#I’ve been listening to mitski for five hours now

[noxtms]

dear moz ; we are pleased to inform you that your application for DAPHNE GREENGRASS has been accepted to 𝐧𝐨𝐱 ! park sooyoung is now taken. you have twenty four hours to submit your account, or else your role will be reopened !

⧼ park sooyoung, cisfemale, she/her / i donʻt smoke by mitski + ovid says one thing . parthenius says another . hyginus and pausanius and philostratus and a whole host of writers and philosophers say whatever they feel like saying but in every iteration , daphne is running away . / daphne is so very tired of running away . / you are a good daughter and a good sister . you are a good daughter and a good student . you are a good daughter and a good slytherin . you are a good daughter , you are a good daughter . you are a good daughter . / your housemates donʻt know this , but you have never been quite as accident - prone as they always believed you to be . itʻs funny to them . all the graces of a pureblood daughter except when it fails you , except when you collect bumps and bruises like chocolate frog cards , except when you end up in the hospital wing more often than anyone else in your dorm . your housemates donʻt know this , but this has always been by design . / ovid says that cupid is slighted by the sun . ovid says that he pierces apollo with one arrow and daphne with another . apollo chases and daphne runs because she must . in the myths , it is a curse . the story plays out to the tune of someone elseʻs song with daphne as the instrument . / good daughter , good sister . good daughter , good student . good daughter , good slytherin . you do your best because you must . / daphne is so very tired of being someone elseʻs instrument / your housemates donʻt know this , but even apprentice healers must take oaths . you take it so you can pick at madam pomfreyʻs brain . you take it because it is inevitable . you take it because your mother and your sisters and your father wonʻt ever ask it of you but you were never too good at listening to your family , not when it comes to matters like these . what they donʻt know cannot hurt them . thankfully , that falls beneath your oath as well . / ovid says that daphne ran and was so swift that even the sun could not catch up . until , of course , he did . when he drew near , daphne fell to her knees at the riverside and begged for salvation , for aid , for anyone to help her . someone did . / daphne is so very tired of asking for someone to save her . / good sister , good slytherin , good daughter . / your housemates donʻt know this , but you stuck around long after the tides of war had quieted down and all that was left was the cleaning . the healing . you donʻt know this , but when you roll the sleeves of your robes and get to work before madam pomfrey has a chance to ask it of you , it is only the first of many times you will do this . it would serve you better if you got used to it now . / ( spoiler alert : you never do get used to it ) / laurels mean hard - won fights . laurels means finish lines . laurel means victory . when this all shakes out , weʻll see you at the end of it all , wonʻt we ? ⧽ ━━ hey, isn’t that DAPHNE GREENSGRASS ? i read a daily prophet article on them, once ; the TWENTY-FIVE year old half blood WITCH is a SLYTHERIN alumnus who has gone on to be an MEDIWITCH . i’ve heard they can be quite DUTIFUL & CONSCIENTIOUS, but i don’t know… they came off very SANCTIMONIOUS & ALOOF in that interview. it really is hard to know what to believe these days though, isn’t it? [ moz , twenty-two , hast ]

[onlinealiasnu]

music in narnia - pt. 3

what is music to me now? although i have fallen out of the constant obsession with music i had a few years ago when all i could do was listen to music, i still immensely appreciate what it can do for me. even though my minutes of listening have dropped down from over 99,000 minutes a year to around 85,000 a year (thank you to spotify wrapped for these statistics), the roles my favorite artists and songs play in my life have never been diminished.

even still, i can track my growth through the music i listen to and have listened to over the years. from obsessively looping mitski songs to playing old 2010s and rnb songs now, i’ve realized that i’ve matured and stopped caring about other people’s opinions. i’ve let myself become who i am and listen to the songs i want to, disregarding the popular opinions from everyone else of my generation. 

music not only signifies my growth, but still contributes to my everyday life in a way that makes each day more meaningful that the next. i think one of my favorite hobbies over the summer has been talking long walks from 30 minutes to an hour long each, while listening to my favorite songs. this was something that i started doing after all my closest friends started moving away to attend college and there was no one to hang out with or busy myself with anymore. during that time—being one of the last to leave the neighborhood—i spent time by myself. i painted more and read more and walked more and did some more walking, all while listening to music. it’s almost like music occupied its own little section in my brain.

through music, i learned to listen more closely to what people said—at first being through lyrics, then through actual words that came out of people’s mouths. i learned to be more emotional, something i’ve had trouble with for a long time, and more empathetic, which has served me well in understanding the world and making friends. i learned how to appreciate the people i love as well as seek people that i know are important to me. i learned to appreciate the little things, to admire the beauty of small things that people don’t normally pay attention to. i learned to be more observant, picking up smaller details that no one else notices. i learned to forge strong bonds with people, finding friends that i will have for a lifetime. i learned of a vast world that i’ve barely stepped foot into, barely had any experience in. most importantly, i learned to appreciate myself and be confident in what i know i can do without overlooking my own talents.

so when i say i love music, i don’t mean i’m a musician in any way. i most certainly am not—i can’t play any instrument and my singing is subpar at most. but even with those technicalities, music is still vital to my being and something i love with my whole heart. i mean, i guess it would be nice to learn an actual instrument. if i had to choose one, it would have to be bass or guitar. who knows? maybe one day, i’ll be up on that stage performing songs either solo or with a band, singing my heart out to songs that i create with mountains of meaning associated with them. or maybe, i’ll just be an ordinary office worker coming home from a nine to five, easing into the evening with a glass of wine and a slow ballad before making dinner for myself. i guess the only way to end this off is to say i’m both completely uncertain where life takes me and certain i’ll do fine whatever happens in the end. so thank you to music for making me self-assurant enough to believe that whatever happens will happen and that in the end, everything will be okay.

because seriously, everything will be okay.

[juno-of-the-sky]

pink in the night / tetsurou kuroo

eleven times you and tetsurou kissed throughout your lives.  [based off of mitski’s pink in the night, i strongly recommend you listen to that while reading]

tags: lots of kisses (no duh), traditional couple things, gender-neutral reader word count: 3,092k my hand slipped a/n: wow look my first work! obviously i made it about kuroo because he’s one of the easiest ones for me to write LOL— anyway i hope you enjoy! requests will be open soon as well in case there’s anything specific you’d like to see <3

Kuroo’s lips were chapped.

There were a lot of things you could’ve been focusing on at that moment, but his lips were chapped against yours, and that was the main thing. Or, it was the main thing until the weight of what you were doing — kissing Tetsurou Kuroo — really sunk in, and then it was everything. It was his chapped lips; his palms, resting so gently on your cheeks, his thumb rubbing circles into the apples of them; the pitter patter of the rain hitting the puddles on the concrete and the umbrella above the both of you that you were holding.

In only a moment, you’d managed to notice so much and so little at the same time.

Kuroo was the one to break the kiss — you had to hold back from dropping the umbrella and pressing your hands against his neck and pushing him into your lips because you just had to have him again.

“Ah, sorry,” The messy-haired boy muttered. When you opened your eyes with a confused, incoherent murmur, he was staring down at the ground, his cheeks dusted with pink. “That was… impulsive, my bad—” “Kuroo,” You breathed. “That was amazing.” He was silent for a second, before a slightly shocked, “Really?” “Do it again.”

He chuckled, putting his loving gaze on you again for only a second before stealing another kiss. This time, you took note of every detail.

And I know I’ve kissed you before, but I didn’t do it right

“Oh, come on, that was a lame kiss,” Kuroo rolled his eyes, slipping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to him. The sudden force knocked you off of your feet slightly, but you were happy to be close. 

“It was not,” You insisted, squinting your eyes in the sun to see him accurately. Upon your declaration that the kiss of the night before — your first kiss with him, no less — had been the best in the world, Kuroo was annoyingly set on proving you wrong. “It was a great kiss.” “My lips weren’t even moisturized,” He said, shaking his head. “You have meager standards, (Y/N).” “If it was so bad, then kiss me again to make up for it.”

Kuroo was silent, unmoving for a second before slipping his arms around your waist and lifting you ‘till you were level with his lips and kissing you.

If last night, someone had told you that the next day you would have a kiss that was even more amazing than the one you shared with Kuroo in the rain, you wouldn’t have believed them.

Now, kissing him in the sun with your arms around his neck and his arms around your waist, you definitely would’ve.

Can I try again

“Do you wanna be my partner?” The bouquet of pink roses in your hand seemed to glow a million times brighter as Kuroo stared at you with that smile on his face — confident, mostly, but with undertones of a sort of innocent shyness.

“Y—You mean to ask me?” You squeaked.

“Obviously. Who else would I ask?” He responded with a light chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re the one who… y’know.”

It all seemed so impossible — how in the world did Tetsurou Kuroo fall for this next-door-neighbor-type person? Yet, you felt like you were glowing pink, pink with adoration and affection and…

“Yeah,” was your final, whispered response. “I’ll be your partner.”

Kuroo smiled even wider, reaching out his arms — but before he could do anything, you went in for the kiss you knew he was planning. He hummed, surprised, which made you pull away momentarily.

“What are you doing?” He said, eyes closed and forehead pressed against yours. His hand was tracing up the back of your neck. “C’mon. Stop being a tease.” And his hand pushed against your neck, and then you were in your favorite place in the world — with your lips pressed to Kuroo’s. The serene hill the two of you had been sitting on, watching the clouds go by, was a lovely backdrop for this romance, this early love that was starting to form between the two of you.

You weren’t just glowing pink — the whole world was.

Try again

Kuroo had his head pressed against the wall when you found him, tears pouring down his cheeks in unrelenting streams. You didn’t know what was wrong, but there was something — Kuroo didn’t just cry like this. He’d never cried. It was such a strange sight to behold, but it wasn’t a bad one.

You sank down on the brick wall beside him, placing your hand on his knee. Through all of the tears, he gave you a side-glare that could’ve been full of a lot of different emotions.

“Hey, Kuroo, it’s okay,” You said, squeezing his knee. “It’s gonna be okay, alright? You’re not alone.”

He spat out something incoherent, his voice sounding nasally and hoarse like he had to force the words off of the tip of his tongue. 

Gently, you slipped your hand under his chin and lifted his head slightly to face you. He stared impassively at you, despite the tears still rolling down his cheeks before the tiniest glimmer of a smile appeared on his chapped, broken lips.

Your hand ran through his uncombed hair like clockwork; your other hand fit in the spaces between his fingers perfectly. You kissed him, but this kiss was different than your previous ones. It was gentle, full of affection and attention and warmth and love; that was the strange, fluttering feeling you felt in your chest every time you kissed Kuroo. It was love.

And as you pulled away from each other, you couldn’t help noticing that against this wall was where you had your first kiss.

You figured it was a good enough wall to say something else noteworthy.

“I love you,” You whispered, the three beautiful words rolling off your tongue like marbles from the depths of your heart.

Kuroo was silent, and for a second, you thought you’d messed up. You were assembling an apology in your head before, so quietly you almost missed it, a chuckle.

“I love you, too.”

Try again

“Well, babe, we did it.”

The air had a chill to it, despite the June evening — you nodded, teeth clattering together, and pulled your jacket tighter around you. Kuroo noticed this and turned to you, chuckling. “Are you that cold?” “It’s freezing out here,” You said, nodding frantically. “The memories here are good, but I’m starting to think it wasn’t worth it.”

“Here,” He said, pulling off his jacket and handing it to you. “‘m not cold.”

“Aw, Kuroo, you’re too nice.” “What can I say,” The boy grinned, already looking older despite high school graduation having been only a few hours ago. “Only the best for my babe.” “Maybe we should come up with a better pet name. That’s kind of basic, isn’t it?” He shrugged. “I guess it is. What are your ideas?”

To this, you didn’t have an answer. Kuroo had been calling you Babe for… a while — there wasn’t anything else you wanted to hear from him. Just not Babe.

And before you could convey any of this, Kuroo’s face was only inches away from yours, his hand on the back of your neck. “Maybe if I kiss you,” He suggested with a mischievous smile on his face, “You’ll come up with an idea.” “Bring it on—” Your proposition was interrupted by lips on yours, and for the millionth time, you were in your favorite place in the world. This was the beginning of the rest of your lives, wasn’t it?

And as you kissed Tetsurou Kuroo, you wondered how many more times you would kiss him. 

No matter how many times those lips connected, you were confident that you would never, ever get tired of it.

Try again

“Ew! Don’t kiss me!” You laughed, faking more disgust than you held for him. Kuroo sighed dramatically, holding his hand to his head like a Shakespeare character. “What do you mean you don’t want kisses from your boyfriend?” He asked broken-heartedly, shutting his eyes tightly. “How rude, Sugar.”

“It’s because you’re all sweaty and gross,” You said, still laughing and taking a seat against an empty box to drink some water. Moving into your new house had been a task, to say the least, but Kuroo’s presence made it a lot more tolerable. You couldn’t wait to have that comforting presence with you every day in this new beautiful home. “I’ll be happy to kiss you once you take a shower.”

“That’s too long,” Kuroo pouted like a five-year-old, drawing out his vowels and sitting next to you, leaning against the same old cardboard box. “I wanna kiss you now.”

He was too cute when he was all whiny like this — despite the sweat covering every inch of exposed skin on his tall frame, you leaned in and pecked his lips. They were more moisturized than they’d been in high school, you noticed.

“Thank ya’, Sugar,” He said, beaming at you. “Love you.”

“Yeah, I love you too. Now, let’s finish this up so we can go take a shower.”

And again

Kuroo was crying, you were crying — but instead of waves of sadness and grief that you would usually feel in this situation, it was only warmth and happiness and love.

His sliding of the ring onto your left hand was sloppy because he was too excited to look at your face and kiss you. And as you kissed, his arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer to him, he couldn’t help his face breaking into a smile even though your lips were still firmly connected.

You were his.

He was yours.

And there, holding you in his arms kissing you — his fiance — like there was no tomorrow, he had never been prouder of the fact. You broke away the messy kiss — not because of the kiss itself, but more of the fact your tears had somewhat merged to create a weird flow of engaged couple tears that were now streaming down both of your faces. You looked at Kuroo — your fiance — and beamed.

“Tetsurou, I love you.”

“I love you, too, (Y/N).” Even though you had heard those words a million times, hearing Kuroo say them at that moment was the most beautiful sound ever to grace your ears. You couldn’t wait to have him say it to you a million more times, now that you had an engagement ring around your fingers.

And again

“You may now kiss the—” “C’mere!” Kuroo, the eager boy, was apparently too good to hear the officiant declare you officially his spouse and launched into you in a passionate, loving kiss. You squealed his name a few times, caught off-guard, but that died out into soft hums of satisfaction as you melted into the kiss. Kisses had always been something so unique, so sacred to your relationship — and now you were married. How was one to believe it?

“I love you,” He declared as soon as he pulled away, taking your wrist and holding it up like you were a wrestling champion. And to the whole room, he declared like it was a judge’s ruling, “(Y/N) and I are officially married, and I’m proud to call myself (Y/N)’s husband! I love (Y/N)!” “Tetsurou, you’re embarrassing me,” You laughed, feeling your cheeks heat up slightly. “Oh, grow up,” He rolled his eyes, collecting you into his arms and kissing you again. Then, before you could say anything at all, he took your hand and nearly yanked you down the aisle with him in a sort of dance.

“Tetsurou!” You started to scold, but he cut you off with another kiss on the lips, easily a few seconds.

“Can’t complain if I’m kissing you,” He said with a smirk. “Congratulations on having the best husband in the world.”

“You’re the worst,” You laughed as you caught up with his pace to sprint outside. “I love you!” “Happy wedding day, Sugar!”

And again

“(Y/N),” Kuroo said groggily, tugging on the leg of your sweatpants as you tried to slip out of bed without him noticing. The morning was new, sunlight casting an ethereal glow through the thin curtains of your bedroom you’d shared for years. Today was the fourth week you got to call Kuroo your husband, and you adored every single second of it.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” You said tiredly, rubbing your eyes. “Can you let go of my pants?” “No. Stay a little longer.” “I have to go to work, Tetsurou.”

It was a fact you didn’t like, but a fact that was true nonetheless — work was taking you away from your poor husband. But work was pretty significant, you’d say.

“Please?” Kuroo pleaded, using his puppy dog eyes that he wasn’t that good at, but you always melted for regardless. It was like an A for effort sort of thing. “Just a few more minutes, Sugar.” “Sorry,” You shook your head. “Gotta go to work.”

“Give me a goodbye kiss, then.” With no hesitation, you pinned his arms to the headboard and planted a kiss on his cracked, dry lips. 

“Happy?” You asked, already pulling away before his strong arms broke your grip and wrapped around your back, pulling you onto his chest and making you collapse on it.

“Another one,” He demanded in a whisper. Rolling your eyes, you complied. “One more?” He asked. “Just for good measure.” “Tetsurou,” You whined irritably but kissed him again — a long kiss to keep him satisfied. This seemed to satisfy his need, and he leaned back as he watched you leave the room.

About an hour later, you were about to leave the house when you heard his tired voice from your bedroom, “Love you, Sugar. Have a good day at work.”

“Love you too, sweetheart!” 

This was an excellent start to your day; you thought as you closed the front door behind you, the cold air embracing the skin that wasn’t covered by your work clothes. A perfect start.

And again

Kuroo was up in front of you like a puppy called to attention as soon as you entered the house, and he was quick to notice the muffle on your mood as you said a tired hello to him and collapsed on the couch, kicking off your work shoes.

“How was your day?” He inquired, sitting next to you and slipping an arm around your shoulders. His hand smelled like disinfectant wipes, you noticed. You sighed, shaking your head slowly. “Long.” “I can tell.” Affectionately, he lifted your arm to slip into your embrace and nuzzled into your shoulder. It had been years since you’d gotten to call Kuroo your husband for the first time, but you had never, ever gotten tired of the little things in your marriage — doting cuddles and tender kisses being high on the list of little things.

You were proud of your marriage and your relationship — not a day was boring with Kuroo, even after the initial stages of newlywed wore off. Every time you looked at his smile, or even just his face that was beginning to differ with age, you were reminded of how much you’d stuck on the line for this man. Honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Sorry you had a rough day, Sugar,” He murmured, planting kisses on your collarbone. “Wanna talk about it?”

“There wasn’t anything in particular. It was just… long, you know?” “Yeah. You’re probably tired, aren’t you?” “Super.” “Well, I made dinner for you,” He smiled. “I got hungry early, but you know I like to eat with you. So, when you want to eat, it’s ready.”

Silently you closed your eyes and thanked whatever deity had blessed you with this angel of a husband, of a person named Tetsurou Kuroo. And while your eyes were closed, he took the opportunity to kiss you.

Kuroo’s kisses tended to be hungry, full of need and want — this one was gentle, giving you the comfort you so desperately wanted. And, as he kissed you, you melted into his embrace.

You loved Tetsurou Kuroo so, so much. And, there, on that couch, you got a feeling that you hadn’t gotten since high school.

The world felt as if it was glowing pink.

And again…

Kuroo was still asleep next to you. As he breathed softly, you took note of his bedhead — all these years of marriage, and you’d never even seen him touch a comb.

You couldn’t fall asleep — insomnia had become a sad commonality for you, and tonight was another one of those sleepless nights. However, you were more than content just to watch your beautiful husband sleep the night away.

He was so perfect, and you loved him so much. You’d always loved him from the second you laid your eyes on him. Even if he hadn’t kissed you that one rainy evening, you’d still love him; even if he hadn’t given you that bouquet of pink roses and asked you to be his partner, you’d still love him; even if he hadn’t let you comfort him that night, you’d still love him; even if you hadn’t graduated high school together, you’d still love him; even if you hadn’t moved in together, you’d still love him; even if he hadn’t proposed to you, you’d still love him; even if he wasn’t as much as a devoted husband as he was, you’d still love him.

You loved Tetsurou Kuroo with your entire heart, and there was nothing in the universe that could change that. 

“Tetsurou, I love you,” You whispered, running your hand along the cheek that wasn’t pressed against the pillow. “You’re perfect.”

His aged face twitched a little, which made you smile. And then, whispered, an almost inaudible, “I love you, (Y/N).”

That ever familiar warm glow filled your heart — pink. You were glowing pink; he was glowing pink; the whole world was glowing pink.

Like it was a prayer, you whispered, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” over and over again — you counted in your head. Nine times over.

And there, holding Tetsurou Kuroo, your husband, your soulmate, the love of your life, in your arms — the pink world felt perfect.

[simpbur]

hello! i would like ur 40 song wiblur playlist

anon thank you so much for asking <333 while it would’ve been easier to just drop the link i have so many thoughts about everything so i explained why every single song has its spot on this list which was IMMENSELY fun for me

(also: if anyone does want the link i can provide both apple music and spotify but if u would like the apple music link i’d rather it be through dms or an ask off anon that i can make private!)

another also: i bolded all the songs for ease of perusing if you don’t want the director’s commentary and bolded + italicized the ones that i think fit Very Well

another another also: wrote the second bit of this on my laptop and the keyboard is p funky so if there are any typos or things that do not make sense i will try to fix them asap haha

saint bernard by lincoln: this is one of those like. Dream SMP Songs that i added because it fits into so many different relationships and plot lines and arcs but i think there’s some connection to c!wlbur somewhere out there. idk i asked my friend and he said to add it so this one goes out to him

amnesia was her name by lemon demon: ghostbur song ghostbur song! mostly comes from this lovely animatic

o valencia! by the decemberists: okay this is one of those songs that only really has one lyric that fits but is an absolutely banger so it’s here anyway. you’ll also notice a trend of quasi love songs that i relate to c!wilbur’s perception of l’manburg and i think this song shows this in a really cool way, esp with the chorus (‘and i swear to the stars i’ll burn this whole city down’ is The Line)

achilles come down by gang of youths: another one of those Dream SMP Songs. i think this fits better with c!tommy but i like it too much to remove it. this is a somewhat common trend with the earlier songs on this playlist (i’ve been building this thing since january, for reference)

brave as a noun by ajj: another Dream SMP Song. i think certain verses fit better than others when it comes to wilbur’s character but that ones that work really work

harness your hopes by pavement: a song that is one here for vibes alone. i have no idea what these lyrics mean. all i know is that i heard it, thought of c!wilbur, and put it on the playlist. thank you all for being here

evelyn evelyn by evelyn evelyn: sad-ist made this a tommy and tubbo song (as she should) so it’s validity on this playlist is questionable but folks used to compare it to wilbur and tommy’s relationship during the pogtopia arc and i think some points were made there

the execution of all things by rilo kiley: i’m so excited to get here because this was the first song i put on the playlist that i think really works and i thumb nailed an animatic for the last verse and november 16th so! i think it’s a good l’manburg song and the last verse has some good ghostbur lines (‘and lately you’re all alone with nothing left but sleep/but sleep never comes to you, it’s the guilt and forever wakefulness of the weak’)

i’m just your problem from adventure time: this ones a bit tricky since at is my favorite show of all time and i cannot detach this song from its in-show context very well but there is a very cool animatic with this song that landed it a spot on the playlist

man burning by josh ritter: almost became an animatic but the audio i wanted to use (which i recorded at a josh ritter concert and it’s just him and his guitar and there’s echo and it’s very haunting and pretty) has my stepbrother singing in the background and i could not edit it out so. that will probably not happen. but anyways the only hole i would pick in this song is that it’s mostly about self sabotage which isn’t really applicable but i think the imagery is cool

mamma mia by abba: here me out. here me out. this is another song that fits so well and i have spent so many hours thinking about this and somewhere there is a note on my phone explaining how every single line relates to c!wilbur’s entire arc from founding l’manburg to the resurrection (made when we thought gbur was going to get resurrected in january) and just. the metaphorical ‘you’ is l’manburg does this make any sense (another almost animatic except now that wilbur’s actually back it might become an actual animatic)

the other side of paradise by glass animals: no idea why this is here other than being a Dream SMP Song. it’s good tho

infinitesimal by mother mother: they saaaaay it stared with a big bang but they saaaaaaaay it came out of a small thing latelyyyyy i’ve been feeling like a big bang You Know

curses by the crane wives: had a thing drawn out for this song showing the comparisons between c!wilbur and c!niki because of the chorus and i think the last two lyrics of said chorus are the best thing about this one

lonely eyes by the front bottoms: gotta admit that i have no idea how this song got on here but i’ve come to associate it with ghostbur based on vibes alone. it’s a friendly song he’s a friendly ghost it works. the other tfb song coming up fits a bit better methinks

king of new orleans by better than ezra: not to put better than ezra on my c!wilbur playlist but like. something about the whole ‘tasing something up to let it fall’ motif makes me think

get me away from here, i’m dying by belle and sebastian: another almost animatic song (there’s a trend here). not only does the story told in this song work i like the lines ‘play me a song to set me free/nobody writes them like they used to so it may as well be me’ in relation to my l’manburg

montgomery forever by the front bottoms: certain bits and pieces of this song fit so well, specifically the chorus and those bits in the last two choruses Yeah (’montgomery forever and ever and ever and now they’re blowing it up/(x2)/as you started laughing and crying and trying to explain how all you want to do is leave’)

don’t look back in anger by oasis: out of all my almost animatic songs, this one got the furthest. the animatic, which I got pretty far in thumbnailing, was about wilbur and tommy and kind of drawing comparisons between their characters, also about the revolution in general. maybe i’ll finish that animatic one day idk 

snow by ricky montgomery: i wish i had a link for this so bad but!! saw art on twitter!! with the lyric ‘bury me six feet in snow’!! and went ahfsdjfk!!

burning pile by mother mother: a Dream SMP Song. also a jam there’s no real specific connection for this one but i think it could fit in a couple of ways

rounds by the oh hellos: in the same position as snow except it was on tumblr..... @ whoever made this comic i saw these lyrics in your brain is massive and your art is incredible

lovely by mt. eddy: on here for vibes alone. there’s something in the lyrical content too, but my thoughts in that regard are not very fleshed out

adventures in solitude by the new pornographers: ah yes..... the song that prompted this all...... this is a beautiful and incredibly well written song and if you’re going to listen to any song off of this playlist i’d encourage you to listen to this one. it’s place of here is mostly cause of the chorus but the imagery in the verses could all represent a part of c!wilbur and i’d love to explore that more

caught in the middle by paramore: obligatory paramore song. i think it got on here because limbo = ‘middle’ but i’m not quite sure. on the verge of being deleted if i can find a better pmore song

delicate by damien rice: one of the oddest songs on this list and i am well aware that it sticks out like a sore thumb. a song that’s on here pretty much because of one lyric, which is ‘and why’d you sing hallelujah/if it means nothing to you’ which i related to both eret’s betrayal and how my l’manburg is hallelujah yknow

bang! by ajr: almost animatic song. i think we all know what the bang is here

somewhere only we know by lily allen: ik i said don’t look back in anger has the most potential to get made into an animatic but this song might actually take it place. on par with adventures in solitude in terms of how pretty of a song it is, and probably even moreso. it’s kind of turned into a ghostbur song in my head, and makes me cry like an infant child every time i hear it

a pearl by mitski: i cannot defend this song’s place on here past the line ‘it’s just that i fell in love with a war and nobody told me it ended’

eight by sleeping at last: the official c!wilbur song needs a spot on here <3 if i can dig up the clip of cc!wilbur talking about this song in relation to his character i’ll add it but until then yeah <3

always by rilo kiley: no idea why this is on here but it fits well!! could not tell you why!! banger!!

celebration guns by stars: it’s a hauntingly beautiful song about war, and kind of one of those that necessarily isn’t about wilbur but moreso his place in the story? idk how to explain it but yes

passerine by the oh hellos: it’s. it’s from the . the fic. yeah h

oh, you are the roots that sleep beneath my feet and hold the earth in place by bright eyes: added this after the real resurrection and i think it’s because fo the imagery? also the last verse

we are beautiful, we are doomed by los campesinos!: all i have to say is ‘i cannot emphasize enough that my body/is a badly designed, poorly put together vessel/harboring these diminishing, so called vital organs/i hope my heart goes first, i hope my heart goes first!’ has always made me think of pogtopia era wilbur :(

dead weight by jack stauber: no real connection other than eret played this song during a break during the ghostbur’s january ‘resurrection’ and i heard it and went :0

point me at lost lands by tired pony: gives me season on l’manburg vibes..... i love how free and passionate it sounds and that's p much the only reason it’s on this list haha

ghosting by mother mother: added this five seconds ago because i could not BELIEVE it was not on here. ghostbur song. mans sang it on that one stream with the reverb and everything. the lyrics ‘i will be kind and i’ll be sweet/if you stop staring straight through me’ hit particularly hard back when everyone thought that ghostbur was actually wilbur in disguise 

[taste-in-music]

My Most Anticipated Releases of 2020

Now that 2019 is behind us, it’s time to look into the oncoming year for exciting new releases to come! 

Manic by Halsey (January 17th): Halsey’s music is a mixed bag for me, but even I can’t deny that she’s got some real gems in her discography or that listening to Badlands makes me nostalgic to no end. The singles Halsey has released so far for this project are a mixed bag in my book. “Without Me” doesn’t click with me and “Nightmare” is messy and gets grating quickly. However, I like the others quite a bit, especially the synthpop euphoria of “Graveyard,” which I’ve returned to quite a bit over the past year. If the rest of the album leans more in that direction, I can see myself liking it quite a bit. 

High Rode by Kesha (January 31st): Hearing Rainbow back in 2017 was one of the most exciting pop album listening experiences of the 2010s. Not only did Kesha deliver a confident, spirited, self-assured message, but she also blended together a slew of genres, such as folk, rock, and country, all of these qualities culminating in a exhilarating and touching record that I still return to to this day. The singles she’s dropped so far see a continuation of these elements into her next era, with “Raising Hell” and “My Own Dance” being dance-pop bangers while “Resentment” shows Kesha’s softer side.

The Slow Rush by Tame Impala (February 14th): After five years, the wait is finally over! I’d call myself a casual fan of Tame Impala, but even I can’t admit that Kevin Parker and crew know their way around indie rock hooks with a psychedelic spin, (as far as I’m concerned, “The Less I Know The Better” is a modern classic.) Singles such as “Patience” and “Borderline” show that this quality hasn’t lessened in the slightest, while the sprawling soundscape “Posthumous Forgiveness” shows that experimentation is still in store. Also, it’s being released on Valentine’s Day!

Cape God by Allie X (February 21st): I don’t think I can express how excited I am for this album. I think this is my most anticipated album of 2020 right now. All of the singles released so far been amazing. The eerie synths on “Fresh Laundry” make it the perfect spooky bop, Ms. X and Troye Sivan work great together on “Love Me Wrong", “Rings A Bell” goes OFF with its chorus, and bassline on “Regulars” makes for one killer groove. Not only that, we’re also getting a Mitski feature? I’m calling it for the collaboration of the year. Allie X's discography has been near flawless so far, so let’s just say that I’m hyped. 2020 better be the year she gets the recognition she deserves. 

Notes On A Conditional Form by The 1975 (February 21st): As I’ve mentioned before, I have no expectations going into this album because I have no idea what it’s going to sound like. All the singles so far have been so drastically different, one being a speech set to music, another punk, and another pop. Regardless, they’ve all been good, so I’m not complaining. The 1975 are always dependable when it comes to delivering danceable bops with philosophical tidbits peppered throughout. 

Miss_Anthrop0cene by Grimes (February 21st): How am I going to survive February 21st? I’ve been awaiting a new project from Grimes since falling in love with the sugary hooks, eccentric production, and hellish flair on Art Angels years ago. The singles so far have been a mixed bag, but it looked like we’ll see Grimes tackle themes of technology and artificial intelligence on this album, which is bound to be interesting.

Masochism by Sky Ferreira (TBA): This is assuming that we’ll even get an album at this point. Has it really been 7 years since Night Time, My Time dropped? Of course I’m kidding, however long Ms. Ferreira takes on this album will be well worth it, and I’m all for artists taking their time to refine their projects. We got some crumbs last year, both with her Charli XCX collab and the lush, baroque pop single “Downhill Lullaby.” I’m willing to patiently wait for whatever this alt-pop songstress will dish out in the coming months. 

Future Nostalgia by Dua Lipa (TBA): Dua Lipa was a breath of fresh air in the pop scene of 2017-2018. Her debut album provided not only hit singles that were some of the best on the radio but also great deep cuts that showcased her strength as a vocalist and songwriter. The debut single from this album, “Don’t Start Now,” has been on a loop for me over the past few months, and the melding of past and future aesthetics in her recent videos and music is panning out in a really interesting way. I’ve also heard rumors of Frank Ocean, Miley Cyrus, and Normani possibly being featured on this album, but I don’t have an official source for that, so it’s just speculation, (but can you imagine though?)

Watching You EP by Robinson (TBA): Robinson is an artist I don’t remember I love until I realize that I’m hours deep into marathoning her music and singing along to every line. She’s got a knack for a catchy hook and fun pop production. “Don’t Say” was one of my favorite songs of 2019, and it’s reported to be a debut single from what will be her first longer project. I’m stoked. 

White Hot Forever by Lana Del Rey (TBA): I’d love to get another Lana album so soon after NFR!, but I have a similar concern about this as I did with thank u, next, that it would end up sounding rushed or not as fleshed out as it could be. Still, NFR! was my favorite Lana record to date, and I’d love to see if she’d continue the aesthetics of that project onto this album or start a completely new thematic and visual cycle. It’s also unclear as to whether this would be her spoken world album that’s also been announced? I guess we’ll just have to see. 

The Archer by Alexandra Savior (TBA): Alexandra Savior won me over with her femme-fatale crooner of a debut, Belladonna of Sadness. The debut single from this album, “Crying All The Time,” is a swooning, fuzzed-out ballad that won me over instantly. This woman knows her way around a sensual vintage aesthetic, I’ll tell you that.

Other artists that have either announced or teased dropping albums this year include HAIM, Dominic Fike, Hailee Steinfeld, Oh Wonder, Lauren Jauregui, The Killers, Noname, Orla Gartland, Normani, Madison Beer, Ava Max, Conan Gray, Donna Missal (!!!) and, (good god, if we are worthy,) Fiona Apple. 

It’s still very early in the year, so I’ll likely update this list in the months to come. What albums are you excited for this year? I’m always open to listening to new artists, so make sure to let me know. 

[rovewritesit]

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 2) John Deacon x Reader Series

Series Summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

This series is a work of fiction, and is loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

PART 1 - PART 3 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Cursing, duh. Feelings of anxiety.

Chapter Notes: A wild Deacy appears! Reader was supposed to meet him in this chapter but it got a bit long. I may have awkwardly stuffed in some backstory as well, but I wanted to get through it before we start having more interactions with the members of Queen. I’m a hoe for Hot Space and Cool Cat is such a vibe so I had to throw it in here. If you haven’t heard the original demo with Bowie you should take a listen. The music video concept was sparked loosely by Mitski’s “Happy” video (it’s gory af, be forewarned). I’m aware that the MTV of the 80s definitely would’ve banned anything like that, but it’ll come back around in the plot later on.

Songs Mentioned:

Heart of the Night - Juice Newton

More Than A Feeling - Boston

My Best Friend’s Girl - The Cars

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute​

- - - - - - -

February 1982 - Orpheum Theater, Boston

It’s noisy in the cramped green room backstage at the Orpheum Theater in Boston. Gone were the days of grand arenas while tagging along with Hall and Oates. Now only around 2,000 bodies lined the seats out in the house, but you still feel that familiar bubble of nerves as Dawn busies herself around your hair. 

Dawn, your best friend from your two short years at NYU, had agreed to tag along for the short tour to help with your “look.” Not that you ever really had a problem with your usual jeans and t-shirts, but this rock type of glam proved to be a different beast, and Dawn certainly had an eye for style. Her voluminous hair always streaked blonde and crimped to perfection. She’d tried to convince you many times to do something chemical with yours but you held firm to your virgin hair, causing your pre-show routine to run well into an hour and a half to get the desired popular style. You smile up at her as she curls part of your bangs away from your face, truly grateful to have another woman around.

“Babes, please stop moving your head. I’ve had to do the same piece 3 times already.” She tuts at you. “And Eds, I’ve asked you how many times to watch your elbows, jesus christ.”

Eddie tries to cram in even tighter against the wall, keeping to the five tiny spots you’d all wrangled against the mirror. “Ay, I’m trying over here. It takes some effort to get all this together.” He smirks, running his fingers through his already perfectly coiffed hair. A shame really, that it would be utterly destroyed within 15 minutes of being on stage.

“Have we picked a city song for tonight yet? I want to go over it in my head a few times before we go on.” Lawrence calls out, trying to tug on a pair of pants that look a size or two too small for him.

The Limbs had taken to playing one song per show by a famous local artist from the city they were in. Since they only had the one album out, it was a chance to get the audience singing and moving together; to change up the pace. A modified tip from a certain mustached rock legend that the band had started to implement.

“I thought we decided on More Than A Feeling?” Eddie says as he tears his eyes away from his own reflection.

“That’ll be what they expect. I think Bun sounds better on My Best Friend’s Girl,” Rich says simply. He’s attempting some form of stretching routine in the back corner of the room, his extremities bumping up against the walls.

“So Y/N’s taking this one?” Steve asks, lounging across a small loveseat against the wall, his legs dangling off of it delicately. He looks up from whatever song he’s been working on.

“You heard what the label said. They want Y/N more center stage, so to speak, for marketing reasons.” Rich tries folding his body into some sort of pretzel shape. A light “oof,” escapes his lips as he falls backward slightly.

“Ah yes, we need to give the public what they want,” you huff, wanting to roll your eyes if not for Dawn covering your head in a cloud of Aqua Net.

Eddie starts pacing, or at least tries to, “I just don’t get why they’re trying to make her into some Debbie Harry.” He scoffs, “Like that’s ever gonna happen.” 

Dawn glares at him. It was a bit of a low blow, but Eddie was still getting used to sharing the spotlight with you, with him singing lead on almost every other song. 

You were still struggling to find your presence on stage and were more than happy to take a back seat to the boys for the most part. And while some of the band’s other singles were gaining traction, none were close to catching up to Heart of the Night, which was now getting steady airplay and record sales thanks to the absurd music video that hit TV screens everywhere a few weeks back.

“That’s true, Y/N’s much more of a Linda Ronstadt type if we’re throwing out names,” Lawrence grunts out. Finally able to close the button on his skin-tight pants.

A cold laugh erupts from Eddie. “Exactly. It’s the Eighties now if you haven’t noticed. It’s all about edgy sex appeal, and let’s be honest, even Steve has a better chance of-”

“Enough!” Dawn’s voice sliced through the air, the daggers thrown from her eyes flying towards him. She leans down to your level to examine her masterpiece. “You look as sexy as a goddamn playboy bunny, hun. No pun intended.” Her voice softens as she pinches your cheeks.

The room goes mostly quiet for the next few minutes as the local opening band starts to close out their set with their last two songs. Only Rich’s deep breathing, fitting in time to the beat. 

You chew your cherry painted lips, mulling over Eddie’s words. You knew full well that you weren’t exactly the frontwoman the label or the public dreamed of. Hell, you weren’t even supposed to be a frontwoman at all. When you’d finally given in to Rich’s insistent pestering to come have some fun with the boys, you’d been at NYU for two years. You loved your film classes but felt the hole that was left from the absence of playing any type of music. In high school, you’d all show up to a party with a variety of instruments in your grasps. It almost always resulted in a crowd gathering around to listen, joining in with your voices, clicking their beer bottles in time with the beat. It was when you had felt most carefree, and you had ached for that feeling again.

But playing locally turned into recording an album, for which you wrote a song for some dream of a man that only existed in your thoughts. Next thing you knew you were scooped up by Columbia Records, missing classes to attend photoshoots or album release parties. People were listening to your voice, your song, and wanting more. You dropped out of college to the dismay of your parents but were immediately enveloped in your friends' glee, finally reaching the precipice of something they’d only dreamed of. You hated the thought of letting them down in any way but you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all a fluke, that you had nothing else to give. Destined to fade out as a one-hit-wonder and a disappointment to your best friends in the world. The weight hit your shoulders as you slumped in your seat. 

None of this was supposed to happen, you tell yourself. It never happens like this.

You’re broken out of your daze when there’s a rap at the door and a muffled “5 minutes” from the stage manager behind it. You all stand, waiting for Rich to spread his wings and engulf you in your usual pre-show pow wow. You slide Dawn in next to you in the now group of 6, needing someone steady as an anchor.

“If you’d please, Reverend.” Steve probes, cheekily.

“We’re gathered here today” Rich begins and Dawn giggles. “To bring immense joy to those 2,000 idiots out there, who so willingly sold out our show for us. They deserve a performance played to 200,000, so that’s what we’re going to give them. In the name of our fathers, John, George, Paul, and Ringo. Let’s go give em’ hell.”

“Amen!” you all shout and disband.

As you follow the boys into the dingy hallway leading to the stage, Eddie catches your wrist. He looks at you through his long lashes with an uncharacteristically shy smile that almost never sees the light of day.

“I’m sorry for being a prick, Bun. I shouldn’t have said all that,” he mutters as you continue to walk, not wanting to miss your cue.

“No worries, Eds. You were right though. I’m definitely no Debbie,” you force a chuckle at yourself while a roadie slips your guitar strap onto your shoulders.

“It’s not alright. And no, you’re not,” he says catching your downturned eyes. “You’re Y/N fucking L/N, and you’re just gettin’ started, baby. All you gotta do is take a little bit of the love we all have for you and give some to yourself once in a while, alright?” A grin forms, showing his adorably asymmetrical teeth as he reaches out a hand to ruffle your painstakingly perfected hair. “That’s better. Now let's get out there so you can show the world exactly what kind of frontwoman you are. And don’t be scared to show them a hint of Bunny while you’re at it.” You move your guitar out of the way to pull him in for a close hug. You hear Steve start banging his snare and pull Eddie on to the stage with you, feeling a bit lighter than you had been minutes ago.

You approach your mic and take a look out at the packed, hazy theater.

“Well hello, Bawston!’ Your accent rings out to the faceless figures before you. “Aren’t you all looking fuckin’ fabulous tonight!”

- - - - - - -

March 1982 - Musicland Studios, Munich

“No, I didn’t say it’s bad, just that it sounds tinny,” Brian argues, crossing his spidery arms over his chest as he leans against the doorframe. 

“And it’s as if you’ve shoehorned Bowie in there just to mumble in the background incoherently. A waste, really.” Roger tacks on from beside him.

John sighs and leans his head against the back of the couch in the studio. “Just because it’s not your precious red special or your own magic fingers at work, doesn’t mean it’s tinny,” he counters calmly. Trying his best to keep the annoyance from seeping into his voice, knowing that Brian already had anger stemming from John’s earlier composition for the album.

It was the first time this week that all four men were in the studio together. Finishing up Hot Space was proving to be a strain on all of them and the growing rift had caused the men to nearly finish their songs separately instead of in their usual group dynamic. John’s experimentation into different styles, such as funk and disco, had not been willingly received thus far.

“Well, I sound rather fabulous, if I do say so myself. I’m very proud of us, Deacy.” Freddie states, getting up from his own place on the couch and stretching.

“It’s not that, Fred. It just doesn’t sound like us.” Brian sighs, already sensing the escalation of a row coming along.

“Oh please. Not this again...” Freddie huffs.

“That’s because it’s not us. It’s me and Freddie.” John cuts in with a roll of his eyes, landing them on Mack, their producer, who just shrugs and trains his gaze back to the board. 

“That’s for sure.” Roger murmurs out. Now it’s John’s turn to cross his arms as he levels their pointed gazes. He’d worked with Fred for days putting together “Cool Cat,” hoping that the additional vocals from David Bowie would be a selling point for the other two.

With a clap of his hands, Freddie moves about the room. “Why don’t we take a quick break and then give it another listen?” Roger groans. Freddie pats his shoulder as he makes his way over to a radio beside Mack.

John rubs his tired eyes before pushing himself off the couch, eager for a break from the energy in the stale room. “I’m grabbing a coffee,” not offering one to the others as he brushes past Brian on his way out, quickly retreating down the hallway as fast as his legs will carry him.

The remaining three startle a bit as Freddie flips on the radio, Lo & The Limbs hit single pours from it, louder than expected.

“Oh! Oh, yes! Simply marvelous,” he exclaims, jumping up and down lightly. Roger and Brian raise their eyebrows in silent questioning. “This is the band of rascals I was telling you about the other week. They must’ve just broken out here.”

“The yanks you met while in the States?” Roger questions, turning his attention to the song, eager to judge any brimming competition.

“Yes, yes, the wild young lady who swears like the devil and her band of merry giant trees.”

“We have one of those!” Rog nods in Brian’s direction, voice muffled by a cigarette now dangling from his lips.

“Hm, Brain’s more of a willowy spruce, if you will. These ones are giant redwoods. You know American’s. And they have these thick New York accents. I could barely understand a word they were saying at first. What a riot they were.” he remembers fondly.

“I feel as if I’ve heard this before, but I can’t place it.” Brian ponders, almost to himself.

John appears in the doorway, blowing lightly on a steaming mug.

“Probably from that shocking video of theirs, darling,” Freddie waves his hands about. “Oh, you must’ve seen it. They’re all dressed up like they're in Grease or something, and this square of a girl is pinning after the bad boy. But he’s with this slutty little thing. And oh, I can’t recall the details, but in the end, she ends up murdering the slut!” He slaps the table for effect. “But for some odd reason the boy is okay with it all and they run off into the night together, covered in blood.”

“Sounds… spooky?” Roger shrugs. John stifles a chuckle.

“It’s dramatic! And sexy. And obviously working for them.” The wheels already turning in his head.

John tunes out their chatter and trains his ears to said song, which is about halfway through. The instrumentals seem a bit basic for his taste. The soft strum of an acoustic guitar, a slightly heavier electric over it, with a simple bass line. A female voice flits in.

Cool city moon lays its touch on the room,

Your eyes reach to me

It has a rasp to it. Akin to Stevie Nicks, he thinks.

Two shadows fall saying nothing at all,

We know what we need

No, not quite. It’s entirely it's own if he’s being honest. He can feel the soul pulsating through words and the power that’s beneath it. One that could probably fit with any genre it should choose. His interest peaked.

In the release, two prisoners are free from the darkness

One more escape surviving the heartache and madness

The raw emotion erupting from the speakers and the lyrics start to paint a picture in his mind, scrambling to fill in the faceless voice.

In the heart of the night

The chorus starts and picks up steam quickly. Male voices begin to fill in on background vocals, blending together seamlessly.

We run like bandits

Two hungry hearts under the gun

Her voice cracks a bit, in a charming way. It must be radiant when heard live.

In the heart of the night 

When we find each other

Were stealing love on the run

In the heart of the night,

Heart of the night 

A small smile plays on John’s lips as the song fades out. They’re good, he muses to himself, a bit intrigued by the song and Fred’s colorful description of the accompanying video.

“A great voice indeed. They’ve got a strong sound going.” Brian chirps up.

“That’s her first swing at writing, too. Wish it had been that bloody easy for us.”

“Is she a looker, Fred?” Roger wags his brows.

“Oh please, they’re practically babies! Although that drummer of theirs is certainly something to write home about… Even with the head of hair he has. A bit like a mushroom. A cute one.” Freddie ponders, stroking his full mustache.

John reaches up and pats the tight curls atop his own head, wondering how it would look if he ceased from trimming his current short perm.

“I do hope they catch on here. What fun that would be.” John readily nods along without realizing it.

Freddie switches off the radio and turns back to the other three men. “Alright back to it then. Queue it up, Mac,” placing a hand on the man’s shoulder and raising his eyebrows. “Shall we?”

- - - - - - -

March 1982 - Columbia Records, New York City

“Why are the undersides of my knees sweaty? I’m not a back of the knee sweat kind of guy, alright?” Lawrence fidgets, adjusting his collar for the fourth time in two minutes.

You casually gulp down your third glass of water while staring at the wood-paneled walls of the office. Attempting to avoid the gazes of a number of gold discs lining the walls, the echoes of your musical idols. They seem to be laughing at you.

Steve partakes in his trademark bouncing routine, the chair underneath him squeaking in a violent rhythm. “Do you think it’s the video? It has to be the video or we wouldn’t be in this office. I knew we shouldn’t have taken that big of a risk right out of the gate.”

“You gotta be kidding me. You basically doused yourself in the blood when Eddie pitched it!” Rich cuts in, his usual calm demeanor nowhere to be found.

“What! It was your idea for the--”

The door behind where the group is gathered swings open and in strides a stocky man with a full beard and tinted aviator sunglasses still covering his eyes.

“What are we all standing around for? Sit, sit, sit, c’mon.” His gruff Brooklyn accent ringing out as he moves to sit behind a large mahogany desk.

The Limbs scramble to fit on the couch across from him, with you ending up perched on the armrest, gripping Rich’s bicep for support.

The man, Walter Yetnikoff, CEO and Chairman of Columbia Records, grunts as he eases into a leather chair, finally removing his glasses, revealing surprisingly kind eyes, “Jeez louise, look at you kids. You look as if a nun just caught you all playing with each other’s junk. What’s with the faces?”

“Mr. Yetnikoff, we’d like to sincerely apologize for the backlash that has come from our video. We should’ve known better than that. We could’ve toned it down… a lot.” Eddie rushes out. He wipes his hand over his too-snug tailored pants, probably leftover from days of youth choir.

Walter barks out a laugh. “I’ll admit I was a little shocked to find out that’s what you needed a high school gym for, but relax a little, will ya? You’re not here to be scolded. If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have fought so hard to get it airtime.”

The Limbs visibly relax- a tad, but their eyes all stay wide.

“Well aren’t ya gonna ask why you’re all here then?”

“W-why are we here?” Rich asks quietly. “Sir.” He adds.

“It seems that the slight PR crisis of a video you made has made its way across the pond,” Walter smirks.

“You mean…” Steve trails off in a voice two octaves higher than usual.

“You kids better like air travel because there’s gonna be a lot of it in your near future. The hit has broken into the London airwaves and they’re not as god fearing as viewers here seem to be. We’re sending you over there next week now that you’ve wrapped up the tour.”

“Holy shit!” Lawrence yells. You feel yourself falling back off your perch as your large friends all jump to their feet. Rich’s gangly arm luckily catches you and pulls you immediately into a suffocating hug. “You did this, Bunny!” He screams in your ear. “You did this!”

“Alright, alright, you can all go celebrate and drink your faces off in a second,” Walter calls out over the group who immediately shut their mouths. “We have a few details to iron out but I’m hoping to send you over there for a full press tour. Photoshoots, interviews, talk show appearances. The works, you got it.”

Steve lets out a squeal of delight, his voice not yet returning to its usual bass.

“You.” He points a stubby finger in your direction. “I’m waiting to hear back about a last-minute cancelation on some game show out there. We’re gonna try to get you in. You know your shit?”

“W-what kind of shit, sir?” You ask from the bear hug that Rich still holds you in.

He holds up his hands, gesturing to the gold discs that surround him. “Music, my dear.”

All you can do is nod, not wanting to think about what that even entails.

“That’s what I like to see. Now get outta here so you can all combust somewhere outside of my office. We’ll call you in a few days. Get those bags ready, you hear me?” He waves you all off.

Before you have a chance to say anything, the boys are sweeping you out of the room. And off to the start of whatever comes next, you guess.

[thong-tom]

This is expressly to make Sanya (@tomarryherewewhoaagain ) happy you rat fucks.

Nicknames: oh fuck I’ve had a lot of these in my life. The MAIN ones are AJ and Moth, but other notables are Ash, Jo, Bitch, Captain Poopypants, Caspar, Cunt, and like...I was called Lucy for awhile when I still attempted to be ✨anonymous✨ online.

Zodiac: Aries. Not to be a 💥stereotypical bitch💥 but I’m pretty sure this surprises absolutely fucking no one when they find out. I literally had someone tell me “I figured that out five seconds after meeting you” and was like “okay you KNOW WHAT? Completely fair, carry on.”

Height: Hovering between 5’4 and 5’5, closer to 5’5. Sometimes I’m almost 5’6. I don’t know. I like to spontaneously shrink and grow And For What,,,

Last Thing I Googled: hm. Well. The last thing I googled was porn because I am, in fact, a degenerate fucking heretic but for propriety’s sake, the last PG thing I googled was Binge Eating Disorder.....bcus I got that disorder LMAO. Tbh I thought the last thing I googled was crafting recipes for the gifts in this obscure story/dress-up game targeted for 12 year olds that I’m now obsessed with but eh. That was the SECOND last thing I googled, and I gotta be honest, right?

Song Stuck In My Head: ,,,,Buddy, that changes with my mood. Which changes every three seconds. I DO hear background music in my brain 24/7, and the deranged jukebox in my head has been wildly ping-ponging between Mother Mother and Daughter’s music. And while those two bands’ titles are both composed of family pronouns, uhhh,,,,,,,the music is WILDLY different LMAOOO. Right now I’ve got “Smother” by Daughter going on, but literally two minutes ago I was thinking about “Verbatim” by Mother Mother. Just listen to the first thirty seconds of both songs and you’ll get a vivid understanding of the fuckery going on up there.

Number of Followers: uh, main blog has just over 800, but between that AND all my side-blogs,,,,,,,total tally says about 3500 lmao. I have some degree of popularity but Not Very Much (and for damn good reason).

Amount of Sleep: Wildly varies from 4 hours to 10 hours, but never more. Right now I’m in a 6 hour long phase.

Lucky Number(s): 3, 4, 17, and 47! Occasionally 18.

Favorite Song: Yeah, uh, that’s an impossible choice. I’m called a Music Guru and often complimented on my taste for a REASON. I have a LOT of favorites, so instead, I’ll pick ones with the most meaning to me on a personal level. So, in no particular order:

1. The Leap Year by The Pauses

2. My Way by Frank Sinatra

3. Be the Song by Foy Vance

4. Class of 2013 (audiotree live version) by Mitski

5. Smother by Daughter

All of those songs have some deeper reason as to why I love them so much, but 4 and 4 are the ones that are the most important to me.

Favorite Instruments: If you asked me this a couple years ago, I might’ve said the standard violin or piano. I still think those sound very pleasing, but in all actuality, I’ve got a big appreciation for bass guitars! I always pick up on its use in songs and if a song lacks a good bass-line, somehow it just never hits for me. It’s a VERY rare song that I enjoy without a strong bass presence, which is sort of ironic given some of the important-to-me songs that I listed up there lol. Some of my FAVORITE songs (not important ones—FAVORITE ones) like Body of Years by Mother Mother, Animal by Neon Trees, Pork Soda by Glass Animals, Shell Suite by Chad Valley, Zen by X-Ambassadors, or even Tomorrow by Daughter have loud and distinguishable bass tones.

Dream Job: That’s a firm toss up between an author, a teacher, and an actress. Teacher is my goal and is attainable, author is attainable but only as a side thing, and actress is completely unattainable lmao. I can act like hell but alas...I lack the on-paper experience AND, more importantly, the face and body JFKDKGKDKGLDLFL.

Aesthetic: ....Don’t have one, actually. I just like what I like. I’m like the human personification of a mixed bag. The mixed bag to end all mixed bags.

Favorite Author: Do poets count? Because if so, it’s an easy win for Maya Angelou. If NOT, though, I might have to give that title to Rick Riordan lmao. That guy has his own mistakes but in general he’s pretty fucking kickass.

Favorite Animal Noise: Weird one, but you know that pleased little trilling sound birds make, or that excited “MEOWmeowMEOW” thing cats do? It’s a toss-up between those two.

Random: I have seven siblings, three of which I’ve never met, two of which are full-blooded, and two of which are named Riley. I have two half siblings from my mother, three half siblings from my father (never met em) and two full siblings. It’s weird. Otherwise. Uh. People tend to me utterly fucking enamored by the way I both talk in-person and the way I write. Apparently, I’ve got a VERY distinct diction and distinguishable tone, which I think is hilarious.

[bisexualbeetlejuice]

and that’s all, folks!

I can't even begin to describe what this fic means to me, but I'll try.

I first heard of this musical over the summer on TikTok, which is pretty much a summary of about a third of the teenagers with a phone. "The Whole Being Dead Thing Pt. Two" was a commonly used audio, and the app's love of the musical just kinda spiraled. I remember being at my dad's house, taking a dumbass video of myself, proud that I finally memorized the song that'd been stuck in my head for weeks.

I ended up checking out the musical not long after, and with that, finding the fanbase. I read some of the fics on here back when the number of musical beetlejuice fics was still in the double digits.

With everything I love, I end up going on TvTropes about it to learn more, and that's how I found out about Juno. As someone who comes from a shittly similar situation, it hit hard.

I realized that there weren't any fics that dealt with it, at least in any situation that dealt with it in a manner that did it justice, so I said hey, fuck it, and wrote the first two chapters while crying and listening to "Nobody" by Mitski and "party favor" by Billie Eilish.

Listen, I never said I wasn't cliche as hell. I'm seventeen, lmao.

Anywho. I decided to post it, putting the chapter count at just two, and before I even went to bed that night, I got a comment. Over the next few days, more comments came up, and I realized, holy shit, I actually had an audience for this!

I decided to write a bit more, if only because y'all wanted more. Obviously, that spiraled.

Before I even realized, that two had added a zero to itself, turning into a twenty chapter fic.

I fell into even deeper love with this damn musical. I memorized every line, made a cosplay of the ghost with the most for Halloween. I watched the movie and a bit of the cartoon for added references. I even managed to snag tickets to the show itself, and got to see the show with my best friend and our writing teacher, a lovely woman with saint-like patience.

Then, the musical announced it was closing. I found out at work and got to spend the next few hours trying not to cry like a little bitch. I bought tickets, this time, seeing it with my sister, Shelley, who, like my teacher and friend, had the saint-like patience it took to not snap my neck when I started talking about the musical again.

And now, months from when I first heard the first few notes of the song that led me down this path, I wrote the last few lines of this fic.

Writing is a passion for me. It's my favorite form of catharsis, and this fic has been exactly that.

Granted, I never, in my wildest dreams, thought it would be over seventy-five thousand words, but hey, shit happens.

This is officially the longest continuous piece I've ever made, smashing the previous record held by a fic I wrote in May that barely reached twenty-five thousand words before I quit writing it. Being able to stick with one story this long is an accomplishment I thought would take a lot longer to achieve.

I've been reading fanfic since fourth grade. I always dreamed of being the writer behind a long fic with a huge following, but I never thought that would become reality for me.

Thank you.

Thank you, all of you.

Whether you just started reading this today, or if you've been here since day one. To everyone who left a kudos, who commented, who bookmarked this fic or even just clicked it, curious to read it, thank you.

A special thank you goes out to all of the beautiful, wonderful people who made art for this fic. I hope you all know I cried when I saw it. It means so, so much to me, as an author, to know that someone took the time out of their day to sit down and draw something I wrote up. Again, it's something I always dreamed about, but never thought would happen.

I have ideas for other stories in this 'verse, but I can't promise anything. Life is crazy, y'know?

I love you all, and I hope this ending is as cathartic for you as it is for me.

-sherrie :)

[reminiscences]

another attempt at blogging

i started this tumblr a couple years ago at the same time kate did. i can’t remember why—i’m sure tumblr was in the news again for some reason. i guess it was before the great porn purge. i was talking about blogging again this week with my friend daniel, and i woke up this morning and he had sent me a blog he wrote on a new tumblr account early in the morning, so to continue my regression to the early 2010s, i too have rebooted tumblr, given it an era-appropriate name, and decided to give it another go.

the problem with having a newsletter is that i don’t think anyone wants to hear from me in their inbox daily, so i’ve become very precious about the things i write there. it feels like it has to really matter. i like blogs because they’re disposable and can be dumb and not your best writing. how many two-graf tumblr posts did i write in 2011 that were just thoughts i idly had during a statistics lecture? anyway, here’s the first blog, they won’t all be this long probably. 

When I think about eventually looking back at this year I think about what I want to remember from it. I will remember the first week of March. I’ll remember the last birthday party I attended in person at Branch Ofc, a perfectly serviceable Crown Heights bar that was very full of people. I’ll think about that night and how I showed up to the party with a Ziplock full of homemade salted chocolate chip cookies in my purse, how I shared them with a table where the birthday-haver and their friends sat. Breathing in the same air as the four dozen other people crammed into the bar. I can’t imagine it now. I like Branch Ofc because it is unpretentious without pretending to be a dive, unlike Sharlene’s, which tries too hard to mimic the aesthetic trappings of an authentic dive bar but is really just a normal Park Slope bar. Branch Ofc is just a bar where you can buy drinks, and it was an eight-minute walk from my old apartment. It used to be a bar with a photobooth and Big Buck Hunter but I think both of those are gone now. 

For a few days in March, it felt like people were preparing for a snow day. Everyone was slightly more on edge than giddy—but only slightly. “WFH but make it a coffeeshop” I saw on someone’s Instagram story, a selfie with four of their friends coworking somewhere in Bushwick, completely nullifying the point of a work-from-home edict. I ran into my friend Maddie at the renovated Key Food on Nostrand the next week. Maddie, her roommate and I were in the aisle with the Pop Tarts and the Oreos. “I feel like I should get those?” we asked each other, pointing at junk food. I wasn’t wearing a mask or gloves; nobody was. Some guy wearing a Cornell University Sigma Chi tshirt walked by us with the largest bag of dried beans I’ve ever seen in my life slung over his shoulder. That was a man who had never soaked dried beans in his life. I wonder if he ever ate the beans. We were a bunch of idiot 20-somethings blindly grabbing for cans of soup and Fritos for the end of the world. What were any of us doing there? Why was it imperative that day that I make and freeze a lasagna? Maddie’s roommate had fresh lasagna noodles from Eataly she wasn’t going to use before she left for her parents’ house, and she said I could have those. She brought them over for me and I idly wondered if you could get Coronavirus from someone else’s fresh pasta noodles or if the heat of the oven would kill the germs. I made my lasagna.

I’ll think about how March-to-May is just one long gray blurry streak in my head. I baked, I got into running, I said “running with a mask? No thank you, no more running for me,” I got a job, I felt bad about getting a job when everyone I knew in journalism was getting laid off. I did a lot of Zoom Zumba. At first I slept terribly, and then I started sleeping too much, and then I stopped sleeping again at some point during that stretch. There was a novelty to suddenly being inside all the time that made it feel like an excuse to get “really into martinis.” I got really into martinis. Then I stopped drinking for a couple months. Remember “Zoom happy hours”? 

The thing I use most as a means of setting apart different eras in my head is the music I used as a soundtrack at the time. I rang in the 2014 new year in my cute apartment on Westcott Street in Syracuse with my college boyfriend, drunk and blaring Cold Cave, before we walked down the street to Alto Cinco and got Mexican food and passed out. It was my senior year and I only had a few more months of living like this and I loved the small life I’d built for myself there. Of course, it couldn’t stay. When we broke up a year and a half later after he moved to New York, where I had been living for most of a year, I walked around the neighborhood near the Myrtle-Wyckoff stop, close to where we were living together, listening to Mitski’s 2014 album Bury Me At Makeout Creek. I sat in Maria Hernandez Park and watched a bunch of kids play Red Rover. I didn’t especially want to go home because I hadn’t taken an escape route into account when we broke up and somehow timed it out so that things ended after the first of the month, leaving me with three-and-a-half weeks of continuing to share an apartment with someone whose heart I had just broken. In retrospect it’s clear to me that I had just outgrown a relationship with someone five years older than me who hadn’t grown up at all, but I hear that Mitski album now and all I think about are the cold early April days of 2015 when no place and no person felt like home. There’s a line in First Love/Late Spring, by Mitski, where she sings “胸がはち切れそうで,” which translates to something like “My chest is about to burst (with grief).” My advice to recent college graduates moving to New York is to simply not do anything the way I did it. 

So when I think about 2020, I do not want to associate any music I previously had fond memories of with this year. This is unfortunate because every musician I like who produces sad music has nothing but time on their hands now and they’ve all come out with new songs and albums. My recently played selections on Spotify look like a cry for help: Phoebe Bridgers, Bright Eyes, even Tigers Jaw. 

On Saturday I couldn’t sleep in. I woke up at 5:30 and watched the sun appear through my bedroom windows. I kept rolling over, trying to sleep again, but it was futile. Eventually I got up and got dressed, and left my apartment on foot. The walk into lower Manhattan is a few miles from my new place in Fort Greene. I walked west on Fulton, and then down Flatbush. It would have saved me ten minutes to take the Manhattan Bridge, but I’ve always regarded it as the ugliest of the bridges to cross on foot or on bike—last fall, I would walk home from Ben’s apartment over the Manhattan Bridge, and it was just so grey. You get an okay view of Dumbo, I guess, on the walk east, but it isn’t much to look at. When I got back to the Brooklyn side on those walks, I’d get on the A at High Street and take it back to Nostrand instead of walking the last couple miles. 

So I chose the Brooklyn Bridge this time. It was as busy as you’d expect it to be in a non-pandemic event. Instagram boyfriends took pictures of their girlfriends, who took off their masks for a few seconds for the right shot. I saw a couple taking engagement pictures in front of the lower Manhattan skyline. It felt so normal, pedestrians and bicyclists squeezing past each other at the narrow points. 

I was listening to Saint Cloud, the Waxahatchee album that came out a few months ago, turning it over and over in my brain like a rock you pick up at the beach and end up carrying with you on a long walk. The album, outwardly, has this gauzy blue-sky Americana vibe but when you listen to the lyrics of some of the songs it feels like peeling back layers of skin until you hit a raw nerve ending. Every song feels like a eulogy for this year. “You might mourn all that you wasted/That’s just part of the haul,” Katie Crutchfield sings on Ruby Falls. I got to the title track, which closes out the album, as I ascended the bridge. When you get baaaack on the M train, watch the cityyyyyy mutaaaaaaate, she sings. I guess she’s singing about New York. Is there another M train somewhere? I don’t know. I’m going to think about this stupid year whenever I listen to this album, I thought.

I got off the bridge at City Hall, surveyed the ongoing occupation movement there and the literal dozens of cops that had seemingly been deployed to stand there and, at best, do nothing. I walked down Centre Street, eventually winding through the little park by Baxter Street where two adults were playing ping pong, which felt like a socially distanced sport, all things considered. I walked down all those side streets in Chinatown as the sun struggled to break through the oppressive clouds. I walked by Nom Wah, past the salon Polly taught me will give you a very good $12 blowout, past that annoying bar where the bartenders are dressed like scientists, past the place where Kate and I got our auras read on her birthday in January, and ended up at Deluxe Green Bo. I ordered my spicy wontons in peanut sauce and ate them right there, the hot plastic container burning my knees as I sat on the sidewalk. 

Afterwards I walked by all my favorite places—the skatepark under the bridge, Cervo’s, Beverly’s (RIP), Little Canal, Jajaja, the Hawa Smoothie near the East Broadway F. The skaters were hanging out in Dimes Square. Everything had changed but standing outside Kiki’s, it felt for a second like almost nothing had. It was almost a normal Saturday on Canal Street. The sky stayed electric blue until I got back to Brooklyn. 

[pantsaretherealheroes]

Tagged in this quarantine quiz by @village-skeptic

Are you staying home from work/school?

Working from home, which is interesting, but grateful to be able to!!

If you’re staying home, who’s with you?

No one, because my roommate kind of semi-moved out while i was still working and i think she feared me catching something from The Public, and now she’s distancing at her bf and his parents’ place

Are you a homebody?

kind of? i mean not being able to Go Out and Do Things has kind of taken the shine of staying in, and i now am crazy missing doing things with people, but some weekends i like just staying in and doing my own things :)

What movies have you watched recently?

The Florida Project - amazing, I cried, seriously it’s so worth the watch (also check out Tangerine, also by Sean Baker, also a lot)

Fast Colour (pretty great!! heart-based sci fi about matrilineally passed supernatural powers and three generations of black women who have them!! the cast was top notch!!)

The Invisible Man - a bitch was SO STRESSED watching this and even though it’s well made and INSANELY well acted, the script is definitely very holey and tbh i don’t feel like i really got much out of the experience other than feeling gaslit for two hours? Oh and Aldis Hodge’s arms. That was pretty good. Just look that up rather than watching this.

Love, Wedding, Repeat - i have watched some netflix trash in my time but jesus christ this one is bad and not fun bad, like, wastes what could be a fun groundhog day/about time kind of premise and also AISLING BEA who is TOO GOOD for it.

also I rewatched God’s Own Country, it’s very slow but ugh when it gets going the tenderness? the ending?? the aesthetic of a burly, bearded man carrying a tiny lamb he helped survive being birthed around in his jacket next to a campfire?? truly amazing

Show?

Tiger King (fascinating but DEEPLY depressing, god) 

Dispatches From Elsewhere (i deeply love it, it’s like one part wonder and whimsy, one part you’re going to cry because there are a lot of different and relatable lonelinesses in it, one of the main characters is a beautiful and amazing trans girl (played by a trans actress, can you imagine??) and she has a really sweet love interest-story with Jason Segel, also has Sally Fucking Field and Andre Benjamin and Richard E Grant, it’s just real good my dudes)

also been tragically watching a lot of Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist, which I started honestly, thought it was dumb but kept watching and now i’m invested so i guess i really played myself there

An event that was cancelled that you were looking forward to?

nothing specifically, but a while back my mum and I were planning to go to the Edinburgh Writers Fest this year, and then we decided it was too expensive/too soon and then it got cancelled along with everything else, so, glad we didn’t do that - but she’s in another state and the borders are closed so i can’t even make plans to see her at home now, which is kind of a huge bummer

What music are you listening to?

I’ve been listening to a lot of random spotify suggested music 

recently i’ve listened to “Army” by Ben Folds Five a LOT while i’ve been working from home and idk what it is i think it’s the horn section i’m just listening to it a lot

Also: Man on the Moon - Zella Day; Hard to be the Bard - Christian Borle, Something Rotten cast; Vertigo - Khalid; Fortunate Son - Creedence Clearwater Revival; Do I Ever - Kensington; Strawberry Blond - Mitski; Love On The Brain (Both the original Rihanna and the Cold War Kids/Bishop Briggs cover)

What are you reading?

Not reading much right now it’s like writing and nintendo switch and going through my movies list for my free time rn (i also think not commuting to work every day has had this effect too!) 

I think the last book I read was Casey McQuiston’s Red, White and Royal Blue and it was very cute and easy to read (i also have a sneaking suspicion i used to follow her on here way back when? if so, very happy for her!) 

What are you doing for self care?

Nintendo Switch.

No but like, seeing my family who live nearby even if i can’t see my friends, watching movies on my list, taking up knitting again, writing, making 1000 cups of tea a day etc etc and trying to look nice for myself at least, and going on walks after work are all helping!

Anyone who feels like doing this one…consider yourself tagged!

[folerdetdufoler]

ugh okay so back to blogging, yeah? i fell asleep around one, and woke up a little after five for the sunrise. a quick glance outside only gave me clouds so i went back to sleep. eventually i woke up and had breakfast, enjoyed some tea and a lighter (though still cloudy) view, and took a shower. i hadn’t planned anything for my mornings, which was a relief as i definitely needed the recovery time, so i didn’t have to leave until i messages with nadège to meet up at eleven. i strolled down to the opera house, where they were all headed because jenn and haidee were taking the tour, and took an embarrassing amount of time to climb to the roof. i mean, the lord was testing me.

luckily i arrived before nadège and could sit down in the shade and let my heart/lungs/legs/everything recover. when she got there we waited a bit more for jasmine and silvia to join, chatting up some seagulls while we did. they were maaaad friendly, y’all. super chill, camera-ready. those were birds who knew how to play the game, knew that if they were patient and still, they’d be handsomely rewarded for their photos. anyway, we gathered and walked some more, not really with any direction and quite fine with that. it’s been so long now that i can’t remember what we talked about, but you can bet your ass i mentioned “dicks” at least five times within the hour. eventually we went back toward the opera house to scoop haidee and jenn, and continued on toward sørenga. the sun had come out and we could just sit and chill.

at first i was surprised that it was quite empty but then i remembered that it was a weekday. and also the water is still fucking freezing. i dipped my feet in an attempt to soak them back to life but didn’t last very long. nadège captured the moment anyway, kerry-style, because that was the first time i had put my feet in the harbor! i’ve visited the pool many times but i think they’ve all been in the winter, which is weird. next time i’ll have to actually take a swim.

jenn, nadège, and haidee left for lunch. i stayed a bit longer at the pool with jasmine and silvia because i had had a late breakfast and i was still high from it. we talked some more (and now i’m remembering what we talked about, and i’m still rolling my eyes) and i got a little sunburn on my nose because that bitch decided to make an appearance. then we went to do some shopping for things silvia needed.

it was fun tagging along with them, listening to the kinds of conversations you have when you live in norway. most of the time i’m with people from outside of the country, but now i was just with some “locals,” and they were talking about their daily lives versus topics only related to a visit. i mean, they were doing this on wednesday too, but i guess it was just noticeable now, the subtle difference in conversations that i listened in on depending on who i was hanging out with. in general i avoid directing a conversation, since i never feel like i have the authority to do so, so i like to be aware of what i’m participating in even when it’s very passive. and thaaat was just a long way of saying “i like to listen.”

i dragged them into a convenience shop for a drink, because after all of that walking i now needed some quick sugar. jasmine introduced me to solo, which i don’t think i’ve ever experienced before, not even some kind of american version. i also bought a copy of aftenposten there, which is the newspaper i’m modeling the journalism fic on. had to do some research!

i don’t know what else we did, maybe just more walking and talking. eventually we parted at central station. i popped back to the hotel to prepare for another evening at the festival and then promptly left without the most important thing: my reusable cups! i went back, my feet already screaming at me. and perhaps it was all for naught, as i wasn’t exactly clear on the whole cup policy (like i could’ve bought another set and then returned them at the end of the festival) but whatever. i got to the park and found the girls.

i had a mild interest in seeing mitski, and we’d arrived just in time for her set, but was honestly torn between sitting down and getting close enough to see her. i sat. then i moved over to the main stage and sat there. i knew i had to stand for sigrid so i was saving myself for that. and then i stood, and danced, and sang. i’ve seen her a couple of times now (though oh my gosh not as much as haidee!) and it was so fun seeing how different she was for a norwegian crowd. same energy, of course, but a familiarity that seemed to relax her and make her more nervous at the same time. it was cute. and, like always, her set felt too short. the good stuff always ends too soon.

the crowd flowed over to vindfruen for erykah badu, and she started her set late, though i suppose if you’re erykah badu you simply start your set whenever the fuck you want. she’s just living her life, saying the shit she wants to say, and like any other artist, i don’t have any control over that.

moving on! dumplings. i bought dinner at the festival, because we had a bit of a wait before the last show. the first day i had been too overwhelmed by the choices and the norwegian to figure out what i wanted to eat, but this time the area was a little less busy and i knew i actually needed food before another couple of hours in the crowd. so i gravitated to the dumplings, and they were good! then we went back to the stage for tame impala.

at some point i was standing close enough to someone else with even’s backpack, and i took a creeper shot of it. over the past few days i’d gotten an urge to buy his backpack (just like i have his coat) but after talking with jasmine i understood it wouldn’t be right. those items were given to the volunteers who worked the festival each year, and they could wear them with pride, knowing that they contributed to a wonderful event and supported an important message. to buy one would be disingenuous. so i settled for brushing up against someone else’s bag every so often and thinking of even. i have my bracelet, just like jonas, so that should be enough.

(though HEY, jonas and even we’re both at øyafestivalen in 2015 so wheeeeere is the fic where isak chases even across the festival grounds for four days? and maybe they connect over a certain delillos song on saturday night? hmmmm.)

anyway, i don’t think i’ve ever purposefully listened to tame impala before. a couple of songs felt vaguely familiar, like maybe i’d heard them on the radio, or a soundtrack to something else. a commercial? but in general i had no clue what was going on. the crowd was tight again, and this time nadège was suffering next to a more boisterous dancer, but i think that was the vibe. people weren’t really watching the stage since it was just lights and lasers and smoke, but they were feeling the music and smoking and letting their bodies just do what they wanted. most of my photos are like...angled to the sky, which leads me to believe that i was standing behind a tall person and didn’t have a clear shot of the stage very often. which was fine, since i didn’t know what i was looking at anyway, but it just made me think how much i’d prefer that listening experience like, alone...in my bedroom...with no one touching me.

i do remember this one guy yelling, “i love you, kevin!” after every song and that was sweet. he was there for a good time. kevin kept commenting on the number of bras that were tossed onto the stage too, so i guess a lot of people were there for a good time. it was cute hearing him say that in his australian accent, too. bra. i know typing it means nothing, but his light drawl compared to the norwegian “bra” was interesting.

mmmmmmmm then we went home? every night ended the same way, the mass exodus out the main gate, the gathering halfway down the hill, a quick recap of the show and plans for the next day, and then separating. i always got a burst of energy from that walk home, which would keep me awake for another hour no matter how physically tired i was (maybe because i was alone at that point and knew i had to be on high alert for my own safety). but the photo of tame impala’s stage is the last one in my camera roll before friday’s sunrise so i think that’s it. i’ll probably get around to posting that recap in like, november? stay tuned.

[quensty]

i was tagged by @enbyofdionysos to answer these neat questions! love u bitch. ain’t ever gonna stop lovin’ u, BITCH

•nickname(s): a lot of ppl here call me vivian! then a lot of friends and ppl who knew me when i was like ten call me rocky which MIGHT or MIGHT NOT have been bc ten year old me was a slut for the rocky movies. it haunts me.

• zodiac: pisces! and i see erin put her rising sign and all i have to say to that is WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

• height: 5’5” and a HALF...............calm down ladies

• last movie i watched: coco and i refuse to feel bad about it

• last thing i googled: what the fuck is a rising sign

• favorite artists: hozier, los angeles azules, janelle monae, mitski, lizzo, sleeping at last, mumford and sons

• song stuck in my head: my last brain cell is constantly jamming out to i don’t dance from hsm

• other blogs:

@cleromancer which started as an I LOVE KLANCE blog and now is just a conglomeration of things

• followers: there’s a total of 3 of us here now, counting me

• sleep: probably like an avg of five hours? god i cant wait for summer man

• lucky number: SHUT UP!! IDK WHAT NUMBERS ARE

• dream job: dude if i can make it as a surgeon at some children’s hospital i will be living my FINEST life

• what i’m wearing: ;)

• favorite food: i change it every time i get asked but ummmmmmmmmmmm today i’d say it’s a bowl full of fresh fruit

• language(s): english, spanish, and funny story, my mom was trying to teach me sign language over the summer bc she hates how i never make any fuckfjsksj sense when i open my mouth. tbh all i know how to sign is gay and toilet

• can i play an instrument: i used to be able to play some guitar when i was like 9 or 10 but i stopped practicing so i can only play. like. a g and that’s it. i also have a talent for playing myself.

• favorite song: i HATE picking favorites for anything but i’ve been listening to lizzo’s new album on loop for the last two weeks. mostly “like a girl” and “soulmate.” women????? loving themselves?????? so powerful, so moving

• random fact: when i was in pre-k i took a toy from a neighboring classroom by mistake and when the teachers asked the class who stole it i panicked and planted it on some other kid like it was weed

• describe urself aesthetically: i have no idea who i am so i legally cant answer this.

• books i’m currently reading: i actually keep coming back to the diary of frida kahlo bc it’s just!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! so good.

• series i’m trying to finish: yall still try finishing things? wild

i tag @somewhereoverthebifrost, @naolier, and @minnute! like always, if ur lookin at this and not digging it, it’s all good! if u DO dig it but i’m just a moron and didn’t tag u, pretend i did! say i did!

[benjaminjamestaylor]

My Top 10 Albums of 2018

If you know me well, you know I do this every year. It’s not in the hope that people will read it; more a sort of time capsule that I can look back on in the future and fondly remember the music that soundtracked my year. Some years, there’s a clear and obvious number one (Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp a Butterfly in 2015, for example). Others – such as this one – are more of a close-run thing, with the top spots changing sometimes as late as the writing process.

Before I get to my top ten, I would be remiss not to mention a few albums that missed out but have nonetheless been regulars in my rotation this year. Firstly, I should tip my cap to the experimentation shown by Beach House, Ben Howard, and Low, all of whom showed a refreshing intent to break from their norm and make some greatly interesting music. I’m also acutely aware of the lack of representation for R&B and hip-hop in my top ten – I didn’t ignore these genres, it just so happened that they weren’t among my ten favourites. Kids See Ghosts and Earl Sweatshirt in particular came close, and Janelle Monáe was another that I enjoyed greatly. Here’s my honourable mentions list in full:

Beach House – 7; Ben Howard – Noonday Dream; Low – Double Negative; Janelle Monáe – Dirty Computer; Brockhampton – Iridescence; Anderson .Paak – Oxnard; Villagers – The Art of Pretending to Swim; Jeff Tweedy – WARM; Matt Maltese – Bad Contestant; Kids See Ghosts – Kids See Ghosts; Pusha T – Daytona; Earl Sweatshirt – Some Rap Songs; Parquet Courts – Wide Awake; Kurt Vile – Bottle It In; The Beths – Future Me Hates Me; Jungle – For Ever; Courtney Barnett – Tell Me How You Really Feel; Mitski – Be The Cowboy; Hop Along – Bark Your Head Off Dog; Lucy Dacus – Historian.

Also, here’s a Spotify playlist of all my favourite tracks from the year.

Now on to the top ten…

10. Blood Orange – Negro Swan

I’ve got a soft spot for a true album – one that’s greater than the sum of its parts, and should be listened to as a whole. There are actually very few tracks on Negro Swan that hit home outside the context of the album. But there’s so much to like here: the way tracks flow into each other, punctuated by regular snippets of dialogue from the likes of transgender activist Janet Mock. The word that defines this album is ‘introspection’ – there are regular references to the desire to be loved and the fear of allowing oneself to be loved completely. At times the tracks feel frustratingly unfinished, and that’s all that keeps this at the back end of my top ten.

Highlights: ‘Saint’, ‘Charcoal Baby’, ‘Nappy Wonder’

9. Snail Mail – Lush

It’s been a hell of a year for young, female indie rockers (more on that later…), and Lindsey Jordan (A.K.A. Snail Mail) is perhaps the most prodigious of them all. The teenager’s debut, Lush, is a highly impressive record that showcases her signature sound: subtle, twinkly guitar melodies and foot-tapping drum beats. It tails off a little towards the back end of the album, as the novelty of her style begins to wear off. You wonder if this was a record she rushed into making, to capitalise on the considerable hype around her. If that’s the case, it’s a shame as a few more songs to the standard of ‘Pristine’ and ‘Heat Wave’ may have pushed this album up into my top five.

Highlights: ‘Pristine’, ‘Heat Wave’, ‘Stick’

8. The 1975 – A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships

This album is getting a lot of love, and I’ll admit that on first listen I didn’t get the hype. The 1975 are a somewhat controversial band – they face lavish praise and upturned noses in seemingly equal measure. There were moments of their absurdly-titled previous record that I liked, but their overly synthetic sound and Matty Healy’s unique vocal style are occasionally grating. ABIIOR has its flaws, but there’s also much to admire. They’ve incorporated a variety of styles, from stripped-back acoustic to arena pop and even jazz. The obvious themes of life and love in a digital age are well-explored and the production is, at times, gorgeous. Stick with it – it might just grow on you.

Highlights: ‘Love It If We Made It’, ‘Inside Your Mind’, ‘I Always Wanna Die (Sometimes)’

7. U.S. Girls – In A Poem Unlimited

In many ways, this record is a better executed version of the 1975’s. Meg Remy looks at similar themes of our problematic modern world, though in her case she explores them through a lens of feminine anger. Songs like ‘Rage of Plastics’ and ‘M.A.H.’ are direct, furious tirades towards American politics in the Obama era. The instrumentation and production is staggeringly brilliant throughout, with each track demonstrating a different string from Remy’s bow. On ‘Rosebud’, she channels her inner Madonna to produce one of the finest, most listenable indie pop tunes of the year.

Highlights: ‘M.A.H.’, ‘Rosebud’, ‘L-Over’

6. Maribou State – Kingdoms In Colour

My favourite electronic album of the year, Kingdoms In Colour improves on Maribou State’s encouraging debut, 2015’s Portraits. The improvements lie in their balance between the dance-pop hits, where they utilise long-time collaborator Holly Walker on vocals, and the more experimental, sample-based pieces that make up the rest of the album. It’s the latter that leave the most lasting impression, no better than on ‘Vale’, with the sample of Melanie de Baliso’s ‘I Feel You’ dovetailing beautifully with the group’s accompanying melody. If you’re looking for an album to put on as a backing track at your next party, look no further.

Highlights: ‘Beginner’s Luck’, ‘Nervous Tics’, ‘Vale’

5. Big Red Machine – Big Red Machine

A collaboration between Bon Iver and the National was never going to be bad, was it? Big Red Machine doesn’t quite hit the heights you might expect from such a high-profile meeting of minds, but there are enough moments of genius here to make it an album worth revisiting repeatedly. For the most part, Justin Vernon leaves his trademark complex song structures at the door in favour of simpler, more lineal compositions. This leads to some tracks feeling repetitive at times, although even these feature a central hook strong enough to keep you interested. And on 'Lyla', with its polyrhythms and meandering structure, there are hints of the exciting fruits this partnership could eventually produce.

Highlights: ‘Lyla’, ‘Hymnostic’, ‘I Won’t Run From It’

4. Arctic Monkeys – Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino

Perhaps Arctic Monkeys’ most divisive album since Humbug, TBHAC is also their bravest and most ambitious. It’s essentially a concept album – tales of a futuristic hotel on the moon brought to life by Alex Turner’s controversial switch from guitar to piano. It’s no surprise that the album has alienated some of the band’s more fundamentalist fans, as there’s a blatant lack of Turner’s usual indie dancefloor hits as well as a side-lining of outstanding drummer Matt Helders. Instead, we’re treated to songs without clear structures and, aside from ‘Four Out Of Five’, catchy choruses. Turner occasionally strays too far towards self-indulgence (‘Batphone’ is a difficult listen), but he’s still a remarkable lyricist and he’s produced an album that cements their status as the band of their era.

Highlights: ‘Star Treatment’, ‘American Sports’, ‘Four Out Of Five’

3. boygenius – boygenius EP

I may be cheating a tad here by including an EP, but given that there’s as much to enjoy here as on many fine albums released this year, you’ll excuse me. boygenius are a supergroup of sorts, featuring female up-and-comers Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers, and Lucy Dacus. Individually, all three are well worth a listen. But their collaborative EP propels them to new heights. Each has their own songwriting moments (two each from the six-track EP), and these intertwine through stunning vocal harmonies to form a completely cohesive collection of songs. The finest moments are Bridgers’, with her soft vocal timbre particularly captivating on ‘Me And My Dog’. We can only hope the success of this experiment results in a full-length album in 2019.

Highlights: ‘Me And My Dog’, ‘Souvenir’, ‘Ketchum, ID’

2. Kacey Musgraves – Golden Hour

No album surprised me more in 2018 than this one. After a slew of out-of-this-world reviews, I decided I had to give Golden Hour at least one listen – if only to be able to confirm it as what almost all country pop albums are: ‘not for me’. The thing is, this record transcends genre, and even those who like neither country nor pop will appreciate its beauty and the quality of its songs. Everything on Golden Hour is well-executed: Musgraves sings beautifully; the instrumentation feels minimal yet rounded; the production is absolutely on-point; and the melodies are to die for. There are even psychedelic elements throughout – nods to Musgraves’ use of acid during the album’s production. Give this album a chance, leave your prejudices at the door, and you’ll be treated to a simply perfect collection of pop songs.

Highlights: ‘Slow Burn’, ‘Wonder Woman’, ‘High Horse’

1. Soccer Mommy – Clean

As I mentioned, this wasn’t a runaway number one. But the more I re-listened to my shortlist, the more it became clear that Clean was the strongest candidate for top spot. Snail Mail and boygenius have already taken spots in my top ten, demonstrating what a strong year it has been for female indie vocalists. But Soccer Mommy’s (Sophie Allison’s) album just feels like the finished product that both Snail Mail and boygenius are aiming to eventually produce.

Clean doesn’t just contain great songs with deliciously spiky lyrics (the opening line of ‘Your Dog’ is a belter), it also feels so well balanced. Laid-back, melancholy tunes like ‘Still Clean’ and ‘Blossom’ are countered by catchy indie numbers like ‘Cool’ and ‘Skin’. Allison’s voice seems refined too – perfectly able to handle those two ends of the spectrum. Considering the album centres on a feeling of teenage angst, the sound feels remarkably mature. It’s a worthy album of the year.

Highlights: ‘Cool’, ‘Skin’, ‘Blossom (Wasting All My Time)’

[tomatosoupmug]

winter 

it was a cold fall and an even colder winter 

i was nervous- nothing ever works out for me

we spent hours at the coffee shop with only our cups to warm us up,

I had no idea where any of this would take me. 

the first time i saw the real you, we were lying on the sand watching the stars, telling each other everything

you took my hand, you warmed it up 

i pulled it away

we spent hours in cars, in parking lots 

talking about everything and anything 

hiding out in the back of my car as if it were us against the world

i still can’t believe you kissed me after all that 

i still think of you when i hear bell towers or see christmas lights. 

i’m falling 

spring 

the weather was warming and so were we 

you were starting to feel truly mine 

we were preparing for the end everywhere else, but with you i didn’t want to worry about that

all we had was now, and i could think of nothing but you. 

cherry blossoms 

strawberry tea 

rose quartz and amethyst points

the weather got warmer and i saw a whole new side of you

i slept in your bed for the first time 

i didn’t really sleep- but i listened to those songs on repeat (i still think of those nights when i hear them) 

your face drenched in blue light

i could watch you sleep for the rest of my life 

summer 

sunbathing on the grass in your bikini  

my face lying on your stomach, feeling you gently breathe in and out 

nothing else matters to me but you. 

i feel warm 

i feel content

tangled sheets and bodies damp with sweat, 

i never could have imagined that sleeping next to the warmth of another would be my favorite way to spend those hot summer nights 

our lives were intertwined 

sewing with your friends during the day then bonfire with mine at night 

do you remember that night drunk on the stairs away from the noise of the party

we talked about our future together for the first time, you took care of me 

maybe you shouldn’t have 

fall

fall rolled around and everything changed 

ten minute car rides turned to two hour car rides 

i didn’t care

i would do anything for you.

we spent nights with new people exploring new places 

i learned how to sleep alone again after saying goodnight and pressing that little red button on the screen

we’ve said a thousand goodbyes

i guess that’s when things started to change 

i missed those warm summer nights 

now all it felt like the same routine over and over 

summer was nice but i guess the cold always has to come sometime. 

winter 

when mitski says “i don’t smoke except for when i’m missing you” i told you that i thought that line was romantic. you said it was depressing. 

i think i get it now. 

sleeping next to you every night turned to two or three nights turned to never.

we thought that a few weeks together would be good for us, but nothing really changed 

the dreams we used to have unraveled in front of my eyes until i was left with just myself 

standing at the train station 

watching you leave one last time.

it’s been cold these last few weeks.

i’ve been rotating through the same few sweatshirts every day to try to bring back the warmth 

i wish they were yours again 

of course the heat does come back every once in a while.

i’ve learned to reach out to the people around me, looking for other sources of warmth 

i’m trying to find it within myself but i don’t think i’ve quite gotten there yet. 

i cant bring myself to finish all those movies we started but never finished 

all those half-watched tv shows 

i let you ruin my favorite show did you know that? 

i showed you season one and we started season two together but we ended before it did so now i struggle every sunday to find someone to keep me company or else i find my mind wandering.

do you ever think of me? 

i never used to dream you know, 

you always told me of the wild images you faced every night and i always said i had nothing, just black. 

now i only dream of you. 

i’ve had five or maybe six dreams with you in them over the last few weeks 

even when i sleep alone you’re still with me.

spring is about to be here. 

i still have those freezing cold days, but i know that the warmth has to return sometime right? 

right? 

[lesbeanflowers]

I was tagged by @englishtealarry you the real mvp :)

1. Nicknames? -Amai

2. Gender? - Female

3. Star Sign? - Gemini (on the cusp of Taurus)

4. Height? - 5’6-5’7

5. Time? - 9:49pm

6. Birthday? - May 24th

7. Favourite bands/groups? — *cracks knuckles* One Direction, Green Day, Paramore, The National, The Avett Brothers, Tribe Called Quest, De La Soul, Queen, Led Zepplin, Coldplay, Earth Wind and Fire, DJ Khaled, Vulfpeck, Superfruit, Pentatonix, Bleachers, The Rolling Stones, The Who, The Doors, HOMESHAKE, The O’Jays, Oasis, Gorillaz, Jackson Five, Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros, Sleater Kinney, Mumford & Sons, Weezer, Blink 182, Panic! At The Disco, Kings of Leon, Five For Fighting, Walk The Moon, Nirvana, Radiohead, Unknown Mortal Orchestra, Vampire Weekend, Linkin Park, System of a Down, Taco Cat, Diet Cig, Nice As Fuck, Lorde, The Internet, OFWGKTA, The Temptations, Funkadelic, Cameo, Lumineers, The Head & The Heart, The 1975, Neutral Milk Hotel, The Clash, The Smiths, The Sex Pistols, Beastie Boys, Talking Heads, TLC, En Vogue, Xscape, LTD, fun., Aerosmith, AC/DC, Fleetwood Mac, Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons, Groove Theory, The Fugees, The Brand New Heavies, Arctic Monkeys, DNCE, Fleet Foxes, The Frames, My Chemical Romance, Boyz II Men, The Velvet Underground, Tegan and Sara, Mariana’s Trench, The Supremes, She & Him, Foo Fighters. The list goes on

8. Favourite solo artists? - Harry, Louis, Niall, Liam, Beyoncé, Chance The Rapper, Rihanna, Demi Lovato, Kesha, Dua Lipa, Troye Sivan, Halsey, Lana Del Rey, SZA, Prince, Beck, Erykah Badu, Amy Winehouse, Frank Ocean, Michael Jackson, Kehlani, Kendrick Lamar, J Cole, Common, Kanye West, Mac Demarco, Zayn, Ed Sheeran, Tyler The Creator, Pink Guy/Joji, Rich Chigga, Willow, Angel Haze, Mary Lambert, Hayley Kiyoko, Maggie Rogers, Kevin Garrett, Aaliyah, Alicia Keys, PJ Morton, Jill Scott, MIKA, Marvin Gaye, Drake, Nicki Minaj, David Bowie, Chaka Khan, Mariah Carey, P!nk, Britney Spears, Sia, Fiona Apple, Regina Spektor, Glen Hansard, Nora Jones, D’Angelo, Jeff Buckley, Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Sufjan Stevens, Nick Drake, Musiqsoulchild, Anthony Hamilton, Amel Larreuix, Alice Smith, Aretha Franklin, Diana Ross, George Michael, Eric Clapton, Joe Cocker, Father John Misty, Bon Iver, LCD Soundsystem, Noname, Tupac, Notorious BIG, Lil Peep, DRAM, Bruno Mars, Tom Waits, Mitski, Gabe Gundacker (yes, the vine dude). The list goes on

*shameless plug: I know I’ve probably said this but I’m obsessed with music and music sharing so follow me on Spotify @Amai Zackery

9. Song stuck in my head? - Can’t Get You Out of My Head by Kylie Minogue

10. Last movie you watched? - Free State of Jones

11. Last show you watched? - Liv and Maddie lol

12. When did you create your blog? — I’ve had Tumblr since Jan. 2012 but I got locked out of my old account so I’ve been with this one since May 2016

13. What do I post?- Larry, 1D, ot4, ot5, memes, animals, Carmilla, Supercorp, Runaways, The Bold Type, literally any other TV show I️ become obsessed with or am interested in watching, any movies I️ become obsessed with or am interested in watching, my fave music or things I️ wanna listen to, any books I’m really into or wanna read, gay stuff, writing, art rec, aesthetic, celebrities, anything I wanna save for later

14. Last thing I googled? — The Fresh Prince of Bel Air lyrics

15. Do you have any other blogs? — yeah but it’s really bad and inactive sooo uh

16. Do you get asks? — Every now and then

17. Why did you choose your url? — I’m lesbian and I like flowers

18. Following? — around 1300?

19. Followers? — 715

20. Favourite colours? — Orange, blue, yellow, red, pastel pink

21. Average hours of sleep? — weekdays: 6-7 hrs, weekends/breaks: 4-8.5 hrs

22. Lucky number? — 5, 18, 24

23. Instruments? — piano, guitar, ukulele, and I sing

24. What am I wearing - Black glasses, black Coldplay Parachute album shirt, dark brown/blue/black flannel, black leather-bomberish jacket, some blue socks patterned in other colors, and black converse

25. How many blankets do I sleep with? - three

26. Dream job? — actress/writer alongside singer-songwriter/musician alongside graphic novelist/animator

27. Dream vacation? — Japan, London, Italy, Spain, France, Portland (Maine and Oregon), San Francisco, Boston, Greece, Ireland

28. Favorite food? — Fries, bacon, jalapeños, cheese, bread, green beans, broccoli

29. Nationality? — Black And Japanese American

30. Favourite song? — I literally can’t choose my favorite of all time but for now I’m gonna go with Bad 4 Us by Superfruit

Now I tag @drowningfangirl @sapphicatthedisco @jealousofthem @four-eyed-feminist @the-nerd-punk and anyone else who wants to partake :))

[toomanyfeelings5]

happy, part 7

this fic sure has been a rollercoaster to write lol. there i was basing the title off of an angsty mitski song, and now here i am, thinking that rosy is canonically going to get her own kind of happiness, on-screen and everything. 

for the record, in one of her canon tumblr posts rosy mentions that someone lent her a copy of ash by malinda lo, so it’s in the fic too. :) 

update’s finally here! thank you for being patient. link to the other parts of the fic. 

19. when she was little, rosy read every single nancy drew book she could get her hands on. mysteries were so fun to read. she loved watching scooby doo too, how the big scary monster always ended up being some nasty, ordinary man or woman out to make trouble. nancy was smart, funny, and brave, braver than rosy ever was, and she always solved her mysteries. in scooby doo, the monster was always unmasked. there’s a simplicity in mysteries meant for kids, a kind of comfort in knowing that by the end, there were no more secrets. everything would be solved. everything would be fixed.

thomas leaves his laptop open on her bed, and rosy--well, this is like a mystery of her own, isn’t it? it can’t hurt to take a look, right? maybe he’s been acting so highstrung lately because of family problems, or med school apps, or something else he hasn’t told her about. 

she skims the subject lines of emails from his advisor-- meeting at 6? and rescheduling? and i expect my students to be on time and then-- rosy’s eyes widen--final notice. then there are the emails from harvard, yale, princeton: we regret to inform you... and thank you for applying to our program, but unfortunately...

“no,” she hears herself say. “no, this can’t be happening.” 

thomas was supposed to have everything together. thomas was supposed to be a star student, a future heart surgeon. he was also supposed to be a good boyfriend, but that--

rosy shakes her head. she can’t think that way. she can’t. 

a thought strikes her amidst her mounting fear: she’s meddled this much, why not meddle just a bit more? nancy was always rewarded for all of her snooping around, wasn’t she?  

rosy bites her lip, and then she steels herself. jerks her head in what she hopes is a decisive nod. “something must be done.” 

when she looks up from sending the email to his advisor, she almost startles. that’s odd. rosy had forgotten, just for a second, that the camera was rolling. she hastily turns the it off, and nearly smiles: she forgets the camera whenever billie is there. 

rosy freezes in place, then shakes her head again. she has other things to focus on. that--that can wait, just like...she sighs. just like everything else. 

20. yes, ok, rosy feels guilty about it. but it’s not like thomas was going to ask her for help, or even tell her about it in the first place. he’s kept all of this so hidden from her. he knows she’s read every nancy drew book ever written. he knows that she watches masterpiece theatre religiously. what does he expect, her to keep quiet while her boyfriend flunks himself out of advising and out of any decent med school? 

rosy tells herself that she wants him to be happy, that she wants to soothe his jangled nerves, and to be sure, she doesn’t want thomas to be so stressed anymore, to be so fixated on getting into an ivy league. he needs to relax. she really does want him to feel ok.

it’s just that rosy also wants him to get into harvard or yale, and she wants him to become an internationally-recognized heart surgeon, and she wants him to have surety and security and fame so that she can share in it, too. rosy sighs as her head hits the pillow at midnight, the earliest she’s gone to bed all week. fine, yes, she wants him to succeed because if he doesn’t, if his advisor doesn’t meet with him, if he doesn’t get into any of the schools he wanted to, then what will people say about her? 

“rosy,” she imagines dana and her other friends saying, “you sure picked a loser, didn’t you?”

all of the overconfident certainty that she cherishes about him would crumble away.

rosy can’t handle that. thomas can’t either. 

she will fix this. she will. 

21. is it weird to look at billie and think about the fact that valentine’s day is a few weeks away? is it weird to listen to billie play the guitar and think that it’s cute when she scrunches her eyebrows in concentration? is it weird to think about billie more than her very stressed and increasingly distant boyfriend? 

rosy isn’t sure what she’s feeling. (what else is new.) all she knows is that she likes spending time with billie, that seeing her makes rosy smile in a way that isn’t forced or practiced, that rosy laughs when her voice cracks while billie strums along on ukelele or guitar. 

it’s not a crush. rosy just wants to be good friends, that’s all. it’s been a while since she’s had one of those, the sort of friend who would not only drink with her but would also hold her hair back when she got sick. billie could be that, maybe. someone to help her clean up all of her messes. someone to sing with when things get hard. yes. that’s it. that’s all. 

22. ................fuck it. 

she’s so tired. thomas hasn’t answered her texts for the past seven hours. she was actually civil with fred earlier today, and not just because they were being filmed. he might work at stone court pizza for the rest of his life, but so what? shouldn’t he do what he wants, and not what everyone tells him to do? shouldn’t he be closer to max anyway? 

shouldn’t he be happy?

during their video, she’d announced to the camera that her boyfriend will be the successful doctor that fred never could be, that “i’ve made sure of it,” and out of every hollow thing she’s said on camera, that line is one of the emptiest pieces of hidden insecurity and guilt she’s ever said aloud. 

except then she also tries to cheer billie up, and that...also doesn’t go as planned. 

“i’m sure we’ll be hearing about dillie any day now,” rosy insists and insists and insists, because this is what made her and thomas get together, this is how she comforts herself--if she could, she would live inside a sarah dessen novel and never come out--

billie insists too, except she prefers to stare moodily down at her shoes or into the distance, and says over and over again, through words or frosty silences, that dot could not possibly like her, that they will never be together. rosy wants to argue, but something stops her. it might be how sad billie is, how rosy just wants to make her tea and tell her that things will be alright, that she’s here for her new friend, that she’ll brush her hair out of her face if she’ll let her. rosy doesn’t do any of that. she flounders as billie leaves, feels her face heat up, thinks about how silly and cliche she is, how she really is a romcom personified, how she can’t seem to talk like a normal person about anything--

after filming, she doesn’t want to leave the room for the rest of the day, but she does, at 3:45pm. 

rosy isn’t very together anymore. she forgets to brush her hair in the morning. she skips breakfasts. she falls asleep in more than one of her classes. her nail polish is chipped, and she’s running out of her favorite lipstick. 

it’s two days until valentine’s day, and instead of going over to thomas’s to help him study, rosy turns off the camera, and she goes to the school’s GSA meeting at 4pm sharp, right around when it ends. she doesn’t-- she can’t see fred there. she can’t. he leaves right after GSA meetings to visit max. she’s safe arriving five minutes after the meeting ends.

rosy has exhausted herself out of excuses. in a movie, this would be the part where the heroine suffers a crisis of faith in her relationship, and a swell of strings would accompany her newfound commitment to the man she loves after a brief but painful period of separation. 

it hasn’t been a very painful separation. it hasn’t been easy, and guilt still gnaws at her, but rosy doesn’t feel a magnetic pull to thomas, not like she used to. (not like she wanted to?) there isn’t a spark, not really. she certainly wants to preserve the embers, to at least tend to the kindling, but when rosy cries into her pillow after a particularly difficult fashion merchandising exam, it isn’t entirely for him. she doesn’t ask for his help either, or his comfort, or his safety, or his certainty. 

instead, rosy opens the door to the stuffy, cramped, bustling women’s center, and she refuses to look back. 

23. she gets there five minutes after the meeting is supposed to end, but she ends up hiding in the moldering bathroom for ten minutes more, struggling to breathe right in the humid air. shit. shit, why is she here? breathe. what is she doing? breathe. this is so stupid, she’s just overreacting--breathe--none of it means anything, it’s not like she belongs here, it’s not like she knows what’s she’s doing, it’s not like--

breathe. 

rosy leaves the bathroom, and she feels slightly detached from her body, like she’s floating an inch above it. there’s a buzzing in her ears and a sour taste on the roof of her mouth. her nails dig into her sweaty palms, and she stares a hole into the floor. the room where they all meet is deserted, thank god, except for--

fuck. 

“well,” chelsea beatrice says after a slight pause. “this is a surprise.”

rosy chokes out a laugh. this is who she wanted to see, she reminds herself. “yeah, i guess it is.”

chelsea regards her cooly, with a slightly raised, newly-pierced eyebrow. “were you looking for something in the center? i don’t know where everything is, but if you want help finding anything--”

“no. no, it’s not that. it’s, um.” rosy manages a shaky breath. she feels light-headed. god, this is the worst decision she’s ever made. “i...i wanted to come to a meeting. for the GSA. but i forgot what time it was.” a smile wobbles across her face, like an amateur acrobat trying out the tightrope for the first time. “sorry.”

“it’s ok,” chelsea says slowly, giving rosy a slight smile--or is it a smirk? “it’s your first time here, you didn’t know.” a pause. it feels like eternity. rosy wants to run until she can’t think, she wants to run away and never go back to school ever again, but chelsea doesn’t let her, because she says, “so....not to be rude, but.” she snorts a bit. rosy can’t blame her: it’s not like rosy’s been so nice to her. “why’d you want to come?”

rosy swallows. pastes on a smile. it’s so difficult to speak in the deadened air. “i guess...i guess i want--it’s--i’m sorry.” chelsea frowns. “i’m sorry about last semester,” rosy clarifies, and chelsea nods slightly. “i was...a huge jerk, to say the least. i never apologized, so. here i am.”

chelsea tilts her head. “....thanks, i guess. but that’s not the only reason you’re here.”

“no, it isn’t.”

rosy can’t really say anything else right now, and chelsea seems to pick up on it, because after a moments she asks, “so are you going to try to kiss me again or what?”

“what--? no!” rosy splutters, almost shouts--is she serious?--but chelsea just laughs, a loud, echoing wheeze, and rosy wills herself not to go beet-red. she’s just kidding. it’s a joke. calm down, get it together, get it together, get it together-- “i don’t want to do any of that with you. i have a boyfriend. i--what i mean is--” rosy wants to scream. “i was scared, before, ok, you were right. and i got freaked out and i left our dorm to live with my mess of a brother and i thought that was going to fix--” rosy almost says, “i thought that was going to fix me,” but that’s too much melodrama, even for her, so instead she blurts out, “i thought that was going to solve everything, but it didn’t, so--look, my boyfriend and i aren’t doing that great right now, and i just. i don’t know. i thought....that this club might help. with, um. things.”

“with your relationship?”

“no, not really. more just with me. in general.”

“...ok,” chelsea says, and she could’ve teased her, she could’ve said, “it took you long enough,” she could’ve walked away from her shitty coward of a former roommate and never look back, but instead chelsea tells her, “listen, i’ve gotta go now to meet with my advisor, but--hang on a sec.” chelsea rummages through her backpack until she holds out, of all things, a worn book. from the looks of the cover it’s something YA. ash by malinda lo. interesting. “you like fairy tales and stuff, right?”

“yeah,” rosy says, ears burning. god, she really was an awful roommate. “i love them.”

“read this,” chelsea says, “it’s cinderella but, you know, for us.” 

rosy isn’t sure what this “us” means, but she takes the book. “thanks, chelsea. really. it means a lot.”

“yeah,” chelsea shrugs, finally looking slightly flustered. she scratches the back of her neck. “it might, uh, help you out? i dunno, i could’ve used it back in the day. anyway, i really have to leave, but maybe...?” chelsea coughs, then says in a rush, “maybe we could hang out another time? as like, weird former roommates and sort-of friends? i’m busy with--well, with everything--but before you up and bolted, i thought that we were getting to be friends, and i wouldn’t mind being your actual friend now.” 

rosy blinks hard. “of course! of course, yes, absolutely. i wouldn’t mind being your actual friend too.” 

“cool cool cool,” chelsea nods, and hastily adds, “alright, i’ll text you later, and you better respond, and hey, if you want to talk to someone about whatever you’re going through, i can give you people to reach out to, resources and stuff. i’m the secretary for the GSA, for what it’s worth.”

“yeah, yeah that’d all be great.” 

“see you later, rosy,” chelsea says, and rosy watches her maybe-friend leave, and for the first time all day, rosy smiles for real. 

23. rosy hasn’t opened the book yet. she’s been too busy with homework and applying for internships and preparing for valentine’s day. it’s going to be perfect. the candles she’s chosen are rose-scented, of course, and her nails are a perfect shade of light pink. rosy finally feels like she’s got it together again. valentine’s day has always been her favorite holiday, even when she didn’t have anyone to share it with. if nothing else it gives her an excuse to wear more pink and red than usual, and she gets to eat lots of candy: what’s not to love?

rosy is on a mission. operation: make thomas feel loved. no matter what her doubts are about their relationship, she’s still ready and willing to be there for him, to soothe his worries, to be the girlfriend he needs her to be, at least for today. at least for right now. maybe later they can talk about what they’ve become, what they mean to each other, but before that, rosy turns the camera on, smile in place, and waits for thomas, waits for thomas, waits for thomas--she checks her watch for the fifth time--he’s late again. 

when he does arrive, he looks disheveled, sleep-deprived, and more than a little hungover. 

rosy does her best to help, she wants so badly to help, but maybe that’s been her problem all along, because he opens his laptop, and he shows her his latest email from his advisor, and rosy’s heart sinks. 

she blusters, “i’m just trying to support you.”

operation: make thomas feel loved is not going as planned. 

thomas says, slowly and deliberately, “well, you don’t have to anymore.” says it like he’s telling a patient’s family that the illness is terminal. that there’s no coming back from this. 

her boyfriend leaves, and the hollywood glamor, the romcom soft lighting--all of it disappears. the swell of strings fades with his retreating footsteps. 

rosy is left in the dark with the camera, and the silence, and herself. 

she hiccups a laugh that turns into a shaking, full-body sob, the kind that narrows the world to the pressure building in her head, to her burning eyes, to the tightness in her chest. rosy’s right back where she started: she’s fucking terrified. 

24. ROSY!!!111!!!!! GUESS WHO JUST GOT A BOYFRIEND!!1!!????? GUESS WHO IS DATING THE FABULOUS, BRILLIANT, HANDSOME MAX GARTH!!!?????? GUESS!!!!!!!!!

there are at least ten sparkle heart emojis in the text that fred sends her. 

rosy is happy for him, she is. congrats!!!! see? she’s happy. i think thomas broke up with me. whoops. guess she isn’t so good at keeping things to herself anymore. spending some quality time with gin and tonic the night before would do that. 

whAT???? fred responds two seconds later. WHAT DID HE DO!!?? I’M GOING TO HUNT HIM DOWN RIGHT NOW. >:(((((((

he adds a devil emoji, and that, at least makes rosy giggle. no no no, i can deal with it. have fun with max. have a happy valentine’s day. a thought occurs to her, so powerful and so tempting and so simple that she immediately adds, i’ll ask billie to hang out. that will help. seriously fred, i’m fine. have fun with the boy you love. :)

ok, fred replies, ok but if you need anything let me know AND I WILL BEND TIME AND SPACE TO BE THERE AS SOON AS I POSSIBLY CAN. 

rosy sends a thumbs-up emoji, effectively ending the conversation, and she stares at her phone. is she ready to talk to anyone in person, let alone billie ladislaw? no. is she ready to deal with being dumped two days valentine’s day? no. does she want to be alone on valentine’s day? hell no. so does she call billie despite everything else? yes. 

writing her number on billie’s arm had been the best part of a shitty night. if rosy is certain of anything, it’s that she knows that billy be the best part of another shitty day.

25. “i always assumed i was straight, but--”

hours before she called billie, rosy had started reading ash. she couldn’t really focus on it, but her hands had been shaking too much to actually call billie, so she skim-read instead. she’d actually read it later, and then she’d actually be friends with chelsea, and she’d actually breathe right--

she has to blink a lot to absorb the words, but a few quotes stick out to her through the haze:

“fear will teach you where to be careful.” 

“'have you ever wished to be a princess?' ash challenged her. 'that depends,' kaisa said. 'on what?' 'on whether I'd have to marry a prince,' she said and her tone was lighthearted, inviting ash to share her smile.” 

“the quiet afternoon opened up between them like a woman stretching her limbs.” 

rosy doesn’t remember much else from the book. later, when billie has left, all she thinks about is, “i always assumed i was straight,” (did she really say that out loud? she did! and she had kept talking! why did she do that?) and all she sees is the startled look of loss on dot’s face, and all she hears is billie, after dot practically fled from the room: “explain! explain it to me! tell me why you thought it was a good idea to tell me that now, to say--how could you ever think that i would like you, when you know that i--?”

as usual, billie hadn’t been able to finish her sentences, but that didn’t matter, because rosy had felt the silence scald her anyway. 

billie loves dot so much she can’t even say it out loud. billie is so angry with rosy that she can’t even say it out loud. 

“i always assumed i was straight--”

rosy doesn’t want to talk about it.

rosy doesn’t want to talk about any of it, and she can’t even forget it for a while: she’s out of wine. and gin and tonic. she’s checked. 

later, after rosy’s tried and mostly failed to eat mac and cheese for dinner, after she can’t go to sleep, she texts chelsea, hi! sorry to bother you, but do you want to hang out tomorrow? 

rosy cries, rosy screams into her pillow, rosy is glad that fred is staying at max’s for the night, rosy is about to drift into panicked, throat-sore sleep, when chelsea replies, sure! tomorrow’s busy for me but if you want to get lunch i’d be down with that. a second later, she adds, and you’re not a bother. 

thanks! rosy texts back, something easing in her chest. see you tomorrow!! 

her dreams are full of shouting and angry eyes flashing, but towards the end there’s the smell of fresh-baked cookies. 

26. chelsea is in the middle of chewing onto her enormous bite of her panini when rosy finishes giving her a basic outlining of what had happened, but she stops mid-chew to spit out, “wow, she’s an asshole!”

rosy nearly chokes on her soup. “what?”

chelsea chews furiously, swallows, and raises her hand like she’s about to curse a poor villager into dust. “this girl you’ve been talking about! she’s an asshole!”

rosy frowns. “come on, i was being an idiot, and--”

“no you weren’t. you were an idiot when you left our dorm and didn’t return my texts and literally moved in with your brother the next day. you were an idiot when you kept avoiding me at ever opportunity. you weren’t being an idiot when you trusted this girl.” chelsea’s eyebrows scrunch together. “you aren’t an idiot.” 

rosy almost burns her tongue on her soup, but she blows on it just in time. tomato soup is her favorite. she used to think that it matched her hair. she used to think a lot of things. “thanks, but i still messed everything up.”

chelsea sighs and takes another bite of her panini. “it doesn’t sound like anyone actually talked about anything except for you. so really they were the ones who messed it up.”

rosy shrugs helplessly. she looks at chelsea and tries not to cry in the middle of the cafe when she tells her what she told dot earlier. her voice is hoarse. chelsea has to lean forward to hear her. “she never really liked me. not many people do.”

this time, she doesn’t smile when she says it. 

chelsea sits back and runs a hand through her short hair. she crosses her arms over her chest, and she looks right at rosy. “i do. i like you.”

rosy tilts her head. could that be true? probably not. they don’t really know each other, and this is probably just a pity thing, but. but rosy smiles tentatively. “thanks chelsea.” she cares too much already. why not care just a little more? what does she have left to lose? “i like you too.” 

“i’m glad,” chelsea says, a bit gruffly, “because now it’s time for me to talk about how fucking goddamn difficult midterms were, and how my--my grandma is sick, and she says it isn’t bad, but i don’t--she’s been there for me through everything, ok?” before rosy can respond, chelsea whooshes all of the words out of herself. “i showed her my baby teeth before anyone else, and she would always give me the most money for my lost tooth. we’d go apple-picking, and i’d spend hours looking for the best one to give her. she’s a sore loser when she plays board games with anyone else, but she always lets me win. i came out to her before i told anyone else, and she never--she’s always loved me, ok, and i haven’t had that with--with anyone else, and i can’t lose her, i can’t--”

“chelsea,” rosy says, “slow down. tell me from the beginning.”

so chelsea does. 

the cancer is back in her grandmother’s lungs. she’d used to be a heavy smoker when she was in her teens. the doctors aren’t sure how serious it is yet. 

“and she says it’s going to be fine, but. i don’t know if she is this time. i don’t know anything.”

rosy swallows. her soup is almost done. chelsea’s panini is more than halfway finished. “you don’t have to know everything. i can’t imagine what you’re going through, it must be so hard.” chelsea snorts. “yeah, yeah. it’s hard. she loves you, and you love her, and that’s not going to change, no matter what happens.” chelsea grabs a fistful of napkins and wipes her eyes. “and if you need a ride to the hospital she’s staying at, i can help you out. fred has the car on some days, but i get it most times.”

“thanks,” chelsea says, voice small. 

“you’re welcome,” rosy says, too formally, and chelsea chokes on the last of her panini and laughs and laughs. 

when rosy goes to bed that night, she doesn’t listen to “so this is love.” she doesn’t reread this lullaby. she reads the first page of ash and then she listens to her heartbeat. she breathes. she lies in the dark and in the silence, and she isn’t so terrified, not anymore.