#song is hozier - francesca for reference

[fishsticksart]

Francesca - Hozier

If someone asked me at the end, I'll tell them put me back in it

[Francesca, Hozier // The Ghosts of Paolo and Francesca Appear to Dante and Virgil, Ary Scheffer // Francesca, Hozier // Canto V, Inferno, Dante Alighieri // Francesca (Official Video), Hozier // Francesca, Hozier // Ship on Stormy Seas, Ivan Aivazovsky // Francesca, Hozier // Canto V, Inferno, Dante Alighieri // Paolo and Francesca, Mosè Bianchi // Francesca, Hozier // Paolo and Francesca da Rimini, Gustave Doré // Before Romeo and Juliet, Paolo and Francesca Were Literature’s Star-Crossed Lovers, John-Paul Heil // Paolo and Francesca, Frank Dicksee // Francesca i Paolo, Ludwik Wiesiołowski // Before Romeo and Juliet, Paolo and Francesca Were Literature’s Star-Crossed Lovers, John-Paul Heil // Paolo and Francesca da Rimini, Dante Gabriel Rossetti // Francesca, Hozier // Francesca (Later with Jools Holland), Hozier on BBC Music // Canto V, Inferno, Dante Alighieri // tumblr user @handgf // The Kiss, Auguste Rodin // Paolo e Francesca, or Morte di Paolo e Francesca, Gaetano Previati // Hozier // Hozier // Hozier]

[whatthehali]

[mugloversonly]

I Would Not Change It

For week 3 of @softsteddieseptember

AO3 Prompts: Choosing them | Anniversary

tags: temporary character death, all tags on AO3

Eddie blinked against the bright light above him. That’s weird he thought. He could have sworn he was just saying good bye to Dustin, he even made him promise to tell Steve he loved him. But now he was in his childhood home with a mug of hot chocolate and a plate of sugar cookies in front of him. His mother sat acr… wait. His mother?! That explained it then.

“Mama? What are you doing here?” He asked even as he stood to give her a hug. She held tight and cried into his chest.

“My baby boy. I never thought I’d see you again.” She pulled back and stroked his cheek, “but mijo you are so young.” Eddie shook his head and placed his hand over hers.

“So are you, mama.” She smiled softly. She was only a few years older than Eddie was now when she died. “What’s going on?” The room around them changed to their kitchen. A bowl of veggies sat in front of him and his mother was cutting a tomato.

“We are in an in between place. You have a choice to make, but you have a few minutes before you have to make it.” She said humming as she tossed the tomato into the bowl.

“A choice?” Eddie asked.

“Sí.” She said. “You can choose me or the Truth.” As she spoke the word “truth” the room shook.

“The truth?” Eddie began stirring the ingredients.

“They can show you everything. Give you all the knowledge of your soul, it will let you understand yourself and your place in the world much better. But it means you may not see me again for a long while. But stay with me, and you will never get the chance again.” She chopped some onions. He sat in silence for a moment before a big gray door with odd symbols on it appeared to his right. He stared at it as it slowly creaked open.

“What should I do?” Eddie asked. His mother sighed.

“No se mijo. Your life has been a storm. Anger, hatred, fear, I don’t want you to go back to that. But, it would be selfish of me to force you to stay.” She said.

“If I go through, I won’t see you for a while. But if I stay, I’ll never see this door again?” He asked softly. His mother nodded once. He hesitantly took a step toward the door but stopped. “You promise I’ll see you later?” He asked.

“Of course, mi amor.” She promised. Eddie turned to give her a tight hug and a kiss on the forehead.

“I love you mama.” He said and as she returned the sentiment, he disappeared through the gray door.

~~~

He stepped out into a endless white room. The door shut behind him, but he paid it no mind, for in front of him sat an odd silhouette of a person. “Who are you?” Eddie asked. They smiled hugely at him from their faceless head.

“I have many names. God, the universe, but I am the Truth.” They said. Eddie raised his brows skeptically. The Truth kept the slightly creepy smile. “You came here to learn yours yes?” Eddie nodded. The Truth stood, strode past Eddie, and opened the door behind him.

When Eddie turned to look through the door, he was expecting to see his mother’s kitchen but instead there was a long tunnel, with no end in sight. His trepidation was obvious but the Truth didn’t wait, they simply stepped through, yanking Eddie with them. Suddenly he was pulled down the tunnel by worm like tentacles with hands grasping his shirt. Flashes of his life sped past at an alarming pace. He saw himself as a kid getting hit by his dad, his mother hugging him, her funeral, him moving in with Wayne. Then the memories slowed down. He saw himself meeting Chrissy during the talent show and becoming best friends. He saw Steve knocking over a whole movie display when Eddie first flirted with him. Their first kiss while they waited for the kids. He watched himself and Steve hide behind a storage bin as Robin and Chrissy shared their first kiss.

Then he started seeing the last week. He saw Chrissy freeze in his trailer after putting in her Blondie tape. He felt as helpless now as he did then when she hit the ceiling, thanking his lucky stars he didn’t turn off the radio, when she fell. He managed to catch her and as she sobbed in his arms, they ran to their partners for comfort. He saw them being held and told all about the upside down, he saw Steve diving into the water, he saw himself dive after, and attack the bats. He saw them making a plan, using Chrissy as bait. He saw himself standing alone against a horde of bats, a shitty spear and shield his only protection.

He came to a stop in front of the image of himself lying broken on the ground. “Why are you showing me this? I already know this stuff!” Eddie shouted at the Truth. “I gave up spending time with my mama for this?!” The Truth laughed mischievously.

“Of course, not. We needed to see this lifetime before unlocking the rest.”

“The rest?” Eddie’s question barely passed his lips before long forgotten memories circled him.

The first one that stopped in front of him showed a young child that looked exactly like he did at that age. He was six years old, if that. A little blonde girl held his hand as they huddled in a supply closet, when the door opened and two other kids came in. A little boy with chestnut hair and a little girl, holding tightly to his arm. Eddie watched as the four kids sat in a tight circle, arms wrapped around each other in a group hug. Eddie gasped as he saw the water levels rise. The kids never let go of each other even as they were barely staying afloat, the two little boys hugged each other tightly as the water swallowed them.

Another memory flew into place in front of him. He was a farm hand, working side by side with a girl with dirty blonde hair, she looked a lot like Robin. As the two tilled the field they were approached by a two sisters. “The farm owner’s children.” The Truth answered when Eddie asked about them. He watch as the girl with chestnut hair blushed at something Farm Eddie said as he leaned against his shovel. He was proud of his past self until he saw him lose his balance, thankfully the girl caught him. As they stared into each other’s eyes, the memory faded.

“What happened to them?” He asked. The Truth’s smile disappeared.

“The town found out about them and blamed him for corrupting her, said he turned her into a witch. He was hung for his crimes and in her grief, she ended her life to be with him again.” Eddie gasped for multiple reasons.

“So, it is Steve.” He whispered. “Are we soulmates or something?” Eddie asked as a new memory appeared.

“Not exactly.” The Truth answered. In this new memory, past Steve was being hailed a hero with Eddie standing to the side happily. They were decked out in Greek armor, Steve’s shining gold in the sunlight as bright as his own bronze. Two girls (who he assumed were Robin and Chrissy) wore long draping dresses, their hands were ties behind them to a beam similar to the mast of a ship. Eddie nudged Steve and convinced him to help free the girls.

He watched as Steve challenged the general for “possession” of the girls. As was his right as the best warrior, he was granted them as his prize. Eddie watched as a tent was erected next to their own for the two even as it was implied each girl would be paired with one of the boys. The two men climbed into their tent, into a bedroll, and held each other close.

The next thing the Truth showed him was the two arguing, past Eddie on his knees pleading while Steve shook his head. Eddie jumped to his feet and began putting on Steve’s armor, as Steve watched on but eventually assisted. They shared a kiss before Eddie put on the helmet and stepped out of the tent. Steve watched him enter into battle disguised, saw him fall. As his body was brought back, Steve mourned deeply and angrily, before he rushed head first into battle without any armor. He slew foe after foe before he finally was killed, he begged his fellow soldiers to add his ashes to Eddie’s as he faded away.

“I don’t understand.” Current Eddie said to them.

“One more” they said.

The new memory was that of a young Eddie watching a little girl being born. “The girl you know as Chrissy is your twin soul.” They began. “Twin souls are cut from the same fabric of creation so to speak. Soul mates do exist, but they are cut from complementary fabrics.”

“So, I have a twin soul and a soulmate?” Eddie asked. The Truth’s smile returned. “No, you and the boy you call Steve are an anomaly. His twin soul is the girl Robin.” Eddie figured that out a long time ago. “You two seem to find each other in every life time. No matter how far apart I put you,” the Truth pointed at a memory of Eddie in England and Steve in Brazil. “Even if we put you on opposite sides of a war,” the Truth trailed off. Multiple visions flashed in front of his eyes.

In front of Eddie, he saw himself, but as a woman, and Steve fighting for opposing forces, swords clanging together. Eddie was a pirate and Steve a British solider. Eddie ripped off her face covering which caused Steve to stumble. Their eyes met, their swords lowered, their resolve faltered. A sword ran through Eddie’s back, in between her breasts. Steve held her as she died in his arms, her bloodied hand holding his face. “You two always, find each other, even if for only a moment.” A vision of two women introducing themselves right before the destruction of Pompeii appeared.

“So, it’s not fate? It’s coincidence?” Eddie felt oddly saddened by that.

“Not coincidence. Stubbornness.” The Truth grinned. “It’s like your two souls are saying a big ‘fuck you’ to fate.”

Eddie chuckled. “But why show me all this?” A new door appeared. It wasn’t like the gray door, it was closer to the gate to the upside down.

“You have another choice.” The Truth pointed to a second door, this one looked like his mother’s kitchen door.

“If I go through the door on the right, I get back to my mama, but if I go through the door on the left, I live this current lifetime?” Eddie asked.

“Almost. The right door will lead you back to your mother. Through the left door, there is still the chance you will die. Your injuries were substantial, I can guarantee a minute, but beyond that will be determined by you. Even if you do survive, it will be a difficult life.” The Truth admitted.

“I don’t fear hurricanes.” Eddie said with a smirk, trying to sound cool and unafraid, but by the look on the Truth’s eyeless face, he didn’t succeed.

“If you say so.”

“Will I still have these memories?” He asked.

The Truth titled their head like a dog. “I work on the principle of equivalent exchange. You exchanged time with your mother for these memories and the chance to go back. If you want to keep the memories, you must give me something else.” The devilish smile was back.

“Can I see another memory? One of us when we grow old?” Eddie asked. He wanted memories of everything before he left. But the Truth’s smile turned into a frown.

“You two have never grown old together.” They said sadly.

“So, we’ve only ever lived half a life or less together? You’re going to take something whole from me, but give me halves?” he scoffed in Truth’s face. “Hardly seems equal.” The maniacal thing laughed viciously. He gulped, maybe he shouldn’t argue with creation.

“Are you choosing to leave with your memories?” They asked. Eddie nodded and strode up to the door.

“What will you take?” He asked, his hand on the knob.

“An eye,” They said, placing their hand over where their eye would go. “For an eye,” when they pulled it away, Eddie saw his eye looking back at him as he was sucked back into the land of the living.

~~~

Eddie gasped in air as if he was underwater for too long, his remaining eye burst open to see the starless, gray sky that is the upside down. They took half his sight, for memories of half lives. Clever. He heard nothing but the thunder until pounding feet raced back to him. “Eddie?” came the call of an angel, right before he came into view.

“Hey, darling.” He rasped, lifting his hand to the other man’s face.

“I thought you were dead!” He whispered as fresh tears replaced the old ones. “What the hell happened to your eye?”

“I was dead, but they asked me if I wanted to go back and I said yes. Even just for a minute to see you again.” He smiled, but coughed roughly.

“Help!” Steve called and the girls ran over. “Robin I know you’re squeamish, find something to carry him on.” He asked of his best friend who was looking a little green. Nancy knelt down and got to work bandaging Eddie up as best as she could. “Who asked you?”

“You really won’t believe me this time.” Eddie whispered. Steve held Eddie’s hand as they shifted him onto a piece of wood Robin managed to find, Nancy’s bandages held up pretty well all things considered, but he started to bleed through them. Dustin who was waiting on the other side, heard the commotion and called an ambulance that arrived just as they were shifting Eddie through the gate. He clenched his jaw to hold in his screams as the shift in gravity nearly ripped the blood from his wounds.

“Hold on okay?” Steve pleaded.

“On it!” Eddie laughed but it turned into a cough.

As he was loaded into the back of the ambulance, Steve begged to ride with him but the EMTs needed the space. “I’ll be there, waiting.” Steve promised him. As he started losing consciousness, he smiled, if this was the minute the Truth promised him, it was worth it.

~~~

The next time Eddie woke up it was surrounded by beeping machines, the stink of antiseptic in his nose, and a bright light shinning in his face. “Shut that the fuck off!” He shouted as he threw his arm up in front of his eyes. A chuckle to his right let him know he wasn’t alone as the room plunged into darkness. He removed his arm to find Wayne on his right and Steve walking back from the light switch.

“Hey, kid. Glad to see you awake” Wayne said as he gave Eddie’s hand a light squeeze.

“Hey, Pop.” He squeezed back before shifting his eyes to Steve. After a beat Wayne stood.

“I’m going for a smoke, keep him out of trouble.” He said.

“I will” Steve replied.

“I was talking to Eddie.” Wayne chuckled and pulled the door shut behind him as the boys laughed lightly.

“I don’t scare easily, Eddie. But I was terrified.” Steve admitted.

“I’m sorry I scared you Stevie.” Eddie whispered.

“What happened Eds? One minute, I was sure you were gone, the next you’re breathing again and missing an eye! Did Vecna…” Steve trailed off.

“No! Stevie, it was amazing. It was scary but not like Vecna…more like” Eddie paused. “Wiggly” he did his best to wiggle his fingers like the hands of the Truth.

“Okay? So what did it say?” Steve asked. Eddie regaled Steve with the words the Truth gave him.

He shared how he willingly traded his eye to keep the memories so he could tell Steve. “We aren’t fated, we’re not soulmates. You and Robin, me and Chrissy, we’re twin souls. But you and I? We defy fate, Heaven can’t hold love like ours so they keep trying to break the cycle. But they can’t.

Steve held his face, kissed hims softly, and whispered, “I’ll find you in every life Eddie Munson.”

~~~

The next few weeks were spent in grueling recovery. Not only did he have to learn how to walk again, living life with only one eye was difficult. He ran into things constantly, so he was covered in bruises, but on the bright side he did get a glass eye. He always thought Heterochromia was cool, so when the opportunity presented itself, he chose gray as his iris(he initially wanted red but was vetoed). Thankfully, it was possible for him to still drive, but he would basically have to relearn from scratch…after extensive occupational therapy.

“I can drive you around in the meantime, Eds.” Steve offered.

“Even to band practice?” He knew Steve hated practice, but he had an idea to take the band in a new direction.

“If I must,” Steve sighed teasingly. But the grin Eddie sent his way made him falter. “You already have one scheduled don’t you?” A wicked grin spread across Eddie’s face.

~~~

It was the day Eddie finally left the hospital. Steve paced the hallway of his house as he waited for Wayne, the bedroom was all ready for Eddie since the Munsons would be staying with Steve until they could find something else; which might be sooner than any of them wanted.

He worried Eddie would regret coming back, with everything that they’ve been through past lives was low on the scale of improbable. But even so, his fear of abandonment was ingrained in him long ago, like a cancerous cell it spread throughout his mind invading every one of his thoughts. He hoped he didn’t make it worse when he told Eddie.

Before he could fester for too long, Wayne’s truck pulled up and Steve rushed out to help bring Eddie inside.

It was later that night, after Wayne left for work, that Steve brought it up. “My parents called.” Eddie, who was tuning his guitar, froze.

“Oh?” His eyes met Steve’s.

“I don’t know how, but they know about us. They want me to break up with you.” Steve whispered, “then they’re going to make me date one of their business friend’s daughter.” Eddie’s hand shook.

“Are you doing that?” Eddie asked, fear clear in his voice. “Breaking up with me?” Steve stood and took his hand.

“You think I’d give up? That their bullshit can shake my faith in you? In us? Never.” Steve promised. Eddie laughed joyfully.

“So, how long do we have until you’re disowned?” He asked after giving Steve a brief kiss.

“A month?”

“Plenty of time” Eddie whispered against his lips. “Want to fuck in every room?” Steve through his head back and laughed, Eddie’s signature cackle joined in.

~~~ 5 Years Later ~~~

Eddie stepped up to the mic, Corroded Coffin standing (or sitting in Gareth’s case) strong behind him. “Hello Indy! We’re Corroded Coffin, thank you for having us!” He said confidently. This was their first time headlining a festival but they were ready.

“Five years ago today, I had a near death experience. It changed me in ways I can’t explain and may not ever know. This next song, which is not our usual style at all, was written about that time, and is dedicated to my darling.” Eddie stepped back and began strumming. “Thanks for letting me defer from the norm.” As Eddie’s rich timber voice rang through the speakers, Steve teared up as he listened, touched he chose him and was chosen in return.

If someone asked me at the end

I'll tell them put me back in it Darling, I would do it again

[notmysophie]

Hozier reading list

Literary references in Hozier music

Alighieri, Dante; Inferno

The story of Francesca da Rimini as told in canto V inspired the song Francesca.

The album Unreal Unearth is arranged as a journey through nine circles of hell as they are described in the Inferno part of the Divine Comedy.

The title of the song Through Me (the flood) is a reference to the first lines of canto III.

Hozier read the translation by Robert Pinsky (https://www.rte.ie/radio/radio1/clips/22285692/) 

Beckett, Samuel; Endgame

The song Wasteland, Baby! Takes inspiration from this play. (5 september 2023) (https://www.pastemagazine.com/music/hozier/cover-story-hozier-unreal-unearth) 

O'Brien, Flann; the Third Policeman

The character of de Selby in the Third Policeman inspired the songs de Selby part 1 and 2.

Heaney, Seamus; At the Wellhead

The song To Noise Making (Sing) contains a8n audio fragment of Heaney reading this poem.

Heaney, Seamus; The Cure at Troy

The line "Or honey hope even on this side of the grave again?" In the song "To Noise Making (Sing) " is inspired by the line "History says, Don't hope / On this side of the grave."  in this poem.

Joyce, James; A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

The line "Shaking the wings of their terrible youths" in the song Angel of Small Death & the Codeine Scene is derived from a line in this book. As mentioned in the interview with Zane Lowe for Apple Music (august 28, 2023) (https://youtu.be/y5JpgNIkOz4?si=Yg1GVewfZlHkdVm1)  

Also mentioned as general inspiration in an interview with the Daily Meal (october 28, 2014) (https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel)

Mack, dr. Katie

Astrophysicist dr. Katie Mack is mentioned by name in the song No Plan. A quote from the song is used in her book The End of Everything (Astrophysically speaking)

Neruda, Pablo, Sonnet XVII

The songs de Selby part 1 and part 2 take some inspiration from this poem. (Mentioned when introducing the song during a concert)

Ovid, Metamorphoses

The story of Icarus is mentioned in the song Sunlight and inspired the song I, Carrion (Icarian).

The story of Orpheus and Eurydice is mentioned in the song Talk.

Plato; The Allegory of the Cave

The phrase "Adding shadows to the walls of the cave" in the song Sedated refers to this story.

Swift, Jonathan; A Modest Proposal

Inspiration for the song Eat Your Young.

Wilde, Oscar; Chanson

The line "a rope in hand for your other man to hang from a tree" in the song From Eden" is inspired by the line "And a hempen rope for your own love / To hang upon a tree." in this poem.

Yeats, W. B.; The Second Coming

The line "To Bethlehem it slouched" in the song NFWMB is almost directly copied from this poem.

Yeats, W. B.; Leda and the Swan

Inspiration for the song Swan Upon Leda

Other books recommended/mentioned by Hozier

Amis, Martin; The Zone of Interest

Recommended by Hozier in an 'Ask Me Anything' before the release of the album Wasteland, baby! on reddit in 2019

Beckett, Samuel; Not I

Hozier joked the album Unreal Unearth would contain four tracks, two of them being recordings of him reading this play with his mouth full of marshmallows.

The cover art of Unreal Unearth is said to reference this play.

Bukowski, Charles

Mentioned as a teenage favorite (https://youtu.be/e5pFwDvcIGA)

Ó Cadhain, Máirtín; Graveyard Clay (Cré Na Cille)

Mentioned as his current read in an instagram Q&A on December 1, 2021

Eliot, T. S.

https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel 

Heaney, Marie; Over Nine Waves, a Book of Irish Legends

(Source? Mentioned on social media?)

Heaney, Seamus

https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/music/hozier-why-seamus-heaney-s-last-words-mean-so-much-to-me-1.3797926

Herbert, Frank; Dune

Mentioned as a current read/audiobook on How Long Gone podcast episode 614. March 6, 2024

Joyce, James; Ulysses

https://youtu.be/s0Ux72N4K10 

Kierkegaard, Søren; The Sickness unto Death

(Source?)

Orwell, George; 1984

https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel/

Rubin, Rick; The Creative Act

Mentioned as his current read in an interview for WNYC Radio, 17 March 2023

https://youtu.be/Cd2uxpD9Hc8?si=cJ8bKrfFeXk_WS2F 

Salinger, J. D.; Catcher in the Rye 

https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel/

Wilde, Oscar

https://youtu.be/s0Ux72N4K10 

https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel/

Williams, Niall; This Is Happiness

Mentioned as his current read at a fan meet & greet (Bristol, 6 August 2023)

Yeats, W. B.

https://www.thedailymeal.com/irish-born-musician-hozier-slithered-here-eden-bring-us-his-gospel/

Poetry/stories read by Hozier in livestreams/videos (and the books he read them from)

3 July 2020 Instagram live

Seamus Heaney; Postscript (the Spirit Level)

Seamus Heaney; A Kite for Michael and Christopher (Station Island)

W. B. Yeats; No Second Troy (W. B. Yeats Poems selected by Seamus Heaney)

W. B. Yeats; To a Friend Whose Work Has Come to Nothing (W. B. Yeats Poems selected by Seamus Heaney)

Ovid, Daedalus and Icarus (Metamorphoses, translated by David Raeburn, penguin classics)

Sinéad Morrissey; & Forgive Us Our Trespasses (Being Human edited by Neil Astley)

Also mentioned; Staying Alive edited by Neil Astley

Seen on the table; Fear Not by Stephen James Smith

10 July 2020 Instagram live

Seamus Heaney; HÖFN (District & Circle)

Seamus Heaney; District & Circle (District & Circle)

Stephen Dunn; Sadness

Stephen Dunn; Sweetness

Ovid; Orpheus and Eurydice (Metamorphoses, translated by David Raeburn, penguin classics)

T. S. Eliot; The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (Collected Poems 1909-1962)

Brendan Kennelly; Begin 

17 July 2020 Instagram live

Ezra Pound; And the Days Are Not Full Enough

Wilfred Owen; Futility

James Joyce; A Flower Given to My Daughter

Pablo Neruda; Keeping Quiet

Langston Hughes; I, Too

Imtiaz Dharker; They'll Say She Must Be From Another Country

W. B. Yeats; When You Are Old

Stephen James Smith; On the Bus (Fear Not)

Seamus Heaney; Saint Kevin and the Blackbird

Seamus Heaney; Sweeney Praises the Trees (Sweeney Astray)

Maya Angelou; Touched by an Angel

Garrison Keillor; Supper

Pablo Neruda; Sonnet XCIV (If I Die) (100 Love Sonnets, translated by Stephen Tapscott)

T. S. Eliot; Ash Wednesday (Collected Poems 1909-1962)

Ovid, the Four Ages (Metamorphoses, translated by David Raeburn, penguin classics)

Also mentioned; Ireland, My Ireland by Stephen James Smith

25 July 2020 Instagram live

Anne Stevenson; The Spirit is Too Blunt an Instrument

Katie Mack; The Slow Fade to Black (the End of Everything, Astrophysically Speaking)

Pablo Neruda; Sonnet XVII (One Hundred Love Sonnets, translated by Mark Eisner)

Kahlil Gibran; On Love (the Prophet)

Sharon Olds; True Love

Rita Ann Higgins; The Did-You-Come-Yets of the Western World

7 August 2020 Instagram live

James Joyce; Araby (Dubliners)

Also mentioned A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce

17 march 2021 Tiktok live

Brendan Kennelly; Begin

Derek Mahon; Everything is Going to Be Alright

Sinéad Morrissey; & Forgive Us Our Trespasses

Faisal Mohyuddin; Prayer (The Displaced Children of Displaced Children)

Pádraig Ó Tuama; How to Be Alone

Stephen James Smith; Dublin, You Are

Paula Meehan; Seed

Various reads

Seamus Heaney; At the Wellhead

https://youtu.be/uIBpT_rqUfA

Patrick Kavanagh; Peace

https://youtu.be/Iz1OXOFua4w

W. B. Yeats; He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

https://youtu.be/e5pFwDvcIGA

W. B. Yeats; A Coat

https://youtu.be/e5pFwDvcIGA

Seamus Heaney; Miracle

https://x.com/seamusheaneyest/status/1253626839316279296?s=20 

[mochinomnoms]

"I want all of you. Every piece of you" + Sunlight with azul please! Fluff/nsfw

🦩

azul ashengrotto x gn!reader [tags] — nsfw-ish, fluff, lots of reference to the myth of icarus [wc} - 910 prompt 15: “I want all of you. Every piece of you.” song: Sunlight (Hozier, “Wasteland, Baby!”) note - idk why but i had a hard time with this one, so it's more romantic that nsfw. it's more alluded to it than explicit francesca (1k event)

“I had been lost to you, sunlight / And flew like a moth to you, sunlight, oh, sunlight / Oh, your love is sunlight”

Growing up in the deep sea, the only light was provided by bioluminescent algae shaped into lanterns. Not from sunlight. Growing up in the deep sea, the only warmth Azul experienced was from the embrace of his mother. Not from sunlight. 

So the early day sun peaking through the roof opening of the grotto over his eyes was still foreign, despite his time living on the surface. The warmth of the light was pleasant, however, it was currently blocked by something, or someone. 

“Azul, love?” you spoke softly as he sunk deeper into the water until only his eyes were visible. He felt a warmth in his cheeks as you admired him. 

“Come on, let me see you. My pretty, pretty boy.” 

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him like this, but you’d only seen his merform once during his overblot. Azul wasn’t fond of the idea of letting you see him in his natural form, though. He spent so much time specially curating his image as a human, someone sleek, neat, and confident. Not this…squishy, wriggly, clumsy form he was born with. 

He was a creature suited for nothing but the dark, cold spaces of the deep sea, only seen by the bioluminescent patterning on his skin. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t want to go back to the docks?”

He flinched as he heard a splash, hiding behind a rock as he felt you move through the water. Azul rested his forehead against the cool surface of the stone, sighing and closing his eyes. 

“Please, Angelfish, are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to scare you…”

The sound of water alerted him to your movement again, though he couldn’t make out where you were without 

“I want you.” A soft hand threaded through Azul’s hair, making him open his eyes and look up at your form. You were sitting on the rock he rested against, leaning down as your hair fell over your shoulders the closer you came. The sunlight peering through the cave roof shone over you like a halo, you looked like a painting an artist made of an angel. 

“All of you. Please? My love?”

Despite his mind screaming at him to back up, to not let you touch his slimy, squishy skin, his tentacles had a mind of their own. 

One of his arms curled around your hand, another around your waist, two more around your hips, drawn to you. Drawn to your affections that you so freely give to a greedy man like he. Azul sighed again. 

“You’ve taken the water-breathing potion, yes?”

“Mm-hm, just a bit ago.”

“… Good.”

You gasped as Azul dragged you into the water as he sunk backwards. The water under the grotto was dark, almost black, except for the rays of sunlight turning the water into an ethereal green. Once again, Azul found himself beguiled by your visage, hair and clothes floating around you…his arms tightening his grip at the sight. 

They truly had a mind of their own, drawing their energy from Azul’s true thoughts and urges. And how could he resist when you so freely offered yourself, love and body, to him.

Azul tangled himself in your embrace, claiming your mouth with his, drawing your tongue into his mouth to suck and explore. He reveled in the whimper that left you, tightening his hold as his tentacles slithered under your clothes, groping and suckers leaving behind marks. 

“Mmmh, Azul…” You gasped, exposing your neck for him to suckle marks, trailing down your body. Several of Azul’s arms gently pushed your clothes and undergarments off to have easier access to you. His suckers attached themselves to your sensitive area, shivering in its taste. 

“I almost forgot the benefits of being in this body… I can feel and taste your entire being with more than just my tongue. Your pulse drums beneath my grip, the salt on your skin floods my senses, and the sweetness down here.”

One tentacle with a spade-shape was brushing over your hole, pressing in slowly as you clenched onto Azul’s shoulders at the sudden stretch. 

“S-slower, Azul please, it’s too much—AAAH~”

Pressing his tentacle dick into your heat, Azul nuzzled his nose against your own as he fell deeper into desire. He shuddered at the surrounding tightness, getting drunk at the pleasure of your being, at the kisses you fluttered against his face, at the thought of permanently mark you as his with more than just his seed. 

Like Icarus reaching for his love Apollo, Azul would gladly risk flying too close to the sun, and feel the intense burn of its fiery gaze. Unlike Icarus, the way you looked at him like he was the celestial body itself made him certain that you’d never burn him and cast him back to the dark sea. 

Perhaps it was the intoxication from the sybaritism in his veins, bringing him and closer to an orgasm, that would let you two see the god. But he had no need when you were before him, his warmth. The Apollo to your Icarus, the root to his pleasure.

The cry you let out as he brushed against a particularly sensitive spot, throwing your head back as the sun shone on you like a heavenly being, reaffirmed you as his own sunlight.

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

[jensettermandu]

clandestine - huh yunjin

genre; angst, sfw

pairing; yunjin x female reader .ft chaewon

content; there's one single reference of them being bare aka nudity but it doesn't say more, reader is a 98' liner and member of blackpink, features chaewon x reader but it's briefly, yunjin is in a huge moral dilemma throughout the whole thing, implications of toxicity

synopsis; Yunjin finds herself at yet another clandestine meeting, the one that leaves her in a high that later crashes, but somehow she can't stop running back to the hell where her devil is. The older woman has a grip on Yunjin that leaves her trying harder than before just to be acknowledged. Love and loyalty has left her in a moral dilemma where she has to make a choice, however, each choice makes her as bad as it makes her good after ending up with the short end of the stick.

wc; 7.6+

songs; illicit affairs - taylor swift , sad girl - lana del rey , francesca - hozier

masterlist

Yunjin exhaled, watching the numbers on the elevator go down, and up on the other as she waited for it to reach her. Her fingers fiddled with the material inside the pockets of her sweats because even if it had become a habit, something that came naturally; Yunjin couldn’t help but be swallowed by guilt and anxiety each time.

It crumbled, her facade was weak and grew weaker each time because of her moral dilemma. It was hard to pretend when she had always been so see-through.

The elevator’s door slid open once it reached her floor, the second one reaching the bottom as she stepped inside. 

She hated it when she looked in the mirror and knew the person she was. It was something she couldn’t run from, but that didn’t mean she didn’t try. The guilt ate at her and Yunjin knew exactly how to stop it or how she could have prevented it right from the start. All she did manage to do was pretend that she had no clue who she was because she knew Yunjin and this wasn’t her. 

This wasn’t like Yunjin at all; she couldn’t even tell why exactly she got herself into this mess or when she became the mess that she was. 

However, the truth was hard to handle, even harder to accept and the hardest to face. This was something she knew she wouldn’t be the only one struggling with if the tiniest stone collided with her house of glass. The tint she put up to cover her lies would crumble and the real layer would let everyone see right through her glass walls and uncover the truth she’s been hiding out of desperation to be noticed. 

She wanted to say that she was forced, but she truly wasn’t, the only thing was the force that pulled her towards the hell waiting for her downstairs. The one she shouldn’t feel anything towards as she knew that the girl who felt everything for her was in the other elevator riding right back up to the dorm. 

Yunjin felt like a fool, she knew that she was one and she would regret it for the rest of her life as she would live with the fact that she did something she hated herself for; something everyone else would hate her for. 

Yunjin lived in a world only one other person knew about, but even if she asked about it they would deny its existence. This was something that only existed to Yunjin because she acknowledged it. Her empathy was too strong to ignore. She convinced herself that she could stop if she wanted to. 

Yet when the elevator reached the underground parking lot and she had the choice to not step out and instead go back home she still committed the same old mistakes. 

The familiar scent lingered right by the elevators when she stepped out because Yunjin was greedy. She took those steps that could almost be mistaken for prideful when in reality she took long strides to be quicker. There was nothing to be prideful about, it felt like a walk of shame each time yet she proceeded with it. She proceeded to destroy herself for this one person. 

The white G Wagon was hard to miss as it stood ready to drive off by the side and this was the girl’s final chance to break this habit. Would it make her feel better if she did? Yunjin would still know what she had done. Would she ever reveal the truth? 

Yunjin had been selfish all this time, but it was with other people in mind, wasn’t it? Her intentions were unclear like a city under smog yet she tried to shine through it like the sun because they were good. It didn’t matter what they were because she felt herself crumble each day.

Maybe she got it all mixed up and was trying to make herself feel better; to feel like a hero when she was an anti-hero all along.

She opened the car door, knowing that no one would do it for her and she closed it after climbing inside. For a second she still felt the inner conflict within her as she closed the door, staring right in front of her. 

The silent blow of the AC eased the heat caused by her hood being up, the speakers faintly played that music that reminded her of the woman anytime these songs would play. It would always infuse her veins with guilt, shame and regret, but also longing and desires, leaving her stuck at a crossroads.

Those things were all short-lived even if she knew that she would be a mess after. 

Her chin was gently grabbed between those slender and cold fingers that turned her face. Yunjin met her eyes and was fighting what they reminded her about; the flaws hiding behind the put-up wall of perfection. Those perfect, tempting, and utterly deceiving eyes she had fallen victim to. 

She tilted her head and leaned over the centre panel, closing her eyes in hopes of being blown away by the wind. She wanted to leave her fate to the wind, hoping she could just blow away like a feather that had no purpose and whatever happened couldn’t be blamed on her because the wind controlled her fate so it was all out of her control.

Maybe the wind she would be blown by would be in the second circle of Dante's inferno for these sins. Yet the kiss was gentle compared to what her punishments would be for these selfish acts. 

It was gentle yet tormenting when she got a taste of the lipgloss that had mixed with the usual vanilla the woman in the driver’s seat used. Strawberries lingered with the vanilla and Yunjin was swallowed by reality once again, painfully aware that she was here so soon that Chaewon’s lips were still lingering on those that weren’t hers to kiss. 

Her lips picked up the remnants of Chaewon’s.

That was all that Yunjin would deserve: remnants.

She tried to pull away because she could stop whenever she wanted. 

“Y/n,” Yunjin mumbled, being pulled right back into the kiss, her hood being pulled down as fingers brushed over her nape. With that, she gave in without putting up a fight for any dignity because she never had any, to begin with, if she was seeing Chaewon’s girlfriend. 

Her fingers brushed over Y/n’s bare waist, hoping to at least leave goosebumps after her because her marks would always be invincible and Yunjin was nothing but a mere ghost that appeared when everyone else was asleep.

They pulled away, her eyes gazed into Y/n’s eyes, the older’s fingers trailed along her jawline, thumb grazing her lips. 

God, she hated Y/n for hurting her friend, but she also loved how she made Chaewon feel, and how good she was to her outside these clandestine meetings. It left her in turmoil knowing how happy Chaewon was while also wanting to be a good friend–she knew she wasn’t–and tell her the truth of how her angel was a devil in disguise.  

Yunjin knew that Chaewon was one of the luckiest, but at the same time, unluckiest girls to exist. Despite the war within her it still left her envious if not jealous. 

“You look pretty,” Yunjin wanted to cuss Y/n out, she wanted to throw stuff, she wanted to take all her anger out on her, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even if she wanted to. The girl in the driver’s seat with achievements that reached further than Yunjin’s dreams was too perfect to hurt. 

Yunjin knew Y/n too well and maybe that was the problem. 

Just those words were enough to fluctuate everything she felt and cause her a high; Y/n became a drug that worked each time no matter how horrible the withdrawals felt because of the realisation of how she was jeopardising herself and everyone else.

At moments like these, she pretended to be blind as Y/n pulled away, reaching for her phone, detaching herself completely from Yunjin who pretended that the notification didn’t show on the car screen. Her eyes wandered the white interior of the car; still feeling out of place for so many reasons, the first being that she shouldn’t be here to begin with. 

“Where do you wanna head to?” She looked back at Y/n who was looking at the phone in her hands. 

The answer she would give depended on how long she wanted to spend with Y/n. On how long she wanted to bask in Y/n’s cold fire. It could vary from 30 minutes at a parking lot nearby that she usually walked to–this time Y/n could in a sense pick her up–or it could be around two hours spent in a hotel room. 

The girl could still remember the first few times and how different they were compared to now. Yunjin was truly becoming nothing more than a dirty secret that was supposed to be kept away from all light and she was allowing it herself.

Yunjin knew what was reserved for her; parking lots and hotel rooms, meetings once the sun was down. The lingering gazes before becoming nothing more than air. The act of being someone she wasn’t. Lies that came easier than breathing. Not leaving a single trace of herself anywhere because she was supposed to remain a ghost. Yunjin didn’t exist.

It was all perfectly built yet it felt as fragile as a house of cards where it would all collapse with a single and gentle blow of air. 

There was a significant difference between her and Chaewon; obviously. Her older member got treated the way she wished she was yet what Yunjin got wasn’t Y/n making it up to their floor, picking her up, leaving the dorm without having to lie or feel guilt and shame, with no disguise of going on a run in sweatpants and a hoodie. 

[Five hours ago]

Yunjin never understood it, she wasn’t sure if she ever would or maybe she hadn’t done it for long enough. It left her with more questions than answers; all being about the person on the other side of the door. It made her heart speed up before it twisted and she wished it could just stop instead because of the wincing pain. 

Yunjin hated how good Y/n was at acting while she could feel herself crumble with each second. Was it even acting? It looked like second nature. Or maybe it wasn’t because as long as Yunjin was a secret she would never truly exist unless she was brought to light.

There was nothing between them to the bare eye.

Yet all Y/n did was smile at her and bow as if she wouldn’t kiss her as a greeting whenever it was just them. Still, Yunjin followed, doing the same thing before meeting Y/n’s eyes again. A smile was offered, not a pair of lips against hers or a caress that sent her body through a blazing fire in Y/n’s inferno.

“How are you?” 

“I’m…alright.” She got a hum in response as the woman who was her peer slipped her sneakers off. Their eyes met once again, it felt like they always did or maybe Yunjin was hoping for too much yet adrenaline pumped through her whole body as Y/n smiled at her and stepped further inside. 

Those stolen glances, those secret stares where their eyes met and only they knew the truth; why did she cherish that?

“That’s good.” She wanted more than a hand coming up to her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. However, Y/n’s touch lingered for a few seconds longer than necessary before she let go and walked towards the living room. Long enough to leave a warmth coursing through Yunjin.

“Where’s Chaewon?” 

“Forgot her phone upstairs.”

That was all she got, Yunjin got the finger but wanted to get the whole hand because it was too difficult to separate their clandestine meetings and these meetings where they were nothing more than friends. Her heart yearned for more and she knew that it only made the mess bigger and bloodier than needed. 

It wasn’t like she could have gotten more as everyone loved Y/n, especially Kazuha who was a fan of the group Y/n was part of.

Yunjin had listened to the younger girl go on about Y/n and all of Blackpink before. How she looked up to her, how she was a role model to many, how talented she was; great, humble, loving, caring, beautiful, perfect in every aspect of life despite it not being an easy life that she lived. She agreed with the younger girl because it was the truth–

It still left Yunjin wondering if she truly was the only one who had seen past Y/n’s perfect facade. The one that was built up of walls that stretched for miles and climbing over one meant only seeing the hundreds of more walls that were left to climb. Y/n had a perfectly curated image as an idol, but she also had a perfectly curated image for every person she was with and met. 

The perfect friend, the perfect daughter, the perfect girlfriend.

South Korea’s Perfection.

Yunjin envied it because it would be so much easier to live on with her life if she were perfect; it would let her carry out her life and secrets with ease.

However, she felt special as she knew that she was one of the few to get past these walls. She felt special because she was more than Y/n’s dirty secret, she knew things the woman didn’t open up about to just anyone. Yunjin knew that she was part of those things she never told and that with Y/n’s perfection, she would forever be a mere ghost, a story that never truly happened.

Y/n knew how to manipulate the beginning and end of every story to her advantage.

Yunjin was aware that Y/n would make it look like she had never existed in her life and maybe that was the only true fear that she carried and not the consequences of being caught.

Never existing in Y/n’s life.

Yet Yunjin dwelled on the choices she had.

Her eyes gazed at Y/n, it just so happened that whenever she was supposed to come over even for a few minutes everyone magically left their rooms. No one wanted to miss her, she always made every room brighter.

She watched Sakura try to stop her from bowing a full 90 degrees; her senior and older by a few months, she knew that Sakura disagreed with being Y/n’s senior. Yet the youngest Blackpink member would do the same to Kazuha and Eunchae, telling them to be less formal. 

They didn’t know Y/n like Yunjin did, she saw past it all. It was Y/n’s way of carrying out her perfection no matter where she was, to be that sweetheart everyone loved and wanted. 

Yunjin sat down on the couch, in the furthest corner, drowning in the truth under her facade that was far from perfect unlike Y/n’s. Yunjin had flaws just like everyone else and like everyone they would shine through these cracks of feigned perfection leaving her imperfect. 

Her eyes continued to linger on the older, they held longing, they held suffering, they held that dull melancholy that haunted Yunjin’s everyday life because Y/n was somehow everywhere. 

She was either talked about, solo songs played or group songs, billboards, ads, magazines, Chaewon, Kazuha, Eunchae, Sakura, and a row of Yunjin’s friends. Y/n’s name left everyone’s mouth. 

Why would she want to escape perfection though? The longer Yunjin lingered around the more it would possibly rub off on her. Could anything ruin Y/n’s perfection? No. Not unless Yunjin would do it. Yunjin knew what was hiding beneath it.

It was uncharacteristic the way Chaewon quickly thumped down the stairs, but Y/n had that effect, didn’t she? Yunjin didn’t look away, watching her sit on the floor in the middle of Kazuha and Eunchae playing video games on the TV. 

“I at times can’t tell whether it’s Chaewon or an elephant incoming.” She knew just what to say. Y/n’s charm came with silence but it also came with words so it didn’t matter what she did; everyone looked her way yet Yunjin could see deeper than that and still find her just as jarring. 

“She only does that when you come over.” 

“I’d do it too if I were her.” That cockiness and confidence that didn’t come off as rude made Eunchae smile even bigger, always enjoying Y/n’s wit like everyone else.

Was Yunjin special? It seemed like Y/n was for everyone but her. How did Chaewon do it? Yunjin was just a secret yet it was hard to handle knowing that Y/n was for everyone. 

“Eunchae,” Chaewon warned and Yunjin felt the small smile on her face turn sour as she watched her friend get onto the couch. The guilt and jealousy washed over her again. 

What right did she have to feel any jealousy? She didn’t. Y/n was Chaewon’s perfect girlfriend all while breaking Yunjin’s heart because she allowed it to happen. She couldn’t shut Y/n out. Being imperfect around someone who carefully threaded through each hole to finish with perfection rubbed off in the wrong way.

It highlighted everyone else’s flaws; Y/n made Yunjin’s flaws stand out even more.

“Are you ready to leave?” Chaewon hummed, Yunjin couldn’t look away, watching with melancholy dancing in her eyes as the leader sat on the couch behind Y/n. The latter looked up and met Chaewon’s gaze.

“Okay, let me just beat these two and then we can head out,” the complaints from the two youngest only intensified the teasing until they ran out of words and Chaewon was able to speak.

“You can do that another time.”

“I could or I do it now and can avoid them next time to spend all my time with you.” It ushered the two youngest to continue to bicker, Y/n would always be able to lift a room with a few words and a smile. 

Yunjin found it an art, no matter how simple it could seem, but a person who knew what to say at any given moment was made to entertain. Y/n was a dream and that’s all she would ever be to Yunjin.

When Chaewon was in the room Y/n’s gaze only lingered on the leader and Yunjin was the only one with a longing gaze; Y/n knew how to make her feel like a ghost. She watched and that’s all she could do; Y/n resting her head against Chaewon’s legs, wishing she could be the one running her fingers through Y/n’s hair, brushing over her skin while talking. 

It should have been Yunjin and there were things she regretted, but she couldn’t list them in order or tell if she should regret some of them. 

[Present]

In secret Yunjin got everything she wanted during these clandestine meetings. Her fingers brushed through Y/n’s hair, basking in the scent and heat still radiating off of the older whose bare skin pressed against Yunjin’s. It was a warmth she craved every time she saw Y/n, to be in the comfort of the woman, to hold Y/n and give the fallen angel the comfort she craved but never asked for.

All of Y/n’s attention was on her, she was more than just a ghost at these moments; Yunjin became a gestalt that Y/n saw. 

This was when she forgot all her regrets, shame and guilt where the moral dilemma washed away from her sight because she was too far in hell to see heaven. 

This was when she saw the beauty she could only see when she was with the woman. There was no one else she could share it with. This was when she accepted herself for who she was because she could be herself with Y/n and no one else; no one else knew about her secrets in the end. 

In the end all Huh Yunjin wanted was to be loved by her devil.

Instead, this time Yunjin was left wondering if Y/n noticed her for who she was. The person she tried to be for Y/n. The woman whom Yunjin got to hold in her arms at these rare yet frequent moments was so sophisticated; it made Yunjin feel half-witted. 

Yunjin read the books Y/n liked, consumed the expensive wine and champagne the woman did, and learned about her favourite art; from poems to paintings. She did her best to change certain views and beliefs, and the way she carried herself. She had done everything, but it was to no avail; Y/n wasn’t hers and didn’t seem to take notice.

Y/n never cared about Yunjin the way she wanted to be cared for, she never saw her, never acknowledged her and it only made her try harder even if Chaewon was the one who caught the singer's attention. How did she do it? It was something Yunjin had always wondered. How Chaewon was the one. How did her friend manage to do what she couldn’t seem to do? What did Chaewon have that she didn’t even after trying to be perfect for Y/n?

“Why do you see me?” It made her wonder even more why Y/n kept seeing her this way. It watered her insecurities and made it feel like her flaws and imperfections bloomed bigger. There had to be something special about Chaewon if they had been in a relationship for five months now. Why did Y/n waste time on Yunjin? Yunjin wasn’t the one wasting time, she willingly spent her time on Y/n.

“I can open up to you.” 

She knew that her question was too vague and that Y/n wouldn’t say more than what she asked for. Yunjin had learned but kept repeating the same mistakes, that was partly why she was in the same bed as Y/n. She took what she got as long as it came from Y/n’s palm; Yunjin wouldn’t complain. She had no right to even if she would want to. 

“You can do that with Chaewon too…” It came out as a mumble, that heaviness washing over her. Yunjin felt like an idiot, that was usually how Y/n made her feel. 

“It’s not the same,” Y/n slipped from her grasp once again without any hesitation or looking back. Yunjin would be the only one to look back or hesitate to let go each time.  

Yunjin’s eyes gazed at the woman who sat up, her eyes traced her slim back and all its ridges of perfection. All she did was stab a knife in her friend's back, but it wasn’t like she wasn’t paying for it. Each day there was a knife in Yunjin’s chest and it twisted, twisted, and twisted for all the wrong and right reasons. 

“How?” Yet she pressed while being fully aware that only she would get hurt by the end since she had been hurt from the start. In the end, Huh Yunjin never learned from her mistakes, if she got hurt once, she got hurt twice, thrice and it went on until it no longer hurt. 

But, Huh Yunjin would let Y/n hurt her over and over again, she’d let the woman hurt her a million times. To have her nick at her heart each day, to make it all die a little inside her each time, but she would still let it happen. 

“I can’t open up the same way to someone I love as I can to someone like you.”

Y/n was so cold that she burned. The woman was so cold that it nipped Yunjin's cheeks, leaving them red each night she would cry. Y/n was so cold that Yunjin couldn’t help but try her best to warm her even if it hurt her in the process. 

The woman stood up, leaving Yunjin all alone in that cold hotel bed that made her feel worthless. She couldn’t look away though, watching as Y/n slid on the hoodie that she had picked up from the back of her car before they left to get to the room. It was Chaewon’s hoodie. Somehow she always carried a little reminder with her and Yunjin couldn’t understand why she did. 

Wasn’t it making Y/n get swallowed by guilt like it did with Yunjin? Y/n wasn’t an open book so she couldn’t figure it out unless Y/n read the pages for her which she had done before. 

“I can’t know how understanding she truly is and I can’t afford to lose Chaewon.”

Yunjin licked her lips and deeply exhaled to stop herself from shedding tears all while willingly taking the venom bites Y/n would scatter along her body. She hugged the plain sheets closer to her bare body, pulling her knees closer to get comfort because Y/n would never provide it. 

It settled that Y/n could afford to lose her. She was just as replaceable as anyone else in Y/n’s life, the only one who wasn’t was Chaewon. Y/n’s hell consisted of multiple dead and forgotten souls and Yunjin could become one of them at any given moment.

“I doubt you would.” She left Y/n’s frame at last and stared at the blank sheets, her fingers twisting the material. It was tearing her in half, Yunjin was stuck in the middle. She wanted Y/n, but at the same time wanted her friend to be happy yet she didn’t want Chaewon to be played and wanted to let her know that Y/n was a devil in disguise. One that was impossible to resist and was the sweetest angel anyone could stumble upon even if she was a fallen one. 

It was messed up, but Yunjin was a bigger mess than the one she created. She saw how happy Chaewon was and she was envious; it could have been her yet it all was wrong. Everything she felt, had done and hadn’t done yet was wrong. 

“You can’t say you’re sure she won’t leave or look at me differently. I want to be perfect for her, I don’t want her to stop loving me.” It was what Chaewon fell for in the end, just like everyone else. Y/n’s perfection. The girl was aware of that as her clouded by-gloom eyes looked up through her wet lashes at Y/n. 

Tears in the rain.

Y/n would never notice or acknowledge the tears of torment that would run down Yunjin’s cheeks and leave her eyes sore. That ache in her chest would forever only be known to her, the reasons for her sleepless nights, why her pillowcase was soaked in a conflict between loyalty and love. 

“It’s not possible to love someone who is too honest and opens up their heart until there’s nothing left to bleed. What heart will beat for her? The truth is ugly and imperfect.”

Yunjin knew that it was true, but it wasn’t set in stone because how did she tell Y/n that the woman had opened up to her, bled her heart dry to Yunjin who hadn’t left? It was possible to love someone who was too honest and opened up fully. Yunjin was still there even if not everyone would and maybe the uncertainty was why Chaewon only got to see perfection.

However, Yunjin loved her for more than her Midas touch, she was there despite the ugly imperfections. 

She was also aware of Y/n’s biggest fears; the fear of not being able to maintain the image. The idea of even momentarily showing weakness in front of anyone. To be dependent and vulnerable wasn’t an option. Yunjin knew that Y/n was afraid of that intimacy and maybe that was why she never chose Yunjin. She knew about her vulnerabilities, flaws, insecurities, self-hatred, and self-pity. She knew about all the skeletons in Y/n’s closet.

Yunjin knew Y/n too well, she had seen her vulnerable and weak. 

She had been led on, Y/n had played her, cheated in a game Yunjin wasn’t aware they were playing. It ended up with her heart in malady once she saw Y/n with Chaewon after letting herself get dragged through this hell for the woman. 

The girl had been fooled and continued to be fooled and she let it happen. All she did was watch it happen. 

She met Y/n almost a year ago and from the moment she did she found a deeper meaning in every word Y/n said to her. Yunjin got lost in the picture-perfect world Y/n painted for her. She saw the world with rose-coloured glasses, seeing things she only could with Y/n. Those words made her heart race and ultimately fall to the floor in desperation for the woman, waiting for Y/n to pick it up; it got stepped on instead. 

Y/n sold her a world that didn’t exist when she was alone, a world she could only see with Y/n.

Yunjin shouldn’t have taken the words to her heart so easily, but she should have taken them for what they were. A short high that was dwindling more with each time. It came so quickly, it would hit her so hard and fast she could barely register it coming and before she knew it it was over and she would crave more. It felt too good and so she held onto those things even if they meant nothing in the end. 

That was why Yunjin was staring out the window of Y/n’s car, submerged in a sudden melancholy, fully aware that even if it all dwindled she wouldn’t be able to feel this way with anyone else. There was no one else she would be able to see these things with other than Y/n. 

Had she gotten it all that wrong? Had it all been in her head all this time? That there could have been something more before Chaewon?

“When can I see you again?” She was like a court jester, but she wasn’t entertaining anyone unless she enjoyed having her own heart shattered. The way Huh Yunjin acted made it look like she did. She took anything she could.

Her gaze shifted away from the window as her reflection was too clear while they sat in silence in the car. It was the ugly truth, reflecting right at her, she was turning into someone she wasn’t for someone she loved, but would never get love from. What made it much more excruciating was how painfully aware she was of it and how she still tried. 

It was poison, Y/n had infected her with her poison and there was no cure for it. It was there to ruin Yunjin and everything around her. It didn’t change how she would still always run to Y/n to get fed more of it. 

“I'm flying out to L.A. tomorrow to work on my album and then I’m heading to Coachella. I guess we will see each other there.” 

Yunjin looked away as Y/n’s eyes weren’t even subtly glancing her way, the woman wasn’t sparing her any glances. She looked down at her lap, picking at her nails more and more the longer the silence lingered. There was hope that Y/n would acknowledge her misery, in the end, the jester was supposed to be a fool for someone else’s entertainment.

Had she entertained Y/n enough for one night? Did she manage to give her enough in two hours? Yunjin knew that she wasn’t enough, but she wanted to be close to it. To at least touch upon the perfection Y/n was looking for, the one that Chaewon carried.  

It tugged on her heart that she had worn on her sleeve, dragging it along with her and letting it bleed dry for someone who didn’t want her blood on their hands.

“Yunjin…”

It made her look up, her heart fluttering in desperation for oxygen only Y/n could provide her when a hand slid over to hers. Y/n’s cold skin brushed over hers, the little embers of her high hoping for a blow so it wouldn’t disappear and could continue because it would let Yunjin fall asleep without crying. Foolish hope bloomed within her, continuously playing herself as she hummed and looked at Y/n who was looking her in the eye. The blackest and dullest yet masked with radiant front eyes that anyone could get lost in. 

As always she took anything she could get from Y/n who reached her other hand over to Yunjin’s face. Fingers gently traced along her jaw before brushing away the red strands of hair and fingers tangling at the back of her head. It was these moments when her world got to see the light again and made her believe that the pain she felt wouldn’t be evermore.

She could get lost in Y/n’s eyes and she did, Yunjin did so every single time and she did it so easily. Those deceiving eyes, the ones of the she-devil herself, the ones she broke all her promises for because each time, Yunjin promised herself to never go back again. However, she couldn’t resist the temptation of Y/n’s lips against hers even if it tore her apart after. 

At least Yunjin was comfortable in this hell with this woman who was her devil.

It made her insides rumble with each stroke of Y/n’s lips on hers, Yunjin’s fingers gripping onto the older one's hoodie to avoid facing her fears of losing someone she didn’t have. They rumbled until everything inside of her was destroyed when Y/n pulled away, barely being able to pull away as she mumbled those words right between Yunjin’s parted lips;

“Make sure Chaewon doesn’t find out. You don’t want to lose a friend.”

And suddenly Yunjin wanted to scream and cry all over again about how Y/n ruined her and made her a mess she never knew she could be. That high never lasted as long as she wished it would and Y/n was the one to pull away from Yunjin as if she burned. She did burn, didn’t she? In the end, she had been trying her best to melt the ice that Y/n was, the coldness that Yunjin’s heart fought against, refusing to freeze and stop feeling for the woman. 

Y/n surely was sweet like honey but stung like the bees that made it.

All she did was nod because she couldn’t trust her voice, especially when Y/n wouldn’t care for the crack in Yunjin that she caused again. The air felt colder than usual as she stepped out of the car and closed the door after her without a glance from Y/n. She barely managed to step away and the car was already driving away.

The pain was evermore; the second she stepped out from the hell where she forgot everything she was back in the agonising and never-ending dilemma where the lines between right and wrong blurred. 

Each time she realised something new; this time was the fact that Y/n had never been the one to ask to see her. Yunjin was always the first one running to her, calling and texting, checking when she could see her. How she was the one to initiate every little thing even as far as being the first one to go for it even after finding out that her friend was in a relationship with Y/n.

Yunjin was always the first to break her own heart for Y/n. 

And so she stood in the elevator, going up after being down in hell. Pulling the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands before gently wiping away the tears in her eyes. The lump in her throat hurt, it was like the core of her pain, waiting to be spat out and brought to light, but she couldn’t do it. 

Yunjin couldn’t ruin this for Chaewon more than she already had. It hadn’t affected her friend yet, it was only ruining Yunjin who would keep sweeping everything under the rug. There was only so much she could hide under it until the bump would be noticeable though.

If she told Chaewon that Y/n was cheating on her she would be devastated, especially since Y/n wasn’t supposed to be capable of breaking her heart. Y/n was too perfect to break a heart, to break a promise, to ruin the beauty of love. If she told Chaewon, if it would come out in any way she would lose just as much as the girl, if not even more. Yunjin saw it for what it was and what it was, was that Y/n had left her with the short end of the stick.

Her breaths only grew heavier with each floor and staring up at the fluorescent light to keep her tears in did barely anything. 

Chaewon would hate her. 

Y/n would hate her.

She would lose both and she was stuck in a dilemma. 

The promise of never seeing Y/n again repeated itself in her head, convincing herself that this time it would be for real, but she knew it would get broken the second she had the chance to do so. In the end, these burdens would be stuck with her. 

If she told Chaewon that Y/n was cheating on her with her then she would lose a friend, but not telling her was making Yunjin a terrible person which she already was. No matter how she would tell Chaewon that she was being cheated on yet loved more than anything at the same time, Yunjin would lose Y/n. 

Her thoughts were too disorienting and the walk to her room ended by the couch in the dark apartment. It was all pure torment on her heart and hurt more than anything. With her head buried in her hands, she tried her best to calm down, to keep her promise of not going back, but she didn’t want to lose Y/n either–it didn’t matter if she didn’t have her. However, she didn’t want to keep hurting Chaewon, but she couldn’t simply stop and never say anything even if her friend was the happiest when Y/n was perfect for her. 

This was all on her in the end as Y/n wouldn’t ask to see her either way. It was in Yunjin’s hands to stop hurting her friend by no longer being selfish because of love. 

“Where were you?”

It startled her, it felt like she got caught red-handed as she flinched, her heart racing, building up nausea in her and the tears increased tenfold. Yunjin looked up with a sniffle and quickly wiped at her eyes.

“I was on a run.” Her voice shook like her whole body was doing on the inside. 

“Are you sure?” This time Yunjin’s lies didn’t work and the house made up of perfect lies was starting to show the flaws she had failed to conceal. The fragile house was starting to crack under the pressure and she was doing everything in her to hold it up, but Yunjin was breaking down with it. 

“No.” She mumbled and looked away from Chaewon who frowned. 

The floor gently creaked under the girl’s feet, Yunjin couldn’t look up, staring down as she constantly wiped away the stinging tears. How could she look her in the eye when she knew the truth but didn’t reveal it? The truth that Chaewon should know.

Yunjin was scared of the countless waves of pain she would have to endure once she revealed it to her. It left her pulling at straws, trying her best to come up with a way to say it without having to suffer more than she already had by loving Y/n. Yunjin was exhausted from the pain she had willingly been going through just to be seen. 

Y/n’s scent occupied them–Chaewon was wearing her girlfriend’s hoodie, it was the same hoodie Yunjin once wore when it was just her and the older woman. It was before their beautiful meetings turned into a secret kept from any light that wasn’t the moon. 

The couch dipped, and silence fell upon them, but the cracks were starting to fill up with Yunjin’s silent cries, the pain she had held inside. Those lies were starting to shine through. Why was it so difficult? The truth was doing everything to push through them and ruin everything for them and herself. 

“Are you okay Yunjin?”

She shook her head, Yunjin was far from okay, she couldn’t remember the last time anything felt okay. Everything that used to be perfect was ruined, her love for Y/n was ruining her, the lies were eating at her, and the guilt was something she drowned in and hadn’t tried to swim up from. Y/n was ruining her. It was all becoming too hard to bear and she was about to give up at the pressure. 

“No.” She took a deep breath in, her sleeves were soaked with tears, and her eyelids felt sore from the rough material that she wiped them with. It was all she could do because there was no one to wipe them for her. Did she deserve someone like that? Someone who would be there for her and wipe her tears? It didn’t feel like she did. 

Yunjin would continue running to her source of pain though. She would continue doing it even if she promised herself not to because the source of pain was also the only source that made her feel that high that numbed the pain. Her source of pain was the only escape from this misery, the only time she got to see beautiful colours in the ugly. 

“What is it?” 

It broke something inside Yunjin as Chaewon placed her hand on her shoulder, gently rubbing it, almost coaxing those words out of her because she couldn’t hold the guilt. She would die in it if she didn’t try to swim up and continued to willingly sink in these lies and feelings. It was all killing her. She never wanted to ruin anything for Chaewon or Y/n, but it was ruining her to the core, to a point of what felt like no return if she didn’t break more promises.

Everything she had gone over in her head, about how she would die with these secrets was becoming a blur. How she would let Chaewon be happy, how she would let Y/n be perfect, the urge to continue sweeping everything under the rug was turning into one of removing it and showing all her dirt. The pressure her feelings were putting on her was destroying her glass house and it got harder not to hurt anyone else but herself. 

“I’m sorry…” Was all that she could push through, whispering those words through a shaky breath as her throat filled up with tears. She was choking on these burdens she caused herself, losing herself in them. 

It made her wonder if things would be different if she never introduced the two after befriending Y/n. Or maybe she would be in Chaewon’s shoes right now, but at least she would have been the one Y/n loved, not the one she used to let out everything to then only have love left for her girlfriend. 

Y/n would never hurt Chaewon; Yunjin wouldn’t be hurting if she were in Chaewon’s shoes as long as the truth was kept secret. Right now, the person who would suffer the most was Yunjin if she told the complete truth.

It was followed by yet another silence, the hand on her shoulder stilling and Yunjin could feel the dread. She could feel the consequences of her actions heavily weighing on her shoulders depending on what would come out of her mouth next.

“It’s okay.” 

She couldn’t understand her guilt, knowing very well that it was a choice and now she was receiving sympathy from the girl she was hurting. 

Chaewon’s hand moved again and Yunjin let the older girl pull her in, resting her head on her shoulder as Chaewon wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her comfort. She stared ahead at the dark TV screen, her tears running as she snivelled with her mouth sealed by fear and shame. This wasn’t Yunjin so how could she admit to doing something that was unlike her? 

Chaewon deserved better and Yunjin knew it, but in everyone’s eyes Y/n was the best and she was in Yunjin’s eyes too. 

Chaewon fell for Y/n’s perfection.

Yunjin fell for all her flaws and found perfection in them while she hated herself for being so flawed, for hurting her friend and not being able to admit to her sins. Yunjin was too scared to admit to her sins, but she couldn’t let everything else eat at her for much longer or she would suffer even more. She couldn’t leave her friend in the dark.

There were other sins she could bring to light.

“Chaewon…Y/n is cheating on you.”

Sins that weren’t hers. 

masterlist

a/n; i hope it was enjoyable/good cause i was struggling. i couldn't feel satisfied with this one despite rereading it three times and am still a bit unsure about whether or not this was good tbh.

[frvnkcastles]

Hii I love your work so much!! I was wondering if you would do Frank Castle x reader based off of Sunlight or Francesca By Hozier? I don’t know I just feel like with how deeply this man feels that one or those would be perfect for Frank and the reader.

I WOULD DO IT AGAIN ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: A glimpse into the way Frank feels for you.

Warnings: Fem!reader, violence, reader has unspecified mental health issues

Word count: 1.2k

Author’s note: I fell in love with both these songs thanks to this request!! I tried to combine both of them, though I suppose I got more out of Francesca. I’m a little on the fence about this one shot in general, but I hope you like it! Thanks for your patience <3 Also, I keep forgetting to say this, but thank you so much for 700 followers!!! It means so much to me that we’ve created this little community of traumatized Frank lovers :)

There was nothing Frank wouldn’t have done for you. He had known that quite early into your relationship, his devotion for you growing more and more every day, even if you weren’t officially dating. In fact, your feelings for each other had gone unspoken ever since you had met, but he couldn’t deny they were there — he cared for you so much it terrified him, it kept him up at night.

He thought about the first time he met you often. He’d never forget the way you looked in that dress you had dug out of your closet just for the occasion, how the warm bar light illuminated your starry eyes and how you had been nervously gnawing on your lip while glancing at your phone for the millionth time.

”Whoever’s standin’ you up would regret if they saw you in that dress”, he had spoken up from across the mostly empty bar counter, and you had immediately looked up only to find a man so attractive your stomach did a somersault. Rough around the edges but undeniably easy on the eyes, even more so when the corner of his mouth had twitched upwards in a sneaky smirk, even when his stare was focused on the crowd behind you. You had shuffled on your feet, looking around to see who he was referring to, but when you had turned back to him, you found him gazing right at you, making your mouth run dry.

”I was supposed to have a date”, you had explained over the music, ”guess it was a waste of a pretty dress.”

He had chuckled at that. ”Well, for what it��s worth, you made this old sucker’s heart skip a beat”, he had shrugged before gesturing at the empty seat next to him. ”Buy you a drink?”

And ever since then, he had been hooked on you. You made him feel alive, you gave him a reason to get up in the morning. So when you had told him you felt like you were doing the opposite, his heart had shattered in his chest.

”I realize I have a lot of baggage. So I don’t blame you if you want to, I dunno, check out now”, you had explained meekly, distance between you as you both stood in your kitchen at an ungodly hour, fresh stitches on Frank’s abdomen. ”I guess I’m not a very easy person to be around, is what I’m saying”, you had added with a quiet chuckle, and at that, Frank had closed the space between you, his hand coming to rest on your cheek as he swallowed all the air from your personal space.

”You think I am?” he had stated matter-of-factly. ”You’re wrong, sweetheart. I don’t remember the last time it was this easy for me to be around someone. You make me feel… Yeah, you just make me feel. I can’t get enough of you. Don’t ever think I’d wanna get rid of you, ’cause shit, as long as you’ll have me, I ain’t goin’ anywhere”, he had explained, passion behind every word, and it had made you tear up.

”You know everything that’s wrong with me and you’re saying you still want to be my friend?” you had asked to confirm, and licking his lips, Frank had glanced at yours before nodding. He had forced himself to withdraw, not wanting to cross any lines, but he had given your hand a squeeze, nonetheless.

”Never been more sure of anything.”

He wasn’t letting go of you. As much was confirmed when his enemies caught whiff of you being involved with him — before he knew it, your name fell from the lips of his latest target, and he had seen red. The men were coming from left and right, punching him, stabbing him, each of them claiming their piece of the Punisher, but he wasn’t going to rest until he’d know you were safe. Their taunts of getting to his little girlfriend had pushed him over the edge, and with feral anger, he slaughtered the lot of them, not letting a single henchman slip out and get to you.

He had wanted to avoid you seeing him like this so badly. But as soon as he was done, as soon as the men lay dead at his feet, he was rushing out of the warehouse he had been lured into, just to make his way to you.

The urgent knock on your door in the middle of the night wasn’t a completely unfamiliar sound — you had stitched Frank up more than a few times, but you could tell something was wrong. As soon as you opened the door, a bloodied Frank burst through, his eyes wide and alert, his shaky hands clamoring to find purchase on your shoulders.

”Hey, hey, what is it? Are you okay?” you asked with worry, eyebrows knitted together as you tried to balance Frank’s larger frame, your hands resting on his arms.

”I—I needed to know you were okay”, he managed to get out, breathless and panicking, and nodding to promise him that you were, you attempted to meet his frantic eyes and calm him down.

”I’m okay, Frankie, I’m okay. Breathe, honey”, you reassured, and slumping against your body, Frank pulled you into a vicelike hug, squeezing you tight, breathing you in. Blood stained your clothes and hair, but your priority was getting Frank across the panicked state he was in, to assure him everything was okay.

”They said they were coming for you. I—I couldn’t let them. I wasn’t gonna let them”, he repeated, before grunting, ”I killed ’em all.”

Pulling away slightly, you looked into dark eyes with a disbelieving frown. ”You did that for me?” you whispered, and finding solace in your gaze, Frank found it in himself to catch his breath and understand that the imminent danger was over.

”You’re goddamn right I did. I’d do it again and again. I’d do anything for you”, he swore, letting his forehead fall against yours. You closed your eyes and took his hand, giving it a firm squeeze before pulling him towards the bathroom.

”Let’s get you cleaned up, big guy.”

Even after he had had time to shower, he was still on alert, constantly checking the windows and pacing around your apartment. You had to fight him to the bedroom, insisting that you both needed to get some rest, and he supposed he could do that — watch over you, make sure you’d get to sleep soundly. Soon enough, you were cuddled up in the bed and Frank was sitting next to you, resting against the headboard with his eyes laser-focused on the closed door.

”Hey, you can relax. They’re all gone. No one’s coming for me”, you reminded him softly, caressing his arm with tender fingers, and swallowing, Frank slowly and reluctantly sank deeper into the mattress to be closer to you.

”I ain’t ever lettin’ anythin’ happen to you. You know that, right?” he grunted, and with a nod, you reassured him.

”I know. You always make me feel safe.” His eyes softened at your words, and gently, he reached over to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering for a brief moment.

He really would have done anything for you.

[best-overplayed-song]

As someone who never understood the hype around Take Me To Church and keeps forgetting that song even exists, can I ask the fans what exactly it is you like about that song? Because my current hypothesis is that yall were around 14 when it came out and music just hits different when you're 14. What else is there to like, genuinely

I try to stay unbiased here but Hozier is one of the only musicians I allow myself to be pretentious about, so before i info dump about why i love take me to church here's some other hozier songs you should give a shot:

francesca [i'd go through hell again just to hold you one more time], nina cried power [song about activism and black activists], swan upon leda [about the violence of colonialism, misogyny, and religious bigotry], eat your young [about the violence of war, capitalism, and generational trauma], movement, to noise making (sing), shrike, NFWMB [sexy], sunlight

anyway take me to church is so much more than just “loving you is like church”. he starts off by telling us how happy his lover makes him, despite constantly being told by The Church he was born sick and his happiness is a result of sinful behavior. he rejects the religion being forced on him, because unlike christianity, his church doesn't force him to accept absolution to reach heaven ("my church offers no absolutes / she tells me, 'worship in the bedroom' / the only heaven I'll be sent to / is when i'm alone with you"). the last two lines of the first verse-- "i was born sick, but i love it / command me to be well"-- questions why a god would create us to be inherently sick only to punish us for being sick.

i see the the chorus as a smart-ass comparison of his relationship to christianity. The Church expects him to blindly worship their lies and confess his sins, which he knows will be used against him ("take me to church / i'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies / i'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife"), but he's supposed to accept this and devote his life to God so he can get to heaven ("offer me that deathless death / oh good god, let me give you my life"). by offering to do this for his lover, he's equating their love to religion.

in the second verse, he reiterates that he worships his lover with a metaphor ("if i'm a pagan of the good times / my lover's the sunlight"). the subtle remark of referring to the ancient practice of paganism as "the good times" comments on the colonization and forced conversion of ireland by christian england, which criminalized paganism. immediately after stating how his lover demands a sacrifice, he hungrily eyes the high horse The Church sits on, and questions what power they have over him and his people ("that's a fine lookin' high horse / what you got in the stable? / we've a lot of starving faithful"). this could also be a reference to the irish potato famine, which was not a result of drought, but of english lords forcing the irish to turn over their entire crop to send to england.

then we get the most poetic description of sex i've ever heard: "no masters or kings when the ritual begins / there is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin / in the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene / only then, i am human / only then, i am clean". fuck man

a lot of gay people with religious trauma love this song bc of everything i described above. also, it's a fuckin banger.

and yes i was 14 when it came out. what about it

[fawnforevergone]

Quick List of References to Dante's Inferno in "Unreal Unearth" (Part One)

HELLO !!! there is now an updated list since we have now heard the old album so please go check that out instead: [ the ultimate "unreal unearth" reference list" ]

[ PART TWO ]

If I miss anything or get anything wrong, let me know! I'm so interested to know what everyone else thinks, too :]

Another long post, but I simply have too much to say.

THIS WAS MADE BEFORE THE ALBUM RELEASE !!!!

"DE SELBY (PART ONE)" "You take in the blackness of air, the likes of a darkness so deep that God, at the start, couldn't bear." The theme of darkness is a repetitive one in Dante's Inferno, representing sin and it's deceiving behaviour. Particularly in the opening of Inferno, Dante and Virgil have to treck through a thick blackness after entering the gates of Hell.

"DE SELBY (PART TWO)" "Let all time slow, let all light go, I don't need to know where we begin again." DS(P2) is another song that references the absence of light, and would make sense being a continuation of DS(P1). "Let all time slow" references the eternal and infinite nature of a punishment in Hell, and "let all light go", again, show the darkness of Inferno. "I don't need to know where we begin again" is more a repetition of Hozier's own work with his multiple references of death not being the end - "Francesca", "Work Song", "All Things End", "Wasteland, Baby", etc. - but still references the idea of entering a new life after entering Inferno.

"FIRST TIME" "And the soul, if that's what you'd call it, uneasy ally of the body, felt as nameless as a river, undiscovered underground." It appears, in the track list, that we are now moving beyond the threshold of Hell. The mention of "a river, undiscovered underground", is a reference to the river Acheron that runs through Inferno. The river contains a ferry, ran by the Greek Psychopomp, Charon, who escorts the souls of the underworld. Dante is known for mixing different mythologies together in Inferno, so the mentions of "soul" and "river" and "undiscovered underground" all seem to be a reference to Charon and his role in Inferno.

"FRANCESCA" The whole song of Francesca is a reference to the story of Francesca da Rimini, who was sentenced to the second circle of Hell, 'Lust', after caught in an affair with her husband's brother, Paolo. Francesca claims that love has seized her so tightly that she can't stop loving Paolo, not even in Hell. The entire song references this story so I won't pinpoint these lyrics. "My life was a storm, since I was born. How could I fear any hurricane?" The second circle of Hell is plagued by violent winds meant to reflect the passions of reckless love. The winds are so strong that the inhabitants of 'Lust' find themselves thrown around and unable to stay in one spot. Hozier claims to not be afraid of these winds, saying that love has always felt this reckless, even in mortality, and death will not phase him. Whether he is saying this from the perspective of himself or Francesca is up for debate.

"I, CARRION (ICARIAN)" The whole song is very clearly about the tale of Icarus, and even has some mentions to the titan Atlas, "You have held your hands beneath. Once I had wondered what was holding up the ground. I can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down." Icarus and Titans are mentioned throughout Inferno, Hozier again hinting at the mosaic of mythology Dante created. In Inferno, Dante compares his own dread to the plummeting of Icarus, and Hozier now compares his love to the dreaming and hope of Icarus as he flew, making it a fitting song for the 'Lust' circle as well.

"EAT YOUR YOUNG" We now enter the third circle, 'Gluttony', and the song is very overt in its imagery of hunger. As far as I'm aware, the song has more political references than it does direct references to Inferno, but the song is very obviously about Gluttony.

"DAMAGE GETS DONE" The minimal lyrics we have for this song don't give me a lot, but I would say they definitely don't reflect hunger, so I think we have entered the fourth circle, 'Greed'. 'Greed' is categorised as one of the sins committed out of a lack of self-control, like 'Lust' and 'Gluttony'. However, Hozier seems to be fighting this idea in the lyrics, claiming, "But I know being reckless and young is not how the damage gets done." The idea of "damage" also reflects the circle of 'Greed', as the punishment for this sin is that the inhabitants are grouped into halves, and each half are forced to engage in an eternal battle that leaves them so injured, they are impossible to recognise.

"WHO WE ARE" I'll be honest, in terms of references, we don't have a lot for this song, although, as mentioned in the next paragraph, "Son Of Nyx" has to be about the fifth circle, 'Anger', so "Who We Are" is either another 'Greed' song or it's a second 'Anger' song. Although, we do have the lyric, "But it sharpens like a knife", which throws me back to the knife imagery of "Take Me To Church", a very biblical song in terms of imagery, and in the fourth circle, 'Greed', Dante sees varying members of the Clergy, so perhaps "Who We Are" is a similar song to "Take Me To Church", and takes place in 'Greed'. TMTC: "You can sharpen your knife", "My lover's the sunlight", "She demands a sacrifice", "Only then, I am human." WWA: "It sharpens like a knife", "We're born at night", "Darling, we sacrificed", "It's who we are." The biblical similarities could present this as a 'Greed' song, referencing the various clergymen who reside there. "SON OF NYX" Though we have no lyrics, we know the song after this is "All Things End", which is about the sixth circle, 'Heresy', so this song has to be about the fifth circle, 'Anger'. Nyx was a Greek Goddess who was the personification of night, once again referencing darkness in this album. Nyx has many offspring, all presenting various different things. Nyx, however, did inhabit the dark recesses of the underworld, respected and feared by even Zeus. We have no lyrics ( although, perhaps it is just this song renamed ? who knows ), so I can't say for certain how this relates, but a Goddess that resides in the underworld seems very fitting for Inferno.

---

Again, if I missed anything, please tell me! I'm already so obsessed with this album, I need to know if there is content I am missing, thank you soldiers. (ง’̀-‘́)ง

[mmpanthers]

Wasteland Baby! is a better concept album than Unreal Unearth.

I’ve always been a great admirer of concept albums, so I’ve really enjoyed peeling back the layers of Unreal Unearth through the lens of Inferno. The album offers a very intriguing conceptual framework, both musically and in its promotion. But if you look beneath the surface, concrete references to Dante are surprisingly rare.

Only a handful of songs on Unreal Unearth directly reference The Divine Comedy. ‘Francesca’ draws from the doomed character Francesca da Rimini; ‘Unknown / Nth’ alludes briefly to Dante’s journey through the Styx and past the burning city of Dis; ‘Hymn to Virgil’ echoes Dante’s emotional farewell to his guide at the end of Purgatorio. ‘Through Me (The Flood)’ may nod to a descent with its mention of “his new home”, while ‘First Light’ suggests a symbolic exit from Inferno.

Beyond these, though, most tracks centre on love, grief, and the human experience, themes Hozier explores across all his albums. Of the twenty-six songs on Unending, only these five clearly tie into Inferno. Of course, you can interpret ‘Butchered Tongue’ as representing violence, ‘Eat Your Young’ as gluttony and so on – I’m sure that was Hozier’s intent – but those connections are subtle, rather than explicitly rooted in the Inferno concept.

In a purely lyrical sense, then, I would argue that Unreal Unearth doesn’t fully qualify as a concept album. That makes for an interesting comparison with Wasteland, Baby! Despite not being marketed as one, Wasteland, Baby! holds its own when you compare concrete lyrical anchors and thematic consistency.

The title alone signals the conceptual ambition of Wasteland, Baby! ‘Be’ and ‘NFWMB’ evoke Yeats’ apocalyptic poem ‘The Second Coming’, with its “widening gyre” and “slouching towards Bethlehem” (a chillingly brilliant poem – highly recommended). The title track explicitly describes the “death of the sun” and the “fear and the fire of the end of the world”, capturing the lovers’ shared, intimate response to collapse. The first verse of ‘Moment’s Silence’ opens with a broken political and environmental landscape: “When stunted hand earns place with man by mere monstrosity / Alarms are struck and shore is shook by sheer atrocity”, setting a pre-apocalyptic tone. ‘Movement’ alludes to the story of Jonah, the reluctant prophet of destruction, and ‘No Plan’ draws directly from cosmologist Katie Mack’s The End of Everything.

Especially in the album’s second half, I would argue that apocalypse emerges as a clearer, more lyrically unifying thread than Inferno does in Unreal Unearth. Musically, too, Wasteland, Baby! is more cohesive. Where Unreal Unearth shifts between rock, pop, folk, and R&B, WB sustains a fittingly bluesy, gospel-tinged sound throughout.

Neither album is a perfect concept record. However, when it comes to lyrical cohesion, and considering the immense commentary surrounding UU as a concept album, I think Wasteland, Baby! deserves far more credit than it receives for its thematic unity.

[lulu-spooks]

I’ve been trying to get into Hozier lately, and seeing as you seem to be the resident expert on him, what songs would you recommend starting with?

(I know his more popular ones obviously, like Take me to church, Too sweet, and Nobody’s soldier, but I want to know about some of his secret bangers)

EEEEEEEE!!!! You’re in for a treat!

And thank you for the acknowledgment of resident expert, I have 10 years experience in hozier listening and I don’t play about it.

So the thing about hozier is that I truly believe he has a no skip discography on all of his solo works. And pretty much all of his collabs are also bangers (with the possible exception of tell it to my heart. Don’t start there)

Ok so from his first album I want to highlight a few tracks, Jackie and Wilson, from Eden, work song, like real people do, and to be alone. They are all sonically very similar (as are most of the tracks on the first album) but they all sound totally different. The instrumentation stays the same for most of the tracks but I am literally incapable of mixing them up. They all have unique sounds while still remaining cohesive in the context of the album. Expect great guitar and vocals, very little to no synths, funky beats (including some fairly cool time signatures). Excellent lyrics, definitely worth reading along. Especially cherry wine which at first glance sounds like the most beautiful love song but if you read along you’ll see how violent it is.

Wasteland baby is the second album. Standout tracks for me are Nina cried power, dinner and diatribes, would that I, shrike, be, and the title track wasteland baby. This one is definitely the sexiest album. Expect much more exploration into bluesy tunes and sound effects, the beats are getting even funkier, the lyrics are catastrophic and feature a lot of references to Greek mythology. This is the kind of album that you sit at the end of the world and listen to while everything falls apart. Wasteland baby the song epitomises this. It’s the conflict between standing up and fighting the broken systems that oppress people vs the need to give up and wash your hands of everything. Admitting we tried our best and it wasn’t enough. At least I have you. The deluxe tracks for this one are some of his best work on this project so check out why would you be loved, nfwmb and moments silence too.

Unreal unearth. This one is my favourite and my being has been altered by this album in ways I can’t even describe. Every song is a grade A hit. It’s actually my favourite album of all time I think. Honestly everything on this one is worth listening to but at some point once you’ve listened to all of the tracks individually, I cannot reccomend enough that you sit down and listen to the whole thing in order. No pauses. The whole thing with this album is that it’s a journey into the underworld inspired by Dante’s inferno. Each song occupies a different circle of hell and discusses topics surrounding the cardinal sins that are punished in each circle. It’s worth searching uk which sings belong in which circle. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s a concept album but it uses the story as a great jumping point for exploring moral, political and religious topics that are not discussed in the original cantos. This album is a masterpiece and I could literally write about it for hours but my thumbs are already falling off so I’ll keep it quick. Standout tracks are Francesca, first time, eat your young, abstract psychopomp, who we are, unknown nth, all things end, first light, de selby part 1 and butchered tongue. If you want the more explicitly political tracks choose eat your young and butchered tongue and READ ALONG. I could write fucking essays just on eat your young. This album was also written in the context of covid 19 and the lockdown and songs like all things end really make a heartbreaking but uplifting anthem for this period in time. The general sound of the album is very different to the two preceding albums. Expect much more manipulation of vocals and distortion of instruments. Expect more instruments. Expect full orchestra and stripped back guitar. Expect drums that sound like thunder and lightning. And for gods sake read along with this one. Cuz it’s fucking fantastic lyric writing and a lot of it can be missed in his pronunciation. When Andrew learns to annunciate it is OVER for us all.

Extended songs from unreal unearth are numerous and you’ve said you’ve heard nobodies soldier (also very political) and too sweet. I’d also recommend wildflower and barley for a soft lockdown summer feeling tinged with hopelessness, empire now as an anthem for Irish liberation and how much it was fucking worth it despite the troubles that followed and that you are for the most year inducing love song also within the context if lockdown. Just see “that I’d be anyway that you are” which will I’m sure soon be written on my body in tattoo ink. Through the flood acts as the introduction to the full album experience, hymn to Virgil is the last one.

Anyway have fun I tried not to write a fucking essay but I did. For unreal unearth in particular I have read no less than 5 books to examine source materials for his lyricism. I also learned a fuck ton about production to understand how he gets the sounds he does in his music. All to say this guys music is my whole life. And it can be hard to tone it down. If it all sounds confusing I’m sorry I’ve been writing this for like 40 minutes and I just did a full day in the recording studio and my brain is fried and my fingers are dead and I need to sleep, where I will probably listen to ‘to someone from a warm climate’ to sleep. Bye :P

[karlachismylife]

Francesca by Hoizer is Ghost coded. Maybe Ghoap coded. I will NOT elaborate.

You won't, but I will. I went and listened to it (yeah, sorry, I have like one Hozier song in my playlist and know maybe one other) and read on it a bit (quite clever, I myself love me some Dante references. my favourite part is the suicide forest though.)

There is no hope for them, when Gost and Soap start falling in love. There can't be any hope, it can't even be allowed. It's not even about breaking the formal rules, it's about Ghost looking directly at the sunshine that Soap is and feeling his blood boil in his heart ventricles, viscous, red and hot, blisters showing on its surface from the invisible sunbeam grip of a fist Soap slid between Ghost's ribs in spite of all the closed off coldness Simon tried to protect himself with. There is no ice cold enough for the sun to be unable to melt it.

It's about knowing full well that allowing his heart to get so sensitive, tender and vulnerable for a man of war can never end well. It's about tumbling downhill in a painfull, grappling embrace, pent up emotions lashing out - it's about ups and downs, the searing hatred for how painful and hard it is to feel something so strong again and the searing kisses melting the pain away. Simon's hand are dead cold, and Soap is the hot water that hurts so bad when they're first submerged, but then warms them up slowly until they're alive again.

They're doomed by the intensity of it all.

Yet when they finally hit the bottom of the pit they've been falling into and Soap bleeds one last time from his temple, Ghost bleeds from all the burns sun left on the piece of raw meat he has for a heart, and yet he still can't make himself regret what they had.

On the other side, he'll get hit by hurricane Johnny again. He just needs to wait.

[bouncehousedemons]

I know Hozier is a verified Tumblr treasure, but I go for long periods without listening to his music and allow myself to forget how good he is.

I had to commute into London and back today, so I used the journey to reacquaint myself with his discography and have been reminded all over again of just how hard it slaps.

‘Francesca’, for instance — who else in the world would pull such a niche reference from Dante’s Inferno, and use it as their inspiration to write one of the world’s most heart achingly beautiful songs that romanticises love that wasn’t destined to be?

This man is a genius, just casually dropping references to Greek tragedies into songs about fucking. He deserves to have his arsehole tongued like an ice cream cone. No one in current modern pop is writing lyrics that even come close.

And both the tragedy and the beauty of this is that I will utterly forget about how wonderful he is for another few months, until I pick up one of his albums again and have my mind blown by him all over again.

[daisyjonesgf]

Get ready…time for song analysis

Finnick is actually “Francesca” by Hozier. It makes me cry (buckle up this is long)

So here’s some historical context for those who don’t know. In Dante’s Inferno (the book that Hoziers whole album is based off of) Dante meets Francesca and her lover in one of the circles of hell.

Francesca was a real woman whose story is very tragic. Francesca Da Rimini’s story is what inspired this song She had a lover and she kinda describes slowing falling into love with this man. That it wasn’t a choice and now it kinda comes onto her. However she was forced to marry the man’s brother. They had an affair that ended with the brother (Francesca’s husband) killing the both of them. And even sadder Francesca’s blocked her husband from killing her lover so she died first.

So Francesca tells the whole story as she’s in hell, facing internal punishment (note: she is with her lover)

The song is from the lovers POV

~~~~~

Do you think I'd give up

That this might've shook the love from me

Or that I was on the brink?

How could you think, darling, I'd scare so easily?

Honestly this can be taken in two ways, after sweet girls first games (FG) or after the quarter quell (QQ).

FG: sweet girl doesn’t trust herself. She killed her best friend, she lied and tricked everyone so of course she believes Finnick couldn’t love her anymore. That she was a monster and couldn’t be trusted. Finnick, however, would literally say this “how could you think I’d scare so easily” what she did in the arena wasn’t going to scare him from her, he finally had her again.

QQ: OH MY GOD OKAY- post sweet girl getting hijacked, around when she’s STARTING to feel more like herself I could defiantly see her as thinking Finnick should give up on her. She’s too damaged at this point so why should he stay? She’s been terrible to him. Finnick, however, wouldn’t even dream of it. Her being scared hasn’t “shook the love from [him]”, and he isn’t about to give up so easily.

~~~~

Now that it's done

There's not one thing that I would change

I think specifically this could refer to what Finnick has done. Pushing his sweet girl away, being forced to sell himself. Keeping her safe, even for a short amount of time, is worth it.

~~~~~

My life was a storm, since I was born

How could I fear any hurricane?

OH MY GOD SO THIS ONE. It’s obvious sweet girl views herself as untrustworthy, as something that could destroy everything. She doesn’t trust herself and she fears hurting others. This line can really describe ways in which I think Finnick would help quell that.

Cause despite everything there are parts of sweet girl that are difficult but Finnick thinks he’s built to deal with it. He’s gone through worse and being with her isn’t hard. It’s nothing to him, yet it’s everything. He would brave any hurricane because to him she’s worth it (plus he views himself as worse)

~~~~~~

If someone asked me at the end

I'll tell them put me back in it

He’s in district 13, he just survived the quarter quell, he’s suffering, and all he has is his memories of her. And in all honesty he’d do it all again, he’d go back to his games, he’d go back into the quell, he’d suffer the torture of the last 10 years if it meant he got his sweet girl, if he gets to hold her and be free with her.

~~~~~

Darling, I would do it again, ah, ah

If I could hold you for a minute

Darling, I'd go through it again, ah, ah

I would still be surprised I could find you, darling

In any life

you can look at this line as, again, Finnick saying if he is able to be with his sweet girl, even if for a moment, even if it’s tragic at the end, he would do whatever needs to be done. He doesn’t care that he suffers, he cares she is there. to him she is so unbelievably good, she’s worth suffering for. He’d go through the games, the torture, the war, all of it, if in the end he gets to be with her.

Plus add in the fact that he genuinely can’t believe she’s real. She’s so good in his eyes.

~~~~~

For all that was said

Of where we'd end up at the end of it

I mean…i feel like despite everything that was warned before the quarter she’ll Finnick hadn’t considered what would happen to his sweet girl. He didn’t think for a second they’d be separated or that she’d end up in the capital. People told them, they said so, yet he didn’t listen.

~~~~~

When the heart would cease

Ours never knew peace

I mean, quite literally they never had peace. Even in their presumed deaths (quarter quell) they’d still be a spectacle. Even in 13, their marriage is supposed to be a spectacle. They never get their peace.

~~~~

It was too soon

A that part of you was ripped away

SO MANY THINGS OMG??? Like when her mental innocence was taken, her childhood was taken away too soon because of her games. Or when she had to rush her first time out of desperation, her first time wasn’t a choice.

OR BECAUSE OF THE CAPITOL HIJACKING!!! Literally parts of her were ripped away? Her memories, her loved ones, her sense of self.

~~~~

A grip taking hold

Like a cancer that grows

I mean, the fear from hijacking, the distrust, everything, it grows in her, it literally is sucking away her life.

~~~

Each piece of your body that it takes

Though I know my heart would break

I'll tell them put me back in it

Again referring to everything the Capitol has done to the two of them. Seeing everything his sweet girl has to go through, it’s heart breaking, it hurts him, when he sees the far look in her eyes it feels as though someone has ripped his heart out of his chest, he would rather go through everything the Capitol has to offer again then see that lifeless look in her eyes for even a second.

~~~~

I would not change it each time (I would not change it each time)

Heaven is not fit to house a love (Heaven is not fit to house a love)

Like you and I (like you and I)

This…honestly I think it’s just something Finnick thinks lol.

~~~~

This song is about facing a torture and saying “it can happen again as long as I get to hold me love for just a second” and if that’s not finnick coded I don’t know what is

~~~~

Anyway I hope this was good. It’s kinda all over the place so sorry if I repeated myself a few times I haven’t written one of these in a while lol

-🌾anon

it has been so so long, let's go, I'm so ready and so excited 🤭

I need to read Dante's Inferno bc I love the lore sm and have for years, I just never have the time, but even just that section of the story is so Finnick and sweet girl coded. Like sweet girl being Francesa obviously and Finnick the lover and symbolically the Capitol is the husband, she is married to her image and let's it kill her first, but anywayssss

yes yes yes, finnick, is so so very "how could you think darlin' I'd scare so easily?" coded in both cases. he would never leave her because of the actions she took to survive in the games, he has been there himself. and he'd never judge her for her trauma response bc he completely understands. it's also very mary on a cross "your beauty never ever scared me" coded

additionally, finnick wouldn't change the things he did to ensure her win. his treatment of Conway, even though he was also his tribute and under his care. the things he had to due to ensure her sponsors. he worked overtime and wouldn't have done anything less for her safety.

and finnick has never been scared about what the Capitol or Snow would do to him. he left her to protect her. he broke all the rules he could to help her win. he would defy the Capitol in every way, do whatever it takes to protect her. so despite her feeling like she is the disaster, he will always brave any storm for her.

absolutely, if finnick was told his sweet girl could be safe but he'd have to do it again, he would. if he was told he'd have to relive it all a million times for her to be safe, to be with her at the end, he would do it every time.and he doesn't think he's worthy of her love, and she doesn't think she's worthy of is, yet in every life they would find each other regardless. every romeo and juliet, every orpheus and eurydice, every odysseus and penelope, they would find each other and live and die for their love of the other

and everyone, every victor probably told finnick not to help her win the games in the first place. it would and did give the Capitol more control over both of them, more risk, more to hurt. survival at what cost, he knew that, but he needed her to survive, to be with her. so he did it anyways.

even when everything is over, the trauma, the psychological damage makes true peace so hard to find.

literally everything, ripped away, her innocence, her best friend, her sense of self, her sense of goodness (sweet girl is so glinda singing no one mourns the wicked bur meaning herself coded), her stability, her ability to be self reliant, her ability to even trust her own thoughts, torn from her

being a paranoid girlie is literally eating her alive, tearing at away at what she did have, trust for him.

heaven truly isn't fit for a love like there's, they'd be stuck in an eternity of their unconditional love and the endless tragedy that comes with it, it's just who they are

it was so good pookie, I love doing these, it is so much fun, I missed it 😭

[dairsmuids]

— if i could hold you for a minute, i’d go through it again

It feels like a laughable paradox. A bitter, haunted old mercenary's calloused palms cradling the face of a fellow soldier with seemingly-effortless affection. For this split second in time, it's as though they can pretend tenderness is a mutual proficiency. “Twenty years on my own, then I meet you and you turn me into some sentimental bastard.”

At Shepard's party, Zaeed finally comes clean about his true feelings for her. (or, alternatively: they're horny and in love, your honour)

Fic based loosely on this, which lives in my mind rent free. So many moments in the Citadel DLC canonise the idea that Zaeed is a secret softie, so I'm taking that canon and running to the end zone with it. Also, for a visual reference, Zaeed is dressed in this, because wearing full armor at parties is sociopathic.

Some context, for anyone new: my canon Shepard is Lucrezia "Ezi" Shepard, a Renegade vanguard with a Spacer background & Ruthless service history. Ezi had a fling with Zaeed during Mass Effect 2, but as a pair of grumpy idiots who'd rather blow something up than be vulnerable, they struggled to express their feelings. So the romance fizzled out, and Ezi ended up with Garrus.

Fic title comes from Hozier’s song Francesca, which is so Ezi and Zaeed coded that it gives me chest pains.

Content warnings: some brief smut. Also, Ezi and Zaeed both like to use swear words like punctuation. Another also, this is 5.3k words. Apologies, I'm a yapper.

Swirls and flurries of dark shadows and fluorescent lights filter through the floor-to-ceiling open blinds of Anderson’s — no, Shepard's — penthouse apartment, a combination of the Citadel’s artificial night cycle with the Silversun Strip’s vibrant, flickering billboards. On the ground floor of this ample dwelling the party is still very much in full swing, the cacophony of dance music and drunken laughter mingling as it wafts upward. Shepard is stunned that there hasn't been a complaint yet; though after Grunt’s earlier command of the front door comm, she's sure her neighbours are simply too afraid to risk the retaliation of a krogan airdrop through their living room window.

Shepard herself leans idly against the balcony railing, glancing downward into the empty living area, her gaze slowly trailing across the clutter of empty glasses and beer bottles strewn across Anderson’s — her — usually pristine coffee table.

She doesn’t know if she’ll ever get used to calling this place her own.

The rest of the Normandy crew are gathered in various spots around the apartment: some are dancing in the kitchen whilst some are gathered around the poker table in the back room. Grunt is fast asleep in Shepard’s shower, no doubt racking up a water bill that could easily eclipse the water usage of the entirety of Zakera Ward. Kasumi has been suspiciously unaccounted for for the past half an hour, and Shepard can't help but wonder what secrets are going to end up on the extranet thanks to the thief’s snooping.

The slight frost of Shepard's mostly-full whiskey glass chills the inside of her palm as she clutches onto it, resting both her arms against the railing as she allows herself to revel in a few moments of relative solitude. She loves her friends and crewmates, but she can't fully get her mind off the war tonight. She thinks of Anderson, out there in the thick of it on Earth, drenched in sweat and blood fighting off Reaper forces with no reprieve. He should be here, sitting in front of the fire with Kahlee. He's earned that. More than I have.

The guilt gnaws unrelentingly at her insides.

Her head tilts to the side slightly as she gazes out towards the obscenely large windows. As she begins to lose herself in her thoughts, her reverie is broken by the sound of boots thudding against the polished floor. 

“Wondered where you'd got to,” comes Zaeed's trademark rasp as he comes to a stop beside her, their elbows briefly brushing as he leans against the railing next to her. He doesn't have a drink in hand, which surprises her, since he's had a steady stream of beer bottles and liquor glasses in his hand since he arrived.

Shepard doesn't turn her head to look at him, but she gives a soft grunt in response to his greeting, chest gently jolting with the sound. The smell of him permeates around the pair of them, that sharp combination of cigarette smoke, sweat and alcohol, and for the very briefest of seconds she's sure she could close her eyes and perfectly imagine that she's back in the Normandy’s starboard cargo hold again, listening to another one of his ridiculous stories. 

“Needed a breather from all the excitement,” she mutters in response, “And from Kaidan’s dad-dancing.” She forces out a laugh as she brings her glass to her lips, taking a slow but ample sip. The skyline in front of her glitters and pulses, a kaleidoscope of searing and engaging colour, and she suddenly remembers James’ comment from months ago upon his first visit to the Citadel. There's no war here. 

Below, the muffled sound of Tali’s alcohol-slurred voice shouting “Nerrrrd!” — followed by Garrus’ equally slurred response of “Speak for yourself, vas Normandy!” — drifts upwards. The corners of Shepard's lips quirk ever so slightly in a mixture of amusement and affection. It's a reminder that this party, this shore leave, this break from everything… it isn't just about her. It's for them, too. The ones she cares for, those who have been fighting this war alongside her. And, particularly in Garrus and Tali’s case, they've been with her longer than most. 

The silence between her and Zaeed feels surprisingly comfortable as they stand there side-by-side, staring out over the balcony. A C-Sec surveillance drone wails as it whizzes past the window, the shrill sound fading away in a matter of seconds. 

Shepard turns her head toward Zaeed, finally taking the opportunity to drink him in. His attire is pretty simple and casual, just a sleeveless dark shirt, a pair of matching cargo pants and some scuffed old combat boots — it's hardly party wear, but she knows that Zaeed barely comprehends the idea of attending a party these days, unless it's to shoot up the place or take out one of the attendees. But, even despite his usual roughness and the obvious exhaustion etched on his face, she can't deny that he looks good out of his trademark armor for a change.

Her stomach gives a sudden fluttery twist, that familiar feeling of desire pooling low — though it's certainly not the first time tonight that the sight of him has made her feel this way. It's the same feeling she used to get whenever he'd corner her on the Normandy in stolen moments of intimacy. If she concentrates hard enough, she can remember the taste of his tongue sweeping across hers, the surprising softness of his short greying locks against her fingertips. 

She internally chastises herself, trying to will her mind to focus on anything but those unbidden memories.

“So, are you enjoying yourself?” she asks him, making conversation as a distraction for her thoughts. The beginnings of a grin play at her lips, growing slightly wider as he scoffs in mild amusement. 

“S’pose so,” he mutters gruffly in response, though the amusement on his face morphs into slight disdain as he gestures at the sculpture and canvases further down the balcony. “Be better if this place wasn't so fuckin’ sterile. I've been in asari museums with more life.” There's a hint of a slur in his words, a reminder of the copious amounts of liquor he's already consumed tonight.

Shepard gives a soft snort at that, turning her body so she's fully facing him now, resting one of her arms against the railing as she leans on it. “Never expected you of all people to care about interior design, Massani,” she teases, to which he just responds with a smirk, folding his arms as he turns to face her in kind. 

She knows better than to probe him on his knowledge of asari museum interiors: she's confident it would lead to a lengthy recount of one of his old contracts. As much as she enjoys the tales of his exploits, the thoughts in her own head are too loud for her to focus on anything right now. (Plus, the mental image of him taking down a target with his usual jarringly-cold confidence would only serve to exacerbate her lusts, though she'd never admit that to him).

Shepard brings her whiskey glass to her lips once again, barely noticing the burn of the alcohol anymore as it slides down her throat. She shifts her weight slightly, the fabric of her leather dress groaning with the movement. It's hardly her favourite piece of attire, but it's not like she had a huge selection of partywear to choose from. She lives out of fatigues and armor. Clothes shopping is hardly her forte. She still cringes thinking about that dress Kasumi made her wear to Donovan Hock’s party last year.

She notices the way Zaeed's gaze quietly skims down her body, but she doesn't comment on it. Doesn't trust herself to do so. The view of his arms in that sleeveless shirt has suffered her enough salacious thoughts since he got here.

“What do you think of the music? Great? Bad? What?” she asks then, gesturing around them in question of the obnoxious thumping dance number blaring over the speakers.

Zaeed's eyes lazily flick back up to find her face once more, and his expression is something she can't quite place. If she trusted him less, it might’ve almost unnerved her.

A pause of tentative silence brews between them. 

“You don't really want to know what I think, Shepard,” he finally says, his words slipping out with an obvious hesitance, one of his hands coming up to rub absently against the barely-there scruff on his cheek. 

Shepard gives a questioning head tilt at that, eyebrows knitting together as she emits a nervous chuckle. “Sure I do,” she replies, her teeth worrying over her bottom lip as she allows her eyes to dart between his own, searching, trying to figure him out.

Zaeed lets out a rough exhale, giving a gentle shake of his head. It almost seems as though he's going to back off, end the conversation here, walk away. 

And then he doesn't. 

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful,” he admits at last, his voice a low, intimate rumble between them, the smell of alcohol strong on his breath. His knuckles turn white where they grip the balcony railing, shoulders taut with obvious tension. “Beautiful and goddamn magnificent.”

He lets out a soft huff, a sound that's suspiciously like self-deprecation. “Never could walk away from you, Ez, not really,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face, almost like he’s fighting exhaustion — the exhaustion of feelings, despite swearing for years that feelings were a weakness he couldn't afford, not again. His weighted gaze flickers back to hers. “Fuckin’ hell… you’re it for me, sweetheart. Always have been.”

As if suddenly realising he might have said too much, he shifts back half a step. His brows twitch upward as a short, rough breath escapes his lips, almost like he's been sucker-punched by his own words. “There. I said it.”

The sudden admission hits Shepard like the force of a krogan charge she hadn't seen coming. She gives a blink, her expression nothing short of stunned as she searches his eyes again. But there's no amusement there, no sneer, no sarcasm. His words just hang there between them, a raw and fragile thing, like an unpinned grenade that threatens to obliterate them both with each second that passes. 

“Zaeed…” she starts, but then she falters, internally berating herself for not being able to find the right words. Talking down the quarians from going back into war with the geth felt less daunting than this.

And then, it seems, she hesitates far too long for his bruised ego to cope any longer.

“Shhh, don't say anything, just forget it,” he mutters bitterly, straightening up as he moves to take a step back from her, breaking the eye contact between them. “Just an old man chatting shit. Forget I said anything.”

Logically, she knows that he's not wrong — she probably should forget it. Let bygones be bygones. Let that be the end of it, perhaps for good, if she doesn't see him again after this party. And then her body tenses up, muscles in her shoulders tightening, stomach doing acrobatics to the point of making her nauseous. She knows, deep down, that this sudden tension in her bones isn't a reaction to his confession. It's a reaction to the thought of letting him slip away after all this.

As he begins to turn around, preparing to walk away, she lets the logical part of her brain scream, ignored, into a silent void. Her heart wins out. She reaches for him, fingers pressing against the inside of his wrist as she grabs onto his arm. His pulse hammers beneath her fingertips, faster than it should be for a man at rest, betraying his attempt at outward nonchalance.

He immediately freezes on the spot, unable to bring himself to look at her, a muscle in his scarred cheek visibly twitching.

“No,” Shepard says firmly. “How the hell can I? How am I meant to forget this, Zaeed?”

When he still won't turn back around or look at her, she feels suddenly irritated, her jaw clenching tightly as her mixed emotions swirl almost violently in her chest. She downs the rest of her glass of whiskey — in a quick shot that makes her grimace — and lets the empty tumbler drop to the rug-covered floor, silently grateful when it makes a thud sound instead of a smash. 

“You never said anything before,” she accuses as she takes a step closer, though the tone of her voice gives way to a desperate hurt rather than any kind of genuine anger. “Why? Why say it now? Why not last year?”

Memories of moments spent with him on the Normandy flood Shepard's mind — hours of laughing through alcohol-fuelled swapping of war stories, sparring matches that left them both bruised and breathless, the husky growl of her name escaping his lips as he pressed her up against the weapon bench, his weathered hands mapping the scars of her rebuilt body. For a while they'd been the worst kept secret on the ship. Falling in love might’ve been easier than either of them expected, if only they hadn't given so easily into their mutual cynicism. 

“What would you have done, eh?” Zaeed challenges, voice raw as he finally braves turning his head just enough to meet her confused stare. “If I'd actually fucking said it then?” He shakes his arm out of her grip so he can fully turn around to face her. “You'd have told me to piss off —”

“You don't know that,” she counters sharply, talking over him before he's even finished his sentence. 

“I do,” he argues. “We had the Collectors on our arses, we had a job to do, and now you tell me you expected time for bloody hearts and flowers? Since when were you such a goddamn idealist, Lucrezia?”

Shepard's eyes narrow at his pointed use of her name. Their mingled breaths in the space between them are sharp and short, tension like a rubber band threatening to snap.

“Besides, you're telling me a woman like you would throw her life away on some old ghost?” Zaeed continues, folding his arms defensively across his chest as his ruined stare hits the floor. His tone is marginally less argumentative now. “What a fucking joke.”

Shepard's lips part as she prepares to shoot back a response, but then a flicker of sudden hesitation washes over her. Bright blue eyes bore into the crown of Zaeed’s head as he remains staunchly focused on the ground, his jaw working like he's chewing gravel, and it occurs to her then — like the flicker of a light bulb — that this insolence isn't just Zaeed being his typical difficult self. It's insecurity. A fear of rejection.

Her shoulders sag, any lingering shred of antagonism immediately draining out of her. 

The two of them stand there in the tense silence, unspoken emotions stifling their shared air. Shepard loathes Zaeed's notion that they're too different, that she's some impossible dream he couldn't dare to hope for. They're cut from the same cloth, forged in war and violence: he was once a respected leader, co-founder of the most feared merc band in the galaxy. She's an Alliance hero, a human band-aid for the galaxy's biggest problems. Similar experiences, shaped by them in hugely different ways. 

The specter and the Spectre. 

In another life, with other choices, perhaps they would have met as equals. She wonders if that's a part of his insecurity, his reluctance to pursue her. 

I am all you could've been, and you are all I might be, she thinks.

“A part of me always waited and hoped, you know,” she starts, breaking the silence, and immediately she hates how painful it feels to be emotionally vulnerable with him. It's not their thing: it never was. That had always been their unsolvable problem. “For you. Even when I kept telling myself I didn't give a shit, that I had Garrus, that he was enough. Even with all that, I still kept hoping. I couldn't stop. I… I don't think I'll ever fucking stop.”

Downstairs she can hear the distant sound of Garrus’ modulated baritone as he engages in conversation. She pictures the turian in her mind, hopeful eyes, the gentle flicker of his mandibles whenever he says something clever or just looks her way. She loves him, so deeply that sometimes she doesn't know what to do with the feelings.

And yet. And yet.

Zaeed slowly unfolds his arms, finally meeting her eyes again, his previous defensive posturing replaced with an action that threatens to take Shepard's breath away: he gently reaches upward to cup her cheeks tenderly between his hands, thumbs brushing against her cheekbones. She doesn't hesitate, immediately pressing her hands against his to keep him there. She knows she's playing with fire — any one of her friends could come up the stairs or round the corner and see this display at any moment, after all. Or even Garrus, to make matters worse.

“Stubborn bitch, you are,” he mutters gruffly, but there’s no heat behind his words. “Could have your pick of any man in the galaxy, but you'd rather waste your time on a washed-up old merc. You're ridiculous. Should've never joined up with you in the first place.”

Shepard gives a soft huff at his words, holding his stare, her fingers tracing idle patterns against his rough, tattooed knuckles. “Admit it, your life would've been boring if you'd never met me,” she challenges playfully.

Zaeed scoffs at that. “Boring and a damn sight shorter, probably,” he concedes. He strokes his thumbs against her cheekbones once more, giving an almost resigned sigh. “You're the only thing in the galaxy that's ever made surviving worth the goddamn trouble.”

It feels like a laughable paradox. A bitter, haunted old mercenary's calloused palms cradling the face of a fellow soldier with seemingly-effortless affection. For this split second in time, it's as though they can pretend tenderness is a mutual proficiency. “Twenty years on my own, then I meet you and you turn me into some sentimental bastard.” His voice cracks, dry and rough, like the infertile land in the northernmost reaches of Tuchanka. He searches her gaze, assessing it with a kind of scrutiny that's not a far cry from assessing raid plans in his Blue Suns days. “Is he enough? Vakarian? I'll accept it if it's a yes, beautiful, but I need you to tell me.”

She doesn't know if it's the alcohol in her system, or the close proximity to him, or the way he calls her beautiful in a way that makes everything south of her belly button tighten up — but the whirlwind of emotions make her want to throw caution to the wind and fuck the consequences. 

“I don't… know the answer to that,” she admits, and it's a bitter yet somewhat unsurprising truth on her tongue.

As if surrendering to the inevitability of it all, Shepard lets her hand drift downward between them, tracking the movement with her eyes as she toys with the hem of Zaeed’s shirt before slipping beneath. Her fingers splay over the sharp jut of his hip bone, her thumb tracing slow and deliberate circles, teetering on a knife edge between affectionate and indecent. Her hand moves with a kind of uncharacteristic reverence, fingertips ghosting over the expanse of his abdomen.

Once she slowly lifts her head back up her breath catches in her throat, as if it suddenly dawns on her how close he is, their faces hovering mere inches apart. She doesn't mean to stare at his lips, but their proximity almost feels like a dare to do otherwise. 

“Tell me to fuck off, Ez. Do us both a favour,” he says, his gritty voice barely above a whisper. He reaches to tilt her chin upward, forcing her gaze back to his.

“I can't,” she manages. “Damn it, Zaeed, you know I can't, not when it comes to you.” Her fingers continue their journey across the warmth of his skin, tracking dangerously low down his abdomen until her palm brushes the soft curls of hair at his waistband.

And that’s what finally strips away the last shred of Zaeed's restraint. He lets out a low growl, immediately crowding her backwards until she hits the back wall with a soft sound of surprise, knocking against some ridiculous looking piece of canvas art that Zaeed definitely wants to use as a convenient place to put out his next cigarette. He acts with zero hesitation, not a care in the world for the fact that they're not alone in this apartment, his palm pressing possessively against the sharp line of her jaw as he catches her in a rough kiss.

There's no finesse to it in the slightest, teeth clashes and sloppy tongues, a rhapsody of mutual frenzy. Shepard arches upward, grabbing roughly at the front of his shirt as though she'll die all over again if he dares to let her go. 

Zaeed's hand slips upward, disappearing under the hem of her dress, calloused fingers slipping past the barrier of her underwear to slide between her slick folds.

“Soaked through for me already, just like always,” he rasps against her lips. He probes two fingers inside her without warning, giving a gruff sound of predatory satisfaction when she responds to the breach with a needy gasp and a flutter of her eyelids. “Been like this all night, have you, sweetheart? Bet Vakarian never gets you this wet.”

Shepard opens her mouth with full intention to respond to his vicious and unnecessary remark, until his thumb begins to brush insistent circles over her swollen clit in a way that makes her whimper — actually whimper. A sound that she's sure most people wouldn't expect from the ruthless, volatile Commander. He remembers just how she likes to be touched, almost as though he's been keeping this knowledge carefully stored away for future use. Arrogant fucking asshole. She lets her head drop back against the wall behind her, her hand coming up to claw at his bicep, the skin beneath her fingertips an intricate tapestry of fading tattoos and healed wounds.

“Tell me to stop,” Zaeed utters gruffly as he leaves a path of kisses and nips up her jawline. The low, gravelly timbre of his voice rumbling against her skin only exacerbates the building pleasure he's coaxing between her thighs. “Tell me to let you go back to your turian.”

But she doesn't. This behaviour is a perfect representation of their mutual recklessness: the kind that rivals even their agreement to ignore the screams of those refinery workers on Zorya. A penchant for destruction in the name of immediate gratification.

The brief mention of Garrus is a whisper of guilt at her ear. A whisper she’s all too eager to ignore, muffled by a large amount of alcohol and even larger amount of repressed primal desperation.

Her lack of response makes Zaeed smirk smugly against her throat. “That's how it is, then,” he rasps, the sound practically vibrating against the pulse point of her neck. “Still mine, after all this time.”

Shepard's immediate scoff is a quiet, breathless thing between them, barely audible over the thumping vibration of the party music’s bass line. “I was never yours, Massani,” she retorts, bringing her hand down between them, groping at the rigid outline of his cock as it strains eagerly against the confines of his trousers. The sound he emits in response against her ear — a low, lingering groan of a curse followed by her name — is so delightfully obscene that it threatens to undo her then and there.

But even despite her retort, her hips continue to jolt upwards into his clever touch, her nails leaving crescent-shaped dents in his shoulder as she clings to him for dear life. The friction of his scruff against the pale expanse of her clavicle easily erases her lie in the space between them. She may have arisen on that slab at the Lazarus Project facility, but it was meeting Zaeed that truly reanimated her, and they both know it.

Some heated minutes pass, time that feels like hours. He's three fingers deep, his teeth grazing her neck, grinding his insistent erection eagerly against the palm of her hand, when the sounds of loud laughter and multiple pairs of footsteps coming from the upstairs hallway makes her body tense up and freeze. A stark reminder that they aren't alone in this place. A stark reminder that their actions have consequences. 

A frustrated whine tears from Shepard's throat, and she gives a final deliberate clench around his fingers before moving to gently press her hand against his chest, signalling to him that they have to stop. His equally frustrated growl rumbles in the space between them, but he respects her too much to refuse her silent request. He laments the loss of her around him as he slips out his fingers, bringing them to his lips to suck them clean — an act of casual brazenness that makes her huff with surprise despite herself.

She reaches up to stroke her fingertips against his scarred cheek, letting the gesture and the look in her eye say all the soft things she knows she can't say. She's visibly trembling, heart thudding wildly in her chest, body running on a dangerous combination of adrenaline and arousal that almost makes her stupid with a want to pull him back in, wrap her legs around his waist and rut against him like an animal in heat.

He opens his mouth to speak, and she almost braces herself for whatever it is he's about to say — until the familiar figures of Tali, Garrus and Kaidan come striding round the corner, a low murmur of amused conversation between them. 

Shepard drops her hand from Zaeed's face and the two of them swiftly separate as though they've been burned. She straightens herself up, forcing a jovial smile as she meets the faces of her closest friends and boyfriend.

“Hey, there you are Ez,” comes Kaidan’s warm greeting, his voice its usual raspy timbre with an addition of an alcohol-induced slur. “Hey, Zaeed. Good to see you.”

Zaeed just gives a simple nod, folding his arms across his chest in his usual guarded manner, making a gallant effort to act as though his heart isn't currently thudding manically against his rib cage. “‘Ello there.”

Shepard deliberately refuses to look in his direction, focusing her eyes on Kaidan’s face instead. She's grateful that her friends appear to be far too inebriated to notice the way Zaeed's pants are currently fitting a little too snugly in the crotch area, or that her own face and neck are flushed as though she's just returned from a shuttle bay sparring session with Vega. If this wasn't such a shitty situation, it might almost pass for comical.

“Ezi, tell this bosh’tet that Fleet and Flotilla is one of the greatest vids of our generation —” Tali suddenly pipes up as she gestures in Kaidan’s direction.

The Major responds with a here we go again eye roll and a quirk of his lips, interjecting before Tali’s even finished talking. “It's terrible, and you and Shepard were lucky I stayed to watch the entire thing. You have crappy taste in vids, Tali.”

“I do not! The only one with crappy taste here is you. In vids, in omni-tools —”

“Hey now, I already told you, the Logic Arrest trumps anything else on the market...”

Shepard doesn't even bother to interject between her friends’ ridiculous bickering, her gaze hitting the floor as Garrus moves toward her, slipping an arm around her shoulders in an affectionate yet protective manner. From beneath her lashes she sees Zaeed turn and saunter away with a gruff mutter of “I need another fuckin’ drink”, and she hates the way her chest suddenly aches with a mixture of guilt and loneliness once he's out of sight.

“You okay?” Garrus’ rumbling voice is like a warm blanket between them, his gentle eyes drifting across the side of her face as he drinks her in. He reaches out, talons brushing ever so delicately against her temple as he pushes back a strand of her dark hair. “What were you and Zaeed talking about?”

The weighted secret of her infidelity hangs over her, heavy and stifling like one of those dust storms on Mars. She's suddenly grateful that Garrus is in casual wear instead of being armoured up: she knows that if he was wearing his visor he'd be able to clearly read how fast her heart is hammering in her chest, a combination of lingering arousal and intense guilt that she doesn't want to be held accountable for, even if she knows she should.

“Just the old days,” she replies, and she automatically leans her head to rest against his carapace, still pointedly avoiding his gaze. She can't look at him. He always looks at her like she put every single star in the sky, and right now it'd be more than she can bear. “You know how Massani gets with his reminiscing.” She forces out a laugh, the sound almost brittle and excruciating.

It's not a complete lie, she tries to tell herself, as though the technicality will make any of this better.

Out of the corner of her eye she can see Garrus still gazing at her concernedly, almost assessing her, and for a painful split second she's sure he's going to probe her further — but then the sound of Tali’s voice rings out as she loudly asks for his opinion on dextro cheese, and as he turns away to amusedly engage in their friends’ conversation, Shepard lets out a barely-audible sigh of relief. 

As her gaze drifts downward, she catches sight of Zaeed stepping into the living area. He moves with his typical nonchalance, settling onto the armrest of the couch, a fresh bottle of beer in hand. He takes a slow swig, eyes lifting to meet hers, and the way she gazes down longingly at him feels like a second infidelity to the fiercely-loyal turian standing next to her. She thinks of the betrayal Garrus suffered through with Sidonis, and a sudden and intense self-loathing gnaws at her gut as she realises she's no better.

Shepard finally tears her eyes away from Zaeed as she moves to cuddle against Garrus’ form, slipping her arm around his waist. The turian immediately relishes the closer contact, mandibles giving a contented flicker as he leans in to press his forehead against hers for a brief moment. 

For once, she’s startled by the way his affection doesn't immediately ground her like it usually does. But she knows that this change is nobody’s fault but her own, a consequence of the lingering guilt that seeps into her bones.

When she turns her head back around to chance another look over the railing, the space is once again devoid of Zaeed's presence. She swallows hard, a fight to ignore the hollow ache creeping into her chest, the same one she’d felt the last time they went their separate ways. A fight that somehow seems more bleak than pushing back the Reapers.

Back then — after Aratoht, when she prepared to go face the music on Earth and her suicide mission comrades all began scattering their separate ways — she’d told herself that distance between her and Zaeed was for the best. She’d told herself she’d moved on. But as she stands here now, the heat of his touch still lingering on her skin, she knows she’s only ever been lying to herself.

When she awakens early the next morning to make the rounds with her hungover friends and crewmates, Shepard's stomach drops as she realises Zaeed has already gone. No goodbyes, no words, just… gone. And despite everything — despite the warmth of her friends’ company, and the stabilising comfort of Garrus’ love for her — she can’t ignore the way this loss stings like no other.

[hozierwords]

water references for @sillycartoonhozier

Water

Unreleased songs:

But The Wages: “Whether the temperature highs/Or the sea level rising/It's all going up but the wages”

Hozier

Take Me To Church: “Drain the whole sea, get somethin’ shiny”

In a Week: “Like the damp grass that yields to me”

In The Woods Somewhere: “My head was warm, my skin was soaked”

Wasteland, Baby!

Movement: “I still watch you when you're groovin'/As if through water from the bottom of a pool”

Movement: “Like Jonah on the ocean”

No Plan: “The harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun”

Talk: “Before the wave hits, marvelling at God (Hey, yeah)”

Talk: “Before he feels alone one final time and marries the sea”

Be: “When the gyre widens on and when the wave breaks”

Be: “Oh, when the sea rises to meet us”

Sunlight: “A soul that’s born in cold and rain”

Wasteland, Baby!: “When the stench of the sea and the absence of green”

Unreal Unearth: Unending

Nobody’s Soldier: “If I tell you this is drowning/You tell me I'm walking on water”

Nobody’s Soldier: “Come down like a waterfall”

Too Sweet: “Don't you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake”

Wildflower and Barley: “Riverboat, wheelbarrow, wildflower and barley”

Wildflower and Barley: “The canal banks are empty again”

Wildflower and Barley: “Canal boat and trolley, wildflower and barley”

Fare Well: “A whale-swimmin'-up-Sumida-Gawa wouldn't fare well”

Through Me (The Flood): “Seen like a speck out from the shore/Swimming out beyond the breakers”

Through Me (The Flood): “And he swims on/Turning back to shore again”

Through Me (The Flood): “He feels the rising of a wave and knows at once”

Through Me (The Flood): “I lookеd down into the depths when I mеt you”

Through Me (The Flood): “Anytime I'd struggled on/Against the course out on my own”

Through Me (The Flood): “That the world, it flows through me”

First Time: “I drank dry the River Lethe”

First Time: “The Liffey would have been softer on my stomach all the same”

First Time: “Drying out, then drowning blindly”

Francesca: “My life was a storm since I was born/How could I fear any hurricane?”

I, Carrion (Icarian): “You have me floatin' like a feather on the sea”

Eat Your Young: “Pull up the ladder when the flood comes”

Who We Are: “Falling from you drop by drop”

Who We Are: “To hold me like water”

Who We Are: “You and I burned out our steam”

All Things End: “Never watched my future darken in a single tear”

To Someone From A Warm Climate (Uiscefhuaraithe): “The feel of coldness only water brings”

To Someone From A Warm Climate (Uiscefhuaraithe): “The rains of winter seemed to never leave the walls”

To Someone From A Warm Climate (Uiscefhuaraithe): “That the river of my arms have found the ocean”

To Someone From A Warm Climate (Uiscefhuaraithe): “I wish I could say the cold lake water of my heart”

Anything But: “Come here to me, I wish I was a may fly on the River Tay”

Anything But: “I wish I was the sunlight just sitting on The Mississippi”

Anything But: “I'd settle for a shopping trolley in The Liffey”

Anything But: “In a shot, I'd swap my body for a body of water”

Anything But: “Worry the cliff side top as a wave crashing over”

Anything But: “I'd lower the world in a flood or, better yet, I'd cause a drought”

Anything But: “If I was a riptide, I wouldn't take you out”

Abstract (Psychopomp): “Sometimes, it returns like rain that you slept through”

Abstract (Psychopomp): “That washed off the world, the streets looking brand new”

Abstract (Psychopomp): “The poor thing in the road, its eye still glistening”

Abstract (Psychopomp): “The cold wet of your nose, the earth from a distance”

Abstract (Psychopomp): “Your tear caught the light, the earth from a distance”

Unknown/Nth: “I'd have walked across the floor of any sea”

Unknown/Nth: “If there were scarlet flags, they washed out in the mind of mе”

Non Album Songs

Blood Upon The Snow: "No rain fall, no sunshine"