#'wishing my life away' for a different one

[passionpeachy]

Highlights from the Green Day concert at Austin

flames

that dancing guy in the gross ass bunny suit at the start of the show that they just REFUSE to clean

someone threw Billie Joe a Mexican flag and he posed with it (as a Mexican American I cheered VERY hard)

someone in the crowd gave him a big red hairbow and he wore it (I wish I had a picture)

more flames

me scream-singing and dancing to every single song so hard I didn't notice I lost an earring and it SHATTERED under my boot

Billie Joe pulling out a heart grenade that exploded into red streamers and my butch boyfriend caught one and tied it to my hair 💗 they also kept making sure I was hydrated throughout the show

The costume changes when they went from playing Dookie to American Idiot. ex: Mike Dirnt (bassist) taking off the orange jumpsuit from the Basket Case music video to reveal the more "modern" outfit under. I think that transition was cool considering how different these 2 eras are!

THE GIANT HEART GRENADE INFLATABLE????

the little Bad Year blimp from the album cover of Dookie flying over the crowd

my boyfriend buying me a tote bag at the merch table ^_^

When Billie told us to take out our phone flashlights to wave in the air (during Boulevard of Broken Dreams I think?) and said it was the only thing an iPhone is good for.... #ilovemyboomerdad

During Time of your Life (the last song), after Billie Joe told the crowd to put away their phones and to be “in the moment”, Tre Cool (drummer) runs out with a phone and circles him while filming LMAO

BONUS: this picture my boyfriend took of me while I was singing along to Fuck Off and Die

[haikyu-mp4]

You're not actors

Fluffy workplace romance as a streamer with your secret husband Kenma for my workplace romance event <3

requested by @dira333. word count; 837 – f!reader

Kenma loves his wedding ring. It’s just a piece of metal, but the matching one on your finger makes him giddy whenever he sees it, even if he doesn’t usually tell you that.

Unfortunately, he has to take it off for work. Your relationship wasn’t public, so he would rather not awaken any suspicions by showing his ring on camera. He’s a private person, preferring not to have everyone asking questions about his personal life.

You have separate streaming rooms on either end of the house so no noise would overlap, and so far everything ran smoothly. Sometimes, you would have to remind him about the ring as he kisses you before heading to his streaming room, and sometimes he remembers it himself. 

And sometimes you both forget.

This time, Kenma started the stream with his ring sitting snug on his finger and as time passed, he simply couldn’t move past this one level. It frustrated him to the point of running his hands through his hair and groaning at the seemingly impossible task. As the light from the screen hit metal, it glinted in the camera.

That’s how the speculations started. Is Kodzuken married? He never answers questions about his relationship status…

You’re a streamer too, often seen doing collabs with Kenma but never in person. You worried either of you might forget to act not in love while the viewers are literally observing your every move.

This time, you streamed alone. You recently started a Stardew Valley series where the viewers got to follow the progress with your fun commentary. It was very entertaining and gained you many more followers.

And Kenma knew you were streaming, so it was difficult to hide your surprise when a shattering sound ran through the house and someone hissed “Shit!”

Pausing the stream, you ran into the living room to find your husband surrounded by broken glass and spilt soda with a sheepish look. After sweeping some of it away and making sure he was okay, you hurried back to the stream and started it again to keep playing.

You pursed your lips, trying to act as if nothing happened. Unfortunately, you’re a YouTuber, not an actor.

That’s how the speculations started. Who does she live with? Is she in a secret relationship?

Following these two unfortunate events, you had no choice but to do the collab you had planned, as skipping it would seem suspicious. So just like normal, you both opened the shooter game and acted like you usually would while playing together, as if the comments weren’t bombarding you with these different rumours and some suggested your rumours were related to each other.

While you swore like a sailor at anything disadvantageous during the game, Kenma fell into the bad habit of watching your stream instead of his game, heart eyes evident to anyone who had eyes themselves. He would eventually sober up, getting revenge on anyone who went against you and then killing you so he could win alone.

His soft voice in your headphones made a shiver run down your spine and you wished the watchers were lying when they said Kodzuken is the only one you don’t curse at.

There were several heart eyes during this stream, and it was not just in the comments.

You both stood in the kitchen a couple of days (read nights) later. Kenma had accidentally woken you up by stubbing his toe on the bed and you demanded snacks so he pulled you along to the kitchen. The two of you talked about your latest work adventures or friend gossip while tapping your feet on the cold floors, a plate of apple pie in each of your hands.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” Kenma said, holding his hand up when he knew you were about to say something like I’m happy you told me or else I’d miss it. “Maybe we should just tell everyone.”

When you looked confused, he flipped his hand around, wiggling his fingers to show off the wedding ring as emphasis. Your eyes widened. “That’s a pretty big thought, buddy, good job.”

He snorted, scooping up another piece of cake and feeding it to you. “I’m serious.”

“But I kinda like watching you try to keep it a secret,” you teased again before stepping closer and pressing light kisses along his jaw. Kenma sighed, pusring his lips and looking away with something that looked an awful lot like guilt.

“I might have just said I have a wife on livestream.”

Flashback to a couple of hours before, when some, probably thirteen-year-old, boy commented on Kenma’s apparent lack of rizz. A gen-Z concept Kenma had no interest in taking part in, but felt weirdly offended by.

“Bet you dont even pull, all the marridge rumors are so stupd.”

He would never admit out loud that it hit a nerve, but you wouldn’t need him to. It was evident. “You should see my wife, noob. She’s fucking gorgeous and plays better than whatever you pull.”

masterlist

/thank you @cottonlemonade for brainstorming with me<3

[hencheri]

18+. mdni.

pairing: mean!xiaojun x fem!reader x mean!hendery

warnings: noncon, mention of physical violence, xiaojun is straight up cruel & hendery is kinda a himbo lol.

wc: 2k

this is part 2 of this drabble. thanks yaz for the idea <3 it's a little different from what you asked.

xiaojun takes a sip of his drink, the alcohol burning his throat as he swallows it down. he looks around, squinting his eyes at the crowd, searching for a face that would spark something in him. something new and exciting.

but no one interests him enough.

he sighs when his gaze falls on hendery, enjoying himself with some random girls on the dance floor. xiaojun can hear his laugh from here, his hand slapping one girl’s ass, whispering in the ear of the other, making both giggle. 

it doesn’t take much to entertain hendery, just some pretty girls and he’s over the moon. with how easy going he is, his popularity is not surprising. his boyish charm always has its effect on women. 

xiaojun wishes he was as easily entertained as his best friend, but he needs more than just some sexy attire and a girl giggling at everything he says. he sees the inviting glances thrown his way, and maybe he would give in if that’s what he was searching for, but for some reasons, tonight he wants something different, not just a hook-up. 

and that something he will find in someone he already knows very well. 

he spots a feminine silhouette at the bar, body wrapped in a short white dress that seems to be made of satin. she talks to a man, presumably boyfriend as he lays a protective hand on her hip, soon leaving her alone. 

xiaojun can only see her back until she turns around with a glass in hand. the same very eyes he made tears flew from are looking straight back at him. 

his entire mood shifts and that spark he needed so badly finally lights up in him. it’s you. 

he’s about to stand up and leave his seat when he notices your eyes going elsewhere, staring at the crowd of people stacked on the dance floor. xiaojun follows your gaze only to realize hendery is no longer dancing, instead walking in your direction. 

you decide to go in the opposite way, but you stop dead in your tracks as xiaojun comes up to you as well. you’re trapped. 

you back away until you hit the edge of the bar behind you, eyes going in between the two men, having no clue on what to do or how to escape. but it’s simple; you can’t escape. and hendery would like to believe this is fate, this is just how life’s decided to be. 

he would be right about one thing; this is how it is and you can’t do anything about it, but fate… no, fate isn’t so cruel. it isn’t so unfair. 

hendery is the first to arrive, flashing you a sweet smile that would have melted your heart if you didn’t know how mean he truly is behind closed doors. 

“what a surprise,” he flirts, casually leaning his body against the bar at the same time xiaojun comes to your level. 

they both exchange a look, their plans totally changed now that you’re here. 

last time, they left you in their hotel room as it was the last night they were staying in. xiaojun knew they would have to leave eventually, they couldn’t keep you. it was a little delusional to even consider it, but hendery has the habit to get easily attached to people. he sure gets over them fast as well, even though your case has been quite special.

your big scared eyes are looking back at him like he remembers, meaning ‘don’t do this to me’. it’s something hendery can’t promise, though. that wouldn’t make any sense. 

your head turns to xiaojun then to hendery again. “i came with my boyfriend. leave me alone or-”

you’re cut off by xiaojun who clasps a hand around your face, harshly pulling it toward him. he seems to always want to control your movements, to control what you see and what you say — he just wants to control everything. 

“or what? don’t threaten us now, princess,” he says sternly, “you know better than this.”

his eyes hold all the hate in the world. he doesn’t give a single fuck about your boyfriend, in fact, he has a stronger desire to take you now that a boyfriend is involved. it means having something that isn’t technically his, but will be once he has his hands on you, as if curving his initials into your skin. ruin you for any other man.

“where’s the little boyfriend anyway? i don’t see him,” hendery mocks, laughing straight in your face. how convinient for them that he decided to leave right when they noticed you. it’s meant to be, hendery’s sure of it. 

you open your mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. maybe fate is that cruel after all. 

your phone is buzzing incessantly, messages and calls from your boyfriend. you wish for once he wouldn’t worry so much, that he’d at least drop it off for tonight. 

this situation is too reminiscent of the last time they had you both helpless and submissive for their sick pleasure. your dad calling, and now your boyfriend, all while xiaojun is taking you from behind. 

your front is pressed down on the bed as your legs are dangling off of it, hands holding onto the bed covers. 

“can you turn that shit off? that boyfriend’s gonna turn me crazy,” xiaojun groans and rolls his eyes, talking to hendery. 

he picks up your phone from the floor, seeing almost 20 notifications all from the same number. “my guy’s worrying to death,” hendery snickers, scrolling through the unread messages. “we should reassure him and tell him his precious girlfriend is well taken care of.”

you can’t believe they want to mess with your loved ones again. you still remember when xiaojun pressed your phone to your ear, basically forcing you to talk to your father while his friend was on top of you. you won’t forget the sickening glint he had in his eyes, like he’s never been more entertained in his life before. 

“stop it,” you say with a weak voice, tear stained cheek laying on the mattress. you look at hendery, but he doesn’t drop your phone, instead typing something on your keyboard, immediately assuming he’s sending a text to your boyfriend. “don’t! please! why are you doing this?” you cry out loudly.

but again, they choose to ignore you. the smile on hendery’s face makes you sick in your stomach, how can someone so beautiful be so heartless? 

“give it to me,” xiaojun asks, reaching his hand out. hendery hands it to him and he places the screen just in front of your eyes. “how caring of him,” he coos.

you can see all the texts he sent you, asking where you are, why did you leave, if you’re with someone else, if he did something wrong, and then calling you a bunch of times. 

but before you can see what hendery said to him, xiaojun opens your camera and starts to record a video. 

he holds your hip with one hand, thrusting back and forth into your pussy. he films your intercourse, capturing how the translucent pearls falling from your eyes roll gracefully over your rounded cheeks to disappear into the material of the bedsheets. how pretty. 

the back of your thighs burn at how violently he pounds into you, his skin smacking against yours, the sounds echoing in the room. 

xiaojun leans over you, his naked chest sticking to your back, and a surprised gasp escapes your lips when he digs his teeth into your shoulder, biting you. he films it, of course, wanting the video to be as graphic as possible — so explicit that when your boyfriend will watch it, he’ll burst in anger, his little ego crushed by seeing his girlfriend in the hands of another man.

his hips roll against your ass, hard cock entering your pussy and stretching your walls to the size of his girth. the amount of arousal that drips along your inner thighs embarasses you, cursing your body for reacting to his touch — to their touch. 

he positions his lips right beside your ear, “you like this, don’t you?” he growls, sliding his cock into your wet cunt in a way that has the knot in your stomach tightening. “poor little girl getting her slutty hole stuffed full of cock… how unlucky,” xiaojun whispers to you, his mean words making you sob harder. he says all of this while looking straight at the camera, knowing who’s going to be the spectator of it. 

he then straightens his back, resuming his brutal and harsh pace. he ends the video, passing your phone back to hendery who happily sends it to your boyfriend. 

more long minutes pass where xiaojun moves into you back and forth, slapping your ass so hard that you still feel the trace of his hand on you. hendery has a painful hold of your hair, your head tilted to the side as he makes you suck his dick. he can’t stop talking to you, calling you a bunch of names, praising your skills that you absolutely hate using as of right now. 

you wish his words would mean nothing to you, but they will remain in your mind for a long time, replaying in your head every time a man that isn’t him will touch you. you will not recover from this, and the fact that you might not find pleasure with anyone else scares you the most. this isn’t how you should feel. 

your phone is long forgotten, thrown away on the floor, nobody paying attention to it until the battery finally dies down and you don’t hear any more from your boyfriend. you’re relieved, in a way, that his attempts to contact you are just useless now. 

the night feels endless, and rightfully so, because they use you in so many ways that you can’t count anymore. your energy is spent, but they don’t care — not in the slightest. you’re theirs now. 

the sun going through the blinds wakes you up, blinking your eyes open. your eyelids stick together a little bit and you feel the puffiness of your face, the results of you crying all night. 

the first thing you see is hendery’s sleeping face, buried in your chest. you can feel his breath fanning across your skin, quiet and regular. his deep brown hair are in a mess, strands covering his forehead and eyes. 

his big hands are laid on your waist, blood creeping up to your face when you realize that you’re naked. you forgot for a second the reason why you were brought here and with who. 

you squirm just a little, but you can’t really escape hendery’s embrace, he holds you too tightly. 

you look up when you hear the sliding door opening and then closing, seeing xiaojun getting back inside, a cigarette in hand. he takes one last drag out of it until he crushes the end into the ashtray placed on the dresser beside him. 

he’s dressed in a large black hoodie and grey sweetpants. when he notices your gaze on him, he smiles at you, surely the first time you’ve ever seen him do it. 

“do you wanna take a shower?” he asks and honestly, it surprises you.

you remember waking up in an empty hotel room, only your bag and clothes laying on the floor, no trace of the men who had taken you away. but now, they’re here, one of them cuddling you in his sleep and the other offering you to wash yourself. 

what changed? why did they stay?

you faintly nod your head. “great, i’m gonna go start it then.” and xiaojun leaves for the bathroom. 

you look around the room and catch the sight of your phone charging on the nightstand nearest to you, extending your arm to grab it without startling hendery’s slumber. you unplug it, bringing it to your face.

you rapidly unlock it and immediately go to your messaging app. 

a big knot forms in your throat and your eyes begin to water when you read the texts from your boyfriend, breaking up with you just after the video was sent.

[srbachchan]

DAY 6058

Jalsa, Mumbai Sept 18, 2024/Sept 19 Wed/Thu 8:52 am

🪔 ..

September 19 .. birthday greetings to Ef Vandana Joshi Bhat from Toronto - Canada 🇨🇦 .. and .. Ef Dharmesh Trivedi from USA 🇺🇸 .. 🙏🏻❤️🚩

September 18 .. birthday greetings to the Californians clan of the Ef .. Ef Viral .. Ef Sandeep Khurana .. and Ef Anisha Datta .. our love and wishes .. 🙏🏻❤️🚩

September 17 .. birthday greetings to Ef Jags .. and Ef Tasnima Khan from UK 🇬🇧 .. 🙏🏻❤️🚩

our wishes and greetings .. from the Ef ..

At times many wonder at the content that appears on this most communicative page .. as also on the minimal expresses of the X and the FB .. and I often smile and laugh at the manner in which , they that profess to be the 'masters' of the communicative 'business', pick up words expressions and create content headlines , in the garb of sensationalised information, for, that is what catches the eye of the visitor ..

The shop keeper that 'SELLS' his product - clothes, eats etc.,- shall ever put the very attractive 'content' at the doors of the window , in order to attract a prospective buyer , in order to get him or her into the store to BUY .. There is no difference in the presentation of CONTENT ..

Sensation works the sale ..

How to create it , is no longer a challenge .. the freshness of the earlier communicative days has been deeply diluted by the billions of visuals and cameras and individual information and communication devices, now at the hands of 7.6 billion humans ..

How to survive this onslaught is what the writing on the wall is :

THE IMPOTENCY OF CONTENT

अपने पदार्थ को कैसे बेचा जाए, ये उनकी समस्या का विषय बन गया है ।

तो क्या किया जाये ? चलो कुछ नया, मन चाहा, रेत का महल बना देते हैं । है तो रेत का, ज़्यादा देर टिके गा नहीं, जल्दी गिर जाएगा, फिर और कुछ बना देंगे - 'बना' देंगे - बनी बनी कहानी है, सच्चाई से बहुत दूर , क्या फ़र्क़ पड़ता है, हमारे बारे में तो नहीं है न !!!? वो जिनके बारे में जो असत्य लिखा है , छपा है, वो भोगें , हमारा काम तो हो गया - बिक गया, बेच दिया , माल अंदर - खेल ख़तम पैसा हज़म !!!

जी हाँ !!! आपका खेल क़तम, और आपके पैसे हज़म - दूसरे तड़पें, कष्ट में पड़ें, हमको क्या, हमारी तो बिक्री हो गई !

बेच दिया - बेच दिया अपने संस्कार, अपना धर्म, अपनी आत्मा को !!

अब देखियेगा, इस लेखन को किस तरह तोड़ मरोड़ कर, बेचने का प्रयास किया जायेगा

😁

🤣

😜

ट्विटर पे जो मेरा परिचय मैंने दिया है, वो बाबूजी के शब्द, और मेरा परिचय देते हैं :

"तुमने हमें पूज पूज कर पत्थर कर डाला ; वे जो हमपर जुमले कसते हैं हमें ज़िंदा तो समझते हैं "~ हरिवंश राय बच्चन

Immersed completely in the words deeds and thoughts of Babuji .. his mind and learnings from it .. his words and the reasons for portraying them .. the deeper meanings, and the essence of life .. all in such vividity ..

One does not have the desire to leave them, and stride away to the usual normal daily chores ..

And as I desire the close of today - toDAY .. I come across the words of my Father - I often in normal days called him Dad, but in his reference to the World it shall ever be the respectful BABUJI - बाबूजी ..

.. and his words from one of his works :

join your body with mine , so that you speak from my throat too, from my vocals too ; what is there that is special about me , I need to explain to you or bring to your notice .. what is special is that I want to refuse all kinds of speciality that is upon me !!!

I worked late .. I awoke early and wished to write the Blog .. but immersed in the words and books of Babuji lying open beside me and could not resist the temptation of being with them ..

May there be love and bearings of grace and harmony about

Amitabh Bachchan ❤️

[autumnsvoice87]

Spoonie Witchcraft- Full moon

So I have been thinking about low energy magic. As someone who is disabled I haven't had the energy to do withcraft the way I used to. I have not been doing much at all for the last year. There has been no moon water made, no ritutual magic, and I haven't even been able to smoke cleanse my home.

I have been stressed financially, as well as in extreme pain this past year. I decided to see what other spoonies had to say about what to do on a full moon. I want to do something, but I am not sure what I can or am able to do. I went to my witchy discord servers and Facebook groups and asked around. I also thought of a couple of ideas on my own as well.

Here are some ideas to use for the spoonie witch.

Sit outside under the full moon. This would be called moon bathing but sometimes theres a full ritual around it. However, just sitting out under the full moon and basking in its light is good enough. This is also only if weather permiting. Don't go out into a hurricane or other severe weather. You may just end up being blown away instead.

Prayer. Praying to the God's you believe in or work with in silence. Praying to your ancestors and giving them thanks for thier guidence and wisdom. Obviously this is more for pagan witches and not for the atheists.

Sigils. You can do sigils everywhere. You can draw a sigil on your palm and visualize its purpose. For example, drawing an abundance sigil and visualize money coming to you. It's a good simple spell. Can also draw sigils in your food with a knife or other utensil depending on what you are eating. Peanut butter jelly time!

Birthday candles. Using birthday candles in candle magic instead of regular candles can be a quick spell and still work just as effectively. Making wishes on cake is magic. Maybe make a wish on a chocolate swiss roll.

Tea and coffee. You speak intentions into your drinks. Maybe have a full moon tea blend and do this when the sun goes down. You can buy different blends of tea on etsy or at a farmers market.

Watching youtube videos. Watch videos about magic and the full moon. There might even be a live meditation on there you can join in on.

Tarot readings. A low spoonie tarot reading. A basic 3 card spread that is for fun and not the deep soul searching/healing that you may normally do. Another tarot idea is just to pull one card to just see what the message would be.

Gemstones on nightstand. Put stones on your nightstand that have the intentions you'd like to draw to you. For example, amethyst for protection against nightmares. Maybe green adventurine for bringing in luck and abundance to your life. Use black obsidian for protection against gossip. Well, by now, you get the idea.

Cleansing. There are multiple methods of cleansing. If you have enough energy, a small ritual shower could be what is needed to get more energy. Or, at the very least, feel more refreshed. If you can't stand for a shower, soaking in a tub with salt water will work. You may use a shower chair for the shower if you have one. I use a bar of soap that is hand-made by other witches. They tend to put essential oils and intentions, so there is a cleansing effect. If you are too low energy for that, going back to youttube idea; they have cleansing meditation music. You can sound cleanse with the music. You may also play witchy ambient music. There are a vast number of options for sound cleansing.

Journaling. Journaling is something that can be done lying down. You can find some journal prompts on Tumblr, or you can find them on pintinterest. You can do shadow work journaling as a form of releasing. It's fun to select a new journal or even get a fancy pen.

Dressing up. If you have a witchy shirt, dress, or robes. It is fun to dress up on the full moon in honor of the moon. Like going to a magical witchy party. I have 2 witchy dresses, a witchy sweater, and a long sleeve stars and moons blouse. I also have a regular black dress for if I want to be more subtle.

Self care. It is okay to just watch a movie or binge watch a favorite TV show. You could also read a book for fun. If you are very into astrology, depending on the astrological sign of the moon phase, self care would be more important. Tomorrow, the full moon is in Pisces, and there is a lunar eclipse. Self care may be the best option during this full moon in September.

I wanted to say a big thank you to The Four Winds Coven on Discord as well as the modern witch collective for helping me brainstorm this list. There are more of us spoonie witches out there than we think. This list is also great for someone who is just too busy to do much either. I hope you all enjoy these tips and tricks!

[girl-in-the-chairs-void]

Hold me, Console me

Pairing; Logan x reader

C/w; hurt/comfort, fluff, Logan having nightmares

A/N; LOGAN HAS BEEN ON MY MINDDDD. Here’s a little mind dump for ya. Listen to “no one noticed” by the Marias because it’s literally the inspo for it!!!!

part 2 heheh

You and Logan were…different. He felt different with you, having all his walls broken down within weeks of meeting you; he never thought he’d feel so open again.

But there was something that always tugged at you. He leaves, during the night when you’ve dozed off into a deep sleep. He dozes off on the couch.

His groans and grunts when he has his nightmares was not unfamiliar to you and you wish you could help him through it but just won’t open up, won’t take down that last wall that you’ve been trying so hard to climb or break or just paw at.

He was having another one of those dreams- no nightmares, his past, dead faces everywhere. Flashes of the people he’s loved and lost; his mind mocking him with the fast forwarded slide show of all the horrible things that he’s endured. He doesn’t hear you at first. Your muffled pleas, calling his name.

Then he hears a desperate “Logan, please, wake up.”

And suddenly everything goes white. He takes deep breath through his mouth, sitting up on the leather couch suddenly. His claws come out in an instant as you jump back to avoid getting impaled, eyes wide.

His breathing is heavy- ragged, you were too close.

“Logan,” you crawl towards him, slow. A prey approaching its predator willingly.

He sheaths his claws in a blink, heels of his palms squeezing his eyes shut. A sharp, “no” is uttered before he’s reaching for his shirt and making a beeline for your door.

You run after him, blocking the door before he can reach the it.

“No, Logan! Not today,” your eyes are puffy, and pleading for him to stay. Just this once. “Please, stay”.

So fucking polite. He thinks. He could melt into you right then and there but he can’t. He can’t because he almost killed you. Almost hurt you.

You hurt her, like you hurt them. You hurt- you almost killed her. You killed them. You killed them. You killed her.

His face hardens at your plea but with one hand on his chest and a push, he can’t help but follow your orders.

“Baby…” He starts, choking back words, thinking in the fear of saying the wrong thing.

“Talk to me, Lo. You’ve been hiding here every night, in pain. I don’t like seeing you that way.” You sit him down on the plush yet worn out leather, sitting next to him. It groans under the weight of him and you as you let him sink further in.

He has half the mind and a full urge to pull you to your rightful seat on his lap, but he knows he can’t. Not right now.

“I can’t” his voice comes out shakier than he wanted it to. He doesn’t know what he can or can’t tell you. The horrors of his past have led him here, to you. Something he feels is permanent.

“You’ve endured a lot, life has given you too many hardships and I know it hasn’t been easy for you.” You say, reaching out your palm to wipe a stray tear away from his cheek, his beard tickling at your skin.

“But I want you to open up, please. Don’t like seeing you in pain, Lo.” You can feel your own tears running down your own cheeks.

He pulls you onto his lap, making you straddle him as he wipes your tears away silently. Pressing his lips to your forehead, he apologises in silent whispers; “I’m sorry” a kiss on your temple, “I’m so” his lips move down to your left cheek, “so sorry” then to your right before landing onto your own lips. It’s tender, filled with a thousand apologies and a million ‘I am here for you’s. He loves you, he really does.

“It’ll take time, bub.” He pulls away, hands still caging your face, calloused thumb brushing against your bottom lip as you up at him.

“It’s okay, take your time,” you cup his palm into your own, bringing it to your lips, peppering sweet kisses in the inside of it. So sweet.

“I’ll wait forever, but not too long, yeah?”

If only. If only that forever was actually as long as the word implied.

Because the next morning, you don’t wake up in the arms of the love of your life. There is no trace of him besides the lingering scent of his cigar.

He left without a trace.

[anonymousredactedconfessions]

Let's have a talk, shall we?

Major Trigger Warning for rape, false accusations, and mentions of child sex crimes

I let you guys get away with a lot of shit. I let you be a little bitter, or mean spirited, or pissed off. I let you guys vent and let out grievances and complain for the sake of complaining. And i do all of this because it is important to have a space that you can do so without fear of judgement, it is unhealthy for you to bottle up negative emotions. I provide this in a public space because with the way this fandom is, if I didn't many of you would be pressured into not doing so at all. This fandom has a habit of ostracizing those who have differing opinions and interpretations, those who wish to critique the art they consume, those who have unpopular opinions, and all of it is done with the utmost aggression and vitriol. The things that have been said to some of the people in this fandom genuinely makes me lose faith in humanity if i think about it too hard.

This blog exists explicitly to counteract that. I refuse to encourage or enable it. What you are doing is actively dangerous, and I won't be having it in the space I curate within this fandom.

If you haven't noticed, this is one of my rules:

It means that you are not allowed to come in my inbox and accuse people of serious harm over this fiction.

You will not come and accuse people of something as egregious as rape apologia in my inbox. You will not accuse people of rape, abuse, assault, or child abuse/rape/exploitation in my inbox.

These are serious real world issues, and the reason they are bad is because they cause direct harm to real living people who can feel pain and can be violated. Your disgust holds absolutely no ethical weight. At All. You should have the mental, emotional, and intellectual capability to understand the ethical difference between allegories for rape, stories with/about rape, erotica of rape, and actual real life people being raped. Making accusations of this weight over make believe is abhorrent, and as a matter of fact, it shows that you don't treat these tragedies with the weight or gravity that they deserve. If you believe that it is appropriate to accuse someone of violating another person like so because of the creation of or opinions about art, then you have some serious learning and growing to do as a person if you wish to navigate these topics with any level of maturity or respect towards victims.

There is no good that comes out of accusations such as these. They only ever serve to:

Demonstrate to victims that the tragedy of their abuse is as trivial as fanfiction/art that you deem nasty (but is ultimately ethical), or even something as inconsequential as someones' love for a fictional character.

Shame those who love these characters, or this art, or creating, into hiding their opinions for fear of harassment and serious accusations when they have done zero harm by enjoying it.

Stifle creation and participation in fandoms.

Limit the spread of ideas, interpretations, critique/criticism, and general opinions in the fandom, which just turns fandoms into boring echo chambers devoid of variety and creativity.

Encourage actual censorship and moral policing. (More on that on this reblog by @escapedaudios on a post of mine. Thank you Escaped for your two cents, they are much appreciated 💖)

Spread the incredibly harmful idea that people are defined by the art they enjoy. You cannot accurately judge a person’s values or morals based on what tropes and themes they enjoy in fiction. You create an environment and culture incredibly dangerous for vulnerable individuals (like minors) when you tell them that they can know who is safe to trust based on whether they consume "the good kind" or "the bad kind" of fiction. This makes it so very easy for predators to virtue signal about fiction to lure in potential victims to abuse.

The majority of you are very good and well behaved when it comes to this, but the amount of people i have had come into my inbox and accuse others of being rapists with no evidence other than "they made X" or "they like Y" is not zero. And i will not be satisfied until it is.

This is all i have to say about the subject.

[midnight-bay-if]

Alright, everyone else gets angst posting, I’ll give it a shot.

How would the RO’s react to some sort of spell being cast on the MC, making them think their father is there? Some sort of ploy to get the MC closer to them, probably for harm.

Loving the story so far!!! :)

(Ouch, this hurts... My fellow pain enjoyers, rejoice! Also, apologies that this took so long to get to.)

S: They see it. The clarity in your eyes fog over, the once bright light filling with murky water. It's a sight S has witnessed often. You have been hit with a powerful curse to dominate your mind and fill your head with painful visions.

"Dad..."

You whisper the familial title like a solemn prayer, reaching out into the empty space before you, and S's chest lurches. They do not hesitate to act. In moments, they stand in front of you, grasping your face with both hands as they stare into your eyes, filling your vision with them rather than what they can only imagine coaxes you behind them.

"It isn't real. Look at me," they order, pressing their forehead against yours. "I'm so sorry, my love, but it isn't real. Whoever has cast this curse on you means to harm you, and I will not let that happen. Keep your eyes closed, darling. Keep them closed until I can take it away."

Rain: Rain doesn't understand what is happening. One moment, both of you were enjoying a bit of banter, a playful back-and-forth with teasing insults, before it stopped. Everything stopped.

"MC?"

Nothing. Then, something. You look straight past them as you call out to the darkness. "Dad..."

"Oh, no."

In a flash of realisation, Rain steps between you and the apparition. Anybody or anything willing to conjure up an image of your greatest wound does not have good intentions, but Rain cannot fight what they do not see.

"I'm sorry for this, MC," they whisper, clasping a hand firmly over your eyes. "Your dad isn't there, MC, I promise you that. I'm so sorry that I can't make it different."

Taj: Taj senses it before they see it. Something in the air, like a crack of electricity whipping across their skin. It causes the scars to ache. Then, Taj turns to you, ready to ask if you are sensing something similar. But what they are greeted with terrifies them.

Your usual colourful eyes have dampened as if a dark smog is purposefully shutting out the light. It scares them.

"Dad..."

Taj watches as you reach for an empty space, an lifeless smile on your face.

"Oi, Koel, snap out of it." Taj snaps in front of your face, their heart beating rapidly in their chest. When you keep reaching out to nothingness, Taj grabs your hand and holds it to their chest. "There's nothing there, so stop it. Please."

When even that doesn't seem to work, Taj snaps. "Oh, fuck it." With their forehead pressed firmly against yours, they hold you in place.

"Listen to me right now. Your dad is dead. You spent your entire life fucking shit up because of it, and I fuckin' love you for that. No matter how shit things got, you never gave up. So don't you dare fall to this now. Ya hear me?"

N: N knows dark magic when they see it. They are sure to some their magic could be considered dark. In their opinion, a little mind-reading wasn't really hurtful... Well, that was what they believed until meeting you. Now, they see you reaching out into nothing and feel their burning skin turn cold.

"Dad..."

"Oh, no you don't," they mutter, standing between you and the nothing you reach for. "Sorry, my dear, but I get terribly jealous. I can't let just anyone inside your head."

N is inside you in an instant. For once, they don't wish to see. Instead, they concentrate hard on creating some kind of barrier to stop access. "Feel free to punish me later. I'll wait with anticipation."

Umbra: Umbra has spent far too long gazing into your eyes. They have every tiny variation of colour seered into their mind. The instant the colour of your eyes becomes muted, their already pallid skin grows paler.

"Dad..."

They turn towards where you reach for, and they realise you are grasping at nothing.

This isn't like them. This moment isn't like theirs. They had no body to lose; it was given. But it breaks their heart to think you might believe this is possible thanks to what they are.

With a tentative touch, Umbra reaches up to cup your cheek, hoping the cold of their touch might serve as a light raft to pull you to safety from wherever your mind lays adrift. "Feel the cold, MC. Feel what is real, and know what is not. I'm sorry, I know it is selfish, but I need you back with me."

[mustainegf]

This is a crazy sad idea I had the other night

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ¹⁹⁸⁷

I wake up to the pitter of rain against the windows. The air was dead, with the smell of old wood and the remains of cigarette smoke from the night before. The house held its breath. Lying there, in sheets that smell of memories, the leather and aftershave smell with the damp air and cleaving to everything in this room. His room.

James has left his space this way ever since, the mess of records that he insists have some sort of order, utter chaos to anyone else. Guitars leaned against the wall, scattered papers on the desk. Hard to tell, really. A few half empty beer bottles remained on the nightstand, one of them with the label peeling off where his fingers had unconsciously picked at it.

I sit up and blink away fogginess in my head. My body is heavy, I'm trying to move underwater. Really, I don't want to get up. I want to be wrapped in the warmth of this room, in the memories that lean against me from every corner. But I know I cannot stay here forever. The guys will be up soon, and we'll all gather in the kitchen, making laugh, eat whatever we can find, making plans for the day. It's 1987, and life moves fast. Even if I don't feel like keeping up.

Lately, James has been different. Quieter. Or maybe I'm just noticing things that were always there. The way he sometimes stares off into space, his fingers tapping out rhythms for his own ears. The way he lingers a little too long in doorways, expecting something or someone to appear. He doesn't talk about it, though. None of us do. We just keep going, acting like everything is okay.

Maybe he's downstairs already, fiddling with his guitar, a low hum of his voice humming along to whatever song's in his head. I smile at the thought. James Hetfield. My roommate, my best friend, and sometimes... I don't know what. Something more, maybe. Or something less. It's hard to define what we are.

I drag myself out of his bed and into my jeans,the necklace around my neck is getting heavier with the days. The little locket inside, the one I never take off, a picture of him. I rarely open it. I don't have to. I can pull up his face on the screen in my head anytime. Those diamond cut blue eyes, that wonky smile capable of illuminating the whole damn room.

I trudge softly down the stairs, trying not to make any noise. I used to joke this place was haunted, maybe the ghosts of musicians still waited here, looking for their chance at popularity. James would laugh at me for it, calling me ridiculous, but sometimes. Sometimes, I truly wish it were. And maybe it is.

But it's still an empty kitchen. No James, no one else. Just the light patter of rain, the ticking of the clock on the wall. My face droops immediately. He's probably out in the garage, messing with his guitar, or he went for a drive. That's what he sometimes does when his head needs clearing. I'm fine. I'll see him later.

I sit at the table, running my fingers over the grain of the wood in an absent circle. The house is too quiet. Too still. I shut my eyes and try to recall the last conversation we had, but it's all hazy, reaching for smoke. My mind drifts and for one moment, I might have sworn I heard him, his voice calling my name up the hallway. I snap my eyes open and my heart's racing. But there's nobody.

Just the house. Just me.

I shake my head, feeling pathetic. Need to stop doing this, stop waiting for things that aren't there. I'm not some little girl anymore.

But still… I was hoping the house was haunted.

I lie later on his bed, gazing up at the ceiling, the Scorpions poster on his ceiling boring an image into my skull. The rain has calmed. I have no idea why I am in here. I should do anything else, do something else. Instead, I draw his pillow closer to me, inhaling into the now-faint scent of him that still clings to the fabric. I know if i keep breathing it in, it'll only smell like me. And that's no good.

I simply wish that he would just come back now.

I heard the opening of the door behind me, and my heart leaps half a second, hoping it is him, but it isn't. It's Cliff.

He steps inside, his eyes soft as they land on me, knowing exactly what's going on. That's always been him, kind and patient. He doesn't say anything, not for a minute or so, just walks over and sits on the edge of the bed, his weight sinking into the mattress.

And then I don't know why, but I just start crying. It's out of nowhere, tears spilling down my cheeks before I can even attempt to stop them. They soak into James' pillow like a hello. It's kind of really embarrassing, actually. I'm not a crier. But here I am, sobbing into James's pillow like some sort of broken thing, and I have no idea why.

Cliff says nothing more, but reaches out and gently brushes my hair from off my face, and I imagine his touch is James'.

"He loved you, you know," Cliff says in a voice soft enough that it caresses my slow heart.

My body freezes up. "What?

"James," he says, his fingers still moving through my hair, soothing me like I was a little girl. "He was crazy about you."   I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "You don't have to say that, Cliff. I know you're just trying to make me feel better."

But he doesn't laugh. He doesn't even smile. He just looks at me with those sad eyes of his, chestnut hair falling slightly in his eyes.

"He was gonna tell you," Cliff whispers. "After the tour. He had this big, stupid plan. He wanted to take you out to dinner, make it all special, you know? He was nervous as hell about it, too."

Why is Cliff saying this? Why now?

Again, Cliff says, "He never had the chance." Cliff's voice is no louder than a murmur. "But he loved you. Really did."

I wrap myself into a tight, clinging ball with his pillow. "But he's still here," I choke. "James is… he's still here, Cliff. He's just… he's just out somewhere, right?"

There's such a long pause, when Cliff speaks again, his voice is full with a sadness that I don't want to recognize. But I do.

"He's gone, sweetheart."

I shake my head wildly, eyes refusing to believe what I already know is true. "No. No, he's not. He's coming back. He's just—"

"He passed, remember? Last year. The bus."

I stop breathing as the room tilts, heavy with fog, pushing against my skin, promising to smother me. I remember, yet I don't want to. I don't want to think about that night, the phone call, a feeling of my love slipping away.

"I saw him," I whisper, my voice shaking. "I swear, Cliff, I saw him. He was right here."

Cliff doesn't argue, won't try to reason with me. He just pulls me into his arms, holding me as I break apart. He strokes my hair, whispering soft words that I can't quite make out, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is that James is gone. He's been gone for a year, and I've been living in this house, waiting for a ghost that will never come home.

Cliff lays me back down, tucks James’ blankets around me as if I am some sort of child. He doesn't leave, though. He stays beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder.

"He really did love you," Cliff says again, much softer this time. "More than you know."

The house isn't haunted. At least, it isn't haunted the way I wish it was.

I still wear you in my locket, James. I always will.

And maybe someday I'll find you again.

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XI)

Chapter 11: ‘Lived to see you throwing me aside.’

Hi! Here is another chapter! On the menu today: a dinner with Sam and Frank… I’ll let you guess how well this will go… (I hope my choice for Andrew's pic for this chapter gives you a clue...)

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2933

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Hesitate to call

Lived to see you throwing Me aside. That fought Like nettled fish inside me. Saw you throbbing In my syrups. Saw you sleep. And lived to see That all that all flushed down The refuse. Done? It lives in me. You live in me. Malignant. Love, you ever want me, don’t.

Louise Glück, The First Five Books of Poems

Andrew checked his appearance in the mirror for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

He was nervous beyond reason, after all he was heading to a restaurant to see Sam. And after a long-term relationship, he shouldn’t have felt so troubled by it. But things were different now, things were… complicated, to say the least.

Still, he heaved a sigh, checked his appearance once more. He had let his hair loose, had put on contacts, was wearing a black shirt and some dark jeans. He looked tired, exhausted even. Work was a lot at the moment, he had a thousand things to do. He still struggled to sleep, was still tortured with thoughts and dreams of Sam, of her leaving, of her loving someone else.

November was ending, and with it, the remnants of Andrew’s and Sam’s plans. Plans…

A weekend in Kerry in September. Saimhan with friends. Now, Andrew should be packing. He should be choosing clothes, not for an evening in a restaurant, but for a weekend in Glasgow. A flight late at night leaving from Dublin, another one during the night between Sunday and Monday. And in between, a couple of days just for them, spent eating, visiting museums, seeing the sights, walking around the town. A night in a hotel, one she had chosen, spent on filling their hearts with love and their bodies with lust and desire.

He looked at his reflection again, stared right into his own hazel eyes. They were greener than usual, probably because wearing contacts made his eyes water. He would have been more comfortable with glasses, more relaxed as well, more himself, in a way.

He blinked tears away as a thought crossed his mind, a painful one he wished he could have kept at bay, but he didn’t have the strength for that. Beating himself up was a habit, since childhood. There were thoughts sometimes that formed in his mind that brought him pain, but he listened anyway. Sometimes they were quiet, sometimes they were deafening. These days they were loud and clear.

He went to get his coat, grab his car keys, get ready to leave. He petted Elwood, told him to be a good boy, that he would soon be home. The thought followed him outside his home.

Being himself was never enough for Sam to love him.

Christ, Sam was so beautiful…

It was breaking his heart that they weren’t on a date. As he entered the restaurant, saw her sitting at a table waiting for him, Andrew was reminded of hundreds of evenings spent like this, going on a date in a restaurant, at the cinema, it didn’t even matter where. At the end, they didn’t go out much anymore. Sam always seemed to be too busy for that. At the time, Andrew thought it was only because of her job. Now, he wondered if maybe she had not already started to give up on them.

But he hadn’t. To this day, he hadn’t given up on them…

He kept on admiring her for a few more seconds, until the rest of the table was revealed to him, and the illusion waned. You were there too, facing Frank. The restaurant was posh, he felt a little uneasy in this atmosphere. He wouldn’t have chosen such a place for a date, but he had no doubt that Sam liked it.

He forced a smile as he approached, was greeted warmly by Frank, the first one who spotted him as he approached. You turned on your chair to greet him with a relieved smile, and his heart made a happy jump at the sight of you. He had an ally tonight, he wasn’t on his own…

“You’re late.”

He turned to Sam, his heart dropping again. Her tone was flat, emotionless, and he knew her enough to be aware that it was worse than annoyance. She was angry. He struggled to swallow.

“Yeah, sorry… Had some stuff to take care of before coming.”

She rolled her eyes, knowing it was a lie. Or well, it wasn’t a lie, but the real reason was simply that Andrew was always late. To everything. He couldn’t do much about it; if left unattended, he simply lost track of time. The alarms he had set up had done little to help him tonight. He didn’t add anything, merely took a seat.

“Ha, no worries!” Frank reassured him, and Andrew could tell that he was nervous and willing to make Andrew feel welcome. As a result, Andrew was highly uncomfortable.

“The food looks… interesting,” you commented, trying to drag the conversation away from Andrew, and he was grateful for it.

“The oysters are particularly good!” Frank recommended.

You said nothing, but Andrew frowned.

You… hadn’t you told him once that you weren’t such a fan of seafood?

Indeed, when you chose what to eat, you didn’t follow Frank’s advice at all.

Conversation drifted towards work, and your respective lives. Catching up or getting to know each other.

And Andrew understood Frank’s appeal tonight, as he watched him lead the conversation. He was louder than Andrew ever was, bright, clearly extraverted, longing for people’s attention. He was funny, charming. And handsome, that too, Andrew couldn’t deny that either. His complete opposite. Average height, muscles that threatened the fabric of his sleeves while he passionately talked about his work and moved his hands around, blond with electric blue eyes.

So… that was what Sam longed for? What had made you fall for him?

Andrew tried not to think this way. There was nothing he could do about his physical appearance, his ridiculous height, his gangly stature… there was no need to torture himself over that. He could show that he took care of Sam though. That he paid attention to her. That he loved her…

Because Frank didn’t seem to care all that much. Andrew saw it as you talked about your work, about how nervous you were as you got ready to give your students their first test of the year. And if Andrew was intently listening, Frank was clearly uninterested. He drew the conversation away from your job as soon as he could, offering encouraging words, and quickly moving on. You smiled, but you weren’t fooled. Andrew saw it in the way your gaze saddened, in the way the excitement that had been glimmering there died out instantly. His heart ached at the sight. And when Frank spoke again, Andrew didn’t care.

“Will you set a limit for the length required for the essay?”

Frank grew quiet, frowned. You turned to Andrew, clearly surprised by his question.

“Erm… I haven’t decided yet. I usually don’t.”

“Once a student gave me a twenty-pages long essay…”

“Twenty pages?!”

“Yeah… she was thorough, for sure.”

“Did you read the whole thing?”

“Of course. And now I set a limited word count.”

You chuckled, nodded.

“Maybe I should do that. What about your class about Yeats? Have you decided on a subject for an essay?”

“I’m still hesitating… I want to prepare one about Yeats’s involvement in the Irish Literary Revival… but I could choose one of his love poems about Maud Gonne too.”

You chuckled.

“Why do I feel like they’ll hear a lot about No Second Troy…”

“I love that poem.”

“Anyone who speaks of literature with you for more than ten minutes knows that,” you teased. “It’s a short poem to study, though.”

“Yeah… but that means they would really have to work on each line, instead of simply skipping whatever element they struggle with.”

“True.”

“I feel like it would be easier for them to work on the more political side of Yeats’s work during exam season. The material is easier, and we’ll go thoroughly through the most important aspects of these texts in class. So… I think I’ll ask them to work on love poems at home.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

You exchanged a smile. When Andrew looked up at Frank and Sam, they had stopped listening and were both eating their meal in silence. Sam was looking at something on her phone, a habit she had developed in the past couple of years.

She hadn’t asked him about his job. She hadn’t asked him if he wrote, how he felt, if he was suffering because of her. Perhaps she didn’t want to hear his answers. Perhaps she didn’t really care. Andrew was starting to have doubts. The more the evening was progressing, the more he realised that she didn’t seem to care. Sam and Andrew had spent years together, but she wasn’t listening as he spoke of his work, of the things he loved most on Earth.

Did she even care at all about him anymore? She used to listen to him talk about music and poetry for hours, back when they were students…

Or did she? She had never liked his own writing, but he thought she listened when he spoke of what he loved, still. She didn’t seem willing to make an effort these days… but then again, they weren’t together anymore. So, why would she?

“I’ve listened to your record, by the way!”

Andrew blinked, looked at you again.

“What?”

“Duke Ellington and John Coltrane. I’ve listened to it.”

He raised a surprised eyebrow.

“Did you? Really?”

You nodded, an excited smile on your lips.

“Of course! I’m going to sound very basic, I think In a Sentimental Mood was my favourite… although I really loved My Little Brown Book too.”

His mouth broke into a bright grin.

“Grand! Like… that’s grand! I’m glad you liked it.”

Frank stared at you for a moment.

“Who are you talking about?” he asked, trying to slither in the conversation.

“Andy recommended me some music! I have a whole list at this point,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow and making him chuckle and blush.

“It’s Jazz,” Andrew explained. “Some of the greatest, honestly.”

Sam heaved a sigh, still focused on her screen.

“Oh… nice,” Frank nodded, although he didn’t sound convincing at all.

“I really liked it a lot,” you went on. “I don’t really have the vocabulary to describe it, like… on a technical point of view, you know? But I liked it. It was very… like… drawing me in, in a way. There was tension, and then once I was trapped in the song, there was so much emotion there… And it’s unusual for me to be so focused when listening to instrumental music. I have a busy brain, I get distracted easily.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I have a busy brain too… but that’s what Blues and Jazz do to me. They kind of… shush my brain. Make it go quiet.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“You like music, then, Andy?”

Andrew looked at Frank again, wanted to correct him and ask to be called Andrew… but he didn’t want to seem rude. He didn’t like it, though, how he used his nickname.

“Yeah, a lot.”

“Andy wanted to be a musician, back in the days,” Sam intervened, putting her phone down again.

“Really? What instrument do you play?”

“I sing, mostly… play guitar too.”

“But you didn’t make a career out of it? Not that it’s surprising, it’s a tough field to work in. Most people can’t make a living out of it. Like… there’s so much competition, so few who actually get to make it. It must be a tough life.”

“A few of his friends made it though, and he had the talent for it,” Sam went on. “But Andy is not one to compromise easily.”

Andrew stared at her with a raised eyebrow.

“What do you mean by that?”

She shrugged.

“You could have had a record deal, had you accepted to change a few things about your songs.”

Andrew huffed, he could barely believe his ears…

“There was never an opportunity for me to record my own songs, and you know that. I didn’t want to sing those… attempts at pop hits that felt soulless to me.”

“And you didn’t get a record deal.”

“I didn’t want that kind of deal. I wanted to record the songs I had written.”

She didn’t say a thing, but her thoughts were loud enough for Andrew to guess them.

And then you didn’t record any of those either.

“Why are you saying all that like you’re resenting me?” Andrew asked, and Sam shook her head.

“I don’t resent you, of course! It was your choice.”

“You do sound like it though…”

“I’m just pointing out that you’re not the kind of guy who compromises much.”

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow and huffed again.

“You’re one to talk…” he mumbled.

Andrew spent his time compromising. Had he not compromised when he wanted to take a job in London and had settled for Dublin instead because she didn’t want to move there? When she refused to move in with him and asked for more time to find herself? When she chose most of their topics of conversations? When he barely talked about his work?

He let out a long exhale, took a bite of the overpriced fish he had ordered. He didn’t even like the food…

Sam spoke again, about some stupid tv reality she had been watching with Frank, and you listened even though you hadn’t seen it. Meanwhile, Andrew wanted to talk about music with you again. He wanted to ask you about Duke Ellington, he wanted to ask you what songs you liked, he wanted to listen to you ramble about how music made you feel. Your thoughts were always interesting, he could have talked with you for hours… and sometimes he did.

But he shook himself. He wanted Sam. He wanted to have Sam back, and nobody was perfect. There were some things in Sam that annoyed him or disappointed him or that he didn’t understand but at the end of the day she was Sam, and that was enough for him.

He was quieter throughout the rest of the evening, trying to do some damage control over the couple of tensed moments that had occurred during the night.

But then the conversation settled on the wedding itself, and things turned ill all over again…

“And we need to settle on a cake too! Christ, everything is complicated when you’re planning a wedding!” Sam laughed, while Andrew was tightly closing his fists under the table, until his nails drew crescent marks into his palms, while you looked away in a hurry.

“You know… I thought we could choose a strawberry cake,” Frank said. “It’s a classic, most people like those…”

“Sam is allergic to strawberries,” Andrew answered without thinking.

An uncomfortable silence settled across the table.

“Oh… you didn’t tell me that, babe,” Frank told Sam, who frowned.

Clearly, she had told him before, but she said nothing.

“Well, we’ll choose something else!” Frank shrugged.

“What about your career, then?” you asked your ex, staring intensely at him.

“My career?”

“You… you used to say that you wanted to wait to get married because you needed to focus on your career.”

Slowly, Frank nodded.

“Yeah… that’s true. I used to want that. But… it’s different with Sam.”

Andrew saw the pain that shot across your features. There was so much anger that ran through his veins then…

“Right,” you nodded.

“Like… my work seemed the most important, but now… not anymore. Or… not in the same way. So, why wait?”

“Why wait, indeed…” you slowly nodded while Frank and Sam exchanged a tender gaze, one that made Andrew nauseous.

He looked down at the piece of cheesecake he had barely touched, decided not to eat it. He couldn’t get anything more down…

The meal ended in a quiet mood, with conversations spent mostly between Sam and Frank, but the couple seemed satisfied with this situation. When they disappeared in a cab together, Andrew felt emptier than ever. A shell without a pulse or any other semblance of life…

“Andy?”

He turned around to look at you standing behind him in the street, right before the restaurant. Your frame was illuminated by both the white light coming from the restaurant’s sign and the orange hues of the streetlights.

He caught himself thinking that you were beautiful, had to push the thought away. But you were. You had dressed up tonight, undoubtedly to impress Frank, just like Andrew had tried to impress Sam with his careful choice of outfit. And Andrew was impressed, at any rate. You were gorgeous…

You offered him a humourless smile.

“Tonight was… a lot, right?”

He nodded, letting out a long exhale through his nose.

“You can say that…”

“I can’t say that it went… incredibly well.”

“No… it was… strange.”

“Let’s put it that way, yeah.”

“I’m not sure it helped us make any progress.”

“I’m not so sure either. On the contrary. But we tried, at least.”

Andrew nodded, looked at you as you heaved a sigh.

“You know what I want right now?”

He shook his head, tilting his head to the side as he waited for you to speak again, his hands now buried in his pockets.

“I really… really… want to get drunk. Like… hammered. Properly destroyed.”

Andrew exploded with laughter.

“You know what… sign me up! Getting very drunk sounds nice!”

“Let’s go to my place. I don’t want to be surrounded by people anymore,” you offered, and Andrew easily accepted.

As he followed you throughout the street, he reckoned that at least one thing in this evening could be pleasant, after all.

[afsosville]

You know what would've been nice? Shen Jiu ending up on a different peak that's actually good for him. Maybe Qian Cao, or the beast taming peak could've been hella therapeutic. Or the alcohol/brewery peak to drown away all his sorrows. But what if he stayed fucked up, in a way that's actually good and productive for society? Yeah, I wanna toss him over to Yin Hui and let him run wild! I've seen many iterations of Yin Hui, the fanon peak for espionage and poisons in fanfics. By extension, Yin Hui is also covertly the assassination peak, and I wish this peak got more attention around here tbh. Why do I think this peak is the most well suited for Shen Jiu? BECAUSE ASSASSINS. Duh.

So here comes a baby demonic cultivator Shen Jiu and the Yin Hui peak lord immediately wants him. Shen Jiu would be more readily accepted by his peak martial siblings, and no one would bat an eye at Shen Jiu, his standoffish personality or shady past. A lot of Yin Hui disciples are from questionable backgrounds since the Yin Hui peak lord naturally has to be very particular about selecting their disciples. Yin Hui was established to protect the sect and its people by any means necessary. Sure, the rest of the sect may fight against the supernatural, demons, and the undead, but Yin Hui fights an even greater monster: people.

The Yin Hui peak lord manipulated things so that the first impression the rest of the sect has about Shen Jiu is 'that new badass Yin Hui disciple that killed the criminal Wu Yanzi and saved the future sect leader!' (Seeing as Wu Yanzi would be the very sort of ppl they assassinate, he's already getting goated on Yin Hui too.) So Shen Jiu is known as that new prodigious disciple from Yin Hui and is getting some goddamn respect! And just because of his association with his peak, fewer people are inclined to question his background and whatnot since there's an understanding that the identity of the YH disciples needs to be heavily guarded. The Yin Hui peak lord finds out about the Qiu's soon enough, and they erase any and all traces leading back to Shen Jiu. Even framing it in a way that makes it look like WY did the massacre. Any credibility Qiu Haitang could've had for Shen Jiu's murder accusations is thrown out the window. (Ain’t no way in hell the Yin Hui peak lord is going to name SJ that stupid trauma inducing name like a certain Qing Jing peak lord, that's for sure.)

I'm pulling in elements from MDZS over here. In my version of Yin Hui, they have disciples who practice demonic cultivation, but they make sure it's in a safer way that won't hurt them. There's a surprising number of disciples who have damaged cultivation and chose to cultivate the ghost path. The previous generations of Yin Hui peak lords have created Wei Wuxian's inventions in this AU, and is used by the rest of the peak, like the compass of ill winds, paper metamorphosis, the spirit attraction flag, and empathy. I lowkey want a Wei Wuxian that's native to SV to be the Yin Hui peak lord, now that I think about it. He's good with his kiddos and would be an awesome shizun. And ofc, Shen Jiu is a reflection of his environment, so he's certainly making an example out of Wei Wuxian, one of the only positive influences in his life.

Shen Jiu still has his violent tendencies, so nothing has changed about that, but he learns to take that pent-up energy out on missions instead. And he does them well. It even gives him an edge. Everyone else thinks he's just reallyyy good at his job, as expected of the talented head disciple of Yin Hui!!

He really does try his best to not be an ass (bc he gets the love he deserves on Yin Hui) and ends up venting in a different way (coz he knows better than to take it out on people who don’t deserve it.) His shizun really gave him the free reign to kill sl@ve trad3rs, human tr@ffick3rs, r-ists, and other scum whenever he wanted, in the name of stress relief lol. If killing a particular person becomes politically complicated, like the Old Palace Bastard, then you best believe he's going to scheme like the little schemer he is. He's going to Nie Huaisang the OPM.

Since Shen Jiu is not salty about his fucked up cultivation, and his martial siblings respect him, they get along just fine. His cultivation is some parts similar to Wei Wuxian's: Shen Jiu is a ghost cultivator influenced by music. Sure, he may not be that great of a spiritual cultivator, so what? He's pulling up like the Yiling Patriarch with his demonic cultivation and a haunted guqin of his own.

And guess what? Shen Jiu enjoys teaching. He's training miniature assassins, spies, and the art of demonic cultivation, so forgive him if he's more than a little enthusiastic about it. I imagine that he's exactly like Shifu from kung fu panda when it comes to teaching. Still extremely harsh and strict when training, but outside of actually teaching, he's an attentive and caring shizun. And yes, he completely does act like a father figure who is proud of his murder babies, and ends up being called A-Ba so much that all of Cang Qiong thinks he's officially adopted every single one of his disciples. (After being saved by SJ on a mission, NYY persistently begs SJ to take her in even though he desperately thinks Yin Hui isn't a good fit for her. And then, after being under him for a while, she's completed her first mission successfully, has smn else's blood on her face, and is smiling brightly. 

Ning Yingying: "I completed my mission shizun! Are you proud of me?"

Shen Jiu: "..."

Some other peaklord: "Haha like father like daughter! She's definitely your girl alright!"

Shen Jiu: "...!?!" )

Yue Qingyuan is conerneth about his Xiao Jiu, but as long as he's happy, who cares. Shen Jiu has a better relationship with the other peak lords, so when asked about why he visits brothels, he straight up tells them that it's the best place to gather information in the dark. He doesn't have that mentality of "why explain myself when no ones finna believe me anyway" He actually trusts them and is more honest with time. Shen Jiu does come clean about killing the Qiu's at some point, and the peak lords are all like-

"I didn't hear shit"

"See, I'm blind in my left eye, and 75% blind in my right-"

"Completely understandable, Shen shidi!"

They don't even ask why he did it and just assume he had a valid reason, and he absolutely fucking did.

Oh, Shen Jiu gets accused of playing dirty? Liu Qingge, he literally kills ppl and makes poison as a daytime fucking job ofc he's gonna play dirty! Shen Jiu tried killing you that one time on the well mission? Bro you good? The fact that you think he tried to kill you and failed?? You just insulted an entire peak of disciples and their ancestors. You would've been dead before you could even think of sensing their killing intent if it were true. And there was a witness too, doofus. Be fucking for real. Nahh coz there definitely would be more people who are taking Shen Jiu's side whenever the two of them fight.

Shen Jiu uses a shit ton of versatile weapons because most of his fighting and cultivation prowess comes from his wits and adapting to fighting with different styles/methods. He is kinda similar to Xie Lian bc both of them lack spiritual energy/qi (damaged spirit roots in Shen Jiu's case), but that does not mean they are weaker. It just means they learned to train their body and minds instead of relying on cultivation/qi. He has a massive arsenal of weapons along with the demonic cultivation.

Yin Hui has got to be my favorite fanon peak, and Yin Hui! Shen Jiu plauges so many of my waking thoughts, I can't stop-

I can add elements from my other hyperfixation into this AU, the Avatar Chronicles. Which are the written books from ATLA. The criminal organization Kyoshi joined, the Daofei, for example, could be a good plot point. Or the Platinum Affair from the Yangchen books. If you don’t know what the Avatar Chronicles are, just ignore this last part lol.

[dragon-kazansky]

The song in our hearts

Lestat De Lioncourt x Female Reader

A musician with a heart that sings and an admirer who wishes to see his songbird thrive. Two beings in different worlds get caught up in each other when someone threatens to steal his songbird's spotlight. Loving Lestat isn't simple, and your life will never be the same again. What is eternity without chaos?

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Seven - Eleanor

You aren't seen by Amelie all week. The first glimpse she gets of you is at the theater that following Friday. You hadn't told her you had spent almost every night in Lestat's home. That would definitely give her ideas, and you didn't need that right now.

She follows you into your dressing room. You take a seat at your table and look at your reflection. You're looking a little paler than before.

“Are you alright?” Amelie asks softly. She could tell she was worried about you. “I went to your house a couple times, you weren't there.”

You turn and look at her. “I've been… busy.”

Amelie comes closer and takes your hand in hers. “Busy?”

“I've just got a lot going on.”

She presses her hand to your forehead. “You look a little off, but you don't seem to have a temperature. Do you need anything? Water? Food? To rest a little?”

You shake your head. “No. I'm okay.”

“If you're sure…” Amelie doesn't look convinced. She steps away and takes her leave.

You slump agaiant your dressing table and sigh, fingers digging into your hair. All week you have been sneaking off to Lestat's to simply be with him. To let him taste you. To let him hold you.

God, the way his arms felt around you was a dream. You wanted nothing more than that in life. Well, there was perhaps more you could want to do with him. He certainly knew as much.

‘Are you alright, Chéri?’ 

His voice is in your head. He seems to know every thought and feeling you have. You find you don't mind quite as much. 

‘You're thinking a lot. Don't worry, mon amour.’

My love. That was the first time he had called you that.

A knock at your door makes you jump and turn around to see who it was. “Come in.”

The door opens and Jack enters. You offer him a smile and he smiles in return. “Amelie looked worried. Are you okay?” He asks.

“I assure you, I am well.”

‘More than well.’

You ignore Lestat in your mind.

“No one has seen or heard anything from you all week.”

‘I have certainly heard you.’

“No. I'm sorry. I've been busy. I'm still here though.” You smile again.

“Good. You're my best performer. You and that piano are my stars.”

‘The brightest star I have ever seen.’

You smile, but who you're smiling from is the question. You know who.

“I'll let you get ready.” Jack leaves you alone to prepare. 

You look at yourself in the mirror and stare hard at your reflection. You smile at yourself.

The magician on stage takes a bow, and people applaud. Lestat watches with disinterest. He doesn't care for anyone else in this show. He wants to see his shining star. His darling. His music maker.

The stage clears and the lights turn to the manager, Jack. He babbles for a little while and then addresses the crowd with open arms. Lestat leans forward in his seat, a proud grin on his lips.

Your name is announced.

The curtain open to reveal your piano in place and as Jack exists the stage, you come on. Lestat can't teat his eyes away from you. You're wearing a gorgeous gown and around your neck is that ruby red necklace he gave you months ago.

Your eyes find his own and he winks at you from his box. You're gorgeous.

You take a bow and sit down at your piano. A few moments of silence fill the room before you fill the air with your beautiful music. You're playing his song again. Lestat smiles. If this was a declaration, he was listening.

Everyone in the room was hanging on to every note. You had them completely wrapped up in your magic. You were the siren and they were the sailors.

You played for the next half hour. You enchanted every soul in the room.

Lestat had fallen even more for you.

When your time was done you took a bow and left the stage. Lestat, as usual, leaves his box. He's waiting for you at your dressing room before anyone else. You smile as he reaches out and caresses your cheek gently with his fingers. His touch is ghostly, so light you could barely feel it.

As Lestat leans in, almost as if to kiss you, you're both interrupted by a voice. You both turn to see a young woman, mid twenties at least, looking at you.

“Excuse me, I don't suppose you know where Noah is? I didn't see him in the show tonight and I wanted to speak to him.”

You feel yourself go stiff. Lestat grabs your arm gently and smiles at the woman. “Who is asking?”

“My name is Eleanor. I'm Noah's sister. I wrote to him to tell him I was coming to see him perform, but I didn't get a response, at least not one that arrived in time.” She shuffles on the spot slightly. “I was disappointed to see he was not on stage tonight. Don't suppose you know where he's staying?”

You turn your eyes to Lestat for help. What were you supposed to say? ‘Oh gosh, we're so sorry, you see, your brother was being an ass and Lestat decided to feed on him until he was dead.’

Yeah, that would go down well.

“Did you not hear? He left,” Lestat tells her.

The woman visibly deflates. “He did? No, I hadn't heard.”

Lestat keeps his hand on your arm to keep you calm. “Perhaps his letter had yet to reach you.”

“Possibly,” she sighs.

Lestat feels you grabbing at the sleeve and puts on a polite expression for Eleanor. “If you don't mind, we are just leaving.”

She looks between you both and steps back, getting the message. “Of course. Forgive me. I better contact home and see if Noah got through. Thank you kindly, both of you.”

Lestat takes your hand and guides you past the young woman. You're holding onto him tight. He can feel your panic just from the touch of your hand.

Once you're out of the theater you drag him into the alley nearby. 

“Shit, Shit, Shit!” You hiss out. “What are we gonna do?”

“Nothing,” he replies nonchalantly. 

“Nothing?” You stare at him in disbelief. “You killed her brother and she's looking for him!”

Lestat shrugs. “So? She'll never find him. I disposed of the body.”

“Oh my God!”

“He can't help you.”

You glare at the vampire. “This isn't funny! I'm the last person Noah went to see. No one knows you were involved!”

“Calm, Chéri. All will be well. No harm shall come to you.” He holds your face in his cold hands.

“Lestat…”

“Shh. If you keep on worrying you'll get wrinkles.” He taps your nose with his finger. “Do you want that?”

“Stop messing around.” You wave his hands away from your face. “Someone has to take things seriously around here.”

“Why? Nothing to worry about. You'll see.”

You almost hate how unbuttered he is by this, but at the same time, how many times has he done this before? Lestat was a clever man. He surely chose his victims carefully. If people kept on disappearing from the same place, flags would be raised. 

“I trust you,” you say softly.

Lestat grins. “That's what I like to hear. Now, back to mine for a nightcap?”

You roll your eyes and go with him.

When you get back to his house, Lestat can tell you're still freaking out over Eleanor's presence in town. You're all figgity in your seat. Lestat sighs and holds out the glass of wine in front of your face. When you don't take it from him he places it on the table beside you.

“I can make you forget,” he offers.

“Forget?”

“About Eleanor and her questions.”

“That might make things worse,” you sigh. You didn't want to forget that the family of a dead man was out there searching for him.

“Just for tonight.” Lestat leans over, his lips brushing along your ear. You feel a shiver run down your spine. 

He closes the distance between you both and wraps his arms around you so smoothly. You fall into his embrace with ease. Whatever line there was between you before had been crossed, and you knew there was no going back. Lestat kisses along your jaw, your breathing came out in small little pants. He had you right where he wanted you.

“Lestat,” he name falls from your lips with ease.

“Shh.” He whispers in your ear. “Tonight you are mine and I am yours.”

His lips press against your own with desire. Long awaited desire. From this single kiss you knew he had been waiting a long time for this. Lestat had had his eyes on you for a while now. It was only a matter of time before he got what he wanted. Lestat could be patient when he wanted to be.

He pulls you into his lap and brings your bodies closer together. It's like a magnetic force bringing you together. You follow after his lips, your hands grab onto him wherever they can. Lestat lets you chase after every part of him that you want.

Your fingers dig into his hair as he pulls you to sit up in his lap. He lifts you up enough so he can lay you down and climb on top of you. His lips leave yours to trail back down your jaw and then your neck. Your back arches as he goes lower, down to your collarbone. His hands stay firm on your hips.

You're about to forget your own damn name, that's for sure.

His large hands go wandering under your clothes. You've never found yourself in this position before. Lestat had you feeling all kinds of ways.

You gasp as he sucks on the spot he bit you from last time you were here. The skin there was sensitive and had you shaking under him.

“Ma petite beauté.”

He speaks in a low voice. He's using every ounce of his charms to keep you with him. It's working.

His fingers pluck at your clothes. You don't even move to stop him. He smirks against your skin.  He's about to undo the buttons but there's firm knocking at the door.

Lestat lifts his head. You look up at him. “Don't answer it.”

“Chéri, I do not get guests.” He looks at you.

You hear the knock again and Lestat rises from the couch. He fixes his hair and stalks slowly toward the door. You sit up and fix your clothes, missing the touch of his lips on your skin.

Lestat opens the doors. You watch from your spot on the sofa. He doesn't say anything as she steps back and lets the person inside.

Amelie.

You stand up quickly and hurry over to her. “What are you doing here?”

“I knew you would be here.” She looks you up and down. “I didn't know where else to go.”

You place your hands on her shoulders and look at her. Lestat watches from the door. He remains quiet as you talk to her.

“It's about Noah… the police came to the theater. His sister called them after finding his apartment. He's gone missing.”

You stare at her. Lestat can see the panic in your eyes. Eleanor was causing him problems. He is normally a little more clever when it comes to his victims.

“What… what's happening?” You ask.

“They're saying kidnap, but… they're also gonna look for a body… It was awful. They were all over the theater lookin’ for clues.”

You glance at Lestat who holds your gaze with a sharp look. You turn back to Amelie. “Let me walk ya home.”

Amelie nods and follows you out. Lestat doesn't even get to kiss you goodbye.

@awanderingghost @theprettiesthead @cosmixstar @theblueslytherin @katherine2098 @sawendel @floofdeloop @sitkafay @bigbaddie45 @bluscryn

@secretisme4 @darkqueen1995 @bridkesby @caribbeangal @sarcasticandfangirl @missjadesfics @kaybart19

[hannahssimblr]

Her shoulders begin to shake with her sobs. “I hate this,” she says. “I hate all this bloody change all at once.”

“I know.”

Startled, we both look up as the patio door opens. Evie slips out. Perhaps she is looking for me, but she diverts her course and begins collecting the empty plates on the table instead. She goes back into the kitchen. 

“Fuck sake,” says Jen, swiping at her face like she could shove the tears back where they came from. “Here I am, crying at you, after Evie’s already cried at you, and who knows who else, Jesus Christ.”

“It’s alright. There’s a kind of sad, crying vibe in the air these days.”

She laughs. “Except you, right? You’ve not shed a tear.”

“I’ve cried,” I say mysteriously. “Just not tonight.”

“You will.”

“I don’t think so. To be honest, I’ve been feeling a bit numb in general.”

“Makes sense. I wish I was.”

“No, you don’t.”

She rests her head on my shoulder. It’s a familiar, specifically Jen kind of action, the feel of that soft, warm cheek through my t-shirt and the smell of her shampoo. This action is one she’s repeated a thousand times before, like when we watch a film, or when she’s tired, or sad, or wants to talk about her day, or read a book with me and comment on it without context. I know it will be the last time for a while. 

“I’ll miss you,” she says. “I think I’m going to miss all of this time in my life when it’s gone.”

“Nah, things will get better than this. Don’t hold these years up as the best you’ll ever have. That’s depressing.”

“Do you think we’ll romanticise our teens some time in the future? Whether we’ll think about how young and gorgeous we were, all the fun we had, and give absolutely anything to get it back?”

I chuckle. “No. I’ve hated this mess. There’s barely anything I’d like to preserve.”

“Except me.”

“Yeah, except you, exactly as you are. Obviously. I’d keep you in a glass jar if I could and take you all over the world in my bag.”

Evie crosses the kitchen window with another handful of bowls, and we both watch her slot them neatly into the dishwasher. “And her,” says Jen. “You’d keep her too.”

“Jen.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“Of course not.”

“I think that if you had half a brain, you would.”

It’s true. This girl that I watch through the window, with whom I spent just a summer, has trusted me with her dreams. Those whispered to me in a parked, idling car. Her secrets, she revealed as we lay on the grass under a canopy of blossoming trees. There are parts of me only she has seen. I know that if the timing were different, and a girl like this would have me, I would build my world around her, but we’re too young, and by the time I met her, it was already much too late.

She flits around the kitchen until she’s cleared away the last dish, and then with idle hands, for one moment, she stands and stares out the window. I know she is looking for me, and won’t see me in the dark, yet I feel like there’s a frisson between us. It’s striking and strange. It’s some sort of knowing. We are watching one another with a stillness, like two animals of the same species spotting one another in the wild. 

Then she turns and is swallowed up by the darkened hallway behind her. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[cillyscribbles]

my modern!cats au giving me, an avid non-smoker, thoughts about smoking and self image, of all things. i will put them under the cut, but meanwhile! enjoy this 1. shameless illustration of my own fic 2. tugger not quite loving the makeup (or costuming) of his poet-murderer role. (yes a local staging of roberto zucco changed my life, very nice of you to ask!)

so smoking bad etc etc don't smoke. anyway, all three brothers deuteronomy smoke, or at least have smoked for large chunks of their lives, albeit for wildly different reasons and standpoints.

munkustrap's been smoking since middle school, his start more or less aligning with the time period when old deuteronomy falls sick, grizabella ramps up her work, and munkustrap, at the ripe old age of maybe 14, starts managing the household and finances and whatnot.

he wishes he'd never started smoking, don't get me wrong. he wishes the relief of the thing wasn't worth it. he quits and starts again throughout the years, over and over and over, climbing into the third decade of the habit without being able to break it, never moving past the numbed feeling of failure for it. it's the one crack you'll occasionally catch in that aged picture of constant steadfastness and responsibility he's got going on.

to be unable to handle it all feels to him as good as giving up entirely. he smokes behind the school. he puts away the ashtrays when he has guests over. he doesn't like smoking with company, and he hates his shame being made known. if you'll allow me a pretentious second, it's sort of like an upward climb that he wants to take on alone so nobody else sees him stumble, and no one helps him if he twists an ankle. it's fine by him because he needs to be able to handle it himself. he needs to.

so. all this, versus tugger, who started well into adulthood and barrelled into it full and consciously. tugger, who smokes to replace sleep and sanity when his life runs on cigarettes and caffeine. but nothing more. he doesn't care to quit, he doesn't care to change. cigarettes look good between his fingers. he knows how to hold them pretty, like he knows everything else about himself that builds the picture he wants.

and, on a more interpersonal level, it upsets him that munkustrap is so acutely ashamed of it, the same way munkustrap is upset tugger is so casual about it. to some degree, though, i think that's because tugger's entirely hyperaware of how fragile life is and on how small a technicality shit can go sideways and end up killing him or anyone else. it's hard for him not to think about it. but it gives him some sort of strength to look for morbid humour in the things munkustrap wouldn't let himself laugh at, i think. it's gallows humour, to be fair, but it's good humour to tugger nonetheless. he finds stakes if not thrilling then certainly intriguing.

besides, making any sort of change to himself for other people, to tugger, is like betraying himself. he's built up that resistance to outside influence, and he's built it up hard and total. he doesn't mold, he doesn't bend, he'll do and look and say whatever he wants, he associates seeking validation strictly with misery. he doesn't understand munkustrap's frustration, or desire to please people, nor does he want to.

the thing with how tugger is, i think, is that he's just prodded at enough for both the street culture he grew up in and the inclination towards self-preservation of someone visibly queer to mesh together into something that can be spectacular and unmovable, and sometimes still turn ugly. i think curiosity is easy to push into cruelty with tugger.

shame is easy to mock for someone who's overcome it and tries hard to forget how insidious it can be. i think both munkustrap and tugger can be cruel to each other without wanting to and without really transgressing toward each other in a way that would dent their relationship, primarily because it's such a strong relationship but also because they're used to some sort of cruelty from the world at least, they just know better where to hit each other verbally to mess each other up. so. self-control, boys. comes to one of them easier than the other, LOL. and again, don't get me wrong. tugger doesn't want to be cruel to munkustrap, but it's not always a thing he can push away the instinct for. munkustrap doesn't want to be cruel to tugger, but he's been making hard decisions for ages and all but expects someone to be hurt by the end of it, and tugger is manageable. so. damn

[bloggingboutburgers]

I'm here to bonce back on the "non tagging x reader content" when... Shippers do the EXACT same thing and get no flacks in returns?

ESPECIALLY mlm ones?

I mean why even bother? You either drool over those two men kissing or you're just a raging homophobe! Simple as that ! 😌 😇

You have no idea of the numbers of shipper accounts i had to block because they posted content for that ship that i hate without tagging it as shipping. And nobody bats an eye, everyone is cool with that because everyone ASSUMES you're into this.

And then they say shits like "Wow x reader is such a HATE CRIME am I right?" And everyone's agreed with them and you can't say shit in response because all the fandom back them up. (True story, i wish i made that one up)

And as a sex/romance repulsed aroace woman who's only comfortable with x reader fanfics to safely explore those complicated feeling the fuck am I supposed to do? I would get gutted on the street by the entire fandom.

And before everyone slash my throat : everyone should tag their content. No matter what it is. Shipping, x reader, whatever...

But why everyone is so comfortable shitting on the x reader community while the shippers get to do everything they want without any pushback????

Like idk how to say it, all the goods the x reader community gave me. Its the only community who accepted me in ANY fandoms i have been as an aroace woman, all the rest of the fandoms bullied me and tried to chase me away because i """"shipped myself""""" with male characters i saw as aroace coded too. The x reader community welcomed me and helped me carve my own space while the rest gave me fucking slack because I saw those characters as aroace instead of gay. (Because it is apparently the only valid queer interprétation ever)

Like fuck man...

This community is the only one who accepted to listen to me rambling about how those character were aroace coded and cheered for me writing about them while i was bullied off my first account because i did not agree with the popular ship.

I met more aroace people writing nsfw/romantic fics (YES I TAG THEM ALL) about those characters than i ever met in my entire life. HELL, each and every single Friend I made on this site came to me to thank me for my writing and they ALL turned out to be sex/romance repulsed aroace people.

TLDR : why is it always the x reader community that get flacked for doing something the shippers do since the very begining of fandoms without any repercussion?

Its getting old.

Sincerely an aroace sex/romance woman that will never let go of her x reader fanfics.

...OK ima be honest on that one

Personally I don't dig shipping OR xreader, I kinda put them in a "nope don't wanna read it" same bag

So yeah I don't get why people wouldn't see them on a same scale of value.

Literally people like different things and some would rather read different things and some wouldn't and everything's fine let's seriously just tag stuff to make our life easier and stop judging each other.

The absolute state of all of this. Jeeeeesus. That's part of why I don't even bother in fanfiction spaces anymore. That and the fac there's hardly ever anything that'd interest me anyway, I guess.

[byemambo]

4Minutes EP. 8 - My Takeaways + Final Thoughts

Man, it still really hasn't hit me that the series is officially over. What a ride we were on for the past two months, and I can't wait to see what's next for everyone involved in this production. In terms of this last post, I think I'm just going to let my train of thought ride out without giving too much focus on the meta within the series, but focusing more on the themes and morals we learned from this series.

Maladaptive Daydreaming: Tyme's Wake Up Call

According to Jes and Bible's thoughts leading up to the final release of the episode, both of then alluded that this episode would wrap up most loose ends in each character and their challenges leading up to each of their own conclusions. What I found very significant in Tyme's NDE (which I highlighted my own interpretation of TymeGreat's respective timelines in my episode 6 takeaways), is this warmth and comfort we were able to visually experience in majority of his interactions and projected scenarios going on in his own head. Although he had moments of awareness in the limbo he's experiencing from the standard visual representation of the 4 minutes of consciousness through the clocks/watches, it seemed like Tyme's deluded life was more straightforward and not prone to time jumps like Great was experiencing, possibly due to Tyme walking down the path by not opening his mother's diary.

In comparison to Great's NDE, there weren't as many violent redirects or jumps by making a poor decision, seemingly showing us that Tyme is making better decisions and achieving their respective results, majority of them sharing the same values of communication, intentionality, optimism, and a natural desire for love and adoration. For someone who grew up with no ties to his parents and only having his grandmother become the primary person to express love and affection for (excluding Nutcha since they ended their relationship on good terms and remain connected through their professionalism and a true desire for them to achieve better outcomes on their own paths), Great becomes evidently another person he carries a a deep and meaningful connection with outside of his family and Den.

In comparison to the person he is in the actual timeline, this Tyme is soft, understanding, high achieving and personal to those around him, naturally translating to a soft and tender love and desire he has for Great. We see this by the natural warm lighting in comparison to the more dim and gritty lighting in the previous episodes when we're observing Great and Tyme's actual timelines. The juxtaposition between the person his subconscious wishes to be versus the person he became from a crossroad as simple and out of the blue as discovering the diary, the characteristics are drastically different. The real Tyme is impersonal, quick to judgment, conniving, which leads him to his demise after endangering the life of Nan by involving her in his scheme, to sacrificing Great's reputation in order to harm his family, which were not the original people who drove his parents to their death and were mistakenly targeted because he misinterpreted the details left behind in his mother's diary. This hate driven act ultimately kills his grandmother as well, the only person he truly wishes to keep out of danger and harm's way.

The moment of realization when he hears Den's voice making attempts to resurrect Tyme was incredibly heart wrenching for me as someone who (although it was not even close to being as violent as what Den went through in that moment of crisis) experienced that pain of a loved one withering away right in front of your eyes at the hands of death. The small detail of Den relaying his research to Tyme after he expressed his guilt for (indirectly/directly) contributing to the Great's critical state seemingly remained in the back of Tyme's mind, but as most people would, his emotions overcome his ability to rationalize the next steps to take while he's basking in his purgatory disgusted as paradise. I know many people were off put by the potential (depending on how deeply you'd want to consider the logistics of the themes in this series) plot hole where Tyme is able to transcend and awaken Great from his 4 minutes as we didn't physically see Great awaken from his comatose state. Personally, it doesn't bother me since I had really analyzed this series from more of its psychological thriller elements rather than fixating on the sci fi alone: I interpreted this moment where the reality of fear in regret kicks in for Tyme and that the inevitable of death is nearing, Den becoming the voice of reason and empowering Tyme to fight for his life.

However along with his own battle, his desire for Great to escape the hands of death is just as strong, especially when you consider all that he knows about the truth behind the death of his parents and the role Great played in the grand scheme of things. For all we know, the only person who knows about Great's involvement in Dome's death at this point in the story is Tonkla, Title and his father who tries to wipe the evidence from the dashcam recording. For all we know: Great became someone who was targeted due to his relations with his family and was harmed due to his involvement with helping Tyme escape after Nan's death at the hands of his father's people, being shot later that same evening without any idea of who was responsible. For all Tyme knows: if Great's family was more than willing to take the lives of his parents, Nan and her friend, as well as countless other families involved in their crimes, would it really be out of the question if Great were to be targeted by his own? Just as Great were willing to show up in attempts to save Tyme from his own demise, Tyme shortly realizes he is more than willing to do the same, even if that means sacrificing the outcome of saving his own life in the process.

The Tale of Two Lovers: Korn's Tragedy

If y'all read my episode 4 and 5 takeaways, I talked in depth which is truly an understatement about Korn as a character within this series and honestly from an overall view: he became one of my favorite interpretations amongst all the morally gray characters within this series. I think inherently, it comes from my understanding in Korn as an individual and how in a matter of nature versus nurture, the nature of his life easily consumed him and forbid his nature to take center stage.

In many of the details about Korn's personality and how his unbringing played a significant role in his downfall, we're revealed many circumstances that contributed to his spiral. Given that the earliest flashback we were able to see on screen was of TymeGreat as children, I found it interesting how we did not see Korn at all, reminding me about the detail that Great and his mother grew up separately from the main household as the mistress with her son (I briefly discuss this in my episode 5 takeaways). There was already a barrier between the two sons, and I'm sure this division only grew further apart once Korn's mother commits suicide and Great's mother is taken in as the new wife and face of the family. Judging from how Korn maintained this level of emotional distance between him and his loved ones, he begins to take on much of the labor his father expected of him as the heir to the family company: which included becoming the head of the "investment" division, appeasing the shareholders and other powerful key players involved in the scheme, and ultimately sacrificing his only outlet of happiness and grounds to a more desirable reality which was Tonkla and his relationship with him.

In my previous takeaways, my impressions of Korn were rather hypercritical and I'm sure for some, coming across as "anti Korn" LOL, however, the way I view Korn as a person is like that one Japanese traditional practice of kintsugi–the repairing of pottery and its cracks and imperfections with precious metals, serving as a reminder of viewing one's past with beauty rather than disgust. Korn is definitely far from perfect, we witnessed this all throughout the entire series leading up to the final episode. However, out of all the characters: Korn's willingness and quick to action when it came to protecting the person who mattered most to him gave me a slight change of heart towards him, especially when I was jumping fences about whether or not Korn was truly in love with Tonkla or was using Tonkla for accessibility to an immediate power dynamic given that as time went on and more damage was done to the company, it felt as though Korn's power was fading and seconds away from escaping his grasp the moment he was given it.

I still feel like many of the fucked up things Korn did in terms of his absence, his anger, his impulsivity, his entitlement to power and strength: I truly believe this is a case of "a person capable of doing bad things" than simply being a "bad" person. This becomes most evident when Korn reunites with Tonkla, the one person who truly is the love of his life and he is willing to do anything to protect him and help make his escape. This sentiment doesn't change the moment Tonkla confesses to harming Korn's own brother, which that exchange between the two while Win holds them at gunpoint was honestly a different level of devastation and distraught that I felt when watching TymeGreat's ending unfold.

Not only are you dealing with ushering your family from being discovered by the authorities, coordinating the disappearance of any physical footprint of the "investment" division, your brother in critical condition in the hospital, your boyfriend's face plastered all over the news after escaping arrest for murder, who confesses himself that he not only cheated on him while dealing with the grieving of his younger brother, but he was also responsible for the same injury your own younger brother is enduring because he was involved with the death of your boyfriend's younger brother. I don't know about y'all per se: but Bas did such an amazing job depicting the level of distraught and complex blends (only naming a few in this instance) of grievance, betrayal, defeat, and overall sadness with a hint of madness that the only thing really able to describe the headspace is he currently occupying is the flames from the man made fire by the homeless in the area. To simply put it in a few words for the conclusion of KornKla's story: mistakes, melancholy, and madness.

Continuity vs Stagnation: The Duty of Accountability

I think we all knew from this finale that we shouldn't anticipate many rainbows and butterflies: there were many feuds and many losses throughout this journey. If we had to sit and name a few of our losses in the span of eight episodes: Manee, Dome, Nan, Title, Tonkla, Korn, Grandma, etc (which doesn't even account for people like Tyme's parents, the investor killed by Warit's people, Manee's son, Nan's friend, etc), I think the most powerful moral of this series is grief and loss. Not simply the experience of grief and loss: but what's expected of us once we accept grief and loss as a part of the human experience.

Honestly, I was shocked to see Great and Tyme reuniting as quickly as they did while paying respects to the loved ones they lose along the way, but it brought me a lot of comfort and relief. In this moment, Great and Tyme become individuals who had a taste of what death has waiting for all of us, an experience one cannot easily shake off, majority probably never do. However, with their own volition and ability to seek out forgiveness for not only each other, but for themselves, I think what's most important is intentionality: the true dividend between individuals like Korn and Tyme versus those like Title and Chanin. Those who have a desire for change and willingness to stretch themselves thin for those they love, versus those who have little to no remorse for their sins, which leads them to having to accept the consequences of their own actions.

I don't think it's out of the question that Great becomes a more morally righteous person, even becoming someone who will choose his morals over the protection of his corrupted family members, something that we witnessed was of hesitation when confronted by Tyme in Great's NDE timeline. After witnessing and enduring the trials and tribulations of his own life, the sacrifices, the lengths of harm and manipulation, the physical experience of bodily pain and suffering, the psychological torture of grappling between what he could have become versus who he became, the physical loss of his older brother and potential brother-in-law, the emotional loss of his own parents: anyone with a strong mind and strong heart has the ability to change the trajectory of their own lives. We are the creators of them after all.

As for Tyme grappling with his own ending: I think it was pretty cool to witness both him and Great having these candid conversations about their very real challenges post NDE. "What would you do?" becomes a question all of us ask ourselves every single day: however, many of us lack the confidence, the motivation, the desire, the goal, whatever it may be that holds us back from taking on whatever it is that life throws at us.

The scene between Tyme and Warit was very powerful to me: not only from the physical condition Warit is enduring from Korn revealing the culprit of the earlier investor's death to the right individual, the literal sounds of the monitor vocalizing the increase of his heart rate at the sight and realization of Tyme in his presence playing angel or devil, life or death, savior or undertaker, the stripping of his power and resource and the sinking in of becoming the powerless individual that was once like Tyme and his own family in his eyes. Witnessing Fasai arriving and mourning for the condition of her father alongside Tyme, it made me wonder if Tyme was facing his own moral dilemma of either avenging his family right then and there, or to let the universe take the reins. It makes me wonder if who he saw in Fasai was himself to his own family and Great, Nan to her friend, all the other individuals who lose their loved ones at the hands of corruption and evil. However, seeing that last cut of the disconnected equipment felt appropriate to Tyme's character in that specific moment: that he has elevated beyond his extremities and cutthroat approaches, but still having the moral obligation to avenge the lives of his family members that were stolen from this singular man.

Concluding Thoughts

If you have been keeping up with my weekly (that's a generous way of putting it but it's ok caus ya girl got ADHD fr but got done, right?) updates on this series, I would like to express my utmost gratitude and appreciation, especially to those who I became mutuals with or have the opportunity to converse alongside you during the release of the airing episodes. I have a genuine passion for things like writing and discussion, along with creating content that gives all of us gentle reminders that the amount of dedication, craft, attention to detail, and pure passion for such productions is loved and respected by so many. I didn't think that so many series this year was going to become such a hyperfixation for me, and honestly, I'm so glad to be a part of it and contribute to the discussion and craze that is all deserving.

To think that since the conclusion of KP and iykyk, it made me so happy to finally see the light of day for Bible to have his moment that we've all been anticipating. Knowing how many iterations, changes, back and forth, waiting games, and other challenges that came our way, I'm very pleased with how the production came out and all who had a hand in its existence. To be introduced to new faces like Jes, to be reacquainted to familiar ones like Job and Bas, to recognizing rising talent such as Fuaiz and Jjay, to becoming invested in the overall message and the goals in mind for those involved with the production of 4MINUTES, I hope this series and the success (and continuing) success of this series will give everyone a chance to bring new ideas to the table, to come together without fear of breaking the formula that is slowly becoming more monotonous due to the intimidation that the fruits of their labor will have little to no return, I think we're starting to return back to our roots as creatives: the power of our own artistic voice and allowing those passions and raw desires to overpower the capital and financial gains that run the industry right now. I can't wait to see more to come, and I hope y'all will continue to support everyone (as least here on tumblr) that will push out more content from 4MINUTES cast, or even other current productions that deserve all the love and praise.

Thank you again and my prediction for myself is the next upcoming hyperfixation will be The Heart Killers or Goddess Bless You from Death...I'm just desperate for FirstKhao and MichaelTopten please don't mind me. I'm also looking forward to GMMTV's 2025 Lineup but we shall see hehehe.

Lots of XOXOXO! :D