#Based hozier

[biboomerangboi]

Irish-uwufication is so fucking weird anyway but like people act like Hozier - who writes primarily blues songs about politics, books and music he finds interesting, and having sex with hot women he picks up in bars - is just a nature man is so weird. Like you have Americans saying he is a bog man, he only writes acoustic songs about chaste love and nature. He lives in the woods and doesn’t interact with society at all. He is made of trees and fairies because that’s what Ireland is.

[fyloune-taylorsversion]

Things I love (by Remus lupin)

- my whiskey neat

- my coffee

- black, in my bed at 3

[silveryones]

heaven is not fit to house a love like you and i

[sol-insidious]

"...I love you too, you Jedi-waking sap."

[vivalamusaine]

Hozier saw all the memes about musicians going on world tour to 3 cities and decided to go to every dead end sticks nowhere place instead. Saskatoon? You're on the list. Casper Wyoming? Fuck it why not. Bend Oregon? Never heard of her but she's been blessed. I love this mischievous ethereal weird man.

[hopecel]

It's time for every respected music artist to have their little russian state-affiliated controversy

[rock-in-robins]

so like reverse robins, if done right, i love em. anything reverse robins i ever write will never have Steph become Babs. it doesn't make sense to her character for her to become oracle, would she be great at it, absolutely, but it doesn't make sense.

there's always debate on whether it should be Steph or Tim to die and more or less become Jason. my answer is that Tim get's joker jr'd and kills himself (+ the joker if your so inclined (but joker would have to be revived somehow for plot reasons) (you can make it Bruce if you want more angst)) then Steph becomes robin because Tim always talked about how gotham needed a robin and she wanted to honor him in a way only she could. then the thing with black mask happens and she still fakes her death travels, heals, grieves, and comes back when she heard bruce picked up a new kid. (Jason wasn't robin yet, just living in the manor but Steph new it was only a matter of time)

so she comes back to gotham and decides she's gonna take care of crime alley her way, and revamps her old spoiler costume. (she may not have grown up there but she was a few streets away and she knew what a place like that did to kids) (she also has no ties to Bruce anymore so her no killing thing gets a whole lot more lax)(she kills her father - that's how bruce and the others found out shes back in town). and openly feuds with black mask over territory and brutally maims him but like just a bit.

Then Jason becomes robin and six months later Tim is back. he's different and definitely a bit more unhinged, but efficient as ever. he quickly takes over the drug trade and helps Steph get rid of the worst of the worst. But doesn't do the whole try to make Bruce kill the joker thing, instead he makes Bruce watch as Tim does and warns him that if he tries to revive the joker again (damian aka nightwing def killed the joker & Bruce brought him back) that they Will Have Problems. Tho he is going as Joker Jr. as a fuck you and a threat to pretty much everyone, after all they all knew what happened to the 2nd robin.

In summary Tim & Steph split up the Red Hood traits

Duffle bag of heads - tim, he's dramatic

Died (like burried in a grave and crawled out died) - tim

Guns - Steph

The joker - tim (but steph will shoot the fucker on sight so help her god)

Black mask war - steph (obvi)

Crime alley - steph mainly (but tim lurks around and every crime alley kid & sex worker knows that if they ever need something JJ will take care of it no questions asked)

Drug trade - tim

Scaring/pissing B off - both, they make it a game

Murder - both as a treat

[seafoamdew]

“I'm so full of love I could barely eat

There's nothing sweeter than my baby

I never want once from the cherry tree

Cause my baby's sweet as can be

He give me toothaches just from kissin me”

[junosmindpalace]

may i request a gojo x reader one shot where y/n is gojo's former student, after she graduated she went out of the country then after 5 yrs she comes back to work at tokyo jujutsu high as a teacher like gojo. y/n used to have a crush on gojo back then (maybe she still does 😋) and now that y/n's back after a long time gojo kinda missed her so they often spend time together. y/n keeps convincing herself it's just some kind of friendly reunion, nothing more but one day during the sister school goodwill event she gets jealous when she sees gojo teasing utahime and interacting with her. gojo wonders what got y/n into a pissy mood and y/n is like "why do you even care? just go back to your flirting session" then that's where gojo finds out she's just jealous. he'll tease her and idk maybe a confession between them will follow? i'm rlly sorry i suck at explaining things but i hope you get most of it and this gets accepted 😭 thanks! 💓

UNKNOWN / NTH

hi anon! thank you for your request and patience! i changed a couple of details in this request and it turned out soo weirdly angst but the main idea is still there! i hope that’s alright!

3.2k words. a little all over the place.

“call me every single day, you hear me? you can’t leave me all alone with this guy.” 

shoko doesn’t even look over her shoulder as she jabs her thumb toward the white haired teen standing behind her shoulder, who drops his mouth open in disbelief at her insulting tone. the tension in your chest eased up as you laughed.

“of course.” 

leaving your friends so soon after graduating was hard to wrap your head around, even with a car waiting to take you to the airport outside the gates of the jujutsu tech building and the occasion bump into your suitcase as you shifted your weight between your legs. 

with the assassination of the star plasma vessel and the suguru incident that made your worlds turn upside down, it seemed reasonable that you’d want to stay; immerse yourself in something familiar. but staying at jujutsu tech--in japan all together--was overwhelming. you needed time to figure and sort yourself out; cope without having to relive painful memories every time you passed where the incidents took place. 

leaving the two people who helped you cope during the ordeal with suguru was difficult, but though they too were pained to part from their friend, they also understood the importance of your leave. they weren’t too stressed, though. you’d stay in touch. you promised. 

shoko stepped forward to give you one final departing gift, wrapping her arms around your neck as you immediately reciprocated, and in shoko’s arms did you mull over whether this was the right choice for you for the nth time. 

a couple moments pass before the two of you pull apart, with shoko whispering a threatening “you better call.” one final time, jabbing an accusing finger at you as if you had already broken your promise, before stepping off to the side to allow satoru to get his own affairs in order. he stepped toward you with a roll of his eyes. 

satoru gojo has been an insufferable ass ever since you met him in your first year. to you, he once came off inconsiderate and ill-mannered, and to satoru, you once came off stuck up and uptight. yet somehow the mutual distaste you two had for each other upon first meeting turned into a friendship filled with teasing.

it felt weird leaving satoru behind especially, because somehow along the bumpy road the two of you took to get to where you were now, something yet again shifted in the way you viewed him, a shift you were still unfamiliar with. it felt strange leaving without it figured out. but you’d get a chance to, you hoped. like with everything else in your bizarre life. 

your usual banter insued as satoru took hold of the handle on your suitcase, swinging it back and forth before loading it into the open trunk. you threatened satoru to look out for himself and not be too much of a nuisance while you were away as he did so. he clicked his tongue as he brought the trunk down with a thud! and waved off your false threats. 

”don't miss me too much, y/n.” he smirked over his shoulder, tinted glasses sliding down the slope of his nose as he stepped back up on the sidewalk. cerulean eyes shone under the morning sunlight, fixed on you with an intense gaze in contrast to his easy smile. you looked over your shoulder as you opened the rear car door, mimicking his expression. 

”won't be a problem.”

the first couple of months went strong. you upheld your promise of calling shoko frequently, and satoru would often squeeze himself into the frame of shoko’s camera to tease or hurl an insult toward you. she’d shoo him off or laugh along, because she too missed the playful banter you all once immersed yourselves in. and though you were far from the paths you once trekked with your friends, only ghosts of those moments lingering on them now, at least there was no trace of your dying friendship.

more time passed and contact became less frequent. life went on, and keeping in touch as regularly as you once did became increasingly difficult. only on occasion were you able to organize a chat, so much yet so little to be said. each new life event shared left you to ponder over even hours after you had hung up the phone. 

and soon enough, a decade had passed. ten years you thought you’d spend in agony over being away from the people and places you considered home flew by considerably fast, and the thought nauseated you slightly as you reminisced on memories from your youth. 

the nostalgia of your teenage years lingered like a light fog in your mind, always finding some way to trace even the most mundane of things back to your old friends, especially satoru gojo. even after ten long, busy years, you still found that annoying white haired friend of yours lingering in the back of your mind. 

though so much time had passed, you hadn’t gone cold turkey with your communication from your friends; only infrequent. you knew of the important things: the promising new students at jujutsu tech, satoru becoming a teacher, the curse that was rika, the night parade of a hundred demons, toji’s son that satoru was now looking over—suguru’s death. all things recollected to you from your texts with shoko and gojo. though neither of them were quite big on details.  

ten years has definitely granted you time to think, to organize, to consider and try new things. you worked through complicated feelings, you met new people, you saw and experienced new things, and certainly had all those things teach you a couple of important lessons. 

and ultimately, after over a decade, you made the decision to return to japan as a teacher at jujutsu tech. 

around this time, you felt a consistent nagging as if there was still a missing, unsorted piece of your life. you believed that perhaps the decision to return home was spurred by the growing intensity of it. it built up slowly over your less frequent phone calls and text conversations with your old friends and the ever growing amount of changing of their lives back home. though perhaps suguru’s death compelled you to return as well. 

you returned the following year after the night parade of a hundred demons. you convinced yourself it would just be a friendly reunion like with the rest of your old friends, but the second you were standing face to face with satoru, your heart said otherwise. 

it wasn’t unusual to feel anxious when reuniting with someone, but the painstakingly long pause that followed upon being reunited after so many years made you suppress a shudder. It was hard to believe the man in front of you was the troublemaker you used to go to school with. It was hard to believe he was even real. 

you used the silence to get a good look at him, just to make sure it was truly him (and you think satoru was doing the same, regardless of his six eyes.) he had gotten even taller, and he now wore his messy locks of snow white hair up. his uniform was still fitted as it used to be, always just a bit baggier than his tall frame. 

but the most prominent difference was his new defining feature, and so you decided to comment on it first. satoru was still in a sort of trance (of shock you guessed; your only indicator were his slightly parted lips) when you broke the ice with a smirk and the words he had parted with you over a decade ago.

"hope you didn’t miss me too much, satoru. what's with the tacky blindfold?” 

and the grin that followed on his lips stretched from ear to ear.

satoru your coworker wasn't all that different from satoru your classmate. he was still as childish as ever, irritated by the higher ups and an irritation to all those around him. you found that out rather quickly when reuniting with yaga and nanami. you made a dramatic fuss over how much they both had changed, nanami shyly looking down with a slight frown reminiscent of the signature one he wore when he was younger. you didn’t feel it was appropriate to bring up haibara or suguru at any point. 

but your relationship with satoru your coworker was off from your relationship with satoru your classmate. It had been years, and you’ve fallen into your normal rhythm with satoru pretty quickly and easily on the surface. but the passage of time was still evident in your conversations as it was with the changes in your appearances. time matured him (or most likely his ordeals with suguru). even his manner of speaking was so serious sometimes that it caught you off guard. it felt even worse than having him hate you, treating you as if you were a stranger hurting that much more.

so much yet so little had changed. you were taken aback by the amount of maturity in his reasoning for wanting to become a teacher, even if it was so out of place for him, over a catch up brunch. it almost made you feel as if he were a stranger, with a new sense of maturity coupled with his new, more distant look and behaviour.

he’d tease you like he always did, but it didn't have as much bite. he'd show you around tokyo, treating you to desserts and jokingly gifting you funny souvenirs; but because satoru had become so unfamiliar, it didn’t feel as comforting as you thought it would. 

and that nagging feeling that you couldn’t quite put your finger on arose again.

you reunited with mei mei and utahime during the sister school goodwill event, with the latter enveloping you in a large hug reminiscent of the ones you received when you left them over a decade ago. they had all stayed relatively close, with utahime becoming a teacher like satoru at the sister school in kyoto. 

you were good friends with her, always defending her from satoru’s insults and indulging in her (in your case, faux) hatred toward satoru. you two had also stayed in close contact, appreciating all the emotional support she provided and her updates on the events in her life and the jujutsu world (with complaints about satoru tossed in here and there). 

which is why your jealousy was irrational, you thought to yourself as you watched satoru and utahime in the monitoring room. you knew satoru and utahime being the last two people in the world wouldn’t make them fall in love. even if they were, your jealousy was still out of place. if anything, you should feel happy for your two old friends.

but perhaps it had more to do with the distance and familiarity satoru and utahime were able to maintain, even if it was their regular quarreling and distaste for one another. perhaps the way they were able to slip into the routine they’ve kept up for so many years, no matter how ruthless it was, ate at you, reminded you of how different things were between you and satoru. you weren’t two teenagers who’d sometimes catch each other’s stares from across a room. you weren’t attending school together and going on missions. 

and the distance was bound to strain your relationship. but you figured that if there was anyone you’d be able to break back into routine with, it was the troublemaker you had known since the two of you were fresh faced students like the ones he now mentors. 

it was all those little things stacked atop each other, that casual and distant demeanor satoru treated you with as if you were a stranger, time staring back at you in the mature way he, shoko and utahime carried themselves, and satoru slipping into a routine that you were sure you and him would be able to maintain with someone else, made that whole tower of unease fall apart with that final crack. 

he had walked off after you after you had excused yourself from the room, feeling sick the more you thought about the large gap in memories, in time, in knowledge, between you and the others. 

“jealous?” he smirked, clearly amused by your sudden outburst (and deeply curious, since it was so out of character for you). 

“not a chance.”

not in the way he was suggesting, at least. you waved him off. “go back to your flirting session.” 

and Satoru stopped in his tracks, recoiling in disgust over the mere implication. because even he knew that you would never think such a thing of his relationship with utahime, even if he were to one day tell you that something was going on. 

perhaps it was the distance, satoru thought to himself sadly. because while to you satoru didn’t seem to be all that affected by your return, he still saw in you that old classmate of his that made his face burn with simply the strength they exhibited, with only a short meeting of gazes from across a room as a teenager, and his heart ached at emotional distance. there was no way that classmate that knew which treats to bribe him with and what games were his favorite would ever assume such a thing about him. 

getting through to one another was never easy, both of you equally stubborn in your resolve. and when you throw this terrible distance, these horrible feelings of insecurity and confusion, it made the miscommunication between the two of you that much worse. 

but satoru remembers the day you left as if no time had passed at all. he remembers the rising lump in his throat as he watched you say your goodbyes with shoko. he remembers the wave of fear that washed over him as he watched you turn your back from him, reminiscent of the event that took place when his best friend left him for good. he remembers the confession on the tip of his tongue as he looked down at you and into your sharp gleaming eyes, words he’s debated with himself for years over whether or not he was a coward or a hero in not saying.

and right now, as he stares at your confused and hurt expression, your back turned to him yet again, all those feelings wash over him and he feels as if it may be the former, because now he’s let his insecurity hurt you. but he also knows that whether he was a coward or hero then doesn’t matter now. he wouldn’t allow a repeat of what happened all those years ago. he wouldn't let himself hesitate.

he reached to grab your wrist, and you harshly recoiled, shooting him an angry glare from across your shoulder. “what the- hell, satoru? would you just-”

“i wasn’t flirting.” 

“whatever. I don’t-”

suguru knew him better than anyone. shoko knows him better than anyone. you know him better than anyone.

“utahime? really? i would think that you know me better than that.” 

the pout on his face seeped into his voice, and you further struggled in his grip. “things change with time, satoru. you can’t expect me-”

the distance was fine. satoru could do distance. but it was this misunderstanding that made his stomach churn uncomfortably. it was the fact that he seemed so unknown to you. that you seemed so unknown to him. who knew that such a minor misunderstanding would carry so much emotional baggage, invoke such strong reactions from the two of you? 

“can’t use that excuse if i’ve always been in love with you.”

you immediately stopped fidgeting, staring at satoru’s serious expression with wide eyes. his pout settled into a deep frown, and you’re absolutely despising the fact that you can’t see his eyes with that stupid new blindfold. stupid time. stupid change. 

“i’m in love with you,” he said again with a shrug. “and that never changed.”

silence. all you could do is continue to stare at him as he held your wrist. but then you inhaled sharply and satoru released his grip. you took another deep breath, and then…

“how the hell am I supposed to know something like that? it’s been over ten years, satoru gojo. everything feels different- you look different!- and you expect me to know you’ve been in love with me for how long?”

you ranted all your anger toward him as you jabbed a finger into his chest, while he continued to stare down at you with a frown and his hands now buried in his pockets. his lack of a reaction only added to your frustration, and you still felt as if you were staring at a stranger. 

“take off that damn blindfold.” 

his mouth drops into a small o for a moment, before he brings a hand to his face. it feels as if an agonizing amount of time passes as satoru slips the blindfold down from his eyes to hang over his neck. his hair falls into that familiar disheveled heap, and you’re immediately met with a familiar rush of anxiety rushing through your veins as you make eye contact with his blue ones. 

big and bright, and staring down at you with so much longing. his hand stays on his blindfold, and the frown stays etched into his face, but you can finally see those eyes. the ones that sent a wave of warmth over you when they connected with yours. the ones you found yourself gazing at as you leaned your head against a desk, admiring them from a sideways angle as they glistened in a ray of sunlight. one’s you knew you could rely on, not because they belonged to the strongest or because of the power they held, but because they belonged to your best friend, to the boy that made your heart stutter. 

and you’re too emotional finally seeing your satoru gojo to care about the fact that you were now sobbing into satoru’s chest in relief over something familiar, and you cried even harder when his arms wrapped around your frame, head resting sideways into your hair. and you felt stupid for breaking down over something so childish, so minor.

but maybe some things didn’t change and maybe some change was for the better. because you’ve had over ten years to figure yourself out and so did satoru, and with your decision to return home was your decision to return to satoru synonymous with it. 

and you felt satoru finally smile a genuine and childish and familiar sort of smile, into your hair, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about how stupid you felt in that moment. 

and that final unsorted piece of your life finally stopped nagging at you, as if satoru had exorcised a curse that lingered on your back these past ten years. those confusing and unidentifiable feelings you felt for satoru way back when. together, you’d be able to rebuild your relationship with satoru into the way it used to be all those years ago, not a single detail unknown, so you could put all those insecurities and fear to rest. 

[elen-benfelen]

I don’t think I’ve ever been so comforted and haunted by a song as I have with Butchered Tongue by Hozier. It’s so incredibly, terribly beautiful. It took me a while to be able to listen to it without instantly sobbing my eyes out. Took me even longer to put words to my feelings towards it. The grief it portrays, of losing one’s culture and language. Yet also the comfort of finding others in common. The horror yet unity of realising that the scar of colonisation wraps around such a large chunk of the world.

It’s the cruelty of punishing those who dare to speak their own language, dare to dress and dance in the ways of their people.

To me, this song is hiraeth.

It’s grief and love and longing and hope all in one. There is no English word equivalent. Hiraeth can be used to describe that feeling when you can’t speak your grandparent’s language. When you no longer know the steps to a dance once performed often. That feeling of longing when you’re far from home. When you can’t return home. In this case, home can be a country, or it could be your old home or someone you once had in your life. Yet it can also be the hope that you might have those things again one day. That you might find someone to teach you the steps your body calls for or the words missing from your tongue. To me, Butchered Tongue encapsulates every corner of hiraeth. Both the hopeful and the hopeless kind. Because not every language has someone left who knows how to speak it, how to teach it. Yet there are those who do and still they must fight their rights and for respect from uncaring people. There’s a love in this song for minority and indigenous languages across the world. I listen to this song and I ache, not just for my own ancestors, but for those across the world whose fight is much harder than ours is. Whose governments still refuse to acknowledge them as human beings.

People need to stop viewing colonising languages as some kind of main character languages that are better and more intelligent than every other language. Fed up of folks mocking minoritised languages and calling them worthless.

Tell me again how funny you think my language is. Please. I might just laugh this time.

[meowyjean]

couldn't stop thinking about the intersections between my current interests, so i made a brainrot venn diagram:

[winterrhayle]

Betray the moon as acolyte / On first and fierce affirming sight

[imfromthemiddlekingdom]

Me: I’m not going to gatekeep Irish. I’m not going to do it. Nope we need people to be interested in Irish if we want Irish to see a resurgence. It will be ultimately good for us if foreigners and diaspora learn our tongue. It’s good. It’s a good thing. Don’t get mad at ignorance. It’s a good thing people are learning.

American Hozier fans: ummm acktually it’s not Irish it’s GAELIC. You’re not even Irish if you’re mixed. My great great great grandfather was an Irish National so I know more than you duh.

Me: okay you know what? I will now start looking down on ALL Hozier fans that’s not Irish. Happy now????

[murdermitties]

Listening to neofolk really makes me wish warriors was a well written horror series about cats and religious beliefs, murder and mysteries that have you fearing for these cats lives, that has you guessing along with the POV on who you can trust and who's out to silence them.

Would love endlessly for these cats to live in delusion of their "gods" and "ancestors" being these almost all powerful beings in death, when in reality they don't exist.

And each leader goes to get their nine lives have to realise it's all a lie and if they want to stay in power they'll have to lie through their teeth to their clans, they'll have to sacrifice cats left and right to keep themselves from being hurt and exposing that they never got extra lives.

Because the cats wouldn't think "oh starclan isn't real" because of their ingrained beliefs, their first thought would be "starclan rejected your leadership, out with you."

I want starclan to be fake but the dark forest real, the good hot to rest forevermore but the bad live on to suffer for eternity.

You're own hatred or spite is what keeps you suffering, which is why cats who truly feel like they're not in the wrong (for example Ashfur) joins "Starclan" and get to rest even though they were awful in life.

Murder plots and possessions done in a way that actually makes you think or suspect the wrong person.

Struggles of strangers joining and either conforming to the clan's beliefs or questioning every turn, if they ask the wrong questions they disappear.

If they ask the right questions to the right cats, could they make the clans see? Could they make them question their own lives? Would it make life better or would it lead to death?

I want the clans to be the cults that they are, but more!

[the-grave-of-andrew]

"I'll crawl home to her."

[elysianymph]

read through my newest wip again instead of studying physics. enjoy this snippet of regulus panicking:

“Why are you…” Regulus trails off, swallowing the lump in his throat, “shirtless?”

James raises his eyebrows like he hadn't noticed he was walking around flashing his built chest and wide shoulders and making everyone drool at the sight of him. He looks down at his naked torso and up at Regulus again with a sheepish smile. “Oh, I lost my shirt,” he says with a shrug like it's no big deal, like he hadn't just helped Regulus’ mind create a fantasy he will be thinking about for the next two weeks.

“You lost your shirt?” Regulus repeats dumbly as he commands his eyes to stay focused on James’ face lest he look like a complete idiot drooling over James Potter who has a girlfriend. A really nice, pretty girlfriend. Said girlfriend also wears peach scented lip gloss and Regulus is dying to know if it tastes like the fruit too. Oh, right- James!

“Yeah,” James nods, “I brought it here with me but someone must've taken it while I was showering. I swear I had placed it on the bench over there, but well… it’s not there anymore.” He gives Regulus another smile, scratching the back of his neck.