#thom??? i thought you were a creep

[thomstrainers]

seeing “the bends” (song, not album) hate always confused me (i saw it even before i heard the song and then i listened to it and was like ???) but then i found out that it was written during the pablo honey era and i’m like OHHHHHH

[ecstarry]

@into-the-jeggyverse / crime / 446 words / @velanavis

It had to mean something, right? James thought to himself. 

An hour ago, their knees had brushed, and Regulus hadn’t moved away. Then, fifteen minutes later, Regulus had leaned in slightly, and their thighs had touched too. Ten minutes after that, their elbows had even pressed together.

James knew he was overthinking it, knew how ridiculous it sounded to interpret these gestures as something meaningful. But this was Regulus.

The same Regulus who, just last year, couldn’t even look James in the eye when he visited Sirius. The boy who took months to seem comfortable being alone in the same room with him.

And now they were here, in Regulus’ room. Both sitting at the edge of his bed, close enough that their knees were bumping and their thighs were touching. Sharing a pair of wired headphones while Regulus passionately explained why it was an absolute crime that James only knew “Creep” by Radiohead—a lie James told just to hear him ramble.

“This one is still pretty famous but I never get tired of listening to it,” Regulus explained in a quiet voice, even with the music playing they were close enough they didn’t need to raise their voices to hear each other. 

James couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty about lying just to get Regulus rambling about something. He loved it. James had picked up on what subjects got Regulus talking. Music was by far the easiest one.

When the last song of the playlist ended, Regulus carefully removed the headphones and began rolling them up.

James panicked. He couldn’t let this end, not yet. His mind scrambled for another band to feign ignorance about.

“Mr. Brightside is the best The Killers song,’” he blurted out.

Regulus chuckled and turned to him, his gaze softening as the blush creeping up James’ neck betrayed him. 

“You don’t have to lie,” Regulus said, his voice as gentle and genuine.

James stuttered, his cheeks flushing hot, but Regulus interrupted before he could form a coherent response.

“I know my brother got his music taste from you. It’s kind of cute that you’re doing all this, but you don’t have to.”

“Why did you play along then?”

Regulus shrugged, the corners of his lips curling into a small smile. “I could never pass up an opportunity to nerd out about Thom Yorke.”

“Right,” James replied, trying to mask the tinge of disappointment in his voice. For a fleeting second, he’d let himself believe Regulus might admit he enjoyed this, enjoyed him.

“And this is nice,” Regulus confessed with a soft smile.  

James froze. “Oh, really? Spending time with me?”

Regulus bumped his knee one more time before standing up, “Don’t push it, James.”

[bananaactivity]

Scene Draw + Excerpt

Kai didn’t even flinch as Marcus continued to stare, as though he knew what was going on inside Marcus’ head. He simply let him look, neither enjoying nor rejecting it, just... observing, in his typical cool and collected way. Marcus couldn’t quite figure out if he was making Kai uncomfortable or if Kai was just playing with him, letting him stew in the silence.

Finally, Kai broke the stillness, his voice cutting through the air like smooth silk. “You gonna say something, or are you gonna keep staring?” The words were dry, matter-of-fact, almost as if he was bored by Marcus’ lack of response.

Before he could find his voice, Kai smoothly glided over to his record player, pulling it out of its corner with practiced ease. He sifted through the stack of vinyl records, his fingers pausing, as though considering each one carefully before selecting a particular record. He looked up at Marcus, holding the album up in a way that didn’t quite demand attention but certainly got it.

“You look like a Radiohead... In Rainbows?” Kai asked, his tone nonchalant, but there was a slight edge of amusement in his voice.

Marcus blinked, completely caught off guard. He hadn't remembered sharing his taste in music with Kai, and yet, there he was, reading him like an open book. Marcus’ heart skipped a beat as he tried to gather his thoughts. He nodded slowly, still stunned that Kai had pegged him so easily. “Yeah... yeah, that’s right,” Marcus stammered, then tried to regain some composure, muttering, “In Rainbows is... yeah. It’s a good album. I- It's my favorite album” Marcus remembered the times spent in his dads old evil lair. Those few moments he used to crave back then; when he would spend time with Marcus outside of planning his stupid plots. “Coke Baby” vibrating in the background. They'd sit with their guitars and his dad would pretentiously claim that he'd known Radiohead before the Creepers; strumming on his out of tune on his guitar. Marcus didn't care one way or the other, their music was just as good no matter how popular it was. And when he was alone he’d play “Creep“ right along with “ 15 Step” and his personal favorite “Reckoner”. When he first infiltrated the Davenports he'd gotten them into it as well. Chase rattled off every fact possible about Thom Yorke like he had lived in his walls and Leo continued a long stream of jokes at Marcus expense about the hell of Radiohead fans' pretentiousness and distinct lack of bitches. Adam ate the walls. Their Dad ,Davenport, sat and watched them quietly whenever they played those tunes. Usually he tuned them out but he always came around if he caught wind of the band, and once had requested a playing of “Coke Baby” before excusing himself swiftly. Bree ignored them all when they played preferring One Direction over everything. Marcus' hard drive had stored all these memories in a file marked Music. It was his most precious file and it was like this guy had sifted through it and found just the right thing.

Kai’s lips curved into the faintest smirk, a dry purr escaping him as he lowered the record to the turntable. “Someone has good taste,” he murmured, as though it was an observation he’d made a thousand times before. It was an offhand comment, but it felt loaded especially with all the thoughts Marcus was now spinning.

LMAOO technically the first eleven chapters of my fic have been posted but it’s basically the quality of a first draft. (One person was really into tho lmao) I’m still working on the final 12 chapters while also reworking the ones I already have posted. I even have a sequel in the works and I STILL haven’t finished the original work. Lmao this ship is like the only ship that Ive ever been this invested in my whole life. If your interested in reading the first draft of the eleven available chapters it’s right here:

[tokyoyumeeee]

Thank the stars

!forgetting to say “i love you” back

featuring: dottore, ayato

tags: suggestive, fluff, gn reader

DOTTORE you straightened the doctor’s coat before lightly dusting it. “alright, remember to drink water and please for the last time, eat all of the food i pack you,” you told him sternly. he grumbled on about something that sounded like “you’re not my mom” although he seemed unhappy about it, you knew that he didn’t mean it. “i might be home earlier today, no promises though,” dottore added, before turning to leave. “alright! have a good day at work!” you called to the cyan haired man. he frowned. no goodbye kiss? no “i love you”? how was he supposed to continue on with his day when two of the most important pieces of his daily routine were missing?!

sure, he wasn’t the most expressive husband, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t love you. “did something happen?” he asked, slowly turning around to face you again. you raised a brow at him. “no? why?” you knew exactly what you were doing. as you held eye contact with the red-eyed man, you tried your best to hold in your laughter. it was inconceivable that a mad genius like dottore, would fall for such a childish prank. 

dottore opened his mouth as if he were about to answer then pursed his lips into a thin line. his brows furrowed as if he were trying to think of a way to convey what he wanted without sounding clingy or feeling embarrassed. “never mind...” he groaned. you burst out laughing, before planting a few kisses on his cheek. “i love you, have a good day at work dottore,” 

his frown deepened as he pulled you closer to his side. 

“that wasn’t even funny,” he grunted.

AYATO “i’ll be heading out now. remember if you ever need anything you can just ask thom-” you cut ayato off before he could finish. “i can ask thoma, yes i know. you tell me every morning,” he cracked a small smile. “right. ill be back for lunch. ‘love you,” he pulled you in by the waist and pressed a kiss to your forehead. his posh and refined cologne melted you into his touch. the gentle aroma of vanilla and lavender surrounded you. you almost felt bad for what you were about it, but seeing his reaction was worth it. your eyes glinted mischievously as you carried out your prank. “alright, see you,” you beamed, pulling away from him.  he raised a brow, not responding to you. it was odd that you would forget to say “i love you” back to him. was this a new game of yours? or had he done something wrong? possibilities ran through the yashiro commissioner’s head as he stood there blankly staring at you. “uhh ayato? don’t you have a meeting to attend?” you tried to keep your face concerned rather than amused as you spoke. although you weren’t a masochist and loved ayato to bits, it was absolutely hilarious watching the normally calm and aware yashiro commissioner blank out wondering why his partner won’t say “i love you back”

he stood there for a few more seconds, and your amusement started to turn into genuine concern that he would miss his meeting. “ayato please wake up. you’re going to be late,” you lightly tapped his shoulder. he didn’t move, his expression remained unreadable as he stood like a statue. “it was a prank ayato! please go to your meeting!” you blurted out, panic starting to creep onto you, as his appointed meeting time began drawing nearer.

ayato’s reaction was not what you expected. he smirked. “so you finally admit it?” he teased. you were confused, bewildered, and shocked. “what on earth do you mean?! i just thought it would be funny to play a harmless prank on you, i didn’t think it would delay your schedule...” “i knew it was a prank, i just wanted you to admit it yourself,” he smiled. “i’ll be sure to punish you when i get home for wasting my time,” he lowered his voice, gently pulling you closer to him by your chin.

“my time is precious and wasting it won’t go unpunished,”

[imdoingaokay]

May I ask for DAI romance companions reaction to their lover making them a LOVELY piece of artwork for them??

Also if you wouldn't mind, Solas’ reaction as well?

Solas will always be included in the romanced companion dai lineup unless stated otherwise, so don’t you worry my dear anon. And so will Varric because I might as well do what Bioware was too much of a coward to do.

Sorry I've been gone for so long, I've been kept busy with nursing school. Good news, I passed my first semester! Woohoo! I'm hoping to get some more stuff out before I go back to school, wish me luck lol!

A rarely seen, but rumored skill that the Inquisitor had was art. Perhaps being raised the way they were, they got exposed to it and just had a knack for painting, more specifically, painting portraits.

If The Inquisitor’s friends were to glance at the leatherbound notebook they kept so tightly to their person, they would see multiple sketches of landscapes, animals, and the people The Inquisitor came across on their journeys. However, The Inquisitor kept this notebook tucked away in their bag or their jacket when they traveled, so it was seldom seen… almost.

One day, during a somewhat slow day of pomp and circumstance, the lover of the Inquisitor just so happened to come across the notebook… unprotected.

The pair had been taking some time away from stuffy nobles and constant threats to enjoy each other’s presence, except, when a messenger came by, claiming that Leliana had a report for the Inquisitor and the Inquisitor alone, they simply got up and left. Not before leaving a kiss on the cheek of their lover. The Inquisitor’s lover knew it was an invasion of privacy, but, it was the Inquisitor’s fault for keeping it there. So, curiosity bubbling over, the lover peered over to see what had the Inquisitor so fascinated moments before.

It was a sketch of them, of their face. A waist-up portrait of them.

Blackwall/Thom Rainer: Rainer couldn’t help but break out into a smile, he had been working so hard on the little griffon he had been making that he hardly noticed how furrowed his brow must’ve looked. His finger lingered on the subtle details spread across the page, some details so small he wouldn’t have noticed had he not picked up the piece of art and studied it closer.

Cassandra: Cassandra hadn’t even thought of the whole invasion of privacy, in a split second, she grabbed the notebook and stared at the Inquisitor’s work. The book she had been reading was long forgotten. And it had all but dematerialized when she saw the sketch of herself. She could feel a blush slowly creep up her cheeks until she was certain her entire face was red. At the slightest noise, she shoved the notebook back to its original spot, only to quickly pick it back up and inspect her lover’s handiwork.

Cullen Rutherford: He took the longest to finally look, pondering whether or not he would invade his lover’s privacy by taking the shortest peek.

He breaks, of course, less than a minute after he begins his internal debate.

He hurriedly flips through the pages and finds their most recent work, and his breath hitches. 

He traces the beautiful sketch and finds himself mirroring the facial expression The Inquisitor caught him in. He can’t help but get lost in the drawings his Inquisitor has created. Still, every time a soldier walks in, it breaks him from any immersion he had, resulting in an innocent soldier watching the Commander fumble with a notebook.

The first time it happens, Cullen decides against looking again, placing it back in its original place.

Dorian Pavus: The second the Inquisitor was out of sight, Dorian casually grabbed and flipped through the pages of his lover’s notebook happily before stopping, the last page was a sketch of him. He pauses for a moment before a cheeky grin spreads across his face. He inspects every stroke, line, and scribble that decorates the page for what feels like ages. And if someone were to walk by, he doesn’t put it away, a part of him wanting to get caught by his lover. Eventually, he hears his amatus’ voice from far away, and after some deliberation, he decides to return the notebook to its rightful place, positioning it to look untouched.

Iron Bull: He’s subtle, his fingers trace the sketch so gently he can barely feel the paper underneath. He hides the book well behind his large hands and smiles to himself as he traces the image with his eyes. He’s impressed with The Inquisitor’s knowledge of anatomy, as every muscle Bull has appeared to be on display in the portrait. 

He’s one of the only ones who keep the notebook in their grasp, watching his kadan tense up and begin to blush.

“If you wanted me to pose, you could’ve just asked me.” He smiles.

Josephine Montilyet: She takes a minute, and assures the Inquisitor is far enough away before she peaks at the sketchbook. A blush creeps up her face before she’s giggling and kicking her feet as she looks at her lover’s drawing. She’s convinced they took a few artistic liberties as she believes she looks far better in the picture than she does in real life.

Regardless, she becomes satisfied, places the sketchbook back down, and settles back in her chair, reinvigorated.

Sera: She’s immediate, completely snatching up the book before The Inquisitor even leaves, if her lover notices Sera, she attempts to hold it away, claiming they were asking for it when they left it out in the open. She does everything to get away, including climbing on the roof. But once she realizes what her lover drew, she pauses. 

Eventually, The Inquisitor finds her and watches Sera slowly look up, “You made this? I… I’ve never seen… a drawing of me before.” Before breaking out into a grin, she whispers, “Why would you hide this?! This is great!”

Solas: He looks, finding himself far too curious for his own good. Once he sees his portrait, he smiles and leans back in his chair, admiring the work his vhenan put into the piece. He waits for his lover to return, nonchalantly handing over the sketchbook and kissing his lover’s cheek.

“You should draw more often.” He says, “Or maybe I should draw you.”

Varric Tethras: This man read Hawke’s personal journal, The Inquisitor should’ve expected him to look. 

He takes a peak, which turns into a long stare, as he becomes enraptured by the portrait. Soon, he breaks out into a grin and waits for his lover’s return, holding the sketchbook like a trophy.

“Maybe you should do illustrations for my book from now on.” He suggests.

[hugheshugs]

i'm not your dad | t. bordeleau

au masterlist

summary: when you're in distress and call your dad to come get you, he sends his best friend instead.

contains/tw: dadsbestfriend(dbf)!thomas, dad!brendan, reader has a meltdown, mostly hurt/comfort or angst, one minor suggestive phrase.

pairing: dbf!thomas x reader

timeline: takes place a couple months after they met

word count: 1.4k

note: the title was funny to me :)) you're always welcome to discuss this AU, dbf!thom or dad!bren in my inbox if anyone wants !! also, please send me an ask or comment if you wanna be tagged in anything related to dbf!thom <3

the cold air nipped at the goosebumps on your bare arms as you stood in the dark. you'd finally decided to go out with your friends after weeks of stalling, only to have them leave with a set of boys, which left you all alone.

you didn't know where you were. they were your ride, so you simply followed them without question and ended up where you were. you were freezing, your feet hurt, you were hungry and just one minor inconvenience away from a meltdown.

your teeth sunk into your lip in an attempt to stop it from shaking. you didn't want to accept defeat but you had no other option, so you quickly dialed your dad's phone number.

"you've reached the voicemail box of—"

a frustrated sound left your mouth as you resorted to texting him instead. within a couple minutes, your phone rang.

"dad—"

"y/n, this better be important. i'm at an event," brendan cut you off before you could explain.

that was the minor inconvenience that led you to your meltdown.

you tried holding in the dam of tears, sucking in a sharp breath. you didn't know why you ever thought it would be a good idea to call him in the first place.

"i'm gonna hang up if you don't say anything—"

"i need you," you practically whimpered. "i-i'm stuck here, i don't know where and i don't know how to get home. please come get me."

he paused at the sound of your voice. "god, the things you get yourself into. this is important for hunter, y/n. you know i can't just leave."

"please," you begged. "i don't know where i am. its cold and dark and—"

"okay, okay, just hold on. i'll try to get out of this, give me some time and i'll be there. send me your location, alright?" he cut you off with a sigh, rubbing his forehead.

"mhm, i will. t-thank you dad, i'll see you soon," you replied, relieved and shocked that he agreed.

"see you," he hung up in an instant.

after sending him your location, you took a seat on the dirty curb in front of you, waiting for him to come. the orange street light flickered above you, on the verge of bursting, and an eerie feeling creeped up your spine.

you brought your knees up to your chest and ducked your head down, tears soaking the fabric of your dress. you heard small, frightening sounds as you waited, like the rustling of a bag behind you and footsteps. you wouldn't dare lift your head up for fear of what you'd see.

after nearly thirty minutes, you heard a car pull up. you immediately looked up with a small, fake smile on your face but upon the sight, a feeling of dread and disappointment filled your stomach.

you put your head back in your hands, sobs wracking through your body. you couldn't think straight, you didn't care who heard as the man who wasn't your father walked towards you.

the warmth of thomas' body radiated onto you as he stood by your feet, looking down at you with his arms crossed.

"what's wrong, mon chou?"

he held back a sigh and sorrow flooded through his body when he didn't get an answer from you, only hearing your cries. bending down at his waist, he cradled the back of your head in his hand and forced you to tilt your head up.

you looked heartbroken. your red, wet eyes almost made him angry. all he wanted to do was talk to whoever made you feel this way, but he already knew the culprit.

"you just wanted your dad, didn't you?" he asked softly.

your chest clenched at his words and you tried your hardest to hold back a sob as you nodded. your lip continued to tremble and he brought his hand to your cheek, the reason for your goosebumps now shifting.

"i'm sorry. i know i'm not your dad— god, that would be terrible. i'd never want to— i mean not because of you, you're amazing. i just mean like... you know, because—"

"i-i get it," you cut him off. you would have chuckled if you weren't feeling so miserable.

his eyes flickered around your surroundings before he crouched down to his knees. you sniffled, wiping the endless stream of tears with the back of your hands.

"c'mon, let's get outta here," he grabbed your hand and pulled you up with him. he began walking but you stayed frozen in place, causing him to turn back towards you.

"i don't wanna go home. please— please don't take me home," you shook your head.

you were making this hard for him. "i can't not take you home, y/n. bren'll be waiting for you."

"he won't even be home! he doesn't care, it doesn't even fucking matter!" you wept. "i don't matter."

"yes you do," he snapped back, almost angrily. "let's go, i'll take you somewhere else for now but you have to go back home later."

he spoke so sternly that you couldn't argue. he held the car door for you and waited until you buckled yourself up before heading into his own seat. no one said a word as he started the car and drove back home.

it was warm in his car but you still felt cold. you felt vulnerable and exposed. all you wanted was your dad and now, if he didn't already, thomas knew for sure that you never had him.

the silence wasn't awkward, but it wasn't comfortable either. you felt the need to speak up and say something. perhaps a thank you.

you opened your mouth to speak but he beat you to it.

"are you cold—"

"did you see my underwear?" you blurted out, a sniffle following.

his lips parted as his eyes glanced back and forth between you and the road. "i— what?"

"when i was sitting. 'cause.. 'cause i'm wearing a dress and i w-was sitting with my knees up."

"i mean i.. yeah," he confessed, looking away.

"i'm sorry," you apologized barely audibly as your face heated up.

"it's fine. not the way i thought i'd see you like that for the first time but," he stopped himself with a shrug. "cold?"

"huh?" you asked, eyebrows furrowing.

"nothing," he shook his head. "cold?"

for the first time tonight, a real smile danced upon your lips. "i know what you meant."

"i don't know what you're talking about," he kept his eyes on the road.

"sure," you played along while glancing at the tatooed arm on the wheel. his other arm rested by his side, his hand sitting comfortably on the gear.

you pushed away every sinful thought that rushed into your mind. "i'm sorry you had to come get me.. but thank you for coming."

"never apologize to me. i'd rather not have you stranded somewhere you don't recognize and i'm glad he asked me to come get you."

with a nod, you pursed your lips before asking the question that's been on your mind. "you weren't busy, were you?"

"hm?" he asked for clarification.

"like— like when dad called you, or texted, whatever. when he asked you to come get me.. were you doing anything important?"

you noticed something change in his eyes as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. he opened his mouth before shutting it and repeated the action two more times before confessing.

he didn't want to tell you what he was doing out of fear that he'd make you feel worse. you were just starting to feel better, he didn't want to take that away from you after your long night. but he also didn't want to lie. his voice got caught in his throat as he wondered how to answer the question. the answer was so straightforward that he couldn't think of any other way to say it.

"i was, um.. i was at the event."

his eyes continued to avoid yours, not wanting to see the way your jaw dropped in the slightest.

"you what?"

"i was at the event," he repeated. "with your dad."

"you were there? so you could leave and he couldn't?" your murmured.

his head finally turned to you. "i'm sorry."

his hand on the gear made a move towards your own, rubbing soft circles on your skin. the action and the way it made you feel was almost enough to make you forget about your dad. almost.

but even though it wasn't enough, your breath still got caught in your throat.

even though it wasn't enough, you still felt warmth in your chest when you looked down to see your hands intertwined.

[this-is-ally-and-im-confused]

I know we talked yesterday about this. But Owen power has stolen my heart and I could see him protecting smol reader during a party. Basically the college party version of the fic you just posted.

Hi M! Ik that we often talk about being smol beans so I can relate to wanting to be protected by the giant that is pow pow.

Warning: this got a little dark and scary! Read at your own risk. Attempted assault.

The joke went too far. After one to many drinks, the boys decided it be funny to Frank you by leaving you alone in the dark hallway. Everyone had left you and told you to wait for their return. You didn't realise what was going on until too late. You called out for Owen, Bords, even Kent. However, no answer.

Owen wasn't in on the joke. If anything he had thought you were somewhere nearby with the girls.

Instead, you were upstairs alone, afraid, and on the verge of tears. The footsteps down the hall gave you some hope that someone was coming to grab you. Regardless, they were heavy, loud, and nothing like any of the hockey boys. Slowly they creaked closer and closer. It was so dark. Not a single light nearby, and your phone flashlight could only do so much.

“Owen?” you called in a skittish voice. You crossed your arms to try and control the shaking of your hands.

A gruff grunt came in response. This felt like a moment right out of a horror movie. You were silently praying for any one of your friends to come to find you. This wasn't fun anymore at all.

“Not Owen, Sweetcheeks.” Came the dark, almost angry voice.

Fear gripped your throat. You didn't know how to respond. It was only taking seconds for this meathead stranger to press you towards a corner. His hand reaches up into your hair, and he pushes you into the wall. Instantly, a scream tears its way through your throat.

Owen, all the way in the basement, hears you.

“Y/n?!” he calls out.

Thank God for his long legs. Owen and his friends are sprinting up the stairs as the Man tries to shimmy you out of your jacket. Your eyes squeeze shut, desperately trying to wish yourself out of this situation. You can only open your eyes when the man’s hand is ripped from your hair. You look down to see Owen, Thom, and Like kicking the shit out of the man. Owens's arm pulls back to hit the man square in the nose. Thom is yelling profanities at the creep calling him “a douche perv”. Briss comes up to you and pulls you from the fight. The sweet boy is gently looking you over for any signs of physical harm but you can't bring yourself to respond to his repeated questions. The tears that welled up into your eyes are fast falling. Owen only stops hitting the guy when he hears your sob.

“Owen, I need you.” you cry out within seconds, you're in his arms.

His grip is crushing but you need to be close to him. Safe with him.

“Sssh, I got you, honey. You're okay,” he mumbles into the crown of your head.

Owen doesn't show it but inside he's terrified. He is internally panicking about what could've happened to you. All the Mans feel guilty about leaving you alone, but Owen feels the worst. In his mind, it's his job to protect you–and he almost failed. your arms wrap around Owen’s middle, and his height is the most comforting aspect of it. For some odd reason, his large body pressing into yours is like a shield. All you want is Owen's arms to wrap you up and hide you from this entire situation.

“We are so sorry. We never should have been stupid like that,” Kent says to your crying form.

Somehow, you press yourself even further into Owen. You can't be mad at the boys but you can't handle the apologies at this moment. Owen just hushes his friends.

“I’m gonna take her home, I'll talk to you boys later,” Owen announces to the group as they continue to hold the man that touched you down.

This dude is gonna pay, but you won't have to see that. Gently, Owen picks you up bridal style and carries you towards his car. You almost don't let him go when he tries to put you into the passenger seat.

“Baby, I'm not going anywhere. I'm just taking us home,” he reassures you.

You just nod. After all that has happened, you aren't sure that you can even speak. Owen walks to the other side of the car. He hops in, presses a kiss to your forehead, and starts the drive back home. This night was awful, but at least Owen made it in time to protect his girl.

[readerbell]

The Eye of the World Reread

Chapters 10, 11 & 12.

Summary: Egwene goes on an adventure while everyone else runs for their lives. Rand channels. Moiraine does some Tar Valon witchery.

Chapter 10 - Leavetakings (part 1 of how many?)

“Rand exchanged shaky smiles with his friends, trying hard to look as if he really was eager to be off.” He’s trying so hard to put on a brave face. 😭

Master Luhhan gave Perrin the axe. One day a Shaido will regret it.

“For the first time Mat noticed the sword at Rand’s waist, and pointed to it. “You becoming a Warder?” *looks around uneasily*

“My mother thinks Tar Valon is the next thing to Shayol Ghul.” - Your mother is right, Mat!

Suddenly Moiraine was in the doorway. “You talked to your father about this journey?” - YES, MOIRAINE, HE DID! As he should!

Egwene is ready to go on her adventure & burn anyone who would stop her. It never stops. She’s completely misread the situation & refuses to back down (she is after all, Nynaeve’s apprentice). She dismisses the boys’ stories as if theirs are some nonsensical notions… as if she didn’t see what happened! And here starts a behaviour that never stops. Egwene will never take these boys seriously (at least, not until the very end).

When the show started, I was team-I’m-glad-Egwene-is-Ta’veren/a dragon candidate. Her leaving the village because she has to in a way… cleanses is perhaps not the right word… smoothes(?) the bumps of her departure. Egwene is witness to the scale of disaster. She knows how worried everyone is about rebuilding & still chooses to go. As someone from a culture that places community at the heart of life, I struggle with that decision. I understand she’s 17 & she’s always wanted to see the world, but this…is not something that gives you a sympathetic view of her. Having said that, the show in taking this away, took away a character defining action: Egwene will, time and again, for better or for worse, put her dreams first. On one hand, taking that away makes her immediately more sympathetic to the audience. On the other, it robs the audience of the journey we go with her as book readers. We see her grow & learn to manage this. She goes from only caring about her own progress to caring about the world’s. I LOVED going on that journey with her. I also understand not wanting the audience to side-eye a protagonist from the start.

Thom comes along.

Egwene doesn’t have the right clothes or shoes for the journey. She’s so unprepared for what is to come both literally and figuratively.

“I promise I will take care of you.” Rand is so earnest. If only that earnestness was returned. 😭

The gang are off.

“Wolves don’t like Trollocs, blacksmith, and Trollocs don’t like wolves, or dogs, either. If I heard wolves I would be sure there were no Trollocs waiting out there for us.” - Interesting that this is directed at Perrin. Telling us dogs don’t like Trollocs is also useful for when the dogs start wilding out in the next chapter.

The watch parties are also off. Their sartorial code tells us everything. They’ve clubbed together old leathers, ancient armour and rusty weapons. Our kids are from a village that has no reason to know violence & boy, do they have a hailstorm of trauma coming their way.

“A fine adventurer I am, he thought. He was not even out of the village yet, and already he was homesick. But he did not stop looking.” 😭😭

And here we have our intro to Dragkhar.

Why is Moiraine giving Thom dark looks for telling them what a Dragkhar is? Does she have a monopoly on creeping the kids out?

Chapter 11 - The Road to Taren Ferry

“The gleeman never turned his head, reserving his eyes for where they ran, not what they ran from.” This tells us about Thom, a man who is always looking ahead (and is super sharp/aware of his surroundings). Compare that to Rand, who only wants the home he’s left behind.

Rand is so worried that Lan & Moiraine will leave Egwene behind. She’s not as important as they are (at least at this stage) so he blindly channels for the first time to give Bela strength to run like the wind. If there’s a defining characteristic for Rand: it’s that he will always put his loved ones first. The moment he stops doing that is the moment he stops being the Rand we know & the person he truly is.

Moiraine notices that *someone* channeled to give Bela strength…

They’ve never been further than Watch Hill but guess who knows what the name of the local tavern is. Matrim Cauthon.

Eww, the Dragkhar’s wings touched his face! Why didn’t it croon to paralyse him? Did RJ not yet make the decision to include that tidbit of lore at this stage? Or is the Dragkhar just too in a rush to do that? Or maybe it doesn’t want to kill him…

The Dragkhar is reporting their whereabouts. Time to start running again, a run that will last a few books.

He draws Tam’s sword and is so embarrassed other people saw him because he knows he can’t use it. I forgot how unsure of himself he once was.

‘Egwene’s face in the moonlight was smiling in excited delight.’ I hope this is an unreliable narrator speaking because Egwene still treating this as an adventure is very…🙄🙄

Moiraine does a little razzle dazzle with the fog to hide them from the Dragkhar.

Rand is suspicious as hell of the One Power… *whispers* you used it yourself earlier. Is this all just his natural suspicion or some of the channeling sickness settling in?

We spent so much time being told how far and different Taren Ferry was. IT WAS LITERALLY A FEW HOURS AWAY. This is as far as anyone in the village ever goes. This is another reminder of how insulated their world is.

‘At the top of the stairs Lan hammered with his fist on the door. “I thought he wanted quiet,” Mat muttered.’ You tell him, Mat. I don’t know why I’m annoyed with Lan this time round lol. Maybe it’s because I forgot that he started off mean and dismissive of Rand. He has to win me over 😤.

Chapter 12 - Across the Taren

Well, I know this icon. Hello, Flame of Tar Valon. This tells me Moiraine is going to do some more Tar Valon witchery. As I wrote that, I remembered just what she does in this chapter and Tar Valon witchery is a very apt description.

She starts planning her witchery very early too. “He will remember too much as it is, and no help for it. If I stand out in his thoughts....”

Thom just wants a hot meal, a fire and some mulled wine.

Rand is resentful of Egwene’s adventure-seeking because he’s so miserable. “There must be a difference in what you saw, it seemed to him, depending on whether you sought adventure or had it forced on you. The stories could no doubt make galloping through a cold fog, with a Draghkar and the Light alone knew what else chasing you, sound thrilling. Egwene might be feeling a thrill; he only felt cold and damp and glad to have a village around him again, even if it was Taren Ferry.”

And they will never fully understand each other. Though… they’ll get better at this.

Lan is trying to make them look like merchant guards complete with weapons.

Rand copies Lan. “He did not think he could achieve that deadly-seeming slouch. They’d probably laugh if I tried.” A time will come, dear Rand, when people won’t laugh. 😭

Rand turns to Lan for reassurance. Lan grants it. They bond over rumours about what Taren Ferry folk might or might not do. Rand accepts that he doesn’t know anything about the world.

“With a shiver he hitched up his cloak, sodden as it was.” He senses Moiraine channeling once they get off the ferry.

“He was really out of the Two Rivers, now, and it seemed much farther away than the width of a river.” He only gets further and further from everything he knew from hereon in. Taren Ferry is the far end of the world as he knows it & the events of the past day and a bit have ripped up his safe little world.

“No whirlpools on the Taren.” Hightower sounded empty. “Never been a whirlpool....” IT WAS THE WITCH, MR HIGHTOWER(!)

“An unfortunate occurrence.” Moiraine’s voice was hollow in the fog that made her a shadow as she turned from the river. Lan echoes this in a flat voice. They leave Mr Hightower in his panic.

The fog disappears as soon as they leave.

Rand connects the dots but chooses to deny what he suspects deep down because who wants to face the fact that they might be travelling with an Aes Sedai who does the devious things they stories say they do? Rand started off mistrusting Aes Sedai, then he puts his hopes in one & he’s quickly realising the truth might actually be something in between his initial ideas and his hopes for a trusted adult who will keep him safe. Moiraine is both.

“Egwene’s side, leading Cloud, and she grinned at him. He did not think the shine in her eyes was all from moonlight.” I wish we got an Egwene POV because I need to know if she was scared or if she was high on the Tar Valon witch/adventure kool-aid at this stage.

Moiraine gloats at her ability for a moment. Not many Aes Sedai could manage that feat. She then shares why she did what she did. She did it to busy the Fade & to buy them time.

Rand wonders but it’s Mat who asks if that was necessary. Knowing the way Mat’s mind works, I wonder if he did the calculations on how much the ferry would’ve cost to see if the coins were worth it lol.

“You all want explanations, but if I explained my every action to you, I would have no time for anything else.” - I feel you, Moiraine. I also feel Rand when he decides he can’t really trust you anymore.

Egwene starts showing signs of tiredness. Rand revels in it because he wants her to see it’s not an adventure and immediately feels bad… do you know why? Because my son has no bad bones in his body that’s why! In fact, he asks for a rest stop too. Because Egwene’s comfort matters to him. He’s an empathetic boy with a pure heart.

Lan does a here’s-something-I-prepared-earlier in the style of your favourite TV art show. In this case, he pre-prepared a rest stop.

Moiraine starts grooming Egwene in the world of Tar Valon witchery. It goes a little like this:

We get introduced to the differences between Saidin and Saidar and the thin film that taints the male half of the source… something that will plague our boy for…9 books? Longer? He has Saidin sickness for longer right?

“And you really think I can learn?” Egwene asked. Her face shone with eagerness. Rand had never seen her look so beautiful, or so far away from him. - He wants no part in this & so their separation begins.

“Men who have the ability to touch saidin born in them die, of course, if the Red Ajah does not find them and gentle them....” Thom growled deep in his throat(!)

Rand shifted uncomfortably. 😩

“Men like those of whom the Aes Sedai spoke were rare—he had only heard of three in his whole life, and thank the Light never in the Two Rivers,” Just you wait. The Two Rivers is about to become a gold mine for the two towers in about 7-9 books time.

Moiraine teaches Egwene to channel. Does having Aes Sedai supervision make her a non-Wilder? Or is she still a wilder because she channeled pre-tower.

“Rand’s fingers dug into his knees; his jaws clenched until they hurt. She has to fail. She has to.” He so badly wants nothing to do with this that he wants her to fail too because she’s an extension of him.

“You may go far. Perhaps even the Amyrlin Seat, one day, if you study hard and work hard.” Robert Jordan winks at the camera lol.

If someone put together motivational mottos for the EF5:

Egwene’s would be, “If you study and work hard.” The girl is such a try hard lol. Moiraine saw that clearly.

Mat’s motivational quote is: “DO NOT DO IT!

Rand & Perrin’s is, “you must be the one to do it.” They will do what must be done.

Nynaeve’s is: “It’s impossible.” If I remember correctly, she’s the only one of the EF5, bar Rand, who actually impresses Moridin with her impossible achievements. She also frustrates Graendal in finding a way to read Compulsion.

“Rand, did you hear? I’m going to be an Aes Sedai!”

1. This is the last thing Rand wants to hear.

2. She’s so excited. I want to hug her and preserve her innocence and excitement for her.

3. She will become Aes Sedai ™️

[theheraldsrest]

“Inquisitor’s romanced companion (Cullen, Blackwall, or Iron Bull) finally seeing the Inquisitor come back from a long journey.” Well, someone likes big guys. Let’s give this a try. -Cabot

Blackwall

He had been carving the same spot on his piece for some time, but it didn’t seem to register. Once in a while, he glanced at the entrance of the stables, thinking he saw something but it was always just someone walking or birds flying. Each time, he’d shake his head, tell himself to calm down, and try to focus on what his hands were doing. It had been a week and a half since the Inquisitor left, accompanied by Varric, Bull, and Sera. Not the most reliable bunch but he knew they would never let the Inquisitor be harmed. He couldn’t help it. She had said they would be back soon, yet she wasn’t and had all together stopped sending messages to him. The last one he had received had contained only a few words: Thom, miss you dearly. Stormcoast is, as ever, cold and wet. On the plus side, plenty of spindleweed. As if we don’t have enough of it already. I love you. He couldn’t stop himself from re-reading this same letter, each time his focus catching on to her elegant writing over her words of endearment and his name. He was staring at it again, causing him to miss the wood he was working on had become weak, suddenly snapping. As he cursed himself, a chuckle reached his ears. “You know, if I hadn’t seen you carve the griffon saddle, I would’ve thought this was your first time working with carpentry tools.” His heart lifted as he turned to see that familiar smile and those shining eyes that he adored looking at him. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you didn’t know what soon meant.” She stepped closer to him, humming. “Two words. ‘Island’ and ‘dragon.’ I can’t control the bloody things appearing out of nowhere. Can you blame me?” It was his turn to chuckle as he pulled her into his arms. “No, I suppose not. Glad to have you back, love.” She pulled him into a kiss, Blackwall melting to her touch. The wait was definitely worth it.

Cullen

“Sir?” The commander snapped out of his thoughts, looking up from his desk to a scout standing by the door. “Yes, soldier?” He flinched at how dry his voice sounded and cleared it before saying “What is it?” “The latest reports from the spymaster, sir.” He stepped up and placed several papers onto Cullen’s desk. He picked each up, scanning them, looking for her name or even her title but nothing was found. He gave a frustrated sigh and looked them over to see if he missed something before noticing the scout was still there. “I don’t have anything new to report to her. You’re dismissed.” The scout gave a quick bow before going through the doors, leaving Cullen. Tenting his fingers together, he let his eyes unfocus as he thought. It had now been a couple of weeks since the Inquisitor left and not a single word had been sent back, not even from Leliana’s scouts. He knew he shouldn’t worry about her. She was strong, reliable, but he couldn’t help thinking the worst. Shaking his head so as to stop the idea of them being attacked by a dragon from creeping into his head, he stood up and left the room to walk along the ramparts. He stopped himself short before reaching the spot they usually spend time at and turned, instead, to look down on the grounds. He could see the troops training new recruits, the mages and healers working to restore those who were injured, something happened at the tavern as Sera jumped from the roof and ran, her cackling floating up to where he stood. Why the Inquisitor kept her around, he didn’t know. He couldn’t help his eyes falling to where he had usually spotted her when he walked about: under the trees where Cassandra sat, the spot next to the stairs where they had had there awkward chat, up to where he could see Vivienne leaning over the banister and back to the ground at the gates, where the horses were gathered, flicking their heads as their riders-wait what? He turned his gaze quickly back to the horses at the gate, their rider’s voices caring up to him. One of the riders jumped from their horse and was quickly moving to the stairs when she suddenly looked over. Even from this distance he could see that bright smile growing on her face as she waved and began making her way up the stairs. He made his way over as she finally turned on the final landing and spotted him, breaking into a run and throwing herself into his waiting arms, clinging tightly to him. He held her, the missing piece to his as he heard her muffled voice say “I missed you.” “And I, you.” 

Iron Bull

The sword he wielded clang against Krem’s as he threw him off. They had been at it for a while and Bull could see the sweat dripping down the younger man’s face but Krem focused, fixed his stance and charged again. In a few moments, Bull squatted next to Krem on the ground, panting and unwilling to move. “I think that has to be the most pitiful swing I’ve ever seen from you, Kremiscius.” Krem only smiled and shot back “Yeah, well, it’s going to be pitiful against a pitiful opponent.” He opened his eyes to look up at his chief’s frozen face. Bull could only grumble but held a hand out to pull Krem up. Once back on his feet, the smaller of the men looked up at him, a calculating look on his face. Bull turned away from him and waved over his shoulder. “That’s enough for today, Krem.” “Is this about the Inquisitor, chief?” Bull froze once more and turned to look at Krem, his brow creased in concern. To Krem’s relief, Bull smiled and said “Nah, the boss can handle themselves. It be foolish to worry about them. Besides, I’m giving you the chance to take a break. Better take it before I decide we need to go over your shield bashing again.” Krem quickly left, but the smile fell from his face as soon as Krem was out of sight. Krem knew him way too well. He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. Sure, Frostback Basin was a good two week journey, and they had only been gone for seven weeks now, but it still made him worry. There hadn’t been any word back from them, all except their last letter, stating for Bull to be jealous because they went through a tournament-like trial. But that letter came around the time he assumed they reached the Basin. No other words or notes, not even a hint to what they were doing or what happened. Bull was trying to think of every scenario, knowing that kadan would be able to find a way out of each. Still, this wasn’t something he was used to, worrying about a lover. It was different now, he was committed to them, dedicated even. It hurt to wait, wait for any sign. He could see the same thing on other’s faces as they, too, waited. He decided to take out his frustration on the dummies nearby. It wasn’t until Bull had taken a few throws at the tied-up straw did he feel eyes watching him. He turned and felt all of his worries fall away. There, walking towards him, was his inquisitor, his kadan, with a smirk on their face. Bull turned fully towards them, crossing his arms across his chest and giving a dead serious look that made them pause. After a moment, they mimicked him and gave him a serious face as well. They stood in silence for a bit before Bull said “So.” His kadan raised their eyebrows in surprise. “So? That’s it? See me come back and say ‘so?’ “ “Yeah, pretty much.” Bull turned away, continuing his fighting with the dummy, fighting back the smile growing on his face as he listened. Nothing and then careful footsteps over and then a hand on his arm. “Did I miss something? Or did I do something before leaving that I’ve forgotten about?” Bull shrugged and continued. His kadan was quiet for a few moments before saying “Are you just screwing with me?” Again, he shrugged, refusing to look at them. He didn’t expect them to slip under his arm and get in front of the dummy. Now he could see the scratches and marks of battle on their face along with a worried expression. “Bull, what’s-” They jumped as he let out a surprised laugh, picking them up. They thumped his chest, yelling “Bull, you complete arse! I thought I did something wrong!” He pulled them closer, chuckling. “You did do something wrong. One being you didn’t make sure people knew you were alive and second being you didn’t bring me along to make sure you were alive. It was funny watching you squirm.” The inquisitor thumped his chest again, but they were smiling. “Next time I go to some Maker forsaken jungle with low hanging branches and trees, I’ll bring you along with me to fight the giant spiders and darkspawn. Sound like a plan?” Bull laughed, “No.”

There, enjoy. Have some burly men loving you. -Cabot

[softlikethesunset12]

The Most Amazing Coffee

A/N: Hi everyone, here is chapter 3! Thank you guys so, so much for all the response this story is getting. It means a lot :) 🥰🥰

Mistakes are mine. Enjoy! 

Ps. Here is Chapter 1 if you haven’t read it yet. And Chapter 2 too

Chapter 3

The rest of my shift I can only think about how it was to see Peeta again. I don’t really know how it made me feel, I only know that I got a weird warm feeling in my chest every time he smiled at me. And those blue eyes. I just can’t get them out of my head.

I promised Annie (my other best friend) that we would go to a bar tonight. I don’t really feel like it, but I promised her, so I’ll just have to suck it up. And what’s wrong with letting loose a little bit?

My shift ends and I’m walking back to my apartment thinking about how easily Peeta made me ‘confess’ that not everything was and is going good in my life. I never really talk about what happened in high school and at the beginning of college. But maybe I do want to talk about it…with him.

I walk through the door of my apartment to see Johanna. But she’s not alone…she’s with Thom. Her boyfriend. Yes, you heard that right, Johanna Mason has a boyfriend. They are currently in a make out session, so I loudly drop my bag on the floor and hang my jacket on the coat rack. I walk into the kitchen to grab something to drink when I hear Jo say something while wiping her bob haircut out of her face, “Hi Brainless, how was your day?”

“Pretty good actually.” I blush slightly, I curse under my breath and will my blush away but of course Jo already saw it.

“Where are you blushing for?” she says, a slight suspicious tone in her voice.

I walk towards the couch, sit down next to her -she sits on Thom’s lap- and say, “Nothing…” Not making eye contact instead looking at Thom, “Hi Thom.” I add.

She snorts, “You really are brainless if you think I believe that.”

“Fine…” I sigh. “Peeta Mellark came in today.”

Jo looks at me and says, “Peeta Mellark? As in the guy from that amazing bakery?”

“That’s the one. We went to high school together.” I say trying to play it cool.

“You went to high school together?!” Jo asks disbelieving. I can only nod, “You actually went to high school with an amazing baker ánd he’s hot. Win – win situation if you ask me.” She winks at me.

Thom looks at her with an amusing smile, she adds to him, “Not as hot as you of course.”

“Yeah I know he is hot. But it’s…it’s complicated…” I trail off not knowing what to say.

“Seems simple to me. He’s hot, a baker and single. Wait…he is single right?” She asks.

“I don’t know, didn’t ask. He came in with his friend. And we…we kinda talked about going out together.” I say shyly.

“WHAT?! And you are only telling me this now?!!” Jo practically shouts at me. “How did the conversation go? Spill the tea Brainless.” She orders me.

“Well, he came in and I didn’t recognize him at first. When he came to order, I didn’t look at his face so when I asked his name for on the cup he said “Peeta, Peeta Mellark”. Then I definitely recognized him.” I say this in one breath and look at her. She nods at me to move on and then I tell the rest of the story.

When I’m finished, she looks at me and says, “Yeah he totally likes you. But he didn’t ask your number, right?”

“You think so?” I say blushing and looking at the ground. I add, “And no, he didn’t, and I didn’t think of it to ask his number until now. I totally forgot.”

“I am 99% sure that he likes you. And he must’ve forgotten it himself too. Maybe he comes to your work again this week.” Jo says casually but I hear a little hope in her voice.

I nod and say, “Yeah maybe.” And then I think about my evening plans and add, “Are you going to the bar with me and Annie tonight?”

“No, I’m going to stay in with Thom tonight.” She winks to Thom at this. “Thanks for the offer though. Is Madge going?” She asks.

“No, she is spending the night at Gale’s. So, it’s just me and Annie then.” I say shrugging.

XXXXXXXXX

After dinner there is a knock on the door. And a few seconds later Annie walks through it. I’ve met Annie in the park one day when I was running. We were following the same route and then we just started talking and just clicked.

“Are you ready for tonight Katniss?” She asks with a grin on her face. Her beautiful green eyes sparkling, her auburn hair in a high ponytail, and a little make-up on her face. She is wearing a mid-short sea green dress which hug her curves in all the right places. She looks and is really gorgeous, I’ve always thought so.

“Kind of.” I say giving her a half smile.

“Oh, come on Katniss. It’s gonna be fun!” She says enthusiastic.

“You are very excited.” I laugh at her.

“Yeah. Well maybe we come across someone tonight. You never know.” She says jokingly but I hear a little hope in her voice too.

I don’t want to come across someone except if it’s Peeta. But I don’t tell her that, I’m going to keep it to myself for a while so I can figure out what I’m feeling. So instead I say, “I don’t know what to wear. Can you pick an outfit for me?”

“Of course, I can! Does it matter if it’s a dress? I know you prefer jeans.” She says happily.

“A dress is fine. Just not too short please.” I give her a genuine smile.

“She smiles back at me and says, “That’s alright. Now let’s go.”

Forty minutes later I’m in a dark green long sleeve dress that ends just above my knees. It hugs the little curves I have in all the right places. My hair is in loose waves and hanging over my shoulders. I’m wearing for my feeling way to high black heels, but Annie said that they were fashionable. And Annie put on some mascara and clear lip gloss on my lips. I look beautiful, Annie did a really good job. I tell her so.

“You’ve made me look beautiful Annie. Thank you.”

“Oh, stop it Katniss. You are beautiful. I didn’t make you beautiful.” She says looking at me with a stern look.

I feel my cheeks warm up at her compliment. Can you call it that? I don’t know.

I smile shyly at her, “I love you Annie.”

She gives me a wide smile back, “Love you too. Now let’s go drink!”

XXXXXXXXX

We arrive at a nice bar, it’s busy but not too packed. We walk up to the bar to our order drinks. Annie orders two mojitos for us. Normally I don’t really go for cocktails but why the hell not? Annie leads me to a booth at the side of the bar and we sit down.

I am telling Annie everything about today and Peeta, when I suddenly feel eyes on us. I look up to see some guy staring at us, well staring at Annie. He stares at her like she is the only one in the bar. Hell, he stares at her likes she is the only one on the planet. I can’t really see how he looks but he doesn’t look like a creep even though he is staring intensely at her.

I nudge her and nod my head in his direction, “Someone looks interested.”

“What? No, he’s not.” She says waving it off.

“What makes you think he’s not? He is staring at you for 5 minutes straight. Maybe even longer.” I say to her suggestively. “Go talk to him. maybe you find it out.”

“I’m not going to talk to him. I can’t leave you sitting here all alone. This is a girls night out.”

“But you were the one that said that we could come across someone tonight.” I say suspiciously.

“I know but I’m coming back on that now.”

I look at her with confusion, but I don’t push further and say, “Alright then.”

However not even two minutes later, the guy decides to go for it himself. He is walking towards us. But he isn’t alone. A shock goes through me as I recognize the man behind him. It’s Peeta. And it is only now that I recognize the man, he’s with, it is Finnick, Peeta’s best friend. No wonder they’re together on a Friday night in a bar.

In no time they’re standing before us.

“Looks like we’re meeting again Katniss.” Peeta says looking at me like I’m the sunrise. “You look really beautiful.” He adds.

I blush and look at my drink. I have to practice on how I’m supposed to react to compliments because I suck. I look up though and look at him. Really look at him. He looks very handsome in a turtleneck, which compliment his broad, muscled shoulders, it’s a shade darker than his eyes. The color makes his eyes stand out. He is grinning, dimple in his cheek. It’s adorable. Annie snaps me out of my staring by nudging me.

“What? Oh yeah, right. Annie this is Peeta Mellark, we went to high school together. Peeta this is Annie Cresta, my best friend.” I say quickly. Annie gives me a knowing look and I try to keep my blush contained.

“Hi Annie. Nice to meet you.” He says warmly. I look past him to Finnick. He looks at a loss for words, still staring at Annie. I have a feeling that Finnick isn’t often tongue-tied. Peeta nudges his friend slightly. “H-hey I’m Finnick, Finnick Odair. But you can call me Finn.” He says smiling at Annie. Do I hear shyness in his voice? “Oh, hi Katniss.” He says absently as if he just now realized I was there too.

I look back at Peeta who is laughing silently about his tongue-tied friend. He catches my eye and motions his head towards the bar. I look at Annie, who is talking with Finn now, then back at Peeta and nod my head. I stand up and follow him.

“Finn was staring at her from the moment we came in...” Peeta says laughing out loud now. “I’ve never seen him tongue-tied like this. Normally he doesn’t even have to say a whole sentence and the girls are already sold.”

He must see my concerned face because he adds, “He is a good guy though, he’s not going to hurt her.”

“He better doesn’t. Because he’s not gonna survive that.” I say looking at him and Annie talking.

Peeta cocks an eyebrow, “Do I need to watch out?” He says a crooked grin on his face.

My head snaps back and we lock eyes, “Nah, he is the only one who has to watch out. But if he is a good guy like you said than he has nothing to worry about.” I say trying to sound intimidating but failing because I can’t contain my smile. He grins back at me and we’re just standing like this for a few minutes. But then Peeta breaks our staring competition by asking if I want another drink.

“Yes, another mojito please.” I answer. He orders for me and for himself. “I was thinking about how we came across each other today and I realized I didn’t ask your number. So hereby; can I have your number?” He asks a tone of shyness in his voice.

I smile at him, man I have smiled more today than I smiled in couple of months, and say “Of course.” He grabs his phone and hands it to me. I type my number in it and give it back to him. A few seconds later I feel my phone vibrate in my purse, I grab it and see a message from Peeta. I look up at him, he smiles and says, “Now you have my number too.”

XXXXXXX

I wake up the next day by the sound of Johanna in the kitchen. I grab my phone and look at the time -11 a.m.- I’m glad it’s Saturday and that I start at 6 p.m. because I would be so late if it was a weekday. I lay back against my pillows and my mind wanders to last night. It was in one word, amazing. Peeta was really amazing company. I liked talking to him. After I gave him my number, we ordered more drinks and talked for another hour or so about life. He told me how he met Finnick and how they became best friends, I told him about Annie, Johanna and Madge. He knows Madge of course; we all went to the same high school.

At some point Annie and Finnick came to us to say that they were calling it a night. They didn’t go home together but I did see that Annie likes him. And I have to admit that Finn is a nice guy and that I like them together. I know that they just met but I can already see it happen. After that Peeta asked me if he could walk me back to my apartment. I said yes because I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him yet. We walked slowly back to my apartment, holding hands and I couldn’t help imagining how his warm and solid hands would feel like on me or how’d they feel tangled in my hair. When we arrived at my door, he kissed my cheek and wished me a good night.

A warm feeling spreads through my chest at the memory. He can go from adorable to hot in just a few seconds. I think I’m falling for him. I don’t know for sure because I haven’t really felt something like this before. That’s a good thing, right? I’m snapped out of my thoughts by the sound of my phone. I look at the screen and I smile like an idiot when I see from who it is.

Peeta (11:30 a.m.)

Good morning Katniss :) How’d you sleep?

Katniss (11:30 a.m.)

Hi Peeta, I slept pretty well :) You?

Peeta (11:31 a.m.)

Me too, very well. I had fun last night. It was really nice talking to you.

Katniss (11:31 a.m.)

Me too, very much. I can get used to talking to you ;)

Where is this flirting girl coming from? I barely recognize myself, but I can’t find it in me too care. Peeta is making me a giddy teenager. And I actually like it. 

Peeta (11:32 a.m.)

Good to know. Because it’s the other way around too.

Yes, definitely falling for him. The warm feeling in my chest is only getting bigger and there are butterflies in my stomach.

Peeta (11:33 a.m.)

I have to get to the bakery. Talk to you later?

Katniss (11:33 a.m.)

Definitely! Have a good day at work Peeta :)

Peeta (11:34 a.m.)

Thank you. Can’t wait to talk to you later!

I really feel like a giddy teenager, grinning like an idiot at my phone. I don’t think I’m making lunch myself today.

[officially-a-bee]

    Amber rummages around, pulling her knives and her whetstone out of her bag. “So.”

“So.” Thom stared at her, dark eyes shining.

“What do you want from me? And stop staring, it’s creepy.”

“What do I want? Amber, I thought you would’ve figured it out by now. I’ve only been following you, trying to talk to you, for the past month.”

“Yes, I noticed and was thoroughly creeped out.” Amber scraped her stone against her blade, and an irritating scraping sound emanated through the room. “The only reason I let you talk to me right now is because I was bored of trying to lose you. Now stop with the guessing game and just tell me why you’re here.”

Thom threw his hands up exasperatedly. “I want your help! You’re one of the best fighters out there, and you have personal ties with Havoc themself. I need your help to save this country!”

“Oh?” Amber tilted her head slightly.

“I’m on an important quest to stop the Dark Army from taking complete control and reigning supreme over this country. They already control the West, the South, and the Northeast; the East Coast is really all that stands between them and total dictatorship. I believe I can stop them and keep the island free, but I can’t do it alone. Will you come with me? It’ll be a long and arduous journey, but you’ll be paid extremely well when the job is done, and then you can go right back to your own quest.”

“What else is in it for me?” Amber asked skeptically.

“What - what else? I just told you, you’d save the world, be known as a beloved hero across the land, and get paid for it, that’s what you get. What else could you want?”

“It’s just, I’m a little busy right now, you know? I’m not sure if this is worth my time.”

Thom looked bewildered. “Worth your time? The fate of the world is at stake! You don’t get to be busy, this is destiny at work!”

“Hmm. Fine.”

“You’ll help me?” Thom lit up.

“Ha. No.” She sat back and chuckled. “No, I don’t help creeps. I just thought it’d be amusing to lead you on.”

“No? Come on! You can’t say no, the world is at stake! What will it take to convince you? My mother’s a wealthy merchant, I’ll pay you handsomely.”

“Oooh, he’ll pay me handsomely, huh? Funny, I thought I was pretty handsome on my own.” Amber shrugged and continued idly sharpening.

“You - well, I wouldn’t call you ‘handsome’, but you are attractive, I have to agree-”

“I didn’t ask. Shut up.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up!” Thom said indignantly. “I am the hero of this realm, and I’m offering you the chance to become a hero too! You should be thanking me!”

“I’ll tell any asshole to shut up if they deserve it, I’ll thank you as soon as you’ve done me a favor, and you’re no hero of mine. No means no. I don’t need to be a hero. I have a job of my own to do.” Amber tested the edge of the blade with her thumb, apparently judged it sharp enough, and pulled out a different knife.

Visibly trying out a different tactic, Thom picked up the finished blade and tested it against his own thumb. “This is a good dagger. Did you choose it yourself? The craftsman must have been very good at his job.”

“No, I slayed a great spider-beast and upon slitting its throat, that knife dropped out into my open palm, which is how I knew I was blessed by the gods.” Amber deadpanned.

“Ah, yes, the trial of the spider beast!” Thom’s eyes lit up. “You are indeed blessed, I had no idea I was in the presence of such an accomplished warrior!”

“Don’t bullshit me. I was being sarcastic. My girlfriend made it for me. Give it back.” Amber didn’t wait for him to hand it over, electing to snatch it away instead.

“Oh! I didn’t realize you travelled with any friends. Where is she? I imagine any friend of yours must be just as lovely as you are.” Thom twisted around to look at the door, as if Keira was about to walk through at that second.

“You’re Western, aren’t you.”

“Yes, how did you know?”

“Never mind.”

The two sat in silence for a moment, Amber casually carrying on with her sharpening, Thom looking around the room for another way to continue the conversation.

“So, what friends do you have, then? You must have allies. Tell me about Havoc!” Thom asked, sounding just a little bit desperate.

“My friends are none of your business. And I imagine what little you do know about Havoc is too much, in their opinion. They prefer the mystique, if you didn’t know.”

Thom blinked. “Well, I - I did know that, but -”

“But you thought I’d go behind their back and spill everything I know about them to you, a stranger I just met who’s been tracking me for the past two months? I think not. Obvious threat of them having me murdered in cold blood the instant I let a secret of theirs pass my lips aside, I don’t betray my friends. To anyone. But especially not to creepy strangers like you.”

Thom sat forward interestedly. “So you just go around with the possibility of them killing you whenever they feel like it hanging over your head? Seems like a pretty one-way friendship, if you ask me. If you came with me, you wouldn’t have to worry about it. I could protect you.”

Amber snorted. “You wish. They’d mow you down faster than you could yell my name in warning. Anyway, just because they’d kill me if I told someone else their personal details, doesn’t mean that they’re not incredibly helpful to me when I need it. We’re business partners, and it’s a hazard of the job.” Amber very pointedly did not include the more personal side of her friendship, and that Havoc was significantly more likely to kill the person who’d heard the detail, rather than she who told it. (At that, she wondered if she could get this asshole out of her hair by telling him some harmless secret. Havoc would have him dead within the week. . . but no, she didn’t want to inconvenience them. If Thom got too annoying, she’d just lead him into the forest and kill him herself.)

Thom did not know how to respond to that.

“So how long until you get out of my hair? My answer isn’t gonna change, you know.”

Thom, looking defeated, stood up slowly. “I hope you reconsider, milady. The world could use you as their hero.”

“I’m not your lady, or a hero. Get out.” Amber flipped the knife she was sharpening, and stared him down. Thom scrambled out the door, and slammed it firmly shut behind him.

***

The next day, Amber went down for breakfast, but Thom was still there, this time accompanied by a short-haired blond woman in leather armor. Unlike the previous night, when Thom had arrived unarmed, both warriors had swords strapped to their belts - Thom with a large double-handed thing, and the woman with a black shortsword so short it could have been mistaken as a large everyday butcher knife had the handle been crafted slightly different. Thom perked up when he saw Amber enter the room, and he said something to his companion; she scowled, but nodded, and he bounded across the room.

“Amber! Good morning! Have you thought about my offer any more, now you’ve slept on it a bit?” He smiled brightly, as if he was trying to radiate charm from his pores.

“I didn’t, because why would I when I already answered you and considered the matter ended,” Amber said flatly.

At that, the blond woman swished up behind Thom, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Hello, Amber. My name’s Sam. I heard you were indecisive, and I hoped-”

“Not to be rude, but I’m just going to stop you there. I’m not indecisive. I don’t want to go with you at all. I have my own business to attend to.”

Sam deflated. “Are you sure? We could really use you, you know. I’ve heard so much about you and your accomplishments.”

Amber shrugged. “It wasn’t that great. I had a lot of help, from people who most definitely would not want to work with you.”

Sam stepped closer, and nudged Thom out of the way. He peeled away for the bar, interpreting that it might be easier to have someone else try to convince Amber. He was wrong, but Amber didn’t mind the alone time with the woman - she was pretty, and seemed nice.

“Do you mind me asking what you’re trying to do, Amber? What’s so important that the entire country can wait?”

“My girlfriend got kidnapped. I’m saving her,” Amber said simply.

“Oh! I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe if you came with us, we could help you on the way to our own fight.” Sam sounded sympathetic.

“Look, I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I don’t work with people I don’t know, and I don’t need any more help. I’m good where I am. I appreciate the offer, though - your boy over there expected me to be on my knees thanking him for giving me a chance, after he offered me nothing but gold and renown.” Amber nodded towards the bar, where Thom had struck up a drinking competition with five other men, and a dozen other people had circled around them urging them to drink! drink! drink!

Sam rolled her eyes. “Yeah, he’s a little bit full of himself like that. But he’s got a great heart, I promise. He’d help you in an instant if you asked.”

“But only if it was convenient to him, right?”

“I don’t - well, probably, but what do you mean by convenient? We’ll go get your girlfriend, it wouldn’t be an issue -”

“I mean,” Amber said tiredly, “that I’ve been tracking this girl overseas for a year now. It’s not a matter of skipping over to the dragon’s lair, slaying it, and going home happily ever after. Pirates have her. It’s complicated.”

Sam was quiet for a moment. “Oh,” she said softly. “You’re right, then. Thom wouldn’t be too happy about having to deal with that. I’m sorry.”

“Didn’t think so.”

The two sat in silence, somewhat more companionably than the previous night with Thom, but it was awkward nonetheless. They turned their attention to the bar, where a short, rough, butch woman had shown up to challenge Thom and the other men. She was efficiently drinking them all under the table; a few people nearby whooped appreciatively.

Sam turned her bright, ice-blue eyes back to Amber. “I really am sorry about your girlfriend. I wish I could do more.”

Amber shrugged. “You could come with me.”

“Oh - you know I couldn’t. What we’re doing, it’s really important too, you know.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Is there anything else I can do?” Sam asked. “Resources, weapons. . . Thom knows a bladesmith in town, if there was anything you needed.”

“I have so many knives on me right now, you have no idea. I’m good. Thanks, though.” To demonstrate, Amber pulled three from the lining of her jacket, stabbing them into the table.

Sam nodded understandably. She stood up, bobbing her head respectfully at Amber. “I think, then, if your answer is definitely not going to change, I’m going to go get Thom and take my leave. We have other business to attend to in town.”  

“Have fun.” Amber wiggled her fingers, somewhat dismissively, and focused on dislodging her knives from the bar table. One knife got its tip broken off, and she swore at it. Sam hurried away, retrieved Thom from his place among the drunken bar buddies, and went for the exit.

***

Later that day, Amber headed to the town’s market to restock on dry goods for her journey, and she ran into the pair a third time. Sam was doing business with the butcher, and Thom, still drunk, had been stationed on a crate some ways away and was trying to stop the sunlight from making it anywhere near his face. A crowd had gathered to laugh at him.

Sam finished whatever she was doing, turned around, and called out to Amber brightly. “I know you said you didn’t want help,” Sam said quickly, striding over, “but just a few minutes after we left, I remembered something that might be of some use to you.”

Amber arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Sam reached into her pack, and drew out a small throwing knife. “I want to give this to you.”

“I appreciate the thought, but I’m not really a throwing knife type of girl.”

“Listen. It’s an elven blade, enchanted to always stay sharp and always hit its target. It’s served me well in the past. I know it’s not your style, but it just might help in a pinch. It was a gift from a friend, who told me to pass it on when I no longer had need of it. I want you to have it.”

She pushed the knife and its accompanying tiny sheath into Amber’s hands, anxiously waiting for a response.

“. . . I’m sure I’ll find some way to use it,” Amber said begrudgingly. Sam’s face lit up, and she threw her arms around her.

“Make sure to pass it on when you don’t need it anymore! It’s tradition!”

Amber acknowledged that she would, and the two parted ways with amicable goodbyes.

***

In fact, Amber found a use for it that very same day. Luckily, the bladesmith in town knew the real value of elven blades. After buying herself some sturdy new travelling clothes with the money she got for it, she treated herself to a jar of honey and a jug of wine for the road, and still had coins to spare.

[gremlinquisitor]

"Blind date set up by friends" for characters of your choice for the DWC!

prompt list

Thank you so much for sending this in!

for @dadrunkwriting

Bellial Adaar/Blackwall, ~1500 words. Warning for alcohol consumption; one kiss and some pretty heavy implication that the night is going to end with them in bed together. Some sort of vague modern AU kind of thing.

Read it here on AO3

A flush creeps up Thom’s neck until it’s prickling under his beard, warmth flooding his skin as his eyes move up, up, and yet still higher up. Sera said that this friend of hers was tall, and she wasn’t joking. Even leaning on the bar she’s at least half a head above anyone else, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Dark jeans hug soft hips, and the top she’s wearing hangs loose, with a low back that shows off part of a tattoo that trails up along her shoulder and down her left arm. 

“Fucking hell, Sera. Warn a man next time.” He drags a hand back through his hair and smooths the front of his shirt as he makes his way across the bar room towards her. The tinny Top 40 coming from hidden speakers fades as he gets closer, all his focus on trying to make a good first impression. For a date he’d grumbled about and begrudgingly agreed to go on, he suddenly wants very much for this to go well. 

He clears his throat and squares his stance behind her, keeping some distance. “Excuse me, are you Bellial?”

The figure at the bar straightens, confirming his hopes. White hair spills off her shoulder in loose waves when she turns to look at him, eyes so blue they’re almost purple darting over his face and front so quickly that he half expects to bleed from the cuts. He opens his mouth to stumble over an apology when her expression softens, deep crimson lips curling to a smile.

“Only if you’re Blackwall,” she answers, smooth and low, her gaze now lingering on him and doing nothing to stop the heat that rolls under his skin in renewed waves, a heavy mix of nerves and hope. “Sera mentioned a beard, but there’s… a lot she left out.”

He chuckles, looking down and shaking his head. “I’m glad she remembered that much. I know I’m not her type.” The name still feels new to him, and it’s like sand in his eye to hear her say it, but he’s not about to correct her, either. This is who he will be now.

Bellial laughs at his reply, a huff of air through her nose, short but genuine. “No, but you’re definitely mine. She wasn’t wrong there.”

The combination of her laugh and the comment is a one-two punch that leaves him breathless. There was a time when he could talk almost anyone he wanted into bed, but those days are behind him, and he has to fight to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth as he desperately tries to remember how to flirt. It used to be so easy, but none of them ever looked like her, either.

“No, she wasn’t, was she?” He smiles, and she smiles back, and for a moment he lets himself think maybe this won’t be one more thing he ruins. He’s a different man now, for better or for worse.

The moment hangs between them, each of them silently acknowledging the interest behind the statements. Bellial moves first, one arm curling back to the bar to collect her glass, still half-full of some dark ale.

“What are you drinking?” She asks. “I can get you something and we can find a table.”

She’s already turning away, and he reaches out to set a hand on the small of her back to stop her. “No, please. You have to at least let me buy you a drink.”

Her eyes trail up his arm to meet his gaze, and he’s just about to pull away when she settles back into the touch. “It’s my treat. I bartend here like every other weekend, once a month, whenever they need me, so I get to drink for free. It’s why I suggested this place.”

She’s warm under his fingertips, and it takes a conscious effort for him to pull his hand away. “Bold move. What if we hated each other after ten minutes?”

“Then you would know to never come here again. And if it turned out you were the creepy type, we have people to deal with that too.” She flashes him a grin that borders on a snarl. “But I figure Sera would’ve clocked that and then this night wouldn’t be happening, so.”

She shrugs with one shoulder and nods towards the bar again. He gives the taps a cursory glance, then nods towards her glass. “I’ll have what you’re having.”

Bellial smiles and shouts to Cabot, the bartender, and two more rounds appear on the bar in short order. She’s gathered them in her hands before he has a chance to protest--”Bartender, remember?”--and he can do little more than follow after her to a booth at the back of the bar. 

The place has a sort of rustic charm, with menus printed on heavy paper set on clipboards at each table, and sturdy cutlery in a metal bucket tucked away near the wall. Bellial sets the drinks out and slides into one side of the booth, and after a moment’s indecision, Thom slides in to the side opposite. 

After they sit, conversation gets easier, and Thom can only marvel at Sera’s matchmaking ability. It’s rare he meets someone with a sense of humor that makes him blush, but Bellial jokes right along with him, dark and dirty. She works as private security, and she’s firm but kind when she tells him that it’s none of his business who she protects. She doesn’t flinch at his being ex-military and still not sure what to do with his life. 

“I’m good with my hands,” he explains as a short, dark-haired waitress drops off two enormous cheeseburgers. Thom watches as she raises her brows at Bellial, who only smiles and pops her own eyebrows in reply.

“I’ll bet you are,” she replies under her breath as her friend sidles away, and Thom’s well-practiced explanation about trying to find a job in construction dies in his mouth. There’s embers in her eyes when she catches his gaze again before picking up her burger. 

Her foot drags up the inside of his leg under the table and he almost bites through his lip. “Let a man eat, Belle!” He sighs, laughing even as that same flush races over his skin again.

“Just making sure you have room for dessert,” she purrs.

He doesn’t dare ask what she means, unsure if he’s more worried about being right or being wrong. It’s been… a while since he was with anyone, and while he won’t deny his interest, the thought brings nerves along with it. 

They sit and continue talking long after their plates are cleared away, the table slowly filling with empty glasses. He’s not sure which round it was when she decided to sit on his side of the booth with him, but she’s settled in beside him, his arm slung up on the back of the booth, not quite around her shoulders. They’re the only ones still there, save for Cabot, who’s doing a poor job of not glaring at them as he wipes down the bar again.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Her breath is warm on his skin, and her hand slides along the inside of his thigh under the table. The touch is so unexpected that he has to stop himself from jumping at it. “Head back to your place for a nightcap.”

He can only manage a nod and a low hum in reply. Sometime during the night he’d mentioned living around the corner, not once thinking that that could lead to this. He’d come prepared to have a mediocre evening and then leave alone, but Bellial is electric, and he won’t pretend that her sensuality and unguarded attraction to him isn’t sexy as hell. As she stands and offers him her hand to pull him to his feet, he does his best to recall if he left anything damning out in plain sight. He wouldn’t want an errant pair of dirty briefs to be the reason he never sees her again.

“‘Night, Cabot,” she calls as they make their way out into the chill of the late evening air. As soon as they’ve passed the windows of the bar, Bellial turns and pulls him to her, backing them up against the brick wall and dragging him in for a kiss. It’s messy and imprecise and she shows none of the caution he imagined from a first kiss. He can feel the heat and the need of it, with her hand curling in his hair, the other pulling on his belt to bring him even closer. He grabs at her hips, welcoming it when she tilts her head to deepen the kiss.

Bellial breaks first, breathing hard and watching him with shining eyes. She swipes her thumb across her lower lip and grins at him. “Come on, show me where we’re going, and I’ll show you how far down my tattoo goes.”

“Let it never be said that I refused a lady’s request,” he replies, stepping back and gesturing with his arm to lead them up the street towards his apartment. 

[hugheshugs]

im just a slut for like dbf!thom and just domestic fluff like obvi since briss is so busy with your brother constantly- maybe thom teaching you how to cook or something

contains: dbf!thom, food, cooking, their dynamic progressing :) this is a bit earlier into things

omg yes. okay this isnt as fluffy as ik we would have liked but this au is kinda depressing lol. also, briss is always cooking healthy shit so hunter doesnt get out of shape and you're just stuck eating it every time. so when thom asks you what you want to eat you're always like uhhh..

the first time thomas stayed the night and joined your family dinner, he was.. confused, to say the least. your dad used to eat healthy, sure, but not for the most part. not like he did now—so when he saw what brendan was feeding you and hunter, he could hardly believe his eyes.

that wasn't to say the food was bad, no, it was just a weird feeling to see that his best friend had changed more than he thought. however, he found it odd when it kept happening. how did your dad have the time to make 'healthy' home cooked meals everyday but not enough time to take care of you? it frustrated him.

so when brendan had asked thomas to take care of you for the night, he decided it was time to teach you how to cook something you actually liked to eat. not something he knew you pretended to like because you didn't want to get in trouble.

"y/n! come down here please."

you'd been laying on your stomach, legs propped up into the air as you scrolled through your phone. you heard his voice and your heart dropped before you scrambled to get up and run downstairs. his tone didn't sound angry but his words were enough to scare you nonetheless.

"don't run, ma belle," he warned, hearing your heavy footsteps creeping up on him.

you stopped, fingers coming up to your necklace as you anxiously fiddled with the pendant. his back was turned towards you as he began doing something in front of the stove.

"did i do something wrong? i'm sorry—"

"no," he quickly cut you off, whipping his head towards you. "you didn't do anything wrong. i just wanted you to help me cook dinner."

your lips parted. "oh."

it wasn't an unwelcomed feeling but a flutter of warmth leaped into your heart. as sad as it sounded, no one—your dad—had ever asked you to help them with anything as domestic as this. you always did what you were told, chores and all, but helping someone because they wanted your help was different.

and you hated how good it made you feel. it was bittersweet that it was him who asked.

"why don't you start by putting the pasta in the pot," he spoke slowly after a moment. "you do like pasta, right?"

"mhm," you nodded your head, stepping towards him to do as he instructed. "how much?"

"use your judgement."

you gave him a blank stare. "you trust me?"

"what?" his eyes crinkled at the sides. "of course i do. besides, if you make too much we can always eat it tomorrow."

this didn't help. you blinked at him rapidly, nerves creeping up your spine.

"i don't want to do anything wrong," you confessed.

"we'll do it together," he reassured, sensing your internal fear. you didn't trust yourself.

you held the box of dry pasta in your hand, hovering over the water boiling on the stove. he knew he shouldn't, but he placed his hand on top of yours and let the noodles fall in.

your eyes widened and you gulped at the feeling of his fingers on your skin. were you sweating because of him or the steam hitting your face? you couldn't tell as he moved your quivering hand away from the stove, letting go after doing so.

"so— um," he looked away nervously and walked over to the fridge. "you can grab a fork and stir it so they don't stick together. also, whenever you're making pasta make sure to salt the water a lot."

"totally didn't know that," you muttered shakily, grabbing a fork from the drawer.

he raised an eyebrow at your snarky remark, peaking his head out from behind the fridge to look at you. you didn't think anything of what you said so you didn't catch him looking at you, but he was surprised.

"didn't know you had it in you," he commented after grabbing what he needed.

"what?" you turned.

"sarcasm," the corner of his lip quirked upwards.

"you think you're funny."

"i think it's the other way around, mon chou. now let's get the sauce going."

"you always call me these names and i don't even know what they mean," you told him quietly.

he smiled. "you'll figure it out one day. alright, chop chop. grab the onions and garlic."

"... where are they?"

"have you not gone through the kitchen yet? you've been here like five times."

"that doesn't mean i'm gonna snoop through your things," you looked at him in confusion. what was he expecting from you?

"well i'm giving you permission to," he stated firmly. "turn my whole house upside down, i don't fucking care. just find the onions and garlic."

he laughed—almost giggled—at his last sentence and so did you, finding humour in his seriousness until the end.

--

"you know, your dad and i used to make this all the time back in college."

"is it really cooking if you're using premade pesto?"

he stopped pouring it in the pan and gave you a look. "oh, come on, y/n."

"i'm just saying," you held your hands up with a laugh.

he grinned, handing you the spoon to mix everything up as he leaned against the counter beside you. "do you know anything about your dad in college? everything we did?"

"nope," you shook your head with a shrug. "he always told hunter about it. i remember listening in on their conversations but i never got those talks."

the smile on your face was deceiving, he could tell. "do you care to know?"

"it always sounded really fun," you confessed, grabbing the pot of rotini.

"well, now we've got something to talk about over dinner, hm?"

[paxohana]

Menagerie, Pt. 2

“Son, you returned home rather late last night.”

Viktor glanced at his father as he took another piece of toast.  Morning arrived before Viktor knew it and he felt fatigued having only a few hours sleep last night.  He spent hours imagining Yuuri’s smile and how their friendship would progress.  Once he fell asleep, the few dreams he did have were filled with the man with the jet black tresses.

“Yes, the ball was quite the spectacle,” Viktor said.

“How was Darla?” he inquired.

“She was well.  I think I may have angered her,” Viktor admitted.

“Her father rang me early this morning.  It seems she was in a right state when she returned home,” Ivan relayed.

“I apologize, Father.  I know I did not treat her with respect.  I just can’t relate to such trivial matters she discusses,” Viktor confessed.

“Her father has placed too many expectations on you, Viktor,” he started, “Expectations I don’t require you to uphold.  There are plenty of other young women to choose from.”

Viktor nodded and stirred his tea absently, thinking of how soon his life would change.  How soon he’d be bogged down with a loveless marriage and children that were produced for status only.  He wanted so much more out of life but was trapped within the confines of his stature.

He continued his breakfast in silence, not wanting to be reminded of the dismal existence that awaited him.  His mind was swimming in thoughts of Yuuri and how he was looking forward to the time they’d spend the next week.  He figured if he could charm him that morning, he may have something worthwhile to fill his time with.

The morning trudged by slowly, leaving Viktor feeling antsy until he could leave the house.  His father demanded he remain in the den at home fielding calls and answering correspondence with business associates.  While he found it boring, it was part of his responsibilities as the son of a magnate.  

But once the afternoon arrived, he would be free.

His father insisted that Viktor socialize with his peers and allowed him freedom every other afternoon.  He took advantage of it, often chatting with friends in the park over lemonade or playing in one sport or another.  Polo was his favorite and he was especially looking forward to the session that Wednesday.

That day, however, was not Wednesday, but he was able to call it an early day at the office.  He was off to meet Thom and Harold in the park for checkers.  After a quick goodbye and a peck on the cheek for his mother, he was off.

The day was unseasonably cool but Viktor found it welcoming and he took his time venturing toward the park. He stopped to speak briefly with the butcher, inquiring about how his wife and newborn daughter were.  He visited the cafe on the street corner for a glass of iced tea.  He knew he was running late to meet his friends, but the day was too pleasant to pass up on such leisurely activities.

He placed a few coins on the table and turned to leave, but stopped in his tracks.  There at the counter stood the object of his sleepless night: Yuuri Katsuki.  He looked rather dashing in his suspenders and straw hat, and Viktor found himself further attracted to the man.  Smiling before heading toward him, Viktor quietly coughed to get his attention.

“Viktor!  Fancy meeting you here!” Yuuri exclaimed, giving him the dazzling smile that charmed him the night before.

“I thought that was you.  Did you make it home alright?” Viktor inquired.

“After seeing my date home, I made a stop to sit on the hill,” Yuuri said, “You know the one that overlooks the river?”

“With the giant weeping willow?” Viktor questioned, smiling when Yuuri nodded, “One of my favorite places in the city.”

“I love going there to think or daydream,” he explained, “Lately it’s been more daydreaming.”

“What of, pray tell?”

“I’m sure you don’t want me boring you with nonsense,” Yuuri muttered, thanking the shop owner for the pastry he ordered.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I thought it so,” Viktor stated.

“I see myself in other neighborhoods, other countries doing good deeds by healing their sick.  Innoculations to help children grow up strong and healthy,” he explained, “but I would feel terrible if I shirked my responsibilities here.”

“I think that’s a rather admirable daydream, Yuuri,” Viktor said, “Furthermore, have you talked to your father about making it a reality?  Having a doctor in the family usually increases status in society.”

“As the only son, I’m expected to take over his legacy when he retires or passes.  I couldn’t leave it to anyone else,” Yuuri said sadly.

“I understand. On to pleasant matters,” Viktor said, not liking the misery falling over Yuuri’s beautiful face, “Are you looking forward to polo this Wednesday?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he said, beaming at Viktor once more, “How should I dress?  I’ve seen it played but never tried a hand at it myself.”

“Horse riding trousers and a comfortable shirt.  Once in a while someone takes a spill, but that’s rare,” Viktor explained, watching horror creep into Yuuri’s face, “I promise we’ll take it easy since it’s your first time.”

“Wonderful,” he said, smiling at him before bowing slightly, “I apologize, but I must get going.  I have a prior engagement, but it was a pleasure speaking with you again.”

“The pleasure is mine, Yuuri,” Viktor said, returning with a smile of his own, “Until Wednesday.”

After ordering another tea to take with him, Viktor thanked the proprietor and left the cafe.  His head was swimming with the short conversation he had with Yuuri, but knew it would bolster his entire day.  Thinking that Wednesday couldn’t arrive soon enough, Viktor whistled happily on his way to the park.

Pt. 1

[creatingnikki]

Dearest Saleta,

Your vibe and answers were so quintessentially tumblr – aesthetic, joyful, pure and defying the societal conventions. I can picture you wearing a vintage floral dress that’s flowy and lacy, wearing a flower crown and dancing to rock music. Smiling super wide and clicking Polaroid pictures, scribbling a happy quote and the date on it in your giddy happiness. Texting all your friends and loved ones about how grateful you are to have them in your life and just how much you love them. Were you born in the wrong time? You seem too precious for now. All of this also reminds me of a song - I wish I was a punk rocker by Sandi Thom. Do give it a listen, if you haven’t before.

Also the way you described your fashion style made me think of one of my favourite YouTubers – Ashley @bestdressed. Maybe you’d resonate with her and her fashion sense. Are these too many recommendations? Sorry, when I think someone will like something – book, movie, Youtube channel, song, tv show – I feel like this personal sense of duty to tell them about it because these things have brought me such joy and to think that I would have never come across some of it is a thought that makes me shudder.

You mentioned online friends. And that takes me down the memory lane. I was a very ‘weird’ teenager so no one around ever related to me. I also found most of them stupid and unimpressive. Yet I was never lonely and that’s thanks to the internet and all the beautiful and crazy people it enabled me to meet from across the world. The first time I met someone online was at 13. He was 17 and his username on a chat room website was ‘Edward Cullen’. It prompted me that he would be around my age because I really was tired of coming across old creeps who started the conversation with ‘asl’. And ever since then I was on a roll. 

Some of the most precious people in my life I met online. From my first official boyfriend to a few of my dearest friends. But until I was 17, I thought it was something I had to hide from everyone in my “real life”.  I thought the fact that I talk to people online in such a meaningful and constant way reflected on how miserable or awkward or unliked I was in my “real life”. But of course I kissed that mentality goodbye a long time ago and I’m so glad. The fact that we can connect with people we have and probably will never meet, who live starkly different lives than ours is a sign of how non-judgemental, accepting and earnest we are and I think that’s pretty damn awesome, isn’t it? I would have never done this before but I’m now going to go ahead and list all the places online I spoke to strangers:

Yahoo!Answers

Omegle

Wakie

Whisper

Tumblr

Wattpad

Facebook

That for me is a sign of growing up. Thank you for being a witness to that. Love is freedom, you said. I wish more people saw it that way because you’re right. But at least you see it that way and I can only imagine that some others do too and that’s a start! So many people end up hurting people in the name of love and the Netflix show YOU is such an apt example of that. Sure, people will say that it’s merely a fictional and dramatized version but I know so many people in reality who are trapped in lives that suffocate them on a daily basis but they cannot leave the people who make it so for them. I hope you are never one of them.

The book The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky

The Kdrama Because This is My First Life

The German to English translated novel written completely in the form of letters – Love Virtually by Daniel Glattauer

The movie Before Sunrise

The song Palatte (25) by IU

These are a few of the more precious things I recommend to you that I hope add some value to your life. There are no words of comfort or strength I need to offer to you – and I am relieved about that. So, this is my way to add something positive to your life instead. PS I also want to share something beautiful my love shared with me yesterday: When you look at a flower, some of the photons that enter your eye finally end their 1,00,000-year journey from the center of the sun. Nobody else sees them. Just you. 10% of those will give up their energy to cause a chemical reaction that – literally – makes them a part of you.

So I suppose then, you truly have sunshine within you, Saleta. Stay awesome, Nikki

Guys, February is 29 days of love letters. I’m writing love letters, as part of The Love Project, and if you’d like me to write one to you, drop me an email at creating.nikki@gmail.com

There are 8 more spots left, and you can still be a part of it if you’d like :D

I wrote this letter for Saleta based on some questions they answered. You can read the questions and their answers here. 

[theeverlastingshade]

Favorite Albums of the 2000s

10. In Rainbows- Radiohead

After Radiohead released Hail to the Thief it seemed pretty set in stone that while they may still go on to continue releasing great records, it’s unlikely that they’d ever put out another record that shatters expectations and makes a bid for being among their best work. And then we received In Rainbows, a shocking late-career game changer so assured, dynamic, and brilliant that there are music fans that came of age around its release that still claim it’s the best Radiohead album. It’s not, but it’s exceptional nonetheless; a perfect fusion of the art-rock, electronic rock, and avant-guard impulses that they’d seem to have perfected by the time Kid A dropped, but had never quite navigated so fluidly. It’s a best of both worlds record that’s lean, perfectly paced, and contains some of the strongest songwriting of Thom Yorke’s entire career. It was the first Radiohead record since Kid A to sound like a revelatory statement able to stand on its own, and not simply exist in the shadow of prior records. The pay what you want model that they used to sell the record was a game-changer at the time of its release, but it’s the warm orchestration, frigid beats, and dynamic range that gave this record the staying power that it has. It’s the kind of record that displays an assured effortlessness that belies what exceptional musicians they all are, and reminds you why you fell in love with the band in the first place.

The one-two punch of “15 Step” and “Bodysnatchers” sets the pace for what’s to come; the former a glitchy electronic song that seems to hint at a less claustrophobic approach to Amensiac before the latter, propelled by a motorik rhythm and Yorke’s fractured wail, erupts and shatters that notion. The two of these songs taken together give a fairly apt depiction of the poles that Radiohead where bouncing back and forth from, and the tension arising from that balancing act propels the record forward. Caught between the somber guitar ballad “Nude” and the lumbering, electronic midpoint crescendo “All I Need” is the fidgety, nimble guitar work of “Weird Fishes/Arpeggi” which does a wonderful job of offsetting the dreaminess of the previous track and preparing you for the creeping dread of what immediately follows. “Faust Arp” is a welcome, jangly transition from the heaviness of “All I Need” into the album’s most accessible song, “Reckoner”, and through that song’s warm melody and infectious percussion the downtempo march of “House of Cards” sounds like a perfect transition, with its string drones setting the stage for the record’s best song to arrive. There isn’t a moment wasted throughout the entire record, and it’s a marvel to hear the band cover such vast ground and still end up with something so concise.

Being a Radiohead record it should come as no surprise that In Rainbows tackles themes of existential dread, apocalyptic visions, corruption, and alienation throughout. “Nude” grapples with groupthink, the tendency for societies to not operate in the best interests of its people, and the inherent emptiness that defines the human experience “You paint yourself white/And fill up with noise/But there’ll be something missing”. “Bodysnatchers” explores someone faking their way through life and being unable to live the way they truly are “I have no idea what I’m talking about/I’m trapped in this body and can't get out” while “Faust Arp” finds someone crushed under the weight of monotony, recognizing the issue but seemingly lacking the courage or conviction to change his surroundings “Dead from the neck up, I guess I’m stuck, stuck, stuck/We thought you had it in you/But no, no, no”. “Videotape” ends the record on a perfect thematic note with the narrator making a videotape for the love of his life before he kills himself “No matter what happens now/You shouldn’t be afraid/Because I know today has been/The most perfect day I’ve ever seen”, drawing an unsettling through line from the closer on Kid A. The themes of despair throughout the digital age have become increasingly more realized with each subsequent Radiohead album from OK Computer onward, but they hit a notable new peak on In Rainbows. In Rainbows isn’t their most ambitious, or accomplished album, but it perhaps best distills what their essence best, succinctly showcasing just how peerless they were and remain.

Essentials: “Jigsaw Falling Into Place”, “All I Need”, “Weird Fishes/Arpeggi”

9. The Glow, Pt. 2- The Microphones

Before Phil Elverum recorded two devastating records about the loss of his wife, Genevieve, and the process of having to raise his daughter without her by his side under his current Mount Eerie moniker, he spent several years recording lo-fi psychedelic folk songs as The Microphones. He switched gears in 2003 and continued recording music as a solo act, having swapped the name of The Microphones for Mount Eerie (the name of the final record recorded as The Microphones) feeling that he had taken the former project to its natural conclusion. Before making the switch, Elverum recorded four albums as The Microphones that each rank as among the most accomplished and thoroughly engaging albums that he’s recorded to date. While all are exceptional and worth anyone’s time, The Glow Pt. 2 is the best of the bunch, and still stands as Elverum’s magnum opus. An idiosyncratic LP bursting with personality and color while folding in psychedelic folk, noise, lo-fi, ambient, and indie rock The Glow Pt. 2 is a colossal tour de force through Elverum’s tastes, and it hangs together remarkably well. He would continue to explore various facets of styles explored here on subsequent releases, but no single record of his before or after captures the vivid imagination and breadth of his musicianship quite like The Glow Pt. 2.

Opener “I Want Wind to Blow” sets the stage for what’s to come through gentle acoustic strums, repetition, and a generous use of space while growing increasingly grand in scope until it explodes during its last minute with pummeling percussion and thick slabs of distorted noise. “I Want Wind to Blow” is one of the longest songs here, with most ranging from 1 to 2 minutes, just long enough to begin exploring an idea and then smoothly transitioning to something else before wearing its welcome. There are songs like “(Something)” that drift by quickly with little more than droning strings floating eerily throughout the mix, and others like “Map” that are a treasure trove of eclectic instrumentation that seem to be constantly rising and falling in intensity for several minutes without locking into a steady groove for too long. “Headless Horseman” gets a ton of mileage out of a softly strummed ukulele and Elverum’s tender vocals while the menacing “I Want to be Cold” pits a searing cymbal rhythm against smoldering, distorted guitars with Elverum’s voice barely audible above the noise. The individual songs may run the gamut through a myriad of different genres, but the analog warmth, droning motifs, tape hiss, and punctual silence tie everything together as one vast landscape of thematic and sonic coherence. No matter how far ranging some of the songs here develop with respect to everything else around them, the production renders each song with the same unmistakable warmth and richness.

The Glow Pt. 2 is centered around a breakup that Elverum experienced, and he details his thoughts and feelings throughout the ordeal, consistently blurring the lines between fact and fiction while gradually finding solace in nature. “I Want Wind to Blow” opens the record right after the storm has died down as he begs for a change to sweep away the sense of loss that he’s beginning to endure “My clothes off me, sweep me off my feet/Take me up, don’t bring me back/Oh, where I can see days pass by me/I have no head to hold in grief”. This leads directly into the record’s centerpiece and title track where Elverum comes to terms with the fact that his girlfriend and best friend became romantically involved with one another. Elverum recognizes that life will go on whether or not he wants it to in that moment “I could not get through September without a battle/I faced death, I went in with my arms swinging/But I heard my own breath/And I had to face that I’m still living”, and slowly works his way back towards the resolve to go on. Throughout the rest of the record he tries to erase memories of the relationship (“The Moon”), succumbs to pure apathy (“I Want to be Cold”), comes to terms with how insignificant he is within the scope of the universe (“I Felt My Size”), and eventually comes to terms with what remains of his life as he slowly bleeds out in the forest (“My Warm Blood”). The experience that Elverum draws from throughout The Glow Pt. 2 is universal, but it’s rarely been translated into such a rich, transcendent experience.

Essentials: “I Want Wind to Blow”, “The Glow, Pt. 2″, “Map”

8. Since I Left You- The Avalanches

While the last decade saw the release of many brilliant records, there were very few that were as legitimately inventive as Since I Left You. The debut album by The Avalanches is a plunderphonics record that seamlessly blends disco, r&b, jazz, bossa nova, comedy skits, and pop music into a glorious, kaleidoscopic whole that truly sounds like nothing else. SILY wasn’t the first plunderphonics record, but nothing working entirely within those parameters before or since has achieved something so fresh and singular, creating a colorful, fully-lived in new context for the 900 plus samples that make up its whole. The perfectly natural flow that guides the record is part of its inherent charm, and belies just how intricate and complex the creation of the record actual was. SILY was so painstakingly meticulous to construct that it took The Avalanches 16 years to return with a proper follow-up, and while that follow-up, Wildflower, was a great return to form, it doesn’t quite capture the singular beauty of their inimitable debut.

The eclecticism of SILY is one of the most immediate, and impressive draws. There are recurring samples and motifs that occur multiple times throughout the record, but no two songs sound anything alike. The pacing is sublime, with songs bleeding into one another in a manner that approximates a DJ mix with supreme versatility. Samples are constantly shifting, being pitched in different directions, being sped up, slowed down, or swapped out entirely. There’s never a moment where something isn’t in flux, and the fact that they manage to accomplish this while still constantly giving each song such a defined shape and tone is a marvel. Sampled voices appear periodically, but rather than leading the arrangements, in true plunderphonics fashion they're tucked into the fold alongside everything else, treated as percussion or texture depending on the song. No single moment overstays its welcome, and because of how much texture is being employed at all times it’s easy to constantly discover something new each time that you listen to it. The last song on SILY transitions seamlessly into the first song, which only heightens the potency of its DJ mix structure.

With a record as coherent and consistent as SILY it’s difficult and almost beside the point to zero in on highlights since it’s meant to be consumed all at once as an experience. But there are a few astonishing songs that stand above the already strong pack, and rank as among the strongest plunderphonics songs that I’ve ever heard. “Two Hearts in ¾ Time” unloads a swirling concoction of xylophone, flute, and keys atop breezy scat singing, and the carefree exuberance that radiates from the composition is infectious. “Radio” pits a massive bassline against repetitious chants and distorted bursts of guitars and keys while “Summer Crane” pairs down the sonic density (slightly) as a slurring thermin, strings, and sleigh bells dance in tandem while the recurring string motif flickers throughout. “Frontier Psychiatrist” is as ridiculous and absurd as things get here, and is legitimately one of the funniest moments on any electronic album through its use of vocal samples lifted from the Johnny Wayne and Frank Shuster comedy sketch of the same name “The man with the golden eyeball/And tighten your buttocks, pour juice down your chin/I promised my girlfriend I’d play the violin. And the closer “Extra Kings” unravels in a bouncy psychedelic sprawl with the voice from the first song and title track singing “I’ve tried but I just can’t get you/Every since the day I left you” as noise makers and woodwinds swirl around the vocals in rapturous joy.

The one thing that cannot be overstated is just how much fun it is to listen to this record. Through its many songs and moods, joy, pain, sorrow, regret, and unease are conjured at various moments, but throughout it all there’s a palpable sense that the band are thoroughly enjoying themselves. It remains playful and whimsical even at its most crestfallen, and thrills even at its deepest lulls. A sense of discovery and communal spirit animates this record, and The Avalanches achieve a sense of weightlessness that pervades even the record’s densest moments. It’s the rare record that matches its remarkably accessible, party-friendly nature with an equally groundbreaking execution that completely rewrote the cultural relationship to sample-based music. The Avalanches wisely opted to downplay the inherent brilliance of the music, and they made it as easy as possible to simply get lost in the endless spirals of grooves, texture, and pockets upon pockets of melody. There’s no air of pretension in The Avalanches’ universe, just the pure, unmitigated joy of stumbling upon new sounds in unusual contexts again and again and again.

Essentials: “Extra Kings”, “Frontier Psychiatrist”, “Two Hearts in 3/4 Time”

7. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot- Wilco

Wilco was already a great band before they released Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, but it’s this record that cemented them as one of the most compelling of their era. When their label, Reprise Records, an imprint of AOL Time Warner, heard the record they assumed that it would essentially amount to career suicide and opted to release them from the label with the rights to the album. In order to not significantly delay the release of their record before touring it as well as controlling the quality of the songs that were already being leaked from it Wilco put the entire record on their site and embarked on their most successful tour up to that point. Both Being There and Summerteeth were massive leaps forward for the band, defined equally by Jeff Tweedy’s increasingly accomplished songwriting and the studio wizardry of multi-instrumentalist Jay Bennet, but on YHF these forces hit a peak. The songs on YHF are intensely felt, and earnestly conveyed by a band that was completely in-tune with one another, and were perpetually firing on all cylinders. The tasteful sonic experimentation, warm rock and baroque arrangements, and Tweedy’s wistful, romantic sentiments coalesce into a superbly realized whole. Mature, earnest, empathetic, and adventurous, YHF is a landmark for indie rock, and one of the most beautiful and compulsively listenable albums of the century so far.

The biggest development that took place on YHF was Tweedy’s songwriting fully blossoming into a sincere, singular voice that propelled to the band to unprecedented heights. On opening song “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart” Tweedy’s depiction of someone wandering around Chicago post-breakup “I am an American aquarium drinker/I assassin down the avenue/I’m hiding out in the big city blinking/What was a I thinking when I let go of you?” sets the tone of the album with wistful, poignant urgency. “Jesus, Etc” depicts the desolation and the simple pleasures clung to within urban, contemporary American life “Voices whine/Skycrapers are scraping together/Your voice is smoking/Last cigarettes, are all you can get/Turning your orbit around” while positing love as a balm for the ills of modern existence “Our love is all we have/Our love/Our love is all of God’s money/Everyone is a burning sun”. On the album’s stunning closer “Reservations” Tweedy’s trying to reassure his love that he’s invested in their future “Oh, I’ve got reservations/About so many things/But not about you” while on the album’s centerpiece, “Radio Cure”, Tweedy laments the difficulty of sustaining a long distance relationship despite advancements in technology making it easier to do than ever before “Oh, distance has no way/Of making love understandable”. Tweedy’s writing is concise and direct, cut with an emotional through line that elevates the sentiments beyond what may scan as initially simplistic.

YHF doesn’t provide any overhauls to their approach to the extent that Wilco’s previous two records did. Rather, it’s a case of tightening up what they already did well and improving considerably on all fronts. Jay Bennett continues to showcase how he was the band’s not-so-secret weapon at this phase of their career with a sly touch that embellishes each song here with surprising amount of dimension. Bennett really began to experiment considerably with Wilco’s sound on Summerteeth, but his most compelling contributions are those throughout YHF. Whether its the ambient swirl of chimes that open “Ashes of American Flags”, the spring-loaded percussion on “Pot Kettle Black”, the melancholic string drones that dominate “Poor Places” or the whirring samples that swirl in perfect harmony alongside the infectious concoction of cymbals, xylophone, and acoustic guitars throughout the build of “Radio Cure”, Bennett’s use of texture was subtle, but supremely effective in fleshing each composition into wonderfully distinct shapes. The songs are certainly strong enough to stand on their own in much simpler, stripped down forms, but Bennett’s tinkering perfectly complemented Tweedy’s songwriting, imbuing his romanticism with a welcome surrealist bent.

The suspected allusions to 9/11 in a few of the songs despite the record having been finished months before 9/11 dominated the narrative of the album upon its release, but that supposed prescience overlooks Tweedy’s astute observation of American despair and generally just glosses over the fact that, regardless of possible foresight, YHF is simply a magnificent record. There’s a universality to the sentiments that are beautifully rendered by Tweedy’s aching tone, and the band finally seemed completely comfortable dropping all pretenses of “alt-country” and leaned unabashedly into their intrinsic weirdness without much concern for what the record might initially scan as. What continues to really impress about YHF is that Wilco simultaneously became more experimental and tuneful, with some of the melodies dominating songs like “Radio Cure”, “Jesus, Etc”, “Pot Kettle Black”, and “I’m the Man Who Loves You” ranking as among their strongest to date. There are few albums that I’ve heard that strike such a fine balance between strong melodies and forward-thinking composition, but YHF manages just that, while offering a compelling insight into initial 21st century American malaise.

Essentials: “Radio Cure”, “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart”, “Jesus, Etc”

6. Madvillainy- Madvillain

MF DOOM and Madlib were already renowned figures in underground hip hop with a couple of great records under each of their belts before they linked up to write and record Madvillainy. But in each other they found the perfect collaborator whose sensibilities ran parallel to their own. In the universe that they built together dense internal rhymes float effortlessly over dusty soul loops and thick clouds of pot smoke. There were obvious precedents for what they accomplished on DOOM’s Operation Doomsday and Madlib’s The Unseen, recorded under his Quasimoto alias, but on Madvillainy they helped one another reach a creative breakthrough with them both redefining the form of their respective crafts. Madlib’s beats are relentlessly eclectic, gorgeously textured, and masterfully mixed, while DOOM’s verses are some of the most varied, superbly rapped, and thought-provoking of his entire career. The ease with which their styles complement one another belies the effort that they put into it, and the end result doesn’t sound fussy or labored over, but it did herald a new era of faded west-coast hip hop built on a throne of comic books, jazz records, and a dizzying array of internal rhyme schemes.

The production on Madvillainy was handled entirely by Madlib, with DOOM co-producing the opening track “The Illest Villains”, and it’s the most cohesive collection of beats that Madlib has ever assembled while still packing a considerable amount of variety within its grooves. “Rhinestone Cowboy” is the longest song, clocking in at 4 minutes exactly, but most of the songs are under 2 minutes and concisely introduce their ideas while DOOM unloads brief, but substantial bars over them. The samples span the likes of The Mothers of Invention, Sun Ra, George Clinton, Bill Evans, Diana Ross, Stevie Wonder, James Brown, Street Fighter II, and so much more sometimes within the same songs without once showing the seams. The atmosphere is soulful and jazzy with a hazy tinge that the samples lend the compositions on the whole juxtaposed superbly against the visceral nature of DOOM’s rapping. The music is rendered within a quantized grid so there’s no mistaking it as anything other than hip hop beats, but these beats are arranged more tastefully than the vast majority of instrumental hip-hop that’s come before or since. Whether it's the guitar/sleigh bell stomp of “Shadows of Tomorrow”, or the sluggish bass crawl and metronome sigh of “Meat Grinder”, or the anthemic brass leads that frame “All Caps”, the beats are simply bursting with texture and personality.

Since reemerging as MF DOOM towards the end of the last century Daniel Dumile has completely owned this specific lane of verbose, off-kilter hip-hop defined by his knotty phrasing, complex internal rhyme schemes, and magnetic personality that draws from all ephemeral of pop culture. Madlib brings out the best in DOOM, and his rapping is by turns loose and tight, dense and reference heavy while delivered with a level of precision that transcends pop culture acumen. “Living off borrowed time, the lock ticks faster/That’d be the hour they knock on the slick blaster” are the first lines on “Accordion” that open the record, and things only get more surreal from there. The rhymes are eloquent and guttural, often open to various interpretation, and packed with colorful imagery while never being anything less than thought-provoking. “Meat Grinder” depicts DOOM’s pimping of a stripper named China “Heat niner, pimping, stripping, soft sweet minor/China was a neat signer, trouble with the script” while “America’s Most Blunted” is an absurdist ode to marijuana “Quas, when he really hit star mode/Never will he boost loose Philies with the bar-code”. “Curls” reveals a glimpse of DOOM’s lost innocence after smoking his first spiff at 7 “Spliff made him swore he saw heaven, he was seven/Yup, you know it, growin’ up too fast/Showin’ up to class with Moet in a flask” while on “All Caps” he’s reveling in pure braggadocio “So nasty that it’s probably somewhat of a travesty/Having me, then he told the people “You can call me your majesty””. The complexity and eclecticism that DOOM imbued his lyrics with hit a new peak for hip hop as a whole on Madvillainy.

Although the partnership between MF DOOM and Madlib only resulted in Madvillainy, the influence of that lone masterwork continues to ripple throughout the underground and mainstream alike. Odd Future, Brainfeeder, Black Hippy, Pro Era, Bruiser Brigade and countless other crews, collectives, and labels were informed tremendously by the nerve this record struck. DOOM clones are still rampant, and Madlib’s anything goes crate-digging approach to sample-based composition can be heard in everyone from Kaytranada to JPEGMAFIA. There were very few records that came out this decade that drastically altered the direction for what hip hop can sound like quite like Madvillainy. DOOM and Madlib were such a perfect match for one another that neither of them have made music with anyone else before or since (or solo) that comes close to the brilliance of Madvillainy. Whether or not the two of them ever reunite to create that tantalizing follow-up seems like a coin toss, but truth be told we’re better served with things as they are. The original is still paying enormous dividends 15 years later and it’s only going to continue getting better from here.

Essentials: “All Caps”, “Figaro”, “Curls”

5. Microcastle/Weird Era Cont.- Deerhunter

No other double LP from the last decade delivered so much, or asked so little from the listener, as Deerhunter’s extraordinary Microcastle/Weird Era Cont. Originally just intended as a single LP, Bradford Cox generously recorded all of Weird Era Cont. to reward fans that purchased Microcastle after it leaked months in advance (unfortunately, Weird Era Cont. would be leaked as well). Microcastle finds the band honing their populist impulses with impeccable clarity without completely abandoning their murkier roots, while Weird Era Cont. completely dives into their stranger, more abstract realm of their sound. Each record is exceptional in its own right, but when taken together they form the perfect realization of all the sides of the band, spanning the likes of garage rock, post-punk, shoegaze, ambient, musique concrete, krautrock, and psychedelic pop while managing to make such amalgamations sound like second nature. There’s more range covered on each of these LPs than most bands manage within entire careers. While Cryptograms first showcased the seemingly limitless potential that Deerhunter was capable of, Microcastle/Weird Era Cont. proved that they were one of the defining bands of the century so far.

Microcastle is sequenced in a way that is comparable to Cryptograms, but there are just a few more bright pop moments right out of the gates before the record descends into its shorter ambient middle section. After the obligatory ambient opening interlude, this time in the form of “Cover Me (Slowly)”, Lockett Pundt begins the record proper by taking lead vocals on Cox’s “Agorophobia”. Having Lockett sing the first actual song on the record is a testament to how far their lead guitarist had come as another vocalist (and songwriter, with “Neither of Us, Uncertainly”) in such a short order. With “Agorophobia” Lockett leads one of the gentlest sounding songs that the band had released up to that point, with a disarmingly gorgeous vocal melody superbly juxtaposed against lyrics that describe the sensation of being buried alive for sexual pleasure. The sharp immediacy of “Never Stops” follows suit, and here Cox completely comes into his own a pop frontman, no longer content to wallow innocuously behind the squall of guitar distortion, and he propels the arrangements with a legitimately anthemic melody. Both “Little Kids” and the title track provide two of Cox’s most tender vocal performances up to that point while still making room for Lockett’s spellbinding guitar tones.

“Calvary Scars”, “Activa”, and “Green Jacket” aren’t quite as engaging as any of the ambient songs throughout the stretch from “White Ink” to “Red Ink” on Cryptograms, but they nonetheless draw an effective bridge to the record’s high-point, the colossal “Nothing Ever Happened”. “Nothing Ever Happened” has the band firing on all cylinders and delivering a show stopping performance that blends krautrock, garage rock, and shoegaze for a song far more satisfying and life-affirming than the sum of its parts. After that rollercoaster we’re treated to the bouncy jangle pop of “Saved by Old Times”, and the soothing dream pop of comedowns “Neither of Us, Certainly” and “Twilight at Carbon Lake” before the later erupts into a cacophony of jerky guitar spasms. It’s a welcome ending for a record with such a clear emphasis on melody, and it reinforces the notion that you shouldn’t get too comfortable with any fixed idea of what Deerhunter sound like at any given point in time.

Weird Era Cont. is where things really get interesting. It’s the only album of theirs that includes songs that were recorded and performed by individual members of the band intended for their various solo projects (these being Bradford Cox’s Atlas Sound and Lockett Pundt’s Lotus Plaza). The album as a whole hews closest to the first Atlas Sound LP, Let the Blind Lead Those Who Can See but Cannot Feel, in that both are absolute treasure troves of sonic riches that prioritize pure sound and overall immersion above proper song structure. The fact that Weird Era Cont. is so disparate and yet hangs together so cohesively is as much a testament to Deerhunter’s discipline as it is their sheer intuition with respect to flow and pacing even amongst such inherent disorder. And so here you get the raucous garage rock anthem “Operation” colliding into the noise-pop gem “Dot Gain”, the ambient interlude “Cicada” seeping right into the twisted ethereal waltz “Vox Humana”, and the whirring instrumental collage pop “Moon Witch Cartridge” segueing nicely into the droning noise of “Weird Era”. While Weird Era Cont. is only strengthened when viewed through the lens of it existing as the flip side to Microcastle’s warped pop, it still provides a welcome microcosm of Deerhunter’s incredible range all on its own, and it’s the most adventurous record that Deerhunter ever recorded.

Due to the fact that Microcastle and Weird Era Cont. are both Deerhunter records, the lyrics deal almost entirely with dreams and death. Most of the characters that occupy these songs are trying to escape from their nightmares or literally sacrificing themselves for the sweet ecstasy of oblivion. A version of “Cavalry Scars” appears on both records, the former a brief guitar lullaby and the latter a blistering shoegaze freakout, but the constant thread that ties them together aside from the title is that the narrator is crucifying himself in front of all of his friends. “Saved By Old Times” is more literal, and it depicts the alienation that Cox experienced growing up in his parents house by himself after his parents divorced while trying to cope with his Marfan Syndrome “You are trapped in your basement for a war of 16 years/In a combat for victory/In a combat with ourselves/In combat with these cultural vampires”. Cox’s fixation on death seems to serve as the ultimate salve for his lifelong struggle with simply having to exist, and regardless of whether or not music functions as a temporary solution for his anguish it’s clearly a natural medium for him to exercise his demons. Deerhunter have spent the rest of their career honing in on that release, but Microcastle/Weird Era Cont. is where those fixations first crystallized into something truly singular.

Essentials: “Nothing Ever Happened”, “Never Stops”, “Microcastle”, “Vox Celeste”, “Dot Gain”, “Slow Swords”

4. Strawberry Jam- Animal Collective

Strawberry Jam was the first Animal Collective record to have been released after band member Panda Bear’s exceptional solo breakthrough, Person Pitch, so for the first time in their career there was an obvious precedent in place for where the tight knight crew of David Portner (Avey Tare), Panda Bear (Noah Lennox), Geologist (Brian Weitz), and Josh Dibb (Deakin) might take their sound, but like all their prior records it sounds nothing like anything that came before it. Having completely moved on from the full-band analog approach, SJ is the sound of a band moving fearlessly outside of their comfort zone and harnessing the immense potential of samplers. On the whole, the compositions are more richly textured, melodic, and better paced than the bulk of their past work. The band continued to incorporate field recordings into their music, but given the prevalence of the samples happening at all times it can be difficult to parse who’s doing anything other than percussion and vocals at any given point in time. Avey’s presence dominates SJ to a large degree, with his idiosyncratic approach to melody defining the bulk of the standouts here. But despite Tare’s voice being the focal point on most of the songs on SJ, Panda Bear still holds his own as a songwriter throughout, and his softer melodic tone helped superbly counterbalance Tare’s outbursts. On SJ you can hear the band bending the fabric of pop music to their will in real time, and it remains both a masterclass in warped pop, and a joy to revisit time and time again.

During the tour in support of their incredible 2005 psych-rock LP, Feels, Lennox was mesmerized by the look of a tray of inflight jam, and decided that the production on their next record should sound the way that the jam looked. On SJ the band capture that superbly as they deliver some of their strongest, and sweetest melodies coupled with Avey’s most abrasive, and expressive singing to date. This tug of war between the band’s heightened melodic instincts driving candy-coated, psychedelic arrangements against Tare’s octave leaping shrieks provides an entrancing juxtaposition that loses none of its potency from the frantic opening song “Peacebone”, to the longing closer “Derek”. Songs like “Chores” and the aforementioned “Derek”, both of which are Panda songs, execute sublime, unpredictable transitions midway through that demonstrate both his knack for sample-based composition and the West-African influence on his songwriting that really congealed in earnest on PP. Meanwhile Tare songs, like “Unsolved Mysteries” and “Cuckoo Cuckoo”, still favored conventional chord changes and verse-chorus-verse structures, but they managed to pack the hallmarks of the band’s sound into much more succinct packages that don’t nullify any of the impact. Neo-psychedelic synth textures, tribal drumming, choirboy vocal harmonies, feral shrieks, and a pervasive use of space still reigned supreme throughout SJ, but the band were crafting legitimate pop songs while still in service of their wonderful idiosyncrasies. Nothing on SJ could be mistaken for the work of any other band, but it’s remarkable to hear just how significantly they tightened up their arrangements while still still remaining an island unto themselves.

As soon as opener “Peacebone” kicks into gear with its stomping percussion and dazzling array of arpeggio synth leads setting the foundation for Avey’s full-throttled yelps, it’s clear that this is his record. At the time of its release, “Peacebone” was the most immediate that AC ever sounded, but Tare’s shrieks kept listeners giddily at arm’s length even as they adopt more approachable structures. The midsection breakdown is still thrilling, and a good barometer of whether or not SJ is really your cup of tea or not. “Unsolved Mysteries” follows suit and doubles down on the pervading sense of whimsy from a compositional standpoint, and Tare’s vocals continue to provide a satisfying juxtaposition. The backbone of the album consists of “For Reverend Green” and “Fireworks”, the strongest back to back songs on any of their albums. On “For Reverend Green” Tare provides one of his most thrilling vocal performances to date, gleefully leaping between octaves mid-verse and switching between cathartic wordless croons and feral shrieks on a dime. It’s a stunning display of virtuosity and passion that couldn’t have come from any other musician. “Fireworks” is one of Tare’s most tender vocal performances to date, and it finds him contemplating the cycle of life as well as his place in the world over stuttering percussion, wordless croons, mesmerizing field recordings, and minor key piano. It’s a touching, albeit heavy listen, but the band play with such joy and warmth that it never suffocates under the weight of its ambition, and it’s one of the greatest songs that Tare has ever written.

Despite SJ being an album dominated by Tare’s presence it was still a major showcase for Panda Bear as a songwriter in his own right. “Chores” nails the sort of transitional finesse perfected on PP as it starts from a frantic intro dominated by bass drums and noisemakers before seamlessly shifting into a brief droning mid-section and then ending on a psychedelic, West-African influenced march. The disparate movements sound nothing alike one another, but they’re stitched together in a way that not only flows incredibly well, but sounds completely natural. “#1” is the closest that the band get to one of their signature drone compositions, and although it’s far sparser, and not nearly as developed as most of their prior ones it works on the strength on Panda’s gorgeous vocals alone. The arpeggio synth melody, sleigh bells, and vocal samples provide a refreshing minimal framework on an album otherwise defined by maximalism, and gives Panda’s voice the kind of room necessitated for it to achieve its maximum impact. The finale, “Derek”, also clearly sprang from a PP compositional influence, with an intro full of chirping synths and tranquil organ chords that slowly give way to an explosive, double kick drum wall of sound beneath one of Panda’s most triumphant vocal melodies to date. It’s a massive sound, but his sentiments couldn’t be any more tender “You can count/When you count/Count on me/What do you/See when you/See inside of me”.

On SJ AC grapple with their adulthood, their lives as touring band, and the daily routines they now find themselves entwined in. Panda’s “Chores” is about him getting his chores out of the way so that he can get high in the rain while his closing contribution, “Derek”, finds him pondering the weight of having a living being depend on him for survival. None of Avey’s songs have the the playful energy of “Chores”, and he spends the album delivering a stream of consciousness on the nature of death (“Cucko Cucko), exploring the delusions that we buy into to feel okay about life (“Winter Wonder Land”), and the futility of living in the past (“Peacebone”). In addition to to being compositional standouts, “For Reverend Green” and “Fireworks” also form the emotional backbone of the album. The former explores the jovial existence of childhood against the crippling realities of adulthood “A running child’s bloody with burning knees/A careless child’s money flew in the trees/A camping child’s happy with winter’s freeze/A lucky child don’t know how lucky she is”. It almost plays like a spiritual successor to Tare’s masterful early song “Alvin Row”, and it perfectly exemplifies their ethos as a band. On “Fireworks” Tare contemplates the passage of time, acknowledging how quickly everything moves, and fantasizes about what bliss might look like to him “It’s family beaches that I desire/Sacred night where we watch the fireworks/They frighten the babies and you know/They’ve got two/Flashing eyes and if they’re color blind/They make me feel/That I’m all I see sometimes”. It’s a universal sentiment delivered with their singular charm, and one of their strongest statements to date.

On SJ AC retained their idiosyncratic whims and experimental proclivities, they just learned how to harness these elements into more immediate forms. As with each of their records released throughout the last decade SJ sounds nothing like what preceded it, but it’s too eclectic to be the work of any other band, and despite the shift in sonics it still operates by the dreamy logic that the band imbued it with. Each release following Danse Manatee has found the band creeping closer to full on pop, and although they embraced it unabashedly on SJ it’s still on their own terms entirely. SJ was the latest in a progression of records since Ark that found AC being ahead of the curve of several indie trends, and many of the sample-heavy indie acts throughout the end of the last decade owe their careers to this record. SJ isn’t AC’s most immediate record, nor is it their most challenging, but it is one of the most inspired developments within their progression, and it jump started their sample-based mature phase. MPP remains their most celebrated work, but the crystallization of their sound that took place on that record wouldn’t have been possible without the groundwork laid by SJ. Although SJ was overshadowed by PP the year that they both came out, SJ still stands as the best showcase of the band’s work with samplers, and it remains a landmark of experimental pop music.

Essentials: “For Reverend Green”, “Fireworks”, “Derek”

3. Kid A- Radiohead

Few artists have managed to make such a drastic leap in sound on any of their records the way that Radiohead did with Kid A. Throughout the 90s they developed organically from a run of the mill Brit pop band into one of the most idiosyncratic and forward thinking bands of all time. With their landmark 1998 record Ok Computer they created a blueprint for a form electronic rock equally informed by classical music and the various strains of experimental electronic music that emerged in the 90s courtesy of the likes of Aphex Twin, Boards of Canada, and Autechre. By the time that they were gearing up to record the follow-up to what was then unanimously recognized as their masterpiece they disavowed the form of rock music entirely. On Kid A the guitars are stripped away in favor of icy keyboards and the austere glare of syntheizers, with the stark precision of drum machines deployed to provide the heartbeat for their desolate soundscapes. The risk paid off immensely, resulting in a work that sounds like nothing that’s come before or since. It’s the sound of a band grappling with existentialism, early information overload, and the sweeping saturation of advanced technology and responding with doomsday prophecies that sound more prescient with each passing year. No other record released this century has better set the tone for everything to come quite the way that Kid A has.

As soon as Kid A’s opening song “Everything In It’s Right Place” begins it’s undeniable that a great deal has changed with Radiohead this time around. Despite the chilly exterior that Ok Computer exudes, there are still moments of melodic warmth such as on its opening cut “Airbag”. “Everything In It’s Right Place” presents an uneasy atmosphere at the offset, and things gradually become more foreboding from there. Thom Yorke’s heavily manipulated wail sounds like it’s glitching as it soars over the horizon of digital keys and kick drums. The mix slowly becomes an overwhelming wall of vocals and keys that form a repetitive bludgeoning motif, incorporating their heightened love of krautrock. Along with the classical music and IDM touchstones that informed Ok Computer, krautrock, jazz, and ambient were large influences they drew from as well. The title track follows “Everything In It’s Right Place”, and it’s an ambient lullaby that finds the band prioritizing atmosphere and texture over any semblance of conventional composition. On the following song, “The National Anthem” the band spiral into a propulsive epic that fuses jazz and krautrock into something else entirely. The first three songs sound nothing like one another, and in addition to the late album IDM stomp of “Idioteque”, they set the parameters for the record as a whole.

Despite the variety on display throughout Kid A it still achieves a remarkable cohesiveness through tone and atmosphere. Every song is masterfully paced, and exquisitely produced, and most blow open their sonic parameters further then they’ve ever dared before or since. “Optimistic” is one of the few songs here that hints at the sort of driving guitar compositions they prioritized early on, but when coupled with the forlorn melody and the eerie synth loops it almost sounds like an unsettling throwback that achieves a sense of perpetual weightlessness. “Treefingers” dives headfirst into ambient, and is one of the most gorgeous instrumental compositions that Radiohead have ever written. It also provides a superb bridge from the existential acoustic reverie “How to Disappear Completely” into the moody lurch of “Optimistic”. “Idioteque” is the pounding heart of Kid A’s detached overlook, but despite being the closest the album comes to a single it’s still claustrophobic and uninhabitable. After several songs that aim to instill dread and discomfort at every turn, the album’s last proper song “Motion Picture Soundtrack” ends things with a gorgeous harp arpeggio set against an organ wail as Yorke sings softly about a suicide fantasy. All these years later and Kid A continues to hold together as an astonishing collection of experiments from a band at the height of their powers.

Emerging at the dawn of the current century, Kid A didn’t commit to any pretenses of subtlety whatsoever, particularly with respect to its thematic concerns. On “Everything In It’s Right Place” Yorke lays out his perception of the state of a world laced with depression, anxiety, fear, and disconnection “There are two colours in my head/What was that you tried to say” informed by a breakdown that he experienced while touring Ok Computer. “How to Disappear Completely” takes the form of an out-of-body experience with a narrator thoroughly disillusioned with his life and ready to precede to the next plane of existence “In a little while/I’ll be gone/The moment’s already passed/Yeah, it’s gone”. “In Limbo” traffics in pure abstraction as the narrator wanders aimlessly throughout life unable to escape from his fantasies “I’m lost at sea/Don’t bother me/I’ve lost my way” while “Morning Bell” depicts a lingering spirit that supposedly resided in a house that Yorke used to own “The lights are on but nobody’s home/Nobody wants to be a slave”. The aforementioned “Motion Picture Soundtrack” provides a superb ending to the album rendered in bleak, cutting detail “Red wine and sleeping pills/Help me get back to your arms/Cheap sex and sad films/Help me get where I belong”, and it culmines with the narrator easing into suicide. The songs portray a grim culture of isolation and pacification that we’re much closer to living than we were when the album came out.

A year after Kid A Radiohead returned with their fifth LP, Amnesiac, but it mostly plays like a well-sequenced collection of thoughtfully repurposed leftovers from the Kid A sessions. Several great records followed suit, the latest being their sublime 2016 LP A Moon Shaped Pool, while various members of the band have spun off to focus on solo careers and film scores. Radiohead have never released anything less than a good record, but nothing since Kid A has come close to capturing the consistent brilliance of that record. The paranoia, uncertainty, and disillusionment that was pervasive at the turn of the century is rendered remarkably through their stark arrangements, liberal use of space, and distant temperament. The shift in Radiohead’s trajectory following Kid A was so pronounced that a band releasing their Kid A has become shorthand for the sort of dramatic, swinging for the fences left turn that's all too rare in music these days. While it’s almost certain that Radiohead will never release anything of this magnitude again, Kid A has held up incredibly well, and it continues to loom large as a relic of an already bygone era defined by a sense of wonder slowly being crippled beneath the weight of an encroaching dystopia.

Essentials: “Everything In It’s Right Place”, “The National Anthem”, “Optimistic”

2. Feels- Animal Collective

While Sung Tongs was the true breakout record for Animal Collective, Feels was where the band locked in as a full group to showcase that the remarkable melodic warmth peeking out through their intrinsic weirdness was far from a fluke. Avey Tare, Panda Bear, Geologist, and Deakin had all come together once before for Ark two years prior, but the pop craftsmanship, confidence, consistency, and sheer range displayed on Feels are worlds apart from the unsettling, freak-folk noise collages that define Ark. Psychedelia and drone music are still large facets of their sound, but they hadn’t previously been utilized to reinforce such strong song craft. Having moved beyond their freak-folk and noise roots, Feels was a departure towards presenting themselves as more of a conventional rock band, and it’s still the closest they’ve ever come to releasing any semblance of a traditional “rock” LP, but true to form Feels defies any easy classification. Guitars, drums, piano, and vocals dominate the proceedings to be sure, but so do dense field recordings, and otherworldly drones, particularly on the record’s spellbinding second half. While perhaps not their most adventurous, nor their most unpredictable record, Feels is certainly their most consistent, offering a glimpse of a band still changing dramatically from record to record while offering far more than any of their peers.

Since Feels was only the second album of theirs to feature all four members by that point it’s a far more fleshed out sounding record than the bulk of those that preceded it. Both Avey and Deakin play guitar throughout, and Avey typically played lead while Deakin provided a warm melodic underpinning. Feels was the last record to feature Panda Bear behind the kit until Centipede Hz, and his drumming is some of the best that he’s ever recorded, alternating from frantic tribal percussion on “The Purple Bottle” to serene minimalist rolls on “Loch Raven” and everything in-between. Geologist’s superb use of texture hit a new peak here, particularly throughout the dreamier compositions that made up side B. Tare’s singing is anything but conventional, swinging wildly between octaves mid-measure, and flipping from tender croons to blood-curdling shrieks on a dime. Panda’s vocals continued to play a larger role in their music, and throughout Feels his voice acts most frequently as additional texture that lends their music an ethereal glow. In addition to larger contributions from all of the members besides Tare no other record of theirs features as much from outside collaborators. The piano playing courtesy of Doctress (who was married to Tare at the time) and the violin playing courtesy of Eyvind Kang add quite a bit of unexpected dimension that evens out the record’s more warped leanings. Despite everything that’s going on the instruments all have quite a bit of breathing room thanks to the record’s superb mixing and pacing. No single element ever dominates, and the amount of variation on display is a marvel.

Feels tells you everything that you need to know about its sentiments in the title alone. From the opening track “Did You See the Words” all the way through to the closer “Turn Into Something”, the band chronicle the euphoria of falling in love on the first side, and detail the poignancy of enduring heartbreak on the second side. With the exception of the superb, droning breather “Flesh Canoe”, that bridges the adrenaline burst of “Grass” to the grand, propulsive shuffle of “The Purple Bottle” the first side translates the euphoria of falling in love with infectious giddiness. It’s here where Avey’s delivery is at his most delirious and unpredictable, and he provides two of his greatest vocal performances with “Did You See the Words” and “The Purple Bottle”. “Did You See the Words” establishes the scope of the record as Tare recites the sparks that led to the relationship with keen details “Have you seen them?/The words cut open/Your poor intestines can’t deny/When the inky periods drip from your mailbox and/Blood flies dip and glide reach down inside/There’s something living in these lines” as his voice enthusiastically zig-zags around Panda’s minimalist tribal percussion. “The Purple Bottle” articulates the pure bliss of a relationship in its honeymoon phase, and features what’s quite possibly the most expressive vocal performance of Tare’s to date as he fantasizes about a future with his girlfriend “Well I’d like to spread your perfume around the old apartment/Could we live together and agree on the same wares/A trapeze is a bird cage and even if its empty it definitely fits the room/And we would too”. Naturally, things take a turn for the worse.

Side B is what really elevates Feels to a classic, and it’s the strongest stretch of songs that AC have ever recorded. Even though “Bees” is technically the conclusion of side A, tonally, and especially sonically, it fits far better with the rest of side B. Over chiming autoharp drones and sprinkles of piano, Avey depicts the calm before the storm “They came wide/So wild, the bees/They came crying/They said, “I’d take my time/You take your time/Please take your time”” as Panda’s angelic croon glides across the mix like a mirage. It’s a breathtaking moment of mesmerizing tranquility that emerges just before the clouds begin to take shape. We then transition into “Banshee Beat”, the centerpiece of Feels, and arguably one of the best songs that the band ever recorded. On “Banshee Beat” Avey depicts how his relationship fell apart after he learned that his girlfriend cheated on him, and every second of the sublime, nearly 8-and-a-half-minute song is necessary. “Banshee Beat” opens to wispy trails of droning guitar and brief spurts of piano as Avey solemnly sets the tone “Oh there’ll be time, to get by, to get dry, after the swimming pool/Oh there’ll be time, to just cry, I wonder why, it didn’t work out”. The song then slowly builds up steam as melodic guitar chords cut through the drone set against Panda’s nimble, chugging rhythm. Avey looks back on the memories that he and his ex had together, and despite his sorrow, he comes to the conclusion that he’s far better off without her in his life, and the song reaches a cathartic coda that features wordless harmonies between him and Panda as the song spirals into silence.

After “Banshee Beat” we’re led into “Daffy Duck”, the record’s most surreal, structure-less drone song. The guitar textures that Deakin provides here are some of the most immersive in their discography, and Avey’s at his most abstract “And if I had volcano boots/For swimming in volcanoes/Do you know the origins of laughing ducks?/Oh what’s a matter with those words”. It plays like a dream sequence that emerges right at the tail-end of the glowing resolution from “Banshee Beat” right into “Loch Raven”, one of the record’s other high-points. “Loch Raven” is perhaps the closest that AC have come to writing a straight-up lullaby, and it’s equally haunting and life-affirming thanks to the understated melodic sweep and soft, high-pitched textures that wafts through every corner of the mix. Panda’s honeyed tenor is unbearably tender as he repeatedly sings “I will not give up on you” juxtaposed against Avey referencing lines from Little Red Riding Hood that contextualize his cheating partner as the wolf plotting her deception. It’s truly something that couldn’t have been written by any other band, and it’s the last completely ambient song on the second side before the explosive finale, “Turn Into Something”. “Turn Into Something” is a classic sounding AC song, defined by explosive yelps from Avey alongside droning guitar, sprightly piano, and a bouncy floor-tom beat courtesy of Panda. At the 4-minute mark everything breaks apart and the song transitions into a ambient conclusion with Tare and Bear’s vocals floating through the ether as the droning guitars chime around them. It’s just as effective as a conclusion to Feels as it is an entry point into their work as a whole.

Merriweather Post Pavilion is easily the most successful record that AC have ever released, and most critics will tell you that it’s their best work, but it doesn’t come close to Feels across most conceivable metrics. Feels is the sound of the band firing on all cylinders, having developed exponentially as musicians and songwriters within the span of just five years. It didn’t push their sound forward quite as much as Strawberry Jam, nor did it signal quite as dramatic a leap in song craft as ST, but no other record of theirs succeeds in tackling so much ground with such remarkable consistency across the board. Feels was the last record that AC released before Panda Bear’s landmark solo LP Person Pitch irreversibly changed the entire trajectory of indie music, and influenced them to begin using samplers as the focal point of their compositions over guitars. Like all of their great records from Ark onwards, there are traces of everything that they had done prior on Feels, but listening to this record still leaves the impression that they could truly go anywhere. With almost any other band that’s ever existed, that claim is mostly disingenuous, but up until Centipede Hz the possibilities for AC truly seemed limitless, and that unprecedented unpredictability remains a key component of their appeal to this day. No 2 of their 10 records sound alike, and while they’ll almost certainly never again release anything that comes close to touching the pure bliss of Feels, the magic of this record is still an absolute marvel to revisit every time.

Essentials: “Banshee Beat”, “Loch Raven”, “The Purple Bottle”

1. Person Pitch- Panda Bear

By the time that Panda Bear (aka Noah Lennox) released Person Pitch he had moved from Brooklyn, New York to Lisbon, Portugal, gotten married, and his band Animal Collective were rapidly growing into one of the defining bands of the 21st century, but even knowing all the ground that they covered in such a short span could hardly have prepared anyone for anything as singular as PP. The last solo record that Panda released prior to PP was his gorgeous, yet devastatingly poignant 2004 folk record Young Prayer, a tribute to his late father who passed that same year from brain cancer. On PP the analog instrumentation that defined YP and Panda’s past work with AC was opted out entirely in favor of compositional approach informed by plunderphonics that was spurred by his increasing fondness of producers like Madlib, and his formative musical influences like GAS, The Orb, and Daft Punk. The end result is a remarkably rendered patchwork of disparate sounds that span the scope of recorded music history tied together with Panda’s signature tenor, and his sharp ear for sequencing. While PP isn’t technically a plunderphonics record due to the incorporation of Panda’s vocals recorded fresh for these compositions, it’s still more wide-ranging, and superbly realized than any plunderphonics record released before or since. PP went on to completely shift the trajectory of indie music in the years since its release, and very few artists have managed to release an album that matches the scope of this dazzling breakthrough since.

PP is superbly sequenced into seven songs, two of which broach the 12-minute mark, with well-placed comedowns emerging right after the epics. The songs consist of loops cherry-picked from old records that Panda was exposed to during his time working at the Other Music record store in Brooklyn throughout the early aughts. The music shifts and contorts on a whim, segueing through different motifs with acute finesse while drawing through lines between various eras of music that may have been previously unthinkable, but nonetheless seem to sound like natural evolutions in Panda’s hands. Nothing sounds out of placed or forced because of the careful sequencing, and the precise tweaking of the samples that are being deployed. The opening song “Comfy in Nautica” perfectly sets the tone as a choir of vocals descend upon what sounds like an ascending roller coaster, and samples of racing cars. The construction is simple, but striking, and the tone he achieves is one of pure humility established with his homespun mantras of self-preservation “Coolness is having courage/Courage to do what’s right/Try to remember always/ Just to have a good time”. Whether it’s the dreamlike glide of “I’m Not”, or the cozy, glowing conclusion “Ponytail” the samples that Panda utilizes perfectly achieve the aesthetics of what the songs themselves are striving for. Everything is meticulously placed, and a single shift would disrupt the lean symmetry of the whole.

Nothing on PP underwhelms, but the high points are among the most remarkable achievements throughout the history of sample-based composition. “Take Pills” starts with what sounds like a lumbering stroll along a cobblestone road with percussion cribbed from Scott Walker’s “Always Coming Back to You” as Panda’s sighs guide the caravan forward unassumingly, but after several minutes the song transitions smoothly into jaunty surf rock propelled by a sample courtesy of “The Popeye Twist” by The Tornadoes. The shift is immense, but nothing about it scans as gimmicky or unnatural, and the ease with which the song transitions belies the ingenuity on display. “Bros”, almost certainly the most celebrated song of Panda Bear’s solo career, is a masterful 12 and a half minute tour de force that cycles through various eras of pop music’s history with the sharp precision of DJ set. Beginning with another sample from The Tornadoes (this time in the form of “Red Roses and a Sky of Blue”), “Bros” establishes a merry-go-round framework that never manages to sound stale within the course of its 12 and a half minutes. The acoustic guitar thrust sampled off of Cat Steven’s “I’ve Found a Love” alongside Panda’s harmonies that forever recall those of Brian Wilson propel the second act of “Bros” up until its life-affirming third act that gets a great deal of mileage out of a sampled vocal loop from The Equal’s “Rub a dub dub”. PP’s other epic, “Good Girl / Carrots”, spends its first 3 minutes spiraling through a dub freakout that eventually folds neatly into a rousing, spring-loaded midsection featuring some of the finest melodies that Panda has ever sung. As the song transitions into its carnival-esque, music box final act with a sample from Kraftwerk’s “Ananas Symphonie” Panda caps things off with a rejection of the sort of music nerd hive fandom that helped propel him to such heights in the first place as noisemakers soar along the periphery of the mix. The peaks of “Bros” and “Good Girl / Carrots” are astonishing, and those two songs alone cemented Panda Bear’s status at the vanguard of sample-based composition.

The lyrics throughout PP are heartfelt admissions from someone whose life had undergone massive shifts within the few years leading up to it. The release of AC’s landmark LP Sung Tongs in 2004 allowed him and the rest of AC to begin sustaining a career in music, and that very same year his father died, he decided to move from New York to Portugal after falling in love with a woman while on vacation from tour, and he soon after married her. The warmth seeping out of the music on PP reflects the atmosphere that Panda suddenly found himself immersed in much in the same way that AC’s superb 2003 record Ark was informed by the chaos of their lives in Brooklyn. “Take Pills” grapples with the history of Panda’s family’s reliance on anti-depressants “Take one day at a time/Everything else you can leave behind/Only one thing at a time/Anything more really hurts your mind”. “Bros” is a plea to his brother Matt for space to live his own life in the wake of their father’s passing “I’m not trying to forget you/I just like to be alone/Come and give me the space I need/And you may you may you may you may/You may find that we’re alright” while on “Good Girl / Carrots” Panda’s taking taste makers to task for trying to instill a false sense of superiority over those who aren’t as informed on underground music “Get your head out from those mags and websites who try to shape your style/Take a risk yourself and wade into the deep end of the ocean”. On the album’s closer, “Ponytail”, Panda offers up little more than “When my soul starts knowing/I am as I’d want to be/And I know I never will stop caring”, but it’s a perfectly fitting conclusion to the record, and as sincere a sentiment as anything I’ve heard on any album. The overwhelming sincerity of the music is tempered by a beyond-his-years wisdom that’s well-earned and deeply empathetic.

Panda Bear released three solo LPs following PP, and the approach on this record has gone on to inform all of the AC records that have followed in its wake. The influence of this record simply cannot be overstated. As easy as it is to roll your eyes at chillwave and the “vibe” generation, everyone from Tame Impala to Travis Scott owes an enormous debt to Panda Bear. As the bulk of their peers began to stick to their respective lanes Panda and the rest of AC continued to swing wildly between trends and genres throughout the last decade, leaving their stamp on various forms before pivoting wildly to where their muses led them next. Thankfully, Panda has continued to push his sound forward throughout his solo career as well, and even when returning to sample-based composition for his stellar 2015 fifth solo record, Panda Bear Meets the Grim Reaper, it marked a clear shift towards the influence of hip-hop and house, and away from the minimal techno meets psychedelic guitar pop that PP favored in abundance. No musical artist throughout the 21st century has covered as much ground as consistently or as impressively as Panda Bear, and PP still stands as one of the few truly idiosyncratic statements from any artist throughout the last decade. It’s aged tremendously well in the years since its release, and it still presents a disarmingly well-realized euphoria that couldn’t sound more radical in the moody, deconstructed landscape of music that has defined this current decade.

Essentials: “Bros”, “Good Girl / Carrots”, “Take Pills”