#what does an auto tune up consist of

[expertcarcare]

Wonder how do you know when your car needs a tune up? Ask the auto specialist at Expert Car Care Inc. to let you know when your car needs a tune up.

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

would you have any small writing tips to share with others who are attempting to write their own stories?

Sure.

Disclaimer: This is not a full on tutorial on how to write. These are just tiny, tiny little grains of wisdom of things I realized here and there. Do not eat this advice like a full course meal. It isn't one. It's just a dusting of some spices, and I am salt bae-ing them over you, but they are not calorically relevant without a story.

1. Help your readers read your story.

AKA: If you want your readers to build a house, you better take them to a Home Depot and teach them how to use a screwdriver first.

You want your readers to read your story easily? You gotta make your story easy to read. That means learning how to make sentences easier to understand. That means breaking up walls of text into smaller bites. That means - yes - spelling words consistently and using accessible (not Correct, necessarily, but ACCESSIBLE) grammar!

You want your readers to understand your world? You gotta give your readers tools to understand it with. That means explaining new concepts! That means describing stuff a lot! That means using visual language if you don't have actual visuals!

Your readers will not read your mind to know what you MEANT to say. You have to say what you mean. You have to mean what you write. Learn to write clearly. Learn to help your readers.

2. Something that takes you a month to make will take your audience ten minutes to read.

You want to spend an hour drawing one comic panel? Great. You wanna spend an hour writing a single paragraph? Fantastic. You wanna use up a week perfecting a script? Amazing!

Your readers will still glance at that panel for a second before moving on. Your readers will still eat that paragraph in a bite. Your readers will skim that script. If you're lucky.

You cannot control how much your work is appreciated. But you CAN control how much of your time you sacrifice to make it.

Balance the scales.

3. You are not talented.

Neither am I. Nor are any of us.

Listen to me. Listen.

Talent is a beautiful, useful word. But it often lies to us. It suggests that we are born better than others.

This is not often accurate. What talent hides within itself is not pre-ordained inherent skill. It is not something you are birthed being. It is not a statistical difference of physicality.

Talent starts with passion.

Maybe you have passion for stories - so you beg your grandfather to read to you before you can recognize words, and you write a lot in every school assignment, and you pay attention to EVERY story you watch in school plays, and you observe all the characters you see in movies, and you CARE. So. Much. And this moves you to try to write, and then to try again, and then to try harder.

Talent does not exist, because no amount of 'you were made for running' can make you run. No amount of 'you were the son of great authors' can make you write.

But inherent curiosity can push you forward. Inherent curiosity can make you watch, and observe, even before you understand you are observing. Inherent curiosity for your personal interests makes you a fan of writing, of drawing, of world-building. It makes you research how to be a great author before you even know what research is. It auto-tunes you to what you know is good about these things, and it gives you the necessary tools to know what will work and what won't.

So when you think you are talented, understand that this is not something that was done to you in the womb. It was something you raised, and watered like a seed, before you even knew what you were growing.

Don't rely on talent. Understand that you got this far because you CARE about this thing. And don't forget to care. Because that's what has carried you this far, and it is the only thing that can carry you even farther.

also, cringe is dead.

[twist-is-not-sane-lol]

Since so many people have a fanmade weird route variant, might as well join.

It's called SugarSong/Forced Friendship.

It's a K_K-centric route because I like tormenting my comfort characters. SCC are siblings in this AU.

To start the route, Ignore every NPC except K_K. You don't have to buy his CD bagels, you just aren't allowed to buy them from Cap'n. You can't talk to anyone who isn't K_K, so ignore the other NPCs as well, You MUST talk to K_K every time you see him. Next, when you get to the battle, have Susie constantly use rude buster on both Sweet and Cap'n. Doing this about 4 times(2 on each) will end the battle, causing this interaction:

Sweet: "I don't feel to good..."

Cap'n: "Same here man, battles done."

K_K: "Oh no! Yes, let's go home!"

Once this happens, continue as normal(Without talking to NPCs. Scripted events don't affect this.) up until you reach Sweet Cap'n Cakes shop. Enter the shop. Everything is normal aside from the fact that the Auto Axe is replaced with a new item, the DigiScarf(They don't wanna sell an Axe to a girl who beat them up with one not to long ago.). Go to the talk section and click on the new dialogue option simply labeled "Cakes," Although dialogue implys that Kris is saying "K_K is my favorite." K_K reacts very positively towards this, thanking Kris while beaming. Sweet and Cap'n, despite seeming a bit jealous, simply talk about how K_K is pretty cool, not pushing any further. Leave. afterwards everything will continue as normal until you fall into the garbage dump. There you see K_K humming a quiet tune to themself and smiling. Talking to him, he will mention how he decided to go for a walk, but now he's a little lost. Ralsei will invite him to stick with the $!$! squad(Or whatever name you picked for your team in chapter 1, I just used that because picked it.), to which K_K agrees, as he likes how kind Kris was to them back in the field. K_K will always appear in the garbage dump, but will decline the offer if you didn't follow the exact instructions. Once K_K is in your party, he gets unique dialogue when interacting certain things. Such as laughing when you interact with the Egg plant that looks like a trash bag, feeling bad for trashy when Susie and Ralsei ignore him, and stuttering when meeting Nubert(He's starstruck OK?), Etc. When Susie and Ralsei leave, K_K stays behind. "Don't worry! I'll stay! We're friends, aren't we?:)"

Some important battle info:

Default Armor: Golden Bracelet

Default Weapon: NewCD

K_K has multiple spells:

K-Action: How K_K ACTs by himself, like with all Characters. Does not cost TP.

SilkMilk: Heals the entire party. costs 16% TP, 8% with BrokenCD

RockABye: Puts TIRED enemies to sleep, similar to Pacify & SleepMist. Costs 50% TP, 25% with BrokenCD

TastyBeats: K_K's equivalent of IceShock, killing/paralyzing enemies using powerful sound waves. costs 16% TP, 8% with BrokenCD.

SugarSong: K_K's Equivalent of Snowgrave . Fatal towards target, Causes user immense physical pain while being used. Costs 200% TP, 100% with BrokenCD.

Anyways, Now that we've heard that, let's continue with the route.

Continue with K_K, using TastyBeats to kill enemies. During this, K_K's smile seems to falter. After killing 10 enemies, K_K asks Kris a question

"...Why are we doing this again?"

After the question, you are given 2 responses. "Self Defense" & "We're friends, Right?" You must click the second one to progress through the route. Upon asking that, K_K says yes, and you are given 2 more choices. "I thought so" & "Friends do what friends want." You must click the second option once again. K_K look hesitant, but agrees. The only friends he ever had were his brothers, and they always listened to him. Surely it's a normal thing. Surely friends always listen to each other. Continue killing enemies until you reach the Addison from Snowgrave. They'll mention how they have a great gift for a pair of friends. This is the CentreCD. It will always be $1 more than the party has. Consistently pressure K_K into stealing it, until he stops protesting. The screen blacks out and you get the flavor text "the music sounds uneasy." shows on screen. When the screen lights up, the CentreCD is in the inventory and the Addison is gone. The front of the shop looks like it had been burnt. K_K looks uneasy, and when the CentreCD is equipped, he's silent. Continue through the route like normal, killing all enemies you encounter. K_K is no longer smiling and walking a lot slower. His battle sprite is now almost completely still and he rarely talks. Upon killing enough enemies, walk back. The boxes where Sweet Cap'n Cakes are in the normal game is replaced by an empty room with a broken CD. Equipping this for K_K will lower his HP down to 55 and he responds will a verbal "Ow" and an uncomfortable buzzing sound. Then walk back, killing every enemy you may have missed until you get to the room where the Berdly encounter would normally happen. This time however, it's Cap'n and Sweet. The beginning of the encounter goes something like this:

Cap'n: "K_K! There you are!"

Sweet: "We've been lookin' all over for man! We need to get home.

Cap'n: "Yeah, some psycho is going 'round and killin' everyone!"

K_K: "..."

Sweet: "Hey, uhm, everything alright man?"

Kris/Player: "Friends do what Friends want."

K_K: "...What?..."

The player repeats the sentence, with K_K becoming more shaken and desperate each time. Eventually Sweet and Cap'n butt in.

Sweet: "Look... We don't know what's going on but,"

Cap'n: "No one, messes with K_K like that."

Afterwards, a battle starts, with K_K becoming panicked. Like in regular Snowgrave, you need to max out your TP to use their new ability, SugarSong. K_K will not do anything during the battle. Not listening to anyone. He's in too much pain from the CD and too much distress with the current situation. Once your TP is maxed out, click on it. K_K will look at the ground in distress. The interaction goes like this.

SugarSong

"What?..."

SugarSong

"...N-No, not them..."

SugarSong

"I don't wanna hurt them..."

SugarSong

"..."

SugarSong

"..."

Friends do what Friends want.

K_K looks at the ground, before casting the spell. The Screen blacks out and the Flavor text reads "And suddenly, there was silence."

When you can see again, Sweet and Cap'n are nothing but piles of scrap metal and K_K is down(Reread the description of SugarSong). Interacting with K_K says "Put the scrap away?" You must select yes. The screen fades out and back in, now with K_K gone. Checking your items shows an unnamed object with the description "A friend. Fast asleep."

The rest of the route continues like a normal route, mainly due to the fact that there's no reason for any major changes. A few lines will be different but most things stay the same.

In the lightworld, there is a cassette player and speaker lying on the ground. interacting with them says "Broken beyond repair."

Back in castle town, Sweet Cap'n Cakes place won't be there, for obvious reason's, but entering Kris' room, K_K will be curled up in the corner, asleep. Interacting with him says "Goodnight Scrap friend"

[elvenbeard]

2072

"You're the son of Kousuke Ezaki, right?"

"Hm. Got a feelin' he'd be disagreein' with ya on this..."

After Vince returned to Night City in 2071, Jackie introduced him to another of his many "friend-of-a-friend"s - the owner of a Valentino-adjacent (but not officially affiliated) car repair shop in Heywood. The guy had been desperately looking for a tech-savvy helper, and Jackie figured it might be something Vince could be good at with his knowledge, skills and an interest in cars.

Vince did not exactly jump at the opportunity, but he did not have too many other choices at the time, if he wanted to keep a roof above his head. There were better jobs, but also much worse, and so he agreed to give it a try.

Turned out, he had a knack for cars, and after some initial reluctance from both sides, "V" became an important asset to the small repair shop in no time. He learned to enjoy all aspects of the work, from fine-tuning ECUs to fixing electrical damages, all the while improvising with the often limited resources at hand. Still though, not a Heywood-native, Vince always remained the odd-one-out among his coworkers, as with their love for cars their common interests ended. Vince learned to prefer it this way, as it gave him the freedoms to set his own priorities, work on side-projects while the others were out for lunch for example. Also, he would not get too attached to a workplace and coworkers he knew he did not want to stay around forever.

The repair shop's clientele largely consisted of locals, gangers and "normal" citizens alike (even if the lines tended to get blurry occasionally). But there was also a handful of regulars of a bigger, much better-paying caliber, that Vince initially wasn't even allowed to look at, let alone touch their cars.

Word-of-mouth recommendations had led a certain Arthur Jenkins to Heywood one fateful day, his request so simple that Vince was allowed to tackle it. The first time he was trusted with a "special" customer on his own. The task: "correct" the milage of the suit's car, easy as pie. Vince had mastered similar feats as a teenager already.

What should have been a quick-and-easy job though uncovered something Jenkins did not like at all - a well-hidden tracker following his every move, and had it not been for Vince's experience with these things, it would have remained undiscovered most likely. Jenkins left the shop satisfied but also curious... How come a low-life street-punk like that knew so much about Militech tracker signatures?

A few days later Vince was intercepted by Jenkins on his way home. Initially not too impressed by the corpo throwing around random facts about Vince's not-so-secret past that anyone with too much time on their hands could have uncovered, Jenkins had an ace in the hole. Vince was confronted not only with a part of his past not even he himself was aware of at this point... but also an offer too intriguing to pass up...

Vince through the years (4/9)

Fun fact: I'm fully abusing this little project to showcase all the hairstyles I almost gave Vince when I first made him in CC XD This wasn't my second or third choice, but I considered it! It's just so funky-looking with the two colors, super bold, and it does really fit him during that time in his life where he doesn't give a fuck about anything at all anymore. He goes a bit more wild with his appearance, dares to experiement more and grows into his own person... only for Jenkins to show up just in time to ruin everything, the bastard (affectionate).

I don't want to spoil too much about what exactly it is that Jenkins knows about Vince's past that made him eventually follow him into Arasaka's loving embrace, cause I still wanna write this scene out in detail in my background fic for Vince :3 It isn't just one detail or one thing either, it's a multitude of factors, promises, secrets, opportunities, combined with Vince's hunger for more than being a little part-time mechanic in a sleazy auto shop, more than a roadie or retail worker, just more... because he knows he has the potential for it, and Jenkins is holding all the keys to unlock it in that moment.

And yes, this is all one hell of a fateful coincidence, but it's those that make a good story. As for the task Vince was given with resetting the car's mileage: he had done similar things to his mother's car as a teen, when he "borrowed" it late at night to go on joyrides with his "friends" at the time and she was not supposed to notice. His mother also had connections and friends at Militech that supplied her with little tracking devices to keep her unruly child in check, and once Vince noticed that he learned to spot and disable them as well.

Also, tiny detour to/ easter egg for "Love is Stored in the Olive Jar", if you've been keeping up with that!

The car in the background of the upper pic and more prominently in the second with Jackie is Vince's first car, a pale blue Archer Quartz. The (almost) same model Mr. B provided as a getaway vehicle in chapter one of my post-ending fic, that Vince has to abandon at an auto repair shop :3c Oh, how could Mr. B have known these details of Vince's past...

Speaking of Vince's past and the quote I put at the very top of the post! Vince isn't hiding the fact that he's trans, it's a part of his story and he's proud of his identity. So, when Jenkins wonders if he's Kousuke Ezaki's son, Vince reacts the way he does because for one, by the time his father had died he hadn't realized himself yet that he was trans. And secondly, even if he had, he knew his father well enough to know he would never have accepted him the way he is, for a variety of reasons.

In this moment he learns an important thing about Jenkins: that he's a manipulative bastard trying to tug on his heartstrings, but he only has outdated, surface-level information - or is at least willing to reveal only that for starters.

[mywifeleftme]

93: Vampire Weekend // Contra

Contra Vampire Weekend 2010, XL Recordings

Contra dropped right in the heart of what was, in retrospect but also at the time, an incredibly stupid backlash against Vampire Weekend. Fortunately, in the year of Our Lord 2023, there’s no longer any need to litigate the right of this band to exist, but it’s funny to look back at how perfectly calibrated this album was to further piss off anyone who’d hated their debut. “Too Ivy League, too WASPy,” detractors groused, so here’s a song called “Diplomat’s Son.” “They shouldn’t be appropriating African music,” members of the faculty of arts moaned, so here’s an updated song from Koenig and Tomson’s pre-VW hip-hop project (“Giving Up the Gun”). “They’re inauthentic!” said some guy in a Bad Religion t-shirt, so here are a few Auto-Tuned bars, causing that man (and Jay-Z presumably) to spontaneously shit his drawers.

I don’t think Contra is the sound of trolling, exactly, so much as it is a band who heard everyone telling them the places they shouldn’t go and decided to go have a poke around some of them. If it’s a hair less consistent than their wall-to-wall banger debut, it also reaps the benefits of its wider range: even as “Cousins” and the extraordinary “White Sky” proved they were still capable of writing compact indie pop gems, the dayglo electronica of “Run” and languid bleep-bloop ska of “Diplomat’s Son” found them creating ever more immersive soundscapes, each full of unexpected detail and surprise. Though it’s fair to think of it as a bridge between their self-titled and the celebrated Modern Vampires of the City, I’ve always thought of Contra as my favourite by the group.

A bit of an aside, but despite all the deserved fawning over the band’s songwriting and Batmanglij’s production over the years, I realized recently that I think Koenig is a bit underappreciated as a vocalist. Listening to the way he consistently turns his own wordy, hyper-literate lyrics into fluid pop, reminds me of what Cole Porter remarked upon hearing Ella Fitzgerald’s take on his songbook: “My, what marvelous diction that girl has.” Like the singer to whom he’s most often compared, Paul Simon, he has a high, pretty voice that might seem thin in the hands (cords?) of a less sensitive vocalist, but he transcends it by making the right choices. In 2014 Koenig performed a duet of “I Think Ur a Contra” with Angelique Kidjo, a vocalist who is always poised to (warmly) eat her duet partner’s lunch, yet despite the massive disparity in firepower, Koenig holds his own. He keeps to the breathy little melismatic adornments that brought him to the dance even as she does her usual bravura thing, and the steadiness of his performance makes for be a nice study in contrasts, two ways to get at the emotion latent in an elegantly built song.

93/365

[aaryan-mwa-blogs]

Understanding DSP (Digital Signal Processing) in DJ Equipment: Why It Matters

When it comes to DJ equipment, terms like "mixer," "controller," and "turntable" often take center stage. But if you’ve ever wondered what powers the seamless blending of beats, the crisp clarity of audio, or those jaw-dropping sound effects, the answer lies in something a bit more technical: Digital Signal Processing, or DSP.

While it might sound complicated, understanding DSP isn’t just for tech geeks—it’s for anyone who wants to elevate their sound and make the most of their DJ gear. Let’s break it down into simple, digestible concepts to understand why DSP is a game-changer for DJs and how it makes modern equipment smarter, more efficient, and better sounding.

What is DSP, Anyway?

In the simplest terms, Digital Signal Processing (DSP) refers to the technology that processes and modifies audio signals in a digital format. Unlike analog processing, which deals with continuous waveforms, DSP works with data that has been converted into digital bits (think 0s and 1s).

This digital manipulation allows for precise control over sound, enabling tasks like equalization (EQ), dynamic range adjustment, reverb, and more. If you’ve ever used features like auto-sync, filters, or effects on your DJ controller, DSP was doing the heavy lifting behind the scenes.

How Does DSP Work in DJ Equipment?

When audio enters a DSP-enabled device, such as a DJ mixer or controller, it’s converted into a digital signal using an analog-to-digital converter (ADC). Once the signal is in digital form, the DSP chip applies various algorithms to enhance or modify the sound.

Here’s what happens step by step:

Signal Input: The audio enters the equipment through a source, like a turntable, laptop, or microphone.

Analog-to-Digital Conversion: The signal is digitized so the DSP chip can process it.

Processing: Algorithms are applied to the signal for tasks like filtering, compression, or adding effects.

Digital-to-Analog Conversion: After processing, the digital signal is converted back to analog for output through speakers or headphones.

This process happens in milliseconds, ensuring there’s no noticeable delay, even when multiple processes are running simultaneously.

Key Features of DSP in DJ Equipment

Now that we’ve covered the basics, let’s dive into the specific ways DSP enhances DJ equipment.

1. Precision EQ and Filtering

DSP allows for incredibly precise equalization and filtering. You can fine-tune frequencies to create a balanced mix, cut out unwanted noise, or boost specific elements like bass or vocals.

For example, if a track has a muddy bassline, DSP makes it possible to isolate and adjust that frequency range without affecting the rest of the mix.

2. Advanced Effects Processing

From reverb and delay to flanger and phaser, DSP enables the real-time application of effects. The beauty of DSP is that it allows effects to sound clean and professional without overloading your system.

Whether you’re creating a build-up or transitioning between tracks, DSP ensures your effects are smooth and dynamic.

3. Automatic Beat Matching

One of the most popular DSP-driven features is beat matching or sync. The technology analyzes the tempo and beat grid of your tracks in real time, making it easier to align two tracks perfectly.

While traditionalists may prefer manual beat matching, there’s no denying the convenience DSP brings to modern DJing, especially during fast-paced live performances.

4. Noise Suppression and Clarity Enhancements

Background noise and feedback can ruin a set. DSP algorithms help suppress unwanted noise and enhance clarity, ensuring your mix sounds professional, whether you’re in a club or streaming online.

5. Dynamic Range Control

Dynamic range refers to the difference between the loudest and softest parts of a track. DSP can compress or expand this range to ensure a consistent volume level across your mix.

This is particularly useful for preventing distortion when mixing tracks with varying loudness levels.

Why DSP Matters for DJs

1. Improved Sound Quality

At its core, DSP enhances the quality of your sound. Whether you’re using a high-end system or a more budget-friendly setup, DSP ensures your audio is clear, balanced, and impactful.

2. Streamlined Workflow

Features like auto-sync, effects processing, and dynamic range control save time and reduce the mental load during performances. This lets you focus more on creativity and less on technical adjustments.

3. Enhanced Versatility

DSP opens the door to endless possibilities. You can experiment with different effects, adapt to various genres, and even optimize your sound for different environments, from intimate venues to large-scale festivals.

4. Future-Proofing Your Gear

As technology continues to advance, DSP-enabled equipment is more likely to keep up with the demands of modern DJing. Firmware updates can introduce new features and improve existing ones, ensuring your gear remains relevant for years to come.

Tips for Maximizing DSP in Your Setup

Understand Your Equipment: Take the time to explore the DSP features on your mixer, controller, or software. Familiarizing yourself with the options will help you use them effectively.

Experiment with Effects: Don’t be afraid to try out different effects and settings. DSP offers a safe space to explore your creativity without compromising sound quality.

Optimize for Your Environment: Use DSP to tailor your sound to the venue. For example, adjust EQ settings to compensate for room acoustics or apply noise suppression for outdoor gigs.

Invest in Professional Gear: High-quality equipment with advanced DSP capabilities will deliver better performance and reliability. Purchasing from a reputable audio shop ensures you get expert advice and access to gear that meets your needs.

The Future of DSP in DJ Equipment

As technology evolves, DSP is becoming even more sophisticated. Machine learning and AI are being integrated into DSP algorithms, enabling features like automatic key detection, intelligent effects chaining, and even real-time crowd analysis to adapt your sound to the audience’s energy.

Wireless connectivity is another exciting development, allowing seamless integration between multiple devices without the need for a maze of cables. This opens up new possibilities for collaborative performances and multi-device setups.

DSP might work behind the scenes, but its impact on modern DJing is undeniable. From enhancing sound quality to simplifying complex tasks, it’s the secret sauce that powers today’s cutting-edge equipment.

By understanding and leveraging DSP, you can unlock the full potential of your gear and take your performances to the next level. So, whether you’re spinning at a local gig or producing your next hit track, remember that DSP is there, making sure every beat, effect, and transition sounds flawless—especially when paired with high-quality pro audio equipment from a professional shop that ensures DSP can work its magic without limitations.

[puleosauto]

Is it time for a car diagnostics? Call the professionals at Puleo's Auto Clinic to ask what does car tune up consist of?

[johnalexcooper]

Discover the Honda CR-V: The Ultimate Choice for Peebles Drivers

When it comes to finding the perfect SUV that combines style, performance, and practicality, the Honda CR-V stands out as a top contender. For drivers in Peebles, the Honda CR-V offers an exceptional driving experience that caters to various needs, whether you're navigating the charming streets of the town or embarking on adventures in the surrounding Scottish countryside. In this blog, we'll explore why the Honda CR-V is a fantastic choice for those in Peebles and what makes this vehicle a standout in its class.

The Honda CR-V: An Overview

The Honda CR-V has long been a favourite among SUV enthusiasts due to its reliable performance, spacious interior, and advanced features. As one of Honda's most popular models, the CR-V consistently delivers on all fronts, making it a solid choice for families, professionals, and adventure-seekers alike. The Honda CR-V remains impressive with its combination of contemporary design and advanced technology, thanks to its latest updates and improvements.

Design and Comfort: A Blend of Elegance and Practicality

One of the first things you'll notice about the Honda CR-V is its sleek and sophisticated design. The CR-V's exterior features bold lines, a distinctive front grille, and stylish LED headlights, giving it a commanding presence on the road. For Peebles residents, the CR-V's refined design not only enhances its aesthetic appeal but also ensures that it stands out in both urban and rural settings.

Inside, the Honda CR-V is equally impressive. The cabin features a generously sized and thoughtfully planned interior, providing plenty of space for both passengers and luggage. Whether you're heading out for a family outing or loading up for a weekend getaway, the CR-V's versatile seating and cargo configurations make it easy to accommodate your needs. The high-quality materials and attention to detail in the interior create a comfortable and upscale environment for all occupants.

Performance and Handling: A Dynamic Driving Experience

When it comes to performance, the Honda CR-V does not disappoint. The CR-V is available with a choice of engines, including a fuel-efficient turbocharged option and a hybrid powertrain. For Peebles drivers who value efficiency, the CR-V's hybrid model offers excellent fuel economy without sacrificing power or performance.

The CR-V's handling is another highlight. With its responsive steering and well-tuned suspension, the CR-V delivers a smooth and enjoyable driving experience. Whether you're navigating the winding roads around Peebles or tackling off-road trails, the CR-V provides a confident and controlled ride.

Advanced Technology: Stay Connected and Informed

Technology is essential in improving the driving experience in today's interconnected world. The Honda CR-V comes with a variety of cutting-edge features aimed at keeping you connected and well-informed while on the move. The CR-V's infotainment system includes a user-friendly touchscreen, Apple CarPlay, and Android Auto compatibility, allowing you to seamlessly integrate your smartphone and access your favourite apps.

For added convenience, the CR-V also offers features such as a navigation system, Bluetooth connectivity, and multiple USB ports. These technological advancements ensure that you stay connected and entertained during your journeys around Peebles and beyond.

Safety and Security: A Top Priority

Ensuring safety is a key focus for Honda, and the CR-V is no different. The CR-V is equipped with a comprehensive suite of safety features designed to protect you and your passengers. Honda Sensing, the brand's advanced driver-assistance system, includes features such as adaptive cruise control, collision mitigation braking, and lane-keeping assist.

For Peebles drivers, these safety features provide peace of mind, knowing that you are well-protected on the road. Additionally, the CR-V's solid build quality and rigorous safety testing contribute to its strong safety ratings, making it a reliable choice for families and individuals alike.

Fuel Efficiency: Save on Every Journey

Fuel efficiency is an important consideration for many drivers, and the Honda CR-V excels in this regard. With its efficient engine options and aerodynamic design, the CR-V delivers impressive fuel economy, helping you save on fuel costs during your daily commute or long drives. The hybrid model, in particular, offers exceptional fuel efficiency, making it an excellent choice for environmentally-conscious drivers in Peebles.

Why Choose the Honda CR-V in Peebles?

For residents of Peebles, the Honda CR-V offers a perfect combination of style, performance, and practicality. Its versatile interior, advanced technology, and strong safety features make it an ideal choice for navigating the town's charming streets and exploring the picturesque Scottish landscape. The Honda CR-V is the perfect choice whether you need a family-friendly SUV or a vehicle that can keep up with your adventurous side.

In summary, the Honda CR-V is a standout choice for drivers in Peebles who value quality, comfort, and performance. With its sleek design, advanced technology, and commitment to safety, the CR-V is a vehicle that truly enhances the driving experience. When looking for a new SUV, you should consider the Honda CR-V as it continues to be a popular choice for drivers who demand the best.

[undersmusic]

What is the Best Autotune Plugin

Introduction: Pitch correction stands as a pivotal element in contemporary music production, cutting across various genres. With a multitude of tools available, navigating the options can be daunting. In this exploration, I delve into the world of pitch correction plugins, comparing some of the industry's leading options. As a user of the Logic stock pitch correction, I've often wondered if there are superior alternatives. Today's video features a lineup of contenders, including Nectar 3, Antares Auto-Tune Pro, Waves Real Tune Live, and the lesser-known Grallion. Let's dissect each plugin's performance and find out which one reigns supreme.

For a more in-depth comparison between Autotune and Logic stock processor, check out this video for a side-by-side analysis.

Setting the Stage: To establish a baseline, I've chosen the Logic stock pitch correction for initial testing. The track, set in A sharp minor, is a representation of what I typically work with. The vocal range profile becomes crucial, and I'll be examining how each plugin captures and corrects the harmonics. The plugins will be assessed in their ability to enhance the raw vocal quality, making it essential to set up each plugin for comparison accurately.

Contenders:

Nectar 3: Part of a comprehensive vocal suite, Nectar 3 offers a dedicated pitch correction module. We'll explore its nuances and determine its effectiveness in isolation and within the context of the entire mix.

Antares Auto-Tune Pro: A heavyweight in the pitch correction realm, Auto-Tune Pro is renowned for its precision. We'll evaluate its performance against other contenders, seeking to uncover its unique characteristics.

Waves Real Tune Live: A plugin sharing similarities with Auto-Tune Pro, Waves Real Tune Live enters the ring. We'll assess whether it offers a distinctive edge in pitch correction.

Grallion: As a third-party option with a free version, Grallion adds an interesting dynamic to the comparison. We'll explore its capabilities and see if it holds its ground against more established players.

Plugin Setup: Taking a meticulous approach, I'll showcase the setup for each plugin, ensuring a fair comparison. From key selection to re-tune speed, we'll navigate the intricate settings to achieve a consistent sound across the board.

Naked Vocal Assessment: Before diving into the processed versions, it's imperative to evaluate the raw vocal performance. Each plugin will be applied individually, allowing us to discern any intrinsic qualities or shortcomings.

Processed Comparison: With the plugins in action, I'll play excerpts of the processed vocals, gauging which one enhances the raw performance most effectively. Contextualizing the improvements becomes pivotal in determining the overall winner.

Mix Context Evaluation: Finally, we'll zoom out and assess the impact within the context of the entire mix. Does the pitch correction seamlessly integrate into the sonic landscape, or are there noticeable discrepancies? Autotune's subtle nuances might shine in this phase, but surprises may arise.

Conclusion: As we wrap up the comparison, I'll share insights into each plugin's performance and declare a winner based on overall effectiveness. Considerations such as price, accessibility, and unique features will factor into the final verdict. Whether you're a Logic loyalist or exploring new horizons, this comparison aims to guide you toward the pitch correction tool that aligns with your musical vision.

I hope this comprehensive exploration aids you in navigating the diverse landscape of pitch correction tools. Stay tuned for more music production insights in upcoming videos!

[expertcarcare]

Are you wondering what happens when your car needs a tune up? Ask your mechanic at Expert Car Care Inc. for more information about auto tune up.

[storytimewithnova]

Trapped in the Limelight Exploited and Exhibited

This is part of my inner demons series the message behind this story is Showing how the music and entertainment industry uses people to their pleasure that the limelight isn't all glitz and glam and you are that stage and it starts to feel like that old school active of show and tell

Once in a humble town, Shona, a young woman with an extraordinary voice and an unmatched passion for music, lived her life. Shona was deeply in love with Eita and Keiji, her partners in both love and music. Eita was the talented guitarist and vocalist of their band, and Keiji served as their manager. Together, they toured the world, sharing their musical magic.

Shona and her bandmates, Semi and Keiji, consistently graced the stage, enchanting their audiences with harmonies and lyrics from the heart. But behind the spotlight, Shona battled an unrelenting pressure to not only perform but to bare her soul on stage. Her songs were her confessions, laying her darkest thoughts and vulnerabilities out for all to see.

One day, everything changed for Shona. During a live performance, she suffered a public mental breakdown, exposing her raw emotions to the world. It was a moment of vulnerability that shook her to her core, leaving the crowd in stunned silence.

Among the onlookers was Shona's manipulative ex-boyfriend, seizing the opportunity to exploit her fragile state. He wove his web of manipulation, targeting her insecurities and fears.

This was Shona's harsh reality, and she found herself once again ensnared by her ex's manipulation. The aftermath played out during a major concert for Songbird Paradise. As the lights dimmed, Shona was suspended on stage like a marionette, controlled by invisible hands. She wore a lifeless expression.

She gazed upon her brother, ex-best friends, former lover, and fans who treated her as an object. With a sigh, she began to sing, her voice laden with emotion:

Sho: 🎶You pull me by my hair, so I don't go nowhere Tell me you love me, but you treat me like I'm never there🎶

Fans surged onto the stage, trying to touch her, leaving her angry and disheartened. A live stream allowed viewers to interact, leading to questions and concerns:

Comment: Ace, what do you mean? Another comment: Does she mean literally or...? One comment caught her off guard.

Anno: God, she is so annoying and whiny. Why do you idiots like her? She can't even sing; she probably uses auto-tune. FAKER 😂

Sho: 🎶You say the cruelest words, you used to break my heart 💔 'Cause I'm over here working my ass off🎶

Semi couldn't hide his upset and anger. Shona's perspective echoed her internal struggle:

Sho: 🎶Why is it so hard to see? (Why?) If I cut myself, I would bleed (kill me) I'm just like you, you're like me Imperfect and human, are we?🎶

Sho's pov: Why can't people see that I am human? I am not a machine. What do I have to do? Overwork myself until I'm bleeding, or perhaps end up in the hospital, comatose or worse?

🎶Show and tell I'm on display for all you fuckers to see🎶

The performance felt forced and unnatural. Shona was no longer authentic; it felt as though she were merely a puppet manipulated by others.

Sho: 🎶Show and tell, harsh words if you don't get a pic with me🎶

Refusing photos and autographs led fans to turn hostile, pushing Shona to relinquish fan interactions to her bandmates.

Semi: 🎶Buy and sell🎶

Semi sang with increasing concern.

Sho: 🎶Buy and sell me, baby, like I'm a product to society🎶

Shona felt like a commodity for people's amusement, an exhausting and dehumanizing experience. She sighed and continued:

Sho: 🎶Art don't sell unless you fucked every authority🎶

Shona acknowledged the harsh reality of her world, where she had to plead with people to watch her, like, subscribe, and listen, often appearing desperate. All she wanted was success for her group, but it came at a cost.

Sho: 🎶You beg and cry for more,he had 'em on the floor There are strangers takin' pictures of me when I ask, "No more" It's really hard for me to say just how I feel I'm scared that I'll get thrown away like a banana peel🎶

As Shona continued to sing, her movements appeared orchestrated, as if she were a marionette controlled by invisible strings. It was a painful metaphor for the inner turmoil that haunted her life.

The applause thundered through the arena, and Shona forced a strained smile, acknowledging her fans. To them, it was another electrifying performance, a dazzling display of talent. But deep down, Shona couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped, a puppet dancing to the whims of an audience that demanded more and more.

As the lights dimmed and the stage went dark, Shona stumbled backstage, her breath ragged. Her bandmates rushed to her side, concern etched on their faces. Semi and Keiji watched her backstage, equally worried, but Eita in particular couldn't hide his concern and upset any longer. Shona didn't look like she had control of her body anymore; it was as if someone else was manipulating her like a puppet master.

Sho: 🎶Why is it so hard to see? (Why?) If I cut myself, I would bleed (kill me) I'm just like you, you're like me Imperfect and human, are we?🎶

Sho continued to move and contort in ways that were far from normal. She looked possessed, and it was freaking out her boyfriends and bandmates, but she kept going.

Sho: 🎶Show and tell (show and tell) I'm on display for all you fuckers to see (fuckers to see) Show and tell (show and tell) Harsh words if you don't get a pic with me🎶

Semi: Cut the show; this isn't looking good.

A staff member replied, "We can't."

Semi: Cut the damn show, damn it! Something is happening to her!

Shona was still singing, but tears were spilling from her eyes.

Semi: 🎶Buy and sell🎶

She sang softly, her voice no longer carrying the roar of the crowd.

Semi: 🎶Buy and sell me, baby, like I'm a product to society🎶

His words were a silent reassurance, a promise that they were in this together, navigating the treacherous waters of fame as a united front. Shona appreciated his support, but the weight of her inner demons still bore down on her.

Shona's Pov: How did it come to this? When did my art become a mere commodity, a product to be bought and sold? The very essence of my creativity feels tarnished, and I'm drowning in a sea of expectations and demands.

Their manager approached, his eyes calculating, already thinking about the next promotional event and the tour ahead. Shona could hardly breathe; the relentless cycle of shows, interviews, and fan interactions threatened to consume her entirely.

Sho: 🎶Art don't sell unless you fucked every authority🎶

Her thoughts drifted to the choices she'd made and the compromises she'd accepted to reach this point in her career. She wondered if there was a way to reclaim her authenticity, to break free from the chains that bound her.

As the night wore on, Shona found herself alone in her dressing room, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was a mask, concealing the turmoil within. The lyrics of the song, "Show and Tell," continued to echo in her mind, a haunting reminder of the price she paid for stardom.

Sho: 🎶Show and tell Why can't you fucking hear me? Show and tell, um Are you listening yet?🎶

The room felt suffocating, and Shona longed for a moment of solitude, a chance to reconnect with the artist she once was. She knew that the journey to reclaim her authenticity would be a difficult one, but it was a path she was determined to walk.

Sho: 🎶Show and tell (show and tell, baby) I'm on display for all you fuckers to see (fuckers to see) Show and tell (oh) Harsh words if you don't get a pic with me Buy and sell Like I'm a product to society Art don't sell Unless you fucked every authority🎶

In the midst of the chaos and manipulation, Shona's inner demons had grown stronger, but so had her resolve. She would find a way to break free from the strings that controlled her, to rediscover the true essence of her art, and to show the world that she was more than just a product of society.

Days turned into weeks, and Shona's determination to break free from the suffocating grip of her fame grew stronger. She knew she had to confront her inner demons and find her authenticity once more.

With the support of her bandmates, Semi and Keiji, she decided to take a hiatus from the music industry. They canceled the remaining tour dates and retreated from the public eye, seeking solace and healing in a remote cabin in the woods.

In the serene isolation of the cabin, Shona started to reconnect with herself. She spent hours by the fire, writing songs that came from deep within her soul, not songs meant to please the masses, but songs meant to express her truth. The lyrics were raw, unfiltered, and free from the constraints of commercial success.

Semi and Keiji were there every step of the way, providing emotional support and encouragement. They too had felt the strain of fame, and this retreat was a chance for all of them to rediscover their artistic roots.

As the weeks passed, Shona's music became a cathartic release, a way to process the trauma she had endured. She shared her new songs with Semi and Keiji, and together they created music that felt genuine and authentic.

During this time, they received messages of support from fans who had witnessed Shona's breakdown. Many of them had realized the toll that fame had taken on their idol and were now expressing their understanding and empathy.

Shona decided to document her journey to self-discovery and healing through a series of heartfelt vlogs. She shared her struggles, her moments of vulnerability, and her determination to find her true self again. The response from her fans was overwhelming, and she realized that she could use her platform to advocate for mental health awareness and the importance of authenticity in the entertainment industry.

Months passed, and Shona and her bandmates emerged from their retreat as changed individuals. They were no longer slaves to the demands of the industry; they were artists who had found their voice and their purpose.

Their return to the music scene was met with anticipation, but this time it was on their terms. They refused to compromise their authenticity for fame and fortune. Their music resonated with fans on a deeper level, touching their hearts with its honesty and vulnerability.

Shona's journey had not only transformed her but had also inspired others in the industry to prioritize mental health and authenticity. She became an advocate for change, using her platform to raise awareness and support for artists struggling with the pressures of fame.

In the end, Shona had reclaimed her authenticity, and in doing so, she had found a new kind of success—one that was built on self-expression, resilience, and the unwavering support of her bandmates and fans. It was a success that allowed her to be true to herself and to inspire others to do the same.

[2023cars]

Top Features of the New Hyundai Exter You Need to Know

The automotive industry is constantly evolving, and one brand that has consistently embraced innovation and cutting-edge technology is Hyundai. With each new model, Hyundai pushes the boundaries of design, performance, and safety. One such example is the highly anticipated Hyundai Exter, the latest addition to their impressive lineup. Visit PPS Hyundai Showroom Kochi to witness the vehicle and find Hyundai Exter SUV price in India for different variants.

Hyundai Exter Top Features

In this article, we'll explore the top Hyundai Exter features that make it stand out from the crowd.

Striking Exterior Design

The Hyundai Exter boasts a bold and striking exterior design that immediately catches the eye. The front grille features Hyundai's signature cascading pattern, flanked by sleek LED headlights that provide enhanced visibility and a modern touch.

The sharp body lines and aerodynamic curves not only add to the car's aesthetic appeal but also improve its overall performance and fuel efficiency.

Innovative Hybrid Technology

Hyundai has integrated hybrid technology seamlessly into the Exter. The new model comes with an advanced hybrid powertrain that combines a gasoline engine with an electric motor. This hybrid system not only reduces emissions but also enhances fuel efficiency, making the Exter an eco-friendly and economical choice for drivers.

Intelligent Safety Features

Hyundai places a high focus on safety, and the Exter is no different. The car is equipped with a comprehensive suite of safety features, including forward collision avoidance, blind-spot monitoring, lane-keeping assist, and adaptive cruise control.

These intelligent safety systems work together to keep drivers and passengers safe on the road, preventing potential accidents and mitigating the severity of collisions.

Cutting-edge Infotainment System

The Hyundai Exter comes with a state-of-the-art infotainment system that keeps drivers connected and entertained. The large touchscreen display serves as the command center for various functions, including navigation, smartphone integration, and multimedia controls.

Apple CarPlay and Android Auto compatibility ensure seamless smartphone connectivity for a more enjoyable driving experience.

Comfortable and Spacious Interior

Step inside the Hyundai Exter, and you'll be greeted by a comfortable and spacious interior that offers ample legroom and headroom for both front and rear passengers. High-quality materials and ergonomic seats contribute to a luxurious driving experience, making long journeys a breeze.

What is Hyundai Exter?

The Exter is Hyundai's latest sub-4 metre SUV that delivers great performance. Packed with advanced features and stylish aesthetics, the Hyundai Exter promises to redefine driving experiences.PPS Hyundai Dealer Kochi provides you with the perfect purchasing experience while you opt to buy and drive it home.

Does Hyundai Exter have sunroof?

Hyundai offers various models, and some of them may come equipped with a sunroof in Exter. To find out if a specific Hyundai Exter model has a sunroof, we recommend visiting Hyundai dealers for the most up-to-date and accurate information on their current vehicle lineup and features.

Dynamic Driving Performance

Behind the wheel of the Hyundai Exter, you'll experience a dynamic driving performance that strikes the perfect balance between responsiveness and comfort.

The precise steering and well-tuned suspension system provide excellent handling, making daily commutes and weekend getaways equally enjoyable. Hyundai Exter mileage is also good enough, when compared to different other models in its segment.

Eco-friendly Materials

As part of Hyundai's commitment to sustainability, the Exter incorporates eco-friendly materials throughout its design. Recycled and bio-based materials are used in various components, reducing the car's environmental impact while maintaining high standards of quality and durability.

Is Hyundai Exter a 7 seater?

The Hyundai Exter is a 5-seater SUV offered at Kerala's PPS Hyundai Showrooms. The 7-seat Hyundai Exter hasn't been formally introduced yet.

What is the starting price of exter?

Hyundai Exter price range starts from Rs. 6.00 Lakh* for the base model to Rs. 10.10 Lakh* for the top variant (Avg. ex-showroom). All the variants of Hyundai Exter are available to purchase at PPS Hyundai Kozhikode.

Conclusion

The new Hyundai Exter impresses on multiple fronts, showcasing a blend of innovative technology, stylish design, and environmental consciousness. From its striking exterior design to cutting-edge hybrid technology and advanced safety features, the Exter stands as a testament to Hyundai's dedication to delivering top-notch vehicles. If you're looking for a car that offers a blend of performance, safety, and sustainability, the Hyundai Exter is undoubtedly worth considering.Also, explore details related to Hyundai Exter Features in India from PPS https://www.ppshyundai.com/pps-hyundai-showroom-thiruvananthapuram/Hyundai Trivandrum Showroom.

[oof-i-did-it-agaaiiin]

One of my pet peeves in film is when a movie is good but it could’ve been great.

Spirited (2022) was an honesty brilliant concept and almost flawless execution, with some missed opportunities and one glaring fault. I wanna go over what I loved about it and what I would’ve changed.

This will contain spoilers.

First of all, I love that it’s a musical, and furthermore how much it embraces the fact that it’s a musical. I mean the choreography is incredible, and the music is catchy and doesn’t shy away from its musical theatre-ness at all. In fact, I could see this translating into a stage adaption really easily. 

Secondly, I love the concept. Seeing the inner workings of the afterlife in this universe is fun, and adding the layer that the Ghosts of Christmas were once alive adds intrigue, and on top of that adding the element that the Ghost of Christmas Present is Ebeneezer Scrooge himself is brilliant. It gives new meaning to Jacob Marley running the operation, and seeing them working side-by-side adds some complexity to the relationship.

Speaking of I ADORE Patrick Page as Jacob Marley. He is the perfect fit for the role, both in his haunting form and out of it. I wish he had gotten more screen time in his chains and they hadn’t kept interrupting his song because you know he was cast for that deep, haunting voice of his and I wish we’d heard it more. 

I think the secondary cast was very good. Past and Yet-To-Come were funny and Octavia Spencer was charming and lovely as Kimberly, it’s wonderful to see her in the role of the love interest. Clint’s family tugged at the heartstrings perfectly, and Ryan Reynolds played a very entertaining douchebag but secretly lovable softie.

I think the themes of this movie were a natural continuation of the themes from the original book and, while not always consistent with the canon of the original book, felt faithful in its message.

Here’s my main contrivance though. The one main thing I’d change if I were able to.

Will Ferrell was wrong for his role. For one thing, I personally don’t think Will Ferrell is very funny. On top of that he’s just not a good singer. Like, at all. I mean everyone in this movie was at least a little auto tune, even the professional singers, but even all the auto tune in the world can’t stop Will Ferrell from sounding mediocre at best. Fine for musical cameo, but not for a leading role. Additionally, he’s not a very good Christmas Present, or Scrooge.

I mean, it makes sense for Ebeneezer Scrooge as we see him at the end of the book to become the Ghost of Christmas Present. He’s awfully jolly after waking up. But at no point in this film is Will Ferrell playing “jolly.” Present should be big and boisterous and loud and the kind of person where you can’t help but smile when you see them. 

Someone like Patrick Page.

That may sound out of left field but hear me out.

I know I already said he was perfect for Marley, and he is, but I think he would’ve suited the role of Present/Scrooge so much better than Will Ferrell does. Patrick Page has played Scrooge many times before so he has good experience with the character. While Page is known more for his cold, cruel characters he, plays warm, soft, and joyful well too. And this very movie is proof of that fact. I mean…

Look at that smile.

And perhaps most importantly, Patrick Page is fully capable of carrying a musical as its leading man. You know why? Cause he can fucking sing! Boy can he sing. And while the deep, gravely tone he’s known for may not be your first thought when you think Ghost of Christmas Present, it would work well for Ebenezer Scrooge, that’s for sure.

I know this movie is a comedy and Will Ferrell is a comedic actor, but honestly, I think this movie would work well if Present played a bit of a straight man to contrast with Clint’s constant jabs, with his joking being a way of him deflecting. That’s not to say Present can’t be funny, but I think Present being depicted as warmer, kinder, less witty and more of a guiding hand to Clint would make him a character you care more about and want to see succeed.

[1kook]

some way, some how

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

Summary: Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you. Warnings: emotional constipation, toxic ex, internalized misogyny, jk has bad experiences w/his ex’s dad, one scene where jk throws up, brief episode of panic, mentions of terminal cancer (minor); smut; fingering, praise kink, face fucking, spitting kink, cunnilingus, unprotected sex on top of a car im sorry Misc: autoshop owner!jk, businesswoman!oc, slice of life, childhood crushes, friends to lovers, ex gfs, pining, country bumpkin pjm w/crush on oblivious oc, ex-bf kth but it’s not real lol Wc: 19.4k (wow!!!)

the spirit of auto shop jk possessed me n next thing i knew i was 11k into a drabble. if ur curious: the 1975 corvette, car at the end, the tweed suitskirt (not actually chanel ☹️sowwyyy) also: this is the longest fic I've written!!!!! clap for me!!!!! i proofread the first few paragraphs n was like thats enough professionalism for the day

inspired by ain’t no mountain high enough one of my fave songs ever🥺 the title is a lyric from the song bc i love it so much enjoy !!

The garage is mostly dark when you enter, the faint hum of a radio quietly filtering through the stagnant room, its source coming from the back wall, where the only light is. It’s a rolling lamp, shining down an ugly yellow glow onto the figure of one man.

Jungkook’s sitting in that same rolling stool he always is, the metal one that’s rusted beyond repair, the cushion so uncomfortably flat. He’s caught up in whatever paint job he’s been tasked with this time around, a classic muscle car from what looks like the 80’s. He’s humming along to the radio, so caught up in stenciling out his design that he doesn’t notice you creep behind him until you’re very purposefully rattling the tool cart beside him, a teasing “boo!” making him jump.

“Fuck, you scared me,” he gasps, rubs over his chest as if to check if his heart is in fact still there. You grin, brandish your bag of takeout out for him before he can lecture you on the dangers of startling people who work around very complex machinery. Instead, all he says is, “you’re an angel.”

Once you’ve got the food carefully scattered across his work bench, your cherry cola tucked next to a canister of gasoline like that’s the safest practice, Jungkook wastes no time diving into all the details of his project, the 1975 Chevy Corvette behind him. The longer you look at it, the more you feel you’ve seen it somewhere. Probably a car show, you presume.

“Purrs like a kitten,” he sighs dreamily, completely ignoring the way half his toppings slide out from the opposite end of his cheeseburger. You don’t, and you swipe a fallen pickle from his tray before he can catch you.

“A kitten?” You ask, glance over at the car. It’s desperately in need of a paint job, and you only realize this now as you stare at it more in depthly. The niggling feeling that you know this car is still there, but you ignore it in favor of indulging your best friend. “Don’t people usually compare cars to bigger, better cats?”

There’s a taped stencil running alongside the car, a thick stripe followed by a thinner one, and you suppose Jungkook’s trying to spice her up, give her back the same youthfulness she probably had in her prime. What better way to do so than by adding some classic stripes alongside it.

Jungkook hums, gulps down his soda noisily. “Not this one. Never heard an engine as soft as hers.”

You roll your eyes. For a minute, the two of you quietly chew through your burgers, the radio filling in the gaps while you analyze the car. You know this car, but you can’t remember where. Jungkook coughs into his palm, probably from trying to inhale his fries too fast like he does every time you go to the diner you’re eating from today.

The diner.

A mouthful of braces. A pretty waitress. A strict dad.

“Holy shit, this is Sojin’s dad’s car,” you inhale, the memories from high school suddenly hitting you full force. Jungkook chokes, out of surprise this time, and furiously goes to deny your claims. “This is totally his car. The one he tried to run you over with when he caught you trying to put her on the back of your bike.”

“He didn’t try to run me over,” Jungkook whines, and the tips of his ears are red from your revelation.

You glare. “Why are you fixing that asshole’s car for him?” You interrogate, the last quarter of your burger forgotten in favor of squeezing the truth out of him. You’d had enough of that treacherous woman and her equally deranged father causing Jungkook trouble, and to catch him still helping her now, almost ten years later, was enough to make a brain vessel pop.

He shrugs, avoids your eyes as he picks through his fries. The radio is still on, some tune you recognize from those old days at the diner when Jungkook had become so unbelievably smitten with the part timer that served you milkshakes every Wednesday afternoon.

He had been in love with her the moment he saw her, and the look in his eyes was only magnified by those dorky glasses he wore pre-lasik. You'd been his friend long enough, recognized the jump of his scrawny thigh beneath the table. Like a bunny, thumping in excitement at the sight of her.

Sojin was... full of surprises.

She was nothing less than a supermodel, long legs carrying her around the diner as if it was her runway. She was nice too, so you hadn’t originally had an excuse to dislike her. She was nice, and so endeared with your best friend that it was inevitable when they began dating. Her presence consumed the end of your high school careers, overtook the time that should have been yours and Jungkook’s last year before being thrown into adulthood. He decided on studying at a technical school nearby—per your encouragement to save money—while you travelled five hours out for your degree in business. That last year, when you had finally come to terms with your feelings, had been so painfully ripped away by Sojin and her never-ending list of teenage drama, and by Sojin’s dad and his overbearing need to police her and Jungkook every chance he got.

Jungkook still hung out—“Sojin was busy, do you wanna do something?”—but more often than not those hang outs consisted of Jungkook telling you about her and her dad, about how hard he tried to get into his good graces.

The bike incident had only been one of many. Times where Jungkook would put his heart—and life—on the line for that girl only for it to be in vain every time she broke up with him over the simplest things. You’d heard stories from Jungkook, all told with a tight smile, of a handshake that would bruise, a man chasing him with a bat, of a car following him to school. All things he put up with for a girl who didn’t care for him. One day, after Jungkook had grudgingly sat through an hour long dinner with her family, the stare of her father piercing through him, she broke up with him because she didn’t like how long his hair had gotten.

(If anyone were to ask you, he was handsome with long hair. Dreamy even.)

He cut it that same day.

As her childishness grew, you quickly came to dislike her. She strung Jungkook around, you thought, and just when you thought she was finally done toying with him and making his life difficult in the sneakiest ways, the damn kid started hitting the gym. His growing frame, toned arms and now straightened teeth had turned him into a heartthrob, and Sojin was just as aware of this as you were. “Don’t we look perfect together?” She’d ask, twirl around him like they were on the cover of a magazine and not standing on his chipped front porch.  

Needless to say, by the time graduation had rolled around you despised the woman. You absolutely disliked how she treated Jungkook, how she let her father treat Jungkook without ever stepping up and defending him. Granted, you didn’t know exactly what went on in her household behind closed doors, you’d seen enough of her uncaring attitude to want to ram her and her dad’s head against the hood of the car.

Which is why seeing the old car, in Jungkook’s shop nonetheless, was rekindling a boiling hatred in your chest. “That man should rot in hell for all he put you through,” you huff, glare at the car like it holds some magical connection to him and he can feel the intensity of your stare.

“___,” Jungkook scolds, swirls his cup around to distract himself. “He was just trying to protect his only daughter,” he defends, quietly, like it’s what he tells himself to justify all those years of mistreatment. Even when he and Sojin had continued through college, it had never stopped. You, being five hours away, couldn’t do a damn thing. “Besides, the guy’s old as hell now.”

You snort, finally breaking your staring match with the car. Glancing at Jungkook, he’s got that same forlorn expression on his face, the one he started wearing when he first came to terms with the fact that her dad would never like him. There was a time it was stuck permanently on his face, the pressure and the discomfort that came from the father of the girl you’ve dated for five years looking at you like you were nothing more than a speck of dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

When you came back from school, educated and confident, you almost didn’t recognize your best friend. Tall and broad, tattoos splattered over his arm. Hair long like you loved it, but eyes still as round and wondrous as they’d been when you were kids. He had his own place now, he told you, and you vaguely remembered all the times he mentioned him and Sojin moving in together, mentally preparing yourself to see that wench for the first time in a while.

Much to your surprise, there was no Sojin in sight. No lingering artifacts of her presence. Nothing that showed she existed in this space besides an ugly orange mug she’d given him for his birthday one year, tucked into the very back of his cabinets. They’d broken up, he explained. Almost immediately after graduation.

After stringing him along for the better part of five years, she had decided this wasn’t what she wanted. No, what she wanted was a man ten years her senior with an abundance of cash to flow. Jungkook hadn’t cried. Hadn’t even looked the tiniest bit upset when you ordered pizza and drank some beer, watched your favorite episodes of The Simpsons like you were seventeen and avoiding your homework again.

You stayed the night, a little too tipsy to drive home. Besides, Jungkook had a spare bedroom. It was a room beside his, just a full bed with a chest of drawers. You liked it, liked the scent of him surrounding you after only seeing each other for a couple weeks in between months of distance. You liked it, because when he shifted in bed you realized the beds were pressed against the same wall, and you liked it until the shared wall spared you no secrets, and you listened to him quietly sob into his pillow.

“Old or not, he’s still the devil,” you murmur, snapping back to the present where Jungkook is wheeling himself closer to the car again. “Where did you find that thing anyway?”

He stays silent, quietly pretending like he still has something to do on the car besides paint it. Then, “I bumped into Sojin at the store.”

You sigh, drop your head between your shoulders. You can only imagine what whirlwind of a sob story she had to throw on him to win this favor.

“Kook,” you start, gauging his reaction only from his backside. His muscles ripple beneath his dark t-shirt, his usual red jumpsuit knitted around his waist. “What happened?”

Again, silence.

You say nothing, let him sort through the hurt on his own while you creep up behind him, sliding your hands over his shoulders and pressing down on the cricks behind his neck. He melts into your touch, head lolling forwards as a quiet sigh escapes him.

“She told me she was low on cash, and she needed the car to get to work,” he confesses, and from his ducked position, his voice trembles. You roll your eyes.

“And the paint job?”

A particularly rough press of your fingers has a whimper escaping him. God, this boy needed to see a chiropractor and a masseuse soon. All that hunching over and under these cars was doing a number on his back.

“I… I figured I might as well fix up the exterior too.” Of course he would, you think, Jungkook’s heart was stupidly big and easy to manipulate. He would get so swept up in it sometimes, trying to do the best he can for everyone’s benefit that he’d ignore himself.

You sit in his confession, fingers digging into his skin for a few minutes as you consider what to say.

The mature adult in you, the logical half of you, wants to hit him upside the head, scold him for letting that wench into his life again so easily. You were going on twenty-six now, all three of you, and you didn’t have time to be fixing him every time that childish woman decided to toy with him. Granted, it’s been four years since you last saw her, since you heard him muffle his cries on the other side of the wall, and you liked to think Jungkook was a respectful adult of society now. He didn’t have time to get dragged around by self-absorbed women with insane fathers.

The other part, the best friend since childhood, wants to run away. Wants to pack Jungkook into a suitcase and take him far away from here and from her. Unlike you, who now lived in the city, Jungkook had stayed in your small hometown, a quiet place just outside the bustling city. It was difficult to ensure his happiness when you were always forty-five minutes out of reach. It would be so much easier to just take him and fly to another province, maybe on the beach, Jungkook loved the beach.

“Listen,” he says, successfully pulling you out from your spiral. “I know what you’re gonna say and I just wanna tell you it’s not like that.”

You blink, hands stilling on his shoulders. Your lack of movement allows him to spin around on his chair, gaze up at you with the same shiny gaze he’s given you ever since you were kids. “I’m just doing her this tiny favor. She looked...” he trails off, face scrunching to find the words.

“Like shit?” You propose, and he smiles. “Like flaming dumpster shit behind a club?”

Jungkook laughs, loud and beautiful. You want to kiss the mole beneath his lip.

“She looked bad, okay?” He settles, reaches forward to take your palm in his. You’re standing between his thighs, and you wonder how he would have acted if you were Sojin. “Don’t think things worked out with that CEO she was dating. I’m just giving her a push.”

You sigh, try to push those crestfallen sobs to the back of your head. “Okay,” you agree, briefly glancing back at the damn car. “You fix her car, and that’s it,” you state. Jungkook nods, makes a little X over his heart. He knows how much you hate that woman. “No funny business.”

“No funny business,” he agrees, then reaches down for a white spray can. “You wanna spray some dicks on it before I paint it?”

“Please,” you laugh, taking the face mask he offers you with a grin.

—

One day your car starts making a weird noise as you pull out of the underground parking garage of your building. It’s somewhere between a pig squealing and metal scraping. You’ve been around Jungkook long enough to know this is probably something to do with your breaks, something about them being loose or old, one of the two. You have a short day at work today. There’s repairs being done to the office you work at, so everyone’s been spending more time working from home.

You leave work a little after two pm, head pounding from the hour long meeting you sat through, the mediocre business proposals your boss had asked you to look through and file. There’s a hefty load of emails waiting in your inbox, mostly the interns requesting you write them a recommendation letter. You’ll have to look through those later, pick out the good ones and write them each a unique piece kissing the ground they walk on.

The scent of freshly fried donuts hits your nose as you pull into your old town; the bakery down the road from Jungkook’s has their windows open. You can already taste the sweetness on the tip of your tongue, the iced coffee cooling your insides as you sit and watch Jungkook work on your car.

Jungkook’s shop is on the corner of the street, takes up a huge chunk with it’s massive garage and driveway; the office area is tiny compared to the sheer size of the actual work floor. There’s music blaring through the overhead speakers, and when you pull in you recognize it as Jimin’s playlist.

“Morning, Miss,” the country bumpkin says, leaning against your car door as you rifle through your purse. “What’re you in for?”

“Hi, Jimin,” you reply sweetly, take his hand as he helps you out the door. You very vaguely explain the noise your car had made that morning, glancing around the shop as Jimin gets to work inspecting it. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin’s waving over some other employees, all greeting you in their matching red jumpsuits. “Kook’s in the office,” he tells you, and it’s almost sensual the way his hand glides over your palm for your keys. God, you needed to get laid. “Has some lady friend in there with him.”

You pause, the bustling of the crew behind you fading into the background. Something inside you snaps, and you whirl around the garage, before catching sight of a 1975 Chevy Corvette, almost unrecognizable from how you’d last seen it. It’s bright red now, a color you only briefly saw before you’d left the other night, with two, lightning bolt racing stripes decorating each side. It looks new, almost in mint condition, and the fact it’s still here has you storming through the garage.

Your heels clack loudly, the crew moving to the side as you torpedo straight into the offices. You barely remember to greet the receptionist before you’re stomping straight into the main office.

There’s no knock, no warning given, before you’re flinging the door open, seeing exactly what you’d expected. 

“___,” Jungkook stutters, jumping onto his feet from his position on the couch. He looks frantic, wide eyes flickering between you and the woman sitting in front of him, her back turned to you. But you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.

“Did you say ___?” She says, and she’s still as tall and as beautiful as you remember her. Had it not been for the heels you wore, you don’t doubt she’d tower over you. She flashes you a killer smile, lips carefully painted red. It almost looks murderous. “My! ___, you haven’t changed a bit,” Sojin exclaims, rushing around the couch to pull you into a tight hug. You don’t return it.

You let her cling to you for a second, before pushing her away as gently as you can by the shoulders. As much as you’d like to rip her in half, tear her apart for all she did to Jungkook, you won’t. You’re older now, elegant in all the ways you weren’t before. It would be a huge disservice to your maturity if you shoved your heel up her ass right now.

“It’s lovely seeing you, Sojin,” you smile, taking her hand in yours.

Besides, being a woman in business meant you knew better, more creative ways to strike.

“And your boyfriend?” You ask, tilting your head in staged confusion. You even glance around the office, like you’ll find the geezer hiding behind the potted plant or Jungkook’s frozen figure. “The rich one with the huge company? Did he come with you today?”

Her smile tightens, red lips pursed as she gauges you with those cat eyes that haunt your nightmares every now and then. “My ex-boyfriend,” she corrects after a minute, pastes a forlorn expression onto her features. “We’ve separated, and you know how it is for women like us,” she jests. “We need a man to push us along—“

“Do we?” You ask, think back on all those years of school, of studying and working and pushing yourself, all the time you spent investing in yourself for yourself. “I don’t think so,” you contemplate. “It’s really embarrassing if you can’t care for yourself without the help of a man. Almost like you don’t trust in your own abilities, and ride other’s coattails instead.”

A beat of silence. Two completely different worlds, and Jungkook hovering awkwardly beside you.

Two palms grasp your shoulders from behind, and when you turn Jungkook is smiling at you, forced and stressed like he can’t stand to be in this uncomfortable situation any longer. “Well,” he announces, pushing you behind him as he guides Sojin towards the door. “There was an issue with her car, so I’ll just check on it real quick, okay?”

You nod, feel empty as he takes her by the wrist, and not you. He hands her her purse, palm on the small of her back as they exit the office. When the door clicks shut behind them, you throw your own handbag at the ground, barely stop yourself from stomping like a child.

Instead, you breathe in, hold it, and exhale, just like your Tuesday yoga instructor taught you. By the time you’ve collected yourself a few minutes have passed, so you kneel down to gather your fallen lipstick tubes and cellphone from the floor, scooping them back into your purse.

Tugging the door shut behind you, you mindlessly wander down the hall, until you reach the small receptionist area and nearly get jumped by Kim Taehyung. “Holy shit, you won’t believe this,” he gasps, takes you by the shoulders and nearly shakes you until your brain falls out through your ears. You would have slapped him, had this been any other man, but he’s quite possibly the only man besides Jungkook you’d let jostle you like this. “You’ll never guess who just left the office with J—wait,” he pales, suddenly connecting two and two, your exit from said offices definitely a key factor in whatever conclusion he’s drawn. “You were in the office with Hwang Sojin and you didn’t kill her?!”

You huff, let him shake you again until you’re nearly tripping in your heels. “Yes, I know,” you groan, finally slap his hands away when you begin to feel this morning’s breakfast bubbling from all the motion. “I’m surprised too.”

“Wow,” Taehyung marvels, leans back against the receptionist desk even though the poor girl has told him time and time again not to. He ignores her, something he can do as second best friend to the boss. “Remember when she showed up crying outside his mom’s house and you threw a potted plant at her? Oh how the great have fallen.”

Rolling your eyes, you drift over to the plexiglass window in the office that looks out across the entirety of the garage floor. In the corner, Jungkook’s got the hood of the Corvette open as he works away on something, Sojin tapping at her phone beside him. “Why are you here, Tae?”

He steps beside you, tuned into the same scene. “Can’t visit my ex-girlfriend every now and then?” He teases, you groan.

“We dated for three days, dude, let it go,” you whine, and watch with rapt attention as Jungkook motions for her to start the engine. She does, and it purrs to life, soft and silky just like Jungkook said it does. She squeals and claps, launches herself into his arms in thanks. You look away.

“Yuck,” Taehyung gags and you couldn’t agree more. “Can’t believe you ended the best 72 hours of my life for that pinhead and the hussy attached to his hip.”

He shrieks when you pinch his side, and you take great satisfaction in the judgemental stare half the crew sends him through the glass. After all, they weren’t soundproof. “You embarrassed me and my brand,” he huffs, crossing his arms as the two of you return to watching Jungkook and the hussy.

“He’s not a pinhead,” you softly retort, watch him wipe a bead of sweat off his forehead as he waves her off. Sojin sends him a brigade of air kisses, none of which he catches. A sick sense of glee consumes you at the sight, but then he’s turning to stare directly at you and Taehyung through the glass, and the both of you quickly whirl away.

“His ability to find you in less than a second is so weird,” Taehyung shivers, and you ignore it, taking the candy from the bowl on the receptionist desk. She doesn’t care, having heard these conversations more than enough times to get the general gist of what you and Taehyung gossip about. You’re surprised she’s never mentioned it to Jungkook before.

Regardless, you listen to Taehyung complain about his life for a few more minutes, before Jimin’s sweet voice pops into the room. His ash blonde hair is all ruffled, and there’s something dark smeared over his otherwise perfect skin as he tells you your car is fixed. Taehyung bids you goodbye, and Jimin walks you back to your car out on the garage floor.

“All set, miss,” Jimin grins, puts a hand against the car so you don’t hit your head as you go in. You thank him, and don’t miss the way he lingers by your window.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, tilt your head quizzically. Jimin’s cheeks flush, and he looks shyly at the ground.

“Actually, I was wondering if—“

“___,” Jungkook calls, jogging over beside Jimin, who looks almost ashamed to be caught doing...whatever it was he was gonna do. Jungkook glances at him, catches him in some weird staring contest before crouching down to your window. “You needed your car fixed? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You blink, don’t know how to politely tell him he was too busy kissing the ass of his toxic ex-girlfriend to help you out. “Jimin helped me,” you smile, the same practiced expression you’ve mastered since college. You usually get by, usually trick people with that look, but not with him. Jungkook knows you too well, knows that look, and knows you’re holding yourself back. “You were busy.”

His lips part in surprise, tugged downwards with the hint of a frown. “I,” he stutters, looks at Jimin, who doesn’t seem that impressed with him either. “I… I would’ve came if you called.”

You tug your sunglasses out from their little case, slide them over the bridge of your nose as you strap your seatbelt over yourself. “Would you though?” You ask, flash him another polite smile before shifting your car’s gears. Jimin walks off, clears the path for you to exit, and with just Jungkook standing there, you speak freely. “I would hate to distract you from something important.”

—

Some of the proposals end up being better than expected, and after carefully sifting through them, your boss asks you to sit through presentations for the next few days. Your time gets consumed in graphs and budgets. There’s a multitude of businesses you have to look into, some big and well-known, and others small and local. You drive around the city one day, visiting business after business, until your ankles hurt in your heels and your cheeks hurt from all the smiling. Your only comfort is the nice Chanel skirt suit you’re wearing that makes you feel like the most important person in the room wherever you go.

By the time the week’s over, there’s a thin cut forming on the back of your ankles from all the walking you’ve done in your heels. You slump against your front door, tossing your heels in the vague direction of the closet before padding through your house.

You nearly scream yourself sore at the figure in your kitchen, hunched over what looks to be a hastily made cake with a number three candle. “Oh my god,” you seethe, turning the overhead light on to illuminate Jungkook’s grinning figure, dirty and sweaty from work. You glance at the clock on the stove; it’s only been about an hour since his garage closed.

“Surprise!” He exclaims, and you’re not the slightest bit amused when he begins humming the happy birthday song on a day that is definitely not your birthday.

When he’s done, you don’t clap and his beaming smile doesn’t waver. “It is not my birthday,” you calmly state, placing your leather padfolio on the counter.

Jungkook blows the candle out for you. “It’s the birthday of when we first met,” he explains, and gets to cutting the cake. How he remembers such a day, you don’t know. You do know that this is his mom’s birthday cake recipe, and you love that. “Can you believe it? Friends for almost three decades.”

“Almost,” you repeat, dutifully sitting across from him and taking the plate he offers. He nods at you like a bobblehead. 

His eyes are sparkly and big, like he’s drunk, and it’s only then you notice the red wine on the table, bottle open and halfway done. You set your fork down, grasp the neck of the bottle in your hand. “Have you been drinking?” You ask, even though the answer stares you right in the face. You frown. “You hate drinking.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, shovels more cake into his mouth to delay his response. “Needed it,” he offhandedly explains, nearly eats the candle but you jump forward to snatch it off his fork before he can.

“What do you mean?” You inquire. You’re not hungry anymore, too interested in whatever’s going on in his head to make him think he needs to be drunk around you.

Jungkook gulps, reaches forward for more wine but you cradle the bottle to your chest. You nearly gasp when he levels you with a real, stony glare, the expression out of place on his face. “Cuz you’re mad,” he huffs. “At me.”

There was a time you would coddle Jungkook’s every mistake, never let him think he was at fault for anything. You’d grown out of it shortly before high school, recognizing boys were stupid no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise. Since then, you’ve watched him get into trouble time and time again—Sojin being the prime example—and only intervened when absolutely necessary. Some part of you, the half that hates seeing him upset, wants to tell him you’re not. The mature part in you, however, doesn’t let that happen.

“I am,” you agree, watch his eyes widen almost comically at your admission. You set the wine bottle back on the table, leaning your chin on your palm as you level him with the most unimpressed gaze you can. “I’m furious, actually.”

He whimpers, actually whimpers like a kicked puppy, and you can almost see the metaphorical ears pressed against his head and the tail tucked between his legs. His lips are big and pouty, stained from the wine. You’d love to know what they feel like.

Jungkook’s vulnerability lasts all of three seconds, before he’s shaking himself out of whatever emotional pit his foggy brain has him in. “Well, it’s dumb,” he spits, and it’s your turn to sit in shock. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Excuse me?” You ask, incredulously, because this has never happened before. Are you overprotective and sometimes overbearing? Sure. Has Jungkook ever voiced discomfort with that before? Never. “I’m not telling you what to do,” you sneer, crossing your arms over your chest.

He rolls his eyes, pushes away from the table like a moody teen. You know it’s because he’s drunk, because he’s not himself, but you have to remind yourself that he obviously felt this way somewhere in his heart to voice it to you now. “You’re not my mom.”

You choke. “I’m not!” You angrily agree, pushing away from the table as well.

Jungkook snarls, “well you sure do love acting like her.” He picks up his plate, glances over at you with a look in his eyes that can only be likened to that of a sneaky cat, and then purposefully shoves the bread and frosting down the garbage disposal in the sink. You shriek, fly around the table and shove him away.

“What is wrong with you?” You seethe, push him away rudely with a hand on his face. Jungkook stumbles back, slips on the floor and nearly cracks his head on the corner of the counter. “Oh my god,” you exclaim, abandoning the sink in favor of watching the way his face twists up at the sudden motion, stomach contracting beneath his black t-shirt, cheeks puffing. “Oh god, oh god,” you stammer, tugging him to his feet with the strength only a panicked individual about to see an entire cake regurgitated onto their kitchen tile can have.

You’ve barely kicked the door to the bathroom open when Jungkook begins throwing up, gooey vomit spewing from his mouth and onto the floor. It touches your arm, and you shriek before shoving him in the general direction of the toilet.

“Ew, ew,” you freak, shoving your hand under the sink faucet to get that gross feeling away. You wanna vomit yourself, but you tell yourself there can only be one sick person at a time, and right now it’s Jungkook.

He’s got his head in the toilet, disgusting sounds echoing off the ceramic of it. By the time you’ve calmed down and washed your arm thrice, you move over to pull his bangs away from his face, letting him hurl in peace.

“I’m sorry,” he mopes, spews another round of birthday cake into the toilet.

You look away, blindly reach out to turn the bathroom fan on. “Mhm,” you nod, rubbing a hand over his back. Jungkook nods sadly against the toilet seat.

“‘M sorry,” he repeats, gags around nothing but the gross feeling left in his throat. “I-I know you just want…” a pause as he considers throwing up some more, “...want what’s best for me.”

“I do,” you agree, wipe a hand down the side of his face that he leans into. “Not trying to be your mom,” you assure him, and he snorts.

“Be a good mom,” he murmurs, so soft you don’t hear him. You hum, leaning closer and he repeats it. “You’d be… a good mom.”

Not knowing what to do with that information, you just pat his back until he falls asleep, cheek against the toilet seat.

—

“Woah, the sexual tension in this garage is off the charts,” Taehyung blurts from behind you, and you smack your clipboard against his chest. “Oof,” he grunts, rubbing his chest like it actually hurt. “You doing finances for him again?” He asks and you nod.

In an ideal world, Taehyung would leave upon finding out you’re busy. In this world, he simply leans into your personal space, nearly knocking you into an empty tool cart. “Oooh, an extensive list of all the money Jungkook’s stupidly blown this month. How much did he spend on neon signs this time?”

You relent, showing him the shop’s finances. Anywhere else, revealing a business’s finances without the consent of the owner would be a federal crime. Here, it’s the equivalent of showing Taehyung Jungkook’s browser history. “He spent how much on window tint?!”

“A lot,” you say.

There’s a whistle from across the garage, the shop’s resident country bumpkin Park Jimin standing at the huge garage doors with his hand on his hip. “No fraternizing, please.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Boooo,” he shouts, peels himself away from you to flick an impolite finger Jimin’s way. “He’s just jealous,” he tells you, and you frown.

“Of what?” You ask, and Taehyung nearly loses his shit.

“My precious ___,” he sighs, leans his forehead on your shoulder. “So beautiful and smart, yet so slow.” You flick the side of his forehead just as Jungkook strolls by and, seeing your attack, slaps the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Why do you guys hate me!” Taehyung exclaims, jumping at least five feet away from you and Jungkook’s giggling forms.

“How’s it going?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring Taehyung’s soulful cries as he glances over your shoulder at the clipboard. You tilt it his way, but he stands close anyway, until you can feel his breath huffing against the back of your neck.

“Okay, but you’re spending a lot of money stockpiling on things that haven’t shown signs of running out yet,” you explain, pointing at the window tint that had astonished Taehyung only a moment ago.

Jungkook grimaces, pink tongue swiping across his lip as he looks at the total amount he’s spent the last three months. “Well, it’s a good thing I have my accountant,” he grins, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“Not your accountant,” you correct, “just a friend who doesn’t wanna see you run your business to the ground from overspending.”

Jungkook waves you off, and Taehyung tries to sneak into the receptionist office behind you, but Jungkook catches him with his free hand. “This is the life,” he sighs, wistfully gazing over the garage floor. It reeks of motor oil and car paint.

“Count me out,” Taehyung snorts, voicing your disinterest toward such greasy and smelly work. He tries to wiggle out of Jungkook’s hold, but the muscle bunny only straps an arm around his neck, until Taehyung’s squirming and clawing for air against the red sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“My own successful business, a shitload of sexy cars, and of course,” he pauses, squeezes the two of you tighter until you’re both groaning. “My two best friends.” The sap has the gall to peck the top of your heads, and that seems to be the final straw for Taehyung who rips himself away.

“Have this lovefest somewhere else, man,” Taehyung says, flattening his rumpled clothing down. “You’re really putting a nail in my reputation around here.”

Jungkook cackles, mindlessly goes to wrap himself around you from behind. “Your reputation has been trash since that scream you let out the other day,” he informs him, swaying the two of you back and forth. Your heart thunders in your chest, and you just barely manage to avoid Taehyung’s pointed stare.

“Whatever, I’m outta here.” With Taehyung peaced out, you’re left in Jungkook’s arms, gazing over his business like two old lovers. It makes your chest tight, so you quickly go to shake him off.

“We’re okay?” Jungkook murmurs, so soft you almost don’t hear. He’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist, thumb massaging over the bone there like he’s afraid you’ll bolt the second he lets you go.

You nod, tuck the clipboard to your side. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Those sad puppy eyes, pouty lips turned southward. You want to wipe that look off his face. He sighs, glances at where your skin meets and gives it a squeeze. “I’ve been an ass lately,” he settles on saying. “Said some mean things and ruined your bathroom rug—I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what to say.

Jungkook takes your silence as understanding, reaching down to hold both your hands in his slightly dirty ones. “It won’t happen again. I’d rather lose a million friends than lose you,” he confesses, and something about it feels too real, too raw. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You nod, the constricting feeling in your throat only tightening when he smiles at you, those gentle eyes and plush lips for only you to see. You want to kiss him, swallow him whole. Right here on the garage floor so everyone knows he’s yours.

But you can’t because he’s not.

You settle on swinging your arms between you. “Just don’t do anything stupid,” you warn him, narrowing your eyes playfully. There’s a heavy feeling in your heart, something akin to anguish, but you could never voice it out loud.

“I won’t,” Jungkook promises.

—

Jungkook visits again on a weekday, and you nearly send him straight home when he brandishes another bottle of wine in your face. “It’s nonalcoholic!” He exclaims before you can shut the door on him, foot lodged against the frame. You give in.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, curling up on the couch in just your shorts and huge t-shirt. Jungkook pops the bottle open, pouring the wine into two limited edition Shrek 2 cups you pulled out from the depths of your cabinet.

“Can’t hang with my bestie?” He throws back at you, snatching the remote from your hands before you can click on another episode of that dumb housewives show. You end up watching National Geographic, some documentary about the role of bioluminescent shrimp in the sea.

“Aw look, they’re kissing,” he cooes at a pair of seahorses that wander across the screen halfway through a shot of some school of shrimp. “How romantic.”

“Wonder what that’s like,” you comment, not thinking too much on the meaning behind your words until you can feel Jungkook’s stare pierce your cranium. “What?”

“You’ve never been kissed?” He blurts, and you choke on your wine.

“You were my first kiss,” you remind him, flush at the memory of the two of you sitting criss-cross applesauce on his bed, knees knocking in what was probably the worst first kiss in the history of first kisses.

Jungkook blinks. “Oh yeah,” he laughs. “With the Tony Hawk poster behind my bed, right?”

“The one and only.”

Jungkook hums, and the two of you melt back into the silence. Nice aquatic sounds fill the room, the camera panning over more colorful fish that Jungkook oohs at appreciatively. You don’t really pay attention, more interested in the way the wine swirls in your cup and the way you can feel Jungkook’s thigh pressed against your knee, like when you were thirteen and trying something new.

You know it doesn’t mean a lot to him. Just another silly childhood memory of you. Not like you have hundreds, thousands of them with each other. By the way he’d blurted the question, you doubt he even remembered it most days. But you did.

It plagued your mind all the time, the soft feel of his mouth and the trembling hand that had held yours. You wonder if he kisses the same still, lips gently puckered. He’s had years to learn, half a decade to get creative with Sojin, and the past four years of being a bachelor to explore more.

You’ve kissed too, plenty of guys who had no meaning and ones you thought would replace him. But it’d been a long time since you’ve let anyone into your bed, more content to please yourself without the overbearing weight of feelings and emotions to wrap around your throat.

Jungkook coughs, and you shake yourself from your thoughts.

He’s looking at you inquisitively, like he can’t get his usual read on you and would rather just ask what’s wrong. “You don’t,” a pause, “hang out with guys?”

It’s devastatingly cute, the way he asks if you’re fucking, and you want to pinch his cheeks. Instead you shake your head, try to hide the grin on your face from his inquisitive expression. “Just you and Taehyung,” you admit.

Jungkook nods. “Do you and Tae…?”

You shake your head furiously. “No! God no, we don’t do anything like that,” you clarify, the thought of Taehyung in your bed enough to make you want to gag.

Jungkook says nothing, just turns back to the documentary to watch more Nemos and Dorys flit across the screen. You polish off your cup of wine, leaning forward to settle it back on the coffee table. As you settle back into the couch cushions, Jungkook speaks again. “So you take care of yourself?”

You freeze.

“Yeah,” you admit after one complete meltdown in your head. Where was this coming from? Why did he want to know? You and Jungkook were close, but you never did this. You never divulged the details of your sex life, never bragged about who you slept with or how many there were. What was going on?

Jungkook doesn’t say anything after that, just turns his attention back to the tv screen, where you’re almost certain the sea horses from before are fucking. Not that you know what it looks like, but you hope at least someone in this room was enjoying themselves and not drowning in the mortification of having their life long crush ask them if they masturbate.

“So, do you use your hands or a toy?”

You choke, slap your chest to ease the pounding of your heart at Jungkook asking such a question. “E-Excuse me?” You ask, scandalized that Jungkook, your sweet and caring childhood friend turned Fabio, could ask you such a bold question about your personal affairs.

“What?” Jungkook says, like he truly doesn’t see the inappropriateness of the situation. He even raises his eyebrows at you, as if urging you to answer the question.

You sigh, fight the flush of your cheeks and stare idly at the cups on the table. “A toy. Hands don’t feel good,” you curtly reply, crossing your arms over your chest and straightening your legs off the couch, hoping that’s the end of his curiosity. This was enough to fuel your 3am anxiety meltdowns for the next five years.

Jungkook nods, and you can feel his penetrating gaze on the side of your face again. A great white shark swims across the screen. Jungkook strikes. “My hands feel good.”

“Jungkook!” You exclaim in horror (and excitement, but you’ll pretend it wasn’t there). “What has gotten into you?”

“What!” Jungkook defends, Bambi eyes looking at you like you’re the unreasonable one here. “We’re having a civil conversation in which I’m trying to open up your worldview.”

You’re flabbergasted. “This is not a civil conversation, what are you even talking about?” You scold, tug your arms around yourself like it’ll actually protect you from the words that don’t seem to be filtering out of his mouth properly. “Why are you so concerned about that?” You interrogate, hope your forceful tone will scare him away.

It doesn’t. Jungkook shrugs, some noncommittal i dont know sound. “I can’t be interested in what you get up to? What my best friend gets up to?” It’s the obvious emphasis on best friend that makes you step down.

“No,” you sigh, rub a hand down your face. “You can be interested,” you tell him gingerly. “We just never really… talked about... those kinds of things,” you rush out, turn away from him as the narrator on screen dives into the intricacies of bioluminescent shrimp in the animal food chain.

As if sensing your discomfort, Jungkook softens, scooting closer to you. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, too close and too warm. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says, places a palm on your knee.

“I’m not!” You rush to assure him, facing him head on again. His eyes are big and implorative still, and you wonder why he became stuck on that of all things today. “It just surprised me.”

His lips quirk to the side, an unsure grin that has you leaning into his shoulder. You sit in silence, the rise and fall of his body with every breath lulling you into a sense of comfort.

A false one that Jungkook zeroes in on.

The documentary’s wrapping up, soothing ocean sounds and wind instruments playing as the credits roll across the screen, when the hand that had been laying so comfortably on your thigh inches up. At first, you don’t notice it, writing it off as Jungkook just shifting around. You tell yourself it’s just that, until his pinky makes contact with the end of your shorts.

Slowly, you turn towards him, catch his mocha irises lustfully lidded as he toys with the hem. “Kook?” You murmur, so soft, barely there.

“Hm?” He replies, continuing to play with the edge of your shorts, until he gets brave and his fingers slip beneath, index finger just barely grazing the panties underneath. You gasp. “This okay?”

Stuck between your arousal and your common sense, you flounder for a response. He’s so close, and smells so good, curls brushing against your temple the closer he gets. You want him so bad, want him to find his place between your thighs and put those pouty lips to use. But you know it’ll make things different, change whatever it is you’ve had for the past almost thirty years, and you’ll never bounce back. Another brush against your panties, pointer finger wiggling it’s way beneath the fabric, and you’re choking out a “yes.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and something in your core tingles at the name, thighs clenching together. “Uh uh,” he chides, nudges them open. “Stay still for me,” he commands, and you do, for all of ten seconds, but then he’s pressing his finger on your clit, panties and shorts muting the sensation. Still, it makes you squirm, fingers clutching the couch cushion beneath you as you struggle to keep them open. “Too much?” He asks, and you shake your head no.

“I-It’s fine,” you whisper, and Jungkook smiles.

He pets you, almost wondrously, for a few beats, watches the way the muscles in your thighs twitch with every press against your mound. Eventually, he decides it’s enough. “Hands don’t feel good for you?” He inquires, your words from earlier obviously having left their mark on him. Slowly, you shake your head. He glances down at the fist you have on the couch, composed features sliding up your face. “Well, yours are so small, princess. Of course they don’t feel good.”

He manhandles you around, tugs you onto the couch until you’re laying down, legs sprawled on either side of him. Pleased with the arrangement, Jungkook glances back down to your bottoms. “These have to go,” he tells you, hooks his fingers in the waistband and abruptly yanks down, leaving you just in your t-shirt.

You go to shy away, but Jungkook stops you, palms resting on the insides of your thighs, thumbs pressing into the skin soothingly. “My fingers are long, see?” He says, raising a hand to wiggle his fingers at you. You nod, heartbeat thundering in your ears. “They’ll feel nice inside.”

You know they will.

You can tell he knows his way around a woman’s body just from the way his hands glide over yours, carefully like he’s mapping you out. Ever so slowly, one hand grows closer, until his thumb is gently circling your clit, and you inhale sharply.

“So wet,” Jungkook hums, his other hand traveling further down, until he’s spreading your pussy lips with two fingers, trailing them through the arousal that gathers there.

You’ve never been so attentively cared for, never had a man zero in on your cunt like it was his first meal in ages. Jungkook’s eyes are clouded with lust, tongue peeking out from between his lips as he watches your pussy lips flutter at his touch.

He swirls his hand over your clit, pressing down. The first sound escapes you, a soft whimper that has you clamping your hand over your mouth in embarrassment. Jungkook grins down at you, shifts closer to press a kiss to the knuckles over your mouth.“Don’t hide from me,” he purrs, pulling away and pressing a kiss to your neck.

You cry out when he gets back to it, massaging your pussy with gentle hands and a thumb against your clit to placate you. “Jungkook,” you choke out, and he beams at his name, takes it as a sign to finally slip two fingers inside. “A-ah,” you whine, arching beneath him.

He basks in your noises, leans close again to press a kiss beneath your ear, against your jaw. “This okay?” He murmurs, curling the fingers inside of you. You mewl, throwing your arms around him as he begins working you open. “How does it feel, baby?”

“G-good,” you pant, turn your head until you can bury your nose in his hair, drown even more in his all-consuming aura.

Another kiss to your neck, before he’s suctioning his lips right below your ear, nipping and sucking at the skin to brand you his. “You like my hands?” He husks, and the patch of saliva he leaves on your neck feels cold without his mouth there. You nod, and Jungkook rewards you with a soft smooch over the hickey he’s left.

His fingers inside you curl and scissor, brush against every inch of your walls until you’re quivering beneath him, gasping his name out. You could melt if his fingers weren’t holding you together. “So tight,” he groans, curling his fingers. The movement touches upon something sensitive within you, and you moan his name loudly.

“O-Oh,” you pant, wiggling beneath him as you try to feel that again. Jungkook lets you, watches you desperately rut into his hands. He drifts away, lets his tongue mouth over your breasts, licking until there’s a damp spot on your t-shirt, the flimsy house bra you’d worn and the t-shirt combined not enough to hide your pebbled nipples.

The drag of his hands against your pussy isn’t enough, the motions not quick enough. Jungkook glances at your twisted features, your quivering pussy, and then, ever so gently, ducks over you, puckered lips letting one, long glob of saliva touch down on your pussy, trickling around his knuckles.

“Fuck,” you choke, watch his tongue swipe over his lip to break the thin bridge that connects you too. Suddenly, everything is smoother, the combined lubrication of your arousal and his spit making the glide of his fingers sinfully slick.

Frantic for release, you lose yourself in him, ready to free fall into your pleasure so long as Jungkook is there to catch you. “That’s it,” he encourages, picks up the pace of his fingers inside you. “Come on, beautiful, let me see that gorgeous face of yours when you come.”

“K-Kook,” you sob, and he smiles against your neck. His fingers work fast, until your muscles are all pulled tight, waiting for that final push to unravel. You make the mistake of glancing down, only to be caught by that pearly smile and adoring gaze. You’re in heaven, you know you are.

There’s no other explanation for this—the way Jungkook holds you like you’re his, hands so gently caressing your most intimate parts. You’re almost convinced you’re having a fever dream, a sick, too realistic dream, but then Jungkook’s biting down on your shoulder through your t-shirt, subtly rutting against your thigh.

“Cum for me,” he purrs against your neck, and you do, sobbing as your orgasm rolls over you, the heavy weight of his cock against your thigh. “Jungkook,” you cry, so pitifully, it has him lunging forward, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth.

You feel sweaty and gross, unbelievably tired from the gentle way he opened you up. Blindly, you reach down, feel the hardness of his cock beneath his sweatpants, but Jungkook nudges you away. You huff. “Let me,” you whimper, reach for him again even though you can see the slowness in your movement. “Need your cock in my mouth,” you drawl, almost sleepily. 

“Shh,” he soothes, lips pressed against your neck, where he’s still licking and sucking over every inch of you. You whine. “You don’t have to do a thing, gorgeous,” he assures you, “just wanted to make you feel good.”

—

Work gets stressful shortly after. There’s a new batch of interns coming in this season, new faces who will mess up your coffee orders and jam the printers for a good few weeks. There’s normally a team of employees who train them, a mix of relatively older people from different departments who show them around; a girl in the finance department, the one who usually trains them, is on maternity leave. With no one else to fall back on, the head of the department pushes the duties off on you, claiming your flexibility and work ethic make you the perfect candidate for such a role.

Normally you’d thrive at the praise, eat up every single word like it sustained you. In a way, it did. It was nice to be appreciated and recognized for your hard work, to be thought of so highly, especially in a male-dominated company. However, this time, you know it’s out of convenience that the head kisses up to you, and you end up begrudgingly taking the role.

The gaps in your schedule you’d normally spend relaxing or catching up on other projects are filled with bumbling interns, calling for help every chance they get. It’s like they’ve never done anything on their own, this group, always asking you the correct way to do this, the right way to do that. You haven’t mentored interns in a while, so you spend the first day breezing over old powerpoints and print outs you made years ago. You remember why you’re not fit for mentoring when one of them asks you how to navigate Excel. You nearly rip their head off.

There’s so much going on, you barely get time to see Jungkook, let alone text him. You saw him once the morning after, stack of pancakes on your kitchen table as he rushed you off to work. The shop didn’t open for another hour. He was sweet, kissed your forehead as you left, but he’s always done that. You didn’t have time to talk about whatever the night before was, or what that made the two of you now.

On Friday night, one week into your nightmarish role, you pull into the shop. You'd like to convince yourself it was routine, visiting the shop, but that’s a lie. You desperately miss Jungkook. 

 Most of the garage doors that are usually pulled open during the day are shut, save for one. The last of Jungkook’s employees are leaving, bidding you adieu as you step out of your car. Park Jimin is there, repairing some rickety car in the back corner.

“Boo,” you call playfully, and Jimin doesn’t flinch, merely pulls his head from out of the hood to flash you an easygoing smile.

He whistles at the sight of you. “You look like you’ve been through one of helluva week,” he says, and you, despite your strong personality, feel yourself blush at his comment. Jeez, did you look that bad? Jimin doesn’t elaborate, just pulls out a stool for you to sit on beside where he’s working. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You glance at the plexiglass, the offices hiding down the hall. Jungkook could wait, you presume, settling down beside him. Your skirt tugs up as you settle onto the pleather seat, so you cover your legs meekly with your purse. “Work’s been crazy,” you explain, and Jimin laughs at the obvious.

“You’re telling me,” He hums, and you roll your eyes playfully. “What’s going on at work?”

What hasn’t been going on, you think to yourself, before launching into a full retelling of your new horrendous position, of all the interns with their clueless eyes and useless notebooks. Jimin chuckles, indulges you in a few comments here and there that only fuel you on. He’s just about done with whatever he’s doing to the car at the same time your story wraps up, explaining how you found yourself here, desperate for Jungkook to whisk you off to that arcade you loved as kids. “Jungkook?” He asks, and you nod. “He left a while ago.”

You freeze. “Huh?” You say, dumbly. You almost want to laugh at your own impulsiveness, for showing up without sending him a text or a warning to let him know you were coming. You almost do laugh, but then you remember you and Jungkook never did that anyway. Hell, he showed up at your house a few weeks ago unannounced and drunk. The two of you were hardly the type to plan ahead, so it was weird for him to not be here. He’s been at the shop almost every night since it’s opened, the days he’s not usually a holiday.

“Jimin…” you begin, glancing at the receptionist window once more. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin shuts his tool box, kicking a cart off to the side. “He left with that lady,” he tells you, doesn’t hear the way your heart rips straight out of your chest. No way. “Tall, pretty. Had that nice Corvette he fixed up a while ago.”

“Sojin,” you mumble, and Jimin nods.

“Think that was her name.” As if sensing your tumultuous thoughts, he steps closer, one hand reaching out to steady you. “You alright?”

“God,” you exhale, pushing yourself away from Jimin and the garage and the window. The stool rolls away, almost hits the side of another car but Jimin catches it. He rushes over towards you, watching you wobble in your heels.

“Honey,” Jimin says, steady and warm beside you. “Sit down for me, yeah?” He guides you to a row of seats against the wall, nailed into the floor so you can’t push them away and make even more of a mess. Not that that’s your concern, your mind and heart too preoccupied with thoughts of Jungkook lying to you, going out with that woman again, despite your obvious hatred for her and his promise to you.

Jimin disappears, rushes over to the other side of the garage before returning with a water bottle for you. He cracks it open, presses it into your hands, and then against your lips when you don’t move. “Drink,” he encourages, watching you with worried eyes that only grow more and more concerned the deeper you fall into your thoughts.

You want to cry and beat Jungkook up at the same time. You want to scream at him for lying to you after treating you so nicely, holding you so warmly. Instead, you gasp for breath, clutching your face in your hands like it’s the only thing that grounds you.

There’s a beep outside, chirpy and cute in the way only older models are, and you whip your head up, the headlights of the Corvette painting you in shades of yellow as it rolls to a stop, the tears you hadn’t felt glistening under the light.

Jungkook flings himself out of the driver’s seat, and a sob catches in your throat when Sojin steps out of the passenger seat. Jungkook shoves everything in his path to the side, carts flying into the few automobiles on the floor, tools clanging loudly onto the cement, and just as those arms you love so much are reaching out for you, there’s a hand on his chest stopping him.

“What did you do to her?” Jungkook snarls, pushing Jimin roughly to the side. Jimin, smaller but not weaker, holds his ground, clutching Jungkook by the material of his jumpsuit a second time. “Let— go!” Jungkook shouts, finally worming away from his employee.

He nearly trips before you, stumbling to his knees as he takes your quivering hands in his. “What’s wrong,” he asks, throwing a nasty glare back at Jimin who watches silently from the side. Sojin is still by her car, leaning across the driver’s side now. “What did he do, what did he say?”

You shake your head, dropping your head to tuck your chin against your chest. You hate this. Hate letting him or Jimin or Sojin see you cry. It’s not the person you are, not the self-made woman you claim to be as you cry over the same man who is unknowingly defending you from himself.

“Let go,” you whisper, hoarse and choked. You shake your arms, but he doesn’t let up.

“Tell me what's wrong,” Jungkook pleads, inching closer to you. His breath is warm and he smells like oil, just like he always does. He also smells sweet and floral in a way only a woman could. He smells like Sojin.

You sob, rip your hands away from and scurry blindly towards Jimin, who catches you in his arms despite the shock that paints his face.

Jungkook watches with an expression of hurt, watches you snuggle into the arms of another man over an issue you won’t tell him about. Jimin says nothing, just rubs his palm over your back. He gestures towards the red corvette, the woman standing by it and Jungkook takes the hint.

You hear the kitten-like purr as it pulls off, the silence that follows afterwards. You don’t know where Jungkook is, if he’s here or if he left with her, and you don’t want to. “Tell me he’s gone,” you beg Jimin, quiet gasps against his neck.

He nods, slowly lets you untangle yourself from his arms as the two of you stare over the empty garage. The Corvette is gone, and so is Jungkook. Before Jimin can tell you where he is, you’re wiping a hand over your face, embarrassed at the moisture it comes back with. 

“I take it he’s not supposed to be with her?” Jimin tries to joke. 

Neither of you laugh. 

You sniffle, process what just happened, how you acted. You’ve never felt that way before, never experienced such brutal heartbreak. 

You don’t know what you expected from Jungkook. In your heart, you convinced yourself what happened in your apartment was the start of something new between the two of you, a natural result of your long friendship. Realistically, you know you should’ve waited until the two of you spoke, discussed whatever happens next. But you’d spent the past week comforted by the fact you’d finally gotten to experience something like that with him, daydreaming about him every chance you got. 

Somewhere in your mind, you had convinced yourself your involvement with him would finally be what broke his connection with Sojin, the final nail that would make him forget about her. It’s painfully funny how such wasn’t the case. 

Jimin breaks you out of your thoughts. “You okay to drive home?” He gently inquires, and you turn your gaze over toward your car. 

Did you trust yourself to make it home without shedding a single tear? Absolutely not. But between Sojin and Jimin, you had let enough strangers see you fall apart over a man tonight. 

“Perfectly okay,” you tell him. 

—

The interns pick up on your sour attitude the week that follows. They don’t ask dumb questions, and don’t mess up your order. You talk them through a presentation, show them how to properly organize finance charts. There’s a slide that has clip art, a goofy dollar sign with a smile and shoes. Jungkook put it there when you first made the PowerPoint. After the little lesson, you go to the bathroom and try not to cry.

A week later, and the interns don’t need you anymore. They do well, and your boss praises you for being such a good mentor. You thank him and he lets you go home early.

Home is empty. Jungkook doesn’t show up unannounced, mostly because you’ve changed the number lock on the door. You want to eat salad today, for some reason, but don’t have any of the ingredients for it, so you walk to the supermarket a few blocks away.

The supermarket feels the same as it always does at night. That ghostly feeling of being watched in an empty aisle, the scratchy tune of whatever Top 50 radio station they settled on today. You get there and decide you don’t want salad anymore, so you buy ingredients for a stew instead, all of which you probably had at home.

When you step outside, the air around your bare thighs is cold. Summer was ending, which meant Jungkook’s birthday was coming up. You ball the receipt in your hand and fling it at the trash. You miss, so you hobble over to pick it up.

The trash is beside a red Corvette with two racing stripes.

“Hey,” Sojin says, arms crossed over her chest as she walks up behind you, sizing up your crouched form beside her car. “What’re you doing to my car?”

You breathe in, shake the crumpled up receipt at her, before stuffing it in the garbage. She says nothing as you stalk by her, and you’re back on the main road when she pulls up next to you, window rolled down to speak to you. “Get in,” she gestures, “it’s gonna rain.”

“No,” you say, and a fat raindrop falls right on your nose.

The door unlocks and you climb in, plastic bags crowded by your feet.

The drive is silent. You only live a few minutes from the store, and you point out an empty spot by the sidewalk for her to pull up to. A dry thanks is on the tip of your tongue, but you never get to say it.

“My dad has cancer,” Sojin says.

“That sucks,” you respond, feel bad right away and say, “I’m sorry.”

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by it, shifting the Corvette out of drive and cutting the engine. “He’s probably not gonna see Christmas,” she adds, and you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about her or her crazy father.  “I wanted to do something nice for him before he, y’know.”

“Died,” you fill, and at that she glares.

“Yeah,” she huffs. “Before he died. So I fixed up his car. But the place I took it to didn’t know how to fix an engine so old, and ended up fucking it up even more.” You nod, she continues. “Then I bumped into Jungkook and—“

“Took advantage of his kindness,” you finish, remembering the twinkle in his eyes when he’d told you about their encounter, that day in the empty garage that seemed lightyears away. “Well congrats. Hope your dad liked it,” you sigh, push open the door and get soaked to the bone immediately.

“Wait!” Sojin calls, hopping out after you. She’s still as beautiful as she was when you were seventeen, even with rain soaking her entire being. “I didn’t ask him to repaint it, but that’s what my dad loved the most.”

You want to go inside, make your stew, and cry in it.

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by the bangs that stick to her forehead or the water that washes down her spine. “When I told him Jungkook did it… he wanted to see him. Apologize and stuff.”

You snort. “Apologize,” you repeat, tightening your grip on your shoppings bags. “For what, Sojin? For almost killing him with this car or for treating him like shit for five years?” She says nothing, stares at the hood of the car like she doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “He was crazy for you, you know that? He would have done anything for you and not once did you stand up to your dad for him. You let that man call him worthless, stupid, a waste of space. And for what? For you to break up with him for some rich asshole who would never treat you half as good as Jungkook did?” You sneer.

The rain feels cold and your groceries feel heavier, so you whirl on your heel and make for your building entrance.

“He never liked me,” Sojin calls out, and you wonder if she even heard the second half of your emotional outburst. You turn to face her with fire in your eyes, and are only a little surprised at the sadness that paints hers. “He never liked me the way he said he did.” You could knock her teeth out.

“You’re stupid,” you spit, and she rounds the car at an insane speed until she’s glaring down at you over her perfectly sculpted nose.

“He never liked me,” Sojin repeats angrily. “He was always busy looking at you—for approval, for attention, I don’t fucking know. He would hold me and touch me but it never felt real. It always felt like practice for him…” she sniffles and your breath hitches in your throat. “We dated all through college,” she says like you don’t know, like you didn’t stress about it for years. “Everyday closer to graduation felt like a ticking bomb. Like he was just waiting for you to come back. To come home.”

You remember it.

The excited texts he’d send you everyday, the plans he made for you. Jungkook was more excited than your parents about you coming home. The five hours had done a number on him, and after four years all he wanted was to have you close again. You remember the hug in his driveway, the way his mom had told you he’d waited all day for you. It’s weird hearing it from Sojin.

Too overwhelmed, you decide to deflect. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmur, and you’re surprised she hears it over the pouring rain.

A loud scoff. “You’re stupid,” she repeats back, jabbing a finger at your chest. You glare, and so does she. Like two animals in a cage you size each other up. “You’re stupid and ugly and I hate you,” she spits, and you drop your shopping bags to lunge at her.

You don’t swing, just grab her by the shirt and move to slam her against the wall, but she’s tall and a little strong, bony fingers wrapping around your wrists like spiders. “Why can’t you see how much he likes you?” She screams, like it hurts to admit it. “He’s been in love with you since forever, and all you’ve ever done is run away!”

“I never—“ you gasp, pushing her away from you. Sojin stumbles, but she doesn’t fall. “I’ve never run away,” you defend, heart beating in your chest too fast to be normal. “Some of us have careers and lives we want to live—I don’t want to depend on a man for the rest of my life!”

She growls, tugs at her wet hair like you’re giving her a headache. Stomping up to you once more, she pushes you hard with both hands, and you barely catch yourself in time. “He would have followed you to that fucking fancy school, but you told him it was better to save money here! Told him to not waste his time and just settle there! You did this to us—to all of us!”

You choke. Lightning flashes behind her, and for a moment all you can see is your gentle prodding, sitting behind him as he filled out applications, big wannabe business brain telling him the easiest way to save money for his auto shop was by going straight into technical school. The small frown on his face that day you’d packed for college, and the way he’d stood in your parent’s driveway until you couldn’t see him anymore, a little spec in your rearview mirror.

Sojin, sensing she’s made her point, says nothing. She scoops up your fallen grocery bags and shoves them into your trembling hands, stomping back to her car and pulling off with a roar, loud and ferocious, and nothing like a kitten.

The groceries in your bag end up in the trash.

—

Taehyung invites you to lunch one day, and you go. You’re starving and desperate to get away from work, where you’re paranoid everyone knows there’s something wrong with you. You meet up at a cute little bistro, and he smiles and hugs you when you arrive. You sit in comfort for all of two seconds before he jumps into his interrogation.

“What’s going on with you and Kook?” He asks, casually flipping through the menu. Your hand stills around your glass of water, and you eventually set it down without ever taking a drink. Your mind instinctively maps out a lie, but Taehyung has known you a while now, knows the quirk of your lips when you’re about to lie your ass off. “Don’t lie to me. I haven’t seen you at the shop in almost a month. And he doesn’t go out,” he mentions. “I think he spent four nights at the shop before I made him go home.”

You deflate.

Too embarrassed to explain, you flip through your own menu, and when the waitress comes you order the first words your eyes focus on. Taehyung doesn’t push you, just patiently gazes out over the bustling street.

Finally, you break. “We… did a thing.”

“Uh huh,” he nods, reading some ad on the side of a bus that passes by. “Need you to elaborate, babe.”

You squirm. “We… fooled around,” you say for lack of more appropriate wording. There’s a family sitting beside you, and you’d rather die than let some nooby pre-teen listen to the details of yours and Jungkook’s night.

“You fucked?” You choke, make a loud sputtering noise like it’ll drown out Taehyung’s voice to the other patrons. “What’s wrong with that? We all knew it’d happen sooner or later,” he shrugs.

“No,” you seethe. “We didn—I didn’t.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, the same way Sojin did that day on the sidewalk. You almost throw your glass of water at him. “We…” you sigh. “We did a thing, and then the week after he went out with Sojin.”

Taehyung scowls at the mere mention of her, so the glass of water is returned to its coaster. “Really? He went out with her right away? He’s cancelled.”

You nod, rubbing your hands over your face. “He… her dad has cancer and is literally on his deathbed so she wanted to fix up his car for memories sake, which he loved, so he wanted to apologize to Kook and thank him for fixing up his car,” you rush out, and now Taehyung chokes, water spewing out of his nose. You shriek, drawing everyone’s attention as you pat down your soaked blouse. “Tae!”

“I’m sorry,” he cries, wiping at the sting in his nose. “He-she, what?!” You ignore him, focus on battling the damp spot on your blazer. “God, that’s crazy,” Taehyung snorts, winces at the feeling in his nose.

After the two of you have settled, the manager kicks you out for your inappropriate conversations and childish behavior. You leave with your tails tucked between your legs. Taehyung holds your hand as he walks you back to your workplace, you quietly fill him in on all the other details surrounding yours and Jungkook’s fallout, from your breakdown in the garage to your weirdly dramatic confrontation with Sojin. “Well,” he claps, slamming a hand down on the traffic light button, even though both of you know it doesn’t work. “That explains a lot of things.”

“Yeah,” you agree, pushing down the crosswalk when the light finally changes of its own accord. “Do you,” you pause, feet glued to the sidewalk. “Do you think she was right?”

Taehyung glances back at you, so small and unsure in the midst of a bustling crowd. He smiles, sweet and soft. Rare coming from him. His free hand ruffles the top of your head, and he brings you into his chest. “Babe, the hottest guy in your grade was intimidated by scrawny, pre-muscle bunny Jungkook. I’m pretty sure he feels some type of way towards you.”

Your lip wobbles dangerously, and you bite down on it to stop. Taehyung pats your head, barks at some old guy when he yells at the two of you for standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

When you’re outside your office, you speak again. “You were not the hottest guy in our grade, by the way.”

Taehyung snorts. “I totally was.”

—

You hideout for the rest of the week.

On Friday night, you finally have the balls to show yourself again, and you hop on the highway leading out of the city before you can overthink it. The buildings slowly melt away, replaced with cozier homes, tinier shops, and by the time you’re pulling up the street, you’re deep in doubt again.

It’s not that late yet, only a little past sunset, but the garage doors, usually open to the street, are all shut. You frown, pull around the block, reverse into a spot across the street. Locking your car, a gust of wind nearly trips you as you cross the street. The front office is dark, metal shutters pulled over the entrance.

Eventually, you stumble around until you find the tiny backdoor squeezed beside some dumpsters, grateful for the key Jungkook had given you so long ago.

Just as Taehyung predicted, a pair of red jumpsuit clad feet stick out from beneath a car. A nice car, an even older Corvette than Sojin’s dad’s, still shiny despite the model it is. It looks like a show car with the way it glints at you, black paint almost glossy. The only light in the entire garage is a lamp, positioned over the area where the legs are working, and a flashlight that occasionally beams at you when the holder loses his grip. No music today, just the hum of a rotating fan. You creep over.

Jungkook’s humming a song when you get to him, foot tapping idly on the ground. You suck in a deep breath and nudge his foot with the tip of your heel. You have exactly two seconds to jump away when he abruptly rolls out from beneath the car, concentrated features scanning quickly around until they land on you.

The garage is still, until Jungkook jumps into action. “___,” he stammers, stumbling to his feet. The rolling board drifts away, bumping into the corner of the metal table beside you. “Hi, um,” he flounders, brushing his fingers through his hair, palms wiping over the front of his pants. Finally, “hi.”

The bad bitch Chanel skirt-suit you’d worn today fails you for the first time in a long time. Your hands feel sweaty, so you clutch them behind your back. “Hi, Jungkook,” you exhale, and all the emotions you’d swallowed for so long, the feelings that tightened around your chest and throat like boa constrictors, come oozing out, until all you can see is his puckered mouth and twinkling gaze.

He coughs, tries to casually lean against the car, but greatly miscalculates the distance. “What, um, what brings you here?” He asks, foot tapping nervously against the ground.

There’s a box of takeout on the floor he tries to subtly kick beneath the car, and a plastic bottle of soda that makes a loud noise when he tries that too. You twist your lips, watching the anxious shuffling of his feet. You breeze over his question, plaster a tight smile into your face, and ask your own question; “how long have you been here?” Tentatively, you lower yourself onto a rolling stool. “It’s late,” you state the obvious.

Jungkook’s leg bounces, and he pats his hand over it nervously. “Um, an hour? Just working on something,” he answers, cheeks warm as his eyes flicker everywhere but you. “What brings you here?” He repeats, and you know you can’t deflect it this time.

Shrugging half heartedly, you wait for him to finally look at you. When he does, he almost looks away but the glint in your eye stops him from doing so. “We need to talk,” you finally say. Jungkook visibly deflates, lips pulling into a thin line. You contemplate letting him relieve his thoughts first, but you came here with a point to make, for questions that needed answering, and you’re scared one word from him will wash them all away.

“Listen,” you start, smoothing your hand over the edge of your skirt. “I know something weird happened between us, and then I kinda freaked out on you, but… I need you to tell me the truth.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. “Always.”

You swallow, try to push back the frustration that builds in his throat. “Did you ever even like Sojin?”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?” A snort. “You’re joking,” he snickers, wipes at faux tears in the corner of his eyes, before your unsmiling face registers and he’s schooling his features. “___, I did like her. I dated her for five years. How could I not like her?”He says seriously, like he can’t believe you would ever question such a thing. 

You exhale, pick at your fingernails. “I met her,” you admit, and Jungkook’s face twists in confusion. “At the supermarket last week. She said you never liked her.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Of course she’ll think that—we’re exes. I doubt she remembers all our best memories,” he sighs, turning back to organize his tool cart like he’s done with this conversation.

Raising to your feet you call his name again, and he hums absentmindedly. “Sojin said you never liked her because you were always chasing after me,” you accuse, laying all your cards out on the table. Your claim startles him, and you watch as he jostles half the tool cart with his surprise.

“She, what?” He huffs, cheeks as red as his jumpsuit. He forces out a laugh, airy and tight like you’re starring in your elementary school play again and the nerves are eating him up. “I-I don’t know why she’d say that.”

He’s flustered, obviously so, as he scoops the metal tools back onto the cart, bumping into three other things before settling back down on the floor to roll under the car. He pushes himself under, and you sternly call out, “Jungkook.” He freezes.

You strut over, brush your hands behind your skirt as you crouch beside him. “Always,” you quietly remind him. Jungkook says nothing. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve grossly misread the situation, if this was just another one of her schemes to drive the two of you apart.

Slowly, Jungkook appears from under the car. There’s a new stain on his cheekbone, brown and slick. He sits up, wide eyes tracing over your features likes he’s trying to seal them in his memory. “Yeah,” he admits, lips twisting as he watches the surprise take your features, before he’s lolling his head back to stare at the ceiling, leaving you to stare at the column of his neck.

“I do,” Jungkook admits, pushing through his emotions. It’s hard for him to confess, you realize, watching the way his Adam’s apples contracts and his jaw twitches from having to say so. “I like you so much it hurts.”

His confession leaves you feeling weird. On one hand, you want nothing more than to spring yourself on him and kiss his face until the stray oil marks are gone and replaced with the outline of your lipstick prints. You want to smother him and hold him, let him know he’s yours, always has been.

On the other hand… it’s sad. Going on thirty years and never did the two of you guess your feelings for each other. You doubt either of you are good at hiding them, with the way everyone seems to have known except you two. Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you.

A hand touches your knee, and you return your attention to his downtrodden appearance, chin tucked against his chest. “Please,” he murmurs. “Say something.”

You say nothing.

Tentatively, you reach a hand out, run it along the side of his head, through his mane, chocolate waves touching his cheekbones. He almost looks like when you guys were kids, round eyes watching your every move. Your hand continues down the back of his head, cupping the nape of his neck comfortingly. Jungkook leans into the touch, even though his shoulders are tense. You soothe your fingers over the tight muscles in his neck.

“Since when?” You inquire.

Jungkook blinks, lets your palm trace along his jawline and cup his cheek. “Since you dated Taehyung when we were sixteen.”

Mentally, you curse every deity in existence for putting Kim Taehyung in your life. “God,” you groan, burrowing your hands in your palms. Jungkook, surprised by your reaction, rolls closer, moves around until you’re crouched between his long legs. “Since me and that pinhead dated for twenty minutes?” You repeat.

Jungkook shifts closer, rubs your back. “It was 65 hours, actually,” he corrects, and the exact duration of your relationship makes you cringe. “I… counted.”

Small and shy, almost embarrassed. You glance back up at him. “Why?” You prod, and Jungkook’s cheek flush, palm stilling.

“Uh,” he starts. “I was nervous? That you two were in it for the long run. And I, I don’t know. It was easier to just count,” he lamely finishes, and his dangly earring whips around with him when he avidly avoids your gaze.

You sigh, catch his hand in yours. “Tae and I would have never lasted,” you tell him, remembering all the times the guy made you pick him up from one night stands in the last few years. “He wasn’t who I wanted.”

His foot jumps, toe tapping against the wheel of the car next to you. He wants to ask, you know he does, but Jungkook was quite possibly the only other person on this planet who could overthink something more than you.

Deciding to ease his worries, you give his hand a squeeze. “It was you,” you confess, feel like an elephant lands straight on your chest. “It is you,” you correct.

His forehead knocks against yours, hard, and you hiss at the bump that probably forms. “What the fu—“

“Tell me it’s not temporary,” Jungkook pleads, eyes crinkled in worry. You’re going cross eyed from trying to look at him like this, so you flit your eyes off somewhere to the side. His hand is heavy in yours. “Tell me you’re not just doing this for closure, or because you want to see what it would have been like, please,” he begs, “that would be so fucked up, because I’m so in love with you I actually think I might die.”

The dramatic confession makes you painfully warm. You nod, your lower lip trembling at the way he looks at you, like you single-handedly controlled this entire world with a flick of your wrist. “I-I love you too,” you parrot back, the first time you’ve ever said it, the millionth time you’ve ever thought it.

Jungkook visibly relaxes, pulls away from you to drop his head on your shoulder instead. Your legs are starting to cramp from the tight crouching position, ankles wobbly in your heels. His hair smells good still, despite the hours he’s probably spent beneath a car, and you gingerly pat the back of his head.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and you repeat it. “I love you,” he says again, and you repeat it. “I lov—“

“Me, yes, I’ve heard,” you cut him off, smile at the snort he releases, and when he turns his head, his lips brush against your neck. You’re instantly thrown back a few weeks, to that night on the couch with the limited edition Shrek 2 cups and the wine; the gentle touches that left you trembling for weeks. You inhale quickly, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him away.

His eyes are too soft, face too relaxed as he stares at you. “My legs hurt,” you tell him, quickly getting up. You whirl around, facing the car and digging through your purse like you suddenly have something to do.

“Oh,” you gasp, watch two arms wind around your waist, the dirty red jumpsuit contrasting against the tweed material of your high-end Chanel jacket. Jungkook sighs lovingly by your ear, snuggles his face into your neck. “W-we should go out,” you blurt, nerves jumping when he squeezes tighter, burrows closer. “To celebrate!”

Jungkook hums. “Yeah?” His voice is too low. You’re in trouble. “Celebrate what?”

You squirm, breath catching in your throat when he presses you closer against the hood of the car. “Um,” you shakily exhale, hands splaying out over the sleek surface of the black hood to steady yourself. It’s so shiny you can almost see your reflection. “U-Us!” You finally manage to exclaim.

A kiss against the side of your neck, and your spirit just about exits your body. Your knees feel weak, and you're just about ready to throw another mediocre excuse his way, when something warm and wet traces up the column of your neck. “Kook!” You gasp.

“Shh,” he murmurs, deep voice instantly soothing over your nerves. His hips nudge against your behind, and you jump at the bulge that presses against your lower back. One hand unwraps from around you, gliding down your arm sensually until he’s trapping your fingers on the hood of the car with his own. A swift kiss against your ear. “You owe me, remember?”

You flush, remember the filthy promises your list-addled brain has spewed that night at your house, the almost erratic development of your thoughts as you became consumed in the thought of him. Reminisce on the prod of his fingers against your cunt, his hot breath against your ear.

Suddenly, Jungkook whirls you around, traps you with his gaze as two hands flutter to rest on the small of your back. He’s looking down at you with those lovesick eyes, hooded with lust as they trace over the dip of your Cupid’s bow. “You’ll do that for me, won’t you?” A soft brush of his mouth against yours, pouty lips guiding you through a kiss, until you’re sighing against him, and he’s pulling away.

Numbly, you nod, almost hypnotized by the soft smirk that overtakes his features as he pushes you down, watches you sink to your knees before him. The concrete feels cold and hard beneath your knees. His jumpsuit is knotted around his waist, and you shakily unravel it, the elastic waistband staring you in the face afterwards.

“Take your time,” Jungkook croons, hand coming to rest on the side of your face, knuckles brushing over your skin delicately.

You tug it down, and one flash of that underwear band has your nerves flying out the window. You shove his t-shirt out of the way, let your hands trail over the ridges of his abdomen in your haste. He helps you by tugging it over his head. With that gone, his black boxers stare you in the face, and you yank those down with no hesitation.

“Jesus, baby,” Jungkook chuckles, though it’s choked off when you grasp his engorged cock in his hand. You should be surprised, marveling at the sight, considering it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him like this. But you brain is working overtime, too immersed in the vein that runs alongside it and the tip that throbs back at you. Later you can worship it, you think. Right now, you needed it down your throat.

The tip is flaming and swollen, his cock still growing plump in your hold, your hands slowly dragging up and down the length. You lean forward, press a gentle kiss below the mushroom head, trail kisses down the length until you're meeting your knuckles, and trail them back again. Jungkook sucks in a tight breath, leans to rest his palms on the car behind you, as he watches you on him.

A head of precum escapes, and you lunge for it, swirl your tongue in and around the slit on his cock, until his entire body tenses up. “Fuck,” he grunts, watches you ease his cock into your mouth. You groan at the stretch, the drag against the corners of your lips making your eyes roll backwards. “___, baby, a little more?” He asks, voice hoarse as he watches you sink down further on his cock.

You comply, close your eyes and focus on relaxing your throat. There’s a hand on the back of your head, impatiently pushing you down his length. “Shit,” he cries, unconsciously ruts against you. You gag, and he shushes you with a caress against your cheek. “Sorry,” he huffs, “just a little more for me, okay?”

Eyes squeezed shut tightly, you let him push you down until his cock hits the back of your throat and you can’t take anymore. The prod against your throat has tears springing to your eyes. “Gonna move now,” Jungkook announces, thumb brushing away the tears that collect in the corners. “Be good.”

He drags himself out, your saliva coating every inch of him, and when just the tip is resting on your tongue, he shoves back in. You whimper, palms digging into his thighs. Jungkook brushes a hand down your hair, soothes you for all of two seconds before he’s pulling out and doing it all over again. He picks up the pace, loses himself in the feeling of your hot mouth around him, tongue dragging over his cock.

The feeling in your throat burns, each thrust of his hips against your mouth making your jaw more and more sore. But god, it feels good to have him so close, his scent swarming your sense, groans like music to your ears. You want to please him, want him to feel as good as you did at your place. You want it even more now that you know how he feels, know he’s probably thought about this before.

A brutal thrust has you gagging, throat contracting around his length. “Shh,” Jungkook sighs, the fingers buried in your hair flattening out to run over your head. “Doing so good for me, beautiful.”

You bask in the praise, let a hand flutter down to the apex of your thighs, pressing down to relieve some of the pressure. Jungkook groans, rolls his hips against you and keeps you there for a second. Your throat spasms, his dick pressed hotly against it, and you feel your panties grow embarrassingly sticky. Eventually, he draws back out.

“You like this?” He hums, rutting against you faster now, nose brushing against the sparse hairs on his pelvis with every slam of his hips. You nod around a gag, eyes clouding with tears, lips slippery with saliva and precum. One particular thrust is so hard, it nearly sends you knocking back into the car, Jungkook’s hand on the back of your head barely saving you. “Fucking hell,” he spits, “look so pretty with my cock shoved down your throat, princess.”

You moan around him, feel a subtle twitch against your tongue before he’s pulling himself out. “Shit,” he cursed, pushing you away as he goes to grab his own dick in his hand, tugging at it like a madman. “Wh-Where?” He asks, and you stare dumbly at the sight of him playing with himself, almost don’t realize he’s asking you a question.

You take too long, scramble for words too long, and even if you did have one your throat is far too sensitive yo answer. Jungkook grows impatient. Pulling you closer by the collar of your Chanel suit jacket, tugging it open until the flimsy buttons snap, and the tank top you wore beneath comes into view. He aims the tip of his cock towards your sternum, and a few jacks later, he’s coming, cum spurting against your chest. You watch the cum trail down between the valley of your breasts, until the feeling comes to rest against the inside wire of your bra, sticky and gross, sliding along the underside of your boobs. “Shit,” Jungkook repeats, eyes furrowed over you.

Your knees ache, and you nearly trip when you stand up, steadying yourself against the side of the car. Jungkook seems to regain his sense by then, hand trailing around your waist. You meet his eye, and almost immediately turn away, the blood in your face rapidly rising.

Jungkook laughs. “Don’t get shy on me now,” he teases, gets too close and your noses bump. “Sorry,” he smiles, too shiny and bright for the sinful acts you just committed in an auto shop.

“Put your dick away,” you huff, let him nuzzle closer to you, and when he doesn’t move to tuck himself into his pants, you go do it for him.

Jungkook frowns, swats your hand away. “This dick has places to be,” he informs you, and you scoff.

“Refractory period,” you remind him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Well I’m not exactly gonna stick it in you this instant,” he drawls. “Gotta stretch you out first.”

You go to complain, tell him he doesn’t have to over exert himself. Truthfully, with Jungkook you feel like one good session was enough to sustain you for weeks. After last time, your skin had flowed for an entire week. But then his hand is slithering up your backside, sneaking under your skirt to grab a handful of your ass.

There’s quickly drying drool collecting at the corners of your mouth, saliva from when he’d fucked your throat just a few moments prior, that he kisses away. His mouth slots over yours, and your heart and pussy both flutter at the kiss.

It’s gentle and sweet for all of ten seconds, his mouth moving against yours until you feel the wet press of his tongue against your bottom lip, tracing along until you open your mouth. He wastes no time shoving his tongue past your lips, letting it dance with yours as he pulls you closer, hands gripping the globes of your ass. You let him lick his way into your mouth, more and more saliva catching in the corners of your mouth until he’s pulling away with a wet pop.

He pulls away, doesn’t stray too far, proud smirk crossing his features at the sight of your slicked lips. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Huh?” You ask dumbly, tongue mindlessly swiping over your lips.

Jungkook’s eyes track the movement. “The saliva,” he clarifies. “The spit. You liked it at your place too,” he reminisces, moving in on you again. “Liked watching me slobber and spit all over your body. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You blush, discreetly rub your thighs together. “I-I do,” you admit, willing the warmth of your face away because at this distance he must certainly feel it.

Jungkook nods, doesn’t say anything else as he captures your lips a second time. He doesn’t bother with the gentle prodding anymore, jumping straight into tongue right away. He’s messier, letting his saliva coat your lips and drip down your mouth, and as messy as it is, you love it. You whimper when he pulls away, but gasp when his hand tugs at the hair by the nape of your neck, pulling you back until you’re looking up at him.

“Open,” he murmurs, and you do, tongue pressing against your bottom lip.

It should be disgusting, the rev of his throat, the sound of his saliva collecting, and the way his jaw shifts when he’s got enough. It should be filthy, the way he shoots it down your open lips, the way it splatters against the back of your throat. It should be gross, but god do you love it. “Swallow,” Jungkook commands, and you do, feel his spit drip down your throat like it’s your own, whimpering at the feeling. A quirk of his lips. “Good girl.”

You have to bite down the pride that grows in your chest.

Jungkook’s hands continue their mapping out of your behind, eventually ending with a hard squeeze that has you squealing. Automatically, your back arches in surprise, breasts pressing against Jungkook’s chest. He smirks down at you.

“Bet you taste good,” he says, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Let me taste?”

“Please,” you beg, nearly losing your shit when he lifts you up onto the car, the cool metal making you jump, heel on your foot nearly kicking the side view mirror clean off. “Wait, Jungkook,” you sputter, glancing down at the sleek metal. “This is someone’s car.”

Jungkook ignores you, pushes your legs apart to slot himself between them. His palms run up your legs, over your thighs, until they’re toying with the hem of your skirt. Mocha eyes glance up at you, as if daring you to question him again, so you promptly zip your lips shut. The skirt goes, ever so slowly, over your thighs, bunches up at your waist until he’s staring at your lace panties.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh, nose faintly brushing against your skin. The kisses trail over your skin, until he’s hovering over your panties, and he’s staring like a man starved. He gives no warning, suddenly leaning down to press his mouth over your party-clad folds, nose flush against your clit. “Kook!” You squeak, hands flying to clutch at his hair.

Jungkook mouths at you, drags his tongue against your panties until they’re soaked in both your essence and his saliva, just how you like. A hand slithers around your leg, wrapping around until he’s got a firm grip on it that he uses to hold it open.

“J-Just take them off,” you gasp, squirm when his mouth moves towards your clit, lapping against you. “Please,” you cry.

He doesn’t.

Jungkook tortures you with those kitten licks, muted through your panties, until you’re begging him to stop, to take them off and do it right. He loves it, you can tell, dazzling smile peeking up at you every time you tug against his hair, until finally, he’s had enough.

The underwear comes off, dangling uselessly by your ankle, and then the show really begins.

“Wait,” you choke, head falling back against the hood of the car when he finally gets his mouth on you, suctioning his lips around your swollen clit. The niggling reminder that this is some stranger’s car he’s eating you out on rings in your brain, and perhaps that’s what makes it more exciting.

His mouth is warm, tongue flicking over your sensitive bud like it’s candy and he needs the sugar. The sounds are so loud and wet, the squelching of your pussy every time he pulls off a pop that resounds throughout the garage. He pampers your clit for what seems like hours, switching the movements of his tongue every time he gets the chance until you’re quivering.

When you think he’s done, he’s not.

Fingers slide up your thigh, featherlight, as they reach your drenched cunt. They drag over your lips, and you mewl, feeling the muscles jump and tighten at his touches. “Jungkook, please,” you moan, rolling your hips against him, but it’s hard and everytime you move, you feel the sweat on your skin weigh you down, glued to the metal beneath you.

The first finger breaches you, just the tip of his index slowly wiggling inside. You muffle a moan in your palm, and Jungkook pulls away with a huff. “No hiding,” he warns, slowly lowering back to your cunt with a stern glare. You nod, but can’t help it when his second finger pushes its way in and you bite down on your knuckles.

“Oh,” You sob, body quivering as he begins scissoring his two fingers inside you. With your attention focused on the digits sheathed inside you, he pulls away from your clit, bestowing one final kiss against it that has your foot kicking out wildly. “Th-there.” His other hand catches your palm in his, presses it against the metal by your head.

Jungkook smiles, curls his fingers around until he finds the soft spot inside you that turns you to jelly. “There we go, beautiful,” he purrs, pushing himself to his full height, leaning over your trembling form. “So sweet for me,” he sighs, licks his lips like he’s remembering your taste.

“I'm gonna,” you choke, become hypnotized by the dark cloud in his gaze, the arrogant smirk on his lips. He curls his fingers, palm brushing against your abandoned clit. The touch makes you jump, nerves tingling.

“Cum for me,” he encourages, silky tone swarming your head as your pleasure slowly washes over you. It’s probably the most relaxed orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, his low voice and delighted eyes guiding you through it, until your entire body clenches, dissolving in a puddle of contentment. Your arousal surges around his fingers, trickling down onto the metal.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you pant, overwhelmed from the touches and the kisses. Jungkook’s smile gets swallowed by your greedy mouth, desperate for more kisses now that he’s made you feel like this.

The kisses only placate him for so long, and when he presses his body against yours, there’s an awfully hard cock that slides against your dripping cunt. “Think you can go again, gorgeous?” He murmurs against your jaw, nipping at the skin on the way down. You nod, eyes falling shut at the warmth you feel in your bones.

Jungkook kisses your neck one last time, before leaning back once more to line himself up.

This was a scene straight from your teenage fantasies, a dripping, shirtless Jungkook at full mast between your thighs, looking at you so lovingly. It makes your heart thunder, imagining how long you could have been doing this if you weren’t both so stupid. As if reading your thoughts, Jungkook rubs a palm over your thigh, eyebrow quirked. You nod his concern away, squirm closer until the tip of his cock nudges against your hole.

“Fuck,” Jungkook sighs, moving his hands to your hips as he slowly pushes in. His fingers, bless their intentions, could have never prepared you for the size of Jungkook’s cock, thick and veiny as it pushes inside. You whimper, clawing at the hands on your waist that stop you from impaling yourself on it fully. “Waited so long for this.”

“Then fucking do it,” you beg, nearly pass out when he shoves in harshly at your tone. “J-Jung—“

“I got you, baby,” he assures you, jostles you until you’re flush against his cock, clit brushing against his pelvis. Your back arches, and Jungkook slips his arm around you, the other lingering on your waist.

Every subtle shift has him brushing along your swollen clit, and you sob at the sensation, begging him to move. He complies, changes his stance to make it easier, and finally begins thrusting into your throbbing pussy.

“So good,” he huffs, eyes zeroed in on where the two of you meet. You would have looked too, if your body hadn’t felt so completely boneless beneath him, the grinding of his cock sending shocks of pleasure up your spine. “So pretty and mine.”

“Yours,” you choke, heart swelling in your chest at his words. It’s almost animalistic, the way he ducks down to bite at your neck, like some animal staking its claim, and you like it. You like it because it’s all you ever dreamed of for so long. “Faster, Kook,” you urge, wrapping your arms around him.

He does as you say, slow and careful thrusts transitioning into a fast piston that would have had you bouncing out of his reach if he wasn’t holding you so tightly. “Fuck,” he chokes, lost in the way you clench around him, lips dragging against his cock with each thrust. “Baby,” he grunts, sweat trailing down his temple, eyes furrowed shut. Eventually, his head falls into the crook of your neck, his weight pressing down on you uncomfortably, subtle ridges on the hood making you ache. At this point, you’re too far gone to care. “All I ever wanted,” he gasps.

You could cry, right now and he’d pull out right away, big heart fretting over your emotional well-being. Which is exactly why you hold your emotions in, let yourself get fully immersed in the feeling of Jungkook pounding you against some stranger’s car and not the inevitable emotional crash you’ll have later.

He fucks like he’s waited all his life for this, and you guess he sort of has if what he’s saying is true. You have no doubt it is, and when his lips suck a mark against your neck, you feel like you’re in heaven. “Almost,” you pant, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. Jungkook nods, his hair tickling your jaw and neck, as he picks up the pace. Your cunt swallows him up every single time, suctions him in until he’s shaking, and so are you.

It can only last for so long, your heart and body eventually reaching their peak, and you unravel. His arms are there to catch you, to pick up the pieces and hold you together. You want to cry, you really do, and when the coil in your stomach snaps, you finally do. “I love you,” you sob, and Jungkook shudders, glances at your tear-struck face to push himself off.

“Love you too,” he mumbles, grinds his cock against your spasming folds one last time, and comes mid-thrust, cum spurting inside you. He holds you, just like you knew he would, as you come down from your highs, hot breath fanning across your skin.

You feel warm, loved, and in love, body trembling in sensitivity afterwards. He’s pulled out since, soothingly rubbing a hand against your side. You’d like to say you wouldn’t be anywhere else, but one shift reminds you of where you are.

“Shit,” you groan, taking in your surroundings before letting your head fall back against the hood. Jungkook hums, round eyes looking your way. “We really just confessed and had sex on some stranger’s car.”

Jungkook snorts, leans away just the slightest to look you in the eye. He’s lost in thought, chocolate irises swirling as they drink you in. “Say thanks to Taehyung,” he finally says.

You roll your eyes, and when you shift beneath him, your sweaty skin sticks uncomfortably against the metal hood. “Yeah, let me thank Taehyung for dating me for three days and awakening your crush,” you huff sarcastically, resigning yourself to your new life stuck against the hood of some classic automobile from the 50s. Jungkook laughs, tucks himself back into his underwear. “Thanks Taehyung, for your noble sacrifice ten years ago that allowed me to fuck Jungkook on some stranger’s car—“

Jungkook hums, snuggles closer to you. “Tae’s car.”

“—after confessing our—Taehyung’s car?” You shriek, sitting up with the strength of three football players, Jungkook toppling off you. “Oh my god. No.” Jungkook rubs his elbow where he knocked it against the hood, looks at you with solemn eyes. Slowly, a smirk crawls over his features. “No,” you gasp, mortification crawling up your spine. “We didn’t.”

He tugs you off the car, tugs your skirt down when you wobble on unsteady heels. “Yup,” he says, pops the end of the word like a child. “Say hello to Taehyung’s new car!” He exclaims, patting the hood you just defiled. “Straight from the car auction he went to this morning,” he beams.

“Oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands when you finally spot the puddles of... something on the black hood. “This is terrible.”

Jungkook ignores you, wipes up the mess with some napkins from his takeout bag, but there’s already some that's dried, only fueling your mortification. “Not like he’ll find out,” he shrugs, then narrows his eyes at you. “Or will he?”

“No!” You stutter, carefully rounding the car as if inspecting it for any more signs of the treacherous things you and Jungkook did on or around it. “I-I won’t tell him.”

“Uh huh,” Jungkook teases, settles on that rolling stool and pushes himself towards you. There’s a hand easing itself around your waist, tugging you between open legs. Still in shock, your hands flutter around his neck, muscle memory causing you to immediately begin massaging the skin there.

Jungkook sighs into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Too bad Jimin’s not here,” he sighs, and you visibly see his nose grow in arrogance. 

“What? Why should Jimin be here?” You ask, pushing your fingers against the knots in his neck. 

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed, one-eyed glare. He scoffs, “maybe you are as dumb ad Taehyung says.” And then, “hey!” when you tug his ear. He isn’t upset, just tugs you closer until his face is buried against your stomach. “You know country folk like him marry on the spot right?”

“What are you even saying,” you huff, burying your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging his head back to properly look at him. “Why do you care who Jimin marries?” He doesn’t bother answering. 

Instead, Jungkook sighs into the touch, an easygoing smile thrown your way, and for a moment you forget about the trauma Taehyung will have when he inevitably learns about this. “This is the life.”

[vienecash300]

Artist: BigBabyGucci Album:Iridesense Release Date: 7 Jan 22

2021 was an extremely busy year for independent artist BigBabyGucci In February the budding artist released the heavily streamed "Assume The Worst" The six track effort was all hits and no misses . You don't have to take my word for it BBG's socials were on fire at the release that was followed quickly by the blockbuster " 1 Night I took acid" This blog reviewed both albums. In late 2021 BBG gave the fans what to this blog was likely his most cohesive album thus far. "Human" as now been streamed over 4 million times.

The North Carolina native and current Golden State resident plowed through beats with effortless swag as fans praised his in ability to miss by consistently Tweeting and retweeting.

BBG refuses to take his foot off the neck of the game. On January 7 he gave us, his loyal fans "Iridesense". https://music.apple.com/us/album/iridesense/1601485056

At 8 songs and just over 17 min in length BBG has again done what we expected of him. You see BBG songs average about 2 min in length. The songs are like catching lightning in a bottle. IMPOSSIBLE. BBG songs simply MUST BE REPLAYED.

The album has no features and retains the production of up and comer Joe Dirt in house engineer of Better Temperatures, BBGs record label. " Fell Out the Sky" opens the album with a heavy, lazy synth that moves into one of the signature hooks that have made BBG a real contender in modern hip hop.

Robocop, the second track uses subtle punches of bass to guide the listener through another EPIC BBG hook. The signature sauce of Joe Dirt is all over this one. The upbeat " Lake Minnetonka" finds BBG providing punches of auto-tuned sauce over a poppy beat that could very well go on a BTS song. That last statement , to this blog at least, tells the whole story. BBG can't be pigeonholed. The ease with which this man finesses a beat is clear on such tracks as "R U Down 2021" the music to which comes directly from the year 1984. The bouncy 808 mystique of 'Attachment" is immediately apparent as Gooch slides like crisco in a sort of mumbling warble that only BBG can do.

Standout track "Jump" once again sees Joe Dirt laying down sonic pulses of greatness. The reworking of church organs intros the track and BBG does one of the things this blog has come to appreciate in its short existence. Using his voice as a musical BBG divides the chorus into 2 very distinct parts ramping up the beginning and taking on a sort of pleading falsetto to finish.

The final track "Christina Milian" drives bass in to the skull as BBG compares a lady to the eponymous Ms. Milian and goes on to mention the Nick Cannon on his waste. Another thing that has always caught the eye of this blog is the artist's use of use of pop culture references that predate what one, from his age one would assume his sphere of influence. In short BBG might have an old soul.

As usual BigBabyGucci has dleivered an ear worm that only appreciates with each stream. His subject matter is consistent. His beat shopping skills are unmatched. BigBabyGucci is everything alright about hip hop.How long can he remain independent? BBG is the best up and coming artist right now. Clearly influenced by the warbling Easter egg dropping of Travis Scott his songs have the staying power of Ye and the replay-ability of a Drake cut. "Iridesence" get a 3 out of three. He did it again. This man is next up PERIOD.

[lovejustforaday]

Sonic Youth Albums Ranked (Part 1)

There are few indie/alternative bands that I’d argue are as challenging and engaging, or as formative as Sonic Youth.

From their early days as a radical no wave project, to their mid-career as a hard-hitting noise rock band, to their later years as a mellow indie band with prickly guitar tones, Sonic Youth has reinvented the concept of both the guitar and rock music in general again and again. They’ve probably made at least fifty or so never-before-heard noises with their instruments. Combining these sounds with lyrics that regularly explore disillusionment, nihilism, social transgression, pop culture, feminism, abstract thought, underground scenes, and outsider art — it’s safe to say that Sonic Youth have always gone against the grain.

The members of Sonic Youth are obviously all musicians, but they have also been iconoclasts, satirists, and poets throughout their careers, creating music that demolishes both the conventions of rock as well as the social pretensions of the conservative American lifestyle.

Each member of the main lineup contributes something fundamental to the band:

-Guitarist/vocalist/de-facto leader Thurston Moore, the no-fucks-given anti-rock star icon and visionary (albeit he’s kind of a smug twerp these days)

-Bassist/guitarist/vocalist Kim Gordon, the reserved but sharp-witted feminist and multi-disciplinary artist

-Guitarist/sometimes vocalist Lee Ranaldo, the revolutionary master of bizarre guitar tunings

-Drummer Steve Shelley, whose soft and shy demeanor masks a deliverer of precise, high-speed rhythmic anarchy

I could go on and gush about this band forever, but I’ve decided to settle for writing a big nerdy list all about how I feel each Sonic Youth album holds up when ranked. With 15 proper records in total, there is a lot to digest. Likewise, I highly encourage you if you haven’t already to go listen to some of these LPs for yourself and formulate your own opinions about one of the most fascinating bands to have ever existed. This list is really just my two cents.

Note: we will be focusing on the 15 full-length studio albums recorded under the name “Sonic Youth”. This list does not include the s/t debut EP, nor does it include the “Whitey Album” or the SYR series since those are best understood as separate side projects. This list is going to be long enough as it is anyway.

15. Rather Ripped (2006)

Main Genres: Indie Rock, Alternative Rock

A decent sampling of: Noise Rock

From any other band, this is a perfectly decent album with a few nice, gratifying guitar tones here and there. But as a Sonic Youth album, Rather Ripped sounds like the band is on auto-pilot. This is the band’s only album that to my ears sounds like it could’ve been written by any number of other alternative rock bands at the time. It just lacks a certain essential edge that their music usually has.

It really doesn’t help the case for this record that Thurston Moore began having an affair at this point in the career, and it is disgustingly present in the lyrics in hindsight, with the offensively titled “Sleeping Around” and possibly even “Incinerate” both probably taking inspiration from his dirty little secret.

I usually separate art from the artist to a certain degree, but in this case it really does kill part of the experience, because I can’t help but feel that Thurston is having a stupid little giggle to himself by hiding his affair in plain sight and it’s really just kind of pathetic. Kim Gordon is my favourite member of the band, and to me she’s the epitome of an extremely cool person, which only makes the whole thing worse. Seriously, quit bragging old man.

Speaking of “Incinerate”, I can confidently say that I think this is the band’s most overrated song. Certainly not their worst, but I really can’t fathom how so many people consistently put this up there with “Schizophrenia” or “The Diamond Sea” as one of Sonic Youth’s top five songs when it’s honestly just so...by the numbers.

That being said, Rather Ripped is not ‘bad’ per se, it’s mostly just that it really lacks something the band usually has, which makes the project feel a little soulless. Still, the record has its better moments. “Pink Stream” is rather ethereal sounding, which is pretty rare in the band’s discography given their usual penchant for the bombastic and ear-shattering, or the ominous and unsettling. “Turquoise Boy” is also a nice mellow track that probably could’ve fit in quite well as one of many solid tracks on A Thousand Leaves, albeit most of those tracks would still trounce this one.

Rather Ripped is all-around competent; it’s a pretty consistent listen and a decent enough beginner-level Sonic Youth album in terms of accessibility. But there’s just nothing about this album that really grabs me like literally any of their other LPs. There’s almost none of the band’s personality on this record (save perhaps Thurston’s inflated ego). Perhaps it is best to call it their “least interesting” album instead of their “worst”. Honestly, you could just skip this one and you probably wouldn’t miss much.

6/10

highlights: “Pink Stream”, “Turquoise Boy”

14. The Eternal (2009)

Main Genres: Indie Rock, Alternative Rock

A decent sampling of: Noise Rock

The Eternal is the last LP Sonic Youth put out as a band. With context, the record has somewhat of a somber feeling. Even its name ‘The Eternal’ seems to suggest that the band might’ve known that it would be their last record, as if the album could be at least partially a reflection on the band’s legacy that will eventually go on to outlive each member.

The band really does sound a little burnt out at multiple points on this record, particularly in terms of Thurston’s vocals which can be best described as sounding ‘exhausted’. Again, like Rather Ripped, the music is certainly competent and enjoyable, but it’s also noticeably less adventurous than on earlier LPs. The album is also a bit more sluggish than most of the band’s past work, feeling just about as long as Daydream Nation or Washing Machine despite being well over 10 minutes shorter than either of those LPs.

I’ll be perfectly honest: if it weren’t for “Massage The History”, this record probably wouldn’t be all that much better than Rather Ripped. Kim Gordon gets to have the very last words on the record with this grim and cryptic requiem about hers and Thurston’s relationship, indicating that she was at least partially aware at the time that the two of them were growing apart.

This would be the last album Sonic Youth put out before Kim became fully aware of Thurston’s affair with a younger woman, leading to her divorce and the band’s inevitable breakup. The song is honestly kind of painful to listen to for that reason, but it is also tragically and morbidly beautiful. “Massage The History” is chronologically the last track in the entire Sonic Youth discography which stretches across 15 LPs over the course of three decades, and it’s a very worthy swan song for the band, if also a bitter reminder that most things cannot last.

“Malibu Gas Station” is another standout, a nocturnal alternative rock jam that sounds very much like a track from the Sister-Daydream Nation-Goo era, and yet another example of Kim Gordon’s capabilities as a member of the band. Really, Kim basically carries this entire LP on her shoulders in terms of the lyrics and vocals.

Nevertheless, I like this record for what it represents if nothing else, and I would still say that it is a level above Rather Ripped thanks to the album closer, and more on par with the next couple of albums on this list. However, I would never recommend that anyone start their Sonic Youth journey with this LP. You can listen to their discography in just about any order you want to, but I’d highly recommend that you save this one for last. The Eternal is a mostly bittersweet experience that is best appreciated after hearing the rest of the band’s output.

7/10

highlights: “Massage The History”, “Malibu Gas Station”

13. Experimental Jet Set, Trash, And No Star (1994)

Main Genres: Noise Rock, Alternative Rock

A decent sampling of: Experimental Rock, Post-Punk

Experimental Jet Set, Trash, And No Star came right after the modest commercial success of Goo and Dirty, and I think you can hear on this LP that the band is reacting to that success by trying to resharpen some of the edges that were smoothed out by Butch Vig’s production on Dirty. Basically, this sounds rather like Dirty but less put-together, less consistent, and a lot more raw.

I appreciate that they wanted to do their own thing and challenge expectations again, and you can really tell that the band is mostly playing around on this record, but in this case I gotta say that the songwriting seems to suffer a little because of that.

The album starts off promising enough with two major highlights. First, there’s a rare acoustic offering with the lo-fi opener “Winner’s Blues”, the first of many tracks that would appear on later Sonic Youth LPs proving that Thurston’s vocals can actually be quite soothing. Then there’s the winding, topsy-turvy patterns of “Bull In The Heather” where lyrically Kim mocks the infantilization of women in her usual snarky, sing-talking fashion. Later on the record, there’s also “Bone” which has a very sinister, bluesy swagger to it that I really enjoy.

But everything else from here on out is kind of a mixed bag. The main setback really seems to be the track lengths; it’s actually pretty weird for a Sonic Youth album at this point in the band’s career to be full of songs that are mostly only two or three minutes long like they are on Experimental Jet Set, Trash, and No Star. That’s not inherently bad of course, but a lot of these tracks really only sound like ‘parts’ of a Sonic Youth song; some really good ideas, but largely underdeveloped.

Take “Starfield Road” for example, which takes a whole minute to build up this really cool and bizarre turbulent sound storm, and then Thurston starts singing over it for a couple of bars until it all sorta just stops abruptly. This track could work in theory if it was structured differently. “Mildred Pierce” off of Goo does something similar, but with that track there’s pay off at the end with the sudden wicked, destructive breakdown which catches you off guard, but here there’s simply no pay off for the listener.

Combine the lack of complete songwriting with the fact that this is actually one of the longest tracklistings on any Sonic Youth album at 14 tracks, and you get an album that feels like it’s bloated with lots of filler. Mind you, there’s still a lot of great little moments on this LP, but very few of them come together to make great songs. It’s an excellent sampler of just how many different ways Sonic Youth can play with a riff or make weird new static noises, but with regards to songwriting, Experimental Jet Set, Trash, and No Star feels more like a collection of demo tapes than a proper album. Still, there’s some cool energy on this record and I’d say it’s a worthwhile listen for any diehard fan.

7/10

highlights: “Bull In The Heather”, “Bone”, “Winner’s Blues”

12. NYC Ghosts & Flowers (2000)

Main Genres: Experimental Rock, Noise Rock, Art Rock

A decent sampling of: Post-Rock, Art Punk, Beat Poetry, No Wave

This is a good example of why we can’t have nice things. Somewhere between A Thousand Leaves and this record, Sonic Youth had most of their gear stolen by some jackass, which effectively meant pressing a hard reset button on the band’s sound for at least one album.

Likewise, a lot of people say that this is their worst record, and yeah I get why those people feel that way, but I actually like NYC Ghosts & Flowers for the fact that it forced the band to undergo yet another major sonic transformation. It‘s certainly more consistently interesting than Rather Ripped or The Eternal, just a very strange album in general, and for that it gets some extra points. I should also mention that this is the first of a couple of albums where the band collaborated with the acclaimed avant-garde artist Jim O’Rourke.

With lyrics influenced by the legendary mid-20th century ‘beat poetry’ scene born out of the band’s own New York City, this is the most 'abstract' Sonic Youth ever sounded. You can hear hints of the band’s no wave origins on this record, but with all of the crude chaos of those early LPs replaced with cerebral tension.

It’s also more sparse than any of their other studio albums, even more so than the dark and intangible Bad Moon Rising. Unfortunately, in this case that also leads to some tracks like “Nevermind (What Was It Anyway)” feeling somewhat empty, or perhaps sometimes too monotonous or repetitive without enough sonically gratifying moments.

But there are exceptions, and the middle portion of this album is where the new formula mostly thrives. “Small Flowers Crack Concrete” is vivid post-rock art poetry, not unlike a more noisy, sporadic version of some of the songs off of Slint’s beloved post-rock classic Spiderland. “Side2Side” is very aurally pleasing, with plinkety guitar staccatos and Kim’s voice hopping from one ear to the other like some kind of noise rock ASMR.

“StreamXSonik Subway” is a freaky little track that sounds calmly menacing, and I really like the high-pitch computer-y bloops. But then right after that there’s the seven and a half minute title track “NYC Ghosts & Flowers” which could probably give me a headache if I didn’t distract myself with something else while I was listening to it; truly maybe the worst track of the band’s entire discography if I was asked to pick one.

Overall, I’d say that NYC Ghosts & Flowers is a very artistic and fascinating experience in the moment, but I don’t really end up remembering much of it an hour or two after listening to the record. It just doesn’t really stay with me like some of their other records, and I don’t often feel the need to revisit this LP. I think Sonic Youth does the whole ‘sparseness' thing better when they’re aiming to sound vast, haunting, or nihilistic, as opposed to this kind of small, cerebral, sit-down-in-an-empty-room-and-listen experience which I personally find a bit more suited to other bands.

That being said, I applaud them for taking a lot of risks on this one, and I genuinely like NYC Ghosts & Flowers for the moments where it really does seem to be on the cusp of something groundbreaking. It's also a pretty polarizing record for most listeners, so maybe you’ll love it.

7/10

highlights: “Small Flowers Crack Concrete”, “Side2Side“, “StreamXSonik Subway”