#and it was just because I *was* into the music that WAS of-the-time in 2015!!!!

[softgrungeprophet]

my kaine playlist is 2 and a half hours long...

okay well actually it's more like—

there's my primary Kaine playlist which is 2 and a half hours long and kind of doubles as a partial Janine playlist (still mostly Kaine but there's bound to be some overlap, all things considered):

and maybe it has some questionable song choices

—

There's my Spider-Man (well, really it's just Peter) playlist which is also 2 and a half hours long and has perhaps what some might call "too much" Blink-182 and pop punk on it:

—

There's a mixtape from Annabelle to Kaine which probably isn't done yet but is 40 minutes long:

—

There's a response from Kaine that he makes after leaving which is 44 minutes long and also probably technically not done yet:

—

There's also a playlist for the "worst year of peter's life" fic-in-progress which is 55 minutes long, probably complete, and which is sort of about Kaine but is also about Peter and in general about the entire situation that they've all been subjected to (including like, Flash's interactions with not-Peter (Ben)) and also a little bit about the past:

—

I don't have a playlist for Ben lol

[thatrandombystander]

Just got back from watching a production of Les Mis and yeah man to love another person really is to see the face of God 😭😭😭

[christianborle]

there’s a local theater near me putting on something rotten! and I kind of want to go but I also feel like it’s gonna be so weird to see the show again????

[eldritchmochi]

you mentioned playlists in your pinned post so now I am here to haunt you! what kind of playlists do you think you'd enjoy? what're some of your favorite music artists and/or genres? :0

oh man i listen to SO MUCH music just all sorts......... except........... what i have dubbed "white girl pop" lmao, which ends up being a lot of the more popular music across tumblr with generally white generally femmes in the age bracket just below mine (i'm so sorry younger sibling who is a really big swiftie i Do Not understand and i also dont care to)

for context, the music i got into on my own back in the day in highschool (circa 2003-2009) was primarily west coast punk or pop punk, but i also listened to a LOT of non english music (i think at the height of it i had music in over 20 different languages that would just pop up on playlists willy nilly)

shortly after that, i spent several years as a raver listening to a lot of edm, specifically happy hardcore, though i also had a soft spot for euro dance (i am OBSESSED with planet of the bass). d&b and dubstep were... fine but i didn't really seek them out with the exception of some specific tracks that had overlap with hardcore (seattle was BIG on hardcore/happy hardcore in the years around 2010 when i was a raver)

currently, my spotify has a real big habit of reccing me Black punk or indie punk artists, which i am definitely not mad about even if i'm also vaguely baffled at how i've gotten here. last show i went to WAS Black indie punk tho (meet me @ the altar; SO GOOD i lov them). we WERE suppose to go see bloodywood (indian metal) for my wifes bday but... shenanigans ensued with the bus. before mm@a, last show wasssss i think FOB and greenday's hella mega tour (baller, and free lmao), and then before that i saw caravan palace, and before that was mystery skulls. if i can get my surgery scheduled soon enough i REALLY wanna try and see ashinekko in october cos im mad that im missed out on poppy this month (it was the 18th ;n;)

basically all of those bands are wildly different genres lmao

as for bands, a non exhaustive list would be: mcr, p@td, offspring, muse, nicki minaj, hozier, rise against, pansy division, system of a down, skatune network, mother mother, I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME, marina, mothica, lil nas x, subwoolfer, FEMM, and many more

a short selection of Top Songs

that is so many songs dang. most of them come from my ashton playlist because that is what i have been listening to most recently and that playlist is ten hours long so

but ye i lov music i am chill with about any rec, especially if you can paint a picture as to why i should like it (fandom related???? good story vibes???? actually singable for a baritone?????)

key things i tend to look for is: a lot of bass (not specifically always *driving* bass, just a lot of it), vocals that go up and down scales (especially if theyre "bouncy" and scale well to deeper voices), and fun lyrics (especially horny or murder). the MOST important thing is that bass element, which is the big reason why i dont like a lot of "white girl pop"

rec away!!

[quaranmine]

headphones emoji!

ohh, interesting! you've gotten one of my onerepublic deep cuts. i think it might be a little known fact about me but onerepublic was one of my favorite bands for years (still is, just isn't #1 anymore) and i've seen them in concert twice.

Trees touch windows, say their hellos Hear this house as it settles in

[oblivioussloth]

Hnnng….going through it in such a specific and weird way so now I’m physically fighting off the side of me that wants to make an Impulse Purchase

[skitskatdacat63]

Sebcedes fmv to Twilight by Bôa. It only exists in my head unfortunately

[gummiix]

🎶✨️when u get this u have to put 5 songs u actually listen to, publish. Then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool)🎶✨️

so this is actually pretty hard because I listen to a LOT of songs… but here are some I really adore (in no particular order) :]

-Lonely Road by WILLOW

-Stress Relief by late night drive home

-Hope by Arlo Parks

-Paralyzed by The Cardigans

-Piedmont by Destroy Boys

(pspsps I’m actually really proud of my playlists so if you wanna check ‘em out my spotify is here)

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The Good Omens Musical Masterpost🎵❤

How it started :)

Some time before 2013: Vicki Larnach, the australian composer and lyricist, read the Good Omens book, imagined figures dancing on stage with brilliant music and thought, ‘Ah, I’m gonna ask Terry Pratchet and Neil Gaiman if I can turn it into a musical.’ and sent an email to the publishers. The next day she got an email saying, ‘We don’t want a musical but Terry’s coming to Australia, so come and say hello and tell us what you got.’

Rob Wilkins came down to meet Vicki and Jim Hare - Vicki's husband and writer - and took them to meet Terry. They spent an hour and a half with them where Terry asked ‘piercing questions’, had tea with them and they showed Terry a song that Vicki wrote (about the Chattering Nuns). Terry said to Rob, ‘Rob, write and email to Neil, “Dear Neil, this is Terry. I’m sitting in front of two hippies from Sydney and they want to make a musical out of Good Omens and I’m tempted to let them do it.”’ which was the best email they ever heard and then Terry said, ‘Okay, you have me curious.’ - it was because of the Nuns song which sounded like the book. ‘I’m gonna give you six months, come back with a first draft libretto and five songs.’

They then sent it to Terry who sent it to Neil. Terry said, ‘I really like it, you’re moving story, you’re doing all the right things, but where’s showstopper, where’s the toe-tapper, you know I need people to go to intermission just snapping their fingers with the song they just can’t get out of their head, and I haven’t heard that.’ - and they realized that they were so busy serving the story they forgot to do the wow-factor, but found it very encouraging from Terry that he wanted to make it better.

They went through the whole book again to find a centrepiece - and they found it  when Warlock is growing up and Aziraphale and Crowley are with him, and spent months working just on that one thing and called ‘All Living Things’ [the song at the start of this post :)] which is a line from the book.*’ Terry gave that song to a person he knew and asked him to play it to his wife with no context and when the next day the person said that his wife woke up still singing the song Terry said to Vicki and Jim: ‘Well, that’s what I asked you to do.’ 

* [“This here’s Brother Slug,” the gardener would tell him, “and this tiny little critter is Sister Potato Weevil. Remember, Warlock, as you walk your way through the highways and byways of life’s rich and fulsome path, to have love and reverence for all living things.” “Nanny says that wivving fings is fit onwy to be gwound under my heels, Mr. Fwancis,” said little Warlock, stroking Brother Slug, and then wiping his hand conscientiously on his Kermit the Frog overall.]

Vicki and Jim got the permission to being adapting it as a musical in 2013.

Vicki and Jim on it a couple of years ‘fumbling about’, took it as far as they could and decided to bring another person into it: Jay-James Moody

In 2015, Jay James-Moody joined the collaboration initially as a dramaturge and directorial eye, eventually evolving into co-book writer. Vicki, James and Jay have continued to evolve through countless more revisions and a number of private development readings with the support, time and talent of numerous wonderful Australian performers testing the material.

In November 2017, the musical was presented in its then-current form and entirety for the first time before an audience of over 500 eager attendees. The cast included Luke Joslin, Lachlan O’Brien, Nancye Hayes, Barry Quin, Brett O’Neill, Lauren McKenna, Nicholas Craddock, Paul Capsis, Rob Johnson, Amy Lehpamer, Debora Krizak, Blake Erickson, Nat Jobe, Ana Maria Belo, Jordan Hare, Bella Thomas, Anthony Abrakmanov and Samson Hyland.

Following a rapturous response to this reading it continued to be refined and developed.

In 2019, ten days before the show came out they did their last presentation, since then they’ve been to London and shown a videotape of that workshop to Neil and Rob which was ‘a pretty heartstopping experience’ but both Neil and Rob were ‘so lovely and very generous with their time’ and they were showing it to them and in the intermission Neil said ‘I wish Terry could have seen this.’ (see here :))

Differences between the musical and the book

The ending of the musical is a bit different, they were worried about it but Neil said, ‘I totally understand, the ending of the TV series is different, because I had something that was book-shaped and I needed to make it TV-shaped. And you had something that was book-shaped and you needed to make it stage-shaped.’

It opens with the burning of Agnes Nutter and Aziraphale and Crowley are introduced there. 

Act One ends with them ‘essentially breaking up’ because of a huge argument and they dissolve their friendship, Act Two starts with the first time they meet.

The Future?

What is the future for the musical: in 2021 they said that they need to work on some things and then they hope to do another run, initially in Australia.

There will be a CD of the soundtrack available when the show is produced in it’s full version.

Videos

Vicki, Jim and Jay talking 46min about the musical (this video was shown at the Ineffable Con 3 in 2021 :))

Sizzle Reel 6min

Anathema singing The Perfect Place

Crowley calling Dagon to check on the hellhound

Shadwell and Newt

Aziraphale vanishing Hastur 👀

Links

Webpage

Instagram - a lot of more bts videos and pics :)

How to support?

Subsribe to the instagram page and like and comment that you want the musical on posts :)❤. If you want to be a sponsor or donor, there is contact on their webpage.

[genderisareligion]

While Megan Thee Stallion and Nicki Minaj are having very public beef and while I really appreciate Megan's talent for what it is I wanna take this time to spotlight my favorite unproblematic female rapper who's been at it 10+ years whose lyrical mastery alone deserves 500% of the fame Megan and Nicki have:

Angel Haze

Who also released new music this week and it's 🔥 as usual

Proudly bisexual but prefers and frequently raps about relationships with women, in a deep and meaningful way. "Back To The Woods" (2015) was written after a public breakup and remains my go to heal from heartbreak album

Proudly GNC and I've seen her up close IRL and can confirm she's hot as sin

Not gonna get too into my issue with dick worship in female rap which Megan though I love her is guilty of but Angel here is the much needed antidote. Zero pandering to sex appeal and constantly shitting on men for being worse than her but more famous (she's right). Like I still don't think I've heard her reference dick even once which is a miracle out here

Proudly Native American (Cherokee) and self taught in Tsalagi language

Took Eminem's "Cleaning Out My Closet" and turned it into a brutally honest manifesto about surviving CSA and religious trauma

Fantastic fine artist and painter (always does the cover art)

Can sing her own hooks and kills them

Chill/normal on social media, minds her own business and great to fans (liked several of the comments I've left her)

I really need more people to get into her music, part of why she won't ever blow up like Megan despite (no disrespect it's just facts) absolutely bodying her lyrically is because she's so GNC

If you have a few minutes check out "Gxmes" 🖤

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who are obliviously in love.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 4.4k

warnings: angst..? cussing, age gap, smut, mentions of drugs and alcohol. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: enjoy and please let me know if you'd like a part two! i'm already writing it lol but i'd like to know anyways <3

here’s part two!

You’d always been good friends, taking to each other without much of a second thought after Oscar had introduced you two just in passing a few years ago—eight years ago, to be exact—at some party at his house.

New York, New York

September 4th, 2015

You were outside in the backyard, dressed far more casually than the occasion called for. It was a chilly night, and the music was blasting from inside the house.

You were tired from all the traveling, touring, and filming. You loved your job and were extremely grateful that things were working in your favor, but boy, did it leave you drained. You hadn't spent time with Oscar, or really any of your friends, in quite some time, so you thought a night out wouldn't hurt after working too much.

So there you were, enjoying the chill night air, when a familiar voice reached your ears.

“There you are!" Oscar said cheerfully, "I've been looking for you for like 20 minutes; I thought you left!" he continued, in a very dramatic manner, you must add.

You couldn't help but smile at his theatrics as you welcomed him with a hug. "Oh, I could never leave a party of yours without saying goodbye. You know I'm better than that." you speak softly, suddenly noticing another person behind him.

"I wanted to introduce you to my friend, Pedro,” he says this as he turns to face Pedro. "He's a fan," Oscar says in a singsong manner.

Pedro is standing there with his cheeks flushed and a smile forming on his lips. Although part of you wanted to be cocky about it and torture him a little, you bit your tongue, not wanting to make this worse for him.

Of course you knew who Pedro was. And not because he was in two of the most famous TV shows at the moment; it was because Oscar and Sarah wouldn't shut up about him. In every conversation you had over the phone with either of them, Pedro's name always found a way to come up. It seemed that no matter how hard they tried, they could not hide their enthusiasm for him.

So to say you were interested in meeting him was an understatement. You wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

Before you could properly introduce yourself, Oscar's name was called from inside the house. "Alright, I'll leave you two to it." he says, "Please be nice to each other!" he yells as he walks back inside. You shake your head in amusement.

"You are more beautiful in person," Pedro says in his very captivating, deep voice, catching you by surprise.

Now you are the one with the flushed cheeks.

“I thought you were shorter," you say back, daringly. Although it was an honest comment, it was also a way to deflect attention from the fact that he just called you beautiful.

Pedro laughs loudly, as if you had just told him the funniest joke ever.

"I am not trying to be mean or rude; I really thought you were like 5'3." you continued, putting your hands inside the pockets of your jacket.

"So you know who I am?" he asks, a smirk forming on his lips.

"Yeah, I like to enjoy good television in my free time." you tell him, focusing on his face.

He was more beautiful in person, too. To your relief, he was dressed similarly to you. He was wearing a crisp white shirt, tucked into dark jeans that fit him in all the right places. His hair was a bit tousled, and his mustache looked like it had been recently groomed. He must be filming Narcos, you thought. You also noticed his kind brown eyes. He had a warmth and friendliness about him that was immediately apparent.

"Also, our friends don't seem to know how to shut up about you. You are quite the talk of the town lately."

Your words made him smile. He doesn’t say anything but narrows his eyes, and you can practically hear his thoughts clamoring around in his head. "Alright, back to me being short, " you rolled your eyes as he continued with his speech, "Contrary to popular belief, I'm actually 5'11." He takes a seat on one of the small couches that have been set up in the backyard, prompting you to follow suit and take a seat as well.

"Like I said, I didn't mean it in a bad wa—" he cuts you off before you finish your sentence. "Ah, don't worry about it. Plus, if you still think that's short, I'll make up for my height with my other great qualities."

You let out a small laugh, relieved that he didn't take offense to your remark. Again. You look at him and reply, "Oh, I can't wait to see these other great qualities."

The transition from acquaintances to close enough to hang out alone without friends was just as easy, and you quickly became an unlikely pair of sorts.

You did everything you could together. From having movie marathons whenever you both happened to be in the same city to visiting different coffee shops and ordering the same thing every time—you anything that involved caramel and him four shots of black coffee over ice—it felt as if you had known each other your whole lives.

You were inseparable, and it felt effortless, like a piece of a puzzle that had been missing for so long finally fitting just right.

Given that you were in a serious, long-term relationship when you met, the tabloids didn't dig too much. All of the articles referred to you as friends, which saved you from having awkward conversations or even thinking too deeply about the whole thing.

There was also the age thing. Pedro was older than you, so everyone just assumed you'd never go there. Your boyfriend at the time never questioned your friendship with Pedro, either.

However, you now wish he had. It would've implied he was concerned, which you now know he wasn't. He was busy with other things. You don't exactly remember when things started to fall apart between the two of you. But you do remember how it felt when you found out he was cheating. It felt like a gut punch. The fact that the whole world also knew it didn't make it any better, either. You felt completely betrayed and exposed, not just by your boyfriend but by the whole world that seemed to be privy to your pain.

As any rational person would, you succumbed to work. If you were working, you wouldn't really have time to deal with all the viscerally painful emotions that have flooded your body ever since everything went to shit. You kept filming, and you kept making music. Endless hours spent at the piano provided you with incomparable peace and tranquility. Who knew a life-altering breakup was what you needed to write the best music of your career? At least something good had to come out of this disaster.

Of course your friends and family helped you navigate this process as well. However, one person stands out above the rest: Pedro.

It's like he made it his life mission to put you back together. He'd call just to check up on you, tell you random stuff about his day just to keep your mind off things, ask what book you were currently invested in, or simply say he missed you because months had passed and you couldn't see each other because of work.

"What time is it over there?" he asks, his voice was hoarse, as if he had just woken up.

"1:30 AM," you reply, glancing at your phone, "we're still shooting some stuff."

He groans into the phone, "I fucking hate it when filming drags on for too long."

"Yeah, tell me about it." you say this as you were stretching your back. You had been filming since the afternoon; it was currently past midnight, and production was still going. To say you were exhausted was an understatement. "Alright, I'll text you later. My break's sadly over."

"Yeah, sure. Good luck, princesa."

In other circumstances, you two happened to be in the same place at the same time. The parties were the best part of awards season. The entire purpose of the parties was to campaign for whatever projects were gaining traction, but for you, it meant spending time with friends you hadn't seen in a long time and having fun.

That explains why, four cosmos down, you were dancing and laughing in the middle of the dance floor with some of your friends. Or maybe it was five cosmos down. Truth be told, you stopped counting after the second one. You weren't the type to get wasted, but your goal for the night was to have fun, and alcohol definitely helped with that.

You start to get a little tired from all the dancing, so you head to the nearest couch. Sitting next to Sarah, she opens her arms to embrace you. "My little dirty dancer!" she says loudly, making everyone around you laugh. "Oh shut up, can't a girl have some harmless fun?" you say, a smirk on your face. You glance around the room at the grinning faces and shrug.

"It's karaoke time!" Jen, your friend and hostess for the evening, announced cheerfully, "Who wants to go first?"

"Oh, fuck me," Pedro groans, dragging his hand down his face. "I hate karaoke. I hate it. I don't want to sing karaoke, and I don’t want to listen to people sing karaoke."

He's sitting across from you with a beer in his hand and looking a little more drunk than you were. You chuckle as you watch him slump against the back of the chair during his karaoke rant.

This was no secret; after the first few weeks, when you began to hang out more frequently, he made sure to let you know this very important piece of information. That's why you took pleasure in doing it solely to irritate him.

"I will go first." You say this while looking him in the eyes. He rolls his eyes and sighs, knowing that you understand exactly why he's been so adamant about it.

"Why do you like to torture me, kid?"

"I can't help it; you're fun to mess with, Pedrito."

Even though he hated karaoke, you knew you were the only person he enjoyed listening to. You could tell by the way his eyes lit up whenever you hit the right note, the way he'd shake his head and chuckle when you made a mistake, and the smile that crept onto his face when you'd finished the song. Despite this, he would never admit to enjoying it.

You were busy listening to some of your friends talk about how you didn't completely butcher your rendition of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" when hands landed on your waist from behind and you felt a hot breath on your neck. "That was terrible, mi amor."

Spinning around to face him as he straightens up, you spot his beautiful brown eyes. "When will you admit how much you enjoy my karaoke performances?" you try to pretend you're mad, but you can't help the corners of your mouth turning up in a smirk.

Pedro chuckles, his body vibrating against yours. He leans down, his lips barely brushing yours, his breath ghosting across your skin. "Never," he says, almost in a whisper.

Your body is buzzing from the proximity. No, it's the alcohol. Without a doubt, the alcohol. You're unbothered by the proximity. The same way you're unbothered by the way he's smiling down at you.

"You're insufferable," you say, keeping the conversation moving so you don't have time to spiral.

He brings his beer to his lips, smirking as he sips. "If by insufferable you mean utterly charming, then you are right."

Just like he made it his mission to put you back together after your life fell apart, sometimes it was your turn to put him back together, too. No matter how hard he tried to bottle up his feelings, you were always the one who could get through to him, able to make him smile or make him think with just a few simple words.

Pedro was no longer a mystery to you. He's a contradiction in motion. He withdraws into the distance that comes with fame, but he also wants to connect. Despite having a tendency to be open, he tends to hold a lot of himself back. He cares so much and yet he's also uncomfortable caring so much.

You were both in London for different reasons but were staying in the same hotel. One night, you decide to stop by his room before leaving for an event. You knock three times before he opens the door.

"Have you been crying?" you ask him, immediately concerned.

He is initially hesitant to respond, but eventually caves. "Well, yeah."

"What happened?"

"It's kind of pathetic, really."

"Then let's be pathetic together. Tell me." you respond as you push your way into the room.

"Prince died," he says, his voice hoarse from the crying.

"Pedro..." you say quietly, not really knowing what to say.

"I know, I know. It's stupid."

"Of course not." you quickly reply, "There's no shame in crying, I know how much you love him." you take a deep breath and approach him, offering him your hand. "C'mere, let's sit down."

You started lowering yourself to the floor, and he followed. "You don't have to do this...you look like you've probably got somewhere else to be."

"I've got nowhere else to be."

The two of you just sat there, not saying a word. You held him while he cried, his head on your shoulder as you ran your hand through his hair. If you could go and bring Prince back from the dead just so he wouldn't hurt like this, you would do it in a heartbeat. But you knew that was impossible, so all you could do was sit there and comfort him.

"You two should date."

"Are you out of your fucking mind, Sarah?"

"What!" she laughs. "You're basically dating already."

Since you hadn't seen each other in a while, Sarah had extended an invitation for you to have breakfast at her house. She had questioned you about your love life after discussing a number of other topics, and when you replied that you were still single, she made that absolutely ridiculous remark.

"What does that even mean?"

"It means," she says, almost giggling, "that you two are doing the things that couples do, like going on dates and spending time together."

"We don't go on dates," you quickly reply, "and I don't like him like that."

She rolls her eyes, unconvinced, and asks, "Why?"

"Because..." you trail off, "Because he's Pedro... and I am me."  Even though you were aware that what you were saying made no sense, you refrained from going into detail.

"You really don't see it, do you?"

"There's nothing to see, Sarah."

It was difficult to pinpoint the exact moment you first realized that occasionally, completely unprompted, your thoughts would turn to Pedro.

This was similar to how you two became friends without ever consciously choosing to do so. The mere thought of his loud, booming laugh and the way he beams at you when you crack a joke would make the corner of your mouth twitch into a small smile. Eventually, you understood that those thoughts of Pedro and the slight thrill they gave you were very different from friendship.

Yet you decided not to go there. You both enjoyed your friendship, and he never said or did anything to make you believe he felt otherwise. Or that was just a bunch of bullshit you came up with to not deal with it anyway.

You were friends, close friends, and you didn't want to jeopardize the best friendship you'd ever had by listening to that little voice in your head that occasionally whispered, "What if...?"

It wasn't until one night that everything changed. You're still unsure if it was for better or worse.

You were changing into far more comfortable clothes than you'd been wearing all day. It was finally Friday, something you were very grateful for since work had been nothing but tedious lately. You had the weekend off; it seemed like an eternity since you had been free for a couple of days.

As you slipped on your favorite and very worn-out t-shirt, your phone rang. "Ugh, what now?" you whined. You were suddenly regretting your words as you picked up the phone; his throaty voice filled your ears, and you felt instantly better. It was almost embarrassing.

"I heard you had a shitty week," he says, "I am coming over."

"How'd you know that?"

"The more important question here is why have you been in New York for days and didn't tell me? I'm actually hurt, love."  

"I know, I'm sorry, it's just been a little rough."

The guilt immediately washes over you. You knew that you should have called or even sent him a quick text, but your mind was only focused on getting through the week. It was like you were on autopilot.

"I will be there in 20 minutes." he replies, hanging up.

Without anything better to do, you decide to wash some dishes that have been sitting in the sink since last night while you wait for Pedro to arrive. You quickly finish that and then decide to pass the remaining time by reading a book you started a couple of weeks ago. You flip through the book's pages, trying to recall where you left off because the earmarked corner you'd marked seemed to have disappeared.

Before you can find the page, your cellphone screen lights up again, catching your attention out of the corner of your eye, and though it feels silly and childish, you can feel the way your heart leaps and your chest tightens just a fraction when you read the notification and see Pedro's name. "I'm here."

You rush to the door, flinging it open with a gust of energy, and you find him standing there, one hand in the pocket of his jacket and the other holding a bag, a crooked smile on his lips. "I brought wine and takeout from that place you love down on 54th." It had been months since you'd last seen him, and it was like no time had passed at all. He steps inside, closing the door behind him, and you take the bag, allowing your eyes to meet his with a smile. Fuck.

As you set everything on the kitchen counter, you both decide to eat right away. The warm, inviting scent of the food spread throughout the kitchen, and it was as if all your worries and tiredness had disappeared. The conversation flowed perfectly as you both devoured the delicious food, and you were grateful for the moment of peace.

After finishing your meal, he helps you collect everything and clean up the kitchen.

"You’ll get wrinkles if you keep working that hard, mama," he tells you as he throws something in the trash can, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

"Don't call me that," you giggle, a little tipsy from the wine. "It makes me feel—" you stop yourself before you finish the sentence. Fuck.

"It makes you feel what?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

Well, it makes you feel embarrassed, as if you have let your guard down and revealed too much of your innermost thoughts. And it gives you butterflies. But you don't tell him that. "Nothing," you say, "it's just funny."

You knew you didn't have it in you to keep your thoughts, body, and face under control, especially when he was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms folded, looking like he just stepped out of a movie. You were feeling exposed and vulnerable, as if your thoughts were written all over your face, so you did what you do best: you changed the subject.

"Remember that one time we got high on edibles to go see The Incredibles 2?" you blurt, hoping he would forget what just came out of your mouth. He looked at you for a moment, as if he were considering your question, before bursting out in laughter.

"How could I forget?" he says. "It's one of our finest moments."

"Would you like to repeat the occasion?"

"Don't threaten me with a good time, baby."

You go to one of the kitchen drawers and pull out the box of cookies. "I can't believe you're offering me drugs." Pedro says in a dramatic tone.

"Oh shut up, do I need to remind you whose idea it was last time?" you roll your eyes, grabbing two cookies and throwing one at him.

"Should we honor last time and watch a movie?" he says as he takes a bite of the cookie.

To be entirely honest, you should have known that things were about to go off the rails the very moment the man at the other end of the couch, in that impossibly confident and seductive voice, asked you to come closer. "You're miles away from me, princesa."

If you had been wise, you would have politely declined. If you had any sense of self-preservation when it came to Pedro, you would have declined his offer and avoided thinking about him fucking you into this very couch. But you weren't wise, which is why your legs are thrown over his lap and his fingers are drawing circles in your thighs. Pedro’s gaze feels like a caress, and his voice is thick, "You look like you're thinking too hard."

"What?" you ask, dumbfounded.

"I said you looked like you were thinking too hard." he replies, "What's running through that pretty head of yours?"

Your teeth are tugging at your bottom lip in a way that Pedro seems to find distracting because he nearly slips up and breaks the carefully maintained eye contact, his gaze darting down just a fraction of an inch. You don't know where the courage came from, but you lean in on your elbows, lifting yourself from the laying position you were in, closing the gap even further until it's impossibly small.

You can tell you know what you've been doing when you pause with only a breath of space between your mouth and his, worrying at your lip with the intention of getting him to break first, like you’re challenging him to decide where this goes next. "What do you think I'm thinking about?" you finally reply, your gaze not wavering for a second. Pedro's hesitation is just a second before his mouth parts, leaning in just enough to touch your forehead and close his eyes.

"I think you're thinking about all the wrong things we could be doing right now instead of watching this boring movie."

"I think you're correct."

His lips curl into a smile, pulling away only slightly to look you in the eye, his voice barely above a whisper, "Can I kiss you?"  

And that's when it happens. You lean in, your lips slamming into his so quickly that your thumb gets caught in the middle. He nips at it, biting down a little harder than he wanted to, but you don't mind and simply move it out of the way, sliding it away from his mouth and resting it across his cheekbone. You straddle his lap, and as his hands find their way to your waist and his lips move ever so hungrily against yours, you feel a fire inside.

Everything is happening so fast, and the room is spinning around you. You're not sure if you're feeling this way because of the drugs or because of Pedro. You can feel the pressure of his hands against your skin and a warmth radiating through you; all you know is that you don't want it to end. As you begin to grind against his hard on, he moves his hands to your ass and grips it tightly.

"You like that, hm?" he rasps, between kisses. You moan in agreement, and one of his free hands travels up your body to the nape of your neck and squeezes it tightly. You gasp at the sensation and move your body to match his movements, pushing yourself closer against him.

It's rough and messy. You're both desperate, as if you've been waiting your entire lives to do this. Pedro's hands covered your entire body, and his mouth kissed your neck and mouth roughly, as if trying to make up for the years of anticipation.

"Fuck, P," you moan; he wasn't giving you even a second to breathe.

"Tell me what you need, princesa."

"I need you to touch me."

"Your wish is my command."

Pedro moved quickly, his fingers caressing and teasing your body as he worshipped you with each touch until he finally reached your shorts.

He slides his hand down your panties and groans. "I haven't even touched you properly, and you're already wet, baby." His fingers pressed down softly as he moved around your clit, rubbing and massaging it until you felt yourself close to the edge. He manages to get his free hand under your shirt, and he massages your breasts, pinching your nipples softly as you moan in pleasure.

"Are you gonna come for me, princesa, hm?"

"Y-yeah..." you gasp, not even ashamed of how quickly your orgasm was approaching, "I can't... hold it..."

He took that as a sign to go faster and harder, and as he continued to draw circles on your clit, a wave of pleasure swept through your body, culminating in a moan that signaled your impending climax.

"Fuck!" you screamed as you came suddenly, body trembling and hips bucking once more. Pedro let out a groan at the sight and sounds you were making. You're both gasping for air, one of his hands on one side of your face, your foreheads touching.

And that's when it happens. Instant regret.

Oh my god.

Oh no.

Oh fuck.

What have you done?

reblog or like if you enjoyed it!

[boydepartment]

enhypen as things from 2014 tumblr

a/n: i am literally frothing at the mouth that 2014 tumblr is coming back. around 2016-2018 this aesthetic and mentality was my EVERYTHING. now in 2024 the mentality and aesthetic is still there just a lil more.... um flavorful for me 😋😋 but it’s okay! i also had to go on my LAPTOP to lay this out so please like this post... my ass worked hard on this- i also dont know if heeseung's aesthetic photo for his headcanons is messed up?? if it is i am so sorry

warnings- 2014 tumblr was a lil cray cray, but i worked my hardest to make sure none of the photos or themes would be triggering :) if you felt anything negative during reading these headcanons- tell me and i will add it to the warnings. but as far as i know and with my own experiences/disorder everything is pretty good and non triggering! :)

MASTERLIST

🕰️jungwon- specifically that one brand of music

okay let me elaborate: out of my league by the fitz and the tantrums

tongue tied by grouplove

electric love by børns

the really like happy yet sad songs??? he’s very like HES SO TONGUE TIED BY GROUPLOVE IM SORRY???? listen to the song that is jungwon he is that song. he is def like that summer romance who you never speak to again and it’s so sad because you loved him so much but now you’re like strangers. just wait till next summer tho, he’ll make you fall in love with him all over again. it’s bittersweet

⚰️heeseung- knee socks

okay me being out of pocket for a sec

heeseung is absolutely fucking insane and drives me nuts. and so do knee socks. any socks that go above the shin drive me fucking insane because they don’t sit properly ever, no matter the size the sock or the size i am they FALL. but i own like 4-6 pairs, because they look nice and make me feel pretty when they sit properly. heeseung drives me insane but i want to be his gf ☹️☹️

he’s def the type of guy to fix your socks too when he notices they’re shifting

🎥jay- the wallpaper quotes

like the sad ones everyone had EVERYWHERE. i was on quotev during this time around 2015?? and they were EVERYWHERE. bangchans wallpaper from 2018 core

these aesthetic quotes just remind me of jay. music is everything to him so he’s the mf to reblog this being like

“this resonates with me.”

he’s also very arctic monkeys coded but do what you will with that 😋😋HE WOULD SO POST HIS OWN WRITINGS AND AESTHETIC GUITAR PHOTOS. HES LIKE THE TUMBLR HOT GUY. imagine while he’s like super popular on tumblr ur like the actual “rockstar’s gf” aesthetic. LIKE THAT ONE FUCKING PHOTO OF THE 1975 ROBBERS MUSIC VIDEO??? I THINK IT WAS THAT ONE RIGHT??? i’m attaching it rn

💋jake- the bold lip makeup + messy photos

dayum let me get out of pocket rq again

that really specific dark aesthetic where it’s in parking lots and blurry and you can make out the dark lip makeup, bleached damaged platinum blonde hair, and the makeup is messy. everything is messy

HEUWBDJBFJAVSHDBBD that is jake :) he’s def the type of guy to be like “wait let’s take a cool photo.” then kisses you to smudge your lipstick then snaps a photo with the flash so when you’re alarmed by the flash you move and it makes the photo all cool looking bc it’s blurry.

👓sunghoon- the john green obsession

i’ve read every john green book pre 2016

i hated looking for alaska it was fucking insane. however sunghoon is like the good part about the paper towns book. like the fun road trip part. that happened right? or did i imagine that? NO IT DID. sunghoon very like curl up bbg im gonna read this book to you and make little stupid comments during it. def the type to have you in his arms while he reads, you hold the book and he has his hands over yours, softly rubbing circles.

💍sunoo- the victorias secret aesthetic

this is actually me rn sorry, all my clothes come from there pretty much. if it’s not thrifted it’s from victoria’s secret. it’s not just lingerie, they have like everything there. NONETHELESS it also screams sunoo. a lot of it is very like chic in a way and it just fits him perfectly. the black and pink colors, the small pops. it just really fits him. the aesthetic is just chefs kiss. especially since i feel like he’d be obsessed with the lotions (i own the mint chocolate lotion and wear it)

def the type of bf to come home with new body sprays for both of you. probably mixing scents too. MATCHING JACKETS AS WELL

📸riki- the electra heart album

MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS. god everything abt this album screams riki.

me relistening to this album and realizing how much it did effect me😨😨😨😨 maybe i’m just projecting now but besides the point

that album is so like riki coded let me get quotes

“I think I want your, your American tan- I think you're gonna be my biggest fan”

“The pretty lies, the ugly truth”

“All I ever wanted was the world- I can't help that I need it all”

“Rule number three, wear your heart on your cheek- But never on your sleeve, unless you wanna taste defeat”

“You're never gonna love me, so what's the use?”

“you don’t love me- big fucking deal”

"question good and question bad."

okay i’m GONNA BE WRITING A BOOK I HAVE TO STOP. he’s def the type of bf where if he hears you listening to this album he’s like “wtf…” then finds himself humming to it. he’d be like that with all your music taste too. riki with black chipped nailpolish OKAY I WILL SHUT UP ABT HIM NOW

[margareth-lv]

🏳️‍🌈 Every girl needs a gay best friend 🏳️‍🌈

Last week, I wrote a post here about the morbid shyness of a certain music manager.

My text was based on an interview Caitríona gave in mid-February 2018, shortly after her so-called 'engagement' and after she'd just won the Irish IFTA for her work on Outlander.

In the interview, Caitríona talked about how she met her fake fiancé. In the February 2018 version, Caitríona met her PA through one of her best friends.

So I decided to look into the subject of this "best friend" who brought the unfortunate music manager to Caitriona.

What I'm going to write today is, I think, 100% obvious to veterans of the fandom. But for those just starting out, I hope it'll be news. And I, well, I'm somewhere in the middle, between newbie status and more than three years of wading through the facts and the myths.

For me, the fun part has been reconstructing the chronology of events. The dates are interesting.

*** *** ***

The beginning of my story is quite surprising. Because we reach Caitríona's 'best friend' by clicking on a link in an article published in 'People Magazine' on 15 August 2019.

The article is entitled: 'Everything to Know About Caitriona Balfe's Super Private Relationship with Husband Tony McGill' and it tells us that: 'the couple tied the knot in England last weekend'.

😱

What excellent investigative journalists People Magazine have (bravo, bravo!), that in a twelve sentence article they could link to a post from Donal Brophy's Instagram.

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

And look at this description:

"It’s unclear exactly when Balfe and McGill started dating, but the earliest evidence of their romance dates back to 2015, when a friend posted a video of her sitting on his lap at a bar in Ireland on Instagram. (McGill was not tagged and does not appear to have any social media accounts of his own.)"

🤯

Isn't that brilliant work from Starz/TPTB/whatever's PR Dept?

*** **** *** From the above it seems fair to conclude that the 'best friend' who brought Caitriona bad luck in the form of an unfulfilling music manager was Donal Brophy, because who else could it be?

*** *** ***

And now, let's take a quick look at the Instagram post (dated 1 January 2015) linked to the 'People Magazine' article. We all know it, of course! Here is the irrefutable proof of the passion between our two lovebirds: the rhythmic (and how sexy!) patting on the hip.

🥱

Well, hip-slapping is boring (and not at all sexy).

Far less boring, however, is the look on the music manager's face, the look that seeks Donal's approval (tell me I'm patting her well, do tell!). Could it be that, like the People Magazine link, this video was made to show? I wouldn't rule it out.

*** *** *** Now let's talk about dates: the sexy (not 🤢) slap on the hip was posted by Donal with a date of 1 January 2015, but two days earlier, on 30 December 2014, Donal shared another photo on Instagram featuring both the hapless music manager and Caitríona. ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Perhaps the decidedly less seductive and sensual appearance of the 'fiancée' in the December photo was the deciding factor in "People Magazine" not publishing a link to it?

Who could know?

*** *** ***

It certainly wasn't love at first sight. The new boyfriend seems rather tired of Caitriona's presence. 😉

I know this is a mischievous conclusion. I am so, so sorry, my friends.

❓

But one thing is for sure: Donal is an old friend of Caitríona.

I haven't done too much in-depth research, but the oldest photo I've been able to find of both Caitríona and Donal is… a photo in a Flickr album belonging to Caitríona's ex-boyfriend, Dave Milone. The photo is dated… 2002.

😨

You get the idea - Caitríona's ex (and real) boyfriend, Dave, Donal, and after many, many years a new 'fiancé'. It feels like my brain is exploding. 🤯🤯🤯

*** *** ***

But back to Donal: I have a feeling that Donal may have been Caitríona's +1 at times when she did not have an official boyfriend.

*** *** *** And let's not forget: Caitríona has a sweet and tender relationship with Donal.

June 2013, Miss you babe!

December 2013, Caitríona on IG:

December 2013, Donal on IG:

April 2014: They even went hiking together in the Scottish Highlands.

I wonder, by the way, who was their mountain guide? Was it an unfortunate music manager? I think not.

I would rather point to someone else, someone who loves (and knows!) the (S)cottish (H)ighlands. But I won't name him.

⛰️🧗🏻‍♂️

*** *** ***

For those who are unfamiliar with the name Donal Brophy, here are a few words about his professional profile:

You know, it works for me: "While in New York, Donal was also known for epic parties. Everything he organized automatically became a “must-attend” event for New York’s most with-it residents."

You know, that kind of vibe (2007):

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

*** *** ***

Had he been Caitríona's false fiancé, it would have been easy for us to believe in the beautiful, loving bond that existed between them. But he was only the messenger of bad news. What wouldn't you do for your best friend?

❓

PS. Unless something has changed, Donal was married to Emrhys Cooper, a British actor, singer, dancer, and filmmaker. Together they run Idyllwild Pictures, an entertainment company.

Taken in July 2023:

[January 23, 2024]

[silenzahra]

Mario & Luigi: Dream Team appreciation post ✨

A few days ago I was suggested by @keakruiser to write a fic in which Mario and Luigi were in a cold environment (working on it! Almost done, promise!). This gave me a chance to rescue an idea I had a looooong time ago, back when I first played Dream Team (around 2015), but I never got to write it.

So, I've been watching some gameplays of this game and listening to its music again (so as to get in the mood), and man, I had simply forgotten how truly and absolutely ADORABLE the brothers are in this game.

I mean, the cuties????? The way they hug as if they hadn't seen each other in, like, years??? Patting each other's back and nodding and smiling in complete joy AW they're the sweetest!!! 😭😭😭

The fact that Luigi starts laughing in the real world while his dreamy self embraces his big bro will always make me emotional.

THE SILLIEEEEES AAAAHHH LOOK AT THEM BEING TWO CUTE LITTLE BEANS OMG I LOVE THEM SO SO MUCH 😭😭😭

I have always LOVED the way Luigi rocks his legs while he's on Mario's shoulders right before they do the Side Drill move. He's such a cute little baby 🥺💚✨

Also, I find their pose right before starting a Luiginary Attack quite hilarious 😂

The Luiginary Moves and the Giant Battles. Is there really anything else to say? Only one: these two elements were the final proof that this game's true hero was Luigi. He had the chance to show his courage and protect his big bro from danger, as well as being the one who made it possible for him and Mario to get into the dream world.

He was the main character in this game. And it really made me love him even more than I already did.

Not meaning to belittle Mario, far from it! But this game really made his little brother shine, and he definitely seemed giddy about it! Just look at him on top of the Luiginary Typhoon or Giant Luigi's hat. He's the true picture of pride! 🥹

I just LOVE his determination on the latter picture. It just shows that he truly believes in Luigi's abilities to defeat their enemies on his own! But of course, Mario will always be there to fight by his side, just as Luigi has always been there to have his back. They're a team, after all. The Dream Team.

And last but not least... have you guys seen this???

That. Knowing. LOOK. Aren't they the most adorable brothers to ever exist OMG I love them SO MUCH!!! 😭😭😭

I swear I let out a squeak when I noticed they gave each other that quick look when celebrating in this game. The sweetness in the gesture simply melts my heart 🥹🥹🥹 (Actually, I'm making that last picture my new pfp because I just LOVE how absolutely cute they look.)

Before I go, here are a few more pictures of them being silly and funny and adorable 💚❤✨

Just two sleepy boys about to zone out 🤭

My poor Luigi seems to have always been chased by lava! The man can't even take a short break 😮‍💨

Love how tiny Mario looks on the last one btw 🤭 So cute! ✨

So yeah! Now you know that the next fanfic I intend to post is going to be based on this amazing game 🤭 And I'm really happy I got to write it, because it made me remember how deeply I loved Dream Team when I first played it almost ten years ago 🥹

So thank you, @keakruiser, for your amazing suggestion. I'll be delivering soon and I really hope you like the result! 💖

EDIT: Here's the fic! ✨

[ragazza-paradiso]

okay, my personal thoughts on the jury vote/televote drama (as unbiased as possible):

i understand people’s disappointment when their favourite doesn’t win. i also understand how that disappointment can turn into frustration when it turns out that was the most popular entry with the general public, yet it didn’t result in victory.

for me, the presence of juries in the contest is non-negotiable. i think they help to recognise aspects of the songs that very often get overlooked by the viewing public - composition and vocal ability being the two most important. i think of estonia from this year, a song and performance that most definitely deserved the love they got from the juries to push them up the scoreboard. i think of albania 2018, switzerland 2021, portugal 2022 - all entries that deserved to be recognised, and were not given that by the televote.

all of that is not to say the jury is faultless. i agree with most, that the criteria the jury is told to judge upon should be modified/expanded. i think they should drop the focus on commercially successful songs to help level the playing field for songs in languages other than english (or popular languages like italian or spanish). they should also include people from more diverse musical backgrounds to appreciate alternative forms of music like rock, jazz, folk and music with ethnic elements etc. they could also make the juries larger (i think just doubling the size to 10 people would already make such a huge difference).

i think the biggest change the EBU needs to make regarding the juries is to be much more transparent. the general public has no idea why the juries exist, or what they are even judging on. each show the presenters should explain the criteria the juries judge on. because i’ve seen so many comments on social media over the past 12 hours which seem to fundamentally miss the fact that the juries judge based on criteria which is given to them by the EBU. they do not simply sit down and make a ranking of their favourite to least favourite.

the big point for me is that the jury vote is NOT supposed to be representative of the public vote. there would literally be no point to it if it were. therefore the jury having different scores, and ultimately a different winner than the televote, does not in itself mean that there is a problem with the juries. if you ask me, it means that the juries are doing exactly what they are supposed to do. they recognised the song which best fit the criteria they were asked to judge upon… tattoo.

and i would also add that tattoo was immensely popular with the public as well, it came second in the televote. and the juries placed televote winner cha cha cha in fourth position. so the argument that the juries are out of touch with the european public (at least when it comes to the top spots) just doesn’t add up.

since the juries were reintroduced in 2009 we’ve had 4 types of victories

• where the televote and jury vote agree on a winner (2009, 2010, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2017)

• where the televote winner has won overall despite not winning the jury vote (2011, 2018, 2021, 2022)

• where the jury vote winner has won overall despite not winning the televote (2015, 2023)

• where the winning song has won neither the jury vote nor the televote (2016, 2019)

so, in the 14 contests with the 50/50 jury televote system, only twice has the jury overridden the televote to decide the winner. the televote has overridden the jury vote double as much. in fact, the majority of times (8 times, if you include the 4th category since on both those occasions the winner came 2nd with both televote and jury vote) both have agreed on the winner. overall, the televote has gotten their winner to win the overall contest 10 times out of the 14 contests since the reintroduction of the jury.

therefore i find the conclusion that the jury is tainting the results of the contests’ winners not based in reality.

now, all of that is simply the opinion of one girl who likes eurovision. you can take it or leave it. i don’t think this will change anyone’s mind if they are dead set on the juries needing to perish in hell fire to atone for their sins against euro pop music. but more so i wanted to explain my reasoning behind still valuing the juries as an important part of the contest.

and, two last very important notes:

• käärijä not winning the contest doesn’t mean that he’s lost. it doesn’t mean that you can’t go back and watch his performance a thousand times and revel in the joy it gives you. it will always be there. music is subjective, just because a certain song wins a certain contest doesn’t mean it’s necessarily the best. he has thousands more fans now and you can always support his future career.

• being disappointed with the results of the contest however does not give you the right to send abusive messages and hate towards other contestants. käärijä himself said after the final yesterday that he cannot complain about the rules and he was happy for loreen. this is the same guy who was so distraught when he received one hate comment that he deleted all his accounts on social media. he wouldn’t want anyone to be doing the same towards his fellow artists. the contest was about being united through music, and sending hate won’t change the results, and it won’t make you feel better either.

[hai7ani]

橘 (TACHIBANA/JÚ) haitani rindou

nsfw (no smut/not suggestive), reader copes with alcohol, panic attack but nothing descriptive, arguments please proceed with caution

masterlist | playlist

part ii / everything

The year of 2015 and you are an alcoholic. It is a Tuesday night and you've just gotten out of an AA meeting that you'd deemed useless the first time you attended out of courtesy -- there is no amount of talking and sharing and clapping that can help relieve the ache of your heart. It is constant and heavy and you can never make it go away. It never goes away. And yet you still attend every week, every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday for the sake of attending because you are sick and tired of being alone. You feel lonely most days -- you are lonely most days.

You hear thunderstorms and figure that it is going to rain soon. You think to yourself while walking and you decide you are not in the mood to go home; you do not feel like dealing with the shitty elevator and your lousy neighbours tonight. So you huff and walk into the first bar you see and drink yourself stupid despite the concerns coming from your therapist.

Ex-therapist.

"Y/n-san, please try to cut down and control yourself with the alcohol. It is making your thoughts go worse and there's no health benefits either. We make progress and you seem to get better at maintaining your sobriety, but you'll relapse every time the topic of him comes up. This is not healthy, dear."

You fired her and stormed out of her office the moment she brings him up again while calling her a bitch. You told her to quit her job since she is so bad at it anyway. And you know it is not nice -- she was simply doing her job. You just didn't like how called out you feel. You said it before that you don't like it when she asks about him. You hate it when she urges you to open up about that summer.

Your vision is cloudy; you feel the world spinning around and everything looks distorted. Warm yellow lights shine brightly from above, a jazz band performing at the stage (their music is ass) that you're sure no one is listening to and you feel like puking so you gag but nothing comes out.

You swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth and laugh to yourself when you hear his words echo in your ears again.

"I never wanna lose you."

"Yeah, right." You snort and take another sip of the vodka in your hand.

This is what you're used to -- clinging on to a shadow of a boy you never see again and refusing to let go after all these years. The longing and waiting for him to come back to you turns into desperation and you drink yourself into an alcoholic who secretly has anger issues because it takes your pain away.

Or that's what you tell yourself and the others when they ask why you're alone at a bar.

You cry hard every time you drink; you think of him whenever you feel dizzy and your entire world is finally foggy and he is the only thought that comes up in your mind.

Drinking never helps you to take your pain away. It only helps you to think and relish in him and his love that you try so hard to push away during the day when there are countless of annoying kids tugging on your apron and telling you look at the new clay art they made. You cannot afford to collapse in front of people who are not him. You don't trust yourself to do it when he is not around.

You just miss him so much.

And you sob into the sleeves of your sweater when everything gets too overwhelming and you just want him to come back. You really want to see him again. You really want to tell him that the voicemails you left to him that day was all a lie -- that you still love him so.

"I never wanna lose you."

He never did.

It was you who'd lost him instead.

A hand wrapping around your wrist breaks you from your train of thought and you yelp in shock. It pulls you from the table and another snatches the glass away from yours. You go slack against the chair and huff with a frown. You feel that it is a man because of the flashy Daniel Wellington wrapped around his big wrist and you watch through blurry vision as he hands your glass of vodka to a passing bartender. "No more of this. Get me her bill." The bartender nods and walks away.

You poke his arm and frown deeper. "Hey, you. I was still drinking that." You don't find any energy in you to argue with him for snatching away your drink, so you squint through cloudy eyes and pouty lips as you try to recognise the man. But you shrug and figure he is just a stranger and probably a molester, or even worse, a sex trafficker, so you grab your bag with tired hands and stand to leave. You stumble back a little when the chair obstructs your foot and he places a firm hand behind your back to stabilise your swaying body.

"Tsk. Sit down. You're drunk." He tuts and snatches your bag away from you to place it back on the table. To say you are dumbfounded is an understatement. "Yeah, ya damn right I'm drunk. Leave me alone or I'm calling security. My drink isn't enough 'n now my bag ya wanna touch too. Asshole." You slur and muster up all the strength you can to kick his shin. He hisses at the striking pain and bends over to rub a hand over the area. "Jesus- still as painful as ever-"

But you sit back down nonetheless and take a deep breath, trying to regain your senses. You prop both elbows on the table. "Security," you mumble while leaning your head on your hands, "security!" You say it louder this time and it seems to have caught some attention with a few people nearby turning their necks and observing you with the man who is painfully calm about this whole situation.

You hear him sigh as he shuffles closer to you. He smells like expensive cologne with a hint of lavender -- it's a smell that is very familiar and you stun at it.

And it comes to you after a while when he smooths a hand down the back of your head and you feel like a little girl again. Tears spring to your waterline as you let him touch you. You watch as he rolls the sleeves of your sweater up to your forearm and feel as he gathers your hair to the back. He is gentle when doing all that and you don't feel any malicious intent coming from him anymore.

Because he is someone you know.

Security stands beside you after a moment but you ignore them as you try to focus on the way he is braiding your hair into a fishtail.

Like how he always used to.

A light yet masculine voice speaks as he secures the end of your hair with an elastic he pulled from your wrist.

"I know her. I'm a friend."

Security walks away after further confirmation that you cannot hear properly and you blink your droopy eyelids, trying hard to stay conscious but failing miserably when the alcohol finally takes over and you collapse on the table.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You wake up in someone's bed the next day. You don't recognise the room and you make sure your clothes are still on -- they are -- while hurriedly pushing the blankets off your body and standing up with a groggy head. The hangover is hitting hard and you hiss and yelp when you stub your toe hard at the foot of the bed.

"Morning." A voice greets from behind and your world stops spinning. Suddenly the hangover isn't there anymore and the voice is all you can focus on.

You turn around with wide eyes and see Haitani Ran standing by the door holding a cup of water and a pill in his hands. He walks over to you quietly and shoves them in your hands.

He looks so much different than before. No more long and braided hair in blonde and black -- it is now short and hangs loosely over his forehead in the colours of purple and black. Lanky body more pumped and muscular now -- he looks like someone legit and can be taken more seriously by people. Purple orbs that has never changed in intensity as they stare deep into yours who dulls when the memories starts flooding your brain.

"Ran."

He doesn't react other than nodding towards the stuff in your hands. "Take it. And I left some clothes in the bathroom. Take your time. I'll be outside with breakfast." He simply states with a soft yet firm voice and closes the door behind him when he leaves.

You drop to the bed and try to control your breathing with shaky breaths and a pounding migraine.

You feel your entire world collapsing around you. The strong border you've tried so hard to build with the outside world comes crashing down in an instant. The room feels like it is closing in on you and you rub at your eyes tiredly.

Suddenly you feel like the 19 year-old girl living in Kanagawa again.

And you cry.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Ran is sitting at the dining table eating breakfast when you exit his room. You've showered and got yourself dressed in some clean clothes he left for you -- a woman's clothes -- and you're shy when you pad to him, fingers fiddling with the hem of the cotton t-shirt.

You stop when Ran looks at you.

"Hey." He greets but you don't reply. Instead, you glance around and find that the house is well-decorated -- colourful quilted fabrics protecting the pillows on the couch and a vase full of baby's breath sits on the coffee table. There are many different photo frames hanging on the walls and on top of cupboards and you find yourself wanting to look at them. The kitchen cabinets are transparent and you see a lot of different snacks and instant noodles inside. The house is so lived-in and you can't help but smile softly.

You turn your head back to him who is already staring at your figure as he munches on a piece of bread.

You hadn't seen Ran in a very long time.

"Hi." You finally say it back and take a seat in front of him. He nods towards the cup of coffee in front of you and you move with shaky hands to take a sip. The handle is facing you and you feel a bit more refreshed when the smell hits your nose and you're reminded that Ran has always been attentive like that; like the times where he would cover the edge of the table when you bend down to pick a fallen pen up, or the times where Ran would shield you from a flying ball at the park and it hits him hard on the shoulder instead. The corners of your lips lift up while you savour the taste in your mouth and swallow with a satisfied sigh -- Ran has always made good coffee.

"So good." You murmur and place the mug back down on the table. Ran chuckles airily through his nose and pats the crumbs off his fingers. "Of course. It's Ran's Coffee." You laugh a little at that -- it's what you've always used to call his drink when he passes it to you in the kitchen of his old home.

Ran doesn't bring up yesterday and neither do you feel like doing so, so you choose to ignore it and eat while stealing a few glances here and there at him and smiling sheepishly when he catches you through eye contact. And you observe him openly now while chewing on some sausages -- he's wearing a neatly pressed white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and it is paired with black slacks. Hair is gelled and combed up instead of hanging over his eyes like before. You think he looks so much more mature now and you wonder if-

Your eyes travel down to his hands and find a very shiny ring on his fourth finger. ". . . You're married?" You stop chewing at the realisation and blurt it out with wide and glossy eyes.

Ran grins at your suddenness and nods.

"Been married for two years now." He pauses while wiping his lips with a napkin. And he takes a glimpse at your reaction, trying to search for something in them -- he doesn't, so he continues. "Got a girl on the way too. Her name's Yui. Just ゆい."

You beam brightly at his happy. "God. Congrats, Ran!" And you truly are so happy for him -- since young, Ran had always been a family man. He's always talked about marrying a pretty woman and starting a nice little family with her -- a boy and a girl to balance it out, he once said. And you'd swatted his arm when he'd wiggled his brows at you while his brother scowled and tugged at a braid harshly.

You'd never gotten the memo back then.

And you decide not to ask him about his wife and how they met nor do you focus the topic to his daughter who is on the way -- you figure it'll bring up some awkwardness to the table (it wouldn't, but you just want to avoid your feelings) and you wince a little when you're reminded of the things Ran had left you in that box 7 years ago.

For the rest of breakfast you both make small talk, and you'd made it a mental note to dodge anything that is personal. Although Ran is a very old friend and you'd immediately felt comfortable around his presence, he is still his brother, and you and Ran still have some unresolved issues that needs to be talked about -- you don't think you are ready for it yet -- but Ran doesn't asks you anything too deep. He doesn't bring up his brother too -- and you relax when he starts talking about himself instead.

Apparently he runs a tech company now. It was nothing like the field he'd used to daydream of being in (the fashion industry) and it shocks you to the core when you find out that it's one of the companies that is currently rising in popularity and net worth in Japan. So you open up a little to tell him you work as a teacher now -- you teach children handicrafts and help younger ones with reading and writing at a daycare centre, though your smile falters a little when he asks if it is what you enjoy doing. You were the girl who's never found out your passion for the entirety of your teenage and schooling years -- you still haven't now that you're an adult, but you don't tell Ran that -- and you nod anyway when Ran continues to share about a few of his wife's friends who are looking for a handicrafts teacher for their children too; he asks if it's okay that he recommends you to them and you give him your consent.

Ran stands to get your plate when you're finished and you stand too, the creak of the chair against the floor loud and you grimace a little at it. You don't know what for -- you know Ran well enough to know that he will for sure reject if you offer to wash the dishes at his house, yet you stand anyway, and you watch from behind as he places them in the sink while switching on the tap. The water runs loudly and your lonely eyes flicker around until it lands on the stuff covering the fridge -- magnets from different countries, a picture of an ultrasound of his unborn daughter at 7 months, some documents and pending bills . . . You think it is all a bit too heartwarming to look at and you reluctantly look away.

". . . Do you have work later?" Ran asks with a wavering tone. He sounds a bit uncertain despite it being a normal question and you blink. "No, actually. I don't have any classes on Wednesdays. It's my off day today." You pat down your shirt and move on your feet to help him tidy up the dining table -- pushing the chairs in, wiping the table, rearranging the coasters and clearing the leftovers stuck to the table cloth. You figure it is the least you can do for his kindness of letting you stay at his house for the night and making you breakfast in the morning.

Ran switches off the tap and dries his hands on a cloth hanging by the wall. He stares at your back and opens his mouth. "Can we talk-"

The front door unlocks.

You turn to the entrance with wide eyes and watch as it pushes open. You hadn't been made aware that Ran was expecting someone until Nobunaga Himeko walks in holding a bunch of stuff in her hands. It ranges from paper bags to recycled bags to a bouquet of colourful carnations.

And she is pregnant.

"Hi."

Himeko is all smiley when she sees you standing in her kitchen, wearing her clothes, and beside her husband who seems nonchalant about her entering the house. He pads over to her with a grin and kisses her forehead.

Your eyes look away from hers that are in thin crescents and shift your weight from one foot to another while picking on the skin around your thumb.

So it is like that.

"Love," Ran grabs the stuff from her hands in a hurry and shuts the door with his foot. "You're back." She nods and kicks off her flats, leaving it by the entrance.

Himeko calls your name in a soft voice and you look at her.

"It's nice to see you again."

She grins warmly and you return it without further words, albeit a little fake because you'd never expected her to be together with Ran, and she is pregnant with his child -- it is all simply too much to process and you take a deep breath when they both turn their backs to you. They whisper to themselves and you hear a bit of this and that -- just chatting about how her morning has been and he shares his plans for the both of them later tonight. They talk like you weren't even there in the first place and you bite the skin off your bottom lip when they continue to ignore you.

You connect the dots all by yourself after a while that Himeko was probably already home when Ran had brought you back here last night, that she'd seen you in a vulnerable state and all fucked up while smelling like disgusting vodka, and she's also probably the one who'd picked out your clothes and gave it to Ran to pass to you when you're awake.

"I, um . . . I should go." You blurt after a moment, finding no place for yourself in this house (damn right you don't -- this isn't your house, and you are merely just an acquaintance at this point) and you tighten your fist, the other hand reaching up to swipe away a loose strand of hair and tuck it behind your ear. Ran and Himeko looks back at your disappearing figure when you head back into the guest bedroom to grab at your dirty clothes. You shove them into your bag and carry it on your shoulder. While looking in the mirror you see the empty shell of a weak and despicable soul and you feel a panic attack bubbling up -- and you scowl to yourself when you remember your therapist's words, that avoiding your problems and past would only make things worse in the future.

When you exit the room in a hurry, Ran's voice boom in your eardrums and you try to control your breathing. "Can we talk?" Your flickering eyes glances back and forth between the couple, who are both donning a worried expression on their faces when you don't reply and instead breathe loudly through your mouth, trying hard to catch your breath and calm your feverish heart.

It'd just came so suddenly -- your panic attack -- and you don't know what for. Maybe because of the surprise from both Ran and Himeko being together -- you'd found out later that she'd harboured feelings first for the other brother back then. You'd also found out later that Ran used to harbour feelings for you way before his brother even did. And now the both are living together at an expensive apartment in central Tokyo with a baby on the way.

Or perhaps it is because the scene from 7 years ago at the Family Mart you'd worked in where Himeko had slapped you in front of your manager played in your head when you'd seen her just now, and your mind says that it does not want to relive the moment ever again; your heart screams that it does not want to feel the pain she'd induced on you ever again. And Himeko is scary when she moves closer and reaches a hand out to you.

"Please don't touch me." A lone tear escapes your eye and it rolls down to your chin. "Please. Stay away." The tear drips to the floor and you start sobbing while inching away and Ran is left dumbfounded at the scene playing right in front of his eyes. He does not know why you are so afraid of his wife who is also your childhood friend, and he is perplexed when he sees her reluctantly stepping back and rubbing a hand over her baby bump.

"What happened?" Ran is a bit furious when he asks it. Himeko stays silent at his question that sounded a lot more like a demand and stares down at her feet. "Hime, what is going on?"

She scratches at her head and you sniffle. "Nothing happened, Ran." You wipe your tears away and inhale the lavender in the air. It soothes you down just a bit. "I'm okay. Nothing happened between us. Just wanted to cry, it's all."

A big lie. Ran scoffs when you say it to his face -- it felt like an insult of you calling him stupid and Himeko is biting hard on her lip when you gather your belongings and walk to the entrance, but Ran is quick to stop you from leaving. He tugs back on your hand and you stop in your tracks when you feel the familiar warmth around your wrist.

"I have something to tell you."

"Not today, Ran. I have to go."

"Please. Listen to me. It's serious."

You try pulling your hand away and Ran only lets go when you click your tongue and hiss.

"Fuck off."

Fury engulfs your head and anger chains around your brain for just one second. And one second is all it takes for you to let it slip. Your eyes are wide, cheeks wet with tears when you realise what you'd just said.

"I am so sorry." You gasp, feeling so bad for letting the anger and hatred and rage you've been trying so hard to suppress all these years get to you and Ran is shocked at your sudden change in attitude. Himeko retreats back to their bedroom with a hand covering her mouth. You think she is disgusted with you, and you don't blame her for walking away.

Even you are disgusted with yourself.

Ran says your name again in an exasperated tone. His eyes are pleading for you when they look into yours.

"I have something important to tell you." He says it calmer this time and you finally give him your ears.

". . . It's about Rindou. Please listen."

Your heart dies at it.

It cracks loudly when Ran finally tells you.

And it crumbles to the ground when you'd fully processed his words.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A group of grown men sits in a circle. Another woman stands in the middle as she reads from a piece of paper. They laugh and answer her questions while she fakes interest and indulges them for a bit.

That's all there is to it, really. A weekly thing where Bianca Taira -- a white woman from the States married to a local Japanese man who currently works in Japan as a certified therapist -- comes by every Wednesday and gathers a few people around to sit in a circle and share things about themselves while having fun. Not a lot of people take her seriously despite her fluency in the language and how she dresses up really professional to show up -- because in the end, that is still a woman in front of them. Most of these men have not seen a woman from the outside world for a very long time other than a few guards and visitors, so they take every opportunity to tease and have fun with Taira-san, who doesn't reject their attitude harshly but is private when it comes to being asked about her husband.

"So, anyway, enough of my husband, please. He is nice and a good man." She huffs with a small frown but is quick to disappear it as she adjusts her top. It is tight and obviously very uncomfortable -- Bianca had picked the wrong shirt to wear today -- but she'll have to cope for now.

"Let's move on to our next question, shall we?" She smiles brightly and the men nod in agreement. She looks at the piece of nearly crumpled paper in her hand and searches for the sentence.

"Oh. This is a fun one." Bianca chuckles lightly and Minamoto, a man who is sitting in front of her, beams at her hint. "C'mon, say it already." He motions for her to hurry up.

She clears her throat and reads it out loud.

"What would you do for love?"

Everyone is laughing and shouting answers when the question comes up. They seem to have a lot of ideas for this one and Taira-san grins. Her objective for holding this session has been accomplished and she feels nothing but satisfaction when the men around her are genuinely having fun while laughing at each other's responses.

And to her, it is nothing but a simple and fun question. Prompts a straightforward answer too. Everyone does different things for love. Everyone is willing to do different things for love, and it would be really interesting to hear different people's answers.

Bianca attempts to calm them down with a laugh.

"Okay, everyone. Please calm down. Let's start sharing our answers one by one, okay?"

She looks around the circle. She spins and spins and spins until her eyes land on a certain individual who has been very quiet this whole day. Which is not a surprise, he is usually very quiet, too -- doesn't share a whole lot about himself and minds his own business when around people but Bianca feels that there is a little something hidden behind those dark, purple eyes. She feels that it is part of why he is so quiet, and she is determined to make him open up his shell.

She'll start from today.

"Haitani-san."

The man looks up at her at the sound of his surname and he blinks. "Would you like to go first?" She is hopeful when she asks it. He'll usually shake his head as a pass and tell her to move on with the question when being called upon, but Bianca finds it amusing when he doesn't do it this time. Instead, he looks back down on the skin around his fingernails that have been picked raw and he sighs.

"What was the question again?"

Bianca grins.

"What would you do for love?"

His mind runs at it. He thinks and thinks and thinks but nothing concrete comes up.

He shrugs.

And Bianca is relatively shocked at his answer.

"Everything."

The men in the circle around him grow quiet immediately when he says his answer. No one speaks and he fidgets a little in his seat -- he doesn't like that the attention is all on him now, and he regrets it a little for replying to her question.

Only one guy snickers and he nudges his arm.

Minamoto's face is red as he laughs at the man, "seriously? What? Like you'd even kill for your girl or something? That's so corny, dude."

He shrugs.

Minamoto is a man who'd just arrived here not too long ago -- he'd claimed that it was for something minor and he'll be out soon in no time, but he'd quickly gotten close to most of the people here because of his open mind and bright laughter. But the other men beside him are men who have been around for a very long time -- long enough to know that whatever he says should be taken seriously, and what he'd said is true -- and they'd be a fool to doubt that he is lying.

That he'd do everything for love.

He doesn't say a thing at Minamoto's tease and looks out the window to his right. It is gloomy and seems to be a bit windy outside today -- a bit too similar to what he's currently feeling on the inside and it makes his stomach churn a little. So he turns back and stares at Minamoto who immediately quiets down when he sees nothing but pure darkness in his eyes. It reminds him so much of hurt and pain -- and for once, Minamoto quickly gets the idea and his smile falters.

"Oh, so-"

Minamoto is disrupted by a guard pushing the door open and entering the room, a handcuff in hand and she clears her throat.

"Inmate 103, a visitor for you."

Mizobe stands up abruptly at the guard's notice. He is an elder man who is sitting beside the said inmate and has been friends with him for a very long time -- at least long enough for him to know that this is a once in a lifetime thing -- and he gapes.

"No fuckin' way." He pokes a finger into the younger man's shoulder while pointing another at the guard who is waiting patiently by the door. "You hear that, Haitani?! A visitor for you!"

He says nothing but stands up straight at the call of his inmate number. He shuffles over to the guard with a blank expression but no one knows that on the inside, he feels as though his heart is about to fall out of his chest -- it rattles, jumps and skips beat after beat. And he lets the guard cuff his hands together while walking him out the door.

"Who is it?" He decides to bite when he slowly approaches the visiting room. He has never been here for 7 years already -- just once at the very start of his sentencing when his brother had visited to tell him that he is never coming back here again. "Tell me."

". . . You'll see." She says softly and uncuffs his wrists with a key when they stop at the entrance. The door is locked tight and he is confused when she tells him to turn around. "As far as I know I am not allowed to see people without cuffs." He states in an uncertain tone and the guard chuckles a little at his puzzled expression. She looks around to make sure no one else hears other than the few guards who are in shift. They all smile at him.

"It is your first visitor after so long, so we'll let it pass today. Just take your time, with her. No time limit." She motions to another guard to unlock the door and all of a sudden he doesn't feel like going out anymore.

He hasn't had a visitor in 7 years. Not once in his how long his sentencing has been going on and to hear that it is a her makes his entire being falter. From being a quiet yet strong guy in his unit, he is reduced to nothing but a coward when the guard pushes him out the door by the shoulders and he stumbles a little on the way.

And his heart stops beating entirely at the sight of a woman sitting by a table.

A woman that looks a lot like you.

"Rindou."

The doors close behind him. There is no one else in the room except for the two of you. Rindou hears nothing except for the sounds of your soft cries while you waddle over to him -- they came rolling down your cheeks like waterfall at the sight of him. 7 years later and you finally get to see him again, and your body reacts differently than what you'd expected it to. Your feet moves automatically, closer to his body and his breath fluctuates, in and out of his mouth when your cream coloured coat makes you look so small and you reach both arms out to him.

The bright orange jumper he wears makes him look a bit like the mandarins you'd used to pick together back home in Kanagawa. You cry louder at it and look down to grab at his hands. You whimper because they are so warm when you place them both on your face. A sigh escapes your lips and you turn your head to kiss at his left palm, then the right and his lips wobble at your gentleness after all that he's done. Your tears wet his skin and they move swiftly without hesitation to cup your soft and rosy cheeks -- his thumbs swiping the salty away and you sob in his hands. You hiccup and he pulls you close to his lips to kiss at your forehead. He doesn't retreat and doesn't dare look into your eyes either when you pull away.

"Rindou." You manage to call for his name again after a while and he finally meets your eyes this time -- and he sees nothing but darkness mixed oddly with so much love in them. "My Rindou." The purple orbs you've always loved admiring at fleets and his heart stutters in his chest.

He feels so undeserving of yours as you hand it over to him.

Rindou is in agony when he sees your crying face.

There are no more bruises on you, but you are still in so much pain, and it is all because of me.

It feels like murder to have put your heart through this, and he watches with aguishness as you cry and cry and cry. Because he'd done it. And putting you in so much pain and despair are his consequences to suffer.

He drops to his knees instantly at the sound of your misery. He kneels before you and you cry even harder when he wraps his arms around your legs and bows his head against your thighs.

"I am sorry."

Angry tears fall and drips to the floor as he continues to apologise.

"I am so sorry."

Snot runs down his nose and you hit at his shoulder.

"Stand up, Rindou. I'm not mad."

And you really weren't. You just thought he was stupid for it; that he was crazy -- fucking insane -- for actually doing it and not telling you -- hiding it and leaving you alone to think he'd left and doesn't want you anymore.

He only weeps harder and kiss at your thigh through your pants.

You're sure the Gods are criticising you for feeling everything but anger and hatred when you pull at his jumper to try and get him to stand up -- he doesn't budge and you give up. You're sure they are cursing you to eternal agony when you kneel with him instead and hug him close to your body -- you rub at his back like how you always did when he would come to you after a bad day. And you're sure they are sending the Grim Reaper your way when you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and kiss on the skin -- you rub your face on his uniform like a cat and inhale his scent. It never went away. He still smells like the boy you've always loved. He is the boy that you've always loved.

And no sane person would ever understand you for being this close, this intimate, and this forgiving, to a person who had killed your father.

Only you would know why.

Haitani Rindou apologises to you first thing when he sees you.

And it is because he'd killed your father.

For you.

tag: @nana-osakii @idktbhloley ily

( ꒦ິ ཀ ꒦ິ ) thank you for reading! reblogs are appreciated <3

(i do not condone anything that has happened in this. this is purely fiction)