally West? or Dick Grayson idc.

40: “Only I’m allowed to see that much of your skin.”

48: “Don’t call me ‘babe’.”

Word Count: 2193

Warnings: Gets a little heated ;), someone gets punched, no means no is not understood

A/n: Alrighty, I tried my bestest, but in my opinion... it bad. I hope you like it, thought

“The party should only last two hours at most, Wally.” You said into the phone, using your shoulder to press it against your ear as you grabbed your coat. “So I can’t guarantee that I’ll be here by the time you get back.”

You heard your boyfriend sigh on the other end of the call. “Just don’t get into any trouble, alright?”

“That word isn’t in my vocabulary.” You said and went back to holding the phone with one hand.

Wally could almost hear your smirk. “I beg to differ, but if you say so. I’ll see you later, babe.” 

You exchanged loving goodbyes, and then you hung up to hail a taxi. It was a very busy street and the sidewalks were crowded; it was hard to not get pushed into the road and to stop other people from stealing your cab. 

After an annoying journey to your friend’s house, one that could qualify as a mansion, you were shocked to see that what was supposed to be a small, normal birthday party had turned into a huge party with music so loud that you could already feel the bass from outside.

‘Oh no.’

Big parties weren’t your favorite. You knew for sure that almost every person there would be a stranger to you and you hated that. So you stood there in her driveway, seriously and deeply contemplating if you should actually attend this party. There were so many attendees, she probably wouldn’t even notice your presence.

“(Y/n)! There you are!” Just as you were about to turn around, (F/n) leaned out of her front door with a smile. “Come on in! I was waiting for you to show up.”

“I thought you said this was going to be a small party?” You asked nervously, taking small steps at a time.

She simply shrugged. “I invited one person, but I couldn’t invite them without this other person, and word just kind of got out and here we are.” (F/n) previously acknowledged your anxiety when it comes around to large crowds of people, but very rudely never took it into account.

But she invited you and looked very happy that you came, so you reluctantly went into her home and you were immediately shocked at how many people there were.

‘Jesus Christ, there are dozens of people h- are they grinding!?’

You rapidly dodged them left and right to find a place to keep your coat. Her normal coat hangers were either knocked over or disappeared. Five minutes went by, so you gave up and you put it far back in the soup cupboard.

If you had known it was going to be like this, you wouldn’t have worn the dress you put on. It was a form fitting, slightly low cut, and thigh-length royal purple dress. It showed a lot of skin, but you weren’t prepared for this ‘accidental’ event. Now that you thought about it, (F/n) probably was planning a big party in the first place, but didn’t bother to tell you.

‘I need to drop her ass...’

You tried to dance for a mere two seconds before you needed to leave the room. It was exact opposite of your ideal environment, so much so that you speed-walked through the halls in search of a quiet room. You were wringing your hands together and frantically looking left and right.

The fast clack of heels hitting the hardwood floor approached you from behind; you correctly guessed who it was. “Where’s the fire, (Y/n)?” (F/n) laughed and grabbed your arm. “We’re about to play spin the bottle! Come on!”

She tried tugging you to the living room, but you didn’t budge. “I have a boyfriend, (F/n). I’m not playing spin the bottle or anything like that.” You told her firmly.

“Oh I’m sure he won’t care! Hurry up, the game will start s-”

“Are you out of your mind!?” You shouted, grabbing the attention of other party goers. “Do you really think that my boyfriend wouldn’t care if I willingly kissed another guy at a party!?” This had to be her most stupid idea yet. “I am not going to cheat on my boyfriend for the sake of a simple party game!”

Her pale blue eyes narrowed into a glare that didn’t disturb you in the slightest. “Then feel free to leave whenever you want. Wouldn’t want to have a wet blanket at my party, would we?” (F/n), a friend of nearly three years, is telling you to leave her birthday party just because you wouldn’t cheat on Wally?

How ridiculous.

You roughly pulled your arm out of her bruising grip and stalked down the rest of the hallway. Your intended destination was the back door; and you didn’t care about your coat; it was a poor quality coat and it was a gift from her anyway. The least she could have done was get you a better one, seeing as how much money her parents make.

The chilly air was only a little unpleasant once you stepped outside onto the patio. It was absent of people and the string lights gave off a peaceful glow. (F/n) had you come over a few days ago to decorate a little, but that didn’t go very well. The only decorated area was the one place the party wasn’t occupying, and that’s the last place you wanted to be. A party-free space is something you could face.

You slid the door shut and sat on one of the outside, and conveniently cushioned, chairs and looked up at the sky. The stars twinkled back at you, as if they sympathized your current situation. You wouldn’t be surprised if they did. 

‘Since when has cheating become a trend? Hasn’t it always been a bad, shitty thing to do?’

You went rigid when you heard the door slide open and then shut; you knew it wasn’t going to be (F/n), obviously, and you had yet to see anyone else you knew. It wasn’t going to be Wally or Dick, or anyone else on the team.

You slowly turned your head, ready to argue or fight, but there stood a guy who looked your age. “Hi...?” You greeted cautiously.

“I saw what happened in there...” He sounded like he was going to scold you.

And you were not in the mood for a scolding, and you weren’t the one who needed to be. “I think everyone did,” You said with a not-so-nice tone. “Listen, if you’re here to tell me I-”

“I’m not here to get after you for it, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He said and walked closer to your chair. He was starting to make you uncomfortable. “I’m Martin, but my friends call me Marty.” Martin held out his hand, and you warily took it.

“Uh, nice to meet you, Martin...” You didn’t call him Marty; he said his friends called him that, and you weren’t his friend. When he asked why you didn’t use his nickname, you made it very clear as to why.

He gave you a toothy grin anyway. “Ah, you don’t really know me yet. Well, I can’t imagine what it would be like to be kicked out of my friend’s birthday party, so I came here to give you some company.” The way he said ‘company’ made your skin crawl.

“That’s very nice of you, but I think I’ll be fine. I’d like to be alone.”

“Please, I insist. It’s not healthy to bottle up your emotions.”

“I’m not ‘bottling up’ anything! I just need some room to cool off and that’s why I’m out here.”

Suddenly, he grabbed your arm in a way that would leave brutal bruises and pulled you out of your chest so you were pressed against him. “I think something different will help. Has anyone told you that you look absolutely stunning in that dress?”

You tried to shove him away, but he was a lot stronger than he looked. “Get off me, creep!” You knew how to defend yourself; you were a part-time vigilante, but you didn’t want to severely hurt him. Yet. “Or else I’ll-”

“Come on babe, don’t be like that.” He chuckled and his hot breath on your shoulder was very disturbing.

“Don’t call me ‘babe’!” You growled and you went to break out of his grip...

But he was gone before you could even attempt to. He was suddenly on the ground, clutching his side with one hand and covering his bleeding nose with the other. “What the hell, man!?” Martin cried out, and Wally was standing above him.

“Get your filthy hands off her!” Wally snarled. He turned to look at you and he saw the marks Martin left when he grabbed you. The hair on the back of his neck bristled and his hands curled into fists. “Did you do that!?” Wally pointed at your arm.

After he yelled the question again, Martin nodded slowly. With no hesitation, Wally lifted him up by the collar of his shirt and gritted his teeth. “You wanna know what happened to the last dick who hurt my girlfriend?” Technically, the last dick to hurt you was when Dick accidentally gave you a paper cut. All Wally did was put a band aid on it; didn’t even get mad at his best friend... But he wasn’t referring to names.

“Depends on if she was wearing that dress or not. Might want to tell her to not to wear something that sexy if she doesn’t want-” It was like he wasn’t even phased by Wally’s fearsome display of protectiveness. 

Your lover cocked his arm back to swing but you stepped in front of him to stop his fist. “Babe, don’t. Please. I’m fine, let’s just go home.” You said, and you made the saddest but most pleading look possible.

Wally reluctantly let go of Martin’s shirt and stepped back. “Are you sure you’re okay, (Y/n)?” 

The moment Wally moved, you lunged forward and your fist hit Martin’s jaw with a loud crack. “That’s what happened the last time a dick laid his hands on me.” You were sure you fractured his jaw. Martin’s response came out as a slurred set of words before he was out cold. You didn’t originally plan on punching him, but after that comment, he sealed the deal.

Without a single word, Wally picked you up and ran home like the speedster he is. You could tell he wasn’t happy. He definitely wasn’t happy at all with Martin, but what if he was mad at you, too? All you knew that what he was feeling was intense.

You stood in the living room a few short seconds later, and I was silent. All you heard was you and Wally breathing, but no words were exchanged. You simply looked up at his green eyes and you saw... Worry? Lust? Pride? You couldn’t tell; it must have been a mix of the three because you were pulled into a bear hug.

“Why didn’t you defend yourself?” He asked. Wally more more worried than he let on, but relieved just as much.

“I didn’t want to send him to the hospital; assault charges have never been my best friend.” 

His worry melted away faster than he could run, now that he remembered how hard you socked him. “Could’ve fooled me. You did quite a number on him.” He pulled back to look at you. “It was pretty hot, actually.”

“Apparently, so is this dress. I was perfectly okay until he made that comment about it.” You scoffed and some leftover anger stirred in your stomach.

A quiet gasp left you when you felt Wally’s lips graze your neck. “I love this dress. You look absolutely amazing in it,” He kissed his way up to your jaw and you bit your lip. “I’m not telling you what to do or ordering you around, but sometimes I feel that only I’m allowed to see that much of your skin.” He fiddled with one of the straps. 

“I was hoping you’d like it, actually.” You chuckled and you slowly ran your hands up his chest. “Just didn’t think the night didn’t end as planned.”

“I, personally, think that this new plan is going great.” Wally’s hands rested on your waist. Heat radiated off his body; it was more prominent, now. “We can come up with the rest of it as we go, is that alright?”

“Are we going to ‘wing’ it?”

Wally gasped dramatically. “You did not just use Dick’s pun, or am I going insane?”

“Yeah, insane for me.”

He blinked several times in mild shock. “Wow... That was pretty good.”

“I learned from the best.”

I apologize.

[loadcali890]

Ventura Guitar Serial Number Lookup

Beautiful old vintage Ventura Bruno V14 guitar. Looking at other similar models on e-bay, I GEUSS it to be 60's-70's but I do not know. Serial number is 74725, could be made in Japan but I do not know! This guitar includes chipboard case, has warm aged tone, the vibe of old guitar. Ventura was a brand of stringed instruments imported from Japan by C. Bruno and Company during the 1960s and 1970s. Bruno was bought by Kaman in the early 1980s, after which the brand disappeared. Some of the Ventura guitars were knock-offs of the Martin line, such as the Ventura V-35 appearing similar to the Martin D-35, and the Ventura V. Good luck and happy Ventura hunting! Re: Ventura Guitar 14:51 on Saturday, June 5, 2004. (David Woodson) Posted by Archived posts. I have a 'Bruno' Ventura Classic gut string that I bought from C&S Music in Fort Worth,Texas in 1965-66. It has a nice classic tone but that is all I know about it.

GENERAL VINTAGE GUITAR RESOURCES:

Vintage Guitar Magazine - this is Vintage Guitar 101 and all neophytes are advised to start here. Of course, my favorite part is Michael Wright's 'Different Strummer' column, which covers the history of all those wild, wacky off-brand instruments in elaborate detail. VG has also published several of my own articles over the years, some of which can be found on this site.

The Blue Book - if you're serious about buying and selling used guitars, the Blue Book provides the most detailed pricing, dating and identification info. Much of it is available online for free.

GuitarHQ - a nice all-around mainstream vintage guitar site. All the standard Gibson and Fender type stuff, plus some other interesting odds and ends.

ProjectGuitar.com- where the Internet goes to work on guitars! All about guitar maintenance and repair.

MIMF - the Musical Instrument Makers Forum is a goldmine of information about materials, construction and repair techniques, including a gallery of unique custom built guitars that range from inept to incredible. If you need professional advice about repairing your old guitar, this is the place to ask.

Stewart-McDonald - a good source for replacement guitar parts and repair tools to keep your junker running. Also check out WD and Allparts. I'm not sponsored by or affiliated with these or any other manufacturer or retailer, but I'm often asked to recommend good parts sources.Well, here you go.

Ampage - a nice info source for amp schematics and other guitar electronics.

GuitarElectronics.com - lots of wiring diagrams.

Dr. Duck's Dating Service - an excellent resource, lots of serial numbers for many brands of guitars.

OTHER 'JUNK GUITAR' SITES:

Cheesy Guitars - a true kindred spirit, Meatex Z has created a wonderful site dedicated to all those unplayable Russian and Eastern European guitars. He was also nice enough to give me credit for naming his site and helping him out with information initially. We were originally going to do this project together, but decided that two sites are better than one. Go visit Meatex and tell him Big Beat says 'hi'.

SovietGuitars.com - this cool Russian language page for fans of Soviet era instruments is rapidly becoming an important resource.

Vintaxe.com - an excellent site about some of the lesser known vintage guitars produced in the 60's, 70's, and 80's. Lots of pictures and vintage catalog scans, including some of mine that I have shared with them.

My Rare Guitars - a nice collection of cheesy offbeat axes by a very hip collector and dealer. Vintage Normas, Ekos and Dominos galore, plus some great modern reissues.

Fetish Guitars - a fabulous site about Eko, Wandre, Galanti and other Italian guitars of the 60's. Both visually stunning and very informative, it is an absolute marvel.

Lordbizarre's Electric Guitar & Amp Museum - The name says it all. This collector from Belgium has put some seriously weird axes on display for your viewing pleasure.

Cheap Trashy Weird Old Guitars - cool name, and certainly the right spirit! A small but impressive collection of Egmonds, Wilsons, Musimas and even something called a Horugel.

21 Frets - I just love it when somebody takes totally trashed Hagstroms and Melody Makers and restores them from trash to flash. This site chronicles some really cool restoration projects.

Gudok - a Russian site that showcases 'the weapons of the proletariat', old Soviet guitars such as the Tonika, the Formanta and the Solo-II.

Hendrix Room - a Japanese site with a neat collection of totally off-the-wall 60's guitars with names like Youngtone and Melodier.

Animal Charme - dedicated to all those pointy headstock axes of the 80's, this is the home of the shred and heavy metal guitar!

Pointy Guitars - more 80's pointy guitar madness!

Guitare Collection - A wacky French site that showcases some totally bizarre Euro junk guitars, even including a couple from Russia.

Rockin' Hollowbody Guitars - a great forum for people of the thinline and archtop persuasion. If it's got F-holes, you'll find all about it right here.

Vintage Guitars - this Swedish dealer has a photo gallery with lots of Goyas, Hagstroms, Levins and other oddball Scandinavian beauties.

Vermona - here's a German page about those amps and synths, so familiar to professional Russian musicians of the 70's and 80's. Never mind Fender, Vox and Marshall, everyone behind the Iron curtain knew that the best amps were made by Vermona. This factory also produced the famous Weltmeister accordions and the Ionika electric organ. To many older Russians, 'Ionika' is still synonymous with 'keyboard'. See the old Vermona amps HERE and the original Ionika HERE.

VINTAGE GUITAR INFO BY BRAND:

Ampeg - Vintage Ampeg Scroll Basses Aria - Guitar Gallery Burns - Burns Guitar Museum Carvin - Carvin Museum Danelectro - Danoguitars Egmond - Egmond Guitars Eko - Fetish Guitars, My Rare Guitars Framus - Vintage Framus Futurama - Futurama Story Grazioso - Palka.com Galanti - Fetish Guitars Goya - Goya Guitars Hagstrom - Hagstrom USA, Hagstrom Canada, Hagstrom UK Official Hagstrom Site Harmony - Broadway Music Co., Unofficial Harmony Page, Harmony Thumbs, Hillman Guitars Heartfield - Heartfield Central Hofner - Guitar HQ, Hofner Club Guitars, Vintage Hofner, Hofner Hounds Hopf - Hopf Guitars Hoyer - Hoyer Guitars Ibanez - Ibanez Vintage Page, Vintage Ibanez Museum, Ibanez Vintage, Ibanez Collector's World Jolana - Jolana Info, My Jolana Kramer - Kramer Krazy, Kramermaniaxe, Vintage Kramer Music Man - Unofficial Music Man Guitar Page Ovation - Ovation Fan Club, Ovation Tribute Page Shergold - Shergold Guitars Silvertone - Vintage Silvertone Starfield - Unofficial Starfield Guitar Site Teisco - Teisco Twangers Tel-Ray - Unofficial Tel-Ray Page Tokai - Tokai Registry Univox - Univox Page Vantage - Guitar Gallery Ventura - Unofficial Ventura Guitar Page Vermona - Vermona Vox - Vox Showroom Watkins - Watkins Guitars Westbury - Westbury Guitars Westone - Westone Guitars

Ventura Guitar Serial Number Lookup Serial

MISCELLANEOUS OTHER LINKS:

Guitars.RU - Russia's top guitar community. The place to go for information about Tonikas, Aelitas and other Eastern Bloc guitars. If you speak Russian, you can also hang out on their popular forum and socialize with other Russian guitarists. Even if you don't, many of the regulars do speak English.

Russian Rock Club of America - not really vintage guitar oriented, but these folks are my friends and associates. We keep the flame of the classic Russian rock tradition alive in our new homeland, promote independent Russian rock bands in America, stage concerts, music festivals and other cultural events. If you're a Russian rock musician or fan living in America, you're not alone!

© 2003 - 2008 JunkGuitars.com. All rights reserved.

: I bought this Ventura in 1980 at H & H music in Houston and I was just wondering what it is worth. It has a classical body style, not the dreadnought. The action is low and has an adjustable truss rod. The serial number is 60505 and the model # is V-200B. Does anyone out there have an accurate answer? Thank you for your time and effort in responding to this e-mail inquiry.

Have a great day.I ALSO HAVE A MATCHING PAIR OF V-11 BRUNO & V-15 12 STRING FROM MEMORIAL MUSIC JUST PRIOR TO H & H. THEY TOURED WITH BUFFETT IN 74-78 THROUGH CARIB/PROVO SOUTH & NORTH FLORIDA. NO ONE WILL VALUE THEM @ MORE THAN PURCHASE PRICE. : I bought this Ventura in 1980 at H & H music in Houston and I was just wondering what it is worth.

It has a classical body style, not the dreadnought. The action is low and has an adjustable truss rod. The serial number is 60505 and the model # is V-200B. Does anyone out there have an accurate answer? Thank you for your time and effort in responding to this e-mail inquiry.

Have a great day.I have a Ventura Bruno V-12 I paid $110 for in 1972 at Hauschild's music in Victoria, TX. Don't know if they are still around as the owner was up in years then. I have heard they were made in Japan but I dont know this for sure.

Guitar ID and AppraisalThere are many reasons for determining the precise age of your used guitar. The most important one is probably pricing the instrument appropriately when you’re looking to sell it. Prices for certain vintage models vary by thousands of dollars depending on whether it’s a 1963, for example, or a 1964.

You’ll also need to know exactly what your guitar is worth for insurance purposes.One of the most valuable and often overlooked resources to help you identify and appraise guitars is your local used instrument dealer. It’s so important to establish a working relationship with these folks. While it may be tempting to call every store in the area in order to save a few dollars when you’re shopping for something, developing a loyalty to one or two shops pays off when you need service that goes beyond a simple purchase.

While most shops charge a fee for an official appraisal, it may take an experienced retailer only a second to realize that your old Epiphone is actually a Nova 390, produced from 1976 to 1980 in the company’s short-lived Japanese factory. The shop employee may be glad to look up the approximate value of your ax in a book and give you an opinion about what it’s worth. But if you randomly drop by a store that you’ve never been to before and ask for this kind of help, they might not take the time to look carefully at what you’ve got.LEARNING THE HISTORYIf you want to educate yourself to identify guitars, the first step is to become familiar with the histories of some of the larger companies.

In recent years, more and more books providing information on the major guitar manufacturers have become available, and they’re a great place to start. There are some basic questions to ask.

When did the company start building guitars? Where were the guitars manufactured? Did the company move in the course of its existence, and did it move its production overseas? Did the model in question change drastically during the years of production?

For example, Gibson’s J-200 started out with rosewood back and sides and fairly standard X-bracing in the late 1930s. It was changed to maple back and sides (except for a few rosewood examples) and a double-X bracing pattern in the ’50s. Yet another double-X bracing pattern was used during the ’70s, and then a more Martin-like scalloped X-bracing was adopted when the model was reintroduced in the late ’80s. These are all differences that would be difficult for the uneducated eye to notice, yet they drastically affect the guitar’s sound and value.At the very least, these books will identify the time period during which the guitar in question was produced, basic information that will, for example, keep you from paying a premium for a '1960s Martin HD-28' (you’ll know that this model wasn’t introduced until 1976). Sometimes you can narrow down even further the time period in which your guitar was built because of a certain distinguishing feature. For example, a volute or scroll at the back of a Gibson headstock usually indicates that the instrument was built between 1974 and 1981 (although some appeared as early as 1969).Another thing that the trained eye will immediately be able to pick up on is whether an instrument was built in the U.S.

Or imported from one of the many low-end Asian manufacturers. When I worked in retail, a customer once walked in with a Ventura archtop for sale.

Convinced that he had a guitar that was built in the U.S. In the ’50s, he stormed out after I told him what I’d be able to offer him for it. Even if I hadn’t known that Venturas were made in Japan during the ’70s (which was confirmed by a quick look in the Vintage Guitar Price Guide), I knew as soon as he opened the case. It was mostly the guitar’s thick finish that gave it away, complete with lacquered neck-to-body joints and drips through the f-holes. The wimpy hardware was another dead giveaway that this guitar was neither domestically made, as he thought, nor a high-quality import. The best place to gain this kind of familiarity is at your local music store’s used-and-cheap section; the more guitars you inspect, the more experienced you’ll be.One of the biggest roadblocks in identifying a guitar can often be the serial number.

These numbers are frequently inconsistent or missing from reference books. In many cases, a serial number by itself is about as useful as a phone number with a missing digit. Few companies have consistently used the same system of numbering during their entire existence (Martin is among those that have). For example, Gibson began using an eight-digit number in 1977.

The first and fifth digits indicated the year of production (8XXX2XXX meant it was built in 1982). If you tried to apply this formula to a serial number on an older Gibson, or even a newer vintage reissue (which sometimes use 'vintage' serial numbers) you’d be making a big mistake.REFERENCE BOOKSSo, how does one go about accurately identifying a used instrument? Probably the publication most often referred to is Gruhn’s Guide to Vintage Guitars. Written by George Gruhn (of Gruhn Guitars in Nashville) and Walter Carter, the guide is a must-have for identifying older American-made guitars. Organized into brands, general information, serial numbers, specific features, and model designations, the book identifies most major-brand guitars of the past and offers meticulous descriptions and a wealth of helpful photos. It offers little or no information on smaller makers, budget instrument makers, and recent entries into the guitar market.Although designed to give approximate values for vintage instruments, the Vintage Guitar Price Guide is also quite useful in identifying instruments. While it doesn’t describe each model’s features in detail, it does provide a company history for most of the makers included.

The book’s many photos can be very helpful, and the general listings, which include many off-brands, are among the most complete available. As with all price guides, the dollar amounts shown are to be taken with a grain of salt, but having even a vague idea of an instrument’s value will make you a more savvy buyer or seller.Another excellent resource is the Blue Book of Guitars. This hefty book probably represents the most complete compilation of information on guitars that have not yet reached vintage status.

Ventura Guitar Serial Number Lookup

Ventura Guitars Models

It’s one of the few books that lists instruments made by companies such as Kay and J.B. Player and by individual luthiers such as Dave Maize and Steve Klein. Besides retail price information, the book includes brief descriptions of most companies and models listed, as well as a unique section on grading the condition of an instrument. In a color section, a variety of guitars are pictured front and back, showing a range of possible conditions-from 20 percent (poor) to 100 percent (new).You can also join guitar-related newsgroups on the Internet, but beware of advice from uneducated participants posing as guitar experts. Of particular interest to acoustic guitarists are rec.music.makers.guitar.acoustic, rec.music.makers.guitar.jazz, and rec.music.classical.guitar.

Find Guitar By Serial Number

You might also check out rec.music.makers.guitar and alt.guitar.These resources and the others in the Acoustic Guitar Owner's Manual should help you on your way to becoming a guitar expert. All you need is hours and hours of paging through every available book on the subject, countless weekends spent at guitar shops and vintage instrument shows, a careful examination of all of your picking buddies’ axes, and (let’s face it) the purchase of a lemon or two.Excerpted from Acoustic Guitar magazine, October 1998, No. 70.Toll Free 877-712-4747.

[obtusemedia]

In Ascending Order: Top 50 Songs of the ‘90s

The ‘90s have become sort of an idyllic period that many Millennials and Gen Xers look fondly upon. It makes sense — the economy was good, Seinfeld ruled televisions, we weren’t worried about either the USSR or North Korea nuking us — but if there’s one thing that has really kept the ‘90s beloved, it’s the music.

There’s something for everyone at the end of the 20th Century, from grunge to gangsta rap to boy bands to Britpop. The ‘90s featured rock’s final years of pop relevance, as well as the blossoming of its underground movements. Hip-hop became a massive cultural force. And although pop wasn’t as strong as it was in the ‘80s, it did have a nice bounce-back period near Y2K.

Capturing the essence of the wildly-divergent ‘90s in just 50 songs is difficult, but I took a swing at it anyways. Let’s dive in:

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

> “Even Flow” by Pearl Jam (1992): Since I’m a Puget Sound native, I should love Pearl Jam more than I do. But sorry, I’ve never been able to muster too much love for the iconic grunge act. That said, “Even Flow” has a great, energetic groove that goes nicely with Eddie Vedder’s bellow.

> “Not If You Were the Last Junkie On Earth” by the Dandy Warhols (1997): By 1997, Nevermind seemed like a century away, as bright-and-shiny pop tunes took over from Alt Nation. So how did indie rock respond? By making a snarktastic, uber-catchy power pop jam about how “heroin was so passé,” complete with a music video featuring dancing syringes. The ‘90s were wild, guys.

> “Crash Into Me” by Dave Matthews Band (1996): If Greta Gerwig gets to admit that this song is actually good despite the oddly skeevy lyrics at times, then so do I. Just forget about the time they dumped 800 pounds of poop in the Chicago River and let Dave’s froggy voice whisk you away.

> “Metal Detektor” by Spoon (1998): America’s most consistent indie rock band wouldn’t reach their heights until the early 2000′s, but “Metal Detektor” is a solid lo-fi preview of the groovy, nervy tunes to come.

> “All Star” by Smash Mouth (1999): Forget the memes and Shrek and remember that this song is iconic for a reason. Did it age badly? Absolutely. But that’s part of its dorky, wonderful charm. And like every young Millennial, I know every word by heart. HEY NOW

#50: “Inbetweener” by Sleeper (1995)

One thing I love about Britpop is its fondness for character vignettes. Pulp were masters of this, and Blur occasionally dipped their toes in that pool, but even the B-listers knew how to nail a depressed-suburbanite character study.

“Inbetweener” tells the story of a married couple who settled for each other. They weren’t each others’ first-choices, they were just supposed to be “inbetweeners.” By the time they’ve settled into adulthood, their lives have descended into complete boredom, but they’re also too lazy to change anything. It’s the black hole of mediocrity.

Sleeper does a stellar job making the story pop, with a sunny sound to balance out lead singer Louise Wener’s deadpan vocals. In a way, it’s a bit ironic that a pop-rock song with a chorus this anthemic would be about the most boring lives imaginable, but I imagine that was sort-of the point.

#49: “When I Come Around” by Green Day (1994)

Bay Area legends Green Day went 100 percent into the pop side of pop-punk with the infamous graduation anthem “Good Riddance.” But I’ll always prefer their earlier, snottier side, which balanced the two genres perfectly.

“When I Come Around” is a song so maddeningly catchy that it doesn’t even matter that drummer Tre Cool utterly fails to stay on beat, occasionally slowing down and speeding up. Thank god for Billie Joe Armstrong’s timeless melody and crunchy guitar tone, both of which keep this song afloat, along with a solid slap-bass. 

Honestly, the amateur vibe of “When I Come Around” is endearing nearly 25 years later, when most mainstream rock feels aggressively focus-grouped. Even Green Day would become much more polished later on (not that this was always bad), so it’s nice to see the youthful energy and passion on display.

#48: “Jesus Freak” by DC Talk (1995)

There were many subgenres that peaked in the ‘90s that I’ve already mentioned, but there’s one more movement that had its prime years in this era: Christian rock.

...wait, wait, don’t click away yet! I’m not trying to proselytize here — some ‘90s Christian music could pass as the real deal. A few, like Jars of Clay, even notched a mainstream hit. But no Christian rock band was bigger among the youth-group set than DC Talk, who never really crossed over to secular audiences. And their signature song, “Jesus Freak,” is absolutely ridiculous — and that’s what makes it great.

Christian music in the ‘10s is mostly bland and focus-grouped to death. If you can tell one Hillsong or Lauren Daigle tune apart from the next, you have better ears than I. But “Jesus Freak” was a strange beast. Instead of joy or thankfulness, its primary emotions are defiance and rage. They even worked with the same music video director as Nine Inch Nails! Amy Grant would never. (although she certainly had her mainstream pop sellout moment in the ‘90s)

Does “Jesus Freak” have some embarrassing lyrics about John The Baptist’s belly? Of course. Does it blatantly rip off “Smells Like Teen Spirit?" Definitely. But, most importantly — is it a banger? HELL (err...heaven) YEAH.

#47: “Vapour Trail” by Ride (1990)

Shoegaze is definitely a sound that I respect more than I actually like. Personally (as you’ll see later on this list), I prefer its more structured, catchier cousin, dream pop.

But Ride managed to find the sweet spot between My Bloody Valentine and top-40 with their sweetly melancholy “Vapour Trail.” It definitely has all the hallmarks of shoegaze — it’s very spaced-out, the lyrics are both romantic and depressing, and there’s a definite wall-of-sound feel to it — but there’s also an actual hook. Thanks to its jangly guitars and orchestral coda, it almost feels like The Smiths’ take on the subgenre.

#46: “Enter Sandman” by Metallica (1991)

Why yes, I am that loser that’s never been able to get into metal, yet loves the simpler pleasures of “Enter Sandman.” What can I say — it’s a total jam and the hooks are plentiful.

It’s honestly kind of hilarious that this song became a massive success right as R.E.M. and Nirvana were rapidly shifting what popular rock sounded like, because “Enter Sandman” leans much heavier towards cheesy, over-the-top hair metal than grunge. I can’t get enough of James Hetfield hamming it up on the mic, literally cackling like a Disney villain at a few points.

For me, the corniness is part of the fun here, along with the raw energy that the band brings to the song. “Enter Sandman” let the masses headbang along with the metalheads, and for that, I’m grateful.

#45: “...Baby One More Time” by Britney Spears (1998)

Here’s proof of how massive Britney Spears’ debut single was: I was in preschool when it was released, and I knew it just as well as the Sesame Street or Arthur theme songs at the time. “...Baby One More Time” was a staple of Radio Disney, which was my main exposure to non-Christian music before elementary school (that, and Thriller, of course). Those opening piano stabs were etched into my brain from a very early age.

There’s a good reason it’s stuck with me: Britney’s breakthrough smash is a pop classic. “...Baby One More Time” captures the passion of a teenage crush better than almost any song from its era. And Max Martin’s crystal-clear, melodramatic production is untouchable. Frankly, it might still be Britney’s best song, over 20 years later.

#44: “Animal Nitrate” by Suede (1993)

One of the first major Britpop anthems, “Animal Nitrate” is a swaggering, cocky ode to the UK’s finest glam rock. Marc Bolan would’ve killed to write something this seedy and catchy.

In a way, it serves as sort of the mid-point between Blur and Pulp’s winking snark and Oasis’ hard-charging stadium-fillers. Just add a nice dose of sleaze. Suede weren’t able to keep up the momentum from their landmark debut, but at least they have classic singles like “Animal Nitrate” that cemented their legacy as pioneers.

#43: “Born Slippy .NUXX” by Underworld (1996)

I’m not normally a fan of super-long electronic songs. In fact, this will be the only representative of electronica — a fairly popular scene in the late ‘90s — to show up on this list.

But “Born Slippy” is special. First off, to be completely honest with y’all: I’m a bit biased, since the track was famously featured in Trainspotting, one of my favorite ‘90s movies. So it was always going to have positive connotations for me. Beyond that, “Born Slippy,” more than any other classic electronica song of its time, is bonkers. After a long, atmospheric intro, it’s essentially five and a half minutes of rambling, drunken chaos over a thudding drum beat (with one little break in the middle).

It’s both minimalist (a good chunk of the song is just a drum machine and chanting) and maximalist (IT’S SO LOUD). “Born Slippy” is the audio equivalent of losing your mind, and I love every second of it.

#42: “Groove Is In The Heart” by Deee-Lite ft. Q-Tip (1990)

And here’s a dance song with the complete opposite vibe! While Underworld turned their thumping beats into cold, confusing chaos, Deee-Lite only has one mission with their classic one-hit-wonder: to soundtrack the greatest party of all time.

“Groove” just about succeeds in that goal, too. The bassline and clattering percussion are untouchable, the lyrics are pure nonsense in the best way (more dance songs should throw in Dr. Seuss references), and the group even snagged funk legend Bootsy Collins to throw in some random ad-libs here and there. 

Q-Tip, a budding legend in his own right, contributes a nice verse, but the real draw here is Deee-Lite’s aggressive quirkiness. Where else will you find a dancefloor filler that includes slide-whistle solos?

#41: “This Is How We Do It” by Montell Jordan (1995)

New Jack Swing — the subgenre that mixed R&B smoothness with hip-hop beats and attitude — might have peaked in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, but its best track came way after its pinnacle.

“This Is How We Do It” will always be an effective crowdpleaser. Somehow, Montell Jordan found a way to balance street smarts with a squeaky-clean jam perfect for a Bar Mitzvah. He essentially perfected Will Smith’s formula, but Jordan had an extra advantage: his golden vocals. Yeah, his rapping is a bit corny, but you can’t deny that voice.

The ‘90s had plenty of gangsta-lite party jams like “This Is How We Do It,” but thanks to Jordan’s charisma and a deathless chorus, this one stands above the rest.

#40: “Movin’ On Up” by Primal Scream (1991)

If you’re going to rip off the Rolling Stones’ “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” you might as well go for the jugular and only steal its massive ending.

“Movin’ On Up” is absolutely shameless in that regard, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t effective anyways. This gospel/classic-rock pastiche is four minutes of straight euphoria: Uplifting lyrics! Jazzy piano! Soaring guitar solos! And of course, a gospel choir so powerful that their voices break through the noise like the Kool-Aid Man. 

Primal Scream were smart enough to let the choir take over the second half of the song, just letting the vaguely-religious vibes ride itself out. Because of this brilliant decision, “Movin’ On Up” is somehow more danceable than the rest of its album, the acid-house landmark Screamadelica.

#39: “Just A Girl” by No Doubt (1995)

Riot grrrl, an aggressively feminist brand of indie rock, was an important ‘90s subgenre, but rarely a commercially successful one. Still, there were some acts that polished up that style of angst and packaged into something different yet still great, and one of them was No Doubt.

Although Gwen Stefani might be more well-known to most millennials for teaching us all how to spell bananas, her best song might still be “Just A Girl.” It’s a pretty simple concept — woman is righteously upset by how society coddles her because of her gender — but Stefani sells with her flexible vocals and loads of personality. She shifts from an exaggerated Betty Boop pastiche to a Californian alt-rock wail within seconds.

The rest of No Doubt are able to keep pace with their frontwoman, bouncing back and forth between the springy verses and mosh-friendly, speedy choruses. It’s a good fit for Stefani’s manic energy, and a nice burst of bright energy to bring a close to a dreary era of rock.

#38: “Ruff Ryders’ Anthem” by DMX (1998)

Forget shiny suits: If I’m listening to late ‘90s hip-hop, I’ll take the rawer pleasures of DMX every day of the week.

On his breakout hit “Ruff Ryders’ Anthem,” DMX began to hone his now-legendary untamed style, although it’s a bit more subtle than how he would sound a few years later. It’s not quite as bombastic, but in some ways, that makes this feel a little more like the real X. It literally sounds like a mobster making threats, and it just happens to rhyme and be over a killer beat.

There’s all the ridiculous lyrics you’d expect from DMX here — highlights include the wonderfully emo couplet “All I know is pain/all I feel is rain” and a coda that’s simply a machine gun firing and X yelling “TALK IS CHEAP, MOTHERFUCKER!!!” But for the most part, it’s proto-DMX, and it’s interesting to see a larger-than-life figure somewhat grounded.

#37: “Friday I’m In Love” by The Cure (1992)

The first couple years of the ‘90s are flooded with awkward ‘80s leftovers, but one wonderful (and very ‘80s) song that snuck into the next decade is “Friday I’m In Love,” The Cure’s final hit.

It’s shocking that something this bouncy, simple and optimistic came out the same year Nirvana and Pearl Jam dominated the airwaves, but great music can succeed at any time. Robert Smith’s nursery-rhyme melodies and lyrics are so simple that it’s shocking that this song wasn’t actually written ages beforehand.

And it’s refreshing to hear a band famous for getting angsty pull out a happy-go-lucky love song tailor-made for romantic comedies. At some point, Smith had to write an upbeat song, right?

#36: “Everlong” by Foo Fighters (1997)

There’s an argument out there that “Everlong,” written by Foo Fighters frontman and former Nirvana drummer Dave Grohl, is better than any Nirvana song. I cannot remotely agree (spoiler: Nirvana places much higher on this list), but I can understand why “Everlong” has such a strong reputation.

Easily the best Foo Fighters song, “Everlong” is everything you’d want in a radio-friendly alt-rock single. It’s catchy, but still has some legitimate grit and bite. Propulsive and anthemic, yet still angsty and relatable. Grohl somehow took a grimy post-grunge banger, added romantic lyrics, and made it work. I certainly can’t imagine Bush or Everclear pulling that off.

#35: “Wannabe” by Spice Girls (1996)

In less than three minutes, five British women kicked down the doors of alt-rock and birthed the late-’90s bubblegum pop boom with one song. And what a glorious burst of energy that song is.

"Wannabe” might be the most purely fun song on this entire list. From the springy piano beat to each of the five girls showing off their bold, feisty attitudes (except for Posh Spice...sorry, Victoria), to Scary and Ginger Spices’ cheeky rap breakdown at the end, it’s impossible not to like. The song is a bit repetitive, yes, but when you have nuclear-grade weapon hooks like these, you might as well use them. ZIGAZIGAHHH

#34: “Fake Plastic Trees” by Radiohead (1995)

And now to the exact opposite side of British music!

Not to be that annoying contrarian, but I’ve never been able to get into Radiohead. A lot of their music is too cerebral for my tastes — I don’t mind thoughtful lyrics or experimentation, but I need a hook or a groove to grab onto.

Still, I do have a fond spot for their early years. And “Fake Plastic Trees,” my favorite song of theirs, is the perfect midpoint between grunge angst and sweeping Britpop balladry. 

The lyrics are abstract, yet Thom Yorke’s yearning, cracked vocals convey more than any words could’ve. Like one of my favorite modern acts, Japanese Breakfast, his voice acts simply as another instrument to convey the heartbreak. Match that with a slow-burn power ballad fit for a rom-com credit roll, and you’ve got an instant classic. It’s really too bad Radiohead got bored with this sound...

#33: “It Was A Good Day” by Ice Cube (1992)

Ice Cube is not normally a happy guy in his classic songs. Whether he’s pissed at the cops or his former bandmates, he’s usually in a bad mood for some reason. But for his most beloved track, Cube imagines what a day with no problems would be like, and it’s sublime.

He nabs a triple double on the court without trying. He gets to bang a chick he’s been trying to have sex with since high school. He seemingly wins every game of bones and craps he plays. And most importantly, the police and gangs didn’t hassle him.

Many gangsta rap songs are about turmoil and chaos, but “It Was A Good Day” shows that even the toughest thugs just wanted some peace and to have a good time.

(although if it was a really good day, the Supersonics would’ve beaten the Lakers...)

#32: “Hunger Strike” by Temple of the Dog (1991)

This song is so Seattle that the CD single probably came with a complimentary damp flannel, a Dick’s deluxe, and coffee stains.

It’s a bit surprising to me that there hasn’t ben any Seattle artists on the list proper yet, seeing as the city was the epicenter of ‘90s culture. Obviously, grunge played a role, but this was also the decade when Starbucks, Microsoft and Amazon blew up; the decade when the Sonics and Mariners had superstars like Gary Payton and Ken Griffey, Jr. (the Seahawks had to wait another decade to hit their stride); the decade where the Emerald City’s reputation changed from South Alaska to one of America’s iconic locales.

And before Nirvana and Pearl Jam took led that charge, “Hunger Strike” was the first grunge breakthrough, and for good reason. In a way, it’s sort of the Watch The Throne of grunge, with Chris Cornell and Eddie Vedder exchanging vocals. The chorus, when Vedder sings the hook while Cornell bellows “I’M GOING HUNGRAAAAAAAAAAAY” like a madman, gives me goosebumps every time. 

Honestly, I like this lighter-waving ballad more than any of Pearl Jam or Soundgarden’s actual songs. Not sure why this connects with me more — perhaps it’s the four minutes of raw emotion and wailing vocals over gorgeous harmonizing guitars. Vedder and Cornell work shockingly well together, too. I wish the duo made more music.

#31: “Connection” by Elastica (1994)

There is no Britpop song that’s cooler than “Connection.” While most of the subgenre is all about wink-wink cleverness or gigantic classic-rock riffs, Elastica dispenses with both of those for Justine Frischmann’s snarling attitude.

Elastica kept things very simple on their most iconic single. There’s a rudimentary guitar riff (which yes, they stole from Wire, but who cares), a steady beat, and Frischmann rolling her eyes over the whole thing. “Connection” is not a song that needs a lot of explaining: one listen, and you’ll instantly understand why even American teens couldn’t resist the snark.

#30: “Alison” by Slowdive (1993)

Slowdive’s masterpiece, Souvlaki, might have been a bit late to the shoegaze party by 1993, but it and its iconic leadoff track, “Alison,” have stood tall over the movement regardless.

My favorite shoegaze song, “Alison” is a hazy soup of distorted guitars, hypnotic drums and hopelessly romantic lyrics about a druggy (and possibly imaginary?) relationship. About half of the lines are about drugs and confusion, and lead singer Neil Halstead describes the titular woman as his anchor through the chaos of life. It’s a slow-dance made for a goth prom, and it lingers in your brain long after it’s over.

#29: “Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-a-Lot (1992)

“Baby Got Back” has unfortunately become sort of a punchline by this point. Not because it’s a clunker —I think most people seem to love it as much as I do — but because of its constant feature in kids’ movies (I first heard it in Shark Tale as a child...the early ‘00s were a strange time) and the fact that the song has been boiled down to just a few lines. 

“I like big butts and I cannot lie.” “Oh. My. Gawd. Becky, look at her butt.” “My anaconda don’t want none unless you’ve got buns, hon.” Those moments define “Baby Got Back” more than anything else.

Which is a shame, because it’s a masterpiece of trashy fun. Seattle icon Sir-Mix-a-Lot somehow found out how to make solid punchlines about booty for four minutes — you try coming up with that many iconic moments in a short timespan! And the dizzying production, with its sharp horn bursts and super-tight bassline, is no joke.

"Baby Got Back” might be a goofy novelty track, but there’s actual effort put in. It’s a formula more artists should strive for.

#28: “California Love” by 2Pac feat. Dr. Dre and Roger Troutman (1995)

Yes, this is the cliché 2Pac choice. But “California Love” is difficult to resist.

Backed by a rowdy Dre beat (and a great opening verse from the Dr. as well), Pac’s comeback single after being released from prison is truly timeless. You go to any L.A. party or sporting event and it’ll inevitably be played (partly because it’s strangely clean for a gangsta rap anthem). And 2Pac is game to shout out the entire state — he even gives Sacramento props over 20 years before Lady Bird!

Pac has some deeper, more introspective songs than “California Love.” But sometimes, the basic pick is the right one.

#27: “Summer Babe (Winter Version)” by Pavement (1992)

Pavement has always been the cool kids’ ‘90s band. While the massive alt-rock acts put their raw, bleeding-heart emotions on display, Pavement kept things sardonic and snarky. They were willing to poke fun at The Smashing Pumpkins. They’re essentially the Jim Halpert of rock — kind of lazy and self-removed, but with too much charisma to ignore.

Yet, for all their snarky bonafides, my favorite song of theirs is one of their more emotional. “Summer Babe” still features Stephen Malkmus’ famously flat, dry vocals, but the song has some real heft to it regardless. The deep-fried guitar shredding its way though the track and the noisy drums work well amongst the sloppy-but-charming sound. It’s meandering, but when Malkmus puts some juice in his vocals for the final minute, it still strikes a chord. 

#26: “Deceptacon” by Le Tigre (1999)

By the late ‘90s, punk icon Kathleen Hanna had already moved on from her massively influential riot grrrl band, Bikini Kill. Distorted guitars were so 1992. What was next? ‘80s nostalgia, of course!

“Deceptacon,” by Hanna’s other famous band, Le Tigre, is a sizzling slice of new wave perfection. With its proudly-analog synth stabs and dance beat, the song perfected the indie-band-goes-disco formula 10 years before everyone else tried it. Seriously, this sounds way more like 2009 than 1999, and it’s shocking that its somehow from the 20th Century.

But “Deceptacon” isn’t purely a Duran Duran tribute — there’s still that same fury that Hanna was famous for. Her raw vocals make for a strange, yet captivating combination with the poppy beat. It’s a punk song you could dance to, just like the Ramones always wanted!

#25: “Fantasy (Bad Boy Remix)” by Mariah Carey feat. Ol’ Dirty Bastard and Puff Daddy (1995)

There might not have been any ‘90s popstar bigger than Mariah Carey. She racked up 14 number-one hits, including “One Sweet Day,” a monster R&B collaboration with Boys II Men that is still tied for the longest stay at the top of the charts (if only it was a better song). 

However, she’s never been my favorite — overwrought R&B ballads really aren’t my thing. But she did release one single that I unabashedly love, and that’s partly due to an assist from one of hip-hop’s weirdest stars.

I’m still not sure why the powers that be felt that Carey, a super-polished pop balladeer, and Ol’ Dirty Bastard, a rapper who sounded and acted like a homeless man on bath salts, was a good combo. But it worked beautifully! ODB’s weirdo charm proved to be a nice balance to Carey’s more sanitized sound. And the pop structure reigned in ODB just enough — although that didn’t stop him from spending the first 45 seconds just shouting out random places (“JAPAN ARE YOU IN THE HOUSE?!?”) and later quoting Donny and Marie Osmond. The man was a maniac.

But arguably what makes the song work better than either artist’s contribution is that sparkling production. The remix of “Fantasy,” helmed by Bad Boy mastermind Puff Daddy, strips back the original song’s heavier sampling of the ‘80s classic “Genius of Love” to just the groovy bassline for most of the song, letting the synth burbles wait until the chorus to pop. The result is one of the few truly great American pop songs of the mid ‘90s.

#24: “Blue Jeans” by Blur (1993)

Despite their relatively low placement on this list, Blur are my absolute favorite band of the ‘90s. They helped create one of its prominent movements, Britpop, with their 1992 single “Popscene,” and went on to dominate the subgenre. And when they got bored with that sound five years later, Blur proved they could do angsty, distorted alt-rock just as well as the Americans. (And five years after that, lead singer Damon Albarn started a fun little side project — you might have heard of them.)

But my favorite song of theirs doesn’t really fit into either Blur’s eras. Technically, “Blue Jeans” was released on their first Britpop album, Modern Life is Rubbish, but it doesn’t really have the same witty, uber-English vibe as their hit singles from that time. Instead, it’s a low-key, almost dream-pop song that’s simply about being content in a relationship. 

Sounds a bit boring, until you actually listen to the track — Albarn’s melody here is stunningly beautiful, yet down-to-earth, and the quaint music backing him matches the vibe of the song exactly. And his lyrics nail the early stages of love — “I don’t really wanna change a thing/I wanna stay this way forever.” There’s few songs that capture the simple joys of a romance like “Blue Jeans,” particularly in the honeymoon period.

#23: “Forgot About Dre” by Dr. Dre feat. Eminem (1999)

The defining sound of West Coast hip-hop — the squealing synths and trunk-rattling bass of G-Funk — was mastered by one man in the early ‘90s. Dr. Dre’s The Chronic was a landmark for the genre in 1992, and his iconic style can be heard from MCs throughout most of the decade.

But by 1999, things had changed. The biggest names in hip-hop sounded nothing like Dre’s signature sound, from Puff Daddy’s sample-heavy pop-rap to the chaotic Southern twang coming from No Limit Records. Dre was seen as a has-been, a relic.

However, “Forgot About Dre” ended Dre’s slump that year. The funky Chronic beats were supplanted by a sharper-edged, metallic production over which Dre publicly shamed the world for ignoring him and his legacy. It’s a ballsy move to already anoint yourself as a legend just 11 years after you burst onto the scene, but with Dre’s track record, he could afford to do so. And although he’s not the greatest rapper technically, he spits with enough force and charisma to sell his snarling lines.

Dre also had a partner to give him a boost: the then-newbie Eminem. A lot of Em’s big 2000′s hits have aged badly in my opinion — the production is awkward and there’s too much homophobia — but he sounds sharp as hell on “Forgot About Dre.” His verse is arguably the song’s highlight, as he unleashes a rapid-fire, charmingly random verse with endlessly quotable lines.

“Forgot About Dre” cemented Dre’s status as a titan of the industry who could seemlessly create new trends and stay afloat through multiple decades. And with it being one of Eminem’s breakout moments, it also proved Dre could be a kingmaker.

#22: “You Oughta Know” by Alanis Morissette (1995)

The ‘90s were the decade of angst. So what better climate was there to release a scathing takedown of an ex, who may or may not be one of the dudes from Full House?

Okay, so it’s never been confirmed that “You Oughta Know” is actually about Dave Coulier. But that doesn’t lessen its rage and impact. Morissette is seething with rage about this breakup, writing all-time classic lines like “Does she know how you told you’d hold me until you die/’Til you die, BUT YOU’RE STILL ALIVE” and of course, “Are you thinking of me when you fuck her?!”

Morissette perfectly uses the era’s classic quiet-loud dynamic shifts to her advantage, creepily whispering at the start of the verses, and slowly growing louder and angrier until she’s screaming her lungs out by the chorus. Her ragged, off-kilter vocals perfectly capture the blinding emotion she feels. It’s a karaoke staple for those who’ve just been dumped for a good reason.

#21: “Big Pimpin’” by Jay-Z feat. UGK (1999)

That Timbaland beat. Dear lord. How can it sound so good against three radically different flows?! The man is truly a genius.

Yeah, Hov and Bun B and Pimp C all deliver here too, but let’s not pretend that beat isn’t the reason why this is a top-shelf Jay-Z single.

#20: “Larger Than Life” by Backstreet Boys (1999)

Yeah, it’s better than “I Want It That Way.” Not by a lot — they’re both perfect — but I’ve always preferred upbeat boy band songs to ballads.

“Larger Than Life” was named accurately. From the second the thumping beat kicks in, the song is a stadium-filling anthem, the kind arena-rock bands would’ve written a decade prior. Does it have a chorus that’s easy to scream along to at concerts? Check. Does it have a beat you can awkwardly groove to? Check. Does it have a bad-ass guitar solo thrown in? Shockingly, yeah.

Boy bands were the true rockstars of the late-’90s (apologies to, uh, Matchbox 20?), so it would only make sense to have one of them create a bonafide rock anthem. And when you match the Backstreet Boys’ sugary hooks with a roaring atmosphere worthy of Def Leppard, you’ve got a classic on your hands.

#19: “The Fly” by U2 (1991)

‘90s U2 is the best U2. I love Joshua Tree and Unforgettable Fire as much as the next guy, but I’ll take their weirdo, aggressively-ironic decade over their more earnest years any day.

Perhaps no song encapsulates U2′s ‘90s ethos better than “The Fly.” It’s got a slinky, nocturnal feel to the music, with The Edge’s guitar distorted slicing through like a machete. The swirling, tripped-out guitar solo here might be his greatest ever.

But like many U2 songs, “The Fly” belongs to Bono. In it, he plays the titular sleazebag from hell (literally — the song is about a crank call from down there), whispering sweet nothings into the listener’s ear. Do the lyrics actually mean anything? Honestly, I’m still not sure, but they still somehow sound transgressive and witty, if a bit corny. But you’ve got to expect a little corn when U2 is involved. And when Bono duets with himself on the sublime chorus, both as The Fly and in a piercing operatic falsetto, it’s one of the best hooks of the band’s career.

“The Fly” was the world’s introduction to the new U2 in 1991, and although it might have shocked people expecting another “With Or Without You,” it’s aged beautifully over 25 years later.

#18: “Heaven Or Las Vegas” by Cocteau Twins (1990)

Cocteau Twins are usually held up as dream pop’s forefathers, helping create a distinct, hazy sound that would inspire future artists from The Cranberries to Beach House to Washed Out. One listen to “Heaven Or Las Vegas” proves why the Scottish trio was such an inspiration.

“Heaven Or Las Vegas,” the title track to Cocteau Twins’ flawless 1990 album, is one of the most immaculate, gorgeous songs of the decade. Invoking both heaven and Las Vegas was accurate: the track is graceful, yet also drenched in neon synths and glitz. It perfectly toes the line between holiness and kitsch.

And here’s where I admit that, like most people, I can’t make out 90 percent of what vocalist Elizabeth Fraser is singing. Beyond belting out the title of the song in the chorus, the rest sounds like French, or speaking in tongues. Regardless, her ethereal alto is a perfect compliment to the swirling keyboards and gauzy guitars floating around her in space.

#17: “All The Small Things” by Blink-182 (1999)

In the classic video for “All The Small Things,” Blink-182 spends the entire runtime clowning on the TRL-era boy bands of the time. Here’s the ironic thing about that video: “All The Small Things” is secretly the greatest boy band song of the ‘90s (yes, that means *NSYNC didn’t make the list...their best songs came out in the early aughts, sorry).

Blink-182 are technically a pop-punk band, not a boy band, but you wouldn’t really know that from their most iconic, and best, hit. “All The Small Things” is direct, punchy and has a monster sing-along chorus. Sure, Tom DeLonge’s nasal whine isn’t a typical teen heartthrob voice, but young Justin Timberlake had an unusual voice too (“IT’S GONNA BAY MAAAAE”). 

The fact that “All The Small Things” is basically a bubblegum Trojan horse for Hot Topic kids is exactly what makes it so great. Chugging guitars can peacefully coexist with a TRL-ready melody and surprisingly romantic (if simple) lyrics. 

#16: “Gin & Juice” by Snoop Doggy Dogg (1993)

Nowadays, Snoop Dogg is probably more known for his intense love of weed, unwillingness to turn down collaborations, and friendship with Martha Stewart more than any new music. But Snoop’s earned the right to ease into being a hip-hop elder statesman, thanks to his landmark album Doggystyle and its standout single, “Gin & Juice.”

The young Snoop (only 22 at the time!!) had already nailed down his trademark, chilled-out drawl by 1993. He uses it to great effect on “Gin & Juice,” describing a wild house party filled with sex, drugs and alcohol like it’s just another regular day at the office. You can practically hear his knowing smile in the verses, and the chorus sung by D-Ruff is infectious as hell.

Of course, major credit has to be given to Dr. Dre’s G-funk production. It’s my favorite beat of his from this era, and its dog-whistle synths and shuffling beat perfectly fit the early-’90s California party vibe. 

#15: “Semi-Charmed Life” by Third Eye Blind (1997)

This is probably the only song in history to take heavy lyrical influence from the Doug theme song and simultaneously be about crystal meth.

It shouldn’t be hard to explain why “Semi-Charmed Life” is a classic, right? It turned an insanely bleak topic into one of the sunniest, most propulsive jams of all time. The rap-singing in the verses is a blast to keep up with, and that falsetto “goodBYYYYYYYE” in the chorus is the ‘90s equivalent of the high note in “Take On Me”: often-attempted in karaoke, with a very low success rate.

The late ‘90s had no shortage of great, weird pop jams, and “Semi-Charmed Life” is near the top of the pile.

#14: “Say It Ain’t So” by Weezer (1994)

My favorite ‘90s album will always be Blur’s Parklife. But my second choice would probably be Weezer’s self-titled “Blue Album,” a nerdy power-pop masterpiece. It’s an angstier mirror of The Cars’ 1976 debut, also self-titled; appropriate, seeing as Cars frontman Rik Ocasek produced Weezer’s first album.

The record’s centerpiece is the heartbreaking “Say It Ain’t So,” a perfect power ballad. The band nails the quiet/loud/quiet dynamic shifts from the mumbling verses to the supercharged chorus. There, Rivers Cuomo scratches his vocals, displaying his emotional wounds after alcoholism tore apart his family. 

For a band known for very silly songs like “Buddy Holly” and “Beverly Hills,” the passionate bridge, where Cuomo first wails away vocally before making his guitar do the same in a fiery solo, is truly heartbreaking. “Say It Ain’t So” proved that California dorks could pull off sadness just as well as the flannel-wearing Seattleites, if not better.

#13: “My Heart Will Go On” by Céline Dion (1997)

Earlier this year, Avengers: Endgame moved past Titanic on the all-time box office charts. As much as I enjoyed Endgame, this feels wrong. Sure, Marvel is a big deal, but was Endgame as much of a phenomenon as Titanic? No. Frankly, it’s not even a top-5 Marvel movie (although it is better than Avatar, which Endgame could pass soon for first place). 

Why has Titanic cemented itself in pop culture history? Part of that is because the movie is a stone-cold classic, featuring a frothy romance between two of a generation’s greatest actors that ends in unspeakable tragedy and heartbreak. But I believe there’s another aspect to the film that’s helped keep its legacy strong: its unsinkable theme song.

“My Heart Will Go On” is one of the greatest movie themes of all time, precisely because it mirrors its movie. Like Titanic, Céline Dion’s signature song starts as a tender, soft romance, before bursting into a dizzying climax that pummels the audience into submission, forcing tears.

I don’t think I need to emphasize that Dion is a fantastic singer — there are very few singers that could nail both the cooing opening and the Whitney Houston-esque belting at the final chorus. But “My Heart Will Go On” is still occasionally considered a punchline, and that’s just wrong. Any song with this much emotional heft and force cannot be taken lightly.

#12: “What’s The Frequency, Kenneth?” by R.E.M. (1994)

Two of Gen X’s longest-lasting and most important acts, U2 and R.E.M., switched roles in the ‘90s. U2 shifted their image from overly-earnest arena-rockers to weirdos dabbling in underground sounds. Meanwhile, their American counterparts went from mumbling college rock jams to radio-friendly ballads.

Not to be a total snob, but I’ve always preferred R.E.M.’s jangly ‘80s sound over their blockbuster early ‘90s albums. But the lead single off their underrated 1994 record Monster might be my favorite song of theirs.

“What’s The Frequency, Kenneth?” sounds like very few other R.E.M. songs. There’s no mandolins, and Michael Stipe’s lyrics are much clearer (although they make little sense). Instead of being bouncy and light, the guitars are a blast of crunchy distortion, not far off from a typical Smashing Pumpkins song.

In fact, Peter Buck’s guitar work here is what makes “Kenneth.” His echo-y sound adds a raw texture to the tune. And although the lyrics are a bit cryptic (apparently it’s about Boomers trying to advertise to Gen Xers? I have no clue), Stipe’s melody is on-point, as usual.

Although the sound of alt-rock had long passed by R.E.M.’s original style, “Kenneth” showed that the Georgia legends were more than able to keep up.

#11: “Steal My Sunshine” by Len (1999)

This sunburnt ode to being young and dumb in the gloriously young-and-dumb late ‘90s is the greatest summer anthem of all time. And the greatest one-hit-wonder of all time.

“Steal My Sunshine” is the soundtrack to driving with the windows down, goofing with your friends and pretty much any positive aspect of summer. Gloriously dumb and kitschy-fun summer songs like this are perfect examples of why the late-’90s was a golden age for pop.

#10: “Man! I Feel Like A Woman!” by Shania Twain (1997)

While we’re talking about that late-’90s pop boom, how crazy is it that the era’s best single is technically a country song? 

Of course, “Man! I Feel Like A Woman!” is barely a country song — yes, there’s some violins and slide guitar buried in the mix, but there’s also a thundering synth riff and Twain barely has a Southern twang (makes sense, seeing as she’s Canadian). And there’s no mention of any country tropes like pickup trucks or whiskey in the lyrics.

What “Man!” does bring to the table is a tongue-in-cheek, groovy pop-rock jam that’s just as easy to love as it is to make jokes about. Sure, it’s corny as hell — see the obvious joke in the song’s title — but Twain is clearly having way too much fun to care. And in a decade filled with angst and irony, a super-cheesy pop jam like this probably seemed like a needed salvo.

And the Mutt Lange production on this has some serious oomph to it. Before his extensive work with Twain, his then-wife, Lange was arguably best known for mastering the roided-out arena rock sound of the ‘80s, assisting on classic tunes from The Cars, AC/DC and Def Leppard. He even gave us this beautifully ridiculous Billy Ocean track, which might be the greatest song ever written. Lange brings some weight to “Man!”, making Twain’s female-empowerment anthem an actual anthem.

Listen, if this song isn’t for you, I get it. But for those of us who have the prerogative to have a little fun, “Man! I Feel Like A Woman!” is the pinnacle of one of pop’s greatest eras.

#9: “Check The Rhime” by A Tribe Called Quest (1991)

A lot of ‘90s rap hasn’t aged well, even if it’s still a ton of fun. Albums from Dr. Dre and Puff Daddy and even Jay-Z can sound like time capsules. But that’s not a problem that A Tribe Called Quest has, as their smooth jazz-rap still sounds timeless and perfect.

“Check The Rhime” is the Queens group’s brightest highlight off of their 1991 magnum opus, The Low End Theory. It’s a simple setup: MCs Q-Tip and Phife Dawg introduce the other rapper by reminiscing about freestyling on street corners back in the day. Then, both Tip and Phife get their own verse, each stuffed with playful lines and life advice — Industry Rule 4080 still holds to this day.

Unlike a lot of ‘90s hip-hop that was trying desperately to either be menacing or cool, Tip and Phife ooze effortless charisma on their verses in a playful, almost childlike way. Phife starts his verse reminding everyone “how nice I am” (before proclaiming that he flips off “punk MCs”). Tip even seems to diss MC Hammer by saying “rap is not pop/if you call it that then stop,” but apparently, this was meant as a defense of the then-megastar. Maybe.

“Check The Rhime” works partially because of its funky, minimalist production, but also because the Tribe’s two rappers were born to spit non sequiturs and awkward brags over a jazz-rap beat until the end of time.

#8: “I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone” by Sleater-Kinney (1996)

I’m not sure how flamingly hot of a take this is, but I’d say Sleater-Kinney is the greatest band in Northwest history. Yes, better than Nirvana. 

1997′s Dig Me Out is a flawless masterpiece, and there’s not a single dud in their eight-album discography. Unlike many of the major Washington acts from this era, the Olympia three-piece never lost relevancy, releasing some of their strongest work in the 2000′s.

But Sleater-Kinney’s best single, “I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone,” is actually from one of their early albums. And it serves as a thesis statement for the decades of great music to come.

Legendary guitarist Carrie Brownstein takes over vocals here, nailing both the sardonic verses and the thrilling, off-kilter chorus. “Joey Ramone” tackles an interesting subject: how almost all of indie rock’s heroes up to that point had been male. So when Brownstein wails about wanting to be Joey Ramone or Thurston Moore, she’s placing Sleater-Kinney in the pantheon of rock greats. And this was just their second album.

Luckily, Sleater-Kinney had the goods to back up their chutzpah, and “Joey Ramone” became prophetic.

#7: “Supersonic” by Oasis (1994)

Just a couple months after Kurt Cobain’s death, two unibrowed guys from Manchester (and the rest of their band) completely upended the rock world with their band Oasis’ debut album, Definitely Maybe. After a few years of gloom-and-doom dominating the genre, it, along with fellow hit albums from Blur and Pulp, helped usher in the brighter world of Britpop in the mid-’90s.

That album’s first single, “Supersonic,” is still the greatest thing Oasis ever produced. (Yes, it’s better than “Wonderwall.”)

“Supersonic” is a blast of rude, snotty rock-n-roll cranked up to 11. In an era of irony and sarcasm, lead singer Liam Gallagher was spouting out nonsense lyrics like they were the most important and coolest thing in the world. And for the four-and-a-half minutes of this song, they probably are.

Everything about “Supersonic” is boneheaded perfection, from the thunderous drums to the dual guitars, one crunchy, one soaring; all the way to Liam’s sneer. This is prime Oasis, the band running on all cylinders. Based on how ramshackle this sounds, it’s no wonder the band only stayed great for two albums. But at least we’ll always have that legendary start.

#6: “1979″ by The Smashing Pumpkins (1995)

On the opposite end of the cool spectrum as Oasis and Sleater-Kinney, you have Billy Corgan — singer/songwriter/control freak of The Smashing Pumpkins and alt-rock’s most weaselly, petty figure. But say what you want about him as a person, Corgan wrote some incredible alt-rock pop nuggets.

“1979″ is a major outlier in the Pumpkins’ discography. It’s not an angsty shoegaze/grunge banger or an orchestral power ballad. It’s a low-key, skeletal new-wave track that perfectly captures the boredom and aimlessness of youth.

While many songs about being a teenager capture either its euphoric highs or angsty lows, “1979″ is one of the few classic songs that nails the in-between moments. It’s the feeling of walking to the 7-Eleven with your friends, cracking jokes that you’ll probably forget the next day. It’s about sitting in a parking lot and just waiting to leave your hometown.

"1979″ isn’t a grand gesture, but in a backwards way, that makes it even more profound. And from a band who typically dealt in soaring, intensely emotional songs, it was a brilliant change-of-pace that will no-doubt be relatable to teens for a long time to come.

#5: “Rebel Girl” by Bikini Kill (1993)

Two massively important alt-rock movements came from the Puget Sound in the early ‘90s. One is grunge. The other is riot grrrl, centered around a group of furious, political women-led bands in Olympia. And although Sleater-Kinney may be the subgenre’s longest-lasting act, its brightest moment came in 1993 with Bikini Kill and their incendiary single “Rebel Girl.”

Lead singer/songwriter/punk icon Kathleen Hanna is the focal point of “Rebel Girl,” wailing away on the microphone about an unnamed woman who is just the absolute coolest. The woman is described as a confident, revolutionary lesbian figure who would serve as an inspiration for angsty teens across the globe.

And oh yeah — “Rebel Girl” absolutely shreds. It sounds like there’s maybe 18 guitars going at once on the track, and Tobi Vail’s drum work is fearsome. Just to give more rock cred to the song, it was produced and features guitar work from Joan Jett. The rock legend and Bikini Kill made a great pairing, creating a song that sounds angry, with its distorted guitars and punk drums, but is actually a triumphant feminist anthem for the ages.

#4: “Linger” by The Cranberries (1993)

In an early-’90s rock scene filled with distorted guitars and raw angst, The Cranberries broke out in 1993 with a song that sounded nothing like the crowd. And over 25 years later, their stunningly gorgeous single “Linger” has aged far better than most of the grunge and alt-rock it was surrounded by.

The Irish four-piece took inspiration from Cocteau Twins’ and Galaxie 500′s dream pop and just made the hooks even more bulletproof and melancholy. “Linger” is the kind of ballad that’s a perfect fit for a longing prom slow dance and for crying with a tub of Ben & Jerry’s on the couch after a break up.

The late Dolores O’Riordan’s lilting vocals are a miracle here, able to express both hope and resignation. Her heavy Irish accent helps the vocals become another instrument in the band’s sweeping wall of sound, alongside the jangly guitars, marching-beat drums and orchestral swells.

It’s the most beautiful song of an ugly (in a good way!) decade, and arguably the greatest dream pop song ever written. The Cranberries would later adopt the heavy guitars of their Seattle peers, but “Linger” is still a high-water mark for the subgenre.

#3: “Juicy” by The Notorious B.I.G. (1994)

The first verse alone could’ve gotten “Juicy” into this list’s top 10. It’s one of the most-memorable and quotable verses of all time, exquisitely detailing The Notorious B.I.G.’s rise to fame. And then we get two more stellar verses?! 

“Juicy” is frequently cited among one of the greatest hip-hop songs of all time, and it’s deserving of that reputation. Biggie penned the definitive rags-to-riches story in just five minutes (honestly, more like four, as he and producer Puff Daddy let the beat ride for a bit at the end) and then blessed it with his silky-smooth, commanding flow.

What separates “Juicy” from other come-up anthems is the vivid detail Biggie gives us, both about his impoverished Brooklyn upbringing (“We used to fuss when the landlord dissed us/No heat, wondered why Christmas missed us”) and his stunning rise to fame (“Girls used to diss me/Now they write letters cause they miss me”). He even brags about owning a Super Nintendo AND a Sega Genesis, which was the biggest early-90′s flex possible.

Of course, knowing the tragic ending of Biggie’s story, “Juicy” has a bit of a bittersweet feeling to it now. But its ‘80′s-retro beat and infectious glee can still bring a smile to my face every time I hear it.

#2: “Smells Like Teen Spirit” by Nirvana (1991)

Well, duh.

There is no song that encapsulates an entire decade and generation like “Smells Like Teen Spirit” does for the ‘90′s and Gen X. It famously changed the entire rock landscape nearly overnight from sleazy hair metal to grimy alt-rock. It’s one of the most famous and iconic songs ever written. And shockingly, it still retains all of its revolutionary power nearly 30 years later.

How does “Smells Like Teen Spirit” pull off the balancing act of being a time capsule, yet still sounding remarkably fresh? I believe it’s because it captures the raw feeling of visceral rage and confusion better than nearly any song. Most angry songs have a target, whether its racist politicians, stuffy adults, or even a crappy ex. “Teen Spirit” has no tangible reason for its angst. Kurt Cobain’s lyrics are famously nonsense. And that’s what makes the song so brilliant.

Because the song is so emotionally powerful in a visceral way, it really doesn’t matter that the lyrics are meaningless. All you need to love the song is to connect with the anger buried deep, and start moshing the moment Dave Grohl’s instantly-recognizable drum fill meets the clanging guitars. It’s a total banger.

Cobain might not have had the intent of creating a generational anthem that would last beyond Gen X. But as long as people feel “stupid and contagious” alongside a creeping rise of angst, waiting to burst, “Teen Spirit” will remain relevant.

#1: “Common People” by Pulp (1995)

For a subgenre entirely built around a particular country’s culture, most major Britpop acts surprisingly refrained from politics. Oasis never sniffed the subject, and while Blur got close, songs like “Parklife” or “Stereotypes” were more winking jokes than bold statements.

Then there’s Pulp. Their most beloved track, “Common People,” is a scathing attack on the British upper class who indulge in poverty tourism, unaware of how the other half really lives. And it’s the best song of the ‘90s.

There are few things I love more than a perfectly executed story-song, and lead singer/songwriter Jarvis Cocker gives listeners a doozy here. “Common People” is about a rich woman talking to, well, a common person, and she decides she wants the poor guy to show her how to “live like common people.” Cocker’s songwriting is very literary, going into detail about the woman’s history and her botched attempt to act poor while shopping for groceries, as well as all the lower-class problems the wealthy will never understand. As Cocker bluntly puts it, “If you call your dad/he could stop it all.”

“Common People” is just as furious as “Teen Spirit,” but Cocker has clear targets here: the one-percent, and the misguided idea that poverty is somehow cool. The song starts calmly, almost at a whisper, but by the final, heart-pounding climax, Cocker is wailing away, condemning the upper-class with gusto.

The swelling disco-rock groove channels this anger into an absurdly catchy tune — an odd combination of musical tone and lyrics, but one that’s effective. It’s a giant middle finger that you can sing along to.

Britpop might have ended, but the sentiment of “Common People” is still fresh today as a righteous anthem for the trod-upon. 

[nctmaginesmut]

Silk Robe (Johnny!!!)

My fav anons requested:

 - Hiiiii! Could you possibly do a Johnny smut??? Like idc what it's about as long as he is dominant af because have you met him? Tysm in advance!  - Can you please make one for johnny.  - Could you please do a Johnny smut but something that has to do with Trey Songz- Love Faces lol please and thank you

- Can we get some lovely Johnny smut to celebrate his debut?^^

author: ADMIN NI, MAN

genre: smut

word count: 1,953

a/n: HIIIIIIIIII. It’s been forever, guys... Thank you guys for requesting so much of my bias, my baby, my Johnny... there’s still so much more I get to do for him!!! I hope y’all like it(;;;;;;;;;;;; seriously love you all so much, you request such good stuff.  btw I didn't proof read so there is bound to be some errors

The loud music dances pounds through your skull -- feeling it mixing and boiling with the alcohol like the blood pulsing through your veins. Your body twists and twirls, hitting every beat that goes around. The colorful lights fill your blurry vision. Feeling -  dancing against - the sweaty bodies around you, each moving to their own demise. The air is hot and heavy with the comforting stench of alcohol. A guy comes onto you, his hands slide up your sides, a little too far behind than you prefer. You giggle and wave your finger to say ‘no,’ but he laughs himself and pulls your body closer to his own, grinding slowly against you. You begin to protest, slurring for him to please, stop.   

 Deep in the dancing crowd, music too loud for someone to hear you. A strong hand is then wrapped on your wrist, feel yourself being pulled out of the groapers arms. Short spin later, your arms are resting over a man's shoulders, wrapping them around, your fingers land in his soft hair that has a familiar scent that instantly puts you at ease. He prys your arms off of him and pulls you off the dance floor; you don’t protest though, too dazed to understand what’s happening. Your bare feet slap the floor as tears begin to slip out of your eyes. You’re sat in the first empty seat found, and he crouches down in front you to your eye level.

  “What the hell are you doing here, y/n? Do you know how worried i’ve been??” he practically screams over the blaring, bass filled music.

Knowing that Johnny’s upset with you still makes you cry harder, not even from the high amount of alcohol that is in your system. He looks at your tear streaked face and sighs; a good, deep, throaty sigh. The ones that send surges through your body in other scenarios. Johnny pulls the long sleeve of his black shirt over his fingers, lifts your head by your chin, and wipes your tears away before planting a kiss where they once were.

“I want to go home…” you mumble out. To your surprise, he heard you and picked you up, bridal style, carrying you out of the club. His warm body and infatuating scent cause all of your senses to becomes more fucked up than all the alcohol in the world could ever do. As soon as Johnny steps outside, you still in his arms, the cold air attacks you both. You curl deeper into him, wearing his body heat like a gown. You doze off as he walks, and fade in and out of sleep for the next little while.

Feeling fingers in your hair, you open your eyes very slightly, looking up to see whose fingers they are. You’re lying in the back of a taxi, your head resting on Johnny’s lap, his fingers comb through your hair as he looks out at the passing streets. A small smile comes to your lips, but quickly falls as you fall back asleep once more.

A bright light shines through your eyelids, slowly waking you up. Opening your eyes, they’re shocked close again with the surprise of the sun light. Groaning, you try to block the light out with pillows, trying to fall back asleep. The thought of work jerked you wide awake and springing you up onto your hands and knees. You begin the search for your phone, throwing pillows and pushing off blankets, but see your charging phone on the nightstand under a sticky note. You pull off the green note and read it through your squinting eyes. “Hope you slept well, babygirl. You don’t have work today, so don’t worry. I made food for you before I left for work and put it in the fridge. Love you, Johnny.” 

You smile at his sincerity and attentiveness. Your stomach growls loudly at the thought of food and get up to go get it. A bottle of aspirin and a clean glass wait for you on the counter. Pouring orange juice into the glass and taking two pills, you can’t help but feel grateful to Johnny. He’s always there for you for anything. 

“I should… do something for him…” you say aloud and smirk. After eating and taking a refreshing shower, you get in your car and head out. Checking the time, 2:07; perfect, you think. Johnny doesn’t get off work until 7, won’t be home until 8. You head to the grocery store, getting all the thing needed to make Johnny’s favorite dish.

After two hours of cooking this complicated meal, you begin to wonder why you didn’t just make something else, something easier. The sticky note comes into mind and your motivation level is refueled. Dinner is finally ready, the clock reading 6:40. Heading into yours and Johnny’s bedroom, you turn on some music to kinda get you deeper into the mood, change into a short, pink silk robe with light blue lace suspender belt and matching bra/underwear pair on underneath. 

You climb up onto the tall bed as yours and Johnnys song comes on -- Love Faces by Trey Songz. Sitting up on your knees, your hips move around provocatively to the chorus, hands sliding down your silky sides. Waving your butt in the air as you’re bent over, slowly smooth the wrinkles in the sheets out. Hands suddenly grip your hips, making you grab a pillow and throw it behind you at whomever grabbed you, only to see that you had just thrown a pillow at a laughing Johnny. 

“What’s this, hun?” he draws out while tugging on the waist strap on your robe. Pouting, you tie your robe closed and whip your face the other way. “Why didn’t you call me and tell me you were coming home early? Now look what you’ve done, you’ve ruined my plans!” You spit out, hoping he doesn’t take offense.

His hands slowly slide their way over the outsides of your thighs from behind. His breath hot on your bare throat, a small smile forms over your pouty lips. “Don’t be upset with me…” his husky voice against your skin gives you goosebumps. One of his hands slip over your inner thigh, tracing circles, the other pulling your head back to kiss him with his hand firm against your jaw. Your kisses slow at first, but rapidly speed up and turn sloppy. Soft moans of satisfaction come from his throat -- you gasp for breath as he takes every breath you take. He pushes your panting, swollen lips off his, and huffs out:

“You mean to tell me, this isn’t what you planned for? Babygirl, you know me too well…”  

Hushed laughter fills your mouth at that, to which you lay down. Johnny hovers you, bent knees on both sides of you, your arms pinned under your back. His soft hands run all over your body, his hands applying constant pressure, as though he couldn’t get close enough to you. He sticks his thumb in your mouth, which you suck on, running your tongue up and down like it was his hard sex, doing so while keeping strong eye contact with him. Seeing the corners of his stunning lips curl up in amusement of you sends a pulse through your body; anxious of what’s to come, which is going to be you.

Taking his saliva-wet thumb, he runs it along your collarbone, giving your steaming skin some cold moisture. In a standing straddling position over your hips, he unties your robe and pulls it off of you, anxious to see your flawlessly lingerie dressed body. His breath get caught in his throat as his eyes scan your body, taking in every little detail.

Laying over you once more, his mouth takes to your neck, his fingers to your clit. His tongue flipping over the side of you neck, his fingers teasing your clit; circling fast, then slowing down as your back starts arching, and fast again. You pull your hands out from under you and wrap them around johnny’s neck, but he pull off you as soon as he feels your fingers applying pressure to his nape.

“I didn’t say you could pull your arms out, did i?” Johnny scolds you, lightly slapping your thigh. 

“I’m sorry… Let me make it up to you… let me make it all up to you...” You look up at him, giving him your irresistible puppy dog eyes and biting your lip. He smirks and gets off of you, moving to the edge of the tall bed. You jump off the bed, still in your lingerie and step onto the bench at the foot of the bed, kneeling in front of a bulging johnny. He takes his shirt off, revealing his toned body while your hands slide up his jeans from his knees and slip onto the zipper, rubbing your hands over his stiff tent before you unzip his pants and slide them down, then down his underwear fall -- you take your bra off, intensifying the moment.

Your small hands only make his rock hard dick look even bigger. Kissing the head, you put your lips around him, applying the tiniest bit of pressure. Sliding down, and back up just as slow. Your tongue slips over his cock in your mouth, your secret weapon that gets him going wild every time. His hands move out backwards and hi head falls back. His breaths getting quicker as your mouth moves faster.  

“Fuck, r/n…” You can barely hear this over his panting. Finally he leans over to you, pulling your lips to his, back to the sloppy kisses you both adore so much. You step up and sit on him, your legs wrapped around his torso, your sexes touching, causing friction between the both of you, still kissing ferociously. He picks you up effortlessly and lays you on your back over the edge of the bed, so he’s in a standing kneeling position on the bench now. After practically ripping your underwear off, his fingers run over your sex, feeling you ooze. He wastes no time throwing himself into you. The lack of subtlety causes you to yell -- your hands clenching the bed comforter. You both throb against each other, your cum coaxing his dick as he rams in into you, showing no mercy whatsoever. You reach down to rub your clit, but he slaps your hands away and does it himself.

 He teases you, slowing his finger as his cock speeds up -- quickening his finger as he speeds up his ramming. Your time has come, you climax, but Johnny doesn’t stop. You scream - you yell Johnnys name, but it only makes his fingers flick your clit faster - only makes him enter you faster than before- harder than before. Toes curled, knees weak, you nearly rip the bed sheets from pulling on them so hard. Your body spasms from the overstimulation, your eyes watering, unable to open them and look at the beautifully sweaty man that’s ruining you. Then it suddenly stops; Johnny pulls out of you and pulls you by the wrist to sit up. Springing to your knees, you kneel under Johnnys strong, pulsating cock. You grab it from him, your hand slides up and down so fast it’s almost a blur. He lets out a cry and bends over as he releases all over your bare breasts. After he’s all emptied out, he pulls you up and kisses you. Not sloppy kisses, but not soft kisses either; passionate kisses.

 Taking your hand, he leads the both of you into your guys’ large shower where you wash all of the excitement off, the feeling of complete satisfaction remains.

[randomvarious]

Jeannie C. Riley - “Harper Valley P.T.A.” Number One Hits (1965-1969) Song released in 1968. Compilation released in 1998. Country / Pop

Jeannie C. Riley was a country star between the late 60s and 70s. She crossed over and struck pop superstardom with one of her first singles, “Harper Valley P.T.A.,” in 1968, which went on to become the #1 song on the Billboard 100 and the #1 song on the Billboard Country chart. Riley was the first woman to accomplish this feat until Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5″ in 1981. “Harper Valley P.T.A.” sold over 6 million copies as a single and Riley was nominated for three Grammys, of which she won one, and three CMA awards, of which she also won one, all on the strength of “Harper Valley P.T.A.”. The song even spawned a film and a two-season, thirty-episode TV series. 

But the road to fame wasn’t easy. Riley hailed from small-town Anson, Texas with dreams of making it big. She had been given the runaround by a few folks in the industry. Her husband, a gas pump attendant, couldn’t stand to see her so sad about her misfortune, so he and Riley made the sacrifice to move to Nashville so she could be close to the industry and record demos in hopes of being discovered by some country bigwigs.

Shelby Singleton, a country producer who had left Mercury Records to start his own label, Plantation Records, got a whiff of one of Riley’s demos and liked what he heard. Around the same time, Singleton’s ex-wife Margie, a country singer herself, asked songwriter Tom T. Hall to write her a song that sounded something like Bobbie Gentry’s classic country-blues hit “Ode to Billie Joe,” which was released just a year prior. Hall, who was driving around Bellevue, Tennessee at the time, drove past Harpeth Valley Tennessee High School. Then he got an idea for a song, based on a story from his childhood about a woman who he would fashion as the song’s protagonist:

I was just hanging around downtown when I was about nine years old and heard the story and got to know this lady. I was fascinated by her grit. To see this very insignificant, socially disenfranchised lady - a single mother - who was willing to march down to the local aristocracy and read them the riot act so to speak, was fascinating.

Hall then wrote “Harper Valley P.T.A.” for Margie Singleton and she recorded it. So did Billie Jo Spears. Upon learning that his ex-wife and Spears had recorded their own versions of the song, Shelby Singleton rushed Jeannie C. Riley into the studio to record it as well. Riley was reticent. Singleton and others wanted her to change her name as a performer. They wanted “Harper Valley P.T.A.” to be a pop hit. She didn’t want either of those things, wanting to be a country star and not a pop one, but Riley and Singleton reached a compromise. She would retain her name and still record the song. Margie Singleton’s version came out in July of 1968, and Billie Jo Spears’ version came out the same week as Riley’s, which was in August of the same year. Singleton’s recording wasn’t a single so it couldn’t chart. Spears’ was and it didn’t chart. But Riley’s jumped from 81 to 7 in its second week on the Billboard 100, marking the decade’s biggest jump into the top 10 for a single.

“Harper Valley P.T.A.” is notable for a few things. For one, tt doesn’t have a chorus. It’s a linear tale about the little guy (in this case, gal) telling it like it is and speaking truth to power. It’s also the ultimate “mind your own fucking business” and “those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones” song. The powers that be at the Harper Valley P.T.A. don’t approve of the song’s central character, the widow Stella Johnson’s, style of dress, her love life, or her drinking. They supply her daughter (the song’s narrator) with a letter to give to her and upon reading the letter, Ms. Johnson marches down to the P.T.A. in her miniskirt while a meeting is in session. She addresses each member of the P.T.A., one by one, exposing each of their dirty secrets, each of which are far more sordid than her own alleged peccadilloes. 

Beyond the song’s triumphant takedown of hypocritical rich folks is the song’s construction. With a thick and rubbery country bass rhythm and a simple and light drumbeat, Jerry Kennedy plays an unpredictable lead melody on his Dobro slide guitar, quietly accompanying Riley while she sings, and playing more loudly between her lines (My favorite parts are when he rapidly plays a varying series of two notes that trail off into Riley’s next line). As the story progresses, the song’s tone noticeably shifts up a tick every two verses. The first time this occurs is at the 1:10 mark, and the drummer adds a light, tapping cymbal rhythm into his repertoire. The second time this happens is at the 2:14 mark, and this time, an organ line is added. The subtle additions of these elements, along with the raising tone, play into the slowly ratcheted up intensity of the song. 

Another thing that made this song a hit were its contemporary cultural references. One is Peyton Place, a popular soap opera of which Ms. Johnson compares Harper Valley to. The other is the phrase “socked it,” coined by the popular variety show Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In, as in “sock it to me”. It was also used by a bunch of black artists like Aretha Franklin and Syl Johnson, as well as Detroit rocker Mitch Ryder. But the phrase wasn’t used in country parlance. It was thought that including this “hip” reference in "Harper Valley P.T.A.”’s resolution could broaden its appeal to a mainstream audience And, as history would show, this small change would end up being a big deal, playing a part in what would make this one of country music’s most successful songs.

One of country music’s most famous songs and the first song by a female to top both the U.S. country and pop charts at the same time. Historically significant and a piece of timeless fun to boot.

[doomedandstoned]

Discarded Self Cooks Up a Simmering Stew of Dread in Foreboding Debut LP

~By Billy Goate~

Album Art by Thahir M

Flooding forth with misery and hate comes the first album from Discarded Self... Created during a time of personal isolation, the album ranges from tales of the macabre to introspective trips into self-loathing and personal degradation that dredge up terrible memories of the past to drown in personal regret. There is no hope for the future here.

Thus speaks the introduction to this self-titled debut from DISCARDED SELF, the brainchild of one Jarret Beach. Nestled on the border of Alberta and Saskatchewan in the small city of Lloydminster, Jarret has been jamming on bass with Ashes of Yggdrasil and fronting Destroy My Brains on vocals and guitar since at least 2014. It was the pandemic that drove him inward and inspired him to write this harrowing opus -- an album that erupts with pitch black sentiment, exploring unhappiness, hardship, and distress through several different lenses.

"I Smell Pipes" sets the record in motion with devilish growls over a searing guitar lead. The song becomes increasingly emotional with dissonant harmonies. Whether intentional or not, the drums sound muted, giving it a dank, low-fi feel throughout. The emphasis seems solidly on the riffage, which is all fine by me, though some listeners may wish for a more spacious approach. For full effect, turn those speakers up high!

"Orbitoclast" follows next with a strumming opening and jarring amp feedback. When the vocals join, it's a sludge moshfest ala Iron Monkey and Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean. The guitar is clear, dark, and menacing, and it contrasts with the harsh singing effectively. There are burts of frenetic grinding, with fevered drumming from Joaden Paluck (Destroy My Brains, Wrought) joining Jarret's fire and brimstone riffing. The song ends with clip addressing depression and the danger of suicide, from some old training video in a rather clinical tone.

"Push The Knife" is the longest track of the album, opening with death-soaked drumming (this time with Brett Steward from Ashes of Yggdrasil on the skins) and solemn doom chords that become increasingly animated, finally spilling over in a torrent of blackened tremeloes. The instruments pause long enough for Jarret to proclaim, "I'm barely being held together...fuck this life." The lyrics contemplate the misery of one's existence and the utter despair of realizing: I could really end it all. Having been there, I can identify with practically every word of this song. Also, I'm picking up on a Buzzov*en vibe here, with Jarret's raspy, metallic vocals drawing us into the hardship of the subject quite well. It's as though the pain of depression has gradually worn away at his person, transforming him into this savage beast before us. The sonic mix on this track does a decent job of accommodating the swirling array of death, doom, and black metal styles without sounding too thin and distant.

"On The Unlevel" is another 10-minute monster, with death-obsessed lyrics (this time, it seems, from the perspective of the oppressor). It takes on the mess of politics and policing, though at times I had trouble distinguishing between rage against the system and actually taking revenge on one's enemies. In some sections, I'm reminded of Eyehategod and their propensity for simple, melodic guitar motifs. The drums are especially pronounced here, a collaboration with Daden Paluk (Destroy My Brains). About 7-minutes in, a solitary bass announces the fiery coda, which grinds down on the words "This is what you get, greedy piece of shit." There are some maniacal screams mingling in the backdrop that made me think of a human being who's finally snapped and will no longer be trodden over.

"I'm Weak" is my favorite of the record, beginning as it does with those grim downward steps, followed by irradiated crooning grungy milling. The song is about living with guilt, shame, anxiety, and self-loathing while in isolation. For many of us, nothing felt more like solitary confinement than those unending weeks in lockdown, which forced some to come face to face with what they hated most about themselves. "I'm not well, in my cell, in my tomb, crying for doom" Jarret sings. A headbanger for damned sure.

"Cultist of the Pentagram" wisely picks up the pace with a tonal shift from self-pity towards an imagined deity from some dark dimensions, perhaps Cacus of Roman Mythology ("I am your Caco god"), who was said to be the fire-breathing son of Vulcan -- and a giant at that (eventually taken down by Hercules). Regardless of the cultist's identity, it is a most interesting lyrical theme and I found myself easily pulled into the narrative. Musically, this pure sludgey, grindcore!

"Abused (e)Motionless" turns our attention to the victim of treachery, attempting to see the word through their eyes. An interesting mix of circular, grinding guitar and drums, with slow, doomy progressions, and venomous vocals (which remain omnipresent throughout).

Finally, we arrive at the conclusion of this stormy, angst-filled journey. "Dance Upon The Dead" established a gentle arpeggiated acoustic theme, which is frequently interrupted by a crashing guitar and drum combos, until vocals join in with their usual corrosive fashion. This time, we're dealing with a true doomer, full of mordant chords and deep, emphatic bass notes. Jaden is up once again for drumming duties and executes his role with taste and tact. The song develops with increasing variation and intensity as it goes along. I thought of Grief as I listened, a band that also traffics in fierce, hot-blooded, sludgey doom action.

No doubt, Discarded Self is an enormous work and may be taken in doses on first spin. It will mean even more to the suffering, as I can imagine it being quite a cathartic listen for those who feel trapped, maligned, and in dire straits. Overall, a welcome entry from a prolific and highly motivated artist who does an admirable job collaborating with his drumming compadres. I can only imagine the beast that Discarded Self will become when the Lockdown is lifted for good and public performances become a viable option in Canada and places beyond.

Give ear...

Discarded Self by Discarded Self

An Interview with Discarded Self

By Billy Goate

How would you describe the vocal approach to the songs on this record?

After recording the guitars and bass to a programmed click track, I soon realized the song arrangements had some real potential to be something aggressive and memorable so I went for my first run of lyrics on a song. I wrote the lyrics for the song "I'm Weak" before I even had any drums (which is something I almost never do) and I wanted to record them since I was really feeling the flow and ideas I had for delivery, but it was too late at night and everyone in my house was asleep. So I decided to do a little practice vocal run in a quiet voice. When I do metal vocals in a quiet voice for practicing and stuff, I use kind of an evil Satyricon-Dopethrone black metal kind of voice. It's easier on my throat than my normal hardcore Destroy My Brains full blast screaming, and it helps me lay down my ideas without any type of voice damage.

You collaborated with a number of drummers on this release. How did you work in tandem with them during the Great Lockdown of 2020 and what impact did it have on the final outcome of your tracks?

After I recorded my idea, I sent the track to the drummer of the track Rob, and he said he really dug it. I told him those weren't the real vocals and I would do the real ones in a day or two after I practiced them a bunch and got my delivery down. But when the time came to lay it all down, I had the practice voice stuck in my head and when I tried to lay down my normal vocals, it sounded weird because I was already used to the way the black metal style vocals sounded. So I decided to give what was once my quiet practicing voice a try, and record the full song in that style. It blew me away when I was all done, so I decided to change up my idea and use this vocal style for the whole album. I really like it.

Talk about the artwork. It's a tremendous piece! Really stands out.

After that it was time to go on the hunt for some artwork. Almost as soon as I started looking, an artist I follow, Thahir M, put up a piece called "Monster Hunt" and I immediately knew that was the artwork I needed to represent the project. A very powerful giant demon with dragons flying above almost like a World War II photograph with the fighter planes littering the sky. It took me about a second and a half to rapidly fire him an offer on the art before someone else snatched it. That is where the album art came from. I actually used this art as inspiration while I was recording almost all of the vocals on this album. As I recorded them I would stare at the image of the art and try to imagine I was a demon soldier in that army. I already had the lyrics memorized, so I didn't need to read them as I recorded them.

I'd venture to guess that a lot of us assume one-man bands are just wunderkinds, you know, born with all this multi-instrumental talent. Were there areas you found particularly challenging for you as you sought to bring your vision to life?

I am not a drummer. I suck real bad, and I probably won't ever practice enough to ever record anything so I needed some drummers. I had this idea of using all of the best metal drummers in my city, and it would kind of help bring the scene together a little bit. 3 of the drummers I wanted to get, I was already in bands with, so that was easy, and the last drummer was a guy with some serious skills and creative talent, plus he had his own drum recording setup.

I ended up getting all the guys I wanted on the project which were, Jadan of Destroy My Brains, Rob the drummer of Ashes of Yggdrasil, Brett the lead guitarist of Ashes of Yggdrasil (who also plays drums), and BJ from the band Dahlmers Realm. I couldn't really be more happy about it. So every time I would finish my guitars on a track I would send them off to the guys with a click, and let them stew on ideas. Slowly the ideas came in and we got them all recorded. I was really impressed with what the guys came up with and we worked and tweaked the ideas until they all felt perfect.

It sounds like a very meticulous process!

Almost every time I got the final drums and guitars all together I would stay up for days with almost no sleep writing lyrics furiously, and perfecting my delivery for the songs. The last song Dance Upon the Dead, I actually stayed awake for about 30hrs, writing and recording. I even blew my voice out real bad, but I have a real stupid and bad habit of fighting through it and I finished the song with a pretty buggered up voice. (it just adds to the torment).

What's the benefit to writing metal as an independent musician-composer, compared with being in a band?

The best part of this project was I did it all in my studio at home, and I didn't have to change any of my mixing ideas because other band members did not like it (not that that is a bad thing having extra input or anything). So this album turned out 100% how I wanted it to sound. I went with a less is more approach, and didn't really do a lot of processing on the instruments to get the sounds I ended up with.

You initially were sharing songs as you created them. What kind of response did you get from your tracks early on?

As I completed songs, I would release them on Bandcamp and YouTube, and I set a goal to have one completed every two weeks until the release date I set, which was Jan 15th, I believe. The day I released "Orbitoclast," is where everything changed and I started receiving a ton of positive feedback. "Orbitoclast" was only the second song released, so I was really getting excited to pump this project out.

I was only about two or three weeks away from my release date when I was contacted by Piers Andersen from Cvlt Legion, and he said he is starting a record label called Sarcophagus Recordings and he asked if I wanted to be his first band. I didn't even need to think about it, because I knew he was a part of Cvlt Legion and those guys promote bands at a ridiculous rate, so I went for it. He wasted no time and he had me pull all my material down from Bandcamp and YouTube, so he could properly promote the album. We changed the date to April 30th, and he went to work promoting the album. He is good, he's had me on more sites and pages than I even knew existed, and we've even done a pile of interviews which I enjoy doing.

What did you learn from diving headfirst into such an ambitious first record?

All and all, this project taught me a lot, and I do believe I have further evolved my songwriting and recording techniques for the better, so it was a real good experience, and I've also learned more about the promotional side of music which is really important if you want anyone to hear your stuff. I hope everyone enjoys this album, and you can expect to hear another album from this project in the future as I'm already at six rhythm sections written for another album.

Let's close by getting into the specific breakdown of the album's songs.

1. I Smell Pipes

Discarded Self by Discarded Self

The opening track of the album is actually written about a close friend I used to have when I was younger. It is describing a short chapter of his life, which in turn was the end of his life. He was a good friend but became a fiending drug addict "I Smell Pipes" was actually a quote he used to say when he would arrive at a party, and it signaled for all of the other crackhead/jib users to go into a room a light up rock and crystal all night. What started off as what he called fun recreational drug use, turned into full on lying, cheating, stealing, robbing, rock bottom living on the streets drug use. He passed away with a needle in his arm banging speedballs.

I wrote the song with more fun style riffs, because that was the last thing I remember about him before he disappeared and wound up succumbing to his chemical addictions. He used to be a fun guy. Hard drugs are no joke, there are only two ways it will go for you, if you want to live that kind of life. The lucky ones go to jail and sober up. The unlucky ones die, or live a long time as a worthless drug fiend. If you are having trouble with addictions, talk to someone and seek help. The alternative is more than most likely going to be a coffin. I wrote this song with a heavy heart, and it was really hard to record the lyrics.

2. Orbitoclast

Discarded Self by Discarded Self

The song "Orbitoclast" is a collection of riffs and vocal ideas I actually started this project with. It starts off slow, but gets straight down to it with a thrashy section that has shredding vocals bleeding all over it. For those that aren’t aware, an orbitoclast is the instrument that is hammered into a person’s brain, when they were the poor individual who received a lobotomy in the late '40s early '50s. The song is of course about the horrifying practice of lobotomy, but has an extra hidden meaning. It’s a metaphor for giving your trust to someone who doesn’t have your best interests in mind, and only their own personal interest, with no concern of who they damage along the way.

3. Push The Knife

Discarded Self by Discarded Self

"Push The Knife" is a slow moving look into the mind of someone who is sick with depression and touches on the topics of suicide/blood sacrifice. How it feels like you don’t want to exist in society, and you want to disappear and be forgotten. The song was originally titled "Staple", and is essentially about barely holding your life together like a “bent staple with one arm” as the lyrics suggest. The song takes a horrible turn as the protagonist of the story performs a blood sacrifice of themselves in an attempt to become a demon, and seek revenge upon the whole world who has wronged them throughout their life, joining Satan's and executing revenge upon the world. This song features Ashes Of Yggdrasil’s lead guitarist Brett on the drums, and backup vocals as well.

4. On The Unlevel

Discarded Self by Discarded Self

This song is my hate-fueled message to the government and other forces of oppression and control. I wrote this whole album in 2020, and being the naturally rebellious person that I am, the government control, restrictions, and lockdowns are not anything I ever pictured happening in my life and the damage they have caused to our society is mindblowing. If you feel the same as me, I strongly suggest looking up the lyrics to this song to understand the anger seething from within me when I was writing this. "On The Unlevel" is an attack against oppression, control, racism, division, and lies. Things can’t continue like this, and everyone needs to work together to repair all of the damage, and seriously think about the crucial changes that need to be made in our world if we are ever going to see it the same way it was, or better than it was. This is a true rebellion song of 2020.

5. I’m Weak

Discarded Self by Discarded Self

"I’m Weak" is an ode to all those who are born into this world as a person with crippling disabilities, mental health problems, or sub-par lesser functioning beings, that are unable to accomplish anything in life, and the feelings that are often associated with that, which are often followed by self doubt, self loathing, low personal esteem, drug abuse and suicide. "I’m Weak" is a tribute to a close friend who lived with all of the above named issues, and is no longer a part of this plane of existence. They will remain unnamed. This song embodies what the band name Discarded Self is all about.

6. Cultist Of The Pentagram

Discarded Self by Discarded Self

The track "Cultist Of The Pentagram" is about those who follow the rebel and master Satan, and their efforts to complete Satan’s work, in destroying God and his followers. This song is a complete assault on the world’s organized religions, and their slaughters and atrocities committed against their fellow men, women and children of earth, in the name of their so-called God. The true liar and evil presence that plagues our realm we exist in.

7. Abused (e)Motionless

Discarded Self by Discarded Self

This song was another personal and painful song to write. It is about the many forms of abuse from a loved or trusted person. The damage and trauma caused is generally irreversible, unforgettable, and leads to all sorts of problems throughout the person who was abused. It is a deep look into the person’s mind, and how fucked up they can become from it. If you or someone you know is being abused, be brave and get out of that situation. Reach out, someone will be there to help.

8. Dance Upon The Dead

Discarded Self by Discarded Self

I’ve been watching a lot of serial killer movies for I don’t know, the last 25 years. (laughs) I used those types of films for the inspiration of this song. This song was written from the perspective of a husband or father of a victim of a serial killer. It is clearly a revenge song, and describes the hate and rage that would be felt by the families of the victims. It’s a disgusting dive into that reality, and ends in a way that quenches the thirst of pure revenge.

9. Upside Down (Fistula cover)

Upside Down (Fistula cover) by Discorded Self

I wanted to pay tribute to a band I love and admire, so I recorded a cover of Fistula’s song "Upside Down." Almost every single time I’m hanging with friends I always make them listen to Fistula. Almost everyone I know now knows about them, so that’s really awesome. That also must mean I drink a lot! (laughs) The original song "Upside Down" is a real simple one, so I wanted to really spice it up and added a few things, yet kept it the same, and my drummer Jadan, who is also a big Fistula fan, does a two and half minute drum solo at the end of the track. If you are reading this, and you haven’t heard of Fistula. Do yourself a favour and just turn my Discarded Self album off and check them out. You are going to get simply destroyed!

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