#to be forever remembered in the place you grew up...wow

[ratatatastic]

i hope no one ever gets tired of we are the champions being played at every cup party because you will not be disappointed

and more importantly they named a rink in vuorela siilinjärvi after him hence eetu luostarinen areena <3

Luosty Cup Day | 8.5.24

[doki-doki-imagines]

Hello! I came up with an idea for bi-han and Tomas. What would your reaction be like waking up naked next to your secret crush? As if they had a dinner with more friends the night before and they overindulged in alcohol, which led them to this situation. You don't have to do it if you don't want to ;)

bonus at the end!

Bi-Han: -Waking up with a headache pounding in your head is already terrible. -But also turning around and having your crush face at one inch of distance, nose already brushing against each other, is a heart attack inducing experience. -You don't scream, soul already left your body long ago, but you stop breathing, worried you may wake up the grumpy grandmaster. -You don't remember anything about the previous night, but you still have clothes on. -But these aren't yours. -This is gonna be remembered as the day you grew more than one lock of white hair. -You spot your clothes on a chair, so you lift up slowly as you can, trying to regain your clothes and possibly disappear without leaving any trace. Forever. -"What do you think you are doing?" It's a voice you recognize way too well. The clearness of it not matching the owner face, tho. Eyes half closed and hair perfect as a nest. His very cold hand grabbed your ankle, stopping you in your place. "Home? Under the ground? Disappear?" -Now he looks better at you, onyx eyes piercing your body, mouth slightly open trying to elaborate your words, like you just said the dumbest thing on the planet. -"Nothing happened yesterday night, go back to sleep." "Can you elaborate a bit more?" You politely ask, still not feeling same. -"Yesterday you got drunk like a some dumb teenager and never stopped clinging to me. I just helped you." He groans, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "Why am I wearing your clothes then?" "You poured your nth drink on yourself, and I didn't want your dirty and sticky clothes in my bed." "Oh." A few seconds of silence, his hand now pulling your ankle towards the bed, getting more forceful. -"So, you took care of me! You have a soft spot for me!" You shout in excitement, making Bi-Han groan again "Ohhh do you have a crush for me, Grandmaster?" His pillow hit you straight in the face. -There must still be alcohol running in your blood because you would never be so brave in daily life. -"Don't worry, it's the same for me!" And something clicks in Bi-Han's mind, you see it in his eyes, now awake, mouth slightly open; he almost looks awestruck. -"Go back. It's too early now." He grumbles back, eyes close again and head on his pillow, yours thrown somewhere in the room after hitting your face. -You plop next to him immediately. After all those trainings, you are sure he wouldn't mind if you use his biceps as a pillow.

Tomas Vrbada: -You wake up in his arms, trapped in his hold. Not because he is actually holding you, his arms are simply heavy, and you are too tired to move them. -You want to die, worm your way out of his bed, and pop away in a cloud of smoke. -Maybe your thoughts are too loud, and soon you hear a groan, greyish eyes now open, looking straight into yours. -"Oh! Eheh. Seems like we got closer again while sleeping." You gulp, your mouth still dry. "What happened yesterday?" -You sit up, and he follows you, trying to keep the same eye level. "It was an…intense night. Maybe it's better if we talk in the kitchen." You nod. "The? Coffee?" You tell him your choice, now you are standing up, noticing that you aren't wearing the clothes of yesterday night, but what it seems a layer of Tomas' usual suit. -"Yesterday you drank too much, and kept clinging on me." "…" "Then when I brang you to my house, you poured on your clothes the water I gave you." "Wow I was a fucking mess." "Well I can't say the opposite. That's why you are wearing a part of my suit." Tomas says, turning sideways. There a fat red hickey catches your attention. -"I must have ruined your fun." You say, chuckling with death in your heart. "What do you mean?" He replies, furrowing his eyebrows. You point at your neck, where his hickey should be. His eyes widened before looking down bashfully, making you feel even worse. -"This…you made this." -WHAT. It's the turn of your eyes to widen. "You were a bit touchy-feely yesterday." -You felt like barfing, and not for the alcohol. "This is terrible Tomas! I'm so sorry." You say, voice full of sorrow for your actions. "D-Don't worry. But you need to promise me this-" "I swear I'll never drink again, I'll never bother youo, I-" "No, please listen. I think we need a bit of distance between us." -Straight to your heart. Hit and sunk. -"Don't misunderstand. I-I have a crush on you." Tomas says holding your hand, but eyes still on the ground. "Yesterday hurt like nothing else. I wanted to kiss you back and love you. But I didn't want to take advantage of you. It just isn't right." Now his grey eyes look back into yours, expression serious. -"I don't want our friendship to be ruined because of my feelings-" "I like you back." Tomas' mouth hangs open. You don't give him the time to reply. "I have been for a long time. That must be why I kept clinging to you yesterday. Now, if you want distance because I did something wrong I agree with you. But if you want distance because your crush may not be reciprocated, I have to deny your request." Your head still hurts like crazy and you don't know with which strength you are able to talk with such determination in your voice. -Now both your hands holding. Heart beating in unison. -"N-No, I mean. It's the second case. Like…do you really have a crush on me?" Tomas's cheeks get more and more red each second going by. His voice a bit higher than usual. "I do." -He releases your hands, now covering his face. "I can't believe this. You really have a crush on me?" "If you ask again I may change my mind." "No! Okay, you have a crush on me." "I do. You too?" "Absolutely." -"So…don't I look cute?" You say twirling around, his suit fluttering when you twirl on your place. "Yes, you do." He finally looks at you, but looks at you for real. Your bedhair, makeup smudged and his suit makes you look absurdly cute. -"Don't you think cute things should be kissed?" He nods. "Tomas?" "Mh?" He replies, mind clearly elsewhere. "Kiss me." This time the message was delivered. -Thankfully you both forgot to have morning breath.

bonus under the read more!

I know that with "you" you meant the reader, not my opinion in waking up in such a scenario, so I'm gonna write down here what I would do LOL.

Bi-Han: I can't believe that I would sleep with him even if intoxicated. But if it happeend I'll just crawl away and hope to never see him again. If he notices me I'd say something along the "I thought you were Johnny Cage". At that point I'm sure that I would be able to exit his house, dead or alive. Probably dead.

Tomas: Oh-I forgot what happened, maybe we should remake what happened yesterday night *twirling hair*. Maybe once won't be enough? Let's go for twice. You know what? Three is the perfect number, are you ready. 1-2-3 go!

[serendipityf1]

Blossoms : Oscar Piastri x Reader

requests open!

It was a regular day in your life as a florist.

The air was crisp and fresh, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers from the garden out back. 

Inside, the shop was quiet, the displays of colorful blooms waiting to be arranged into beautiful bouquets. The soft hum of the fridge keeping the flowers fresh being the only sound. 

The small bell above the door chimed as a new customer entered your flower shop. You looked up from arranging a bouquet, smiling warmly at the young man who had just stepped in. He had an air of casual confidence, dressed in a simple but stylish outfit. 

"Hi there," you greeted. "How can I help you today?"

Oscar returned the smile, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "I'm looking for a bouquet for my mom's birthday. Something special."

"Sure!" you chime, with a smile, stepping around the counter.

 "What kind of flowers does she like? Any specifications?"

"She loves vibrant colors and anything that has a nice fragrance," the customer said, glancing around at the various arrangements.

You guided him through the shop, pointing out different flowers and suggesting combinations. "How about some lilies and roses? They have a beautiful fragrance and come in a variety of colors."

The customer, who didn't introduce himself yet, due to obvious reasons, was gazing at you for long, you being oblivious to it. He was also finding it cute and peaceful that you were not able to recognize him. Oscar Piastri. The famous Formula One Racer.

Oscar nodded, impressed by your knowledge and the way you seemed to genuinely care about helping him find the perfect bouquet. "That sounds great. Let's go with that."

He would have bought those wildflowers too, if you had insisted for those.

As you worked on the arrangement, while attending to the few customers in there,  he couldn't help but but be in awe of way you interacted with your customers. There was something refreshing about your presence, a stark contrast to the fast-paced world he was used to. You felt like a calm breeze.

He found himself returning to the shop more often, initially with the excuse of needing flowers for various occasions, but soon it��became clear that he simply enjoyed spending time with you. You shared stories, laughed together, and he appreciated the calm and comfort your presence brought, and the coffee you made for him.

One day, as you were chatting while arranging a bouquet, you finally asked, "So, Oscar, what do you do for a living?"

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, the tip of his ears turning red, "Well, I’m actually a Formula 1 driver."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Really? Wow, I had no idea! That's amazing! Actually I'm not really into-"

Oscar smiled, feeling a sense of relief that you appreciated him for who he was, not just his fame. "It's fine! Don't try to be apologetic !...Yeah, it’s a bit different, but I enjoy it. "

From then on, the bond between you grew even stronger. You exchanged numbers and began watching his races when you could and he'd often call you after races to share his moments and feels and you'd share your day with him too.

It was a regular afternoon at your flower shop when Oscar walked in, his usual confident smile in place. But today, there was something different in his eyes -something more serious and perhaps a bit nervous.

You couldn't pinpoint what it was, but you had never seen such emotions of his , before.

After chatting randomly for a while, sipping some tea, he suddenly paused, looking at you intently. “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, and I was wondering... would you like to go out with me sometime? Maybe tonight?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected question, and you couldn’t help but smile. “I’d love that, Oscar.”

It was the answer he expected. And you'd forever remember the way his face had lit up at your yes.

That evening, he picked you up, and you spent a delightful evening together, filled with laughter, good food, in a secluded, cozy restaurant, and wonderful company. But the best part of the date was yet to come.

After dinner, he drove you to a vast, breathtaking flower field. The sight of endless rows of colorful blooms stretching out before you left you speechless and filled with adoration. “I thought you’d like this,” Oscar whispered, his eyes twinkling.

You wandered through the field together, the air filled with the sweet fragrance of flowers.

As you strolled, he stopped and began to pluck a few daffodils, your favorites. He handed them to you, his smile warm and genuine. “For you, because you’re a florist and because you make every day a little brighter, colorful and joyous.”

Tears of happiness welled up in your eyes. It was such a simple gesture, but it meant the world to you. “Thank you, Oscar. This is perfect,” you whispered, hugging him tightly.

The night ended with the two of you sitting among the flowers, under the stars, talking about everything and nothing, feeling a deep connection growing between you. And as you looked at the daffodils in your hands, you knew that this was just the beginning of something truly beautiful.

my first time as a writer, hope you all like it <3

[weird-an]

Argyle has expected a lot from Hawkins. To see the place where Jonathan grew up, to get to know more about a girl that's more witch than human and to get stoned out of his mind so he forgets all about burying a bunch of people in the desert.

He didn't expect that. To meet the highlight of his childhood, the boy he had his first kiss with, sloppy and rushed, the blonde menace that never knew when to stop.

But there he is. Billy Hargrove, sitting at the Byers kitchen table, next to a guy with a polo shirt and really great hair.

"That are Steve and Billy," Jonathan says and frowns when Argyle blurts out a "Wow!"

"Everything alright, Argyle?"

"I thought we only smoked weed." Argyle moves around the table.

Billy stays seated. Stares at him with his neon blue eyes that have been so often dulled by bruises or cuts. A few thin scars peek out from the collar of his shirt, a white shine on tanned skin. Argyle's stomach churns at that.

The prissy guy next to Billy -Steve- moves his arm a little, says something to Billy, so low only he can hear it. He puts his hand on Billy's thigh, or at least that's what Argyle thinks.

Argyle stands in front of Billy and he swears he can hear their laughter from years ago, from hiding under the pier and eating the world's worst tacos.

Argyle opens his arms and Billy stares at him like he did when Argyle tried to hug him for the first time. Unsure.

Argyle sighs and puts his arms around Billy, lifting him out of the chair even though he's way heavier than he remembered. Billy's wiggling in his arms, but Argyle doesn't let go.

"Still a struggle with you, my dude."

"Fuck off," Billy groans, but finally hugs him back. Sinks against him.

Steve snorts and Argyle grins. Seems like someone knows that too well.

"I thought I'd never get to do that again," Argyle says, lifting Billy a little higher before letting go.

"Me, too," Billy admits, a tiny smile on his lips.

"Thanks for taking care of him." Steve looks startled when Argyle pulls him into a hug, too.

"You're...welcome?"

"Hey, I'm not a fucking pet that -"

"Of course not," Argyle ruffles his hair. God, he hasn't done this in forever.

"A fucking menace that's what you are," Steve mumbles.

Billy huffs at that, blond curls disheveled, a crooked halo around his face.

Jonathan blinks at them, like he's trying to solve a puzzle. "I think I missed... everything?"

@ihni You wanted them to meet, so, here you go! <3

[the-atlas-sister]

𝔼𝕪𝕖𝕤 𝕝𝕚����𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕜𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕋𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 (Protective!Lo’ak x Sensitive!Reader)

Warnings!: blood, crying, slight angst then fluff, vulgar language, violence, bullying, protective Lo’ak

“I can’t believe those jerks,” you said, staring sadly at Kiri as she grumpily folded the newly hunted fish. “Why can’t they just leave you and all of us alone?”

You and Kiri had been friends since childhood. When you were young she had been one of your first friends. You could still remember her excitement upon meeting you and her declaration that the two of you would be friends forever!

So far she had been right. When her family was forced to flee their forest home, Kiri had practically begged you to come with them. She had claimed that she couldn't do it without you. After an hour or so of her following her and your families and begging them as well, they had allowed you to go, which now led you here.

"They are, they are just a bunch of- of- of assholes!" you finally burst, flinging your arms in the air to prove your point.

Kiri chuckled at your outburst, which made you smile, glad to make your best friend happy despite what had happened upon your first few lessons with the siblings of the Metkayina. The eldest son was constantly teasing all of you, though his verbal attacks were found to be most often pointed at the eldest Sully sister, much to your dismay.

"It's fine," Kiri said, her small smile falling slowly. "They're right, anyway. I am just a freak."

"Kiri, you are no freak," you said, scooting closer to your friend. "Ewya choose you. That does not make you a freak, not even a little bit so."

Kiri turned to you, leaning her head on your shoulder. You let out a small sigh, petting her hair gently.

***

"Um, hello? An'oung?" you said, approaching the eldest of the Metkayina siblings. He and his small group of friends stood in the ocean near the shore, surrounded by their ilus and holding fishing spears. They looked as though they were about to go hunting and a bit of you felt bad for bothering them. You scolded that bit of you, reminding it what they had done to your best friend.

"Well, if it isn't one of the baby tailed forest freaks," the boy said with a smirk.

You bit back the hurt that grew in your heart. "I'm just here to ask that you leave my friend alone," you said calmly. "The Sully's are good Na'vi and they are learning fast. They do not deserve your ridicule."

Ao'noung laughed and looked at his friends. "You are the freak's friend?" he asked as he approached you. You drew back slightly as they did so, making their smiles grow larger.

"I am Kiri's friend," you stated. "An'oung, please, I only ask you leave them alone. You- you can place the verbal abuse on me, I will do anything, just leave my friends alone."

"Wow," An'oung said, walking closer to you. "A bitch friend for the freak," he spat, making your heart fall. "Why do you defend them?"

"She doesn't even have their demon blood," one of his friends said, forcefully grabbing your hand and showing it to the group.

"Stop," you said, attempting to pull your hand away. The boy only held it tighter.

"Maybe she's sleeping some of them," another said, making An'oung chuckle. You felt tears prickle in your eyes at their words. "Maybe she's sleeping with all of them even."

"She said stop assholes." You felt the grip on your hand yanked away, only to be replaced by a warm and gentle one. You turned to the new form, instantly feeling a sense of relief falling over you. There standing over a bleeding Metkayina boy was Lo'ak.

"Is he the one your sleeping with, bitch?" An'oung laughed, watching as Lo'ak pulled you behind him protectively. "This four fingered freak?"

"Shut up, fishlips," Lo'ak seethed. He gently pushed you to the side before lunging at the boy. You let out a gasp as the two tumbled to the ground. "Dick!" you heard Lo'ak yell as the two rolled around on the ground. It took a minute before the rest of the group seemed to realize what was happening. After that although, it didn't take long for them to join in.

"OW!" one yelled as Lo'ak sent a kick to his groin, causing him to fall over.

"Stop it!" you yelled, feeling tears begin to fall as they continued fighting. "S-stop it!" you cried, making the boys finally stop their actions.

"Shit, she's crying dude," one of the boys mumbled.

Lo'ak was the first to stop the fighting, almost instantly releasing An'oung. His eyes grew wide at your tears. He jumped up, rushing towards you, quick to leave the group of boys alone. "Look what you assholes did," he hissed, turning his attention to the eldest group member as he held your upper arms.

"Lo'ak, stop, please," you cried, your head falling on his wet and sandy chest.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry Angel," he said, turning back to you. As soon as his eyes landed on your teary eyed face, they softened. "See, it's okay." Lo'ak sent a glare towards An'oung, making him and the rest of the boys slink away. "See, they're gone," he said gently, watching as you looked up at him. You looked around at the now empty beach. A feeling of emptiness fell over you, knowing you hadn't accomplished what you originally came here for.

"I'm sorry," you sniffed. "I came to try and get them to leave you alone, but I just made it worse. And now Jake is going to be angry with you for fighting for me."

"Angel, you did a good thing, those guys just aren't good people," Lo'ak said, pulling you back against his chest. "And my dad doesn't matter. I'm just glad you're okay."

You sniffed, nuzzling into his chest.

Lo'ak had been there to protect you ever since you had met. When you had first interacted he saw first hand how you processed things a bit differently. Ever since he first saw you cry he swore he would protect you for the rest of his life, and he had.

"You're bleeding," you said, pulling away from the Na'vi's tight hug.

"Yeah, but it's okay," Lo'ak shrugged.

"Let me patch you up," you stated, wiping a bit of blood away from his cheek.

"Whatever you want, Angel."

Tags: boojaynaqueen

[ladylooch]

I might have to request Nico fluff cause the last one you wrote was absolutely brilliant😭 and if you want to add some spice to it I'm down

The answer to any Nico fluff request will always be yes. Forever. He is so easy to write. And I really love this AU. So how about the fluffiest fluff there ever is in human existence 💍

This is part of the What My World Spins Around AU. Catch the other blurbs on my master list here.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning: 18+ Content!, fluff, drinking, swearing because I like the F word... and smut LOL.

The final bubbles of my glass of champagne pop and sputter against my lips as I bring the flute to my mouth. I finish the drink off, glancing over my shoulder. I scan the inside of the restaurant, searching for Nico. He’s been in the bathroom for awhile. I hope he’s okay. Not seeing him in my immediate view, I turn back to the street just beyond our patio seating.

We are back in Switzerland for another off-season. The Devils year ended short of a Stanley Cup, but their captain is in much better spirits compared to last summer. The team grew so much this year; Nico did too. He became stronger in his leadership, more sure of the direction of the team and the future management has been promising him since he was drafted.

It feels like their hard work has pushed them forward enough to ease the sting. Instead, he can barely wait for the puck to drop next season.

I watch as a couple of bikers stride through the street towards the setting sun. It’s hinting at beautiful colors tonight. I pull my phone up to attempt a picture, but it’s pointless. The colors are prettier than the phone can even show.

I reach for my flute again, disappointed when I remember I already drank the last of it.

“Sorry, babe.” Nico announces his presences as he moves to stand next to me.

“Are you okay?” I ask, placing my hand on his wrist. He looks flushed and like he’s a bit troubled.

“Yeah. Just got caught up in a conversation inside.” He assures me. I nod in understanding. It’s a common occurrence when we are here. “You up for a walk?” He extends his hand to move my hair behind my ear, then off my shoulder. My dark curls cascade down my back drawing his brown gaze as they cover the bare skin of my upper back. I look around for our waiter, not seeing him in immediate view. “I already paid.” He tells me. I pause, wrinkling my nose at his weird behavior.

“A little impatient tonight.” I chuckle, grabbing my purse and accepting his outstretched hand.

“You do see this sunset right? It’s amazing. If we can get beyond the buildings in the next few minutes, it will be even better.”

I trust the Swiss native at his word and allow for him to hustle me down the street. My wedges hate the cobblestone path, so Nico has to continuously steady me as we go. We break through the buildings into an open area that leads to the marina and glacial lake we live on the other side of. 

“Oh, wow.” I whisper. “You should have picked a house on this side of the lake.”

“They won’t build anything new over here. Ground is too unsteady in the winter.” His gaze is intense in front of us like he’s facing a fierce opponent, not staring at a gorgeous, summer sunset.

“Bummer.” I pout, following him down to the public pier that leads into the clear, blue water. 

As we walk, the colors begin to change from soft glows of yellow to bursting warm colors beginning with pink and ending with orange and reds.

“Wow.” I whisper to him, completely mesmerized.

Our fingers are linked loosely together as we walk, swinging between our bodies. The colors intensify more, causing the lake to toss diamonds across it’s glass surface. The hues dance along the Swiss Alps causing an idyllic glow in the valley. It’s breathtaking and indescribable. My eyes drink in the sight, barely noticing when Nico’s fingers drop from mine. I stand rooted to my spot, trying to remember each flick of light across the mountains.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen-” I turn, to face Nico completely. When I see him down on one knee, my words get stuck in my throat. “Ah.” Sputters out with what is left of them. 

“You are without a doubt the love of my life.” His voice shakes as he pulls in a breath. My hand clasps over my mouth as I close my eyes, whispering ohmygod over and over to myself. “I love you in ways I didn’t know were possible to love another person.”

“Yes.” I whisper to him, nodding my head and reaching for his shoulders. I drop to my knees, sliding my hands around his neck to stroke his cheeks with my thumbs. I tug his face to mine for a desperate kiss.

“I’m not done.” He laughs against my mouth. 

“Yes.” I insist again, pressing my lips more forcefully to his.

“I haven’t asked.” He reminds me, but his tongue comes out of his mouth to tangle with mine. I pull back to look at him. His face swims in my growing tears. One spills over my bottom lash so he catches it with his thumb. My lips wobble, trying to stuff the happy sob in my throat. I end up bitting into my tongue until I can taste blood in my mouth.

“I never want to know what it’s like to not have this. I want you with me for every moment, good and bad and average, for the rest of my life.” He smiles as more tears dash down my cheeks. I nod enthusiastically in wholehearted agreement. He reaches out for my face. I gasp as I lean into his touch. “Will you marry me?” It’s an excited whisper that has an effervescent grin pulling my cheeks tight.

“Yes!” I squeal, head tilting back and spilling electric laughter. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

He pops the black ring box open and I practically faint.

“Oh… my GOD. Nico.” I am flabbergasted by the size of the diamond. It’s an oval cut in a platinum setting with several smaller diamonds that form a V down the sides of the band. It’s better than my wildest fantasies or any ring on my Pinterest board.

“You like it?”

“I love it.” I watch my hand tremble as he slides the ring onto my finger. 

“Whew, it fits.” He grins at me when he secures it in place.

“Oh.. how I love you.” I whimper to him, pressing our lips together again. The kiss is filled with sweetness. We share soft, open presses of our mouthes while his hands hold us firmly together.

Cheers break us apart. I look behind Nico and see his parents rushing towards us. Katja has her arms thrust into the air in excitement. Rino hold his hands up to his mouths to hoot at us. I smile, hiding my nose in Nico’s shoulder.

“I think we know those people.” I say, kissing the crook of his neck.

“They insisted on watching.” He chuckles, maneuvering us both to stand. I catch the glint of my ring as I brush a piece of my hair behind my ear. I can barely believe this is happening. Nico wraps his arms around my hips as we watch their final, joyful approach. His touch is grounding, but just in case this is a dream, nobody wake me up.

Nico keeps the celebration with his parents quick. We snap pictures, doing all the ring related poses and popping of champagne. Strangers embrace us with hugs and warm wishes of congratulations. I’m overwhelmed by the feelings of love and joy sweeping from every part of my body. Before I know what is happening, Nico is ushering me back to the car.

We crash into the house when we get home, beginning to strip each other’s clothes off. 

“All I want on you is your engagement ring.” Nico tells me, tugging my dress over my head. My matching red, peek a boo lingerie has him groaning.

“You sure about that?” I ask him, watching as his eyes drink me in. He steps forward, leaning his head down to suck my nipple into his mouth through the fabric. The barrier is too much. He shoves the cup down, gripping my breast tightly in his hand before sucking me deeper into his mouth. “Ahhh.” I whine to him, fingers threading into his long locks.

“Yeah I’m sure.” His nostrils flare when he pulls away. On the counter, the world demands our presence. Vibrating and flashing with text messages and phone calls, begging to hear about how the Swiss captain proposed.

They can wait. We can’t.

Nico reaches around to unclasp my bra, happy when it falls to our feet. 

“So fucking beautiful.” He hums, reaching for my other breast, tugging the pink nipple into his mouth. His teeth scrape lightly against it, making me wiggle impatiently in his arms. I reach for his hand, sliding it into my panties and beginning the motion I want from him. He grins, hooking my leg around his waist so he can run his thumb in tighter circles. My head knocks back to almost between my shoulder blades as I cry my appreciate to my future husband.

When my head snaps back, I turn into a vixen.

“You got on your knees; it’s only fair I repeat the favor.” I drawl. His glinting brown eyes watch my descent to the floor. He tugs his bottom lip into his mouth watching as I pull his thick shaft from his pants. His palms come to gather my hair at the back of my head. He tugs the hairs tight, holding my head back as his erection bounces against my tongue. He leers down at me as I stroke from base to tip. My wet mouth encloses around his head completely, sucking in steady pulses around the sensitive skin. Nico’s knees almost buckle.

“Look at how pretty my fiancé looks with me in her mouth.” He moans as I suck him deeper. 

“Ring looks good too.” I point out, showing him the glittering of the diamond against his taut skin.

“Mmm, almost as good as you.” He groans as I swirl my tongue along his seeping head. I take him as deep as I can, letting him set his hands on my head to fuck my mouth. His thrusts deepen and I resist the urge to gag around his hefty length. He sighs heavily as he falls from my mouth. “I can’t.” He confesses. “Not going to last long enough to get inside of you.” He reaches for my hands to pull me up. “Where?” He asks.

“Right here.” 

“Nah.” His head shake is assertive. “You deserve better than the floor.” He kisses my lips, swirling his tongue in my mouth to taste the last bit of himself there. His hands press into my hips, steering me towards the living room. We get to the couch wrapping our arms around each other, falling on it together. Our tongues meld as one, enjoying the company of one another’s mouthes. 

Nico reaches between us, gripping his cock to put himself between my folds. His fingers play with me, massaging me until I’m whimpering beneath him again.

“Nico.” I’m exasperated, too empty to keep playing this game with him. “Please.”

“Beg a little more.” He asks me watching my face as my eyebrows pull together in need.

“I can’t… please, I can’t wait anymore.” I don’t even need to play it up. I’m that desperate for him. He likes the sound of my pleading. One more stroke down my heat and he smoothly pushes himself inside of me. 

“Oh.” We both moan at the same time.

“So good.” He whispers into my mouth. He kisses me sloppily as his thrusts push me up the couch. The crown of my head hits the arm of it quickly. I wince slightly and Nico adjusts the pillow to protect my head. “Better?” He asks me, watching my face intently. I nod eagerly. With my head safe, he begins to increase the tempo. His hips snap and roll, then his staccato thrusts increase as he widens my knees.

“Fuck, baby you are gorgeous. So.. god damn perfect.” His long locks dance in front of his face as he looks down at us connecting. His gaze returns to mine when I scratch my nails down his arms. “Keep looking at me like that.” He murmurs, hand coming down to stroke my face. “Don’t look away.” I bite my lip, causing Nico to groan again. “So sexy.” My eyes close and he squeezes my cheeks as a reminder. “Me baby, eyes on me. I want you to see who makes you feel this good.” My fingers move from his arms to his ass cheeks, forcing my nails in to make him increase the tempo. “Tell me.”

“I want more, Neeks. Please. Just a little.”

He tilts my hips up, adjusting me so he can go deeper. I lurch off the couch, arching my back as he strokes my inner walls just right. My hand comes down, touching my clit in soft circles. Nico brings a hand to my breast, massaging it beneath his fingers. 

“Baby.” It’s a breathless whisper that falls from my swollen lips greedily. I grit my teeth, eyes closing. Nico leans down to my ear, hot gulps of air enclosing the space between us.

“I’m so addicted to you, sweet girl.” He murmurs, thrusting faster into me. “The rest of my life still won’t be enough of you.” My fingers grip the back of his neck. Then, my nail beds turn white against Nico’s skin as I come, taking him right with me.

I’m shaking when Nico jerks a final time inside me. His strong arms hold most of his weight over me, but our chests stick to each other. I feel his nose on my shoulder. He glides his way to the dip of my neck then kisses his way up my cheek to my lips. Our breathing collides between our faces in ragged exhales.

The way he looks at me has tears building in my eyes.

“Do I really get that look forever?” I whisper to him, fingers ghosting along his face to brush his hair back from his eyes. He doesn’t speak just nods.

There are some things words can’t describe.

The feeling of laying in Nico’s arms, newly engaged and freshly loved, is definitely one of those things. 

[casualwriters]

"Best friends" | Richie Valdovinos x reader

summary - After the Accident at the Halloween party you find Richie upset at the beach and you comfort him not figuring out he used to have a crush on you growing up as next-store neighbors.

Warning- none

- All the gifs go to the right full owners support them pls 💗

SPOILERS FOR RISE OF PINK LADIES EPISOSE 5

Falling on the ground as the emergency alarm howls in the light, next to you was Hazel and Wally, "Are you okay!" You dropped your arms from covering Hazel, she nodded towards you and Wally. "You okay Y/n," Wally asked you nodding then looking out the window to see fireworks, "fireworks?" You said to the two of them who were watching them with you

"I have to go," you say to the other two trying to find your friends, as you bolted out of the party, everyone was leaving thinking this was the real war coming but it was some stupid prank. Stepping outside you saw Jane and Richie, arguing "What is going on" you whisper running into Richie who already turned around on Jane. His face was sad and disappointed maybe because of Jane, you and Richie grew up together childhood best friend Olivia and him, but all three of you grew out of touch when you hit high school,

the cliches and being a Square or a Greeser you guys grew apart and you regretted that seeing Richie looking at you a smile came across your face "i have a place that cheer you up" saying to him Richie Scoffed "Doll i don't think the Frosty Palace, will cheer me up" he scoffs. Punching his shoulder you glared at him snagging Gill Keys from the tire "not there" you laughed twirling the keys around your index fingers "i show you". The car ride was quiet for the time of driving to the beach not far from you and Richie neighborhood it was a peaceful drive the radio was playing some Blues music that was popular for the time parking the car on the beach you looked at him he was smiling

"Wow doll dame i haven't been here in forever." Chuckling "since all of us were twelve" Both of you remembered the memories " oh man don't forget when i dump both you in the water! " Folding your arms annoyed " Richie Valdovinos! I had water in my ears for a week! " He shrugs " good you couldn't hear Oliva blabbing away" laughing " oh be nice,

"what happened tonight Rich " you asked him. Richie always appreciates you cutting to the chase and being straight up with him, it was one of the things he missed about you.

"Jane only cares about this fucking Election, i am like a dog she calls whenever i am relevant" Listening to him you Knew Jane She was such a sweet girl but throughout the weeks and dealing, with the election she wasn't the same girl!" he kicked the front of the car "and I saw her and Buddy, all cuddling She made a fool out of me Y/n!"

"Rich hey ever she did you don't know her side of it, you can't just jump the gun" Richie knew you were right, you were always right mending fights with him and Olivia, or separating conflict or fights. "I know, I know he looked over to see your hands covering your costume like you were cold he frowned and said.

"Here" he shakes off his T-Bird Jacket and drapes it over your shoulder. "but" he scoffs " No Buts or If's" he says "why did you give this to me wouldn't you rather, give it to Jane." he chuckled "I tried you were my second choice" he grins grabbing his Comb and brushing the strands of hair out of his face. "What do you mean by that?" you said your cheeks were flushing red right now. Richie looked over "it so stupid how clueless you were when we were younger "

"I had a crush on you a y/n" he chuckled putting the comb back in its rightful place. You stayed quiet listening to him talking it wasn't just one sided you thought to yourself.

"but I knew you were too good for me, sweet and caring that's why we stopped talking well, till tonight, what made me happy was even. When we were in a different, clicks or friend group you saw me upset and still wanted to check up on me, doll ." "it what I do" you smile at him "it wasn't one sided" you said to him, causing him to laugh nervously "oh all right" he saw you yawning has he chuckled " want me to drive, you home Princessa" nodding " yes please".

The drive back was laughing and talking just trying to catch up and make Richie's night better, he pulled into your driveway and smiled "See you later alright" You opened the door and got out

"only if you're lucky,"

you say to him he started the car up and drove away hoping, this could happen again.

[tainoidiot]

Rogues x Rogue!Reader headcanons

Maybe the reader was friends with them ( and also had a crush of course) when they were sane, and stuff happened and now they're a new rogue and met each other again at Arkham asylum!

I love how this took me forever to fucking post. (Also look I learned how to add color ooOoooOo)

Rogues x Rogue!reader finding eachother in Arkham.

Jervis Tetch

You used to work alongside him before he went.. mad.

You both were pretty close, friends even. Took lunches together, laughed at inside jokes, Hell it was a real Jim and Pam relationship!

Of course, you hadn't told your friend everything about your life. By day you were a secretly pining coworker of his, but as soon as you clocked out..? You turned to a life of crime.

It was thrilling! It was a revolt from society! (Because we do live in one) It was you having the time of your life. Still, you wished you could've told your friend.

When the news broke out about his crimes, you were only half shocked. The city does fucked shit to its citizens.

Time passed, you never really saw him. Besides a warning on the tv, that's about as close as you guys got... till the GCPD fucked your shit up.

Because of your latest stint, GCPD thought it'd be best to get you some help. Hoping to change your ways.. jk they sent your ass to the Arkham Asylum.

After finally getting settled in, you made your way to the common area. You were bored out of your mind, unsure how to deal with being here. Should you read? Color? Craft? Sit there and look pretty?

Last one sounds good. You took a seat, the lunch table seating wasn't too uncomfortable. It's not like you'd be here for a while anyway. Remembering this, you decided to take in the various characters of the Asylum. Killer Croc playing chess with the Riddler, Harley Quinn learning how to embroider her clothes, The Mad Hatter reading a-

Holy shit, it's him. Jervis!

"My my, look what the gcpd dragged in." You laughed, walking toward him. His eyes glance up, not recognizing you. "Please go away, I'm reading right now." He grumbled, turning a page. "Wow, I would've figured you'd be more excited to see your old coworker." You teased. Jervis placed the book down, looking at you fully now. He got up and laughed, holding you tight in his arms. "You're here! Oh my goodness.. wait how are you in here? You must tell me everything!" Jervis dragged you to sit on his lap, telling him about your adventures as gothams newest villain. With every time he looked at you, your heart grew more and more. You never wanted him to look at you any different again. Perhaps he'd like a sidekick?

Johnathan Crane

Your relationship with him was.. complicated.

University work was tough, but so were you. Him not so much. You often found him in his office squeezing the shit out of a stress ball.

Being that John was a nerd man of intelligence, you could only imagine how many migraines he got grading tests and preparing assignments for his students.

You made his life easier though, buying him lunch and talking about the students.

"I'm sorry, he asked what?" You laughed, almost spitting out your food. "He genuinely asked me why he couldn't pick up the specimen tube with TONGS. As in the utensil for grabbing salads!" His laugh was infectious, you had to admit it. You could listen to him for hours, God this crush was unbearable.

One night you were awoken to your phone buzzing, a call from Johnathan? This late? Nothing good happens after 2 am.. maybe you should leave it.

Besides, if it was so important he'd call again.. which he did.

The call consisted of breathy rambles which were kinda hot, to which you asked what was happening. "Listen. You probably won't hear from me again, I'm sorry. It's my fault. I hope we see eachother again." And then he hung up. No answers, and you were left with more questions.

You became a gotham Rogue, looking for your lost friend in any possible scenario. It wasn't till you saw a broadcast on TV about the Batman finally putting the Scarecrow in handcuffs, charting him off to Arkham. Horrible as it was, he was finally in one place. Time to get arrested!

Fairly quick, they scoop you up and shove you into a cell. That was easy, All you had to do was blow up an apartment complex. What? They're rich, they'll be fine! You take a quick look at the people around you in cells. Poison Ivy, some dude, Johnathan Crane WAIT-

Wow.. it's him. After all these years, he looks different. His hair is longer and unruly, and the dark circles under his eyes have gotten bigger. What a cutie. "Professor Crane!" You yell, hoping to get a laugh out of him. His eyes shot up, looked around, then saw you. Johnathans eyes got as wider than saucers, and you swore you saw his lip curl into a smile if only for a second. Did he miss you? Was he happy to see you? God, all you wanted was to run into him and hold him close. You'll have to wait for recreation time.

Edward Nygma

You had met him at a support group for individuals with trauma. No matter what it was, if you had to get it off your chest and couldn't afford a therapist you went there.

Was it the shit coffee? The stale donuts? The odd smell in the air you're pretty sure was from the carpets? You weren't really comfortable here.

It wasn't until you had a group activity had you actually said something to him. He was fiddling around with a pen and paper, nervously bouncing his leg.

You sat next to him, sipping your water as he wrote. Curious, you tapped his shoulder, causing him to jump. "Sorry! Looks like you were deep in that.. whatever it is you're writing." For some reason, Ed didn't snap at you. He didn't tell you to leave, or fuck off. "It's a puzzle I'm designing."

As Ed explained the ins and outs of the puzzle, you couldn't help but notice how cute it was. You had never met a man so focused.

So you kept in touch with him. A text now and then, meeting up for dinner or lunches, a shoulder to cry on. You were there, it didn't bother you.

However, things changed after he had not texted or called after an entire week has passed. You were scared, so you rushed to his place as quickly as possible.

You slammed your fist onto the door, panicking as you could almost feel the echo it gave off. "Ed? It's me.. Please open the door, I'm worried!" No answer.

"Was it something I said..?" Just like that, you noticed a green glow coming from the door. That's odd.. you grabbed the doorknob and turned, surprised at how easily it opened for you.

From the walls to the floor were papers upon papers of different symbols and mechanical equations. "What the fuck?" You whispered, going further and further into the studio. The green glow, as it turns out, was a large neon sign in the shape of a question mark.

What Ed didn't realize was long before he changed career paths, as did you. So this entire change, though surprising, wasn't beyond you.

There's no telling where he was now, so maybe that chapter of your life closed.

Except that wasn't totally true. The cops thought you were a part of this, as your fingerprints had been found in the area. Dammit, into the Asylum you go..

A few days into your stay, you hear some commotion in the common area. Yelling, no, ARGUING. "I am the smartest man in this room! You fucking idiots wouldn't know what I'm trying to get through your thick skulls!" That voice..

Oh my God it's Edward. And he's changed. Once the crowd dies down, you hop over to his side and tap his shoulder. "I'm WORKING." Ed growled, looking at you as he prepares an insult. But he doesn't. His gaze softens "Its.. you?"

"Yeah.. can we talk?"

Harleen Quinzel

You and Harleen were the best of friends.

Inseparable, and that's the way you liked it.

All you wanted to do was spend time with her. Needless to say, you had a massive crush on her.

How could you tell her about your life of crime though? Would she understand? Would she pull away? It scared you, you didn't ever want to lose her.

However, your worst fear would come true in the form of a clown.

It wasn't long till she'd stop answering your texts, which broke your heart even further.

It was late. 2 A.M to be exact. You couldn't sleep due to the sirens, but you swore there were more than usual.

Nothing good happens after 2 AM. You should just go to bed and sleep it off.. okay a peek outside the window wouldn't hurt. As you stared out the window, you realized it was much more than sirens. It was so much worse. The Joker had invaded your neighborhood, and was doing his usual shit. What an amateur, smiley faces everywhere. We get it, you're a clown.. wait a second. Under the sirens and blaring weapons, you swore you heard a familiar voice. But it couldn't be, could it? You get your gear on and decide to investigate, sneaking around behind the shadows.

It's confirmed. Harleen, now going under the name Harley, was partnered up with the Joker.

And by partnered up, He was frenching her right then and there.

You held back hot tears as you tried to run, but alas, you're a known criminal in a crime scene.

Of course you're taken into custody and eventually thrown into the local Asylum.

While everyone is supposed to be asleep, you found a way to escape your cell and roam around. God this place is dilapidated, we really need more funding.

As you walked the cold empty halls, you could hear two things. Guards playing poker and.. was that sniffling? Crying? Hm.. wouldn't hurt to see who it was. Further investigation led you to a bright blonde wailing into a pillow, occasionally snotting up her tissues. Poor thing. "Psst, hey." You whispered, the blonde stopping to wipe her eyes and look around. "Over here." You replied, waving at her.

The blonde gasps, as do you. She's covered in bruises and cuts, most looking man-made. "Oh my god.. You're here." She cried. Wait a second.. "Harley? Holy shit what happened to you?" You asked, attempting to break the lock as quietly as possible to comfort her. Harley just shrugs, not sure how to answer "Oh you know.. Puddin' got a little mad one day." She attempted to get out, but this just made her cry harder.

After successfully breaking in, you rush to her side. Holding her close and wiping tears away. "Hey its okay.. I got you now. You're safe.." you whispered into her ear.

Pamela Isley

Ah, STEM classes. The ones that tests a students will to live, with the right professor of course.

Why anyone takes this major is beyond me, but hey you didn't mind. The exams were awful, but you had a friend at least.

Pamela Isley. Pammy. Always has her nose in a flower and her head in an equation. A brilliant woman. God you adored this woman.

Pam was quiet, sure. But when she was with you she want on and on about everything.

"You know, when I'm with you.. it's like I can tell you anything." Pam told you as you both sat next to eachother in the campus rec room. You blushed, taking her hand as you smiled. "I feel the same way." You both came to an understanding. But you hadn't told her everything, like what you did after 7 pm.

After she had told you she would be meeting with a professor on who knows what, you just brushed it off as help with a certain question or maybe an upcoming assignment. But afterward, she stopped texting. Completely. You were upset, sure. But if something happened to her? You could never forgive yourself.

You were getting ready for your night on the town, when you noticed something odd growing on your windowsill. Is that.. a Lily? You gently take the petals into your hand, it reminded you of your old.. ahem.. friend.

"It's almost as beautiful as you." You heard from behind you, causing you to jump and turn in fear. The voice came from a young woman, smiling at you with admiration and a bit of fear. "Oh, what? Don't you recognize your old friend?" She cooed into your ear.

"Pam?" You whispered, taking her hand. Before she could get a reply in, GCPD bust down your door and arrest you both on the spot. Apparently just before, Pam had murdered a local businessman because of the harm his buildings construction did to the native plant life in the city.

"How long have you been in crime?" She asked you, sitting across from you in the dining hall.

"I could ask the same for you, Ivy." You teased, taking her hand.

[obanais-koibito]

𝐌𝐮𝐳𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

ℛℰ𝒬𝒰ℰ𝒮𝒯ℰ𝒟

N/n means your nickname.

When you were only 5 years old living inside a small home, your mother was brutally stabbed directly in the heart by your father. You didn’t always enjoy his company due to the fact that he scared you and made you uncomfortable whenever he was around.

Your parents never got along with each other no matter how hard your mother tried. He would always ignore her or call her clingy since she asked for help with cleaning or was just wanting a hug. Your father noticed how your mother would always leave at a certain time everyday and every time he asked her about it, she wouldn’t tell him.

The only person she told was you, she would go out everyday to find the perfect present for your father since his birthday was coming up. She told you that it would be your little secret and so neither of you would tell your father anything.

After a couple more days of your mother going out at the same time and not telling your father anything, he couldn't stand not knowing anymore and decided to take matters into his own hands. The second she got back, he immediately rushed up and demanded an answer. No matter what hurtful thing he said to her or about you, she didn’t budge.

He began accusing her of cheating on him but she kept denying it and telling him that she deserves her own privacy but it only fueled your father’s anger. It all happened so quickly but you clearly remember seeing your father obtain the kitchen knife, and stabbing your mother right in front of you.

One of your neighbors overheard all the commotion and when they came over to see if everything was alright, they saw your mother’s body on the ground and the bloody kitchen knife in your fathers hands. That day, your father was arrested and you became an orphan. Your whole world was tipped upside down in the span of one night, your mother, the person who was always so kind and loving towards you was now gone.

When you arrived at the orphanage, you were incredibly scared of being alone with no one to comfort you but then you heard your mothers voice. She was right next to you with her usual soft smile although she wasn’t the same as before. She was nearly translucent and had a visible stab wound on her chest, in the same place your father had stabbed her. She told you that she was still here with you and would watch over and protect you forever and just like that, all your worries and sorrow vanished.

The other orphans were always confused on why they would see you laughing and talking to someone when no one was even near you so they decided to stay away from you. It didn’t bother you one bit though, you had all you needed right here with you. You were in the orphanage for a couple of weeks until one day, one of the assistants came and told you that you were going to be adopted. You were nervous but your mother encouraged you and told you that she would be with you no matter what.

The assistant led you to a man who stood at 5’10”, had black hair, and red eyes. When he saw you, he smiled and introduced himself to you.

“Hello little one, I am your new father, I hope you will like your new home.”

You glanced at your mother and she nodded and smiled.

“Don’t worry N/n, I have a feeling that he will bring you no harm.”

You nodded at her and took the man’s outstretched hand. He had already finished the paperwork so you were allowed to leave. Your mother followed you and your new father began walking down the street and he began talking to you.

“Your name is Y/n, right?”

You looked up at him and nodded and he smiled a bit.

“That is a unique name, it suits you well.”

He replied softly and you smiled.

“Thanks! What’s your name?”

He didn’t reply until no one was around and when he did, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“It’s Muzan but you can call me father or dad.”

Your smile grew into a grin and you said.

“Wow! I like your name a lot!”

He chuckled a bit and continued to lead you to his home. He had a feeling that you had a ghost watching you because he heard that you were often found talking to yourself and when he saw you nodding your head to the side before going with him.

He decided to discard it for now and ask you when you were more comfortable with him and he hoped it wouldn’t be long because he was going to protect you from harm and anyone who tried to hurt you was going to pay with their life.

[ladyorlandodream]

As most fans remember, on October 3, 2004, the pilot episode of a series that entered the hall of fame aired. Today, we celebrate its 20th anniversary. Wow!

The first time I saw the image of Bree, Lynette, Susan, and Gabrielle was in a TV series magazine showcasing "what would soon arrive in Italy." I was 15 years old, in the midst of adolescence, but there was something in that image—the colours and faces—that made me think, "This looks interesting." I have to be honest; the pilot aired on free TV in Italy on November 14, 2005, so I was late to the party, but let's overlook that.

A year passed, and as a 16-year-old, I could finally watch the first episode. To say it was love at first sight might be an understatement. Lynette threatening her kids by claiming she has Santa Claus's number, Susan's mac and cheese mishap, Gabrielle mowing the lawn in high heels, and Bree's legendary muffins—which I learned to make.

I was in my third year of high school, and while my classmates watched more teen-oriented series like The O.C., I was eager to find out how the mystery of Mary Alice's suicide would unfold. Those weren't good years for me for various reasons, including psychological bullying, but every week, there was an hour of comfort in my life thanks to Desperate Housewives.

These characters, as unique as they were desperate, accompanied me all the way to my high school graduation exams; in their company, I defended my bachelor's thesis. I still remember watching episode 100 during a break between classes: I was in the study hall, and it might have been the first time I cried over a TV show episode. A classmate saw me sobbing and worriedly asked what was wrong; explaining that I was crying over an episode was quite something.

Desperate Housewives accompanied me well beyond the series finale on May 13, 2012; that year, I was finishing my first year of my master's degree. It was the first series I started watching in English; in Italy, they were delaying the dubbing a lot, and I had to make do with watching it online with subtitles. So yes, the adventures on Wisteria Lane are the primary reason I now speak better English.

Desperate Housewives means the world to me; I literally grew up with it. Each character has taught me something—including Edie!—especially the importance of friendship (and talking to your friends—secrets are a big problem!), embracing change and evolution, and understanding how some changes are for the better. To seize opportunities even if they scare us: "We all have moments of desperation, but if we can face them head-on, that's when we find out how strong we really are."

According to the internet, Susan was 35 years old in the pilot. It's funny that I am that exact age as we celebrate the 20th anniversary.

Time flies.

Twenty years later, we still use Desperate Housewives memes to express our thoughts. I still believe that Katherine's declaration to Robin is one of the most beautiful on TV, but I might be biased. I haven't yet gotten over the fact that the girls didn't get to play poker together again, but as Mary Alice said, "It was not meant to be." In my mind, they still talk to each other on the phone, through messages, and via video calls.

A heartfelt thank you to the amazing cast and crew for bringing these characters to life and creating a timeless masterpiece that continues to touch lives even after two decades. To the community of fans who, like me, have been shaped by this show, here's to the memories made and the lessons learned.

The women of Wisteria Lane will forever hold a special place in my heart.

Happy 20th anniversary, Desperate Housewives!

And remember, "Even the most desperate life is, oh, so wonderful."

[neptoons1998]

Black Pearls

Previously

Summary: Okoye went back to find the blue boy, she hopes he liked peanut butter. Attuma brought a gift for her.

A/N: Writer's block is a bitch ain't it? I should be fine for the next two chapters lol

Attuma was back in the cave, it took him forever to get rid of Namora. His cousin kept asking why he wanted to play alone all of sudden. He just wanted to see the sun girl one more time. He beaded his bracelet for her. The mix with jade with strings of gold. His mother said that’s how she knew his father liked her. Attuma wanted to let the sun goddess know he liked her and wanted to be friends with her.

Attuma knew they didn’t speak the same language but he wanted to know everything about her. Even with the threat of punishment, Attuma still took the current system again. It couldn’t explain why he wanted to go back and see her again. Once Attuma arrived back in the small cave he heard her voice, “Oh you’re here,” The sun spoke as she crawled up on one of the stones in the cave.

 “I was wondering if I made it all up,” Okoye said as she dipped her toes into the water. Attuma knew this was his chance to give the girl his special gift. Attuma grabbed the girl’s wrist, “Hey I thought we were friends?”

Attuma placed the small jade bracelet in her hand, “Oh wow, it’s so pretty.” Okoye gave a closer look at it. Attuma beamed looking at the girl. He felt the proud feeling of giving this girl his gift. “Oh, I forgot I have a gift for you too,” The girl went into her satchel, Attuma being curious followed by his eyes as she open the jar. 

“Here try this,” Okoye said as she scooped peanut butter out of the jar. Attuma opens his mouth the substance was different. The color remind him of sargassum, but whatever this stuff was delicious.

“It’s good right,” Okoye smiled at him. The boy could help but nod to whatever the girl was saying. Attuma couldn’t help but lend closer to the girl. He couldn’t explain why he wanted to be close to her. 

“I don’t know about personal space do you?” Okoye questioned after they ate all the peanut butter. Attuma just stared at her, this is the weirdest friendship I ever had and that’s including Aneka, the girl thought. Okoye crossed her legs as she faced the boy, “My name is Okoye. Can you say that?” 

Attuma continued staring at Okoye,“Koko?”

“No, Okoye. Oh-ko-ye,” She sounded it out. Maybe the language barrier is too hard for both of us, the girl thought.  

“Koko,” Attuma repeated. The boy was deeply confused on what the girl wanted him to say. 

Okoye could only roll her eyes in frustration, Yeah, this wasn’t getting them anywhere. 

“Okay how about you tell your name,” She said pointing at him. The boy pointed at himself as puffed out his chest with proud of his name, “Attuma.” 

“Attuna?” Okoye titled her head. 

The boy shook his head,“Attuma.”

“Attuna,” Okoye could see the flustered look on his face, “See it isn’t funny when someone else does it huh?”

Before Okoye could tease her friend so more, she remembered that it was her turn to feed the baby rhinos today. 

“I have to leave mama is going to kill me for  forgetting to fed the calves on time, “Okoye said to her new friend. She gave a quick goodbye wave as she raced out of the cave. Okoye stumbled up the hill as she continued to run against time. Maybe her mama and baba wouldn’t notice that the baby rhinos haven’t been fed? She shook the hopeful thought out of her head. As her mother would say she was born at night not last night. Okoye gave huffed as she made into the fields where the rhinos where kept. She saw a figure standing in house front door. 

“Uncle M’Kathu?” Okoye called out, as she walked closer to him. Why was he here? The man only shows up for special holidays even though he was there just his quick hellos and goodbyes. 

The man looked at her with red eyes misty with tears that threatened to fall, “Sweet Okoye. There’s been a horrible accident.”

Her parents died in an unforeseen accident. That was the day Okoye grew up. 

As the years continued  Okoye joined the Dora Milaje. Her dream had been somewhat achieved, but she still had to work hard to be general. That took time, time that wasn’t promised, Okoye bit her lip this success was supposed to taste sweet, but to the young teen, it was bittersweet with her loving mama and baba not being here to witness it. 

After a hard day of training. The young trainees were allowed to go see their families for a week. As Okoye started to pack she witness all the girls' joy and anticipation of all the food they miss eating with their families. All Okoye would go back home to the cold cottage with her even colder uncle. While other trainees raced out like a herd of antelope. Okoye decided she would take a long way hope. 

“Maybe you’ll see that mysterious boy, eh Okoye,” Aneka said to her as she bump her shoulder into hers. Okoye gave a questioning look at her friend, “What are you talking about?”

Aneka raised one of her eyebrows, “You know the boy that gave you that bracelet.”

“Aneka be serious,” Okoye said. “I probably made it all up. Like how we used to be afraid of Mami Wata.”

“Who said Mami Wata isn’t real,” Aneka pressed. “We don’t know that. Best not to say her name three times.”

Okoye shook her head, “Have a nice break Aneka.”

And with that Okoye started her long walk to the empty cold cottage. She walked passed the markets and food stands. She walked close to one the stream, the same stream where she met him. 

She felt silly, she most likely imagined the strange blue boy. But if he was just my imagination. Then where did I get this bracelet? She thought as she looked down at the jade bracelet. Her mother wasn’t a big fan of gold, she always claimed it washed her out. Silver and red were more her style. It didn’t belong to her father, the man was a big fan of jewelry since he worked with animals. 

Then where did she get it from? She thought as she went downhill into the cave. The cave still smelt the same humility of the salty sea.  She felt the rough bumps of the cave, Okoye couldn’t help but feel foolish it had to be fake. As she was deep in her thoughts as she look up. She couldn’t believe her eyes. She didn’t make up it, she imagined that she made it while she was grieving the loss of her parents. 

“Attuma."

A/N: call me Ryan Coogler cause killing off parents gives character growth lol. 

[daylightaftertherain]

ok sea i REALLY need you to come with me on this one

been thinking about the folklore love triangle a lot today and remembered that i talked with one of my friends about a plot twist in the love triangle plotline where instead of augustine being in love with james she's actually always been in love with betty so here's how that looks in my brain

seven is actually about how betty and augustine are childhood friends and it's from augustine's pov and her looking back on how close they used to be, but somehow they grew apart. even though they grew apart, augustine always hoped for them to grow close again but instead she watched in high school as betty and james grew close and had to sit by and watch them fall in love so she thought the closest she could ever get to being with betty was to go for james. she knew in doing so it would probably ruin her chances with betty forever but she just wanted to feel close to betty again and she felt like the only way to do that was see what she saw in james... and james fell for it but betty wasn't supposed to find out. she never did it to hurt betty.

however there's a small part of her that's relieved that this means betty probably won't get back together with james.... however then she hears (from inez) about the party and how james showed up and basically proclaimed his love for betty and betty fell for it and augustine just loses all hope that she'd ever have a chance.... however then betty, for some reason, starts turning to augustine thus we get illicit affairs, and at first it's everything augustine had wanted... until she realizes betty is still with james. however she feels like she'll take all that she can get... and that's as far as my brain goes lolll

(then because of this storyline in my brain, i looked up if there's any stories on ao3 and there's about 114 so...)

(this is SO long wow)

anyways yeah this is the innerworkings of my brain

-miels 💜✨

HI omg thank you for the long ask sdhgfdjhgfjdg

oh my GOD that makes so much sense (a slightly long answer for you comingbecause I'm always willing to talk about the teenage love triangle)

also going along with my theory that the "hide in the closet" was actually about betty being queer and augustine knowing, seven could also about all of their secrets and stories that they told each other. the "cross my heart won't tell no other" line makes sense with that context, and the "your dad is always mad" line could totally be about betty's family being homophobic.

and I think somewhere along the line augustine fell in love with betty too, and illicit affairs could be an ambiguous song that could be about both betty and james. like "what started in beautiful rooms" could be augustine's perspective on the rooms she and betty held tea parties together, and now they only see each other in mundane places like a parking lot, and the "for you I would ruin myself" being about her summer affair with james that probably ruined betty's view of her, from childhood best friend to the other girl.

ANYWAY loved reading your thoughts, taylor is so good at creating stories that can be interpreted multiple ways it's insane

[shabre-legacy]

The Hunt Begins Chapter Four

The next morning dawned as smelly and awful as the previous one. She wasn’t sure how anyone survived living in this town. There were parts of the planet that she’d seen coming in that indicated that this had once been a nice place, there might even be some of those places left, but it was not Jiguna. She dragged herself out of bed and stretched. Mornings were rough. She always wanted to stay in bed a few more minutes, but ingrained habits rarely allowed that. Lare had always insisted she needed to watch the sun on whatever planet they were on, and if there wasn’t a sunrise to be seen, at least you were up early enough that you could have. Something about remembering your connection to your people and yourself or something. She clung to what few bits of Mirialan culture that she remembered from her family and  what Lare had taught her. It wasn’t much and never felt complete, never like it was where she belonged. Then again, she’d never really spent time on Mirial or in any of the enclaves or neighborhoods on planets she’d been to, so maybe that was the problem. Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be her home. Only time would tell.

She sighed and moved over to Mako, gently shaking the girl’s shoulder. “Hey, time to get up. We got a long, hard day ahead.” 

Mako was far more efficient than she’d predicted. She’d pegged the girl as a ‘laze in bed and take forever to get up’ type. But by the time Nat strapped on her armor and got her weapons tucked away, Mako was already up, ready and had a datapad with factory schematics waiting for her. 

The rest of the day was spent arguing with the kriffing Hutt and taking a couple side jobs for extra credits. Neither she nor Mako knew if entry into the Hunt came with passes off-planet. If it didn’t, they’d need shuttle passes and those were easier to steal if they got up to Nar Shaddaa. Either way they’d need off-planet and they’d need ammunition and rations. If Mako planned to tag along, Nat would need to make sure the girl got some armor. 

The accountant was every bit as pathetic and terrified as she’d thought he’d be. Another chance to lie to the Hutt and screw him over while still technically making sure the job was done. She sent the man running and trudged back through the sludge. 

Every moment on Hutta sucked. This planet was the worst. Maybe it’d been alright before the Hutts showed up, but now it was a mess. 

Seeing Mako try to blackmail her into keeping her on was...adorable. That was the only word for it. It was just down right cute. Maybe it was just nice to have someone actually doing what she expected them to do after Nemro’s little stunt. But she’d expected it. Mako would use her skills to get some info and use the info to get what she wanted. That was how the game was played, so she played along. She’d need to give her some lessons when they had the chance. 

Having Mako was not just sentimental, the girl was useful. She could handle a blaster, not particularly well, but capable and already knew where their quarry was heading. The fight was easy. How the Hutt had ever thought that he was the better hunter, Nat didn’t know, but it was going to come back and bite him. After the Great Hunt, she’d come back and she’d kill him. 

That determination only grew with every slimy word he spoke. By the time she was done speaking with Grataa and was heading out to the spaceport, she’d decided on how she was going to kill Nem’ro

“I’m going to shoot him in that gut of his 3 times, that way everything hurts when I use grenades stuffed down that fat mouth of his to kill him and then I’ll trap his closest Hutt buddies in his palace and make them clean up the mess.”

“Wow, you’re pretty ruthless when you’re angry. Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Nat laughed and bumped her shoulder into the smaller girl. “Don’t worry, that’s nothing compared to what we’re gonna do to Blood when we catch him.”

That got a small smile, maybe a sniffle or two, but a bit of a smile from Mako as they left the quiet hall and joined the other people boarding the shuttle off planet. They’d finally made it. 

It was a shame she wouldn’t be able to get drinks with the Mandalorian she’d found in Faath’raas palace and his buddy. The Mando was kinda cute, she had a weakness for the armor, and the lifestyle was damn good for them. His buddy seemed like he could have spun enough stories to keep Mako entertained for a few hours. But there wasn’t time to lose. Maybe she’d run into them again, after all, this hunt was sponsored by the Mandos, it seemed reasonable to think she’d run into more. If she did, she thought to herself, she’d make sure to spare some time for those drinks. 

As the shuttle took off, she couldn’t help the thrill of excitement. Greater challenges awaited her. Revenge was on her schedule, but there was plenty of time to get there. She was looking forward to seeing what targets she got and who she got to fight next. 

Dromund Kaas Chapter One

The shuttle docked briefly on Nar Shaddaa. It was only supposed to be a few minutes to load passengers before heading off to one of the Imperial space stations where she’d take a different ship. It was a few minutes connected to the holonet and the passengers were allowed off to stretch their legs briefly before the much longer trip. Natamai decided that she’d take advantage of the empty shuttle and holonet connection to send a message while Mako got them food. She was trying not to bring up anything that might remind the poor girl of Braden, unless it was to promise her vengeance. It had only been a day, the wounds were still very raw. The fact that she was headed into the biggest hunt of her life with no support team remained however. It wasn’t like she needed a support team. She was perfectly capable of winning the hunt by herself if necessary. She didn’t need anyone else to do her job. But some help would be beneficial, particularly for monitoring and handling other hunters who might interfere and for keeping watch for Blood. There was also the fact that little Mako didn’t seem to own any armor and she’d never yet met a slicer who was actually good in a fight. Maybe she’d be different, but Nat didn’t want to take the risk, extra hands could help keep her safe. She still had some contacts that she could call on, people who were like family, her old mentors, the kids she’d trained with. She was sure one or two of them would have the time to come help. After all, when it came to bounty hunting, the Great Hunt was the most exciting opportunity to come along. 

Mako was back pretty quickly, the station they were docked at having plenty of stands nearby and after filling her in on what she’d been doing while the crew loaded the other passengers. They were off again. 

Small shuttles like this were the worst. Honestly, Nat couldn’t wait until she was able to get her hands on her own ship. She’d thought about stealing one a few times, but hadn’t found a good opportunity yet. The trip would take 2 days. 2 days in cramped quarters, shared narrow bunks, bad food in small portions. Her ship, when she got it, would have bigger bunks. She’d have her own room with her own bed, room to stretch and train, a weapons case that she didn’t have to carry with her constantly, and a galley where she could keep the better rations. It wasn’t like rations were good, but some were better then others and with bigger portions, better for bounty hunters. They burned through too much food on hunts or even just maintaining their skills for the small shuttle portions to be anywhere near enough. 

Reaching Viaken Spacedock was a relief. A chance to get out of the crowded shuttle and get a little space. Of course it came with the negative factor of being solidly in Imperial Space. Natamai had carefully avoided entering imperial territory since she’d escaped from it. She’d been thinking about this all the way here. There was no official record of her name. Only a number and a name assigned when she was first sold. As long as she avoided Sith and didn’t mention anything about her past, she could likely get by just fine. The current armor she was wearing had high neck seals that would hide the scars on her neck as well. No reason for anyone to suspect her. Plus, she wasn’t a child anymore, she could fight now. She could kill. There was no reason to worry and if something happened, she’d be capable of dealing with it. Everything would be fine. 

Mako noticed her nerves as they disembarked. “You ok boss?”

She smiled at the girl. “I’m fine Mako, just not a fan of Imperial Space and all their rules.” 

Her comm beeped at her as she connected back to the holonet. She pulled Mako aside and answered it. On the comm was her friend Jasuri Nin. A Cathar bounty hunter she’d trained with back when she still hunted with her mentors. The woman barely greeted Nat. “I’m on Viaken. We need to talk. I’ve got bad news. Where are you?”

Nat stared at the Comm, she’d just been trying to see if Jasuri had been interested in running around with her for a bit, not looking for more bad news. But it was best to hear it now, get everything sorted out. “Just docked on Viaken myself. I’ll meet you in the Cantina, bringing a friend.” Jasuri nodded and hung up and Nat started towards the center ring of the spacedock with Mako at her side. 

“Hey boss, who are we meeting?”

She smiled at the small note of hesitancy in her voice. She wouldn’t be replacing Mako anytime soon, if nothing else, she owed it to Braden; but Mako seemed smart enough not to be entirely convinced by words. It was a good trait, but it meant she wouldn’t entirely believe Nat wouldn’t leave her behind until Nat proved otherwise. 

“That was Jasuri. We trained together as teens and had the same mentors. I’ll have to tell you stories about them sometime. She’s a fantastic tracker and great at ambushes and traps. Never been my thing, I prefer a straight fight, seems fairer to me, but she’s real good at what she does.” 

Mako nodded and made a passing observation about a group of imperial civilians in their ridiculous fashion as they hit the stairs into the cantina. People were scattered around, sitting neatly in the chairs, drinking and placing the glasses on the tables properly. It was the most boring Cantina she’d ever been in. Yet another reason the Empire was the worst. At least the low number of people and their orderly behavior made it easy to spot Jasuri in a corner booth as far from others as possible. 

It had to be uncomfortable for her, a Cathar in imperial space.The women shook hands and settled back as the Natamai could see the guards eying Jasuri and keeping an eye on her and Mako as they approached. The Cathar was tall and lanky, but strong. You could see that in the way she wore her armor as though it weighed nothing. Her thick fur was mostly a very dark brown with a few dark grey spots and light grey stripes across her face and across the top of her head where she had a single ponytail of tawny hair stretching down to her shoulders and ending in about a dozen separate strands, each beaded at the ends. It all worked to make her red eyes shine more prominently.

She moved over to Jasuri and slid into the booth, Mako sliding in next to her, and waved over the serving droid. She could see Jasuri’s gaze gliding over the slicer. She should have expected that. Jasuri always did seem to go for the smart, pretty ones. She had to smile a bit at that, Jasuri never changed. “Hey Suri, This is Mako, slicer, genius, helping me with the hunt I’m on. Mako, this is Jasuri.” The droid glided over and took their order. They sat quietly until the droid brought their drinks and left again. 

Jasuri drained whatever swill she’d ordered in one long swig and pushed the mug aside leaning forward on her elbows and staring at both of them. “So, somebody killed Braden. I can’t believe that. Daala always spoke so well of him. I’m assuming Mako here is his kid. You mentioned you were bringing her along.”

Nat sighed. She had told Jasuri that. She’d let her family know what was going on. For her, that meant Jasuri, her mentors, her younger twin Leikael and her adopted brother who’d gone off to join the Mandalorians. “That’d be accurate. Seems like we got on the bad side of some Mando, Tarro Blood. He took down Braden and Jory. Mako only got out by not being there. He thinks it’s going to knock me out of the hunt.”

“Tarro Blood, huh? So that’s the reason then.” “Reason for what?” There was something in Jasuri’s voice, something bitter and angry and deeply sad. 

The pain in Jasuri’s eyes only made her more nervous as the hunter swallowed her own emotions. “Acoma, Daala, Lare, they’re all dead. Mandalorians killed them. Almost killed me too.” 

Natamai feels the air leave the station as she stares. Dead? All three of them? They couldn’t be? She stares in shock for a few seconds before she remembers to breath. With a shuddering gasp, she closes her eyes. She had expected this, sort of. Bounty hunting did not lend itself to a long lifespan. But this? “Blood was involved? What happened?”

“Ambush on Nasaue. They just finished a job, I was in the area. I was supposed to meet them there for a visit. I arrived minutes after. If it hadn’t been for the security holos, I wouldn’t have known what happened. Some man named Blood and a few other mandalorians came in, checked the room, Blood left and the others set the ambush. Grenades and mines and everything. They never stood a chance. I’ve had 2 attempts to kill me just getting here.”

Nat nods “Savri?” 

Jasuri shrugs. “He’s fine as far as I know, but he hasn’t answered either. His mandalorian status might protect him from them. But depending on how bad this guy wants to cripple you, it might not.” 

Nat reaches up to rub her temples. “Ok, ok. We’ll warn him to be on guard. I have to go to the mandalorian enclave anyways so I’ll reach out when I get there if he hasn’t contacted us. See if his clan knows his status.” Mako was staring at the two of them, a little confused, but mostly sympathetic. Nat feels the need to explain and that itself is irritating. “Acoma, Daala and Lare are… were bounty hunters. They taught us and Savri everything we know about hunting. Lare taught me about being Mirialan, at least a little bit. We’re family, the six of us. Or… We were family… I guess… Now”

“I’m so sorry. That’s just awful…”

There seems to be more Mako wants to say, however the serving droid interrupts their conversation, delivering their meals. Natamai takes a moment to breathe through her grief. She can scream later when she kills something. For now, Imperial space is dangerous. “So I was already taking Blood’s head. I guess that’s three more reasons for it.” Jasuri nods and the look in Mako’s eyes is pure steel. “Jasuri, did you think about my offer?”

The grin on the Cathar’s face is dangerous. “I did and I’m in.”

Nat nods and looks over to Mako. “Jasuri will be joining us.” The slicer nods and pulls out a datapad. “We only have the two tickets, but other then that, there shouldn’t need to be too much adjustment.” She begins tapping away. 

“I have my own ticket to Dromund Kaas. Let’s kill some shit.” Natamai nods to Jasuri’s statement and the three women dive into their meals, quickly finishing them off and leaving the station cantina. 

It doesn’t take long before they manage to get aboard their next shuttle and settle in for the trip. It’s too long, too crowded. Natamai hates it. She gets a bit snappy as the hours pass. Eventually Mako and Jasuri step out to leave her alone on the small double bunk she managed to secure. She takes advantage of the moment to send out more messages, responding to Leikael and another to Savri in hopes that he’d respond. 

Eventually though Jasuri made her way back and crawled into the bunk, sitting next to Natamai. “Mako found herself some guy to flirt with for a bit. They’re dancing. I gave her a panic button and backed off.”

“Good. She could use a fun distraction.” Nat leans against the woman who was nearly another sister. “I miss them.”

“Me too” 

“Blood will pay for this. He isn’t going to get away with it.”

“I’ll help. How’s Flip?” 

Natamai chuckles at the old nickname. “Still hates being called that. Got her ship stolen and is chasing the criminal. Got her first bounty too.”

She grins as she pulls up the notice. Jasuri whistles, “Rogun the Butcher? That’s a pretty decent price for her first galactic bounty. She knows to be careful?” 

Nat nods. “I told her. I’m proud honestly. Good for her.”

Jasuri nods and leans against Nat’s shoulder. “Worried about being in Imp Space?”

Natamai knows the unspoken question ‘Are you worried about being caught? “Not really, I’ve changed so much since last time. Tats, name, my face even looks different. It’s not like I was ever important enough to get loaded into some genetic scanner database. It’ll be fine. If it’s not… We have blasters.”

A large grin spread over Jasuri’s face, made all the more dangerous by her sharp fangs. “We do have very powerful, very expensive blasters.”

She wraps an arm around Nat and they sink down a bit. “It’s good to see you again. It’s gonna be good hunting with someone I trust.”

Nat nods with a yawn as Jasuri stretches her legs. “About that Mako. She single?”

[bionicleactiontales]

bionicle actiontales now meet the lucky gander

louie llewellyn duck do remember his lucky cousin gladstone gander back in their childhood, that they used to get along so well as they grew up, they just the two happy schemer ducking who trying to scheme a bussiness together, he never forget that day, when he got the money from his uncle scrooge mcduck, he just unhappy to heard that his cousin was enjoying the one thousand dollars prize for his “help” with arresting a criminal without telling him, he is decided to see his cousin to help his cousin, well lucky day for louie greeny rebel duck, he just happy to heard that his rich uncle louie’s childhood story with his lucky uncle gladstone, he just so happy to see his lucky uncle gladstone at the first time, just like his rich uncle louie did with his lucky uncle gladstone in their childhood day, but louie llewellyn duck feel his nephew louie greeny rebel duck will getting left behind by gladstone gander going forward without the help just like his childhood past ago, he won’t let this bad happened to their own lifes over again.

louie llewllyn duck: louie, here we are at the lucky house, that we go to see your uncle gladstore gander, my cousin gladstone gander.

louie greeny rebel duck: wow, uncle louie, i can’t believe you and uncle gladstone gander are got along well together, i knew you and uncle gladstone gander are the best cousins ever.

louie llewllyn duck: yes, it was a good life for me and your uncle gladstone gander, until he just got the one thousand dollars prize for arresting a criminal without telling me, it make me feel my heart broken, we never see each others again, but until now i decided to see him to tell him how i feel about it.

louie greeny rebel duck: ooohhh... how sad for you, uncle louie, i know how you feel bad for the past, but maybe you and uncle gladstone gander get along well together as the best cousin forever.

louie llewllyn duck: louie, thank for tell me to be a best cousin for your uncle gladstone gander, i hope he will be happy to see me after the years ago.

louie greeny rebel duck: that’s my rich uncle louie, so tell me what we are going to do for him in the lucky way.

louie llewellyn duck: louie, just act national, just be greatful to him.

louie greeny rebel duck: you got it, uncle louie, you are the best uncle.

louie llewllyh duck: well thank you louie.

louie greeny rebel duck: your welcome uncle louie.

gladstone gander: (arrive) hahaha... so that my rich cousin louie has come to me after i move to new place, hahaha... i do remember you and i are trying to scheme a bussiness together, so you got a money for helping our uncle doing at work, so i got a money for arrest the criminal, louie, i just want to said i am very sorry for without tell you about i arrest the criminal, just trust me, i promise you, that we can better do our better lifes again.

louie llewellyn duck: well, i guess you just sorry for without tell me, well that’s okay, i am happy to see you again, but i just want you to meet my nephew louie greeny duck, (looking at his nephew louie greeny duck) louie, now meet your lucky uncle glastone gander.

louie greeny rebel: hi uncle glastone gander.

gladstone gander: wow, louie, you just look more like your rich uncle louie llewellyn duck, you remind me of your rich uncle louie llewellyn duck in my childhood day, hahaha... i do like you kid, just like i like your rich uncle in my childhood day, yay for me, there are two louie ducks in the world, but wait, maybe you and i will scheme a bussiness together, just like your rich uncle and i do scheme a bussiness together, now come on my nephew, now let’s go to scheme a bussiness together as uncle and nephew.

louie greeny rebel duck: oh my god, yes, hey uncle louie, i can go scheme a bussiness together with my lucky uncle, hahaha... best uncle ever.

louie llewellyn duck: oh louie, i know you just happy with your uncle, but just be careful for what you wish for it, just keep your eye on yourself and your uncle, i hope you need more careful.

[ashtraythief]

This has been bugging me forever, but in Breaking The Ice Jared asks Jensen out to sit with him and they start talking about Chad. Jensen asks why Chad spends so much time in court, Jared says it’s complicated, and Jensen says he understands. Jensen is like, “Wait so he’s going to stay?” and Jared is like “Of course, he’s my best friend.” I think Jensen asks what this means for their marriage. I’ve always wanted to read this fic in Jensens point of view. What was he thinking during this conversation? He seemed mad at the notion of giving Chad a chance. Was Danneel really why he was worried?

Oh, yeah. I mean, first off, wow good memory, thank for reading and sorry this scene bugs you :D This fic (Breaking The Ice) is honestly one of my faves, but it does have its weaknesses, and this is one of them. If I had the time, I would write the entire thing from Jensen's POV.

This was actually always the biggest challenge writing this fic. I committed to Jared only POV, because I thought it would be fun and interesting to discover what’s up with Jensen from Jared’s POV, who is of course a good narrator, but doesn’t really understand everything. I tried to put in hints what’s going on with Jensen, but of course it’s difficult. This was one of the scenes that I was afraid wouldn’t be clear enough. I wrote several scenes from Jensen’s POV, some of them even while I wrote this fic because I had to know what was going on in Jensen’s head, and I rifled through the folder and actually found the relevant one. It takes place later, after the wedding, when Jensen is angsting in his chambers, but he thinks back to that conversation in the garden.

For everyone who’s curious and doesn’t remember the scene, the conversation between Jared and Jensen on the day of their arranged wedding that nonnie is referring to under the cut.

“You and Chad are really close.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yeah,” Jared said. “We grew up together.”

“But Chad’s family is from the mountains on your western border, is he not?”

In surprise, Jared nodded. “I didn’t know you knew that.”

“The Counts of Mons Arbor are a powerful family,” Jensen said matter-of-factly.

Jared nodded, perplexed Jensen knew so much about Scayen politics.

“How come Chad spends so much time at court?” Jensen asked casually.

“He’s here instead of his parents, to act as an intermediary for his family,” Jared explained, even though that was of course only a pretense. Chad hated his parents, hated being home. 

Jared could see from Jensen’s expression that Jensen didn’t believe his answer either.

“Look, it’s complicated,” Jared said. Chad didn’t like to talk about his family, so Jared didn’t either.

“I understand,” Jensen said stiffly. 

“You do?” Jared asked in surprise.

Jensen nodded slowly, mouth set in a hard line. “What does that mean for us?”

“For us?” Now Jared was completely confused.

“Will Chad stay at court?” Jensen’s voice was tight.

Oh. Now Jared understood Jensen’s line of questioning. Jensen didn’t like Chad, probably because of Danneel.

“Chad’s a great guy,” Jared said earnestly. “Trust me, you’ll like him. I know he can be a bit… brash and I’m sure he totally deserved the wine Danneel threw at him but he’s got a good heart. I’ve known him all my life and I love him, you know?”

Jensen’s face gave nothing away. “So he’s going to stay,” he said woodenly.

“Yes,” Jared said, and his voice was harder than he’d meant it to be but really, Chad was his best friend. So he’d misbehaved one evening. That was no reason to send him away.

Icily, Jensen nodded. “I just need to know where I stand.”

“Where you stand? Jensen, my friendship with Chad has nothing to do with us!” Frustratedly, Jared dragged a hand through his hair. “And if you dislike him that much, you don’t have to spend time with him, but really, you just met him, you can’t just judge him like that. You should give him a chance.”

“Give him a chance?” Jensen asked with barely hidden outrage, the most emotion he’d shown since he arrived at Cor Calidor.

“He is my best friend, Jensen,” Jared said firmly. He was willing to do a lot to earn Jensen’s goodwill, but he would not budge on his friends. “He is one of the most important people in my life. So yes, you should give him a chance.”

“I don’t,” Jensen started, then he broke off and looked at Jared with confusion. “He’s your best friend,” Jensen repeated slowly. “You love him.”

“Yes,” Jared said exasperatedly. “And I know that he tries to seduce every woman he meets, and that he always makes a joke out of everything, and that he can be really inappropriate, but I love him anyways.”

“You,” Jensen started again, then cut himself off. For a second, he looked completely horrified, then he got his face under control again. “I apologize. I did not mean to imply you should not be friends, I just wondered, because… because of Danneel.”

Jared’s anger dissipated as quickly as it had come. He guessed if he didn’t know Chad and he’d hit on Felicia, he’d be equally pissed.

In Jensen’s recollection, it went like this:

And yet, nothing could have prepared him for how hard it was just to talk to Jared. And Jensen had made mistakes. Shamefaced, he remembered how he had assumed Jared and Chad had an affair, when they’d come to breakfast with hay in their hair and rumpled clothes. Later, in the garden, Jensen had decided to confront Jared, to see how he had to handle this. None of his readings had prepared him for how Scayens treated lovers, and Jensen didn’t know if he was expected to endure Jared’s promiscuity. It had hurt, unexpectedly, especially when Jared had told him he would like Chad if he just gave him a chance. Faithfulness was so important in Alenda, and the thought of sitting at dinner, his husband’s lover with them, for everyone to know, Jensen hadn’t known how to bear the shame. But then it had become obvious that Jared and Chad were not lovers at all, Jared just cared very deeply and passionately about his friend and showed affection with him that Jensen wouldn’t even show Danneel in private. Jensen had tried to backpedal, to use Danneel and Chad’s tiff as an excuse so his new husband wouldn’t know that Jensen had believed him to be a cheater. Jensen usually was a good diplomat, could read people and moods, negotiate, insert himself into strange customs and festivities, but this, here with Jared and his wedding, he was making one mistake after another. He’d never felt so out of his depth, so incompetent, and he’d just badly and barely been able to hide that from his new husband. Jensen had been balancing on a knife’s edge all day and he hadn’t been able to put on more of a front, to lie to Jared about his shameful past inked into his skin, again in connection to this marriage—gods, Jared would think him unwilling for this alliance at best, scared at worst and Jensen—Jensen couldn’t do that tonight.

Thanks for asking, nonnie, and I’m thrilled to hear that this fic still has you thinking.

[linernotesandseasons]

My 22 Favorite Albums of 2022

       Wow. Here I am in 2023. Moving on to a new year and a fresh start, but pausing momentarily to recognize my 22 favorite albums (plus three bonus EPs) of 2022! A year of extreme change for me personally, and a rollercoaster of highs & lows. The highs: I am now working in music, chasing my lifelong passion, and happier in a career than I ever thought I could be! I work in marketing & operations for three small venues in Denver (Larimer Lounge, Globe Hall & Lost Lake Lounge) and it has honestly, deeply been a dream come true! I saw 87 shows this year (not counting the about 50 different sets I saw across three music festivals!) and I also worked at roughly 100 more. I saw 15 of the 25 artists on this list live this year! Music has been everywhere around me all of the time! When I started this music blog in late 2011, I looked at this annual end of the year favorites list as just a part of what I wanted to do in writing about music. Then there were years, where it felt like it was the only thing I wrote. These last couple years, it feels like just a small part of explaining my love for music. I write excessively on my social media after my favorite shows, spilling my heart out. I have been able to lean into what makes my favorite music actually my favorite, and appreciating the magic of songwriting. The lows of my year led me to fall for songs that can make me cry. Like sob cry while they play on loop for hours & days at a time. Songs that teach me more about myself. Songs that feel like they were written for me. Songs that feel like growing old & growing up. Songs that (as I found myself saying often this year) felt like friends. Songs that I turned to when I needed them most. Songs that helped me survive and helped me get out of bed in the morning. Songs that I will keep with me forever. I’ll talk about them all in more detail below of course, but here it is! In no particular order (unless you know & love our english alphabet) My 22 Favorite Albums of 2022! Long Live Music!

*

ADEEM THE ARTIST   /   White Trash Revelry

      2022 was a year of extreme change for me personally; full of unsettled-ness & uncertainty, so it feels good to start this year’s list in a familiar spot… In the exact same place we started last year! With an artist, Adeem the Artist! whose songs have become so familiar & comforting to me. Like we grew up together. Like we were friends in a past life, or back in high school. I guess with that being the case, I can start by giving you a brief history of this music writer’s background, in hopes it’ll make you better understand this list and better understand why I love Adeem’s heart wrenching, life questioning, classic country songs so much. Well… here we go. The first time I remember being excited about music was KLOVE & KMTS. Local christian & country radio stations. I was raised a baptist preachers’ kid, in private christian grade school, high school & college. I fell in love with some of the “good” christian bands (Switchfoot, Relient K, The Newsboys, Delirious?, MXPX, Bleach, Sanctus Real, Pillar, Michael W. Smith, ok we’re getting off track), but in my later high school days I met my public school, baseball playing, redneck friends and with them, it was all classic country. Now I’m not talking Willie, Waylon, & Johnny Cash, this is early 2000’s classic country. That means Brooks & Dunn, Travis Tritt, Garth, Toby Keith, Aldean, Luke Bryan, Lonestar, Billy Currington, the list goes on. Maybe not a foundation of essential artists, but if you’ve ever sung “It’s A Great Day To Be Alive” at the top of your lungs in the bed of a pickup truck to a mountain sunset, I think you might understand.

      The familiarity I found on Adeem the Artist’s second proper album goes deeper than simply the country songwriting. Opening track “Carolina'' has been a favorite of mine since it was faster & finger-picked and called “A Light in Carolina'' back on Adeem’s self released Forgotten Songs & American Dreams back in 2019. I spent a couple of glorious spring drives around rural North Carolina backroads belting “You’ve got a lot of skins to wear as you try to figure out who you are.” Now slowed with glowing acoustic strums and holy pedal steel, “Carolina” stands as a marker. Adeem is still Adeem. They’re still trying to figure out who they are. And it still doesn’t matter what people say. The fact that this song has grown with Adeem (and with me!) shedding skins & names & other outward, physical, insignificant things, just proves its power. I quoted Adeem in my review last year, saying that they hoped their songs helped you “drift with the water’s pace toward wholeness” and well… Here we are, still drifting. From there White Trash Revelry simply lifts off. “For Judas” is a gorgeous piano ballad, a songwriter’s masterclass, that imagines Jesus & Judas, young lovers kissing in the rain, falling for each other… in the Northeast Minneapolis arts district. When this song first hit me, Saturday evening, December 3rd at 5pm, I slow danced myself around my old kitchen, cracked another beer, and texted my old friend Stephen (the one who most appreciates good songwriting!) and said  “LOVE SONG OF THE FUCKING YEAR.” The classic country sound of “Heritage of Arrogance,” “Run This Town” and “Going To Hell” recall all those country songs I grew up listening to on country radio, but the lyrics couldn’t be further from the racism, sexism & homophobia that have defined country music for me in the last 15 years. In fact, Adeem has made a point to stand up against those things. To make music that sounds so much like classic country, but is made for everyone. Songs that address that very racism, sexism & homophobia head on. In this way, by being explicitly accepting, Adeem is creating a safe space for everyone to enjoy these songs, to tap your boots, to belt along when they sing “Do you wanna go to hell children, with Adeem the Artist? They play Country songs in heaven, but in hell we play them loud!” Heart of the album gut punch “Middle of a Heart” tackles what is unfortunately a familiar American songwriters’ tale of late. Over hushed finger-picked guitar Adeem tells a tale of a boy with a gun, a freezer full of fresh deer meat, and of course, the ensuing American tale of recruitment & money, love & war. And then the aftermath of mental health and the  suicide rates of veterans here in the good ol, gun lovin’ US of A. Through the entirety of White Trash Revelry, Adeem is cementing themselves as an essential voice in the folk/country singer-songwriter scene. A queer, non-binary Country Musician, singing about the world as they see it. Telling me stories, asking the questions I want to see asked. And as they build a career, I can follow along. Like a friend. A friend who deep, deep down, just really loves Country Music.

      “I gave my body & blood for the power of love / and hoped that I would conquer sin / but I never even rose again… / He had short, neat curls that were shadowed black / and I was fumbling around with the weather app / wondering if he could ever love me back / sometimes these things are hit or miss / with the perfume trails lingering behind / I caught an urge and the nerve to take his hand in mine / and if didn’t rain at the perfect time / it’s probable we wouldn’t have kissed / in the Northeast Minneapolis arts district… Oh I write this down for Judas… Oh all of this was for Judas…”

*

BARTEES STRANGE   /   Farm to Table

       When I wrote about Bartees Strange’s debut album Live Forever for my favorite albums list back in 2020, I referred to it as nostalgic. I referenced The National, Bon Iver, Fall Out Boy, mid 2000′s emo, pop-rock, & hip-hop as touchstones for his blossoming sound. I wrote how those influences made his songs feel familiar, like old friends. Well, when I press play on his sophomore record Farm to Table, and the sweet, melancholic riff of “Heavy Heart” drifts in, I get that exact same feeling! A song about allowing yourself to recognize the heartbreak of the past year, tenderly specific lyrics setting it in time & place “You look so nice in a cherry scarf, we should go to Toronto more often” and then a rolling build to an epic, exploding, unexpectedly monster riff! Bartees is back! With Farm to Table, Bartees has cemented himself as a superstar, an artist I will see every time he comes to Denver, and someone at the forefront of his sound. From the midwest emo of “Mulholland Dr.” to the pulsing, droning, hip hop influenced, name dropping “Cosigns,” to the gorgeous, swelling sadness of “Black Gold,” Strange is staking out his own place in indie-rock. One of my favorite musical moments of the year can be found about three minutes into the menacing, driving “Wretched.” A song that has basically already taken off (the first chorus literally lifts the song off the ground) before dropping into a dark, acoustic guitar-led second verse. As it builds again, you can feel what’s coming, the band syncs in together, smiling at each other from across the room, ready to cut loose. Right before the second big drop, Bartees lets out a pure, unadulterated “Wooooo!” and the song just GOES! Bartees talked a lot about the family aspect of his band behind Farm to Table saying “I had so much pressure to work with fancy people after Live Forever - I’m so glad Chris (producer Chris Connors) & I decided to do it ourselves in our spaces, with our world of friends. It’s so easy & beautiful to grow with friends, to become a family, and to create something new.” The family nature of Farm to Table can be felt through the radio waves and it is a joy to listen to. This is complex & heartfelt indie-rock, with mathematical midwest movements and a hip-hop ethos. Bartees Strange brings a larger-than-life, DC meets Oklahoma, lighthearted, heartbreak, colorful vibe to his writing. Like he says on the mid-tempo (but stick around for the outro!)  “Escape This Circus “There’s a fault in our stars, there’s a rock in my shoe!” It’s not too late to jump on the bandwagon and find your new favorite indie-rock star. Bartees is blowing up!

       “I took the keys to the lake / I said to God what I said / I know the folk on the road / I know they don’t wanna move today / I wish I could die in the morn / Sometimes it’s hard but you know I’m thankful…”

*

BLUEBOOK   /   Optimistic Voices

      Sometimes songs & albums find you right when you need them. I had heard about Bluebook for years, knew they were Denver legends, knew about their seriously broody-Angel Olsen meets Sharon Van Etten apocalyptic lounge music. I also knew that Bluebook has grown into a supergroup behind primary songwriter & bassist Julie Davis, featuring Hayley Helmericks (Monofog & Snake Rattle Rattle Snake) on drums, Jess Parsons (old linernotes&seasons fav Glowing House) on keys and Anna Morsett (The Still Tide) on guitar. But it wasn’t until this year, in anticipation of their headlining Globe Hall show in December, when I sat down and gave Optimistic Voices my full attention. It started when I read Julie Davis’ writing on social media to promote their Globe show.  “I’ve got seeds on my mind” Davis’ Solstice-tinged post began. She talked about Winter themes. About

       “the growing darkness as the days get shorter, and a gradual withdrawal & burrowing inside, both into my home & into myself-”

       then she paused, in this moment, you can feel her thumping bassline pick up, willing her song to life, pulsing through “--but the seeds!” she remembered!

       “They keep coming to mind, like coded messages to the future, they contain a plan for new growth, and they are here with us, all around, right now, waiting. They will wait through the wind & the snow until the ground receives their communication, and, at some future date yet unknown, they will grow.”

       In the immortal words of midwest author Michael Perry at my all time favorite music festival Eaux Claires in Wisconsin “The metaphors almost write themselves!” There is a magic in the way Davis writes, but the coded message I needed to hear is one that holds a more practical, everyday kind of magic. It is contained in the words Plan & Communication. Magic is great and all, but it doesn’t just happen. These seeds have a plan. They work towards that plan. They have goals, schedules, mile markers on their move towards magic. They communicate. With the ground, with the elements, with each other. They communicate their plan. They work their plan. Then, and only then, does magic happen.        

       Bluebook turns their plans & communication to magic on this deeply moving, darkly impressive album. Full of driving basslines, swelling & stabbing synths & guitars, and stately lyrics about religion, ketamine therapy, ear infections, flowers & mental health. Optimistic Voices pulses with energy and moves slowly but with intention. When Bluebook finally closed their Globe Hall set long after midnight with a cover, it was one Davis referred to as a “true Solstice song.” At that point we were mere days before the shortest day of the year, and less than a week from Denver’s coldest day in 30 years. The closing song and title track of Optimistic Voices is from Wizard of Oz. If you’re familiar, you may know it as a bouncing, ecstatic number full of joy & expectation. Although they keep the original lyrics, in typical Bluebook fashion, their version broods with sadness, mystery (is that a Brad Cook synth I hear?!) and a deep, deep winter magic. “You’re out of the woods, you’re out of the dark, you’re out of the night” Davis encourages us in her best somber Florence Welch tones “Step into the sun, step into the light. Keep straight ahead for the most glorious place on the face of the earth or the sky. Hold onto your breath, hold onto your heart, hold onto your hope…” With those words on that night I felt the light returning. Felt the days getting longer. The solstice has passed. The nights are dark & long, but not forever. There is a light in the eastern sky. I repeat the refrain again with Davis and the night is over. Like the rest of my most favorite albums from this year, Optimistic Voices was there for me when I needed it. It helped me get through some of the shortest days and hardest weeks of my year. Like always, I turned to songs for comfort & survival. “March up to the gate and bid it open.”

       “Shifting in the dark / lifting toward the spark / there’s a rope that pulls you up from the dark / in the box you found / a reason for reaching up around…”

*

CLEMENTINE WAS RIGHT   /   Can’t Get Right With the Darkness

       Clementine Was Right makes the kind of songs that remind me why I love music so much. Songs that reference places & seasons & people. Songs that want to jump back in the river. Songs that want to ride shotgun with you all Summer, drinking Dr. Pepper and singing out the open window with the hot wind in your hair and between your fingers. These are far bigger than just songs. These songs have families & friends & other lives to live somewhere down the road. To hear songwriter, poet, & frontperson Mike Young tell it, Clementine Was Right is a family affair. Not so much a band as an idea. A community building & changing, morphing & rolling along with songs to sing and places to go. The lyrics are his work; he is a poet, fiction writer & songwriter originally from Northern California and then all over. Currently based out of Denver, so we get to claim Clementine as a local band. He talks about moving & relocation saying “I hate change and I keep doing it! Movement, upheaval, crumbling, transit-trying forever to go home, calling each new stop another home.” In the songs on Clementine’s magnificent second record Can’t Get RIght With the Darkness, I too have found some kind of new home. 

       Can’t Get Right With the Darkness was recorded in Memphis, TN, straight to a 1969 Ampex tape machine. There are a whole host of musicians on it (people that Mike calls “talented & rowdy & tender & golden hearted”). The songs explode out of the radio with life & love, regret & loss, a postcard of American rock & roll, with silly drawings on the back in gel pen from all your queer friends. Musically, Clementine Was Right sounds like everything & everyone I grew up listening to. This is cosmic scoot bootgaze sweeping western emo tonk classic American rock&roll country music. Springsteen, Petty, etc… Lyrically Clementine’s songs are the kind that stick with me. Mike writes with his heart on his sleeve about all the things I love about life. These songs make me want to do better, dance bigger, swing harder & run faster. I spent most of fall & winter 2022 in a pretty dark place. I was facing my own fears. Admitting that maybe I've spent most of my adult life running away. That I was afraid to make decisions, afraid to take charge of my life. I don’t feel like I’ve escaped that period of my life, that time in my thoughts yet, and maybe I never will. But I’m working on things and trying to get better. When I fell for Clementine, I immediately clung to the writing & poetry and the overarching idea that everything is gonna be ok. That even if you make the wrong choice, take the wrong road. You will come out alive. When I listen to Clementine, I have an unexplainable, rock solid feeling that I haven’t lived my best days yet. For all the nostalgia and saudade present in Young’s writing, at their core, these songs fill me with hope. Like when I wake up in the morning I will have new friends to make, new songs to sing, new places to see, new careers to chase, new windows to open or roll down, new lyrics to sing or scream or mumble out into the bright, wide open air, a new life starting over every day. I want to close with some of the ramble lyrics/poetry that Clementine uses for their social media videos. Young’s partner is the incredible poet Gion Davis (go find his poetry book “TOO MUCH”) and I absolutely love the way the poems & the songs & the music weave together in a nonsense jumble of joy & sorrow & happiness & heartbreak & curiosity & adventure! Long Live Clementine Was Right!

       “I am not going to live for a thousand years. I am not a redwood tree or a deep sea sponge. You are running away from your own death that has brushed past you like many tall ferns in the dark. Your life has no witness but you and occasionally your friends who love you. It is devastating. It is the best day you’ve ever had… You can take a year, you can try a year, you can try a lot, you can try two oceans. You can try to say your friend’s name until it’s a face. Was it loud enough?... It doesn’t matter who sang the first line. I need to see people-sized people in the sun. I would like to make something that when you open it, makes a quiet shift. It doesn’t matter if we’re not friends yet. I am calling from the exact center of my fear. Here we are as the sighs get less & less fake. 1% is whispering something about fireflies and the last 1% is wondering if silence is the best wondering you’ll ever reach. I used to live in the desert, but now I live anywhere. So the band gets bigger, confusing, bigger, to include everyone I’ll miss. The desire for rescue is the wrong map to intimacy. I used to live anywhere, but now I just keep visiting. How do you know if the songs work? You ask strangers what they do with their ghosts. You don’t want faces to be numbered, you want them to answer your stories with theirs. You don’t need to harmonize with anything but all the secret windows you’ve been waiting to open in your chest. Singing along is a light under the door of longing. Your new friends sing along with your old friends' daughter and the picture she drew of the band as guests of the lava. Love don’t know I’m coming, love won’t let me stay. It moves you, which is to say you keep going. You sing along…”

*

ETHEL CAIN   /   Preacher’s Daughter

       There is an undeniable darkness emanating from Ethel Cain’s official debut album Preacher’s Daughter. Many of the songs sound lifted from some 99 cent red box horror movie; palpable fear & self-hate crashing suddenly into jump scares and waves of wailing noise. Six plus minute songs of burning, brooding evil; reeking with violence, sex, motorcycles, drugs, guns, booze, incest, abusive relationships, and American red, white, & blue religious bullshit. To listen to these songs is like watching one of those horror movies, squinting between fingers covering your eyes; scared to see what comes next, but unable to peel your eyes & ears away. By far the darkest evil Cain uncovers in her writing, is the sin of the Christian church. The black heart at the center of her America’s evil. Ethel Cain grew up like me, but a million miles from me. Born in Florida, a preacher’s kid, indoctrinated in the church, questioning her upbringing, but filled with a deep nostalgia for her youth. When Ethel came out to her family (and consequently the community, cuz if you grew up in a small town you know that’s how it is) as a trans woman, it marked a turning point. In her words “It was war. We were a house divided. It was me versus my whole town.” She distanced herself from the church and started making music on garageband and trying to find collaborators and chosen family. In the midst of that searching, Ethel has created a musical world all her own. A sonic enveloping, a fashion career & a style where she can be herself. An album that runs an hour and 15 minutes and never lets up. She is telling stories, she is relating to old friends from small towns & similar upbrings, and most of all, she is 100% herself. An artist with a singular vision. Preacher’s Daughter is a challenging listen, but it makes me feel as viscerally real as any album on this list. 

       There are songs on Preacher’s Daughter that I can’t listen to without thinking about my own high school years. Amidst all the darkness, there is an 80’s love story in the twinkling pop of “American Teenager” an anti-war anthem that prays to Jesus & daddy & Dale. An empowerment anthem at the end when Cain belts “I’m doing what I want and damn I’m doing it well” This is the only roll-down-the-windows song (and maybe a glimpse at the magic Cain could make if she sold out of her darkness for a lighter side?!) and it immediately takes me back to small town back roads in western Colorado. I remember my lifelong best friend Stephen would play a piano melody for me at his house. Something he wrote that sounded like growing up. Like the end of everything and the beginning of everything. We would be at his house in Silt at midnight. Still time to walk to the train tracks and the Gofer foods or Kum & Go and get chips or corn nuts or a gas station hot dog and a 64oz Dr. Pepper and maybe some cigarettes or later a 6-pack of beer. We would take whatever we bought out under the overpass, where the train tracks ran through, and we would talk about whatever shit. About what we wanted to do with our lives. About the same shit I’m still talking about now. We would rent one of Ethel’s crappy horror movies from the redbox and go back to his house to waste the rest of the night. We’d talk about how we missed our girlfriends, about how we didn’t know what we wanted to do with our lives. About how I still don’t know now. I write all this because this is what I like to remember and this is what Ethel’s songs remind me of. I want her to know that I understand. When the guitar crashes into “A House In Nebraska” and sweeps the whole song away into the madness of growing up & letting go, I feel what it means to her. I feel the pain she feels. When I feel so alone, these are the kinds of songs and albums I look for. When the second half of “Televangelism” finds a light and the piano strikes a match and begins to sing, I hear my friend Stephen’s piano. I’m back home in my childhood bedroom. Somehow, Ethel Cain has conjured up a world that I can live in. In the darkest corners of her world, there is light and there is friendship. These songs are masterpieces and they tell stories of darkness & evil. But maybe, when we turn the lights off and sit in the dark after midnight, telling these stories; we can hold hands and feel a little less alone. Because there is someone out there who feels just like me. 

       “You & me against the world / you were my man and I your girl / we had nothing except each other / you were my whole world / then the day came and you were up & gone / and I still call home that house in Nebraska / where we found each other / on a dirty mattress on the second floor / where the world was empty save you & I / where you came and I laughed  / and you left and I cried / where you told me even if we die tonight / that I’d die yours / these dirt roads are empty / the ones we paved ourselves / your mama calls me sometimes / to see if I’m doing well / and I lie to her and say that I’m doing fine / when really I’d kill myself to hold you one more time… / you know I still wait at the edge of town / praying straight to God that maybe you’ll come back around / I cry every day and the bottles make it worse / cuz you were the only one I was never scared to tell I hurt / and I found photographs of our school on the day we met / I thought you were so beautiful / it was love I guess / and you might never come back home / and I may never sleep at night / but God I just hope you’re doing fine out there / I just pray that you’re alright / and I feel so alone, and I feel so alone out here / I’m so alone out here without you baby…”

*

FKA TWIGS   /   CAPRISONGS

      “Hey, I made you a mixtape” begins FKA twigs phenomenal third album CAPRISONGS. If you know me, you know how happy it makes me for FKA twigs to make me a mixtape! Tahliah Debrett Barnett is an English singer, songwriter & dancer who goes by FKA twigs. She lets that mixtape start slow (honestly the way most good mixtapes do!) and opener “ride the dragon” (all of CAPRISONGS song titles are styled in all lowercase) sets the stage for personal fav “honda.” From here, the album dives in. “So yeah one morning… I don’t know, Monday or somethin’' begins track two. A man’s voice recounts “Summertime, you know, all tired and shit, sleep under my eyes, lookin’ at myself in the mirror… who’s that? Anyways, I’m one of a kind. Well… people like me are one of a kind. When life gives us lemons, we just take in the essence… Anyway, don’t look back, don’t look back, keep drivin’, know what I’m saying? Leave the sourness behind… Leave it to the streets. That’s it. O-T-S-S. Only the strongest survive. Honda, baby!” From there, it’s easy to get lost in the entrancing beats that make up the rest of CAPRISONGS. Rumbling waves of late night afro rhythms, hip-hop, r&b & soul, chanted choral backgrounds, auto tuned wails dancing intertwined with frail falsetto, Twigs shapeshifts her way through beats & breaks, interlacing bangers with spoken word interludes, cassette tape clicks & hisses, transporting you to HER world, a capricorn sun, an artist in charge.

       I fell in love with this album way back in snowy January, the kind of tropical transportation I needed to escape my winter unemployment reality. My littlest sister had texted me a long, sweet text about life & growing up and then she followed it up with “and maybe more importantly, FKA twigs new album is mindblowing.” These are the kind of connections I look for in music, sharing songs & albums with friends & family & loved ones, bonding over “THIS SONG” or “I can’t wait for the new album” or “Let’s definitely go see her next time she comes to Denver!” CAPRISONGS is a slithery masterpiece, rewarding on multiple listens, equally strong as wintry background heaters or summer party bangers. FKA twigs is building a monster discography (I hear “Cellophane” is killing it on tik tok right now?!) and CAPRISONGS is as much fun as you’ll have dancing in the kitchen late at night this year. If you missed it when it came out a year ago, go get it now!

       “This is for the hard dreamers / been sad for a while / All the indigo & lightbeamers / been sad for a while…" 

*

FLORENCE + THE MACHINE   /   Dance Fever

       Of all the inevitably titled “covid albums” written or made during lockdown during the global pandemic, Florence Welch’s Dance Fever has my favorite origin story and most direct & literal writing about what it was like for those of us who lost live music. I relate 100% to the opening of “Choreomania'' where Welch deadpans “I am freaking out in the middle of the street, with the complete conviction of someone who’s never had anything actually really bad happen to them.” Before covid, live music was my outlet, my drug, the one place where I felt like myself. During covid, I felt so lucky in my situation (an introvert who actually enjoyed lockdown haha, I kept my job, didn’t lose anyone, lived my life completely unscathed by the pandemic) but I would bemoan to close friends my “loss” of live music. I felt a hole in my life, an essential part of my life, my joy, was ripped away. Florence addresses this idea directly on Dance Fever as she struggles with herself, questioning her career, her “addiction” to performing, and the kind of deep, deep questions I dealt with this last year. The kind of questions that have potential to rip your life apart and destroy everything you love, but open up your future to unfathomable, life fulfilling possibilities. If that sounds a tad over dramatic… well, it’s Florence + The Machine! She’s built her career, cult fanbase & self-mythology on the melodramatic overdramatic… So let's dive in!

       Dance Fever is a loose concept record about the dancing plague (or Choreomania, derived from Greek “Choros” meaning dance and “Mania” meaning madness) that struck Europe in the 1300-1500’s where hundreds or thousands of people, would take to the streets and dance erratically, sometimes to exhaustion and even death. It is one of the fascinating, horrifying google history rabbit-hole kinda things that keeps you up at night, but Florence is no stranger to cult-like dance events. Her brooding opener “King” starts exactly where any important pandemic record should start “We argue in the kitchen about whether to have children, about the world ending and the scale of my ambition, and how much is art really worth?” Welch states bluntly. Dance Fever gives us a sometimes unsettling glimpse into Florence’s private turmoil through the most personal, autobiographical writing of her nearly 15 year career. Florence feels vulnerable here “I was never as good as I always thought I was” and “what strange claws are these scratching at my skin, I never knew my killer would be coming from within” but she needs to work these feelings out in songs, she “needs to go to war to find material to sing” and by the end of the first five minutes “King” explodes with defiant self confidence. Make no mistake, with all her inner struggles, Florence is still a force; a woman finding herself, a changeling, a shapeshifter, a superstar artist belting “I am no mother, I am no bride, I am KING.” Sooo… I guess she’s not having kids then. I shiver every time I hear her sing that line so matter-of-factly, like your friend telling you she’s figured out the secret to herself.  In case there was any doubt about the inner turmoil and where it would leave her, Welch whispers out the ending over soft harp strums “I was never satisfied, it never let me go… Just dragged me by my hair and back on with the show…” Was this her cold hearted decision, or some demon or angel inside her, something that great artists have that forces them to create? From there, her choice to sing & dance & perform gets easier. “Free” is the most Antonoff-y of the bunch, with a huge, bubbling chorus and the simple refrain of “I hear the music, I feel the beat, and for a moment when I’m dancing, I am free!” The quiet centerpiece of the record “Girls Against God” is a masterclass in writing that makes me cry & laugh in equal amounts. The funny (“I listen to music from 2006 and feel kinda sick” and “in my darkest fantasies, I am the picture of passivity. Waiting for you side of stage, suppressing all my private rage, but as my sister said… I’D PROBABLY LAST SIX DAYS”) are seriously laugh out loud funny, but the depth of “I know I may not look like much, just another screaming speck of dust” and “I met the devil, you know he gave me a choice… A golden heart or a golden voice” gives the listener a completely explicit glimpse into Florence’s brain & heart. Deadly. Florence sacrifices herself for these songs (perhaps overdramatically, but like I said, It’s Florence + The Machine!) many times over, like in “Heaven is Here” (which made an absolutely fantastic concert/cult ritual opener) where she confides “every song I wrote became an escape rope, tied around my neck to pull me up to heaven” and gorgeous closer “Morning Elvis'' (which she sang with Ethel Cain in Denver, a true favorite live music moment of 2022!) where she bemoans “after every tour I swear I’ll quit, it’s over boys now this is it, but the songs like children beggin’ to be born…” So let’s close by talking about the cult-ritu-errr, live show!

       On October 1, I walked the Platte River bike path in a gorgeously warm, t-shirt autumn sunset, to Ball Arena, to the choreomania dance party, ren faire magnificence that is a Florence + The Machine show. The setlist was perfect, Florence is the one of the most physically impressive live performers I’ve ever seen (she ran the length of the arena floor, sprinting barefoot, whipping the crowd into a frenzy of sweat & love. Six songs in they played “Dog Days” and half way through the song Florence took time to talk saying 

       “Hello to anyone who is joining us for the first time! It’s quite an intense experience. And then, to anyone out there who may have been brought along. Or who is chaperoning someone, and you’re wondering… ‘what the fuck is this?!’ Is it a cult?! Is it some kind of massive, haunted house experience?! Is it some kind of British, pagan dance ritual?! Am I safe?! Well all I can say to anyone who has been brought along is… It’s really so much better if you just give in to it! Like really give in. And I promise that if you just do every single thing that I say… You’ll be absolutely fine! So the first thing I’m going to do Denver, is I’m going to need every single person in this arena to put their phones AWAY! And if you all can help me out, take a look to your left and right and if you see anyone with their phone out I want you to very politely -and you can use a british accent I won’t be offended- say, excuse me please would you mind putting your phone away so that we can have a collective experience! Now that they’re all gone.. IS EVERYBODY FREE?! We all spend so much time on screens and separated from each other, so now I want you to tell each other that YOU LOVE EACH OTHER! TELL EACH OTHER THAT YOU MISS EACH OTHER! You do not need to share or post this moment, BE HERE NOW WITH THE PEOPLE THAT YOU CAME WITH, WITH THE PEOPLE THAT YOU LOVE!” 

       I cried, I laughed, I hugged new friends, I told strangers I loved them, and then we all danced together. Choreomania? Dance Fever? It may be slightly overdramatic, but that’s pretty much all I want.

       “What a thing to admit / that when someone looks at me with real love / I don’t like it very much / kinda makes me feel like I’m being crushed / is this something that you would like to discuss? / and it’s good to be alive / crying into cereal at midnight / if they ever let me out / I’m gonna really let it out…”

*

JEAN DAWSON   /   CHAOS NOW*

       I honestly don’t remember where, when or who I heard about Jean Dawson from (or why the hell I hadn’t heard of him until this year?!), but once I heard his lilting, lonesome single “PIRATE RADIO*” (all the songs on CHAOS NOW* are stylized “CAPS LOCKasterisk”) in late September, I was 100% hooked. Especially when contrasted with the ballistic, ferocious, singalong rage of “SICK OF IT*” which was released two weeks later, Jean Dawson’s third album CHAOS NOW* is the sound of an artist about to take over the world. If you read all the reviews, interviews and think pieces about Jean Dawson, they all talk about the way he smashes and melds genres, sometimes in the same song, in the same verse. He pulls from punk, hardcore, hip hop, rap, grunge, emo, goth, pop, etc… But instead of talking about who or what he sounds like, I want to talk about what makes Jean Dawson so special. A true student of music, Dawson grew up on thrift store CDs, limewire and youtube ripped mp3s on his ipod, listening to everything on long bus rides between Sinaloa, MX (where his mother is from and where he grew up) and San Diego, CA (where his father is from and where he went to school). He practiced piano at Guitar Center as a teen because he didn’t own one. Now he makes the most gigantic, out-sized bedroom rock & roll you’ve ever heard. You can feel his youthful energy exploding out the speakers on nearly every song on CHAOS NOW*. Whether he’s channeling early 2000’s acoustic pop-punk on the bouncy “GLORY*” teaming with Earl Sweatshirt on the sweet, string symphony, stomp folk of “BAD FRUIT*” (which could honestly pass for Viva La Vida era Coldplay, remember Jay-Z had a verse on “Lost+”?!) or channeling the glory days of rap-rock on the thrashing “0-HEROES*.”

       When I tell people about the music that I love (like really, truly, deeply, lifetime love) it’s sometimes hard to pinpoint exactly what it is about it that makes me love it so much. Most often, it has to do with lyrics. When a writer is able to put into words exactly what I’m feeling. The feeling of being understood, like the writer is seeing the world exactly like me. Like we both “get it.” But there is also an energy to the music. The final piece of the puzzle fits when we get the chance to celebrate the songs and the feelings together. In the same space (a sacred space) with like minded people who “get it” too. A release, a drug. For me, it’s the most important thing worth chasing. It’s why I quit my job a year and a half ago and tried to find my way in music. Well, I got that chance with Jean at Cervantes in October, and it was absolute magic. Lost in a crowd that pulsed & lifted, sweated & shifted; moving as one, screaming as one, echoing Jean… Being together… This album, like so many of the albums on this list, needs to be experienced live. When Jean released CHAOS NOW* he wrote this about his masterpiece: “I’ve been trying to put this album into simple terms and sentences but the more I try the harder it becomes because it’s simply not simple. It is a love letter to all the children that will grow up to change fractions of the world for the result of a greater whole. I hold no lofty ideals on music making rather I wish to serve as a proverbial sludge hammer to doors that have been left locked for kids that not only look like me but feel like me. Music making has been the greatest gift I’ve been given so far that I give you all of me / every emotion every splinter in my step / feel free to use me as a mirror to see you if you wish. I hope to share moments with you / to be a minor theme for your laughs / yells / cries and everything in between. I’m growing up in your eyes, ears and arms. With this little time we have on this big blue green rock I hope that it is well spent with those you love and no fear under your chest !GO FOR IT! CHAOS NOW*”

       “I’m sick of it / on the cliff / nosedive / I’m the new black oblivion / off the shit / over it / live & die with my motherfucking happines…”

*

MUNA   /   MUNA

       I can still picture the exact date, time & place that I really fell in love with Muna’s absolute banger-filled, self-titled, third album. It was a gloriously golden midwest morning, August 4, 2022. I was driving an hour into St. Charles, Iowa to volunteer on set-up crew at the Hinterland Music Festival. Driving past endless corn fields and sweating out a hangover from the night before. I picked an album from one of the artists I had kinda forgotten was playing HInterland. Muna’s huge singalong, dance-along pop songs hit me like a jump into a ice cold Summer lake and I was hooked. 

       Of course I’d been blasting the Phoebe Bridgers-assisted, late 90’s/early 2000’s feel good gay rom-com first single “Silk Chiffon” since late 2021, but the rest of the album matches the opener’s energy. These are mega-huge pop-songs, club ready, sung confidently, and played with a hella good full band. Fast forward three days and I’m dancing, singing & sweating it out in the pit to my first Muna set at Hinterlands. It was everything. Phoebe came bouncing out to sing her “Silk Chiffon” verse of course, they covered “Mr. Brightside,” they were perfect. Fast forward two weeks and I made this Muna playlist and basically learned all the lyrics.

       Fast forward-forward two months and I’m back in the pit with Muna at the Gothic Theatre here in Denver, screaming & dancing & sweating & crying & laughing with the teenagers & the queer kids. So, what’s so special about this album you ask? Maybe part of it has to do with me needing a “break up” album for the first time in a long time. From the positive, work-hard-make-myself-better pulse of leaving/running anthem “Runner’s High,” to the regret vs. growth ache and deep thinking of “Home By Now” (bonus, it’s really, really fun to scream “why is it so hot in LA in late October?!”) It seemed like this album is full of lyrics that hit home, sung to melodies that really stick. When I looked at my spotify wrapped in December, it wasn’t really a surprise that the song I played and sang the most in 2022 is the emotional, power ballad “Kind Of Girl.” The Sheryl Crow-meets-Oasis, acoustic steamroller “Kind Of Girl.” is essentially a self-care manifesto. A morning wake up challenge and maybe my favorite vocal performance of any song this year. I talk about lyrics a lot in these reviews, and “Kind Of Girl” (and really this whole album) felt like the lyrics I needed, right when I needed them. Writing about being yourself, owning your choices and life direction, being proud of who you are, and working to change what you wanna change. It’s powerful, powerful stuff. For girls (and anybody!) who’s been told they’re “too much” or “scary” or ‘you’re taking things too far and pressing too hard” join me in rolling my window down on Downing St., in the late Summer morning air and sing with Katie “I could get up tomorrow, talk to myself real gentle, work in the garden.” then the ending that matters most, “Yeah I like telling stories, but I don’t have to write them in ink… I could still change the end…” An ellipsis that leads to a future life. Go make your own decisions. Take charge of your life. Don’t be afraid to change the end. 

       “Have you ever heard about how when a person’s in a maze? / they will tend to walk in circles thinking they are going straight / they can’t see the bigger picture, so they get stuck in a loop / in the end, I was afraid that that’s what you & I would do / but I still have my moments / where every reason feels a lot like an excuse / I wanna ask you / would we have turned a corner if I had waited? / do I need to lower my expectations / if we’d kept heading the same direction / would we be home by now?...”

*

OPEN MIKE EAGLE   /   Component System with the Auto Reverse

       Back in October, when Larimer Lounge booked Los Angeles by way of Chicago rapper Open Mike Eagle for January 8, 2023, my closest co-worker and #1 music recommender told me I really needed to listen to Michael W. Eagle II. Conveniently, he had a new album dropping the same day we announced the show titled Component System with the Auto Reverse. Two songs in and I knew this album would end up on my end of the year favorites list. This is thoughtful, “elegant-rap” a masterclass from an emcee at the top of his game. Open MIke coined the genre-term (you know I love genre-terms!) “art-rap” at the start of his career in 2010 and it fits, although he bemoans it on the career questioning “I Retired Then I changed My Mind” laughing “I conjured up a gremlin, how do I get rid of you? / ‘what the fuck is art-rap?’ in every damn interview.” To me, it is the humor Open Mike infuses with the deep, life questioning queries, that makes Component System special. He makes me laugh out loud, like in the intro to the woozy “Circuit City” when he drawls “I’m a brand new man doing the same dance / it only seems confusing because I changed pants.” or the banging closer when he raps “I play the wall like a special titan, I ain’t a wizard but I wrestle like him / The only wand I know detects metal items.” The pop culture references (both popular & obscure) are everywhere on these songs. Bill Cartwright, The Pharcyde, Quelle Chris, The Bushwhackers, Big Bird, Golden Girls, Among Us, Scott Rogowsky, Biz Markie, the list goes on. Most notable is Open Mike’s tribute to the late great MF DOOM simply titled “For DOOM.” An inspired, two minute glimpse into how heroes can mold you into who you are. 

       Like Open MIke, I grew up making my own mixtapes. Not the fancy kind, I didn’t have the tape system with the auto reverse, but I made myself mixtapes of my favorite christian rock songs for the tape player in my 1993 Subaru Outback. When I got a laptop in college I graduated to mix cds (I kept calling them mixtapes though!) and would make them meticulously for friends and family (and myself!), for special occasions, seasons, & secrets. I would rip youtube mp3s of clips from our favorite TV shows, funny vines, or quotes that were important. Finding any of those mixtapes now is like a window into who I was, who I was growing up to be. In the same way, this mixtape from Open Mike feels like a portal into his world. Who he is, what he worries about, what makes him laugh, who he is growing up to be. A brand new man doing the same dance. 

       “I still got the same worldview / a brain full of old school rules / and memories like flesh wounds / the cure isn’t in a test tube / it’s the sound of my son belly laughing in the next room…”

*

ORVILLE PECK   /   Bronco

       To be honest, I did not expect to love Orville Peck’s sophomore album Bronco as much as I do. I had his debut album Pony (get it?) on my 2019 favorite albums list and I said I loved it for its “shoegaze, tumbleweed rumble and sweeping western imagery.” I saw Orville a few times over the last couple years at Mission Ballroom and then Red Rocks, as his legend grew and I had been absolutely blown away by his stage presence. Orville’s origin story is the stuff of legends by now. Gay drummer for Canadian punk band dreams up an even gayer cowboy alter ego and conceals his identity with a fancy fringed mask! Suits get fancier, friends get famous-er, stages get bigger, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Hollywood, Miami, Orville Peck is now a superstar. The thing about all the fringe & feathers & glitter & rhinestones is, none of it would work if the songs weren’t good. On Bronco, Orville has doubled down on his classic songwriting, attention demanding voice, and storyteller’s heart. He ditches a few of the tumbleweeds and some of the lonely cowboy vibes on Bronco in favor of more polished, big stage, big lights, big city performances. But the melodies, the lyrics, the way the songs pick up and just go, is pure country songwriting. I fell in love with Bronco thanks to my ex-partner Lila’s love of his songs & his persona. When I hear these songs, all I hear is her; working from home, headphones in, belting lyrics in an exaggerated Orville delivery, happy & oblivious to anyone who may be listening. We fell in love with Bronco together and wore it out during a couple days of long drives in the midwest in the Summer of 2022. No matter what, I hold those moments close and think of them and her everytime I listen to these songs. That’s what music does and I couldn’t fight it even if I wanted to. Music marks time & space. 

       Bronco starts as far from where Pony started as possible. It’s been three years and a lot of stages, and where Pony started as slow and dark as Orville gets (“the sun goes down, another dreamless night”) Bronco kicks in with rhythmic guitar, fast rolling drums, and hot, blond surfer boys on the beach in Daytona. By the time the swoon-worthy croon of  “The Curse of the Blackened Eye” hits its stride, it’s clear that Orville is crafting songs his way. His choruses are bigger & catchier, his instrumentation is simple & direct, these melodies & lyrics are strong enough to stand on their own. They ride on Orville’s commanding voice and storytelling theatrics. He sneaks in a Tanya Tucker reference in the uptempo “Lafayette'' and his geographical mile markers journey this album from the West (Malibu, Mendocino, The PCH, The Hexie Mountains, Mulholland, Denver, Reno, the Badlands) to the South (Mississippi, the bayou, Daytona) to the northeast sun and all the way across the sea (Bez Valley, Sofiatown, the Kalahari, Johannesburg, The Thames & Waterloo). As with many country artists, the thing that has always set Orville Peck apart, is his golden voice. Instantly recognizable, his melodies sung in a way only he can sing them. The real magic in the story of Orville Peck, is his ability to simply be himself. Our country & culture is currently waging an all-out war on queer kids (from attempting to ban all things trans-affirming to don’t-say-gay laws etc…) and as always happens in dark times, we turn to artists to rebel and to speak truth. Orville shines a light, a larger than life queer cowboy. Queer country has been a theme on this list (from Adeem to Clementine to Orville to keep reading cuz you’re gonna love Willi Carlisle!) and I think about how much that would’ve meant to some of the kids I grew up with in rural western Colorado. Now more than ever we need our Orvilles. I think about the people I love to sing songs with. I think about the people who make you feel like yourself and how valuable that is. Find those people, hold onto those people, be yourself around them and never change. Finally, I think about singing these songs with Lila. I imagine years from now, walking into some dark, dusty dive bar on the outskirts of Denver. It’s karaoke night, or a drag show, or a wednesday. The singer is tall & strong; commanding your attention. The jukebox is blaring Orville, pedal steel whining, drums rolling. The singer is dressed like Orville (well, maybe the South Broadway Goodwill version of Orville) but they look good. They step to the mic and look around and then the music pauses before kicking in “Hurry over and cry Lafayette!” They command the bar, they demand your attention. Maybe it is Orville. He played last night in Salt Lake after all. You try to look at the eyes behind the mask, but it doesn’t really matter cuz the songs sound so good. You order a Tecate and a shot of Jamo. You move across the floor and start to sing along. The music fills you up and you feel like yourself. The sun goes down. The show goes on. The songs will always be there. 

       “I don’t want you to be afraid / let me see you cry / oh I, I got an hour or so / take my hand and let it go / call me up anytime / c’mon baby cry / I can tell you’re a sad boy just like me…”

*

OTOBOKE BEAVER   /   Super Champon

       Another 2022 live music highlight for me, was the opportunity to work side-stage security for Otoboke Beaver at their sold out show at Globe Hall back in October. I knew they were a big deal, but I hadn’t really been able to give their album a full listen, mostly due to it being… a little fast-paced and abrasive vs. my normal listening habits haha. When I finally dug in a couple of days before the show, I knew I was in for a treat. This is blisteringly, breakneck fast, Japanese punk; with a fun, tongue in cheek approach. Otoboke Beaver formed in Kyoto way back in 2009, and Super Champon is their third album. “Champon” is a Japanese noun that translates to a hodgepodge or a jumble. Indeed, these 18 songs (lasting just over 21 minutes!) bounce around and change direction so fast, that it’s almost easier to listen to the album as one whole “super jumble” song! The women of Otoboke Beaver (Accorinrin, Yoyoyoshie, Hirochan & Kahokiss) challenge gender norms in classic Punk fashion with “I am not maternal,” “I won’t dish out salads” & “You’re no hero shut up f*ck you man-whore.” The former is the opening track and finds Accorinrin challenging her maternal instincts, a rough translation of the lyrics is “I love dogs! I’ll deliver a puppy but not a baby!” Second track “Yakitori” (perhaps the catchiest, bounciest riff & melody on the album) abruptly cascades into a wall of sound & fury with Accorinrin screaming “Destroy!” Otoboke maximizes the entirety of Super Champon (only two songs run over two minutes) with super tight, technical riffs, punishing drums, and a relentless energy that pinballs between anger & humor. There are no contradictions in the world of Super Champon (even when the song is called “Leave me alone! No, stay with me!”) Instead, Otoboke thrive in the chaos & calamity, letting contradicting feelings co-exist, laughing at pain, and good naturedly calling out those who need calling out. But it is very clear from both the album and their live show, that they take no shit. Finally, from the steps side-stage at Globe Hall (the place where I’ve grown with other linernotes&seasons favs Charley Crockett, Liza Anne, Lucy Dacus, Rainbow Kitten Surprise, Arlo Parks, the list goes on and on!) I got to see one of my favorite live shows I’ve ever seen. Otoboke are as deliriously fun on stage as they are on album, instigating the crowd, stirring up the pit, crowd surfing with guitars, posing with each other, and clearly having the time of their lives. Otoboke Beaver is already on their way to bigger stages here in the US (see y'all at the Bluebird!) but if you can’t make it to their live show, take 21 minutes and blast Super Champon for your next rage room session or dance party! 

       “A tenacious, sulky, troublesome ass / fallen in love with falling in love / i have no time to waste on you / looking for a one night stand / abso-fucking-lutely out of the question / you dirty old fart!”

*

PINKSHIFT   /   Love Me Forever

       Baltimore’s PInkshift has a charmingly unlikely origin story for a punk rock band. Three east coast kids with immigrant parents, meeting at Johns Hopkins University, bonding over a love of NIrvana, Soundgarden, Stone Temple Pilots, Foo FIghters & No Doubt. Singer Ashrita Kumar & guitarist Paul Vallejo recruited drummer Myron Houngbedji when they heard him practicing “Helena” by My Chemical Romance in the Johns Hopkins music practice rooms. They consequently dropped their STEM majors in favor of dismantling the patriarchy with punk rock. Their debut album Love Me Forever reminds me of everything I loved about punk growing up. The drums are fast & hard, the riffs are huge, spiraling & diving, exploding into chugging rhythms and firework solos. Then there are Kumar’s vocals; attention demanding screams & shrieks, powerful yells, and throaty melodies delivered with the kind of sneer that drives home the anger, angst & uncertainty found in the lyrics. This isn’t your sugary Simple Plan, Good Charlotte pop-punk, this is modern punk, with heavy hints of grunge & alt-rock. Most of the reviews I read about Love Me Forever used words like “muscular” and “burly.” I had the privilege of working lead on PInkshft’s show here in Denver at Lost Lake in October, and it was, to put it emo-ly, a highlight of my year. I watched Kumar sit quietly, almost unnoticed at the corner of the bar, writing in their journal (maybe the beginnings of Pinkshift LP #2?!...) heard the rest of the touring party, polite and hardworking; load in, sound check, and as most touring bands who play Lost Lake do, run out for food. When PInkshift finally took the stage, it was like something unleashed. Vallejo & Houngbedji come out of their shells on stage, laughing & wild, clearly having the time of their lives. Kumar on the other hand is almost unrecognizable; a frenzy of energy, screaming & whirling, commanding the room. Punctuated by moments of meditation & calm. This is a band destined for bigger stages and wilder crowds. It’s also impossible to ignore the diversity on stage, a band led by kids of color, in genres that have, in my lifetime, been unfairly dominated by white males. At their show at Lost Lake, it was evident by the kids I saw in the crowd; diversity that can be hard to find at shows in Denver. A safe space, and one that Kumar referenced when they spoke from stage. They talked about a crowd that looked like them, about the band’s desire to create spaces like the sacred one at Lost Lake. I want to close with the last paragraph I wrote on instagram. It’s where I directed most of my creative writing this year, and it encapsulates the feelings I felt after one of my favorite shows of the year. Walking out onto Colfax after hanging with Pinkshift. “This is it. This is the future. The world is ending. We’re all dying. Soon. Scream about it. Feel it rise from your gut to your lungs, in your chest, in your mouth. Scream it out. Together. Throw yourself into the pit. Smile & laugh & bruise your body. Wake up sore. Sing along if you know the words. Thank you PInkshift. This one was special.”

       “Sometimes I dream a perfect dream / where I return back to a place / where I was born in the garden of a soul / in the garden I was born…”

*

QUINN CHRISTOPHERSON   /   Write Your Name In PInk

       It was nearly four years ago when Alaskan songwriter Quinn Christopherson took my music world by storm with his tear-jerking masterpiece “Erase Me.” Against an austere Anchorage Museum backdrop, Quinn screamed his heart out (at times delightfully irreverent) in a queer anthem. For the next few years, I wore out “Erase Me” and secret fav “Raedeen” (the sweetly dark family story full of details both cheerful & nauseating). After that, Quinn hunkered down in Alaska and disappeared for a few years. When “lead” single “Bubblegum” finally dropped in Fall 2021, I knew this collection of songs was gonna be special. Truthfully, I knew before that; when I started following little snippets of Quinn’s life via social media and felt the way I always feel finding a new artist to love. I love the way he writes about life, I love the way he includes all the mundane, seemingly meaningless details and I love the way Alaska permeates his writing. When I listen, I feel like I’m there. Most of all, I love the way he writes about family. Parents, siblings, spouses, cousins, nephews, they are all central characters in his songs. When he finally released Write Your Name In Pink (his official debut album) he wrote 

       “I’m insanely proud of this record. I put in pride for my family, empathy for our past, recognition of growth, and most of all Native & Queer joy & hope. God I hope you like it.”

       Since then, it has been a delight to sink into Quinn’s writing. His voice matches his lyrics so well, soft & purposeful, cheery at the edges, you can almost hear his smile sometimes. Musically, Write Your Name In Pink glows with synth washes, gentle drum pads and moody vocal swells that build the songs from whisper beginnings to sing along outros (see powerful opener “Thanks” that closes with Quinn wailing “I don’t know what I was looking for, but I knew when I found you!” over & over over stately strings and swirling vocals). Although most of the songs sit easily in an indie-pop groove, Quinn’s lyrics scream out with all the details of a life lived, an open door into the world of an artist who really, truly cares. Of course, there are all my favorite small details. Crushing spiders, fixing up a home, nephews in school, Jackets & bikes, carving your names into trees, rollerblades, tiramisu, puka shells, puffer vests, the list goes on. Some are Alaska specific, most are things that all of us recognize. Deeper than that, Write Your Name finds Christopherson digging into his own mind, trying to be better, trying to grow. In “Bubblegum” he grows up along with us (from 6 to 17 to 21 to 23 to 25 to 26…) facing his vices, his changes, all the while repeating “I don’t know who I am.” Later, in the pulsing pop of “Uptown” he indulges in drugs & alcohol, all the while repeating “I don’t like who I am.” Quinn writes in a way that matters to me. He tells his stories, deeply & lightly, in a way that makes me feel like I’m his friend. To listen to this album, to pay attention to his songs, is to share in that friendship. To understand someone and to feel understood. That if we were to meet and talk, Quinn would understand me. We’d already be friends after all. We would jump on the trampoline and eat oats and talk about Celine Dion. These are the kind of albums that I’ll hold onto. Friends in music forever. 

“I hope the kids we raise are ambitious, don’t play it safe / have a lot to say, live a long life and get paid / I hope they don’t grow up too fast / travel the world & come back / realize it’s who you’re with, not where you’re at / I hope they dye their hair & get tattoos / are a good sport with a good attitude / I hope they remind me of you…”

*

R.A.P. FERREIRA   /  5 to the Eye with Stars

       R.A.P. Ferreira was another co-worker recommendation, a Wisconsin rapper I was unfamiliar with till this year. Then we had the opportunity to see him live at my favorite small venue that I don’t work at (love you Hi-Dive!) and these songs cemented themselves as friends for life. Rory Alan Philip Ferreira has released a ton of music under multiple different names & projects (including milo & Scallops Hotel) over the last 13 years. Featuring on songs with Open Mike Eagle, Armand Hammer, Busdriver & Anderson Paak and creating his own record label, Ruby Yacht. Stylistically similar to Open MIke, Ferreira’s laid back, lackadaisical delivery is delightfully nimble, dancing between silly & melancholy, chuckling at himself, and dancing all over varied adjectives. His beats are more minimal than Open Mike, soft jazzy brushes & piano, lo-fi-diy noise, static synths squeaking to life, laying a babbling brook of calming sounds for Ferreira to rap over. Lyrically, Ferreira is an elegant wordsmith. He shows off his midwest magic (having lived in Wisconsin, Maine, Tennessee & LA) and blends seemingly random household objects (a meyer lemon, a tiny lamp, a tin of altoids, a Hydro flask, a spark plug) with cosmic ideas both thought provoking, challenging & comforting. LIttered with lines to hold onto, Ferreira is childlike in his innocence (“first fear was vanquished / first fortress was made of blankets”) and scholarly in his thought (“I wrote this rap to make the sunrise”). The emotional center of the record, the brooding “mythsysizer instinct” features Hemlock Ernst (the rap alter-ego of Future Islands frontman Samuel T. Herring who released a rap album on Ferreira’s Ruby Yacht label) crooning over warbly synths and Ferreira’s most direct mental health advice as he says “My sadness a hound dog and he creeps beside me.” This thread of songwriting is deep within me and I’ve touched on it a few times over the years. In Arlo Parks’ “Black Dog” (off of last years’ fav Collapsed in Sunbeams) or Josh Ritter’s The Beast in Its Tracks from way back in 2013, I’ve clung to the medicinal magic of these songs that acknowledge the hound dog of sadness creeping beside you, always there, an ache under the surface; how to befriend it, how to live with it, how to move on. This is powerful stuff from R.A.P. Ferreira and his poetry across 5 to the Eye with Stars is not to be missed. LIke he says on the horn assisted, late night AM radio jazz of opener “fighting back” “I know it’s epic poetry that keeps the cosmos orbiting…” Epic poetry indeed Rory. 

“I find myself a leaky faucet and get to wrenchin’ / the word’s henchman / bench pressin’ sunrises / sometimes it’s overwhelming to be helming the creation of everything / or so I imagine / true magic at my fingertips / down to the wingtips / down to the creases / down to the meat & potatoes / down to the beaten cables / down to the streets & fables / and deeper still, you gotta be for real…”

*

RAVEENA   /   Asha’s Awakening

       Picture if you will, the seeds of an epic idea. A late 20’s mega-talented pop musician has a wild idea for a concept album. She plans to blend her Punjab Indian heritage with her Queens, NY upbringing. She will recruit some of her all time favorite musicians (both Indian and otherwise!), she will use authentic Indian instruments, mixed with modern pop production, r&b, disco and early 2000’s hip hop. She will dive into her favorite influences like Bollywood soundtracks from the 70’s, Timbaland, Alice Coltrane, & M.I.A. Oh yeah, she also loves kitschy sci-fi so the lyrics will recount a story straight from her sci-fi novel about a Punjab space princess named Asha (translates to “desire”) exploring space & time, love & loss, discovering her sexuality, new ideas & new planets! It’s a lot of space to cover, but Raveena’s songwriting is intoxicating, sexual, and expressive, and Asha’s Awakening blooms with her singular style & vision. Raveena’s parents immigrated to the US in the 80’s from Punjab, India to escape anti-sikh riots, and her heritage is not only present but celebrated in the story of Asha. She blends all her influences so cohesively, that her album comes out sounding exactly like the mix that would be blasting on whatever futuristic music player Asha might be bumping in her spaceship!

       My favorite thing about Asha’s Awakening is how creatively it world builds, how openly Raveena invites you into her spaces and how gorgeously meditative & invigorating these songs are when you really give them your full attention. Raveena uses authentic Indian instruments like the tabla, bulbul turang, bansuri flute, swarmandal and sitar. She features some incredible Indian musicians like Rostam & Asha Puthli (oh and also Vince Staples and TWEAKS!) giving the album a modern/futuristic feel. Finally, she layers ambient sounds; bells, chimes & bird chirps that really make you feel like, as she describes “stepping into an Indian garden at 6am on a Summer day.” Some of my personal musical touch points for the first half of the album are the upbeat dance pop of Caroline Rose, or the less guitar-y, more glitch poppy side of Hippo Campus. I can’t hear “Time Flies” without thinking of the laid back pop, complex & intricate instrumentation, and aching vocals of Texas band Sun June (a real linernotes&seasons deep fav). After the spoken word interlude “The Internet Is Like Eating Plastic” the second half of the album is far more meditative and laid back. Yes, there are spoken word pieces, breathing exercises, and a meditative 13+ minute closer! Of all the albums on this list, Asha’s Awakening is the one I would most recommend getting lost in. Play it start-to-finish with good headphones. Let your mind wander space & time. Let it create visions of pink flowers as big as planets and spaceships with headlights like disco balls. Let your body sink into the sensual & relaxing rhythms. Let both your body & brain be expanded and give in to Asha’s world. When you get to the end of the album, Raveena will leave you with a reminder, “Remember that this space of unconditional love and this protective field of light is always here for you to return to…”

       “She wants to follow me to valleys in Kathmandu / She wants to fuck & trip & eat them flowers ‘til she ain’t blue…”

*

SADURN   /   Radiator

       The story behind the creation of Radiator; Philly bedroom-folk outfit Sadurn’s debut full length, is as sweet & magical as the songs on the album itself. With a batch of bandleader and primary songwriter Genevieve DeGroot’s songs to record, and covid making normal studio adventures challenging; the four friends that form Sadurn holed up in a cabin in the Poconos for the ultimate quarantine adventure! “It was kind of just a house” DeGroot admits  “We call it ‘the cabin’ but it was just an airbnb that had some wood paneling” With a backstory like Bon Iver’s For Emma (but with friends!), it’s like you can feel the warm camaraderie of the band spilling out all over the songs that make up Radiator. They tell stories of blanket forts in the loft, the control room set up in a bedroom (so they could listen to takes together, all four snuggled in bed) and drummer Amelia Swain says “When I listen to the album, I get this wash of memories of how it felt to be finally back together again with my friends. It makes me remember how good it felt to be together. To have a sense of belonging - I really can hear that in the music.” Stories like this, friendship like this, really can be heard in the music. From Typhoons’ magical recording-session-camp-out-fort-fest way back in 2013 (that produced one of my favorite albums of all time White Lighter) to Big Thief’s lightning-storm-creek-dip-forehead-to-forehead playing on their records, friendship & camaraderie can be felt through the radio waves. Radiator is not just an album made by friends, it’s inviting YOU to be a friend too!

       The songs on Radiator are soft & secret, unhurried & present. The kind of songs that can be passed over, like street art that someone in a rush doesn’t notice. Degroot spoke of their desire to keep the “lo-fi” aspect that the members of Sadurn had worked hard to create, and the recordings on Radiator are perfect. LIke you’re in a room with just the band, listening to them tell you their stories. Opener “snake” builds from Degroot’s whispered intro “Honey, I was wrong…” (could that be the greatest intro lyric to a break up album ever?!) to a measured garage-y rock. An inward-looking break-up song, with hope at the end (gulp, maybe what I needed this year?). Degroot masterfully tells us about what they’re working on in the aftermath, but closes with 

       “I want you to know that I’ll be holding that line and I believe in all your mercy / and in the weight of the tide as it is pulling you back towards me / you know that I am always yours if you’ll still have me / though you’re tired from that long walk over the chasm / but my idea of love is that it’s lasting…” 

       In fact, most of the songs on Radiator seem to take place in the months (or years) after a break up, as Degroot also plays with time a bit (“I watched a whole forest grow from seeds, before you got up…” on the magnetic & measured “golden arm”). Echoing my own inner turmoil, there are the everpresent, contradictory ideas of going back & moving forward, explained perfectly as “going our separate ways but just in the same direction” on the upbeat indie-rock of “special power.” Through it all, Degroot handles their heartbreak with a gentle, thoughtful ease. There are moments of crying in the shower, “carefully built boundaries,” and hard goodbyes (like on the gentle, fingerpicked “moses kill” that instantly recalls Adrianne Lenker of Big Thief’s solo work). Degroot is clearly doing the mental work to grow, and their friends are right alongside, imbuing what could be a cloudy gray collection of songs with sunlight & flowers, hugs & tears & kisses. These songs have been playing in my headphones a lot as I walked around Cap Hill & Cheesman Park in Denver since October, working through my own relationship ending; and the light they create has been building a little home for me. A home where swirling, opposing ideas can talk it out in my brain. As Degroot would put it “It’s ok what I’m feeling, it’s alright if I’m crying / and maybe there’s some good coming, although I cannot find it / and I know that light humming on the back of my eyelids…”

       “Your mind is like a like a fishnet and mine is like an icepick / sometimes it’s not enough and sometimes I think it’s perfect / and I get so messed up cause I don’t know if it’s working / I’m standing by the window, I can’t wait to let the light in / I can’t wait to let the light in…”

*

SAMPA THE GREAT   /   As Above, So Below

       The common thread running through the heart of Sampa the Great’s sophomore album As Above, So Below, is her native country of Zambia. She spoke of how important it was for her to record the album in Zambia and have it produced by a team of Zambian producers. Sampa Tembo is a 29 year old singer & rapper born in Zambia; based more recently out of Botswana, then California & Australia. If you play through the album at full volume, you’ll see pretty quickly why she goes by Sampa the Great. In the midst of heavy beats, swirling psychedelia, ethereal choirs & live drums, Sampa grounds & threads every song with her singular voice. A compelling mix of live musicianship, A-list features, and entrancing & invigorating songwriting, Sampa is staking her claim as a modern voice to be reckoned with. Sampa takes control for most of these songs, both singing sweetly and rapping fiercely over rhythms & vocal washes both ancient & modern. She skips & bounces brightly over a gentle melody in “Tilibobo” then practically growls her verses out on the monstrous “Can I Live?” A raging highlight of the album, “Can I Live?” is a collaboration with legendary Zamrock band W.I.T.C.H. (who I was lucky enough to see live last year at Treefor Music Fest!) and it climbs from driving, jungle beats, led spiraling upward by Sampa’s dazzling verse, then proceeds to leap off the edge into fiery guitar psychedelic pyrotechnics. Zamrock is a genre born in Zambia, a blending of traditional African music with psychedelic rock & roll, blues & funk, and hearing it blending in seamlessly on a modern hip-hop album is delightful. The choice to record this album in her homeland was one that means a lot to Sampa, who came to prominence while based in Australia; and the choice to work with Zambian musicians & producers imbues her songs with an authenticity & vibrancy that explodes through speakers and sounds like, as Sampa would say, “my freest record yet.” She raps & sings in both English and the Zambian language Bemba, she blends modern hip hop production with authentic African instrumentation and she blends features from African legends W.I.T.C.H. & Angelique Kidjo with hip-hop powerhouses like Joey Bada$$ & Denzel Curry. Through it all, this is Sampa the Great’s album. A singular vision, a portal into an artist’s world & home. A journey to Zambia with Sampa the Great. 

       “All of this lineage, the journey / this spirit is funny / can’t replicate a shooting star / I can be hard / I can be soft / I can be everything uder the stars…”

*

TOMBERLIN   /   i don’t know who needs to hear this…

       I had a long and meaningful journey with the new Tomberlin record this year, and she ended up with 3 of my top 5 most played songs on the infamous spotify wrapped. I want to start by pointing out that this is the most perfectly sequenced record I can remember in the last few years. From the gorgeous soft brushes, juno synth, & jazzy touches of brooding opener “Easy,” to the peaceful rhythms of “Born Again Runner” & “Tap.” By the time we get to the heart of the record, the roaring guitar solo from Cass McCombs in the epic “Stoned” and the pulsing growl of “Happy Accident” it matches any album on this list for emotional heft. By the time the winter-morning-radiator-creak of “idkwntht” mumbles it’s way out gorgeously, this is a top five album of the year for me . Besides the sequencing and the gorgeous, understated musicality, Tomberlin’s writing here is stellar and she tackles all my favorite topics. She is 27, a Baptist preacher’s kid, so it’s no surprise that challenging religion is a theme (“Born Again Runner” is a masterpiece) but her move to New York has her writing about finding beauty in nature in the city (“I’m not a tree, I’m in a forest of buildings”) and magic & brain gardening (!) (just listen to all of “Sunstruck” and read the lyrics, it is an all-time classic for me). “Sunstruck” rides a quietly bubbly riff (like a small, indoor water feature) barely rising above a whisper, the kind of song I love, but one you could miss if you’re not paying attention. If you do listen closer you’ll be laid flat by the emotional weight, the deep truths about life decisions, and the simple metaphors about growing up, choosing to be alone, dealing with a breakup, and the work needed to discover who you really are. These have always been questions and struggles for me, but in 2023, it felt like there was nothing else. The entire record  has a calming simplicity to me (both musically & lyrically) and I really felt like growing with this record was like growing closer and getting to know a new friend. Who they are, what they like, what they’re afraid of, what deep questions they’re struggling with, what makes them truly happy, what makes them cry, what dumb things make them laugh, what little things they notice when they’re out walking, what they want out of life, what they want people to remember about them when they die...

       I was lucky enough to get to see my new “friend” in person twice this year, and both were wonderful & special. First, at Larimer Lounge back in June, while I was working, I was able to duck in and catch most of her set, when I hadn’t really listened to the record fully yet, and from that stage, I realized it was special. I wrote after that night 

       Tomberlin is hard at work building something magical. She’s “not tired / just wired for late nights staying up / reminding me I’m still alive.” She’s “looking for hope in a song or a run or a deep breath…” She “left behind some pain to get to the magic thing…” and this album & this live show is a magic thing. Special in ways that you have to listen & pay attention to. Like that warmth in the breeze. Like the smell of the rain. Like the change of the seasons…

       The second time I marked some time & space with this record was in Raleigh, North Carolina at Hopscotch Music Festival. A late night set at a packed Pour House. A sacred place I’ve wanted to visit for years. Sacred songs in sacred places. Safe against a sidewall, Tecate in hand, listening to Sarah Beth Tomberlin sing me stories of growing up. In moments like that, I’m lost & found and I honestly don’t think I’ll ever need anything more. Thank you for this record Tomberlin, I’ll keep this one close forever.

       "I went looking for myself by myself / and it wasn't close to easy, but it sure did help... / a year passes and some seeds take root / your garden is growing and mine's growing too / and the work's not always fun / but it's better than staring at the weeds & the mud / we left behind some pain / to get to the magic thing..."       

*

WALTER MARTIN   /   The Bear

       Perhaps no other album on this list spoke to me as deeply on the topic of growing older, as Walter Martin’s The Bear. In a year where I felt my age harder & realer than any year before, I think I was searching for writing just like this. The Bear was recommended to me by Will Sheff of long time fav Okkervil River, and after listening through (and probably crying and probably pouring myself a dark beer) I was blown away by Martin’s writing & musicianship. Musically, this is a true songwriter’s album, Martin recorded all the demos with just him and a guitar. He enlists some of my all-time favorite musicians Josh Kaufman (The National, Josh Ritter, The War on Drugs, Hiss Golden Messenger, a ton of other stuff!) Eric D, Johnson (Fruit Bats) and Sam Kassirer (Josh RItter) as well as Oscar-nominated composer Emile Mosseri. All this results in rich, jazzy flourishes enveloping Martin’s songs in fireplace wine & whiskey warmth. A lifer of a musician, Martin played in New York bands Jonathan Fire*Eater in the 90’s and The Walkmen in the 2000’s. He references that life a few times on the album (most notably on “The Bear” “I had a dream that I was in a mid-level rock&roll band, played every shithole night club across this entire land”) but it’s clear he lives a different, more rural life now. Wilderness abounds here; there are bears, crows, buffalo, foxes, evergreens, and ice & snow. But it is the wilderness in the recess of his aging mind that Martin chases so beautifully. There is the acknowledgement of growing older, of thinking about death (he talks about “trying to build a body of work that I’d be ok to be buried with”) and giving the listener a feeling of comfort & connection, 

       When Martin explains his writing on The Bear, he is direct, saying “These songs explain who I am and why I make this stuff.” I think most of us want to leave behind some sort of work or memory like this. To have people know you. Know who you really are and why you think like you do and why you make the stuff you do. Never is this more evident than on the achingly beautiful closer “The Song is Never Done” where Martin speaks deeply and honestly about his dreams & his family, about the morning sunlight and his life’s work. He talks of painters, his cousin, his children, eternity, the raging sea, the fallen tree, how he wants to be remembered, how he exists in circular time. He lets us in on a secret, he has been working for years on writing the perfect song (“No it’s not this one, it’s another one” he chuckles, making me chuckle and actually laugh out loud through my tears) and he encapsulates this feeling as “Cause then I will be fully known. And lonely won’t be so damn alone.” This is, to me, what I too am spending my own life working towards. It is what I spend my time & life in music for. There is a truth, there is a great happiness, there is a knowing of oneself. Underneath everything, there is recognition of a great sadness, a grand canyon of ache. But the right song, the morning light through the window, the way those drums and lap steel match up in a timeless rattle, can help us to celebrate that ache. To pull our pants on, brush our teeth, and face the day. To smile through our tears and not only face the world; but do good and pursue our life’s work. To get to know ourselves deeply and share that with others. To live another day. Because, like Martin points out, The song is never done…

       “Well there’s a big blind bear who roams this road late at night they say / you’ll see her in the shadows as she walks her lonely way… / so I sit here at my window where I dream someday she’ll pass / I see the rhododendrons I planted and I think how time moves so fast / like the moonlight & the electric light / projecting paisley patterns on the grass… / and I don’t know where my memories should go / good & bad I cherish them so… / I don’t know Lord, I don’t know / I don’t know how the story should end / and as I look up at that night sky, music begins / and stars are everywhere / come on, come on, come on, just take a look up there / they fill the darkest corners of the darkest air / and they go where satellites would never ever dare / and then suddenly over there I see the bear…”

*

WILLI CARLISLE   /   Peculiar, Missouri

       I want to open this review by quoting Willi Carlisle’s writing from the centerfold of the digipak cd version of Peculiar, Missouri. It serves as a mission statement, a scene setting, a mystical late night tale told around a campfire by a wild man named Willi, and it goes like this…

       “Amidst the great resignation & impending climate disaster, I hear the hundred-year-old echo of migrations recorded & forgotten, the old spiritus mundi in the Arkansas pines. I hear the words of forebears who lit the way for us, the great-great-grand-so-&-so’s who forged our misery & our delight in genetic code & microfilm. The yowling bastards who got us into this mess never shut up. And we’re different than them, yeah? Thank Dog! But we did come from them. They gave us songs & slogans to repeat and revise, and I wanna hear them… It’s like a miracle, this inchoate rushing, this river of history. It washes us towards the end, the big mystery. Are we bathed in its bloody backwaters? Todo pasa en este mundo? It rolls over us like a manic-episode & a makeout session, like the broad-shouldered lad at the square-dance. It crushes us like a covered wagon thrown from a skyscraper. But things ain’t hopeless, no, not yet! Not while we’re livin’...”

       And so it is that we meet Willi Carlisle. A sweet, mythical giant from the MIdwest & Arkansas. A historian & a folksinger; a poet & a storyteller. Traditional Folk music like the kind Carlisle is professing his love to on his sophomore album Peculiar, Missouri, always has its roots deep, deep in the past. Willi holds the music of that past holy; paying his respects with fiddle, accordion, banjo, mando, dobro & tambo, and some songs that sound like they could’ve soundtracked square dances on midwest summer nights 70+ years ago. Lyrically, Carlisle pushes past the past, staying true to himself with songs about queer love & acceptance, mental health, and fighting against homelessness, racism, & corporate America. In the genres Carlisle traffics in, those lyrical themes can be regrettably uncommon (although not as uncommon as you’d think, as alternative country & folk is full of young, progressive songwriters making waves and selling out shows, railing against corporate country’s racism, sexism &  homophobia). But these are also genres that revere talented players so Carlisle must pay his dues with some classic sounding songs. The upbeat numbers, like the countrified-zydeco-graceland-romp of all inclusive, singalong opening jam “Your Heart’s a Big Tent” or the breakneck, Bakersfield country slide of the Johnny Cash recalling, outwardly humorous, inwardly socially-conscious and politically challenging “Vanlife” practically burst with joy; spilling over with Carlisle’s welcoming smile & tongue-in-cheek lyrics. “The Down and Back” could be played at the square dances Carlisle loves to call (he talks about his and others’ roles in creating safe spaces in square dancing and how “queer futurism insists that these deeply rooted behaviors can create a future out of what feels like a near apocalyptic present.”) Then, there are the songs that really prove Carlisle’s worth as a songwriter. The crooner tremble of ‘I Won’t Be Afraid” belies Carlisle’s sneaky wit & irreverence when he sings “I’ve done some dumb shit and I’m gonna do some more” &  “I’ll wake up early and haul ass!” “LIfe on the Fence” is the most obviously queer song of the bunch, an aching country twanger about Memphis & Texas, crying in public, & bisexuality. 

       Truthfully, there are two songs on Peculiar that, to me, are lifers. Songs that only Willi Carlisle could write. Songs that to this day, I can’t listen to without crying. The title track “Peculiar, Missouri” is an outwardly humorous, spoken word tune about a panic attack in a midwest Wal-Mart (a “come-apart in the cosmetics aisle”) that references Carl Sandburg and takes a few magical twists & turns to contemplate life & death, love & the meaning of it all on the long drive home; looking out the window at the shooting stars. “I sure wish I knew what we were supposed to do with ourselves. If you get any good ideas, won’t you let me know?...” Maybe one of those good ideas can be found in “Tulsa’s Last Magician,” a seemingly simple folk tune about a seemingly simple life. As Carlisle says “There’s no good tricks but old ones” and his writing here magically weaves magician metaphors into memorable moments in a life that just might save us all. For those of us who think that no one quite gets quite what we are, this is our song. Space & time & stories & magic. 

"This record is in praise of those dead folkies whose honest seeking brought us this unsettling, awkward, fumbling epoch. I’m asking you, them, us: what is it that we can’t find? Who is there but us? Who else will make the world fair & just? We orphan ourselves, we drive sixteen hours, we break our bodies, we uproot whole continents in search of love, in search of our deepest human right. What foolishness! What violence! I foam & dance & sing, and look upwards for the shooting star. Stay weird, stay wild…”

*

ZETA   /   Todo Bailarlo

       So we have made it all the way to Z! One of my favorite music experiences in 2022 was my first trip to Boise, Idaho for Treefort Music Fest. One of my favorite new finds at Treefort was Zeta. Originally started as a punk band in Lecheria, Venezuela in 2003, Zeta is currently based out of Florida & North Carolina after moving to the US to chase their dreams of being touring musicians. They have toured relentlessly in the US since then, building little communities wherever they go, sharing food & music & progressive ideas from their hometown. I actually saw Zeta first at Lion’s Lair in Denver, the night before I left for Treefort and I then proceeded to see them multiple times over the course of my five days in Idaho and was repeatedly blown away by their energy, their positivity, their righteous anger, their rhythms and their NOISE! This is punk music at heart; loud & raucous, guitars wailing, drums cascading, music by the people, for the people. With their hearts planted firmly in their native Venezuela, Zeta imbues their brand of punk with afro-caribbean rhythms, cumbia, calypso, salsa, samba, bossa nova, latin jazz, a ragtag orchestra collective, swelling with electricity, a fire to be LOUD. “Todo Bailario” translates to “To Dance It All” and these are definitely songs made for dancing. Whether the sensual, swirling kind, engulfed in the rhythms from off the coast of the Caribbean Sea, or the sweat-soaked, mosh-pit, screaming kind, skin to skin with new punk friends, raging over injustices together. So many of the albums on this list were favorites of mine for their lyric writing. I’ve always loved songwriters who speak to me. The kind of lyrics that make me feel understood. Songwriters who write so openly, with such honesty, that to get to know their songs, makes me feel like their friend; Zeta’s songs do exactly that, but through the music alone. I may hardly understand any of the words they are singing, but in the way that they play and  the joy that they exude both on stage and on the album, I feel understood. The way that they let the energy of their music create a community, from Venezuela to Florida to Colorado to Idaho; I feel like an integral part of that community. Like I play a role in this lifeline of music.  I feel like their friend. I can’t wait to see my friends in Zeta again in Idaho at Treefort 2023!

       “Heal! Heal! Heal the earth with your hands…”

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EP BONUS

IMMIGRANT’S CHILD   /   Papalotl

NIA ARCHIVES   /   Forbidden Feelingz

RITMO CASCABEL   /   Ritmo Cascabel

       Two local Denver bands with heavy Latin influences and one UK jungle/drum & bass DJ, producer & songwriter. The Papalotl EP from Immigrant’s Child is full of brooding indie rock that follows shredding guitar into heavier psych rock. RItmo Cascabel mixes similarly psychedelic rock and explosive rhythms with traditional Latin Cumbia. Finally, Nia Archives makes “future classic” music full of breakbeats & reggae samples, equal parts chill & danceable.

       “The song is never done…”

       “Music marks time & space…”