#we are starting this shit off with WHIMSY and JOY

[feral-ass-raccoon]

i have done. terrible things

happy new year's.

[bitchiswild]

Snowman

Huh Yunjin x F! Reader

Warnings: like 2 curse words but all fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

A/n:🎄⛄️

⋆꙳·̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

Yunjin and I were all set to head outside and enjoy the snow together. As I wrapped up getting ready, I stepped out of our room to find Yunjin sitting comfortably on the couch, already prepared for our snowy adventure. When she caught sight of me, she spun around with an impish grin, eyeing me from head to toe.

"Ho Ho Holy shit, you look good," she quipped, a mischievous glint in her eye. I couldn't help but pause, trying my best to stifle a laugh, but her playful comment broke through, and we both burst into laughter.

"That was so ridiculous," I managed between giggles, and Yunjin chimed in, our laughter intertwining and echoing through the room. Moments like these made our outings even more enjoyable, filled with light-hearted banter and shared joy.

"You look great, honey. Now, do you want to build a snowman?" Yunjin teased, playfully singing a line from the famous Frozen song. I couldn't help but chuckle at her playful antics, her humor adding an extra layer of delight to the moment.

Her spontaneous references to movies or songs always brought a smile to my face, infusing our activities with an added touch of whimsy. It was moments like these, where her playful spirit shone through, that made our time together even more cherished.

As we made our way outside, the crisp air greeted us, the snow-covered landscape sparkling under the winter sun. Yunjin and I ventured into the wonderland, our breaths creating clouds in the chill, the snow crunching beneath our boots.

Yunjin scooped up a handful of snow and without warning, playfully tossed it my way. I dodged, laughing, and retaliated, initiating a friendly snowball fight. Soon, we were both engrossed in the playful exchange, ducking behind mounds of snow, crafting forts out of the fluffy white powder.

The wintry scene around us transformed into a canvas for our amusement. We built a snowman together, each of us contributing unique touches and giggling as we adorned it with a quirky assortment of items we found nearby.

Our cheeks flushed pink from the cold, but our spirits soared high, fueled by the simple joy of spending time together, reveling in the magic of the snow-covered world around us. As the day began to wane, we trudged back home, smiling, with hearts warmed by the shared laughter and the simple pleasures of our snowy escapade.

As we continued our snowy escapade, our laughter echoed through the serene landscape. Amidst the flurry of snowballs and playful antics, I accidentally launched a particularly well-aimed snowball that caught Yunjin off guard. She laughed, brushing off the snow from her jacket with a grin.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to throw that snowball so hard," I exclaimed, half-apologetic and half-teasing.

Yunjin winked, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, it's on now!" she declared, scooping up snow with a mischievous glint in her eye.

Our game intensified, each throw met with peals of laughter and good-natured apologies as snowballs flew back and forth. The world around us transformed into a playground, our camaraderie and the lighthearted banter infusing the winter air with warmth.

As the sun started its descent, casting a golden hue over the snow-covered landscape, we settled down on a nearby bench, catching our breath between fits of laughter.

"That was intense," Yunjin chuckled, wiping a trace of snow from her cheek.

"Yeah, but so much fun," I grinned, feeling a sense of pure contentment settle within me.

In moments like these, amidst the playful exchange and the shared joy, the simplicity of the snowy afternoon became a cherished memory, etched in the fabric of our relationship.

Out of breath after our snow ball fight Yunjin spoke up “ Do you want to build a snow man? She started staring at me, with a teasing smile.

As I got up, Yunjin mirrored my movements, and together we gathered the materials needed for our snowman—eyes, buttons, arms, and a carrot for the nose. Yunjin began to sing “Do you want t-”, but before she could finish, I interjected, playfully threatening her with a comical ultimatum.

"Yunjin, if you ask me if I wanna build a snowman one more time, I’m gonna break your jaw and ban sexy time," I teased. She pouted momentarily, but her love for the song persisted as she continued humming it while we assembled our snowy creation.

Finally completing our snowman, Yunjin proposed an unexpected idea. "I think we should make a catman," she suggested excitedly, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

"A cat man?" I echoed, a touch bewildered by the unexpected suggestion.

"Yeah! A cat snowman!" Yunjin exclaimed, already preparing to bring this feline-inspired creation to life. In that moment, watching her enthusiasm and creativity, my heart swelled with affection. It was these spontaneous, whimsical moments shared with her that solidified my deep love and appreciation for Yunjin.

Completing her cat-man masterpiece, Yunjin drew me close, beaming with pride as she gestured towards our whimsical creations. "Look at our beautiful family," she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with delight. I couldn't help but chuckle in response.

"Our cat is a little wonky, just like the snowman," I remarked, glancing at our quirky, slightly asymmetrical creations.

Yunjin chuckled along, nodding in agreement. "But that's what makes them special," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "They have character."

In that simple exchange, I realized the beauty of imperfection, finding charm and uniqueness in our slightly off-kilter snow sculptures. It wasn't about flawlessness; it was about the joy, love, and memories we shared while crafting them. Yunjin's perspective always had a way of highlighting the beauty in the unconventional, making our little creations even more precious to me.

“Anyways” Yunjin's sudden shift in demeanor caught me off guard. Pulling away from me, she dashed toward our creations with surprising speed and delivered an unexpected kick to our snow sculptures. "Fuck them kids!" she exclaimed with a mix of mischief and playful rebellion.

I stood there momentarily stunned, processing the sudden turn of events, before bursting into laughter. Yunjin's spontaneous and outrageous behavior never failed to surprise me, and despite my initial shock, her antics always had a way of turning into moments of shared amusement.

As I chuckled at the absurdity of the situation, I couldn't help but appreciate Yunjin's unpredictable spirit, which constantly injected a sense of unpredictability and liveliness into our time together.

Yunjin's momentum from kicking the snow sculptures caused her to slip and tumble into the soft snow, laughter bubbling out uncontrollably. Concerned yet unable to contain my own laughter, I hurried over to her. However, before I could fully react, she playfully pulled me down beside her, enveloping me in her arms.

"I'm kidding, baby. I love kids," she chuckled between fits of laughter, her playful eyes meeting mine.

"I know, Yunjinie," I reassured her, a smile tugging at my lips as I nestled closer to her in the snow.

We remained there, wrapped up in each other's warmth, surrounded by the tranquility of the snow-covered landscape. In that moment, amidst our laughter and affection, I couldn't help but agree—it was indeed the best snow day ever, a day filled with love, laughter, and the pure joy of being together.

⋆꙳·̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading roundup: April 2024

oh my god you guys I've read SO MUCH this month!!! I got BIG into reread N.K. Jemisin's tremendous Broken Earth trilogy and it's been jaw-dropping, and I have been reading a HEAP of comics and manga a

on the extremely off chance there's anyone following me who doesn't think comics, manga, graphic novels, etc don't count as "real reading" lmao lol get out of here??? you're on the Reading 1000s of Pages of Old Batman Comics blog. go feel the whimsy of reading a whole graphic novel in one afternoon and maybe you'll calm down.

ANYWAY!!! what have we been reading?

Earthdivers Vol. 1: Kill Columbus (Stephen Graham Jones, Davide Gianfelice, Joana Lafuente, 2023) - Stephen Graham Jones is one of my all-time favorite authors, and I was super excited to check out his first comic series. Earthdivers takes place in the wasteland of the 22nd century, where four Native survivors have hatched a plan to try to stop the disasters that are killing the world: use a time-travelling cave to send one of their number back in time to kill Columbus before he can launch the colonization of North America. it's a one-way trip, and the time traveler will have to be ruthless to achieve their goal. beyond the attention-grabbing hook of killing Columbus, this story dives (you see what I did there) deep into an exploration of what it means to sacrifice everything for a cause and find the will to be ruthless in pursuit of the greater good. I'm not 100% sure I tracked all of the twisting threads of time travel in this first volume, but the hook is compelling and Gianfelice's art is beautiful, so I'm really looking forward to seeing the series progress!

Spoiler Alert (Olivia Dade, 2020) - at this point I've written 8000+ words about this book on my patreon and it's becoming difficult to figure out what else to say or how to say it briefly. this book ties itself up in knots with its contrivances and makes both of its protagonists look dumb in the process. I don't like either of these people but - spoiler alert! - I still think April can and should do better. Olivia Dade please call me I just want to talk.

Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 1-3 (Ryoko Kui, trans. Yen Press, 2017) - I don't need to explain Dungeon Meshi. surely you've seen the gifs of Dungeon Meshi. all that matters is that I fucking love Dungeon Meshi, this shit rules and it's going to be so hard to hold off on reading Volume 4 while I try to prioritize some other books first. this world is great, the characters are a delight and a joy, and the way that Kui is so fascinated by the food and biology and exploration of adventurer fantasy tropes in her world makes my brain go wheeeeeeeeee!!! I'm having so much fun.

The Fifth Season (N.K. Jemisin, 2015) - historically I've very seldom reread books, but I'm starting to think that I need to change my stance on that. revisiting the Fifth Season years after I first read it, with the time to really enjoy it and also the maturity and perspective to actually appreciate what Jemisin is cooking, has enhanced the experience immeasurably. a thing that really struck me this time was how artfully Jemisin depicts the way orogenes are conditioned and groomed from the jump to be subservient and scared and willing to settle for life at the margins of society; it's not something that I could totally understand the nuances of when I read this book fresh out of my first year of college. this novel and its sequels are so brilliantly devastating, I cannot say enough great things about them.

My Pancreas Broke, But My Life Got Better (Nagata Kabi, trans. Jocelyne Allen 2022) - I did it, I'm officially caught up on all of Nagata's works that have been translated into English! and man, I'm still worried about her. the experience of reading My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness hasn't quite been replicated for me; I think that was a once in a lifetime event, although I've certainly found a lot that I relate to in Nagata's subsequent struggles to sort of out anxiety, independence, art, and figuring out what kind of relationships she event wants to have in her life. at this point I feel like I'm just reading the illustrated life updates from a friend I haven't seen in a long time who stresses me out because her life is a mess. which is still interesting! but god I hope something good happens to this woman soon.

The Obelisk Gate (N.K. Jemisin, 2016) - The Fifth Season is a book about the end of the world and of one woman's personal apocalypses that happened prior to that. its sequel, the Obelisk Gate, is a book that's extremely preoccupied with the tedium of figuring out how to run a halfway-functioning society in the midst of the apocalypse, which is genuinely fascinating stuff. and it's also a book about the fear and desperation and sheer levels of exhaustion that might drive someone to decide that, fuck it, maybe the world should end and we should be done with all of this, actually. it's also a book about devotion and dependence and destruction and devouring people you love in a VERY literal way, which it must be said is pretty sexy. the stuff that pops off between Essun and Hoa in this book makes me think of Octavia Butler in the best way; I think she would have adored them. I'm so excited to get to the final book and see how this all pays off, because the first time I read it I barely understood a single goddamn thing that was happening.

I Hate This Place Vol. 1-2 (Kyle Starks, Artyom Toplin, Lee Loughridge, 2022-2023) - a short and spooky comic series that wraps up in two tight little volumes. I have some gripes with the pacing, but it makes for a fun afternoon read. a mid-tier streaming service is going to adapt this into a live action series within a couple of years, mark my worms. personally I'm fancasting Mackenzie Davis as Gabby and Samira Wiley as Trudy.

[chasedeys]

Do you have anymore Joemarr fics in the works? (I’m still depressed about the Ravens game lmao) ❤️

hiiiiii i doooo 😭 but like. none of them are near completion like. at all HAHAHAAAAA sorry but!! because i have no concept of self restraint or filter and am overjoyed you asked me about them, i shall give bullet points and previews of like any that are somewhat coherent so:

some whimsy ass fic of pranking (failed bc they're losers) and getting together joemarr!! it has team-as-family, some besotted ass paragraphs, teemarr shenanigans that's truly essential for my life, and a smidge of 23 rookies bc i want to start writing them so bad guys please 😭 ive written like 1.3k of this. it probably won't hit 3k tbh but pray i finish this idk its a passion project bc i need some whimsical ass shit

established relationship play fighting and comfort and joy and peace and love – this is obviously a mess i thought i kind of already wrote a coherent 500 word of this scene but??? no?????? have at it anyway

some smut beware -> OKAY HEAR ME OUT this is slightly nonconsensual voyeurism but like. accidental. at first. so do NOTTT finish reading this point if you're not into this but anyway: its like common sense that the minute you clock you're hearing someone jacking off you skedaddle the fuck away! but i want to write. like. ja'marr staying at joes bc his house is flooded idk who cares and its midnight and he's. he's jacking off lmaoooo and joes right outside his door bc he can't sleep knowing jamarr is inches away from him at 2 in the morning but just as he's raising his hand to knock and open the door and ask if jamarr wants to do smtg he hears it. and doesn't leave. and does things i can't say. well sort of considering im literally in the process of writing it lmaoooo but heres a messy blurb of words on it!

and im also trying to finish this blurb! fingers crossed etc. seems like such a shame not to tbh

the rest are just. ideas. and hopes and dreams. wishes upon a star. wind whistling by my ear.

ALSOOOO if i was remotely a person who could write angst. i would love to write:

angsty doused with internal homophobia joemarr fwb fic inspired by chappell roan's love me anyway. 'can we take one more polaroid for you to hide?' and its an album of them from lsu to bengals to after.

angsty joemarr break up and make up fic inspired by beach bunny's cloud 9 'even when we fade eventually to nothing, you will always be my favorite form of loving' but i can't say the plot bc it involves something i will never put into words.

angsty angry stosh fic inspired by fall out boy's miss missing you where they're so fucking angry with each other and a will they won't they 10 years down the line where they're forced to work tgt for smtg idk. like 'baby you were my picket fence, i miss missing you now and then' 'the person that you’d take a bullet for is behind the trigger' 'so give me your filth, make it rough. let me, let me, trash your love' 'i heard you’ve got it, got it so bad, cause im the best you’ll never have' like is that not their fucking songgggg oh my god

[colonoscopys]

I AM THE ANON ALWAYS ASKING FUN QUESTIONS :D bc your answers are genuinely so fun to read like the pastry one was so detailed. love it <3 anyway new question what color would each member of the 118 be

you are SOOOOO sweet i like you so much. here you go i hope this one is nice for you too

this is going to be highly debated. i respect that

so bobby would be hex code color d7ae04:

so bobby would be yellow because he is from midwest and corn. kidding. he wouldn't JUST be yellow corn, he would be a little darker because he reflects darker tones through his backstory and character. i think when he cooks (soup, specifically) in his house this is the color that he emits. i like that it's a little darker but not too dark, and it's a little light as well because i think he's got this golden retriever charm amidst the darkness.

now you might think NEXT. would be buck, his golden retriever son. however i think that eddie is hex code 331800

now this isn't just a brown. this has hints of magenta and gold if you look really really close. i also think that it's a little similar to bobby's yellow, just a couple shades off. the only thing i have to base off of this comparison is that i think if you dug your face into eddie's t-shirt in a comforting moment, this would be the shirt color he was wearing. it just fits. another color i would choose for him would be F0EAD6, which is eggshell. i think the reason i chose this color is because he looked really sexy wearing this colored sweater that one christmas episode.

now we have buck. buck is obviously some sort of blue. now i don't think we can go with the color of his eyes (some sources say baby blue. idk.) but i think we have a more richer blue that's associated with him this is hex code AK11181

i think this is the most fitting because the guy is such an emerald tone dude. also, it's closest color to the LAFD t-shirts, which make up a large part of him. also he has a lot of trauma with water and rain

hen is either emerald green or deep orange. i think deep orange because she exhibits strong leadership tendacies like bobby, but green because it's such a beautiful color which fits her :D i don't know why but when imagining these colors i thought about her pretty glasses

this is the colors im imaginging: hex code 1A4C39 and hex code 0xFFBF360C (...irish queen?)

chimney is purple, but a light lavender purple. i think this fits because maddie is purple too, but also because i think purple overall can mean some DEEP SHIT, but light purple brings a little whimsy and joy to a serious core. also i think chimney is so very bisexual and this is such a bisexual color. i think one time jee says he likes this color, and he inhabits the Immigrant Father Core and starts buying everything in this color

this is hex code: ddd5f3

ravi is red. simply because he is indian and it reminds me of the vermillion. all indian mothers emit this color sometimes, and he is like my indian mother. also because when i close my eyes and imagine him like a blob, he's dark red at the center and then streaming out reds and baby pinks

this is hex code 610000

addition: here's seti's rendition:

[entamewitchlulu]

this is popping off a bit so here's some other things from my college writing degree that pissed me off

when I interviewed at the college and talked to the then-head of the writing department, I told him I had been writing since I was 9 years old and he wrinkled his nose at me and said something condescending about how "when people get started in this degree course we usually have to unteach you a lot of what you've learned". I do not know why I chose to go to that college after that.

there was a creative writing degree available but there were no classes on genre, and we weren't allowed to write anything bordering on genre in class at all. we were only allowed to write realistic fiction because "we don't have time to teach you the rules of genre, and all genre is formulaic".

which like. 1) sure there are formulas involved in genre, and a lot of mainstream publishing will follow certain general arcs, it's nowhere near as rigid as my teachers insisted it was. Like, as an example, the only real "rule" for the romance genre is that it should have a happy ending. anything else is like, whatever you want. This sort of thing would take about five minutes to show you a worksheet about story arcs.

2) why would setting a story in the future or another world "ruin" my ability to learn how to write "properly." It's not like we're learning fucking welding or something where if we don't learn the basics we take someone's eye out. Fiddling with genre tropes isn't physically dangerous. What is the worst that could happen, genuinely. What were they all so afraid of.

3) can you imagine being in an intro to art course and being told "you are ONLY allowed to use acrylics because we don't have time to teach you about watercolors. Mixed media is also not allowed and we won't do any pencil drawing.

Again, like. All they had were basic creative writing classes. They said they were teaching us the basics but then they didn't even give us the option to branch out.

In my attempt to write something I actually gave a shit about in this class I ended up making my main piece a story about a nonbinary kid dealing with the death of zir aunt who was the only one who had understood zir and respected zir identity. My teacher proceeded to tell me the story would have more weight if I misgendered my character until the end of the story so that ze would "earn" zir pronouns.

I cried on the college green for like twenty minutes after that workshop

No I did not know I was nonbinary at that point yet. wonder if that had something to do with it. anyway.

anyway. college writing fucking sucked and almost took away all of my love of writing in general as I struggled to squeeze out some lame ass story that fit the requirements but didn't mean anything to me personally.

On the topic of genre again like. My teachers all wanted us to make stories that "meant something" but in the course of trying to force meaning, especially in ways that I didn't enjoy, sapped all the joy out of writing. Since then I've read dozens of really fucking incredible spec fic short stories that used the trappings of genre to tell some really jaw dropping stories, and I think we should have learned about those alongside the other dry short stories we were forced to write and study. But for whatever reason, there's this deep-seated disgust of genre and genre-adjacent fiction in academic settings.

I truly think the fact that we're such a language-based species, we get all tight assed and weird about writing more than we do about other art forms.

And yea of course it's a skill that can be honed, but it's also an art, and more intro to creative writing classes should be devoted to playing around, experimenting, and making weird shit the way a basic intro art class would be. We need an injection of whimsy.

anyway. That's my two cents.

once i was in a creative writing class in college, and in a bit of humor i wrote the line:

"Um," I said, eloquently.

And my teacher was so adamant that I had to remove it because "um is not an eloquent word, so it makes no sense" and i was like my brother in christ it's called Irony

[caveangelascendant]

all of the hyperfixation asks. go. I am setting you free

making this one a twofer bc 1. i am crazy but i am free 2. it is literally impossible to answer some of these doing my current biggest one 😭

📃 what is the plot of your hyperfixation? and is it a movie, game, show, etc?

🔥 tallahassee is a normal and fun album about two spouses with a healthy and loving relationship that only bring out the best in each other. they survive also. i promise <3 counting the webbed site 4 this alongside the music btw 📺 the property of hate is a CRIMINALLY underrated webcomic about a rejected tumblr sexyman and his adopted human daughter as they run around what is probably one of my favorite fantasy settings ever

📌 how did you find your hyperfixation?

🔥 remember that week on tumblr where it was all no children memes? well. also i watched moral orel with vee (who sent this ask, everybody say thank you vee :)) and that planted a sleeper agent in my brain. it was then activated sometime in like... early? mid september? when i gave in and listened to the whole thing through during two back-to-back classes i have in the same room 📺 OK OK so one time i was chillin in vc, also with vee, and someone i followed on here reblogged a post of rgb getting the shit beaten out of him like 10 times in a row. i knew that i had definitely seen him somewhere before, but i couldnt place where, so we started getting to the bottom of it and ended up dming each other our reactions until 2 am. irl savepoint

✨ what draws you towards your hyperfixation? what is interesting about it?

🔥 i fucking LOVE music with lore. it just EXUDES vibes, helps me make art more. tallahassee is different from my other music hyperfixations + faves feat. lore in that it's not about, like, time traveling ghost wizards or some shit, so i do appreciate that about it. makes it very flexible for cooking new and delicious guys or spicing up previous ones, which i have done like 4 times in the past 2 months. shoutout to every funny bitch that reads fun sleepover with the besties. no thats not karkat from homestuck. also i enjoy interactive webbed sites and early 2000s stuff 📺 IT'S SO GOOD? IT'S JUST TOO GOOD. i hadn't felt whimsy in years but tpoh made me feel like i was on a field trip to my city's batshit bonkers science museum in 3rd grade again. all the character and environment designs are bursting with so much life and personality and joy that it is impossible not to love it oh so very deeply. it restored my faith in the medium of webcomics and made me feel excited to work on mine again.

🎥 do you have any favorite scenes from your hyperfixation?

🔥 from the album? im gonna have to go with like all of have to explode. idk something about that vibes. i live in fucking OHIO and the summer our ac broke was miserable so i've been like 28% there. clearly i liked it enough to write dungeons and dragons fanfic about it. website? def the letter from ray on the porch. it is so darkly funny to me. the way he signs off with a smiley face... convinced that if it was made in 2021 he would have opened it with "Hey besties," 📺 the scene where hero figures out the name of the world, no fucking doubt. looking at that made me so happy i almost cried. i cannot explain the amount of unadulterated joy this comic brings me

🎶 if your hyperfixation has songs/an ost, what is your favorite song from it?

🔥 still embarrassed that i panicked and told my mass media teacher "idylls of the king bc it's calming". un fucking doubtedly old college try. organ solo AND "the way those eyes i've always loved illuminate this place / like a trashcan fire in a prison cell / like the searchlights in the parking lots of hell". how the hell am i EVER supposed to be the same after hearing that?? how is ANYONE??? GOD. god. i also accidentally wrote in my essay that

💕 tell us about one of your favorite characters and why you like them!

🔥 hm well i have a paragraph or two in my wip director's cut of a school essay that is currently *checks notes* 4.5k long about how the album's language and structure take the alpha couple not as individual characters, but only as a couple, two halves of an inseparable and terrible whole. i like them in a "*starts the deathmatch and watches*" way. so instead i will talk about my fave from my wip webcomic that accidentally has the same plot as this. this is robin larappeler they r the lady on the right, please excuse the fucked up anatomy. i drew this at 2 am in august then forgot about them for a month. she is my first tumblr sexywoman, she cannot speak french, and i believe in her.

📺 YES OMG i would fucking KILL for everyone in this comic, but especially cell (she's my icon). i love her oh so very much. she is a grandma hedgehog made of colors and sewing pins and love. i am literally her irl. i ask all of you to please picture her when you think about me.

💔 tell us about one of your LEAST favorite characters and why you dislike them.

📺 i will beat dial to death with a baseball bat in an arby's parking lot. i dont trust him

🏳️‍🌈 do you have any headcanons (lgbt, race, neuro, etc) that are important to you?

🔥 THIS WILL SOUND SO FUNNY BUT YES ACTUALLY. i was telling my friend bt about this album while we listened to the beginning in his car and when we got out he was like "so... are they detectives?" i dont even know how he came to that conclusion AT ALL but now i like to imagine that they're, like, rogue private eyes because it's hilarious. it's just not relevant to harry's journey so we dont ever see it. i also think that they've committed murder at least once and forgot about it, also because it would be hilarious and in-character. there is a whole page in my notes app that is an utterly incomprehensible stream of consciousness about this. i do think that representation headcanons abt this would be top tier, tho. Diversity win! The spouse in a mutually abusive relationship with you that burned down your house with both of you inside is a bisexual woman of color! 📺 rgb is canonically bi so i don't! in my brain hate is very pretty tho. so i think that counts. another win for the gays

🍀 do you have any kins or comfort characters from your hyperfixation?

🔥 no and thank god 📺 OH RGB IS A COMFORT CHAR DEFINITELY. hes such a scrunkly, i wish he was my dad

💎 are there any fun facts or trivia that you would like to share?

🔥 live recordings of no children are DEFINITELY insane summoning rituals. im going to need you to find one and listen to it RIGHT NOW unless you are in my discord server and i have already tormented u with one. best ones will have drums 📺 hmmmm well i don't have any trivia unfortunately :( i am trying to improve my spanish by reading the translation tho!

💢 what do you NOT like about your hyperfixation? is there something you would want to change about it?

🔥 i saw a review that said the limited instrumentation holds it back from truly conveying the emotions at play, and i would like to disagree. clearly you've never heard of vibes 🙄 📺 i would want it to update faster 😭

[soufcakmistress]

Rekindle

Pairing: Erik x Thick Black Reader

Summary: You and Erik finally split ties, but it was far from a clean break..

“Seven years. Seven years of my life, I gave that man. Down the fucking drain.” Your living room is covered in party decorations, wine bottles and your best friends sprawled along the carpet. Big gold balloons filled with helium spelling out “FUCK HIM” are tracing your ceiling; the “Happy Divorce” cake has been rationed out amongst your girls, still left uncovered. All of them drunk and half asleep. Not you. The celebration of your divorce has fizzled out and left you in a state of despair and confusion. How did we get here... 

Talking to no one in particular, you muse out loud, eyes watery, clutching a glass of Cabernet. “I gave that nigga everything. My body, my mind, my fuckin spirit, and we still couldn’t get right. What could I...what could I have done...?” A lone tear dropped and you gulped the entire glass down your throat. 

All you could think about were the divorce proceedings. Erik didn’t fight you on anything you asked for. It was hard to read him, just like usual. Blank expression, dead eyes....you had no idea how he felt at this very moment signaling the end of your union. You requested child support, the house you and him had built from the ground up and being the custodial parent to your four year old daughter, Nneka and you got it. No matter what you felt for Erik, you would never keep Nneka from her father. He cherished her, she was his pride and joy. You wanted that for her; it was something you never had. 

Irreconcilable differences was the grounds on which you filed for divorce. You both grew up so differently from each other and that became very evident as the relationship progressed. Erik, orphaned in childhood, fighting and surviving in the Oakland foster care system, overcoming every obstacle before him by taking control of his life, going to college, enlisting in the Navy, and traveling the world, leaving his dreadful past in the dust.

You, the only child of two Black yuppies who had their nanny practically raise you, were thrusted into the world of prep schools and country clubs, groomed from birth to be the wife of some senator or judge with an impeccable pedigree. Born to be a Black Stepford wife. That wasn’t you, and if your parents actually took more 5 minutes to talk to you about it, they’d know too. You were free and needed to spread your wings on your own terms.

This fueled you to rebel and shit on every expectation your parents had of you. A flawless grade point average, you could write your ticket to any school you wanted. When you told them you were going to Spelman over Dartmouth, they hit the roof. You were determined though, to set your life path without the black cloud of your parents looming over you.

Shortly after you graduated from school, you made a life in California, far away from your family. Beautiful weather, beautiful people, beautiful weed. You adjusted nicely being a brash East Coaster, adapting to the relaxed lifestyle of the west coast. Finding some really good girl friends, securing a bomb condo, killing shit at your new job. And in walks hurricane Erik...

He was a livewire, always the center of attention even when he wasn’t seeking it out. Erik was the director of several outreach centers in the state, with close ties to the Wakandan government as their primary benefactor. Developing after school programs, multicultural outings, or just making sure the kids of the community were fed; that was what he had his hands in every day. A Black knight in shining armor. It didn’t hurt that he was fucking gorgeous, with the charm and wit to match. 

You guys met at a gala for the center headquarters in Oakland and like a moth to a flame, y’all were inseparable. He just started growing his locs, gold canines in tow, and bulging muscles through his suit jacket that you could hardly rip your eyes from. He romanced you in one night, banter over champagne flutes and hors d’œuvres. A fine ass Black man who was driven and passionate about the welfare of his people, with a slick mouth, you were a goner. But Erik wasn’t the only one with game. You gave as good as you got it, evening gown wrapped around your curves, showcasing what you were working with. Erik noticed that, and he pounced accordingly. Imagine his surprise when you had a mouth on you as well. Your brown skin, shimmering with flecks of gold, natural hair in an updo to flaunt your neck and décolletage, and a sort of whimsy in your eyes. It took all he had in himself to not ravish you in the midst of this fine engagement. 

“You’re not the only one who’s charming, Mr. Stevens...” you remember whispering in his ear. You were a little tipsy from the bubbly and feeling uninhibited. You guys spent the whole night talking, slow dancing a few times. He felt so good holding you, smelling like a dream, his body warm and substantial to hold on to. You guys exchanged numbers and he kissed you on your cheek, his hand at the small of your back, “I’ll be seeing more of you, Miss Y/L/N......” 

You got blankets and placed them all on your girls in the living room, and stumbled to your bed room. The tears are flowing now, and a hot shower could at least wash the day’s events off of you. You undress and step in and let the water roll off your skin. It did no good though. Your mind can’t stop thinking about the last decade of your life, mulling over the big and small details.

How he made you laugh so much at the late night diner on your first date. When your car broke down on the side of the road and he came and saved you by changing the spare. The first time he entered you and gave you the most earth shattering release you’ve ever had. The uneasiness he felt when he finally told you about his past life and the symbolism of his scars. The tears in his eyes when he bent down on one knee and asked you to be his wife. The utter peace during your honeymoon in Aruba at the thought of your newfound union. The contractions you felt as you wailed loudly, bringing your baby girl into this world. Him cheering Nneka on as she learned how to walk. The emptiness you felt when you miscarried when Nneka was a toddler and him consoling you. Your rage at him coming home late consistently with little to no explanation. His ugly and controlling words to you about him being the head of the household and how you belonged to him. The shock and awe on his face when he was served the divorce papers. The one slip of his poker face as he held the door for you to exit the boardroom after finalizing the dissolution of your marriage. You read shame, anger and even a hint of sadness on his visage, all a shock to your senses. “I told you I would give you whatever you wanted, Y/N..” Those were the last words he spoke to you earlier that day as you both exited the building, going to your separate cars. He pulled off and you could have sworn you saw a tear streak down his cheek.

All these memories bombarded you at once. The hurt, the pleading, the despair at separating from the only man you’ve ever loved, the father of your child....you allowed yourself to really feel it. Your tears mixed with the shower water, and you slid to the floor of the shower, hair be damned. This was the first step, everything was so fresh and still so raw. You bawled, doubling over as your cries filled the space of your once shared bathroom with Erik. You would give yourself this night. To cry and scream and bellow at this unfortunate moment. After this....you were moving on, by any means necessary. 

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume 6, Number 8

Angel Olsen

Now half a year in the pandemic, we’re starting to see the emergence of quarantine records, whether in the trove of reissues hastily assembled to stand in for new product or home recorded projects made with extremely close friends and family or albums that are conceived and written around the concept of isolation. Music isn’t real life, exactly, but it lives nearby. And in any case, it’s still music and can be good or bad whether it’s been unearthed from a forgotten box of tapes, recorded at home without collaboration or side people or technologically gerry-rigged so that distanced partners can work together. So, as long as you all are making music, we will continue to listen and find records that move us, as the world burns all around. This edition’s contributors included Patrick Masterson, Andrew Forell, Tim Clarke, Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer, Jonathan Shaw, Justin Cober-Lake and Ray Garraty. Enjoy.

+ — #playboy (Deluxe Edition) (self-released)

#playboy (deluxe edition) by +

One of the most genuinely confounding records I’ve heard this year comes courtesy SEO-unfriendly artist + aka Plus Sign fka Emanuel James Vinson, a Chicago rapper, city planner and all-around community activist who spends his time helping with the city’s Let’s Build Garden City initiative when he’s not making music (which is frequent, by the way — take a look at the breadth of that Bandcamp discography). The concept with #playboy, originally released in April but deluxed in late May, is simple: Two kids find a music machine called #playboy in their basement and start tinkering with it. Its childlike whimsy is conveyed in the song titles (“Getting the Hang of It,” “Wake Up Jam (Waking Up)”) every bit as much as it is in the music, with occasionally grating indulgences, the odd earworm and a brief appearance by borderless internet hip-hop hero Lil B that makes perfect sense in context; the kindred spirit of that community-building cult auteur is strong here. You may wind up loving this record or you may wind up hating it, but I can promise you this: You’ll be thinking about it and the artist behind it long after it’s over.

Patrick Masterson

 Actress — Mad Voyage Mixtape (self-released)

I once suggested Darren Cunningham mucks about with his music because he can’t help himself. That was about six years ago on the occasion of his purported “final” album Untitled; with the benefit of hindsight, we can see he was (like so many others, to greater or lesser consequence) just pulling our leg with that PR. Hell, he’s released two albums worth of music in July alone: The first was the mid-month surprise LP 88, which follows in the vein of his acclaimed high period as an often brilliant, occasionally frustrating patchwork of submersible beats best played at high volume with a low end. The second came at the end of the month in an m4a file shared the old fashioned way on a forum via Mediafire link, nearly an hour and a half long, and per the man himself, “All SP-303, sketchbook beats, recorded this past week [the first week of July] straight to recorder or cassette.” It feels very much like a homespun Actress mixtape and is probably best thought of as livelier accompaniment to 88 but, even still, there’s no noticeable drop in quality — once Actress, always Actress. If headier lo-fi beat tapes are your beat, this will slot comfortably in line.

Patrick Masterson

  bdrmm - Bedroom (Sonic Cathedral)

Hull five-piece bdrmm play a satisfyingly crepuscular version of shoegaze on their debut album Bedroom. Ryan Smith, his brother Jordan on bass, guitarist Joe Vickers, Danny Hull on synths and drummer Luke Irvin combine the widescreen sound of Ride with a cloak of gothic post-punk. Like the late, lamented Girls Names, bdrmm find a sweet spot where atmosphere and dynamics either build to euphoric crescendos or bask in bleak funereal splendor. Bedroom seems deliberately sequenced from celebration to lament. “A Reason To Celebrate” evokes Ride at their most anthemic, the tripping staccato driven “Happy” summons the spirit of The Cure of Seventeen Seconds before the pace drops for the second half, the songs become quieter and darker as the band finds a more personal voice. “(The Silence)” is an ambient whispered wraith of a thing, “Forget The Credits” impressively mopey slowcore. bdrmm don’t always transcend their influences, but this debut is an atmospheric treat if your taste runs to the darker end of the musical buffet.

Andrew Forell  

 Circulatory System — Circulatory System (Elephant 6 Recording Co.)

Circulatory System by Circulatory System

Nearly 20 years after its initial release, the excellent eponymous debut album by Will Cullen Hart’s psychedelic chamber-pop band Circulatory System gets a long overdue vinyl reissue. While his previous project, the undeniably great Olivia Tremor Control, tended to lean more towards classic psych-pop’s traditional tropes — hard-panned drums, loads of disorientating tape effects, wonky harmonized vocals — Circulatory System taps into something utterly uncanny. Both Signal Morning (2009) and Mosaics Within Mosaics (2014) have their moments, but this is front-to-back brilliant, conjuring a sublime atmosphere of reflective estrangement. The music is a thick, grainy soup of shimmering instrumentation, from the eerie (“Joy,” “Now,” “Should a Cloud Replace a Compass?”) to the joyful (“Yesterday’s World,” “The Lovely Universe,” “Waves of Bark and Light”), but part of the album’s magic is the way everything flows into a seamless whole. As is vinyl’s tendency, the rhythm section really comes alive here, the fuzz bass and tom-heavy drum parts booming out, with plenty of vivid details in the mix swimming into view. A worthy reissue of an essential album.

Tim Clarke

 Cloud Factory — #1 (Howlin’ Banana)

Cloud Factory #1 by Cloud Factory

Cloud Factory, from Toulouse, France, overlays the serrated edges of garage pop with a serene dream-pop drift. It’s an appealing mix of hard and soft, like being pummeled to death by pillows or threatened gunpoint by a teddy bear. “Amnesia,” for instance, erupts in a vicious, sawed off, trouble-making bass line, then soars from there in untroubled female vocals. Later, “No Data,” punches hard with raw percussion, then lays on a liquid, lucid guitar line that encourages middle-distance staring. None of these songs really up the ante with memorable melodies, sharp words or that intangible R’NR energy that distinguishes great punk rock from the so so. Not loud, not soft, not great, not bad. Cloud Factory resides in the indeterminant middle.

Jennifer Kelly

 Entry — Detriment (Southern Lord)

Detriment by Entry

Nuthin fancy here, folks. Just eight songs — plus a flexing, fuzzing intro — of American hardcore punk. Entry has been grinding away for a few years now, and Detriment doesn’t advance much past the musical terrain the band marked off on the No Relief 7-inch (2016). That’s OK. The essential formula is time tested: d-beat rhythms, overdriven amps and Sara G.’s ferocious vocals delivering the necessary affect. That would be: pissed off, just this side of hopeless. Detriment sounds like what might happen if Poison Idea (c. 1988) stumbled into a seminar on Riot Grrrl; after everyone got tired of beating the living shit out of one another, they’d make some songs. “Selective Empathy” is pretty representative. Big riffs, a breakdown, and more than enough throaty yelling to let you know that you’re in some trouble. You might recognize the sound of Clayton Stevens’ guitar from his work with Touché Amoré — but maybe it’s better if you don’t. This isn’t music for mopery. Watch out for the spit, snot and blood, and flip the record.

Jonathan Shaw  

 Equiknoxx — VF Live: Equiknoxx (The Vinyl Factory)

There’s nothing like a little roots music to get you through the sweltering summer heat, and this early July mix by Gavin “Gavsborg” Blair (half of forward-thinking Kingston dancehall unit Equiknoxx) was a personal favorite of the past month for hitting that spot. The group tends to throw curveballs at the genres it tinkers with, and Blair’s mix highlights why they’re so good at it: The crates run deep. Spanning everything from legendary producer and DJ Prince Jazzbo to in-house music fresh out the box (e.g., “Did Not Make This For Jah_9” was released in late May), Blair sets the mood and educates you along the way. Like everything else these cats do (and that includes the NTS show — support your independent radio station!), it’s hard not to give the highest recommendation.

Patrick Masterson  

 Ezra Feinberg — Recumbent Speech (Related States)

Recumbent Speech by Ezra Feinberg

Knowing that Ezra Feinberg is a practicing psychoanalyst, it’s tempting to read meaning into the name of his second solo album. But be careful to think twice about the meaning you perceive and ask yourself, is it the product of Feinberg on the couch or your own projection? His choice to name one of the record’s six instrumentals (there are voices, but no words) “Letter To My Mind” certainly suggests that there’s an internal dialogue at work, but the music feels most like a layered deployment of good ideas than an exchange of intrapsychic forces. The synthesizers shimmer and cycle like something from a mid-1970s Cluster record, resting upon a pillow of vibraphone and electric piano tones, which in turn billow under the influence of undulating layers of drums. Feinberg’s guitar leads are bright and pithy, like something Pat Metheny might come up with if he knew he was going to have to pay a steep price for every note he played. Ah, but there I go, projecting an implication of adversary process where there may be none. Might it be that Feinberg, having spent a full work week immersed in the psychic conflicts of others, wants to lay back on the couch and exhale? If so, this album is an apt companion.

Bill Meyer  

 Honey Radar — Sing the Snow Away: The Chunklet Years (Chunklet)

Sing the Snow Away: The Chunklet Years by Honey Radar

Jason Henn of Honey Radar has a solid claim at being his generation’s Bob Pollard, a prolific, absurdist songwriter, who tosses off hooky melodies as if channeling them from the spirit world. His least polished material glints with melody hidden beneath banks of fuzz, whispery and fragile on records, but surprisingly muscular in his rocking live shows. This 28-song compilation assembles the singles, splits, EPs and bonus tracks Henn recorded for Chunklet between 2015 and the present; it would be a daunting amount of material except that it goes down like cotton candy, sweet, airy, colorful and gone before you know it. Like the Kinks, Henn has a way of making strident rock and roll hooks sound wistful and dreamy. In “Lilac Pharmacy,” guitar lines rip and buck and roar, but from a distance, hardly disrupting Henn’s placid murmur. “Medium Mary Todd” ratchets up the tension a bit, with a tangled snarl of lick and swagger, but the vocals edge towards quiet whimsy a la Sic Alps; a second version runs a bit hotter, rougher and more electric, while a third, recorded at WFMU, gives an inkling of the Honey Radar concert experience. A couple of fine covers — of the Fall’s early rant “Middle Class Revolt” and of the Monkees rarity “Wind-Up Man”— suggest the fine, loamy soil that Henn’s art grows out of, while alternate versions of half a dozen tracks hint at the various forms his ideas can take. It’s a wonderful overview of Honey Radar so far, though let’s hope it’s not a career retrospective. Henn has a bunch of records left to make yet if he wants to edge out Pollard.

Jennifer Kelly

 Iron Wigs — Your Birthday’s Cancelled (Mello Music Group)

Your Birthday's Cancelled by IRON WIGS

As an adjective, “goofy” had gotten a bad rep in hip hop. Anything that is unusual, inventive and not in line with “keeping it real” is immediately stigmatized as goofy, weird, nerdy and bad. Iron Wigs is goofy but hold the pejorative connotations. Chicago representatives Vic Spencer and Verbal Kent team up here with Sonnyjim from the UK to do some wild rhyming. They collaborated before, but Your Birthday’s Cancelled is a complete, fully fleshed project, masterfully executed from start to finish. Instead of the usual gun busting you get a fist in the ribs. Instead of drug slinging, a blunt to activate your rhymes. Each member of the group has a distinctive delivery which makes you to listen carefully for every verse, no skipping. It’s a relief to listen to rap artists who don’t pretend they’re out in the streets while they’re at home enjoying a favorite TV series. The standout track here is “Bally Animals & Rugbys” with Roc Marciano dropping by for a verse.

Ray Garraty  

 Levinson / Mahlmeister — Shores (Trouble In Mind)

Shores by levinson / mahlmeister

Jamie Levinson and Donny Mahlmeister’s Bandcamp page indicates that they’re based in Oak Park, a suburb of Chicago. This goes further towards explaining their association with Trouble in Mind Records, which is located in the same county, than their music, which brings to mind something much further north. The duo’s music is mostly electronic, with modular synthesizers setting the pulse and sweeping the pitch spectrum while lap steel guitar adds flourishes and a shruti box thickens the textures. The album is split into two, with each track — one is named “Ascend,” the other “Release” — taking up one side of a 50-minute cassette. The first side trundles steadily onwards, and the second seems to bask in a glow to that never totally fades. Since there’s no “Descend,” it’s easy to imagine this music sound tracking a drive into the Canadian north, the journey unspooling under a sky that never darkens, its progress towards Hudson Bay unhindered by other traffic or turns in the road. Perhaps that’s just one listener’s fantasy of easy social distancing and escape from the present’s grim digital glare into a retro-futurist, analog dream. But in dreams we’re free to fly without being seated next to some knucklehead with his mask over his eyes instead of his mouth, so dream on, dreamers. This tape is volume one of the Explorers Series, Trouble in Mind’s projected program of limited edition cassette releases.

Bill Meyer

 Klara Lewis — Ingrid (Editions Mego)

Klara Lewis’s latest recording shows a narrowing of focus. Previously she seemed to be trying ideas and methods on for size, investigating ambient electronics or hinting at pop melody without completely committing. Given the approach to music modeled by her father, Graham Lewis of Wire and Dome, she probably does not feel the need to do just one thing, and that’s a healthy angle if one wants to stay interested and flexible. But there’s also something to be said for really digging into an idea, and that’s what she has done here. Ingrid is a one-track, one-sided 12.” Burrowing further into one-ness, it is made from one looped cello phrase, which gets filtered and distorted on each pass. The effect suggests decay, but not so much the gradual transformation of a William Basinski piece as the pitiless abrasion of a woodworker going over a plank with sander. The combination of repetition and coarsening hits a spot closer to one that Tony Conrad might reach, and that’s an itch worth scratching.

Bill Meyer

Luis Lopes Humanization 4tet — Believe, Believe (Clean Feed)

The cruel economics of contemporary creative music-making favor an ensemble like Humanization 4tet. At a minimum, the filial Texan rhythm section of Stefan and Aaron Gonzalez (drums and bass respectively) and Lisbon-based duo of Rodrigo Amado (tenor saxophone) and Luís Lopes can each count on having the other half of a band on the other side of the Atlantic. But any project that’s on its fourth record in a dozen years has more going for it than the chance to save on plane tickets. For the Portuguese musicians, it’s an opportunity to feel an unabashedly high-energy force at their backs, as well as a chance to drink from a deep well of harmolodic blues. And for the Gonzalez brothers, it’s the reward of being the absolute right guys for the job; it has to be a gas to know that the heft they put into their swing is so deeply appreciated. While Lopes’ name remains up front, everyone contributes compositions, and everyone gives their all on every tune.

Bill Meyer  

 Joanna Mattrey — Veiled (Relative Pitch)

Veiled by Joanna Mattrey

This solo CD, which closely follows a collaborative cassette on Astral Spirits, is only the second recording with Joanna Mattrey’s name on the spine. But Mattrey is no newcomer. The New England Conservatory-trained violist has been playing straight and pop gigs for a while. If you caught Chance the Rapper on Saturday Night Live, Cuddle Magic with strings or a host of classical gigs around New York City, you’ve seen her. But if black dress and heels gigs pay her bills, improvised music nourishes her heart. And if sounds raw enough to scrape the roof of the world nourish yours, this album is new food. The premise of Veiled is finding veins of concealed beauty concealed, and that search impels Mattrey to tune her viola to sound like a horse-haired Tuvan fiddle, clamp objects to the strings and blast her signal through some satisfyingly filthy amplification. And whether it’s a slender tune or a complex texture, the reward is always there.

Bill Meyer

  Angel Olsen — “Whole New Mess” single (Jagjaguwar)

Everyone processes a breakup differently (though, to be fair, that’s probably less true now than ever). For Angel Olsen in 2018, it meant retreating to The Unknown, a century-old church in Anacortes, Washington, that Mount Eerie’s Phil Elverum and producer Nicholas Wilbur made into a recording studio. What ultimately came from those sessions was All Mirrors, but Whole New Mess is a chance to revisit that album (fully nine of these 11 songs are ones you’ve heard before; only the title-track and “Waving, Smiling” are new) in a more intimate framework — just Angel, a guitar, a mic and her reverberant heartache. The most cynical view to be taken here is that it’s a stopgap capitalizing on people’s vulnerability amid a pandemic quarantine, but it could also be a corrective for the bloat of All Mirrors, a record I listened to once and haven’t thought about since. Late Björkian excess doesn’t suit her nearly as well as the light touch delivered herein, and your interest will similarly hinge on how much Whole New Mess sounds like the old one.

Patrick Masterson   

 Ono — Red Summer (American Dreams)

Red Summer by ONO

Ono, the long-running noise-punk-poetry-protest project headed by P Michael Grego and travis, tackles the Red Summer of 1919, evoking the brutal race riots that erupted as soldiers returned from World War I. During that summer, conflicts raged from Chicago to the deep south, as white supremacists rioted against newly empowered returning Black veterans and an increased number of Black factory workers employed in America’s northern factories. Ono captures the violence—and its links to contemporary race-based conflicts—in an abstract and visionary style, with travis declaiming against an agitated froth of avant garde sound. “A Dream of Sodomy” lurches and rolls in funk-punk bravado, as travis declaims all the nightmarish scenarios that haunt his nocturnal hours, while “Coon” natters rhythmically across a fever-lit foundation of hand-drums, mosquito buzz and flute. “26 June 1919” wanders through a blasted, rioting landscape, sounds buzzing and pinging and roaring around travis’ fractured poetry. “White men, red men, Manchester town, send ‘em home, Oklahoma, send ‘em home, in a Black man house, send ‘em home, send ‘em home,” he chants, ominously, vertiginously. The center isn’t holding, for sure. The disc closes with the uneasy truce of “Sycamore Trees,” where steam blasts of synthesizer sound rush up and around travis’ vibrating, basso verses about meeting under the sycamore trees, a metaphor like the blues and gospel and nearly all Black music is full of metaphor about reuniting in a better place. Powerful.

Jennifer Kelly

 Julian Taylor — The Ridge (Howling Turtle, Inc.)

Singer-songwriter Julian Taylor does the little things well. That's not to say that he doesn't do the obvious things well, too, on his latest release The Ridge. His easy voice fits his songs, letting autobiography come with comfortable phrasing. As a writer, he tends toward the straightforward, avoiding extended metaphors or oblique references. The title track considers a particular form of life, and Taylor sticks to the tangible, singing about the stable, “Shovel manure, clean their beds, and prepare the feed for the day.” Taylor's songs make sense of the immediate world and relationships around him, but they avoid woolgathering. The album feels a bit removed from the current climate, but that's no complaint when Taylor's developed a welcoming place to visit. It isn't always easy here, but it's always companionable.

But back to those little things. Each song has carefully detailed orchestration and production. The record goes down easy whether tending toward James Taylor, Cat Stevens or something closer to country, and much of that easiness comes from the precise placement of every note. Burke Carroll's pedal steel, for instance, never exists for its own sake, but to serve the lyric that Taylor sings. The album contains enough space to feel like a rural Canadian ridge, with details drawn into to support Taylor's direct stories. The Ridge could easily go unnoticed (unobtrusiveness not being a highly rewarded trait), but its subtlety and care make it worth taking your boots off and sitting down for a minute.

Justin Cober-Lake  

 Various Artists — For a Better Tomorrow (Garden Portal)

For A Better Tomorrow by Various Artists

Compilation albums loom large in the American Primitive Guitar realm. Takoma, Tompkins Square and Locust all had larger ambitions than merely offering a sampling of wares, and to them, Garden Portal says, “hold my beer. I’ve got some collecting and playing to do.” For A Better Tomorrow started out as a Bernie Sanders fundraising endeavor. But when Bernie bailed and COVID-19 came on the scene, Garden Portal pivoted to support Athens Mutual Aid Network, an umbrella organization that coordinates aid to the underserved in this trying time. But in addition to good works, there’s some good work going on here. Not all of it is guitar-centric, but even the tracks that aren’t are close enough to the strings and heart template of the aforementioned parties to merit consideration under the same rubric. Joseph Allred’s been ultra-productive recently, so it’s actually helpful to be reminded of the spirit that infuses his playing by listening to it one track at a time. Rob Noyes’ “Diminished” takes the listener on a deep dive into the construction of sentiment and sound. And Will Csorba’s Pelt-like blast of fiddle drone, “Requiem for Ociel Guadalupe Martinez,” will put your hair up high enough to make that self-inflicted quarantine do a bit easier to execute.

Bill Meyer

  Various Artists — The Storehouse Presents (The Storehouse)

The Storehouse Presents by The Storehouse

The coronavirus pandemic put the brakes on many things. You doubtless have your own list of loss, but for the proprietors of The Storehouse, the catalog of things kissed goodbye directly corresponds to their endeavor’s inventory of reasons to be. Over the past few years, the Storehouse has invited audiences out to a West Michigan farmhouse to enjoy a potluck meal and a concert played by some musicians of note. If there had been no lockdown, listeners could have enjoyed the Sun Ra Arkestra last April. Instead, no one’s playing, and no one’s getting paid, so the Storehouse has compiled this set of live and exclusive studio tracks to sell on Bandcamp in order to benefit the musicians and the Music Maker Relief Foundation. The cause, is good, but so are the tunes. Want to hear Steve Gunn and William Tyler in sympathetic orbit? Or Joan Shelley pledging her love? Or the first hints of Mind Over Mirrors’ new direction? Step right this way, preferably on one of 2020’s first Fridays.

Bill Meyer

 Z-Ro — Rohammad Ali (1 Deep Entertainment / Empire)

On one of his previous tracks, Z-Ro admitted that he’s basically just writing the same song over and over again (that’s how meta he is now, writing songs on writing songs). While he exaggerated a bit, he was not that far from the truth. In the last half dozen years he’s been writing the same three or four songs in various combinations, reconfigurations and forms. Rohammad Ali follows the same template: haters hate him, but he’s OK and is counting his money. Multiply this by 17, and here is the album. Despite this self-cannibalizing (lots of poets did that), Z-Ro with every new album sounds fresh and far from tired. The self-repeats just fuel him. Rohammad Ali has only one rap guest, and it’s Shaquille O’Neal whose rap career didn’t jump off in the 1990s. A lack of guests only proves that Z-Ro can self-sustain without support from the outside. The only thing from the outside he needs is hate.

Ray Garraty

[l4v3nd3rv01d]

☆ HAHA HIHI @futz0 !!! IM GONNA TALK. YOUR. EAR. OFF.

OKAY OKAY SOOO

This is Jazz !!! Ain't she a cutie?? ^^

Lore wise there isn't MUCH butttt

-She was originally the court jester of a kingdom

-She grew tired of the lack of joy, fun, and excitement in the kingdom and so she overthrew the king and took over!!

-She turns the whole kingdom into a place of JOY and WHIMSY and anyone who's caught not having fun or who opposes the new joy she's brought is dealt with according.

-The SMG4 crew, for one reason or another, happen to visit this kingdom one day and learn of what happened and are like "what the fuck !! That's NOT okie-doki!" And decide to try and either knock some sense into her or knock her out of power

-They fail horribly and due to their own power of stupidity that follows them everywhere, an unfortunate chain of events leads to Jazz's fancy castle crumbling to the ground

-Rightfully, Jazz starts despising the SMG4 crew after this.

Here's a concept for her ruler outfit !!

Anyways, enter my friend @h3nry-d00dl3z oc: Flara !!

We still need to talk this over some more but I've got the idea of Jazz meeting Flara and taking a liking to her, leading to her joining Flara's Circus. Things are fun for a while and then the SMG4 crew show up again and Jazz immediately like "Flara, dear, they will ruin everything. GET RID OF THEM. IMMEDIATELY." But Flara just brushes it off and continues on with her show.

Had the idea of her calling the cast up to participate in the show and that's what would eventually spiral into her whole tent getting completely destroyed.

GREAT !! Now there's TWO people the main cast have fucked over. What will happen next?

I'LL TELL YOU!!

Enter good ol' Mr. Puzzles. (Specifically after the whole "Puzzlevision" situation)

Either through means of the other two witnessing the crew ruining his TV shows, or through him approaching them, the girls would eventually meet with Mr Puzzles and the three, brought together by their hatred for the main cast, would form a trio and begin plotting together to enact revenge !!

Corny as shit ik, but I love them anyways.

And yea that's pretty much it !!

Doodles

📺: "Ehehe... you were done with this... right?"

🎭: "Puzzles, give me my crown back."

(Get it? Cuz the crown has 5 stars on it)

Featuring Flara !! (Hi Henry :3)

🎪: "We're going to Didny Worl?"

📺: "Better!"

🎭: "WE'RE GONNA TAKE OVER DIDNEY WORL?!"

Also tysm !! I'm so glad you like everyone's looks so far !!

Saiko's was a lot of fun🤍🤍

Tho she doesn't seem to fond of it

🎭: "You really like it?! I'm so glad!!"

Greetings, I bring concept doodles for you all today

Saiko (+ doodle)

SMG4

SMG3

Andddd,,,

My oc Jazz !! The one responsible for these silly outfits (:

Everything is totally fine and normal, don't pay attention to the masks those totally aren't important

[harryseyebrows]

Fine Line - Track-by-track rating

I’m in the mood to start shit. So here it is. My comprehensive album rating list. Rating subcategories should be self-explanatory, but I’m judging based on lyrics, how listen-able the song is overall, how interesting it is in terms of JUST sound, and crafting/production/my perceived idea of how well done the entire song is in terms of all the elements combined. Think about the effort that Liam put into his album vs. the effort Harry put into SOTT. What was written and created with intent and what was created maybe more for the sake of creating. Then, I did ACTUAL MATH and came up with an overall score out of ten. Read with caution and yell at me if you feel the need.

Golden:

Lyrics - 7/10 

“I know that you’re scared because I’m so open” is fantastic and it’s great to see him literally being more open with his songwriting, but he loses some points for the general repetitive nature and more common turns of phrase.  

General listen-ability - 10/10

It’s an easy song to listen to, whether you’re putting it on for background noise, listening while driving, or listening specifically with the intent of paying attention and enjoying.

Sonic intrigue - 8/10 

The slower beginning and then the slam into the guitars and drums is great. It flows nicely and has a good pace/rhythm.

Crafting - 9/10

Overall: 34/40 = 8.5/10

Watermelon Sugar: 

Lyrics - 6/10 

Nothing particularly thrilling. It’s a generally fun song with some lyrics that are suggestive but not overtly so. Good to know that he’s enthusiastic about oral, but again, it’s not his finest lyrical work. 

General listen-ability - 8/10

Another more easy listening track. Good for any time. A fun, sexy little bop.

Sonic intrigue - 7/10

The horns and bass line save this song from otherwise being a bit lackluster in terms of production, and make it interesting in a subtle, understated way that’s very enjoyable.

Crafting - 8/10

Overall: 29/40 = 7.3/10 

Adore You:

Lyrics - 7/10

Kinda cliche and corny; “I get so lost inside your eyes”. Otherwise, very fun and leans heavily into a more pop lens. Makes up for it with “You don’t have to say you love me / You don’t have to say nothing / You don’t have to say you’re mine” and the “Oh honey”s.

General listen-ability - 10/10

I want to listen to this song all day every day. There has to be something in the soundwaves that’s brainwashing me. Can’t stop won’t stop.

Sonic intrigue - 9/10

At first glance (listen) it’s a very basic sort of pop song. But the more you listen, you realize that it’s rooted in a more funk-style guitar lick and utilizes synths in a way that doesn’t come off as too manufactured or ‘fake’. It’s layered; you find more and more complexity with each spin.

Crafting - 9/10

Overall: 35/40 = 8.8/10

Lights Up:

Lyrics - 8/10

The lyrical structure, if you look at it on paper, could easily be read as some type of poetry. The song opens with a question: ‘What do you mean?’ and then proceeds to offer fragments of sentences that aren’t necessarily connected, but somehow offer a cohesive picture — a message that’s still a little unclear but offers multiple interpretations in meaning. 

General listen-ability - 9/10 

It’s fun and boppy but also surprisingly mellow. For me personally, the tempo and bass mean that it can be hit or miss in terms of how/when I want to listen to it, but for the most part, I don’t skip it. This might also have to do with it being the first song we heard from him since HS1, and I might have overkilled it a bit.

Sonic intrigue - 8/10 

It’s hard to not compare this song to his work on HS1, for the reasons above. HS1 was definitely more rock-oriented; more bare bones production and an ode to the more classic methods of music making ie singer, guitar, bass, and drums. Whereas with this song, it was essentially a complete 180 in style and production, with a little flair of R&B style music while maintaining his classic air of whimsy in both the lyrics and his less-frequently-used breathy head voice. Sometimes I still find it hard to believe that it’s a Harry Styles song.

Crafting - 8/10 

Overall: 33/40 = 8.3/10 

Cherry: 

Lyrics - 8/10

One of Harry’s many talents is his ability to project tone with the combination of how he sings/emotes with his voice with the lyrics he’s singing. This song is no exception. It’s a sadder, more melancholic song, where he’s expressing some less-than-pleasant feelings, and you’re not only getting that from the words he’s singing, but HOW he’s singing it. It allows the listening to feel and empathize. It’s something he’s very masterful at. (See: the opposite would be something like Adore You, which under the guise of a more upbeat song, the lyrics are actually kind of sad and grovel-y)

General listen-ability - 7/10 

I respect his artistic vision and the choice to include the voice note but as part of a general playlist, it can come off a little odd and out of place. Otherwise it’s very palatable. It just makes me sad, so I don’t often intentionally put it on to listen.

Sonic intrigue - 7/10 

I liken this to a FTDT style song. Very raw. More singer-songwriter than pop. Some very lovely guitar playing and it’s nice hearing him sing in a register that’s been essentially neglected up until this album. But for the most part, I don’t think it’s his most interesting work. Very typical singer-songwriter guitar type song. 

Crafting - 8/10 

Overall: 30/40 = 7.5/10 

Falling: 

Lyrics - 7/10 

I enjoy and appreciate his honesty, and perhaps there’s something to be said about the lack of flowery turns of phrase, but I just don’t feel like this is his most clever work. Again, great to see him being so honest, but it sounds like the extended version of If I Could Fly. 

General listen-ability - 6/10 

I can’t allow this to randomly come on shuffle without putting myself at risk of a depressive spiral. That’s where he loses points. 

Sonic intrigue - 7/10 

Every album has one, and this is it. The Basic Song. So widely palatable that it’s...boring. Shoot me, I know.

Crafting - 8/10 

Overall: 28/40 = 7/10

To Be So Lonely: 

Lyrics - 9/10 

Currently, with just HS1 and Fine Line under his belt, THIS song is his lyrical Magnum Opus. It’s honest. It showcases an intriguing narrative. It’s clever. It’s fun. It’s a little sad. This is Harry and his amalgamation of musical influences mixed up in a bowl, poured into a pan, and baked into a perfect cake with frosting flowers. 

General listen-ability - 8/10 

This is another one of those songs that you can have on in the background and it fits into whatever you’re doing, or you put it on specifically to scream ‘arrogant son of a bitch’ back at him. It’s versatile.

Sonic intrigue - 10/10 

The production on this song is clean but also a little rough around the edges, and I think it was done intentionally. You can hear the buzz of guitar and bass strings. There are peaks and troughs of volume. It has a sneaky little swinging beat that makes it impossible to not bop your head along with it. Again, it’s INTERESTING.

Crafting - 10/10 

Overall: 37/40 = 9.3/10 

She: 

Lyrics - 8/10 

I’m afraid to say anything negative about this song because I don’t want to be executed, but here goes. I think it offers a fun, interesting narrative on the first few listens. It’s a story; a little fantastical and sultry. But for me, it feels a bit like Woman 2.0

General listen-ability - 7/10

I have to be in the right mood to put it on specifically, so otherwise, it’s one that I won’t necessarily skip, but I prefer to have it on when I want to listen to slower music. Also kudos to Mitchell but the guitar wank at the end is just a little on the long side. 

Sonic intrigue - 8/10 

This is definitely a stylistic callback to the overall sound of HS1, and for that reason, I think it offers a nice bit of continuity. 

Crafting - 8/10 

Overall: 31/40 = 7.8/10 

Sunflower Vol. 6:

Lyrics - 9/10 

The story! The atmosphere! The pure, unbridled joy it offers! KISS IN THE KITCHEN LIKE IT’S A DANCEFLOOR!!!! I’m offended at how cute this song is. More men need to write songs like this.

General listen-ability - 9/10

This song instantly puts me in a happier mood. I don’t feel like a car ride is complete without listening to it at least once. It’s textural. I love it.

Sonic intrigue - 9/10 

The backwards audio in the beginning. The weird bass. The vocal layering. The nonsense ad libs at the end!!!! FUN!!!!

Crafting - 10/10

Overall: 37/40 = 9.3/10 

Canyon Moon: 

Lyrics - 8/10 

This song is deceptive — underneath the cheery, more jovial sound, it actually has some more echo-y melancholy notes — the ‘So hard to leave it / that’s what I always do’ and ‘I’m going home’s. It’s about reminiscing but still moving forward. Reflecting!! 

General listen-ability - 9/10 

Could easily fit in on a romcom soundtrack, and I mean that in the best way. 

Sonic intrigue - 7/10 

If I didn’t know that he specifically sought out Joni Mitchell’s dulcimers for this, it would feel just like any other upbeat guitar song, but I DO know his process behind it, so his score gets bumped a bit.

Crafting - 9/10

Overall: 33/40 = 8.3/10

Treat People With Kindness: 

Lyrics - 7/10 

Ohhh Harry Styles. He just wants people to be nice to each other! And maybe be a utopian society cult leader. It’s okay. We love him anyway. This song is full of idealisms; perhaps it’s a toe-dip into social commentary. Perhaps it’s a reflection of his own life, on dealing with friendships and loss and the overall nature of being a person. Who knows! It’s a batshit extravaganza in the best way.

General listen-ability - 8/10 

If you can listen to this song without wanting to dance...you have a problem. 

Sonic intrigue - 9/10 

This song is all over the place but in a very thoughtful, cohesive way. It would not be the same if he sang the chorus; half of what makes it so charming is that he doesn’t, and instead, he sounds like some sort of unhinged ring-leader at the end, demanding ‘one more time’ and screaming. UNHINGED BUT MAKE IT JOYFUL.

Crafting - 9/10

Overall: 33/40 = 8.3/10

Fine Line: 

Lyrics - 9/10 

This song doesn’t have many lines, but the ones that do exist, are all purposeful and pack an incredible punch. It would be a disservice to him to try and pick a ‘best’ one, but ‘Put a price on emotion / I’m looking for something to buy’ and ‘my hand’s at risk / I’ll fold’ are up there as two of my favorite things he’s ever written. The repetitiveness of ‘we’ll be a fine line’ can be a little grating, but I find that to be entirely dependent on my mood, and not any fault of his own. 

General listen-ability - 8/10 

I put this on when I want to disassociate. Not ideal for when I’m driving down the highway, but what can you do.

Sonic intrigue - 10/10

One of the most, if not THE most, beautiful pieces of music he’s ever put out. Nothing more or less can be said. 

Crafting - 10/10 

Overall: 37/40 = 9.3/10 

[cordoniasmost]

As the World Burns - Part 4

Story: Blood Bound

Pairing: MC (Amy) x Adrian x Jax x Dracula x ? (it’s basically a clown car up in here, y’all!)

Warnings: Language, violence, sexual innuendo/discussions, pregnancy, date rape

Word Count: 2449

Find Part 3 Here

A/N: When I stumbled on the theory about MC being pregnant as the reason for the “darkness within” line from yesterday’s chapter of BloodBound (Book 2, chapter 14), I had to write something super dramatic and funny (read: ridiculous) because what’s life without a little whimsy? Haha :)  This series is going to be 3-4 parts.  Enjoy! (This really went off the rails... sorry not sorry! lol)

Tag List: @furiouscloddonutpeanut @averysheart-raleighsdick @kingliamsbish @dr-brianna-casey-valentine @angrypainterfarmopera @maiajaychoices @desiree-0816 @mrsagentbreakdance

Amy wasn’t surprised she’d gotten Drac to agree to go on this ridiculous spectacle people called a TV show. What has my life become?  Neither Adrian or Jax were happy about the idea of doing this, both of them much preferred keeping their private business, well, private. When she’d reached out to Drac to explain the situation, as she’d predicted he was less than enthusiastic about doing anything to make her life easier.

Also as she’d predicted, he was more than willing to donate his DNA once he’d heard it would be a televised event. She’d just conveniently forgotten to mention that this particular TV show aired on daytime cable TV and was watched mostly by bored housewives. I guess that plays right to his target audience, though. Huh. 

She found herself now backstage amid the hustle and bustle of preparing to film this monstrosity.  Amy had been binging past episodes of this show to prepare herself for what to expect and she was pretty horrified at what she was about to go through, but it was more important to her to know what she’d be dealing with father-wise when it came to her baby than she was worried about her pride.

“We don’t have to do this, Ames,” Jax said, watching her wearily. “We really, really don’t have to do this.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Yes, we do. I need to find out and this is the only way to be sure. It’ll be over quick and by the end of today we’ll know.”

Adrian was pacing the room, not looking at either of them and not speaking. “Adrian? Are you okay?” Amy asked hesitantly. 

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing loudly. “Not really. I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

She could relate to how he was feeling. She couldn’t believe she was doing this, either.

“I know, but thank you,” she said, standing and wrapping her arms around his waist. “I know this is basically the worst possibly way any of us could imagine to do this, but hopefully no one will see it and we’ll get the answers we need.”

He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “Hopefully.”

**

The bright studio lights were hotter than she’d expected and Amy found herself sweating her makeup off. She tried to believe that despite the high definition TV cameras projecting this shit show all over the country, they wouldn’t somehow catch the beads of sweat on her forehead or the trickle running down her throat. 

She rested her hand on the swell of her belly, rubbing gently this new life she’d created. It had been a couple of weeks since she’d found out and her pregnancy was progressing more quickly than a typical one would. She felt better, though, and she was thankful for that now as her stomach rolled with nerves. Not that many people watch this circus, do they? 

To her left sat Jax and to her right, Adrian. To Adrian’s right was Drac looking just as eccentric as ever with a black sheer lace bell sleeve top and leather pants. He had his long hair loose and wavy and about 100 chain necklaces around his neck. Seeing him under these bright lights, she couldn’t imagine what the fuck had gone through her mind when she’d let him fuck her against the ceiling. The fact she was revealing this fact to the entire country disturbed her on a level she wasn’t ready to deal with at this point. She swallowed and buried those thoughts deep, deep down inside, slamming the lid on that particular horror. 

She’d process it later, or maybe never, she thought.

Amy brought her attention back to the host. Maury Povich. The man had been profiting off of other people’s ridiculous drama for years and he was damn good at it. He had become famous for his lines, “You are NOT the father!” and, “The lie detector test determined THAT was a lie!” He smiled warmly as if he truly cared about them and Amy decided that was where his true power existed. The fact he could get people to let their guard down and believe that he cared about their best interest, almost like a friend.

It was the beginning of their segment and the four of them had made their way to the stage, none of them speaking to Drac either backstage or on their way out. None of them had anything to say to each other and Amy couldn’t imagine what it would be like for her if this was his baby. Adrian, Jax and she had discussed what would happen if that was the case and they decided they’d do everything they could to get him to agree to them keeping and raising the baby as theirs. None of them wanted him involved and, based on his lifestyle, none of them believed he’d want anything to do with a baby.

After all, he had only agreed to this whole thing because of the TV cameras and chance at publicity.

Maury was interviewing Drac now, asking him about what had happened between them and whether or not he was interested in being a father.  All four of them had agreed to not discussing the whole vampire part of the equation in this circus. Vampires weren’t exactly out in the open officially and no one needed to know that part, so when Amy heard Dracula begin to talk about centuries of living without being able to have a family, she felt a jolt of panic before she felt Adrian slam his foot down subtly on Drac’s.

Drac winced before finally realizing what he was saying, correcting his statement to “feeling” like it had been centuries. Amy exhaled loudly. This was going to be worse than she thought, and had known it’d be bad.

Maury smiled at her. “So, Amy,” he began. “We have a bit of an unusual situation with you. We usually don’t do these tests until the baby is actually born, but your story was so compelling we had to have you on the show. Let me just make sure we’re all clear on what’s happening.”

She swallowed, shifting nervously in her seat, her hands clinging on one side to Jax and on the other Adrian.  She nodded, taking a breath before speaking. “We’re in a relationship, but it’s open. We love each other and are honest with each other, but I thought I couldn’t have children,” she said, changing the story slightly so no one would question them too closely.  

“I have been sexually… adventurous, and suddenly found myself pregnant.  We’re hoping it’s either Jax’s or Adrian’s, but there’s a chance it belongs to Drac.”

She heard the crowd oooh and aaaah at her expense and her gaze fell to the floor. What am I doing? “And Jax, do you hope the baby is yours?” Maury asked, turning his questioning eyes on the man to her left. 

Jax cleared his throat. “Of course. I mean, it’s not something I ever imagined I wanted, but now that there’s a possibility it’s kind of exciting. The idea of it at least,” he said honestly, squeezing her hand.  

“How about you, Adrian?” he turned to the man on her right.

“Of course, I feel similarly to Jax.” Adrian wasn’t wanting to give much away in this whole process and she couldn’t blame him. Maury frowned slightly before regaining his composure. 

“And you, Drac? Who’s baby do you think it is?” Maury’s eyes were sparkling with excitement. He knew Drac would give him a good sound bite. 

“Oh, this baby is definitely not mine. There’s no way. I’ve had sex with hundreds, maybe even thousands of women in my time and never once gotten one pregnant. There’s not even a chance this baby belongs to me. I don’t even know why I’m here,” he finished, winking at the audience. 

They laughed and booed him simultaneously which made Amy want to put her hands over her ears. The audience felt like they were out for blood and the producers only encouraged the reactions from behind the cameras. This whole spectacle repulsed her, and yet… here she was.

Maury turned toward the audience. “Well, we’re gonna find out right now,” he said, pulling out a manila envelope. “Are you ready?” he turned to them, making eye contact with each one individually as they nodded their agreement. Amy felt her heart race, her stomach was in knots. Here we go, she thought. She hoped everything wouldn’t change for her after these results. If the baby was Jax’s or Adrian’s, everything would be fine. If not, well, she’d think about that later.

“Let’s start with Jax. In the case of Amy’s unborn baby, Jax you are NOT the father.” Fuck. The crowd jeered and cheered, and Jax squeezed her hand, leaning over to whisper in her ear. “It’s going to be okay, Ames.” She squeezed his hand back, giving him a small, nervous smile. 

“Adrian, you are NOT the father!” Double fuck. That could only mean one thing… Amy felt like throwing up.

Maury’s eyes were dancing with joy as he hesitated for dramatic effect. “Drac, you are NOT the father!”  Drac was making a big show of standing up, arms spread wide, a huge grin on his face. “I told you! I told you!” he was declaring over and over again to wild cheers from the crowd. She wanted to break the wooden chair he had vacated and stake him through the heart, but she refrained. We can’t have the whole world find out about vampires that way, she tried to convince herself. 

Wait, what?  Adrian and Jax exchanged a look over her head and she wanted to die. How could none of them be the father? She thought back and couldn’t figure it out. Had something happened during one of the nights she’d drunk too much and not remembered anything? She supposed it was possible. But… who?

“There’s someone else who thinks he’s the father of Amy’s baby and he’s here to prove he’s right. After the break, we reveal the test results!” Maury announced before the cameras went dark for a quick break. Maury didn’t say anything to them, just walked off the set for a retouch on his makeup. Drac grins. “Well this has been fun so far. Who do you think’s coming out next?” he asked them, a wide smile on his face. 

“What the fuck, Drac? Just shut up and go over there,” Jax said, pointing his finger in a direction away from them and where they still sat. Adrian had pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. “I don’t know what to say, Amy. I’m in shock right now. I guess I didn’t realize how much I had been actually hoping the baby would be mine,” he said wistfully. “But no matter what, we’ll get through this.”

“He’s right, Ames. This still doesn’t change anything. No matter what, we’re raising this baby together,” Jax finished, bringing her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. 

“I love you both,” she told them, and they both smiled at her softly. “But who do you think this other person is? It’s strange I don’t remember anything and that the producers didn’t mention anything either. I don’t like it and it doesn’t feel right,” she said, worry furrowing her brow. 

“I don’t like it either, but there’s nothing we can do about it now except wait and see,” Adrian said.

Jax’s eyes wandered toward the back of the stage where he’d told her he stashed his sword before the show began taping. “Agreed.”

She sighed, shoving the despair she felt at the idea of this baby not belonging to either of the men she loved deep down with everything else and slamming the lid on it. I’ll deal with those feelings later. 

The producers were hyping the audience up again when Maury came strolling out, smiling at them wickedly, the huge secret he knew was eating them alive bringing him joy. The asshole. 

The lights came back up and the cameras turned on. The audience cheered. “We’re back with Amy, Jax, Adrian, and Drac. We just learned that these three aren’t the father of Amy’s unborn baby, but there’s a fourth man who claims he knows the baby belongs to him and he’s here to prove it. We submitted his DNA and have the results in, but first let’s meet him.  Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to Gaius!”

Adrian and Jax’s heads both whipped around, frantically searching for the man they’d been hunting practically non-stop for weeks. Adrian whispered in her ear, “You slept with Gaius?” 

“What? No! Of course not. At least… I don’t think so?” she said, suddenly not so sure. She’d been unconscious when Jameson and Gaius had kept her prisoner, but it certainly wasn’t something she did willingly. “If it happened, it was when they held me captive and I don’t remember it,” she said sadly, hoping that wasn’t the case.

She suddenly felt extremely violated at the situation but she wouldn’t put it past the villain. She glared at him fiercely as she watched him walk onto the stage to boos and cheers from the audience. 

He made a show of waving and bowing at the audience before confidently taking the chair next to Jax. Amy gripped Jax’s hand tightly, feeling like if she loosened her grip at all Jax would retrieve his sword and try and behead Gaius right there on studio recorded TV. Maury would get the show of his life. She almost giggled out loud at the absurdity of this entire situation. 

“Gaius, everyone on stage looks surprised to see you. What makes you so sure you’re the father of Amy’s unborn child?”

All eyes in the room lock on Gauis, waiting with bated breath to hear his response. “I have a… feeling of sorts that she was fertile when we engaged in our lovemaking,” he said with a smile as if he were talking about the weather. Oh, my god, Amy thought, wanting to crawl under her chair. 

“What does that mean?” Maury pressed.

Gaius shrugged. “Just call it a sixth sense of sorts,” he said with a wink.

“Okay, then. Shall we get to the results?” Maury asked as the audience cheered loudly.

“In the case of Amy’s unborn child, Gaius…” he drew out the pause for dramatic effect. The crowd grew silent. Amy felt like she could hear a pin drop if her own pulse hadn’t been wooshing loudly in her ears.

“You ARE the father!”

[joshlistens]

I wrote fiction for the first time in forever.

This one’s for you, @bace-jeleren.

Characters featured include Bace’s fanwalkers Megumi and Grii, as well as the debut of my fanwalker, Gozha. Megumi and Grii appear with permission. Thanks to Bace for being an inspiring figure in the M:tG Tumblr community.

TW: physical violence (not on Megumi). Grii gets a little bit of her Grii on when she meets Gozha.

Duets

Gozha smiled in a way that he hoped was reassuring. “Look, I know my request seems ridiculous—”

“It is dramatically unsafe, sir—”

“—and it may seem like a rather prosaic, proletarian, possibly even precocious use of your pyromantic prowess—”

“We don’t want to choose how people worship, sir, but this is just—”

“—but I came all this way—”

“The distance you’ve travelled is immaterial, sir—”

“—and I would really quite like to eat these deliciously spicy peppers while they are infused with elemental flame.”

The Regathan monk stared at him.

“And stuffed with this cheese I acquired from a terrific little town near Jhessia.”

The monk still stared.

“Pyromantic peppers. It’s the obvious next step in hot food. You could make it a business." 

Silence.

"I’m prepared to make a very large donation to your temple if you allow this hagiography to heat.”

The monk thought for a moment, then stepped back. "Please, come in. I suppose if nothing else, the Abbess may be entertained by your request.”

“Thank you so much!” Gozha beamed, and proceeded into the hall. Good. There was always a chance the holy types would see his horns, red eyes, lavender skin, and generally demonic countenance and take it as an opportunity for some smiting. He hated that. He’d spent more than thirty years as a fencer and duelist in Valor’s Reach before becoming a commentator and journalist on the sport, while his clerical opponents had usually spent about two or three years across the piste from a training dummy. It’s never fun when the “demon” wins. 

“Sir, are you alright? You keep scratching at those scars.”

“No, I’m fine. You’ve got quite the calm countenance, though. I usually unnerve people.”

"We are… used to strangers here at Keral Keep. In fact, there is another visitor who you might be able to help us with. You are azra, yes? From a place called Kylem?”

Gozha’s eyebrows shot up.

“Did it hurt when you lost most of that one horn? I’ve never known someone with horns, or who’d lost one, to ask.”

He paused. “If my mouth still moves after I pop those pyro-peppers, I’ll tell you the tale." 

"Fair enough.” The monk folded his hands within his robes. “I ask because our visitor comes from Kylem, and you might be able to assist her. She is quite young, and in distress.”

“… Are you alright? I look like several people fought me for their souls and won. I’m not the type to have cherished children in my charge.”

"Well, if I may—you have traveled across many different realms solely for the experience of putting peppers infused with literal, actual fire in your mouth. You have more dueling scars than I have summers, you have more gray hair than I have hair, you are clearly far too busy to shave, and if the way you move is any indication you are either a swordsman or a dancer of some skill.”

“What if I’m both?” Gozha grinned.

“Then I will begin developing my powers of prophecy as well as pyromancy. Regardless. You remind me of the Abbess in many ways. You’ve got a reassuring way about you, despite,” he waved at Gozha, “all this." 

Before he could ask what that meant, the monk continued. "Anyway, our charge is here in the mess hall, and hopefully calm. I’ll leave you to her and go ask after the Abbess.”

“What’s your name, by the by? I’m Gozha.”

The monk smiled beatifically. “I’ve learned not to give my name to your type. Your enemies tend to follow you, and I don’t need more ruckus.” He moved off down the hall.

The duelist watched the monk proceed through shaft after shaft of light from the windows, finally at a loss. 

“Excuse me mister, are you from Ky—GOZHA!”

A tiny soratami cannonball launched itself into his legs. Gozha was nearly bowled over by the impact.

“Hey… you!” he grinned, as he desperately tried to recognize the child he found himself hugging. “It’s great to greet you! How’ve you been?”

He had misjudged—she wasn’t happy, she was sniffling and crying. That wasn’t a happiness cannonball, that was a comfort-me cannonball. “I can’t go home,” she said. “Can you help me get home?”

“Maybe!” No duets, now. This was serious. He kneeled, brushing her tears away. Black eyes. Where had he seen a soratami child with black eyes before? “Where’s home?”

“You were there! You were there for two whole days one time with Daddy and three other people! You never left the bedroom, though. And there were lots of bottles. And noises. I heard—”

“You heard us having fun, yes, the way consenting adults do,” he hastily interrupted her. “And there were many bottles. I remember now, Megumi. I didn’t know you could planeswalk!" 

She nodded. "Mommy and Daddy took me on lots of trips. But then the one-eyed lady came and almost killed me with her sword… a-and I had to get out.” She twisted the bottom hem of her shirt between her hands. It was stained with tears. “I can’t go home, though. I need to go home. Can you help me?" 

"Well, maybe. I’ll try. Come over here.” He took her hand and led her to one of the mess hall benches. A half-eaten meal sat on a plate nearby.

“Listen carefully, Megumi. When you planeswalk, you have to sort of… aim yourself for where you’re going. It’s not an exact science. Can you do that? Can you aim yourself at home?”

She shook her head. “I’m trying! But every time I try it doesn’t work. And I don’t wanna try again because it’s safe here.” Those big black eyes squinted at him. “You need to shave.”

“… Yeah, you’re Wren’s kid alright.” He rested his chin in his palm and looked at her. “Which means you’re Kuro’s kid. Which means you’ve probably got a plan all worked out, am I right?” He winked.

She nodded happily. “Yup! I’m going to wait here. It’s safe here. And they know what planeswalking is, which means other planeswalkers might come here and help me go home. Like you!" 

"Like me, yes.” He smiled. An awful feeling was brewing in the pit of his stomach. “You’re sure you can’t, kind of… ” He made several small, useless gestures. “… aim yourself? If you think really hard about home, does that work?”

“No.” She scrunched her face up like she was concentrating. “No. She might still be there with her sword. It's too much. I'm too scared.” She looked up at him. “Can you hold my hand?" 

He swallowed hard. "No, Megumi, I’m sorry, I can’t. It doesn’t work that way for me." 

She started crying, as he knew she would. Poor thing. 

"Hey, hey now,” he said, out of his element. “It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. Here,” he pulled the plate of half-eaten food over, “have some dinner. Food always makes me feel better.” He tried to smile. 

She pushed it away. “I tried that. I don’t like it.” She sniffed. “It’s too spicy." 

He pushed his sudden spark of joy aside. "What does make you feel better?" 

"I like when you do duets,” she murmured, looking up at him. “They’re so clever.”

“Well, what a wonderful wish we have here!” he grinned, his mind racing. “Whereupon a wee wayward wanderer waits and wants for what? A wild wyrd of weird words and wanton whimsy! What fun!”

Megumi giggled. “So many! Aren’t there just supposed to be two at a time?”

He winked again. “Can a blarney bairn blame me for boosting her beautiful bunny-ears with the best benificence my booming baritone can blast?”

She giggled again. “No, she can’t!” Despite himself, he began to understand Wren’s choices a little more.

“I can!”

Gozha spun, which put his jaw in perfect position for the incoming punch. He saw stars and darkness. He heard Megumi scream, but it was cut short by a rush of warm air. 

Someone grabbed his collar, pulled him off the bench, and threw him up against a stone wall. He could feel a foreign fear start to steal through his chest. Terror magic.

“You know, there’s one thing I never understood about you, Gozha,” a snarling female voice said. “Why do you always alliterate?”

“Like that?”

“Shut up.” A single, huge hand gripped his lapels and lifted him several feet in the air. The fear magic was making his vision tunnel – all he could see was one enormous, furious eye and some cheekbones. “Why do you do those irritating ‘duets’? Call and response. Everything’s an alliteration. Like you don’t have anything interesting to say.”

He tried to muscle down on the cold fingers of terror magic working their way through his heart, but they gripped harder, paralyzing him. “Maybe I just don’t want to tell you all the tantalizing tidbits. ,” he said, desperate. “Maybe I save all my curious curios and glorious gossip for when you’re gone." 

"Filthy azra,” she growled, letting go. He collapsed to the ground. He barely felt her enormous boot as it crunched into his ribcage. "Where did she go?”

“The wee wanderer? Whither and whence.” He forced out a tremulous laugh and spat blood. “If you try, I’m sure you’ll trip over her. But I’d rather hinder than help, frankly.”

“I know,” the huge, muscular woman said, crouching down. “You’re Gozha. Washed-up old fencer. A coward. Eking out money writing about the games at Valor’s Reach. Probably living on a pittance in some tenement somewhere. So much for the old glory, huh?” Her voice took on a taunting, terrifying, childish lilt. “Aren’t all planeswalkers supposed to be great wizards? Where’s your magic, huh? What’s your special talent?”

“Swordsmanship and shit-disturbing.” He smiled through the blood starting to cloud his vision and the icy hand on his heart. He could barely see. “You’re wasting time. The wee wanderer’s ‘walked three or four more times by now. Better go catch her. And pray her parents and I don’t fetch you first.”

“Excuse me, did you require the services of Keral Keep in some fashion, or did you wish to continue abusing our guest here?”

The huge woman snarled and stood. “I will kill you!” she growled. “I will kill you in a way that makes your brothers weep to hear your name." Seeing that she was three full heads taller than the monk, she advanced on him. Her smile was a terrifying thing. "What is your—”

She was interrupted by a slim lance of flame that pushed itself through her sternum in the blink of an eye. Gozha hadn’t even seen the monk make a gesture with his hands. The cyclops woman screamed and vanished, with other, fainter screams chasing after her. The icy hand around his heart let go. The lance of flame became smoke. In its place, the air seemed to grow colder, almost biting. 

“I don’t give you people my name,” said the monk. He looked at Gozha. “Are you alright?”

Gozha grunted.“Yes.” He stood. “I spoke with your… guest, before we were interrupted. She left, but she’ll be okay, hopefully soon.”

The monk helped Gozha over to a bench. “That is good to hear." 

"That’s a good trick, with the flame, there. Very quick. I’m impressed.”

“It has proven useful,” said the monk. “It’s easy to get rid of your kind. The first lick of flame, the first hint of true danger, and you vanish, off to somewhere safe.” He eyed Gozha. “But you stayed. Why did you stay?”

"Had to give the little one time,” said Gozha carefully. Cracked ribs ground against his lungs. “I’d never met the big one before, but I know her type. She likes pain and she’s easy to provoke. Keep her talking, give her something to punch or kick, and she’ll take all the time in the world to do it.”

The monk regarded him for a long moment. “I see I was right to compare you to the Abbess.” He stood up. “I’ll make sure a room is prepared for you and a healer ready. The Abbess isn’t here today, but she’ll likely return soon. And by then, we’ll have mastered the proper techniques for imbuing your peppers with Regathan flame.”

Gozha grinned around the blood. “So you won’t refuse my request.”

“It is a ridiculous request.”

“And 'dramatically unsafe’, if I recall.”

“Which means the Abbess should enjoy it a great deal,” said the monk. “Goodnight, Gozha. Meditations begin at six bells tomorrow. I will see you then.”

“Goodnight… ” said Gozha, trailing off. He still didn’t know the monk’s name. Nor, for that matter, where Megumi went.

But he did a good thing today, and he was going to taste those delicious peppers soon. And that would have to be enough for now.

[kurohadiana]

you guys are starting to piss me off omfg first of all if date was some bishie twink youd all love it so much if he was meowing like if he looked like a crinkled napkin thatd blow out of a car window youd all be addicted to him meowing but just because hes not suddenly its an issue... i know the joshity weirdos would be out here screaming and kicking their feet if joshua started meowing and would think it was so so sweet amarantha dealt with it. youre all already obsessed with them holding his dragon form in a BABY CARRIER (which btw, if were talking about weird THATS weird to ship them when they do shit like that with each other... but half of you just jumped on the oracrys bandwagon without even reading zenovae first so how would you even know lmfao) also second of all AMARANTHA***** (stop saying unidate omg they dont go by unity anymore) IS INCREDIBLY REPRESSED if you even read zenovae you would know this they act very solemn and serious but theyre low key a weirdo. i know we dk that much about date yet either but hes probably the same way. but they clearly have a deep trust in each other and date brings out the fun side of them they never really got to experience... what is everyones issue with characters older than 30 having some joy and whimsy in their lives. like have they not been through enough LMFAO now they cant be silly once in a while??? sorry i forgot this fandom is full of a bunch of 16 year olds who think your life ends once you turn 20 and you have to stop liking anything or having any fun ever. and lastly again i know none of you have read zenovae and if you did you CLEARLY either didnt read it carefully or just watched a summary video but ill just leave this screenshot here from the forum translation

THEY LITERALLY HAVE ALWAYS LIKED MEOWING. THE FACT DATE MEOWS IS JUST ANOTHER THING ABOUT HIM THATS PERFECT FOR THEM. you guys just dont get it

1. why are we so chill with that grown ass man meowing

2. HWY ARE WE SO CHILL WITH THAT GROWN ASS ADULT BEING INTO THE MEOWING...

not to hate on unidate but my gawd... mod april help...

- 🫠 anon. because i guess we have names now?? (lol 🦋...)

righttttt. ok wait i thought it was crazy when ppl were saying it was great.... like ok whatever you sayyyy 😁. um anyways--

again. date is not my fave. hes a little..... you know what. not my fave...

[missjanjie]

Branjie Fic - Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer (2/?)

Title: Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer Summary: Brooke Lynn is a graduate student anxiously embracing her new position as her favorite dance professors’ new TA. Vanessa is a sophomore dance major who just might make her way into being more than the teacher(assistant)’s pet. (lesbian/university AU) Word Count: ~2.4k (this chapter)/~5k (total) Relationship: Branjie (Vanessa ‘Vanjie’ Mateo/Brooke Lynn Hytes) Rating: T Note(s): rating is subject to change, this is based on the story so far

Read on AO3 | Ch. 1 

While it is called the ‘fall semester’, classes always start during the summer, often at the end of August. This gave way for heatwaves hitting in the middle of the week, especially in densely-packed places like New York City. No one talks about this time of year in the city that never sleeps – it is devoid of the awe and whimsy that so often surrounded it in media. Artists don’t wax poetic about days like this, where the air is thick and hazy and smells of sweat and melting garbage. Where, despite it being the lunch rush, the streets were scare, and everyone is hiding in the comfort of air conditioning or high-powered fans.

Cut to the graduate student residence hall – more specifically, Brooke’s apartment. There, she and Nina sat on the floor in sports bras and shorts, drinking glass after glass of ice water and being eternally grateful that the a/c had been fixed just before the start of the semester. Nina looked on as Brooke stared catatonically at the ceiling and nudged her leg with her foot to get her attention. “I don’t think I’ve ever had to say this to anyone but myself, but I think you’re being overdramatic,” she told her.

“I’m not!” Brooke sighed in exasperation. “It’s only day two of the school year and I’ve already kissed a student. I couldn’t manage a full twenty-four hours on campus without jeopardizing everything,” she groaned, now laying on the floor. “It wasn’t even a cute cheek kiss, I almost slipped her tongue, Nina!”

Nina didn’t mean to laugh, trying to cover her mouth when she snorted. “What exactly do you think is going to happen? That she’s gonna tell Katya? That Katya’s gonna fire you?” she didn’t let her answer before she continued, “I don’t think you’re actually afraid of getting in trouble. I think you’re afraid of catching feelings for this girl.”

“Thanks for the insight, Dr. Phil,” Brooke huffed and pushed herself back into a sitting position. “Look, just because she’s beautiful, funny, and kissing her made me feel like glitter was exploding inside of me, doesn’t mean I’m about to fall for her.”

Nina stared at her blankly, hardly able to believe the level of denial she was stuck in. “Do you hear yourself? Because you sound ridiculous.” She swung her legs over to the side so she could shift and look at her. “You know it isn’t the end of the world to have a crush on someone, right? It’s a thing that happens to most of us humans every now and then.”

Brooke groaned and buried her head in her hands. “But why did it have to hit me now?” she couldn’t help but wonder, if it was in another time and place, would she be this stressed over the encounter? She supposed it was possible that she would try to find another excuse, or maybe she’d be in Vanessa’s bed instead.

“Because sometimes life is an asshole that takes its joy in screwing with you, and you just have to tough it out. That’s how I got into comedy,” doing improv and stand-up had become Nina’s way of coping, and Brooke’s way of coping was…not.

And she couldn’t counter her point either, leaving her pouting and looking at the floor. “So, what am I supposed to do in class tomorrow?”

Nina shrugged. “Just try not to make a big deal of things, it’ll just be business as usual. I’m sure she’s just as nervous and confused as you are.”

“She wants me,” Vanessa said to her friends. They were all sat in the dining hall during lunch, the group having just listened with interest as she recounted the events of the day before.

“You sound real confident about someone that deadass ran away from you,” A’keria retorted, pointing her fork at her as she spoke.

Vanessa shook her head, swallowing the food in her mouth before speaking. “Nah it wasn’t a ‘running away’ moment. She just got cold feet, I ain’t taking it personally,” she sat upright with a smug grin, proving a sincerity in her belief.

“So, what are you gonna do next? Like in class?” she furrowed her brows.

That was when she realized she hadn’t actually planned ahead, which was never her strength in the first place. While it was often a hindrance academically, she usually enjoyed the spontaneity that came with potential budding romances. But with Brooke? She might have to take another approach. “Gotta play the long game, babe.”

“The long game?” Blair chimed in. While she had a girlfriend, she was endlessly interested in her and A’keria’s dating lives – especially comparing and contrasting the two. They were both extroverts that thrived at a good party or club and were openly flirtatious with whoever caught their eye. The difference, perhaps, was the number of girls that caught their respective eyes – A’keria didn’t like leaving any outing empty-handed, while Vanessa had the tendency to pick and choose, even when drunk beyond belief.

Vanessa clicked her tongue and smirked. “She ain’t just gonna get with me overnight – you gotta finesse that shit when you’re aiming for, you know, a lady of Brooke Lynn’s caliber.”

“As opposed to us hoes?” A’keria arched her brow.

“Exactly, bitch!” Vanessa laughed.

“I think it’s sweet,” Blair hummed. “You’re changing your major to Brooke!” she said to a pair of blank stares. “Fun Home? Seriously? God, I waste my best musical theatre material on you guys,” she huffed.

Even though Vanessa didn’t understand the joke, she understood what Blair was getting at. Out of curiosity, she looked up the song she’d referenced, listening to it on her walk to class. “Oh, I get it now. That was clever,” she said to herself before she sat down in the lecture hall.

The class was about half full when she arrived, students filing in for the next five minutes or so. At one point, a girl took the seat next to her. She sat poised and upright – Vanessa wondered if she was a dancer too. “Nice bling you got there,” she told her, gesturing to the large earrings that stood out against her shaved head.

“Thanks,” she replied, casually looking her over. “I’m Yvie.”

“Vanjie.”

She quirked her brow. “Is that your given name?”

“No, it’s Vanessa. But that’s what I go by,” she replied, rifling through her bag and humming quietly to herself as she took what she needed out.

Yvie nodded in understanding, looking forward and scribbling aimlessly along the margins of her notebook paper. “So, what’s your major?”

“Brooke.”

“What?”

Vanessa’s eyes widened and she shrunk down, momentarily considering walking right out of the class and calling it a day. “Dance! I-I meant to say dance,” she sputtered out. Oh, she was going to get Blair later. It was her damn fault bringing up that musical.

“I’m not even gonna ask, girl,” Yvie shook her head. It was more out of sympathy, seeing how embarrassed she was, than an actual lack of interest. Frankly, she was much more tempted to press for more information, but then the professor called attention to the front of the class, and the various conversations died down, much to Vanessa’s relief.

Wednesday morning, on its own, seemed to promise a better day. The heatwave had passed, and the city was bustling with its usual energy. Even in the dance studio, Katya was the first one to arrive, which gave Brooke – who came in next – one less thing to worry about. She decided not to tell her about the kiss, lest she be subjected to an ‘I told you so’, making her hope all the more that the class would go by without incident.

Brooke scanned the room as each student entered, trying to make it seem like she was paying every one of them the same amount of attention. But then Vanessa walked in and suddenly no one else existed. This time she had on shorts and a tank top, and her hair was tied into a neat bun, and Brooke was able to study her for a good couple moments before their eyes met.

“Morning, Brooke,” Vanessa still seemed happy to see her, but her tone was calmer, more controlled. It was the same tone she had when she comforted her in Starbucks, and it brought on the same sense of ease it had then.

It baffled her, when she thought about it. Brooke’s emotions were so easily swayed – Vanessa could get her riled up and calmed down within the same conversation. That sort of thing might bother others, but it had something of an addictive quality to it. She wanted to get to know her more, to get another hit of her energy. “Good to see you, Vanjie,” she replied. And she meant it, truly.

After Brooke took attendance, Katya stood at the front of the class to begin the lecture. “Today we’re going to work on having to work with a partner. I know you guys touched on some dances last year, so we’re going to build off of that. I’m just going to go down the line and pair everyone up,” she paired up everyone as she walked across the studio, until she got down to the last three girls. “Looks like we’ve got an odd number today.”

One girl shrugged. “It’s fine, we can work in a gr—”

“No, no that just work,” she looked at the three girls, making it seem like she was really thinking about it. “You two pair up. Vanjie, you can work with Brooke,” she announced, actively refusing to acknowledge the way Brooke was staring her down.

The devil works hard, but Katya works harder, Brooke thought as she got up and went to sit by her new dance partner. She tuned out while Katya explained what dance steps they’d be doing – she had gone through all of this before and knew it by heart – especially considering how many times she had gone over the lesson plans. Instead, she took that time to remind herself to stay calm, that the only reaction she should have is no reaction at all.

“You ever tango before?” Brooke asked as she, Vanessa, and everyone else got to their feet.

“You heard her, we did this last year,” Vanessa shrugged as a simple tango tune filled the room from the speaker Katya hooked up to her laptop.

And each set of partners assumed the starting position – one hand on the other’s shoulder and the others clasped together out to the side. Some students were counting the steps out loud, while others were doing turns and back cortes.

Unsurprisingly, Vanessa was on the more advanced end of the spectrum, demonstrated both by her skill and her desire to take control. “Why can’t you let me lead?” she huffed.

“Grow six inches and we’ll talk,” Brooke retorted, dipping her in time with the music, earning her a scowl from the shorter girl, but she only found it as cute as her smile. Almost as if to further flaunt her size advantage, she moved her arm around Vanessa’s waist, lifting her up for a twirl.

But Vanessa was quick on her feet. She landed and wrapped a leg around her waist, and Brooke put a hand on her thigh and pulled her close. Another dip, and back up. As the music died down, they came to a stop, breathing heavily, close enough for their breath to hit each other’s faces.

“Now that’s a tango, ladies!” Katya had apparently been going from pair to pair, coaching and critiquing, not that this pair would’ve noticed. “I call it The Tango: Branjie!” she said with jazz hands for flourish. “Get it? Because, you know, you—and she—" she looked around at the stone-faced class. “Damn, tough crowd. Class dismissed,” she shrugged and walked to turn off her laptop.

“For the record,” Brooke said as she set Vanessa down and took a few cautious steps back, “as the student, I think you should get the credit. It’s called The Tango: Vanjie now,” she turned to gather her things, but Vanessa didn’t budge.

“I like the ring that has to it, but I ain’t leaving til we talk about that kiss,” she stood firmly, hands on her hips and head held high, only to cock a bit to the side as her pursed lips twitched to a smirk. “Or til I get another one.”

So that was how it was going to be. Brooke was impressed by Vanessa’s boldness, and perhaps a bit aroused. She gently placed her fingers under her chin, tilting her head up and pressing a kiss to her lips. “Goodbye, Vanjie,” she whispered sweetly, tapping her cheek lightly before sending her on her way. It was when she stood back up and turned to pick her bag up that she let out a frustrated groan. “Fuck, you’re still here.”

Katya was bouncing on the balls of her feet with a cheshire grin. “This is the best moment of my fucking career, bitch,” she ran over to Brooke and grabbed her hands, jumping up and down. “You guys are gonna have such crazy sex!”

Brooke’s eyes widened and she clapped her hand over Katya’s mouth. “Not if you keep running your fucking mouth!” she hissed in a stage whisper. She waited a beat, then let her hand drop to the side. “I swear, if you breathe a word—”

“Would you turn the paranoia down for like, five minutes to realize no one’s out to get you for whatever happens between you and Vanjie?” Katya gripped on to Brooke’s shoulders. “I think you need to go home, have a drink and a smoke, and go rub one out. You’ve got plenty of new material, now,” she bumped her elbow into her side.

Brooke exhaled and shook her head. “I’m gonna kill you,” she muttered before stepping out of the studio. She had only taken a couple steps towards the exit when she paused and turned around. Of course.

“So,” Vanessa pushed herself off the wall and took a half-step towards Brooke. “You off to follow Professor Katya’s advice?” she asked with the same type of grin the aforementioned woman had.

“No,” Brooke scoffed and tossed her hair off her shoulder. She waited until she saw something of a disappointed look on her face before adding “I’ve been trying to quit smoking,” she bit her lip and winked before turning on her heel and walking out of the building.

Vanessa was left stunned, but well-affected, nonetheless. “Just keep playing the long game, Vanjie. She’ll come around.”

[grownups-are-the-real-monsters]

Jonesy/ Beav pleaseeeee & you already know what song I want 👀

Thank you!!! AND here it is!: ‘Last Worthless Evening’ by Don Henley!! 

(Send me a 🎧 with a number from 1-100 and i’ll write you a ficlet using my corresponding spotify wrapped song as a prompt. You can send any of my listed ships!!)

Time slowed at Jonsey’s place. It always felt as if he was slowly submerging himself in a hot bath whenever he spent time there and he’d never been good at relaxing. He much preferred the louder company of his good ol’ suburban neighborhood when he was right on the front-lines; movie-like comfy home and all. It was there that it never felt like he was the center of attention or like he didn’t fit in.

And out in the yard, green grass grew which would soon become his responsibility to trim. He could enjoy friendly greetings and interactions that allowed him to enjoy a limited small community while not overdoing it or being in total isolation, as this lonesome place felt. Derry was best experienced on a flourishing summer block filled with familial neighbors..it was a view that Jonesy’s sleepy and boring building could only dream about. Because Derry seemed much more horrifyingly lonely in that damn building...

Jonsey had spent many moments of his time there missing the company of someone who loved him. And then spent the following moments hating himself for creating a situation in which he had to experience losing that. He spent far too long thinking he could continue on with a situation that would only serve to slowly kill the both of them just for the sake of ‘playing house’. 

But the idea of losing Carla scared him to death. So he’d attempted to live the lie to keep her. Which only made it so much worse. 

The relationship hadn’t always been totally miserable but Jonsey credited that to the fact that it was just great to have a good friend living with you. Only, viewing your wife as just a good buddy and not someone you’re in love with...well, that was not a good sign. So ‘No, it hadn’t always been miserable. Yes, we did look happy, didn’t we?’ were things Jonsey had to speak to the likes of his old neighbors. It wasn’t miserable but it had been doomed from the start. 

It didn’t really tear him apart to have lost Carla, a little over a year now. It had torn him up to realize he could never be satisfied with her. 

The bar was smoky and full of people that Jonesy thought looked pretty chummy with each other. Derry didn’t have much in the case of fine dining or drinking but the familiar faces of your best friends older brother or the town dentist chugging mugs of good beer...that warmed your stomach. 

:

:

:

Beaver sank his teeth into the wood of his toothpick and enjoyed the comedy stylings of George Pelsen who was truly a dive-bar champ. The greasy deck of cards the bunch of them used to decide who’d be paying for their draft Millers were dumped on the table and sprinkled with peanut shells. 

Kent and Sean were particularly enthralled with whatever bull-shit George was feeding them but Beaver was not too fond on that puff and blow. No, he was sorta searching for a different kind of blow tonight...

Only, as his eyes scanned the place, he found a familiar face which cascaded the most genuine sense of happiness and nerve-wrecking joy.

From behind the crunch of another peanut, Kent chuckled in that odd horse-laughter he had. Which didn’t bother Beav in the slightest, in fact it was one of the reasons he hung out with the dude. He enjoyed shit and laughed it out. “You got an eye for the red-head, Beaver?-”

“Lucky you’s. There’s actually some chicks in here who look up to no-good so you don’t have to make it to some dude.” Sean smiled and tapped a stack of cards against the edge of their table. 

The Beav rolled his lips and let himself smile, pulling out a fresh toothpick. “Oh yeah, huh?” He truly didn’t mind the dim-wits inability to comprehend that his bisexuality was not born out of convenience. Having to ‘make-it’ with guys only when good lookin’ girls weren’t near. No, his bisexuality was born with him...fresh from his mother and all covered in red goo. 

It just so happened that he realized what he identified with a little later. Laurie Sue had claimed to be a tad bit intimidated by what she called ‘Beav’s large playing-field’. Laurie had been a great gal but marriage didn’t work for either of them. 

How lucky, right? Baby-Green (Was that really a color, he wondered? There was a baby-blue & baby-pink?) invitations which read of a wedding for ‘Beaver & Laurie Sue’...didn’t scream everlasting love. 

Pelsen and Sean craned their necks and got a couple of chucks in there too. 

“It’s not like that right now, anyway. I just think I know that guy.” Beaver almost chuckled himself at the word ‘think’ because he definitely could call Jonsey from a mile away. He pitched a spare peanut into Kent’s mouth and shuffled out of his seat. 

Since the man got hooked up on his relationship with his wife, Jonsey pulled from their friendship. Not so much with Henry and Pete, who the guy still remained in constant contact with. Just Beaver. It was not something Beaver caused trouble about though it did sting a little because if there was a reason for it, he had no clue. Pete and Henry did their absolute best to make-up for the odd dynamic change. 

Beaver shoved the next tooth-pick between his teeth and pushed his chair in with his hip. “Don’t go crazy savin’ my seat. Might not be back for a while.” He wiggled his brows but the gang didn’t quite get it.

:

:

:

“Jesus-Christ-bananas.” 

Jonsey turned around on the spinny bar-stool that he liked so much and faced one of the best damn friends he’d ever had. 

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Beaver tugged up a seat and sat upon it like a cowboy on a horse, legs spread and wiggling with excitement for the ride. It killed Jonsey when he realized that yes, in fact, it had been a while. Basically since things got kinda rocky with Carla...

“How have you been, man? Seriously? I can’t get much from the other idiots-” The Beav laughed. “And I mean...not that this ain’t good company-” He glanced around the dive and sighed.

Jonsey coughed and swallowed some more of his drink. “I’m ok, Beav.” He nodded and wondered how the hell he wasn’t supposed to just fall-apart in the Beav’s company? The man just radiated an energy so welcoming and warm that just came naturally to him. The Beav always felt like coming home...the opposite of Jonsey’s shitty apartment. 

“I don’t buy shit for a nickel, Jonsey.” Beaver’s voice turned soft and genuine, which was rare. “Breaking off...-you know, a relationship like that? It doesn’t heal easily. Laurie Sue and I were like three years ago but it...-I know it can be difficult.” 

Jonsey frowned. ‘Shit for a nickel’ he liked that one, was it new? Did it grow over their absence of company? 

“It doesn’t much look like you wanna be here. Trust me, I know that feeling. I walked around that block. Still walkin’ it.-” He gestured behind him at the table he’d risen from. “And it’s not quite the riot it would be if it was a Derry block. Nah, that shit is...lonesome town or something like that...you get the point.” Beaver giggled but it didn’t reach his eyes. He just looked soft. 

Jonsey chocked up a little and tried to conceal it. “I’m sorry, Beav. About us. I haven’t reached out to you in a long time. I feel like such an asshole-”

Beaver gave him the dopiest grin, like it truly was a wonder that Jonsey could ever think he was mad at him. It gave him a rush of that whimsy feeling. The kind especially reserved for The Beav. Maybe that had been part of the reason Jonsey had isolated him. 

“Shut-up, man-” ‘He hadn’t said a word’ “It was a shitty thing to do, admit it.” 

“Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on the reason.” Beaver rolled his toothpick to the other side of his mouth and it was then that a horribly amazing thought occurred to Jonsey. 

“I couldn’t ever love Carla. No matter how hard I tried.” He took another drink. “But..I think we were driving up to-yeah, yeah-” he nodded to himself, his memories suddenly coming out of a long since buried closet . He pushed his drink away and cleared his throat.

“-To Roberta’s to see or buddy, Duddits. And it was one of those days where the sky was that shade of blue that you adore. And you kept commenting on it, pointing and smiling like it was so important to you. Saying it was a sign that we’d have a great day and you were just so damn excited to see Duddits and Roberta. And I was laughing because it seemed kinda funny to me.” He squinted as the scene painfully played back in her head.

“But I realized just then that I wanted to be there to see every moment you were that happy. And I hoped more than anything in the world that I made you that happy...I just figured it was a self-conscious friendship thing.” Jonsey laughed. 

Beaver swallowed. 

“I broke it off with Carla because I’m gay, Beaver.” He nodded and felt some relief fall from his shoulders. “And maybe I pushed you away when things with Carla got serious because....” He waved his hand about and vaguely in Beaver’s direction. 

Beaver’s eyes widened. “Jesus-Christ-bananas. Derry has never needed anything more than a good chuck of genuine romance, Jonsey-” He slapped his hand to his chest. After a moment of exaggeration, Beaver looked down with some nerves of his own. “Would you like to talk through some shit this evening with someone who really fucking loves you?” 

Jonsey laughed, head going back. “Yeah. I’d love to.”